 | Poor Vulcan |  |
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.
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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.
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‘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.
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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?
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—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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
[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.
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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.
V.
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.
| Poor Vulcan | |