 | Theseus and Ariadne ; or, The Marriage of Bacchus |  |
Scene Third.
—The Vines, before the Temple of Bacchus. Grand March and triumphant entry of Bacchus, returning from the Indian War.Bac.
Here, from the Indian War, return'd victorious,
I mean to get particularly glorious.
Put up my tigers, and fill up the bowls,
We'll make a day of it, my jolly souls.
A fig for Mars! If contests there must be,
This is the field, and these the arms for me!
Pleased, I discharge my pistol for a flask,
Put off my helm, and get upon my cask.
Blow gunpowder and shot, in every shape!
And pour me in a shower of my own grape!
“Ultima ratio regum” is all fun.
No reason like the raisin' of the sun!
There, in close order, hang the tempting masses,
And so—“Up lads and at 'em”—charge your glasses.
(music—The Bacchanals, &c., gather the grapes, and press them into the goblets)
Air and Chorus—Bacchus, &c.—“Der Freischutz.”
Bac.
Up and at 'em, lads and lasses!
To their muzzles charge your glasses.
Drink and shout “Victoria!”
Hip, hip, hip—hurrah, hurrah!
Bacchus leads you! ha, ha, ha!
To their muzzles charge your glasses.
Drink and shout “Victoria!”
Hip, hip, hip—hurrah, hurrah!
Bacchus leads you! ha, ha, ha!
Chorus.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
Bravo, Bacchus!—ha, ha, ha!
Bravo, Bacchus!—ha, ha, ha!
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Talk of chloroform and æther!
Balm for pain I fancy neither—
Here's the true Panace-a
In this goblet! Æther?—Psha!
Wine for ever!—Ha, ha, ha!
Balm for pain I fancy neither—
Here's the true Panace-a
In this goblet! Æther?—Psha!
Wine for ever!—Ha, ha, ha!
Chorus.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
Bravo, Bacchus!—ha, ha, ha!
Bravo, Bacchus!—ha, ha, ha!
(Bacchus sits on a barrel at the table, on which are cups and tankards, placed for him by Satyrs)
Ballet.
Enter Cupid and Dædalus.
Cupid.
There sits the bridegroom.
Dæd.
He astride the tun?
Why zounds!—that must be Bacchus!
Cupid.
Ay—the son
Of Semele, who flared up so for Jove.
What do you think of him?
Dæd.
His port I love!
Cupid.
I'll introduce you. (advancing)
Bacchus, how d'ye do?
Bac.
Cupid, my boy! who thought of seeing you!
Cupid.
Why, love and wine give zest to one another.
Bac.
You're right. I'm glad to see you. How's your mother?
Cupid.
Complains of cold.
Bac.
No doubt—with seas between us,
We all know without Bacchus “frigit Venus.”
Her better health! (drinks)
You'll join us?
Cupid.
I intend.
I took the liberty to bring a friend.
(presenting Dædalus)
Bac.
The more the merrier! Sit down, my good man.
My foster dad, Silenus—my friend, Pan.
(introducing them to Dædalus)
Wine here! your health!
Cupid.
(aside to Dædalus)
He's set in for a soaking.
Bac.
Here's pipe—and baccy—if you're fond of smoking
Dæd.
You're very kind—permit me to refuse.
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Yonder's the sort of Bacchæ I should choose.
(pointing to Bacchantes)
Bac.
Come—bumpers round! No day-lights—let's be cozy!
(dances)
A song—a dance!—Ho, music! Play up, Nosy!
(to Dædalus)
Now, Mr. What-d'ye-call, I call on you
To sing a song or tell a story.
Cupid.
Do!
Dæd.
Me!—sing!—I can't.
Cupid.
You can sing very well;
And heaven knows what a story you can tell!
Dæd.
You mean about—
Cupid.
Of course— (aside to him)
It's just the season.
You try with rhyme, and I will try with reason.
Bac.
Now—silence!—Sir, for you we're all attention!
Dæd.
Well—it's a fact I am about to mention.
So you'll excuse the real names. To scandal
I should be sorry to afford a handle.
The hero—of a great nob—is the nobby son—
Bac.
Oh, call him anything you please—Jack Robi'son!
Dæd.
Jack Robi'son? Oh, well, with all my heart.
Bac.
Come, fire away! Pan, pitch the note—now start!
Song—Dædalus—“Jack Robinson.”
The perils and dangers of the voyage past,
The ship in port here arrived at last.
The captain of her he was a rayther fast
Young fellow of the name of Jack Robi'son.
He brought with him a fine young woman ashore,
Who had got him out of a mess before;
And was now his messmate because he swore
That he'd make her, honour bright, Mrs. Robi'son.
The ship in port here arrived at last.
The captain of her he was a rayther fast
Young fellow of the name of Jack Robi'son.
He brought with him a fine young woman ashore,
Who had got him out of a mess before;
And was now his messmate because he swore
That he'd make her, honour bright, Mrs. Robi'son.
But this young woman's sister was with 'em, d'ye see,
And the captain, he says to her, “My dear,” says he,
“Shall we cut and run together?” and, by Jingo, she
Said “yes!” instead of “no!” to Jack Robi'son.
So away they went together aboard the ship,
And were soon under sail—and over his flip,
“There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip!”
Says this precious young rip, Jack Robi'son.
And the captain, he says to her, “My dear,” says he,
“Shall we cut and run together?” and, by Jingo, she
Said “yes!” instead of “no!” to Jack Robi'son.
So away they went together aboard the ship,
And were soon under sail—and over his flip,
“There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip!”
Says this precious young rip, Jack Robi'son.
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Now, poor Mrs. Jack, she had laid her down,
In the arms of Morpheus her cares to drown,
Not dreaming she was done so uncommonly brown
By her good-for-nothing sister and Jack Robi'son.
But when she woke up, as night did fall,
You may guess there was soon a pretty squall;
“My eyes!” says she, “why, I can't see Jack at all!”
And she screeched and she shouted, “Hoy! Jack Robi'son!”
In the arms of Morpheus her cares to drown,
Not dreaming she was done so uncommonly brown
By her good-for-nothing sister and Jack Robi'son.
But when she woke up, as night did fall,
You may guess there was soon a pretty squall;
“My eyes!” says she, “why, I can't see Jack at all!”
And she screeched and she shouted, “Hoy! Jack Robi'son!”
Then the tell-tale moon arose to state
That Jack was off; for he couldn't wait!
“Why, you don't mean to say, that he's got another mate?”
“Indeed I do,” says the moon to Mrs. Robi'son.
“The wretch,” says she, “while you were a-bed,
With somebody else has somewhere fled;
And you'll read in some newspaper as how you are dead!”
“Why, I've not been dead at all!” says Mrs. Robi'son.
That Jack was off; for he couldn't wait!
“Why, you don't mean to say, that he's got another mate?”
“Indeed I do,” says the moon to Mrs. Robi'son.
“The wretch,” says she, “while you were a-bed,
With somebody else has somewhere fled;
And you'll read in some newspaper as how you are dead!”
“Why, I've not been dead at all!” says Mrs. Robi'son.
Then she met a man, and she says, “I say!
Mayhap you can tell which road they went away?
It was somewhere here about.” The man said, “Nay—
Indeed I cannot!” to Mrs. Jack Robi'son.
“But to fret and stew about it now is all in vain;
So you'd better take and go to Holland, France, or Spain,
For it arn't of any use your running after him again,
As he's got another Mrs. Jack Robi'son.”
Mayhap you can tell which road they went away?
It was somewhere here about.” The man said, “Nay—
Indeed I cannot!” to Mrs. Jack Robi'son.
“But to fret and stew about it now is all in vain;
So you'd better take and go to Holland, France, or Spain,
For it arn't of any use your running after him again,
As he's got another Mrs. Jack Robi'son.”
Then the poor creature sank down upon the grass,
And she wrung her hands and she cried, “Alas!
That ever I should come to such a shocking pass,
To be sold by such a fellow as Jack Robi'son!”
Now, young ladies, all take warning by her fate, I pray,
And don't believe a word what the young chaps say;
But insist on being married in the regular way,
Or they'll be off before you can say “Jack Robi'son.”
And she wrung her hands and she cried, “Alas!
That ever I should come to such a shocking pass,
To be sold by such a fellow as Jack Robi'son!”
Now, young ladies, all take warning by her fate, I pray,
And don't believe a word what the young chaps say;
But insist on being married in the regular way,
Or they'll be off before you can say “Jack Robi'son.”
Bac.
The saddest story that I ever heard.
Dæd.
True, every bit of it—upon my word.
Cupid.
It happened here, upon this very island.
Dæd.
This very day—
Bac.
A lady left on my land!—
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Without a friend—or penny in her purse
To buy a drop of comfort!
Bac.
How?—My curse
Upon the villain! Leave the girl to sink
For want of cash to buy a drop of drink!
And whilst we're swimming in good claret here,
She may be driven to a watery bier!
Run!—those that can—and seek her out, poor soul!
We'll drown her sorrows in our own deep bowl!
I'd run myself—but don't much think I could.
(Exeunt several Bacchante)
Dæd.
Kind Bacchus, who shall say that wine's not good?
Cupid.
I say, (to Bacchus)
why don't you marry?
Bac.
Well, some day,
When I am very drunk, perhaps I may.
Dæd.
(aside)
He's not far off, then, a united state.
Cupid.
Why till you're very tipsy should you wait,
Before you enter on a married life?
Bac.
Because—I think—to venture on a wife
One must be much in love—or much in liquor.
Cupid.
Well, much in love you scarcely could be quicker.
Re-enter the Bacchante, bearing Ariadne—Cupid shoots Bacchus.
There, what d'ye say to that?
Bac.
Oh, the deuce take you!
Cupid.
If now you're not in love, nothing can make you.
Bac.
I'm shot right through the heart! A goddess, surely!
Cupid.
Ought to be one—
Dæd.
How are you?
Bac.
Very poorly.
Cupid.
You have no wound but what her smiles can heal.
Ariad.
Ogygian Bacchus, at thy feet I kneel.
Bac.
Rise, madam. Queen of such a world of charms,
We here salute you with presented arms!
This gentleman has told us your sad story,
To cheer your heart we should esteem a glory.
I whining hate, though God of Wine I am,
Your real pain I'll drown in floods of cham.
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An action, worthy sir, of generous wine.
Bac.
Fair dame, I cannot make you more divine;
But if you'll condescend my throne to share,
You never more shall know a worldly care.
Ariad.
Alas! but won't the wicked world be thinking
That I was crossed in love, and took to drinking?
Bac.
Let the world wag, and don't you be a sappy,
For what's the odds, as long as you are happy!
Ariad.
May I believe you?—I've been once so sold!
Bac.
“In vino veritas;” the priest behold!
I've my own license—here's the ring, you gipsy!
Ariad.
Then here's my hand.
Bac.
With joy I now am tipsy!
Ariad.
But Theseus—
Bac.
The Jack who left his Jill—
Cupid.
Oh, he has had a precious trip down hill!
The scene opens at the back, and discovers
| Theseus and Ariadne ; or, The Marriage of Bacchus | |