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Midas

an English Burletta

O'Hara, Kane (1714?-1782)

MIDAS;

ACT II.

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ACT II.

An old grove, in the midst, the old oracular oak by it self, its boughs decorated with votive wreaths. Enter Sileno alone, a garland in his hand. He seems struck with religious horror at the gloomy solitude. During the symphony he advances timorously, and hangs his garland on a branch.
RECIT. accompanied.
Sil.
Hail, mystic oak!—zooks what a taking
Am I now in!—oh, how I shiver!
I'm in an ague—ha! the very shaking
Of the leaves, throws me all over int'a quaking,—
My wife! I'll ne'er forgive her—
I'm wet as in a river—
Ah! ha! there—what was't gave me a twitch?
It must have been a witch,
Or something diabolic.
Oh, 'tis a foolish frolic.

(Thunder and lightning—Sileno retires trembling to a corner of the stage, and there falls on his knees with hands uplifted.)

Duett. AIR I. To its own tune.
Sil.
Wond'rous timber, who can'st hear,
All our questions without ear.

Ora.
Without ear.

Sil.
And make answer without tongue.

Ora.
Without tongue.

Sil.
Yet known never to be wrong.

Ora.
Yet known never to be wrong.

Sil.
Now awful silence break,
And to the purpose speak.

Ora.
Speak.

Sil.
Is my dame mov'd by the devil
That she can't to Pol be civil?

Ora.
To Pol be civil.

Sil.
Say, what means the shrewish fripp'ry
Dinn'ng still that girls are slipp'ry?

Ora.
Girls are slipp'ry.

Sil.
Dupes shall we all by Pol be made.

Ora.
All by Pol be made.

Sil.
If I don't discard the lad.

Ora.
Don't discard the lad.

AIR II. Newmarket.
Sil.
Oh fye, wooden Oracle, fye for shame
To let me go back as wise as I came.

(Exit.

SCENE. A Wood.
A wood, and lawn near Sileno's farm, flocks grazing at a distance,—a tender slow symphony. Enter Daphne, walks about melancholic and silent; at length lays herself down on a bank absorbed in meditation. Nysa watching her.
RECITATIVE.
Nysa.
O ho'! is it so—Miss Daphne in the dumps,
Mum—snugs the word—I'll lead her such a dance
Shall make her stir her stumps.
To all her secret haunts,
Like her shadow, I'll follow and watch her:
And, faith, mamma shall hear on't if I catch her.
AIR III. From tree to tree.

To blast a rival's happiness
We ev'ry art employ:
And scarcely can our own success,
Convey a purer joy.
A kind of victory we feel,
If she no triumph gain
Deny'd a real bliss, we steal
False pleasure from her pain.

RECIT. partly accompanied.
(Daphne rises, and comes forward musing)
Daph.
La! how my heart goes pit-a-pat! what thumping
E'er since my father brought us home this bumpkin.
Heigho!—heigho!—yet why
Mope thus and sigh?
Has not the fellow eyes as well as I?
Gad's heart o'grace I'll pluck up;
Throw myself in his way and pump him,
Appear less starch'd and stuck up.
Then let him guess my meaning by my mumping.
AIR IV. To a French tune, Quand on Scait aimer et plair.

He's as tight a lad to see to,
As e'er stept in leather shoe
And, what's better, he'll love me too,
And to him I'll prove true blue.
Tho' my sister casts a Hawk's eye
I defy what she can do.
He o'er looked the little Doxy,
I'm the girl he means to woo.
He's as tight, &c.

Hither I stole out to meet him,
He'll, no doubt, my steps pursue,
If the youth prove true, I'll fit him;
If he's false,—I'll fit him too.
If he's false, &c.
He's as tight, &c. (End with the first strain.)

RECITATIVE.
Enter Pol.
Pol.
Think o'the devil—'tis said,
He's at your shoulder—
This wench was running in my head,
And pop—behold her.
Such fair occasions are not met with often,
What if I touch the tender vein,
And whine some melting, plaintive strain
Her heart to soften.
(kneels to her)
AIR V. When on the dear bosom lying.

Lovely nymph asswage my anguish;
At your feet a tender swain
Prays you will not let him languish,
One kind look would ease his pain.

Did you know the lad who courts you
He not long needs sue in vain;
Prince of song, of dance of sports—you
Scarce will meet his like again.

Did you know, &c.

RECITATIVE.
Daph.
Sir; you're such an oglio,
Of perfection in folio,
No damsel can resist you:
Your face so attractive,
Limbs so supple and active,
That by this light,
At the first sight,
I could have run and kiss'd you.

AIR VI. The priest in his boots.

If you can caper, as well as you modulate,
With the addition of that pretty face,
Pan, who was held by our shepherds a God o'late;
Will be kick'd out, and you set in his place.

His beard so frowsy, his gestures so awkward are
And his bag-pipe has so drowsy a drone,
That if they find you, as I did, no backwarder,
You may count on all the girls as your own.

RECITATIVE.
Pol.
I ask but you—and yours I'll be for ever.

Daph.
How can I trust?

Pol.
You may, you must.

Daph.
Vows are brittle,
You'll prove fickle.

Pol.
I'll die first.

Daph.
That's clever.

Pol.
D'you think I'll range:
Against all change,
Your charms are my heart's armour.

Mys.
(from within)
Pol, Pol, make haste, come hither.

Pol.
Death, what a time to call,
Oh! rot your old lungs of leather.
B'ye Daph.

Daph.
B'ye Pol.

Pol.
My charmer.

AIR VII. An Italian tune of Pescetti.

Neatest,
Compleatest
And sweetest
Dear Fubsy.

This is
A crisis,
When Mysis
Cross snubs I
Could brave and stay;

Yet your
Food nature
Kind creature,
Her malice
Guessing,
Our blessing
Suppressing
Might gaul us,
Therefore away.

(During the symphony, they take a tender leave and part)
[Exit. Pol.
Nysa bursts from her lurking place.
RECITATIVE.
Nys.
Marry come up, forsooth,
I'st me, you forward vixen,
You choose to play your tricks on?
And could your liquorish tooth
Find none but my sweetheart to fix on?

Daph.
Marry come up a gain.
Indeed! my dirty cousin!
Have you a right to every swain?

Nys.
Ay, tho' a dozen.

AIR VIII. Bobbing Joan.
DUETTO.

I.

Daph.
My minikin miss,—do you fancy that Pol
Can ever be caught by an infant's dol?

Nys.
Can you, miss Maypole, suppose he will fall
In love with the gyantess of Guild-hall?

Daph.
Pigmy elf

Nys.
Colossus itself.

Both.
You will lie 'till your mouldy upon the shelf.
Pigmy elf, &c.

II.

Daph.
You stump o'th'gutter, you hop o'my thumb,
A husband for you must from Lilliput come,

Nys.
You stalking steeple, you gawky stag,
Your husband must come from Brobdignag.

Daph.
Sour grapes,

Nys.
Lead Apes,

Both.
I'll humble your vanity mistress Trapes.

III.

Daph.
Miss your assurance

Nys.
And miss, your high airs

Daph.
Is past all indurance

Nys.
Are at their last pray'rs.

Daph.
No more of those freedoms miss Nysa, I beg,

Nys.
Miss Daphne's conceit must be lower'd a peg.

Daph. and Nys.
Poor spite!
Pride hurt!

Daph. and Nys.
Liver white!
Rare sport!

Daph. and Nys.
Do, shew your teeth, spitfire, do, but you can't bite.
This haughtiness soon will be laid in the dirt,
Poor spite! &c.
Pride hurt, &c,

[Exit, Daph.
RECIT. accompanied.
Nys.
Good lack! what is come o'er me?
I'm all bewitched, untwisted.
Ah! Cupid, thou'rt a wizard
Thy spells are not to be resisted.
Alas, Daphne, has step'd before me!
Envy and love, devour me.
Pol, doats upon her phiz hard
'Tis that, 'tis that sticks in my gizzard.
Midas appears now twenty times more hideous
Ah, Nysa, what resource?—a cloyster.
Death alive—yet thither must I run,
And turn nun.
Lest hurried by love prodigious
Or lur'd by hope insidious,
I be by Pol undone,
As you'd undo an oyster.

AIR IX. A French tune. Assis sur l'Herbertte.

In those greasy old tatters
His charms brighter shine;
Then his guittar he clatters
With tinkling divine:
But, my sister;
Ah! he kist her,
And me he pass'd by;
I'm jealous
Of the fellow's
Bad taste and blind eye.
I'm jealous, &c.

Going out, is met by MIDAS, entering.
RECITATIVE.
Mid.
Turn, tygress, turn; nay fly not—
I have thee at a why not.
How comes it, little Nysa,
That heart to me so icy
Should be to Pol like tinder
Burnt up t'a very cinder?

Nys.
Sir, to my virtue ever steady,
Firm as a rock
I scorn your shock,
But why this attack?
A mistress can you lack
Who have a wife already?

Mid.
Ay there's the curse—but she is old and sickly;
And would my Nysa grant the favour quickly,
Would she yield now—I swear by the Old Harry
The moment madam's coffin'd—Her I'll marry.

AIR X. The Lottery.

O what pleasures will abound
When my wife is laid in ground
Oh what pleasures, &c.—

Let earth cover her
We'll dance over her
When my wife's laid in the ground.
Let earth, &c.

Oh how happy should I be
Would little Nysa pig with me.
Oh how happy, &c.

How I'd mumble her,
Touze and tumble her
Would little Nysa pig with me.
How I'd mumble, &c.

RECITATIVE.
Nysa.
Young birds alone are caught with chaff,
But think not, squire, this farce on
Me e're shall pass;
At your base scheme I laugh,
E'er I fall to, the grace
Shall be pronounced by the parson.

Mid.
Yet take my vows.—

Nys.
I would not take your bond, sir,—

Mid.
Half my estate—

Nys.
No, nor the whole,—my fond sir.

AIR XI. A Pantomime Tune.

Ne'er will I be left i'th'lurch,
Cease your bribes and wooing:
'Till I'm made a bride i'th'church
I'll keep man from doing.
What are riches
And soft speeches?
Baits and fetches,
To bewitch us:
When you've won us
And undone us,
Cloy'd you shun us
Frowning on us
For our easy cooing.

Can your palace, plate or coach,
Can your diamonds glitt'ring
Bridle the tongue of foul reproach?
Gibers will be titt'ring.
Then poor stumbler,
How't must humble her
(If a fumbler
She lets mumble her)
When, in her hearing,
Whisp'ring, sneering,
Chatt'ring, swearing,
Hissing, tearing,
Gall'ry, box and pitt'ring.

[Exit
RECITATIVE.
Mid.
Well, master Pol I'll tickle,
For him, at least, I have a rod in pickle:
When he's in limbo
Not thus our hoity toity miss
Will stick her arms a kimbo,

AIR XII. Lary Grogan.

If into your hen-yard
The treacherous Reynard
Steals slily, your poultry to ravage, to ravage.
With gun you attack him,
With beagles you track him,
All's fair to destroy the fell savage, fell savage.
So Pol, who comes picking
Up my tender chicken
No means do I scruple to banish, to banish,
With pow'r I'll o'erbear him,
With fraud I'll ensnare him
By hook, or by crook he shall vanish, shall vanish.

Going out, he is met by PAN.
RECITATIVE.
Pan.
So squire, well met.—I flew to know your business.

Mid.
Why, Pan, this Pol we must bring down on his knees.

Pan.
That were a feat indeed!—a feat to brag on.

Mid.
Let's home—we'll there concert it o'er a flagon.
I'll make him skip—

Pan.
As St. George did the dragon.

AIR XIII. Tune in Fortunatus.
Mid.

Strip him,
Whip him.
Let his shoulder feel your lash on't.
Clip him,
Rip him,
Folly now to be compassionate.
If such a little dapper,
Pert, saucy whippersnapper,
Sileno's understrapper,
Slily

Simp'ring,
Whimp'ring,
Of your dear Nysa beguile ye—
Sniv'ling,
Driv'ling,
Will but disgrace and defile ye.
Vigour,
Rigour,
Hurry,
Flurry,
Are the measures fittest for ye.
My plots private
You'll connive at;
Thus we gain the point we drive at
Or by covert
Practices, or ouvert.

[Exeunt.

SCENE a Room in Sileno's House.
Daphne discovered at work.
Enter DAMÆTAS, who sees her not.
RECIT. accompanied.
Dam.
Heigho! my very heart will burst asunder,
What star malign was I born under!
A muck worm herd
To me preferr'd,
O blood and thunder!
[Sees Daph.]
Ha, Daph, alone!—To silence
I'm aw'd—The Devil's in it.
Have at her—Here goes—.
Should she consent—who knows,
This may be the critical minute;
For ever lost a while hence!
Egad, I'm all agog on't.
Seize Time by the forelock,
E'en make a hog, or a dog on't;
The bolder push, the more luck.

RECITATIVE.
Daph.
Who sent for you, you hoddy doddy?

Dam.
(aside)
There, now, how cross!— (to her)
Nobody.
I came o'myself, as usual,
The question to pop.

Daph.
Get you gone, you milk-fop;
What, after my refusal!

Dam.
Ah Daphne, you stop the breath o'me;
Hussey, you'll be the death o'me.
Ah, why, dear girl, why take up with that beggar,
And use your own Damætas like a neger?

AIR XIV. Tune, Nanny of the Hill,

Since first those eyes enslav'd my heart.
In size I'm wasted half—
My looks betray my inward smart,
Ah cruel, cruel Daph.
Ah cruel! ah cruel! ah cruel, cruel Daph.

Inhuman maid, my sighs you scout,
My tears but make you laugh,
Yet at first sight, an upstart lout
Has nabb'd my fickle Daph.
Ah fickle! ah fickel! ah fickle, fickle Daph.

How can you on my courtship frown,
My wealth despise as chaff,
Yet suffer such a clumsy clown
To win and tickle Daph.
To win and tickle, to win and tickle Daph.

RECITATIVE.
Daph.

You purse-proud bag of lies,
Who gave you leave my actions
Thus saucily to scrutinize
And load with base detractions?

Farther a field I weet you
Quick, bundle up your packet,
For fear this beggar meet you
And thrash your jacket.

AIR XV. A French tune. Tourteulle.

Yes; your wealth I hold at nought,
Daphne's heart shall ne'er be bought;
Ne'er to church haste
Basely purchas'd
By a rich ninny;
Who, to keep her chaste,
Would lock her up like his guinea.

In your pain my pleasure is,
Jealous dolt, I hate your phiz,
Hissing gander
My Philander
Scorns your aspersion;
Pitiful slander
Renders you more my aversion.

[Exit.
RECITATIVE.
Dam.
(whistles)
Hey toss! Sh'as paid me soundly!
A swinging rap o'th'knuckles.
Well, to these honeysuckles
He's a meer oaf who truckles.
For miss the more he buckles
To, and will on ground lye,
The more curvetts and chuckles.

AIR XVI. Farewel the Hills and Vallies.

By whining
Pining
Sighing
Coquetts are never won,
But, fright 'em
Spite 'em
Slight 'em
Into your arms they run.
A coward,
How hard
Toward
His foe it is to push!
Restrain him
Rein him
Train him,
He's mad on death to rush.

[Exit.
SCENE Sileno's Garden.
Enter Sileno and Mysis.
RECITATIVE.
Sil.
Why—is the devil in you Gammer.
Have I no refuge from your clamour?

Mys.
Was ever wife so basely treated?
So cross'd, so gaul'd, so fretted!
O Gods! I shall run crazy
Mad, mad!

Sil.
No March-hare madder,
Do, lambkin give it vent,—'twill ease you;
And make your heart the gladder.

AIR XVII. When that I was a little tiny Boy.

When gathering clouds obscure the sky
With a crish, crash,
Flish and flash,
The thunders rowl, and the lightnings fly;
Then rain—and all is lullaby.

So when a vixen's passions swell
Tongue all ire,
Eyes on fire,
Bosom rent by fiends of hell,
At length tears stream—and all is well.

RECITATIVE.
Mys.
Well!—I'll be even with that spark yet.
Of fish a dainty kettle
You have drest—you numscul beetle;
You've brought your hogs to a fair market.

Sil.
Why!—I'm all i'th'dark yet.

Mys.
Know then thou peerless blockhead,
Your scoundrel, would he were choaked,
With his quips, and his quillets
And running his rigs
With both your daughters has intrigues
Nay here, read but these billets—

Sil.
Psha! put them in your pocket
Did not the sacred oak,

Mys.
I mock it—

Sil.
Swear to me, on his conscience
That by Pol's means—

Mys.
His means!—what nonsense!—
But I've a plot shall make you rue,
And keep the house too hot for you;
Don't be surpriz'd, if on the sudden,
Your minion give the crow a pudding
Soon mounted in the air, if
You chance to see the cudden
A caper cut before the sheriff.
AIR XVIII. To an Italian Opera tune.

The wolf that slaughter'd finds her whelps,
With howlings fills the forest,
Their murtherer tracks with shrillest yelps,
All food neglecting or rest.

So my revenge shall Pol pursue,
I'll closely watch his waters;
'Tll at the gallows tree he rue
The wrongs he did my daughters.

[Exit.
Enter (to Sil.) Pol.
Sil.
Gad's bud, I dread her vengeance
An angry woman to destroy
What she hates, would employ
The devil, and all his emgines.
[sees Pol.
Pol, here's a storm a brewing.
Old Pan, and our Mysis
Are hatching devices
To perpetrate your ruin.

Pol.
Alas, what have I done—poor stranger!
Won't you protect me, sir, from danger?

Sil.
Tut, they shall find I ken 'em,
And on themselves can turn their venom,

[Exit.

Pol.
Poor fools! how weak, how shallow
Are all your plots against Apollo.
These clowns I pity—but my spleen 'twill pamper
Midas and Pan to hamper,
Their projects to quash
And their pride to abash,
When all my rays burst on them with one flash.
How I shall laugh, when huddled in a cluster,
They stare, gaping like stuck pigs at my lustre.
AIR XIX. When Faries dance round on the grass.

When fairies dance round on the grass
And revel to night's awful noon,
Each elf with his tight little lass
Trips to the pale light of the moon,

If't chance that the grey dawn of day
Peep in on their frolicks too soon,
In fright they all scuttle away,
And follow the glimpse of the moon.

(As he is going off, enter Daphne on one side, Nysa on the other, both run to him.)
RECITATIVE.
Daph.
O Pol! the fat's all in the fire!

Nys.
Such banging
In store for us.

Daph.
For you no less than hanging.

Pol.
The devil there is!—what means this sad haranguing?

Daph.
Fly, false deluder.

Nys.
Quick, take leg, deceitful—

Pol.
Take leg, and quit my girls! that were ungrateful.

AIR XX. To it's own tune.
[Pol.]
My heart so o'er flow'th,
With love for you both,
That it cannot find room for fear,
Not the halter
Can alter
The passion that's rooted here.

Daphne and Nysa together.
[Daph., Nys.]
I scorn and detest/Such love is a jest
Double love in one breast/In vain you protest.

Daph.
Such a love is not worth my care

Nys.
For your vows are false as air.

Daph.
Ay go dangle/I could mangle.

[Nys., Pol.]
Oh how I burn!/Don't suspect me,
Yes, to Tyburn,/Or reject me.

Daph.
What heart without shedding a tear,

Nys.
I'd escort you with pleasure my dear,

Pol.
What gallows so bad as despair.
Why won't you believe me,

Daph.
You want to deceive me.

Nys.
Your falshood shall ne'er again grieve me.

Pol.
Take my word, and my oath,

[Daph., Nys.]
You fool us/We'll shew you
Cajole us,/We know you

Pol.
Believe me
That at night I will satisfy both.
That at night I will satisfy both.

[Daph., Nys.]
How, will you at night satisfy both?/No, you never can satisfy both.

[Exeunt severally.
Dance of Nymphs and Swains.

End of the Second Act.