neys, what a naughty trick was this, to fpirit thyfelf a way, when you know how frighted I am with lying alone.

Enter Brunetta and Prudentia.

Ha, my princely friend! haft thou confummated? That fheepish look o' thine confeffes guilt. Well, married or not married, I'm refolv'd to fee you a-bed together incontinently.

Lav. The devil you fhall!

(Rifing haftily. Flam. Dear Trapolin, be quiet, you will deftroy yourself and me--I do befeech your Grace forgive him, alas he's lunatic.

Trap. Poor Trapolin! that ever fuch good parts as thine fhould come to this.

Lav. What mean you all by Trapolin?

I am Lavinio.

I am the Tuscan Duke; this is an impoftor;
That (by damn'd magic and infernal arts)
Hath rais'd thefe ftrange chimeras in our court.
Trap. Show him a glass, fhow him a glafs.
A glass brought.

Lav. What do I fee! Ev'n thus I feem to them.
Plagues, death and furies! This is

Witchcraft all: Still I affert my right;

I am Lavinio.

Trap. Nay, then, I fee he'll ne'er come to good. To prifon with him, take him hence, away.

As they are carrying him off, thunder, the conjurer rifes.)

Con. Turn thee, Lavinio, Duke of Tuscany..

Lav. Ha! what art thou that own'ft my pow'r and title,

Difclaim'd by all my fubjects?

Trap. How! Father Conjurer here!

I warrant he's going to the devil now, and fo calls at the court for company.

Lav. I know that voice.

Con. Remember Guicciardi, the Tuscan count,
Whom twelve years fince thou did’st unjustly banish :
Those tedious hours I chiefly have apply'd
To magic ftudies; and (in juft revenge)

Have rais'd thefe ftrange disorders in thy court.

Now

my

ftate I will.

upon articles

Now pardon what is paft, I'll fet all right. Lav. I fwear by all the honours of Trap. So here's his Grace and the devil of agreement, and excluding me from the treaty. Con. Then take that chair-Eco, Meo, and Areo, attend and execute my will

(Lavinio takes the chair.

Bru. What mean these prodigies!

Con. Ye noble Florentines fufpend your fears,

And you fhall fee the wonders of my skill.

Come, firrah, fit you here.

Trap. Not I, old Belzebub! I'll e'en banish myself now I have the power in my own hands

Con. Sit down, I fay, without equivocation.

Trap. Now, boys; my little Eeo, Meo, and Areo,

Stick by me now, or elfe-O la!

(They both fink.

(Soft mufic, and they rife again transform'd into their

own appearance.)

Omn. The Duke! good Heav'n!

How have our eyes been charm'd!

Lav. Where have I been?

Trap. In very good company, I can tell you that.

Lav. Sure all has been a dream.

Trap. Then I wish I was asleep still.

Con. Your royal word is paft, you pardon all.

Lav. I do, and weep for joy

To fee my fubjects to their fenfe restor❜d.

Con. Brave Prince Horatio, your elder brother

The Duke of Savoy's dead.

Lav. Then he is Savoy.

Sir, I intreat forgiveness of what's past,

And wish you lafting joy

But for that fiend the impoftor, feize and fecure him

there.

(Gives him Prudentia.

(Guards feizes Trapolin.

Now tell me, slave, what art thou?

Lav. Shall I tell your Highnefs in one word?
Lav. A word, a fyllable, or else thou dieft:

Trap. A pimp-neither more nor less than a pimp! There's a monofyllable at your fervice-A very useful member of fociety, I can tell you that

Lav. Hence with him to the rack; conduct him quick

Trap.

Trap. O dear, Father Conjurer, won't you ftand by

me?

Con. Please your Grace a general pardon's feal'd, let no one be exempt.

Lav. Well be it fo then-my paffion fhall fubfide-I pardon all-and feal that pardon with a general jubileeCome, let feftivity begin, and ufher it with a dance. [ A DANCE. ]

DAMON AND PHILLIDA.

A BALLAD OPERA.

IN ONE ACT.

Br COLLEY CIBBER, Esq.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

MEN.

Drury-Lane.

Arcas, a Nobleman of great poffeffions in Arcadia, Mr Winstone.

Egon, his friend,

Corydon, an old shepherd,

Mr Cole.
Mr Turbutt.

Simple brothers, in love with

Phillida,

Mr Miller. {Mr Oates.

WOMEN.

Damon, an Inconstant,

Phillida, daughter to Corydon,

Mr Stoppelaer.
Mrs Clive.

SCENE, The Arcadian Fields.

SCENE I.

Arcas, Ægon.

Eg. THIS way I fee old Corydon advancing:
He comes, by my appointment, to complain

Of fome abufe that's offer'd to his daughter;
And hopes that your authority will right him.
Arc. 'Tis true! fomewhat of this Paftora told me.
Æg. He's there, with all the parties, to attend you.
SCENE II.

Enter Corydon, Phillida, Cimon, Mopfus, Damon, and other Shepherds.

Cor. May all our gods preferve the noble Arcas, Lord of our lands and flocks!

VOL. V.

X

Arc.

Arc.

Good neighbours, welcome!

What feems amifs, that may concern your welfare?
Cor. Ah! my good lord, I have no skill to speech it,
But grief at heart will always find a tongue.

My Lord, this home-bred maid I call my daughter,
She's all I have, and all my hope; now I
Would gladly fee her well difpos'd in marriage:
And that fhe might not die a maid, unafk'd,
I have declar'd one-half of what I have

Her dow'r, in prefent; at my death, the reft.
'Tis true, 'tis little; but ftill, the half is half!
Now here, so please you, I have found her out
A pair of wholesome youths to take her choice of:
Brothers they be, fons of my neighbour Dorus.
This is call'd Cimon, and the younger Mopfus!
Their means and manners fuit her breeding well,
And both profess their hearts are set upon her.
Cim. Yes, and please you, both cruelly in love.
(Half crying.
Cor. Nay, prithee Cimon, let me tell my story.
Arc. A little patience, friend-
Mop.-
Hah! hoh hoh! hoh!
That fool my brother's always in the wrong!

Cor. Fiel fie! Mopfus! now thou art worse than he.
Arc. On with thy tale-

Cor. Now, Sir, thefe lads, I fay, Were nothing in the way to cross their courtship, Might one or t'other make her a good husband. But here, here, an't please you, lies our grief! The wilful girl is scornful to them both. And why? because, forfooth, she loves another! But how how is her love difpos'd? Why thus! This pranking gamefome boy, this Damon here! With fongs and gambols, has, I think, bewitch'd her. His pipe, it feems, has play'd her sweeter founds, And all the idle day they toy and fing together. Cim. Ay, fo they do, and please you-Nay, nay, Cimon !

Cor.

Cim. Well, well! I've done: but I'm fare its true

tho'.

Cor. So nothing now will down with her but Damon. And what will Damon do? Why, ruin her!

The