The Rover ; Or, Happiness at Last

Boyce, Samuel

THE ROVER;

INTERLUDE I.

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1. INTERLUDE I.

SCENE I.

COLIN.
RECITATIVE.

Sure we enjoy the happiest Lives of all,
Who 'tend the Flocks, and ply the Rural Call!
We dread no Change of fickle Fortune's Pow'r,
But view Contentment ev'ry flying Hour.

AIR.

The various Beauties of Nature we see,
And pass e'ery Season in Friendship and Glee;
The Warblers, to cheer us, exult on each Spray,
While Flowers their Fragrance around us display:
We court our Nymphs kind, when they Wishes inspire,
And center in them, the Delights we admire.

RECITATIVE.

But, ha! what Damsel bends her Steps this Way?
Odso! this shou'd have been my Wedding Day!
And hither Sylvia comes, forsaken Fair!
To seek her Rover, with dejected Air.
Wou'd I were somewhere from her Sight secure!—
But what I can't avoid I must endure.

SCENE II.

To him, Sylvia.
RECITATIVE.
Sylvia.
Deceitful Colin!

Colin.
So!

Sylvia.
Ungrateful Swain!

Colin.
What is it makes thee, Charmer, thus complain?

Sylvia.
What means this cold Neglect? did you not swear
This Morn shou'd view us join'd a happy Pair?

Colin.
Ha! ha! my Sylvia, canst thou be so weak
To build a Hope on aught a Youth shall speak?
When ev'ry Sense was fondly lost in Joy,
When all the Lover did my Soul employ,
Ten thousand tender Things perhaps I spoke,
As Pleasure form'd 'em, from my Tongue they broke;
That then I made this Promise, I'll allow,—
But must the Man perform the Lover's Vow?
AIR.

When first I sought your Heart to move,
And urg'd my warm Address,
You swore, by all the Pow'rs above,
I ne'er shou'd gain Success:
But long that Vow was not your Care,
You did to Love incline:
Then is it mighty strange, my Fair,
That I shou'd, too, break mine?

RECITATIVE.
Sylvia.
And must that Kindness meet with this Return?
Is that the Cause which I must ever mourn?
Sure I have to the falsest of Mankind
O, shame! my Honour, and my Heart resign'd.

Colin.
Soon as the welcome Dawn spreads o'er the Skies,
This doleful Ditty takes its awful Rise:
Remains untold till Sol his Course has run,
And often ends not with the setting Sun:

Some other Subject, Sylvia, let me hear;
The Cuckoo's Tone must tire the list'ning Ear.
AIR.

Consider discreeetly, ere Wedlock you choose,
That nothing but Death can the Bondage unloose;
As Fancy directs, you may now sport and play,
And clasp a new Lover with e'ery Day;
But then, One alone all your Beauty obtains,
And who'd give their Freedom, to rattle in Chains?

Six Months I have lov'd; 'tis too soon too believe
In Man, that's so cunning, and prone to deceive;
First judge well my Temper, my Humour, and Parts,
For joining of Hands often seperates Hearts.
And when I perceive no Objection remains
I'll marry, and joyfully rattle my Chains.

RECITATIVE.
Sylvia.
How shou'd we act, our certain Fate to shun?
If coy we are disdain'd, If kind undone.
AIR.

When soft Ideas fill the Mind
With pleasing am'rous Pain,
What can a harmless Virgin do?
Resistance is in vain:
For, ah, to hear the deep-fetch'd Sigh,
Behold the streaming wat'ry Eye,
And not, through Sympathy, comply,
Was past the Art of Sylvia.

The Maid who never yet was try'd
Knows not her Virtue's Pow'r;
For oft' the Victim Conq'ror turns,
In one unguarded Hour.
Me, me! ye Nymphs forbear to blame!
But shun the Rock that wrecks my Fame.
Go strait, Betrayer, and proclaim
To all, the Fate of Sylvia.

RECITATIVE.
Colin.
That I'm above; conceal'd my Transports dwell;
For know, sweet Maid, I scorn to kiss and tell.
Now let's divide, my Sylvia, and repair
You to some kinder Youth, I to as kind a Fair.

Exit.

SCENE III.

SYLVIA.
RECITATIVE.
O, Tyrant Love! how partial is thy Reign!
Why must I still admire the perjur'd Swain
Ah! let thy Force, alike, to him be known,
Inform his Heart, or send me back my Own.
AIR.

Thou bubbling Brook, didst thou not hear,
My faithless Shepherd to me say,
When I am false, to thee, my Dear,
That gurgling Rill shall cease to play?
Your murm'ring Course you still pursue,
But Colin is, alas! untrue.

The wing'd Musicians of the Air,
Cry'd he, shall all their Notes suspend;
And Spring forget the rising Year,
Before my Constancy shall end.
The Birds their tuneful Songs proclaim,
And all, but Colin, is the same.

Why is our Sex so tender fram'd?
Why model'd on so frail a Plan?
How vain the Art by Woman claim'd,
Oppos'd to half the Wiles of Man!
In what we most adore and prize;
In Beauty, lurking Ruin lies.

[Exit.]

SCENE IV.

Strephon, Delia.
RECITATIVE.
Streph.
Jove form'd thee, Delia, in a Mold divine,
And from an Angel's Beauties fashion'd thine;
But still an Imperfection dulls the Whole,
If gentle Love can never touch thy Soul.

Delia.
Strephon, 'tis vain, so flatter me no more,
I bid Defiance to its tinsel Pow'r;
Too many have embrac'd the fatal Bribe,
But Delia ne'er shall grace th'unhappy Tribe.
Th'Admirer's Hand the spangled Adder stings,
Thus Grief to simple Maids, from Flatt'ry springs.

Streph.
Ah much, my Dear, you wrong your Swain, indeed,
Full from my Heart my Sentiments proceed;
My Passion's Merit let your Wisdom prove,
And from Deceit distinguish honest Love.

DUET.
[Streph.]
Let other Youths the Fair delude,
Regardless of their future Good,
Such Thoughts are far from me;
Much gentler Views engage my Mind,
And but in sacred Ties combin'd,
Cou'd I be bless'd with thee.

Delia.
A Maiden should with Patience wait,
And ponder well the Marriage State,
Ere fasten'd in the Noose;
A smiling Sky may cloud ere Noon,
And in the wedded Youth too soon,
We may the Lover lose.

Streph.
Whom worldly Toys to meet invite
Ne'er Taste the Nuptial near Delight,
Nor feel a real Joy:
But, when a mutual Pair approve,
In Hymen's silken Rein to move,
Their Bliss can never cloy.

Delia.
Your Love, young Strephon, may be just,
But 'tis imprudent soon to trust,
Besides I'm yet not won.
Who wed, in haste, in haste repent,
They never know the Balm Content,
But are in haste undone.

RECITATIVE.
Streph.
How long must I in this Suspence remain?

Delia.
Hark! how my tender bleating Lambs complain!

Streph.
Oh, cheer your Shepherd with a parting Smile!

Delia.
The Game is sweetest when 'tis won with Toil.

[Exit.

SCENE V.

STREPHON.
AIR.

Grant, Reason, thou unerring Guide!
An am'rous Youth thy Aid,
Nor let me sink beneath the Pride,
Of a too-beauteous Maid.

How simple he who, to possess,
To Grief for Succour flies;
That Love which Sighs and Tears express,
The Nymphs of Sense despise.

Ye ruling Pow'rs! who form'd the Fair,
Shou'd Delia ne'er be mine,
Let but a Glimpse of Hope appear,
And I will not repine.

But if I happier Fate shall see,
To sooth these soft Alarms,
When e'er it suits your just Decree,
O, bless my longing Arms!

SCENE VI.

To him, Colin.
RECITATIVE.
Colin.
Ha! Strephon! how! wrapt up in Thought profound?
Has cruel Cupid given the fatal Wound?

Streph.
What is the Chance makes Colin come this Way?
Is any of your fleecy Care astray?

Colin.
No, Strephon, faith I've better Sport in view,
Which, wert thou not in Love, I'd tell thee too.
Come say—the Charmer—how begins her Name?
Nay, tell your Friend the Object of your Flame.

Streph.
If Signs of Passion stand in me confess'd,
Know, that a Lover can't abide a Jest;
Tho' yet you've scap'd, you may a Victim fall,
For Love, like Death, is sure to visit all.

Colin.
Ha! ha! no I defy the brightest Fair
To give my easy Heart an Hour's Care;
What Love so strong but with Possession ends?
A Maxim that, on which it fix'd depends.
AIR.

When e'er a beauteous Nymph I spy
My Fancy's all on fire;
I long to her Embrace to fly,
And revel in Desire.
My Faith I swear, and sigh my Pain,
Tho' much for both too wise:
For Conquest ne'er attends the Swain,
Who can't himself disguise.

Then shou'd the Fair-one haughty prove,
And my fond Suit disdain;
When Arts, nor bold, nor tender move,
She's soon forgot again:
But, if to crown me with Success
She kindly does comply,
I of the Nymph require, but this;
To love as long as I.

RECITATIVE.
Streph.
O, never style it by so great a Name!
'Tis Lust, mere Lust, a mean and dang'rous Flame:
Love is divine! its Joys are never ceas'd,
And what you think the greatest, I deem the least.

Colin.
Poor Youth! enraptur'd, past Recovery quite,
Who wou'd but pity such a woful Plight!
Young Strephon, dancing on the flow'ry Green,
The other Morn, a pretty Maid was seen;
Not far from hence, her little Flock she 'tends,
On whom my present Happiness depends:
Just now I'm going to attack the Fair,
Sigh out my Soul and die away in Air:
And tho' I'm conscious she was made for me,
Quit this unseemly Mood, I'll yield her up to thee.

Streph.
Why really, Colin, now you're wond'rous kind,
Pray keep your Favour, I'm to Fate resign'd.

Colin.
But prithee sigh and sob a little, do,
That I may learn, when wounded, how to woo.

Streph.
My Ear I to such Fool'ry can't incline.

Colin.
He must be soft who gives himself to thine.
Strephon, farewell, indulge your Melancholly,
And may the scornful She correct your Folly.

[Exeunt seperately.

SCENE VII.

DELIA.

Strephon alone cou'd thus affect me here,
No longer will I diffident appear.

AIR.

When Love inspires the female Heart,
When through each Vein the trickling Smart,
Its pleasing Course pursues,
Tho' Custom bids our Sex be shy,
When Virtue prompts us to comply,
The home-felt mutual Bliss to try;
How can we long refuse?

RECITATIVE.

Now here comes Shade to set my Shepherd off:
One wins my Soul, the other makes me laugh.

SCENE VIII.

To her, Colin.
Colin.
Say heav'nly Maid! thou fairest of thy Kind!
When shall thy ardent Suitor Comfort find?
O, let Compassion heighten ev'ry Grace,
And save a Youth, most wretched of his Race.

Delia.
If you'd divert me don't give over yet;
Come, say what Charms I've got since last we met.

Colin.
Ah, Delia! cease to teaze your Lover so,
Your captivating Beauty well you know;
Young Cupid on your snowy Bosom lies,
And ev'ry Arrow's hoarded in those Eyes:
Their dire Effect I cannot long endure;
You caus'd the Pain, and shou'd apply the Cure.
AIR.

Jove meant that Face to please the Sight,
That graceful Shape to yield Delight,
And all thy bright transcendent Charms,
To bless some happy Lover's Arms:
Let me on their mild Influence live,
And Joy at once receive and give.

RECITATIVE.
Delia.
Ah, Colin! Colin, I am much afraid
That Tongue has ruin'd many a harmless Maid:
If false to them, you'll not be true to me.

Colin.
Some other pretty Thoughts will do I see.
(Aside.)
Think! think, how much you all your Sex excell!
Were I on that fair panting Breast to dwell,
My Love and Life shou'd but together die.

Delia.
What Nymph but wou'd to such a Swain comply?

(Aside.)
Colin.
O, never Pause! see yon inviting Bow'r,
There let us offer Love a happy Hour;

Screen'd in the Shade, where fanning Breezes blow,
We'll taste the Transports Lovers only know.

Delia.
Ha! ha! vain Youth, stand off, at Distance keep,
Give o'er th'Attempt, and watch your straggling Sheep.

Colin.
Does Delia glory in her Lover's Pain?

Delia.
The Trifler shou'd be trifled with again.

Colin.
Ha! have the Prospect full in view and miss!
What a confounded Disappointment's This!

(Aside.)
DUET.
[Colin.]
Behold yon blooming Rose!
Which scents the Morning Dew;
Triumphing, as it grows,
In Prime of Youth like you:
But when cool Autumn takes his Round,
Tho' now in Pomp array'd,
'Twill strow with blighted Leaves the Ground,
While all its Beauties fade.
Then snatch at Pleasure, e're too late,
Lest, Delia, you receive such Fate.

Delia.
That Damask Rose, so bright,
Upon its Stalk will thrive,
And treat the Smell and Sight,
While native Sweets survive:
But pluck the Flow'r 'twill only please,
A momentary Stay;
Its Glories die, its Odours cease,
'Tis scorn'd, and thrown away.
Thus when a Nymph to Folly's won,
By all she's slighted when undone.

RECITATIVE.
Colin.
This Modesty too far extends its Sway,
That matchless Form was meant for Sport and Play;
I ne'er before thus knew the Bait to fail.

(Aside.)
Delia.
Such feeble Arguments will ne'er prevail.
AIR.

You've told me what Beauty appears in my Face,
And how like a Goddess I'm shap'd,
Yet, Colin, I'm certain I still have a Grace
Your narrow Observance has 'scap'd.

'Tis Virtue that shines in the Virgin's bright Eyes,
And adds to her Mein ev'ry Charm:
'Tis that which attracts the Regard of the Wise,
But never a Fool can alarm.

Here Virtue and Reason I hope are ally'd,
With Passion united to both:
And when you can conquer my Guard and my Pride,
I am your's for ever! sweet Youth.

[Exit.
RECITATIVE.
Colin.
With Justice she contemns me!—Yet I fear,
That very Scorn has struck me much too near.
How a short Moment turns the varied Mind!
How Virtue frustrates all by Vice design'd!
Cou'd I betray her?—no,—the Thought's suppress'd,
And what was once my Hope I now detest.
O, Love!—if this be Love, I'm lost indeed,
For such a Wretch as I, can ne'er succeed.

[Exit.

The End of the First Interlude.

University of Virginia Library

1. INTERLUDE I.

SCENE I.

SCENE II.

SCENE III.

SCENE IV.

SCENE V.

SCENE VI.

SCENE VII.

SCENE VIII.