The noble pedlar: a burletta. As performed at Marybone-Gardens. Set to music by Mr. Barthelemon.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- [dedication]

- Dramatis Personae.

- PART I.

- PART II.

THE NOBLE PEDLAR.

FINIS.

THE NOBLE PEDLAR: A BURLETTA. AS PERFORMED AT MARYBONE-GARDENS.

SET TO MUSIC BY MR. BARTHELEMON.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR W. NICOLL, NO. 51, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD. MDCCLXX.

TO JOSEPH HAZARD, ESQ OF LINCOLN COLLEGE, OXFORD.

AS A TRIBUTE TO HIS FRIENDSHIP, AND HIS GENIUS, THIS BURLETTA IS WITH ALL RESPECT INSCRIBED, BY

HIS MOST OBLIGED, AND HUMBLE SERVANT, THE AUTHOR.

Dramatis Personae.

MEN.

FLORIMORE, a young Nobleman, disguised as a Pedlar, and in love with ARABELLA.

Mr. REINHOLD.

BARBARINO, Lord FLORIMORE's Servant, a great Braggart, who addresses ARABELLA in his Master's Clothes.

Mr. BANNISTER.

WOMEN.

ARABELLA, a young Lady of little Fortune and great Beauty.

Mrs. BARTHELEMON.

SOPHORINA, Mother to ARABELLA.

Mrs. DORMAN.

PART I.

(Arabella discovered dressing a flower-pot.)

DEAR lovely rose, that in the morn,

When first I pluck'd thee from the thorn,

With matchless blushes dy'd.

Why should thy charming beauties fade,

Which in the morning thou display'd,

In all thy infant pride?

Where are thy vary'd colours fled?

Thy scent is gone, thy leaves are dead;

Alas! I've lost my rose!

Where are thy heav'nly beauties laid,

When winter kills each verdant blade,

With cold and chilling snows?

RECITATIVE.

Sweet rose adieu! thy emblem is too plain,

Thy youth gave pleasure, but thy death gives pain;

Ye dear remaining few, I yet will strive

To keep your crimson-tinted dyes alive;—

Before the thirsty sun your buds shall kill,

My water-vase a thousand times I'll fill;

For your sweet sakes a thousand turns I'll bring,

And rob each crystal brook, and cooling spring.

[Ex. with a watering-vase.

Enter FLORIMORE.

Bewitching maid, thou hast ensnar'd my heart,

And I must 'gin to play the lover's part:

To ease the pleasing pain which now I feel,

I'll try by some device her heart to steal;

But then the curse of being laugh'd to scorn,

When I have fix'd on one so lowly born.

SONG.

A plague on degree, for I find I'm in love,

And I will indulge the dear flame;

What fool of degree would that passion remove,

For the sake of a paltry name.

E'en Jove on his fair-mortal maidens hath smil'd,

And gaz'd with an amorous eye,

'Till his Godship at last found his heart was beguil'd—

Then plague on it, why shou'd not I?

What's pomp or degree, without freedom of mind?

They serve but our bliss to annoy,

Then I'll even venture, shou'd I but once find

Young Cupid a generous boy.

RECITATIVE.

But let me pause—methinks it wou'd be wise,

To try my little charmer in disguise.

A Pedlar I'll assume, with trinkets rare,

And that way try the passion of my fair.

[Exit.

Re-enter ARABELLA.

Plague on that old mamma of mine, I say;

I've sometimes half a mind to run away,

Where'er I want to go, whate'er to see,

She's sure to knit her brows, and hinder me.

Who wou'd, like me, this prison'd life endure,

And live for ever in a state obscure.

SONG.

From morn to night alone I sit,

For liberty I sigh and fret,

Like Robin in his cage;

Mamma she kills me with her care,

She tells me I am young and fair,

At a bewitching age—

No gay assembly must I see,

She says, such things will ruin me,

That men are false and vain:

But she is old and full of spleen,

Were she like me, at gay sixteen,

She'd sing another strain.

Enter SOPHORINA.

RECITATIVE.

SOPHORINA.

Why look'st thou grave, my girl? I've news to tell,

Will make thee smile;—I know 'twill please thee well;

Thou hast a pris'ner ta'en—

ARABELLA.

A pris'ner! How?

SOPHORINA.

Oh, heed not that, he is thy pris'ner now;

He sighs, protests, and swears that he'll be kind,

There ne'er was man so suited to thy mind;

Yet ere he takes the bliss, for which he sues,

He must be bound in Hymen's silken noose.

ARABELLA.

Alas, I've been myself confin'd too long,

To wish another half so great a wrong.

SONG. SOPHORINA.

Foolish wench, thou soon shalt find,

I've got a plaything to thy mind;

Leave thy pouting,

And thy glouting,

Throw thy foolish fears away.

If thou too long hast been confin'd,

I'll soon release, and soon will bind;

I come to teaze thee,

And to please thee.

And to fix thy wedding-day.

RECITATIVE.

ARABELLA.

My wedding-day! alas, with whom and when?

SOPHORINA.

With one, the bravest of all gentlemen;

So tall he is, so gallant and so gay,

He'd steal the heart of any saint away.

ARABELLA.

How can my bosom to a stranger yield?

How can he love the maid he ne'er beheld?

SOPHORINA.

Behold he comes himself to tell his tale,

ARABELLA.

And if he talks of love to me, he'll fail:

If that's the man, he'll ne'er my passion move;

He is already with himself in love:

See how he views his person in the glass;

Indeed, mamma, I think your man's an ass.

Enter BARBARINO.

BARBARINO.

O yes, by Jove! aye, there she is, I see

The little huzzy is in love with me.

What shall I say, tho', now we're brought together?

We'll 'gin at first to talk about the weather;

Good-morrow, Miss, it is a charming day.

ARABELLA.

Ah, very, very true, Sir, as you say;

Pray tell me, Sir, how came it first about,

That you should find the mighty secret out?

BARBARINO.

Pray tell me, pretty little smiling dove,

Will you not listen to a man in love,

To one that loves you dearly.—

ARABELLA.

No, not I,

BARBARINO.

Then wou'd you wish to see your lover die?

ARABELLA.

With all my heart, Sir, die what way you choose,

Or hang yourself—I'll not untie the noose.

BARBARINO.

O cruel!

SOPHORINA.

Impertinent and hateful—

There ne'er was sure a baggage so ungrateful;

You'll raise my blood, you'll put me in a passion—

To see how you can use a man of fashion.

BARBARINO.

I much do wonder, Madam, as you say.

SOPHORINA.

But I will make the saucy jade obey.

BARBARINO.

And so wou'd I indeed, were I but you,

I'd make her answer as she ought to do.

I ne'er was us'd so strangely in my life;

I wou'd not bear this usage from a wife.

SONG.

'Tis mighty fine,

Were she but mine,

I'd make her love

Whom I approve,

Or else she soon should find,

If she deny'd

Thro' prudish pride,

Shou'd she refuse

Whom I shou'd chuse,

She ne'er shou'd see mankind.

RECITATIVE.

SOPHORINA.

Ungrateful minx; how dare you use me thus?

ARABELLA.

Dear heart, mamma! you make a mighty fuss.

SOPHORINA.

As you did, saucy gipsy, ev'ry day;

Have you not teaz'd me for a husband, pray?

Have you not told me, you wou'd fain be free,

And wish'd to marry for your liberty.

ARABELLA.

What must I do?

SOPHORINA.

Why, can't you understand,

Consent to give this gentleman your hand;

Ah, you're a foolish aggravating jade,

Give him your hand, and then your fortune's made. [Aside to Arabella.

Enter FLORIMORE as a Pedlar.

FLORIMORE.

God bless ye all, my worthy gentry,

I'm come to sell, if you will please to buy.—

I've buttons, studs, and egrets for the hair,

And many things beside, all choice and rare.

BARBARINO.

Pray, saucy fellow, take yourself away.

ARABELLA.

No, no, good master, prithee, prithee stay.

SOPHORINA.

I'll tell you what, my friend, 'tween you and I,

I'd have you go to those who mean to buy,

You'd better take my counsel, for I fear,

You'll meet with very little custom here.

FLORIMORE.

Whether my Lady buys, or shou'd she not,

She's welcome, ma'am, to look at what I've got.

[Arabella takes the box and over looks it.

SONG.

I've earings of the best,

All made of polish'd paste;

I've boxes fine as gold,

No better e'er were sold.

Etwees all curious wrought,

No better e'er were bought;

All cheap, as cheap can be,

Pray, Lady, buy of me.

RECITATIVE.

SOPHORINA.

I tell you, man, we've something else to do,

Than talk all day about your toys and you.

BARBARINO.

Dear Arabella, your consent, I pray.

ARABELLA.

You have it, Sir,—to take yourself away.

BARBARINO.

Then you're resolved for ever to refuse.

ARABELLA.

Pray, good mamma, what earings shall I chuse.

SOPHORINA.

A fig o'th' earings, pray ma'am give your answer.

ARABELLA.

I'll love, indeed, as soon as e'er I can, Sir.

But to speak plainly first, 'tween you and me,

I fear that time will never, never be.

FLORIMORE.

O, well reply'd; by heaven, she has wit,

And what's more rare, she well can manage it. [Aside.

SOPHORINA.

Then since you're so perverse, the devil take me,

Thou shalt consent to marry, or I'll make thee.

ARABELLA.

I wou'd in all respects my duty fill,

But ne'er will marry one against my will.

SONG.

'Tis in vain, Sir, to pursue me,

Marriage this way will undo me;

I'd rather live confin'd.

I'd rather be confin'd for life,

Than this way yield to be a wife,

To break my peace of mind.

BARBARINO.

Such treatment is not to be borne,

For my love, she returns me her scorn.

SOPHORINA.

A jade, I cou'd, tear out her eyes,

To see her effect to despise,

A person of your high degree.

FLORIMORE.

'Tis excellent pastime to me.

ARABELLA.

I'll never, no never comply.

I'd sooner feed hogs in a stye.

SOPHORINA.

You huzzy, you shall,

ARABELLA.

But I wont.

SOPHORINA.

You shall feed the hogs if you don't.

BARBARINO.

Odds heart, what a pother is here.

FLORIMORE.

'Tis a pother which I like to hear. [Aside.

SOPHORINA.

Come, give him your hand, and ha' done,

ARABELLA.

I'll take to my heels first and run.

SOPHORINA.

Get home, and be lock'd up for life,

ARABELLA.

I'd rather be so than his wife;

So I'll take your good counsel, and go.

SOPHORINA.

Was ever a mother us'd so?

[Ex. omnes.

END OF THE FIRST PART.

PART II.

Enter ARABELLA.

GENTLE Pedlar, I could love thee,

Were I not so much above thee;

So kind he gives, and speaks so mild,

He has my heart almost beguil'd.

His cheeks are of the rose's dye,

Like pearl his teeth, like jet his eye;

O, gentle Pedlar, 'tis a shame

Thou art not worth a better name.

Enter SOPHORINA and BARBARINO, the latter yet unseen by ARABELLA.

RECITATIVE.

SOPHORINA.

Well, Arabella, do you persevere?

Will you ne'er lend a charitable ear?

Your gentle lover, I'm afraid will die.

BARBARINO.

But not of love, good mother; no, not I. [Aside.

ARABELLA.

I wish, mamma, you'd say no more about him,

I shall be better off indeed, without him;

If he's in love, I pity him I'm sure,

Tho' pity seldom will a lover cure;

But yet, mamma, indeed, 'tween you and I,

I've got another lover in my eye.

BARBARINO [rushing forward.]

Another lover? this is worse and worse!

Oh! I cou'd burst with storm, cou'd swear, cou'd curse;

My jealousy, with fury, now encreases,

I'll tear this new-found lover all to pieces.

ARABELLA.

Oh, mercy on us! what a dreadful creature!

If he'd a wife, he certainly would eat her.

But were you once my new-found spark to see,

You wou'd adore the rogue as well as me.

SONG. BARBARINO.

Was ever mortal man so treated?

What! in my love to be defeated?

Oh! let me but lay hold of him,

I'll tear the traitor limb from limb;

I'd rather met with death, I swear,

Than once the name of rival hear.

Yes; I'd adore him, you shou'd find;

I'd strew his limbs before the wind.

RECITATIVE.

ARABELLA.

Then here behold the dear bewitching thing,

Behold your rival in this sparkling ring.

BARBARINO.

And am I then at last so much despis'd,

As by a gaudy ring to be outpris'd.

SOPHORINA.

A ring! for heaven's sake, how came you by it?

ARABELLA.

I had it given me ma'am, I don't deny it.

SOPHORINA.

By whom, by whom; pray tell me, Miss, and when?

ARABELLA.

By one, the humblest of all humble men;

And lo, he comes, in hopes you'll something buy,

Some necklace, earing, or some rarity.

Enter FLORIMORE.

SOPHORINA.

Pray tell me, worthy friend, how is't you live?

Is it by what you sell, or what you give?

FLORIMORE.

To those, in whom civility I meet,

It is my fancy oftentimes to treat;

To those I do not love perhaps so well,

To such I neither care to give or sell.

BARBARINO.

This fellow's some imposture, you will find,

The country swarms with numbers of his kind.

I'd not receive the favour of a pin,

He only gives away to take you in.

SOPHORINA.

Return the ring, and let the villain go,

Nay, he may be a thief, for ought you know.

FLORIMORE.

Dear Lady, judge not hardly of me, pray.

SOPHORINA.

Then take yourself and trumpery away.

SONG. FLORIMORE.

O, 'tis cruel thus to judge me.

And without the least offence,

You'll surely not the time begrudge me,

While I prove my innocence.

I came to steal, indeed, 'tis true,

A jewel which belongs to you,

For which I'd give my heart.

Then, lovely maiden, interfere,

And stand a poor man's friend;

Thou art the jewel I revere,

I seek no other end.

But I'm, I fear, by much too rude,

A poor man never shou'd intrude;

Take this, and I'll depart. [gives her a diamond necklace.

BARBARINO.

Presumptious fellow! know you were you've got?

FLORIMORE.

Pray, good gentleman, be not so hot.

BARBARINO.

How dare such knaves as you to talk of love?

FLORIMORE.

Because 'twas taught me by the gods above.

BARBARINO.

You talk too free, methinks, 'tween you and I.

FLORIMORE.

I thought your question wanted a reply. [Barbarino whispers Sophorina.

Am I deceiv'd, or is it truly so? [Looking at Barbarino.

My vassal, as I live, my Barbarino!

But I will still pursue this vagrant plan,

To try my fair one, and to know my man. [Aside.

SOPHORINO.

I fear 'tis very true, Sir, what you say, [To Barbarino.

We'd better send the saucy knave away.

BARBARINO.

Pray tell me, fellow, where you got those things,

Those golden boxes, diamonds and rings.

FLORIMORE.

I bought 'em.

BARBARINO.

Stole 'em, if you please;

Come, Sir, confess, and down upon your knees.

FLORIMORE.

Excuse me, Sir, I've always made a rule,

Never to make confession to a fool.

BARBARINO.

Death and veng'ance! shall I bear all this?

If you'll return the knave his necklace, Miss,

You soon shall see how I will treat the slave,

I'll slay the thief, and make yon ditch his grave.

ARABELLA.

For what, pray Sir, what has the poor man done?

SOPHORINA.

What, do you take his part? then we're undone.

ARABELLA.

Indeed, mamma, I do, indeed I will,

For I believe the Pedlar honest still;

His looks, the name of villain must reprove,

For they are all humility and love.

BARBARINO.

Immortal Cupid! this is mighty fine!

SOPHORINA.

She cannot be a daughter sure of mine;

A Pedlar-man! is that your taste you jade?

Pedlar indeed, oh me! I shall go mad.

SONG.

Get out you sleekey-headed hound,

What Devil sent you here?

Alas, alas, my head turns round,

I shall go mad I fear.

Take, take your trinket baits away,

Nor dare to dark my door;

I'll have you hang'd—mind what I say,

If here you venture more.

RECITATIVE.

FLORIMORE.

My tender, lovely maid, farewel! adieu!

I'll go myself, but leave my heart with you.

But ere I go this di'mond locket take,

And wear it, dear one, for a Pedlar's sake. [To Arabella.

ARABELLA.

Stay, stay, my gentle Pedlar, prithee stay,

For I cou'd listen to thee all the day;

What Pedlar ever talk'd in such a strain?

Come back, dear friend, and talk to me again.

'Tis not the jewel which so much I prize,

It is the language of thy tongue and eyes.

BARBARINO.

Fire and brimstone! I'll no more behold;

Away, get hence, you saucy beggar bold;

I'll put an end, you villain, to your rout,

Good ma'am assist me, and we'll hand him out.

SOPHORINA.

Aye, that I will, good Sir, with all my heart.

ARABELLA.

Wou'd I a giant were to take his part.

[Barbarino and Sophorina, in struggling with Florimore, they throw off his cloak, and pull off his false hair, and discover a star upon his breast.

BARBARINO.

Ye Gods! my Lord! my rival and my master!

Did ever mortal meet with such disaster?

Now, what the Devil shall I do or say?

The best way'll be, I think, to run away. [Aside.

FLORIMORE.

Pray, gentlefolks, why are ye both so grave?

I thought you wou'd have made yon ditch my grave;

Perhaps you've chang'd your minds.

SOPHORINA.

Oh! lack a day,

We're both confounded—and have nought to say.

[Florimore makes affectionate signs to Arabella.

SONG.
BARBARINO.

O pardon what is past, my Lord,

I'll never, no, upon my word,

I'll ne'er do so again.

O let this shameful scene pass by,

And for the future I will try

To wipe away the stain.

SOPHORINA.

O mercy, how I quake and tremble,

How cou'd your Lordship so dissemble,

And feign your part so well?

I hope your Lordship will forgive me,

It was your pleasure to deceive me,

Your own love tale to tell.

RECITATIVE.

FLORIMORE.

Tis all forgot; but for the sake of me,

Use other Pedlars with more charity.

I trust you'll never more yourself expose,

Nor act the lover in your master's clothes. [To Barbarino.

SOPHORINA.

I wish him hang'd, my Lord, if you'll believe me,

Because the villain strove so to deceive me.

FLORIMORE.

Then since you seem so truly to repent,

To make amends, now give me your consent,

To wear this lovely charmer by my side,

I wish to make the matchless maid my bride.

SOPHORINA.

Your bride! my Lord? I'm all surprise and wonder;

You've my consent;—but make her knuckle under

Dear Arabella, who e'er thought to see

Thee stand so fair a chance for quality.

FLORIMORE.

And now fair maid, it does on you depend,

To give this comic scene a happy end. [To Arabella.

ARABELLA.

Give your instructions, I will nought deny,

That may befit a maiden's modesty.

FLORIMORE.

'Tis fairly spoke; now yield me that fair hand.

ARABELLA.

You have it, gentle Lord, upon demand;

Were't but my hand, the gift were mean and poor,

Had you not archly stole my heart before.

FLORIMORE.

Celestial maid! thou'st hush'd each doubt and fear;

Was ever maid so lovely and sincere?

In thy dear arms, I'll seek eternal rest,

And lull my cares, to sleep upon thy breast.

SONG.

Let smiling Cupids weave a crown,

Young Hymen's brows to bind;

Then make this matchless maid my own,

The fairest of her kind.

ARABELLA.

Her hateful head, let Envy hide,

Whilst I my joys confess;

There never sure was yet a bride

Felt equal happiness.

BOTH.

Ye mighty Gods, I ask no more,

I've got the maid / man that I adore,

SOPHORINA.

Let happiness on both attend,

And may your joys ne'er know an end.

BARBARINO.

Come let us all then join the lay,

To celebrate the wedding-day.

ALL.

Come let us all then join the lay,

To celebrate the wedding day.

Information about this book

Title statement

The noble pedlar: a burletta. As performed at Marybone-Gardens. Set to music by Mr. Barthelemon.

Carey, George Saville, 1743-1807.

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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3391

ID [isbn10]

110600390X

ID [isbn13]

9781106003904

ID [TCP]

K005787.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3310196138

ID [ECLL]

0110200400

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Source

— The noble pedlar: a burletta. As performed at Marybone-Gardens. Set to music by Mr. Barthelemon., Carey, George Saville, 1743-1807.. 20p. ; 4⁰. London :: printed for W. Nicoll,. 1770.. [Anonymous. By George Saville Carey.] [Without the music.] [Reproduction of original from the Harvard University Houghton Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCN10007.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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