 | Ariadne : or The Triumph of Bacchus |  |
206
SCENE II.
Ariadne appears sitting on a Couch, weeping, and in a Rage. Cellania struggling gets a Dagger from her, she starts up and sings.Ariad.
Will ye, oh! will ye then bereave me
Of what can only end my Sorrow,
If not the Dagger, give me Poyson,
Let Cordial Aconite bring Solace.
Oh! where's thy Asp, great Cleopatra,
Or thy hot Coals, resolving Portia;
One, one of these will ye not render,
And pity so forlorn a Creature.
Cell.
That precious Life has yet in Vengeance
Great things to do.
Ariad.
And I'll perform 'em.
Air.
[Distractedly raving.
I now have God Neptune's whole Power,
My Waves all Mankind shall devour;
My Surges no more shall be bounded
'Till Nature be wholly confounded,
And if to the Sky
The Perjur'd can fly,
I'll mount on my Billows and drown it.
My Waves all Mankind shall devour;
My Surges no more shall be bounded
'Till Nature be wholly confounded,
And if to the Sky
The Perjur'd can fly,
I'll mount on my Billows and drown it.
Cell.
Oh! calm your Rage, recal your Senses,
Men will be thus, 'tis second Nature.
Ariad.
My Brain's on Fire, [Raving still.
and now I'm burning;
My Breath's as hot as flaming ætna!
Oh! could I blast this Male Deceiver,
What Joy were like it?
[She throws her self agen on the Couch, and weeps.
Cell.
Cool your Passion.
Aire.
Sorrow ne'er can mend the Matter,
There's no changing human Nature;
Men must deceive,
We must believe;
Then we give Rules,
And they turn Fools;
'Tis Custom found, and Fate goes round.
Sorrow ne'er, &c.
There's no changing human Nature;
Men must deceive,
We must believe;
Then we give Rules,
And they turn Fools;
'Tis Custom found, and Fate goes round.
Sorrow ne'er, &c.
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Bacch.
Immortal Charmer, for whom Heaven
Gave him large Supplies to Goddess Nature,
To Grace with more than common Beauty,
Behold in me a perfect Lover,
Pure without Dross of frail Deceiving;
Drop then no more that pearly Treasure,
But let gay Pleasure rare and brilliant
Adorn my Fair.
Cel.
A Grief so weighty,
Oppresses: oh! give time to alter.
Bacch.
The posting Hours shall wait her Leisure,
The God of Time and I attending;
Mean while prepare your Sports to cheer her,
And turn to Pleasure hateful Mourning.
Air.
In chrystal Domes by Forms Divine possest,
Fair Ariadne shall with me be blest;
On Azure Plains we'll revel all the Day,
Regal'd with Musick, and cælestial Play;
And whilst, like Gods, we Drink, and Sing, and Love,
Forget the Cares below with Joys above.
In chrystal Domes, &c.
Fair Ariadne shall with me be blest;
On Azure Plains we'll revel all the Day,
Regal'd with Musick, and cælestial Play;
And whilst, like Gods, we Drink, and Sing, and Love,
Forget the Cares below with Joys above.
In chrystal Domes, &c.
Here follows a pleasant Entertainment of Dancing.
Abdall.
As Ariadne's Friend advise her,
[Abdalla apart to Cellania.
Such Lovers are not always coming;
Besides, what's past there's no recalling,
Let her not be too coy.
[Bacchus this while sitting on the Couch seems courting Ariadne.
Cell.
I'm thinking,
Yet if a God should take a Fancy,
And should forswear himself as you do,
'Twere worth considering.
Abdall.
I'm as constant
As Sol in India to his rising,
Air.
I never pretended to hang in my Garters,
But once I did love a whole Hour and three Quarters.
As black as a Crow,
Round fac'd like a Sloe;
With Teeth white as Snow
Was Zara the Shrew;
Who once held me fast,
But I bilkt her at last.
I never pretended, &c.
But once I did love a whole Hour and three Quarters.
As black as a Crow,
Round fac'd like a Sloe;
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Was Zara the Shrew;
Who once held me fast,
But I bilkt her at last.
I never pretended, &c.
Cell.
The Vice is rife in all Complexions,
Black, Fair, or Brown, no Truth's in Colour.
Ariad.
Can Gods too condescend to flatter,
[Ariadne rises from the Couch.
And mention Joy to one so wretched?
And one they made so. Oh! take Pity.
[Weeps.
Air.
Where Sadness reigns, and Joy can never be,
There let me hide my fatal Woes and me;
In some lone Wood where Bears and Wolves we find,
Remote from worser Brutes of Human Kind;
Where dismal Ews keep out the cheerful Day,
And baleful Screech Owls dream the Night away.
Where Sadness reigns, &c.
[Exit Ariadne.There let me hide my fatal Woes and me;
In some lone Wood where Bears and Wolves we find,
Remote from worser Brutes of Human Kind;
Where dismal Ews keep out the cheerful Day,
And baleful Screech Owls dream the Night away.
Where Sadness reigns, &c.
Bacch.
Oh! how will sprightly Mirth advance her Beauty,
That in this Dress of Sorrow is so charming.
Hear me, Cellania, hear to thy good Fortune,
Follow that Fair one, use thy Skill to gain her;
That once perform'd, as due Reward from Bacchus,
Ask what thou wilt it shall be thine that Moment.
Cell.
Ye Pow'rs Cælestial, is my hearing perfect?
If so, this Gift commands me swiftest Duty;
Have what I please! Did Jove e'er give a greater?
I'll straight about it, fear not, mighty Bacchus,
Skill'd in both Arts, persuading and beguiling,
The Turtle's Tears shall quickly turn to smiling.
[Exit Cellania.
Bacch.
Next the extreme of Love's divine Possession,
Hope is the greatest Joy attends a Lover.
Abdall.
The happy Prospect ravishing the Senses,
Half equals the Delight of true Enjoyment.
Bacch.
Come then, my Friend, and whilst inspir'd Cellania
Is busy in a Plot for Propagation,
Within the hallow'd Cell of old Silenus,
With Roses crown'd, we'll empty golden Goblets,
A glorious Sanction to the genial Hour.
Bacch. and Abdall.
Haste, haste old Time away.
And call the Hours to form the Nuptial Day;
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Let kind Lucina wait;
But bring not Venus there,
She envies still the Fair;
Nor yet the thund'ring Jove,
For fear he falls in Love.
Haste, haste, old Time, &c.
[Exeunt embracing.
Enter Doppa hastily.
Dopp.
Where is my Fool, I must not lose him;
For in this time of Melancholly
He's good against the Spleen and Vapours.
Oh! here he comes.
Enter Bombey aukwardly Dress'd.
Bom.
My Pinkaninny.
Am I not brave? Odzooks this Habit!
Dopp.
Methinks, he looks so like the perjur'd Theseus,
That tho' I order'd ye to wear it,
I wish that now 'twere torn in Tatters;
For oh! I'm jealous that you, like him,
Will be inconstant.
Bom.
I inconstant!
What do's she mean? What's that, I wonder?
To have the Itch?
Dopp.
Oh! no, an Ague,
That shakes young Courtiers 'till they chatter.
Bom.
Oh! I'll be plagu'd with no such Matter;
Air.
I'll live still free, and frolick,
And never get, if you'll be kind,
A quaking Ague of the Mind,
Nor give my Heart the Cholick;
Each coming Night I'll kiss thee twice,
The same on Mornings when I rise;
And if thou likest such wholsom Cheer,
I'll strive to hold out all the Year.
I'll live still free, &c.
And never get, if you'll be kind,
A quaking Ague of the Mind,
Nor give my Heart the Cholick;
Each coming Night I'll kiss thee twice,
The same on Mornings when I rise;
And if thou likest such wholsom Cheer,
I'll strive to hold out all the Year.
I'll live still free, &c.
Dopp.
This pleases, I confess.
Bom.
I hope so:
If Brother Courtiers take Example,
'Twill be a merry World.
Dopp.
But Bombey.
Bom.
What?
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Dear Bombey!
Bom.
Strawberry, more luscious than white Figs, what want'st thou?
Dopp.
One, one thing more, that Dress must alter,
Methinks you now look like a Fool in't.
Bom.
'Twill break me, I can't pay my Taylor.
Dopp.
He'll trust, at least will give Forbearance;
Nay, never start, I'll have my Humour,
Or else Adieu.
Bom.
This is the Devil!
[Scratching and looking simply.
Air.
A Beau did once my Fancy move,
But now a rural Swain I Love;
It seems most German to my Heart,
When you're uncas'd
I shall be pleas'd,
And then perhaps will act my Part;
You'll be, young Damon, kind and dear,
And I'll be Phillida the Fair.
A Beau did once, &c.
But now a rural Swain I Love;
It seems most German to my Heart,
When you're uncas'd
I shall be pleas'd,
And then perhaps will act my Part;
You'll be, young Damon, kind and dear,
And I'll be Phillida the Fair.
A Beau did once, &c.
Bom.
Ah! sweet as Codlings Cream and Sugar,
It shall be so.—Say now what Colour?
Dopp.
An Iron Gray.
Bom. and Dopp.
Country all over.
In Love when we join,
And sweetly combine,
No Dress or gay Folly is needing;
We despise at that Hour
Gay Riches or Power,
We have more in the Pleasure succeeding.
CHORUS of both.
In Love when, &c.
[Exeunt.
| Ariadne : or The Triumph of Bacchus | |