 | Midas |  |
1
ACT I.
The curtain rising discovers the Heathen Deities, seated amidst the clouds, in full council: they address Jupiter in chorus, accompanied by all the instruments.AIR I. King of Prussia's March.
Chorus
of all the Gods.
Jove , in his chair,
Of the sky Lord-May'r
With his nods
Men and Gods
Keeps in awe,
When he winks
Heaven shrinks,
When he speaks
Hell squeaks
Earth's globe is but his taw.
2
He bears despotic rule,
His word
Tho' absurd
Must be law.
Even fate
Tho' so great,
Must not prate,
His bald pate
Jove would cuff,
He's so bluff,
For a straw.
Cow'd deities
Like mice, in cheese
To stir must cease,
Nor gnaw.
RECITATIVE, accompanied.
Jup.
(rising.)
Immortals, you have heard your plaintive sovereign
And Culprit Sol's high crimes. Shall we who govern
Brook spies upon us? Shall Apollo trample
On our commands? we'll make him an example.
As for you, Juno, curb your prying temper, or
We'll make you to your cost, know,—we're your emperor,
Your husband—when the jealous Gad-bee twitches,
Swallow your spittle—Jove will wear the breeches.
AIR II. To its own tune.
To happy ignorance
Connubial peace is owing:
'Tis a curse to be too knowing
Best let things take their chance.
A busy curiosity
Produces endless evils,
It turns the Gods felicity
To sharpest pangs of devils,
Supplying food to jealousy.
Connubial peace is owing:
'Tis a curse to be too knowing
Best let things take their chance.
3
Produces endless evils,
It turns the Gods felicity
To sharpest pangs of devils,
Supplying food to jealousy.
RECITATIVE.
Juno
(aside.)
What new rape is toward? To sixes and sevens,
This tyrant, for it's sake, will jumble the heavens.
I'll take the law. (to Jup.)
My proctor, with a summons
Shall cite you, sir, t'appear at Doctor's Commons.
Jup.
Let him—but first I'll chase from Heaven yon varlet,
Juno.
What, for detecting you and your vile harlot?
Fine scheme! banish the Sun! drive out Apollo!
That you, of lawless love, deep draughts may swallow.
You'll then not need, thou grand monarque of Horners,
Skulk with your misses into holes and corners.
AIR III. Shaan Bwee.
Think not lewd Jove
Thus to wrong my chaste love,
For spite of your rakehelly godhead
By day, and by night,
Juno will have her right
Nor be, of dues nuptial, defrauded.
I'll ferrit the haunts
Of your female gallants.
In vain you in darkness enclose them,
Your favourite jades,
I'll plunge to the shades,
Or into cows metamorphose them.
Thus to wrong my chaste love,
For spite of your rakehelly godhead
By day, and by night,
Juno will have her right
Nor be, of dues nuptial, defrauded.
I'll ferrit the haunts
Of your female gallants.
In vain you in darkness enclose them,
Your favourite jades,
I'll plunge to the shades,
Or into cows metamorphose them.
4
Jup.
Peace termagant, I swear by Styx—our thunder
Shall hurl him to the earth.
Momus.
Sire, we knock under.
Ha, ha, ha, (Aside)
O jest most precious!
'Twill serve a thousand years hence to refresh us.
I say, down with him, Jove—exert your puissance,
Morbleu, the puppy's grown a public nuisance,
Ay, ay, short work—put out the light, and then—
AIR V. There was a jovial Beggar.
No difference of character,
Vice, virtue—idle dreams!
For lewd, or chaste, or foul, or fair,
Must then be only names,
When a sporting all may go, may go, may go, &c.
Vice, virtue—idle dreams!
For lewd, or chaste, or foul, or fair,
Must then be only names,
When a sporting all may go, may go, may go, &c.
Screen'd from the husband's jealous eyes,
All love, all free as air,
No wanton need to fear surprize
Oh what a life were there!
When a sporting, &c.
All love, all free as air,
No wanton need to fear surprize
Oh what a life were there!
When a sporting, &c.
Then hey for trumps, for matadores
And rare sansprendre voles,
Old maids will fly, when past amours,
To dear quadrille by shoals,
And a gambling, &c.
And rare sansprendre voles,
Old maids will fly, when past amours,
To dear quadrille by shoals,
And a gambling, &c.
RECITATIVE.
Jove.
O brave, we nod his doom!
Apollo.
Hold, hold, have patience
Papa—No bowels for your own relations!
5
What can this hurly-burly, this helter-skelter mean?
Jove looks confounded surly!—Chaos is come again.
AIR VI. To it's own tune.
Be by your friends advised,
Too harsh, too hasty dad!
Maugre your bolts, and wise head,
The world will think you mad.
Too harsh, too hasty dad!
Maugre your bolts, and wise head,
The world will think you mad.
What worse can Bacchus teach men,
His roaring bucks, when drunk,
Then break the lamps, beat watchmen
And stagger to some punk.
His roaring bucks, when drunk,
Then break the lamps, beat watchmen
And stagger to some punk.
RECITATIVE.
Jup.
You saucy scoundrel—there sir—come Disorder,
Down Phœbus, down to earth, we'll hear no farther.
RECIT. accompanied.
Roll, thunders, roll, blue lightnings flash around him,
The blab shall find our sky can do without him.
Thunder and lightning. Jupiter darts a bolt at him, he falls.—Jupiter re-assumes his throne, and theGods all ascend together, singing the initial chorus.
Jove in his chair, &c.
6
RECIT. accompanied.
Apol.
Zooks! what a crush! a pretty decent tumble!
Kind usage, Mr. Jove—sweet sir—your humble.
Well, down, I am;—no bones broke—tho' sorely pepper'd!
Here doom'd to stay.—What can I do?—turn shepherd.
[Puts on the cloak, &c.
A lucky thought.—In this disguise, Apollo
No more but Pol, the swain, some flock I'll follow.
Nor doubt I, with my voice, guittar, and person,
Among the nymphs to kick up some diversion.
AIR VII. Hang me if I marry.
With fun, my disgrace I'll parry
While here on earth, I tarry,
With the nymphs, in my way,
I'll kiss and play,
But hang me if I marry—hang me if I marry
With the nymphs, &c.
Let the sky go to wreck, and miscarry,
Without my luminary,
Pol here will stay,
To kiss and play
To toy, but never marry—toy, but never marry.
Pol here will stay, &c. &c.
While here on earth, I tarry,
With the nymphs, in my way,
I'll kiss and play,
But hang me if I marry—hang me if I marry
With the nymphs, &c.
7
Without my luminary,
Pol here will stay,
To kiss and play
To toy, but never marry—toy, but never marry.
Pol here will stay, &c. &c.
Enter SILENO.
RECITATIVE.
Sileno.
Whom have we here! a sightly clown!—and sturdy!
Hum—plays, I see, upon the hurdy-gurdy.
Seems out of place—a stranger,—all in tatters,
I'll hire him—he'll divert my wife and daughters.
—Whence, and what art thou boy?
Pol.
An orphan lad, Sir;
Pol is my name;—a shepherd once my dad, Sir;
I'th upper parts here—tho' not born to serving.
I'll now take on, for, faith, I'm almost starving.
Selino.
You've drawn a prize i'th'lottery.—So have I too;
Why,—I'm the master you could best apply to.
AIR VIII. To it's own tune.
Since you mean to hire for service
Come with me, you jolly dog,
You can help to bring home harvest,
Tend the sheep, and feed the hog.
Fa la la.
Come with me, you jolly dog,
You can help to bring home harvest,
Tend the sheep, and feed the hog.
Fa la la.
With three crowns, your standing wages,
You shall daintily be fed;
Bacon, beans, salt beef and cabbage,
Butter, milk, and oaten-bread.
Fa la la.
You shall daintily be fed;
Bacon, beans, salt beef and cabbage,
Butter, milk, and oaten-bread.
Fa la la.
8
Come strike hands, you'll live in clover,
When we get you once at home,
And when daily labour's over
We'll all dance to your strum, strum.
Fa la la.
When we get you once at home,
And when daily labour's over
We'll all dance to your strum, strum.
Fa la la.
RECITATIVE.
Pol.
(aside).
From Nectar, and Ambrosia, 'tis coarse diet;
When I was well, why could I not be quiet.
(After a pause takes Sileno by the hand and sings to the foregoing air.)
Done, strike hands, I take your offer,
Farther on, I may fare worse,
Zooks, I can no longer suffer,
Hungry guts, and empty purse.
Fa la la.
Farther on, I may fare worse,
Zooks, I can no longer suffer,
Hungry guts, and empty purse.
Fa la la.
DUETTO. Air continued.
Sil.
Do, strike hands; 'tis kind I offer,
Pol.
I strike hands, and take your offer,
Sil.
Farther seeking you'll fare worse,
Pol.
Farther on I may fare worse,
Sil.
Pity such a lad, should suffer,
Pol.
Zooks, I can no longer suffer,
Sil.
Hungry guts, and empty purse.
Pol.
Hungry guts, and empty purse.
Fa la la
Exeunt, dancing, and singing the chorus.
9
Daphne and Nysa, discover'd running,—their spinning-wheels over turned.
Both.
Ha, ha, ha!
Daph.
But Nysa, how goes on squire Midas' courtship?
Nys.
Your sweet Damætas, pimp to his great worship
Brought me from him a purse;—but the conditions—
—I've cur'd him, I believe, of such commissions.
Daph.
The moon-calf! this must blast him with my father.
Nys.
Right. So we'er rid of the two frights together.
AIR IX. If 'tis joy to wound a Lover.
If the swain we sigh for press us,
Oh how pleasing 'tis to please!
If the fright we loath address us
How delightful 'tis to teize.
Oh how pleasing 'tis to please!
If the fright we loath address us
How delightful 'tis to teize.
RECITATIVE.
Daph.
Arch Monkey, hang me if I thought 'twas in you.
Well Ny—work you your Squire—as for my Ninny—
If he shan't curse—then call me driv'ling Gipsey—
The hour that first on Daph he cast a sheep's eye.
10
If I cannot plague the lubber,
Now I have him in my crib,
If, when he begins to blubber,
I can't soothe or laugh, or fib,
Doom'd for life, I may be,
To play with my baby,
And to wear a slabb'ring bib.
Now I have him in my crib,
If, when he begins to blubber,
I can't soothe or laugh, or fib,
Doom'd for life, I may be,
To play with my baby,
And to wear a slabb'ring bib.
Both.
Ha! ha! ha!—Ha! ha! ha!
Mysis enters hastily.
RECITATIVE,
Mys.
Hey-day! what mare's nest's found?—For ever grinning:
Ye rantipoles—is't thus you mind your spinning.
AIR XI. Three Sheep-skins.
Girls are known
To mischief prone;
If ever they be idle,
Who would rear
Two daughters fair,
Must hold a steady bridle:
For here they skip,
And there they trip,
And this and that way sidle.
For here they skip, &c.
Giddy Maids,
Poor silly jades,
All after men are gadding;
They flirt Pall mall,
Their train to swell,
To coxcomb, coxcomb adding
To ev'ry fop
They're Cock-a-hoop,
And set their mother's madding.
To ev'ry fop, &c.
To mischief prone;
If ever they be idle,
Who would rear
Two daughters fair,
Must hold a steady bridle:
For here they skip,
And there they trip,
And this and that way sidle.
For here they skip, &c.
11
Poor silly jades,
All after men are gadding;
They flirt Pall mall,
Their train to swell,
To coxcomb, coxcomb adding
To ev'ry fop
They're Cock-a-hoop,
And set their mother's madding.
To ev'ry fop, &c.
Enter Sileno introducing Pol.
RECITATIVE.
Sil.
Now, dame, and girls, no more let's hear you grumble
At too hard toil:—I chanc'd, just now, to stumble,
On this stout drudge,—and hir'd him—fit for labour.
To'm lad—then he can play and sing and caper.
Mys.
He shall not stay—unknown to me to hire him,
A lath!
Sil.
Nay there you're out,—no toil can tire him:
Mys.
(putting Pol. from Daph.)
Gad's me! your distance, scare-crow! cursed civil!
Beggars once mounted, gallop to the devil.
Gaffer, (to Sil.)
your blunders every hour surprize one:
This washy clout a drudge!—ah, thou'rt a wise one.
Fine rubbish to bring home, a strolling thrummer!
(to Pol.)
What are thou good for? speak, thou ragged mummer.
12
Mother, for shame—
Mys.
Peace, saucebox, or I'll maul you.
Pol.
Goody, my strength and parts you under value.
For his and your work, I am brisk and handy.
Daph.
A sad cheat else—
Mys.
What you, you jacka-dandy.
Pol.
(aside)
Our Gammer, sure, has tipt her whet of stingo!
Am I Apollo, and must bear this lingo?
AIR XII. A tune in Queen Mab.
Pray goody, please to moderate the rancour of your tongue:
Why flash those sparks of fury from your eyes?
Remember, when the judgement's weak, the prejudice is strong.
A stranger why will you despise?
Ply me
Try me
Prove, e'er you deny me,
If you cast me
Off, you blast me
Never more to rise.
Pray, goody, please, &c.
Why flash those sparks of fury from your eyes?
Remember, when the judgement's weak, the prejudice is strong.
A stranger why will you despise?
Ply me
Try me
Prove, e'er you deny me,
If you cast me
Off, you blast me
Never more to rise.
Pray, goody, please, &c.
RECITATIVE.
Mys.
Sirrah, this insolence deserves a drubbing.
Nys.
With what sweet temper he bears all her snubbing (aside)
Sil.
Oons, no more words—go boy, and get your dinner.
[Exit Pol.
Fye, why so cross grain'd to a young beginner?
[to Mys.
13
So modest!
Daph.
So genteel!
Sil.
(to Mys.)
Not pert, nor lumpish.
Mys.
Would he were hang'd!
Nys. and Daph.
La! mother, why so frumpish?
AIR XIII. To the tune of, Non, Non, volette n'est paint trompeuse.
Nys.
Mama, how can you be so ill-natured,
To gentle handsome swain?
Daph.
To a lad, so limb'd, so featur'd,
Sure 'tis cruel to give pain,
Sure 'tis cruel &c.
Mys.
Girls, for you my fears perplex me
I'm alarm'd on your account:
Syl.
Wife, in vain you tieze and vex me,
I will rule depend upon't.
Nys.
Ah! ah!
Daph.
Mama!
Nys. and Daph.
Mama, how can you be so illnatur'd,
Ah, ah, to a lad so limb'd, so featured?
Nys. and Daph.
To the gentle, handsome swain
Sure 'tis cruel to give pain,
Nys. and Daph.
Sure 'tis cruel to give pain,
To the gentle, handsome swain.
Mys.
Girls, for you my fears perplex me,
I'm alarm'd on your accounts.
Sil.
Wife in vain you tieze and vex me
I will rule depend upon't.
Nys., Mys.
Mama
Psha! Pshaw!
Daph., Sil.
Papa
Ah! ah!
Daph., Sil., Nys.
Mama, how can you be so ill-natured,
Psha, psha, you must not be so ill-natur'd;
Ah, ah, to a lad so limb'd, so featur'd,
14
To the gentle, handsome swain,
He's a gentle, handsome swain,
Sure 'tis cruel to give pain,
T'is my pleasure to give pain.
Daph., Sil., Nys., Mys.
Sure 'tis cruel to give pain,
He's a gentle, handsome swain
To the gentle handsome swain.
To your odious, fav'rite swain.
Exeunt.
Squire Midas discovered in his parlour, smoaking his pipe, lolling in an easy chair. Damætas waiting at a respectful distance.
RECITATIVE.
Mid.
Nysa, you say, refus'd the guineas British.
Dam.
Ah! please your worship—she is wond'rous skittish.
Out, pimp, said she,—take back to him who sent it,
That trash—
Mid.
Death!—scorn'd!—the minx shall sore repent it.
Dam.
She scorns you—
Mid.
But when you told her what I meant to settle—
Dam.
She flounc'd, you'd swear her tongue was of bell-metal.
Mid.
I'll have her, cost what 'twill, odsbods—I'll force her—
Dam.
The halter—
Mid.
As for madam, I'll divorce her.—
Dam.
The bishop's court—lard help your paper noddle!
Did she not give the slip to young Sir Dawdle?
Her sister Daphne too, a curse upon her,
Uses me worse, than Nisa does your honour.
15
Some favour'd lout incog our bliss opposes,
Dam.
Ay, Pol, the hind, puts out of joint our noses.
AIR XIV. Fanny's fairer than a flower.
Wretched he, whose pain or pleasure
Hangs on faithless woman's mind;
Such the merchant's state, whose treasure
Swims the sport of tide and wind.
Female likings are unsteady
As the veering weather-cock.
Miss, for new addresses ready
Shifts her lover, like her smock.
Hangs on faithless woman's mind;
Such the merchant's state, whose treasure
Swims the sport of tide and wind.
Female likings are unsteady
As the veering weather-cock.
Miss, for new addresses ready
Shifts her lover, like her smock.
RECITATIVE.
Mid.
I've heard of that Pol's tricks,—of his sly tampering
To fling poor Pan, but I'll soon send him scampering.
An upstart!—rival me!—by George, I'll pheaze him.
Dam.
Sir, he bewitches every girl that sees him.
Mid.
'Sblood, I'll commit him—drive him to the gallows!
Where is old Pan?
Dam.
Tipling, Sir, at th'ale-house.
Mid.
Run, fetch him—we shall hit on some expedient—
To rout this Pol.
Dam.
I fly, (going returns)
Sir, your obedient.
(Exit.
16
Mid.
What boots my being Squire
Justice of Peace, and Quorum?
Church-warden—knight o'th'shire,
And Custos Rotulorum?
If saucy little Nysa's heart rebellious,
My squireship slights, and hanckers after fellows?
AIR XV. To a French tune, A la Santé du Pere d'Oleron.
Shall a paltry clown, not fit to wipe my shoes
Dare my amours to cross?
Shall a peasant minx, when justice Midas wooes
Her nose up at him toss?
No, I'll kidnap—then possess her.
I'll sell her Pol a slave, get mundungus in exchange,
So glut to the height of pleasure,
My love and my revenge.
No, I'll kidnap, &c.
Dare my amours to cross?
Shall a peasant minx, when justice Midas wooes
Her nose up at him toss?
No, I'll kidnap—then possess her.
I'll sell her Pol a slave, get mundungus in exchange,
So glut to the height of pleasure,
My love and my revenge.
No, I'll kidnap, &c.
Exit.
SCENE An Alehouse.
Pan is discovered sitting at a table, with a tankard, pipes, and tobacco before him, his bagpipes lying by him.
AIR XVI. Sheelagh na Guig.
Pan.
Jupiter wenches and drinks,
He rules the roast in the sky,
Yet he's a fool if he thinks
That he's as happy as I.
He rules the roast in the sky,
Yet he's a fool if he thinks
That he's as happy as I.
17
Juno rates him
And grates him,
And leads his highness a weary life;
I have my lass
And my glass,
And strole a batchelor's merry life.
And grates him,
And leads his highness a weary life;
I have my lass
And my glass,
And strole a batchelor's merry life.
Let him fluster
And bluster,
Yet cringe to his harridan's furbella;
To my fair tulips
I glew lips,
And clink the cannikin here below.
And bluster,
Yet cringe to his harridan's furbella;
To my fair tulips
I glew lips,
And clink the cannikin here below.
Jupiter wenches, &c.
Enter DAMÆTAS.
RECITATIVE.
Dam.
There sits the old soaker—his pate troubling little
How the world wags—so he gets drink and vittle:
Hoa, master Pan!—Gad you've trod on a thistle!
You may pack up your all, sir, and go whistle.
The wenches have turn'd tail—to yon buck-ranter,
Tickled by his guittar—they scorn your chanter.
18
All around the maypole how they trot,
Hot
Pot,
And good ale have got;
Routing,
Shouting,
At you flouting,
Fleering,
Jeering,
And what not.
All around the maypole, &c.
Hot
Pot,
And good ale have got;
Routing,
Shouting,
At you flouting,
Fleering,
Jeering,
And what not.
All around the maypole, &c.
There is old Sileno frisks like a mad
Lad,
Glad
To see us sad,
Gap'ring,
Vap'ring,
While Pol, scraping,
Coaxes
The doxies
As he did the dad.
All around the maypole, &c.
Lad,
Glad
To see us sad,
Gap'ring,
Vap'ring,
While Pol, scraping,
Coaxes
The doxies
As he did the dad.
All around the maypole, &c.
RECITATIVE.
Pan.
O blood, and guts! What, dare the tinkler scurvy
Intrude, to turn my wenches topsy turvy?
A fop! chouse me out of my choice trol-lops,
I'll smash his trim guittar—about his chaps.
19
Shall he run away with the lasses
By his trills, and his slurs, and his graces,
From me who at fairs, and horse-races,
Have pip'd to the laird of the clan.
A fribble!—If I can but catch him
I'll pummel—I'll pinch, and I'll scratch him,
I warrant I'll make him not match him
Self as a musician with Pan.
By his trills, and his slurs, and his graces,
From me who at fairs, and horse-races,
Have pip'd to the laird of the clan.
A fribble!—If I can but catch him
I'll pummel—I'll pinch, and I'll scratch him,
I warrant I'll make him not match him
Self as a musician with Pan.
RECITATIVE.
Dam.
Keep yourself cool, good master Pan—this courage
Is thrown away—Pol's a mere chip in Porridge;
Softly and fair—
Pan.
You're right;—our Squire, when mellow,
'Tis he shall do't—he's a rough, hect'ring fellow.
Dam.
Why he sent me for you—He, with kicks o'th'crupper,
Will make Pol dance—He'll gi'n salt eel to's supper.
Pan.
Step you before—I'll but just pay my reck'ning
And in a crack attend his worship's beck'ning.
[Exit Dam.
[He throws some pieces on the table, and departing is met by
MYSIS, entering hastily.
Mys.
O Pan! the devil to pay—both my sluts frantic!
Both in their tantrums, for yon cap'ring antick.
Rivals forsooth!
Pan.
What, for a straggling goatherd!
Mys.
For this fine piece of work—thanks to my dotard.
20
Sure I shall run with vexation distracted,
To see my purposes thus counter-acted!
This way, or that way, or which way soever,
All things run contrary to my endeavour.
Daughters projecting
Their ruin and shame,
Fathers neglecting
The care of their fame,
Nursing in bosom a treacherous viper;
Here's a fine dance—but 'tis he pays the piper.
To see my purposes thus counter-acted!
This way, or that way, or which way soever,
All things run contrary to my endeavour.
Daughters projecting
Their ruin and shame,
Fathers neglecting
The care of their fame,
Nursing in bosom a treacherous viper;
Here's a fine dance—but 'tis he pays the piper.
RECITATIVE.
[Mys.]
But I'll go seek 'em all—and if I find 'em,
I'll drive 'em—as if Old Nick were behind 'em.
[Going
Pan.
Soa, soa,—don't flounce;
Avast—disguise your fury.
Pol we shall trounce.
Midas is judge and jury.
AIR XX. Tune, Planxty Johnston.
When at your foe
A mortal blow
You aim,
Your scheme
Let him not know.
To gain your end
You must pretend,
Sincerely
And dearly,
To be his friend,
'Till he cease of your love to be doubtful.
Your game to play,
The sailors say
Look one, but row another way.
The dean, to fish up
Lawn sleeves, and be bishop
Says no, to the mitre that would fill his wish up.
And pussey
Can counterfeit sleeping,
When mousey
Steals tip-a-toe creeping;
Then winking,
And blinking,
She catches,
Dispatches,
And swallows him up at a mouthful.
A mortal blow
You aim,
Your scheme
Let him not know.
21
You must pretend,
Sincerely
And dearly,
To be his friend,
'Till he cease of your love to be doubtful.
Your game to play,
The sailors say
Look one, but row another way.
The dean, to fish up
Lawn sleeves, and be bishop
Says no, to the mitre that would fill his wish up.
And pussey
Can counterfeit sleeping,
When mousey
Steals tip-a-toe creeping;
Then winking,
And blinking,
She catches,
Dispatches,
And swallows him up at a mouthful.
RECITATIVE.
Mys.
Out on't, I'll act above-board—I'll ne'er flatter,
Not I—I scorn it—tell me no such matter.
My gossips all would loll their tongues,
To see me with my vengeance trifle.
Pan.
Ay, but to pay him home those wrongs,
Your transports you must stifle.
Mys.
Stifle!—dye first! shall Mysis stoop to crawling!
No—by my will—these hands should stretch him sprawling.
Pan.
You do but put him on his guard by bawling
22
[Pan.]
This rash frenzy
Foils, not mends you.
How you splutter!
Check this clutter:
Hust—don't utter
Threats, or mutter.
If he trips,
Success attend ye
Fair words butter
No parsnips.
Mys.
Grov'ling spirit!
I can't bear it.
Can a mother,
Without pother
Her rage smother
When girls both are
By his wiles
Debauch'd, or near it;
Can she cloath her
Face with smiles.
Pan.
Spite loquacious
Makes foes cautious.
Mys.
Mean submission
Meets derision.
Pan.
Beldam froward!
Mys.
Sneaking coward!
23
In surprize/I despise
The triumph lies./Such low disguise.
Ribornello, [Together]
[Pan. and Mys.]
Nay let's trick him,/Zooks, I'll twinge him,
Sooth, then hick him./I'll unhinge him.
Wait,/Tumult, splutter,
Wait,/Coil, and clutter.
Wait, nor mutter./Wait,
Ruin utter/Nor mutter.
Smooth, but pat/Strait, vile brat
Unaware shall stick him,/Shall crush, shall swinge him.
And i'th'the gutter/And i'th'gutter
Lay him flat./Lay him flat.
Dance of Satyrs, Fauns, and Dryads.
End of the First Act.
| Midas | |