One night, while Handel was in Dublin, Dubourg, having a solo part
in a song, and a close to make at his pleasure, he wandered about in
different keys a great while, and seemed a little bewildered, and
uncertain of his original key; but, at length, coming to the shake
which was to terminate this long close, Handel, to the great delight of
the audience and augmentation of applause, cried out, loud enough to be
heard in the most remote part of the theatre, “_You are welcome home_,
Mr. Dubourg!”
In 1749, _Theodora_ was so very unfortunately abandoned, that he was
glad if any professors, who did not perform, would accept of tickets
or orders for admission. Two gentlemen of that description, now living,
having applied to Handel, after the disgrace of _Theodora_, for an
order to hear the _Messiah_, he cried out, “Oh, your _sarvant!_ you
are _tamnaple tainty!_ you would not _co_ to _Theodora_—there was room
enough to _tance dere_ when _dat_ was _perform_.”
Sometimes, however, I have heard him as pleasantly, as philosophically,
console his friends, when, previous to the curtain being drawn up, they
have lamented that the house was so empty, by saying, “_Nevre moind, de
moosic vil sound de petter_.”