Thomas and Sally : or, The Sailor's Return A Musical Entertainment |
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| 3. | SCENE III. |
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 | Thomas and Sally : or, The Sailor's Return |  |
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SCENE III.
Enter Dorcas.DORCAS.
What, will you never quit this idle trade?
Still, still in tears—ah, you foolish maid!
In time have prudence, your own int'rest see;
Youth lasts not always; be advis'd by me.
AIR.Still, still in tears—ah, you foolish maid!
In time have prudence, your own int'rest see;
Youth lasts not always; be advis'd by me.
That May-day of life is for pleasure,
For singing, for dancing, and show;
Then why will you waste such a treasure,
In sighing and crying—heigho!
Let's copy the bird in the meadows,
By her tune your pipe when 'tis low;
Fly round, and coquet it as she does,
And never be crying—heigho!
For singing, for dancing, and show;
Then why will you waste such a treasure,
In sighing and crying—heigho!
Let's copy the bird in the meadows,
By her tune your pipe when 'tis low;
Fly round, and coquet it as she does,
And never be crying—heigho!
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Though when in the arms of a lover,
It sometimes may happen, I know;
That e'er all our toying is over,
We cannot help crying—heigho!
In age ev'ry one a new part takes,
I find to my sorrow 'tis so;
When old, you may cry till your heart achs,
But no one will mind you—heigho!
It sometimes may happen, I know;
That e'er all our toying is over,
We cannot help crying—heigho!
In age ev'ry one a new part takes,
I find to my sorrow 'tis so;
When old, you may cry till your heart achs,
But no one will mind you—heigho!
SALLY.
RECITATIVE.
Leave me.
DORCAS.
Go to—I came to make you glad.
Odsooks, what's here? this folly makes me mad.
You're grieving, and for whom?—'tis pretty sport,
For one that gets a wife at ev'ry port.
SALLY.
Dorcas, for shame, how can you be so base!
Or after this look Thomas in the face?
His ship's expected.
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Tell not me—the 'Squire—
As Tom is your's, you are his heart's desire.
Then why so peevish, and so froward still?
He'll make your fortune; let him have his will,
SALLY.
AIR.
Were I as poor as wretch can be,
As great as any monarch, he,
Ere on such terms I'd mount his throne,
I'd work my fingers to the bone.
As great as any monarch, he,
Ere on such terms I'd mount his throne,
I'd work my fingers to the bone.
Grant me, ye pow'rs, I ask not wealth;
Grant me but innocence and health;
Ah! what is grandeur link'd to vice?
'Tis only virtue gives it price.
Exit.Grant me but innocence and health;
Ah! what is grandeur link'd to vice?
'Tis only virtue gives it price.
DORCAS.
RECITATIVE.
Well, go your ways—I cannot chuse but smile:
Wou'd I were young again—alas! the while;
But what are wishes—wishes will not do:
One cannot eat one's cake, and have it too.
Wou'd I were young again—alas! the while;
But what are wishes—wishes will not do:
One cannot eat one's cake, and have it too.
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When I was a young one, what girl was like me?
So wanton, so airy, and brisk as a bee:
I tattled, I rambled, I laugh'd, and where'er
A fiddle was heard, to be sure I was there.
So wanton, so airy, and brisk as a bee:
I tattled, I rambled, I laugh'd, and where'er
A fiddle was heard, to be sure I was there.
To all that came near I had something to say;
'Twas this Sir—and that Sir—but scarce ever nay;
And Sundays dress'd out in my silks and my lace,
I warrant I stood by the best in the place.
'Twas this Sir—and that Sir—but scarce ever nay;
And Sundays dress'd out in my silks and my lace,
I warrant I stood by the best in the place.
At twenty, I got me a husband—poor man!
Well rest him—we all are as good as we can;
Yet he was soo peevish, he'd quarrel for straws,
And jealous—though truly I gave him some cause.
Well rest him—we all are as good as we can;
Yet he was soo peevish, he'd quarrel for straws,
And jealous—though truly I gave him some cause.
He snubb'd me, and huff'd me—but let me alone;
Egad I've a tongue—and I paid him his own.
Ye wives, take the hint, and when spouse is untow'rd,
Stand firm to our charter—and have the last word.
Egad I've a tongue—and I paid him his own.
Ye wives, take the hint, and when spouse is untow'rd,
Stand firm to our charter—and have the last word.
But now I'm quite alter'd, the more to my woe;
I'm not what I was forty summers ago:
This time's a sore foe, there's no shunning his dart;
However, I keep up a pretty good heart.
I'm not what I was forty summers ago:
This time's a sore foe, there's no shunning his dart;
However, I keep up a pretty good heart.
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Grown old, yet I hate to be sitting mum-chance;
I still love a tune, though unable to dance;
And books of devotion laid by on my shelf,
I teach that to others, I once did myself.
I still love a tune, though unable to dance;
And books of devotion laid by on my shelf,
I teach that to others, I once did myself.
| Thomas and Sally : or, The Sailor's Return | |