 | A new opera called Brutus of Alba : or, Augusta's Triumph |  |
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Continued.Enter Hertius, and Spungius Galy, drest with fine Cloaths, and a French Page.
Her.
Come on Brother Spungius, good Times are come agen:
See what we have got by being in the Fashion,
And kicking that troublesome Companion, Religion,
Out of our Consciences.
Ay, ay, Brother Hertius, happy is he, I say, that can
get into the Service of the Devil. Page.
Page.
Monsieur.
Hert.
What Answer did the Lady make to my Letter.
Page.
A Garzoone, me was never so much put to't before,
Jerne, me have Pimp, for all de Noble-men of France, and receive
much Lar-Jon; but by Gar, me have met wid nothing
for my Good Inclination of Pimping for you, but Kicks, Buffets
a Broken Pate, Morbleu.
Spung.
Why, Sirrah, Sirrah, do ye intend to Serve in the Honourable
Post of Page, to our Worships, and Grumble at a
Broken Pate.
Page.
No, Garzoone, me shou'd no have Grumble, if you
had de Lady; but by Gar, she speak no much Love of him,
she put up my toder Maters Money in her Pocket.
And then, Jerne, she bid her Footman kick me down Stairs.
Her.
Well, well, I'll deal well enough with her.
Page.
It had been well vor Monsieur a moy, if her Footman
had dealt well a by me.
Spun.
Peace, Sirra, here's the Devil's Privy Counsellor,
we must have a great Care of Grumbling in his Company.
Enter Coreb.
Cor.
Well, my good Boys,
How de you find your selves, since your new Service?
Her.
Why, as the Devil would have it, we are mighty well Contented.
Spun.
We are only afraid, we sha'nt have the Power to deserve
these Mighty Favours, the Right Worshipful Mr. Lucifer
is pleas'd to Confer upon us.
Cor.
Fear not, 'tis in your Power to serve him now:
Who is that with you?
Her.
That, Sir, 'tis our Page: We are resolv'd to live as
great as we can, that the Devil mayn't loose any Credit
by us.
Well said, I'm come to Dine with you.
Spun.
'Faith, Sir, you shall be very welcome.
Cor.
Nay, you ought to bid me welcome, since I bring my
Fare with me.
Spun.
In your Pocket, Sir?
Cor.
That you shall see:
Waves his Wand, and a Banquet rises, they sit down, and two Scaramouch Men, and two Scaramouch Women Enter and Dance: Then two Harlaquin Men and Women. After the Dance, Coreb speaks.
Cor.
You see how very kind I have been to you; which
Kindness I'll continue, if you're Faithful.
Spun.
Faithful; Pray, Sir, don't be so unkind, as to doubt
us? Command us to Hang our selves; and to shew how Zealous
we are, we won't stay for Ropes, but do it in our own
Garters.
Cor.
Then hear me, Friends: The Prince this Morning goes
to meet the King: Now I would have you two, with others
that I have imploy'd already, to intercept him; and when you
behold the Lord Arsaracas, in private Conference with him,
strike this into his Heart.
[Gives a Dagger.
Her.
We'll do't.
Spun.
Fear not, we'll open his Belly, and Hang him, in his
own Guts.
Cor.
Come on then, be but firm, and you shall prosper.
Her.
Never doubt us, Sir: Come, Page, Alon.
[Exeunt.
CHORUS.
Hail Royal Albion! Hail to thee!
Sent from the Gods, to set us free
From Bondage, and from Slavery.
Thamesis.
Hark, I am call'd; old Father Ocean
Calls my Tide;
Come away.
On the Mounting Billows dancing,
See the Royal Bark advancing;
The Waves, the Wind and Sea,
Are all at Albion's dear Devotion.
1st Triton.
See the Merry Boat swain too,
Has call'd his Jolley Crew,
Chorus.
Come, come, come, &c.
A Dance of six Watermen.
Neptune.
See, see, the Sea Gods trim thy Sails,
Every Nymph in all her Pride.
1st Triton.
Wafted by the Calmer Gales,
O're thy own Main Triumphant Ride.
Each Neried does her Locks adorn,
And every Triion minds his Horn:
The Lovely Mermaid too, behold
How she Combs her flowing Gold:
Without a Snare, or Charm, she sings,
Welcome to the best of Kings.
Chorus.
Welcome, &c.
Apollo descends in his Chariot.
Apollo.
Albion all Hail! Thou Sacred Head!
Heavens Darling Care, no Danger dread:
For Walls of Fate, thy Life Enclose,
The Plots of thy Malitious Foes,
Abhor'd above, Expos'd below,
Their own dull Light shall shew
Treason, which her Infernal Train
Worke in her Hellish Mines in vain.
Chorus.
Albion, all Hail, &c.
Apollo.
My Oracles declare, When he has done
His finish'd Work of Fate,
And broke the Universal Yoke,
A Smiling Race of Years, his Reign shall Crown.
A Song in Three Parts.
At Albion's Return, this Happy Isle,
Dries up her Widows Tears;
And with a Smile, Plumes like a Bride,
With Joy and Pride.
The Meadows smile, the Groves and Flowers are Gay,
All Nature chears up at this Great and Glorious Day.
Cho.
At Albion's Return, &c.
Enter King Locrinus, and two Lords.
King.
How different is the Clime, to what I left it?
My Kingdom sure, is by Enchantment Govern'd?
Musick attends us both by Sea and Land:
Eccho's of Joy still hover round about us;
But for what Cause, Heaven only can be Judge.
1st Lord.
It shews that Heaven rejoyces at your Safety.
King.
I hope I have with strictest Care perform'd
The Charge, which Heaven, and you, have laid upon me;
But blame me not, if I appear Concern'd
At the Unusual and Surprizing Accidents.
2d Lord.
I must confess, my Liege, 'tis most amazing.
King.
Thou seemst in hast; Quickly declare thy Message.
Mess.
My Leige, the Prince your Son with a small Guard
Was hasting to your Majesty,
While Treacherous Arsaracus who bore him Company,
Did with a band of Ruffius fall upon 'em;
But a strong Party of your Guards approaching,
The Villains fled, but were soon overtaken,
And Arsaracus with the rest are bringing hither.
King.
Is't possible? Cou'd Arsaracus play the Villain?
And to my Son, a Prince that made his Fortunes,
From a mean State raised him to Power and Greatness!
Where is there Truth or Honour to be found,
If those whom we have foster'd in our Bosoms
Should like ungrateful Snakes sting to our Hearts?
Enter Lucrinus, Arsaracus, Hersius, Spungius, &c. Prisoners. The Prince Kneels.
Locr.
Angels be Guardians to my Royal Father;
And Heaven with Blessings Crown his Virtuous Reign.
May Treason be a Stranger to his Realms,
And all the Plots of his Malicious Foes
Fall doubly on the Curst Contrivers Heads.
Thank thee, my Son; Rise; let me look a little,
To see where Villain's writ upon that Man:
Not in his Face that bears a shew of Honesty;
His Person too cast in a Noble Form,
No 'tis within, and his Ignoble Soul
All over does the stamp of Villain bear.
Locr.
Sir, on my Knees I beg you'd calm your Anger,
For he has made me ample satisfaction.
And by his free Confession clear'd the Fame
Of my ador'd, my best lov'd Amarante.
King.
Cou'd any Villain dare to blast her Virtue?
Locr.
The Story, Royal Sir's too long to tell.
But give me leave Sir, to perform my Promise,
Which was to spare his Life; and on my Knees
I beg that you will grant it.
King.
I will my Son.
But never more appear within my Kingdom:
Go, wander thro the World, like the first Murderer;
Thou needst no Mark, thy Crimes will speak themselves.
Arsar.
I go, and Noble Prince, the Life you give,
I'le wear in hopes that it may do you Service.
My banishment, I do Embrace with Joy, and
I have now no farther use for Life,
But to repent I ever wrong'd such Virtue.
(Exit.
Locr.
Now Villain, what canst thou say?
Dor.
Why, I am sorry I have tane such pains to do so little mischief.
King.
Drag him to the Gibbet.
Cor.
I defie ye, Laugh at ye.
And when you see me next take care of me.
(Sinks.
King.
Amazing.
Span.
What is he gone and left us. Why Bro. Hersius, we
shall never be able to find the way to the Devil without
him.
Now, what can you expect? ungrateful Villains!
Hers.
Why we expect to be hang'd, and I dare Swear you
won't let us go without our Expectations,
King.
To Prison with 'em. Leave 'em to the Law;
They are not worth our Anger: Come my Son,
I thought by mildness to have rul'd my Subjects,
But I perceive they'l rowze the sleeping Sword,
And force Revenge from their Offended Lord.
| A new opera called Brutus of Alba : or, Augusta's Triumph | |