I am that cunning infidel By men called CHANCE,--you know me well. It is through me you met your wives; Through me your harvest blights or thrives; And one and all, through me, to-day Hither you came to see the play, Which if your favor still you lend, As now, so on until the end, You shall be taught what way a King Though a sublime and awful thing And even wise, may come to be A laughing-stock,--and all through me! (_Exit_) (ENTER KING) KING I am the King of all this land: I hold a sceptre in my hand; Upon my head I wear a crown; Everybody stands when I sit down. (_Sits_) CHANCE (_Appearing to audience; he is invisible throughout the play to the other players in it._) Excepting me,--please bear in mind I sit whenever I feel inclined. (_Sits_) KING Although my lands are wide and long, My walls right thick, my armies strong, I am not wholly satisfied. CHANCE That is because you have no bride. KING Who speaks?--Come forth and, if you dare, Say once again what causes my care! Why I am discontent with life! CHANCE It is because you have no wife. KING A woman in my royal house! A woman! A wife! A bride! A spouse! Bold stranger, this is not the cure, For a woman I could never endure! CHANCE Per-CHANCE to-morrow you will find You have altered your imperial mind. (_Exeunt KING and CHANCE severally_) (ENTER TIDY) TIDY I am TIDY, I have been All my life both neat and clean. From my outside to my in Clean am I unto my skin. Every day into a bucket My hands I dip, my head I duck it; And if the water plenty be I sometimes wet some more of me. This is my kitchen, where you will find All things pleasant and to your mind; Against the wall in orderly pairs-- One, two,--one, two,--observe my chairs. In the middle of the room my table stands: I would not move it for many lands. My basins and bowls are all in their places; The bottoms of my pots are as clean as your faces. My kettle boils so cheerily, It is like a friendly voice to me; About my work I merrily sing, And I brush my hearth with a white duck’s wing. Oh, full is every cupboard, sharp is every knife!-- My bright, sunny kitchen is the pride of my life! (_Exit TIDY_) (ENTER SLUT) SLUT I am SLUT; I am a slattern, You must not take me for your pattern. I spend my days in slovenly ease; I sleep when I like and I wake when I please. My manners, they are indolent; In clutter and filth I am quite content. Here is my kitchen, where I stir up my messes, And wear out my old shoes and soiled silk dresses. My table sags beneath the weight Of stale food and unwashed plate; The cat has tipped the pitcher o’er,-- The greasy stream drips onto the floor; Under the table is a broken cup-- I am too tired to pick it up. (_Exit SLUT_) (ENTER KING) KING