University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE, a Chamber in the Celestial Palace.
[Momus meets the Dragon in Chains, led to Prison by one of the Furies.]
RECITATIVE.
Momus.
Ah, ah!—in Crib, Sir Drag.?

[laughs.]
Drag.
(dolefully)
Now, bail me, Momus!

Mom.
I'd see you hang'd first.

[Exit laughing.]
Drag.
Get along,—and be Curst!—
Why did I trust a Courtier's Promise?

AIR I. A Stage Dance Tune.

Fool, fool in grain
Is he,
Fond and vain,
Of brain
Quite dizzy,
Who, when out o'place,
Hopes at Court an embrace.
Nic, th'old fiend,
Will first pretend,
For his own end,
To be your friend:
Caught in
The gin
Of sin,
He'll grin
At your disgrace.

[The Fury lashes him on. Exeunt.
SCENE changes to Jupiter's Hall of Audience.
Enter Momus laughing.
Mom.
Ha! ha! ha!—ha! ha! ha!
Three Cats—I left 'em at it,—spitting,—scratching,
(Seeing Jupiter)
Gadso!
Now, What can that wise Nob be hatching?

(stands aside to observe.)
Jupiter comes forward.
RECITATIVE accompanied.
Jup.
How shall I get this tangled hank unravell'd?
Put to my trumps, and gravell'd!
'Twou'd dumb-found Wizard Merlin, or Friar Bacon;
Aye, all the Square-caps from Oxford to Pekin.
No making head or tail on't—which way soe'er I turn it—
If I know how to act—I'm a sous'd gurnet.
Ha! that Firebrand Erynnis!
(Cou'd I but trap her,
With what good will I'd strap her!)
I'll be hang'd, but 'twas she that kick'd this dust up,
None but she—mischief-maker!
(The Devil take her!)
Amongst my proud leash of Ninnies.
But—I—for her provide will;
Yes—I'll have her fairly truss'd up,
Tho' the old Trot shou'd mount for't,
Who can call me to account for't?
Or, if not strung—she shall—mill-doll—in Bridewell.

AIR II. Fischietti.
[Jup.]
As Judge, Spouse, Progenitor,
What part shall I take?
My character, as senator,
My name lies at stake.
Says Justice—What d'ye lag on?
For shame!—content the Dragon.
Then whispers Court Favor,
To bilk him will be braver.
What part shall I take?
My choice is kept swinging,
Like Bow-bell a ringing,
Let go—then pull'd back.
Why, let them buff,
And jour and chide!
I'll save my buff,
Whate'er betide.
To shun domestic jangle,
This paltry Pippin-Brangle,
'Fore George! I'll not decide.

[Towards the close of the Air, Momus advances to him.]
RECITATIVE.
Mom.
That's fix'd then.

Jup.
Yes, yes—I've wound up my bottom.

Mom.
Roundly; like a true Solomon— (aside)
of Gotham.

Jup.
But how to still their clamours—there's the matter.

Mom.
Depute some Mortal for their Arbitrator;
'Twill pull 'em down a peg.

Jup.
(rubbing his hands delighted)
'Twill, 'twill—the sluts!
I'll do't—to fiddle-strings 'twill fret their guts.

Mom.
Oh! they'll cajole you with their Ifs and Buts.
Didn't they coax you in your beer to impris'n
The Dragon but for claiming what was his'n?

AIR III. Cotillon.
When you're bosky, half-seas over,
Doxies wind you as they please;
Thro' their eyes you then discover,
That the Moon's a huge Green-cheese.
They have their wits,
Mind their own hits;
Nick the fit
To wheedle a bit,
With a tip
Of the lip,
And a roguish squeeze.
Jovy, my soul!—
What does it say?—
Fire the North Pole!
Jove's your Valet.—
When you're bosky, &c.

RECITATIVE.
Jup.
I was a green-horn then—no penetration—
But now I'm come to years—

Mom.
(aside)
Not—of discretion.—

[Mercury enters hastily, and twitches Jupiter's sleeve.
Mer.
Most Doughty—please edge this way.

Jup.
Eh! what mutter y'?

Mer.
The Goddesses—at loggerheads—i'th'Buttery.

Jup.
Fight dog, fight bear—I?—Blood! I've other bus'ness:
Must Jove sit Judge—on Dimples—Snouts—and Pigsnies?
Bid 'em scrub up as clean as hands can make 'em.

Mom.
Shou'd they run rust—

Jup.
By Jericho!—I'd flake 'em.—
(to Mercury)
Conduct them, you, to Ida—
There young Paris
Shall view, and there give Judgment, which most Fair is.

[Jupiter and Momus confer together.]
Merc.
What?—Paris of Troy,
That Hobble-de-Hoy,
He Lord Chief Justice constituted!
If h'as guts in his brains, or in's skull eyes,
Sure, sure, this Heav'n-embroiling Prize
Cannot be long disputed.

AIR IV. Fisher.
Pallas and Juno,
All who see true know,
Never, no never can bear the bell,
No, chuck the Gold Pippin
Fair Venus's lip in,
For Venus herself is a Nonpareil.

[Exit.
[Jupiter and Momus come forward, as continuing their conversation.
RECITATIVE.
Mom.
What comes o'you?

Jup.
Oh! I—after the Inspection—
May call—to hear—which carry'd the Election.

Mom.
Mum!—yonder's Juno— (going)


Jup.
Aye,—my Message—snubs.

Mom.
Now—keep it up—be sure—a few dry rubs
Will give her Majesty—the Mulligrubs.

AIR V. Cotillon Tune.
Since 'tis writ in the volume of Fate,
That to surrender
To the Male Gender,
Females must lay their account soon or late;
She must submit has a God to her Mate.
Bounce, bounce; Juno may flounce;
Storm, and thunder;
She'll knock under:
Rave, rave; Jupiter, rave!
Master you'll be—and your Wife be a slave.

RECITATIVE.
Jup.
(as Juno advances)
How now, Dame Partlet?—
Enter Juno, stalking haughtily up to him; her arms a-kimbo.)
(aside)
Now—she opes her Budget.

Juno.
So, Sir! Our cause—you scorn, it seems,—to judge it.

Jup.
I wash my hands o't:—woundy ticklish Matters
These!—How decree—'twixt my own Wife and Daughters?

Juno.
(resentfully)
Then, Sir, who shall?

Jup.
(having ponder'd)
Why,—Paris,—Son of Priam,—
Ganimede's Coz—a better Judge than I am.

Juno.
(with spleen)
Finely fobb'd off! Had it been Madam Semele—

Jup.
(imperiously)
Juno,—go, scold your Maids;—do—mind your Family.

Juno.
No; with all Heav'n for my due I'd grapple.
Were there an Orchard, mine were every Apple.

AIR VI. Arne.
Juno.
(affronted)
With your Wife, Sir, ne'er dispute,
Lady of the Manor she;
Due to her the choicest fruit,
Due to her the branch and tree;
And you know she'll have her right;
Yes, Sir, Morning, Noon, and Night.

RECITATIVE.
Jup.
Right!—Stuff!—between us,
None has a legal right to it, but Venus.

Juno.
(much piqu'd)
Fool that I was, my Husband to refer to!
Venus!—a sneaking kindness—Goat!—for Her too?—

Jup.
(indignant)
My Daughter?

Juno.
(with rancour)
Wert your Mother?

Jup.
(ironically)
Why my Pet Lamb
Ought not go loose—It should be lodg'd in Bedlam.
These Maggots, Child—

Juno.
(outrageous)
By each new Trull supplanted!

Jup.
(provok'd)
I'll be divorc'd—

Juno.
(obstinately)
The very Thing I wanted.

AIR VII. Dûo Finale. Monsignier.
Juno.
Go,
But know,
I'll not be treated so
By you, case-harden'd Bully!

Jup.
Let not your Fury gull y';
I'm no tame, hen-peckt Cully.

Juno.
Ungrateful!
To sacrifice me thus!

Jup.
More hateful
Your jealousy and fuss.

Juno., Jup.
Your Sister—/Wou'd, I'ad mist her!

Juno., Jup.
(aside)
And your Spouse too!
A sweet Blowze, too!

Juno.
The Chum you pawn'd your Nuptial
Vows to!

Jup.
Trust my House to,
And my Brows too!

Juno.
A Blister
On your Tongue for't.

Jup.
I'm well stung for't,
Sorely wrung for't.

Juno.
You broke all vows—you hot Bellswagger!

Jup.
(aside)
That's a Dagger,
Sha'n't I gag her?

Juno., Jup.
(to her)
To see that Num-skull/These Wipes—/Act the Swan, act the Bull, Bring stripes.

Juno., Jup.
How Mortals must laugh/Your sides, my Love, itch

Juno., Jup.
At the Goose, at the Calf./For a taste of the switch.

Juno., Jup.
Your/Wife Wife a cast-off/those taunts are state.

Juno., Jup.
Yet you can't say black's her/urge them tooth and nail.

Juno., Jup.
I'll not sit down mum/rove, and take my chance.

Juno., Jup.
You shall/Tho' I see the Devil dance.

Juno.
More Sacks on the Mill!—No, no,
'Tis a bitter Pill—it kicks.—

Jup.
Jack must have his Jill—I trow;
And, as Jove, I will—ha' six.