 | Little John And The Giants |  |
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SCENE II.
Jack enters, and salutes the Company, the Chief Beggars behind him, with two Boxes.Galigantus waves his Wand; and starts from the Table, on perceiving that Jack does not move.
Gal.
Ha! friends! what sneaking rascal's this?—Adzooks!
Who let him in?—I do not like his looks.
Jack.
Health and fair hopes to all—and little danger
Of grace, I trust, and welcome to a stranger!
Galig.
What is thy name?
Jack.
John Good.
Galig.
Say'st thou, John Good?
A family unheard of since the flood!
What is thy trade?
Jack.
So please you, as trades go,
The exhibition of a raree-show.
Galig.
A courtly occupation! Pray, let's hear.
AIR XXXIV.
Tune. “Who'll see my Gallantee Show?”Jack.
I.
I first present you a Prime Minister,Free from thought or action sinister;
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Himself his country's trust, and treasure!
Who'll shew me such a show?
II.
Here's Humility in high station;Dignity strip'd of Ostentation;
Friendship here out-goes profession;
Here is Power without Oppression.
O the finest show!
III.
Who'll see Honesty in a Miser?Fops from France return the wiser?
Wealthy Poets, and poor Receivers?
Lawyers in future rewards believers?
O the curious show!
IV.
Here's Dependence without Servility;Peers to Virtue who owe Nobility;
This you scarce will credit till you see,
Next, where Piety weds with Prelacy!
Such a wondrous show!
V.
Courtly dames with Chastity laden;Widows in will, each soul a maiden;
Nuns secluded from all temptation;
Friars, and yet no fornication!
A pound to see the show!
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Sure, of all lying rascals, thou'rt the chief!
The least of these out-brazens all belief.
What has your fellow got in yonder chest?
Jack.
Prime merchandize, the newest and the best!
Galig.
Produce—
AIR XXXV.
Tune. “Meat for your Master.”Jack.
I.
To supply the defects of my country so dear,Has been the great bent of my labours.
I have Glasses for those (tho' mayhap they're not here)
Who are blind to the faults of their neighbours!
II.
Here are Cloaks for the covering of personal crimes,With charms of due magic enchanted;
Pomatum and Wash for the scurf of the times,
They were never so thoroughly wanted.
III.
Here are Crutches for those who in virtue are lame,And Stilts for support of high station;
Sophistical Varnish to gloss a foul scheme,
And patches for spots in the nation.
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IV.
Here are Politic Scissars to slit a debate,And of parties to cut the best tether;
And needles to stitch up the flaws of a state,
And to sew rotten friendships together.
A wondrous schedule—or a wondrous lye!
Whoe'er is conscious of his faults, may buy.
All.
Not I, not I.
Galig.
What's in thy casket?
Jack.
All exotic ware—
Curiosities for courtiers, rich and rare!
Galig.
Lets see thy trumpery?
Jack.
'Tis cheap, to chatter—
You'll find the purchase no such easy matter.
AIR XXXVI.
Tune. “Bonny Shoemaker.”I.
Who will buy, who will buy,Who will purchase, without money;
Gems of price,
Neat and nice,
Jewels bright and jewels bonny?
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II.
Here they are—each gem a star!Above the wealth the world can muster—
In the night,
Affording light,
Beyond the sun's meridian lustre!
My lord, observe this casque—how free from stain!
How pure, tho' homely; and how neat, tho' plain!
How wonderfully decent!
Galig.
What a pox!
Why, I see nothing, but a pedling box!
Jack.
This is called Modesty—a simple case!—
Its wealth is in its Bosom, not its Face.
AIR XXXVII.
Tune. “Pudreen Mare.”
Come all ye gay gallants, for pleasure who proul;
Come all ye young racers, who strain for the goal;
Come all ye stout wrestlers, who strive on the plain;
Come all ye fond merchants, who trade on the main!
Come all ye young racers, who strain for the goal;
Come all ye stout wrestlers, who strive on the plain;
Come all ye fond merchants, who trade on the main!
Come all, who expend your short candle, in quest
Of phantoms, still followed, and still unpossessed!
In vain you search, wander, strain, struggle, and steer—
The Prize you all wrestled and run for, lay here!
Of phantoms, still followed, and still unpossessed!
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The Prize you all wrestled and run for, lay here!
Now all, whose eyes are proof to living fire—
Behold, remark, examine, and admire!
[Opens the Box.
Galig.
What, do you bam us, rogue? Beware your bones!—
The devil a thing I see but pebble stones—
What say you, sir?
Gent.
Your lordship grows facetious:
Though I'm no chap, I own the stones are precious.
Jack.
Your bats and buzzards only see by night;
But want of eyes is not the want of light.
Observe, that these Two Gems are from above—
These two eternal brilliants, Truth and Love!
From whose bright chips and polish, were compiled
These living sparks, and thence the Virtues styled;
Once joined and visible on Aaron's breast—
Now rarely seen, and partially possest!
AIR XXXVIII.
Tune. “Suba roo roo.”Who will buy, who will buy?
Observe, and you'll own, sir,
In each radiant stone, sir,
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And grace they refer to.
Will you buy, sir!
AIR XXXIX.
Tune. “Bohil-beg-buee.”Here probity stands confest,
His truth on his visage exprest;
For his face is of kin to the beauty within,
That keeps festival still in his breast.
What's your demand for this?
Jack.
Your cent. per cent.
Which Heaven to man as to a factor lent;
Not to be idly piled, but freely used;
Not to be cramped and buried, but diffused.
When I would part the miser and his store,
I ask him not to give, but to restore.
AIR XL.
Tune. “My Minny thought lang.”For see, with how blithsome and courteous a grace,
Your friend Hospitality shows you his face!
His heart is as open and kind, as his inn;
And holds the same cheer and free welcome within.
His heart, &c.
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Who offers now?
Lady.
Pray, let me see—
What do you call this jewel?
Jack.
Charity!
A gem of curious powers, that can excite
From anguish transport, and from tears delight.
AIR XLI.
Tune. “My Father and Mother sent me far.”For to her wealth all spent on want,
Where Charity's reclined,
The moving tale of wretchedness,
Still rolling in her mind—
Her sighs and tears are still a fund
Of bounty in distress;
And she delights to share the woe,
She can no more redress.
Thanks for your whining comment, and your text!
But keep your pleasant tears for who comes next.
Bully.
The name, and price, of this?
Jack.
It is a stone
All Bullies want, yet would be thought to own;
'Tis Courage, sir!—to gain it, you must part
A conscience that runs trembling to your heart;
That shuns the light, that supplicates the shade,
Yet starts amid the gloom itself has made.
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AIR XLII.
Tune. “Ballin a Mony oroo.”On what a firm rock here does Fortitude fix!
Around him, in war, all the elements mix.
The hurricane rages, the tempest it boils;
Loud thunders are launch'd at his head, and he smiles.
My little gentleman, so pert and queer,
What must I give you for this trifle here?
Jack.
Your insolence of riches, that mislead
Your steps from real wealth, and make you poor indeed.
AIR XLIII.
Tune. “Æneas wandering Prince of Troy.”Humility, her crown aside,
Here stoops to wash the feet of Pride:
Averse to all the world calls great,
She fain would fall and sink from state;
Yet sink, or fall, howe'er she will,
She finds the world beneath her still.
Your pleasure for this gem so bright and strange?
I barter all my fortune, in exchange.
Jack.
Demand some other time—you offer well—
The price, in public, I'm right loth to tell.
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AIR XLIV.
Tune. “Past one o'Clock.”How mild, in this ruby, pale Chastity flushes,
And tinctures with crimson her form of light!
Unconscious of guilt at her beauty she blushes,
And wraps each proportion and charm from sight.
All hush'd as rock'd infants, all sweet as the folding rose,
Her lips with reluctance the balm of her breath disclose:
Her eyes look abashed at their brightness; yet still she shows
Brighter, by veiling whate'er is bright.
What may you call this pearl?
Jack.
'Tis Reputation—
Of price immense, to ladies in your station!
Lady.
What's the demand?
AIR XLV.
Tune. “The bonny Christ Church Bells.”Jack.
Would you wear
This Pearl so rare,
Then, Fair one, list to me—
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Your tongue to still,
And leave the name
And honest fame
Of others free.
Your tittle tattle,
Prate and prattle,
Rake and rattle, all
Due victims to this pearl must fall;
Your joys
For toys,
Of folly, fops, and noise,
That noon and night the toyshop of your heart employs;
The sidelong glance,
And kindling dance,
Minc'd mein and conscious eye;
With foibles, which, you know,
In shame I spare to show—
[Lady turns off.
A price, I see, too high!
With foibles, &c.
I oft have heard of Virtue and her store;
But never saw the frippery before.
Yet there is one, that seems not much amiss;
It bears some show of worth—what call you this?
Jack.
Honour, my lord; a secondary stone!
It waits on Honesty—take both, or none.
Galig.
Speak out your full demand.
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AIR XLVI.
Tune. “Bumpers Squire Jones.”Jack.
I.
Since, sir, you requireMe, with freedom, to tell you the price I desire—
If duely obey'd,
I must claim all your shifts,
Mean resources, sly drifts,
And whole system of trade;
Each method of weaving
Court nets for enslaving,
Your chaffer for conscience, by barter and lure,
State quacks, and state nurses,
Your purging of purses,
And skinning of wounds which you wish not to cure.
II.
Each subtle essayOf spreading corruption, in order for sway;
All projects for rule,
By the bait and the bribe,
And political tribe
Of trick, traffic, and tool;
Your court broom that gathers
Moats, chaff, straw, and feathers,
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With your largess of graces,
Posts, pensions, and places,
Where talents and office are ever at strife.
III.
With these I must claim,Your entry of red coated gentry, who dream
That heroes are made, and enabled to kill,
By the courage and skill
Of a dreadful cockade—
A race, who are prouder
To spend their sweet powder
At balls, than on bullets; a terrible train
Of crimp petit maitres,
Nice seamsters and plaiters,
Beaud out for the dance of a dainty campaign!
Impudent elf!—As I hope for salvation,
The rascal would unofficer the nation;
Rout our assemblies; and our senates chouse
Of the best busts, and statues, in the house.
Sirrah, your specious offers, are a scurvy
Attempt to turn the country topsy turvy!
But should this chance—who, think you, such an ass is,
As e'er to build on your new fangled basis?
We'll none of your sham treasury!
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AIR XLVII.
Tune. “Ye Fairy Elves that be.”Galig.
I.
Come follow, follow me,Ye jolly boys all, who be
Divested of constraint
From mortified saw or saint;
To pleasure, and prank, and pastime free,
Come follow, follow, follow me!
To prank, and pleasure, and pastime free,
Come follow, follow, follow me!
II.
Let lean-ey'd Honesty bearHis merited weight of care,
And phlegm and conscience dwell
In cynical tub or cell;
But all ye lovers of game, and glee,
And feast, and frolick, come follow me!
To pleasure, and prank, and pastime free,
Come follow, follow, follow me!
III.
The pedanted priest, who fainWould ride, but wants a rein;
To moral us into controul,
Would sour the jovial soul—
The priest is cunning, and so are we;
Then priest, and people, come follow me!
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Come follow, follow, follow me!
| Little John And The Giants | |