 | Ariadne : or The Triumph of Bacchus |  |
SCENE II.
Enter Ariadne and Cellania, Doppa waiting.Ariad.
Again, sweet Philomel, that warbling Cadence
Think not on Tereus now, lost be the Story;
The baleful Crimes of Rape and odious Falshood,
With which Mankind by ours are daily branded,
No more be mentioned for the sake of Theseus.
Cell.
Fondly you may believe, but oh! be certain,
The Brave are not confirm'd to be most constant.
Air.
Winter's Ice producing Roses,
Balmy Rest from poyson'd Doses;
Without Lightning to hear the Thunder,
Constant Man is more a Wonder.
Winters Ice, &c.
Balmy Rest from poyson'd Doses;
Without Lightning to hear the Thunder,
Constant Man is more a Wonder.
Winters Ice, &c.
Ariad.
Some strong Disgust, Cellania has inflam'd thee;
Fell Disappointment rouzing Female Anger,
Or slighted Passion, gives thee cause of Railing,
But happy I have Quiet in my Bosom.
Air.
Like a heavenly Seraph blest, is that cælestial Maid,
Who by Parents ne'er was crost, nor by her Love betray'd;
Who secur'd by Innocence against Misfortunes Spight,
Wears the Day unpain'd by Care, and sweetly too the Night.
Fortify'd by Providence, can with ill Stars contend,
And tho' Time be her greatest Foe, is us'd still like a Friend.
Like a heavenly, &c.
Who by Parents ne'er was crost, nor by her Love betray'd;
Who secur'd by Innocence against Misfortunes Spight,
Wears the Day unpain'd by Care, and sweetly too the Night.
Fortify'd by Providence, can with ill Stars contend,
And tho' Time be her greatest Foe, is us'd still like a Friend.
Like a heavenly, &c.
Enter Theseus, with Bombey and Tracis.
Thes.
Flora, the Queen of vernal Grace,
All the delightful Plants and Flowers,
From Ariadne take their Odours.
Ariad.
Theseus with his Mercurian Genius,
Each Female fair can make a Goddess.
Cell.
He can like all his Kind dissemble,
And if we will be Fools we may be.
196
Sweet Seraph cease, for vain you make me,
And now to lead bright Ariadne,
From this her Bower of Contemplation;
I come to wait her to the Palace,
Where she'll in Triumph see great Bacchus,
Joy of all Hearts, Theam of all Voices,
The Soul of all that's brave and noble,
Appear in Pomp.
Ariad.
All Pomp is Folly;
Theseus is all my Eyes do covet,
And all that gives my Thoughts Employment.
Thes.
Too highly, charming fair, you treat me,
Now to shew Man in his wild Nature,
[Aside.
I'll veil resolv'd Inconstancy
With seeming Passion, nothing else can blind her.
Ariad.
Theseus—
[Passionately.]
Thes.
What would my Soul?
Ariad.
Inchanting Theseus.
Thes.
Heavenly Ariadne.
[Both joyning Hands.
Celan.
Like two fine Instruments that form a Consort,
They're now well tun'd, but will it last, I wonder?
[Apart.
Ariad.
With what auspicious Beams shone radiant Phœbus,
When I beheld thee first?
Thes.
That happy Night too,
When Cinthia silver'd with uncommon Brightness,
Adorn'd my fairest in the Labyrinth.
Ariad.
Venus—approv'd the dear Design.
Thes.
And Love's kind Deity,
Made sharp his Golden Darts, I was first wounded!
Ariad.
Ah no.
Thes.
Yes, yes.
Ariad.
No, no.
Thes.
Yes, yes.
Ariad.
Oh Theseus!
I, I, was wounded first, and deepest!
My Heart leapt up to meet the Stroke.
Thes.
Elizium—Breaths in thy Words.
Ariad.
For so much Worth too little
Transcendent Merit has ingag'd my Heart,
Thou'rt all in all, and all in every Part.
Thes.
Thou'rt all in all, &c.
Valour join'd with Wit inspiring,
Womens Hearts are always firing;
Fools that oft' are Undertakers,
Wanting Merit, bart'ring Acres;
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But have never true Possession:
They're each other still defeating,
'Tis on both sides only cheating.
Valour join'd, &c.
Thes.
How charming from the Fair are Praises?
Inspire me, Love, to make an Answer!
I'm yours whilst Time has Date,—Oh Mercury!
Favour this Lye I'm blest.
[Aside.
Cellan.
Here's Words sufficient.
Thes.
Come away sweet Charmer.
Cellan.
But oh! the Heart, the Heart, Words are but Vapours.
Thes.
Come to the Triumph.
Ariad.
I am all Obedience.
Air by Bacchus and Ariadne.
Dazling Pomp, and awful State,
Suit the Hero brave and great,
Love in brilliant Beauty set,
Making it still more transcending.
Glory charms the Warriour's Mind,
If the Fair one too prove kind,
No Contentment's left behind,
Worth enjoying or commending.
[Exeunt he leading her.
Bombey and Doppa stay; he having long been making Grimaces behind, comes forward and Sings.
Bomb.
E'er since our Phœbus fond of Rest,
Last Night, made more than wonted haste,
To bath with Thetis in the West,
I've had strange Qualms within my Breast.
Doppa with fine black rowling Eyes,
Has made poor Bombey's Heart her Prize;
Be kind then dearest of all Dears,
For I'm in Love up to the Ears.
Doppa.
If Bombey loves, he must prepare,
To clip his Horns, and shave his Hair;
Instead of causing Love, they scare.
The Hoofs too hid within his Shoes,
In Bed a tender Maid will bruise.
They must be par'd.
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With all my Heart;
Nor will I cry Oh, at the Smart.
Doppa.
Why then, because you Woodland Satyrs,
Are not well skill'd in Courtly Matters;
Besides, to prove I'm tender hearted,
I'll shew ye how to dress and please me.
Bomb.
Oh, how my Heart jumps within me!
But what can change this Hair so matted?
Doppa.
A flaxen Peruke finely powder'd.
Bomb.
But then my Face, so red and tawny.
Doppa.
It must be flead with boiling Water.
Bomb.
Odzooks 'twill scald.
Doppa.
Oh—That's no Matter.
You without Prickles can't have Roses,
Nor be a Beau without some Trouble.
Air.
Our Sex are all refin'd, and now
There's nothing like a Modern Beau,
To lisp, and play well with a Fan,
Be more a Monkey than a Man;
A quart of Jelly drink with Ice,
And eat what's only dear and nice;
Forget to think, and hate to read
This, this is he,—that will succeed.
Our Sex are all, &c.
There's nothing like a Modern Beau,
To lisp, and play well with a Fan,
Be more a Monkey than a Man;
A quart of Jelly drink with Ice,
And eat what's only dear and nice;
Forget to think, and hate to read
This, this is he,—that will succeed.
Our Sex are all, &c.
Bomb.
For love of thee I'll be this Creature,
But in what Habit must I case me,
That this unseemly Hump may cover.
Doppa.
A fine lac'd Coat best Suits a Lover,
A Hat cockt up with Golden Button,
Form'd like a Minc'd Pie with three Corners;
'Tis all the Mode.
Bomb.
Hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh!
Are these the Charms so fast can fetter?
Why as I am, I'm sure—much better.
Aire.
My Back is broad, I'm hot and young,
And shaggy Hair's a sign I'm strong;
Then I can climb the lofty Pine,
And Rape the tow'ring Eagle's Nest;
Or oft with curious Fly and Line,
Beguile the Trout, to make a Feast.
Then hunt the Stag, and snare the Fawns,
And like a Roe skip o'er the Lawns.
My Back is broad, &c.
And shaggy Hair's a sign I'm strong;
Then I can climb the lofty Pine,
And Rape the tow'ring Eagle's Nest;
Or oft with curious Fly and Line,
Beguile the Trout, to make a Feast.
Then hunt the Stag, and snare the Fawns,
And like a Roe skip o'er the Lawns.
My Back is broad, &c.
Doppa.
This won't do, this cannot take me;
And so farewel.
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Oh,—don't forsake me!
Doppa.
Obey, and dress then if you love me,
For nothing but a Beau can move.
Second Movement.
Bomb.
Then take me, and model me just to thy Mind,
Since Beauty much stronger than Reason can bind,
I'll once be a Coxcomb!
Doppa.
Why then I'll be kind.
Bomb.
Whatever Distinction in Breeding may be,
When a Female's i'th' Case,
Every Male is an Ass;
And the Man and the Satyr agree.
Both.
Whatever Distinction, &c.
[Exeunt.
| Ariadne : or The Triumph of Bacchus | |