[]

To the Right Worſhipful the GRAND MASTER, Deputy GRAND MASTER, GRAND WARDENS, And the reſt of the Brethren of the Ancient and Honourable Society of FREE and ACCEPTED MASONS, This OPERA Is Humbly Inſcrib'd by

Your moſt Obedient, And Devoted Servant, The AUTHOR. A FREE-MASON.

Dramatis Perſonae.

[]
  • Amurath, King of Tunis.
  • Mirza, High-Admiral.
  • Sebaſtian, an Engliſh Gentleman.
  • Zelmana, Queen of Tunis.
  • Maria, an Engliſh Lady.
  • Sir Jaſper Moody.
  • Caelia, his Daughter.
  • Cleremont, her Lover.
  • Lettice, her Maid.
  • Davy, Cleremont's Man.
  • Noodle, a ſimple Squire.
  • Doodle, his Man.
  • Neptune, Tritons, Turks, &c.
[]

THE Generous Free-Maſon: OR, THE CONSTANT LADY. WITH THE HUMOURS OF Squire Noodle, and his Man Doodle. A TRAGI-COMI-FARCICAL BALLAD OPERA. IN THREE ACTS.

With the MUSICK prefix'd to each SONG.

By the AUTHOR of the LOVER's OPERA.

LONDON: Printed for J. ROBERTS in Warwick-Lane, and Sold by the Bookſellers of London and Weſtminſter. MDCCXXXI. [Price One Shilling.]

[]THE GENEROUS FREE-MASON.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Garden.
Enter Maria weeping, follow'd by Jacinta.
JACINTA.
WHY do you ſigh, and thus give way to Grief?
And diſcontented wander up and down?
Diſcloſe the Torments of your troubled Breaſt:
Sorrows reveal'd, the Burthen lighter grows;
And if I bring no Balſam to your Wounds,
Your Truſt but leaves you as you were before.
Mar.
Thou haſt been ever faithful, juſt, and kind;
Therefore I will unload my ſecret Soul,
And tell the Troubles of my tortur'd Breaſt—
This Day, my cruel Father has reſolv'd,
In Spight of all my Tears, and bitter Anguiſh,
To wed me to the Man I moſt abhor;
Tho' well he knows, Sebaſtian has my Heart.
Jac.
If Fathers thus forget Paternal Love,
The Ties of Duty ſhou'd no longer bind.
Mar.
[2]
Sebaſtian (tortur'd with ten thouſand Woes)
This Moment waits to know my laſt Reſolve.
His Love has urg'd me to forſake this Place,
And fly with him to ſome more friendly Clime.
Jac.
There is no other Way to ſhun your Fate.
Mar.
The Tyrant Love too ſtrongly takes his Part,
His Throne is fixt, and reigns within my Heart.
AIR I. As the Snow in Vallies lying. [...]
If the dear, and faithful Lover,
Pleads, our Paſſion to diſcover;
Cupid then will take his Part:
Cupid then &c.
Reaſon holds the Reins no longer,
Powerful Love will prove the ſtronger,
And by Storm will ſeize the Heart.
And by Storm &c.
Enter Sebaſtian.
Seb.
Oh my Maria! muſt I live, or die?
This Moment is the Criſis of my Fate:
Pronounce my Doom, and give me Life, or Death!
Mar.
What will the medling World ſay of my Fame?
[3] To leave my Father, Friends, and native Home,
And turn a willing Wanderer o'er the World.
Seb.
Alas! my Fair, thy Virtue is a Proof
Againſt the Malice of cenſorious Tongues.
I'll be thy Lover, Father, Brother, All.
Truſt in my Faith, that never ſhall deceive thee.
Mar.
Too well thou know'ſt the Weakneſs of my Heart,
That ſmiling liſtens to the Charmer's Lure.
But oh Sebaſtian! will Love always laſt?
Our Morning's Sun may bring a Cloudy Noon,
Ill-featur'd Poverty may come upon us,
And drive the downy Thoughts of Love away.
Seb.
I have a wealthy Uncle lives in Spain,
The Conſul of the Britiſh Nation there,
(I am the Darling of his feeble Age!)
Thither we'll fly, and leave our Cares behind:
He will protect us from the Frowns of Fortune,
And make us happy in our virtuous Loves.
Mar.
The Hand of Heav'n, I hope, will point our Way,
And guide us by his never-erring Ray.
Seb.
Oh! thou haſt rais'd me from the laſt Deſpair,
And thy Conſenting cures my wounded Soul.
Let us be gone, and leave this Shore behind,
The Anchors weighing, and the Sails unfurl'd.
But yet one Pang I feel, thro' all my Joy
That from my noble Brethren I muſt part,
Thoſe Men, whoſe Luſtre ſpreads from Pole to Pole,
Poſſeſſing every Virtue of the Soul.
But yet all Climes the Brotherhood adorn,
As ſmiling Phoebus gilds the Roſie Morn,
Let Love and Friendſhip then our Cares confound,
And Halcyon Days be one eternal Round.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Hall in old Moody's Houſe.

[4]
Enter Moody, Caelia, and Lettice.
Mood.

I tell you, Huſſie! Squire Noodle's the Man, He muſt be the Man, and he ſhall be the Man, or you ſhall die a Maid.

Lett.

Die a Maid! what! come into the World for nothing—If ſhe does die a Maid, you're guilty of Murder, and ought to be hang'd for't.

Mood.

Guilty of Murder, you Slut! how am I guilty of Murder?

Lett.

Why in hindring the getting the Children my Lady might have—'Tis as bad as building a fine Houſe, and letting it ſtand empty—Taxes muſt be paid, you know.

Mood.

Get out of my Houſe, Huſſie! or I'll break every Bone in your Skin.

Lett.

I won't go out of your Houſe.

Mood.

Blood and Fire! get out of my Houſe! or I'll fetch my great Gun, and pepper ye.

Lett.

Dear Sir, your Gun is good for nothing—It may flaſh in the Pan, or ſo, but there's no Danger of its going off.

Mood.

Was there ever ſuch a provoking Devil? Hold that damn'd Tongue of thine, or I'll run you through, Huſſie!

Lett.

Alack-a-day! your Point's too blunt, indeed Sir, your Weapon has not been ſit for Uſe theſe twenty Years.

[5]AIR II. Come hither, good People, &c. [...]
Your Weapon, good Sir, to your Scabbard's confin'd,
And tho' now to draw it, you may be inclin'd;
With Age and with Ruſt it is ſtubborn you'll find,
With a down, down, down, down, down, down, derry, derry derry up and down up and down a,
You only now wear it for Faſhion, 'tis true,
As a Mark of a Gentleman that once cou'd do,
But I think there's no Danger, you e'er ſhou'd run thro',
With a down, &c.
Mood.

Did ever any one hear ſuch a provoking Minx—'sblood, get out my Houſe this Minute, or I'll—

Lett.

I tell you, I won't! do your worſt! I fear you not.

Cael.

Lettice, I command you hold your Peace.

Lett.

I'm all Obedience.

Mood.

Remember once more, I tell you, 'Squire Noodle's the Man; therefore prepare immediately for the Wedding. I'll go and ſend him to you, and give him a favourable Reception, or think of the Fate of Jeptha's Daughter.

[Exit.
Cael.
[6]

What ſhall I do, Lettice? I'd rather lead Apes than marry that Fool, and that's a terrible hard Caſe you know.

Let.

Ah! if I had been in your Lover Cleremont's Place, I'd have put it out of your croſs old Father's Power before now.

Cael.

Why, what wou'd your Wiſdom have done, pray?

Lett.

I'll rell you, Madam.

AIR III. White Joak. [...]
I'd mark the Goods with Hand and Seal,
That ſhou'd in Time your Caſe reveal,
And drive all Purchaſers away.
But Lovers now are grown ſuch Fools,
They go to work without their Tools,
And only whine their Time away.
'Tis beſt to come at—Piſh! nay Fie!
I vow and ſwear, I'll ſooner die!
O Lord! good Sir! what is't you mean?
O Dear, I ſear we ſhall be ſeen,
Ah!—what will all my Kindred ſay!
Cael.

Leave your Impertinence—my Circumſtances won't bear it.

Lett.

Dear Madam! you don't know how much your Circumſtances will bear, till you're put to it.—But ſee, Madam! who's here.

[7] Enter Cleremont and Davy.
Cler.

My dear Caelia! I ſaw your Father go out, and flew on the Wings of Love to viſit you.

Lett.

Wings of Love! if Cupid had not Darts as well as Wings, his Plumes wou'd ſignifie nothing—But talking Nonſenſe is the true Badge of a Lover—But Sir! the Tenement is Lett—Leaſes are drawn, and they intend to ſign and ſeal to-night—Indeed, Sir, none of your Goods muſt be ſent in here, I'll aſſure you.

Cler.

What doſt thou mean?

Lett.

To ſpeak plain Engliſh, your Miſtreſs is to marry 'Squire Noodle immediately.

Cler.

Death! and Fire! I'll cut the Raſcal's Throat!

Lett.

Yes! and ſo dangle in a String at the Charge of the Sheriff.

Cler.

Pr'ythee don't diſtract me! if my dear Caelia proves but conſtant, I dare the utmoſt Malice of my Fate.

Lett.

There was a Whine!

AIR IV. Around the Plains. [...]
Cler.
If e'er my Fair proves falſe to me,
Or weds that Wretch for ſordid Gain,
'Tis Death alone muſt ſet me free,
And rid me of my Pain.
[8] O kindly then my Fears deſtroy,
Swear you ever will be true,
I'll ev'ry Hour of Life employ,
To ſhow my Love to you.
AIR V. Muirland Willy. [...]
Cael.
Ceaſe thy Fears, and ſigh no more,
My Heart is truly yours alone;
I'd rather beg from Door to Door,
Than wed with ſuch a Clown:
A Wretch whom Nature made for Mirth,
As Apes the vulgar Crowd will pleaſe;
A ſordid Sot, a Clod of Earth,
I loath as a Diſeaſe.
Lett.

What Work's here! I believe your Rogue Davy and I muſt lay our Heads together to aſſiſt [9] you, for two ſuch helpleſs Creatures did I never meet with in my Life.—In my Conſcience, two Lovers are but a couple of Fools.

Cler.

If thou can'ſt bring Matters to bear, I'll give thee the Indies.

Lett.

The Indies! Lard, Lard! Lovers and Poets in their Plays are plaguy generous, they'll give a Woman a Fortune of Fifty thouſand Pound, tho' they can't pay their Taylor. I'd adviſe you to keep the Indies to your ſelf; tho' if I accepted 'em, I ſhou'd find you out in your Geography, and look for my great Fortune near Parnaſſus.—No, no, Tickledown Farm will content me, at the Skirt of your Eſtate in the Country.

Cler.

There's my Hand, thou ſha't have it.

Cael.

And I'll give Davy a Hundred Pounds to ſtock it.

Lett.

Ay, this is Right! The Man ſhou'd reward the Woman, and the Woman the Man.

Cael.

There, Davy, take my Purſe.

Cler.

And you mine, Lettice.

Davy.

Ay, this is Encouragement indeed! Gold! thou Sovereign Cure for all Evils! welcome.

AIR VI. Now comes on the glorious Year. [...]
'Tis this o'ercomes all Grieſs and Cares,
It buys a Peace, or War declares;
For This the Wretch, tho' perjur'd, ſwears;
It gains old Widows Spouſes.
[10]
The Thief for Money may be free'd;
It buys you Votes, if Votes you need;
In Law, makes void the ſtrongeſt Deed,
And Fools makes Heads of Houſes.
Cael.

Oh! here comes my fooliſh Lover, with his wiſe Attendant.

Enter Noodle, and his Man Doodle.
Nood.

Come along, Doodle, and you ſhall hear me court my Miſtreſs; and if you can think of any thing, put me in, d'ye hear, Doodle.

Dood.

Ay, ay, Sir; I have ſeveral Compliments ready made.

Nood.
Well, that's pure! Mind me, Doodle!
Oh! lovely Creature! fairer than the Gooſe,
That does upon my Father's Common graze;
Or ſhap'd beyond the Greyhound when he's looſe
To follow Puſs thro' Sloughs, and cleanly Ways.
Dood.
More fair than is the Duck that ſwims the Flood;
Or Sows, that gruntle in the ſlimy Mud;
Handſomer far, than Maſter's brindle Bitch;
Or our Old Joan, that cannot ſee to ſtitch.
Nood.

Very well indeed, Doodle, only the Sow and Joan came in a little odly, tho'.

Cael.

Very fine, indeed, 'Squire! I ſuppoſe they are of your own compoſing.

Nood.

Yes, Madam.

Cael.

I proteſt you are a very great Poet.

Dood.

Poet, Madam! why Maſter has wrote a fine Tragedum.

Nood.

Yes, ſo I have, Doodle; and we'll have it play'd at our Wedding: and Madam, You, and I, and Doodle will act Parts in it.—Oh! I love Acting dearly.

Dood.

Yes, my Maſter and I play'd two Fools in a Play once, and every Body ſaid my Maſter play'd finely.

Nood.
[11]

Ay, ſo I did, to be ſure.

Cael.

And pray what d'ye call your Tragedy?

Dood.

Oh ſad! Oh ſad! Or, The Bloody Butcher. With, The Merry Humours of the Princeſs Trullibub.—Doodle ſhall play, O ſad! I'll play the Bloody Butcher, and you, Madam, ſhall play the Princeſs Trullibub.

Cler.

A fine Piece, I warrant it.

Nood.

Why ſo it is! Pray what have you to ſay to it?—O Lud! this is that fooliſh Fellow my Rival.—What, I warrant you think to get my Miſtreſs from me!—Ha!

Cler.

Pr'ythee don't be impertinent.

Nood.

Impertinent! I'll bully the Dog! for he'll hardly fight before my Miſtreſs.

[Aſide.]

—What Buſineſs have you here? will you be gone!

Dood.

Ay! will you be gone?

Nood.

The ſilly Dog is deviliſhly afraid!—Will you be gone?

Dood.

Ay, I ſay, will you be gone?

[Cler. throws Snuff in Noodle's Face. Davy powders Doodle's, and Exeunt.
Nood.

Oh! I'm blind!

Dood.

And ſo am I too.

Nood.

Will you be gone?

Dood.

Ay, will you be gone?

[They run againſt each other.]

Why, Maſter, I an't Will-you-be gone!

Nood.

You Son of a Whore! you have knock'd my Eyes out.

Dood.

Yes, Sir, and you have beaten my Teeth down my Throat.

Nood.

I'll be reveng'd, and ſee 'em hang'd, if I can but recover my Eye-ſight again.

[12]AIR VII. You'll think ere many Days enſue. [...]
Oh Doodle! what ſad Rogues were theſe!
To put out both our Eyes.
Dood.
We'll wipe our Faces, if you pleaſe,
For ſee, your Miſtreſs cries.
Twang dang dillo dee.
Nood.

Cry, does ſhe! it is ſo like Laughing, that I hardly know one from t'other.

Enter Moody.
Mood.

Hey day! what's to be done here, tro! Have you been walking up the Chimney, 'Squire?

Nood.

Oh, Father-in-law! here has been that fooliſh Fellow my Rival, with my Miſtreſs, and he, with that Bitches Puppy his Man, has blinded us.—I'll take the Law of him.—I'll ruin him in four Terms.—I'll—I'll—what ſhall I do to him, Doodle?

Dood.

Do to him, Sir! Why, undo him—Hang him up in Chancery for Seven Years.—Put him into the Crown once a Year.—Indict him every Quarter for a Rape, once a Week for a Riot, and every Day for a Treſpaſs; and when his Money's all gone, Tranſport him for a Thief for his Endeavour to ſteal other Men's Goods.

Mood.

Well, I ſhall ſoon put an end to his Impertinence—for you ſhall marry my Daughter immediately.

Dood.

And then, Maſter, if you ſhould take him napping, as Moſs did his Mare! Get a Jury of [13] What-d'ye-callums, and you'll recover a ſwinging Sum.

Nood.

Ay, ſo I ſhall, Doodle.

Cael.

What ſhall I do, Lettice? my Ruin now approaches.

Lett.

I have it—we'll put him upon being made a Maſon, and that may gain Time.

Cael.

The Society will never admit ſuch a Fool among 'em.

Lett.

Well, but I hope Davy and his Comrades may make him a mock Maſon, and that will do every whit as well. Therefore ſmile upon him, ſeem to comply, and leave the reſt to me.

Mood.

Well, Mrs. Diſobedience! what are you and your Contriver plotting now!—But I ſhall watch your Waters, I warrant you.

Lett.

Why, I'll tell you our Plot, Sir—I have been perſuading my Miſtreſs to marry the Squire—for ſince you went I have been inform'd that Mr. Cleremont keeps three Miſtreſſes, has ſeven Children by one, five by another, and two by a Blackamoor—and to all this, is one of the greateſt Gameſters in the Nation, has three Mortgages upon his Eſtate, has ſold his Place in the Government, ſpent the Money, and is going to be proſecuted for a Rape; and not having Money enough to, to, to—you know what, is in danger of a Halter.—And tho' I muſt own I had a Friendſhip for him, yet I have more Love for my Miſtreſs than to ſee her undone, which ſhe muſt be if ſhe marries Cleremont, and therefore ſhe conſents to marry the Squire.

Nood.

O Lud! Doodle, that's pure!

Dood.

Ay, by the Mackins is it!

Mood.

And is this true, you little—

Cael.

Yes, Sir.

[Curtſying.
Lett.

Why d'ye think I wou'd tell you a Lye?

Mood.

Adad, I'll get Mopſa with Child for Joy.

Lett.

Dear Sir, never undertake a Work you can't get through ſtitch with.

Mood.
[14]

Ah, you're a Wag! Adad, I'm as overjoy'd as a Country Curate at a Wedding or a Chriſtening—and I'll ſing you a Song.

AIR VIII. There was three Lads, &c. [...]
There was a young Man and a Maid
Went to Church to wed, Sir,
But the Girl was ſore afraid
To loſe her Maidenhead, Sir.
But when the Rogue had done the Feat,
She found her Fears were vain, Sir;
She vow'd and ſwore it was ſo ſweet,
The Joy out-weigh'd the Pain, Sir.
Mood. Nood. Dood.
She vow'd and ſwore, &c.
Mood.

Adad! I'm as over-joy'd as—as—as a Parſon when he's made a Biſhop.—Well Squire, you'll get your Tackle in Order, you find my Daughter is ready for you, and I'll go fetch the Parſon to give you a Stitch.

[Exit.
Lett.

Harkye Squire, there's one Bar ſtill in the way.

Nood.
[15]

O Lud! what's that?

Lett.

Your Miſtreſs has made a Vow ſhe'll never marry any Man that is not a Free-Maſon, and that was the Reaſon ſhe preferr'd Mr. Cleremont before you—Therefore by all means get your ſelf made one out of hand.

Nood.

Ay, but which way muſt I go about it?

Lett.

Let me ſee—now I think on't, my Brother is Maſter of a Lodge—I'll ſend him to wait on you preſently.

Nood.

Well, that will be pure!—Doodle! I'm to be made a Maſon, and I'll make my Miſtreſs a Maſon, and we'll make you a Maſon, Doodle, and then my Miſtreſs will have me.

Dood.

Well, by the Mackins! that's brave—But Maſter, don't you remember you ſaid you wou'd Serenade your Miſtreſs to-night? pray don't forget that.

Nood.

Don't you fear that, Mr. Doodle.—I'll Serenade my Miſtreſs to be ſure, for my Barber told me 'twas the Faſhion.

I'll ſing ſo ſweetly, ſhe ſhall dance in Bed,
And make her long to loſe her Maidenhead.

Come along, Doodle.

[Exeunt.
End of the Firſt Act.
[16]

ACT II. SCENE I.

The SEA.
Enter Sebaſtian and Maria.
SEBASTIAN.
BEHOLD, my Love, the Land appears in view,
I ſee the Billows breaking on the Shore,
Where all our Fears and Terrors will have End.
[Guns go off within.
But ha! What means this ſudden Voice of War?
Mar.
My boding Heart foretels ſome Ill at hand.
Enter Captain.
Capt.
Oh curs'd Misfortune! Fate is now at work!
We muſt prepare for ever-during Bonds,
Or ſearch for Freedom in the Mouth of Death.
Mirza, the braveſt Moor that ploughs the Sea,
Has ſtretch'd between us, and the Shores of Spain,
And ſails, prepar'd to intercept our Courſe.
Mar.
Oh my hard Fate! is this our hop'd-for Joy?
Capt.
The Galley gains upon us ev'ry Moment;
Her bloody Sign of Battle is unfurl'd,
And waves with dreadful Terror in the Wind.
Seb.
I've that to guard, wou'd give a Coward Valour.
Capt.
'Twill argue Raſhneſs to reſiſt the Foe.
Seb.
We will for Battle inſtantly prepare.
A Briton and a Maſon cannot fear.
[17]AIR IX. [...]
Tho' Dangers allarm me,
Their Force I'll oppoſe,
'Tis Cupid will arm me
To combat our Foes:
Inſpir'd by my Charmer,
Their Rage I'll defie,
Her Virtue's my Armour;
I'll conquer or die.
[Exeunt.
[Trumpets, Guns, and Drums within.]
Enter Mirza, with Sebaſtian and Maria Priſoners.
Mirz.
Droop not, brave Man, nor downward bend thy Eyes,
The Valiant do not always overcome.
Fortune's a fickle Goddeſs, ever blind,
And ſeldom to the Meritorious kind.
Yet Amurath, I hope (for Mirza's ſake)
Your Slavery and Chains will eaſy make.
Seb.
The greateſt Slave has Freedom in his Breaſt;
Death breaks the Bonds, and gives eternal Reſt.
[Exeunt.
Enter Noodle, Doodle, and a Fiddler.
Nood.

Come along, Doodle!—Now for the Serenade!—Pray which is my Miſtreſs's Window, Doodle?

Dood.
[18]

That, Sir.

Nood.

Doodle, ask the Man if he can play The three Children in the Wood.

Dood.

Yes Sir, he ſays he can.

[The Fiddler tunes his Fiddle.
Nood.

Come, begin then—Why the Devil don't you play? You're as long at Twang, Twang, as a Quaker is Humming and Hawing before he holds forth.

[The Fidler plays.
Dood.

Indeed, Maſter Noodle, this is a ſad merry Tune.

Nood.

A ſad merry Tune! that is becauſe a ſad Fellow plays it; you ſhall hear me ſing to it—and you will find it quite another thing.—Come, Mr.—Play agen.

Oh ſtretch your Legs abroad, my Dear,
And ſee who ſtands below.
Dood.

Maſter, wou'd it not be better to ſay, ſtretch your Eyes abroad?

Nood.

Why ſure, Mr. Doodle! did I take you into my Service to teach me? Stretch her Eyes! Yes, I warrant you! No, I ſay, Stretch her Legs; Do you think ſhe can come to the Window without ſtretching her Legs, Mr. Doodle?

Dood.

It's very true indeed, Maſter.

Nood.

Yes, I think it is.—Oh ſtretch your Eyes abroad, my Dear. Did you ever ſee the like!—This Baſtardly Rogue, Doodle, has put me quite out.

AIR X. O ponder well, be not ſevere. [...]
Oh ſtretch your Legs abroad, my Dear!
And ſee who ſtands below;
Upright and ſtiff as any Spear,
Beneath your bright Window.

[19] Is not that very pretty, Doodle?

Dood.

Beneath your bright Window! Very pretty indeed, Maſter.

Enter Lettice above in the Balcony.
Lett.
What Boar-Cat caterwawls thus late
To break my Lady's Reſt:
Or Hog that's grunting at the Gate,
When Winds blow hard from Weſt.
Nood.

Boar-Cat! you are a Bull-Bitch to call me Boar-Cat, you are ſo! od! if I had you here, I'd give you a good Douſe on the Chops, I wou'd ſo. Boar-Cat! Why, Doodle, do I look or ſing like a Boar-Cat?

Dood.

A Boar-Cat! no indeed, Maſter. But indeed Maſter—O ſtretch your Legs abroad, is a very dumpiſh Tune—have you never a merrier in your Budget?

Nood.

Well remember'd efackins, Doodle—yes, yes, I have another of my own making to the Tune of the Black Joak—You, Fidler! can you play the Black Joak?

Dood.

Take care what you ſay, he's no Fidler, he's a Maſter of Muſic.

Dood.

Oh, I cry your Marcy, Mr. Maſter of Muſic—will you be pleas'd to play me the Black Joak—I made this Song, Doodle, in Praiſe of my Miſtreſs's Beauty. I ſhow'd it to our Thraſher, and I can aſſure you he likes it. You know, Doodle, he's a Poet himſelf, and Poets never flatter one another.—Why don't you play?

[20]
AIR XI. Black Joak. [...]
Of all the Girls in our Town,
That with two Legs walk up and down,
There's none with Caelia can compare.
For ſhe has a Breaſt as ſoft as Silk,
To give our Children pure good Milk,
And all her Locks like Carrots fair.
Then ſhe has a Mouth like any thing,
A Tongue within does ſweetly ſing,
And ſomething elſe to pleaſe a Duke,
Oh that I might upon it look,
Oh Geminy! how I ſhou'd ſtare.

There Doodle! is it not fine Poetry.

Dood.

Oh! Geminy! how I ſhou'd ſtare! very fine indeed, Maſter.

Nood.

But why does not my Miſtreſs come and thank me, Ha! Doodle.

Dood.

Why, may be ſhe is a-ſleep ſtill—we muſt make a greater Noiſe to wake her.

Nood.

Ay! come then—Dol, dol dorol.

[They ſing and dance.
[Lettice throws Water upon 'em.

Oh! Lud, Doodle! I'm half drown'd.

Dood.

Yes, Sir, and I am t'other half.

[21] Enter Cleremont diſguis'd.
Cler.

What Midnight Caterwawling Raſcals are theſe—I'll teach 'em how to diſturb a ſleeping Neighbourhood.

[Beats 'em, and Exit.
Nood.

Oh, Doodle! I'm beaten like Eggs to a Pudding.

Dood.

Yes, Sir, and one of 'em is Addle, for here's and odd ſort of a Smell between us.

Nood.

O lud, Doodle! here he comes again!—Let's be gone! Murder! Fire! Popery, and Sedition!

[Exeunt.
Re-enter Cleremont.
Cler.

They'll hardly come a Serenading again in Haſte, I believe. But I fear my dear Caelia is gone to Reſt—I'll try however.

AIR XII. [...]
Oh! come to my Arms, my charming Fair!
Oh! fly to thy Lover's Arms;
We'll love all the Day,
And we'll revel and play,
And at Night I will guard thee from Harms.
[Caelia and Lettice appear at the Window.
Cael.
Oh! had I but Wings, my only Dear,
I then to thy Arms wou'd fly;
But Fate is ſevere,
And my Father is near,
Who bars me from Liberty.
Cler.
[22]

Oh that I had thee in my longing Arms! with eager Kiſſes, Careſſes, and Embraces, I'd never quit thee till thou wert wholly mine.

Lett.

Lud! lud! what a Whining's here! Don't you remember the old Proverb, Signior—Faint Heart never—you underſtand me.

AIR XIII. Wou'd you court a young Virgin, &c. [...]
When you court a young Virgin of ſixteen Years,
You muſt baniſh your Sorrows, your Griefs and Cares:
Your whining and pining will never, never
Steer you to Harbour—then ceaſe your Fears,
Pleaſure and Joy let your Face adorn,
Be lively and gay as a Summer's Morn,
Puſh home your Affairs, or you'll ever, ever,
Juſtly deſerve the Fair one's Scorn.

Ods me! I hear my old Maſter! away! away as faſt as you can—for if he ſees you we're undone for ever—while we poor Souls go to Bed, hug our Pillows, and dream of I know not what, and of Force be contented till ſomething better offers.

Cael.

Cleremont, adieu!

[Sighing]
Cler.

May gentle Sleep thoſe orient Luſtres cloſe, And peaceful Dreams attend thy ſoft Repoſe.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

[23]
The King and Queen of Tunis diſcover'd ſeated on a Throne. Prieſts, Singers, Dancers, Guards and Attendants.
King.
Thus far our Civil Wars, and Troubles ceaſe,
And Africk ſlumbers in the Breaſt of Peace.
Queen.
Your Arms a Cloud of Terrors ſpread around,
And Hydra Faction bites the bloody Ground.
King.
Mirza, my Scourge of War, ploughs thro' the Main,
The Fear and Terror of proud neighb'ring Spain.
Yet, happy as I ſeem, I've ſomething here
Aſide.
Which ſpeaks a boding Revolution near.
Aſide.
Let me have Muſic to compoſe my Breaſt,
And lull my Senſes to a pleaſing Reſt.
SONG.
Sung by Prieſts.
AIR XIV. [...]
Great Amurath all Hearts obey,
Who rules the World with ſettled Sway,
And does with peaceful Homage meet:
[24] His ſilver Creſcents ſhine ſo bright,
They put out ev'ry other Light,
And Nations bow beneath his Feet.
[After the Song, a Dance of Moors.]
Trumpets within.
Enter Mirza, attended. He Kneels.
Mirz.
Long live the mighty King and Queen of Tunis!
May Conqueſt ever on their Arms attend,
And living Laurels crown their Royal Brows!
King.
My Mirza, riſe; Supporter of my Crown,
And ſpeak thoſe noble Actions thou haſt done.
Mirza.
Ranging the Sea by my great King's Command,
I ſpy'd a Ship which bore the Flag of Spain;
We gave her Chace, and ſoon began the Fight.
The noble Prize wou'd have been cheaply bought,
But for one Man, that like a Lyon fought.
Thrice he repuls'd the Entrance of my Men,
Who thrice I rally'd, and led on again:
He dealt his Blows ſo fatal, and ſo faſt,
At ev'ry Stroke a Soldier breath'd his laſt;
'Till like a Tyger, ſpreading Death around,
He fell o'erwhelm'd and bleeding to the Ground.
King.
Such brave Reſiſtance from one ſingle Arm
Raiſes my Admiration.—But go on.
Mirza.
Such Wonders were perform'd by this bold Man,
Inſpir'd by Love of a young beauteous Maid,
That Roman Heroes cannot parallel.
King.
Bring forth the noble Prize thy Arms have won.
[25] Enter Sebaſtian and Maria, Priſoners.
Now, by my Soul! a Miracle of Beauty!
Chriſtian!
Thy Valour pleads ſo ſtrong in the Defence
Of this bright Maid, this beauteous Innocence,
That if thy former Faith thou wilt forego,
And by Inſtruction our great Prophet know,
Honour and Fame ſubmiſſively ſhall wait,
And I will place thee to look down on Fate.
Seb.
Thy Prophet we deſpiſe, thy Arts are vain,
No Power on Earth ſhall e'er our Boſoms ſtain.
King.
Thou Roſe of May! thou heav'nly Excellence!
Whoſe lovely Features raviſh ev'ry Senſe!
No Chains but Love thy beauteous Hands ſhall bind,
Whoſe Eyes have Pow'r to fetter all Mankind.
Queen.
If to the Youth, my Sov'reign, you are kind,
You may be gentle Uſage work his Mind.
Call for the Mufti, his perſuaſive Art,
And weighty Arguments, may turn his Heart.
Seb.
So ſtrong my Inſpiration's from Above,
Not all thy Empire can my Faith remove.
Thy Prophet I deſpiſe, thy Arts are vain,
No Power on Earth ſhall e'er our Boſoms ſtain.
King.
Doſt thou inſult our holy Prophet's Law,
Whom Kings obey with reverential Awe!
Bear to the Den that ſtubborn impious Slave,
And let the Maws of Lyons be his Grave.
Mar.
Oh Mercy! Mercy! ſpare that God-like Youth!
The Pattern of Sincerity and Truth.
If he muſt fall, let me his Fate partake,
I'll welcome Death in Pains for his dear Sake.
King.
For you, fair Maid, ſome Reſpite we will give,
And a few Moments ſuffer him to live.
[Exit.
Queen.
[26]
Mirza, his Life be thy peculiar Care,
For if he bleeds, I muſt be all Deſpair.
[Aſide to Mirza, and Exit.
Mirz.
Why did I conquer, to be ſo unbleſt!
I grieve to find ſuch Virtue ſo diſtreſt.
Ha! What do I ſee?—My Senſes are deceiv'd!
The Bliſs is ſure too great to be believ'd.
Seb.
Come, my Maria, we ſhall yet be free,
For ſwift-wing'd Death will give us Liberty.
[Exeunt.
Enter Davy and another, diſguis'd, meeting Noodle and Doodle.
Dav.

Is this the worthy Perſon that has an Inclination to be made one of our Noble Society?

Nood.

Yes, I am.—But pray may not my Man Doodle be made one along with me?

Davy.

Oh fie Sir! no, no; he muſt wait without 'till the Ceremony be over.

Nood.

O Lud! what muſt not Doodle ſtay in the Room with me?—I ſhall be frighted out of my Wits!

Dav.

I tell you, No! therefore be gone, Fellow! when we have done we'll call you.

Dood.

What adickens are they going to do?—I hope they won't equip my Maſter for an Opera-Singer!—Adad, if they ſhou'd they'll ſpoil his Marriage.

[Exit.
Dav.

Sit down in that Chair.

Nood.

They ſeem to me to be mighty odd looking Fellows. I wiſh I get ſafe out of their Hands.

Davy.

Bind faſt his Arms and Legs.

Nood.

O Jemminy! What are you going to do?

Davy.

Only to proceed in our Ceremony.—When were you ſhav'd laſt?

Nood.

O Lud! ſhav'd! I was never ſhav'd in my Life.

Davy.
[27]

Well then, Lathering ſhall ſerve turn.

Nood.

I am glad of that, I did not know but they might have Shav'd and Bled all under one.

Davy.

Pantagruel, fetch the Baſon of Antiquity prefently. You muſt know, this Baſon was made out of half the Queen of Egypt's great Pearl, when ſhe treated Mark Antony in the Highlands of Scotland.

Nood.

A Pearl! as I hope to ſav'd, it looks like a common Baſon that may be bought for Threepence.

Davy.

A-lack-aday! you'll ſee with other Eyes when you have gone thro' this Ceremony.—This very Baſon was given to our Honourable Society by Alexander the Great, when he turn'd Proteſtant after conquering North-Wales.

[Blacks his Face and picks his Pocket.]

There, Sir, we have done with your Face; now lets ſee your Nails.—Fetch me the myſterious Penknife.

Nood.

A Pen-knife, d'ye call it! adad it looks to me big enough for a Scythe.

Davy.

A Scythe! why, this is the greateſt Piece of Antiquity we have.—This Penknife was made of Eve's Spaniſh Needle that ſhe ſew'd Adam's Fig Breeches with—when they were ſtript by the Turks at the Siege of Namur.

Nood.

Why then, Adam and Eve were a ſwinging Couple—But I know that's a Lye, for I have got their Pictures in our Nurſery at Home.

[Aſide.
Davy.

There, Sir! we have done with your Fingers.

Nood.

Done with my Fingers—yes! but what the Devil have you done with my Rings? Ha!

Davy.

O lud, lud! have but a little Patience—and you'll ſee 'em all turn'd to Brilliants of the firſt Water—your Eye-Sight can't be clear'd till you are put in the Queen of Sheba's Petticoat. Pantagruel! fetch her Majeſty's Divining Petticoat—Sir, when [28] you are in this Petticoat—you'll ſee all Things, paſt, preſent, and to come—

Nood.

A Petticoat! why as I hope to be marry'd, it looks like a Sack! a common Sack!

Davy.

A Lard help you! a Sack! tho' really now I muſt confeſs, when I was made a Maſon firſt, I had almoſt the ſame Notion of Things as you have, good Sir—But you'll ſee after another manner when once you're in this wonderful Petticoat—Why, Sir, this Petticoat was made of the Webs of the Feet of the Eaſt-Indian Bird of Paradiſe—and the Whalebone made of one of the Hairs of King Brogdignagian's Beard, brought over by Captain Lemuel Gulliver.

Nood.

O Lord, Sir! I do believe it—a Lye.

[Aſide.
Davy.

Come, Sir—in with him—when you are in—you'll ſee ſuch ſtrange Things will amaze you.

[They put him in the Sack, and Exeunt.
Nood.

See, quotha! od, it is as dark as a narrow Lane in a Winter's Night. But hark, you—Mr.—Mr.—Mr.—a what the Devil is your Name—Oh—Mr. Watergruell—When ſhall I ſee theſe ſame fine Things—Ha! why what the Devil are you all dumb?—Od! my Mind miſgives—Ha! O Lord! Murder! Fire! Brimſtone and Gunpowder—Doodle—where's Doodle?

Enter Doodle.
Dood.

Here, Maſter—

[Tumbles over him.
Nood.

You Son of a Bitch, you have kick'd my Noſe off.

Dood.

Kick'd your Noſe off—why where are you, Maſter.

Nood.

Here, here.

[Doodle takes him out of the Sack.
Dood.

Oh lud! Murder! Murder! this can't be my Maſter?

Nood.

Ha! what's the matter, Doodle?

Dood.

The matter! why your Face is as black as a Cole-Miner's, or a Chimney-Sweeper's.

Nood.
[29]

O lud! I am undone!—I'll have the Rogues hang'd for Murder, for I am ſure I have Money enough to bribe a Jury, and Witneſſes to ſwear they have murder'd me—But now I am talking of Money, let me feel, if they have not rob'd me as well as murder'd me.

[Feels in his Pockets.]

Oh lud, Doodle! They have pick'd my Pocket of a hundred Pound, and ſtole my Rings off my Fingers—They ſhall be hang'd to be ſure.

AIR XV. Sir Thomas, I cannot, &c. [...]
I'll hang up theſe Rogues, I vow and I ſwear,
I e'er I but live for to find 'em.
Dood.
We'll ſearch ev'ry Town at Market and Fair,
And if we can take 'em, we'll blind 'em.
Nood.
We'll kill 'em, and eat 'em, and bake 'em in Pies,
Dood.
Their Gilts ſhall make Puddings of ſeveral Size.
Nood.
Their Bones ſhall make Hafts for our Forks and our Knives,
And if we can take 'em, we'll grind 'em, we'll grind 'em.
Both.
And if we can take 'em, we'll grind 'em.
[Exeunt.
[30]
SCENE changes to a Priſon.
Enter Sebaſtian, and Maria, weeping.
Seb.
Dry up the Fountain of thy flowing Tears:
Death, tho' he ſeizes all our little Joys,
Yet puts an End to all our Sorrows too.
When his pale Hand has clos'd our mournful Eyes,
We ſhall awake to all Eternity,
And live for ever in our ſpotleſs Loves.
Mar.
It gives me Joy to ſhare thy wretched Fate,
Tho' I cou'd live an Age in black Deſpair,
If all my Torments cou'd reſtore thy Peace.
AIR XVI. Fond Echo. [...]
[31]
If Tears o'er our Fate cou'd prevail,
My Eyes like a Torrent ſhou'd flow:
But Terrors ſo fiercely aſſail,
Each Moment encreaſes our Woe.
Yet Death! with his cold friendly Dart,
To free us from Sorrow, will fly;
His Arrow once fixt in the Heart,
Our Tears and our Anguiſh will die.
Enter the King and Mirza.
King.
Her Voice is more harmonious than the Lark,
Whoſe tuneful Notes awake the chearful Spring,
Even Liberty wou'd be enſlav'd to hear her.
How many Ways has Nature given to charm?
By Heav'n, I'd give my Empire with my Crown,
If in Exchange I cou'd poſſeſs her Heart.
Seb.
Oh Torment to my Soul! muſt I hear this!
King.
Oh Maid Divine! return my ardent Love,
Or I muſt languiſh in the laſt Deſpair.
If you conſent, new Joys ſhall meet with Joys,
And mix their Streams in one eternal Round.
Mar.
Alas! my Heart is in another's Breaſt,
And I wou'd rather die ten thouſand Deaths,
Than wrong that Darling of my Soul, Sebaſtian.
King.
Since a vile Slave's the Bar to all my Love,
'Tis thus I will the Obſtacle remove.
[Goes to ſtab him.
Enter the Queen, offers to ſtab Maria.
Queen.
Strike home be ſure! I'll copy well thy Rage,
And in her Crimſon Streams my Griefs aſſwage.
King.
What do I ſee! hence Traitreſs! fly! be gone!
Queen.
This is a Scene you ſhall not act alone.
King.
The Captives, Mirza, to thy Care I give.
Queen.
If he is ſafe, your Miſtreſs, Sir, may live.
King.
Tempeſt and Whirlinds in my Boſom move,
And I am tortur'd by Revenge and Love.
Away! be gone! my Vengeance ſhall have room,
And injur'd Honour ſhall pronounce thy Doom.
[Exe.
[32]

ACT III. SCENE I.

A Priſon.
Enter MIRZA, alone.
MIRZA.
NOW to fulfil the Longings of my Soul.
Chriſtian come forth, for I am all Impatience
To be inform'd if any thing was meant
By what I ſaw thee Yeſterday perform.
If thou art what I wiſh, thou know'ſt my Meaning.
Enter Sebaſtian.
Seb.
A riſing Dawn of Hope enlights my Soul!
My gracious Lord, I will enfold myſelf.
Having the Honour for a Courſe of Years
To be diſtinguiſh'd by a glorious Badge,
Which none but Maſons have a Right to wear,
Involv'd in Woe, I might have ſhown a Sign
In dear Remembrance of my noble Friends,
Without the Hope of being underſtood.
Mirz.
Come to my Arms! thou unexpected Joy!
And find in me, a Brother, and a Friend.
Seb.
Can it be poſſible! in this barbarous Clime,
Where Arts and Sciences are hardly known
Our antient, noble, and moſt glorious Craft,
(Which even Kings and Heroes have adorn'd)
Shou'd find Reception in a Mooriſh Breaſt.
Mirz.
No, no, my Brother! ſo Divine an Art
Can not ſubſiſt but with Humanity.
Seb.
[33]
O how ſhall I contain my riſing Joy!
Yet one thing pains me to the very Soul:
I grieve to think my Friend has loſt his Faith.
Mirz.
Baniſh that Fear, my Faith is yet unſtain'd:
I were unworthy of a Maſon's Name
Shou'd I in Error live, and wound my Soul.
Know then, my Brother, Britain gave me Birth.
My Father, ſome Years paſt, was Conſul here,
Where Death o'ertook him in my Infancy.
The Father of this King ſeiz'd me by Force,
And preſs'd me to forſake my Chriſtian Faith:
But Heav'n inſpir'd me with that Fortitude,
That I reſiſted both his Frowns and Smiles.
The King being dead, the State was ſo conſus'd,
That all my Perſecution was forgot.
This preſent Monarch took me to his Favour,
And rais'd me to thoſe Honours I poſſeſs.
My long abiding in this ſultry Clime,
Has made this Afric as my Native Home.
Tho' I ſhall ne'er forget my Countreymen.
From them (reſiding here ſome Years ago)
I firſt was enter'd your Society,
And made a Maſon in moſt perfect Form.
Seb.
What ſhall I ſay? My Soul is in ſuch Tranſport,
I cannot utter half the Joy I feel.
Mirz.
Go to the Fair, inform her what has paſt,
And raiſe her drooping melancholy Soul.
While I will to my Royal Maſter ſly,
In hope to gain my Friends their Liberty.
[Exit.
Seb.
Come forth, my Fair, my lovely weeping Mourner.
Come to my Arms, and ſhake of all thy Griefs.
Mirza, that gracious, generous, [...] Man,
Will put an End to all our killing Woes,
And give us Means of perfect Happineſs.
Enter Maria.
Mar.
Alas! there is no Comfort left for me:
If there is Hope—ſhe'll prove a Flatterer,
[34] And plunge us deeper in the Sea of Woe.
Seb.
Lean on my Arm, and chear thy mourning Soul,
For Mirza's Friendſhip will our Fate controul.
[Exeunt.
Enter Noodle.
Nood.

O ſick, ſick! I have ſent Doodle for a Doctor, but I believe the Devil's in him, and the Doctor too, for as I live, I ſhall be dead before he comes, if they don't make haſte—Oh Pox take theſe Maſons; if this is being made a Maſon, I'd rather ride Poſt upon a Broomſtick, from Scotland to Wales

Enter Cleremont as a Doctor, and Doodle.

Od ſo! here comes the Doctor at laſt: Mighty Sir, your Servant.

Cler.

Salva Domina.

Nood.

Salve, Dam ye—is that your Breeding—I thought you Doctors never curſt or ſwore—Beſides, Sir, I don't want any of your Salve—mine is an inward Diſtemper, d'ye think you can cure me?

Cler.

Cure you, Sir! why I have cur'd five hundred incurable Diſeaſes within this Twelvemonth—why I cur'd my Grandmother of the Tooth-ach three Weeks after ſhe was dead.

Nood.

Oh Jeminy! he's a pure Man, Doodle.

Dood.

So he is indeed, Maſter.

Cler.

There's no Diſtemper comes amiſs to me.

[35]AIR XVII. As Tipling John. [...]
I've choice of Pills,
To cure all Ills,
And ſet the Body free.
The Gout, the Stone,
The broken Bone,
A Fool's Stupidity.
The Pains of Love
I can remove,
And make your Miſtreſs kind.
I'll make you mild,
If you are wild,
And heal you tho' you're blind.

Let me feel your Pulſe—

[Feels his Pulſe.]

Pray, Sir, how long have you to go?

Nood.

Oh lud! there's a Queſtion, for a Man of your Parts—To go! why theſe ſixty Years, I [36] hope—without I get Lappy, and then Doodle ſhall carry me.

Cler.

'Tis in vain to hide your Diſtemper from me—you are with Child.

Nood.

With Child! Oh lud, Doodle, what ſhall I do! this muſt be thoſe plaguy Rogues doing with their What-d'ye-Callum Petticoat—I ſhall be diſgrac'd for ever—to bring a Baſtard into the Family—why my Miſtreſs will never have me, if ſhe hears I am with Child before Marriage.

Dood.

'Tis a very ſad thing, Maſter—But it's many an honeſt Body's Caſe beſides yours—now I think on't, I'll tell you what you ſhall do.

Nood.

What! good Doodle?

Dood.

E'en marry your Miſtreſs to-night, ſwear ſhe's the Father, and if you ſhou'd be both brought to Bed at the ſame Time, why one Lying-in may ſerve you both.

Nood.

Egad! and ſo I will!—But this is a ſad thing to be with Child, and not know the Father, Doodle.

Dood.

Why, Maſter, let the Pariſh father it: we'll drop it in a Basket at the Church-Warden's Door, as I was, and then you know, he's oblig'd to take Care of it.

Nood.

What then, are you a Baſtard, Doodle?

Dood.

Truly, I can't tell, for I don't remember the Day I was born, nor did I ever hear that I had any Father or Mother; and to be ſure thoſe that never had any Father or Mother, can't be lawfully begot you know, Maſter.

Nood.

Why that's very true, indeed, Doodle

[Knocking without]

See who's at the Door, Doodle.

Cler.

I can hardly keep my Countenance—Their abominable Simplicity will make me laugh in ſpite of my Teeth—In my Conſcience, one may perſwade theſe Fellows, the Moon's made of a Mince-Pye.

Dood.
[Within]

O lud! Murder! Murder!

Nood.

O Jeminy! what's the matter, Doodle?

[37] Enter Doodle.
Dood.

I'm almoſt choakt.

Nood.

How ſo, Doodle?

Dood.

Why, a Sow's Face Son of a Bitch clap'd this Letter in my Hand, and when he had done, lug'd the Knocker of the Door ſo hard with one Hand, and me by the Ear with the other, that I thought verily the Edge of the Door wou'd have ſerv'd me, as Judith did Holofernes, and have cut off my Head when he had almoſt choakt me, the Rogue ran away—There—I wiſh, I had never ſeen the Face on't.

[Gives Noodle the Letter.
Nood.

To Nicodemus Noodle, Eſq

[Reads]

'Tis directed to me, I find.

Thou poor inſignificant Wretch!

Ha! why what the Dickens is the matter now?

If thou doſt not drop all thy Pretenſions to my Miſtreſs the divine Caelia, expect not to live a Day,

O Gemini

for the firſt Time thou ſtirr'ſt abroad, I'll cut off thy Legs with a Sword as broad as a Scythe—Remember that, and tremble.

CLEREMONT.

O Lud! what ſhall I do—od now I think on't, I'll have him taken up, and hang'd, for this is as bad as the Houſe-firers Letters—is it not, Mr. Doctor?

Cler.

Why, 'tis a terrible Letter, I muſt own—but you can't prove any thing againſt him—you can't ſwear that's his Hand.

Dood.

Yes, but I can ſwear it.

Nood.

Why did you ever ſee it, Doodle?

Dood.

No, but I felt it at the Door, and my Ear will bear me Witneſs, and we'll both ſwear, that Letter's the ſame Hand-writing.

Cler.

Indeed, Gentlemen, that won't [...] go a nearer way to work, and marry the Lady immediately.

Nood.

That's fine Advice truly—why [...] if I cou'd, you may be ſure.

Cler.
[38]

Sir, if you'll leave this Affair to me, I'll not only bring you your Miſtreſs, but a Parſon to marry you.

Nood.

Will you! ah dear Sir!

[Kiſſes him]

you are the beſt Friend I ever met with in my Life.

Cler.

I'll write a Letter to her Father, you ſhall copy it, and I'll carry it myſelf, and I warrant we ſucceed.

Nood.

Adod! and I'll make you amends—I have a Couſin of mine Heir to a great Eſtate, his Father wants a Phyſician—you ſhall be recommended to him—you underſtand your Buſineſs—and he'll pay you well.

Cler.

Sir, I thank you.

Nood.

But I am ſadly afraid my Miſtreſs won't love me, when I am marry'd to her.

Dood.

But Maſter, you know the old Saying, lying together makes Pigs love.

Nood.

Ay, that's true, Doodle—and now I remember a Song of my Father's making.

AIR XVIII. Logan Water. [...]
A Man tho' hated much at firſt,
Tho' by his Spouſe is often curſt:
Yet when at Night his Rib he meets,
They're reconcil'd between the Sheets.

Come into the next Room, and we'll finiſh the Matter.

[Exeunt.
[39] Enter King, meeting Mirza.
King.
Well my kind Mirza, what is thy Succeſs?
Mirz.
As you cou'd wiſh, her Love ſhe does confeſs;
But yet in Secret wou'd that Love poſſeſs.
She wou'd not have the World reveal her Shame.
On this Condition (to preſerve her Fame)
She'll give you full Poſſeſſion of her Charms,
And in the dark will fill your longing Arms.
King.
Oh! thou haſt given me greater Joys by far,
Than all thy great ſucceſsful Deeds in War.
Mirz.
Retire, my Lord, let Love be all your Care,
When Night comes on, I will conduct the Fair.
King.
Farewell!—ye lazy Minutes ſwiftly move,
That I may take Poſſeſſion of my Love.
[Exit.
Enter Queen to Mirza.
Queen.
Mirza!
Thou haſt full oft' the furious Battel ſeen,
Yet (to diſcloſe the Secrets of thy Queen)
No Storms, no Shipwreck, or the Face of War
Can form that Horror like the Soul's Deſpair.
Thy Captive, has thy Miſtreſs Captive made,
And I ſhall languiſh to a ſilent Shade.
I know you'll ſay my Paſſion's vile and foul,
But Love's the very Tyrant of the Soul;
Baffles our Reaſon, and diſdains all Laws;
Pleads for himſelf, and ever gains the Cauſe.
Mirz.
I have already thought to calm your Breaſt:
When all the Court are ſunk in downy Reſt,
In ſecret Silence I'll the Youth convey
To your Apartment, where by me betray'd,
He ſhall believe he claſps the Britiſh Maid.
Queen.
Oh my kind Mirza! may'ſt thou happy prove,
If e'er thy Heart is pierc'd by mighty Love.
[Exit.
[38]
[...]
[39]
[...]
Mirza.
[40]
Heav'n will, I hope, the pious Fraud approve,
Since all I act, is done for virtuous Love.
[Exit.
Enter Moody, Caelia, and Lettice, meeting Noodle and Doodle.
Mood.

Well, Son-in-Law, is the Parſon come? You ſee I have brought my Daughter, according to your Deſire in your Letter.

Nood.

The Parſon! yes, and the Parſon's Wife, too.

Mood.

The Parſon's Wife! what a pize does ſhe do here? Oh, I ſuppoſe ſhe ſmells a good Supper.

Nood.

No, no; my new Friend the Doctor ſays ſhe plays rarely upon the Pipe and Tabor, ſo we ſhall have Muſick for nothing.

Lett.

She has other Buſineſs, which you ſhall know by and by.

[Aſide.
Mood.

Well, Son in-Law, diſpatch your Grace as faſt as you can, and I'll go haſten Supper.—But don't fall too before I come.

Lett.

They won't perhaps make a Meal, Sir, but they may have a mind to pick a Bit, or ſo.

Mood

Thou'rt a Wag-tail, Huſſy.—But I'll make haſte.—And when the Wedding's over, Son, we'll think how to puniſh that Rogue Claremont.

[Exit.
Dood.

Ay, pray Sir do, for the Thoughts of him may chance to ſpoil my Maſter's Stomach to-night.

Nood.

Ah, my little Goldfinch! have I caught you at laſt?

Lett.

You muſt throw ſome Salt upon her Tail firſt.

Nood.

Yes, yes! I'll ſalt her, broil her, and eat her.

Cael.

Bleſs me! you're a dangerous Man, Squire.

Lett.

Don't fear, Madam, his Fury will ſoon be over.

Nood.

Come, my Dear, my Stomach's up, and I cou'd ſeed heartily, if Grace was ſaid.—Od! I [41] fancy it's a pure thing to be marry'd, for Old and Young, Rich and Poor, are fond of the Nooſe.—Beſides, I was always afraid to lye alone.

AIR XIX. A Tenant of my own. [...]
Sure Marriage is a Diſh
That ev'ry one wou'd taſte,
With a fal, lal, la, &c.
Like Mackerel, at firſt
It gives fine Repaſt,
With a fal, &c.
But in a little Time
They are ſo common grown,
They're cry'd about from Street to Street,
In Country and in Town.
With a fal, &c.
[Exeunt.
[42] Enter Mirza, Sebaſtian, and Maria.
Mirz.
In vain I've labour'd with the King and Queen
To ceaſe their ill-plac'd Love, and give you Freedom.
Therefore I've plotted to deceive their Hopes:
Into each other's Arms they blindly run,
And revel in Imaginary Bliſs.
All things conſpire to bleſs our happy Flight;
The Court's dull Silence, and this gloomy Night.
Let us with ſecret Speed the Molo gain,
Once fafe on Board, we ſhall be free from Pain;
My Ship ſtands ready, and full fair's the Wind,
Let us imbark, and leave this Shore behind.
Seb.
What Words can ſpeak the Gratitude we owe!
But Words are poor, and ill our Hearts can ſhow.
Mirz.
I'm doubly paid if I can ſet you free,
We labour now for Love and Liberty.
[Exeunt.
Enter the King, leading the Queen.
King.
Come forth, my Love, reviving Pleaſures give,
And let me view thoſe Eyes by which I live.
Queen.
[Aſide.]
By Heav'n! my Husband's Voice:
Oh curſed Fate!
Inſtead of him I love, I've him I hate.
King.
Furies and Hell! the Queen's dull ſated Face!
Did I for Juno, this dark Cloud embrace!
Queen.
[Aſide.]
Thinking I've had a Mars to Venus kind,
I've claſp'd a Vulcan in my Arms, I find.
[Exit.
King.
Who waits within?
Enter an Attendant.
Bring Mirza to me ſtrait.
Pernicious Slave! I'll ſoon reſolve his Fate.
Att.
My Royal Lord, Mirza is fled to Sea,
And to the Captives has given Liberty.
King.
[43]
Ha! Haſte to the Mole, and bid the Gallies arm;
I'll kill the Slaves, and break this fatal Charm.
Blow ſwift, ye Winds, and give my Vengeance way,
Nor Winds nor Waves ſhall my dire Fury ſtay.
Enter an Officer.
Off.
My Lord, I come by Mirza's ſtrict Command
To give this Paper to your Royal Hand.
King.
[Reads.]

My Royal Lord,

PArdon the Deceit I have been guilty of; I had no other Motive than to aſſiſt the Virtuous.—If your Majeſty will weigh this Action calmly in the Scales of Reaſon, I am aſſur'd of my Forgiveneſs.—Your Queen is innocent; call back your Heart, and give it where Heaven deſign'd it.

Your faithful Slave, MIRZA.
King.
Such generous Sentiments I muſt approve,
Tho' I am loſt for ever to my Love.
[Exeunt.
Enter Noode, Doodle, Jenny Mask'd, Davy and Lettice; meeting Moody.
Nood.

Ah, Father-in-Law! egad I have don't at laſt, I have tickled her Toby for her.

Dood.

Ay, ay, Maſter has tickled her—

Nood.

Pray hold your Prating, Mr. Doodle—You muſt not be ſo familiar with me as you have been, now I am a marry'd Man.

Jenn.
[Unmasks.]

No, my Dear, I'll take care your Servants ſha'nt be impertinent for the future.

Nood.

Why, what the dickens have I got here! this is the Parſon's Wife.

Jenn.

No Sir, you are miſtaken—I paſs'd for the Parſon's Wife, to get into the Houſe indeed, [44] but I'll aſſure you I am no Body's Wife but thine, Deary.

Nood.

Deary, with a Pox! Pray who are you? Whence came you? Whither go you? And who d'ye belong to?

Lett.

Why, in the firſt Place, She is my Siſter.

Nood.

Is ſhe, is ſhe?

Jen.

And for the next Queſtion of, Whence came you? I came from Keeping, from one that has turn'd me off.

Lett.

And in anſwer to your Where are you going? She is going to be Miſtreſs of your Family.

Jen.

Fourthly and Laſtly, anſwers for it ſelf, for I am now your Wife.

Lett.

Well, Jenny, I'm glad of thy good Fortune.—You know I'm to have Five hundred for making the Match, my Dear.

Jen.

Depend on't, I'll never be worſe than my Word, my Dear.

Nood.

My Dear, and my Dear, with a Pox t'ye—I'll hang my ſelf, be bury'd alive, and walk.

AIR XX. Excuſe me. [...]
Jenny.
If my Deary longs to ſwing,
And wants a good tough Haltar,
[45] Your dear loving Bride
A Rope will provide,
For fear your Mind ſhou'd alter.
Nood.
Thanks, my pretty Dove,
Now I know thy Love,
I'll think no more of Hanging;
For if I ſhou'd lead a wicked Lafe,
I'm ſure to be ſav'd by my virtuous Wife.
Dood.
O Lud! good Sir, no more of Strife,
For fear you draw on a Banging.
Lett.

Well, I'll ſwear I think you are a happy Man, Squire.

Dood.

Maſter, if you don't miſcarry, lay the Child upon her, ſwear ſhe's the Father; and have her hang'd for a Witch.

Nood.

O Lud, Doodle! I have miſcarry'd already, I think.

Mood.

Oons! What is the meaning of this?

Lett.

Meaning, Sir! why the Meaning's plain—This is my Siſter, poor Girl, who keeping Shop, and having nothing but ſtale Ware to deal with, beſides Loſſes by Fire, was almoſt ready to ſtarve. So I contriv'd to marry her to this Gentleman, that ſhe may know where to eat, that's all.

Mood.

Oons! my Mind miſgives me; where's my Daughter, Huſſy?

Lett.

Lawd, don't trouble your ſelf about your Daughter, ſhe is full of Buſineſs.—I'm afraid ſhe'll have Work to do all Night.—But here ſhe comes, and your Son too.

Enter Cleremont and Caelia.
Nood.

Oh, here comes the Doctor!—Did not you tell me I ſhou'd be marry'd in half an Hour—and here—

Lett.
[46]

Why, is the Devil in the Man! are you not marry'd?

Nood.

Yes, but I mean to Madam Caelia.

Cler.

That cou'd hardly be, for I was forc'd to marry her my ſelf.

Nood.

Was you ſo! you were deviliſhly hard put to't. Here, I'll give you my Wife, and Forty Shillings to change, and ſhe's a better bred Woman, I can aſſure you, and can get her own Living if occaſion be.

Cler.

I muſt e'en be contented as I am.

Dood.

Maſter, ſince you are ſo willing to part with her, give me the Money, and I'll take her. And if I don't like her, you ſhall have her again—for I believe ſhe will be Wife enough for us both.

Cler.

Well ſaid, Doodle!

Mood.

Cleremont! let me come at the Dog; I'll murder him, a Dog, a cut-throat Dog—Draw, you Dog, and let me kill you.

Lett.

No, Sir, it is not his Time to draw yet.—Come, Sir, I'll be his Champion

[Draws Cleremont's Sword.]

and whip you thro' the Lungs immediately.—Why don't you make your Thruſt? Oh I had forgot—thoſe Days are over with you.—Come, Sir, and Madam, kneel down

[They kneel]

Come, old Fellow, give 'em your Bleſſing, d'ye hear!

Mood.

I bleſs 'em! Damn 'em.

Lett.

What, d'ye diſpute? Zounds! do it, or I'll run my Sword thro' your Midriff.

Mood.

Why, the Devil's in her, ſure.—Well, ſince I can't help it, Bleſs ye! Bleſs ye!

Cler.

Now, my Love, our Joys are compleated.

Cael.

Since my Father is reconcil'd, my Happineſs can't receive Addition.

Davy.

Well, Lettice, ſince my Maſter and your Miſtreſs have brought Matters to bear—I hope you'll let me take Poſſeſſion of your Tenement.

Lett.

You muſt be Tenant for Life then—for I don't care to let Lodgings, where People run away [47] and pay no Rent. Yet I have known many an honeſt Woman pick up a pretty Living by it—and indeed if you can't occupy the Tenement your ſelf, it would be unreaſonable it ſhou'd lie empty.

AIR XXI. Of all the ſimple things we do. [...]
When once the Leaſe is drawn, my Love,
We'll manage as well as we may;
Davy.
The Houſe ſhall be well kept, my Dove,
For I'll guard it every Day.
Lett.
You muſt riſe then and open the Door,
And ſhut it again ev'ry Night.
I'll ſew, and ſtitch;
Davy.
I'll hedge, and ditch,
Both.
To keep our Children tight.
Davy.

One thing I had like to have forgot.—There's your Money and Rings again, Squire—I did not intend to cheat you, and it was impoſſible to make a Fool of you, for I think you were ready made to my Hands, and I am your moſt humble Trout, Davy Dub-Fool.

Lett.

Lovers, lead on, the Grace you know is ſaid, The Cloath is laid, but you may Sup—in Bed.

[48]
AIR XXII. Hunt the Squirrel. [...]
Cler.
Now our Fears are over;
Venus ſmiling,
Cares beguiling
Gives the faithful Lover
Hope of all his Joy.
Cael.
Now I'm thine for ever;
Bliſs increaſing,
Never ceaſing,
Nought but Death will ſever
Love that will not cloy.
Davy.
Since the Cloth is laid,
And the Grace is ſaid,
Sure we may fall too;
I never was more inclin'd, my Dear,
To ſhew thee what I can do.
Lett.
Since your Stomach's good,
You ſhall meet with Food,
Wholeſome, clean, and neat;
And ſince thou haſt ſuch a Mind, my Dear,
I pr'ythee fall to thy Meat.
[Exeunt.

SCENE

[49]
the Sea.
Enter Mirza, Sebaſtian, and Maria.
Mirz.
Once more, my Friends, we Taſte of Liberty,
And are from Fears of Death and Dangers free;
With you I will explore my Native Land,
Where all my Fortunes wait on your Command.
Seb.
Now, my Maria, let us jointly bleſs
The generous Author of our Happineſs,
To whom, both Life and Liberty we owe,
The Friend, that drew us from a World of Woe.
Mirz.
What I have done was in firm Virtue's Cauſe.
Thou art my Brother by the ſtricteſt Laws.
A Chain, unſeen, faſt binds thee to my Heart,
A Tye, that never can from Virtue part.
[Muſick heard in the Air.]
What Divine Harmony is this we hear!
It fills my Soul with Reverential Fear.
Neptune riſes to a Symphony of ſoft Muſick, attended by Tritons.
[50]
AIR XXIII. [...]
Nept.
Be ſtill, you Monſters of the Deep,
Ye low'ring Tempeſts ceaſe to roar;
Within your Cells ſupinely ſleep,
'Till theſe are ſafe on Albion's Shore.
Ye gentle-breathing Gales, ariſe;
(Old Ocean, thou my Will obey;)
Let no black Cloud obſcure the Skies,
But chearing Rays gild o'er the Day.
AIR XXIV. [...]
Chorus of Tritons
Neptune from all Ills ſhall guard you,
Sleep ſecure in Peace and Joy,
Venus, ſmiling, will reward you,
Hymen ſhall your Griefs deſtroy.
[51]
AIR XXV. [...]
Nept.
By Maſons Art th'aſpiring Dome
In various Columns ſhall ariſe:
All Climates are their Native Home,
Their God-like Actions reach the Skies.
Chorus.
Heroes and Kings revere their Name,
And Poets ſing their laſting Fame.
Nept.
Great, generous, virtuous, good, and brave,
Are Titles they moſt juſtly claim;
Their Deeds ſhall live beyond the Grave,
And ev'ry Age their Fame proclaim.
Chorus.
Time ſhall their glorious Acts inroll,
And Love, with Friendſhip, charm the Soul.
Mirz.
The Power that form'd the Earth, the Sea, and Air,
Makes conſtant Virtue his peculiar Care:
And tho' ſome bitter Moments they may find,
To try the Strength and Courage of the Mind!
Yet once the hard and fiery Tryal paſt,
The glorious Recompence is found at laſt.
FINIS.

Appendix A PROPOSALS

[]

For PRINTING by SUBSCRIPTION,

The LIFE, MEMOIRS, VOYAGES, TRAVELS, and ADVENTURES, of WILLIAM OWEN GWIN VAUGHAN, Eſq

Collected from his own original Papers. Intermix'd with Variety of other Memoirs.

The Book to conſiſt of twenty eight Sheets, in Octavo, Printed with a handſome Letter, on a ſuperfine Genoa Paper.

The Price to SUBSCRIBERS Half-a-Guinea, to be paid down; and the Book to be deliver'd to the SUBSCRIBERS in April next, handſomly Bound and Gilt.

The Names of the Subſcribers to be Printed.

Subſcriptions are taken by the Compiler, at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane.

Appendix B Juſt Publiſh'd, and Sold by J. Roberts in Warwick-Lane,

  • BAYES's OPERA, in Three Acts, as Perform'd by His Majeſty's Company of Comedians, at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. With a Preface concerning that Way of Writing, by Mr. Odingſells. Price 1s. 6d.
  • Likewiſe the Third Edition of the Lover's Opera.
Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3599 The generous Free mason or the constant lady With the humours of Squire Noodle and his man Doodle A tragi comi farcical ballad opera In three acts With the musick prefix d to each song By the. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5AD6-E