Patie and Peggy: or, the fair foundling. A Scotch ballad opera. As it is acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. By His Majesty's servants. With the musick prefix'd to each song.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- PREFACE.

- Dramatis Personae.

- PATIE and PEGGY.

FINIS.

PATIE and PEGGY: OR, THE FAIR FOUNDLING.

A SCOTCH BALLAD OPERA. As it is Acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. By His MAJESTY's Servants.

Vix ea nostra Voco.

With the MUSICK prefix'd to each SONG.

LONDON: Printed for J. WATTS at the Printing-Office in Wild-Court, near Lincoln's-Inn Fields. MDCCXXX. [Price 1 s.]

PREFACE.

THAT I am indebted to Mr. Ramsay's GENTLE SHEPHERD, (a Scotch Pastoral Comedy, wrote Originally in Five Acts) for the greatest Part of the following Piece, was not owing to my Idleness, but a Doubt of my Abilities to produce any Thing entirely New of this kind, that might plead so much pretence to Favour: As Nature is the same in all Ages, and Climes, I thought, the Simplicity of Characters, Manners, Sentiments, and Passions, which has gain'd THAT POEM its Reputation, cou'd not prove unentertaining to an ENGLISH AUDIENCE; which induced me to turn it into a Ballad Opera: and as the Beauties of the Original have been thought many, I have scarce ventur'd to make any farther Alterations than were absolutely necessary, in bringing the Tale within the Compass of One Act, adding to the Number of the Songs, and changing it into the English Dialect, without which, it had not been intelligible to our Auditors; nor indeed had I time to vary it more, my Benefit being fix'd before I had laid my Design, which was plan'd and finish'd in one Day. When I mention my Benefit, I cannot omit the Opportunity of returning my grateful humble Thanks, to All whose Favours I have been so frequently honour'd with, and hope I am not too vain, when I declare, it ever was, and will be, my utmost Ambition to deserve such Kindness, by my frequent Endeavours, whenever I may have Power, (and as far as my poor Capacity will allow) to add to the Variety of publick Diversions. The Warmth of my Heart might make me tedious, and impertinent, shou'd I proceed; I shall therefore only add, tho' the CHARACTERS in this OPERA are low, I flatter myself, they'll not appear distasteful to the politest Circle of our ENGLISH BEAUTIES.

Theatre-Royal, April the 20th, 1730.
T. C.

Dramatis Personae.

MEN.

Sir William Worthy,

Mr. Williams.

Patie,

Mrs. Roberts.

Roger,

Mr. Cibber Jun.

Glaud,

Mr. Roscoe.

Symon,

Mr. Berry.

WOMEN.

Peggy,

Miss Raftor.

Jenny,

Mrs. Grace.

Margery,

Mrs. Shireburn.

PATIE and PEGGY.

SCENE a Village.

Enter Patie and Roger.

AIR I. The bonny grey-ey'd Morn. 〈♫〉
PATIE

THE bonny gray-ey'd Morning begins to peep,

And Darkness flies before the rising Ray,

The hearty Hind starts from his lazy Sleep,

To follow healthful Labours of the Day.

Without a guilty Sting to wrinkle his Brow,

The Lark and the Linnet he hears with Glee,

And he joins their Concert driving the Plow;

From Toil of Grimace and Pageantry free.

While fluster'd with Wine, or madden'd with Loss

Of half an Estate, the Prey of a Main,

The Drunkard and Gamester tumble and toss,

Wishing for Calmness and Slumber in vain.

Be my Portion Health and Quietness of Mind,

Plac'd at due distance from Parties and State,

Where neither Ambition nor Avarice blind,

Reach him who has Happiness link'd to his Fate.

How wholsome 'tis to snuff the cooling Air,

And all the Sweets it bears, when void of Care!

Freely, Friend Roger, say, what ails thee then?

Tell me the Cause of thy ill-season'd Pain.

Rog.

I'm born, O Patie, to a froward Fate!

I'm born to strive with Hardships sad and great.

Tempests may cease to swell the raging Flood,

And prowling Wolves to suck our Lambkins Blood.

But I, opprest with never-ending Grief,

Must still despair of lighting on Relief.

You have so soft a Voice, and smooth a Tongue,

You are the Darling both of Old and Young;

Charm'd by your Throat, our Woods with Ecchoes ring:

The Lasses jeer me if I try to sing.

Nature unkind denies me that sweet Art,

And all my Harmony is in my Heart.

Pat.

The Bees shall loath the Flower, and quit the Hive,

Willows on marshy Grounds shall cease to thrive,

E're scornful Maids, or Loss of worldly Gear,

Shall spoil my Rest, or ever force a Tear.

AIR II. A New Scotch Tune. 〈♫〉

My Peggy smiles so kindly,

Whene'er I whisper Love,

That I look down on all the Town,

That I look down upon a Crown.

My Peggy smiles so kindly,

It makes me blith and bold;

My Peggy is a gay young Thing,

And I'm not very old.

In vain from me you wou'd your Sorrows hide,

Your well-seen Love, and scornful Jenny's Pride:

With freedom to your Friend, your Grief impart;

I'll share your Griefs, or case your o'er-fond Heart.

Confess, fair Jenny causes all this Smart.

Rog.

I wish I cou'd not love her, but in vain,

I still must doat and feed her proud Disdain;

No other Lass, tho' fair, my Heart alarms,

They but remind me of my Jenny's Charms;

Not Time or Absence can abate my Flame,

She still is beauteous, and my Love the same.

Pat.

Fond Swain! leave off that silly whining Way;

Seem careless, there's my Hand, you'll win the Day.

AIR III. Fy Gar rub her o'er with Straw. 〈♫〉

Ne'er feed her Pride with fond Respect,

Who pays your Kindness with a Slight;

Seem unconcern'd at her Neglect:

All Women in a Man delight:

But them despise who're soon defeat,

And with a simple Face give way

To a Repulse,—then ne'er retreat,

Push boldly on, and win the Day.

When Maidens, innocent and young,

Their fond and tender Hearts belye;

Ne'er mind their pretty lying Tongue,

But mark the Language of the Eye:

If these agree, and she persist

To answer all your Love with Hate,

Seek elsewhere to be better blest,

And let her sigh when 'tis too late.

[Exeunt.

Enter Peggy and Jenny.

Peg.

Nay, tell me now, dear Jenny, why the Swain

Who Loves so well you treat with cold Disdain;

Faith, you'll repent it, shou'd his Love grow cold.

What's like a scornful Maiden, when she's old?

AIR IV. Polwart on the Green. 〈♫〉

Coy Jenny, you'll repent,

Shou'd Roger's Heart grow cold;

None will your Smiles regard,

Soon as your Face looks old.

The froward Child thus in a Pet,

Tho' 'tis by Hunger prest,

Whimpers and quarrels with its Meat,

'Till laugh'd at by the rest,

They jest it till the Dinner's past;

Thus by it self abus'd,

The foolish Chit's oblig'd to fast,

Or eat what they've refus'd.

Ah, Jenny, think, and do not lose your Time.

Jenny.

I never thought a single Life a Crime.

Peg.

Indeed!—but Love in whispers tells me then,

That Men were made for us, and We for Men.

But do you as you list; for me, I find,

I shall be yielding, as my Patie's kind.

Jen.

We soon shall hear what a distracted Life.

You two will lead, when once you're Man and Wise.

Peg.

I'll run the Risque, nor have I any Fear,

But rather think each tedious Day a Year,

'Till I with Pleasure mount my Bridle Bed,

Where on my Patie's Breast I'll lean my Head.

Then he may kiss as long as kissing's good,

And what we do, there's none dare call it rude.

Jen.

He may indeed, for ten or fifteen Days,

Be fondly lavish of his Love and Praise;

But Love once cloy'd, what then are your Delights?

Dull tedious Days, and lonesome restless Nights!

AIR V. O dear Mother, what shall I do. 〈♫〉

O dear Peggy, Love's beguiling,

We ought not to trust his smiling;

Better far to do as I do,

Lest a harder Luck betide you.

Lasses, when their Fancy's carry'd,

Think of nought but to be Marry'd;

Running to a Life destroys

Gladsome, free and youthful Joys.

Peg.

Such homespun Thoughts as these want Force to move

My settled Mind, I am far gone in Love.

My Patie speaks with such a taking Art,

His Words they thrill like Musick through my Heart.

And his good Sense will long his Love secure;

Ill Nature rests in Souls are weak and poor.

AIR VI. As down in a Meadow, &c. 〈♫〉

How can I be sad, when a Husband I've chose,

That has better Sense, than any of those

Sour weak silly Fellows, that study like Fools,

To sink their own Joy, and make their Wives Tools.

The Man who is prudent ne'er brawls with his Wise,

Or with dull Reproaches encourages Strife;

He praises her Virtue, and ne'er will abuse

Her for a small Failing, but find an Excuse.

Jen.

But what if some young Wanton he shou'd spy,

With dimpled Cheek, and a bewitching Eye?

Peg.

No more of that—dear Jenny, to be free,

Some Men in Love more constant are than we:

Nor is the Wonder great, when Nature kind

Has blest 'em with Solidity of Mind.

AIR VII. Corn Riggs are bonny. 〈♫〉

My Patie is a Lover gay,

His Mind is never muddy;

His Breath is sweeter than new Hay,

His Face is fair and ruddy:

His Shape is handsome middle size,

He's comely in his walking,

The shining of his Eyes surprize,

'Tis Heaven to hear him talking.

See yon two Elms, that grow up side by side;

Suppose 'em some Years since Bridegroom and Bride;

Nearer and nearer still each Year they've press'd,

Till wide their spreading Branches are increas'd,

And in their Mixture now are fully blest.

This shields the other from the Eastern Blast,

That in return defends it from the West;

Such as stand single (a State lik'd by you!)

Beneath each Storm from every Corner bow.

Jen.

Peggy, I've done—dear Lassie, I must yield;

Your better Sense has fairly won the Field.

AIR VIII. Nancy's to the Green Wood gone. 〈♫〉

I yield, dear Lassie, you have won,

And there is no denying,

That sure as Light flows from the Sun,

From Love proceeds complying;

For all that we can say or do

'Gainst Love, no Thinker heeds us,

They know our Bosoms lodge the Foe,

That by the Heartstrings leads us.

[Exeunt.

Enter Glaud and Symon.

Glaud.

Good Morrow, Neighbour Symon.

Sym.

—Ah old Boy!

I've gather'd News will fill your Mind with Joy;

'Tis fifteen Years since wise Sir William fled,

And left a fair Estate to save his Head;

But with the King return'd, each. Thing's in Tune,

And we shall see our dear Sir William soon.

Glaud.

This makes me blithe indeed,—but, is it true?

Tell o'er your News again—and swear it too.

Sym.

They who sore grip'd us 'till they made us groan,

Have lost their Power, and away are flown;

And good Sir William shall enjoy his own.

AIR IX. Moggy Lawther. 〈♫〉

Unhappy be the Rebel's Fate,

Oppressors base and greedy,

Who with hard and cruel Hearts,

Alike gripe Rich and Needy:

Blest be he of Worth and Sense,

And ever high his Station,

That bravely stands in the Defence

Of Conscience, King, and Nation.

Glaud.

My Heart's o'erjoy'd; dear Neighbour, will you stay,

And take your Dinner here with me to-day?

I'll yoke my Beast, and send to the next Town,

To fetch a Stoop of Ale, both Stout and Brown.

Sym.

Spoke like your self, old Glaudy; never fear,

But at your Banquet I will strait appear.

Glaud. I'faith, we'll fill each Can, and look so bold,

'Till we forget all Cares, or that we're old;

Old, said I?—Troth! I'm younger by a Score,

With this good News, than what I was before.

[Exeunt.

Enter Sir William, Solus.

Whilst thus I view around each fertile Plain,

Which once I lost, which now are mine again,

Amidst my Joys some Prospects Pain renew,

Whilst I my once fair Seat in Ruins view.

But that shall be repair'd; and now my Joy

Forbids all Grief.—When I'm to see my Boy,

My Patrick, now sole Object of my Care,

Since Heav'n too soon call'd home his Mother fair:

Him, e'er the Rays of Reason clear'd his Thought,

I secretly to faithful Symon brought,

And charg'd him strictly to conceal his Birth,

'Till we shou'd see what changing Times brought forth.

Enter Symon.

Sym.

My Master! my dear Master! blessed Sight!

How your Return will all our Plains delight!

Sir Will.

Rise, faithful Symon, in my Arms enjoy

A Place, thy Due, kind Guardian of my Boy:

But pr'ythee, honest Symon, quickly run

O'er all your Observations on my Son.

A Parent's Fondness eas'ly finds Excuse;

But do not, with Indulgence, Truth abuse.

Sym.

To speak his Praise, the longest Summer's Day

Wou'd be too short.—wou'd I his Worth display.

In Word and Deed his Birth's so well confest,

That out of Sight he runs before the rest:

With a firm Look, and a commanding way,

He makes the proudest of our Herds obey.

Whene'er he walks to Edinborough Port,

He buys some Books of Hist'ry, Songs, or Sport:

About one Shakespear, and the famous Ben,

He often speaks, and calls them best of Men.

Sir Will.

He's now arriv'd the Age when little Loves

Flutter around young Hearts, like cooing Doves;

Has no young Maiden, with inviting Mein,

And rosie Cheek, the Wonder of the Green,

Engag'd his Eye, and caught his youthful Heart?

Sym.

I fear'd the worst, but knew the smallest Part,

'Till lately I have seen him, Sir, more sweet

With Glaud's fair Neice, than I thought right or meet.

Sir Will.

This Night must end his unambitious Fire,

When higher Views shall greater Thoughts inspire.

Hasten then, Symon, bring him quick to me,

None but yourself shall our first Meeting see.

[Exit Symon.

When wish'd-for Pleasures rise like Morning Light,

The Pain that's past, enhances the Delight.

These Joys I feel, that Words can ill express,

I ne'er had known, without my late Distress.

But from his rustick Business and Love,

I must, in haste, my Patrick soon remove,

To Courts, and Camps, that may his Soul improve.

Like the rough Diamond, as it leaves the Mine,

Only in little Breakings shows its Light,

'Till artful Polishing has made it shine:

Thus Education makes the Genius bright.

[Exit.

Enter Patie and Peggy.

Peg.

Oh Patie! let me go, I must not stay;

We're both call'd home, and Jenny, she's away.

Patie.

I'm loth to part so soon, now we're alone,

And Roger is away with Jenny gone;

They're as content, for ought I hear or see,

To be alone themselves, I judge, as we.

Here, where Prim-roses thickest paint the Green,

Near to this purling Riv'let, let us lean.

Hark, how the little Larks chaunt round our Heads,

How soft the western Winds sigh thro' the Reeds.

Peg.

The scented Meadows, Birds, and healthy Breeze,

For ought I know, may more than Peggy, please.

Pat.

You wrong me, Fair, to doubt my being kind;

In speaking so, you call me Dull and Blind.

Thy Breath is sweeter than the sweetest Brier;

Thy Cheek and Breast the finest Flow'rs appear;

Thy Words excel the most delightful Notes,

That warble thro' the Nightingale's soft Throats.

The sweetest Fruits that hang upon the Tree,

Are far inferior to a Kiss of thee.

Peg.

I feel your Pow'r, nor dare I listen long,

Unless you swear never to do me Wrong.

Pat.

Sooner a Mother shall her Fondness drap,

And wrong the Child, sits smiling on her Lap;

The Sun shall change, the Moon to change shall cease,

The Goats to climb, the Sheep to yield their Fleece,

E're Infidelity in me you prove.

No Power on Earth can shake my constant Love.

AIR X. Auld Rob. Morris. 〈♫〉
Peg.

When first my dear Patie went to the Green Hill,

And I at Ewe-milking first try'd my young Skill,

The Toil of the Day no Pain was to me,

So at Close of the Ev'ning I met but with thee.

Pat.

When the Corn it wav'd yellow, the fair flow'ry Field,

If my Peggy was absent, no Pleasure cou'd yield;

But Bryers and Thorns gave no Trouble to me,

If I found the Berries right ripen'd for thee.

Peg.

When you Ran, or Wrestled, or pleasingly Danc'd,

And came off the Victor, my Heart was entranc'd;

Thy each manly Sport gave Pleasure to me;

For none can Dance, Wrestle, or Run swift as thee.

Pat.

Young Jenny sings softly the Cowden Broom knows,

And Kitty sings briskly the Milking the Ewes;

There's few Jenny Nettles like Nancy can sing;

With Thro' the Wood Laddie, Bess makes our Ears ring.

But when my dear Peggy sings with better Skill,

The Boatman, Tweedside, or The Lass of the Mill,

'Tis many times sweeter, and pleasing to me;

For tho' they sing nicely, they sing not like thee.

Peg.

How soon we believe whate'er we desire!

And Praise from our Lovers increases Love's Fire;

Give me still this Pleasure, my Study shall be

To make my self better and sweeter for thee.

AIR XI. As Jockey and Jenny, &c. 〈♫〉
Peg.

You need not to pull me thus, gently I fall

Into my kind Patie's Arms, for Good and all;

But your Wishes confine to this kind Embrace,

And offer no farther 'till the Priest has said Grace.

Pat.

My dear charming Angel! my Cares hence away;

Thus I'll kiss my Treasure all the Live-long Day;

Those Kisses at Night I will dream o'er again,

'Till that Day arrive, that rewards Love's soft Pain.

Both.

Those Kisses at Night, &c.

AIR XII. O'er the Hills and far away. 〈♫〉
Both.

Sun, gallop down the western Skies,

Go soon to Bed, and quickly rise;

O lash your Steeds, post Time away,

And haste about our Bridal Day;

And if you're wearied, honest Light,

Sleep, if you please, a Week that Night.

Repeat.

And if you're wearied, &c.

[Exeunt.

Enter Roger and Jenny.

Rog.

I must speak, Jenny, tho' I risk your Scorn;

You're never from my Thoughts, Night, Noon, or Morn.

Ah! cou'd I love you less, I'd happy be;

But happier far, cou'd you but fancy me.

Jen.

And who knows, honest Lad, but that I may?

You cannot say, that e'er I said you Nay.

Rog.

Alas! my frighted Heart begins to fail,

Whene'er I strive to tell you out my Tale,

For fear some worthier Lad, more rich than I,

Has won your Love, and near your Heart may lie.

Jen.

I love my Father, and my Cousin love;

But to this Day, no Man my Heart cou'd move,

Except my Kin; each Lad's alike to me,

And from you all I best had keep me free.

Rog.

Oh dearest Jenny, say not that again;

What Pleasure can you take in giving Pain?

I'm glad however that you yet stand free;

Who knows you may relent, and pity me?

Jen.

What soft'ning Words from Wooers Lips can fall!

But palling Marriage comes and ends 'em all.

I've seen with shining Fair the Morning Rise,

And soon a low'ring Cloud dark all the Skies.

I've seen the Silver Spring a-while run clear,

And soon in Mossey Puddles disappear.

The Bridegroom may rejoice, the Bride may smile,

But soon Contentions all their Joys beguile.

Rog.

I've seen the Morning rise with fairest Light,

The Day unclouded, sink in calmest Night.

I've seen the Spring run winding thro' the Plain,

Increase and join the Ocean without Stain.

The Bridegroom may be blith, the Bride may smile,

Rejdice thro' Life, and all your Fears beguile.

AIR XIII. Katharine Ogie. 〈♫〉
Jen.

I well cou'd pass my Days with thee,

Cou'd I with Love secure thee;

But when thou'st had thy Fill of me,

How shall I then allure thee?

Alas! I fear too soon to love,

Lest thou shou'dst soon forsake me;

Yet from thy Sight I can't remove:

Then ease my Heart, and take me.

Rog.

Oh! I'm too happy. Let my aching Head

Upon thy snowy Bosom be reclin'd;

The rushing Joy I fear will strike me dead.

Is't possible! and is my Jenny kind!

AIR XIV. Yellow-hair'd Ladie. 〈♫〉
Jen.

Oh Roger, I own since now you speak free,

'Bove all other Swains I lik'd your Company;

And ever a Warmness I felt in my Breast,

That made you still dearer to me than the rest.

And ever, &c.

Rog.

O let me press thee, Dearest, to my Heart,

And round thy Waste my fondling Arms entwine;

Delightful Thought! we'll never, never part!

Be hush'd my Fears, my charming Jenny's mine.

AIR XV. The blithsome Bridal. 〈♫〉
Jen.

Well, I agree to Wed you.

Now to my Father go,

Nor doubt that he'll forbid you;

Lads wealthy are seldom said No.

Your Flocks and Possessions are large,

So he'll commend you well;

But Love, he says, soon grows cold,

Where Bairns want Milk and Meal.

But fear not; while I not scorn ye,

He'd contradict in vain;

Had all my Kindred forsworn ye,

I'll have no other Swain:

Then learn not to change your Love,

Like those in high Degree:

If constant for ever you prove,

You'll find no Fault in me.

[Exit.

Rog.

This kind Confession has my Bosom fir'd;

We'll Love for ever, and be never tir'd:

We'll smile and kiss, the Sun and Stars away,

And wonder at the quick Return of Day.

Enter Patie.

AIR XVI. The Lass of Patie's Mill. 〈♫〉

Duty, and Part of Reason,

Plead on the Parents side;

But they 'gainst Love talk Treason,

Whose Power will be obey'd:

Tho' now I'm of the Gentry,

My Truth Falshood repells,

Nor in my Heart finds Entry;

My Peggy there excells.

Rog.

Friend Patie, Jane who broke my Heart, this Morn

Has taught her tender Heart no more to scorn.

I spoke my Mind—She heard—I spoke again,

She smil'd—I kiss'd—I woo'd, nor woo'd in vain.

Pat.

But now a Father took me to his Breast

With Looks all Kindness, Words that Love confest:

Possess'd of Lands that lifts me 'bove the rest.

Such were the Eyes, he said, thus smil'd the Mouth

Of thy lov'd Mother, blessing of my Youth!

Who set too soon! and while he Praise bestow'd,

A-down his graceful Cheeks a Torrent flow'd.

My new-born Joys, and this his tender Tale,

Did (mingled thus) o'er all my Thoughts prevail.

That speechless long, my late-known Sire I view'd;

While gushing Tears my panting Breast bedew'd.

But he has heard—too-faithful Symon's Fear!

Has brought my Love for Peggy to his Ear,

Which he forbids;—'Tis this confounds my Peace;

While, thus to beat, my Heart must sooner cease.

Fixt in my Soul the Shepherdess excells,

And part of my new Happiness repells.

Rog.

Enjoy 'em both; your Father may be won,

Your Peggy's bonny—you his Darling Son.

Pat.

She's mine by Vows, and stronger ties of Love;

And from those Bonds, not Fate my Mind shall move.

Rog.

Is not your Father and yourself to stay

Among us here, or must you hence away?

Pat.

To-morrow we to Edenburgh advance,

To London next, and afterwards to France;

Then 'tis design'd, when I can well behave,

That I must be some Purse-proud Maid's dull Slave.

But Peggy, dearer to me than my Breath,

Sooner than hear such News, shall hear my Death.

My Vows I'll keep, and she shall be my Bride:

But I some Time this last Design must hide.

Keep you the Secret close, and leave me here,

I sent for Peggy: Yonder comes my Dear.

[Exit Roger.

With what a Struggle must I now impart

My Father's Will to her that holds my Heart:

Kind Heaven, propitious smile upon my Fair,

And let her Comfort claim your tend'rest Care.

Alas, she weeps—

Enter Peggy.

—My Peggy, why in Tears?

Smile as you wont, allow no Room for Fears:

But chide 'em hence, nor let thy Heart repine;

Tho' I'm no more a Shepherd, yet I'm thine.

AIR XVII. Waes my Heart, that we shou'd sunder. 〈♫〉
Peg.

Speak on, speak thus, and still my Grief,

Hold up a Heart that's sinking under

These Fears, that soon will want Relief,

When Patie must from Peggy sunder.

A gentler Face, and Silk Attire,

A Lady rich in Beauty's Blossom,

Alas poor me! will soon conspire,

To steal thee from thy Peggy's Bosom.

No more the Shepherd who excell'd

The rest, whose Wit made them to wonder,

Shall now his Peggy's Praises tell;

Ah! I can die, but never sunder.

Ye Meadows where we often stray'd,

Ye Banks where we were wont to wander;

Sweet scented Fields round which we play'd,

You'll lose your Sweets when we're asunder.

Pat.

My Father has forbid our Loves, I own;

But Love's superior to a Parent's Frown.

Sir William's generous; leave the Task to me,

To make strict Duty and true Love agree.

AIR XVIII. Tweed-Side. 〈♫〉
Peg.

When Hope was quite sunk in Despair,

My Heart it was going to break;

My Life seem'd unworthy my Care,

Which now I will save for thy sake.

Pat.

Where-e'er thy Love travels by Day,

Where-ever he lodges by Night,

With him thy dear Image shall stay,

And his Soul keep thee ever in Sight.

Peg.

With Patience I'll wait the long Year,

And study the gentlest Charms;

Hope Time away 'till thou appear,

Then lock thee for aye in these Arms.

Whilst thou wast a Shepherd, I priz'd

No higher Degree in this Life;

But now I'll endeavour to rise

To a height is becoming thy Wife.

Pat.

The Beauty that's only Skin-deep,

Must fade like the Flowers of May;

But inwardly rooted, will keep

For ever without a Decay.

Both.

Nor Age, nor the Changes of Life,

Can quench the fair Fire of Love,

If Virtue's ingrain'd in the Wife,

And the Husband have Sense to approve.

Pat.

Sure Heaven approves.—And be assur'd of me,

I'll never swerve from what I've sworn to Thee:

If at my Foot were Crowns and Scepters laid,

To bribe my Soul from thee, delightful Maid;

For thee, I'd soon leave those inferior Things,

To such as have the Patience to be Kings.

Wherefore that Tear? believe, and calm thy Mind.

Peg.

I weep for Joy, to hear my Love so kind;

With Patience then I'll wait each wheeling Year,

Dream thro' that Night, 'till my Day-Star appear:

And all the while I'll study gentler Charms

To make me worthy of my Lover's Arms.

AIR XIX. Bush aboon Traquair. 〈♫〉

At setting Day and rising Morn

With Soul that still shall love thee,

I'll ask of Heaven thy safe Return,

With all that can improve thee.

I'll visit oft the Hawthorn Bush,

Where first you kindly told me

Sweet Tales of Love, and hid my Blush,

Whilst round thou didst enfold me.

To all our Haunts I will repair,

By Green Wood-Shade, or Fountain;

Or where the Summer-Day I'd share

With thee, upon yon Mountain.

There will I tell the Trees and Flowers,

From Thoughts unfeign'd and tender;

By Vows you're mine; by Love, is yours

A Heart which cannot wander.

Both.

By Vows you're mine, &c.

Enter Sir William, Glaud, Symon, Roger, Jenny, and Margery.

Sir Will.

What Maiden's this who does my Son embrace?

Beauty and Innocence are in her Face;

How sparkling are her Eyes! what's this I find!

The Girl brings all my Sister to my Mind.

Such were the Features once adorn'd a Face,

Which Death too soon depriv'd of sweetest Grace.

Is this your Daughter, Glaud?—

Glaud.

—Sir, she's my Niece,

And yet she's not—but I shou'd hold my Peace.

Sir Will.

This is a Contradiction. What d'ye mean?

She is and she is not: old Man, explain!

Glaud.

Troth, Sir, I doubt if I can make appear

What I have kept a Secret Fifteen Year.

Mar.

You may reveal what I can fully clear.

Sir Will.

Speak soon, I'm all Impatience!

Pat.

So am I;

For much I hope, and hardly yet know why.

Glaud.

Then since my Master orders, I obey,—

This pretty Fondling, one clear Morn of May,

Close by the Threshould of my Door I found,

All sweet and clean, and carefully wrapt round,

In Infant Weeds, of rich and gentle Make.

What cou'd they be, thought I, did thee forsake?

I took her in my Arms, the Infant smil'd

With such a Look, wou'd make a Savage mild.

The Story I conceal'd, and since that Time,

She pass'd, Sir, for an Orphan Niece of mine.

Sir Will.

This Tale seems strange!

Pat.

—The Tale delights my Ear.

Sir Will.

Command your Joys, young Man, till Truth appear.

Marg.

That be my Task—Now, Sir, bid all be hush,

Peggy may smile, thou hast no Cause to blush.

Long have I wish'd to see this happy Day,

That I might safely to the Truth give way;

That I may now Sir William Worthy name

The best and nearest Parent she can claim.

At first he saw it—and with quick Eye did trace

His Sister's Beauties in her Daughter's Face.

Sir Will.

Good Woman, do not rave; prove what you say;

'Tis dangerous in Affairs like this to play.

Marg.

Sir, view me well; has fifteen Years so plow'd

A wrinkled Face that you have often view'd,

That here I as an unknown Stranger stand,

Who nurs'd her Mother, that now holds my Hand?

Yet stronger Proofs I'll give, if you demand.

Sir Will.

My honest Nurse! where were my Eyes before?

I know thy Faithfulness, and need no more.

Marg.

Know, Sir, 'twas I that sav'd her Infant Life,

Her Death being threaten'd by an Uncle's Wife.

The Story's long; but I the Secret knew,

How they pursu'd with avaricious View

Her rich Estate, of which they're now possest:

All this to me a Confident consest.

I heard with Horror and with trembling Dread,

They'd kill the helpless Orphan in her Bed.

That very Night, when all were sunk in Rest,

At Midnight-Hour the Floor I softly prest,

And stole the sleeping Innocent away,

With whom I travell'd some few Miles e're Day.

All Day I hid me,—When the Day was done,

I kept my Journey, lighted by the Moon,

Till Eastward fifty Miles I reach'd these Plains,

Where needful Plenty glads your chearful Swains.

Fearful to be found out, I to secure

My Charge, did lay her at this Shepherd's Door,

And took a Neighbouring Cottage here, that I,

Whate'er shou'd happen to her, might be by.

Wonder I see is fixt in every Eye.

Pat.

Sir, with Paternal Love survey her Charms,

And blame me not for rushing to her Arms;

She's mine by Vows, and wou'd, tho' still unknown,

Have been my Wife, when I my Vows durst own.

Sir Will.

My Niece, my Daughter, welcome to my Care,

Sweet Image of thy Mother, good and fair;

My Boy, receive her from a Father's Hand,

With as good Will as either wou'd demand.

[They embrace and kneel.

Pat.

With as much Joy this Blessing I receive,

As one wou'd Life, just sinking in a Wave.

Marg.

I hope your Honour now will take amends

Of them that sought her Life for wicked Ends.

Sir Will.

The base unnatural Villain soon shall know,

That Eyes above watch the Affairs below:

I'll strip him soon of all to her pertains,

And make him reimburse his ill-got Gains.

Peg.

To me the Views of Wealth and Grandeur prove

Trifles, when put in Ballance with my Love.

For his sake only I'll still thankful bow,

For such a Kindness, best of Men, to you.

AIR XX. I'll never leave thee. 〈♫〉
Pat.

No more, my dear Peggy, let Sorrows oppress ye;

For while my Blood's warm I'll kindly caress ye.

Peg.

Dear Patie, thy Sweets in my Heart are indented,

And Love will preserve still, what Love has imprinted.

Both.

O dearest Jewel, you may believe me,

Let Fortune smile, or frown, I'll ne'er deceive thee.

Rep.

O dearest Jewel, &c.

Good Margery! how shall I grateful be

For all thy matchless Kindness shewn to me?

Marg.

The flowing Pleasures of this happy Day

Does fully all I can require repay.

Sir Will.

She in my House shall calmly close her Days,

With nought to do, but sing high Heaven's Praise.

Pat.

Sir, here's a trusty Friend, that always knew

My Bosom Secrets, e'er I wealthy grew;

Glaud's Daughter Jenny (Jenny owns the same)

Rais'd and maintains in him a Lover's Flame:

Be pleas'd to speak to Glaud for his Consent,

That none may wear a Face of Discontent.

Sir Will.

My Son's Demand is fair—Glaud, let me crave,

That trusty Roger may your Daughter have.

Glaud.

You crowd your Bounties, Sir; what can we say,

But that we're Debtors that can ne'er repay?

Whate'er your Honour wills, I shall obey.

Rog.

I ne'er was good at speaking in my Days,

Nor ever learnt a Courtly flattering Phrase;

But for my Master, Father, Friend and Wife,

I will employ the Cares of all my Life.

AIR XXI. An thou wert mine ain Thing. 〈♫〉
Jen.

When I am to my true Love wed,

I will love him, I will love him:

Soon as the Priest the Grace has said,

How dearly will I love him.

To Merit I no Claim can make,

But that I love, and for his Sake,

What Lass cou'd do, I'd undertake,

So dearly do I love him.

Sir Will.

My Friends, I'm satisfy'd you'll all behave,

Each in his Station, as I'd wish or crave.

I shall remain Friends with you from this Day,

And never from these Fields again will stray.

Let Courtiers sweat in State, and toil for Fame,

The Poor and Rich but differ in the Name;

Content's the greatest Bliss we can procure

Beneath the Sun—Without it Kings are Poor;

While o'er the Moor, the Shepherd, without Care,

Enjoys his sober Wish, and wholesome Air.

AIR XXII. Muirland Willy. 〈♫〉
Pat.

The Shepherd early with the Dawn

Rises as fresh as Roses blown,

And ranges over the Heights and Lawn,

After his bleating Flocks.

Peg.

Healthful, and innocently gay,

He chaunts and whistles out the Day;

Untaught to smile, and then betray,

Like Courtly Weather-Cocks.

Pat.

Life happy, from Ambition free,

Envy and vile Hypocrisy,

When Truth and Love with Joy agree,

Unsullied with a Crime:

Peg.

Unmov'd with what disturbs the Great,

In propping of their Pride and State,

We live, and unafraid of Fate,

Contented spend our Time.

CHORUS of All.

Unmov'd with what disturbs the Great,

In propping of their Pride and State,

We live, and unafraid of Fate,

Contented spend our Time.

Sir Will.

Be ever virtuous: Soon or late you'll find

Reward and Satisfaction to your Mind.

The Maze of Life sometimes looks dark and wild;

And oft when Hopes are highest we're beguil'd.

Oft when we stand on Brinks of dark Despair,

Some happy Turn with Joy dispels our Care.

Information about this book

Title statement

Patie and Peggy: or, the fair foundling. A Scotch ballad opera. As it is acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. By His Majesty's servants. With the musick prefix'd to each song.

Cibber, Theophilus, 1703-1758.

Publication

Distributor

University of Oxford Text Archive
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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4562

ID [isbn10]

1106015614

ID [isbn13]

9781106015617

ID [TCP]

K061116.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3314902021

ID [ECLL]

0555803900

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— Patie and Peggy: or, the fair foundling. A Scotch ballad opera. As it is acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. By His Majesty's servants. With the musick prefix'd to each song., Cibber, Theophilus, 1703-1758., Ramsay, Allan, 1686-1758.. [8],34,[2]p. : ill.,music ; 8⁰. London :: printed for J. Watts,. 1730.. [An adaptation of Allan Ramsay's 'The gentle shepherd'.] [The adaptor's preface signed: T. C., i.e. Theophilus Cibber.] [With an epilogue.] [Reproduction of original from the Huntington Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT72081.] [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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