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Powell's
MOCK OPERA;
OR,
Venus and Adonis.

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A
MOCK OPERA,
CALL'D
Venus and Adonis;
OR,
The Triumphs of Love.
As it is Acted at
Punch's THEATRE,
Covent-Garden.

Written by MARTIN POWELL.

LONDON:
Printed by G. Parker, for the Author, and Sold at
the Office of the Theatre, in the Little Piazza,
Covent-Garden. .1713. (Price 6d.)

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To the most Ingenious
Machionists
OF THE
Hay-Market THEATRE.

SIRS,
EPISTLES and Prefaces
have been so much in
Fashion of late, that very
few Plays or Opera's have been
publish'd without. Some have
been wholly for Prose, others
for Verse; some for serious

Lan-

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The Dedication.

Language, others for Farce;
but all agree in this, That
Plays are but Diversions in
what kind soever understood:
Now lest I should appear Ig-
norant of the Fashion, and
thought uncapable of follow-
ing it, I am oblig'd to say
something too; but since I
am resolv'd against any long
learned Discourse, I shall only
give you a Taste of my Ex-
perience, which I hope may
be Pleasant and Diverting.

You having done me the
Honour in giving me a Sight
of your Incomparable Fancy
in Machinary, I have ever since
made it my chiefest Thoughts
to find out some Way where-

by

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The Dedication.

by I might manifest my De-
sire of expressing my Obliga-
tion, which I cannot do in a
more publick manner than
thus: The end of this Ad-
dress is, that I am in great
Hopes this little Opera will
gain a greater Reputation, it
being Patroniz'd by you,
whose Genius is so great and
Brains so fertile, that certain-
ly the Opera's of France and
Italy must drop whilst you ab-
sent your selves from thence
to Instruct the Stage of Great-
Britain. Such Projectors as you
give new Life to Invention;
your Foreign Pencil likewise
Instructs Painters : Indeed, the
latter two are a-kin, being
the Effects of Fancy, and one

often-

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The Dedication.

oftentimes helps out the other,
as may be seen in your last
great and rich Machine.

All must own, that it was
most Ingenious, Surprising,
and Uncommon, particularly
the vast Number of curling
Clouds, like a mighty Sea, it
brought before it; and as it
gently mov'd towards the
Spectators, it appear'd more
wonderful to see those rare-
fy'd Clouds striving to outvie
each other in Brightness; their
quick Contraction, and sud-
dain forming themselves to a
Temple: For my part, I was
Astonish'd at the Sight, and
fancyd my self to be in some
Coelestial Sphere. Oh! that

my

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The Dedication.

my little Inventions were not
confin'd like a Butterfly in a
Tar-Barrel, and had a Stage
in Circumference containing
an Acre, yct not one of my
wooden-headed Managers
woud be capable of bringing
so great a Machine to such
Perfection, which I dare nor
so much as imitate. My cal-
low-wing'd Fancy dare not soar
so high, lest it should be com-
pard with the foolish Ar-
cades, that presum'd, that if
they cou'd once attain to the
Top of a certain Mountain
they might reach the Moon;
but when they, with a great
deal of Pains, had reach'd the
Top of, it, how much they
fell short of their Aim is easy

B to

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The Dedication.

to guess. So least my aspir-
ing Thoughts should make
me share the same Fate, I'll
end this Epistle, strengthen'd
with the Hopes, that when
you have seen this little Per-
formance, you'll do me the
Honour of recommending it
to your Friends abroad, and
you will highly oblige,
Your most Obedient
Humble Servant,
M. Powell.

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THE
PREFACE
TO THE
READER.

THAT which induced me to
Print this little Opera, was
in Compliance with my great Patron,
Punch: Who meeting with some
Reflections from the greater Opera,
comparing his little Fabrick to a
Tar-Barrel, and his Person to a
Butterfly; which highly displeased
him, and to vent his Spleen beat
his empty Noddle against every Scene.

B2 And

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The Preface to the Reader.

And all the little Gentry seem'd to
resent the same, and discover'd their
Chagreen by nodding their wooden
Heads at cach other; nor cou'd
their Fury be appeas'd, till King
Bladud, and Whittington, pro-
mis'd to supply them with a large
Sum of Money, to enable 'em to
erect an Opera, which could not be
contain'd in a Tar-Barrel, and so
the Rupture ceas'd.

PRO-

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PROLOGUE.

As the industrious Bee, in Verdant
Meads,
Oft draws Melliffluous Juice from Rank-
est Weeds;
So I, from Urns of Lovers long since
Slain,
Produce most Noble Acts; and spare
no Pain,
Nor Cost, if I to please you may at-
tain.
Venus and Adonis, of Beauty bright,
I humbly offer to your piercing Sight.
No loose Expression here shall pass for
Wit,
No Blasphemy affright, the Trembling
Pit:
No Modish Curse, shall Lard a Trifling
Scene,
Nor Roaring Hero, Swear and nothing
Mean,

To

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PROLOGUE.

To chuse Diversions, such shall be my
Care,
As shall not give Offence to any Vertuous
Ear;
Such as shall give to every one Delight,
Such as you'll see presented here to Night,
Will give Offence to neither Church nor
State,
Burlesque no Text, Buffoon no Magi-
strate;
Laugh at no Law, but with such Caution
move,
As will, if possible, deserve your Love.
No longer shall poor Punch in Fetters
Toil,
Nor with Complaints his tedious Hours
beguile,
Whilst You thus shine upon him with a
Smile,
He still for Blessing on You all shall pray,
And Tributary Thanks shall thus for ever
pay.

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Dramatis Personae.

Men.
Adonis.
    A little smooth-fac'd Youth fine-
    ly dress'd, adorn'd with the
    best Spangles and Gold-Tabby
    that came last from Italy, and
    never seen on the Stage before.
Cupid.
    A Trifle, a very great Mischief-
    maker; one who makes old
    Men Children, and Boys set
    up for Men; newly arriv'd
    from the Hands of the Work-
    man.
Jupiter.
    That by his mock Rattling breaks
    all Things to pieces. Perform'd
    by a mischievous Ape.
Mars.
    Your old Friend Punch, who
    from a Coxcomly Shepherd is
    Transform'd by Jupiter to the
    mock God of Battle, and ban-
    ter'd with the Love of Proser-
    pine.
Women.
Venus.
    A devilish Goddess that has ruin'd
    Millions of People, and never
    was sorry till her lov'd Adonis
    was kill'd; dressd like the fair
    Deceivers that Imitate her.
Pallas.
    The Reverse of Minerva, looks
    like an Alderman with a grave
    Face, and little Wisdom, who
    sings much, and consequently
    requires little Wit.
Proserpine.
    Whom Punch runs mad for; per-
    form'd by a Monkey lately
    dead, who sings as well as if
    she had been living.
Pan, Satyrs, Nymphs, and Swains.

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[1]

VENUS and ADONIS:
OR,
The Triumphs of Love.

ACT I.
SCENE. Cupid's Bower.
Enter Cupid, meeting Venus.

Cupid. WElcome Love's Goddess, and Royal
Mother:
What brought bright Venus here to
Cupid's Bow'r?
How came that lovely Face with Grief opprest?
Can Cupid give his beauteous Mother rest?
Venus. Cupid, my Son, whose uncontrouling Sway
Makes all Coelestial Deities obey:
O force Adonis Heart to yield to Love,
Of all thy Works, the Master-piece 'twill prove.
O kindle flames in him, like those in me,
And grant, that I his Beauty soon may see.

C Let

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2 Venus and Adonis; Or,

Let me then view those Eyes, whose shining Light,
Alone can Pleasure give to Venus Sight.
Just like a Ship, whilst every Mountain-Wave
Threatens the Marriners with a gaping Grave;
Such is my Case, and so my State appears,
Alike distracted, between Hopes and Fears.
Into the Woods I'll go, and there complain,
Nor think of Pleasure, till you come again.
Cupid. Despair not Mother, Adonis shall be thine,
Or ne'er let Cupid in your Favour shine.
From yonder Mount, that over-looks my Bow'r,
Adonis now descends; 'tis Venus happy Hour.
With my keen Dart, I will so pierce his Breast,
That none but your soft Arms, shall give him rest.
[Exeunt.

SCENE. A Forest.
Enter Punch in a Shepherds Habit.

Punch. Was ever Mortal so affronted? To be scorn'd
by all the Nymphs, and deny'd to Hunt with the
Swains? God Pan too, with his Cloven-footed Gang
of Satyrs to mock me: Adsbobs, now I'm in the Hu-
mour to abuse 'em all. Jupiter is a Jugler, Mars is a
Bully, Apollo a poor Paultry Poet, Bacchus a drunken
Drawer, Mercury a Morris-dancing Pimp, Venus a
Town-Jilt, Cupid a blind Archer, and Pan a Savage
Cuckold.

And I'm resolv'd, if I meet 'em in the Chace,
I'll throw my doubl'd Fist in their Face. [Exit

Enter

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The Triumphs of Love. 3

Enter Cupid.

Cupid. What's he, that so Profanes our Deity,
And scorns the Pow'r
That all the God's Adore?
He that dare slight the belov'd Muses Sound,
With my keen arrow, shall receive his Wound.
I'll curse thee with loving Proserpine.
[Throws an Arrow.
With my swift Wings I'll take my speedy Flight,
Lest young Adonis shou'd escape my Sight.
[Ascends.

C2 ACT

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4 Venus and Adonis; Or,

ACT II. SCENE I.
First Stage a Village.

Enter Punch.

Punch. I will justify, that a Man had better have
the Devil ride through his Guts with a Bundle of
Thorns at his Breach, than to be in Love: And as
the Devil would have it, with Proserpine, sure I was
in a woundy Heat when I went to Hell to choose
a Mistress: 'Twas but t'other Day that I was rail-
ing against Love and Poetry; and now I think of
nothing else, speak nothing else, and eat nothing
but Poetry, and now it wombles to come forth. See
she comes!

Proserpine rises in a Cave.

Proserpine, thou whose Beauty doth enrich us,
Tell me the Cause why thou dost so bewitch us:
This Day my Love was Born, tho' not Begotten,
This Day I'll think on, when I'm Dead and Rotten.
And though thy Coyness, and thy pretty Scorn,
Makes many wish, that thou hadst ne're been Born;
Yet for my part, this I will swear and say,
I wish thy Time of Birth were every Day.
So Venus look'd, when the Idalian Boy
Confirmed her Beauty, with the Curse of Troy:
Just so she look'd, with such an Air she smil'd,
When she two Rival Goddesses beguil'd.
Thy double Tire of Teeth do show, forsooth,
Whiter than Ivory, or a Bitches Tooth;

Thy

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The Triumphs of Love. 5

Thy Voice like Bird in Hedge, in Time of Spring,
Do's bewitch me confoundedly to Sing.

The SONG.

Proserpine, 'tis to Thee I Sing,
I love Thee more than any Thing.
Love and Fire's got in my Head,
Then take me quickly to thy Bed,
But what to do need not be said.
With a ho, with a ha,
With a ho, ho, ho, ho, &c.
Love and Fire's got, &c.
[Proserpine s1inks.

She's gone! she's sunk! she's dead! she's buried!
I shall go Mad, I'll Roar, and Rant, and Swear;
And all this I will do, because I dare.

Since she's dead, what Method shall I take
To raise some Monument that's wondrous great?
To inrich her Tomb, nor Shrines, nor Altars spare,
But strip the shining Gods to make it rare.
[Exit.

ACT

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6 Venus and Adonis; Or,

ACT III. SCENE I.
The Palace of Venus.

Adorn'd with proper Ornaments, and the
Statues of the Pantheon heightned with
Gold.

Enter Venus and Adonis.

Venus. Let Musick sound from the Coelestial Sphere,
Whilst Satyrs, Swains, and Nymphs, divert us here.
Let Mortals join the Deities Above,
To Crown the Triumphs of my glorious Love.

Shepherds, Shepherdesses and Satyrs, Dance.

The Horn sounds.

Adonis. Hark! Diana's Horn invites me to the Chace:
The Gods in full Divan have all decreed,
That a most monstrous Boar this Day shall bleed.
Venus. Adonis, wilt thou then from me be gone,
And leave me hear to mourn and sigh alone?
Regard'st thou not the Flower of my Youth,
When of my Love, thou hast so large a Proof?
Thou captivated hast long since my Heart:
And wilt thou now unkindly from me part?
O do not go, the Danger's very great;
Thy Death, I much do fear, it will create.

Adonis.

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The Triumphs of Love. 7

Adonis. Let my fair Goddess, from sad Grief for-
bear,
For no Danger in these Huntings are;
Let Venus then, banish all Thoughts of Fear.
He that from Beauty's Charms too long doth rove,
Never yet knew the Sweets of youthful Love.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Forest.

The Horn sounds, the wild Boar crosses the
Stage; and after him God Pan, Adonis,
Swains, and Satyrs in Chace.

Re enter Adonis wounded.

Adonis. Ah, what a sad unfortunate Man was I,
Not to observe the Tears of her fair Eye:
Her sweet Perswasions were, I should not go;
Still to her Suit I ever answer'd, No.
And yet grim Death, it is not thee I fear,
for Her alone is all my Grief and Care.
Adieu, fair Venus, adieu to thee a while,
Our future Joys will inake us both to smile.
[Dies.

Enter Venus, and kneels.

Venus. What cruel Fate brought this Sight hither?
Why did we not die both together?
How sad and unhappy is Venus Fate,
Thus to be made at once Unfortunate?
He's gone! he's gone! the glorious Youth is fled:
Then why do I in vain bewail the Dead?

My

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8 Venus and Adonis; Or,

My Doves and Chariot, now with speed prepare,
His Soul I'll overtake, tho' flying thro' the Air;
The Deities Above, I then will move,
For Life Eternal to my God-like Love.
[Exit.

Curtain drops.

ACT

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The Triumphs of Love. 9

ACT IV.
Soft Musick as the Machines descend.

After the first Machine, Venus and Pallas de-
scend in two several Machines; at the
Feet of Venus two Dogs, and at Pallas's
an Owl and a Cock: The two lesser Ma-
chines break through the larger, and move
to the Front of the Stage.

Venus. Let great Apollo now the Muses join,
Whilst I in Tears do mourn the Youth divine:
For all my earthly Joys at once are fled,
My much belov'd Adonis being dead.

Pallas Sings.

IF now the Smiles of Pallas ought you
Prize,
My dearest Venus dry up thy watry Eyes:
The Gods all Mourn throughout their
Spheres,
To see Love's Goddess drown'd in Tears,

D Drown'd

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10 Venus and Adonis; Or,

Drown'd in Tears,
Drown'd in Tears,
To see Love's Goddess drown'd in Tears.
[They Ascend.

Jupiter and Proserpine descend in the
Front of the Stage, and sing; whilst
Mars descends in his Palace, and moves
towards 'em.

Jupiter Sings.

O Proserpine, look up and see
Great Jove descend to visit thee;
Likewise Punch, by thee so hated,
To great Mars is now translated:
Then take the God into thy Arms,
Lest Thund'ring Jove, shou'd crush thy
Charms;
Crush thy Charms,
Crush thy Charms,
Lest Thund'ring Jove, shou'd crush thy
Charms.

Proserpine

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The Triumphs of Love. 11

Proserpine Sings.

THE Commands of Love I'll obey,
Love is dangerous to delay,
Since Punch has stole my Heart away.
Let Pluto rave, and tear his Brain,
'Tis Mars, or Punch, must quench my
Flame.
Quench my Flame,
Quench my Flame,
'Tis Mars, or Punch, must quench my
Flame.

D2 Mars

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12 Venus and Adonis; Or,

Mars Sings.

THEN take great Mars into thy
Arms,
And thou shalt rifle all my Charms:
In wanton Love whole Nights we'll
range,
And now and then a Haugh we'll change.
Let's new ascend with Jove Above,
And with our Haugh proclaim our Love,
With a Ha, ha, ha, ha, proclaim our
Love.
[They all ascend.

Iris

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The Triumphs of Love. 13

Iris descends on a Rainbow,
and speaks the

EPILOGUE.

SWift! swifter still! for methinks I
move to slow.
What holds my Silver Wings from
making hast,
When every Cloud I see sails by so
fast?
Luna flies wrap'd in Foggy Clouds of
Night,
To shun the Rays of bright Apollo's
Light.
See with what haste the Feathered
Hours run,
To dress the gaudy Chariot of the
Sun:

Whilst

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The EPILOGUE.

Whilst Nymphs and Swains, at Love's
bright Altar meet,
Their sacred Vows to pay at Venus
Feet.
For till old Time his Christial Glass hath
hurld,
And from it lost the Ashes of the
World,
No Mortal shall be free from Cupid's
Dart,
But Love shall Triumph over every
Heart.

As

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As Iris Ascends, the Clouds break
and discover the British Machinary, beau-
tify'd with the Figure of Her Britannick
Majesty, seated on Her Throne; at-
tended by the Honourable House of
Peers, and Chief Ministers of State.

The Machine breaks into several Tri-
umphant Arches, and form themselves
into double and treble Prospects, with
all the Trophies taken from the Enemy
under their Feet.

FINIS.

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