THE SERAGLIO; A COMIC OPERA. [Price One Shilling.]
THE SERAGLIO; A COMIC OPERA, IN TWO ACTS: AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL COVENT-GARDEN.
LONDON: Printed for T. EVANS, near York-Buildings, Strand. M,DCC,LXXVI.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
ABDALLAH,
Mrs. MATTOCKS,
FREDERICK,
Mr. LEONI.
GOODWILL,
Mr. DUNSTALL,
REEF,
Mr. REINHOLD.
VENTURE,
Mr. QUICK.
HASSAN,
Mr. BAKER.
GUNNEL,
Mr. BATES.
WILLIAMS,
Mr. THOMPSON.
WOMEN.
ELMIRA,
Miss WEWITZER.
LYDIA,
Miss BROWN.
CURTIS,
Mrs. GREEN.
POLLY,
Miss DAYES.
Fishermen, Sailors and Slaves.
THE SERAGLIO.
ACT I.
SCENE,
A Prospect by the Sea-side, a Cottage on one Side, at which are two Girls mending the Fishermen's Nets,
Curtis
inspecting their Work, and
Polly,
who appears melancholy. The Fishermen in the Course of the Chorus bring one Draught of Fish on Shore, and as the Chorus finishes, they pass over the Stage in their Boat, casting their Net.
CHORUS.
CURTIS and two GIRLS.
THE Sun's mounting high, we no longer can stay,
Then chearfully work away, Lasses.
CURTIS.
Take Comfort, what tho' he be gone far away,
Girl, 'tis but a Folly
To be melancholy.
POLLY.
Alas! did you know in my Bosom what passes!
CURTIS.
I know well enough, Child, for I've had my Day.
FISHERMEN.
Yo, yea—Land the Yawl,
Pull away—By the Weight,
We have caught a good Freight:
Zounds, Boys, what a Hawl.
Two GIRLS and CURTIS.
Born humble and chearful, good Humour and Health
Are Treasures to us beyond Power and Weatlh.
POLLY.
With a Prospect so charming—
CURTIS.
Hark, hark, hark, hark!
Only hear the Wood Lark,
How it makes the Air ring!
And the Black Birds, but listen, how sweetly they sing!
CHORUS.
Come, the Tide ebbs apace,
Then each Man to his Place:
This favouring Breeze
While we can let us seize;
And while the Birds carol so sweetly around,
And the Rocks and the Shore in loud Echo's resound,
We'ell be grateful to Heav'n for the Good it has sent,
And sing with good Humour, and toil with Content.
Do you hear, you must bring in another Draught as fast as you can;
[Calling to the Fishermen.]
and do you leave the Nets a little, and see that the Fish is sorted as I directed you.
[To the Girls.]
Dear me, I've a great deal of Business to mind; but no Matter for that. And now, my Child, I want to talk to thee—Bless the Heart on thee, don't be dismayed; my Goodman has promised to let thee know, the Moment he hears any Tidings of thy Father; he likes thee well—and for that Matter, so do I too; but no Matter for that.
I am pleased to hear you say so, and Lassure you—
I know what you was going to say: but there's no Occasion for your telling me, that you'll do every Thing you can to deserve it. I say it again, I love thee; but 'tis no Matter for that.—And 'tis not every young Girl would come so far after her Father: no, not if he was twenty Times over sold for a Slave.
Ah, me! If I could but find where he is, I should then be easy: but if I never find him, I shall always—
I know what you was going to say; that you'd always remember our Civility.
I was, indeed.
Look ye there now, I said so; we understand one another very well. And now tell me, what was that I cunningly drew from you, as we were walking last Night by the River's Side?—See how she blushes—Don't be asham'd, Child—the more ready you was to part with your Lover, the more Duty you shewed for your Father.
Why surely, I did not tell you any Thing that—
I know what you was going to say; that you did not, as one may say, tell me directly, who he is. Why, Child, I confess that; but I was once fifteen myself, and I remember very well, I was just such a sweet, little, tender, delicate Morsel, as you are now—I warrant, thou hast made a prudent Choice.
My Father thought so; for he consented that we should be married, upon my Lover's return from Sea.
Is he a Sailor? I said you had made a prudent Choice, my Husband has been a Sailor, and Heaven knows, we should now have been comfortably settled in
England,
with the little we had got by the Sea, if upon our Voyage, we had not been taken by those wicked
Algerines.
We were made Slaves to the Great Bashaw,
Abdallah,
and my Husband worked in the Gardens, while I attended the Ladies of the Seraglio. But we were so kindly used, that at last we plucked up Heart of Grace, and told the Bashaw all our Misfortunes. What do you think he did? He gave us our Liberty, set us up in this Business, and ever since we have served the whole Seraglio with Fish.—But if I stand idling here, I shall he scolded by my old Man—Ah! you smile at that—And well you may—He scold me!—Poor Soul—
Indeed, you seem very happy.
Why, as he often says, People are never unhappy, but it is in some Measure their own Faults—Let me see—'Tis forty Summers since we first came together, and in all that Time, we have seen nothing but smiling Days. 'Tis true, when we first fettled, the Indians came down upon us, and plundered us of all we had, and from the Fright, and one Thing or other, I had like to have died of a Fever; and once when he was at Sea, he was very near being swallowed up by a Shark; we were afterwards ship-wrecked, then sold for Slaves, after that we were confined in a close Dungeon, and every Body said, we should certainly be strangled. But no Matter for that; we had no bad Actions to tax ourselves with, and we were determined not to be frightened at any Thing.
[Exit into the Cottage.
Enter
Goodwill
to
Polly.
Ha! My little Charge, I have charming News for you.
Oh dear; have you heard any Thing of my Father?
Yes, I have seen him myself.
I wish I had seen him too—Pray where is he?
Oh, he's a very fortunate Man; what would many a one give for such a Situation—I would rather be as he is, than Overseer to a Cadi.
Is not he a Slave then.
O yes, he's a Slave.
Dear, dear.
But to such a Master—Why, do you know that he has the Honour to work in the Garden of the Seraglio of
Abdallah,
the Great Bashaw.
Dame
Curtis
has been telling me what a good Man the Bashaw is. But yet I wish my Father was not a Slave to any body.
Oh! that Bashaw will never give over doing good Things. What do you think I heard just now?
Nay, I don't know.
Why
Hali Hassan
told me, that an
English
Lady was made a Slave yesterday, and the first Thing he did, upon her coming to the Seraglio, was to let her choose her own Apartments; nay, 'tis actually said, if she behaves well, she'll be suffered to have her own Servants to wait upon her.
But what of my Father?
I could not stay with him long, for I was ordered into the Bashaw's Presence: but I did not forget to tell him, that I had great Interest, and bid him hope for better Days.
Bless you for it.
Yes: but when I told him so, he smiled, and said, he believed his good Days were over. However, I am going again by and by with some Fish, and then we shall see what's to be done.
If you are going again, will you take a Letter for me?—Oh dear, I am so happy!
Why you seem pleas'd.
I am, indeed, pleas'd.
With the Thoughts of writing to your Father, I suppose. Thou art a good Girl.
No; 'tis to the Bashaw I shall write.
To the Bashaw! Why, Child, do you know how to address such a great Man as him?
I know but little; yet I think, if I was to write, I should prevail on him to give my Father Liberty.
Then I'm sure I'll not be your Hindrance. But take Care what you are about. His Title begins, Most high and most illustrious; and in the Letter you must tell him, two or three Times, that he's a Serpent in Wisdom, and a Phoenix in Goodness.
Alas! I am a Stranger to these Things.
AIR.
I have not the Grace, and I know not the Art,
In fine Words my poor Mind to array;
But express ev'ry Thought as it flows from my Heart,
And as Nature shall point out the Way.
Yet, yet will I write, and am sure to prevail,
While to save my poor Father I try;
In the Language of Nature I'll dress a plain Tale,
And Duty the rest shall supply.
Well, well; go and get your Letter ready. I must see after the Men.
[At a Distance.]
Yo, yea.
Ahoy, Lads, I'll among you.
[
Exeunt
Goodwill
and
Polly.
SCENE,
A Street.
Enter
Frederick, Venture, Reef, Gunnell
and other Sailors. Afterwards
Polly.
[Coming on.]
My brave Fellows, you have bound me to you for ever: but follow my Fortunes no longer. No; my Pursuit is at an End: my Lydia's in Slavery, and I cannot expect that you should stay to witness the mad Excesses of a doating Lover, who is determined to rescue her, or fall in the Attempt.
And so, Master Frederick, you think, that like a Parcel of Pirates, we are to take Possession of the Ship, and leave you ashore in an Enemy's Country. As I take it, that's the Bearing of the Thing.
Come, come, I know your Kindness; but
Venture
here will be all the Assistance I shall want.
And little enough too, I believe.—But, Sir, if you'll give me leave—if you should redeem this Lady from Captivity, unless they stay, how will you get a Vessel to transport us from hence?
Oh! I know enough of Turky to manage that; however, stand off to the other Shore for two Days, and, if in the Course of that Time, I have any Success, you shall hear from me; if not, I beg you will make what Expedition you can to our Friends in
England.
Farewel then, my Lads, and may we meet in more prosperous Times.
[Reef
and the Sailors retire to a Corner of the Stage.
AIR.
Here each Morn, and ev'ry Eve,
In dewy Ray returning;
Shall share the Sorrows that I breathe,
Shall witness to my Mourning:
Echo, catch the plaintive Lay,
To her Heart discover,
How, for her, forlorn I stray,
How well, how true I love her.
If forbidden to renew
The Vows which once we plighted;
My Lydia's Fate I will pursue,
In Death, at least, united:
The latest Breath that warms this Clay,
At parting, shall discover;
How I sigh my Soul away,
How well, how true I love her.
[
Exeunt
Frederick
and
Venture.
[After a Pause.]
Hark'ee,
Jack Gunnel.
What dost say, my Hearty?
An't my Name
Tom Reef?
Why you may as well ask me, which is the Hatchway?
Well, and an't I Master and Commander of the
Lovely Betty?
To be sure you are.
And an't I beholden for every Bit of spun Yarn about her, to this young Man and his noble Father?
Ay, ay, you tell us often enough of that; you are too good a Seaman to forget who gave you your Prefarment.
And now tell me; Have I ever, in all my Command, kept a wrong Reckoning, tack'd about when I should have bore away, or done any Thing that could make you take a Notion aboard your Head, that I did not know every Rope in the Ship, and how to steer her in all Weathers?
Never, Master.
Why,
Gunnel,
you lie; for 'tis impossible, if I had not some how or other behaved in an unseaman-like Way, that my Master
Frederick
could have set me a-drift in such a Manner as he has.
Why I thought to myself; thinks I, the young Youth does not know his Soundings.
Know his Soundings! Why he'll run bump a-shore for want of a Pilot: but I'll watch him closely; for though he won't take me in tow, as I said before, I am obliged to him and his Father for all the Cargo I have, and, if there's a Call for it, he shall find, that for all this, I'll stand by him as long as my Timbers will stick together, Will you let me pilot you?
Ay, ay.
Then all Hands a-board. I'll only just take an Observation of our Bearings, and be after you in less Time than you can count three Ratlings in the Mizen Shrouds.—Away—
[The Sailors go off.
[Coming on.]
I have got my Letter ready; now to have it sent.
I have been over-hauling the Logbook of my Remembrance, and can't find how I have derserved this Usage.—Eh!—Is not that Polly?
How's this?—Surely I dream—Dear
Tom.
Why, my sweet Girl, how happens it that I should come along Side of you?
Indeed you may well ask. I have a long Story to tell you, of how I came here; but 'tis enough at present to say, that I followed my Father, who is a Slave to the Bashaw of this Place, and I have written a Letter to him, to beg he'll accept of me in his Stead, 'Till my Father is released, I can think of nothing else.
Why, then, give me thy Letter, and if I don't get him out of the Bilboes, say I have bore up to you under false Colours, that's all.
And will you think of me when we are parted?
Think of thee! When a Heart like mine is moor'd to the Affection of such a sweet Girl as thee art, you may as well pretend to heave up the Peak of
Teneriffe,
as break it from its Moorings.
Heigh ho!
Don't be down-hearted; if we must part, we must; but it shall go hard if we don't soon bring to in a better Latitude.
AIR.
I.
Blow high, blow low, let Tempest tear
The Main-mast by the Board,
My Heart with Thoughts of thee, my dear,
And Love well stor'd,
Shall brave all Danger, scorn all Fear,
The roaring Wind, the raging Sea,
In hopes on Shore, to be once more
Safe moor'd with thee.
II.
Aloft, while Mountains high we go,
The whistling Winds that scud along,
And the Surge roaring from below,
Shall my Signal be
To think or thee,
And this shall be my Song:
Blow high, &c.
III.
And on that Night, when all the Crew,
The Mem'ry of their former Lives,
Our flowing Cans of Flip renew,
And drink their Sweethearts and their Wives;
I'll heave a Sigh, and think of thee,
And as the Ship rowls thro' the Sea
The Burthen of my Song shall be,
Blow high, &c.
[
Exeunt
Reef
and
Polly.
SCENE,
The Garden of the Seraglio.
Abdallah
is seated under a Pavillion,
Hassan,
and other Slaves of both Sexes, attending.
CHORUS.
Hail to Sadi
Abdallah Chiquaw,
Of every Village, Port, and Town,
City and Province of Renown
In fifty Leagues, the Grand Bashaw.
Whose Steps a Thousand Slaves attend,
Whose Power with Wonder we behold;
Whose mighty Treasure's without End,
Whose Palace shines with massy Gold.
His Sword is like the Morning Ray,
His Helmet a Beam of the Sky;
Where he comes, he casts round him perpetual Day,
And his prostrate Slaves lift their Voices and cry,
Hail, &c.
hast thou given Orders that
Lydia,
the
European
Woman, may choose her own Attendants.
I have, my Lord.
And now tell me,
Hassan,
didst thou ever see so much Elegance and beautiful Simplicity.
Alas! Poor
Elmira!
—
I ordered thee to inform
Elmira,
that she might have her Liberty.
You did, my Lord, and that she should return to her Friends, loaded with Benefactions.
Were my Orders obey'd?
She goes, my Lord, to-morrow.
Perhaps I may bid her farewel—and now enough of this, for here comes
Lydia.
Enter
Lydia.
Well, my sweet Innocent, are my Slaves anxious to please you? Do they obey your Commands?—If the most tender Assiduity, the most unremitting Affection, the most ardent Love—
Oh, but they tell me, you never marry Folks, and that won't do for me, for I promised long ago to love nobody but my Husband, and I intends to keep my Word.
All this is Prejudice of your Country—Love shou'd be free, unlimited, unrestrained. Behold the Birds how they live; Pleasure without Constraint.
Oh! very well, upon my Word—but I'll tell you one Thing: when I love, I never intend to be tired, in the first Place; then as to Slavery of Marriage, I am a Slave already: and for all them fine Things you say about the Birds, I have observed it a hundred Times myself, that Doves were a great deal happier than Sparrows.
AIR.
The little Birds, as well as you,
I've mark'd with anxious Care,
How free their Pleasures they pursue
How void of every Care.
But Birds of various Kinds you'll meet,
Some constant to their Loves:
Are chattering Sparrows half so sweet
As tender cooing Doves?
Birds have their Pride like human Kind,
Some on their Note presume,
Some on their Form, and some you'll find
Proud of a gaudy Plume:
Some love a hundred, some you'll meet
Still constant to their Loves;
Are chattering Sparrows half so sweet
As tender cooing Doves?
Well, my pretty innocent Reasoner, take your own Time to consider of my Offer; you are Queen of these Possessions, together with
abdallah
's Heart.
[
Exit
Abdallah,
&c.
Secne shuts, leaving
Lydia.
Enter
Elmira.
My dear
Elmira,
I wish I could see you more chearful.
Well,
Lydia,
what News of the Bashaw?
Oh! he's ten Times more in Love with me than ever.
And pray do you mean to encourage him?
Certainly.
To what End?
In hopes that when I've made him feel a little the Torment of disappointed Love—
He'll reform, I suppose, and do me Justice.—Ah! my dear
Lydia,
there's a Delicacy accompanies a sincere Affection, which an Inconstant can never have an Idea of.
Well, I am not so uncharitable; I have a great Deal of Compassion for this Man. Besides, how noble was his Resolution to marry you.
And yet he broke it.
Poor
Elmira
! But my Situation is full as desperate as yours. The Ruffians who brought me here, took me by Violence from my Lover. He swore to me, that I should not be long in so defenceless a Condition; 'twas this Promise that made me think my Life worth preserving, and, in spite of my Sorrows, to assume this Character of Gaiety and Levity. And I am rewarded, for I have this Day seen him.
Seen him!
Yes, my dear, and if you have no objection, I intend to see him again presently.
By what means?
By means of a Key that opens a private Door into the Garden.
You frighten me to Death! the Consequence will be dreadful.
I say dreadful, indeed, when the whole Seraglio are my Slaves, Bashaw and all.
AIR.
If it was not that such a meek Creature as you
They'd imagine to have a Concern in't;
Before I'd be pent, like a Bird in a Mew,
I'd set it on Fire, and burn in't.
Why, Child, what d'ye talk, over ev'ry Thing here,
I absolute hold a Dominion,
And I'll lay you my Life, let to-morrow appear,
That you'll own yourself of my Opinion.
I command at my Will, ev'ry Slave, ev'ry Mute,
His Retinue and all his Regalia,
And I'll come and I'll go,
Say, Yes, or say, No,
Just as Fancy, or Whim, or Caprice it shall suit;
Or I'll take ev'ry Key,
Set all the Slaves free,
And turn out of Doors the Seraglio.
[Exeunt.
SCENE,
another View of the Garden; on one Side a Range of Apartments, with a Balcony to each.
Enter
Venture.
A Plague confound my Curiosity—Ah! I am quite lost; why could not I remain where I was? How could I expect to find any Place by myself, among these damn'd Serpentine Walks? Where was it my Master and Miss
Lydia
set me to watch?—I dare not holloa; and the further I go, the more I seem out of my Way—The Day is quite clos'd in too, and in three Minutes it will be as dark as Pitch—Ah! 'tis all over with me; I don't suppose I shall keep my Head upon my Shoulders above a Quarter of an Hour longer—Poor Venture, what will become of thee?
AIR.
What shall I do? Oh, la! Oh, la!
I am all over quite one Thaw;
I only saw an aged Yew,
Thro' which the Wind but whistling blew,
And thinking it a horrid Turk,
Who swore, he to the Wall would pin me;
For fear lest she should fall to Work,
I run as is the Dev'l was in me.
I am a very drowning Rat.
I dread each Breath of Air I hear.
I dare not look—Oh, Lord! What's that?—
I believe 'twas nothing but my Fear.
What Wretch would now be in my Coat?
This Frolic dearly we shall rue:
I feel the Bow-string at my Throat,
What shall I do?—What shall I do?
[
Exit
Venture.
Enter
Reef.
Now these same Infidels are safe under Hatches, I may venture to cruise a little more. I hope it will please
Polly,
that I have sent home her Father, and have in his Stead entered myself among the Bashaw's Complement of Hands.—I don't despair neither of an Opportunity of effecting young Madam
Lydia
's Escape; one Six-pounder will knock down that ginger-bread Work there, that leads to the River, and then there will be a free Passage for us to enter ten a-breast, if we like it—Have at you then, Seigniors—I fancy they'll soon strike.
[Goes off.
Enter
Lydia
and
Elmira,
at the Balcony, afterwards
Reef
re-enters; then
Venture, Hassan,
and Slaves; then
Frederick,
and after him several female Slaves appear at the Balcony.
I hope they got out safe.
Never fear—What a delightful Evening it is!—The Slaves are pretty near at rest by this Time—I shall be impatient till I see
Frederick
again. See how sweet the Moon rises!
DUETTO, QUINTETTO AND CHORUS.
Lydia
and
Elmira.
How beautiful, and how serene,
Shines yonder Night's resplendent Queen!
Kindly to comfort those who roam,
And light the Trav'ller to his Home.
Oh, thou, whose Beams so sweetly play,
Bestow one kind, one chearing Ray;
One sympathetic Gleam impart,
To heal the Anguish in my Heart.
Reef.
These Swabs turn'd in, and fast asleep,
Poor
Tom,
his midnight Watch to keep,
Now roams alone, by Love inclin'd
To think of her he left behind.
Venture,
[Behind.]
Murder, murder! Oh, dear, dear!
Lydia.
Hark,
Elmira,
did you not hear
A dreadful Cry of Murder?
Elm.
—Yes.
Reef.
What means that Signal of Distress?
A Sail.
[Venture
crosses the Stage.
Lyd. Elm.
—I fear the worst.
Has.
—Come on,
[Here two Turks cross the Stage.
Reef.
Two, three.
Has.
—He cannot far be gone.
Follow.
Lyd. Elm.
—Alas!
Has.
—This is the Place.
I trac'd him by the Light o'th' Moon.
Reef.
A hoy, why here's a Fleet in chace,
Of one poor Picaroon.
Elm.
Oh, Heavens!
Lyd.
—My Spirits fail,
I droop.
Reef.
—They're crowding all their Sail.
They bear up faster than he likes.
They've boarded him—Ah, now he strikes!
Lyd. Elm.
Oh, Heaven!
Reef.
—And see this Way they steer.
Well, Messmates, what's the Matter here?
Has.
Drag him along.
Vent.
—Oh, woeful Plight!
Has.
By Heaven, he shall not see the Light.
A sabre, here!
1
st Slave.
[Behind.]
Hassan,
run, run!
Fred.
[Behind.]
I will not yield.
Lyd.
—Ah! we're undone.
'Tis Frederick's Voice.
Has.
—He's bound at last.
Strangle them both.
Reef.
—Mess-mates, avaunt!
Lyd.
In pity spare him.
Fred.
—
Lydia,
oh!
Good Heaven, what complicated woe!
Has.
No Words.
Reef.
—You're all aback, I say,
The Prizes a'n't condemn'd to-day.
Clap them in Irons then, and wait
For further Orders.
Has.
Right, their Fate
Till then we will suspend.
CHORUS.
Come on,
And ere the Veil of Night be drawn,
The great Bashaw's supreme Decree,
Shall give them Death or Liberty.
[Exeunt.
End of the FIRST ACT.
ACT II.
SCENE,
the Garden of the Seraglio.
Enter
Lydia
and
Elmira.
YOU are unacquainted with his Temper; he is generous, but provoked, he is implacable. Oh,
Lydia,
you don't know in what Misery you have involved us all! He will now complain of Insult upon Insult, and with Reason. In a few Days had you requested it, he would have given you your Liberty.
So he said, indeed, but you know he has a Knack of changing his Mind; I was therefore willing to make sure of it, without his Leave.
And you have fail'd in the attempt—He will now have every Thing to upbraid you with; and you may depend upon it, there is no Resolution in the Moment of his Resentment, he will not be capable of putting in Execution: and as for me—
Hear me,
Elmira
—I have my Pride—I have my Resentment—Who is this
Abdallah,
that because he is powerful, shall dare to trample on the Laws of Honour and Humanity? Rely upon it; Truth and Reason will at last wake him, or I am a bad Physiognomist.
AIR.
ELMIRA.
Ah! what avails the brightest Worth
That in
Abdallah
's Bosom flows;
Tho' Truth and Reason there have Birth,
Tho' there each radiant Virtue glows!
Must I, at Distance plac'd, survey
The Beam that other Hearts inspires,
While, with unkind, averted Ray,
From me its chearing Warmth retires.
[Exit.
Enter
Abdallah,
followed by
Hassan.
Health to the Bashaw!
How now?
May it please you, illustrious
Abdallah,
we have taken two Men who were lurking last Night about the Garden, with a View, as we suspect, of speaking to
Elmira
or
Lydia
; but how they got in, or what Mischief they intended to do, we cannot discover.
I let them in.
You!
I.
Distraction! And for what Purpose, Madam? See that you clear yourself of any Intention to dishonour me, or the Consequence shall be dreadful to you. Who are they?
My Lover and a Domestic. They came here by my Appointment; and if they had not been discovered, we should before this have made our Escape from you. Now, Sir, what heavy Vengeance is to fall upon us for it.
Confusion!
What Right had we to consider you, but in the Light of an Enemy? Were we not treacherously brought here, from the Arms of our afflicted Friends? There is some Generosity about you, I acknowledge. You boast of your Justice, let us see you exercise it now, you have a fit Opportunity; if you dare behave as you ought, we may know how to thank you: but if it is your Pleasure to give us a Proof of your Power, you'll meet with those who have Fortitude enough to despise its utmost Malice.
AIR.
I.
I simply wait for your Commands, Sir,
Is it Peace, or is it War?
Shall we quarrel, or shake Hands, Sir?
Which, good Seignior, are you for?
II.
You've nought to do, but speak your Mind, Sir,
Only give me then my Cue;
If for scolding you're inclin'd, Sir,
I can scold as well as you.
III.
But did you give a single Hint, Sir,
That Peace and Quiet you preferr'd,
There'd be no Obligation in't, Sir,
I wou'd not speak another Word.
[
Exit
Lydia.
That Power you so much despise, you may, perhaps, tremble at.—Bring those Men before me.
[Hassan
goes off.
Re-enter
Hassan,
with
Frederick, Venture
and Slaves.
Endeavour to escape from me! Abuse my Confidence! Have the Hardiness to own it to my Face, while I stand confounded, and even incapable of making a Reply.—Tell me, devoted Wretches, why have you thus incurred the heaviest Vengeance in
Abdallah
's Power, presumptuously daring to penetrate within these Walls?
Why you know, Sir, 'twas the old Fishermen that brought us the Key; we had better, therefore, confess, and so have him strangled, to save our Lives.
Which of my Slaves were prevailed upon to give you Admittance here?
Magnificent and most mighty
Abdallah,
if I tell you the whole Truth, will you spare my Life?
Thou shalt find me merciful.
Then I will speak, I am determined.—There is an old Fisherman, one
Goodwill
; I don't suppose your magnanimous Honour can be acquainted with such a Fellow as he—but let that be as it will—he sometimes comes here with Fish, and he brought my Master a Key, which he said would open a private Door into the Garden; so you see 'twas all his Doings, and if I might speak—though to be sure, 'tis highly presumptuous in me to advise such a most illustrious, and prodigious great Man as you are—you had better hang him, and send us about our Business.
My Lord, there is a Circuustance that confirms this Account, the Slave you received by the Persuasion of this
Goodwill,
in exchange for one
Williams,
has this Morning made his Escape.
'Tis plain there is a Plot against me. Seize this Fisherman instantly, and every one you find in his House.
How could you be guilty of so much baseness, as to betray the poor old Man and his Family?
Lord, Sir, you don't consider what a terrible Thing it is to be strangled.
This Wretch raves out any absurdity to save his Life.
Indeed, most prodigious minded
Abdallah,
'tis all true.
I will know the whole Truth, or make examples of you all—
Hassan,
obey my Orders, seize those People directly, and for you, whatever Punishment you deserve, shall, without remission, be inflicted on you.
[
Exit
Abdallah.
Come let us bestow you in safety.
Lead me where you will, and let your rapacious Lord exercise his Pleasure.
AIR.
The pious Pilgrim, who from far
Has journey'd weak and faint,
The hallow'd Fabrick to revere,
That holds some fav'rite Saint;
Not deeper plunges in Despair,
If all his Toil is vain,
Than does the hopeless Suff'rer here,
Nor feels severer Pain.
[Exeunt.
SCENE,
the Fisherman's Cottage.
Enter
Goodwill, Williams, Curtis
and
Polly.
I tell you, Dame, that it will be the making of us all. I communicated the Design to
Reef
last Night, and I dare say they must have got off by this Time; that the Ship will fall down here by Twilight, and then we shall all embark for
England
together.
Why I should be glad to lay my poor old Bones at Peace in my own Country, that's to be sure.
And so thou shalt; and we'll sit round our Fire-Side, and tell our Neighbours, what Adventures we have had among the Turks.
But yet now you can't be angry with me for being afraid, for how many Times have you said yourself, says you, Always beware of a Lawyer with your Estate in his Hands, and a Turk with his Scymetar at your Throat.
Why to be sure, though they are very generous when you trust them, they are very Devils if you deceive them.
I hope, therefore, this Plot was well devised.
Why don't I fell you, I managed it myself—Well devised; ay, ay, but I'll go and put off a little in the Boat, as if I was fishing, and so take Notice what they are about aboard the Ship; she was removed from the opposite Shore, and I dare say, if I can but get far enough up the River without being observed, I shall be able to watch all their Motions. If I can perceive what they are doing, I'll return and let you know.
Do; but pray be cautious.
Never fear.
[
Exit
Goodwill.
And I'll go, and get together what few Things we have, that we may not be hurried when we set out.
And,
Polly,
my dear Daughter, do you help Dame
Curtis,
that she may not be too much fatigued.
Fatigued! Lord help you, I am able enough to do work.
Indeed you seem healthy enough.
[
Exit
Curtis.
Now then, my dear Father, I am truly happy upon the point of leaving this disagreeable Place with you, who are redeemed from Slavery, and with
Reef,
who now I do not blush to own, I have an Affection for.
Re-enter
Goodwill.
Well, I was just putting off to them, but
Reef
observed what I was about, and waved me to stay where I was. Every Thing is just as we could wish—the Ship is under Sail.—Adieu, Seigniors—Egad, it makes my old Heart rejoice, to think, that I shall once again get a Sight of old
England.
Re-enter
Curtis.
Odds me! We are all undone! There's
Muli Alouf Hali Hassan,
and twenty more Slaves, coming to take us all before his honour the Bashaw.
How do you know?
I spoke to them out of the Window, and they told me, if I did not open the Door, they would force it open.
I'll try if I can't prevail with my Friend
Hali Hassan,
to let us give them the Slip; in 'the mean while, do you hide yourself in some Closet, while I go and try.
[
Exeunt all but
Polly.
Poor
Reef,
what will become of thee!
AIR.
My true Love the cruel Sea,
From me did sever,
Then my poor Heart was rent in twain,
For much I fear'd, ah! woe to me,
That he would never
To my Arms return again.
What must I feel then at this Hour,
If I love, if I esteem him,
To see him bound, and have no power,
But Sighs and Wishes to redeem him?
[Exit.
Enter
Reef, Gunnell,
and Sailors.
Now, my Lads, I'll undertake to bring the Prize into Port, in a few Glasses: mayhap we may meet with a smart Resistance; what then, must take Things as they are—Life's a Voyage, where we must expect all Weathers, sometimes rough, sometimes calm; and as for Despair, why it signifies nothing, Resolution and Skill are better than a stout Vessel; for why? Because they require no Carpenters, and get stronger, the more Labour they undergo.
I believe you know pretty well, we shan't flinch, we'll trim their Whiskers for them, if they come to close Quarters with us.
That's hearty—You all know your Stations.
Ay, ay.
Down Bulk-heads, and then up Chests and Hammocks.
AIR.
The Signal to engage shall be
A Whistle and a Hollow;
Be one and all but firm like me.
And Conquest soon will follow.
You,
Gunnel,
keep the Helm in hand,
Thus, thus, Boys, steady, steady;
Till right a Head we see the Land,
Then soon as we are ready,
The Signal, &c.
Keep, Boys, a good look out, d'ye hear?
'Tis for old
England
's Honour,
Just as you've brought your lower Tier
Broadside to bear upon her,
All Hands then, Boys, the Ship to clear,
Load all your Guns and Mortars,
Silent as Death th' Attack prepare,
And when you're all at Quarters,
The Signal, &c.
[Exeunt.
SCENE,
the Garden of the Seraglio.
Enter
Abdallah, Lydia, Hassan, Frederick,
and Slaves.
Hassan,
where are your Prisoners?
They attend without, my Lord.
Bring them here—Hear me, Christians; when you were brought Slaves to my Seraglio, hearing you repined at your Situation, I remitted its Severity, undertook myself to provide you those Amusements, which I thought were the most likely to alleviate your uneasiness; entreated you to think me your Friend—nay, upon Terms which I thought you could not in Honour refuse, I offered you Liberty; in return, you have abused my Confidence by a most unwarrantable Outrage,—
Hali Hassan,
conduct these Christians to the Banks of the
Tigris,
and there dispose of them as this Paper shall instruct you.
[
As they are going off, a Whistle and a Hollow is heard, when
Reef, Gunnel,
and other Sailors come on the Stage.
Avast, my Boys; Master
Frederick,
I thought it would come to this Come, Seigniors, we'll see whether your Scymetars or our Cutlasses can do the most Execution—There's one for you.
Thank you,
Reef,
and now let them attack us as soon as they dare.
Hold!—Though I could with ease repel this Outrage, it would give me more Pleasure to find that you can excuse it—What's the Cause of it?
Why what signifies two Ships hailing one another, when they are yard-arm and yard-arm for an Engagement. I saw this young Gentleman steering right before the Wind into an Enemy's Harbour, so I and all my Crew are determined to save his Life, or lose ours. Fall on!
Hold!
[
To
Hassan.]
Deliver that Paper. Read it.
[
To
Reef.
[Reading.]
"
Hassan,
as thou regard'st thy Life, load these Christians with Riches, and give them safe and honourable Conduct to their own Country."—
Do I awake?
[Reef
signs to the Sailors to retire.
Well, you may be astonished—I had determined to cut you off, but my Love for
Lydia
would not suffer me to listen to such an Objection. This Motive more and more prevailed, till at last, I resolved to send you back to those Friends who lament your Absence, and with Honour, because I had wrong'd you.
Generous
Abdallah!
[
Runs to
Fred.
Why it has turn'd out a stark Calm, just as we expected to go to the Bottom.
Enter
Goodwill, Williams, Polly
and
Curtis.
[
To
Reef.]
You, Sir, embraced Slavery to redeem the Father of her you love—as a Reward, take her and your Liberty.
And are you mine then at last?
May I believe my Senses?
Did not I tell you, that his illustrious Honour was all Generosity? Why don't you thank him,
Reef?
I will, Master, when I have swabbed the Spray From my Bow a little.
You have had your Trial, now comes mine—
Lydia,
be free; my first endeavour shall be to make you happy. I ought not to repine, for you were born to teach me the Duties of Humanity.
You are a noble Creature, I will say that for you—Return to
Elmira,
dismiss this useless Train of Favourites, reward her Virtues, and enjoy perfect Happiness.
You have instructed me well—This Building shall be no longer my Seraglio, but
Elmira
's Palace.
My Lord—
I know that thou would'st tell me that I am violating our Customs—But was I the greatest Sultan, and had carried the Glory of the Crescent to the Ends of the Earth, I should be unworthy my Dignity, if I could give Countenance to any Laws that would fully my Honour.
FINALE.
Abd.
Away with rough tyrannic Rules,
From Reason's Precepts that depart;
Be mine the Pow'r that not controuls,
But mildly wins the pliant Heart!
When gen'rous Dictates lead the Mind,
Then, then alone of Bliss possest,
In others Joys our own we find,
In blessing others truly blest.
Fred.
Beneath such kind protecting Care,
Rich Commerce spreads his golden Wings,
And Science doth her Banner rear,
And rugged Labour toils and sings.
Lyd.
The virtuous Maid, and constant Youth,
Their mutual Wishes free obtain;
And Love, and Innocence, and Truth,
In undisturb'd Enjoyment reign.
Reef.
The ready Sailor quits the Shore,
His Sov'reign's Honour to maintain;
And when the dang'rous Toil is o'er,
Partakes the Blessings of the Plain:
Polly.
Where Mirth amid the rural Throngs,
The Triumphs of his Pow'r imparts;
And Carols from a thousand Tongues,
Speak lively Thoughts and grateful Hearts.
CHORUS.
When gen'rous Dictates, &c.
FINIS.