2nd King. Let us move, let us move;
Move to remove the fate
Of Brentford's long united state.[50]
1st King. Tarra, ran, tarra, full east and by south.
2nd King. We sail with thunder in our mouth,
In scorching noon-day, whilst the traveller stays;
Busy, busy, busy, busy, we bustle along,
Mounted upon warm Phœbus's rays,
Through the heavenly throng,