University of Virginia Library

AN INTERLUDE, In Two Comick SCENES, BETWIXT Signor Capoccio, a Director from the Canary Islands; and Signora Dorinna, a Virtuosa.
SCENE I.
A Chamber. Dorinna; and two Chambermaids setting the Room in order.
Dorin.
Quick, quick, dispatch, and mind Affairs,
Bring the Spinett, and set the Chairs.
(Oh! how much Patience had One need
With this perverse, vexatious Breed!)
They know, this Instant I expect here
A Foreigner, et un Directeur;
Yet, what a Litter all about?
Fly, fly, begone, and wait without:
And there attend my Ambasciata's.—
[Exeunt Chambermaids.
Now, let me run o'er these Cantata's.
This is too difficult;—This, out of Fashion;
Void of all modern Grace and Passion.—
What Transports can that Musick make,
That wants the Semi-demi Quavers and the Shake?
O, This will do:—But, hark! 'Tis He:
Escourt Him up immediately.

Signor Capoccio introduc'd.
Capoc.
Madam,—

Dorin.
Signor Capocchio,—
I am profoundly yours. Your Chair, I pray.—

Capoc.
Signora Dorinna,—
To stand a Summer's Day,
Ev'n tho' the Dogstar were at height,
On your Commands would be Delight.

Dorin.
(A Compliment extravagant!) Signor,—

Capoc.
Madam, son vostro Servitor.
Madam, in our Canary Isles,
(Where Nature so on Musick smiles,
The very Birds express such Notes,
As Orpheus' Soul inform'd their Throats:)
A pompous Theatre we boast,
(Supported at the publick Cost,)
For Which your humble Slave comes hither
To get a Company together:
Your self the Chief of our Ambition;
No Voice with Your's in Competition.

Dorin.
I've four or five Sollicitations
Press'd on me strong from diff'rent Nations,
Must therefore think t'engage me, where
Terms are most promising and fair.

Capoc.
Madam, Directors in Canary
From Those of other Nations vary;
We pour our Gold by Bags-full down;
Agree, and make the Terms your own.

Dorin.
That Article, indeed, has Weight;
Tho' there is one Objection yet,—

Capoc.
Pray, what?

Dorin.
Our Language would be new,
Quite foreign, and unknown to You.

Capoc.
Eh! make no Strain of that Affair;
We give a Book to the Parterre;
And so the Singing be but good,
No Reason, Words be understood.

Dorin.
In Airs, perhaps, you may dispense
With a convenient Want of Sense;
But where the Business is on Foot,
Some Sense is necessary to't.

Capoc.
There You mistake Us: In our Nation,
At such Time 'tis the reigning Fashion
For Pit and Boxes, tête à tête,
To laugh aloud, and joke, and prate.

Dorin.
If it be so indeed, 'tis well.

Capoc.
Now freely your Pretensions tell.

Dorin.
I must in Mind th'Affair revolve,
Before I can at once resolve.

Capoc.
Resolve, and to your sweet Controul
I make the Tender of my Soul.
Those brilliant Eyes, like Lamps, inspire
My glowing Breast with fierce Desire,
I sigh;—but ev'ry Sigh is Fire.

Dorin.
You are so courteous,—

Capoc.
—O my Heart!
One Air, I hope, e'er I depart.

Dorin.
How strange his Figure and his Fashion!

Capoc.
You will—(she's full of Affectation.)

Dorin.
Excuse me, I'm so very hoarse.

Capoc.
One Song requires not so great Force.

Dorin.
Nor is the Instrument in Tune.

Capoc.
I shall quite lose all Temper soon.

Dorin.
Nor I myself in Exercise.—

Capoc.
No matter; you are over-nice.
Keep me no longer in Suspense.
I'm sick of her Impertinence.—

Dorin.
If I comply, 'tis great Assurance.

Capoc.
Oh, doubt not: This is past Indurance.

[She sits down to the Spinett.
Dorin.
Stern God of Love, be not so spightful,

Capoc.
(Oh, delightful!)

Dorin.
But deign in Pity to relieve A

Capoc.
(Che viva!)

Dorin.
A Heart, that swells and bursts with Pain.

Capoc.
(That again: O Brava!)

Dorin.
Too, too tyrannick is thy Law,

Capoc.
(Bell trillo in Verità.)

Dorin.
Break not, but sooth me to thy Awe.

Capoc.
(O Cara!)

Dorin.
Cruelty never

Capoc.
(Encor for ever!)

Dorin.
A Convert did gain.

Capoc.
You so excel,
Your Voice is clear as any Bell:
And then so voluble your Throat,
That you devour Note after Note.

Dorin.
O Sir,—But by your Words, I'm sure,
You are a perfect Connoisseur.

Capoc.
I know as much as Gentlemen should know.

Dorin.
You must perform to Admiration,
That speak in such a feeling Fashion.

Capoc.
Nay, you shall hear: I'm not precise;
Nor stay to be entreated twice.

[Draws a Cantata out of his Pocket.
Dorin.
Some Piece, no doubt, of choice Repute.

Capoc.
Madam, whene'er I sing, 'tis known,
The Words and Musick are my own.

Dorin.
A Poet too?

Capoc.
There lies my Strength and Excellence,
I've such a Vein and Flow of Sense,
That, e'er a Month, I'll finish clean
Fifteen Productions for the Scene.

Dorin.
Prodigious!

[Capoccio sits down to the Spinett.
Capoc.
Thy sweetest Beams of Love impart,
Bright Salamander of my Heart!
My tortur'd Heart, that burns, and fryes,
Beneath the Ætna of thy Eyes.
All This to You alone is meant.

Dorin.
I thank You for the Compliment.

Capoc.
Soften the Rigours of thy Brow,
On whose broad Arches, all a-row,
Young Cupids ride, and frisk, and play;
And keep eternal Holyday.
What say You to't?

Dorin.
I can't but wonder at so rare a Muse.

Capoc.
Oh,—You shall hear this other Air.

Dorin.
Let me not trespass, Sir, too far.

Capoc.
Madam, I would not spare one Note,
Tho' I were sure to split my Throat.

Dorin.
The tedious Fool!

[Capocchio beginning to sing.
Capoc.
Wherefore, Phillis, will you be
Cruel, and unkind, to Me?

[Dorinna beckons to her Maid, who comes to her.
Dorin.
What is't you'd have?—Signor, my Maid—

Capoc.
Curse on the damn'd intruding Jade!

Dorin.
Signor, a Set of Company
Are met, and only wait for Me.
Pardon,—I must be gone at once.

Capoc.
Hear but this Chain of Semitones.
'Tis short.—

Dorin.
You must excuse me now.

Capoc.
With what Impatience shall I burn
To hasten my desir'd Return!

DUETTO.
Capoc.
I must obey my Fate unkind;
But, think, I leave my Soul behind.

Dorin.
Permit me wait You to your Chair;

Capoc.
No, I declare.

Dorin.
I must—

Capoc.
You must not:—Pray, forbear.

[She still offering to follow him.
Capoc.
Nay, if you stir, I ne'er can go.

Dorin.
Oh, sì, sì, sì.

Capoc.
Nò, nò, nò, nò.

[They go off different Ways with great Ceremony.