What think you, ladies, if an hour we kill,
At basset, ombre, picquet, or quadrille?
Tat. Your majesty was pleas'd to order tea.
Queen. My mind is alter'd; bring some ratifia. [They are served round with a dram.
I have a famous fiddler sent from France.
Bid him come in. What think ye of a dance?
Enter Fiddler.
Fid. Thus to your majesty, says the suppliant muse,
Would you a solo or sonata choose;
Or bold concerto or soft Sicilinia,