THE SONGS, RECITATIVES, AIRS, DUETS, TRIOS, AND CHORUSSES, INTRODUCED IN THE PANTOMIME ENTERTAINMENT, OF THE ENCHANTED CASTLE, AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN. THE WORDS BY MILES PETER ANDREWS,
Esq
AND THE MUSIC BY MR. SHIELDS.
"Of
FORESTS
and
ENCHANTMENTS
drear,
"Where more is meant than meets the ear."
MILTON's Penseroso.
J. BELL Bookseller to His Royal Highness, the PRINCE of WALES.
LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, AND SOLD AT THE BRITISH LIBRARY, IN THE STRAND. M,DCC,LXXXVI. PRICE SIX-PENCE.
PREFACE.
IN this Age of
Theatric change,
when TRAGEDIES have found themselves to be COMEDIES, and COMEDIES have bordered upon PANTOMIME; nothing has changed so little as
Pantomime
itself.
Harlequin
skips away his Passion;—
Colombine
foots it to the same Tune;—the chosen
Lover
slides across the Stage, melancholy and gentlemanlike;—the
Clown
breaks his Head pleasantly against the Scene, and the
Father
tumbles over him, in the same Way, and fortunately with the same Merriment, he has done any Time these Hundred Years.
These Witticisms are certainly good ones, for they are undoubtedly the oldest, and of the longest standing of any in Christendom.
But one Jest cannot unfortunately live for ever. In the East Indies, the same Joke lasts only a Twelvemonth, and is terminated by the Arrival of the next Ships.
For this Reason, the Author of the Pantomime, in which the following Songs bear a Part, has attempted to stray from the beaten Road; but it is requested the Audience will not be alarmed. The Hero of to Night is not about to be a Man of Sentiment; tho'
Othello
might be such with a black Face, he had not the good, or the ill Fortune, to have a Party-colour'd Jacket, which cuts short all Sentiment at once.
The Novelty attempted to be dramatised To-night, takes its Rise from the Writings of MISS AIKIN, and the HON. HORACE WALPOLE. The
Castle of Otranto,
and
the Fragment of Sir Bertrand,
form the Basis of an Endeavour to bring upon the Stage somewhat of the Effects which may be produced by Midnight Horror, and Agency supernatural. What may be the Result of this Experiment, To-night must determine, for hitherto the Experiment has not been made.
The Ghost of
Hamlet,
and the Witches of
Macbeth
do not militate against this Assertion. Their Appearance, tho' out of Nature, was simple and not combined. The Clank of Chains, the Whistling of hollow Winds, the Clapping of Doors, Gigantic Forms, and visionary Gleams of Light, attended not their Effects upon the Stage. The firm Mind certainly may laugh at all this; but if ever, on a late Winter Evening, at a well-told Story of an Apparition, the Company have found themselves unusually attentive, and sometimes unwittingly look'd back;—if they have felt no Wish to part;—if imperceptibly they have sat more closely together, and heard the Summons to Rest and Separation,—the retiring to a lone Chamber with Reluctance, not to say Disquietude;—if all this has happen'd, then are we right in thinking there is somewhat of Enthusiasm, or Superstition in these Matters, which Reason smiles at, but cannot prevail over.—
If this is a Weakness, the greatest and the best of all Times have felt its Force;—
Henry the Fourth,
the great
Duke of Marlborough,
—and a Family of Rank in this Country, with whom the Author has had the Honor of being intimate, were remarkable Instances of this Truth.
Mix'd up with lighter Things to counteract the Gloom, some Grains of this Species of Composition will form the Potion of the Pantomime in Question; in other Matters the Author humbly hopes he shall not be more dull than his Neighbours have been before him: perhaps quite as nonsensical, and sometimes more absurd.—He trusts, however, the Audience will not be displeased with him, for having substituted a
talkative Attendant
upon
Harlequin
in the room of the usual
Dumb Grimace
of the
Clown,
or having given them the youthful Accomplishments of Miss WILKINSON as a
Colombine
in the Place of a
Figurante.
VOCAL CHARACTERS.
NECROMANCER.
FIRST MAGICIAN.
SECOND MAGICIAN.
HARLEQUIN.
ZANY
GENIUS OF THE WOOD.
HYMEN.
BACCHANAL.
MAYOR.
FIRST GIANT.
SECOND GIANT.
BALLAD SINGER.
NEPTUNE.
ATTENDANT NYMPHS.
COLOMBINE.
ENCHANTED CASTLE.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Enter Two MAGICIANS.
GOOD morrow, Brother Conjurer, how do you do?
Pretty well, I thank you, Brother, how do you?
I'm come abroad—
I see you are.
To take a little ride.
Then, for the sake of gossiping, let's jog on, side by side.
What think you of our mighty Necromancer,
And the young Virgin he keeps in a trance here?
I think he won't succeed.
Agreed! Agreed!
On India's coast he found the lovely maid,
And to this Magic Isle by charms convey'd.
Each night he wakes her, and his suit renews;
By turns he threatens, and by turns he sues.
She still rejects him—he grows vex'd, and then
Shakes his rough beard, and—pops her to sleep again,
Zounds, why not force her?
Aye friend, there's the curse,
His pow'r is limited.
So much the worse.
In England, that's the way to save evasion.
No force us'd there—
Why not?
There's no occasion.
He comes, so stand aside:—He and his Dragon
Take as much room as wou'd a broad wheel waggon.
Enter NECROMANCER.
Brothers of the black design,
Listen to this tale of mine,
Sure as I am Virtue's foe,
Some misfortune threatens now.—
Wafted from some distant land,
A wretched mortal grasps our Strand;
Shipwreck'd on this magic coast,
Friends, possessions, here are lost:
Nothing sav'd of all his pelf,
But his servant and himself.
DUET.
MAGICIANS.
Is this all we have to fear?
Sure our master does but jeer!
Why for mortals make such fuss,
They can never injure us!—
What disaster need we fear?
Great disaster!—Hear me! Hear!—
Climbing up the rugged steep,
That o'er hangs the briny deep,
Where the sacred tree doth grow;
They, by chance, in evil hour,
Have secur'd one fatal bough,
Which protects them from our pow'r:
Hither, unknowing of their doom,
Nor conscious of it's worth, they come.
TRIO.
Hark! I hear the woeful knell,
That new evils doth foretel,
All around us is not well.
Here we can no longer stay,
Spells and charms we must display,
Hie away then—hie away!
SCENE II.
GENIUS of the WOOD. To Harlequin.
In me, behold the Genius of the Wood,
Fear not, my friends, my errand is your good;
That bough which you possess, gives me the pow'r
To aid, to shield you in this dang'rous hour.
Each teeming moment, every step you tread,
Is fraught with magic mysteries, dire and dread.
Restore the bough, (observe me, and believe,)
In glad exchange, this powerful sword receive.
This shall protect you, in Enchantment's spite,
Midst Error, Horror, Darkness, and Affright!
From every ill but one—nay, do not start,
I mean the Error of the human Heart;—
True to yourself, with joy, the gift you'll wear,
If not, 'twill only bring increase of care.
Depriv'd of speech, each blessing you descry,
Will, in the moment of expectance fly.—
Farewell!—
Rash intruders, come not near,
Sprites and Spectres harbour here!
I'm a goblin, mortal's foe,
Murder stalks where'er I go.
SCENE VII.
RECITATIVE,
accompanied.
HYMEN.
The spell is broke, the fair you've taught to smile,
With grateful tenderness, rewards your toil;
Yet, mark me well, what valour now hath won,
May, by immoral conduct, be undone.
AIR.
COLOMBINE.
As yet untaught to veil my heart,
My youthful bosom knows no art;
Ev'n now, it's grateful sense to prove,
When you are nigh,
It heaves a sigh,
Ah, tell me if that sigh is love!
With thee, how sweet the passing hours!
Without thee, all life's morning low'rs:
Each moment then will ling'ring move;
When you're not near,
I drop a tear;
Ah, tell me if that tear is love!
To chear my friend's sequester'd day,
With joy I'd tune my native lay;
As true, as tender as the dove;
Each charming toil,
Wou'd wake the smile;
Ah, tell me if that smile is love!
To chear my friend's sequester'd day, &c.
SCENE IX.
GENIUS of the WOOD. To Harlequin.
See, to what shame (altho' forewarn'd) thou'rt come!
In vain thou striv'st to answer, thou art dumb.
America's the shore thou now art toss'd on,
And yon far distant rising town is Boston;
Thither repair, like a repentant rover,
Amend thy conduct, and thy speech recover.
SCENE X.
AMERICAN BALLAD.
Boston is a yankee town, so is Philadelphia,
You shall have a sugar-dram, and I'll have one myselfy.
Yankee doodle, doodle doo, yankee doodle dandy,
High doodle, doodle doo, yankee doodle dandy.
Jenny Locket lost her pocket, Sukey Sweetlips found it,
Devil a thing was in the pocket, but the border round it.
Yankee doodle, &c.
First I bought a porridge-pot, then I bought a ladle
Then my wife was brought to bed, and now I rock the cradle.
Yankee doodle, &c.
Za.
Boston is a silly town, and if I'd my desire,
First I'd knock the Rulers down, and then I'd kick the Crier.
Yankee doodle, &c.
AIR.
COLOMBINE.
A raree-shew!—A raree-shew! here is to be seen,
A girl who would a husband have, altho' she's but sixteen.
O, say, is that so rare a shew?
I say, No!
A miracle!—A miracle!—a lover in the lurch,
Who from a Miss, wou'd force a kiss, before they went to church.
O, say, is that so much amiss?
I say, Yes!
A raree-shew!—A raree-shew, myself can best explain,
A female, who, tho' once deceived, still ventures once again.
O, say, is that so rare a shew?
I say, No!
FINALE.
First ACT.
Without.
Fe, fa, fum!
Here they come,—here they come!
Both in dudgeon,
Arm'd with bludgeon,
At my master's earnest pray'r,
To protect him from the May'r;
Gog and Magog have stept down,
And they'll crack his Worship's crown.
What the devil is the matter?
Whence is all this noise and clatter?
Such confusion in our hall,
Sure the devil's in you all!
State-men!
Great men!
Hold your prate, Men!
Not a law-suit when they try it;
Not the lottery, when they cry it;
Not the Aldermen, when snoring;
Not the common Crier roaring;
Not the Livery, when bawling,
Can exceed this caterwawling.
Call forth all our troops,
See my sword-bearer droops;
Mr. Common-Hunt's, but one,
Where's the Common Council gone?
They are gone to take a nap.
Lack-a-daisy, what mishap!
Where are all the Train Bands?
They are all in strange hands!
Lord have mercy, what a slap!
Struck by Harl.
Bring him here, bring him here!
Never fear,—never fear!—
And betwixt us, he shall go, he shall go.
Oh, ho, ho! Must he so? No, no, No!
Hah, hah, hah!—Let him go—let him go.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
GENIUS of the WOOD.
Sad miscreant! say, on what pretence
Dost thou presume to take offence?
Thy love, whose fondness free from art,
Had destin'd thee her youthful heart:
Stung by thy baseness, yield her hand,
Where worth and honor form the band—
Speak for thyself.—
Enough! Contrition speaks the soften'd mind,
Thy candour pleads for thee; the fair is kind,
True to her faith: the rival she approves
Is Hymen's self, who waits to crown your loves.
AIR.
HYMEN.
'Tis your's to possess, if you practice no harm
In the fulness of joy, life's most exquisite charm!
What no wealth can procure, what no pow'r can remove,
That purest of passions, the Virgin's first love.
How sweet in the candour of youth to impart,
The earliest impression that fixes the heart;
Which fondly betrays, while it strives to reprove
The glance, and the sigh, and the whisper of love.
Oh, cherish that bliss, which so rarely is found!
Be your vows with the wreath of fidelity crown'd;
Then blest in the Wife, new endearments you'll prove,
To equal the charms of the Virgin's first love.
SCENE VIII.
Dear brother black legs, all our schemes are undone,
Hither this Harlequin returns from London.
Dear brother Beetle-brow, if that's the case,
He cou'd not come from a more wicked place;
He there has play'd the devil, and I fear
Now he intends to play the devil here.
What, among Conjurers! then his time were past ill,
Like carrying coals to sell them at Newcastle.
What means this trifling, when with Giant-Stride,
Destruction threatens us on every side!
TRIO.
Haste! the Mystic Temple save!
Frighten, or the foe will brave!
Yelling spectres raise to scare him!
Beck'ning phantoms to ensnare him!
Here a shadow, there a ghost!
'Tis too late, that dismal sound
'Bodes confusion round and round!
Horror! horror! all is lost!
SCENE X.
'Tis well, the Mystic Temple's raz'd,
Ev'n now the Magic Grove's on fire;
Thy fair companion's fears are cas'd,
And all thy enemies expire.
Chang'd into brutes, sad disast'rous band,
Still ask relief from thy victorious hand;
By thee they shall their wonted forms resume,
And thank thy care for each averted doom.
SCENE XI.
CHORUS
of ANIMALS.
Release us! Release us!
From our dreadful situation;
From our horrid transformation,
Release us! Release us!
Thanks to great Harlequin, who does our shapes restore!
For I shall grunt,
And I shall bray,
And I shall hoot no more.
Thanks to great Harlequin, our wonderful protector!
Here am I from turtle, chang'd to Leaden-hall director!
And I a lawyer, from among
Those birds, whose bills are rather long:
And I, a Justice from an ass.
—Such things before have come to pass!
I am a buck, who was a boar!
—We all have seen the like before!
Soon again shall booted Bobby,
Strut about the play-house Lobby;
Soon again shall lawyer Quirk,
With his worship make some work.
Repeated.
—Thanks to great Harlequin, &c.
Thy toils are o'er, this lovely maid's thy own,
Protect and prize the jewel thou hast won:
Thee and thy bride I'll now transport,
To where her early years were past;
There, in her father's splendid court,
Thou shalt be shelter'd at the last;
And while the daughter duteous kneels,
Each sault, the parent will forgive;
Will share with both, the joys he feels,
And bid his child's deliverer live.
LAST SCENE.
FINALE.
See the hero now before you
Comes, your daughter to restore you;
If he has been somewhat wild,
Think 'twas he who sav'd your child.
To the Audience.
While my husband's cause I plead,
Sure you wish me to succeed.
Sweet is the song,
Of the fair and the young,
When they sue
As we do,
Our friends among.
—Sweet is the song, &c.
India now no more repining,
Shall with us in commerce joining,
While it's treasures round us float,
Mutual happiness promote.
To the Audience.
Beaux so smart, and belles so fine,
All in eastern pomp may shine;
Shawls for the fair,
Di'mond sprigs for the hair,
With a bulse
To repulse,
And shame despair.
—Shawls for the fair, &c.
Here we bring your hearts to soften,
What you do not meet with often;
Rakes atoning for the past,
Marry and grow good at last.
To the Ladies.
Ladies, if he gives delight,
Come and see him every night;
Cherish the song
Of the fair and the young,
Give applause
To our cause,
And hither throng.
—Cherish the song, &c.
FINIS.