Poor Vulcan :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poor Vulcan

a Burletta, in Two Acts

Dibdin, Charles (1745-1814)

POOR VULCAN,

ACT I.

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The lines distinguished by inverted commas, are omitted in the representation.

A Saloon supported by Clouds, with a Table, Bottles, Glasses, Bowls, &c. where Bacchus, Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, and Mercury, are sitting, singing Catches and Glees.

CATCH.

Join your right hands, to your glasses, boys,
And let the bowl go round.

Fill a bumper—higher,
Steady, steady,
Let mirth abound.

Charge your glasses—poise,
Recover! make ready!
Present! fire!

RECITATIVE.
Jupiter.
Bravo, my boys! bravo! bravissimo!
Charming! delightful! exquisitissimo!
Apollo, boy, tip us your manus;
How went our fortes and pianos?

Apollo.
All right; but, I say, bully hector,
Why don't you push about the nectar?

Bacchus.
That's right, my worthies, charge your glasses:
Come, give us one of your absent lasses.

[To Mars.
Mars.
Here's Venus,

Jupiter.
—Zounds, that's à-propos,
The strangest thing's fallen out: d'ye know
Vulcan's gone mad—

Mercury.
—That's no great wonder.

Jupiter.
'Tis true, or may I never thunder:
Horn mad!

Mars.
—The fool!

Mercury.
—Oh, dear, Oh, dear!

Apollo.
Tell us the story.

Jupiter.
—You shall hear.
[Takes a petition from his pocket.
AIR.

The humble prayer and petition
Of Vulcan, who his sad condition,
In hopes of satisfaction meeting,
To the God Jupiter sends greeting.

That your petitioner has a wife,
The plague and torment of his life;
That prudent, kind, and constant wishing her,
Humbly sets forth your said petitioner,
That might they but reside on earth,
The many ills that hence have birth,
Would then subside, and Mars, Adonis,
And divers others of her cronies,
At distance, all his cares might end,
And she, his wife, take up and mend:
To this request don't say him nay,
And your petitioner shall ever pray.

RECITATIVE.
Mars.
And have you your permission given?

Jupiter.
Yes, yes, they're bundled out of heaven;
The Cyclops—he—one of the graces,
And she, in a stage-cloud, took places;
Which diligence soon set them down
Hard by an English country town.
I took a twinkle through the ether,
And saw them settled all together.
ACCOMPANIED.

Vulcan, no more; but, goodman Crump—
Here, you behold his anvil thump;
While Venus, where good souls carouse,
Hight Maudlin, keeps a public house.

RECITATIVE.
Mars.
Zounds! to what end?

Jupiter.
—Good bully Mars,
To furnish subject for a farce.
Suppose to earth we make descent,
And plague them for their discontent;
Some mortal shape let each assume,

Mars.
I'll be a serjeant with my drum.

Bacchus.
I, an exciseman.

‘Adonis.
‘—I, a swain,
‘Will pipe and whistle o'er the plain.’

Jupiter.
A country 'squire, the stag I'll follow,
And echo rouze with whoop and hollow;
Thus Vulcan all his pranks we'll tell of,
And make the black know when he's well off;
But first let's roar another chorus,
And drain the nectar that's before us.
GLEE.

Those mortals say right, in their jovial abodes,
That a glass of good punch is the drink of the gods.
Take only a smack of
The nectar we crack of
You'll find it is punch and no more;
The ingredients they mingle,
Are contraries single,
So are ours, they're the elements four.
Then, Bacchus, for thou art the drunkard's protector,
Issue instant a fiat,
And let who dare deny it,
That nectar's good punch, and that good punch is nectar.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Skirts of a Country Town; on one Side a Blacksmith's Shop; on the other, a Public House, the sign of the Horns. Crump and his Men are at Work. Huntsmen behind.

CHORUS AND AIR.
Blacks.
Strike, strike, ton, ton, ton, ron.

Hunts.
Sound, sound, tan, ran, ran, tan.

Blacks.
Let the hammer resound,
While we take the stroke round,
Ton, ton, ton, ton, ton, ton, ton.

Hunts.
Let echo resound
The cry of each hound,
And the horn reply, ta ran, ran ton.

Crump.
Here, Maudlin, Grace, plague take you all,
Till I am hoarse you make me bawl.

Enter Grace.
Grace.
Lord, Sir, you rouse us all so soon—

Crump.
You baggage would you lie 'till noon?
Come, come, bestir you—light the fire,
'Tis late in the morn,
And the merry horn,
Says we may soon expect the 'squire.

[Crump goes to the Shop, and Grace to the House.
Cho.
Strike, strike, &c.

Re-enter Grace.
Crump.
Grace, is your mistress yet come down;
Tell her I'm going up the town,
But want to see her first—

Grace.
—I go, Sir.

[A flute heard behind.
Crump.
Hey-day, what piping's that?

Grace.
—'Tis Joe, Sir;

The shepherd Joe, who lives just here,
He plays so charmingly, Oh, dear!
Not better, Sir, pip'd Mercury,
When, one of the sister-graces, I
On Ida with the laughing loves—

Crump.
Peace, jade, and fetch my hat and gloves.

Cho.
Strike, strike, &c.

RECITATIVE ACCOMPANIED.
Crump.

Here, take these shoes to farmer Swine,
I've heard the folks laugh at that sign;
And one cried boo: another chuckled,
That's sure the house of some old cuckold.
George, go mend farmer Hedgestake's plough;
I dream'd last night, that on my brow,
Large horns grew out; and then, to-day,
Scarce to the door I'd found my way;
But perch'd upon that tree, my bane,
The cuckoo—Zounds! he's there again.

AIR.

[I.]

Tell me, am I laugh'd to scorn?
Have I on each brow a horn?
This I suspect, and if 'tis true,
Quickly answer me—Cuckoo!
I have my cue,
Alas! 'tis true,
Hark, she answers me Cuckoo.

II.

That answer's yes, the murder's out,
At least I shall no longer doubt;
But tell me, if to one or two,
Or more I am oblig'd—Cuckoo!
What more than two?
Alas! 'tis true—
Hark, she answers me—Cuckoo!

III.

In vain then do I beat my pate,
A cuckold am I dubb'd by fate,
Behold—here are my antlers—boo!
Am I not right, my friend—Cuckoo!
Then plain to view,
My fears are true;
Hark, she answers me—Cuckoo!

RECITATIVE.

To what humility I've buckled!
And shall a god be made a cuckold?
That Joe the shepherd, all her tone is,
He looks smooth-fac'd so like Adoms!
Then we've a serjeant brings his drums;
A sportsman too—but here she comes.

Enter Maudlin from the House.
AIR.

[I.]

Venus now no more behold me,
But an humble village-dame,
Coarse and homely trappings fold me,
And mistress Maudlin is my name.

II.

Yet here no less is paid that duty,
Ever due to Venus' worth,
Not more insensible of beauty,
Than gods in heaven, are men on earth.

RECITATIVE.
Maudlin.
Dear Mister Crump, you make me rise,
Before I scarce have clos'd my eyes.

Crump.
Nay, nay, 'tis not so soon, good mate.

Maudlin.
The serjeant kept me up so late—

Crump.
The serjeant! ay! ay!

Maudlin.
—Hey! how now?

Why, what a grumbling elf art thou?
You're never easy, ill nor well;
In heaven you thought yourself in hell.

Crump.
'Tis true, good wife, and now I curse
The earth, for some place ten times worse.
‘All worlds for me have plagues alike;
‘Here shepherd Joe, and Serjeant Pike,
‘Supply, to make me curse my stars,
‘The place of Jove, Adonis, Mars—

Maudlin.
‘Ungrateful villain—'pon my credit,
‘'Tis a base lie, who ever said it.’
I see how 'tis, it stops the breath o'me,
'Deed, Mr. Crump, you'll be the death o' me;
Your false suspicions sink so deep in—

Crump.
Dear me, I've set my wife a weeping.
AIR.

[I.]

When I've been working in my shop,
You many a time have seen me drop
Some water on the doubtful fire,
When I've been, &c. &c.
Which damp'd at first, more dead has grown,
But quickly, by the bellows blown,
Has chang'd from brown to dusky red,
Then brighter heat and lustre shed,
And flam'd, and sparkl'd up the higher,
Which damp'd at first, &c, &c.

II.

Thus trickling tears from you that part,
Have often damp'd my doubtful heart,
And quench'd a-while my passion's heat;
Thus trickling tears, &c, &c.
But soon arous'd by kindling eyes,
I've felt a-new my passion rise,
While sob and sigh, and sigh and sob,
Have made my bosom throb and throb,
And like sledge-hammers on it beat.
But soon arous'd, &c, &c.

‘III.

‘The ir'n too, from the fire when ta'en,
‘I've thumpt, and thumpt, and thumpt again,
‘And shap'd by sure, though slow degrees;
‘The iron too, &c, &c.
‘So you, by persevering well,
‘Have found a means my strength to quell,
‘And all by dint of practis'd art,
‘Have thumpt, and thumpt, and thumpt my heart,
‘And moulded just which way you please,
‘So you by persevering, &c, &c.’

[Exit Vulcan.
Maudlin.
He's off, thank heav'n, a while at least;
Oh, how I loath the filthy beast!
Such husbands! would the devil had 'em!
Here, Grace! I want you.

Enter Grace from the House.
Grace.
—Coming, Madam.

Maudlin.
Grace, lose no time, but instant sally
To shepherd Joe, in yonder valley;
Tell him, I'll come to him the moment
I have eat my dinner.

Grace.
—What a foment!
Lord, Madam, you're in such a magram!
And all for that poor tatter'd wagram!
If for the 'Squire you made a fuss,
One should not wonder!

Maudlin.
—Saucy puss!
I tell you, I am set upon it;
Go, and put on your cloak and bonnet.

AIR.
Grace.
I'd have you to know,
Good Madam Venus,
The difference is not so great between us:
Men, if you need 'em,
In this land of freedom,
At will, a pretty girl secures;
And as for all your airs and graces,
If you come for to go
To talk of faces,
I fancy mine is as good as yours.

You are not with your Jupiters, Ma'am, and your Mars's,
With whom you used to play such farces;
You are here in the region of liberty.
So let us have none of your fine commences;
Why, surely, good Madam, you've lost your senses:
For if so much you think yourself better than me,
I'd have you to know, &c.
[Exit.

RECITATIVE.
Maudlin.
The saucy baggage! What a clatter!
But privy-counsellors will chatter;
And, faith, in this my situation,
She is of service in that station:
For scarce had I been twenty hours
On earth, but lovers came in showers.
‘Sportsmen would stop, at me to stare,
‘Though coursing in full speed a hare;
‘Serjeants recruiting in the street,
‘Lay all their laurels at my feet.
‘The young, the old, the grave, the gay,
‘To me their adoration pay.
‘But have they won me? Alas! no,
‘None has my heart, but shepherd Joe;
‘Form'd to receive and give delight,
‘Adonis-like, he meets my fight;
‘And for his sake I'll make a jest,
‘Jeer at, and laugh to scorn, the rest.’

AIR.

[I.]

‘That nature's every where the same,
‘Each passing day discovers;
‘For that, in me
‘Some charms they see,
‘Behold me, though a country dame,
‘Leading a crowd of lovers.’

II.

My sporting 'Squire to keep at bay
The course I'll double over;
While he intent
On a wrong scent,
Shall always find me stole away,
When he cries, Hark, to cover!

III.

With new-coin'd oaths, my grenadier
May think to storm and bluster,
And swear, by Mars,
My eyes are stars
That light to love: he'll soon find here
Such stuff will ne'er pass muster.

IV.

Thus will I serve those I distrust,
First laugh at, then refuse 'em;
But, Ah! not so
The shepherd Joe;
He like Adonis look'd, when first
I press'd him to my bosom.

[Maudlin goes into the House.

Enter 'Squire Stud, Huntsmen with dogs and a dead hare.
Stud.
Hoics, hoics, my boys! House, house, here, hey!
Zounds! why, they are all stolen away.

Enter Maudlin from the house.
Maudlin.
Not all, 'Squire; I'm at home, at least.

Stud.
So broke the morning from the east.

Maudlin.
For shame!

Stud.
—What have you got to eat?

Maudlin.
Who's there? Bring hither the cold meat.

Stud.
Do, that's my hearty. And, d'ye hear?
A tankard of my favourite beer.
We'll drink it as we sit in th'air.

Maudlin.
The morning has been pure and fair.

Stud.
As fair and lovely as your face.

Maudlin.
Pha! Did it prove a pleasant chase?
What stiles and ditches have you pass'd?

Stud.
I'll tell it you from first to last.
AIR.

[I.]

The moment Aurora peep'd into the room,
I put on my cloaths, and I call'd for my groom:
Will Whistle by this had uncoupled the hounds,
Who, lively and mettlesome, frisk'd o'er the grounds.
And now we're all saddled, fleet Dapple and Grey,
Seem'd longing to hear the glad sound, Hark, away!

II.

'Twas now, by the clock, about five in the morn,
And we all gallopp'd off to the sound of the horn;
Jack Gater, Bill Babbler, and Dick at the Goose;
When, all of a sudden, out starts Mistress Puss.
Men, horses, and dogs, not a moment would stay,
And Echo was heard to cry, Hark, hark away!

III.

The course was a fine one, she took o'er the plain,
Which she doubled, and doubled, and doubled again;
'Till at last, she to cover return'd out of breath;
Where I, and Will Whistle, were in at the death;
Then, in triumph for you, I the hare did display,
And cry'd to the horns, My boys, hark, hark away.

[Exit to the house.
Enter Grace.
MAUDLIN.
So, mistress confidence, you're there?

[To Grace.
GRACE.
Yes, Ma'am, I come from you know where;
How can you doat on such a clown!

MAUDLIN.
If you expect that old silk gown,
You'll change your tone—you understand me;

GRACE.
Ma'am, to be sure, if you command me;
And now I think on him again,
He is the handsomest of men,
His eyes so tender are, and bright—
Is it the blue, Ma'am, shot with white?

STUD.
Here's that, my boys, speaks all men's lingo;
Maudlin, your health—'Tis rare good stingo.
Hey, what the devil's all this drumming!

GRACE.
As sure as eggs the Serjeant's coming?

Enter Serjeant Pike and Soldiers.
AIR.
PIKE.

[I.]

Come all you gemmen volunteers,
Of glory who would share,
And leaving with your wives your fears,
To the drum head repair;

Or, to the noble Serjeant Pike,
Come, come, without delay;
You'll enter into present pay.
Come, come, the bargain strike;
A golden guinea, and a crown,
Besides, the lord knows what, renown;
His Majesty's the donor;
And if you die,
Why then you lie
Stretch'd in the bed of honour.

II.

Does any 'prentice work too hard?
Fine clothes would any wear?
Would any one his wife discard?
To the drum head repair.
Or to the, &c.

III.

Is your estate put out to nurse?
Are you a cast off peer?
Have you no money in your purse,
To the drum-head repair.
Or to the, &c.

RECITATIVE.
PIKE.
Bring out a flaggon of strong beer—
What, lovely Maudlin, are you there?
May I ne'er conquer, if I bam ye,
You're handsomer than Venus, damme!

STUD.
Have you pretensions to that lady, Sir?

PIKE.
For love or war, I'm always ready, Sir?
And, should that lady say the word,
To answer you, I'd draw my sword.

STUD.
Damme, you'd eat it up as soon:
Come, come, friend, you are some poltroon!

Enter Crump.
AIR.
Pike.
Poltroon! Damnation! Zounds, unhand me;
Either you villain, eat that word,
Or down your throat I'll cram my sword.

Squire.
Put by your spit, you understand me;
And if I do not make you roar,
Louder than e'er did calf before—

Pike.
Let me come at him—blood and thunder,
Be sure you keep us both asunder.

Squire.
Let me come at him, I'll soon convince him,

Pike.
Damme, I'll cut him to pieces—mince him.

Squire.
Coward!

Pike.
—Hack him.

Squire.
—Braggart!

Pike.
—Hew him!

Squire.
Bully!

Pike.
—Tear him!

Squire.
—Scoundrel!

Pike.
—Stew him!

Squire.
Swaggering puppy!

Pike.
—Bang and beat him!
Broil him! fry him! roast and eat him.

Crump.
I'll try to get them both well basted.
[Aside.
Pray let them go, this time is wasted;
Instead of all this prittle prattle,
Let's have a good old English battle.

Squire.
I'll trim your jacket, Serjeant Swagger.

Crump.
Come form a ring—

Squire.
—Well, are you ready?

Pike.
I never fight before a lady;
But if you'll meet with sword and dagger,
Or o'er a barrel of gunpowder,
I am your man.

Squire.
—Hark, in your ear,
You'd be, I believe, a little prouder,
To have the barrel full of beer.

Pike.
Sir, I shall find a time, and soon—

Squire.
Go, you're a cowardly poltroon.

Pike.
Poltroon! &c.

Crump.
See of your conduct, wife, the fruit!

Maud.
Come, come, I'll finish the dispute.
Squire, do you love me?

Squire.
—Tell me, do,
If hounds the timid hare pursue?

Maud.
Then with the Serjeant, o'er a cup,
For my sake, make the quarrel up.
Serjeant, d'ye love me?

Pike.
—Honour bright!
Far better than I love to fight.

Maud.
Then with the Squire o'er a cup,
For my sake make this matter up.
You've said, you'll follow my commands,
Without more fuss then both shake hands.

CATCH.
Then cease all bickering,
Pour the liquor in,
Put about the quart,
To make the quarrel up,
Drink a barrel up,
And love the better for't.

End of the First Act.