University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene I.

A most pleasant and beautiful Bower belonging to the Apartment of Bacchus, adorn'd with glorious Images of all the Deities, Loves and Graces, and illustrated with Dorick Pillars, encompass'd round with Vine Branches, Roses, Jessamin, Eglantine, and Foliages of other Flowers.
Enter Ariadne and Cellania.
Cell.
Salute the Morn, fair Ariadne,
With Joy, and thank me for my Tidings;
Glory and perfect Love attending,
Descend, and Homage pay to Beauty;
Let those bright Eyes, whose dazling Lustre
Can captivate a Heart Immortal,
Convert their liquid Pearl to Rubies,
Sparkling with Hopes of Bliss approaching,
Bacchus adores.

Ariad.
Leave, leave, Cellania,
And let me think—

Cell.
Of awful Bacchus,
All other Thoughts are of no Moment.

Ariad.
Did I not give up Fame and Fortune?
Nay, give him Life? Oh base Ingrate!
Or what's a worser Name, vile Theseus!

Cell.
Plunge, oh ye watry Powers, the perjur'd!
But sacred Bacchus loves ye.

Ariad.
Loves me!
Why is there such a thing in Nature?

Cell.
Some Signs of such a thing.

Ariad.
And faithful!

Cell.
'Mongst Gods, but Men grown wiser slight it,
The Lover chang'd, now change the Humour,
Our Tears like Mens Amours should vary,
Air.

Enter Abdalla attended by an Indian King, bearing a Crown of Stars upon a Cushion.
Abdal.
To Ariadne, most ador'd of Mortals,
From the Cælestial and renown'd Bimater,
I bring this starry Crown, a Sacred Symbol,
Prov'd to the height of his most glorious Passion;
Oh take it! with that Joy becomes your Fortune,
And grateful Duty to the mighty Sender.

Cell.
In Lethargie, what Remora benumbs ye?
Can ye not see the Gift—Had Blindness seiz'd ye?
Gold sure could clear your Eyes.

Ariad.
The wondrous Graces
Thrown hourly on me by immortal Bacchus,
Outdo returns of Gratitude.

Abdal.
The Temple,
Adorning yonder Hill to Clouds aspiring,
With holy Priests that such Affairs are skill'd in,
Will teach that Virtue; there the God expects ye,
Happy in hope to make ye yet still greater:
A glorious Wife.

Cell.
A Wife, and such a Present!
Can you be musing still, still cold?—Oh Heavens!
Had I such Graces!—What are my Stars a doing?

Ariad.
A Crown's a glorious thing.

Cel.
She smiles, that's something:
A Golden Circle must cure all ill Humours:
Besides, a Wife too; that's no idle Matter.

Ariad.
Bright Immortality,—A Constellation.

Cell.
So now she thinks apace.

Ariad.
Oh happy Station!

Cell.
Beyond ambitious Thought.

Abdall.
Look here, sweet Charmer.
[Shews the Crown.
Air.

Ariad.
My labouring Thoughts I find are all in hurry,
I am not dreaming sure, this must be real;
Yonder's the Temple!

Cell.
Haste, haste, quickly thither,
And swift as Time,—fly to the great Inviter.

Ariad.
It must be so, the Attraction's so prevailing,
From that inchanting Crown there's no defending;
Sorrow adieu, thou gloomy Inmate.

[Takes the Crown.
Abdal.
Viva.

Ariad.
And welcome Comfort, with angelick Semblance.
Fate's Decree must be fulfill'd,
Every Woman's born to yield;
If with Gold they charm the Eye,
Can we, can we, then deny?
If they give us darling Sway,
Will we, will we, then delay.
Oh, no, no,—Fie, no, no!
Wiser is our Sex than so.
Fate's Decree, &c.

[Gives her Hand to Abdalla, he leads her out, Cellania follows.

SCENE II.

An Isle of a Magnificent Temple.
Enter Berontus and another Indian King.
Ber.
Thanks, kind Reliever.

Ind. K.
Are ye fluster'd?
You told me late your Grief of loving,
And of Cellania's Pride and Rigour,
Then askt a Cure for am'rous Folly:
I told ye a good Dose was certain
Of Wine, and if ye have don't to purpose,
Your Sighs will turn to Hiccups.

Ber.
Bumpers.
Six in a Hand two Hours together,
I've briskly top'd about, by Bacchus,
I now will love him too.

Ind. K.
'Tis Reason.

Ber.
Then I have Courage got to rally,
Can stand a Frown, and if she thunder,
Can bounce too in my turn.

Ind. K.
You're perfect!
The Medicine has done well.

Ber.
'Thas fir'd me,
My Brain too rowls, but that's no matter.

Ind. K.
Yonder she comes, she's wondrous lovely.

Ber.
Not in my Eye, in this rare Humour,
So far from fair, I think she's dowdy,
I've a young Filly ten times finer.

Ind. K.
I wish ye Luck.
[Exit Indian King.

Ber.
By Jove I'll at her,
And well fare Bacchus, I'm thy Convert.

[Stands apart.
Enter Cellania.
Cel.
'Tis done, 'tis done, the Priest of Hymen,
Has join'd 'em,—Now then for my Fortune,
Have what I'll ask, what shall I think on?

Ber.
On me, if you like it.

[Coming to her.
Cell.
On you!

[Scornfully turning to him.
Ber.
And lose all your Labour.
[Haughtily too.
I, like a true Scythian, scarcely should value the Favour.

Cell.
Yet still you will teize me, you and your tawny Complection.

Ber.
Oh pardon my Freedom! yours is not wholly Vermillion.

Cell.
You swore you admir'd it.

Ber.
That might be, when I was frantick.

[Aside.
Cell.
His Bluntness offends me, [The Recitative changes.
sure 'tis a Trick of Dissembling,
Then am I not charming.

Ber.
Not half so much as a Fairy.

Cell.
No Beauty nor Humour.

Ber.
Better I've found in a Dairy.

Cel.
He vexes in earnest; come, Prince, suppose I could love ye;
What, what would you do for't?

Ber.
Not give one snap of my Finger.
I've got a new Nature, and am so far from a Lover,
I'm now grown a Toper, Bacchus is Jupiter Ammon;
I once was your Idiot, and how you us'd me remember,
Made horrid your Fantom, your Ignis fatuus Beauty;
You, you and your Cupid, whom now I push from my Bosom,
And deep in a Bumper, drown him with Ruby Phalernian.
Air.

The inner Part of the Temple opens and discovers Bacchus and Ariadne, Hand in Hand, both crown'd with Garlands; Abdalla with Priests and Priestesses, they having just perform'd the Marriage, Indian Kings and Attendants. Bacchinalian Men and Women. Priest of Himen, and Priestesses of Bacchus hold the Crown of Stars between 'em; come forward and sing.
Priest.
Pleasure's nearest to Divine,
Mortals gain by Love and Wine.

Priestess.
Praise we then this glorious Pair,
I'll the Victor, she the Fair.

Priest.
May no Chance their Passion sever,

Priestess.
Let 'em live and love for ever.

Both.
May no Chance, &c.

[Here she goes up and crowns Ariadne.
A Symphony of joyful Musick sounds, then an Antick Ceremonial Dance of the Mænades, after which Bacchus sings.
Bacch.
Bear Witness, Jove, and all ye awful Gods,
That smiling sit in your sublime Aboads,
And view me with a Joy divinely rare,
Do Grace Cælestial to this mortal Fair.
How well I am repaid,—We're then, my Love,
That precious Crown design'd thee from above
And be from henceforth in the lofty Skie,
To Sons of Art, that nightly Wonders spy,
A dazling Constellation, shining there
Brighter than Hebe's Path, or Casiopæa's Chair.

Ariad.
Where have I been till now? what painful Dream
Of flashy Vanity? or Cares extreme,
Have lull'd my Sense? Oh thou that giv'st me Joy!
Abate it, lest the vast Excess destroy me.

Abdal.
The Deities at Ariadne's Birth,
Design'd her the most glorious Queen on Earth,
But that's a Trifle to what now she owns,
In the Immortal Grandeur dol'd by Bacchus.

Bacch.
Oh conquer'd Venus! veil thy baffled Eyes,
And vie not here, for Shame.

[Embracing Ariadne.
Ariad.
Yours is the Prize;
Bacchus excels all Inmates of the Skies,
In charming Hue, and more inchanting Feature.

Cell.
Fine Art of Love, both Hearts are sure at ease,
That are so full of one another's Praises.

Ber.
My Heart, I thank my Stars, is easy too,
As being light with Wine, and rid of you.

Abdal.
Our noted Joy gives each Plebean some,
They wait for your Admission.

Bacch.
Let 'em come.
Air.

[Here follows the first Entertainment of Clowns, &c.
Then whilst Bacchus and Ariadne, with Abdalla, Cellania and Berontus are seated, with Indians, Satyrs, and Bacchinalians attending; Doppa comes in, having seen Bombey in his Clown's Dress, who seeming asham'd to appear, she pulls him in and sings.
Dopp.
Can you flye me, charming Damon?
Have I then out liv'd my Beauty,
Phillida that us'd to please ye,
Is her Kindness grown a Trouble?

Bomb.
Oh fie! nay Doppa—

Dopp.
What's the Matter?
Be not asham'd of your Perfections.

Bomb.
Zooks, yonder's Bacchus.

Dopp.
Here's a Lover,
And must commend your Transformation;
For now you look like what I'd have ye,
A harmless Shepherd plain and simple.

Bomb.
Simple indeed, I'll stay no longer,
Those gay Folks laugh at me.

Dopp.
Admire ye;
And e'er you go they shall have Reason:
Come, have you learnt to sing the Ballad,
I like so well? I've my Part ready;
We'll have it here, the Godheads yonder,
Shall hear what we can do.

Bomb.
Why, Doppa,
You're mad sure! Pish, you know I'm hoarser
Than a crackt Pipe.

Dopp.
You sing with Humour,
That makes Amends,—Come, come, let's do it
Quickly, I'm gone else,—But chant boldly;
I'll shew ye afterwards my Closet.
Ah, Bombey—

Bomb.
You're a little Devil.

Here the Ballad is sung by both in Parts, which ended, Bombey going to seize her, she runs through the Guards towards Bacchus; they laugh; then enter Bacchinals, each with a Bottle in his Hand, and entice him off; then comes on a second comick Entertainment of Dancing; which ended, Bacchus and the rest come forward and sing.
Ariad.
Stay, stay a while, ye fleet, soft footed Hours,
Fly not away so fast, let Joy have leisure;
The pleasing Inmate newly fills my Bosom,
And Time must bless me with a Space to own it.
Excess now cloys, oh how shall I be grateful!
Give me a Bowl of Wine. Pardon, ye Virgins,
Of nicer Rule, [An Attendant gives her Wine.
and Mænades uphold me,
'Tis on a Cause uncommon.—Health to Bacchus,
Sound o'er the Globe the Word is.

[Bacchus and all take Goblets.
Bacch.
Ariadne!

Ariad.
Cælestial Bacchus!

[Drinks.
Bacch.
Charming Ariadne!
Sound Trumpets, 'till the Air reverberating
Replete with joyful Echo's, shake Olympus.

Omnes.
Cælestial Bacchus, charming Ariadne!

[They drink, here the Trumpets and all the Instruments flourishing,
Ariad.
Oh Ecstasy! be mild, or else you kill me.
Air.

Bacch.
Fill round agen, and bring the Goblets fuller,
The Repetition's sacred sound too louder.

[Sound the Trumpets, with Kettle Drums and more Instruments.
Omnes.
To sacred Bacchus, charming Ariadne.

Beron.
Oh glorious Sight! Beauty and Wine uniting,
Jove try the Art of Painting.

Abdall.
'Twere a Mast'ry,
A Deed fit for a Deity to practice.
Air.

Bacch.
Now, that the Pow'rs above may ne'er be tainted
With Breach of Promise, ask thy Boon, Cellania.
Is it Berontus?

Cell.
No was ne'er said better
Than on this Subject.

Ber.
There we're both agreeing.

Cell.
Woman cannot, Woman cannot
With a Churl be e'er at Ease,
Who will sullen grow, and dull,
And is of himself so full;
He his Wife can never please.

Ber.
Man's a Cully, Man's a Cully,
Who himself to Woman pins;
Whilst her Humours vainly cross,
Still the Game go's to his Loss;
More he plays, the less he wins.

Bacch.
More private Conference must end this Matter,
They're sullen both, but Love has still Vagaries.

Re-enter Bombey very drunk, and reeling [Led in by a Satyr and Bacchinal.
.
Bom.
And so has Wine, of that be Witness Bombey,
Gods and Kings ( [Kecks.
egh) I don't know who,
I'm as great (egh) as one of you;
Nay, (egh) if Wine can solve the matter,
One Degree (egh) I think I'm better:
For now I'm a much greater (egh) Prince,
Because I am not (egh) plagu'd with Sense;
For those that are not drunk (egh) are mad,
And (egh) this 'tis makes (egh) the Times so bad.
Gods and Kings, &c.

[They carry him off.
Bacch.
The Night approaches, thought of nuptial Blessings
Regale my Heart, and fill my Breast with with Transport.
Come, sweetest of thy Kind, and give Lenæus
Proof, a Divinity there is that's Female,
Excelling quite the Male.

Omnes.
All Joy to Bacchus.

Bacch. and Ariad.
Oh! oh! the Rapture's sweet
When panting Hearts do meet,
Air.

Abdall.
Attend the glorious Pair.—Joy to Lenæus.
Grand CHORUS.