 | A new opera called Brutus of Alba : or, Augusta's Triumph |  |
ACT III.
The SCENE is, A very Pleasant Grove, and Stately Garden, belonging to the Pallace; the Great Walk is bounded on either side with Figures of Gold; and in large Vases of Gold, are Orange, Lemon, and other Trees.Enter Hersius and Spungius.
Her.
Turn Religious! I wou'd had his Conscience in a
Cloven Stick, that made me first think of Religion.
Spun.
It was that Ape in White, that Boy Seraphino, made
us turn Religious.
Her.
Ay, a dissembling little Hypocrite, he told us the finest
Tales of Paradice, and what fine Lives we shou'd lead when
we came there, that, I'gad, 'twou'd have made a Turk turn'd
Toper, to have heard him; and now all our promis'd Pleasures
are turn'd to Tears and Grimmaces.
Spun.
And Sighing and Sobbing.
Her.
And Knocking your Breast, and Thumping your hard
Heart, to know whether Goodman Frailty be within, or no:
If these be the Pleasures of Religion, I'gad, I'll be Hang'd before
I'll follow 'em; I have led such a Life of Sorrow, Brother,
since yesterday, that a Dog is not able to indure the Fasting and
Praying I have undergone.
Spun.
I wonder, Brother Hersius, what the Pleasures of
Elizium are?
Her.
Why, I fancied you must know that in every Corner
there, I shou'd have found a Young Handsome Wench ready to
have devour'd me; but there's no such Pleasure in Religion as I
can find.
And I fancied we shou'd have had all the brave Drinks
and Eatables, as Nectar and Ambrosia, as the Poet calls it, and
such like.
Her.
Nectar and Ambrosia, prithee, Brother Spungius, what's
that?
Spun,
Why 'tis a Liquor the God's drink when they mean to
make Merry; and when their Hands are in, they make no
more of Dusting of a Tub of Nectar, then we do of a Tub
of Greek Wine: But when shall I come to those Delicious Pleasures?
If I cou'd but tell that I shou'd be satisfy'd.
Her.
Ay, marry, I believe the best of 'em all wou'd be glad
to be secur'd that; in the mean time they are glad to be secur'd
with fat Livings, whose Trade it is to tell us of Elizium; for I
observe, they are much more afraid of Dying, than we Whorers
and Drinkers, Brother Spungius.
Spun.
But hark ye Hersius; Why do they impose such Duties
and Penalties upon us?
Her.
That is to make us Obedient, and them Rich; that
what Pleasures they doubt of in th'other World, they may take
in this before they go thither.
Spun.
I wonder whether or no, Bacchus be Religious? For if
he be not Elizium, we shall have but a dry time on't.
Her.
Bacchus; yes, yes, Bacchus is head Butler there: But
see who comes here, Brother Spungias.
Spung.
It is the Lord Arsaracus's Secretary; a rare Fellow
they say, Hercius.
Enter Coreb.
Cor.
Well met, my honest Friends.
Spung.
We thank you, Sir.
Cor.
What; are you in Consultations about your new Resolutions
of leading your Lives Religious and Soberly.
Her.
Soberly; yes, we have liv'd, indeed, very Soberly since
Yesterday.
Spung.
Ay truly, Sir, and very Chastly too; we have abstain'd
both from the Grape and the Flesh.
Cor.
Why who wou'd live in Service of a Lady; that will
debar them of their Choicest Pleasures? What Diversion do
your Feet to run on Scurvy Errands to the Poor, and to bear
Money to a sort of Rogues, and Lowsie Prisoners.
Spun.
Pox on 'em, I never prosper'd since I did it.
Cor.
You are rightly serv'd; before that Lady had to do
with you, Women, Wine and Money, flowed in abundance
to you, Did it not?
Her.
O those Days, those Days!
Cor.
Come, beat not your Breasts, nor tear your Hair in
Madness: Be ruled by me, those Days shall come again; and
better, mark me, better.
Spong.
As I take it, Sir, you belong to his Grace Arsaracus?
Cor.
Yes, yes, in shew, his Servant; but hark hither; take
heed no Body listens.
Her.
Not a Mouse stirs.
Cor.
I am a Prince disguis'd.
Spun.
Disguis'd! how Drunk?
Cor.
Why faith, my Boys, I'll Drink too, and be Drunk: I
am a Prince, and any Man by me, (let him but keep my Rules)
shall soon be Rich, exceeding Rich, most infinitely Rich; if
you'll serve me, ye, shan't be starv'd from Pleasures, as other
poor Rogues are, but take your fill.
Her.
Serve you I'gad I'd serve you before any Prince under
the Zodiack.
Spung.
Ay, by Jove, or above it either.
Cor.
and you will quit your Mistress?
Her.
Quit her, hang her; a Man cannot thrive worse, if
he served the Devil.
Cor.
How! the Devil? I'll tell ye what now of the Devil;
he's no such horrid Creature, Cloven-Footed, Black Sawcer-Ey'd
his Nostrils breathing Fire; at these Lying Religious
Fools wou'd make you believe.
Spun.
No!
Cor.
No, no, he's more Loving to Man, than Man to
Man is.
Her.
Alack, good Gentleman, how is he wrong'd?
Spun.
Wou'd we two cou'd me acquainted with him.
Cor.
You shall; he's a wondrous Good Fellow, Loves a Cup
of Wine, a Whore, or any thing.
Do's he love a Whore, say you?
Cor.
Oh mightily!
Her.
'Gad I'll help him to one then; she is not very handsome,
but she's well enough; she offer'd her self to the Playhouses,
and they refused her; and if once the Players refuse
her, I'm sure she's fit for no Body but the Devil.
Cor.
Well said my Lad; 'tis ten to one in a short time I bring
him to the Tavern to you.
Spun.
'Gad I'll bespeak the best Room in the House for him:
But pray, Sir, Does the Devil pay Two Shillings a Flask for his
Wine?
Cor.
Oh always.
Spun.
Then I find he has some Relation to us Britans, he'd
never suffer himself to be made such a Bubble else: But pray,
do's the Devil love Dancing, Sir?
Cor.
O yes, extreamly! Loves Dances; but of a different sort
to what you have here: I'll shew you, to divert you, the Fashion
of his Country.
Spun.
O Lord, Sir, you'll oblige us woundily.
Coreb waves his Wand, and a Misty Cloud rises out of the Earth; as it ascends, a great Wind-mill is discovered, out of which comes Millers, and Countrey Women, who Dance? After their Dance, the Wind-mill is changed into a Witch, out of which come several Devils, who Dance with the Witch, and then sink.
Cor.
Now what think ye?
Her.
Think? Why I think I shall never be at quiet till I'm
with the Devil.
Cor.
If you knew him so well as I do, you'd be more impatient:
Why there's nothing you can ask him for, but immediately
it's brought ye: Ask for a handsome Whore, you have
her presently.
Spun.
And will the Devil keep the Door, Sir.
Cor.
No, no, that's below his Dignity; but he has those ready
at hand that will.
Spun.
But pray, Sir, when shall we enter into Service, for
I'm impatient?
To morrow Morning; but one Piece of Service you
must do me first.
Her.
Any thing: Pray be pleas'd to Command us; I'll not
scruple any thing that may be serviceable to you, upon my
Word.
Spun.
Nor I, tho' 'twere to hang my Mother, and Ravish
her afterwards. Pray, Sir, what is't.
Cor.
'Tis this: the Prince, and the young Lord Sozimon,
this Day Feast with your Lady; I'd have you put this into her
Drink: and you, be mindful to Spice the Lord Sozimon's Bowl
with this; and when your Feasting's over, let me privately into
your Lady's Chamber.
Her.
Into her Chamber! Ay, Sir, into her Bed, if your
Worship pleases.
Cor.
Well said: Do this, and you shall both be happy.
Spun.
Never fear us, Sir; I gad, I'll Pepper my Lady's
Bowl, I'll warrant you.
Her.
And I, my Lords, as I hope to be acquainted with the
Devil.
Exit. Her. and Spun.
Cor.
Poor helpless Fools; How greedily for Gold
Wou'd these vain Wretches, sacrifice their God.
Now, proud Augusta, is thy Ruine near:
Nor will I let my Art be baffled longer;
But I must watch a Time, when Seraphino
Is absent from the Mighty Charge he holds,
See where Augusta comes, with Thamesis.
Now were a Time to check her Tow'ring Pride,
And lay her Lofty Palaces in Dust.
I'll do't: But ha! my Ancient Enemy
(Angelo seen in the Air with Hermes.
Is still at hand, to vanquish my Designs:
But tho' I now am of Revenge debarr'd,
If Hell have Power, thou shalt not long escape me.
Exit.
Ang.
'Tis false, malicious Fiend: No, poor Augusta,
Thou art the Care of Heaven, by whose Command,
Hermes, and I, do hover still about thee.
Iris, by Juno, is already sent
To Guard thy Most-Lov'd Monarch safe to Land,
And bless his Country with his Wish'd for Presence.
sings.
See the opening Clouds divide asunder,
And see, see, yonder,
The Angry Wife of Jove, descending from Above,
More loud than all Jove's Thunder.
Juno descends on her Peacock: As it comes near the Stage, the Clouds opon and discover the Tail of the Peacock, which is so wide, it almost covers the Stage. Juno comes forward, and sings.
Juno.
No, Hermes, no; all Quarrels cease,
In Heaven, as well as Earth, 'tis Peace;
Jove by the Stygian Lake has swore,
His Wandring Love shall Rove no more.
Thamesis
sings.
Great Queen, who shin'st with those bright Beams,
Whose Glory gilds my Streams,
See what Bending Knees we pay Thee,
Thus Adore Thee, thus Obey Thee.
Augustina
sings.
Bright Queen of Hymen's hallow'd Fires,
The Sovereign of all Coast Desires,
That with true Joy the Genial Bed inspires;
See what Bending Knees we Pay Thee,
Thus Adore Thee, thus Obey Thee.
Chorus.
Great Queen, &c.
Juno.
Say Iris say, from the Battavian Strand,
What News hast, thou brought o're?
Hast thou Obey'd any Great Command,
And brought Great Albion safe to Shore.
Iris.
Neptune, his Brother, Lord o'th' Ocean,
And his Sea-Nymphs whole Devotion;
Venus in her Shell attends him,
Her Fair Hand, and Smiles, she lends him,
Thousand Prayers to waft him o're,
And carefully has brought him safe to Shore.
See, see, the Crowds, and Joys all round,
Welcome Thunders all before,
Till the Gods Joyn in the Chorus,
Welcome, Heaven and Earth resound.
Mercury.
If Mortals Laugh and Sing,
'Tis time we Gods take Wing,
To mount and send her down,
The Guardian of his Crown;
Astrea who from Earth was driven,
Till Albion call'd her back from Heaven.
Chorus.
Then all prepare to Sing his Fame,
Sing all, Sing all, Great Albion's Name:
For 'twas by Mighty Jove Decreed,
This Island should by him be freed.
While this Chorus is Singing, Juno, Iris, and Mercury ascend.
Aug.
Come, Thamesis, prepare to meet our Lord,
Let him glide gently on these Silver Streams,
While I with all my stately Towers prepare
To welcome him from his long Toyls of War.
Exit.
Enter Arsaracus, and Locrinus.
Ars.
Hear me but out, my Lord.
Loc.
Forbear to tempt me
With the least sound against her Constant Vertue;
I should as soon believe the Queen of Night
Wou'd mount the Fiery Chariot of the Day,
And to that God resign her Chastity,
As my dear Aramante injure me.
Ars.
My Lord, I bear the same Belief with you;
But when I hear so many busie Tongues
With Private, Publick Whisperings, proclaiming
The Great Dishonour of my Much-lov'd Prince,
My Duty and Allegiance both start up,
And bid me shew my self your Real Friend.
Loc.
Why? dost thou think she's false?
Ars.
Not I, by Heaven:
But the poor Lady, arm'd with Innocence,
May pour forth Favours to Unthinking Men,
Whose Vanity may make her Vertuous Freedom
Seem to the World, a Blemish of her Mind.
Loc.
By Heaven, and thou say'st right; our Foolish Youth
Cannot be Judges of a Real Vertue;
Their Folly is the only Glass they look in,
And what to Noble Minds shou'd Beauteous seem,
To them appears Deform'd. Arsaracus, I thank thee;
And tho' I know her Soul is clear as Day,
Yet in her Conduct she may chance to err.
Ars.
'Tis true, my Lord, clear Souls, still take most Freedom:
Loc.
I'll instantly Attend upon my Love,
To stop the Censure of Unknowing Fools,
Whose Judgment Indiscretion over-rules.
Exit.
Ars.
Now Coreb, now, if thou but keep thy Promise,
How many Wrecks will tear his hated Soul?
But should his swelling Rage burst forth on her,
And Passion thrust him on her Innocent Life,
Then what I have with Care strove to obtain,
Must be fast lock'd in the Cold Arms of Death:
I cannot bear the thought on't. O my Coreb,
If thou hast News of Joy, declare it quickly.
Enter Coreb.
Cor.
'Tis done, 'tis done, my Lord, I left the Prince
Tearing the Ground like an entangled Lyon.
Ars.
Hast thou succeeded then?
Cor.
Beyond my Hopes.
Soon as the Potion had its wish'd Effects;
Amarante did retire into her Chamber,
Where on her Couch she laid her self to rest,
The young Lord Sozismond, whom I had before
Drawn from the Company, on pretence of Business,
Sate himself down, and in a little time
The drowsie God of Sleep o'repower'd him;
In which, I, by the Assistance of two Knaves
That I had bought by Gold and Promises,
I laid him gently by the Countess's side;
And in that Posture has the Prince surpriz'd 'em.
Ars.
And what's become of Sozismond?
Cor.
I heard the Prince
Give Order to the Guards for his Confinement;
And had not they stept in, he had murder'd him.
But see, he comes, my Lord, we had best retire.
Ars.
Yes, I will go, and hug my self, to think
How easie 'tis to make a Great Man wretched.
Exit.
Amar.
Yet stay and hear me, Oh, my honour'd Lord:
Thus, on my Knees, I beg you'd give me Hearing.
Loc.
How canst thou dare to be within my Presence?
Or think of living, after thou hast wrong'd me?
Amar.
When I do wrong you, may I cease to live.
Loc.
Nay, prithee, add not to thy impious Crime,
And varnish o're thy Whoredom with a Lye:
Had I but only heard, not seen thy Falshood,
I cou'd not have believed, tho' Heaven had spoke it:
But to behold ye clung like 'twisted Adders,
Tyr'd and doz'd o're your vicious Sin,
Let me not think on't: Get thee from my Sight;
Madness is busie Working in my Brain,
And all my Thoughts are bent on Blood and Murder.
Amar.
Let it be so; I'm prepar'd for Death:
And tho' I'm sure 'twas the curs'd Power of Magick
That cast this Darkning Mist over my Fame,
Yet I will kneel, and grow beneath your Feet,
Till I have made you sensible you wrong me.
Loc.
I beg thou wou'dst not tempt my Justice long,
For I do love thee, tho' I know thee false:
And, O, bear Witness, you Immortal Powers,
I throw thee from my Sight with greater Pain
Than our first Parents left their Paradice:
For tho' thy Canker'd Soul is Spotted o're,
Thy Face is still enrich'd with all its Beauties.
Amar.
What shall I say, or how shall I convince you?
Loc.
There's not a Possibility in Nature;
And all the Pleasure thou canst give me now,
Is to retire, and never see me more.
Amar.
Since it will please my Lord, I will be gone;
But when I'm dead, as I shall quickly be,
For long I cannot bear this Separation;
May Heaven, that sees how I'm with Wrongs opprest,
Make my Truth known, and I shall be at rest.
Exit.
You swelling Mountains, that o're-view the Earth,
Fall now, make me eternally unseen;
Philosophy, contract thy Meek Sage Brow,
Let Patience be no more thy Saint; as soon
Give Medicines to the Dead, bid Statues walk,
And Angry Winds sleep Quiet in the North;
As soon bid empty Lyons play with Kids,
And bid the shaggy Scythian Mourn and Weep
As Virgins do when they Interr their Loves;
The blind and shuffled Elements, that first
In Chaos strove, were not so opposite
As this Religious Frost is to my Heat.
Patience, thou art more fond than Teeming Wives,
Tamer then Sleep. Divinity, which calls
Our Anger, Sin, and Courage, Pride, has sent
This silly Cherubim to Earth, this Patience
The Coward's Sword, that only does Disarm
Dull Sleep, that neither can, nor wou'd do harm.
Exit.
| A new opera called Brutus of Alba : or, Augusta's Triumph | |