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THE CHASE: A PASTORAL DRAMA OF TWO ACTS.
Multa fidem promiſſa levant. HOR.
CAMBRIDGE, PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. MDCCLXXII.
ERRATUM.
[]For my, read our—Page 11th—24th line.
TO WILLIAM MARTIN, Eſq L. L. B. One of his Majeſty's Juſtices of the Peace for the County of Nottingham.
[]SIR,
I Should not have preſumed to have made uſe of your Name, as the Patron of my Pen, had I not known that you courted the Friendſhip of the Muſes. This little Drama which I now humbly offer to your impartial Eyes, whoſe ſmall intrinſic Value aſpires not to thoſe Applauſes of a crouded Audience, when habited with the gorgeous Decorations of a Stage, may, I hope, however, merit an Hour's Peruſal in the Cloſet, when the fatigued Mind demands a Relaxation from Buſineſs; there naked and un⯑maſked it will diſcloſe its Deficiencies, and ſue for your Clemency, to diſſipate the Anxieties which every early Wri⯑ter feels for the firſt Production of his Brain, as does
Your devoted SERVANT, THE AUTHOR.
December 17, 1771.
Dramatis Perſonae.
[]- SARRASTES,
- TIBISTHEUS.
- ALEXIS, Son to Sarraſtes, educated as a Shepherd.
- AEGEMON.
- STIMICHUS,
- ALCIMEDON,
- POLLIO,
- TITYRUS,
- LYCIDAS,
- MOPSUS,
- RODETHUSA, Daughter to Tibiſtheus, educated as a Shepherdeſs
- MYSIS,
- NEAERA,
- NYMPH of the Groves.
Huntſmen, Shepherds, and Shepherdeſſes.
SCENE, ARCADIA.
Time, about thirteen Hours.
THE CHASE.
[]ACT I.
A little after Twilight.
On one Side appear Rocks, on the other Mountains and Vallies. Enter Sarraſtes, Tibiſtheus, and Aegemon, with Huntſmen and Attendants.
SARRASTES.
NIGHT's ſable Monarchy in Haſte recedes,
The Stars grow faint, and ſmiling Light ſucceeds:
Behold Aurora! Parent of the Day,
Betwixt yon tow'ring Cliffs emits a Ray,
Fair Meſſenger of Phoebus, to proclaim
His near Approach to our ethereal Frame.
The Lark, in Raptures, ſpreads her ruſſet Wings,
And, high in Air, her ſoft Sonatas ſings:
The warbling Tenants of the Groves combine
In tender Greetings: From the lofty Pine
Sweet Philomel relates her tragic Tale,
As Progne ſkims acroſs the dewy Dale:
[6]The ſleecy Tribes, awaken'd, ſtretch their Feet,
But, pent in Folds, for flow'ry Meadows bleat;
Their happy Maſters, pitying their Cry,
Leap from their Beds, and to their Priſons hie.
Aegem.
To Horſe, my Lords—from yonder Thicket roſe
A beamy Stag.
Tibiſt.
I ſee him—there he goes.
AIR I.
Away, away,
No more Delay,
The Hounds are on the Scent:
Mount, mount your Steeds,
Actaeon ſpeeds,
And gains the ſteep Aſcent.
Tho' Riſks alarm,
We'll fear no Harm,
Our dauntleſs Souls on Flame!
Down Hill, o'er Vale,
Up Rock we'll ſcale,
To keep in View our Game.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Alcimedon and Pollio.
Poll.
Such heav'nly Muſic raviſhes my Soul!
Let me entreat thee—
Alcim.
Whither wou'dſt thou prowl?
Poll.
To ſee the Hunt.
Alcim.
To ſee the Hunt, thou ſilly!
Where is thy Nag?
Poll.
I'll ſaddle our dun Philly—
I think ſhe's able.
Alcim.
[7]Yes, thy Neck to break.
Poll.
Forget not, Sir, the Promiſe thou did'ſt make.
Alcim.
What Promiſe, Boy?
Poll.
That which thou mad'ſt laſt Spring—
How I ſhould go an hunting.
Alcim.
No ſuch Thing;
Beſides, the Mare's with Foal—thou can'ſt not go—
Get thee to work.
Poll.
Conſent I pray thee.
Alcim.
No.
Poll.
Excuſe me, Sir,—I cannot work to day;
If Pan permits, to-morrow I'll make Hay:
Tho' not on Dun, there's Aegon's Diamond yet;
He can't refuſe me, as he's in my Debt.
Alcim.
I like it not—Shou'dſt thou but jade his Beaſt,
Or break her Wind—a Quarrel's next at leaſt.
Poll.
What, Sir,—when I ſo oft' have kept his Sheep—
Help'd him to plough, to ſow, to weed, and reap?
Thou gav'ſt a Promiſe, therefore let me go.
Kneels down.
Alcim.
On theſe Conditions, Idler, then I do:
Obſerve thou thine to-morrow.
Poll.
So I will,
Since thou to-day doſt let me have my Fill—
My Fill of Pleaſure!—Gods! how I will toil—
Thou ſhalt not ſay thou doſt thy Pollio ſpoil.
AIR II.
Tho' a Novice—no Matter,
My Joy is the greater,
By Uſe all Diverſions grow vile:
'Tis Newneſs that cauſes
Such thund'ring Applauſes,
And makes us run mad for awhile.
Exit Poll.
Alcim. ſolus.
[8]Now to return to Buſineſs: To Night,
In Hymen's Bands, theſe Foundlings we unite,
Tho' dubious of their Loves; but meet they muſt
Ere to the Gods we can diſcharge our Truſt.
Young Rodethuſa ſeems a toward Maid,
Obliging, eaſy, tho' of Men afraid—
Is Modeſty a Fault? Girls ſhou'd be coy:
Alexis too appears a ductile Boy.
Omitting but the Supper, we ſhou'd do—
And, now I think on't—I'll go kill an Ewe.
O—here comes Stimichus.
Enter Stimichus.
Stim.
How fares it, Neighbour?
Doſt' long to foot it to the Pipe and Tabor?
Alcim.
No, no, my Friend—Things yet are not compleat.
Stim.
Hah!—Is the Maid unwilling?
Alcim.
No—this Treat
Puts Matters in Confuſion—Nothing's bought—
And our Neglect perplexes ev'ry Thought.
What makes thee ſmile?
Stim.
Thy Ignorance.
Alcim.
And why?
Stim.
No Matter now—I'll tell thee by and by.
Alcim.
The Bridegroom finds the Feaſt—pray does he not?
Indeed thou well might'ſt laugh.
Stim.
Had'ſt thou forgot?
How did'ſt thou do when thou did'ſt Dorcas wed?
Call that to Mind: Is thy Remembrance fled?
Alcim.
Youth's former Pleaſures from us ſlip apace,
When hoary Hairs our Memories efface.
Stim.
What now, Alcimedon!
Alcim.
[9]'Tis very true.
The Fates as yet have but begun thy Clue—
Mine's almoſt out!
Stim.
How old doſt' think I am?
Why I was Forty when Sol touch'd the Ram.
Alcim.
And I was Sixty when he left the Scales:
Beſides, my Eyes grow dim, my Hearing fails,
And all the ſore Infirmities of Age
Begin to pinch, and hale me off the Stage!
Stim.
No more of this I beg—thou mak'ſt me quake.
Alcim.
I'll to my Dame—by this Time ſhe's awake.
Stim.
About Proviſion.
Alcim.
The main Article.
Stim.
On that at preſent there's no need to dwell:
Step to thy Dorcas, but return to me,
And then theſe Stipulations we'll agree.
Alcim.
Nay, do not ſtop—walk ſlow, and I will follow:
If thou art out of Sight I'll give a Holla.
Exeunt Ambo.
SCENE, a GROVE.
The Sun riſing.
Alexis appears cutting down Boughs, and ſinging the following Air.
AIR III.
Oh! did the tim'rous Fair One know
The rending Pangs I feel,
With Love her frozen Heart wou'd glow,
And ev'ry Anguiſh heal.
[10]
Unkind ſhe ſhuns my odious Sight,
All Vows, all Sighs are vain;
Yet ſtill her Syren-Beauties ſmite—
Aſſuage, ye Gods! my Pain.
Throughout the Night I never clos'd my Eyes,
But paſs'd the reſtleſs Hours in venting Sighs;
Nor does the Morn afford me any Eaſe,
Throbbings and parching Fires my Members ſeize.
Who is there that cou'd wiſh to be in Love
Like wretched me! and yet how have I ſtrove
To ſnap the cruel Fetters, and regain
Primeval Liberty—alas, in vain!
What art thou Love, thou ſtrange myſterious Thing?
Had'ſt thou no Sire? did'ſt thou from Nothing ſpring?
An Origin thou had'ſt, from whence 'tis hid—
Our perfect Knowledge of thee is forbid—
Excepting this—to know thou can'ſt torment
When thou for wanton Cruelty art bent.
Till now I had no Fellowſhip with Pain,
I knew not what it was to wear a Chain;
No Virgin's Charms had ſmote my giddy Eyes,
Nor was I wont to waſte my Time in Sighs:
My Days roll'd on in Ignorance and Eaſe;
All Things appear'd as if conſpir'd to pleaſe—
When Tyrant Love beheld my happy State,
And ſculking caught me by a glitt'ring Bait.
A Nymph of the Groves appears.
Nymph.
Cruſh thy Complaints, audacious Youth, and know
The Gods, if pleas'd, may better Days beſtow.
Alex.
Almighty Pow'rs! protect me from her Rage!
Aſide.
Goddeſs! compaſſionate my tender Age—
Kneeling.
If I have ſaid amiſs—forgive my Error!
I can no more—I'm ſtruck with ſuch a Terror.
Aſide.
Nymph.
[11]Tho' Sorrow for awhile diſturbs thy Peace,
Submit to Patience, and thy Pains ſhall ceaſe:
A Father's Voice ſhall ſtrike thy wond'ring Ear,
Life ſhall be ſweet, and Joys on Joys appear.
Vaniſhes.
Alex.
Amazement!—Gone?—My Pulſe denies to beat—
The Wards of Reaſon in Confuſion meet—
This awful Viſit—wherefore was it paid?
To tell me I ſhall wed this lovely Maid?
"Tho' Sorrow for awhile diſturbs thy Peace,
"Submit to Patience, and thy Pains ſhall ceaſe."
This means that Rodethuſa ſhall be mine,
If for the future I no more repine
At Cupid's Perſecutions—I'll obey
The ſtrict Injunction—Heaven ſhall not ſay
I ſlight its high Commands—And yet 'tis hard
To ſuffer Torture, and to be debarr'd
Heaving a Sigh, or letting fall a Tear.
"A Father's Voice ſhall ſtrike thy wond'ring Ear."
It is a Sentence I cannot explain—
This I'll forget—'twill only rack my Brain.
Suppoſe I tell my Mother what has paſs'd—
Diſcloſe my Paſſion—Secrets cannot laſt—
She may unriddle what I can't make out—
But then, perhaps, ſhe'll blaze it at my Rout;
And Folks may think—Alexis is turn'd Fool:
On ſecond Thoughts, 'tis beſt to keep it cool.
Exit.
SCENE, a PLAIN.
Enter Mopſus.
Mop.
Ho! Swain—how dar'ſt thou drive thy Sheep to mine?
[12] Enter Lycidas.
Lyc.
Doſt' think my Sheep will deign to herd with thine? Thou ſorry Jackanapes!
Mop.
Take them away.
Lyc.
That wou'd be pretty.
Mop.
Wilt thou not obey?
AIR IV.
Beware, thoughtleſs Swain,
Left my Hands may be fain
To give thy thin Bones a Salute:
'Tis better to yield,
And ſurrender the Field,
Than come to a dang'rous Diſpute.
Lyc.
Proud Boaſter, come on—
I defy thee—
Mop.
Begone.
Lyc.
Hah, Coward! doſt' think to eſcape
A Victor, and brag?
Take that, vaunting Wag—
Say—Pride led thee into this Scrape.
Lycidas beats Mopſus.
Enter Tityrus.
Tit.
Arcadians, fie!—do ye behave like Men?
Mop.
Enough! enough!
Lyc.
Wilt thou be eaſy then?
This Fellow had the Impudence to dare
Me to a Conteſt—Nay, and did declare
Himſelf the Victor ere we had engag'd:
Pray had not I a Cauſe to be enrag'd?
Mop.
[13]Thief, hold thy Tongue—or I can ſomething blab—
I can—that will thy Reputation ſtab.
Tit.
Make me your Judge—I will the Quarrel end:
Mopſus, thy Charge—Thou, Lycidas, attend.
Mop.
The Accuſation I ſhall bring is this;
I know in Honeſty he is remiſs:
As I was ſitting here, keeping my Flock,
He comes and drives to them his rotten Stock,
In hopes to intermix his with my ſound.
Lyc.
Now let me aſk—To whom belongs the Ground?
Tit.
'Tis free to all that are Arcadians born.
Lyc.
What ſay'ſt thou, Sir, to that? To wrong I ſcorn.
My Honeſty is frail—I am a Thief—
Pleaſe to expound thy Words.
Mop.
I will in brief:
Did I not ſee thee, Varlet—did I not—
As thou waſt ſculking to filch Mycon's Goat?
And when I cry'd—"There! there he goes!"—away
Thou ſlily ſlunk'ſt, defeated of thy Prey.
Lyc.
Has not a Man a Right to take his own?
Think'ſt thou to have a mighty Secret blown?
And that my Character is now undone?
The Goat was mine—by Wreſtling fairly won:
Aſk Mycon if he can the Debt deny:
Thy peeviſh, ſtupid Malice I defy.
Who broke down Linco's Fence, and bark'd his Vines?
Mop.
Four Kids, two Ewes I paid—the ſtated Fines.
Tit.
Ye both are jealous of each other's Love,
And of your Spite I cannot, Sirs, approve—
Each wants t' accuſe the other where he can:
Theſe fooliſh Squabbles don't become the Man—
Therefore be Friends.
Lyc.
[14]Yes, Tityrus, 'tis true
Love made us Foes: I'm willing to renew
Our former Friendſhip, ſince we're both to blame.
Mop.
And ſo am I, if thou'lt renounce all Claim
To Rodethuſa.
Lyc.
No: I'll not do that.
Tit.
Come, come—ſhake Hands—I've thought of ſomething.
Mop.
What?
Tit.
The beſt in Singing, his ſhall be the Prize:
Will you conſent to that? Will that ſuffice?
Mop.
So let it be.
Tit.
She can't be both's.
Lyc.
Why no—
Thou reaſon'ſt well—we'll then conclude it ſo.
Exeunt Omnes.
Enter Rodethuſa and Neaera.
Rod.
Heigh-ho!
Ne.
Heigh-ho!
Rod.
Dear Heart, how we do ſigh!
Ne.
I am in Love!
Rod.
Alas, and ſo am I!
Ne.
Love is a Malady that few can cure.
Rod.
Till now I ever thought myſelf ſecure.
Ne.
Is Rodethuſa ſmote at laſt?
Rod.
She is.
Ne.
And muſt my Friend her coy Reſerve diſmiſs?
Rod.
Her Fortitude is vaniſh'd—Cupid's Dart,
That never errs, ſticks in her conquer'd Heart.
Ne.
Is young Alexis that high-favour'd Swain?
Rod.
The melting Muſic thrills thro' ev'ry Vein!
Alexis! Oh how raviſhing's that Sound!
Ne.
Cupid, indeed, has made a ghaſtly Wound:
Aſide.
Theſe burning Symptoms—when did they appear?
Rod.
But Yeſterday.
Ne.
But Yeſterday, my Dear!
Rod.
[15]Long has the Youth confeſs'd himſelf my Slave,
To which Avowal I no Credence gave:
So far from that, his fulſome Sight I'd ſhun—
If Face to Face—I'd think myſelf undone:
And when the Tears ſtood quiv'ring in his Eyes—
I'd fancy him a Tyger in Diſguiſe.
But Yeſterday! diſrobed of my Fears,
This frightful Object amiable appears!
Cloſe to a purling Brook, beneath a Shade
Of branching Elms, the lovely Boy was laid—
Pale was his Viſage—languiſhing his Eyes—
"Pitileſs Maid!" he cry'd—three heavy Sighs
Utter'd the Reſt—Compaſſion melts the Ice—
My Soul diſſolves—I fall Love's Sacrifice!
Ne.
Did not thy Countenance this Change betray?
Rod.
He ſaw me not—riſing he went away.
Ne.
I ſee no Reaſon that thou ſhoud'ſt bewail
Thy captive Heart. No—I wou'd rather hail
Thy Embryo-Bliſs.
Rod.
Perhaps 'tis not for me
He ſighs and pines.
Ne.
For whom then ſhou'd it be?
AIR V.
Rod.
'Tis Conſcience that aſſaſſinates
Each riſing Hope, each budding Joy:
'Tis Conſcience that Diſmay creates—
I've been too rigid to the Boy!
For when he comes to hear
That he to me is dear,
He'll off and cry—
"Damſel, good bye,
"Now I'll be ſhy."
[16] Then have not I a Cauſe
To fear the Youth's Diſdain?
If he his Love withdraws,
Hah! how can I complain!
Ne.
Self-Accuſation does not rack my Mind:
My Swain in me did no Reſiſtance find;
For to his firſt Addreſſes I was kind.
I do not aſk thee if thou know'ſt his Name.
Rod.
I may ſuppoſe 'tis Pollio.
Ne.
Yes, the ſame—
Whence comes that Groan?
Steps behind the Scene.
Good Heav'n! whom do I ſee?
Pollio!
Rod.
My Brother?—It can never be.
Steps behind the Scene.
Pol.
[behind]
A Murrain ſeize the Brute!—What Siſter here?I'm glad to find Aſſiſtance is ſo near—
Fly—catch the Beaſt—I'll baſte the ſtumbling Jade!
Ne.
[behind]
My Pollio lives!Pol.
[behind]
Hah!—how doſt' do, ſweet Maid?Ne.
[behind]
Give me thy Hand.Pol.
[behind]
Siſter, why doſt thou ſtay?Quick, quick—or elſe the Beaſt will run away.
They come forward.
Ne.
What ails the Youth? Oh, how his Eye-balls roll!
He ſhakes! he pants! he raves! he's mad, poor Soul!
Rod.
Vex not thyſelf—The Lad is very well;
No baneful Accident has him befel;
A Fall has only diſcompos'd his Play—
He'd better ſtay'd at Home and made his Hay.
Pol.
Let looſe my Arms.
Rod.
[17]Ill-manner'd Numſcull!
Ne.
Peace!
Thou wilt not go?
To Rodethuſa.
Pol.
Then give me a Releaſe.
A Sound of Horns at a Diſtance.
AIR VI.
Pol.
Hark! the merry-ton'd Horn—
Ne.
Wou'd I'd never been born!
Pol.
Has unharbour'd the out-lying Stag—
Rod.
Why, Brother,—for Shame!
Pol.
Now the Hounds ſeize the Game—
Ne.
Ungrateful!—Pol. And here I muſt lag.
Ne.
Away, falſe Swain! no more I'll court
Thy tireſome Stay—purſue thy Sport.
Pol.
My Life, fond Maid, is wholely thine,
But let theſe few ſhort Hours be mine.
Ne.
Away! away!
Rod.
Who bids thee ſtay?
Exeunt Omnes.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
ACT II.
[18]SCENE, a GROTTO.
Rodethuſa and Neaera appear ſitting.
RODETHUSA.
I Know what racking Conflicts tear thy Soul—
And pity thee—but let ſoft Love controul.
Ne.
Hah! Rodethuſa, what doſt thou preſcribe?
Rod.
Object not—pauſe not—my Advice imbibe.
Ne.
Cou'dſt thou put up with this Indifference?
Wou'dſt thou not chaſe the faithleſs Boy from hence?
Laying her Hand on her Boſom.
How eaſy 'tis good Counſels to impart,
But to purſue thoſe Counſels is the Art.
Rod.
Hear me, Neoera—Pollio is young—
To call him faithleſs thou doſt do him wrong—
He loves, adores thee.
Ne.
Yes—he is thy Brother:
And, without Doubt, ye oſt' aſſiſt each other.
Rod.
How? Doſt thou think that I wou'd aid Deceit?
Miſtruſtful Maid—I ſcorn to love a Cheat.
AIR VII.
From Infancy, in Friendſhip's Ties,
As yet we've walked Hand in Hand;
Our Hopes and Fears, without Diſguiſe,
We told, and wanted no Demand.
[19]
Shall one harſh Doubt obſcure the Flame
Which to this Hour has been ſo clear?
Shall Diſcord to the World proclaim
We are not to each other dear?
Ne.
Excuſe my raſh Surmiſe—my Grief provok'd
My Tongue to utter what I ſhou'd have choak'd.
Friendſhip's a Bleſſing I ſhall ever prize,
So precious and ſo pleaſing are its Ties.
Thou ſay'ſt thy Brother loves.
Rod.
I do—and know it.
Ne.
In my Anxiety pray did he ſhow it?
Rod.
I blame him there—but this I can atteſt,
The Joys of Hunting had his Mind poſſeſs'd:
For, 'till this Morn, he never cou'd acquire
My Father's Leave to ſee the Stag expire;
And having the Misfortune of a Fall,
It made him croſs.
Ne.
Th' Apology, tho' ſmall,
Conveys ſome Eaſe.
Rod.
Let's to our fleecy Care—
While we are abſent they may badly fare.
Exeunt Ambo.
SCENE, a Room in Stimichus's Cot.
Enter Alexis, with Myſis behind him.
Alex.
This Morn's Adventure, and this tim'rous Maid,
Engage my whole Attention: I'm afraid
My Mother will remark it—then I muſt
To her Direction theſe ſame Secrets truſt.
Myſ.
[20]Alexis!
Alex.
[aſtoniſh'd]
Here!Myſ.
Look at me.
Alex.
I obey.
Myſ.
Tell me, I beg, what troubles thee to Day?
Alex.
[faltering]
Me! Madam—Nothing.Myſ.
Nothing? This is ſtrange.
Pray, Sir, what makes thy Countenance to change?
What—I am not diſcreet enough to hear
A Son's ſweet Secrets—my obedient Dear?
Chucks him under the Chin.
Alex.
That ſhe o'er heard me I can make no Doubt:
Vexation on it! now they all muſt out.
Aſide.
Myſ.
Hide Nothing from me.
Alex.
With Attention hear:
Know that a Goddeſs did this Morn appear.
Myſ.
A Goddeſs! Boy—then it was in a Dream.
Alex.
To thee, who ſaw her not, ſo it may ſeem.
Whilſt I was hewing Wood within the Grove,
And ſighing at the Cruelty of Love,
(Who can ward off his never-erring Dart!)
I'm ſure I try'd—but it was paſt my Art!)
A Deity, in ſhining Robes, confeſs'd
Before me ſtood, and thus thy Son addreſs'd:
"Cruſh thy Complaints, audacious Youth—and know
"The Gods, if pleas'd, may better Days beſtow:
"Tho' Sorrow for awhile diſturbs thy Peace,
"Submit to Patience, and thy Pains ſhall ceaſe:
"A Father's Voice ſhall ſtrike thy wond'ring Ear;
"Life ſhall be ſweet, and Joys on Joys appear."
Myſis meditates and retires.
[21] What can the Meaning of this Silence be?
Some wonderful Event ſhe does foreſee.
Walks about for ſome Time.
Re-enter Myſis with Stimichus and Alcimedon.
Stim.
Who is this cold inexorable Fair—
This Idol of thy Soul? Her Name declare.
Alex.
A Sire's Command Alexis will obey:
Thy Daughter—Rodethuſa.
To Alcimedon.
Alcim.
Then away—
Myſ.
Seek for this Beauty.
Stim.
And conduct her here.
Alex.
Am I awake? Ye Gods, what do I hear!
Do ye indeed conſent ſhe may be mine?
Father! Alcimedon!
Alcim.
This Night ſhe's thine.
AIR VIII.
Alex.
Waft me, Cupid! waft me ſtraight,
To my dear inchanting Mate!
Who relenting,
Is conſenting
To obey the Voice of Fate.
Eaſed of her late Alarms,
Love has added to her Charms,
Peace and Pleaſure
Without Meaſure—
Hark! ſhe calls me to her Arms!
Exit Alexis.
Myſ.
What think ye now?
Stim.
[22]That 'tis by Heaven's Hand
All is conducted.
Alcim.
That their Births are grand.
SCENE, a PLAIN.
Enter Tityrus ſolus.
Tit. Now theſe two Fools take me to be their Friend,
And on a Lover let their Suit depend:
What Service 'tis to have one's Thoughts acute!
By interpoſing in their Morn's Diſpute
I gain Eſteem, and only them reſerve
For worſer Broils, which will my Purpoſe ſerve.
Shou'd I ſucceed in this my Stratagem,
Whate'er I do will all be laid to them.
Suppoſe, for fear the Maid ſhou'd me betray,
I rob her of her Tongue—The ſafeſt Way
After Enjoyment. Huſh! I hear them coming—
Upon his Lyre young Lycidas is thrumming.
Enter Lycidas, Mopſus, and other Shepherds.
Lyc.
Now, Tityrus, lend thy impartial Ear
To this our Match—Arcadian Swains draw near.
Tit.
Who firſt begins?
Lyc.
Thou, Mopſus—or ſhall I?
Mop.
It matters not.
Lyc.
My Voice I firſt muſt try.
Hums to his Lyre.
[23]
AIR IX.
[Lycidas begins.]
Woman, Nature's faireſt Jewel,
Man's chief Pride and Happineſs;
Sometimes tender, ſometimes cruel,
Fond of pleaſing, loth to bleſs.
Yield, dear Charmer, yield and eaſe me;
Time is always on the Wing:
Ever will I ſtrive to pleaſe thee;
Yield, now Beauty's in its Spring.
AIR X.
[Mopſus begins.]
Little Cupids, hear my Pray'r,
Commis'rate Woes that know no Cure;
To the beauteous Maid repair,
Relate the Pangs that I endure:
Tell her, in the ſofteſt Sighs,
It is to her I owe them all:
Gently whiſper, "Mopſus dies!"
That only ſhe can Life recall.
Tit.
To ſay which of you two deſerves the Prize
I cannot—So ſome other Match deviſe.
Exit Tityrus.
Lyc.
What muſt we do? I think ſhe ſhou'd be mine.
Mop.
Nay, hold thee there—don't fancy ſhe is thine—
My Right is beſt, becauſe I ſung the laſt.
Firſt Shep.
In my Opinion you ſhou'd Lots up caſt.
Lyc.
I'll not agree to that.
Mop.
Nor I.
Firſt Shep.
[24]How then?
Second Shep.
By Pan! I think you both two merry Men.
Lyc.
Neither of us has got the Sire's Conſent.
Mop.
Nor have I to the Maid my Mind unbent.
Lyc.
I'll with thee to Alcimedon.
Mop.
Agreed.
Lyc.
Let him the Caſe decide.
Mop.
Well, then, proceed.
Exeunt Lycidas and Mopſus.
Second Shep.
Ha, ha, ha, ha—Good Luck attend you, Sirs.
Firſt Shep.
Did'ſt thou e'er hear of two ſuch ſilly Curs?
Exeunt Omnes.
Enter Sarraſtes ſolus.
Sar.
A ſudden Dizzineſs attacks my Head,
My Blood runs cold, my Spirits too are fled:
I muſt deſiſt from following the Chaſe,
Tho' I am loth to leave it with Diſgrace—
Tibiſtheus will excuſe me: I'll repair
To ſome good Shepherd's Cot, and reſt me there.
Going.
Enter Alexis.
Alex.
I am afraid, my Lord, thou art not well:
May I conduct thee to my Father's Cell?
Sar.
Thanks, courteous Youth—thy Offer I receive.
Alex.
My Lord, I'll ſtep and fetch thy Horſe, with Leave.
Sar.
I will not trouble thee—If 'tis not far
The Walk may be of Service to me—Hah!
Sure I ſhou'd know thoſe Features!
Aſide.
Alex.
How his Eyes
Are fix'd on mine—what ſtrange Commotions riſe
Within me—ev'ry Word he utters ſhakes
My wond'ring Soul!
Aſide.
Sar.
No—Yet there's ſomething makes
[25]Me feel I know not how!
Aſide.
Alex.
Why do we ſtay?
Aſide.
Sar.
O Thought, rack me no more!
Aſide.
Alex.
My Lord, this Way.
Exeunt Ambo.
SCENE, a GROVE.
Shrieking behind.
Enter Tityrus with Rodethuſa Priſoner.
Rod.
Where wou'dſt thou lead me, barbarous Man?
Tit.
To Joy.
Rod.
Villain!—doſt' think my Honour to decoy!
Tit.
Thoſe pretty ruddy Cheeks! thoſe ſparkling Eyes!
Can't they ſhew Pity to a Shepherd's Sighs!
Rod.
What doſt thou mean by this Impertinence?
Tit.
My Faireſt, I'm in Love.
Rod.
By what Pretence?
Tit.
By thoſe enticing Charms that ſmote my Heart!
Rod.
Off! let me go!
Struggling.
Tit.
No—thou muſt cure the Smart.
Enter Neaera.
Ne.
Where has this Ruffian borne my injur'd Friend?
Protect her, Gods! the virtuous Maid defend!
AIR XI.
Rod.
Fell Monſter! forbear
My Honour to tear!
Tit.
'Tis in vain to contend.
When there's none to befriend.
Ne.
[26]Help! help! ſhe's undone!
Oh, where ſhall I run!
Rod.
Tyrant! Monſter!
Ne.
Oh, ſhe falls!
Tit.
Now I have thee—
Ne.
Help!
Alex.
Who calls?
Enter Alexis.
What a Scene! Who can it be?
Ne.
Rodethuſa!
Alex.
Is it ſhe!
Alex.
Down, Villain! to the deepeſt Gulf in Hell—
In Lakes of Sulphur there thy Paſſions quell!
Knocks down Tityrus.
Rod.
May Heav'n the charitable Deed repay!
Alex.
Thy Pray'r is heard—Riſe, Love, and let's away.
Rod.
Alexis my Deliverer?
Alex.
Thy Mate.
Rod.
How irreſiſtible art thou, O Fate!
Alex.
Hymen has light'd his Torch—all Things prepar'd—
To me thy Father this our Bliſs declar'd.
Ne.
Celeſtial Pow'rs, be prais'd!
Rod.
Art thou ſincere?
Alex.
Am I not then to Rodethuſa dear,
That ſhe ſhou'd diſbelieve her conſtant Swain?
Rod.
I yield, my Hand is thine—no more complain.
Ne.
May Cupid ſtill encreaſe your mutual Fires,
And ev'ry Bleſſing crown your chaſte Deſires.
Exeunt Alexis, Rodethuſa, and Neaera.
Tit.
[recovering]
Am I alive or dead? I wiſh the latter!
Since Fortune chooſes all my Hopes to ſcatter.
By Pluto, and by his infernal Crew!
I wiſh I had return'd the Dog his Due:
To ſhew my Face, wou'd be to get me pelted:
Friends I have none, ſo I cannot be ſhelter'd:
[27]To foreign Meads I'll drive my little Stock,
And live retired under ſome kind Rock.
Exit Tityrus.
AIR. XII.
CHORUS behind the Scenes.
What Joys with the Chaſe can compare?
There's nothing can drive away Care
So ſoon as the Chaſe,
When Actaeon we trace;
Who bounding before us,
Horns and Hounds in full Chorus,
We cutting the thin yielding Air.
O'er Lawns and thro' Foreſts we fly,
The ſwift-footed Stag in our Eye,
Which we never loſe,
But ſoon him incloſe;
His Strength now exhauſted,
With Bites he's accoſted—
Alas! poor Actaeon muſt die.
Enter Tibiſtheus and Aegemon.
Aegem.
This Day has been a Day of glorious Game!
Tibiſt.
Its like before did ne'er my Soul inflame:
The eager Hounds, with double Warmth, purſu'd
The ſtarting Deer; as if the Gods them view'd:
For when the Scent came ſtrong in ev'ry Breeze,
Impatient for Approach, they ruſh'd with Eaſe
Thro' thorny Thickets, then like Lightning flew,
Snuffing the Steps imprinted in the Dew:
The panting Deer for Breath awhile ſtood ſtill,
But the ſtanch Pack diſdain'd to uſe him ill:
[28]With their loud Cries the Vallies round us rung,
Till blowing with our Horns, away he ſprung;
But leaping o'er a Buſh he miſs'd his Aim;
The Hounds came up, and ſeiz'd the royal Game.
Enter Stimichus.
Stim.
Art thou my Lord Tibiſtheus, Sir?
Tibiſt.
Yes, Friend.
Stim.
My Lord Sarraſtes begs thou'lt me attend.
Tibiſt.
Was he not with us at the Death?—Lead on:
To Stimichus.
Couple the Hounds, and wait—we'll here anon.
Exeunt Omnes.
SCENE, the Outſide of Stimichus's Cot.
Tables and Benches before the Door.
Enter Lycidas and Mopſus.
Lyc.
Hey-day!—and what is going forwards here?
Seats, Tables, Trenchers—here's to be ſome Cheer.
Mop.
'Tis well we came at ſuch a lucky Hour;
We may be bidden if the Cream's not ſour.
Here is the very Man.
Alcimedon enters from the Cot.
Lyc.
Speak thou.
Mop.
Not I.
Alcim.
Whom want ye, Shepherds?
Lyc.
Let's make ſome Reply.
Alcimedon going.
[29] Stay, Maſter, ſtay—Our Buſineſs is with thee.
Alcim.
Declare it then: Cou'd ye nor hear, nor ſee?
Mop.
Be quick, or elſe thou'lt ſpend thy Breath in vain;
Old Age is croſs—thou muſt not him detain.
Aſide to Lycidas.
Lyc.
Thou haſt a Daughter, Sir—a Beauty rare.
Alcim.
Whoſe Name is Rodethuſa—Yes, ſhe's fair;
And, what is more, at preſent ſhe's a Maid.
Mop.
Out with it—now's the Time—don't be afraid.
Aſide to Lycidas.
Lyc.
O happy Youth! who ſhall this Virgin wed—
None but celeſtial-born muſt with her bed.
Mop.
What think'ſt thou, Sir, of me—I'm plump and jolly—
Lyc.
I'm light and nimble—
Mop.
Free from Melancholy—
Lyc.
Wary—
Mop.
Pacific—
Lyc.
Ever toiling—
Mop.
Wealthy.
Lyc.
And, Pan be prais'd! my Conſtitution healthy—
Alcim.
Celeſtial-born! No Mortal can ſurvive
The ruſhing of a God—Do not deprive
An hoary Father of his Age's Joy:
I have engag'd her to a Neighbour's Boy;
And to retract a Promiſe is not right—
To give or take, my Soul diſdains a Slight:
Let your ethereal Manſions you receive,
And to ourſelves us petty Mortals leave.
Exit Alcimedon.
Lyc.
Here ends our Rivalſhip—the Game is flown.
Mop.
Doſt thou repine at Fate?—Let's laugh, not moan.
Lyc.
True; Friendſhip has no Thorn to ſtunt its Blade;
Now it may ſpread, and hide us in its Shade.
Exeunt Ambo.
[30] Enter Alexis and Rodethuſa.
AIR XIII.
Alex.
Sweet Elyſium!
Rod.
Ecſtacy!
Alex.
Happy, happy, happy me!
Rod.
Loſt in Pleaſure's Maze I roam!
Alex.
Theſe Arms, my Dear, ſhall guide thee Home.
Rod.
Lovely Creature!
Alex.
Pride of Nature!
Both.
When on thoſe bright Eyes I gaze!
I glow! I burn! I melt! I blaze!
Enter Tibiſtheus, Stimichus, Alcimedon, Pollio, and Neaera, with Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes.—Sarraſtes and Myſis come forth from the Cot.—
Tibiſt.
I hear, Sarraſtes, that thou haſt been ill.
Sar.
Yes: I was ſeized with a ſudden Chill,
And, fearful of ſome Danger, left the Chaſe—
But, praiſe the Gods! my Health returns apace.
Thou wilt excuſe my ſending for thee here,
Theſe honeſt Shepherds have a Wedding near,
Which Fancy much induces me to ſee.
Tibiſt.
'Tis well: It will be pleaſing too to me.
Are thoſe the Couple? What a graceful Pair!
Stim.
And yet, my Lords, we know not who they are.
Sar.
Are they not your's then?
Rod.
What do I hear!
Alex.
Fear not, my Love—Heav'n will theſe Matters clear.
Stim.
Paſſing, my Lords, one Morning by the Cave,
Whoſe rocky Back divides the ſurging Wave,
A Place which we with ſacred Awe revere,
An Infant's Cry ſtruck my aſtoniſh'd Ear:
[31]Approaching to the Avenue, I ſpy'd
A Babe in Velvet wrapp'd, and by its Side
A little Hound, (which with us liv'd and died.)
After examining my precious Prize,
I bore it Home, wiping it's watry Eyes:
My Dame delighted much with what I'd done;
We brought him up, and call'd the Youth our Son.
Myſ.
He'th been a dutiful and ſober Boy;
Tho' not my Child, he is my chiefeſt Joy.
Alcim.
Some few Days after, Sirs, as I paſs'd by
That ſacred Cave, I heard an Infant's Cry,
And ent'ring in—a beauteous Infant found,
And by its Side another little Hound:
(For, this my Friend, had told me, Sirs, before
Of his Adventure, which made me the more
Aſtoniſh'd at this ſecond Incident)
Recov'ring from my deep Surprize, I went
And took the Infant up, and to my Cot
Convey'd it, pleas'd with the ſweet Load I'd got.
As ſhe in Years, ſo ſhe in Beauty grew,
To Honour humble, and to Virtue true.
Tibiſt.
What mean theſe ſtrong Emotions that ſo ſhake
My troubled Soul!
Sar.
'Tis ſurely no Miſtake!
Thoſe handſome Features all confeſs the Mother!
And, lo! I ſee Tibiſtheus in the other—
A Nymph of the Groves appears.
Nymph.
The Gods no longer will your Births conceal.
Children advance, and to your Parents kneel.
Vaniſhes.
[They all appear aſtoniſhed, and a profound Silence continues for ſome Time.]
Sar.
[32]My Son!
Tibiſt.
My Daughter!
Alex. and Rod.
Sire!
Stim.
The Myſt'ry's out—
Rejoice, my Friends, and greet them with a Shout!
A general Shout.
Alcim.
Liſt up your Voices—let the Air reſound.
Another Shout.
Rod.
Have I a Father loſt—a Father found!
Tibiſt.
Yes—but a cruel Father!—Oh, my Child!
Neceſſity parental Love beguil'd:
A num'rous Offspring forc'd me to expoſe
Thee, injur'd Innocence, to bring up thoſe
Whom angry Heav'n had ſaid ſhou'd never live
To bleſs a Father ſo ſevere—forgive!—
Weeps o'er his Daughter.
Rod.
Oh, Sir—thou art too good!
Sar.
Pardon, my Son,
What thy unnat'ral, barb'rous Sire has done—
'Twas I who ſent thee hither—Yes! 'twas I
Who thee expos'd to thirſt, to ſtarve, to die!
The ſame which forc'd Tibiſtheus to the Act,
Forc'd alſo me—but Heav'n choſe to retract
Her former Bleſſings to revenge the Deed.
Embraces his Son.
Tibiſt.
But what ſhou'd the connubial Rites impede,
Sarraſtes?
Sar.
Thou haſt my Conſent.
Tibiſt.
Tho', ſtay—
Here are ſome Debts which we have firſt to pay.
Sarraſtes and Tibiſtheus commune with Stimichus and Alcimedon.]
Rod.
[33]Has my good Brother his Excuſes made?
Ne.
He has, my Dear.
Rod.
Then let your Loves be laid
Before the Company.
Ne.
That is not fair.
Alex.
Neoera, fie!—can'ſt thou refuſe a Share
Of Mirth and Love?—It is thy Friend's Requeſt.
Rod.
Pollio?
Poll.
Pray ſpeak a Word.
Ne.
She is in Jeſt.
Aſide to Pollio.
Rod.
Since you deſign'd this for a Wedding-Night,
This am'rous Pair you alſo muſt unite.
This, Sir, my Brother was.
[Handing Pollio to Tibiſtheus.
Tibiſt.
I'll ſtand his Friend.
Alex.
This, Sir, my Siſter was.
Handing Neaera to Sarraſtes.
Sar.
Son, I attend.
Tibiſt.
I'll make a Settlement.
Sar.
And ſo will I.
Stim.
My Lords!—
Alcim.
This is too much—
Tibiſt.
Make no Reply.
Poll.
By Pan! this has been a moſt glorious Day—
I think 'tis Time to leave off making Hay;
Now I may have my Belly-full of Hunting!
Ne.
If thou in Gratitude be never wanting.
AIR XIV.
CHORUS.
To Heaven our Voices in Songs let us raiſe,
And warble our Gratitude, Wonder, and Praiſe.
Alex.
[34]O Virtue! Source of ev'ry Joy,
Thy Guidance ſtill I crave,
Leſt Wealth and Honour me decoy,
And I become their Slave.
Rod.
As yet thou haſt a Parent been,
And lent thy friendly Aid;
Still keep my Heart ſecure and clean,
Thou gone—'twill ruſt and fade.
CHORUS.
Submit to Care,
And ne'er deſpair,
All Pains ſhall have an End;
The virtuous Mind
Shall ever find
In Heav'n a tender Friend.
Exeunt Omnes.
FINIS.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4598 The chase a pastoral drama of two acts. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-6095-F