Little John And The Giants A Dramatic Opera |
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 | Little John And The Giants |  |
SCENE I.
Before the House of the Goods.Enter Dorothy Good, Jack Good, and Grace Good.
Dor.
Ah! Jacky, Jacky, these are fine romances—
That little noddle is so full of fancies!
Unfeather'd rambler, whither would'st thou roam,
And straggle, like a callow wren, from home?
A callow wren—no, Jacky!—if thou'lt part,
Thou'lt be a hawk, to tear thy mother's heart.
Jack.
Good mammy, peace!—no more your son importune;
In-sooth, I must abroad to seek my fortune:
For once a witch foretold, as witches can,
That Little Jack was made—for a great man.
Dor.
My Jacky, all ambition is a snare,
Twisted by danger, shame, and care!
Nor let false hopes thy childish fancy cheat;
Content is happy!—Good is Great!
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AIR VI.
Tune. “If all the Fair Maids.”[I.]
Ambition, like Jack-o-the-Lanthorn bewitches;Ambition, like Jack-o-the-Lanthorn bewitches;
And leads you, benighted, through dirt and through ditches.
Dol, dol, &c.
II.
Your griping for gold, a beggarly itch is;Your griping for gold, a beggarly itch is;
And Virtue, tho' humble, looks down upon riches.
Dol dol, &c.
III.
Your great men, and state men, the higher their pitch is,Your great men, and state men, the higher their pitch is;
By climbing, the broader they shew us their breeches.
Dol, dol, &c.
Dear mammy, cease all further qualms and queries;
This frolick was not bred of my vagaries:
Then, since it must be told you, hear a wonder—
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The three last nights as to my bed I hied me,
Methought, an ancient madam stood beside me;
Her kerchief with her eyes and nose was slubber'd,
Her gown was tatter'd, and her cheeks were blubber'd:
“Jacky,” she cried—and sure she was no other—
“I am, my child, thy true and loving mother!
“My farm that was so fenced, is run to ravage!
“My bleating flocks devour'd by Giants savage.
“Up, Jacky, up, have at the raggamuffins!
“For thee I've chosen, to give these blades their buffings.”
Dor.
Alack, one of these lubbards would not think ill,
To lay your tiny rougeship in a wrinkle.
Jack.
Fear them not, mammy: bulk gives place to art,
And strength and cunning to a valiant heart.
And better you have taught than school or college,
That “simple goodness is the shrewdest knowledge.”
AIR VII.
Tune. “There was three valiant Welshmen.”Thro' all the world, your Davids still have pull'd Goliahs down;
And little were your mighty men, your men of great renown.
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And Giants to your Jacky, are but ganders to a cock.
Well, Jacky, well, I must not say thee nay:
When thy dear country bids, away, away!—
I will but stop, since things are past redressing,
To bring my child his cake, and give a mother's blessing.
[Exit.
Jack.
Bless me, the girl has plenty of salt water!—
Why does my Gracey whimper?
Grace.
'Tis no matter—
Jack.
My sweeting sister, take this kiss; and take
The prizes that I won at our last wake—
These letter'd garters, ribband, rose, and thimble,
With all the cash I have, one silver nimble!
And soon I'll bring a baby-house, and dollies;
A husband too, with other pretty follies.
Grace.
I care not for your trumpery; for they
Have nought for me, who take their love away.
Go to your folk of falsehood and formality,
Your masque of stately mummers, court, and quality!
But soon, mayhap, you'll wish, my little mister,
You'd staid and play'd hot-cockles with your sister.
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AIR VIII.
Tune. “Dole and woe fa'our Cat.”I.
For often my mammy has told,And sure she is wondrous wise,
In cities that all you behold,
Is a fair, but a faithless disguise.
II.
That the modes of a court education,Are train-pits and traitors to youth;
And the only fine language in fashion,
A tongue that is foreign to Truth.
III.
Where Honour is barely an oath,Where knaves are with noblemen class'd;
Where Nature's a stranger to both,
And Love an old tale of times past.
IV.
Where laughter no pleasure dispenses,Where smiles are the envoys of art;
Where joy lightly swims on the senses,
But never can enter the heart.
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V.
Where hopes and kind hugs are trepanners,Where Virtue's divorced from Success;
Where cringing goes current for manners,
And worth is no deeper than dress.
VI.
Where Favour creeps lamely on crutches,Where Friendship is nothing but face;
And the title of duke, or of duchess,
Is all that entitles to Grace.
Sister, with thee I could for ever live—
I go not to gain happiness, but give!
AIR IX.
Tune. “Lochaber.”Jack.
[I.]
Farewell to my Gracey, my Gracey so sweet!Though parting be painful, how pleasing to meet!
Thy Jacky will languish and look for the day,
That shall kiss the dear tears of his sister away.
Though honour in groves of tall laurel should grow,
And fortune in tides should eternally flow;
Nor honour, nor fortune, shall Jacky detain,
But he'll come to his sister, his Gracey again.
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II.
Again at our door, in the morning of spring,To see the sun rise, and hear goldfinches sing;
To rouse our companions and queens of the May
In copses to gambol, in meadows to play
At questions and forfeits, all ranged on the grass;
To gather fresh chaplets, each lad for his lass;
To whoop-and-to-hide, and play tag on the plain,
Thy Jack shall return to his Gracey again.
III.
Or alone in his Gracey's sweet company blest,To feed the young Robins that chirp on the nest;
To help at her medicines and herbs for the poor,
And welcome the stranger that sits at the door;
At night o'er our fire, and cup of clear ale,
To hear the town news and the traveller's tale;
To smile away life till our heads they grow hoar,
And part from my sheep and my Gracey no more
| Little John And The Giants | |