Britannia and Batavia: a masque. Written on the marriage of the Princess Royal with his Highness the Prince of Orange. By the late Mr. Lillo.

Table of contents

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- DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

- Britannia and Batavia: A MASQUE.

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Britannia and Batavia: A MASQUE.

[Price Six-Pence.]

Britannia and Batavia: A MASQUE. Written on the MARRIAGE of the PRINCESS ROYAL With his HIGHNESS the PRINCE of ORANGE. By the late Mr. LILLO.

LONDON: Printed for JOHN GRAY, at the Cross-Keys in the Poultry near Cheapside. MDCCXL.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

- Ithuriel.

- Eliphas.

- Britannia.

- Batavia.

- Liberto.

- Tyranny.

- Superstition.

- Chorus of Country Lads and Lasses.

- Chorus of Sailors and their Lasses.

- Landlady.

- Chorus of Spectators.

- The Procession. Mutes

- Slavery and Poverty, Attendants on Tyranny. Mutes

- Pride and Cruelty, Attendants on Superstition. Mutes

Britannia and Batavia: A MASQUE.

SCENE the FIRST. A Pleasant Country. Britannia asleep under a small, but rich Pavilion. Her Sword and Shield lying by her. Ithuriel her Guardian Angel with a drawn Sword, leaning on a Cloud, and suspended in the Air near her.

Ith.

SLEEP, fair Britannia, sleep secure;

Thy own Ithuriel, happy in his Charge,

Thy Guardian Angel wakes.

AIR I.

Rest is the Recompence of Toil,

The noblest Fruit of Conquest, Peace;

Learn but Content, high-favour'd Isle,

And nothing can your Bliss increase.

What Splendor rises in the East,

Now when the Sun has measured half the Day?

Some alien Spirit sure—

Descends, and stands before Britannia in a Posture of Defence. Eliphas, the Guardian Angel of Batavia, descends with an Olive Branch in his Hand.

Eliphas,

as I think,

The vigilant Protector of Batavia.

El.

Exalted Seraph, powerful and benign,

Thou judgest right, I am indeed Eliphas.

Ith.

Distinguish'd as thou art,

Prudent, and brave, and of approv'd Integrity,

Thou can'st not doubt thy Welcome:

Yet let me wonder, high and friendly Guest,

Why thou hast left thy Charge.

El.

Not so, bright Chief;

Unable to defend her

From proud Hispania's fierce and cruel Power,

I've brought her here,

To seek Protection from Britannia's Arms.

Ith.

For others Dangers

I may not interrupt her calm Repose;

Her Peace and Safety are my Care,

Her Virtue is her own.

AIR II.

El.

'Tis great to succour the distrest!

Ith.

Britannia's Bounty stands confest,

Unequal'd and alone.

El.

Can lost Batavia sue in vain?

Ith.

Must Britain endless Wars maintain

For Causes not her own.

El.

Behold the mourning Fair.

Enter Batavia in Mourning, supported; her Hair dishevel'd, and her Coronet falling.

Bat.

Ah! me, ah! wretched, wretched lost Batavia.

Britannia wakes.

Brit.

Whoe'er thou art, thy Groans have wak'd Britannia.

Bat. Kneeling.

Thou great and just Defender of th'opprest,

See at your Feet poor and distrest Batavia:

Her Cities ras'd, her sacred Rights destroy'd,

Her Nobles slaughter'd, and her Sons enslav'd.

AIR III.

O whither shall I turn me, whither fly,

If you refuse your Aid?

By Friends forsaken,

By my Foes betray'd,

There's not on Earth so lost a Wretch as I.

O! whither, &c.

Brit.

Arise, afflicted Fair, my Sister, rise;

Believe, I feel and will redress thy Wrongs;

Deceitful bloody Rome, and haughty Spain,

Shall be compell'd to render back their Prey.

AIR IV.

Brit.

Let Tyranny devour,

And build in Blood her Throne;

Britannia holds her Power

For righteous Ends alone.

Bat.

While Heaven refers to you the Fate

Of Europe; while you hold the Scale,

And may dispense the casting Weight,

Justice and Virtue must prevail.

Both repeat the first Stanza.

End of the first serious Interlude.

Enter a Chorus of Country Lads and Lasses.

AIR V. Under the Greeenwood Tree.

1st Lad.

Let envious Faction call me Slave,

I know and feel I'm free.

1st Lass.

'Tis well, brisk Sir, that you're so brave;

I thought you bound to me.

1st Lad.

Such lovely Eyes,

1st Lass.

Must tyrannize,

And you their Captive be.

1st Lad.

Love's Chains alone,

True Britons own,

Nor wou'd from them be free.

Chorus.

Love's Chains alone, &c.

Dancing suitable to the Occasion. Exeunt.

SCENE A Palace.

Britannia on a Couch in a Posture expressive of Distress. On her Right Hand, Tyranny attended with Slavery and Want; on her Left, Superstition attended with Cruelty and Pride. Ithuriel at a Distance weeping.

Brit.

Surpriz'd! betray'd! no Help, no Succour near!

O most undone! O ruin'd, lost Britannia!

Tyr.

Stubborn, ungrateful Fair,

Blinded by Error will you ever scorn

The friendly Hand that offers at your Cure?

Behold thy Soul's Physician.

Sup.

Taste of this Cup, and be enlighten'd:

Thou hast lost no Freedom,

Except the fatal Liberty to err;

And Riches are but Snares;

Those we'll remove:

But in return the Church

Shall pour forth all her Benedictions on thee:

Thou shalt abound in Grace.

Brit.

Detested Superstition! Bloated Monster!—

Drunk with the Blood of Nations,—from my Sight.

I'll have no more to do with thy Inchantments,

Hence, Sorcerer, hence, and let me die in Peace.

Sup.

Consult not Reason, close the Eye of Sense;

So shall you judge aright, and see the better.

We are your Friends.

Brit.

I know and I abhor you.

Sup.

Poor wand'ring Soul!

She must be driven back into the Fold:

Wholesom Severities may set her right,

And save her from Destruction.

Tyr.

I trust your pious Skill.

Sup.

Whips, Chains and Racks,

Those gentler Methods,

May first be tried;

If these shou'd seem too mild,

You must impute it to our tender Mercy.

Ith.

Now, Batavia, if thou hast Gratitude,

Assert it now, and save distrest Britannia.

Aside and Exit.

Sup.

Heresy is indeed a rank Disease,

But then the Fire's a never failing Cure.

Tyr.

Take your own Way.

Sup.

Nay, nay, I but advise;

The Church expects that you shou'd do her Justice:

She but condemns—She never deals in Blood—

She damns, 'tis true, the Wretch who spares her Foes;

But begs, by me, your Mercy

For this poor Heretick relapsed.

Touch not her Life, singe not a single Hair,

Nor shed one Drop of Blood.

Tyr.

I understand the Church, and know my Duty.

To his Attendants. Seize her, and bind her strait.

AIR VI.

Brit. Kneeling.

Just Heaven! if e'er

The Wretched's Prayer

I hear'd, and eas'd his Pain;

Now in return,

Let me not mourn,

Nor ask Relief in vain.

Loud Shouts without, mixt with martial Musick, Cries of Liberty, &c. Scene changes to the Prospect of a calm Sea with a Fleet of Ships at Anchor. Enter Ithuriel, Eliphas, and Batavia, ushering in Liberto, richly habited and attended. At whose Appearance, Tyranny, Superstition, and their Followers run off in Confusion. Liberto unbinds Britannia.

Brit.

Grateful Batavia! generous Liberto!

Bounteous Heaven! O how shall I express

My Wonder, or my Thanks?

Lib.

Fair Queen of Isles,

Guardian of Liberty and sacred Truth,

In saving you we have preserv'd ourselves;

Our Interest is the same.

Brit.

Most Godlike Prince! O how shall Lreward thee!

Lib.

To serve Britannia is its own Reward.

Brit.

—It shall be so—

Prudence and Gratitude demand it of me—

He best can guard the Freedom he restor'd,

And well deserves to wear the Crown he sav'd.

Aside.

What think'st thou of me Prince?

Lib.

All must confess your Charms:

Fair and majestick, happy in your Offspring.

Europe sees few so great, and none so blest:

Freedom, and Wealth and Power are in your Hand.

Brit.

Then here I place them all.

Giving her Hand.

Lib.

And I with Joy accept 'em.

Kissing it.

'Twere Folly to refuse so great a Blessing.

Whether Ambition, or the Love of Virtue,

Sway most with me, my Actions must declare.

Brit.

By me you are not doubted, brave Liberto:

And let inveterate Malice do her worst,

Grateful Posterity shall clear your Fame.

Bat.

O happy Change! O glorious Revolution!

AIR VII.

Lib.

To conquer without Blood;

Brit.

To reign for others Good;

Bat.

Lost Freedom to restore;

Brit.

This is the Hero's Praise:

Bat.

For this we Temples raise,

Lib.

And justly Heav'n adore.

All three.

To conquer, &c.

End of the second serious Interlude.

A Chorus of Sailors.

AIR VIII. When the Stormy, &c.

1st Sail.

You Terror of Britannia's Foes,

Whose Valour does maintain

Her Power, where'er the Ocean flows,

Or stormy Tempests reign;

For Liberty restor'd,

Now let your Joys o'erflow:

As on the Shore

The Billows roar,

When the stormy Winds do blow.

Enter Landlady, follow'd by a Train of young Women.

AIR IX.

Land.

Well fare your Hearts, my jovial Boys,

You ranting, roaring Sons of Noise,

See who are come to aid your Joys,

And hail you safe to Shore:

See here the Treasure of our Isle,

Here reap the Fruits of all your Toil,

And all your future Cares beguile,

With fal, lal, &c.

Chorus

See here, &c.

Dancing.

Scene a magnificent Monument in the Front of the Stage. At the Foot of which Batavia is discovered, leaning on an Urn.

AIR X.

Bat.

Tho' hopeless, I must ever languish:

Nor Time, nor Fate, can ease my Anguish,

Still adoring,

Still deploring

Lost Liberto: endless Grief!

Will the cruel Grave return him,

Can I ever cease to mourn him?

Will my Sorrows bring Relief?

Enter Eliphas.

El.

Arise, Batavia, and with Wonder hear

How generous Britannia has devised

To pay her Tribute to Liberto's Fame,

And make her Gratitude, like that, immortal.

She on the Princely Youth,

In whom Liberto's Name

Must live or be extinguished,

Does Wisdom, Beauty, Majesty bestow,

Domestick Happiness, Wealth, Fame, and Power;

To sum up all that may be said or thought

She gives,—

The First-born Princess of her Royal House,

Replete with ev'ry Virtue, for his Bride.

Her joyful Sons

With Acclamations rend the Skies;

Assist, Batavia, and increase their Joys:

Now prove how you regard your Princely Char••▪

And what you owe Liberto,

Pay to his dear Remains.

AIR XI.

Hark, from Britannia's Shore

The Cannons loudly roar;

The Horizon how bright?

Ten thousand Piles of Fire,

Waving to Heaven aspire,

And turn to Day the Night.

Chorus of Spectators.

Scene the Procession of the Marriage of the Princess Royal with his Highness the Prince of Orange in the same Order, and as near as possible with the same Magnificence, as it was really perform'd.

AIR XII.

Spec.

Ten thousand Joys

Attend the Princely Pair,

Whilst ev'ry grateful Briton

Applauds his Sovereign's Care;

Who on Nassau bestows,

(A Name to Britons dear,

Whence ev'ry Blessing flows,

And we with Transport hear)

Anna, that Royal Dame,

Our Blessings to insure;

That Freedom like his Fame,

May evermore endure.

Chorus.

Ten thousand, &c.

THE END.

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Title statement

Britannia and Batavia: a masque. Written on the marriage of the Princess Royal with his Highness the Prince of Orange. By the late Mr. Lillo.

Lillo, George, 1693-1739.

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http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3892

ID [isbn10]

110600891X

ID [isbn13]

9781106008916

ID [TCP]

K033911.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3309714079

ID [ECLL]

0047503000

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— Britannia and Batavia: a masque. Written on the marriage of the Princess Royal with his Highness the Prince of Orange. By the late Mr. Lillo., Lillo, George, 1693-1739.. 15,[1]p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed for John Gray,. 1740.. [With a half-title.] [Also issued as part of: 'The works of the late Mr. George Lillo' London, 1740.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT29686.] [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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