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Songs, Duets, &c

in Tricks upon Travellers, a comic opera, in three acts [by James Bland Burges]; first performed at the English Opera, at the Lyceum Theatre, in the Strand, on Monday, July 9th, 1810. The music entirely new, composed by Mr. Reeve and Mr. C. Horn. The overture by Mr. Reeve. The new scenes by Mr. Greenwood. The dresses by Mr. Banks and Mrs. Robinson. Second edition

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Act II.
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8

Act II.

SONG

[Stand aside, Sir, I pray—]

Stand aside, Sir, I pray—
Let your wife, Sir, have her way,
What d'you mean by thus interposing?
I hope, Sir, I can tell
My own story straight and well,
If his Worship will vouchsafe me a hearing.
I'm his wife—in a word,
I'm his second wife, my Lord,
As you'd guess by my shape and each feature;
If you look, you'll find it clear,
I'm too young, by many a year,
To be mother of that maypole creature.

SONG

[When a man is fatigu'd with the toils of the day]

I

When a man is fatigu'd with the toils of the day,
No med'cine like sherries can drive care away;
Without it, his blood will grow thicker and thicker;
But his pulses flow brisk when refresh'd with good liquor.

II

Give water to those who, like water, are cold;
'Tis wine, generous wine, that can make my heart bold.
I leave to your sneakers potations so weak,
And stick to old sherries, that crimsons my cheek.

9

TRIO

[Thanks, Master Sancho, I'm your servant.]

Guzman.
Thanks, Master Sancho, I'm your servant.
Our bargain's made, so here's my hand.

Bertran & Beatrice.
Of all you say she'll prove observant,
Obedient still to your command.

Beatrice.
Of her duty I've given her a sample;
Before her she has my example.
In her conduct you'll ne'er find a flaw,
If she copy her mother-in law.

Bertran.
Will you ever thus be prating?
Always your perfections stating?
Can't you bridle up your tongue?
Must your larum still be rung?—
My Lord, our thanks we must express—

Beatrice
May Heav'n your noble Lordship bless—

Guzman.
I've more to do than you can guess—

Beatrice & Bertran.
Our thanks how can we ever tell?

Guzman.
I wish you both good day—farewell!

SONG

[Ah! how, when assur'd of her faith and love]

I

Ah! how, when assur'd of her faith and love,
Could I forfeit the prize, and with happiness part?
How could I inconstant to tenderness prove,
And for visions of splendour relinquish her heart?
But all love is folly!

II

Like the Shepherd, who rashly abandon'd his flock
To tempt on the billows of ocean his fate,
On shoals tempest-driven, or bilg'd on a rock,
I shall sink and acknowledge my folly too late.
For all love is folly!

10

SONG

[Alas! could fond woman but know]

I

Alas! could fond woman but know
What anguish love brings in his train,
She would fly from the treacherous foe,
And render his stratagems vain.

II

While we hail him a seraph divine,
While our bosoms with rapture beat high,
His toils round our senses entwine,
And leave us to languish and sigh.

III

Oh trust not to flattering man,
Of his specious delusions beware;
Escape from his arts while you can,
You are ruin'd if caught in his snare.

DUET

[But if your father knew, my dear]

Clara.
But if your father knew, my dear,
That I presum'd to interfere—

Laura.
Don't be afraid of that—I'm young,
But I have learn'd to hold my tongue.

Clara.
There's no resisting you—now mark—
I'll teach you how to use your spark.
When with your father first you meet him,
Take care you with politeness treat him.

Laura.
That's easy.

Clara.
Should he rant or vow,
You only need to curtsey—so—


11

Laura.
Dear, how amusing!—

Clara.
If he sigh,—
Remember to avert your eye.

Laura.
I warrant me—Is this the way?

Clara.
And with your fan or rosary play.
Should he presume to touch your hand,
Can you a ready blush command?

Laura.
I cannot tell—If that's denied,
At all events my face I'd hide.
I knew the whole of this before—

Clara.
Then I've no need to tell you more.

Both.
Tho' man may pursue us to make us his prey,
To escape him kind nature has taught us the way;
Be he e'er so instructed to snare female hearts,
If we're true to ourselves we may 'scape all his arts.

SONG

[Ods life, I am all in a flurry]

I

Ods life, I am all in a flurry,
My spirits rush on in a hurry,
I feel it in vain
My impatience to rein,
Whilst my pulses thus beat hurry scurry.

II

Could I drop but a trifle of years—
But why should I have any fears?
Some at twenty are old,
Some at sixty are bold,
So look to yourselves, pretty dears.

12

SONG

[I'm as sightly a fellow to look to]

I

I'm as sightly a fellow to look to,
And as likely her favor to gain—
If an old woman wishes to hook to,
She'll not find my equal in Spain.
I can ogle and sigh,
Smile, flatter, and lie,
Squeeze her hand with such feeling expression,
That if her heart, tho' tough,
Be of penetrable stuff,
Soon or late I may make an impression.
I've got the trick,
The knack, the nick,
Of pleasing all the ladies!

II

I've a mind just to try the sweet creature—
Who knows what return I may find?
Tho' like Gorgon's may prove every feature,
Who cares, if her purse is well lin'd.
If a hump's on her back,
Or an eye she may lack,
'Tis no matter if riches she rolls in,
And her wizen'd wrinkled face
I'd allow no nose to grace,
If in plenty she brings me pistoles in.
I've got the trick, &c. &c.

QUARTETTO.

[I'm ready, be it what it will.]

Pedrillo.
I'm ready, be it what it will.

Beatrice.
Oh there's no doubt, Sir, of your skill.
If you are what your features tell,
You'll play the rogue extremely well.


13

Pedrillo.
To guess from those black eyes, I swear
There's no mistaking what you are.

Both.
Between us let a truce be made;
We're both joint sharers in the trade.

Clara.
That's well—But we our moments waste,
Away! our project calls for haste.

Bertran.
Time by the forelock we must seize;
We're ready for whate'er you please.

Clara and Beatrice
The clouds which threaten'd us, shall soon
Vanish before the blaze of noon:

Omnes.
Again the Sun shall gild the day,
And cheer us with his glad'ning ray.

END OF THE SECOND ACT.