Poor Vulcan :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poor Vulcan

a Burletta, in Two Acts

Dibdin, Charles (1745-1814)

POOR VULCAN,

ACT II.

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ACT II.

SCENE I.

A Rural Prospect.
Enter Joe.
RECITATIVE.
While thus a rustic swain I rove,
I envy not the realms above;
What more can Jove himself bestow,
Than what I now enjoy below?
Freedom to chaunt my rural strains,
And sing my love around the plains.
AIR.

[I.]

A shepherd become, with my pipe and my crook,
What pleasure to loiter beside the clear brook;
While carelessly lying,
Fond birds round me flying,
The sun's glowing fervor allay'd by the breeze,
Oh! who would forego such enjoyments as these!

II.

Ye roses and woodbinds, so sweetly that bloom,
Preserve all your charms till my fairest shall come;
With beauty inviting,
With fragrance delighting,
Your brighest perfections to greet her display,
Oh! say 'tis for her you look lovely and gay.

RECITATIVE.
Enter Maudlin.
JOE.
May hills and dales a plain appear,
If my dear Maudlin is not here;
May sheep ne'er bleat, nor oxen low—

MAUDLIN.
—Nay, nay, no raptures, dearest Joe;
But come to me at nine at night,
I've manag'd all things for our flight;
When Crump gets drunk, as soon he will,
I easily can seize the till:
But if I ever am forsook—

JOE.
Oh! may I loose my pipe and crook;
May Cupid break his bow and quiver,
Wither'd be grass, dry be each river;
May all the sheep die with the rot,
When Maudlin is by me forgot!

MAUDLIN.
I faithfully believe thee, sweeting;
But I must go—the club is meeting.

JOE.
Ah, Maudlin, Maudlin! that there club
Is in my way a monstrous rub;
For Pike, and Stud, and all those fellows—
I own it makes me dev'lish jealous.

AIR in DIALOGUE.
Joe.
When the serjeant, encourag'd by wine,
To your lips once presum'd to advance,
Oh! how did I sicken and pine,
That you deign'd to bestow him a glance!
And again, when the 'squire from the chace
Returning, bestow'd you the spoil;
From my mem'ry I cannot erase,
That the prize you repaid with a smile.

Maud.
Ah, my Joey! one day in my place,
(The truth on't you cannot gainsay)
When I sent my suivante, pretty Grace,
You kiss'd her all on the new hay;
Nay, for selfish designs, dar'd to own,
You pretended a passion for me;
But attractions and charms I had none,
For Grace was your favourite she.

Joe.
The charge to be true, I allow,
'Twas to try if you jealous could prove;
For no other purpose, I vow,
They alone can be jealous who love.

Maud.
And, for me, if I smil'd on the squire,
'Twas in hope of the profit in view;
Or from Crump to conceal the fond fire,
Which I bear in my bosom for you.

Both.
We have each other on the hip,
Be jealous then no longer;
But rather let a little slip
Tie the knot the stronger.

[Exeunt Dancing.

SCENE II.

A Drinking-Room in the Ale-House. A large Table, Bowls, Glasses, &c. Pipes and Tobacco. Stud, Pike, Crump, Wiseman, Drub, Gauge, &c. discovered sitting at a Table.
[Loud Huzzas.
RECITATIVE.
Gague.
Silence, order! Order, silence!
This plaugy noise is heard a mile hence.
Truce for a moment—

[Drinks.
Wiseman.
—Love's the thing!
I knock down brother Stud to sing.

AIR.
Stud.

[I.]

Young Hebe slept on verdant bed,
An arm thrown here, an arm thrown there;
Leaves were the pillow for her head,
And thus how free one rests from care!
Colin watching when she'd wake,
His tired patience scarce could keep,
But close did creep, but close did creep;
Then touch'd her hand, and then drew back,
Then close did creep, then close did creep,
And cried—she will for ever sleep.

‘II.

‘Suppose we on the sleeper throw
‘The flowers here, the flowers there;
‘Alas! I have no more to strow,
‘And yet how free she rests from care!
‘Sure should I give a tender kiss,
‘Thus sound she could no longer keep;
‘Let's gently creep, let's gently creep,
‘One, two, three; what, not wake at this;
‘No need to creep, no need to creep,
‘Alas! she will for ever sleep.

‘III.

‘But Love who to the shepherd's aid,
‘Came fluttering here, came fluttering there;
‘Cried, lance an arrow at the maid,
‘And see if then she'll rest from care.
‘Here, Colin, take my sharpest dart,
‘Your arm in this position keep;
‘Now near her creep, now near her creep.
‘Well done, you've shot her through the heart;
‘No need to creep, no need to creep,
‘You've wak'd her, Colin, from her sleep!

‘IV.

‘Young Hebe startled with the fright,
‘An arm threw here, an arm threw there;
‘And cried to Colin, quit my sight,
‘And let me rest again from care.
‘In truth, cried he, I've seen the morn,
‘Less beautiful rise from the deep;
‘Ah! let me creep, ah! let me creep,
‘While you, sweet Hebe, put off scorn;
‘Near let me creep, near let me creep,
‘And watch you while again you sleep.

V.

By this time Hebe quite awake,
Ran wildly here, ran wildly there;
And cried, this mixture what can make,
Of pain and pleasure, joy and care.
'Tis love, 'tis love, the shepherd cried,
And swore he'd true for ever keep;
Then close did creep, then close did creep,
And begg'd and pray'd; she only sigh'd,
And let him creep, and let him creep,
'Till both together fell asleep.

RECITATIVE.
Gauge.
Thanks, brother Stud. Here, Mistress Grace,
Bring t'other bowl. Come, pretty-face,
Drink all our healths.

Grace.
—No, no, dear 'squire;
My Mistress, bid me, Sir, desire,
You'd presently come to her.

Stud.
Hush!
Gemmen, the bowl about let's push.
Here's love and opportunity!

Pike.
Well, child, what says the lovely she?

Grace.
She'll see you, Sir, after the club.

Pike.
I'll come, and beat, love, rub-a-dub.

Gauge.
What going, 'squire?

Stud.
—I must be jogging.

Gauge.
Nay, pr'ythee, toss off t'other noggin.

Stud.
'Tis little hours—

Gauge.
—But 'tis fair weather,
One crash, and we all go together.

AIR.

[I.]

Gauge.
Let every man now give his toast,
Fill up the glass, I'll tell you mine;
Wine is the mistress I love most,
This is my toast—now give me thine.

II.

Wiseman.
Well said, my lad, ne'er let it stand,
I give you Chloe, nymph divine;
May love and wine go hand in hand,
This is my toast—now give me thine.

III.

Stud.
Fill up your glasses to the brink,
Hebe let no one dare decline;
'Twas Hebe taught me first to drink,
This is my toast—now give me thine.

IV.

Crump.
Gemmen, I give my wife, dy'e see,
May all to make her blest combine;
So she be far enough from me,
This is my toast—now give me thine.

Pike.
Let constant lovers at the feet
Of pale-fac'd wenches, sigh and pine,
For me, the first kind girl I meet
Shall be my toast—now give me thine.

VI.

Drub.
You toast your wife, and you your lass,
My boys, and welcome, here's the wine;
For my part, he who fills my glass
Shall be my toast—now give me thine.

VII.

Gauge.
Spirit, my lads, and toast away,
I have still one with yours to join;
That we may have enough to pay,
This is my toast—now give me thine.

Chorus, and exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Gallery of Bed-Chambers.
Enter Maudlin.
‘To elope, or not to elope's the question!
‘Whether from Crump each base suggestion
‘'Tis nobler in the mind to suffer,
‘Or to rob every trunk and coffer,
‘And flying with my lover end 'em.
‘To fly—to love—no more—we'll blend 'em,
‘And by that love to shake off fellows,
‘And wayward husbands who are jealous,
‘Who give one every provocation—
‘Alas! it were a consummation
‘Devoutly to be wish'd, above
‘All other blessings far—To love!
‘Perchance to tire!—Ay, there's the rule!
‘For in that tiring, how he'll snub,
‘When I grow old, and perhaps fat,
‘For women will grow old—'tis that,
‘'Tis that, alas! must give us pause:
‘But soft ye now—how goes the cause?’

Enter Grace.
GRACE.
Your orders are obey'd.

MAUDLIN.
—Already?

GRACE.
I told the 'squire—

MAUDLIN.
—Well, and what said he?

GRACE.
Why, Ma'am, he said, he'd shortly follow,
And give his Maudlin the view-hollow.

MAUDLIN.
And pray, what news from Serjeant Bluff?

GRACE.
When I had spoke, cries he—Enough;
The signal is thy lady's charms,
And I'll be instant under arms!
But now, good mistress of mine,
If I may ask, What's your design?
When you're gone off, (Lord, who can tell!)
My master may like me as well.

MAUDLIN.
Take him; thou'rt welcome, I am sure.

GRACE.
Well, dearest me! that will be pure!
AIR.

[I.]

To shine in the bar, all drawn out in my best!
To be told I am handsome by every guest!
To be civil to all, and yet listen to none!
And when making a bill out, to score two for one!

And if told of the error, though ever so small,
Break off with—Dear me! did not somebody call?
Lord bless me, where are all my people hum-drumming!
I must e'en go myself—Coming, coming, Sir, coming.

II.

When a company comes in, on venison to dine,
Be sure after dinner to set the best wine:
But when they, once in for't, begin to be merry,
Instead of Champagne, send up cyder or perry.

And if told of the error, &c.

‘III.

‘Say, you'll get a good supper, when trav'lers arrive,
‘Though your fish is not catch'd, and your fowls are alive,
‘And you've nought in the larder, but mutton that's
‘For their appetite's good, and 'twill do them no harm.

‘And if told of the error, &c.’

IV.

In short, with a pattern like you for my guide,
I shall score well, and cater, and store, and provide,
Taking care still to put something by on the shelf,
Give my master one half, and take t'other myself.

And if told of the error, &c.’

[Exit.
RECITATIVE.
MAUDLIN.
The wench will do, I see—But hark,
What noise is that!—The Squire i'th'dark.

‘Enter the Squire.
‘MAUDLIN.
‘You'll think me, 'Squire, a forward creature,

STUD.
‘May Dapple throw me, but each feature
‘Sparles like the morning dew.

‘MAUDLIN.
‘I never saw the like of you,
‘So kind—

‘STUD.
‘—Dear Ma'am!

‘MAUDLIN.
‘—So complimenting!
‘Really I am half consenting.

‘STUD.
The music of a pack of hounds,
‘Was ne'er so sweet as those dear sounds.
‘But come, we have no time to spare:
‘Where must I go?

‘MAUDLIN.
‘—In there, in there;
‘But for thy life, no noise, I pr'ythee;
‘In twenty minutes I'll be wi'thee.
‘But, should you first betray, then hate—

‘STUD.
‘May I ne'er leap a five-barr'd gate,
‘If ever I'll be so affronting!
‘It is in love as 'tis in hunting.

‘AIR.

‘No babbler be, if you would push
‘Your fortune with the fair;
‘Those who the loudest beat the bush
‘But seldom start the hare.

‘Silent as a hound at fault,
‘Or badger kept at bay,
‘Or mistress puss, whom we have sought,
‘And who has stolen away;
‘Thus to your secret I'll be true,
‘Nor e'er start thought shall injure you.
‘No babbler, &c.

‘A dog you've seen, when for the scent
‘He snuffs the pregnant air,
‘So still, so buried, so intent,
‘He's fix'd and rooted there,
‘Thus to your secret I'll be true,
‘Nor e'er start thought shall injure you.
‘No babbler, &c.

[Exit.
Enter Serjeant Pike.
RECITATIVE.
PIKE.
Ha! my divinity, art thou there!
‘Never was Venus half so fair;
‘Nay, look not on me, lest I die?’
Thousands of loves my hearts ensnare;
‘Their darts twang through my very marrow,
‘And every twinkle is an arrow:’
In short, like Sweden's king at Bender,
O'ercome by numbers, I surrender.

MAUDLIN.
Well, get you into number seven—
But you'll be true.

PIKE.
—I will, by heaven!

MAUDLIN.
Do you then love to that degree?

PIKE.
I'd hang! I'd drown! I'd starve for thee!
Count all the shot that fly in battle;
Count all the strokes on drums that rattle;
Count every flash; count every pop;
Count all the groans, the wounds!—Stay, stop;
Count!—Damme, I've no more by heart!
I say, Ma'am, metaphor apart,
I love you more than life, believe me.

MAUDLIN.
And will you, Serjeant, ne'er deceive me?

AIR.
PIKE.

[I.]

Madam, you know, my trade is war;
And what should I deny it for?
Whene'er the trumpet sounds from far,
I long to hack and hew;
Yet, Madam, credit what I say,
Were I this moment call'd away,
Were all the troops drawn in array,
I'd rather stay with you.

II.

Did drums and sprightly trumpets sound,
And death and carnage stalk around;
Did dying horses bite the ground,
And we no hope in view;
Was the whole army lost in smoke,
Were they the last words that I spoke,
I'd say, and damme if I joke,
I'd rather stay with you.

III.

Did the foe charge us front and rear;
Did ev'n the bravest face appear
Impress'd with signs of mortal fear;
Though never veteran knew
So terrible and hot a fight;
Though all my laurels it should blight,
Though I should lose so fine a sight,
I'd rather stay with you.

[Exit.
Enter Joe.
RECITATIVE.
MAUDLIN.
Now stir not for your life!—So, so—
What noise is that? 'Tis my sweet Joe.
Make, dearest love, what haste you're able,
And take two horses from the stable.
This key, I fancy, will unlock it,
And I've some money in my pocket.

AIR.
JOE.

[I.]

What are Plutus' gilded toys,
What, compar'd to Love's rich joys!
Toys that wordly mortals prize,
Souls of finer sense despise;
Free together let us rove,
Heart for heart, and love for love.

II.

Free from tumult, frowns and strife,
Free from all that burthens life,
Blythely let us seek the plains
Where eternal pleasure reigns;
Free together let us rove,
Heart for heart, and love for love.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Enter Crump.
RECITATIVE.
Here, Maudlin! Grace! what are you doing?
I'm sure there is some mischief brewing;
Upon the stairs I met the Squire,
And Grace cried—Mount, Sir, one pair higher.
Then, as below I close kept sentry,
The Serjeant glided through the entry—
Was ever usuage half so scurvy!
They turn my house here topsy-turvy!
‘Mortals thus hamper'd have resources,
‘They've Doctor's-Commons and divorces:
‘But we poor cuckolds of the sky
‘Marry to all eternity;

‘However, I'm a little in for't,
‘And damme if I care a pin for't—’
I will no longer bear this raillery:
But see a light comes through the gallery.
Enter Grace.
Here Grace; i'th'dark this hour I've grop'd.
Where is my wife?

GRACE.
—Sir, she's elop'd.

CRUMP.
Elop'd—elop'd! and have I then
Left gods to be thus used by men?
Adieu, my forge, the anvil's clangor,
The red-hot iron's fiery anger!
Ye one-eyed Cyclops! Ætna's roar!
For Vulcan's occupation is no more.
AIR.

O! that a gem'man shou'd thus be ty'd
Unto a vixenish wanton wife!
I wou'd in heaven that she had died,
And never seen this life.
Flirting, flirting, flirting;
Sporting, sporting, sporting;
Courting, courting, courting;
All, all by turns:
With Stud, or with Pike,
Coquetting alike;
While this poor little head
Dreams nightly in bed,
Of something here that burns and burns,
And feels like sprouting horns.

GRACE.
Lord, Sir, don't take it so to heart;
Was I as you are, for my part,
I'd let her go for one more kinder.

CRUMP.
That's true, indeed; but where to find her!—

GRACE.
And you don't know? A likely story!
Sir, she I speak of stands before you.

CRUMP.
Will you then on me take compassion?

GRACE.
Yes to be sure, Sir, 'tis the fashion,
When Madam such a trick has play'd,
The husband always takes the maid.

AIR.
CRUMP.

[I.]

Let thundering Jove lead a boisterous life,
Out-thunder'd each hour by the voice of his wife;
Like a Harlequin, let him, disguis'd, play the fool,
A swan, or a whirlwind, a crow, or a bull;
Of such shifts in no need, of no wife's tongue afraid,
Hereafter, I mean to take up with my maid.

II.

‘Let Apollo, sonata's hum-strum on his harp,
‘To please listening gods, who can't tell flat from sharp;
‘Let him follow his Daphne, and welcome for me;
‘And instead of a bedfellow clasp a cold tree.
‘My Daphne, thank heav'n, I can easy persuade;
‘And I'm wisely resolv'd to take up with my maid.

‘III.

‘Let Mars and let Bacchus, two birds of a feather,
‘Of wine talk and war, till they're both drunk together,
‘The terror of all who live peaceable lives,
‘Beating watchmen, and picking up other men's wives,
‘I've no wife, so I cannot such projects be play'd,
‘Who would not like me then take up with his maid?’

IV.

Henceforth, then my wife may parade through the skies,
Like nymphs in the Strand to pick up some new prize,
Of Mars and Adonis and Jove at the call,
For now, thank my stars, I have done with them all.
Of your tricks and your fancies no longer afraid,
Good-night, all ye gods!—I'll to bed with my maid.

[As he is going towards a chamber with Grace, a clap of thunder is heard.
RECITATIVE.

Why, what the devil's this I wonder?
[Thunders.
Nearer and nearer comes the thunder,
Some plot against me I'll lay odds!

SCENE the last.

Changes to Olympus, where all the Gods and Goddesses are discovered.
CRUMP.
My rib again, by all the gods!

GODS AND GODDESSES.
Ha, ha, ha, ha!—

CRUMP.
—I smell a rat,
A pretty game they have been at!

JUPITER.
How, master Crump! What don't you know,
Your old friends, Serjeant Pike, and Joe?
Squire Stud, Ned Gauge, and Master Drub,
And all the good folks of the club?

VULCAN.
I've nothing for't, but brazen't it out!

[Aside.
MARS.
Come, come, old boy, you must not pout;
'Tis over now; but, pr'ythee, tell us,
Was not you most confounded jealous?
Did we not finely fret and stew you?

VULCAN.
Ha, ha, ha, by the lord I knew you!

JUPITER.
Well done, old Vulcan, not to flatter,
You put a good face on the matter:
Then what was meant well, well receive,
To men, through you, advice we give;
This little frolic was design'd,
A wholesome lesson for mankind.

FINALE.
Cho.
Then be content, ye mortal race,
Nor wish to change, nor fate, nor place;
You must of good and ill have share,
And nature's nature every where.

Jup.
Once on a time, when men complain'd
They were with ills too tightly stain'd;
I publish'd in a certain town,
That each might lay his burden down,
And take up that, more to his mind,
Some other mortals left behind.
When soon (to see the ways of men)
Each begg'd to have his own again.

Cho.
Then be content, &c.

Mars.
I heard you once the tale relate,
A son took up his dad's estate;
But when the youngster had found out
The packet held old age, the gout,
The rheumatism and the stone,
He quickly begg'd to have his own;
And swore he'd never ask for wealth,
So he might have again his health.

Cho.
Then be content, &c.

Venus.
A lady too, who at a rout,
(Dire chance!) had dropp'd her false teeth out,
O'erwhelm'd with shame, soon chang'd her lot,
With the poor inmate of a cot;

But when she found, on a straw bed,
She must repose, and eat brown bread,
Wear a plain coif, and russet gown,
She wanted false teeth, and the town.

CHORUS.
Then be content, ye mortal race,
Nor wish to change, nor fate, nor place;
You must of good and ill have share,
And nature's nature every where.

FINIS.