 | Thomas and Sally : or, The Sailor's Return |  |
1. PART I.
SCENE I.
Music behind.Enter 'Squire and Huntsmen.
'SQUIRE.
The ecchoing horn calls the sportsmen abroad,
To horse, my brave boys, and away;
The morning is up, and the cry of the hounds,
Upbraids our too tedious delay.
What pleasure we find in pursuing the fox,
O'er hill, and o'er valley he flies;
Then follow, we'll soon overtake him, huzza!
The traitor is seiz'd on, and dies.
To horse, my brave boys, and away;
The morning is up, and the cry of the hounds,
Upbraids our too tedious delay.
What pleasure we find in pursuing the fox,
O'er hill, and o'er valley he flies;
Then follow, we'll soon overtake him, huzza!
The traitor is seiz'd on, and dies.
2
Triumphant returning at night with the spoil,
Like Bacchanals, shouting and gay;
How sweet with a bottle and lass to refresh,
And loose the fatigues of the day.
With sport, love, and wine, fickle fortune defy;
Dull wisdom all happiness sours:
Since life is no more than a passage at best,
Let's strew the way over with flow'rs.
Like Bacchanals, shouting and gay;
How sweet with a bottle and lass to refresh,
And loose the fatigues of the day.
With sport, love, and wine, fickle fortune defy;
Dull wisdom all happiness sours:
Since life is no more than a passage at best,
Let's strew the way over with flow'rs.
SCENE II.
A Cottage.Sally discovered spinning at the door.
RECITATIVE.
SALLY.
In vain I strive my sorrows to amuse;
Stubborn they are, and all relief refuse:
What med'cine shall I fly to, or what art!
Is there no cure for a distemper'd heart?
Stubborn they are, and all relief refuse:
What med'cine shall I fly to, or what art!
Is there no cure for a distemper'd heart?
3
My former time how brisk, how gay!
Oh! blith I was, as blith could be;
But now I'm sad, ah, well-a-day!
For my true love is gone to sea.
Oh! blith I was, as blith could be;
But now I'm sad, ah, well-a-day!
For my true love is gone to sea.
The lads pursue, I strive to shun,
Though all their arts are lost on me;
For I to death can love but one,
And he, alas! is gone to sea.
Though all their arts are lost on me;
For I to death can love but one,
And he, alas! is gone to sea.
As droop the flow'rs till light's return,
As mourns the dove its absent she;
So will I droop, so will I mourn,
'Till my true love returns from sea.
As mourns the dove its absent she;
So will I droop, so will I mourn,
'Till my true love returns from sea.
4
SCENE III.
Enter Dorcas.DORCAS.
What, will you never quit this idle trade?
Still, still in tears—ah, you foolish maid!
In time have prudence, your own int'rest see;
Youth lasts not always; be advis'd by me.
AIR.Still, still in tears—ah, you foolish maid!
In time have prudence, your own int'rest see;
Youth lasts not always; be advis'd by me.
That May-day of life is for pleasure,
For singing, for dancing, and show;
Then why will you waste such a treasure,
In sighing and crying—heigho!
Let's copy the bird in the meadows,
By her tune your pipe when 'tis low;
Fly round, and coquet it as she does,
And never be crying—heigho!
For singing, for dancing, and show;
Then why will you waste such a treasure,
In sighing and crying—heigho!
Let's copy the bird in the meadows,
By her tune your pipe when 'tis low;
Fly round, and coquet it as she does,
And never be crying—heigho!
5
Though when in the arms of a lover,
It sometimes may happen, I know;
That e'er all our toying is over,
We cannot help crying—heigho!
In age ev'ry one a new part takes,
I find to my sorrow 'tis so;
When old, you may cry till your heart achs,
But no one will mind you—heigho!
It sometimes may happen, I know;
That e'er all our toying is over,
We cannot help crying—heigho!
In age ev'ry one a new part takes,
I find to my sorrow 'tis so;
When old, you may cry till your heart achs,
But no one will mind you—heigho!
SALLY.
RECITATIVE.
Leave me.
DORCAS.
Go to—I came to make you glad.
Odsooks, what's here? this folly makes me mad.
You're grieving, and for whom?—'tis pretty sport,
For one that gets a wife at ev'ry port.
SALLY.
Dorcas, for shame, how can you be so base!
Or after this look Thomas in the face?
His ship's expected.
6
Tell not me—the 'Squire—
As Tom is your's, you are his heart's desire.
Then why so peevish, and so froward still?
He'll make your fortune; let him have his will,
SALLY.
AIR.
Were I as poor as wretch can be,
As great as any monarch, he,
Ere on such terms I'd mount his throne,
I'd work my fingers to the bone.
As great as any monarch, he,
Ere on such terms I'd mount his throne,
I'd work my fingers to the bone.
Grant me, ye pow'rs, I ask not wealth;
Grant me but innocence and health;
Ah! what is grandeur link'd to vice?
'Tis only virtue gives it price.
Exit.Grant me but innocence and health;
Ah! what is grandeur link'd to vice?
'Tis only virtue gives it price.
DORCAS.
RECITATIVE.
Well, go your ways—I cannot chuse but smile:
Wou'd I were young again—alas! the while;
But what are wishes—wishes will not do:
One cannot eat one's cake, and have it too.
Wou'd I were young again—alas! the while;
But what are wishes—wishes will not do:
One cannot eat one's cake, and have it too.
7
When I was a young one, what girl was like me?
So wanton, so airy, and brisk as a bee:
I tattled, I rambled, I laugh'd, and where'er
A fiddle was heard, to be sure I was there.
So wanton, so airy, and brisk as a bee:
I tattled, I rambled, I laugh'd, and where'er
A fiddle was heard, to be sure I was there.
To all that came near I had something to say;
'Twas this Sir—and that Sir—but scarce ever nay;
And Sundays dress'd out in my silks and my lace,
I warrant I stood by the best in the place.
'Twas this Sir—and that Sir—but scarce ever nay;
And Sundays dress'd out in my silks and my lace,
I warrant I stood by the best in the place.
At twenty, I got me a husband—poor man!
Well rest him—we all are as good as we can;
Yet he was soo peevish, he'd quarrel for straws,
And jealous—though truly I gave him some cause.
Well rest him—we all are as good as we can;
Yet he was soo peevish, he'd quarrel for straws,
And jealous—though truly I gave him some cause.
He snubb'd me, and huff'd me—but let me alone;
Egad I've a tongue—and I paid him his own.
Ye wives, take the hint, and when spouse is untow'rd,
Stand firm to our charter—and have the last word.
Egad I've a tongue—and I paid him his own.
Ye wives, take the hint, and when spouse is untow'rd,
Stand firm to our charter—and have the last word.
But now I'm quite alter'd, the more to my woe;
I'm not what I was forty summers ago:
This time's a sore foe, there's no shunning his dart;
However, I keep up a pretty good heart.
I'm not what I was forty summers ago:
This time's a sore foe, there's no shunning his dart;
However, I keep up a pretty good heart.
8
Grown old, yet I hate to be sitting mum-chance;
I still love a tune, though unable to dance;
And books of devotion laid by on my shelf,
I teach that to others, I once did myself.
I still love a tune, though unable to dance;
And books of devotion laid by on my shelf,
I teach that to others, I once did myself.
SCENE IV.
A Wood.Enter 'Squire.
'SQUIRE.
AIR.
Life's a garden, rich in treasure,
Bury'd like the seeds in earth;
There lie joy, contentment, pleasure,
But 'tis love must give them birth.
Bury'd like the seeds in earth;
There lie joy, contentment, pleasure,
But 'tis love must give them birth.
That warm sun its aid denying,
We no happiness can taste;
But in cold obstruction lying,
Life is all one barren waste.
We no happiness can taste;
But in cold obstruction lying,
Life is all one barren waste.
9
SCENE V.
Enter Sally.SALLY.
RECITATIVE.
Ah! whither have my heedless steps betray'd?
'SQUIRE.
Where wou'd you fly? of whom are you afraid?
Here's neither spectre, ghost, nor goblin nigh,
Nor any one—but Cupid, you, and I.
SALLY.
Unlucky!
'SQUIRE.
'Sdeath! she sets me all on fire:
Bewitching wench! I languish with desire.
But wherefore do you shrink, and trembling stand,
So coy, so silly?
SALLY.
Pray, Sir, loose my hand.
10
AIR.
When late I wander'd o'er the plain,
From nymph, to nymph, I strove in vain,
My wild desires to rally;
But now they're of themselves come home,
And, strange! no longer seek to roam:
They centre all in Sally.
From nymph, to nymph, I strove in vain,
My wild desires to rally;
But now they're of themselves come home,
And, strange! no longer seek to roam:
They centre all in Sally.
Yet she, unkind one, damps my joy,
And cries I court but to destroy:
Can love with ruin tally?
By those dear lips, those eyes, I swear,
I would all deaths, all torments bear,
Rather than injure Sally.
And cries I court but to destroy:
Can love with ruin tally?
By those dear lips, those eyes, I swear,
I would all deaths, all torments bear,
Rather than injure Sally.
Come then, Oh come, thou sweeter far!
Than jessamine and roses are,
Or lillies of the valley;
O follow, love, and quit your fear,
He'll guide you to these arms, my dear,
And make me blest in Sally.
Than jessamine and roses are,
Or lillies of the valley;
O follow, love, and quit your fear,
He'll guide you to these arms, my dear,
And make me blest in Sally.
11
RECITATIVE.
Sir, you demean yourself, and, to be free,
Some lady you should chuse of fit degree:
I am too low, too vulgar—
'SQUIRE.
Rather say,
There's some more favour'd rival in the way:
Some happy sweetheart in your thoughts takes place;
For him you keep your favours; that's the case.
SALLY.
Well if it be, 'tis neither shame, nor sin;
An honest lad he is, of honest kin:
No higher than my equal I pretend:
You have your answer, Sir, and there's an end.
'SQUIRE.
AIR.
Come, come, my dear girl, I must not be deny'd;
Fine cloathes you shall flash in, and rant it away:
I'll give you this purse too, and heark you beside,
We'll kiss and we'll toy all the long summer's day.
12
Of kissing and toying you soon would be tir'd,
Oh should hapless Sally consent to be naught!
Besides, Sir, believe me, I scorn to be hir'd;
The heart's not worth gaining which is to be bought.
'SQUIRE.
Perhaps you're afraid of the world's busy tongue,
But know, above scandal you then shall be put;
And laugh, as you roll in your chariot along,
At draggle-tail chastity walking a foot.
SALLY.
If only thro' fear of the world I was shy,
My coyness, and modesty were but ill shown;
Its pardon 'twere easy with money to buy,
But how, tell me how, I shou'd purchase my own.
'SQUIRE.
Leave morals to grey-beards, those lips were design'd
For better employment.
13
I'll not be a whore.
'SQUIRE.
Oh fye, child! love bids you be rich, and be kind;
SALLY.
But virtue commands me, be honest and poor.
End of the First Act.
| Thomas and Sally : or, The Sailor's Return | |