Air, “Bob and Joan.” Buck.
Have you seen the Duke? Stan.
No, my lord, believe me. Buck.
Your love I've much mistook,
  Or my sad tale will grieve you.
Edward's gone to pot! Stan.
Oh, the drunken jockey.

Buck.
Not so—'tis said he got
  His death by cold, my cockey!

Stan.
Hold! is not that the duchess of York,
Who in a funk does this way walk?

Buck.
It is, my bozzey—stow all lark! Enter Duchess of York, R. H.

Duc. Y.
Good day, my boys; how does the king?

Buck.
Alas! madam; he is no such thing!

Duc. Y.
Dead! oh, Glo'ster! Glo'ster, oh!

Buck.
Yes, 'twas a hard lot,
That he should go to pot;
But pray now do not cry,
For crying's all my eye! Enter Queen, Oxford, and Blunt, L. H.

Queen.
Why do ye to oppose my grief thus scud?
I'd sooner have ye pelt me o'er with mud.
My mother too in tears, I find;
Oh, Dicky, Dicky, thou art mighty kind.

Oh, that my eyes could weep away my soul,
And in my body leave a mighty hole,
Large enough to hold the whole New River,
Alas! alas! the thought! it makes me shiver.

Stan.
Since death has cabbag'd your poor Ned,
Your duty, madam, as a wife is dead;
Altho' he's gone that was most steady,
You know there still remains a Neddy!

Queen.
Alas, that thought is cooler than the former,
Can'st thou not think of something warmer?

Stan.
What says your majesty to a drop of jackey?

Queen.
We've fears for Edward living, and tears for Edward dead,
Curses for crooked Richard, and pokers to break his head!

Buck.
Judge not so hardly of his love,
Your son will find him tender as a dove. Enter Glo'ster, M. D.

Glo.
So, so, these tears look well; sorrow's the go,
And every one at court must wear it now,

With all my heart; for now I feel a passion,
To be prime bang-up in the fashion! [Weeps.

Buck.
See where he comes, sniv'ling for our loss,
His looks are penitent and void of brass.

Glo. (in centre)
Good day, my lords, methinks we meet like quakers.

Buck.
We may remember, if memory don't forsake us,
We should be silent, when blue devils take us!

Glo.
Sister take pluck—we all have cause
To mourn the burning of our rushlight out,
Yet, if we'd burnt another's, so say our laws,
Grim Newgate's gates had made us pout;
So we must weep, because we weep in vain,
Come, let the sun shine after rain.

Air, “Come let us dance and sing.” Glo.
Now let us have a dance,
For that's the way they do in France,
Why don't you all advance,
  To drive dull care away.

All the day let's dance and play,
The blind fiddler I will pay,
We will drink, 'till we blink,
  To drive dull care away. Chorus,
Now let us have a dance, &c. [They waltz off, L. H.

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