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Polly: An opera. Being the second part of The Beggar's Opera. Written by Mr. Gay
Hor.
After Mr. Rich and I were agreed upon terms and conditions for bringing this Piece on the Stage, and that every Thing was ready for a Rehearsal; The Lord Chamberlain sent an order from the country to prohibit Mr. Rich to suffer any Play to be rehears'd upon his Stage till it had been first of all supervis'd by his Grace. As soon as Mr. Rich came from his Grace's Secretary (who had sent for him to receive the before-mentioned order) he came to my lodgings and acquainted me with the orders he had received.
Upon the Lord Chamberlain's coming to town, I was confined by sickness, but in four or five days I went abroad on purpose to wait upon his Grace with a faithful and genuine copy of this Piece, excepting the erratas of the transcriber.
It was transcribed in great haste by Mr. Stede the Prompter of the Playhouse, that it might be ready against his Grace's return from the country: As my illness at that time would not allow me to read it over, I since find in it many small faults, and here and there a line or two omitted. But lest it should be said I had made any one alteration from the copy I deliver'd to the Lord Chamberlain: I have caused every error in the said copy to be printed (litteral faults excepted) and have taken notice of every omission. I have also pointed out every amendment I have made upon the revisal of my own copy for the Press, that the reader may at one view see what alterations and amendments have been made.
Excepting these errors and emendations, this Edition is a true and faithful Copy as I my-self in my own hand writing delivered it to Mr. Rich, and afterwards to the Lord Chamberlain, for the truth of which I appeal to his Grace.
As I have heard several suggestions and false insinuations concerning the copy: I take this occasion in the most solemn manner to affirm, that the very copy I delivered to Mr. Rich was written in my own hand some months before at the Bath from my own first foul blotted papers; from this, that for the Playhouse was transcribed, from whence the above-mentioned Mr. Stede copied that which I delivered to the Lord Chamberlain, and excepting my own foul blotted papers; I do protest I know of no other copy whatsoever, than those I have mention'd.
The Copy I gave into the hands of Mr. Rich had been seen before by several Persons of the greatest distinction and veracity, who will be ready to do me the honour and justice to attest it; so that not only by them, but by Mr. Rich and Mr. Stede, I can (against all insinuation or positive affirmation) prove in the most clear and undeniable manner, if occasion required, what I have here upon my own honour and credit asserted. The Introduction indeed was not shown to the Lord Chamberlain, which, as I had not then quite settled, was never transcribed in the Playhouse copy.
'Twas on Saturday morning December 7th, 1728. that I waited upon the Lord Chamberlain; I desir'd, to have the honour of reading the Opera to his Grace, but he order'd me to leave it with him, which I did upon expectation of having it return'd on the Monday following, but I had it not till Thursday December 12, when I receiv'd it from his Grace with this answer; that it was not allow'd to be acted, but commanded to be supprest. This was told me in general without any reasons assign'd, or any charge against me of my having given any particular offence.
Since this prohibition I have been told that I am accused, in general terms, of having written many disaffected libels and seditious pamphlets. As it hath ever been my utmost ambition (if that word may be us'd upon this occasion) to lead a quiet and inoffensive life, I thought my innocence in this particular would never have requir'd a justification; and as this kind of writing is, what I have ever detested, and never practis'd, I am persuaded so groundless a calumny can never be believ'd but by those who do not know me. But when general Aspersions of this Sort have been cast upon me, I think myself call'd upon to declare my principles; and I do with the strictest truth affirm, that I am as loyal a subject and as firmly attach'd to the present happy establishment as any of those who have the greatest places or pensions. I have been inform'd too, that in the following Play, I have been charg'd with writing immoralities; that it is fill'd with slander and calumny against particular great persons, and that Majesty itself is endeavour'd to be brought into ridicule and contempt.
As I knew that every one of these charges was in every point absolutely false and without the least grounds, at first I was not at all affected by them; but when I found they were still insisted upon, and that particular passages which were not in the Play were quoted and propagated to support what had been suggested, I could no longer bear to lye under these false accusations; so by printing it, I have submitted and given up all present views of profit which might accrue from the Stage, which undoubtedly will be some satisfaction to the worthy gentlemen who have treated me with so much candour and humanity, and represented me in such favourable colours.
But as I am conscious to myself that my only intention was to lash in general the reigning and fashionable vices, and to recommend and set virtue in as amiable a light as I could; to justify and vindicate my own character, I thought myself obliged to print the Opera without delay in the manner I have done.
As the Play was principally design'd for representation, I hope when it is read it will be considered in that light: And when all that hath been said against it shall appear to be intirely misunderstood or misrepresented; if, some time hence, it should be permitted to appear on the Stage, I think it necessary to acquaint the publick, that as far as a contract of this kind can be binding; I am engag'd to Mr. Rich to have it represented upon his Theatre.
March 25, 1729.
POET. PLAYER.
Poet.
A sequel to a Play is like more last words. 'Tis a kind of
absurdity; and really, Sir, you have prevail'd upon me to pursue this
subject against my judgment.
1st Player.
Be the success as it will, you are sure of what you have
contracted for; and upon the inducement of gain no body can blame you
for undertaking it.
Poet.
I know, I must have been look'd upon as whimsical, and particular
if I had scrupled to have risqu'd my reputation for my profit, for why
should I be more squeamish than my Betters; and so, Sir, contrary to
my opinion I bring Polly once again upon the Stage.
1st Player.
Consider, Sir, you have prepossession on your side.
Poet.
But then the pleasure of novelty is lost; and in a thing of this
kind I am afraid I shall hardly be pardon'd for imitating my self, for
sure pieces of this sort are not to be followed as precedents. My
dependance, like a tricking bookseller's, is, that the kind reception
the first part met with will carry off the second be it what it will.
1st Player.
You should not disparage your own works; you will have criticks
enough who will be glad to do that for you: and let me tell you, Sir,
after the success you have had, you must expect envy.
Poet.
Since I have had more applause than I can deserve, I must, with
other authors, be content, if criticks allow me less. I should be an
arrant courtier or an arrant beggar indeed, if as soon as I have
receiv'd one undeserved favour I should lay claim to another; I don't
flatter myself with the like success.
1st Player.
I hope, Sir, in the catastrophe you have not run into the
absurdity of your last Piece.
Poet.
I know that I have been unjustly accus'd of having given up my
moral for a joke, like a fine gentleman in conversation; but whatever
be the event now, I will not so much as seem to give up my moral.
Poet.
The Stage, Sir, hath the privilege of the pulpit to attack vice
however dignified or distinguish'd, and preachers and poets should not
be too well bred upon these occasions: Nobody can overdo it when he
attacks the vice and not the person.
1st Player.
But how can you hinder malicious applications?
Poet.
Let those answer for 'em who make 'em. I aim at no particular
persons; my strokes are at vice in general: but if any men
particularly vicious are hurt, I make no apology, but leave them to
the cure of their flatterers. If an author write in character, the
lower people reflect on the follies and vices of the rich and great,
and an Indian judges and talks of Europeans by those he
hath seen and convers'd with, &c. And I will venture to own that I
wish every man of power or riches were really and apparently virtuous,
which would soon amend and reform the common people who act by
imitation.
1st Player.
But a little indulgence and partiality to the vices of your own
country without doubt would be look'd upon as more discreet. Tho' your
Satyr, Sir, is on vices in general, it must and will give offence;
every vicious man thinks you particular, for conscience will make
self-application. And why will you make yourself so many enemies? I
say no more upon this head. As to us I hope you are satisfied we have
done all we could for you; for you will now have the advantage of all
our best singers.
Enter 2d Player.
2d Player.
'Tis impossible to perform the Opera to night, all the fine
singers within are out of humour with their parts. The Tenor, says he
was never offer'd such an indignity, and in a rage flung his clean
lambskin gloves into the fire; he swears that in his whole life he
never did sing, would sing, or could sing but in true kid.
1st Player.
Musick might tame and civilize wild beasts, but 'tis evident it
never yet could tame and civilize musicians.
Enter 3d Player.
3d Player.
Sir, Signora Crotchetta says she finds her character so
low that she had rather dye than sing it.
1st Player.
Tell her by her contract I can make her sing it.
Enter Signora Crotchetta.
Crotchetta.
Barbarous Tramontane! Where are all the lovers of Virtue?
Will they not all rise in arms in my defence? make me sing it! good
Gods! should I tamely submit to such usage I should debase myself
thro' all Europe.
1st Player.
In the Opera nine or ten years ago, I remember, Madam, your
appearance in a character little better than a fish.
Crotchetta.
A fish! monstrous! Let me inform you, Sir, that a Mermaid or
Syren is not many removes from a sea-Goddess; or I had never submitted
to be that fish which you are pleas'd to call me by way of reproach. I
have a cold, Sir; I am sick. I don't see, why I may not be allowed
the privilege of sickness now and then as well as others. If a singer
may not be indulg'd in her humours, I am sure she will soon become of
no consequence with the town. And so, Sir, I have a cold; I am hoarse.
I hope now you are satisfied.
Enter 4th Player.
4th Player.
Sir, the base voice insists upon pearl-colour'd stockings and
red-heel'd shoes.
1st Player.
There is no governing caprice. But how shall we make our excuses
to the house?
4th Player.
Since the town was last year so good as to encourage an Opera
without singers; the favour I was then shown obliges me to offer
myself once more, rather than the audience should be dismiss'd. All
the other Comedians upon this emergency are willing to do their best,
and hope for your favour and indulgence.
1st Player.
Ladies and Gentlemen, as we wish to do every thing for your
diversion, and that singers only will come when they will come, we beg
you to excuse this unforeseen accident, and to accept the proposal of
the Comedians, who relye wholly on your courtesie and protection.
SCENE. In the West-Indies.
SCENE Ducat's House.
AIR I. The disappointed Widow.
The manners of the Great affect;
Stint not your pleasure,
If conscience had the genius checkt,
How got they treasure?
The more in debt, run in debt the more,
Careless who is undone,
Morals and honesty leave to the poor,
As they do at London.
Ducat.
I never thought to have heard thrift laid to my charge. There is
not a man, though I say it, in all the Indies, who lives more
plentifully than myself; nor, who enjoys the necessaries of life in so
handsome a manner.
Trapes.
There it is now! Whoever heard a man of fortune in England
talk of the necessaries of life? If the necessaries of life would
have satisfy'd such a poor body as me, to be sure I had never come to
mend my fortune to the Plantations. Whether we can afford it or no, we
must have superfluities. We never stint our Expence to our own
fortunes, but are miserable, if we do not live up to the profuseness
of our neighbours. If we could content ourselves with the necessaries
of life, no man alive ever need be dishonest. As to woman now; why,
look ye, Mr. Ducat, a man hath what we may call every thing
that is necessary in a wife.
Ducat.
Ay, and more!
Trapes.
But for all that, d'ye see, your married Men are my best
Customers. It keeps wives upon their good behaviours.
Ducat.
But there are jealousies and family lectures, Mrs. Trapes.
Trapes.
Bless us all! how little are our customs known on this side the
herring-pond! Why, jealousy is out of fashion even among our common
country-gentlemen: I hope you are better bred, than to be jealous. A
husband and wife should have a mutual complaisance for each other.
Sure, your wife is not so unreasonable to expect to have you always to
herself.
Ducat.
As I have a good estate, Mrs. Trapes, I would willingly
run into every thing that is suitable to my dignity and fortune. No
body throws himself into the extravagancies of life with a freer
spirit. As to conscience and musty morals, I have as few drawbacks
upon my profits or pleasures as any man of quality in England;
in those I am not in the least vulgar. Besides, Madam, in most of my
expences I run into the polite taste. I have a fine library of books
that I never read; I have a fine stable of horses that I never ride: I
build, I buy plate, jewels, pictures, or any thing that is valuable
and curious, as your great men do, merely out of ostentation. But
indeed I must own, I do still cohabit with my wife; and she is very
uneasy and vexatious upon account of my visits to you.
Trapes.
Indeed, indeed, Mr. Ducat, you should break thro' all this
Usurpation at once, and keep—. Now too is your time; for I have a
fresh cargo of ladies just arriv'd: no body alive shall set eyes upon
them, 'till you have provided yourself. You should keep your lady in
awe by her maid; place a handsome, sprightly wench near your wife, and
she will be a spy upon her into the bargain. I would have you show
your self a fine gentleman in every thing.
Trapes.
There it is again now! Our very vulgar pursue pleasures in the
flush of youth and inclination; but our great men are modishly
profligate when their appetite hath left 'em.
AIR II. The Irish Ground.
BASS.
Ducat.
What can wealth
When we're old?
Youth and health
Are not sold.
TREBLE.
Trapes.
When love in the pulse beats low,
(As haply it may with you)
A girl can fresh youth bestow,
And kindle desire a-new.
Thus numm'd in the brake,
Without motion, the snake
Sleeps cold winter away;
But in every vein
Life quickens again
On the bosom of May. [Trapes.]
We are not here, I must tell you, as we are at London,
where we can have fresh goods every week by the waggon. My maid is
again gone aboard the vessel; she is perfectly charm'd with one of the
ladies; 'twill be a credit to you to keep her. I have obligations to
you, Mr. Ducat, and I would part with her to no Man alive but
your self. If I had her at London, such a lady would be
sufficient to make my fortune; but in truth, she is not impudent
enough to make herself agreeable to the sailors in a publick house in
this country. By all accounts, she hath a behaviour only fit for a
private family.
Ducat.
But how shall I manage matters with my wife?
Trapes.
Just as the fine gentlemen do with us. We could bring you many
great precedents for treating a wife with indifference, contempt, and
neglect; but that, indeed, would be running into too high life. I
would have you keep some decency, and use her with civility. You
should be so obliging as to leave her to her liberties, and take them
too your self. Why, all our fine ladies, in what they call pin-money,
have no other views; 'tis what they all expect.
Trapes.
As to that, Sir, you may do as you please. Should it ever come to
her knowledge, custom and education, perhaps may make her at first
think it somewhat odd. But this I can affirm with a safe conscience,
that many a lady of quality have servants of this sort in their
families, and you can afford an expence as well as the best of them.
Ducat.
I have a fortune, Mrs. Trapes, and would fain make a
fashionable figure in life; if we can agree upon the price, I'll take
her into the family.
Trapes.
I am glad to see you fling your self into the polite taste with a
spirit. Few, indeed, have the turn or talents to get money; but fewer
know how to spend it handsomely after they have got it. The elegance
of luxury consists in variety, and love requires it as much as any of
our appetites and passions, and there is a time of life when a man's
appetite ought to be whetted by a delicacy.
Ducat.
Nay, Mrs. Trapes, now you are too hard upon me. Sure, you
cannot think me such a clown as to be really in love with my wife! We
are not so ignorant here as you imagine; why, I married her in a
reasonable way, only for her money.
AIR III. Noel Hills.
He that weds a beauty
Soon will find her cloy;
When pleasure grows a duty,
Farewell love and joy;
He that weds for treasure,
(Though he hath a wife)
Hath chose one lasting pleasure
In a married life.
Ducat.
Here, Damaris; a glass of Rum for Mrs. Dye.
[Damaris goes out, and returns with a bottle and glass.]
Trapes.
But as I was saying, Sir, I would not part with her to any body
alive but your self; for, to be sure, I could turn her ten times the
profit by jobbs and chance customers. Come Sir, here's to the young
lady's health.
Flimzy.
Yes, Madam. The three ladies for the run of the house are safely
lodged at home; the other is without in the hall to wait your
commands. She is a most delicious creature, that's certain. Such lips,
such eyes, and such flesh and blood! If you had her in London
you could not fail of the custom of all the foreign Ministers. As I
hope to be sav'd, Madam, I was forc'd to tell her ten thousand lyes
before I could prevail upon her to come with me. Oh Sir, you are the
most lucky, happy man in the world! Shall I go call her in?
Trapes.
'Tis necessary for me first to instruct her in her duty and the
ways of the family. The girl is bashful and modest, so I must beg
leave to prepare her by a little private conversation, and afterwards,
Sir, I shall leave you to your private conversations.
Flimzy.
But I hope, Sir, you won't forget poor Flimzy; for the
richest man alive could not be more scrupulous than I am upon these
occasions, and the bribe only can make me excuse, it to my conscience,
I hope, Sir, you will pardon my freedom.
[He gives her money.]
AIR IV. Sweetheart, think upon me.
My conscience is of courtly mold,
Fit for highest station.
Where's the hand when touch'd with gold,
Proof against temptation?
[Exit Flimzy.
Ducat.
We can never sufficiently encourage such useful qualifications.
You will let me know when you are ready for me.
AIR. V. 'Twas within a furlong.
In pimps and politicians
The genius is the same;
Both raise their own conditions
On others guilt and shame:
With a tongue well-tip'd with lyes
Each the want of parts supplies,
And with a heart that's all disguise
Keeps his schemes unknown.
Seducing as the devil,
They play the tempter's part,
And have, when most they're civil,
Most mischief in their heart.
Each a secret commerce drives,
First corrupts and then connives,
And by his neighbours vices thrives,
For they are all his own.
Polly.
Love, Madam, and the misfortunes of our family. But I am equally
surpriz'd to find an acquaintance here; you cannot be ignorant of my
unhappy story, and perhaps from you, Mrs. Dye, I may receive
some information that may be useful to me.
Trapes.
You need not be much concern'd, Miss Polly, at a sentence
of transportation, for a young lady of your beauty hath wherewithal to
make her fortune in any country.
Polly.
Pardon me, Madam; you mistake me. Though I was educated among the
most profligate in low life, I never engag'd in my father's affairs as
a thief or a thief-catcher, for indeed I abhorr'd his profession.
Would my Papa had never taken it up, he then still had been alive and
I had never known Macheath.
AIR VI. Sortez des vos retraites.
She who hath felt a real pain
By Cupid's dart.
Finds that all absence is in vain
To cure her heart.
Though from my lover cast
Far as from Pole to Pole,
Still the pure flame must last,
For love is in the soul.
You must have heard, Madam, that I was unhappy in my marriage.
When Macheath was transported all my peace was banished with
him; and my Papa's death hath now given me liberty to pursue my
inclinations.
Trapes.
Good lack-a-day! poor Mr. Peachum! Death was so much
oblig'd to him that I wonder he did not allow him a reprieve for his
own sake. Truly, I think he was oblig'd to no-body more except the
physicians: but they die it seems too. Death is very impartial; he
takes all alike, friends and foes.
Polly
Every monthly Sessions-paper like the Apothecary's files, (if I
may make the comparison) was a record of his
services. But my Papa kept company with Gentlemen, and ambition
is catching. He was in too much haste to be rich. I wish all Great Men
would take warning. 'Tis now seven months since my Papa was hang'd.
Trapes.
This will be a great check indeed to your men of enterprizing
genius; and it will be unsafe to push at making a great fortune, if
such accidents grow common. But sure child, you are not so mad as to
think of following Macheath.
Polly.
In following him I am in pursuit of my quiet. I love him, and
like a troubled ghost shall never be at rest till I appear to him. If
I can receive any information of him from you, it will be a cordial to
a wretch in despair.
Trapes.
My dear Miss Polly, you must not think of it. 'Tis now
above a year and a half since he robb'd his master, ran away from the
Plantation and turn'd pyrate. Then too what puts you beyond all
possibility of redress, is, that since he came over he married a
transported slave, one Jenny Diver, and she is gone off with
him. You must give over all thoughts of him, for he is a very devil to
our sex; not a woman of the greatest vivacity shifts her inclinations
half so fast as he can. Besides, he would disown you, for like an
upstart he hates an old acquaintance. I am sorry to see those tears,
Child, but I love you too well to flatter you.
Polly.
Why have I a heart so constant? cruel love!
AIR. VII. O Waly, Waly, up the bank.
Farewell, farewell, all hope of bliss!
For Polly always must be thine.
Shall then my heart be never his,
Which never can again be mine?
O Love, you play a cruel part,
Thy shaft still festers in the wound;
You should reward a constant heart,
Since 'tis, alas, so seldom found! Trapes.
I tell you once again, Miss Polly, you must think no more
of him. You are like a child who is crying after a butterfly that is
hopping and fluttering upon every flower in the field; there is not a
Woman that comes in his way but he must have a taste of; besides there
is no catching him. But my dear girl, I hope you took care, at your
leaving England, to bring off wherewithal to support you.
Polly.
Since he is lost, I am insensible of every other misfortune. I
brought indeed a sum of money with me, but
my Chest was broke open at sea, and I am now a wretched vagabond
expos'd to hunger and want, unless charity relieve me.
Trapes.
Poor child! your father and I have had great dealings together,
and I shall be grateful to his memory. I will look upon you as my
daughter; you shall be with me.
Polly.
As soon as I can have remittances from England, I shall be
able to acknowledge your goodness: I have still five hundred pounds
there which will be return'd to me upon demand; but I had rather
undertake any honest service that might afford me a maintenance than
be burthensome to my friends.
Trapes.
Sure never any thing happened so luckily! Madam Ducat just
now wants a servant, and I know she will take my recommendation; and
one so tight and handy as you must please her: then too, her husband
is the civilest, bestbred man alive. You are now in her house, and I
won't leave it 'till I have settled you. Be cheerful, my dear child,
for who knows but all these misfortunes may turn to your advantage?
you are in a rich credible family, and I dare say your person and
behaviour will soon make you a favourite. As to captain Macheath,
you may now safely look upon yourself as a widow, and who knows, if
Madam Ducat should tip off, what may happen? I shall recommend
you, Miss Polly, as a gentlewoman.
AIR. VIII. O Jenny come tye me.
Despair is all folly;
Hence melancholy,
Fortune attends you while youth is in flower.
By beauty's possession
Us'd with discretion,
Woman at all times hath joy in her power. Polly.
The service, Madam, you offer me, makes me as happy as I can be
in my circumstance, and I accept of it with ten thousand obligations.
Trapes.
Take a turn in the hall with my maid for a minute or two, and
I'll take care to settle all matters and conditions for your
reception. Be assur'd, Miss Polly, I'll do my best for you.
Ducat.
But if I like her I would agree upon terms beforehand; for should
I grow fond of her, I know you have the conscience of other
trades-people and would grow more imposing; and I love to be upon a
certainty
Trapes.
Sure you cannot think a hundred pistoles too much; I mean for me.
I leave her wholly to your generosity. Why your fine men, who never
pay any body else, pay their pimps and bawds well; always ready money.
I ever dealt conscientiously, and set the lowest price upon my ladies;
when you see her, I am sure you will allow her to be as choice a piece
of beauty as ever you laid eyes on.
Ducat.
But, dear Mrs. Dye, a hundred pistoles say you? why, I
could have half a dozen negro princesses for the price.
Trapes.
But sure you cannot expect to buy a fine handsome christian at
that rate. You are not us'd to see such goods on this side of the
water. For the women, like the cloaths, are all tarnish'd and half
worn out before they are sent hither. Do but cast your eye upon her,
Sir; the door stands half open; see, yonder she trips in conversation
with my maid Flimzy in the hall.
Ducat.
Why truly I must own she is handsome.
Trapes.
Bless me, you are no more mov'd by her, than if she were your
wife. Handsome! what a cold husband-like expression is that! nay,
there is no harm done. If I take her home, I don't question the making
more money of her.
She was never in any body's house but your own since she was
landed. She is pure, as she was imported, without the least
adulteration.
Ducat.
I'll have her. I'll pay you down upon the nail. You shall leave
her with with me. Come, count your money, Mrs. Dye.
Trapes.
What a shape is there! she's of the finest growth.
Ducat.
You make me mis-reckon. She even takes off my eyes from gold.
Trapes.
What a curious pair of sparkling eyes!
Ducat.
As vivifying as the sun. I have paid you ten.
Trapes.
What a racy flavour must breath from those lips!
Ducat.
I want no provoking commendations. I'm in youth; I'm on fire!
twenty more makes it thirty; and this here makes it just fifty.
Trapes.
What a most inviting complexion! how charming a colour! In short,
a fine woman has all the perfections of fine wine, and is a cordial
that is ten times as restorative.
Ducat.
This fifty then makes it just the sum. So now, Madam, you may
deliver her up.
Ducat, Mrs. Ducat.
Mrs. Ducat.
AIR IX. Red House.
I will have my humours, I'll please all my senses,
I will not be stinted—in love or expences.
I'll dress with profusion, I'll game without measure;
You shall have the business, I will have the pleasure:
Thus every day I'll pass my life,
My home shall be my least resort;
For sure 'tis fitting that your wife
Shou'd copy ladies of the court. Ducat.
All these things I know are natural to the sex, my dear. But
husbands like colts, are restif, and they require a long time to break
e'm. Besides, 'tis not the fashion as yet, for husbands to be govern'd
in this country. That tongue of yours, my dear, hath not eloquence
enough to persuade me out of my reason. A woman's tongue, like a
trumpet, only serves to raise my courage.
AIR. X. Old Orpheus tickl'd, &c.
When billows come breaking on the strand,
The rocks are deaf and unshaken stand:
Old oaks can defy the thunder's roar,
And I can stand woman's tongue—that's more,
With a twinkum, twankum, &c.
With that weapon, women, like pyrates, are at war with the whole
world. But I thought, my dear, your pride would have kept you from
being jealous. 'Tis the whole business of my life to please you; but
wives are like children, the more they are flatter'd and humour'd the
more perverse they are. Here now have I been laying out my money,
purely to make you a present, and I have nothing but these freaks and
reproaches in return. You wanted a maid, and I have bought you the
handiest creature; she will indeed make a very creditable servant.
Ducat.
But I bought her on purpose for you, Madam.
Ducat.
I will have the directions of my family. 'Tis my pleasure it
shall be so. So, Madam, be satisfy'd.
AIR XI. Christ-Church Bells.
[Ducat.]
When a woman jealous grows,
Farewell all peace of life! Mrs Ducat.
But e'er man roves, he should pay what he owes.
And with her due content his wife. Ducat.
T'is man's the weaker sex to sway. Mrs Ducat.
We too, whene'er we list obey. Ducat.
'Tis just and fit
You should submit. Mrs. Ducat.
But sweet kind husband—not to day. Ducat.
Let your clack be still. Mrs Ducat.
Not till I have my will.
If thus you reason slight,
There's never an hour
While breath has power.
But I will assert my right. [Mrs. Ducat.]
Would I had you in England; I should have all the women
there rise in arms in my defence. For the honour and prerogative of
the sex, they would not suffer such a precedent of submission. And so
Mr. Ducat, I tell you once again, that you shall keep your
trollops out of the house, or I will not stay in it.
Ducat.
Look'ee, wife; you will be able to bring about nothing by pouting
and vapours. I have resolution enough to withstand either obstinacy or
stratagem. And I will break this jealous spirit of yours before it
gets a head. And so, my dear, I order that upon my account you behave
your self to the girl as you ought.
Enter Damaris.
Is she in her own room? What said she? Which way went she?Damaris.
Bless me, I was perfectly frighten'd, she look'd so like a fury!
Thank my stars, I never saw her look so before in all my life; tho'
mayhap you may have seen her look so before a thousand times. Woe be
to the servants that fall in her way! I'm sure I'm glad to be out of
it.
AIR XII. Cheshire Rounds.
When kings by their huffing
Have blown up a squable,
All the charge and cuffing
Light upon the rabble.
Thus when Man and Wife
By their mutual snubbing,
Kindle civil strife,
Servants get the the drubbing, Ducat.
I would have you, Damaris have an eye upon your mistress.
You should have her good at heart, and inform me when she has any
schemes a-foot; it may be the means to reconcile us.
Damaris.
She's wild, Sir. There is no speaking to her. she's flown into
the garden! Mercy upon us all, say I, How can you be so unreasonable
to contradict a woman, when you know we can't bear it?
Ducat.
I depend upon you, Damaris, for intelligence. You may
observe her at a distance; and as soon as she comes into her own room,
bring me word. There is the sweetest pleasure in the revenge that I
have now in my head! I'll this
instant go and take my charge from Mrs. Trapes. [aside]
Damaris, you know your instructions.
Polly.
As I am your servant, Sir, my duty obliges me not to contradict
you; and I must hear your flattery tho' I know my self undeserving.
But sure, Sir, in handsome women, you must have observ'd that their
hearts often oppose their interest; and beauty certainly has ruin'd
more women than it has made happy.
AIR XIII. The bush a boon traquair.
The crow or daw thro' all the year
No fowler seeks to ruin;
But birds of voice or feather rare
He's all day long persuing.
Beware, fair maids; so scape the net
That other beauties fell in;
For sure at heart was never yet
So great a wretch as Helen!
If my lady, Sir, will let me know my duty, gratitude will make me study to please her.
Ducat.
I have a mind to have a little conversation with you, and I would
not be interrupted.
Ducat.
And so, Polly, by these downcast looks of yours you would
have me believe you don't know you are handsome, and that you have no
faith in your looking-glass. Why, every pretty woman studies her face,
and a looking-glass to her is what a book is to a Pedant; she is
poring upon it all day long. In troth, a man can never know how much
love is in him by conversations with his wife. A kiss on those lips
would make me young again.
Ducat.
Nay, hussy, I'll give you money.
Polly.
I despise it. No, Sir, tho' I was born and bred in England,
I can dare to be poor, which is the only thing now-a-days men are
asham'd of.
Ducat.
I shall humble these saucy airs of yours, Mrs. Minx. Is
this language from a servant! from a slave!
Polly.
Am I then betray'd and sold!
Ducat.
Yes, hussy, that you are; and as legally my property, as any
woman is her husband's, who fells her self in marriage.
Polly.
Climates that change constitutions have no effect upon manners.
What a profligate is that Trapes!
AIR XV. Bobbing Joan.
Maids like courtiers must be woo'd,
Most by flattery are subdu'd;
Some capricious, coy or nice
Out of pride protract the vice?
But they fall,
One and all,
When we bid up to their price.
Besides, hussy, your consent may make me your slave; there's
power to tempt you into the bargain. You must be more than woman if
you can stand that too.
Polly.
Sure you only mean to try me! but 'tis barbarous to trifle with
my distresses.
Ducat.
I'll have none of these airs. 'Tis impertinent in a servant, to
have scruples of any kind. I hire honour, conscience and all, for I
will not be serv'd by halves. And so, to be plain with you, you
obstinate slut, you shall either contribute to my pleasure or my
profit; and if you refuse play in the bed-chamber, you shall go work
in the fields among the planters. I hope now I have explain'd myself.
Polly.
My freedom may be lost, but you cannot rob me of my vertue and
integrity; and whatever is my lot, having that, I shall have the
comfort of hope, and find pleasure in reflection.
AIR XVI. A swain long tortur'd with disdain.
Can I or toil or hunger fear?
For love's a pain that's more severe.
The slave, with virtue in his breast,
Can wake in peace, and sweetly rest.
But love, when unhappy, the more vertuous it is, the more it
suffers.
[Aside.
Ducat.
What noise is that?
Damaris. [Without]
Sir, Sir.
Ducat.
Step into the closet; I'll call you out immediately to present
you to my wife. Don't let bashfulness ruin your
fortune? The next Opportunity I hope you will be better disposed.
Ducat, Damaris, Servants, Mrs. Ducat, &c.
Ducat.
What's the matter? Was any body about to ravish you? Is the house
o'fire? Or my Wife in a passion?
Damaris.
O, Sir, the whole country is in an uproar! The pyrates are all
coming down upon us; and if they should raise the Militia, you are an
officer, you know. I hope you have Time enough to fling up your
commission.
Ducat.
If they only took what one could spare.
1st Footman.
That's true, there were no great harm done.
Ducat.
How are the musquets?
1st Footman.
Rusty, Sir, all rusty and peaceable! For we never clean 'em, but
against training-day.
Damaris.
Then, Sir, your honour is safe, for now you have a just excuse
against fighting.
[Enter Mrs. Ducat.
Mrs. Ducat.Ducat.
Presence of mind, my dear, is as necessary in dangers as courage.
Damaris.
But you are too rich to have courage. You should fight by deputy.
'Tis only for poor people to be brave and desperate, who cannot afford
to live.
Enter Maids, &c. one after another.
1st Maid.
The pyrates, Sir, the pyrates! Mercy upon us! what will become of
us poor helpless Women!
2d Maid.
We shall all be ravish'd!
1st Old Woman.
All be ravish'd!
2d Old Woman.
Ay to be sure, we shall be ravish'd; all be ravish'd!
1st Old Woman.
But if fortune will have it so, patience is a vertue; and we must
undergo it.
2d Old Woman.
Ay, for certain we must all bear it, Mrs. Damaris.
Ducat.
Does Macheath command the enemy?
Indian.
Report says he is dead. Above twelve moons are pass'd since we
heard of him. Morano, a Negro villain, is their chief, who in
rapine and barbarities is even equal to him.
Ducat.
I shall inform the council, and we shall soon be ready to join
you. So acquaint the King your master.
Ducat.
Women, by their jealousies, put one in mind of doing that which
otherwise we should never think of. Why you are a proof, my dear, that
a handsome woman may be honest.
Ducat.
Affairs, you see, call me hence. And so I leave her under your
protection.
Mrs. Ducat, Damaris.
Mrs. Ducat.Damaris.
Nay, Madam, I can't say so much. But—
Damaris.
I hate to make mischief.
AIR XVIII. Jig-it-o'Foot.
Better to doubt
All that's doing,
Than to find out
Proofs of ruin.
What servants hear and see
Should they tattle,
Marriage all day would be
Feuds and battle.
A servant's legs and hands should be under your command, but, for
the sake of quiet, you should leave their tongues to their own
discretion.
Damaris.
To be sure, Madam, the door was bolted, and I could only listen.
There was a sort of a bustle between 'em, that's certain. What past I
know not: But the noise they made, to my thinking, did not sound very
honest.
Damaris.
Nay, Madam, I am a maid, and have no experience. If you had heard
them, you would have been a better judge of the matter.
Mrs. Ducat, Damaris, Polly.
Mrs Ducat.Polly.
As your servant, Madam, I think my self happy.
AIR XIX. Trumpet Minuet.
Abroad after misses most husbands will roam,
Tho' sure they find woman sufficient at home.
To be nos'd by a strumpet! Hence, hussy you'd best.
Would he give me my due, I wou'd give her the rest.
I vow I had rather have a thief in my house. For to be sure she
is that besides.
Polly.
If you were acquainted with my misfortunes, Madam, you could not
insult me.
Damaris.
There's not one of these common creatures, but like common
beggars, hath a moving story at her finger's ends, which they tell
over, when they are maudlin, to their lovers. I had a sweetheart,
Madam, who was a rake, and I know their ways very well, by hear-say.
Polly.
What villains are hypocrites! For they rob those of relief, who
are in real distress. I know what it is to be unhappy in marriage.
Polly.
Unhappily.
Polly.
If woman can have faith in woman, may my words find belief.
Protestations are to be suspected, so I shall use none. If truth can
prevail, I know you will pity me.
Damaris.
Believe me, Mrs. Polly, as to pleasures of all sorts, 'tis
a much more agreeable way to be inconstant.
AIR XX. Polwart on the Green.
Love now is nought but art,
'Tis who can juggle best;
To all men seem to give your heart
But keep it in your breast.
What gain and pleasure do we find,
Who change whene'er we list!
The mill that turns with every wind
Must bring the owner grist. Polly.
My case, Madam. may in these times be look'd upon as singular;
for I married a man only because I lov'd him. For this I was look'd
upon as a fool by all my acquaintance; I was us'd inhumanly by my
father and mother; and to compleat my misfortunes, my husband, by his
wild behaviour, incurr'd the sentence of the law, and was separated
from me by banishment. Being inform'd he was in this country, upon
the death of my father and mother, with most of my small fortune, I
came here to seek him.
Polly
In my voyage, Madam, I was robb'd of all I had. Upon my landing
in a strange country, and in want, I was found out by this inhuman
woman, who had been an acquaintance of my father: She offered me at
first the civilities of her own house. When she was inform'd of my
necessities, she proposed to me the service of a lady, of which I
readily accepted. 'Twas under that pretence that she treacherously
sold me to your husband as a mistress. This, Madam, is in short the
whole truth. I fling my self at your feet for protection. By relieving
me, you make your self easy.
Polly.
In conniving at my escape, you save me from your husband's
worrying me with threats and violence, and at the same time quiet your
own fears and jealousies. If it is ever in my power, Madam, with
gratitude I will repay you my ransom.
Damaris.
Besides, Madam, you will effectually revenge your self upon your
husband; for the loss of the money he paid for her will touch him to
the quick.
Damaris.
Get rid of her at any rate. For such is the vanity of man, that
when once he has begun with a woman, out of pride he will insist upon
his point.
Polly.
In staying with you, Madam, I make two people unhappy. And I
chuse to bear my own misfortunes, without being the cause of
another's.
Polly.
May heaven reward your charity.
Polly.
How shall I ever make a return for so much goodness?
Damaris.
When she is out of the house, without doubt, Madam, you will be
more easy. And I wish she may be so too.
Polly.
May vertue be my protection; for I feel within me hope,
cheerfulness and resolution.
AIR. XXI. St. Martin's Lane.
As pilgrims thro' devotion
To some shrine pursue their way,
They tempt the raging ocean,
And thro' desarts stray.
With zeal their hope desiring,
The saint their breast inspiring
With cheerful air,
Devoid of fear,
They every danger bear.
Thus equal zeal possessing,
I seek my only blessing.
O love, my honest vow regard!
My truth protect,
My steps direct,
His flight detect,
A faithful wife reward.
[Exit.
The View of an Indian Country.
Polly in Boy's Cloaths.
AIR XXII. La Villanella.
Why did you spare him,
O'er seas to bear him,
Far from his home, and constant bride,
When Papa 'peach'd him,
If death had reach'd him,
I then had only sigh'd, wept, and dy'd!
If my directions are right, I cannot be far from the village.
With the habit, I must put on the courage and resolution. of a man;
for I am every where surrounded with dangers But all I can learn of
these pyrates, my dear Macheath is not of the crew. Perhaps I
may hear of him among the slaves of the next plantation. How sultry is
the day! the cool of this shade will refresh me. I am jaded too with
reflection. How restless is Love! [Musick, two or three bars of the
dead March] My imagination follows him every where, would my feet
were as swift. The world then could not hide him from me. [two or
three bars more] Yet even thought is now bewilder'd in pursuing
him. [two or three bars more] I'm tir'd, I'm faint. [the
Symphony.]
AIR XXIII. Dead March in Coriolanus.
Sleep, O sleep,
With thy rod of incantation,
Charm my imagination.
Then, only then, I cease to weep.
By thy power,
The virgin, by time o'ertaken,
For years forlorn, forsaken,
Enjoys the hapyy hour.
What's to sleep?
'Tis a visionary blessing;
A dream that's past expressing
Our utmost wish possessing;
So may I always keep
[falls asleep.
Capstern, Hacker, Culverin, Laguerre, Cutlace. Polly asleep in a distant part of the stage.
Hacker.
We shall find but a cool reception from Morano, if we
return without either booty or intelligence.
Culverin.
A man of invention hath always intelligence ready. I hope we are
not exempted from the privilege of travellers.
Capstern.
If we had got booty, you know we had resolved to agree in a lye.
And, gentlemen, we will not have our diligence and duty call'd in
question for that which every common servant has at his fingers end
for his justification.
Laguerre.
Alack, gentlemen, we are not such bunglers in Love or politicks,
but we must know that either to get favour or keep it, no man ever
speaks what he thinks, but what is convenient.
AIR XXIV. Three Sheep-skins.
Cutlace.
Of all the sins that are money-supplying;
Consider the World, 'tis past all denying,
With all sorts,
In towns or courts,
The richest sin is lying. Culverin.
Fatigue, gentlemen, should have refreshment. No man is requir'd
to do more than his duty. Let us repose ourselves a-while. A sup or
two of our cag would quicken invention.
Hacker.
I had always a genius for ambition. Birth and education cannot
keep it under. Our profession is great, brothers. What can be more
heroic than to have declared war with the whole world?
Culverin.
'Tis a pleasure to me to recollect times past, and to observe by
what steps a genius will push his fortune.
Hacker.
Now as to me, brothers, mark you me. After I had rubb'd through
my youth with variety of adventures, I was perfer'd to be footman to
an eminent gamester, where, after, having improv'd my self by his
manners and conversation, I left him, betook my self to his politer
profession, and cheated like a gentleman. For some time I kept a
Pharaon-Bank with success, but unluckily in a
drunken bout was stript by a more expert brother of the trade. I
was now, as 'tis common with us upon these occasions, forc'd to have
recourse to the highway for a recruit to set me up; but making the
experiment once too often, I was try'd, and receiv'd sentence; but got
off for transportation. Which hath made me the man I am.
Laguerre.
From a footman I grew to be a pimp to a man of quality.
Considering I was for sometime in that employment, I look upon my self
as particularly unlucky, that I then miss'd making my fortune. But, to
give him his due, only his death could have prevented it. Upon this I
betook my self to another service, where my wages not being sufficient
for my pleasures, I robb'd my master, retir'd to visit foreign parts.
Capstern.
Now, you must know, I was a drawer of one of the fashionable
taverns, and of consequence was daily in the politest conversations.
Tho' I say it, no body was better bred. I often cheated my master, and
as a dutiful servant, now and then cheated for him. I had always my
gallantries with the ladies that the lords and gentlemen brought to
our house. I was ambitious too of a gentleman's profession, and turn'd
gamester. Tho' I had great skill and no scruples, my play would not
support my extravagancies: So that now and then I was forc'd to rob
with pistols too. So I also owe my rank in the world to
transportation.
Culverin.
Our chief, Morano, brothers, had never been the man he is,
had he not been train'd up in England. He has told me, that from
his infancy he was the favourite page of a lady. He had a genius too
above service, and, like us, ran into higher life. And, indeed, in
manners and conversation, tho' he is black, no body has more the air
of a great man.
Hacker.
He is too much attach'd to his pleasures. That mistress of his is
a clog to his ambition. She's an arrant Cleopatra.
Laguer.
If it were not for her, the Indies would be our own.
AIR XXV. Rigadoon.
By women won,
We're all undone,
Each wench hath a Syren's charms.
The lover's deeds
Are good or ill,
As whim succeeds
In woman's will:
Resolution is lull'd in her arms.
Hacker.
A man in love is no more to be depended on than a man in liquor,
for he is out of himself.
AIR. XXVI. Ton humeur est Catharine.
Woman's like the flatt'ring ocean,
Who her pathless way can find?
Every blast directs her motion
Nows she is angry, now she's kind.
What a fool's the ventr'ous lover,
Whirl'd and toss'd by every wind!
Can the bark the port recover
When the silly pilot's blind. Hacker.
A good horse is never turn'd loose among mares, till all his good
deeds are over. And really your heroes should be serv'd the same way;
for after they take to women, they have no good deeds to come. That
inviegling gipsey, brothers, must be hawl'd from him by force. And
then—the kingdom of Mexico shall be mine. My lot shall be the
kingdom of Mexico.
Capstern.
Who talks of Mexico? [all rise] I'll never give it
up. If you outlive me, brother, and I dye without heirs, I'll leave it
to you for a legacy. I hope now you are satisfied. I have set my heart
upon it, and no body shall dispute it with me.
Laguerre.
The island of Cuba, methinks, brother, might satisfy any
reasonable man.
Culverin.
That I had allotted for you. Mexico shall not be parted
with without my consent, captain Morano, to be sure, will chuse
Peru; that's the country of gold, and all your great men love
gold. Mexico hath only silver, nothing but silver. Governor of
Cartagena, brother, is a pretty snug employment. That I shall not
dispute with you.
Capstern.
Death, Sir,—I shall not part with Mexico so easily.
Hacker.
Nor I.
Culverin.
Nor I.
Laguerre.
Nor I.
Culverin.
Nor I.
Hacker.
Draw then, and let the survivor take it.
Capstern.
Hold, hold, gentlemen, let us decide our pretensions some other
time. I see booty. A prisoner. Let us seize him.
Culverin.
From him we will extort both ransom and intelligence.
Hacker.
Why, who do you take us for, friend?
Polly.
For those brave spirits, those Alexanders, that shall soon
by conquest be in possession of the Indies.
Laguerre.
A mettl'd young fellow.
Capstern.
He speaks with respect too, and gives us our titles.
Culverin.
Have you heard of captain Morano?
Polly.
I came hither in meer ambition to serve under him.
AIR XXVII. Ye nymphs and sylvan gods.
I hate those coward tribes,
Who by mean sneaking bribes,
By tricks and disguise,
By flattery and lies,
To power and grandeur rise.
Like heroes of old
You are greatly bold,
The sword your cause supports.
Untaught to fawn,
You ne'er were drawn
Your truth to pawn
Among the spawn,
Who practise the frauds of courts.
I would willingly choose the more honourable way of making a
fortune.
Hacker.
The youth speaks well. Can you inform us, my lad, of the
disposition of the enemy? Have the Indians join'd the factory?
We should advance towards 'em immediately. Who knows but they may side
with us? May-hap they may like our tyranny better.
Polly.
I am a stranger, gentlemen, and entirely ignorant of the affairs
of this country: But in the most desperate undertaking, I am ready to
risque your fortunes.
Hacker.
Who, and what are you, friend!
Polly.
A young fellow, who has genteelly run out his fortune with a
spirit, and would now with more spirit retrieve it.
Culverin.
The lad may be of service. Let us bring him before Morano,
and leave him to his disposal.
Polly.
Gentlemen, I thank you.
AIR XXVIII. Minuet.
Culverin.
Cheer up, my lads, let us push on the fray
For battles, like women, are lost by delay.
Let us seize victory while in our power;
Alike war and love have their critical hour.
Our hearts bold and steady
Should always be ready.
So, think war a widow, a kingdom the dower.
[Exeunt.
Another Country Prospect.
AIR XXIX. Mirleton
When I'm great, and flush of treasure,
Check'd by neither fear or shame,
You shall tread a round of pleasure,
Morning noon and night the same.
With a Mirleton, &c.
Like a city wife or beauty
You shall flutter life away;
And shall know no other duty,
But to dress, eat, drink, and play.
With a Mirleton, &c.
When you are a queen, Jenny, you shall keep your coach and
six, and shall game as deep as you please. So, there's the two chief
ends of woman's ambition satisfy'd.
AIR XXX. Sawny was tall and of noble race
[Morano.]
Shall I not be bold when honour calls?
You've a heart that would upbraid me then. Jenny.
But ah, I fear, if my hero falls,
Thy Jenny shall ne'er know pleasure again. Morano.
To deck their wives fond tradesmen cheat;
I conquer but to make thee great, Jenny.
But if my hero falls—ah then
Thy Jenny shall ne'er know pleasure again! Morano.
Insinuating creature! but you must own, Jenny, you have had
convincing proofs of my fondness; and if you were reasonable in your
love, you should have some regard to my honour, as well as my person.
Jenny.
Have I ever betray'd you, since you took me to your self? That's
what few women can say, who ever were trusted.
Jenny.
But, dear captain, you would not sure persuade me that I have all
of you. For tho' women cannot claim you, you now and then lay claim to
other women. But my jealousy was never teazing or vexatious. You will
pardon me, my dear.
Morano.
Now you are silly, Jenny. Pr'ythee—poh! nature, girl, is
not to be corrected at once. What do you propose? What would you have
me do? Speak out, let me know your mind.
Jenny.
Know when you are well.
Morano.
Explain your self; speak your sentiments freely.
Jenny.
You have a competence in your power. Rob the crew, and steal off
to England. Believe me, Captain, you will be rich enough to be
respected by your neighbours.
Morano.
Your opinion of me startles me. For I never in my life was
treacherous but to women; and you know men of the nicest punctilio
make nothing of that.
Jenny.
Look round among all the snug fortunes that are made, and you
will find most of 'em were secur'd by a judicious retreat. Why will
you bar your self from the customs of the Times?
AIR XXXI. Northern Nancy.
How many men have found the skill
Of power and wealth acquiring?
But sure there's a time to stint the will
And the judgment is in retiring.
For to be displac'd,
For to be disgrac'd,
Is the end of too high aspiring.
Enter Sailor.
Sailor.
Sir, Lieutenant Vanderbluff wants to speak with you. And
he hopes your honour will give him the hearing.
Jenny.
Think of my Advice before it is too late. By this kiss I beg it
of you.
AIR XXXII. Amante fuggite cadente belta.
Fine women are devils, compleat in their way,
They always are roving and cruising for prey.
When we flounce on their book, their views they obtain,
Like those too their pleasure is giving us pain.
Excuse my plain speaking, Captain; a boatswain must swear in a
storm, and a man must speak plain, when he sees foul weather a-head of
us.
Morano.
D'you think me like the wheat-ear, only fit for sunshine, who
cannot bear the least cloud over him? No, Vanderbluff, I have a
heart that can face a tempest of dangers. Your blust'ring will but
make me obstinate. You seem frighten'd, Lieutenant.
Vanderbluff.
From any body but you, that speech should have had another-guess
answer than words. Death, Captain, are not the Indies in
dispute? an hour's delay may make their hands too many for us. Give
the word, Captain, this hand shall take the Indian King
pris'ner, and keel-hawl him afterwards, 'till I make him discover his
gold. I have known you eager to venture your life for a less prize.
Morano.
Are Hacker, Culverin, Capstern, Laguerre, and the rest,
whom we sent out for intelligence, return'd, that you are under this
immediate alarm?
Vanderbluff.
No, Sir; but from the top of yon' hill, I my self saw the enemy
putting themselves in order of battle.
Vanderbluff.
To our woman, you mean. Furies! you talk like one. If our Captain
is bewitch'd, shall we be be-devil'd, and lose the footing we have
got?
Vanderbluff.
Noble Captain, I ask pardon.
Morano.
A brave man should be cool till action, Lieutenant; when danger
presses us, I am always ready. Be satisfy'd, I'll take my leave of my
wife, and then take the command.
Vanderbluff.
That's what you can never do till you have her leave. She is but
just gone from you, Sir. See her not; hear her not; the breath of a
woman has ever prov'd a contrary wind to grear actions.
Morano.
I tell you, I will see her. I have got rid of many a woman in my
time, and you may trust me—
Vanderbluff.
With any woman but her. The husband that is govern'd is the only
man that never finds out that he is so.
Morano.
This then, Lieutenant, shall try my resolution. In the mean time,
send out parties and scouts to observe the motions of the Indians.
AIR XXXIII. Since all the word's turn'd upside down.
Tho' different passions rage by turns,
Within my breast fermenting;
Now blazes love, now honour burns,
I'm here, I'm there consenting.
I'll each obey, so keep my oath,
That oath by which I won her:
With truth and steddiness in both,
I'll act like a man of honour.
doubt me not, Lieutenant. But I'll now go with you, to give the necessary commands, and after that return to take my leave before the battle.
Jenny.
He seems some rich planter's son.
Vanderbluff.
In the common practice of commerce you should never slip an
opportunity, and for his ransome, no doubt, there will be room for
comfortable extortion.
Morano.
Hath he inform'd you of any thing that may be of service? where
pick'd you him up? whence is he?
Hacker.
We found him upon the road. He is a stranger it seems in these
parts. And as our heroes generally set out, extravagance, gaming and
debauchery have qualify'd him for a brave man.
Morano.
What are you, friend?
Polly.
A young fellow, who hath been robb'd by the world; and I came on
purpose to join you, to rob the world by way of retaliation. An open
war with the whole world is brave and honourable. I hate the
clandestine pilfering war that is practis'd among friends and
neighbours in civil societies. I would serve, Sir.
Morano.
Whatever other great men do, I love to encourage merit. The youth
pleases me; and if he answers in action—d'you hear me, my lad?—
your fortune is made. Now Lieutenant Vanderbluff, I am for
you.
Vanderbluff.
Discipline must not be neglected.
Morano.
When every thing is settled, my dear Jenny, I will return
to take my leave. After that, young gentleman, I shall try your
mettle. In the mean time, Jenny, I leave you to sift him with
farther questions. He has liv'd in the world, you find, and may have
learnt to be treacherous.
Polly.
I have been ruin'd by women, madam. But I think indeed a man's
fortune cannot be more honourably dispos'd of; for those have always a
kind of claim to their protection, who have been ruin'd in their
service.
Jenny.
Were you ever in love?
Polly.
With the sex.
Jenny.
Had you never a woman in love with you?
Polly.
All the women that ever I knew were mercenary.
Jenny.
But sure you cannot think all women so.
Polly.
Why not as well as all men? The manners of courts are catching.
Jenny.
If you have found only such usage, a generous woman can the more
oblige you. Why so bashful, young spark? You don't look as if you
would revenge your self on the sex.
Polly.
I lost my impudence with my fortune. Poverty keeps down
assurance.
Jenny.
I am a plain-spoken woman, as you may find, and I own I like you.
And, let me tell you, to be my favourite may be your best step to
preferment.
AIR XXXV. Young Damon once the loveliest swain.
In love and life the present use.
One hour we grant, the next refuse;
Who then would risque a nay?
Were lovers wise they would be kind,
And in our eyes the moment find;
For only then they may.
Like other women I shall run to extremes. If you won't make me love you, I shall hate you. There never was a man of true courage, who was a coward in love. Sure you are not afraid of me, stripling?
Jenny.
By your expression and behaviour, one would think I were your
wife. If so, I may make use of her freedoms, and do what I please
without shame or restraint. [Kisses her.] Such raillery as
this, my dear, requires replication.
Polly.
You'll parden me then, Madam.
Polly.
I must put on more assurance, or I shall be discover'd.
[Aside.] Nay then, Madam, if a woman will allow me liberties, they
are never flung away upon me. If I am too rude— [Kisses her.
Jenny.
A woman never pardons the contrary fault.
AIR XXXVI. Catharine Ogye.
[Jenny.]
We never blame the forward swain,
Who puts us to the tryal. Polly.
I know you first would give me pain,
Then baulk me with denial. Jenny.
What mean we then by being try'd? Polly.
With scorn and slight to use us.
Most beauties, to indulge their pride,
Seem kind but to refuse us. Jenny.
Come then, my dear, let us take a turn in yonder grove. A woman
never shews her pride but before witnesses.
Polly.
How shall I get rid of this affair?
[Aside.
Morano may surprize us.
Jenny.
That is more a wife's concern. Consider, young man, if I have put
my self in your power, you are in mine.
Jenny.
To a man who loses one opportunity, we never grant a second.
Excuses! consideration! he hath not a spark of love in him. I must be
his aversion! go, monster, I hate you, and you shall find I can be
reveng'd.
AIR XXXVII. Roger a Coverly.
My heart is by love forsaken,
I feel the tempest growing.
A fury the place hath taken,
I rage, I burn, I'm glowing.
Tho' Cupid's arrows are erring,
Or indifference may secure ye,
When woman's revenge is stirring,
You cannot escape that fury.
I could bear your excuses, but those looks of indifference kill
me.
Morano.
What-a-vengance is the matter?
Jenny.
Only an attempt upon your wife. So ripe an assurance! he must
have suck'd in impudence from his mother.
Morano.
An act of friendship only. He meant to push his fortune with the
husband. 'Tis the way of the town, my dear.
Morano.
Sure, Jenny, you know the way of the world better, than to
be surpriz'd at a thing of this kind. 'Tis a civility that all you
fine ladies expect; and, upon the like occasion, I could not have
answered for my self. I own, I have a sort of partiality to
impudence. Perhaps too, his views might be honourable. If I had been
kill'd in battle, 'tis good to be beforehand. You know 'tis a way
often practis'd to make sure of a widow.
Jenny.
If I find you so easy in these affairs, you may make my vertue
less obstinate.
AIR XXXIX. Health to Betty.
If husbands sit unsteady,
Most wives for freaks are ready.
Neglect the rein
The steed again
Grows skittish, wild and heady.
Your behaviour forces me to say, what my love for you will never
let me put in practice. You are too safe, too secure, to think of
pleasing me.
Morano.
Tho' I like impudence, yet 'tis not so agreeable when put in
practice upon my own wife: and jesting apart, young fellow, if I ever
catch you thinking this way again, a cat-o'-nine-tails shall cool your
courage.
Morano, Jenny, Polly, Vanderbluff, Capstern, Laguerre, &c. with Cawwawkee Prisoner.
Van.
The party, captain, is return'd with success. After a short
skirmish, the Indian prince Cawwawkee here was made
prisoner, and we want your orders for his disposal.
Mor.
Are all our troops ready and under arms?
Van.
They wait but for your command. Our numbers are strong. All the
ships crews are drawn out, and the slaves that have deserted to us
from the plantations are all brave determin'd fellows, who must
behave themselves well.
Mor.
Look'e, lieutenant, the trussing up this prince, in my opinion,
would strike a terror among the enemy. Besides, dead men can do no
mischief. Let a gibbet be set up, and swing him off between the armies
before the onset.
Van.
By your leave, captain, my advice blows directly contrary.
Whatever may be done hereafter, I am for putting him first of all upon
examination. The Indians to be sure have hid their treasures,
and we shall want a guide to shew us the best plunder.
Mor.
The counsel is good. I will extort intelligence from him. Bring
me word when the enemy are in motion, and that instant I'll put myself
at your head. [Exit Sailor.] Do you know me, prince?
Caw.
As a man of injustice I know you, who covets and invades the
properties of another.
Mor.
Do you know my power?
Caw.
I fear it not.
Mor.
Do you know your danger?
Caw.
I am prepar'd to meet it.
AIR XL. Cappe de bonne Esperance.
The body of the brave may be taken,
If chance bring on our adverse hour;
But the noble soul is unshaken,
For that still is in our power:
'Tis a rock, whose firm foundation
Mocks the waves of purturbation;
'Tis a never-dying ray,
Brighter in our evil Day. Mor.
Meer downright Barbarians, you see, lieutenant. They have our
notional honour still in practice among 'em.
Van.
We must beat civilizing into 'em, to make 'em capable of common
society, and common conversation.
Mor.
Stubborn prince, mark me well. Know you, I say, that your life is
in my power?
Caw.
I know too, that my virtue is in my own.
Mor.
Not a mule, or an old out-of-fashion'd philosopher, could be more
obstinate. Can you feel pain?
Caw.
I can bear it.
Mor.
I shall try you.
Caw.
I speak truth, I never affirm but what I know.
Mor.
In what condition are your troops? What numbers have you? How are
they dispos'd? Act reasonably and openly, and you shall find
protection.
Caw.
What, betray my friends! I am no coward, European.
Mor.
Torture shall make you squeak.
Caw.
I have resolution; and pain shall neither make me lie or betray.
I tell thee once more, European, I am no coward.
Van.
What, neither cheat nor be cheated! There is no having either
commerce or correspondence with these creatures.
Jen.
We have reason to be thankful for our good education. How
ignorant is mankind without it!
Cap.
I wonder to hear the brute speak.
Lag.
They would make a shew of him in England.
Jen.
Poh, they would only take him for a fool.
Cap.
But how can you expect any thing else from a creature, who hath
never seen a civiliz'd country? Which way should he know mankind?
Lag.
Why we see country gentlemen grow into courtiers, and country
gentlewoman, with a little polishing of the town, in a few months
become fine ladies.
Jen.
Without doubt, education and example can do much.
Pol.
How happy are these savages! Who would not wish to be in such
ignorance.
Caw.
Better it had been for us if that shining earth had never been
brought to light.
Mor.
That you have treasures then you own, it seems. I am glad to hear
you confess something.
Caw.
But out of benevolence we ought to hide it from you. For, as we
have heard, 'tis so rank a poison to you Europeans, that the
very touch of it makes you mad.
AIR XLI. When bright Aurelia tripp'd the plain.
For gold you sacrifice your fame,
Your honour, life and friend:
You war, you fawn, you lie, you game,
And plunder without fear or shame,
Can madness this transcend? Mor.
Bold savage, we are not to be insulted with your ignorance. If
you would save your lives, you must, like the beaver, leave behind you
what we hunt you for, or we shall not quit the chase. Discover your
treasures, your hoards, for I will have the ransacking of 'em.
Jen.
By his seeming to set some value upon gold, one would think that
he had some glimmering of sense.
AIR XLII. Peggy's Mill.
When gold is in hand,
It gives us command;
It makes us lov'd and respected.
'Tis now, as of yore,
Wit and sense, when poor,
Are scorn'd, o'erlook'd and neglected.
Tho' peevish and old,
If women have gold,
They have youth, good-humour and beauty:
Among all mankind
Without it we find
Nor love, nor favour, nor duty. Mor.
I will have no more of these interruptions. Since women will be
always talking, one would think they had a chance now and then to talk
in season. Once more I ask you, obstinate, audacious savage, if I
grant you your life, will you be useful to us? For you shall find
mercy upon no other terms. I will have immediate compliance, or you
shall undergo the torture.
Caw.
With dishonour life is nothing worth.
Mor.
Furies! I'll trifle no longer.
Recitative. Sia suggetta la plebe in Coriolan.
Hence let him feel his sentence.
Pain brings repentance. Lag.
You would not have us put him to death, captain?
Mor.
Torture him leisurely, but severely. I shall stagger your
resolution, Indian.
Recitative.
Hence let him fell his sentence.
Pain brings repentance.
But hold, I'll see him tortur'd. I will have the pleasure of
extorting answers from him myself. So keep him safe till you have my
directions.
Lag.
It shall be done.
Mor.
As for you, young gentleman, I think it not proper to trust you
till I know you farther. Let him be your prisoner too till I give
order how to dispose of him.
Jen.
Nay, lieutenant Vanderbluff, he shall not go yet.
Van.
I'm out of all patience. There is a time for all things, Madam.
But a woman thinks all times must be subservient to her whim and
humour. We should be now upon the spot.
Jen.
Is the captain under your command, lieutenant?
Van.
I know women better than so. I shall never dispute the command
with any gentleman's wife. Come captain, a woman will never take the
last kiss; she will always want another. Break from her clutches.
Mor.
I must go—But I cannot.
AIR XLIII. Excuse me.
Honour calls me from thy arms,
[to him.
With glory my bosom is beating.
Victory summons to arms: then to arms,
Let us haste, for we're sure of defeating.
One look more—and then—
[to her.
Oh, I am lost again!
What a power has beauty!
But honour calls, and I must away.
[to him.
But loves forbids, and I must obey.
[to her.
You grow too bold;
[Vanderbluff pulling him away.
Hence, loose your hold,
[to him.
For love claims all my duty
[to her.
They will bring us word when the enemy is in motion. I know my
own time, lieutenant.
Jen.
Not so hasty and choleric, I beg you, lieutenant. Give me the
hearing, and perhaps, whatever you may think of us, you may once in
your life hear a woman speak reason.
Van.
Dispatch then. And if a few words can satisfy you, be brief.
Jen.
Men only slight womens advice thro' an over-conceit of their own
opinions. I am against hazarding a battle. Why should we put what we
have already got to the risque? We have money enough on board our
ships to secure our persons, and can reserve a comfortable subsistance
besides. Let us leave the Indies to our comrades.
Van.
Sure you are the first of the sex that ever stinted herself in
love or money. If it were consistent with our honour, her counsel were
worth listening to.
Jen.
Consistent with our honour! For shame, lieutenant; you talk
downright Indian. One would take you for the savage's brother
or cousin german at least. You may talk of honour, as other great men
do: But when interest comes in your way, you should do as other great
men do.
AIR XLIV. Ruben.
Honour plays a bubble's part,
Ever bilk'd and cheated;
Never in ambition's heart,
Int'rest there is seated.
Honour was in use of yore,
Tho' by want attended:
Since 'twas talk'd of, and no more;
Lord, how times are mended! Van.
What think you of her proposal, noble captain? We may push
matters too far.
Jen.
Consider, my dear, the Indies are only treasures in
expectation. All your sensible men, now-a-days, love the ready. Let us
seize the ships then, and away for England, while we have the
opportunity.
Mor.
But the baulking of a great design—
Van.
'Tis better baulking our own designs, than have 'em baulk'd by
others; for then our designs and our lives will be cut short together.
AIR XLV. Troy Town.
When ambition's ten years toils
Have heap'd up mighty hoards of gold;
Amid the harvest of the spoils,
Acquir'd by fraud and rapin bold,
Comes justice. The great scheme is crost,
At once wealth, life, and fame, are lost.
This is a melancholy reflection for ambition, if it ever could
think reasonably.
Mor.
If you are satisfy'd, and for your security, Jenny. For
any man may allow that he has money enough, when he hath enough to
satisfy his wife.
Van.
We may make our retreat without suspicion, for they will readily
impute our being mist to the accidents of war.
Mor.
I'll be with 'em. Come then, lieutenant, for death or the world.
Jen.
Nay then, if affairs are desperate, nothing shall part me from
you. I'll share your dangers.
Mor.
Since I must have an empire, prepare yourself, Jenny, for
the cares of royalty. Let us on to battle, to victory. Hark the
trumpet.
A room of a poor cottage. Cawwawkee in chains, Polly.
Pol.
Unfortunate prince! I cannot blame your disbelief, when I tell
you that I admire your virtues, and share in your misfortunes.
Caw.
To be oppress'd by an European implies merit. Yet you are
an European. Are you fools? Do you believe one another? Sure
speech can be of no use among you.
Pol.
There are constitutions that can resist a pestilence.
Caw.
But sure vice must be inherent in such constitutions. You are
asham'd of your hearts, you can lie. How can you bear to look into
yourselves?
Pol.
My sincerity could even bear your examination.
Caw.
You have cancell'd faith. How can I believe you? You are cowards
too, for you are cruel.
Pol.
Would it were in my power to give you proofs of my compassion.
Caw.
You can be avaritious. That is a complication of all vices. It
comprehends them all. Heaven guard our country from the infection.
Pol.
Yet the worst men allow virtue to be amiable, or there would be
no hypocrites.
Caw.
Have you then hypocrisy still among you? For all that I have
experienc'd of your manners is open violence, and barefac'd injustice.
Who that had ever felt the satisfaction of virtue would ever part with
it?
Caw.
Virtue's treasure
Is a pleasure, Pol.
Cheerful even amid distress; Caw.
Nor pain nor crosses, Pol.
Nor grief nor losses, Caw.
Nor death itself can make it less. Pol.
Here relying, Caw.
Suff'ring, dying, Pol.
Honest souls find all redress. Caw.
Having this, I want no other consolation. I am prepar'd for all
misfortune.
Pol.
Had you means of escape, you could not refuse it. To preserve
your life is your duty.
Caw.
By dishonest means, I scorn it.
Pol.
But stratagem is allow'd in war; and 'tis lawful to use all the
weapons employ'd against you. You may save your friends from
affliction, and be the instrument of rescuing your country.
Caw.
Those are powerful inducements. I seek not voluntarily to resign
my life. While it lasts, I would do my duty.
Pol.
I'll talk with our guard. What induces them to rapin and murther,
will induce 'em to betray. You may offer them what they want; and from
no hands, upon no terms, corruption can resist the temptation.
Caw.
I have no skill. Those who are corrupt themselves know how to
corrupt others. You may do as you please. But whatever you promise for
me, contrary to the European custom, I will perform. For
tho' a knave may break his word with a knave, an honest tongue
knows no such distinctions.
Pol.
Gentlemen, I desire some conference with you, that may be for
your advantage.
Lag.
Full well.
Pol.
Know you the treasures that are in his power?
Lag.
I know too that they shall soon be ours.
Pol.
In having him in your possession they are yours.
Lag.
As how, friend?
Pol.
He might well reward you.
Lag.
For what?
Pol.
For his liberty.
Caw.
Yes, Europaan, I can and will reward you.
Cap.
He's a great man, and I trust no such promises.
Caw.
I have said it, European: And an Indian's heart is
always answerable for his words.
Pol.
Think of the chance of war, gentlemen. Conquest is not so sure
when you fight against those who fight for their liberties.
Lag.
What think you of the proposal?
Cap.
The prince can give us places; he can make us all great men. Such
a prospect I can tell you, Laguerre, would tempt our betters.
Lag.
Besides, if we are beaten, we have no retreat to our ships.
Cap.
If we gain our ends, what matter how we come by it?
Lag.
Every man for himself, say I There is no being even with mankind,
without that universal maxim. Consider, brother, we run no risque.
Cap.
Nay, I have no objections.
Cap.
Then too, I always lik'd a place at court. I have a genius to
get, keep in, and make the most of an employment.
Lag.
You will consider, prince, our own politicians would have
rewarded such meritorious services: We'll go off with you.
Cap.
We want only to be known to be employ'd.
Lag.
Let us unbind him then.
Pol.
'Tis thus one able politician outwits another; and we admire
their wisdom You may rely upon the prince's word as much as if he was
a poor man.
Cap.
Our fortunes then are made.
AIR XLVIII. Down in a meadow
Pol.
The sportsmen keep hawks, and their quarry they gain;
Thus the woodcock, the partridge, the pheasant is slain.
What care and expence for their hounds are employ'd!
Thus the fox, and the hare, and the stag are destroy'd.
The spaniel they cherish, whose flattering way
Can as well as their masters cringe, fawn and betray.
Thus stanch politicians, look all the world round,
Love the men who can serve as hawk, spaniel or hound.
[Exeunt.
The Indian Camp.
Pohetohee, Attendants, Ducat.
Ind.
Sir, a party from the British factory have join'd us.
Their chief attends your majesty's orders for their disposition.
Pohe.
Let them be posted next my command; for I would be witness of
their bravery. But first let their officer know I would see him.
Enter Ducat.
Duc.
I would do all in my power to serve your majesty. I have brought
up my men, and now, Sir,—I would fain give up. I speak purely upon
your majesty's account. For as to courage and all that—I have been
a colonel of the militia these ten years.
Poh.
Sure, you have not fear. Are you a man?
Duc.
A married man, Sir, who carries his wife's heart about him, and
that indeed is a little timorous. Upon promise to her, I am engag'd to
quit in case of a battle; and her heart hath ever govern'd me more
than my own. Besides, Sir, fighting is not our business; we pay others
for fighting; and yet 'tis well known we had rather part with our
lives than our money.
Poh.
And have you no spirit then to defend it? Your families, your
liberties, your properties are at stake. If these cannot move you, you
must be born without a heart.
Duc.
Alas, Sir, we cannot be answerable for human infirmities.
AIR XLIX. There was an old man, and he liv'd
What man can on virtue or courage repose,
Or guess if the touch 'twill abide?
Like gold, if intrinsick sure no body knows,
Till weigh'd in the ballance and try'd.
Poh.
How different are your notions from ours! We think virtue,
honour, and courage as essential to man as his limbs, or senses; and
in every man we suppose the qualities of a man, till we have found the
contrary. But then we regard him only as a brute in disguise. How
custom can degrade nature!
Duc.
Why should I have any more scruples about myself, than about my
money? If I can can make my courage pass currant, what matter is it to
me whether it be true or false? 'Tis time enough to own a man's
failings when they are found out. If your majesty then will not
dispense with my duty to my wife, with permission, I'll to my post.
'Tis wonderful to me that kings ever go to war, who have so much to
lose, and nothing essential to get.
Pohetohee, Attendants.
Poh.
My Son a prisoner! Tortur'd perhaps and inhumanly butcher'd!
Human nature cannot bear up against such afflictions. The war must
suffer by his absence. More then is requir'd from me. Grief raises my
resolution, and calls me to relieve him, or to a just revenge. What
mean those shouts?
Caw.
Let this youth then receive your thanks. To him are owing my life
and liberty. And the love of virtue alone gain'd me his friendship.
Caw.
These others, indeed, have the passion of their country. I owe
their services to gold, and my promise is engag'd to reward them. How
it gouls honour to have obligations to a dishonourable man!
Lag.
I hope your majesty will not forget our services.
Poh.
I am bound for my son's engagements.
Caw.
For this youth, I will be answerable. Like a gem found in
rubbish, he appears the brighter among these his country-men.
AIR L. Iris la plus charmante.
Love with beauty is flying,
At once 'tis blooming and dying,
But all seasons defying,
Friendship lasts on the year.
Love is by long enjoying, Cloying;
Friendship, enjoy'd the longer, Stronger.
O may the flame divine
Burn in your breast like mine! Pol.
Most noble prince, my behaviour shall justify the good opinion
you have of me; and my friendship is beyond professions.
Poh.
Let these men remain under guard, till after the battle. All
promises shall then be made good to you.
Poh.
I leave you to appoint him his command. Dispose of him as you
judge convenient.
Pol.
To fall into their hands is certain torture and death. As far as
my youth and strength will permit me, you may rely upon my duty.
Enter Indian.
Ind.
Sir, the enemy are advancing towards us.
The field of battle.
Hac
We are of the council, brother. If ever we get on board again, my
vote shall be for calling of him to account for these pranks. Why
should we be such fools to be ambitious of satisfying another's
ambition?
Cul.
Let us mutiny. I love mutiny as well as my wife.
1 Pyr.
Let us mutiny.
2 Pyr.
Ay, let us mutiny.
Hac.
Our captain takes too much upon him. I am for no engrosser of
power. By our articles he hath no command but in a fight or in a
storm. Look'ee, brothers, I am for mutiny as much as any of you, when
occasion offers.
Cul.
Right, brother, all in good season. The pass to our ships is cut
off by the troops of the plantation. We must fight the Indians
first, and we have a mutiny good afterwards.
Cul.
He's yonder on the right, putting his troops in order for the
onset.
Hac.
I wish this fight of ours were well over. For to be sure, let
soldiers say what they will, they feel more pleasure after a battle
than in it.
Cul.
Does not the drum-head here, quarter-master, tempt you to fling a
merry main or two?
Cul.
Have at you. A nick.
Cul.
I'm at it. Seven or eleven. [flings] eleven.
Hac.
Furies! A manifest cog! I won't be bubbled, Sir. This would not
pass upon a drunken country gentleman. Death, Sir, I won't be cheated.
Cul.
The money is mine. D'you take me for a sharper, Sir?
Hac.
Yes, Sir.
Cul.
I'll have satisfaction.
Hac.
With all my heart.
Cul.
To be call'd sharper, captain! is a reproach that no man of
honour can put up.
Hac.
But to be one, is what no man of honour can practise.
Hac.
Who is treacherous?
Mor.
Capstern and Laguerre have let the prince and the
stripling you took prisoner escape, and are gone off with them to the
Indians. Upon your duty, gentlemen, on this day depends our all.
Cul.
Rather than have ill blood among us, I return the money. I value
your friendship more. Let all animosities be forgot.
Mor.
We should be Indians among ourselves, and shew our
breeding and parts to every body else. If we cannot be true to one
another, and false to all the world beside, there is an end of every
great enterprize.
Hac.
We have nothing to trust to but death or victory.
Mor.
Then hey for victory and plunder, my lads!
AIR LII. To you fair ladies.
[Mor.]
By bolder steps we win the race. 1 Pyr.
Let's haste where danger calls, Mor.
Unless ambition mend its pace,
It totters, nods and falls. 1 Pyr.
We must advance or be undone. Mor.
Think thus, and then the battle's won. Chor.
With a fa la la, &c. Mor.
You see your booty, your plunder, gentlemen, The Indians
are just upon us. The great must venture death some way or other, and
the less ceremony about it, in my opinion, the better. But why talk I
of death! Those only talk of it, who fear it. Let us all live, and
enjoy our conquests. Sound the charge.
AIR LIII. Prince Eugene's march.
[Mor.]
When the tyger roams
And the timorous flock is, in his view,
Fury foams,
He thirsts for the blood of the crew.
His greedy eyes he throws,
Thirst with their number grows,
On he pours, with a wide waste pursuing,
Spreading the plain with a general ruin.
Thus let us charge, and our foes o'erturn: Van.
Let us on one and all! 1 Pyr.
How they fly, how they fall! Mor.
For the war, for the prize I burn. Van.
Were they dragons, my lads, as they sit brooding upon treasure,
we would fright them from their nests.
Mor.
But see, the enemy are advancing to close engagement. Before the
onset, we'll demand a parley, and if we can, obtain honourable
terms—We are overpower'd by numbers, and our retreat is cut off.
Enter Pohetohee, Cawwawkee, Polly, &c. with the Indian Army drawn up against the Pyrates.
Poh.
Our hearts are all ready. The enemy halts. Let the trumpets give
the signal.
AIR LIV. The marlborough.
Caw.
We the sword of justice drawing,
Terror cast in guilty eyes;
In its beam false courage dies;
'Tis like lightning keen and awing.
Charge the foe,
Lay them low,
On then and strike the blow.
Hark, victory calls us. See, guilt is dismay'd;
The villain is of his own conscience afraid.
In your hands are your lives and your liberties held,
The courage of virtue was never repell'd. Pyr.
Our chief demands a parley.
Poh.
Let him advance.
[Poh.]
Art thou, Morano, that fell man of prey?
That foe to justice?
Mor.
Tremble and obey.
Art thou great Pohetohee styl'd? Poh.
the same.
I dare avow my actions and my name. Mor.
Thou know'st then, king, thy son there was my prisoner. Pay us
the ransom we demand, allow us safe passage to our ships, and we will
give you your lives and liberties.
Poh.
Shall robbers and plunderers prescribe rules to right and equity?
Insolent madman! Composition with knaves is base and ignominious.
Tremble at the sword of justice, rapacious brute.
AIR LV. Les rats.
Mor.
Know then, war's my pleasure.
Am I thus cantroll'd?
Both thy heart and treasure
I'll at once unfold.
You, like a miser, scraping, hiding,
Rob all the world; you're but mines of gold.
Rage my breast alarms:
War is by kings held right-deciding;
Then to arms, to arms;
With this sword I'll force your hold.
By thy obstinacy, king, thou hast provok'd thy fate; and so
expect me.
Poh.
Rapacious fool; by thy avarice thou shalt perish.
Mor.
Fall on.
Poh.
For your lives and liberties.
AIR LVI. Mad Robin.
How faultless does the nymph appear,
When her own hand the picture draws!
But all others only smear
Her wrinckles, cracks and flaws.
Self-flattery is our claim and right,
Let men say what they will;
Sure we may set our good in sight,
When neighbours set our ill.
So, for my own part, I'll no more trust my reputation in my
neighbours hands than my money. But will turn them both myself to the
best advantage.
Duc.
A hare may escape from a mastiff. I could not be a greyhound too.
Poh.
How have you dispos'd of the prisoners?
Caw.
They are all under safe guard, till the king's justice, by their
exemplary punishment, deters others from the like barbarities.
Poh.
But all our troops are not as yet return'd from the pursuit: I am
too speedy for justice, for in that there is a sort of clemency.
Besides, I would not have my private thoughts worried by mercy to
pardon such
wretches. I cannot be answerable for the frailties of my nature.
Caw.
The youth who rescu'd me from these cruel men is missing; and
amidst all our successes I cannot feel happiness. I fear he is among
the slain. My gratitude interested itself so warmly in his safety that
you must pardon my concern. What hath victory done for me? I have
lost a friend.
AIR LVII. Thro' the wood laddy.
As sits the sad turtle alone on the spray;
His heart solely beating,
Sad murmur repeating,
Indulging his grief for his consort astray;
For force or death only could keep her away.
Now he thinks of the fowler, and every snare;
If guns have not slain her,
The net must detain her,
Thus he'll rise in my thoughts, every hour with a tear,
If safe from the battle he do not appear. Poh.
Dead or alive, bring me intelligence of him; for I share in my
son's affliction.
Enter Indian.
Ind.
The youth, Sir, with a party is just return'd from the pursuit.
He's here to attend your majesty's commands.
Pol.
In the rout, Sir, I overtook him, flying with all the cowardice
of guilt upon him. Thousands have false courage enough to be vicious;
true fortitude is founded upon honour and virtue; that only can abide
all tests. I made him my prisoner, and left him without under strict
guard, till I receiv'd your majesty's commands for his disposal.
Poh.
Sure this youth was sent me as a guardian. Let your prisoner be
brought before us.
Pohetohee, Cawwawkee, Polly, Morano guarded.
Mor.
Here's a young treacherous dog now, who hangs the husband to come
at the wife. There are wives in the world, who would have undertaken
that affair to have come at him. Your son's liberty, to be sure, you
think better worth than mine; so that I allow you a good bargain if I
take my own for his ransom, without a gratuity. You know, king, he is
my debtor.
Poh.
He hath the obligations to thee of a sheep who hath escap'd out
of the jaws of the wolf, beast of prey!
Poh.
Trifle not with justice, impious man. Your barbarities, your
rapin, your murthers are now at an end.
Mor.
Ambition must take its chance. If I die, I die in my vocation.
AIR LIX. Parson upon Dorothy.
The soldiers, who by trade must dare
The deadly cannon's sounds;
You may be sure betimes prepare
For fatal blood and wounds.
The men, who with adventrous dance,
Bound from the cord on high,
Must own they have the frequent chance
By broken bones to die.
Since rarely then
Ambitious men
Like others lose their breath;
Like these, I hope,
They know a rope
Is but their natural death.
We must all take the common lot of our professions.
Poh.
Would your European laws have suffer'd crimes like these
to have gone unpunish'd!
Mor.
Were all I am worth safely landed, I have wherewithal to make
almost any crime sit easy upon me.
Poh.
Have ye no notions of property?
Mor.
Of my own.
Poh.
Would not your honest industry have been sufficient to have
supported you?
Mor.
Honest industry! I have heard talk of it indeed among the common
people, but all great genius's are above it.
Poh.
Have you no respect for virtue?
Mor.
As a good phrase, Sir. But the practicers of it are so
insignificant and poor, that they are seldom found in the best
company.
Poh.
Is not wisdom esteem'd among you?
Mor.
Yes, Sir: But only as a step to riches and power; a step that
raises ourselves, and trips up our neighbours.
Mor.
As incapacities and follies. How ignorant are these Indians!
But indeed I think honour is of some use; it serves to swear upon.
Poh.
Have you no consciousness? Have you no shame?
Mor.
Of being poor.
Poh.
How can society subsist with avarice! Ye are but the forms of
men. Beasts would thrust you out of their herd upon that account, and
man should cast you out for your brutal dispositions.
Mor.
Alexander the great was more successful. That's all.
AIR LX. The collier has a daughter.
When right or wrong's decided
In war or civil causes,
We by success are guided
To blame or give applauses.
Thus men exalt ambition,
In power by all commended,
But when it falls from high condition,
Tyburn is well attended. Poh.
Let justice then take her course, I shall not interfere with her
decrees. Mercy too obliges me to protect my country from such
violences. Immediate death shall put a stop to your further mischiefs.
Mor.
This sentence indeed is hard. Without the common forms of trial!
Not so much as the counsel of a new gate attorney! Not to be able to
lay out my money in partiality and evidence! Not a friend perjur'd
for me! This is hard, very hard.
Poh.
Let the sentence be put in execution. Lead him to death. Let his
accomplices be witnesses of it, and afterwards let them be securely
guarded till further orders.
AIR LXI. Mad Moll.
Mor.
All crimes are judg'd like fornication;
While rich we are honest no doubt.
Fine ladies can keep reputation,
Poor lasses alone are found out.
If justice had piercing eyes,
Like ourselves to look within,
She'd find power and wealth a disguise
That shelter the worst of our kin.
[Exit guarded
Caw.
My friendship too is impatient to give you proofs of it. How
happy would you make me in allowing me to discharge that duty!
AIR LXII. Prince George.
[Caw.]
All friendship is a mutual debt, Pol.
The contract's inclination: Caw.
We never can that bond forget
Of sweet retaliation. Pol.
All day, and every day the same
We are paying and still owing; Caw.
By turns we grant, by turns we claim
The pleasure of bestowing. Both.
By turns we grant, &c. Pol.
The pleasure of having serv'd an honourable man is a sufficient
return. My misfortunes, I fear, are beyond relief.
Caw.
That sigh makes me suffer. If you have a want, let me know it.
Poh.
If it is in a king's power, my power will make me happy.
Caw.
If you believe me a friend, you are unjust in concealing your
distresses from me. You deny me the privilege of friendship; for I
have a right to share them, or redress them.
Poh.
Can my treasures make you happy?
Pol.
Those who have them not, think they can; those who have them,
know they cannot.
Poh.
How unlike his countrymen!
Pol.
Let not my reflection interrupt the joys of your triumph. Could I
have commanded my thoughts, I would have reserv'd them for solitude.
Caw.
Those sighs and that reservedness are symptoms of a heart in
love. A pain that I am yet a stranger to.
Pol.
Then you have never been compleatly wretched.
AIR LXIII. Blithe Jockey young and gay.
Can words the pain express
Which absent lovers know?
He only mine can guess
Whose heart hath felt the woe.
'Tis doubt, suspicion, fear,
Seldom hope, oft' despair;
'Tis jealousy, 'tis rage, in brief
'Tis every pang and grief. Caw.
But does not love often deny itself aid and comfort, by being too
obstinately secret?
Pol.
One cannot be too open to generosity; that is a sun of universal
benignity. In concealing ourselves from it, we but deny ourselves the
blessings of its influence.
AIR LXIV. In the fields in frost and snow.
The modest lilly, like the maid,
Its pure bloom defending,
Is of noxious dews afraid,
Soon as even's descending.
Clos'd all night,
Free from blight,
It preserves the native white;
But at morn unfolds its leaves,
And the vital sun receives.
Yet why should I trouble your majesty with the misfortunes of so
inconsiderable a wretch as I am?
Poh.
A king's beneficence should be like the sun. The most humble weed
should feel its influence as well as the most gaudy flower. But I have
the nearest concern in any thing that touches you.
Poh.
A woman!
Pol.
Yes, Sir, the most wretched of her sex. In love! married!
abandon'd, and in despair!
Poh.
What brought you into these countries?
Pol.
To find my husband. Why had not the love of virtue directed my
heart? But, alas, 'tis outward appearance alone that generally engages
a woman's affections! And my heart is in the possession of the most
profligate of mankind.
Poh.
Why this disguise?
Pol.
To protect me from the violences and insults to which my sex
might have expos'd me.
Caw.
Had she not been married, I might have been happy.
Caw.
Had you conceal'd your sex, I had been happy in your friendship;
but now, how uneasy, how restless is my heart!
AIR LXV. Whilst I gaze on Chloe.
Whilst I gaze in fond desiring,
Every former thought is lost.
Sighing, wishing and admiring,
How my troubled soul is tost!
Hot and cold my blood is flowing,
How it thrills in every vein!
Liberty and life are going,
Hope can ne'er relieve my pain.
Enter Indian.
Ind.
The rest of the troops, Sir, are return'd from the pursuit with
more prisoners. They attend your majesty's commands.
Poh.
Let them be brought before us.
[Ex. Ind.]
Give not yourself up to despair; for every thing in my power you
may command.
Pohetohee, Cawwawkee, Polly, Ducat, Jenny guarded, &c.
Jen.
Spare my husband, Morano is my husband.
Poh.
Then I have reliev'd you from the society of a monster.
Jen.
Alas, Sir, there are many husbands who are furious monsters to
the rest of mankind, that are the tamest creatures alive to their
wives. I can be answerable for his duty and submission to your
majesty, for I know I have so much power over him, that I can even
make him good.
Poh.
Why then had you not made him so before?
Jen.
I was, indeed, like other wives, too indulgent to him, and as it
was agreeable to my own humour, I was loth to baulk his ambition. I
must, indeed, own too that I had the frailty of pride. But where is
the woman who hath not an inclination to be as great and rich as she
can be?
Poh.
With how much ease and unconcern these Europeans talk of
vices, as if they were necessary qualifications.
AIR LXVI. The Jamaica.
Jen.
The sex, we find,
Like men inclin'd
To guard against reproaches;
And none neglect
To pay respect
To rogues who keep their coaches.
Indeed, Sir, I had determin'd to be honest myself, and to have
made him so too, as soon as I had put myself upon a reasonable foot in
the world; and that is more self-denial than is commonly practis'd.
Poh.
Woman, your profligate sentiments offend me; and you deserve to
be cut off from society, with your husband. Mercy would be scarce
excusable in pardoning you. Have done then. Morano is now under
the stroke of justice.
Duc.
Yes, Sir, I find some of my run-away slaves among the crew; and I
hope my services at least will allow me to claim my own again.
Jen.
Morano, Sir, I must confess hath been a free liver, and a
man of so many gallantries, that no woman could escape him. If
Macheath's misfortunes were known, the whole sex would be in
tears.
Pol.
Macheath!
Jen.
He is no black, Sir, but under that disguise, for my sake,
skreen'd himself from the claims and importunities of other women. May
love intercede for him?
Pol.
Macheath! Is it possible? Spare him, save him, I ask no
other reward.
Poh.
Haste, let the sentence be suspended.
AIR LXVII. Tweed Side.
The stag, when chas'd all the long day
O'er the lawn, thro' the forest and brake;
Now panting for breath and at bay,
Now stemming the river or lake;
When the treacherous scent is all cold,
And at eve he returns to his hind,
Can her joy, can her pleasure be told?
Such joy and such pleasure I find.
But, alas, now again reflection turns fear upon my heart. His
pardon may come too late, and I may never see him more.
Poh.
Take hence that profligate woman. Let her be kept under strict
guard till my commands.
Jen.
Slavery, Sir, slavery is all I ask. Whatever becomes of him,
spare my life; spare an unfortunate woman. What can be the meaning of
this sudden turn! Consider, Sir, if a husband be never so bad, a wife
is bound to duty.
Pohetohee, Cawwawkee, Polly, Ducat, &c.
Pol.
What, no news yet? Not yet return'd!
Caw.
If justice hath overtaken him, he was unworthy of you.
Pol.
Not yet! Oh how I fear.
AIR LXVIII. One Evening as I lay.
My heart forebodes he's dead,
That thought how can I bear?
He's gone, for ever fled,
My soul is all despair!
I see him pale and cold,
The noose hath stop'd his breath,
Just as my dream foretold,
Oh had that sleep been death!
Enter Indians.
Pol.
He's dead, he's dead! Their looks confess it: Your tongues have
no need to give it utterance to confirm my misfortunes! I know, I see,
I feel it! Support me! O Macheath!
Duc.
Mercy upon me! Now I look upon her nearer, bless me, it must be
Polly. This woman, Sir, is my slave, and I claim her as my own. I
hope, if your majesty thinks of keeping her, you will reimburse me,
and not let me be a loser. She was an honest girl to be sure, and had
too much virtue to thrive, for, to my knowledge, money could not tempt
her.
Caw.
Justice hath reliev'd you from the society of a wicked man. If an
honest heart can recompense your loss, you would make me happy in
accepting mine. I hope my father will consent to my happiness.
Poh.
Since your love of her is founded upon the love of virtue and
gratitude, I you to your own disposal.
Caw.
What, no reply?
Pol.
Abandon me to my sorrows. For indulging them is my only relief.
Poh.
Let the chiefs have immediate Execution. For the rest, let them
be restor'd to their owners, and return to their slavery.
AIR XLIX. Buff-coat.
Caw.
Why that languish! Pol.
Oh he's dead! O he's lost for ever! Caw.
Cease your anguish, and forget your grief. Pol.
Ah, never!
What air, grace and stature! Caw.
How false in his nature! Pol.
To virtue my love might have won him. Caw.
How base and deceiving! Pol.
But love is believing. Caw.
Vice, at length, as 'tis meet, hath undone him. [Caw.]
By your consent you might at the same time give me happiness, and
procure your own. My titles, my treasures, are all at your command.
AIR LXX. An Italian Ballad.
Pol.
Frail is ambition, how weak the foundation!
Riches have wings as inconstant as wind;
My heart is proof against either temptation,
Virtue, without them, contentment can find.
I am charm'd, prince, with your generosity and virtues. 'Tis only
by the pursuit of those we secure real happiness.
Those that know and feel virtue in themselves, must love it in
others. Allow me to give a decent time to my sorrows. But my
misfortunes at present interrupt the joys of victory.
Caw.
Fair princess, for so I hope shortly to make you, permit me to
attend you, either to divide your griefs, or by conversation, to
soften your sorrows.
Poh.
'Tis a pleasure to me by this alliance to recompence your merits.
[Ex. Caw. and Pol.] Let the sports and dances then
celebrate our victory.