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THE METAMORPHOSES. A COMIC OPERA. IN TWO ACTS. AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, IN THE HAY-MARKET.
The Music by Mr. DIBDIN.
LONDON: Sold by T. LOWNDES, in Fleet-Street. MDCCLXXVI. [Price One Shilling.]
I Have repeatedly aſſured the Public, that they ſhall be faithfully acquainted from whence I borrow any Materials to work up my Dramatic Trifles. In the METAMORPHOSES will be found ſome incidents taken from Moliere's Sicilien, par
THE Servant who from ſimplicity betrays his Maſter's ſecrets will be directly known, for a chacter in George Dandin. In ſhort what is taken from theſe two Comedies, together with hints from ſome other Publications make near a third of the Piece.
THUS have I faithfully performed my promiſe to the Public, whoſe kind Protection I ſhould very little merit could I deceive them.
SCENE, SEVILLE.
Oh, Fabio, I was glad to hear the ſound of your ſweet voice—Ha, ha, ha, what a figure you cut!
Oh! what you are looking at my ap
She is only his ward at preſent, to be ſure; but if your maſter does not make great haſte, they will be man and wife within theſe two hours.
The devil! this is a ſudden ſtart, is it not?
Here comes your maſter.
Did you hear, Sir, the pretty news that Mrs. Juletta has brought; your miſtreſs is going to marry her old dragon of a guardian.
'Tis impoſſible!—She could not conſent to ſuch a thing.
Why, it coſt her a great many tears to be ſure; but at laſt, Sir, I ſeconded his requeſt, and then ſhe complied.
How! you, Mrs. Minx!
Yes, I, Mr. Impudence!
Why, you ungrateful, miſchievous—I don't know what to call you—have you a top
Very well, Sir—go on.
Nay, becauſe his happineſs was dearer to me than my own, have not I, to forward the buſineſs, condeſcended to caſt the eyes of affection upon you?
Intolerable aſſurance!—'tis I, Jackanapes, 'tis I that am abuſed.—Did not I ſee a poor, un
Very well, Ma'am—go on.
And did not I, becauſe I wou'd not ſee you expire before my face, take pity on you, and give you my virgin heart, while thouſands vainly tried to tear me from you? And what is my re
Hey! how's this?
Seemingly, did you ſay, Juletta?
Oh! zounds, now her clack's ſet a-going, ſtop it who can.—Well, well, don't cry—I forgive you, child.
Forgive me, varlet! I can tell you, I ſhan't eaſily forgive you.
Well, well; but for my maſter's ſake—
Aye, Juletta, for my ſake.
I do aſſure you 'tis entirely for your ſake then
Well, my Protens, this letter has given me ſpirits. She ſays, ſhe'll be in readineſs, at a minute's warning, to take the wing, if I can but open the door of her cage.
Suppoſe, Sir, I was to try if I cou'd get old Cruſty out of the houſe.
I don't think it practicable.
Faith, Sir, I have hopes; I know that he expects news of the arrival of one of his ſhips.
Well, and what then?
Nothing, Sir, only I ſhall make my next appearance in the character of a ſailor, that's all.
And muſt I be diſguiſed, good Sir? for you know I march under your command.
Old Grumble here has never ſeen you, has he?
I believe not.
Then there will be no neceſſity for it yet; but here comes my wife fellow-ſervant, Pe
I'll follow you.
So, Perez! how go on affairs?
Lord, Sir! I have emptied all the ſhops in town; I have got ſuch a cart-load of vizors, veils, jackets, hats, feathers, doublets, and muſta
Well, that's all right. Do you watch about Don Pedro's houſe; and, I charge you, let nothink eſcape your notice till I return.
I warrant you, Sir.
Ah, dear Marcella! let but fortune be propitious to us, and my future life ſhall he devo
Truly I doubt of every thing, there's ſuch a confounded running in and out. Juletta is ſo impertinent and Marcella ſo haughty, that I am afraid this conſenting to marry me, was only a pretence to get her fortune out of my hands— Well, a very ſhort time will now put the matter out of diſpute, and in the mean while I'll be my own porter, and let every body in and out —Hey, who have we hear?
How that man eyes me.
He looks mighty ſuſpicious, methinks.
He does not know me ſure.
What can he be doing ſo near my houſe?
Why he is not watching, ſure, to ſee who goes in and out, is he?
I'll ſpeak to him.
He comes this way.
If he is one of their ſpies, I muſt go cunningly to work.
Let him be who he will, he ſhan't get any thing out of me.
Your ſervant, friend.
Yours, friend.
What makes you watching about this houſe ſo, eh?
Huſh.
What d'ye mean?
Hold your tongue, I tell you.
Why muſt I hold my tongue?
You muſt not tell a living ſoul that you ſaw me watching about this houſe.
Oh! I muſt not.
Not for the world; if it ſhould come to Don Pedro's knowledge, laud a mercy! what a work would there be.
Oh, ho! I gueſs how the matter is: what, you are ſtanding centinel, to watch their motions within?
Why, how the devil ſhou'd you know that?
Ah! you ſee I'm in all your ſecrets— I know too, that you want to get an anſwer to the letter that you deliver'd two days ago to Ju
No: there you are out—'twas yeſterday morning I deliver'd the letter, and ſhe herſelf brought my maſter an anſwer, not an hour ago.
So, ſo! why then Don Pedro is finely impoſed upon.
Impoſed upon! why what is ſuch an old fool good for, but to be impoſed upon: I can tell you, he muſt look ſharp, or we ſhall run away with this delicate morſel from him, as ſure as he thinks himſelf of it——You don't know him, do you?
Never ſaw him in my life.
I wiſh you did, for I'm ſure you'd laugh at him every time you ſet eyes on him—Well, I'll ſtay hereabout, and don't you now drop a word of what I have told you.
Me! No, I enjoy it, I aſſure you.
I dare ſay you do; every body muſt eaſily ſuppoſe how agreeable it is to trick ſuch an old coveteous curmudgeon.
Oh! you may depend upon it, not a word ſhall eſcape me.
That's right; we can't be too cautious; you underſtand me.
Oh! perfectly—confound you!
Theſe are not matters to blab to every body—you apprehend me.
Clearly—an Alguzile apprehend you.
Well now, keep my counſel, and when we meet again, I'll tell you how my maſter has ſped.
The devil ſpeed him.
Mum now.
I warrant you.
Ah! Madam, hang melancholy; an ounce of contrivance is worth a cart-load of it; for the firſt may keep us moaping here 'till we break our hearts, and the latter will point out to us a way to break our priſon.
Wou'd it were once effected; for I have a thouſand terrible apprehenſions. You may depend on't my guardian won't let me out of his ſight, if he can help it. And, at laſt, when we have form'd a ſcheme, if it ſhould miſcarry, we ſhould be all undone.
So we ſhould, indeed, Ma'am; and if the houſe was to tumble, ten to one but ſome of us would be hurt. Lord, Ma'am! have a little more ſpirit—Is not it your duty to cheat Don Pedro all you can? Is not he old, jealous, and covetous? Does not he want to make you the moſt miſerable creature in the world?
As ſure as I live, Ma'am, there he is. I ſay, Ma'am, is not it your duty to oblige Don Pedro all you can? Is not he kind, careful, and tender? And does not he want to make you the happieſt woman in the world?
Here's a baggage for you. I ſhould be very much obliged to you, Ma'am, if you would do me the favour to get down ſtairs.
What's the matter, I wonder.
Well, I have ſent away the lawyers; but, methinks, ſince the deeds were executed, you don't ſhew ſo much willingneſs as you did before.
'Tis becauſe you are ſo unwilling to con
My dear Marcella, 'tis becauſe my love is ſo very delicate I take offence at even a ſmile, or a glance, that any perſon forces from you; and the care you ſee me take, is for nothing elſe but to debar all acceſs of galants, and ſecure to myſelf the poſſeſſion of a heart, the leaſt thing relative to which I can't bear to think any body ſhould rob me of.
In good truth you take a very wrong method, and the poſſeſſion of a heart is very ill ſecured, when people think to keep it up by force. For my part, was I gallant to a lady in the power of another, I ſhou'd bend all my
Very fine! ſo, according to this, if any ſhould make love to you, he would find you diſpoſed to receive his addreſſes.
There's no knowing what a woman may be driven to in ſuch a ſituation.
But I tell you, it all proceeds from my love for you.
If that be your way of loving, I deſire you to hate me.
What! and you give me no provoca
No, Sir, I don't.
I know you don't—you don't re
How could he have heard this?
Sir, there's a ſailor below wants to ſpeak to you; he has brought you ſome news about one of your ſhips.
Let him come up—and heark'e— are you ſure he is a ſailor?—are you ſure he has not given you a letter to deliver to your miſtreſs? —and are you ſure you don't want to get me out of the way while ſhe writes an anſwer?
Sir, I deſpiſe ſuch ſuſpicions, and I am not, like my lady, obliged to put up with them, I thank my ſtars.
There! you ſee what you expoſe me to.
Rather ſay, that I ſee to what you ex
Good cheer to the noble owner of the Antler galleon, ſhe is arrived ſafe with all her hands.
I am glad to hear it, had you a plea
If the young gentlewoman pleaſes I'll tell you.—You muſt know that juſt as we made the land upon our ſtarboard-bow—I was ſtanding upon the forecaſtle ſinging a ſong made by one of our crew upon me and my ſweet
Adod, you ſailors are merry folks; but I have a little buſineſs at preſent, ſo if you'll let me know where I can find your captain, I'll ſee him in the afternoon.
Why, if ſo be it was all one to you, I'd ſteer you to him now, for when he gave me the ſignal to hail you, he ſaid as how he wanted marvelouſly to haul along-ſide of you.
Well but I tell you I can't go now.
Then I'll give you inſtructions what courſe you ſhall ſtand, if the young gentlewoman pleaſes to hold theſe papers, I have got the name
Not quite ſo familiar with the young gentlewoman, if you pleaſe.
'Tis the way of us ſeamen, we are al
Zounds, we have nothing at all to do with Kitty—hey—this is a pander— Shut the door there—give me that letter, Madam.
What letter, Sir? Giving it to Fabio.]
Why, old gentleman, you have unſhip'd your ſenſes.
Give me that letter, raſcal.
What, ſhew you my letter from Kitty!
The devil Kitty you—fetch me a horſe-whip.
For Heaven's ſake what are you going to do?
How now! who have we here?
I beg your pardon, but hearing a violent uproar in your houſe, I thought ſome aſſiſtance might be neceſſary.
Sir, I am much obliged to you, but 'tis only a raſcal I have detected, diſguiſed like a ſailor.
To Fabio.]
Where is he, Sir?
This is the villain.
That, Sir—Lord Sir, that's a poor diſtracted fellow, that I have the care of; I keep a houſe for the reception of lunatics, and this wretch, by ſome means, got out of his cell yeſter
Who's that calls me?—Did you ſee my Kitty?—there ſhe is, climbing up the main top gallant maſt.
At the ſight of me, his interval is gone off, Sir, and I dare ſay we ſhall have work enough to force him away.
THE next ſong in the book is the cruel guardian, or the fortunate runaway; the next ſong in the book is Philomelo's ſoft notes; the next ſong in the book is Come all you Swains and hear my lay; the next ſong in the book is the cobler or a wife of ten thouſand. Liſten, neighbours, this is one of the curiouſteſt ditties.
Faith, Sir, the noiſe has brought her to the window.
Dear Marcella, how ſhall I expreſs to you my gratitude, for that anxiety you have endured on my account, but take courage and a little time will relieve you from all your apprehenſions; we have plan'd a ſcheme that cannot fail of ſuc
You muſt be very cautious, I aſſure you, for all that paſſes, by ſome means or other, comes to my guardian's knowledge—Good heaven, he's behind me—Indeed, good man, I have nothing for you, and I aſſure you your ſi
Talking to ballad ſingers out of the window; and, I ſuppoſe, they are as much bal
Nay, good your honour, we'll preſent you with the jealous Spaniard outwitted.
Come in, you ſha'n't hear it.
Nay, pray let me liſten to the ſong, there can be no harm in that.
'Tis a dialogue between the lover and his miſtreſs. My poor wife that is dead, wou'd have given you the woman's part to a nicety; however, you ſhall have it as near her manner as poſſible. Come, Guzman, ſtrike up.
What you won't begone—I'll come down and ſee what authority my cane has with you— Get you in. To Marcella.]
He's coming, Sir; let us decamp.
Now for one bold effort, Fabio, and we ſhall be maſters of the town.
Never doubt the victory, while I am general.
A pack of raſcals—if I catch you, I'll mar your muſic.
Oh! yonder's my communicative friend—I'll try if I can't come at ſome more of their ſecrets.
Oh, you're there, Mr. Tittle Tattle, are you, to whom I gave ſuch charge not to ſpeak a word?—you muſt go and tell every body, muſt you?
I!
Yes, you! you told old Pedro every word I entruſted you with, and he has made ſuch a clutter about it—
I do aſſure you—
No, no, I won't hear a word—You'll
But, friend—
I tell you, I'll have nothing to ſay to you—if you had not betray'd me, I wou'd have told you what was doing now.
Why, is there any thing doing now?
Not that you will be the better for, I can tell you that.
I'm afraid not, faith!—but, pr'ythee now—
Ay, you ſee what you get by tattling; you ſhall hear no more; good bye, I'll leave you with your mouth watering.
Nay, but ſtay a little.
What you want to pump ſomething elſe out of me, do you?
No, I have no curioſiey at all.
Ah, you may ſpell, but it will be all to no purpoſe—I'm a faithful ſervant, and who
Oh, dare ſay!
Or, may be you expect that I have ſo little prudence, as to tell you, that they are going to diſguiſe themſelves like two friars—but you won't get a word out of little Perez.
That's eaſily ſeen.
No, no, I'm not ſuch an aſs that comes to.
Nay, now—
Not a ſyllable; I don't want you to make any more miſchief.
Now, pray.
Why, what the deuce can Perez have been doing here with my maſter?
Two friars!—the devil! Could they find no other diſguiſe?
So! ſo!
Well, my black gentlemen, it ſhall go hard but I will be too cunning for you.
Yes, yes, he has diſcover'd us.
I ſhall never bear the ſight of a friar's gown again as long as I live—Zounds! here they are.
Brother, to ſay the truth, though St. Dominick's vineyard is a pretty fruitful ſoil, yet the Benedictines, in general, reap the beſt harveſt.
Huſh! we are interrupted.
Dear gentlemen, you come this way very opportunely; I was coming to your convent, by my maſter Don Pedro's orders, to inform you, that he has a deſign of placing his ward in a re
Is the damſel comely?
She is thought to be the greateſt beauty in all Seville.
He may command us.
That's the door—Now, to let Lyſander know a blunder that fool, Perez, has made
How's this, what can he mean?
You are wolves in ſheep's cloathing.
The man is ſurely poſſeſs'd—
Get about your buſineſs, or I'll ſend you packing with a vengeance.
We are play'd ſome trick here—Don Pedro, we are friends, and are come at your own deſire, to conſult you about placing your ward in a nunnery.
You are no friends, but a couple of villains in black, who, together with the old gentleman in black, want to cheat me, and de
Don Pedro, you ſlander us, and you may expect the heavieſt vengeance of the church for this injury.
I defy you.
You ſhall be anathemetiz'd.
Excommunicated.
You ſhall be cudgelled.
The old fool! to ſerve us ſuch a trick.
Let us begone.
With all my heart.
I fancy they are gone—Yes, yonder they march along—what a fine ſtory they trump'd up, about placing Marcella in a convent —Who have we here?
Sir, your ſervant; I don't believe I have the honour to be known to you; but underſtand
Me, Sir! I aſſure you, whoever told you ſo deceiv'd you—there is not a more peacea
Ah, Sir! that is your modeſty, there is not a truer ſign of courage in the world; you'll find I have a great deal of it myſelf.—My name is Don Valaſquez D'Avolos; the hiſtory of Spain muſt have inform'd you of my conference.
It has, Sir.—The devil fetch me if ever I heard of you before.
Well, Sir, I came to aſk your advice upWhile Fabio draws
off Don Pedro, Lyſander ſlips into the houſe.]
Aſſaſſination is the ſureſt and ſhorteſt way.
Well but, Sir.
Sir, you have my opinion, and I kiſs your hands.
One word, Sir.
I'm in a great hurry, Sir, and—
Well, Sir, your humble ſervant; I am infinitely obliged to you, and when you receive a ſlap o'the face I ſhall as freely give my advice— I hope maſter has made good uſe of his time.
Another pander! zounds! I ſhall ſure
Yes, beautiful Marcella, I love you more than life, and I have no other thoughts, no other end, no other deſire, but to be yours for ever. Have you then courage enough to conſent to the deſign I mentioned to you?
When love perſuades, how eaſily is one prevail'd upon to form a reſolution.
Do you conſent then?
Provided you promiſe, that my haſty determination ſhall not alter your good opinion of me.
No: there is nothing can efface from my mind, that gratitude with which it is inſpired. Love will ever protect its votaries, when they feel a pure and ſincere paſſion like ours; and one ſmile from you, arms me againſt a thouſand dangers.
Good Heav'n! here is my guardian.
What the devil's here! another of them?
Don't ſeem to regard him, but ſpeak to me of what I told you.
Upon my word, Sir, ſhe's not in this houſe.
Madam, I ſhou'd not have been guilty of ſuch an indecorum, as to preſs in here ſo abruptly, if I had not had the evidence of my own ſenſes in my vindication.
Well, Sir, I do aſſure you, the perſon you ſeek for is not here, and I cannot any longer re
Is all of this real, I wonder, or only hatch'd up—there can be no harm at leaſt in ſend
Sir, I came to ſearch for my wife, who has eſcaped from my juſt indignation, and fled into your houſe for ſhelter.
I do aſſure you, Sir, if I could pre
Sir, this is very cavalier treatment; but ſince that lady has aſſured me that my wife is not in your houſe, I ſhall take my leave—Nay, Sir, you need not give yourſelf the trouble to ſee me down.
Well, upon ſecond thoughts, I'll ſtay where I am—Within there—ſomebody ſhew the gentleman out.—Well, Madam, what do you ſay to all this?—I ſuppoſe I have no reaſon yet to be jealous—the ſailors, the ballad-ſingers, the friars, the gentleman of honour, and above all, this ſmooth-ſpoken Sir, are none of them objects of jealouſy!—but, however, in ten minutes I expect the prieſt, and then I ſhall have a privilege, if perſuaſion won't do it, to keep you from rebel
You give me a good ſample of what kind of life you expect me to lead—but, Sir, I deſpiſe your ſuſpicions, and if it was not that I have given my word, nothing ſhould compel me to marry you.
Oh! good Sir, ſave me from a furious huſband, who purſues me; his jealouſy is incredi
There was ſomething then in this laſt affair, I ſee.
Oh, Heaven's! here he comes; ſave me, good Sir, from his fury.
Take her to you bed-chamber, Mar
So, Sir, I had cauſe for what I ſaid; de
Good Sir, be a little patient, the of
How, Sir! do you take her part? You, who are ſo delicate upon theſe ſort of things.
No, Sir, I don't take her part; but if you could be friends with her it would be a cha
Don Pedro, will it oblige you if I forgive her?
Truly it will; for I love to ſee peace and harmony between married people.
'Tis enough I'll lay by my anger and my ſword together.
I'll bring her to you.
This is the height moment that rewards me for all my pains and anxiety.
You may appear, I have made your peace.—Here ſhe comes—You'll promiſe me now not to relapſe.
I do, Sir.
Poor ſoul, how ſhe trembles! You really, Sir, ſhould not put yourſelf in theſe vio
Sir, there's no refuſing, and I promiſe you, ſince you deſire it, I'll endeavour to make her the beſt huſband in the world.
Sir, you give me pleaſure to hear you ſay ſo.
Nay, no ceremony, Sir.
Pray give me leave to ſee you out.—For I half ſuſpect that this is a trick.
I do aſſure you, Sir, you have no obligation to me.—I wiſh you a good day.
Sir, I can't expreſs how happy you've made me.—Come, my love, I promiſe you that all our ſtrife ſhall end from this moment.
Really one receives a pleaſure in doing a friendly office for any one—How loving they ſeem—Well, I'll go and ſecure Marcella's obe
Why, Sir, the meaning is, that a jealous
If there's juſtice to be had in Spain I'll be reveng'd—ſhe ſhan't have a ſhilling of her fortune—they ſhall ſue me for it, however; and then, if I am obliged to part with it, I'll hang myſelf, that I mayn't have the mortification of ſeeing them enjoy it.—Zounds! I'll hang myſelf at any rate—I'll have them all aſſaſſi
Let him go to law, Sir, and us to dinner.
So we will, Fabio, where thou ſhalt be king; for 'tis to thy wit I owe my dear Marcella.
And mine, Sir.
True, Juletta; and thou ſhalt not be for
And for me—