[]
THE LONG ODDS. A SERENATA, IN TWO ACTS.
PRINTED IN THE YEAR, 1783.
CHARACTERS.
[]MALE.
- Jupiter,
- Miſs Leonora Simonet.
- Apello,
- Miſs Wilkinſon.
- Neptune,
- Maſter Seſtini.
- Bacchus,
- Maſter Langriſt.
- Plutus,
- Maſter Seſtini.
- Mercury,
- Miſs Decamp.
- Do [...]us,
- Maſter Ruſſel.
FEMALE.
- Juno,
- Miſs Berry.
- Venus
- Miſs Simonet.
- Fame,
- Miſs Smyth.
- Falas,
- Miſs Richardſon.
- Euph [...]oſyne,
- Miſs Sawley.
- Mopſa,
- Miſs Seymour.
- Aminta,
- Miſs Romanzini.
Attendants, Prieſts, &c. The Muſes.
[]THE LONG ODDS. A SERENATA.
Mount Olympus. The ſtage repreſents a large extent of decorated groves, arbours and pavillions; a kind of celeſtial pleaſure ground.—Pretty far up the ſtage, in a pavillion, adorned with golden ornaments, are Juno, Minerva, Ceres, Diana and Fame, drinking tea. In another more forward, ornamented with ſilver, are Venus and the Graces, taking Ice, Jellies, &c.—Cloſe in the front is a table, a twhich are ſeated Jupiter, Mercury, Plutus, Momus, and ſome others playing hazard; and in the back ground are ſmall figures in groupes.—Iris, Cupid and Ganymede are waiting.
AIR.CHORUS.
The univerſe is all the ſame;
In heaven, as upon earth,
We rant, and revel,
Play the devil,
Goſſip, chatter, wench and game,
And give a looſe to mirth.
Mercury.
[6]Seven's the main.
Jup.
Ay, ſeven's the main.
Merc.
A nick, friend Jupiter.
Jupiter.
Again—
Come, come no logging.
Venus.
T'other noggin,
Dear Euphroz.
Jup.
I can't poz roz.
Venus.
Fie, 'twon't hurt you!
[They drink.]
Juno.
I'm for virtu.
Fame.
You're its pettern.
Juno.
What does't ſignify,
Venus, or ſome ſuch bra [...]en ſlattern!
Now-a-days, folks only dignify?
Jup.
The box is mine, then here goes manfully—
Eight.
Merc.
I ſet fifty.
Plutus.
And an handful I.
Jup.
Eight, and ten—
Here goes again
I'll win the church or loſe the ſteeple—
I've loſt—perdition!
Plut.
Pay the people.
CHORUS.
The univerſe, &c.
Venus.
I ſay, Euphroſyne, twig Juno.
She in a cabal is
With modeſt Miſtreſs Pallas,
And Madam Fame, that goſſip,
Abuſing ſome folks I and you know,
While their tea they toſs up,
That Fame ſuch a blab is
Every little two-penny matter
She hears her envious neighbours chatter,
Their favor to curry,
She runs in a hurry,
And tells to theſe old tabbies.
Juno.
[7]And ſo the minx was caught out?
Fame.
Yes, Ma'am.
Juno.
And pray, who with?
Fame.
Lord, can't you gueſs, Ma'am?
Juno.
Jove, for a ſhilling.
Oh! what a villain!
Fame.
You're pretty right in your conjecture.
Juno.
I'll give him ſuch a curtain lecture!
Jup.
Zounds what a ſhark,
Merc.
I've—loſt let's ſee—
Juſt fifteen heaps.
Jup.
And as for me,
My pockets wear Moll Thompſon's mark.
(They riſe and come forward.
CHORUS.
The univerſe is all the ſame;
In heaven, as upon earth,
We rant and revel,
Play the devil,
Goſſip, chatter, wench and game,
And give a looſe to mirth.
(At the end of the air, Juno and her party walk one way Venus, &c. another, and Jupiter, &c. come forward)
RECITATIVE.
Jup.
How comes it we've not here, to attack us,
Apollo, Neptune, and bold Bacchus?
Plut.
They're upon earth.
Merc.
In love, I warrant.
Plut.
Yes, yes, they're all on the ſame errand,
Playing more droll, and monkey tricks at,
Than Furioſo or Don Quixote,
Jup.
And who are the three Dulcineas?
Plut.
Here lies the joke, one pale faced, ſhe has
Charms for them all.
Merc.
And which will carry her?
Plat.
They've ſworn each mother's ſon to marry her.
Jup.
[8]Is each to the others actions privy?
Plut.
No, every one ſpurs on tantwivy
His own nag.
Jup.
And now pray, does Madam
Know'em?
Plut.
No more than you know Adam.
In three ſhort words hear all their hiſtories
This girl, at your religious myſteries,
Loved a Sicilian youth, one Lycidas—
Merc.
Who now reſides at Delos?
Plut.
Yes he does;
Where Phoebus baniſhed him in diſtreſs,
Then took his form to win his miſtreſs.
He pleas'd her ſoon, but grew ſo proud on't,
And let his clapper ring ſo loud on't,
That t'other three, merely by fame, Sir,
Lov'd this Aminta—that's her name, Sir
Neptune called Pennant—Bacchus Ranter
With toaſt and glaſs, and bam and banter
Cajole the dad—while t'other blade is
With Solfa—tick'ling up the ladies.
Now hear what I'll do—if there's in her
A grain of pride, I'll woo and win her
For the poor lad—then joke theſe gods on't.
Jup.
You'll loſe.
Plut.
I'll lay you the long odds on't.
Jup.
Done!
Plut.
Done!
Jup.
And done.
Plut.
This is our wager,
That in your temple I engage her
This night to marry me.
Jup.
Stake down.
Plut.
There's my ten pounds—
Jup.
And there's my crown.
The Univerſe, &c.
SCENE II.
A hall, with ruſtic, but handſome ornaments. On one ſide are Apollo, as Lycidas, and Aminta, ſitting at a pinaſorte; Dorus, Bacchus and Neptune drinking.
[]
AIR.
Apollo, &c.
Do re mi fa ſol la ſol do,
Even, eaſy, gentle go,
That the notes may ſmoothly flow,
Not too faſt, nor yet too ſlow.
Dorus.
Take a toper's toaſt—may the vine
In the Zodiac be a thirteenth ſign,
A ſtar that ſhall its influence ſhed,
To light the drunkards home to bed.
Apollo
Do mi ſol re fa la ſol mi
See ſee ſee
Who ſtruck B?
Mi.
Take care; for if you loſe the key,
You'll loſe, what's worſe, the harmony.
Nep.
Take a ſailor's toaſt—may grog,
As through the voyage of life we jog,
Still the faithful pilot prove
That ſteers us to the port of love.
Apollo, &c.
Do re mi fa ſol la ſol do,
Even, eaſy, gently go,
That the notes may ſmoothly flow,
Not to faſt, nor yet too ſlow.
Chorus.
Let's drink and ſing and love and fight,
Each purſue his own delight;
The ſtring, the fair, the ſword, the bowl
Shall melt, tune, cheer, or nerve the ſoul,
That ſo we may be fitted for
Muſic and wine, and love and war.
RECITATIVE.
Dorus.
Come, t'other pull at the decanter,
I ſay, you tory rory ranter,
You ſhall be Bacchus, I Silenus,
And pitch and oakum here between us
Shall be the aſs.
Aminta.
And ſo you tell us
They're both quite out of date.
Apollo.
[10]Thoſe fellows
Parcel and Handel with their knowledge,
Yes, we proceed, Ma'am, in our college,
On a new plan, we've changed our note,
Since Arne compos'd what Milton wrote,
And in the preſent inſtitution,
Muſic's given up for execution;
Troth I ſhall have a heavy loſs in
Ballow my boy, and Jemmy Dawſon,
Margaret's ghoſt and hapleſs Peg
This laſt I love.
Apollo.
Sing it, I beg.
You'll jeer me,
Apollo.
No, Ma'am
Bacchus.
Never fear it,
Nep
Tip us the ditty.
Dorus.
Ay, let's hear it.
AIR.
And did you hear what ſad diſaſter
Poor Peg of Mapledown befel?
For love which ſtouteſt hearts can maſter.
Alas! that thoſe who love ſo well,
In ſorrow's train
Should mourn in vain.
Her ſtory does ſuch grief impel,
That woe is me the while I tell.
II.
She loved a youth of honeſt kindred;
At church behold the happy pair:
And aſk what 'twas their bliſs that hinder'd,
For he was young, and the was fair;
Accurſed be wars
And party jars,
Why muſt the handſome danger ſhare?
Alas! it fills me with deſpair.
[11]III.
Onward to his liege lord's dwelling
A rebel rout had cut their way;
What ſhrieks enſued! and what a yelling!
For he a true man muſt away;
He ſwore the fight
Would end ere night,
And he'd return with garlands gay,
Sweet trophies for his wedding day.
VI.
Night came, and ſaw the youth returning;
Accurs'd be war's deſtructive knife;
She ran to claſp, with paſſion burning,
Her wedded lord—deprived of life;
Oh! cruel ſpright!
What! not one night?
Is not her tale with miſery rife?
At once a maiden and a wife.
RECITATIVE.
Apollo.
Cara Cariſſima!
Dor.
To the matter:
Theſe here three ſuterers ſeek my dature;
I'm all for Bacchus.
Luff, old ſoakum.
Nep.
His chance a'nt worth a pinch of oakham
Well, what ſay you? Why, as it were,
I can't, Miſs, quaver you an air
Like Nip-chceſe yonder, fine and finicle.
If one we ſing abaſt the binnacle
Would ſuit, d'ye ſee, why I'd unſhip it you,
O; of all things, then, here goes tip it you.
AIR.
A ſailor and an honeſt heart,
Like ſhip and helm, are ne'er apart;
For how ſhould one ſtem wind and tide
If tother ſhould refuſe to guide.
[12] With that ſhe freely cuts the waves,
And ſo the tar,
When claſhing waves arround him jar,
Conſults his heart, and dangers braves
Where duty calls; nor aſks for more
Than grog aboard, and girl aſhore.
II.
'Tis not a thouſand leagues from home
More horrid that the billows foam;
'Tis not, that gentler is the breeze
In Channel than in diſtant ſeas;
Danger ſurrounds him far and near;
But honeſt tar,
Though winds and waters round him jar,
Conſults his heart, and ſcorns to fear;
The riſks he runs endears him more
To grog on board, and girl aſhore.
III.
'Tis not, that in the hotteſt fight
The murd'rous ball will ſooner light
On that than any other ſpot,
To face the cannon is his lot;
He muſt of dangers have his ſhare:
But honeſt tar,
Though fire and winds and water jar,
Conſults his heart, and ſhakes off care;
And when the battle's heat is o'er,
In grog aboard, drinks girl aſhore.
Apollo, Neptune, Bacchus, Dorus, Aminta and Mopſa.
RECITATIVE.
Mopſa.
Sir, Sir, I've fetch'd your muſicianers.
Apolle.
Thou art my ſweeteſt of commiſſioners.
I'll go prepare the concert, Madam,
Thou ſhalt have oceans.—
Mopſa.
[13]If you had 'em.
O, never fear, you ſhall be paid,
All is not loſt that is delayed;
A pig by keeping up gets fat,
Oh ho, Sir, if you're good at that.
Mop.
AIR.
I can proverb it too:—Ne'er lean on a ruſh,
A bird in the hand is worth two in the buſh;
'Tis the money paid; that decides who's the winner?
Who waits upon fortune's ne'er ſure of a dinner;
Out of ſight out of mind, delaying breeds danger,
He ought to be cozened who truſts to a ſtranger;
Heaven take my friend, and the old one, my brother;
Promiſing's one thing, performing another.
II.
Much may fall out 'twixt the cup and the lip;
The builder's receipt's the beſt ſail in the ſhip;
'Tis a good thing to lend, but a btter to borrow;
Pay me to-day, and I'll truſt you to-morrow;
Brag is a good dog, but holdfaſt a better,
One may gueſs at a word when one knows the firſt letter;
There's not the moſt fire where we ſee the moſt ſmother;
Promiſing's one thing, performing another.
RECITATIVE.
Bacchus.
Now, Ma'am, for me.
Dorus.
That's right, lad; crack us
The praiſe o' th' bottle my bold Bacchus.
Aminta.
I've heard you all, and in good ſooth,
To ſay I love not, were not truth,
For I do love, and that not ſlenderly,
But truly, conſtantly and tenderly;
Now do I keen impatience trace
In the jolly toper's ruddy face—
My bard's inſpired—My tar tacks ſhort,
And thinks he ſoon-ſhall make his port.
Which is it, toper, tar or poet?
Liſten—I'll tell you how to know it.
[14]AIR.
What time the veſper bell ſhall ſing
The holy prieſts to call,
Him to the temple love muſt bring
Who does my heart enthral.
It may be you, or you, or you—
Would you know who,
Come all.
See how each brow with ſadneſs lours,
Poor ſouls! what fears diſtreſs 'em!
Come, don't complain,
A few ſhort hours
Will put you fairly out of pain,
Without ſuſpenſe love ever cloys;
And we muſt firſt imagine joys,
Before we can poſſeſs 'em.
RECITATIVE.
Dorus.
I'm all for Bacchus.
Bacchus.
I ſhall paſs about
To ſuch a toaſt, with joy, the glaſs about.
Apollo.
Ye hours, till then be feathered feeted,
Neptune.
Your ſignal, Ma'am, ſhall be repeated,
Aminta.
In ſhort, each tells me, in his lingo,
He'll fail me not—O love, by jingo,
Thy power all other power ſurpaſſes;
Thou turn'ſt the wiſeſt men to aſſes.
Oh! for a ſimile to utter
What thou art like—Come, you who mutter
So much of torments which ye prove
Like to ſomething this ſame love.
AIR.
Apollo.
Love's a fire—If fire you view
How beautiful and bright!
What kindly warmth when heavenly hue
How goodly to the ſight!
But touch it, how it burns!
[15]
And ſo is love as bright as fair
Seen in a lovely face,
A ſnowey boſom, auburn hair,
Or figure moved with grace,
But felt—a ſerpent turns.
Mopſa.
II.
Love is wine—The wine you ſip
All evils can controul;
And pleaſure from the quivering lip
Soon reaches to the ſoul.
Drink deep.—You're drunk, my lad.
And ſo it is if love you try,
While you can have the art,
To let it gratify the eye
And never touch the heart,
For then 'twill drive you mad.
Appollo.
III.
Love's the Devil—What is he not?
He's every form and hue,
He's ſhort and tall, and cold and hot,
And black and white and blue,
And till he buys you, civil.
So love ſtill, under every form,
Changing a thouſand ways,
True and falſe, and cold and warm,
Goes on till he betrays,
Exactly like the Devil.
CATCH.
To Cupid then let us be civil,
And flaming altars rear him:
Like Indians, who, they ſay, the Devil
Adore, becauſe they fear him.
END of the FIRST ACT.
ACT II.
[16]Scene continues.—Plutus.
RECITATIVE.
I've underta'en a job for Hercules,
Or the Devil, when in a conjuror's circle he is,
Or Atlas's toil, or Jaſon's travel,
Or Theſeus's lab'rynth to unravel;
And were it not for this, I thank it,
I know they'd toſs me in a blanket:
—Mopſa croſſing the ſtage.
Plutus.
Here—Molly, Sukey, Jenny, Betty,
What is your name—you're dev'liſh pretty?
Mopſa.
I wiſh I could return the compliment
Plutus.
Nay, nay, 'twas not your brow to rumple, I meant
I'd ſerve you—
Mopſa.
Ay, ſo ſay the reſt of you,
To ſerve themſelves—Ah! bad's the beſt of you.
Plutus.
Why what has put thee in this humour
Mopſa.
My lady's handſome—
Plutus.
So ſays rumour—
Mopſa.
And has three ſparks—Yet, friend of mine,
I ne'er ſaw colour of their quine.
Plutus.
The fourth ſhall make up their omiſſion—
And I am he—On one condition—
Mopſa.
What is't?
Plutus.
That you a good word ſpeak for me—
Mopſa.
A better poſt you could not ſeek for me.
Plutus.
There's earneſt then—
Mopſa.
A note for twenty!
I can't give change
Plutus.
[17]O. I have plenty—
Keep it yourſelf—
Mopſa.
Lord you're ſo free of 'em—
You ſaid you'd pay for all, there's three of them
Plutus.
And here three notes—Well, now regard me,
And ſee what ſhare of praiſe you award me—
If now I'm ugly 'twere a ſtrange ill,
Mopſa.
Ugly!—You're handſome as an angel—
AIR.
I vow I thought you, at firſt ſight,
A moppet, a baboon, a fright,
Or ſome hob-gobbling of the night,
Who guilty creatures waken;
With noſe and chin like rams-horns curled,
And brows in furrowed wrinkles furled;
Well! 'tis amazing in this world
How one may be miſtaken.
II.
For now I ſee with half an eye,
You are not old, nor made awry,
Nor do your ſhambling trotters ply,
As if by palſy ſhaken;
You're young as Ganymede, and fair
Narciſſus had not ſuch an air;
Well! 'tis amazing, I declare,
How one may be miſtaken!
SCENE III.
Plutus, Dorus.
RECITATIVE.
Plutus.
I've gain'd Ma'am Abigail for ever.
Here comes the father-now or never!
Dorus.
[18]Hey, boys, for Bacchus!
Plutus.
Fill your glaſſes,
Confuſion to all ſober aſſes.
Dorus.
Who's this?—why, damn it, you're a joker—
Bacchus for ever—hey, old ſoaker;
Plutus.
Why Bacchus is a clever feller,
But Plutus 'tis who fills the cellar,
Which 'twixt ourſelves will better ſuit us.
Dorus.
Is it?—then here goes—hey for Plutus;
Well, hang me but I like your notion—
Plutus.
Ay, ay, there lies your true devotion;
And if you've any thing to ſay to him,
I'll tell you in what way to pray to him.
Dorus.
Who are you, then, that overwhelm me ſo?
Plutus.
I'm his high prieſt.
Dorus.
Why you don't tell me ſo!
Plutus.
Have charge of every bag and coffer,
Which for your daughter's love I offer;
Dorus.
But, Sir, ſhe has another lover,
Who when he chances to diſcover—
Indeed ſhe has three, but Quaverino
Is her own choice—a monſtrous Geno;
Plutus.
He!—hang him whezened creature—fulſomer
Than Doll he dances on his Ducimer;
He handſome, clever, witty, courteous,
Author of any thing that's virtuous,
Or ought of merit the contriver?
The fellow is not worth a ſtiver.
Dorus.
Indeed! That argument's convincing—
Plutus.
What ſignifies the matter mincing.
AIR.
He's poor as Job; and Sir,—you twig me,
Can he be tall?
Dorus.
Sir, he's a Pigmy.
Plutus.
Or handſome?
Dorus.
Uglier than a lizard;
Plutus.
Or ſtrait?
Dorus.
As crooked as an Izard.
Plutus.
[19]Honeſt?
Dorus.
He's one of your trapanners.
Plutus.
Well bred?
Dorus.
A bear has better manners.
Plutus.
RECITATIVE.
And as to all his tricks and fancies,
His fortune-telling and romances,
Our good or our ill fate divining,
From ſtars which at our birth were ſhining.—
AIR.
Why what can he tell us? we know all the paſt,
Are content with the fate we're at preſent poſſeſſing;
And if for the future our lot's are all caſt,
We might there find a curſe where we hope for a bleſſing.
What's hid in the ſtars, then, is not worth our care,
We ſhall know it too ſoon if 'tis any vexation;
If 'tis good fortune, pleaſure's a little too rare,
To rob ourſelves of it by anticipation.
II.
What folly 'twere then in the myſt'ries of fate,
To drive, by a vain, idle impulſe directed;
The knowledge of ill cannot leſſen its weight,
And pleaſure's moſt welcome when leaſt it's expected.
What's hid, &c
SCENE IV.
To them AMINTA.
Dorus.
Here comes my daughter,
Plutus.
At her ſtudies!
Dorus.
[20]Her mad tide as the higheſt flood is.
Anintas.
With his own genius he has fired me;
He has tranſported me—inſpired me:
Sweet Lycidas.
Dorus.
Do'nt prate ſo faſt of him,
For once for all, you've ſeen the laſt of him.
Aminta.
O! Sir, conſider how he plays
His graces, his cantabiles.
What taſte and judgment there is in 'em.
Dorus.
Do'nt know a crotchet from a minum.
Aminta.
Who tells you ſo?
Dorus.
That gemman yonder.
Aminta.
Who when he's ready, 's he I wonder?
Plutus.
One who will prove him a worſe tidler
At muſic, than an old blind fidler;
And you'll confeſs it.
Aminta.
I ſhall!—ſooner
The ſolar orb ſhall yield 't th' lunar:
The ſpheres play diſcords, ſound, kick [...]d ſenſe,
And the nine muſes chatter nonſenſe,
Plutus.
Make no raſh oaths—one little ditty
Of mine's more taſty and more witty
Than all the warblings of that chap:
While I ſtrike up, you hold your lap.
AIR.
Tis true, the mark of many years
Upon my wrinkled front appears,
Yet have I no ſuch mighty fears
This will my fortune ſpoil;
Go'd ſtill each happineſs beſtows,
Ev'n where no youthful ardour glows,
For proof dear girl, take theſe rouleaus
And give me one ſweet ſmile.
[21]II.
'Tis true upon my baggard face,
No marks of beauty can you trace,
Nor wears my figure ought of grace,
To enſure the lover's bliſs,
Yet, am I no ſuch ſhocking fright,
But that bank notes may ſet things right,
Take then theſe bills—all drawn at ſight,
And give me one ſweet kiſs.
III.
'Tis true I know not to be kind,
And that within my hardened mind
No more a jewel can you find,
Than beauty in my face;
But one within this caſket here,
Shall make amends—it's luſtre's clear,
Nor ſhall I think I've ſold it dear,
Paid by a ſweet embrace.
[At the end of each ſtanza ſhe heſitates, and at laſt gives him what he aſks.]
RECITATIVE.
Plutus.
Well, is there any thing that's ſilly in't?
Sure never wit was half ſo brilliant—
Plutus.
Why, yes, it matter has, and reaſon,
Mopſa.
And ſuch as always comes in ſeaſon.
Plutus.
From a rough fellow, ſuch as me,
You'd not expect ſuch poetry.
Sir, rougheſt oyſters we find pearl in;
Dorus.
Yes, yes, his arguments are ſterling.
Plutus.
(To Aminta) Well what ſay you? my little ſonnet,
[22] You ſee, has drawn encomiums on it,
From theſe good people, one and 'tother?
Amnta.
I'll tell you, if you'll ſing another.
P [...]us. ▪
Hey day, what's here.
SCENE V.
To them, Apollo and the Muſes.
Dorus.
You may well ſtare!
The fellow makes my houſe a fair.
Apollo.
Ladies and gentlemen be ſeated;
We're perfect, every thing's compleated;
O! you'll be charmed, come are you ready;
Take care—attention—lead off ſteady.
Careful—expreſſively—with guſto
Away—together—Tempo guiſto.
AIR.
Come round me and weep, to your hearts take deſpair,
'Tis a cauſe that all nature muſt mourn,
Poor Hylas of love, who from all had a ſhare,
From our wiſhes for ever is torn.
That Hylas, to whom, we looked up for a ſmile,
As we bleſſing from heaven obtain;
Whoſe form was ſo faultleſs, whoſe tongue knew no guile,
Is gone—and our wiſhes are vain.
RECITATIVE.
Apollo.
Well! old friend, what d'ye ſay to that?
Plutus.
I vow I thought it rather flat;
Apollo
[23]But you, I'm ſure, with rapture liſtened,
Aminta.
Ne'er heard ſuch ſtuff ſince I was chriſtened.
Mopſa.
I thinks it would be rare to meet,
Worſe ballad ſinging in the ſtreet:
Apollo.
Your father is, aſleep I ſee.
How is this,
Dorus.
Eh—O! don't mind me;
I roſe juſt when the morn was dawning,
Beſides at ſuch ſtuff, how help yawning.
Apollo.
Ne'er did I ſee four faces ſadder,
Plutus.
The truth, my good friend, is you're had here.
Apollo.
Had!—
Plutus.
Yes, your muſick was divine,
'Till theſe good people had heard mine;
But I, by ſtriking upon this chord,
Have made your harmony all diſcord;
Wit againſt gold—next time I prithee,
Thou goeſt to woo, take money with thee;
This ſhall aſſiſt thee in thy quarrel,
'Gainſt dull Apollo and his laurel.
Apollo.
Peace Caitif, nor abuſe a God,
Could cruſh thee with a ſingle nod.
Aminta.
Nay, prithee friend, none of your breezes,
This gemman here does what he pleaſes;
Then do not thus our pleaſure hinder,
Unleſs you'd be chuck'd out of winder.
Come, lovelieſt object of my wiſhes,
And let us leave this fool officious,
Poor, and make love, 'tis paſt endurance,
I never heard of ſuch aſſurance.
AIR.
Shall I—the thought tranſports me,
When diamonds round me ſhine,
When fortune kindly courts me,
And ſo much ſplendour's mine.
[24]
Shall I ſuch matchleſs favours,
Ungratefully thus wrong,
For ſemi-demi quavers,
And to the end of an old ſong.
No, no, no,
Fools alone do ſo,
And ſo good Sir ſolo,
You come and ſo may go.
No, no, in your carreer
You're ſtopt—your tinkling art,
Went only through my ear,
Like tumbler through a hoop;
It never touched my heart,
Therefore good Signor troop.
Shall I, &c.
Apollo, Dorus and Mopſa.
Apollo.
(To Dorus). And pray your promiſe forgetter,
Can you their friend be and abettor,
And in their perfidy protect 'em,
Promiſes, I don't recollect 'em,
Apollo.
Why, ſurely, ſir, 'twould not be flattering
Myſelf
Good friend, I can't ſtand chattering,
If you've a brilliant thought your head in,
To celebrate my daughter's wedding,
You ſhall be paid for't—Well, adieu!
I have a thouſand things to do.
[25]Apollo, Dorus and Mopſa,
Dorus.
How could you write ſuch horrid traſh,
Such vile inferual ſtuff;
Apollo.
You laſh
Somewhat too hard,
Plutus
I am no fool boy,
I'd ſhew you better from a ſchool boy;
And as for muſick not to ſham it,
My good friend you can't ſay your gamut;
Grinding like organ with a barrel,
A thing like pſalm or Chriſtmas carrol,
And glide and languiſh, groan and die,
And call it harmony—! O! fie!
Would'ſt hear the Forte, the Piano,
And the true taſte Italiano,
Of the compoſer, and the ſinger too,
Pray Madam, touch him up a thing or two.
AIR.
You muſt begin Pompoſo,
Incline to the affecttuoſo;
Then—of the Amoroſo;
A gentle touch;
And now ſo much for the motivo:
Further in your progreſſion,
No matter for expreſſion,
So that, for relievo.
You ha!
And he!
And la!
And mi!
And ſink, and break,
And trill and ſhake,
And on a long diviſion ſoar,
You'll ſet the audience in a roar!
[26]
And now have done with that key,
And get into a flat key,
Now give us that once more,
And take it a note lower;
Now the flutes obligato
The fiddles pizzicato,
And now a long fermato.
Then to the ſubject come again,
And, after the motivo,
By way of a relievo;
Be ſure repent that hum again,
Of ha,
And he,
And la,
And mi,
And ſink, and break,
And trill and ſhake.
Then you muſt go low,
That the horns may have a ſolo;
And then on a diviſion ſoar,
'Twill ſet the audience in a roar.
Apollo, Mopſa.
Apollo.
Give me thy pity and aſſiſtance,
Dear Mopſa.
Mopſa
Pray friend, keep your diſtance?
Such imperance indeed,
Believe me;—
Mop.
Where's all the gold you ſaid you'd give me,
You fidling fellow;—Come, come, ſtir you friend,
Pipe ſomewhere elſe, there's nothing for you friend.
[27]Gold then has borne away the palm,
Your very humble ſervant Ma'am;
The jade—ſhe this old grazier chuſes,
And ſlights Apollo and Muſes.
AIR.
I thought we were fiddle and bow,
So well we in concert kept time;
And to ſtrike up a part, baſe and low,
Without either reaſon or rhyme;
What a natural was I, ſo ſoon,
With pleaſure to quaver away;
For I am hummed, I think now to ſome tune,
She has left me the piper to pay.
II.
'Tis plain to perceive ſhe's in glee,
And thinks I ſhall be ſuch a ſlat,
As to ſhake, but ſhe's in a wrong key,
For ſhe never ſhall catch me at that;
Whoe'er to the crotchets of love,
Let's his heart dance a jig in his breaſt,
'Twill a bar to his happineſs prove,
And ſhall ſurely deprive him of reſt.
SCENE X.
To him, Plutus, Dorus, Aminta and Mopſa.
RECITATIVE.
Ptutus.
And now good maſter ſonnet monger,
We'll carry on the farce no longer;
[28]
(To Aminta)
Your other lovers are together,l'th' temple, I'll conduct you thither;
And yet I think 'twill make leſs fuſs,
If we the temple bring to us,
Change ſcene, I will it!
SCENE the LAST.
The TEMPLE of JUPITER.
Apollo.
At this minute, I
Plainly perceive thou'rt ſome divinity;
Come hither, in my pranks to catch me;
But, if know who—the devil fetch me.
Plutus.
Off then, vile dreſs, let what will follow.
Apollo.
Plutus!
Plutus.
As ſure as thou'rt Apollo,
Or, Bacchus thou, and, I'm afraid too,
We've Neptune here in maſquerade too.
Great heroes all, yet let me tell you,
Plutus can always buy and ſell you.
Apollo.
I do not you advantage envy.
Loſers fare beſt, when gods with men vie;
Who from the vices they inherit,
Prefer baſe gold to ſterling merit.
Plutus.
I thought you'd finiſh in heroics,
The others bear it like two ſtoics;
This tale above ſtairs, will make merry many,
But come as maſter of the ceremony.
I've yet to heal this fair one's ſorrow.
You'll ſee your Lycidas to-morrow:
The real one—this god, you've loſt here,
Was nothing more than an impoſtor!
Thoſe riches I have left you, prize,
Adieu, be happy, and be wiſe.
[29]
AIR.
Apollo.
This ſtory fell out, which to night we have given t'ye,
In the year of the world 'bout a thouſand and ſeventy,
So ſays the tradition—and if ought of ſatire
It contains, pray believe we know nought of the matter,
'Tis plain to be ſeen, nor is this a lie,
For is there one here
To whom 'tis not clear,
That in England indulge any folly whatever,
Folks never for gold
Are barter'd and ſold?
For our farce then no one can unkindly apply it,
No, no, we defy it,
We paint but the manners of Sicily.
Plutus.
II.
Would a gentleman fain be returned for a borough
Here in England, his money could ne'er bring him through;
No, no, he's obliged to leave all at their option,
For he ne'er could with brib'ry do ought or corruption;
I aſk the whole nation—Is this a lie?
Is a counſellor learned,
In a law ſuit concerned
Moſt ready, for nothing he gives you his trouble;
To double
His Fee
With him were no plea;
Our farce then no one can unkindly apply it,
No. no, we defy it:
We paint but the manners of Sicily.
Amtnta.
III.
Is a treaty of marriage on foot—the poor lady
In England ne'er aſks if the writings are ready,
[30] But blindly accepting whate'er they appoint her,
She marries for love, and ne'er thinks of a jointure;
I appeal to the boxes—Is this a lie?
As to buying of wares,
And ſuch trifling affairs,
All the world knows that ſix out of ſeven
Are given,
Not ſold,
So light they prize gold;
For our farce then no one can unkindly apply it;
No, no, we deſy it:
We paint but the manners of Sicily.
The END.
- Citation Suggestion for this Object
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3465 The long odds A serenata in two acts. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-613C-4