University of Virginia Library

SCENE A Palace.
Britannia on a Couch in a Posture expressive of Distress. On her Right Hand, Tyranny attended with Slavery and Want; on her Left, Superstition attended with Cruelty and Pride. Ithuriel at a Distance weeping.
Brit.
Surpriz'd! betray'd! no Help, no Succour near!
O most undone! O ruin'd, lost Britannia!

Tyr.
Stubborn, ungrateful Fair,
Blinded by Error will you ever scorn
The friendly Hand that offers at your Cure?
Behold thy Soul's Physician.

Sup.
Taste of this Cup, and be enlighten'd:
Thou hast lost no Freedom,
Except the fatal Liberty to err;
And Riches are but Snares;
Those we'll remove:
But in return the Church
Shall pour forth all her Benedictions on thee:
Thou shalt abound in Grace.

Brit.
Detested Superstition! Bloated Monster!—
Drunk with the Blood of Nations,—from my Sight.
I'll have no more to do with thy Inchantments,
Hence, Sorcerer, hence, and let me die in Peace.

Sup.
Consult not Reason, close the Eye of Sense;
So shall you judge aright, and see the better.
We are your Friends.

Brit.
I know and I abhor you.

Sup.
Poor wand'ring Soul!
She must be driven back into the Fold:
Wholesom Severities may set her right,
And save her from Destruction.

Tyr.
I trust your pious Skill.

Sup.
Whips, Chains and Racks,
Those gentler Methods,
May first be tried;
If these shou'd seem too mild,
You must impute it to our tender Mercy.

Ith.
Now, Batavia, if thou hast Gratitude,
Assert it now, and save distrest Britannia.

(Aside and Exit.
Sup.
Heresy is indeed a rank Disease,
But then the Fire's a never failing Cure.

Tyr.
Take your own Way.

Sup.
Nay, nay, I but advise;
The Church expects that you shou'd do her Justice:
She but condemns—She never deals in Blood—
She damns, 'tis true, the Wretch who spares her Foes;
But begs, by me, your Mercy
For this poor Heretick relapsed.
Touch not her Life, singe not a single Hair,
Nor shed one Drop of Blood.

Tyr.
I understand the Church, and know my Duty.
(To his Attendants.)
Seize her, and bind her strait.

AIR VI.
Brit.
(Kneeling.)
Just Heaven! if e'er
The Wretched's Prayer
I hear'd, and eas'd his Pain;
Now in return,
Let me not mourn,
Nor ask Relief in vain.

Loud Shouts without, mixt with martial Musick, Cries of Liberty, &c. Scene changes to the Prospect of a calm Sea with a Fleet of Ships at Anchor. Enter Ithuriel, Eliphas, and Batavia, ushering in Liberto, richly habited and attended. At whose Appearance, Tyranny, Superstition, and their Followers run off in Confusion. Liberto unbinds Britannia.
Brit.
Grateful Batavia! generous Liberto!
Bounteous Heaven! O how shall I express
My Wonder, or my Thanks?

Lib.
Fair Queen of Isles,
Guardian of Liberty and sacred Truth,
In saving you we have preserv'd ourselves;
Our Interest is the same.

Brit.
Most Godlike Prince! O how shall I reward thee!

Lib.
To serve Britannia is its own Reward.

Brit.
—It shall be so—
Prudence and Gratitude demand it of me—
He best can guard the Freedom he restor'd,
And well deserves to wear the Crown he sav'd.
(Aside.)
What think'st thou of me Prince?

Lib.
All must confess your Charms:
Fair and majestick, happy in your Offspring.
Europe sees few so great, and none so blest:
Freedom, and Wealth and Power are in your Hand.

Brit.
Then here I place them all.

(Giving her Hand.
Lib.
And I with Joy accept 'em.
(Kissing it.
'Twere Folly to refuse so great a Blessing.
Whether Ambition, or the Love of Virtue,
Sway most with me, my Actions must declare.

Brit.
By me you are not doubted, brave Liberto:
And let inveterate Malice do her worst,
Grateful Posterity shall clear your Fame.

Bat.
O happy Change! O glorious Revolution!

AIR VII.
Lib.
To conquer without Blood;

Brit.
To reign for others Good;

Bat.
Lost Freedom to restore;

Brit.
This is the Hero's Praise:

Bat.
For this we Temples raise,

Lib.
And justly Heav'n adore.

All three.
To conquer, &c.

End of the second serious Interlude.
A Chorus of Sailors.
AIR VIII. When the Stormy, &c.
1st Sail.
You Terror of Britannia's Foes,
Whose Valour does maintain
Her Power, where'er the Ocean flows,
Or stormy Tempests reign;
For Liberty restor'd,
Now let your Joys o'erflow:
As on the Shore
The Billows roar,
When the stormy Winds do blow.

Enter Landlady, follow'd by a Train of young Women.
AIR IX.
Land.
Well fare your Hearts, my jovial Boys,
You ranting, roaring Sons of Noise,
See who are come to aid your Joys,
And hail you safe to Shore:
See here the Treasure of our Isle,
Here reap the Fruits of all your Toil,
And all your future Cares beguile,
With fal, lal, &c.

Chorus
See here, &c.

[Dancing.
Scene a magnificent Monument in the Front of the Stage. At the Foot of which Batavia is discovered, leaning on an Urn.
AIR X.
Bat.
Tho' hopeless, I must ever languish:
Nor Time, nor Fate, can ease my Anguish,
Still adoring,
Still deploring
Lost Liberto: endless Grief!
Will the cruel Grave return him,
Can I ever cease to mourn him?
Will my Sorrows bring Relief?

Enter Eliphas.
El.
AIR XI.
[Chorus of Spectators.

Scene the Procession of the Marriage of the Princess Royal with his Highness the Prince of Orange in the same Order, and as near as possible with the same Magnificence, as it was really perform'd.
AIR XII.
Spec.
Ten thousand Joys
Attend the Princely Pair,
Whilst ev'ry grateful Briton
Applauds his Sovereign's Care;
Who on Nassau bestows,
(A Name to Britons dear,
Whence ev'ry Blessing flows,
And we with Transport hear)
Anna, that Royal Dame,
Our Blessings to insure;
That Freedom like his Fame,
May evermore endure.

Chorus.
Ten thousand, &c.