Thomas and Sally: or, the sailor's return: A musical entertainment. As it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Covent-Garden. The music composed by Doctor Arne.

Table of contents

- [halftitle]

- [titlepage]

- PREFACE.

- DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

- PART I.

- SCENE I.

- SCENE II. A Cottage.

- SCENE III. E illegible DORCAS.

- SCENE IV. A Wood.

- SCENE V.

- PART II.

- SCENE I. The Sea Side.

- SCENE II. A Meadow.

- SCENE the last.

THOMAS AND SALLY: OR, The Sailor's Return.

THOMAS AND SALLY: OR, The Sailor's Return.

[PRICE ONE SHILLING.]

THOMAS AND SALLY: OR, The Sailor's Return. A MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT. As it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Covent-Garden. The MUSIC composed by DOCTOR ARNE.

LONDON: Printed for G. KEARSLY, at the Golden Lion, in Ludgate-street; and J. COOTE, at the King's Arms, in Pater-noster Row. MDCCLXI.

PREFACE.

THE public has made so little difficulty hitherto, in swallowing nauseous, or at best, insipid verses, when they have been wrapped up in agreeable music; that to offer a word, either by way of defence, or apology, for the following trifle, seems altogether unnecessary.

IT will be easily believed, that the author did not write it with a view to acquire the reputation of a genius: he must be a simpleton indeed, who hopes to give people an idea of his wealth by shewing them a handful of farthings. He wrote it merely to comply with the request of a theatrical person, whom he had an inclination to oblige; it was designed and finished in somewhat less than a fortnight; and his excuse for now suffering it to appear in print (and he really thinks such an excuse necessary) must be the nature of a musical entertainment, which requires, that the words should be put into the hands of the audience, who would otherwise find it impossible to accompany the performers in what they sing upon the stage.

HE is no stranger to the whimsical prejudice, which inclines most people to measure the worth of dramatic pieces by their length; and because a musical entertainment is unavoidably the shortest of any, makes them, for that reason, deny its being capable of any degree of merit at all. But though what he here ventures into the world, is neither a Tragedy, a Comedy, or even so much as a Comedy of two acts; he flatters himself, there are some few, who will not condemn it, merely because it is not, what it was not designed for: he hopes they will consider, that when he sat down to write it, he sat down to write a musical entertainment; and that a certain poet and critic, who is allowed to have been a tolerable judge in such matters, has told us, no author can compass more than he intends.

IF after this, any persons have an inclination to find fault with it, they are heartily welcome: nay, he will so far subscribe to their opinion, as to confess, there are some as bad lines in it, as the worst dablers in sing-song ever were guilty of; but he thought it needless to correct them, as every thing of this kind must be castrated, in order to make it perfectly musical; and stretched and altered, to fit the shape of the stage. However, he would certainly point out the exceptionable lines, to shew he is not ignorant of them; but that he takes it for granted, there will be people enough ready to save him that trouble.

THUS far by way of Preface; which the author has written, only because he is assured there is nothing so acceptable to the purchasers of any thing in the form of a book, now a-days, as a reasonable pennyworth in print and paper; and he had a mind to avail himself of the advantages attending an additional half-sheet.

FOR the same reason too he might possibly have attempted a Dedication; but, unfortunately, the only personages likely to patronize his performance are united in a particular society; and he was at a loss in what manner to order their titles, so as to make a proper blazon at the head of a page. However, in this place he would be understood to inscribe the following rhimes to those vagrant choiresters, who, like the bards of old, sing verses about the public streets; and if, when they have thought proper to advance the following ballads to a place in the Chimneysweeper's Garland, the Sweetheart's Delight, or any other of their ingenious collections; they should, (thro' their novelty, and the prevailing argument of playhouse tunes) be the means of rendering more reasonable in their demands, those grinders of the muses, who have the conscience to expect six and thirty pretty songs in one book for a halfpenny; he shall think the time, and pains they cost him in composing, very well bestowed.

TO conclude. The author thinks there is no doubt, on account of the music, which is admirable; and the performance, which will be excellent; but this little piece must come off well upon the stage; but after having been acquitted there, he foresees, some busy people will be for bringing it before the judges in the court of criticism. Now he applies himself to the said judges, requiring them to consider all such proceedings as arbitrary, at least, if not unprecedented: He desires, that they will suffer the insignificancy of this piece, to screen it from their cognizance; and that they will not attempt to break a butterfly upon a wheel.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

MEN.

The 'SQUIRE,

Mr. BEARD.

THOMAS,

Mr. MATTOCKS.

WOMEN.

SALLY,

Miss BRENT.

DORCAS,

Mrs. VERNON.

SCENE, The COUNTRY.

PART I.

SCENE I.

Music behind.

Enter 'SQUIRE and HUNTSMEN.

'SQUIRE.

THE ecchoing horn calls the sportsmen abroad,

To horse, my brave boys, and away;

The morning is up, and the cry of the hounds,

Upbraids our too tedious delay.

What pleasure we find in pursuing the fox,

O'er hill, and o'er valley he flies;

Then follow, we'll soon overtake him, huzza!

The traitor is seiz'd on, and dies.

Triumphant returning at night with the spoil,

Like Bacchanals, shouting and gay;

How sweet with a bottle and lass to refresh,

And loose the fatigues of the day.

With sport, love, and wine, fickle fortune defy;

Dull wisdom all happiness sours:

Since life is no more than a passage at best,

Let's strew the way over with flow'rs.

SCENE II. A Cottage.

SALLY discovered spinning at the door.

RECITATIVE.

SALLY.

In vain I strive my sorrows to amuse;

Stubborn they are, and all relief refuse:

What med'cine shall I fly to, or what art!

Is there no cure for a distemper'd heart?

AIR.

My former time how brisk, how gay!

Oh! blith I was, as blith could be;

But now I'm sad, ah, well-a-day!

For my true love is gone to sea.

The lads pursue, I strive to shun,

Though all their arts are lost on me;

For I to death can love but one,

And he, alas! is gone to sea.

As droop the flow'rs till light's return,

As mourns the dove its absent she;

So will I droop, so will I mourn,

'Till my true love returns from sea.

SCENE III. E•… DORCAS.

DORCAS.

What, will you never quit this idle trade?

Still, still in tears — ah, you foolish maid!

In time have prudence, your own int'rest see;

Youth lasts not always; be advis'd by me.

AIR.

That May-day of life is for pleasure,

For singing, for dancing, and show;

Then why will you waste such a treasure,

In sighing and crying — heigho!

Let's copy the bird in the meadows,

By her tune your pipe when 'tis low;

Fly round, and coquet it as she does,

And never be crying — heigho!

Though when in the arms of a lover,

It sometimes may happen, I know;

That e'er all our toying is over,

We cannot help crying — heigho!

In age ev'ry one a new part takes,

I find to my sorrow 'tis so;

When old, you may cry till your heart achs,

But no one will mind you — heigho!

SALLY. RECITATIVE.

Leave me.

DORCAS.

Go to — I came to make you glad.

Odsooks, what's here? this folly makes me mad.

You're grieving, and for whom? — 'tis pretty sport,

For one that gets a wife at ev'ry port.

SALLY.

Dorcas, for shame, how can you be so base!

Or after this look Thomas in the face?

His ship's expected.

DORCAS.

Tell not me — the 'Squire —

As Tom is your's, you are h•… heart's desire.

Then why so peevish, and so froward still?

He'll make your fortune; let him have his will.

SALLY. AIR.

Were I as poor as wretch can be,

As great as any monarch, he,

Ere on such terms I'd mount his throne,

I'd work my fingers to the bone.

Grant me, ye pow'rs, I ask not wealth;

Grant me but innocence and health;

Ah! what is grandeur link'd to vice?

'Tis only virtue gives it price. Exit.

DORCAS. RECITATIVE.

Well, go your ways — I cannot chuse but smile:

Wou'd I were young again — alas! the while;

But what are wishes — wishes will not do:

One cannot eat one's cake, and have it too.

AIR.

When I was a young one, what girl was like me?

So wanton, so airy, and brisk as a bee:

I tattled, I rambled, I laugh'd, and where'er

A fiddle was heard, to b• •ure I was there.

To all that came near I had something to say;

'Twas this Sir — and that Sir — but scarce ever nay;

And Sundays dress'd out in my silks and my lace,

I warrant I stood by the best in the place.

At twenty, I got me a husband — poor man!

Well rest him — we all are as good as we can;

Yet he was soo peevish, he'd quarrel for straws,

And jealous — though truly I gave him some cause.

He snubb'd me, and huff'd me — but let me alone;

Egad I've a tongue — and I paid him his own.

Ye wives, take the hint, and when spouse is untow'rd,

Stand firm to our charter — and have the last word.

But now I'm quite alter'd, the more to my woe;

I'm not what I was forty summers ago:

This time's a sore foe, there's no shunning his dart;

However, I keep up a pretty good heart.

Grown old, yet I hate to be sitting mum-chance;

I still love a tune, though unable to dance;

And books of devotion laid by on my shelf,

I teach that to others, I once did myself.

SCENE IV. A Wood.

Enter 'SQUIRE.

'SQUIRE. AIR.

Life's a garden, rich in treasure,

Bury'd like the seeds in earth;

There lie joy, contentment, pleasure,

But 'tis love must give them birth.

That warm sun its aid denying,

We no happiness can taste;

But in cold obstruction lying,

Life is all one barren waste.

SCENE V.

Enter SALLY.

SALLY. RECITATIVE.

Ah! whither have my heedless steps betray'd?

'SQUIRE.

Where wou'd you fly? of whom are you afraid?

Here's neither spectre, ghost, nor goblin nigh,

Nor any one — but Cupid; you, and I.

SALLY.

Unlucky!

'SQUIRE.

'Sdeath! she sets me all on fire:

Bewitching wench! I languish with desire.

But wherefore do you shrink, and trembling stand,

So coy, so silly?

SALLY.

Pray, Sir, loose my hand.

'SQUIRE. AIR.

When late I wander'd o'er the plain,

From nymph, to nymph, I strove in vain,

My wild desires to rally;

But now they're of themselves come home,

And, strange! no longer seek to roam:

They centre all in Sally.

Yet she, unkind one, damps my joy,

And cries I court but to destroy:

Can love with ruin tally?

By those dear lips, those eyes, I swear,

I would all deaths, all torments bear,

Rather than injure Sally.

Come then, Oh come, thou sweeter far!

Than jessamine and roses are,

Or lillies of the valley;

O follow, love, and quit your fear,

He'll guide you to these arms, my dear,

And make me blest in Sally.

SALLY. RECITATIVE.

Sir, you demean yourself, and, to be free,

Some lady you should chuse of fit degree:

I am too low, too vulgar —

'SQUIRE.

Rather say,

There's some more favour'd rival in the way:

Some happy sweetheart in your thoughts takes place;

For him you keep your favours; that's the case.

SALLY.

Well if it be, 'tis neither shame, nor sin;

An honest lad he is, of honest kin:

No higher than my equal I pretend:

You have your answer, Sir, and there's an end.

'SQUIRE. AIR.

Come, come, my dear girl, I must not be deny'd;

Fine cloathes you shall flash in, and rant it away:

I'll give you this purse too, and heark you beside,

We'll kiss and we'll toy all the long summer's day.

SALLY.

Of kissing and toying you soon would be tir'd,

Oh should hapless Sally consent to be naught!

Besides, Sir, believe me, I scorn to be hir'd;

The heart's not worth gaining which is to be bought.

'SQUIRE.

Perhaps you're afraid of the world's busy tongue,

But know, above scandal you then shall be put;

And laugh, as you roll in your chariot along,

At draggle-tail chastity walking a foot.

SALLY.

If only thro' fear of the world I was shy,

My coyness, and modesty were but ill shown;

Its pardon 'twere easy with money to buy,

But how, tell me how, I shou'd purchase my own.

'SQUIRE.

Leave morals to grey-beards, those lips were design'd

For better employment.

SALLY.

I'll not be a whore.

'SQUIRE.

Oh fye, child! love bids you be rich, and be kind;

SALLY.

But virtue commands me, be honest and poor.

End of the First Act.

PART II.

SCENE I. The Sea Side.

Enter THOMAS, with Sailors

THOMAS. RECITATIVE.

Avast, my boys, avast, all hands on shore,

Mess-mates, what cheer? Old England, hey! once more.

I'm thinking how the wenches will rejoice;

Out with your presents, boys, and take your choice.

I've an old sweetheart — but look — there's the town:

Weigh anchor, tack about, and let's bear down.

AIR.

From ploughing the ocean, and thrashing Mounseer,

In old England we're landed once more;

Your hands, my brave comrades, halloo boys, what cheer!

For a sailor that's just come a-shore?

Those hectoring blades thought to scare us, no doubt,

And to cut us, and slash us — Morblieu!

But hold there, avast, they were plaguily out,

We have slic'd them, and pepper'd them too.

Then courage, my hearts, your own consequence know,

Yon invaders shall soon do you right;

The lion may rouse, when he hears the cock crow,

But should never be put in a fright.

You've now laid aside your nonsensical jars,

Your damn'd party and idle contest;

Then let all your strife be, like us honest tars,

Who shall fight for his country the best.

A seafaring spark, if the maids can affect,

Bid the simpering gypsies look to't;

Sound bottoms they'll find us, in ev'ry respect,

And our pockets well laden to boot.

The landsmen, mayhap, in the way of discourse,

Have more art, to persuade and the like;

But 'ware those false colours, for better, for worse,

Is the bargain we're willing to strike.

Now long live the king, may he prosperous reign,

Of no power, no faction afraid;

May Britain's proud flag still exult o'er the main,

At all points of the compass display'd.

No quicksands endanger, no storms overwhelm,

Steady, steady, and safe may she sail;

No ignorant pilots e'er fit at her helm,

Or her anchor of liberty fail. Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Meadow.

Enter the 'SQUIRE and DORCAS.

'SQUIRE.

In vain I've ev'ry wily art essay'd,

Nor promises can tempt, nor vows persuade;

No prospect of success is left me now:

How shall I gain her?

DORCAS.

Why I'll tell you how.

This way she comes; the wench is full of pride;

Lay oaths and vows, and promises aside:

Often when regular approaches fail,

Besiegers storm a place, and so prevail.

AIR.

All you who would wish to succeed with a lass,

Learn how the affair's to be done;

For if you stand fooling, and shy, like an ass,

You'll loose her, as sure as a gun.

With whining, and sighing, and vows, and all that,

As far as you please, you may run;

She'll hear you, and jeer you, and give you a pat,

But jilt you, as sure as a gun.

To worship, and call her bright goddess, is fine!

But mark you the consequence, mun;

The baggage will think herself really divine,

And scorn you, as sure as a gun.

But be with a maiden, bold, frolic, and stout,

And no opportunity shun;

She'll tell you she hates you, and swear she'll cry out,

But mum — she's as sure as a gun.

'SQUIRE. RECITATIVE.

This way she comes a milking, hence begone:

Exit Dorcas.

Oh love assist me, you that drive me on.

The time, the place, both favour my design;

Now, if she's coy, I'll force her to be mine.

But, left some other course she steer her flight,

'Twere best awhile to hide me from her sight.

Retires.

Enter SALLY.

SALLY. RECITATIVE.

HOW cruel those who with ungen'rous aim,

Strive to seduce, and bring poor maids to shame?

That brutish squire! but wherefore should I fear?

I ne'er can turn, false-hearted to my dear.

No, when he came his last farewel to take,

He bid me wear this token for his sake;

He shall not prove me fickle and unkind,

Or say that out of sight was out of mind.

AIR.

Auspicious spirits guard my love,

In time of danger near him bide;

With out-spread wings around him move,

And turn each random ball aside.

And you his foes, though hearts of steel,

Oh! may you then with me accord;

A sympathetick passion feel,

Behold his face, and drop the sword.

Ye winds, your blust'ring fury leave,

Like airs, that o'er the garden sweep;

Breathe soft in sighs, and gently heave,

The calm, smooth bosom of the deep.

Till Halcyon peace return'd, once more,

From blasts secure, and hostile harms;

My sailor views his native shore,

And harbours safe in these fond arms.

Enter 'SQUIRE.

'SQUIRE. AIR.

Well met, pretty maid,

Nay, don't be afraid;

I mean you no mischief, I vow;

Psha! what is't you ail?

Come, give me your pail,

And I'll carry it up to your cow.

SALLY.

Pray let it alone,

I've hands of my own,

Nor need yours to help me — forbear!

How can you persist?

I won't, Sir, be kist,

Nor teaz'd thus — go trifle elsewhere.

'SQUIRE.

In yon lonely grove,

I saw an alcove,

All round the sweet violet springs;

And there was a thrush,

Hard by in a bush,

'Twould charm you to hear how he sings.

SALLY.

But hark! pry'thee hark!

Look yonder's a lark,

It warbles, and pleases me so;

To hear the soft tale,

O' th' sweet nightingale,

I wou'd not be tempted to go.

'SQUIRE.

Then here we'll sit down:

Come, come, never frown!

No longer my bliss I'll retard;

Kind Venus shall spread

Her veil over head,

And the little rogue Cupid keep guard.

Enter THOMAS.

THOMAS. RECITATIVE.

What's this I see? may I believe my eyes?

A pirate just about to board my prize!

'Tis well I this way chanc'd my course to steer:

Sal! what's the matter?

SALLY.

Thomas!

'SQUIRE.

'Sdeath! who's here?

Fellow, begone, or —

THOMAS.

Learn your phrase to mend:

Do you sheer off, or else I'll make you, friend.

Let go the wench, I claim her for my share,

And now lay hands upon her — if you dare.

'SQUIRE. AIR.

Saucy rascal, this intrusion

You shall answer to your cost;

Bully'd, scandaliz'd, confusion!

All my schemes and wishes crost.

THOMAS.

Hark you, Master, keep your distance,

'Sblood, take notice what I say;

There's the channel, no resistance,

Tack about, and bear away.

SALLY.

Wou'd you wrest our freedom from us?

Now my heart has lost its fear;

Oh my best, my dearest Thomas,

Sure some angel brought you here.

'SQUIRE.

Since her paltry inclination

Stoops to such a thing as you;

Thus I make a recantation,

Wretched, foolish girl, adieu!

SCENE the last.

SALLY. RECITATIVE.

Oh welcome, welcome, how shall I impart,

The joy this happy meeting gives my heart?

Now Tom in safety stay at home with me,

And never trust again that treach'rous sea.

THOMAS.

Excuse me, Sal, while mighty George has foes?

On land, and main, their malice I'll oppose.

But hang this talking, my desires are keen;

You see yon steeple, and know what I mean.

〈1+ pages missing〉

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Title statement

Thomas and Sally: or, the sailor's return: A musical entertainment. As it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Covent-Garden. The music composed by Doctor Arne.

Bickerstaff, Isaac, 1735-1812.

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University of Oxford Text Archive
Oxford University Computing Services
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OX2 6NN
ota@oucs.ox.ac.uk

ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4907

ID [isbn10]

1106019067

ID [isbn13]

9781106019066

ID [TCP]

K086734.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3310388257

ID [ECLL]

0089200100

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— Thomas and Sally: or, the sailor's return: A musical entertainment. As it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Covent-Garden. The music composed by Doctor Arne., Bickerstaff, Isaac, 1735-1812.. [4],viii,[2],26p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed for G. Kearsly; and J. Coote,. 1761.. [The libretto only, by Isaac Bickerstaffe.] [With a half-title.] [Pages vii and viii contain the postscript to preface.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT108042.] [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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