SCENE I.

THE

RECRUITING OFFICER,

A COMEDY,

IN FIVE ACTS;

BY GEORGE FARQUHAR, ESQ.

AS PERFORMED AT THE

THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN.

PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS

FROM THE PROMPT BOOK.

WITH REMARKS

BY MRS. INCHBALD.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME

PATERNOSTER ROW.

WILLIAM SAVAGE, PRINTER,

LONDON.

REMARKS.

If the two last acts of this drama were equal to the three first, it

would rank the foremost among Farquhar's works; for these are brilliant

in wit, humour, character, incident, and every other requisite necessary

to form a complete comedy. But the decrease of merit in a play, on

approaching its conclusion, is, as in all other productions, of most

unfortunate consequence.

The author was himself a recruiting officer, and possibly gathered all

the materials for this play on the very spot where he has placed his

scene--Shrewsbury. He has dedicated the piece "to all friends round the

Wrekin," and has thanked the inhabitants of the town for that cheerful

hospitality, which made, he adds, "the recruiting service, to some men

the greatest fatigue on earth, to me the greatest pleasure in the

world."

He even acknowledges, that he found the country folk, whom he has here

introduced--meaning those most excellently drawn characters of Rose, her

brother, and the two recruits,--under the shade of that beforementioned

hill near Shrewsbury, the Wrekin; and it may be well supposed, that he

discovered Serjeant Kite in his own Regiment, and Captain Plume in his

own person. Certainly those characters have every appearance of being

copied from life--and probably, many other of his Salopian acquaintance

have here had their portraits drawn to perfection.

The disguise of Sylvia in boy's clothes, is an improbable, and romantic

occurrence; yet it is one of those dramatic events, which were considered

as perfectly natural in former times; although neither history, nor

tradition, gives any cause to suppose, that the English ladies were

accustomed to attire themselves in man's apparel; and reason assures

us, that they could seldom, if ever, have concealed their sex by such

stratagem.

Another incident in the "Recruiting Officer" might have had its value a

hundred years ago--just the time since the play was first acted; but to

the present generation, it is so dull, that it casts a heaviness upon

all those scenes, whereon it has any influence. Fortune-tellers are now

a set of personages, in whom, and in whose skill or fraud, no rational

person takes interest; and though such people still exist by their

profession, they are so vile, they are beneath satire; and their dupes

such ideots, they do not even enjoy sense enough, for their folly to

produce risibility.

Perhaps, the author despised this part of his play, as much as the

severest critic can do; but having expended his store of entertainment

upon the foregoing scenes, he was compelled to supply the bulk of the

two last acts, from the scanty fund of wasted spirits, and exhausted

invention.

The life of Farquhar was full of adventures.--As a student, he was

expelled the college of Dublin, for adventuring profane wit upon a

sacred theme, given to him by his tutor for his exercise.

As an actor, he forsook the stage in grief and horror, on having

unknowingly made use of a real sword, instead of a counterfeit one, by

which he wounded a brother performer, with whom he had to fence in a

tragedy, nearly to the loss of his life.

In love, and marriage, his enterprises were still more unhappily

terminated.--And merely as an author, and a soldier, can any events

of his life be accounted prosperous.

As a dramatic writer, Farquhar was eminently successful; and in his

military capacity, he was ever honoured and beloved--whether fighting

with a great army in Flanders, or recruiting with a small party in

Shropshire.

DRAMATIS PERSON∆.

CAPTAIN PLUME _Mr. Holman._

JUSTICE BALANCE _Mr. Murray._

WORTHY _Mr. Whitfield._

SERJEANT KITE _Mr. Knight._

BULLOCK _Mr. Fawcett._

FIRST RECRUIT _Mr. Munden._

SECOND RECRUIT _Mr. Emery._

WELSH COLLIER _Mr. Farley._

CONSTABLE _Mr. Thompson._

CAPTAIN BRAZEN _Mr. Lewis._

MELINDA _Miss Chapman._

ROSE _Mrs. Gibbs._

LUCY _Mrs. Litchfield._

SYLVIA _Mrs. Johnson._

_SCENE--Shrewsbury._

THE RECRUITING OFFICER.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

_The Market Place._

_Drum beats the Grenadier's March.--Enter_ SERJEANT KITE, _followed by_

THOMAS APPLETREE, COSTAR PEARMAIN, _and the_ MOB.

Kite. [_Making a Speech._] If any gentlemen soldiers or others, have

a mind to serve his majesty, and pull down the French king; if any

'prentices have severe masters, any children have undutiful parents; if

any servants have too little wages, or any husband too much wife, let

them repair to the noble Serjeant Kite, at the sign of the Raven, in

this good town of Shrewsbury, and they shall receive present relief and

entertainment.--[_Drum._]--Gentlemen, I don't beat my drums here to

insnare or inveigle any man; for you must know, gentlemen, that I am a

man of honour: besides, I don't beat up for common soldiers; no, I list

only grenadiers; grenadiers, gentlemen.----Pray, gentlemen, observe

this cap--this is the cap of honour; it dubs a man a gentleman, in the

drawing of a trigger; and he, that has the good fortune to be born six

foot high, was born to be a great man--Sir, will you give me leave to

try this cap upon your head?

_Cost._ Is there no harm in't? won't the cap list me?

_Kite._ No, no, no more than I can.--Come, let me see how it becomes

you.

_Cost._ Are you sure there is no conjuration in it? no gunpowder plot

upon me?

_Kite._ No, no, friend; don't fear, man.

_Cost._ My mind misgives me plaguily.--Let me see it--[_Going to put it

on._] It smells woundily of sweat and brimstone. Smell, Tummas.

_Tho._ Ay, wauns does it.

_Cost._ Pray, Serjeant, what writing is this upon the face of it?

_Kite._ The crown, or the bed of honour.

_Cost._ Pray now, what may be that same bed of honour?

_Kite._ Oh! a mighty large bed! bigger by half than the great bed at

Ware--ten thousand people may lie in it together, and never feel one

another.

_Cost._ My wife and I would do well to lie in't, for we don't care for

feeling one another----But do folk sleep sound in this same bed of

honour?

_Kite._ Sound! ay, so sound that they never wake.

_Cost._ Wauns! I wish again that my wife lay there.

_Kite._ Say you so! then I find, brother----

_Cost._ Brother! hold there friend; I am no kindred to you that I know

of yet.--Lookye, serjeant, no coaxing, no wheedling, d'ye see--If I have

a mind to list, why so--if not, why 'tis not so--therefore take your cap

and your brothership back again, for I am not disposed at this present

writing.--No coaxing, no brothering me, 'faith.

_Kite._ I coax! I wheedle! I'm above it, sir: I have served twenty

campaigns----but, sir, you talk well, and I must own that you are a man,

every inch of you; a pretty, young, sprightly fellow!--I love a fellow

with a spirit; but I scorn to coax; 'tis base; though I must say, that

never in my life have I seen a man better built. How firm and strong he

treads! he steps like a castle! but I scorn to wheedle any man--Come,

honest lad! will you take share of a pot?

_Cost._ Nay, for that matter, I'll spend my penny with the best he that

wears a head, that is, begging your pardon, sir, and in a fair way.

_Kite._ Give me your hand then; and now, gentlemen, I have no more to

say but this--here's a purse of gold, and there is a tub of humming ale

at my quarters--'tis the king's money, and the king's drink--he's a

generous king, and loves his subjects--I hope, gentlemen, you won't

refuse the king's health.

_All Mob._ No, no, no.

_Kite._ Huzza, then! huzza for the king, and the honour of Shropshire.

_All Mob._ Huzza!

_Kite._ Beat drum.

[_Exeunt, shouting.--Drum beating the Grenadier's March._

_Enter_ PLUME, _in a Riding Habit_.

_Plume._ By the Grenadier's march, that should be my drum, and by that

shout, it should beat with success.--Let me see--four o'clock--[_Looking

on his Watch._] At ten yesterday morning I left London--an hundred and

twenty miles in thirty hours is pretty smart riding, but nothing to the

fatigue of recruiting.

_Enter_ KITE.

_Kite._ Welcome to Shrewsbury, noble captain! from the banks of the

Danube to the Severn side, noble captain! you're welcome.

_Plume._ A very elegant reception, indeed, Mr. Kite. I find you are

fairly entered into your recruiting strain--Pray what success?

_Kite._ I've been here a week, and I've recruited five.

_Plume._ Five! pray what are they?

_Kite._ I have listed the strong man of Kent, the king of the gipsies, a

Scotch pedlar, a scoundrel attorney, and a Welsh parson.

_Plume._ An attorney! wert thou mad? list a lawyer! discharge him,

discharge him, this minute.

_Kite._ Why, sir?

_Plume._ Because I will have nobody in my company that can write; a

fellow that can write, can draw petitions--I say this minute discharge

him.

_Kite._ And what shall I do with the parson?

_Plume._ Can he write?

_Kite._ Hum? he plays rarely upon the fiddle.

_Plume._ Keep him, by all means--But how stands the country affected?

were the people pleased with the news of my coming to town?

_Kite._ Sir, the mob are so pleased with your honour, and the justices

and better sort of people, are so delighted with me, that we shall soon

do your business----But, sir, you have got a recruit here, that you

little think of.

_Plume._ Who?

_Kite._ One that you beat up for the last time you were in the country.

You remember your old friend Molly, at the Castle?

_Plume._ She's not with child, I hope?

_Kite._ She was brought to-bed yesterday.

_Plume._ Kite, you must father the child.

_Kite._ And so her friends will oblige me to marry the mother.

_Plume._ If they should, we'll take her with us; she can wash, you

know, and make a bed upon occasion.

_Kite._ Ay, or unmake it upon occasion. But your honour knows that I am

married already.

_Plume._ To how many?

_Kite._ I can't tell readily--I have set them down here upon the back of

the muster-roll. [_Draws it out._] Let me see--_Imprimis_, Mrs. Shely

Snikereyes; she sells potatoes upon Ormond key, in Dublin--Peggy Guzzle,

the brandy woman at the Horse Guards, at Whitehall--Dolly Waggon, the

carrier's daughter, at Hull--Mademoiselle Van Bottomflat, at the

Buss--then Jenny Oakum, the ship-carpenter's widow, at Portsmouth; but

I don't reckon upon her, for she was married at the same time to two

lieutenants of marines, and a man of war's boatswain.

_Plume._ A full company--you have named five--come, make them half a

dozen--Kite, is the child a boy, or a girl?

_Kite._ A chopping boy.

_Plume._ Then set the mother down in your list, and the boy in mine;

enter him a grenadier, by the name of Francis Kite, absent upon

furlow--I'll allow you a man's pay for his subsistence; and now, go

comfort the wench in the straw.

_Kite._ I shall, sir.

_Plume._ But hold, have you made any use of your fortune-teller's habit

since you arrived?

_Kite._ Yes, yes, sir; and my fame's all about the country for the most

faithful fortune-teller that ever told a lie--I was obliged to let my

landlord into the secret, for the convenience of keeping it so; but he

is an honest fellow, and will be faithful to any roguery that is trusted

to him. This device, sir, will get you men, and me, money, which, I

think, is all we want at present--But yonder comes your friend, Mr.

Worthy--Has your honour any further commands?

_Plume._ None at present. [_Exit_ KITE.] 'Tis indeed, the picture of

Worthy, but the life is departed.

_Enter_ WORTHY.

What, arms across, Worthy! methinks you should hold them open when a

friend's so near--The man has got the vapours in his ears, I believe. I

must expel this melancholy spirit.

_Spleen, thou worst of fiends below,_

_Fly, I conjure thee, by this magic blow._

[_Slaps_ WORTHY _on the Shoulder_.

_Wor._ Plume! my dear captain! welcome. Safe and sound returned!

_Plume._ I escaped safe from Germany, and sound, I hope, from London:

you see I have lost neither leg, arm, nor nose. Then for my inside,

'tis neither troubled with sympathies, nor antipathies; and I have an

excellent stomach for roast beef.

_Wor._ Thou art a happy fellow: once I was so.

_Plume._ What ails thee, man? no inundations nor earthquakes, in Wales,

I hope? Has your father rose from the dead, and reassumed his estate?

_Wor._ No.

_Plume._ Then you are married, surely?

_Wor._ No.

_Plume._ Then you are mad, or turning quaker?

_Wor._ Come, I must out with it.----Your once gay, roving friend, is

dwindled into an obsequious, thoughtful, romantic, constant coxcomb.

_Plume._ And pray, what is all this for?

_Wor._ For a woman.

_Plume._ Shake hands, brother. If you go to that, behold me as

obsequious, as thoughtful, and as constant a coxcomb, as your worship.

_Wor._ For whom?

_Plume._ For a regiment--but for a woman! 'Sdeath! I have been constant

to fifteen at a time, but never melancholy for one: and can the love of

one bring you into this condition? Pray, who is this wonderful Helen?

_Wor._ A Helen, indeed! not to be won under ten years' siege; as great a

beauty, and as great a jilt.

_Plume._ A jilt! pho! is she as great a whore?

_Wor._ No, no.

_Plume._ 'Tis ten thousand pities!--But who is she?--do I know her?

_Wor._ Very well.

_Plume._ That's impossible----I know no woman that will hold out a ten

years' siege.

_Wor._ What think you of Melinda?

_Plume._ Melinda! why she began to capitulate this time twelvemonth, and

offered to surrender upon honourable terms: and I advised you to propose

a settlement of five hundred pounds a year to her, before I went last

abroad.

_Wor._ I did, and she hearkened to it, desiring only one week to

consider--when beyond her hopes the town was relieved, and I forced to

turn the siege into a blockade.

_Plume._ Explain, explain.

_Wor._ My Lady Richly, her aunt in Flintshire, dies, and leaves her, at

this critical time, twenty thousand pounds.

_Plume._ Oh, the devil! what a delicate woman was there spoiled! But, by

the rules of war, now----Worthy, blockade was foolish--After such a

convoy of provisions was entered the place, you could have no thought of

reducing it by famine; you should have redoubled your attacks, taken the

town by storm, or have died upon the breach.

_Wor._ I did make one general assault, but was so vigorously repulsed,

that, despairing of ever gaining her for a mistress, I have altered my

conduct, given my addresses the obsequious, and distant turn, and court

her now for a wife.

_Plume._ So, as you grew obsequious, she grew haughty, and, because you

approached her like a goddess, she used you like a dog.

_Wor._ Exactly.

_Plume._ 'Tis the way of them all----Come, Worthy, your obsequious

and distant airs will never bring you together; you must not think to

surmount her pride by your humility. Would you bring her to better

thoughts of you, she must be reduced to a meaner opinion of herself.

Let me see, the very first thing that I would do, should be, to lie with

her chambermaid, and hire three or four wenches in the neighbourhood to

report, that I had got them with child--Suppose we lampooned all the

pretty women in town, and left her out; or, what if we made a ball, and

forgot to invite her, with one or two of the ugliest.

_Wor._ These would be mortifications I must confess; but we live in such

a precise, dull place, that we can have no balls, no lampoons, no----

_Plume._ What, no bastards! and so many recruiting officers in town! I

thought 'twas a maxim among them, to leave as many recruits in the

country as they carried out.

_Wor._ Nobody doubts your good will, noble captain, in serving your

country; witness our friend Molly at the Castle; there have been tears

in town about that business, captain.

_Plume._ I hope Sylvia has not heard of it.

_Wor._ Oh, sir, have you thought of her? I began to fancy you had forgot

poor Sylvia.

_Plume._ Your affairs had quite put mine out of my head. 'Tis true,

Sylvia and I had once agreed to go to bed together, could we have

adjusted preliminaries; but she would have the wedding before

consummation, and I was for consummation before the wedding: we could

not agree.

_Wor._ But do you intend to marry upon no other conditions?

_Plume._ Your pardon, sir, I'll marry upon no condition at all--If I

should, I am resolved never to bind myself down to a woman for my whole

life, till I know whether I shall like her company for half an hour.

Suppose I married a woman without a leg--such a thing might be, unless I

examined the goods before-hand.--If people would but try one another's

constitutions before they engaged, it would prevent all these

elopements, divorces, and the devil knows what.

_Wor._ Nay, for that matter, the town did not stick to say that----

_Plume._ I hate country towns for that reason.--If your town has a

dishonourable thought of Sylvia, it deserves to be burnt to the

ground--I love Sylvia, I admire her frank, generous disposition--there's

something in that girl more than woman--In short, were I once a general,

I would marry her.

_Wor._ 'Faith, you have reason--for were you but a corporal, she would

marry you--but my Melinda coquets it with every fellow she sees--I'll

lay fifty pounds she makes love to you.

_Plume._ I'll lay you a hundred, that I return it if she does--Look ye,

Worthy, I'll win her, and give her to you afterwards.

_Wor._ If you win her, you shall wear her, 'faith; I would not value the

conquest, without the credit of the victory.

_Enter_ KITE.

_Kite._ Captain, captain! a word in your ear.

_Plume._ You may speak out, here are none but friends.

_Kite._ You know, sir, that you sent me to comfort the good woman in the

straw, Mrs. Molly--my wife, Mr. Worthy.

_Wor._ O ho! very well. I wish you joy, Mr. Kite.

_Kite._ Your worship very well may--for I have got both a wife and a

child in half an hour--But as I was saying--you sent me to comfort Mrs.

Molly--my wife, I mean--but what d'ye think, sir? she was better

comforted before I came.

_Plume._ As how?

_Kite._ Why, sir, a footman in a blue livery had brought her ten guineas

to buy her baby-clothes.

_Plume._ Who, in the name of wonder, could send them?

_Kite._ Nay, sir, I must whisper that--Mrs. Sylvia.

_Plume._ Sylvia! generous creature!

_Wor._ Sylvia! impossible!

_Kite._ Here are the guineas, sir--I took the gold as part of my wife's

portion. Nay, farther, sir, she sent word the child should be taken all

imaginable care of, and that she intended to stand godmother. The same

footman, as I was coming to you with this news, called after me, and

told me, that his lady would speak to me--I went, and upon hearing that

you were come to town, she gave me half a guinea for the news, and

ordered me to tell you, that Justice Balance, her father, who is just

come out of the country, would be glad to see you.

_Plume._ There's a girl for you, Worthy!--Is there any thing of woman in

this? no, 'tis noble, generous, manly friendship. Show me another woman

that would lose an inch of her prerogative that way, without tears,

fits, and reproaches. The common jealousy of her sex, which is nothing

but their avarice of pleasure, she despises, and can part with the

lover, though she dies for the man--Come, Worthy--where's the best

wine? for there I'll quarter.

_Wor._ At Horton's.

_Plume._ Let's away, then.--Mr. Kite, go to the lady, with my humble

service, and tell her, I shall only refresh a little, and wait upon her.

_Wor._ Hold, Kite--have you seen the other recruiting captain?

_Kite._ No, sir; I'd have you to know I don't keep such company.

_Plume._ Another! who is he?

_Wor._ My rival, in the first place, and the most unaccountable

fellow--but I'll tell you more as we go. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_An Apartment._

MELINDA _and_ SYLVIA _meeting_.

_Mel._ Welcome to town, cousin Sylvia. [_Salute._] I envied you your

retreat in the country; for Shrewsbury, methinks, and all your heads of

shires, are the most irregular places for living: here we have smoke,

scandal, affectation, and pretension; in short, every thing to give the

spleen--and nothing to divert it--then the air is intolerable.

_Syl._ Oh, madam! I have heard the town commended for its air.

_Mel._ But you don't consider, Sylvia, how long I have lived in it; for

I can assure you that to a lady the least nice in her constitution--no

air can be good above half a year. Change of air I take to be the most

agreeable of any variety in life.

_Syl._ As you say, cousin Melinda, there are several sorts of airs.

_Mel._ Psha! I talk only of the air we breathe, or more properly of that

we taste--Have not you, Sylvia, found a vast difference in the taste of

airs?

_Syl._ Pray, cousin, are not vapours a sort of air? Taste air! you might

as well tell me I may feed upon air! but pr'ythee, my dear Melinda!

don't put on such an air to me. Your education and mine were just the

same, and I remember the time when we never troubled our heads about

air, but when the sharp air from the Welsh mountains made our fingers

ache in a cold morning, at the boarding-school.

_Mel._ Our education, cousin, was the same, but our temperaments had

nothing alike; you have the constitution of an horse.

_Syl._ So far as to be troubled neither with spleen, cholic, nor

vapours. I need no salts for my stomach, no hartshorn for my head,

nor wash for my complexion; I can gallop all the morning after the

hunting-horn, and all the evening after a fiddle. In short, I can do

every thing with my father, but drink and shoot flying; and I am sure

I can do every thing my mother could, were I put to the trial.

_Mel._ You are in a fair way of being put to't, for I am told your

captain is come to town.

_Syl._ Ay, Melinda, he is come, and I'll take care he shan't go without

a companion.

_Mel._ You are certainly mad, cousin!

_Syl._ "And there's a pleasure in being mad,

Which none but madmen know."

_Mel._ Thou poor romantic Quixote!--hast thou the vanity to imagine that

a young sprightly officer, that rambles o'er half the globe in half a

year, can confine his thoughts to the little daughter of a country

justice, in an obscure part of the world?

_Syl._ Psha! what care I for his thoughts; I should not like a man with

confined thoughts; it shows a narrowness of soul. In short, Melinda, I

think a petticoat a mighty simple thing, and I am heartily tired of my

sex.

_Mel._ That is, you are tired of an appendix to our sex, that you can't

so handsomely get rid of in petticoats as if you were in breeches.--O'my

conscience, Sylvia, hadst thou been a man, thou hadst been the greatest

rake in Christendom.

_Syl._ I should have endeavoured to know the world, which a man can

never do thoroughly without half a hundred friendships, and as many

amours. But now I think on't, how stands your affair with Mr. Worthy?

_Mel._ He's my aversion.

_Syl._ Vapours!

_Mel._ What do you say, madam?

_Syl._ I say, that you should not use that honest fellow so inhumanly:

he's a gentleman of parts and fortune, and besides that, he's my Plume's

friend; and by all that's sacred, if you don't use him better, I shall

expect satisfaction.

_Mel._ Satisfaction! you begin to fancy yourself in breeches in good

earnest--But, to be plain with you, I like Worthy the worse for being so

intimate with your captain; for I take him to be a loose, idle,

unmannerly coxcomb.

_Syl._ Oh, Madam! you never saw him, perhaps, since you were mistress of

twenty thousand pounds: you only knew him when you were capitulating

with Worthy for a settlement, which perhaps might encourage him to be a

little loose and unmannerly with you.

_Mel._ What do you mean, madam?

_Syl._ My meaning needs no interpretation, madam.

_Mel._ Better it had, madam; for methinks you are too plain.

_Syl._ If you mean the plainness of my person, I think your ladyship's

as plain as me to the full.

_Mel._ Were I sure of that, I would be glad to take up with a rakehelly

officer, as you do.

_Syl._ Again! lookye, madam, you are in your own house.

_Mel._ And if you had kept in yours, I should have excused you.

_Syl._ Don't be troubled, madam; I shan't desire to have my visit

returned.

_Mel._ The sooner, therefore, you make an end of this, the better.

_Syl._ I am easily persuaded to follow my inclinations; and so, madam,

your humble servant. [_Exit._

_Mel._ Saucy thing!

_Enter_ LUCY.

_Lucy._ What's the matter, madam?

_Mel._ Did not you see the proud nothing, how she swelled upon the

arrival of her fellow?

_Lucy._ Her fellow has not been long enough arrived, to occasion any

great swelling, madam; I don't believe she has seen him yet.

_Mel._ Nor shan't, if I can help it.--Let me see--I have it; bring me

pen and ink--Hold, I'll go write in my closet.

_Lucy._ An answer to this letter, I hope, madam? [_Presents a Letter._

_Mel._ Who sent it?

_Lucy._ Your captain, madam.

_Mel._ He's a fool, and I'm tired of him: send it back unopened.

_Lucy._ The messenger's gone, madam.

_Mel._ Then how should I send an answer? Call him back immediately,

while I go write. [_Exeunt._

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

_An Apartment._

_Enter_ JUSTICE BALANCE _and_ PLUME.

_Bal._ Lookye, captain, give us but blood for our money, and you shan't

want men. Ad's my life, captain, get us but another marshal of France,

and I'll go myself for a soldier.

_Plume._ Pray, Mr. Balance, how does your fair daughter?

_Bal._ Ah, captain! what is my daughter to a marshal of France? we're

upon a nobler subject; I want to have a particular description of the

last battle.

_Plume._ The battle, sir, was a very pretty battle as any one should

desire to see; but we were all so intent upon victory, that we never

minded the battle: all that I know of the matter is, our general

commanded us to beat the French, and we did so; and, if he pleases but

to say the word, we'll do it again. But pray, sir, how does Mrs. Sylvia?

_Bal._ Still upon Sylvia! for shame, captain! you are engaged

already--wedded to the war: victory is your mistress, and 'tis below a

soldier to think of any other.

_Plume._ As a mistress, I confess--but as a friend, Mr. Balance----

_Bal._ Come, come, captain, never mince the matter; would not you

seduce my daughter, if you could?

_Plume._ How, sir? I hope she is not to be seduced.

_Bal._ 'Faith, but she is, sir; and any woman in England of her age and

complexion, by your youth and vigour. Lookye, captain, once I was young,

and once an officer, as you are, and I can guess at your thoughts now by

what mine were then; and I remember very well that I would have given

one of my legs to have deluded the daughter of an old country gentleman

like me, as I was then like you.

_Plume._ But, sir, was that country gentleman your friend and

benefactor?

_Bal._ Not much of that.

_Plume._ There the comparison breaks: the favours, sir, that----

_Bal._ Pho, pho! I hate set speeches: if I have done you any service,

captain, it was to please myself. I love thee, and if I could part with

my girl, you should have her as soon as any young fellow I know; but I

hope you have more honour than to quit the service, and she more

prudence than to follow the camp: but she's at her own disposal; she has

five thousand pounds in her pocket, and so--Sylvia, Sylvia! [_Calls._

_Enter_ SYLVIA.

_Syl._ There are some letters, sir, come by the post from London; I left

them upon the table in your closet.

_Bal._ And here is a gentleman from Germany.--[_Presents_ PLUME _to

her_.] Captain, you'll excuse me; I'll go read my letters, and wait on

you. [_Exit._

_Syl._ Sir, you are welcome to England.

_Plume._ You are indebted to me a welcome, madam, since the hopes of

receiving it from this fair hand was the principal cause of my seeing

England.

_Syl._ I have often heard that soldiers were sincere; may I venture to

believe public report?

_Plume._ You may, when 'tis backed by private insurance; for I swear,

madam, by the honour of my profession, that whatever dangers I went

upon, it was with the hope of making myself more worthy of your esteem;

and if ever I had thoughts of preserving my life, 'twas for the pleasure

of dying at your feet.

_Syl._ Well, well, you shall die at my feet, or where you will; but you

know, sir, there is a certain will and testament to be made beforehand.

_Plume._ My will, madam, is made already, and there it is; and if you

please to open that parchment, which was drawn the evening before the

battle of Hockstet, you will find whom I left my heir.

Syl. _Mrs. Sylvia Balance._ [_Opens the Will, and reads._] Well,

captain, this is a handsome and substantial compliment; but I can assure

you I am much better pleased with the bare knowledge of your intention,

than I should have been in the possession of your legacy: but, methinks,

sir, you should have left something to your little boy at the Castle.

_Plume._ That's home. [_Aside._] My little boy! lack-a-day, madam!

that alone may convince you 'twas none of mine: why, the girl, madam,

is my serjeant's wife, and so the poor creature gave out that I was

the father, in hopes that my friends might support her in case of

necessity.--That was all, madam--my boy! no, no, no!

_Enter a_ SERVANT.

_Serv._ Madam, my master has received some ill news from London, and

desires to speak with you immediately; and he begs the captain's pardon,

that he can't wait on him, as he promised.

_Plume._ Ill news! Heavens avert it! nothing could touch me nearer than

to see that generous, worthy gentleman afflicted. I'll leave you to

comfort him; and be assured that if my life and fortune can be any way

serviceable to the father of my Sylvia, he shall freely command both.

_Syl._ The necessity must be very pressing that would engage me to

endanger either. [_Exeunt severally._

SCENE II.

_Another Apartment._

_Enter_ BALANCE _and_ SYLVIA.

_Syl._ Whilst there is life there is hope, sir; perhaps my brother may

recover.

_Bal._ We have but little reason to expect it; the doctor acquaints

me here, that before this comes to my hands he fears I shall have no

son.--Poor Owen! but the decree is just; I was pleased with the death of

my father, because he left me an estate; and now I am punished with the

loss of an heir to inherit mine. I must now look upon you as the only

hopes of my family; and I expect that the augmentation of your fortune

will give you fresh thoughts and new prospects.

_Syl._ My desire in being punctual in my obedience, requires that you

would be plain in your commands, sir.

_Bal._ The death of your brother makes you sole heiress to my estate,

which you know is about three thousand pounds a year: this fortune gives

you a fair claim to quality and a title: you must set a just value upon

yourself, and, in plain terms, think no more of Captain Plume.

_Syl._ You have often commended the gentleman, sir.

_Bal._ And I do so still; he's a very pretty fellow; but though I liked

him well enough for a bare son-in-law, I don't approve of him for an

heir to my estate and family; five thousand pounds indeed I might trust

in his hands, and it might do the young fellow a kindness; but--od's

my life! three thousand pounds a year would ruin him, quite turn his

brain--A captain of foot worth three thousand pounds a year! 'tis a

prodigy in nature!

_Enter a_ SERVANT.

_Serv._ Sir, here's one with a letter below for your worship, but he

will deliver it into no hands but your own.

_Bal._ Come, show me the messenger. [_Exit with_ SERVANT.

_Syl._ Make the dispute between love and duty, and I am prince Prettyman

exactly.--If my brother dies, ah, poor brother! if he lives, ah, poor

sister! It is bad both ways, I'll try it again--Follow my own

inclinations, and break my father's heart; or obey his commands, and

break my own? Worse and worse.--Suppose I take it thus: A moderate

fortune, a pretty fellow, and a pad; or a fine estate, a coach and six,

and an ass.--That will never do neither.

_Enter_ BALANCE _and a_ SERVANT.

_Bal._ Put four horses to the coach. [_To a_ SERVANT, _who goes out_.]

Ho, Sylvia!

_Syl._ Sir.

_Bal._ How old were you when your mother died?

_Syl._ So young that I don't remember I ever had one; and you have been

so careful, so indulgent to me since, that indeed I never wanted one.

_Bal._ Have I ever denied you any thing you asked of me?

_Syl._ Never, that I remember.

_Bal._ Then, Sylvia, I must beg that once in your life you would grant

me a favour.

_Syl._ Why should you question it, sir?

_Bal._ I don't; but I would rather counsel than command. I don't propose

this with the authority of a parent, but as the advice of your friend,

that you would take the coach this moment, and go into the country.

_Syl._ Does this advice, sir, proceed from the contents of the letter

you received just now?

_Bal._ No matter; I will be with you in three or four days, and then

give my reasons: but before you go, I expect you will make me one solemn

promise.

_Syl._ Propose the thing, sir.

_Bal._ That you will never dispose of yourself to any man without my

consent.

_Syl._ I promise.

_Bal._ Very well; and to be even with you, I promise I never will

dispose of you without your own consent: and so, Sylvia, the coach is

ready. Farewell. [_Leads her to the Door, and returns._] Now, she's

gone, I'll examine the contents of this letter a little nearer.

[_Reads._

SIR,

_My intimacy with Mr. Worthy has drawn a secret from him,

that he had from his friend Captain Plume; and my friendship

and relation to your family oblige me to give you timely

notice of it. The captain has dishonourable designs upon my

cousin Sylvia. Evils of this nature are more easily

prevented than amended; and that you would immediately send

my cousin into the country, is the advice of_,

_Sir, your humble servant_,

MELINDA.

Why, the devil's in the young fellows of this age; they are ten times

worse than they were in my time: had he made my daughter a whore, and

forswore it, like a gentleman, I could almost have pardoned it; but to

tell tales beforehand is monstrous.--Hang it! I can fetch down a

woodcock or a snipe, and why not a hat and cockade? I have a case of

good pistols, and have a good mind to try.

_Enter_ WORTHY.

Worthy, your servant.

_Wor._ I'm sorry, sir, to be the messenger of ill news.

_Bal._ I apprehend it, sir; you have heard that my son Owen is past

recovery.

_Wor._ My letters say he's dead, sir.

_Bal._ He's happy, and I am satisfied: the stroke of Heaven I can bear;

but injuries from men, Mr. Worthy, are not so easily supported.

_Wor._ I hope, sir, you are under no apprehensions of wrong from any

body.

_Bal._ You know I ought to be.

_Wor._ You wrong my honour, in believing I could know any thing to your

prejudice, without resenting it as much as you should.

_Bal._ This letter, sir, which I tear in pieces, to conceal the person

that sent it, informs me that Plume has a design upon Sylvia, and that

you are privy to it.

_Wor._ Nay, then, sir, I must do myself justice, and endeavour to find

out the author. [_Takes up a Bit._]--Sir, I know the hand, and if you

refuse to discover the contents, Melinda shall tell me. [_Going._

_Bal._ Hold, sir; the contents I have told you already; only with this

circumstance--that her intimacy with Mr. Worthy had drawn the secret

from him.

_Wor._ Her intimacy with me! Dear sir! let me pick up the pieces of this

letter, 'twill give me such a power over her pride to have her own an

intimacy under her hand.--This was the luckiest accident! [_Gathering up

the Letter._] The aspersion, sir, was nothing but malice; the effect of

a little quarrel between her and Mrs. Sylvia.

_Bal._ Are you sure of that, sir?

_Wor._ Her maid gave me the history of part of the battle just now, as

she overheard it: but I hope, sir, your daughter has suffered nothing

upon the account.

_Bal._ No, no, poor girl! she's so afflicted with the news of her

brother's death, that, to avoid company, she begged leave to go into the

country.

_Wor._ And is she gone?

_Bal._ I could not refuse her, she was so pressing; the coach went from

the door the minute before you came.

_Wor._ So pressing to be gone, sir?--I find her fortune will give her

the same airs with Melinda, and then Plume and I may laugh at one

another.

_Bal._ Like enough; women are as subject to pride as men are; and why

mayn't great women as well as great men forget their old acquaintance?

But come, where's this young fellow? I love him so well, it would break

the heart of me to think him a rascal.--I am glad my daughter's gone

fairly off though.--[_Aside._] Where does the captain quarter?

_Wor._ At Horton's; I am to meet him there two hours hence, and we

should be glad of your company.

_Bal._ Your pardon, dear Worthy! I must allow a day or two to the death

of my son. The decorum of mourning is what we owe the world, because

they pay it to us; afterwards I'm yours over a bottle, or how you will.

_Wor._ Sir, I'm your humble servant. [_Exeunt apart._

SCENE III.

_The Street._

_Enter_ KITE, _with_ COSTAR PEARMAIN _in one Hand, and_ THOMAS APPLETREE

_in the other, drunk_.

KITE _sings_.

_Our 'prentice Tom may now refuse_

_To wipe his scoundrel master's shoes,_

_For now he's free to sing and play_

_Over the hills and far away._

_Over, &c._

[The Mob sing the Chorus.

_We shall lead more happy lives_

_By getting rid of brats and wives,_

_That scold and brawl both night and day,_

_Over the hills and far away._

_Over, &c._

_Kite._ Hey, boys! thus we soldiers live! drink, sing, dance, play;--we

live, as one should say--we live--'tis impossible to tell how we

live--we are all princes--why, why you are a king--you are an emperor,

and I'm a prince--now, an't we?

_Tho._ No serjeant, I'll be no emperor.

_Kite._ No!

_Tho._ I'll be a justice of peace.

_Kite._ A justice of peace, man!

_Tho._ Ay, wauns will I; for since this pressing act, they are greater

than any emperor under the sun.

_Kite._ Done; you are a justice of peace, and you are a king, and I am a

duke, and a rum duke, an't I?

_Cost._ I'll be a queen.

_Kite._ A queen.

_Cost._ Ay, of England, that's greater than any king of them all.

_Kite._ Bravely said, 'faith! huzza for the queen. [_Huzza._] But

harkye, you Mr. Justice, and you Mr. Queen, did you ever see the king's

picture?

_Both._ No! no! no!

_Kite._ I wonder at that; I have two of them set in gold, and as like

his majesty, God bless the mark! see here, they are set in gold.

[_Takes two broad pieces out of his pocket; presents one to

each._

_Tho._ The wonderful works of nature! [_Looking at it._

What's this written about? here's a posy, I believe.--Ca-ro-lus!--what's

that, serjeant?

_Kite._ O! Carolus! why, Carolus is Latin for King George; that's all.

_Cost._ Tis a fine thing to be a scollard.--Serjeant, will you part with

this? I'll buy it on you, if it come within the compass of a crown.

_Kite._ A crown! never talk of buying; 'tis the same thing among

friends, you know; I'll present them to ye both: you shall give me as

good a thing. Put them up, and remember your old friend when I am over

the hills and far away. [_They sing, and put up the Money._

_Enter_ PLUME, _singing_.

_Over the hills and over the main,_

_To Flanders, Portugal, or Spain_

_The king commands and we'll obey,_

_Over the hills and far away._

Come on my men of mirth, away with it; I'll make one among ye. Who are

these hearty lads?

_Kite._ Off with your hats; 'ounds! off with your hats: this is the

captain, the captain.

_Tho._ We have seen captains afore now, mun.

_Cost._ Ay, and lieutenant-captains too. 'Sflesh! I'll keep on my nab.

_Tho._ And I'se scarcely d'off mine for any captain in England. My

vether's a freeholder.

_Plume._ Who are those jolly lads, serjeant?

_Kite._ A couple of honest brave fellows that are willing to serve the

king: I have entertained them just now as volunteers, under your

honour's command.

_Plume._ And good entertainment they shall have: volunteers are the men

I want; those are the men fit to make soldiers, captains, generals.

_Cost._ Wounds, Tummas, what's this! are you listed?

_Tho._ Flesh! not I: are you, Costar?

_Cost._ Wounds! not I.

_Kite._ What! not listed? ha! ha! ha! a very good jest, i'faith.

_Cost._ Come, Tummus, we'll go home.

_Tho._ Ay, ay, come.

_Kite._ Home! for shame, gentlemen; behave yourselves better before your

captain. Dear Tummas, honest Costar!

_Tho._ No, no! we'll be gone.

_Kite._ Nay, then, I command you to stay: I place you both centinels in

this place for two hours, to watch the motion of St. Mary's clock you,

and you the motion of St. Chad's; and he, that dares stir from his post

till he be relieved, shall have my sword in his guts the next minute.

_Plume._ What's the matter, serjeant? I'm afraid you are too rough with

these gentlemen.

_Kite._ I'm too mild, sir; they disobey command, sir; and one of them

should be shot, for an example to the other.

_Cost._ Shot! Tummas?

_Plume._ Come, gentlemen, what's the matter?

_Tho._ We don't know; the noble serjeant is pleas'd to be in a passion,

sir; but----

_Kite._ They disobey command; they deny their being listed.

_Tho._ Nay, serjeant, we don't downright deny it, neither; that we dare

not do, for fear of being shot; but we humbly conceive, in a civil way,

and begging your worship's pardon, that we may go home.

_Plume._ That's easily known. Have either of you received any of the

king's money?

_Cost._ Not a brass farthing, sir.

_Kite._ They have each of them received one-and-twenty shillings, and

'tis now in their pockets.

_Cost._ Wounds! if I have a penny in my pocket but a bent sixpence, I'll

be content to be listed and shot into the bargain.

_Tho._ And I: look ye here, sir.

_Cost._ Nothing but the king's picture, that the serjeant gave me just

now.

_Kite._ See there, a guinea, one and twenty shillings; t'other has the

fellow on't.

_Plume._ The case is plain, gentlemen: the goods are found upon you:

those pieces of gold are worth one-and-twenty shillings each.

_Cost._ So it seems that Carolus is one-and-twenty shillings in Latin.

_Tho._ 'Tis the same thing in Greek, for we are listed.

_Cost._ Flesh; but we an't, Tummus: I desire to be carried before the

mayor, captain.

[CAPTAIN _and_ SERJEANT _whisper the while._

_Plume._ 'Twill never do, Kite--your damned tricks will ruin me at

last--I won't lose the fellows, though, if I can help it.--Well,

gentlemen, there must be some trick in this; my serjeant offers to take

his oath that you are fairly listed.

_Tho._ Why, captain, we know that you soldiers have more liberty of

conscience than other folks; but for me or neighbour Costar here to take

such an oath, 'twould be downright perjuration.

_Plume._ Lookye, rascal, you villain! If I find that you have imposed

upon these two honest fellows, I'll trample you to death, you dog--Come,

how was't?

_Tho._ Nay, then we'll speak. Your serjeant, as you say, is a rogue,

an't like your worship, begging your worship's pardon--and--

_Cost._ Nay, Tummus, let me speak, you know I can read.----And so, sir,

he gave us those two pieces of money for pictures of the king, by way of

a present.

_Plume._ How? by way of a present! the son of a whore! I'll teach him to

abuse honest fellows like you!--scoundrel! rogue! villain!

[_Beats off the Serjeant, and follows._

_Both._ O brave noble captain! huzza! A brave captain, 'faith!

_Cost._ Now, Tummas, Carolus is Latin for a beating. This is the bravest

captain I ever saw--Wounds! I've a month's mind to go with him.

_Enter_ PLUME.

_Plume._ A dog, to abuse two such honest fellows as you.--Lookye,

gentlemen, I love a pretty fellow; I come among you as an officer to

list soldiers, not as a kidnapper to steal slaves.

_Cost._ Mind that, Tummas.

_Plume._ I desire no man to go with me but as I went myself; I went a

volunteer, as you or you may do; for a little time carried a musket, and

now I command a company.

_Tho._ Mind that, Costar. A sweet gentleman!

_Plume._ Tis true, gentlemen, I might take an advantage of you; the

king's money was in your pockets--my serjeant was ready to take his oath

you were listed; but I scorn to do a base thing; you are both of you at

your liberty.

_Cost._ Thank you, noble captain----Icod! I can't find in my heart to

leave him, he talks so finely.

_Tho._ Ay, Costar, would he always hold in this mind.

_Plume._ Come, my lads, one thing more I'll tell you: you're both young

tight fellows, and the army is the place to make you men for ever: every

man has his lot, and you have yours: what think you of a purse of French

gold out of a monsieur's pocket, after you have dashed out his brains

with the but end of your firelock, eh?

_Cost._ Wauns! I'll have it. Captain--give me a shilling; I'll follow

you to the end of the world.

_Tho._ Nay, dear Costar! do'na: be advis'd.

_Plume._ Here, my hero, here are two guineas for thee, as earnest of

what I'll do farther for thee.

_Tho._ Do'na take it; do'na, dear Costar.

[_Cries, and pulls back his Arm._

_Cost._ I wull--I wull--Waunds! my mind gives me that I shall be a

captain myself--I take your money, sir, and now I am a gentleman.

_Plume._ Give me thy hand; and now you and I will travel the world o'er,

and command it wherever we tread.--Bring your friend with you, if you

can. [_Aside._

_Cost._ Well, Tummas, must we part?

_Tho._ No, Costar, I cannot leave thee.--Come, captain, I'll e'en go

along too; and if you have two honester simpler lads in your company

than we two have been, I'll say no more.

_Plume._ Here, my lad. [_Gives him Money._] Now, your name?

_Tho._ Tummas Appletree.

_Plume._ And yours?

_Cost._ Costar Pearmain.

_Plume._ Well said, Costar! Born where?

_Tho._ Both in Herefordshire.

_Plume._ Very well. Courage, my lads. Now we'll

Sings. _Over the hills, and far away._

_Courage, boys, it's one to ten_

_But we return all gentlemen;_

_While conq'ring colours we display,_

_Over the hills, and far away._

Kite, take care of them.

_Enter_ KITE.

_Kite._ An't you a couple of pretty fellows, now! Here, you have

complained to the captain; I am to be turned out, and one of you will be

serjeant. Which of you is to have my halberd?

_Both Rec._ I.

_Kite._ So you shall--in your guts.--March, you sons of whores! [_Beats

them off._

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

_The Market Place._

_Enter_ PLUME _and_ WORTHY.

_Wor._ I cannot forbear admiring the equality of our fortunes: we love

two ladies, they meet us half way, and just as we were upon the point

of leaping into their arms, fortune drops in their laps, pride possesses

their hearts, a maggot fills their heads, madness takes them by the

tails; they snort, kick up their heels, and away they run.

_Plume._ And leave us here to mourn upon the shore--a couple of poor

melancholy monsters. What shall we do?

_Wor._ I have a trick for mine; the letter, you know, and the

fortune-teller.

_Plume._ And I have a trick for mine.

_Wor._ What is't?

_Plume._ I'll never think of her again.

_Wor._ No!

_Plume._ No; I think myself above administering to the pride of any

woman, were she worth twelve thousand a-year; and I ha'n't the vanity to

believe I shall gain a lady worth twelve hundred. The generous,

goodnatured Sylvia, in her smock, I admire; but the haughty and scornful

Sylvia, with her fortune, I despise.--What! sneak out of town, and not

so much as a word, a line, a compliment!--'Sdeath! how far off does she

live? I'll go and break her windows.

_Wor._ Ha! ha! ha! ay, and the window-bars too, to come at her. Come,

come, friend, no more of your rough military airs.

_Enter_ KITE.

_Kite._ Captain! captain! Sir, look yonder; she's a-coming this way.

'Tis the prettiest, cleanest, little tit!

_Plume._ Now, Worthy, to show you how much I'm in love--here she comes.

But, Kite, what is that great country fellow with her?

_Kite._ I can't tell, sir.

_Enter_ ROSE, _followed by her Brother_ BULLOCK, _with

Chickens on her Arm, in a Basket_.

_Rose._ Buy chickens, young and tender chickens, young and tender

chickens.

_Plume._ Here, you chickens.

_Rose._ Who calls?

_Plume._ Come hither, pretty maid.

_Rose._ Will you please to buy, sir?

_Wor._ Yes, child, we'll both buy.

_Plume._ Nay, Worthy, that's not fair; market for yourself--Come, child,

I'll buy all you have.

_Rose._ Then all I have is at your service. [_Courtesies._

[Illustration:

RECRUITING OFFICER

CAPTAIN PLUME--LET ME SEE; YOUNG & TENDER YOU SAY.

ACT III SCENE I]

_Wor._ Then must I shift for myself, I find. [_Exit._

_Plume._ Let me see; young and tender, you say. [_Chucks her under the

Chin._

_Rose._ As ever you tasted in your life, sir.

_Plume._ Come, I must examine your basket to the bottom, my dear!

_Rose._ Nay, for that matter, put in your hand; feel, sir; I warrant my

ware is as good as any in the market.

_Plume._ And I'll buy it all, child, were it ten times more.

_Rose._ Sir, I can furnish you.

_Plume._ Come, then, we won't quarrel about the price; they're fine

birds.--Pray, what's your name, pretty creature!

_Rose._ Rose, sir. My father is a farmer within three short miles o' the

town: we keep this market; I sell chickens, eggs, and butter, and my

brother Bullock there sells corn.

_Bul._ Come, sister, haste--we shall be late home. [_Whistles about the

Stage._

_Plume._ Kite! [_Tips him the wink, he returns it._] Pretty Mrs.

Rose--you have--let me see--how many?

_Rose._ A dozen, sir, and they are richly worth a crown.

_Bul._ Come, Rouse; I sold fifty strake of barley to-day in half this

time; but you will higgle and higgle for a penny more than the commodity

is worth.

_Rose._ What's that to you, oaf? I can make as much out of a groat as

you can out of fourpence, I'm sure--The gentleman bids fair, and when I

meet with a chapman, I know how to make the best of him--And so, sir, I

say for a crown-piece the bargain's yours.

_Plume._ Here's a guinea, my dear!

_Rose._ I can't change your money, sir.

_Plume._ Indeed, indeed, but you can--my lodging is hard by, chicken!

and we'll make change there. [_Goes off, she follows him._

_Kite._ So, sir, as I was telling you, I have seen one of these hussars

eat up a ravelin for his breakfast, and afterwards pick his teeth with a

palisado.

_Bul._ Ay, you soldiers see very strange things; but pray, sir, what is

a rabelin?

_Kite._ Why, 'tis like a modern minc'd pie, but the crust is confounded

hard, and the plums are somewhat hard of digestion.

_Bul._ Then your palisado, pray what may he be? Come, Rouse, pray ha'

done.

_Kite._ Your palisado is a pretty sort of bodkin, about the thickness of

my leg.

_Bul._ That's a fib, I believe. [_Aside._] Eh! where's Rouse? Rouse,

Rouse! 'Sflesh! where's Rouse gone?

_Kite._ She's gone with the captain.

_Bul._ The captain! wauns! there's no pressing of women, sure.

_Kite._ But there is, sure.

_Bul._ If the captain should press Rouse, I should be ruined----Which

way went she? Oh! the devil take your rabelins and palisadoes! [_Exit._

_Kite._ You shall be better acquainted with them, honest Bullock, or I

shall miss of my aim.

_Enter_ WORTHY.

_Wor._ Why thou art the most useful fellow in nature to your captain,

admirable in your way I find.

_Kite._ Yes, sir, I understand my business, I will say it.

_Wor._ How came you so qualified?

_Kite._ You must know, sir, I was born a gipsy, and bred among that

crew till I was ten years old; there I learned canting and lying: I was

bought from my mother Cleopatra by a certain nobleman for three

pistoles, there I learned impudence and pimping: I was turned off for

wearing my lord's linen, and drinking my lady's ratafia, and turned

bailiff's follower; there I learned bullying and swearing: I at last got

into the army; and there I learned whoring and drinking--so that if your

worship pleases to cast up the whole sum, viz. canting, lying,

impudence, pimping, bullying, swearing, whoring, drinking, and a

halberd, you will find the sum total amount to a Recruiting Serjeant.

_Wor._ And pray what induced you to turn soldier?

_Kite._ Hunger and ambition. But here comes Justice Balance.

_Enter_ BALANCE _and_ BULLOCK.

_Bal._ Here you, serjeant, where's your captain? here's a poor foolish

fellow comes clamouring to me with a complaint that your captain has

pressed his sister. Do you know any thing of this matter, Worthy?

_Wor._ Ha! ha! ha! I know his sister is gone with Plume to his lodging,

to sell him some chickens.

_Bal._ Is that all? the fellow's a fool.

_Bul._ I know that, an't like your worship; but if your worship pleases

to grant me a warrant to bring her before your worship, for fear of the

worst.

_Bal._ Thou'rt mad, fellow; thy sister's safe enough.

_Kite._ I hope so too. [_Aside._

_Wor._ Hast thou no more sense, fellow, than to believe that the captain

can list women?

_Bul._ I know not whether they list them, or what they do with them, but

I'm sure they carry as many women as men with them out of the country.

_Bal._ But how came you not to go along with your sister?

_Bul._ Lord, sir, I thought no more of her going than I do of the day I

shall die: but this gentleman here, not suspecting any hurt neither, I

believe--you thought no harm, friend, did you?

_Kite._ Lack-a-day, sir, not I----only that I believe I shall marry her

to-morrow.

_Bal._ I begin to smell powder. Well, friend, but what did that

gentleman with you?

_Bul._ Why, sir, he entertained me with a fine story of a great

sea-fight between the Hungarians, I think it was, and the wild Irish.

_Kite._ And so, sir, while we were in the heat of battle--the captain

carried off the baggage.

_Bal._ Serjeant, go along with this fellow to your captain, give him my

humble service, and desire him to discharge the wench, though he has

listed her.

_Bul._ Ay, and if she ben't free for that, he shall have another man in

her place.

_Kite._ Come, honest friend, you shall go to my quarters instead of the

captain's. [_Aside._

[_Exeunt_ KITE _and_ BULLOCK.

_Bal._ We must get this mad captain his complement of men, and send him

packing, else he'll overrun the country.

_Wor._ You see, sir, how little he values your daughter's disdain.

_Bal._ I like him the better: I was just such another fellow at his age:

But how goes your affair with Melinda?

_Wor._ Very slowly. My mistress has got a captain too, but such a

captain!--as I live, yonder he comes!

_Bal._ Who, that bluff fellow in the sash? I don't know him.

_Wor._ But I engage he knows you and every body at first sight: his

impudence were a prodigy, were not his ignorance proportionable; he has

the most universal acquaintance of any man living, for he won't be

alone, and nobody will keep him company twice: then he's a CÊsar among

the women, _veni, vidi, vici_, that's all. If he has but talked with the

maid, he swears he has lain with the mistress: but the most surprising

part of his character is his memory, which is the most prodigious and

the most trifling in the world.

_Bal._ I have known another acquire so much by travel as to tell you the

names of most places in Europe, with their distances of miles, leagues,

or hours, as punctually as a postboy; but for any thing else as ignorant

as the horse that carries the mail.

_Wor._ This is your man, sir, add but the traveller's privilege of

lying, and even that he abuses: this is the picture, behold the life.

_Enter_ BRAZEN.

_Brazen._ Mr. Worthy, I'm your servant, and so forth--Harkye, my dear!

_Wor._ Whispering, sir, before company, is not manners, and when

nobody's by 'tis foolish.

_Brazen._ Company! _mort de ma vie!_ I beg the gentleman's pardon--who

is he?

_Wor._ Ask him.

_Brazen._ So I will. My dear! I am your servant, and so forth--Your

name, my dear?

_Bal._ Very laconic, sir.

_Brazen._ Laconic! a very good name truly. I have known several of the

Laconics abroad. Poor Jack Laconic! he was killed at the battle of

Landen. I remember that he had a blue ribband in his hat that very day,

and after he fell, we found a piece of neat's tongue in his pocket.

_Bal._ Pray, sir, did the French attack us, or we them, at Landen?

_Brazen._ The French attack us! No, sir, we attacked them on the----I

have reason to remember the time, for I had two-and-twenty horses killed

under me that day.

_Wor._ Then, sir, you must have rid mighty hard.

_Bal._ Or, perhaps, sir, like my countrymen, you rid upon half a dozen

horses at once.

_Brazen._ What do ye mean, gentlemen? I tell you they were killed, all

torn to pieces by cannon-shot, except six I staked to death upon the

enemy's _cheveaux de frise_.

_Bal._ Noble captain! may I crave your name?

_Brazen._ Brazen, at your service.

_Bal._ Oh, Brazen! a very good name. I have known several of the Brazens

abroad.

_Wor._ Do you know one Captain Plume, sir?

_Brazen._ Is he any thing related to Frank Plume in

Northamptonshire?--Honest Frank! many, many a dry bottle have we cracked

hand to fist. You must have known his brother Charles, that was

concerned in the India company; he married the daughter of Old

Tonguepad, the master in Chancery, a very pretty woman, only she quinted

a little; she died in child-bed of her first child, but the child

survived: 'twas a daughter, but whether it was called Margaret or

Margery, upon my soul, I can't remember. [_Looking on his Watch._] But,

gentlemen, I must meet a lady, a twenty thousand pounder, presently,

upon the walk by the water--Worthy, your servant; Laconic, yours.

[_Exit._

_Bal._ If you can have so mean an opinion of Melinda, as to be jealous

of this fellow, I think she ought to give you cause to be so.

_Wor._ I don't think she encourages him so much for gaining herself a

lover, as to set up a rival. Were there any credit to be given to his

words, I should believe Melinda had made him this assignation. I must go

see, sir, you'll pardon me. [_Exit._

_Bal._ Ay, ay, sir, you're a man of business--But what have we got here?

_Enter_ ROSE, _singing_.

_Rose._ And I shall be a lady, a captain's lady, and ride single, upon a

white horse with a star, upon a velvet side-saddle; and I shall go to

London, and see the tombs, and the lions, and the king and queen. Sir,

an please your worship, I have often seen your worship ride through our

grounds a-hunting, begging your worship's pardon. Pray, what may this

lace be worth a-yard? [_Showing some Lace._

_Bal._ Right Mecklin, by this light! Where did you get this lace, child?

_Rose._ No matter for that, sir; I came honestly by it.

_Bal._ I question it much. [_Aside._

_Rose._ And see here, sir, a fine Turkey-shell snuff-box, and fine

mangere: see here. [_Takes Snuff affectedly._] The captain learned me

how to take it with an air.

_Bal._ Oh ho! the captain! now the murder's out. And so the captain

taught you to take it with an air?

_Rose._ Yes; and give it with an air too. Will your worship please to

taste my snuff? [_Offers the Box affectedly._

_Bal._ You are a very apt scholar, pretty maid! And pray, what did you

give the captain for these fine things?

_Rose._ He's to have my brother for a soldier, and two or three

sweethearts I have in the country; they shall all go with the captain.

Oh! he's the finest man, and the humblest withal! Would you believe it,

sir? he carried me up with him to his own chamber, with as much

fam-mam-mil-yararality, as if I had been the best lady in the land.

_Bal._ Oh! he's a mighty familiar gentleman as can be.

_Enter_ PLUME, _singing_.

Plume. _But it is not so_

_With those that go_

_Thro' frost and snow----_

_Most apropos,_

_My maid with the milking pail._

[_Takes hold of_ ROSE.

How, the justice! then I'm arraigned, condemned and executed.

_Bal._ Oh, my noble captain!

_Rose._ And my noble captain, too, sir.

_Plume._ 'Sdeath! child, are you mad?--Mr. Balance, I am so full of

business about my recruits, that I ha'n't a moment's time to----I have

just now three or four people to----

_Bal._ Nay, captain, I must speak to you--

_Rose._ And so must I too, captain.

_Plume._ Any other time, sir--I cannot, for my life, sir--

_Bal._ Pray, sir----

_Plume._ Twenty thousand things--I would--but--now, sir, pray--Devil

take me--I cannot--I must--[_Breaks away._

_Bal._ Nay, I'll follow you. [_Exit._

_Rose._ And I too. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_The Walk by the Severn Side._

_Enter_ MELINDA _and her Maid_ LUCY.

_Mel._ And pray was it a ring, or buckle, or pendants, or knots; or in

what shape was the almighty gold transformed, that has bribed you so

much in his favour?

_Lucy._ Indeed, madam, the last bribe I had from the captain, was only a

small piece of Flanders' lace, for a cap.

_Mel._ Ay, Flanders' lace is a constant present from officers to their

women. They every year bring over a cargo of lace, to cheat the king of

his duty, and his subjects of their honesty.

_Lucy._ They only barter one sort of prohibited goods for another,

madam.

_Mel._ Has any of them been bartering with you, Mrs. Pert, that you talk

so like a trader?

_Lucy._ One would imagine, madam, by your concern for Worthy's absence,

that you should use him better when he's with you.

_Mel._ Who told you, pray, that I was concerned for his absence? I'm

only vexed that I have had nothing said to me these two days: as one may

love the treason and hate the traitor. Oh! here comes another captain,

and a rogue that has the confidence to make love to me; but indeed, I

don't wonder at that, when he has the assurance to fancy himself a fine

gentleman.

_Lucy._ If he should speak o' th' assignation I should be ruined!

[_Aside._

_Enter_ BRAZEN.

_Brazen._ True to the touch, 'faith! [_Aside._] Madam, I am your humble

servant, and all that, madam. A fine river, this same Severn--Do you

love fishing, madam?

_Mel._ 'Tis a pretty melancholy amusement for lovers.

_Brazen._ I'll go and buy hooks and lines presently; for you must know,

madam, that I have served in Flanders against the French, in Hungary

against the Turks, and in Tangier against the Moors, and I was never so

much in love before; and split me, madam, in all the campaigns I ever

made, I have not seen so fine a woman as your ladyship.

_Mel._ And from all the men I ever saw, I never had so fine a

compliment: but you soldiers are the best bred men, that we must allow.

_Brazen._ Some of us, madam; but there are brutes among us too, very sad

brutes; for my own part, I have always had the good luck to prove

agreeable. I have had very considerable offers, madam--I might have

married a German princess, worth fifty thousand crowns a-year, but her

stove disgusted me. The daughter of a Turkish bashaw fell in love with

me, too, when I was a prisoner among the Infidels; she offered to rob

her father of his treasure, and make her escape with me; but I don't

know how, my time was not come: hanging and marriage, you know, go by

destiny: Fate has reserved me for a Shropshire lady, worth twenty

thousand pounds. Do you know any such person, madam?

_Mel._ Extravagant coxcomb! [_Aside._] To be sure, a great many ladies

of that fortune would be proud of the name of Mrs. Brazen.

_Brazen._ Nay, for that matter, madam, there are women of very good

quality of the name of Brazen.

_Enter_ WORTHY.

_Mel._ Oh, are you there, gentleman?--Come, captain, we'll walk this

way. Give me your hand.

_Brazen._ My hand, heart's blood, and guts, are at your service. Mr.

Worthy, your servant, my dear! [_Exit, leading_ MELINDA.

_Wor._ Death and fire! this is not to be borne!

_Enter_ PLUME.

_Plume._ No more it is, 'faith.

_Wor._ What?

_Plume._ The March beer at the Raven. I have been doubly serving the

king, raising men, and raising the excise. Recruiting and elections are

rare friends to the excise.

_Wor._ You a'n't drunk?

_Plume._ No, no, whimsical only; I could be mighty foolish, and fancy

myself mighty witty. Reason still keeps its throne, but it nods a

little, that's all.

_Wor._ Then you're just fit for a frolic.

_Plume._ Just so.

_Wor._ Then recover me that vessel, from that Tangerine.

_Plume._ She's well rigged, but how is she manned?

_Wor._ By Captain Brazen, that I told you of to-day; she is called the

Melinda, a first rate I can assure you; she sheered off with him just

now, on purpose to affront me; but according to your advice I would take

no notice, because I would seem to be above a concern for her behaviour;

but have a care of a quarrel.

_Plume._ No, no; I never quarrel with any thing in my cups, but an

oyster-wench, or a cookmaid, and if they ben't civil, I knock them down.

But hearkye, my friend, I'll make love, and I must make love--I tell you

what, I'll make love like a platoon.

_Wor._ Platoon! how's that?

_Plume._ I'll kneel, stoop, and stand, 'faith: most ladies are gained by

platooning.

_Wor._ Here they come; I must leave you. [_Exit._

_Plume._ So! now must I look as sober and demure as a whore at a

christening.

_Enter_ BRAZEN _and_ MELINDA.

_Brazen._ Who's that, madam?

_Mel._ A brother officer of yours, I suppose, sir.

_Brazen._ Ay--my dear! [_To_ PLUME.

_Plume._ My dear! [_Run and embrace._

_Brazen._ My dear boy! how is't? Your name, my dear! If I be not

mistaken, I have seen your face.

_Plume._ I never saw yours in my life, my dear----but there's a face

well known as the sun's, that shines on all, and is by all adored.

_Brazen._ Have you any pretensions, sir?

_Plume._ Pretensions!

_Brazen._ That is, sir, have you ever served abroad?

_Plume._ I have served at home, sir, for ages served this cruel fair,

and that will serve the turn, sir.

_Mel._ So, between the fool and the rake, I shall bring a fine spot of

work upon my hands!

_Brazen._ Will you fight for the lady, sir?

_Plume._ No, sir, but I'll have her notwithstanding.

_Thou peerless princess of Salopian plains,_

_Envy'd by nymphs, and worshipp'd by the swains--_

_Brazen._ Oons, sir! not fight for her?

_Plume._ Pr'ythee be quiet--I shall be out--

_Behold, how humbly does the Severn glide,_

_To greet thee, princess of the Severn side._

_Brazen._ Don't mind him, madam--if he were not so well dressed, I

should take him for a poet; but I'll show you the difference presently.

Come, madam, we'll place you between us, and now the longest sword

carries her. [_Draws._

Mel. [_Shrieking._]

_Enter_ WORTHY.

Oh, Mr. Worthy! save me from these madmen!

[_Exit with_ WORTHY.

_Plume._ Ha! ha! ha! why don't you follow, sir, and fight the bold

ravisher?

_Brazen._ No, sir, you are my man.

_Plume._ I don't like the wages; I won't be your man.

_Brazen._ Then you're not worth my sword.

_Plume._ No; pray what did it cost?

_Brazen._ It cost me twenty pistoles in France, and my enemies thousands

of lives in Flanders.

_Plume._ Then they had a dear bargain.

_Enter_ SYLVIA, _in Man's Apparel_.

_Syl._ Save ye, save ye! gentlemen.

_Brazen._ My dear, I'm yours.

_Plume._ Do you know the gentleman?

_Brazen._ No, but I will presently--Your name, my dear?

_Syl._ Wilful, Jack Wilful, at your service.

_Brazen._ What, the Kentish Wilfuls, or those of Staffordshire?

_Syl._ Both, sir, both; I'm related to all the Wilfuls in Europe, and

I'm head of the family at present.

_Plume._ Do you live in the country, sir?

_Syl._ Yes, sir, I live where I stand; I have neither home, house, or

habitation, beyond this spot of ground.

_Brazen._ What are you, sir?

_Syl._ A rake.

_Plume._ In the army, I presume.

_Syl._ No, but I intend to list immediately. Lookye, gentlemen, he that

bids the fairest, has me.

_Brazen._ Sir, I'll prefer you; I'll make you a corporal this minute.

_Plume._ Corporal! I'll make you my companion; you shall eat with me.

_Brazen._ You shall drink with me. Then you shall receive your pay, and

do no duty.

_Syl._ Then you must make me a field-officer.

_Plume._ Pho, pho, pho! I'll do more than all this; I'll make you a

corporal, and give you a brevet for serjeant.

_Brazen._ Can you read and write, sir?

_Syl._ Yes.

_Brazen._ Then your business is done--I'll make you chaplain to the

regiment.

_Syl._ Your promises are so equal, that I'm at a loss to chuse. There is

one Plume, that I hear much commended, in town; pray, which of you is

Captain Plume?

_Plume._ I am Captain Plume.

_Brazen._ No, no, I am Captain Plume.

_Syl._ Heyday!

_Plume._ Captain Plume! I'm your servant, my dear!

_Brazen._ Captain Brazen! I'm yours--The fellow dares not fight.

[_Aside._

_Enter_ KITE.

_Kite._ Sir, if you please---- [_Goes to whisper_ PLUME.

_Plume._ No, no, there's your captain. Captain Plume, your serjeant has

got so drunk, he mistakes me for you.

_Brazen._ He's an incorrigible sot. Here, my Hector of Holborn, here's

forty shillings for you.

_Plume._ I forbid the bans. Lookye, friend, you shall list with Captain

Brazen.

_Syl._ I will see Captain Brazen hanged first; I will list with Captain

Plume: I am a free-born Englishman, and will be a slave my own way.

Lookye, sir, will you stand by me? [_To_ BRAZEN.

_Brazen._ I warrant you, my lad.

_Syl._ Then I will tell you, Captain Brazen, [_To Plume_.] that you are

an ignorant, pretending, impudent coxcomb.

_Brazen._ Ay, ay, a sad dog.

_Syl._ A very sad dog. Give me the money, noble Captain Plume.

_Plume._ Then you won't list with Captain Brazen?

_Syl._ I won't.

_Brazen._ Never mind him, child; I'll end the dispute presently. Harkye,

my dear!

[_Takes_ PLUME _to one Side of the Stage, and entertains him

in dumb Show_.

_Kite._ Sir, he in the plain coat is Captain Plume; I am his serjeant,

and will take my oath on't.

_Syl._ What! you are serjeant Kite?

_Kite._ At your service.

_Syl._ Then I would not take your oath for a farthing.

_Kite._ A very understanding youth of his age: but I see a storm coming.

_Syl._ Now, serjeant, I shall see who is your captain, by your knocking

down the other.

_Kite._ My captain scorns assistance, sir.

_Brazen._ How dare you contend for any thing, and not dare to draw your

sword? But you are a young fellow, and have not been much abroad; I

excuse that; but pr'ythee, resign the man, pr'ythee do: you are a very

honest fellow.

_Plume._ You lie; and you are a son of a whore.

[_Draws, and makes up to_ BRAZEN.

_Brazen._ Hold, hold; did not you refuse to fight for the lady?

[_Retiring._

_Plume._ I always do, but for a man I'll fight knee-deep; so you lie

again.

[PLUME _and_ BRAZEN _fight a traverse or two about the

Stage_, SYLVIA _draws, and is held by_ KITE, _who sounds to

Arms with his Mouth, takes_ SYLVIA _in his Arms, and carries

her off the Stage_.

_Brazen._ Hold! where's the man?

_Plume._ Gone.

_Brazen._ Then what do we fight for? [_Puts up._] Now let's embrace, my

dear!

_Plume._ With all my heart, my dear! [_Putting up._] I suppose Kite has

listed him by this time. [_Embraces._

_Brazen._ You are a brave fellow: I always fight with a man before I

make him my friend; and if once I find he will fight, I never quarrel

with him afterwards. And now I'll tell you a secret, my dear friend!

that lady we frightened out of the walk just now, I found in bed this

morning, so beautiful, so inviting; I presently locked the door--but I'm

a man of honour--but I believe I shall marry her nevertheless--her

twenty thousand pounds, you know, will be a pretty conveniency. I had an

assignation with her here, but your coming spoiled my sport. Curse you,

my dear, but don't do so again----

_Plume._ No, no, my dear! men are my business at present. [_Exeunt._

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

_The Walk._

_Enter_ ROSE _and_ BULLOCK, _meeting_.

_Rose._ Where have you been, you great booby? you are always out of the

way in the time of preferment.

_Bul._ Preferment! who should prefer me?

_Rose._ I would prefer you! who should prefer a man, but a woman? Come,

throw away that great club, hold up your head, cock your hat, and look

big.

_Bul._ Ah, Rouse, Rouse! I fear somebody will look big sooner than folk

think of. Here has been Cartwheel, your sweetheart; what will become of

him?

_Rose._ Lookye, I'm a great woman, and will provide for my relations: I

told the captain how finely he played upon the tabor and pipe, so he sat

him down for drum-major.

_Bul._ Nay, sister, why did not you keep that place for me? you know I

have always loved to be a drumming, if it were but on a table, or on a

quart pot.

_Enter_ SYLVIA.

_Syl._ Had I but a commission in my pocket, I fancy my breeches would

become me as well as any ranting fellow of them all; for I take a bold

step, a rakish toss, and an impudent air, to be the principal

ingredients in the composition of a captain. What's here? Rose, my

nurse's daughter! I'll go and practise. Come, child, kiss me at once.

[_Kisses her._] And her brother too! Well, honest Dungfork, do you know

the difference between a horse and a cart, and a cart-horse, eh?

_Bul._ I presume that your worship is a captain, by your clothes and

your courage.

_Syl._ Suppose I were, would you be contented to list, friend?

_Rose._ No, no; though your worship be a handsome man, there be others

as fine as you. My brother is engaged to Captain Plume.

_Syl._ Plume! do you know Captain Plume?

_Rose._ Yes, I do, and he knows me. He took the ribbands out of his

shirt sleeves, and put them into my shoes: see there--I can assure you

that I can do any thing with the captain.

_Bul._ That is, in a modest way, sir. Have a care what you say, Rouse;

don't shame your parentage.

_Rose._ Nay, for that matter, I am not so simple as to say that I can do

any thing with the captain but what I may do with any body else.

_Syl._ So!----And pray what do you expect from this captain, child?

_Rose._ I expect sir!--I expect--but he ordered me to tell nobody--but

suppose he should propose to marry me?

_Syl._ You should have a care, my dear! men will promise any thing

beforehand.

_Rose._ I know that; but he promised to marry me afterwards.

_Bul._ Wauns! Rouse, what have you said?

_Syl._ Afterwards! After what?

_Rose._ After I had sold my chickens--I hope there's no harm in that.

_Enter_ PLUME.

_Plume._ What, Mr. Wilful so close with my market woman!

_Syl._ I'll try if he loves her. [_Aside._] Close, sir, ay, and closer

yet, sir. Come, my pretty maid, you and I will withdraw a little.

_Plume._ No, no, friend, I han't done with her yet.

_Syl._ Nor have I begun with her; so I have as good a right as you have.

_Plume._ Thou'rt a bloody impudent fellow!

_Syl._ Sir, I would qualify myself for the service.

_Plume._ Hast thou really a mind to the service?

_Syl._ Yes, sir, so let her go.

_Rose._ Pray, gentlemen, don't be so violent.

_Plume._ Come, leave it to the girl's own choice. Will you belong to me

or to that gentleman?

_Rose._ Let me consider; you're both very handsome.

_Plume._ Now the natural inconstancy of her sex begins to work.

_Rose._ Pray, sir, what will you give me?

_Bul._ Dunna be angry, sir, that my sister should be mercenary, for

she's but young.

_Syl._ Give thee, child! I'll set thee above scandal; you shall have a

coach with six before and six behind; an equipage to make vice

fashionable, and put virtue out of countenance.

_Plume._ Pho! that's easily done: I'll do more for thee, child, I'll buy

you a furbelow-scarf, and give you a ticket to see a play.

_Bul._ A play! wauns! Rouse, take the ticket, and let's see the show.

_Syl._ Lookye, captain, if you won't resign, I'll go list with Captain

Brazen this minute.

_Plume._ Will you list with me if I give up my title?

_Syl._ I will.

_Plume._ Take her; I'll change a woman for a man at any time.

_Rose._ I have heard before, indeed, that you captains used to sell your

men.

_Bul._ Pray, captain, do not send Rouse to the Western Indies.

_Plume._ Ha! ha! ha! West Indies! No, no, my honest lad, give me thy

hand; nor you nor she shall move a step farther than I do. This

gentleman is one of us, and will be kind to you, Mrs. Rose.

_Rose._ But will you be so kind to me, sir, as the captain would?

_Syl._ I can't be altogether so kind to you; my circumstances are not so

good as the captain's; but I'll take care of you, upon my word.

_Plume._ Ay, ay, we'll all take care of her; she shall live like a

princess, and her brother here shall be--What would you be?

_Bul._ Oh, sir, if you had not promised the place of drum-major!

_Plume._ Ay, that is promised; but what think you of barrack-master? you

are a person of understanding, and barrack-master you shall be--But

what's become of this same Cartwheel you told me of, my dear?

_Rose._ We'll go fetch him--Come, brother barrack-master--We shall find

you at home, noble captain?

[_Exeunt_ ROSE _and_ BULLOCK.

_Plume._ Yes, yes; and now, sir, here are your forty shillings.

_Syl._ Captain Plume, I despise your listing money; if I do serve, 'tis

purely for love--of that wench, I mean--now let me beg you to lay aside

your recruiting airs, put on the man of honour, and tell me plainly what

usage I must expect when I am under your command?

_Plume._ Your usage will chiefly depend upon your behaviour; only this

you must expect, that if you commit a small fault I will excuse it; if a

great one I'll discharge you; for something tells me I shall not be able

to punish you.

_Syl._ And something tells me that if you do discharge me 'twill be the

greatest punishment you can inflict; for were we this moment to go upon

the greatest dangers in your profession, they would be less terrible to

me than to stay behind you--And now, your hand, this lists me--and now

you are my captain.

_Plume._ Your friend. 'Sdeath! there's something in this fellow that

charms me.

_Syl._ One favour I must beg--this affair will make some noise, and I

have some friends that would censure my conduct, if I threw myself into

the circumstance of a private centinel of my own head--I must therefore

take care to be impressed by the act of parliament; you shall leave that

to me.

_Plume._ What you please as to that--Will you lodge at my quarters in

the mean time?

_Syl._ No, no, captain; you forget Rose; she's to be my bedfellow, you

know.

_Plume._ I had forgot: pray be kind to her. [_Exeunt severally._

_Enter_ MELINDA _and_ LUCY.

_Lucy._ You are thoughtful, madam, am not I worthy to know the cause?

_Mel._ Oh, Lucy! I can hold my secret no longer. You must know, that

hearing of a famous fortune-teller in town, I went disguised to satisfy

a curiosity which has cost me dear. The fellow is certainly the devil,

or one of his bosom-favourites: he has told me the most surprising

things of my past life.

_Lucy._ Things past, madam, can hardly be reckoned surprising, because

we know them already. Did he tell you any thing surprising that was to

come?

_Mel._ One thing very surprising; he said, I should die a maid!

_Lucy._ Die a maid! come into the world for nothing!--Dear madam! if you

should believe him, it might come to pass; for the bare thought on't

might kill one in four and twenty hours--And did you ask him any

questions about me?

_Mel._ You! why I passed for you.

_Lucy._ So 'tis I that am to die a maid--But the devil was a liar from

the beginning; he can't make me die a maid--I've put it out of his power

already. [_Aside._

_Mel._ I do but jest. I would have passed for you, and called myself

Lucy; but he presently told me my name, my quality, my fortune, and gave

me the whole history of my life. He told me of a lover I had in this

country, and described Worthy exactly, but in nothing so well as in his

present indifference--I fled to him for refuge here to-day; he never so

much as encouraged me in my fright, but coldly told me that he was sorry

for the accident, because it might give the town cause to censure my

conduct; excused his not waiting on me home, made me a careless bow, and

walked off--'Sdeath! I could have stabbed him or myself, 'twas the same

thing--Yonder he comes--I will so use him!

_Lucy._ Don't exasperate him; consider what the fortune-teller told you.

Men are scarce, and as times go it is not impossible for a woman to die

a maid.

_Enter_ WORTHY.

_Mel._ No matter.

_Wor._ I find she's warned; I must strike while the iron is hot--You've

a great deal of courage, madam, to venture into the walks where you were

so lately frightened.

_Mel._ And you have a quantity of impudence, to appear before me, that

you so lately have affronted.

_Wor._ I had no design to affront you, nor appear before you either,

madam; I left you here because I had business in another place, and came

hither thinking to meet another person.

_Mel._ Since you find yourself disappointed, I hope you'll withdraw to

another part of the walk.

_Wor._ The walk is broad enough for us both.

[_They walk by one another, he with his Hat cocked, she

fretting, and tearing her Fan; he offers her his Box, she

strikes it out of his Hand; while he is gathering it up_,

BRAZEN _enters, and takes her round the Waist; she cuffs

him_.]

_Brazen._ What, here before me, my dear!

_Mel._ What means this insolence?

_Lucy._ Are you mad? don't you see Mr. Worthy? [_To_ BRAZEN.

_Brazen._ No, no; I'm struck blind--Worthy! odso! well turned--My

mistress has wit at her fingers' ends--Madam, I ask your pardon; 'tis

our way abroad--Mr. Worthy, you're the happy man.

_Wor._ I don't envy your happiness very much, if the lady can afford no

other sort of favours but what she has bestowed upon you.

_Mel._ I'm sorry the favour miscarried, for it was designed for you, Mr.

Worthy; and be assured 'tis the last and only favour you must expect at

my hands----captain, I ask your pardon. [_Exit with_ LUCY.

_Brazen._ I grant it----You see, Mr. Worthy, 'twas only a random-shot;

it might have taken off your head as well as mine. Courage, my dear!

'tis the fortune of war; but the enemy has thought fit to withdraw, I

think.

_Wor._ Withdraw! Oons! sir, what d'ye mean by withdraw?

_Brazen._ I'll show you. [_Exit._

_Wor._ She's lost, irrecoverably lost, and Plume's advice has ruined me.

'Sdeath! why should I, that knew her haughty spirit, be ruled by a man

that's a stranger to her pride?

_Enter_ PLUME.

_Plume._ Ha! ha! ha! a battle royal! Don't frown so, man; she's your

own, I'll tell you: I saw the fury of her love in the extremity of her

passion. The wildness of her anger is a certain sign that she loves you

to madness. That rogue, Kite, began the battle with abundance of

conduct, and will bring you off victorious, my life on't: he plays his

part admirably.

_Wor._ But what could be the meaning of Brazen's familiarity with her?

_Plume._ You are no logician, if you pretend to draw consequences from

the actions of fools--Whim, unaccountable whim, hurries them on, like a

man drunk with brandy before ten o'clock in the morning----But we lose

our sport; Kite has opened above an hour ago: let's away. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_A Chamber, a Table with Books and Globes._

KITE _disguised in a strange Habit, sitting at a Table_.

_Kite._ [_Rising._] By the position of the heavens, gained from my

observation upon these celestial globes, I find that Luna was a

tide-waiter, Sol a surveyor, Mercury a thief, Venus a whore, Saturn an

alderman, Jupiter a rake, and Mars a serjeant of grenadiers--and this is

the system of Kite the conjurer.

_Enter_ PLUME _and_ WORTHY.

_Plume._ Well, what success?

_Kite._ I have sent away a shoemaker and a tailor already; one's to be a

captain of marines, and the other a major of dragoons--I am to manage

them at night----Have you seen the lady, Mr. Worthy?

_Wor._ Ay, but it won't do--Have you showed her her name, that I tore

off from the bottom of the letter?

_Kite._ No, sir, I reserve that for the last stroke.

_Plume._ What letter?

_Wor._ One that I would not let you see, for fear that you should break

windows in good earnest. Here captain, put it into your pocket-book, and

have it ready upon occasion. [_Knocking at the Door._

_Kite._ Officers, to your posts. Tycho, mind the door.

[_Exeunt_ PLUME _and_ WORTHY.--SERVANT _opens the Door_.

_Enter_ MELINDA _and_ LUCY.

_Kite._ Tycho, chairs for the ladies.

_Mel._ Don't trouble yourself; we shan't stay, doctor.

_Kite._ Your ladyship is to stay much longer than you imagine.

_Mel._ For what?

_Kite._ For a husband--For your part, madam, you won't stay for a

husband. [_To_ LUCY.

_Lucy._ Pray, doctor, do you converse with the stars, or the devil?

_Kite._ With both; when I have the destinies of men in search, I consult

the stars; when the affairs of women come under my hands, I advise with

my t'other friend.

_Mel._ And have you raised the devil upon my account?

_Kite._ Yes, madam, and he's now under the table.

_Lucy._ Oh, Heavens protect us! Dear madam, let's be gone.

_Kite._ If you be afraid of him, why do ye come to consult him!

_Mel._ Don't fear, fool: do you think, sir, that because I'm a woman I'm

to be fooled out of my reason, or frighted out of my senses? Come, show

me this devil.

_Kite._ He's a little busy at present, but when he has done he shall

wait on you.

_Mel._ What is he doing?

_Kite._ Writing your name in his pocket-book.

_Mel._ Ha! ha! my name! pray what have you or he to do with my name?

_Kite._ Lookye, fair lady! the devil is a very modest person, he seeks

nobody unless they seek him first; he's chained up, like a mastiff, and

can't stir unless he be let loose--You come to me to have your fortune

told--do you think, madam, that I can answer you of my own head? No,

madam; the affairs of women are so irregular, that nothing less than the

devil can give any account of them. Now to convince you of your

incredulity, I'll show you a trial of my skill. Here, you Cacodemo del

Plumo, exert your power, draw me this lady's name, the word Melinda, in

proper letters and characters of her own hand-writing--do it at three

motions--one--two--three--'tis done--Now, madam, will you please to send

your maid to fetch it?

_Lucy._ I fetch it! the devil fetch me if I do.

_Mel._ My name, in my own hand-writing! that would be convincing indeed!

_Kite._ Seeing is believing. [_Goes to the Table, and lifts up the

Carpet._] Here Tre, Tre, poor Tre, give me the bone, sirrah. There's

your name upon that square piece of paper. Behold--

_Mel._ 'Tis wonderful! my very letters to a tittle!

_Lucy._ 'Tis like your hand, madam; but not so like your hand, neither;

and now I look nearer 'tis not like your hand at all.

_Kite._ Here's a chambermaid now will outlie the devil!

_Lucy._ Lookye, madam, they shan't impose upon us; people can't remember

their hands no more than they can their faces--Come, madam, let us be

certain; write your name upon this paper, then we'll compare the two

hands. [_Takes out a Paper, and folds it._

_Kite._ Any thing for your satisfaction, madam--Here is pen and ink.

[MELINDA _writes_, LUCY _holds the Paper_.

_Lucy._ Let me see it, madam; 'tis the same--the very same--But I'll

secure one copy for my own affairs. [_Aside._

_Mel._ This is demonstration.

_Kite._ 'Tis so, madam--the word demonstration comes from DÊmon, the

father of lies.

_Mel._ Well, doctor, I'm convinced: and now, pray, what account can you

give of my future fortune?

_Kite._ Before the sun has made one course round this earthly globe,

your fortune will be fixed for happiness or misery.

_Mel._ What! so near the crisis of my fate?

_Kite._ Let me see--About the hour of ten to-morrow morning you will be

saluted by a gentleman who will come to take his leave of you, being

designed for travel; his intention of going abroad is sudden, and the

occasion a woman. Your fortune and his are like the bullet and the

barrel, one runs plump into the other--In short, if the gentleman

travels, he will die abroad, and if he does you will die before he comes

home.

_Mel._ What sort of a man is he?

_Kite._ Madam, he's a fine gentleman, and a lover; that is, a man of

very good sense, and a very great fool.

_Mel._ How is that possible, doctor?

_Kite._ Because, madam--because it is so--A woman's reason is the best

for a man's being a fool.

_Mel._ Ten o'clock, you say?

_Kite._ Ten--about the hour of tea-drinking throughout the kingdom.

_Mel._ Here, doctor. [_Gives Money._] Lucy, have you any questions to

ask?

_Lucy._ Oh, madam! a thousand.

_Kite._ I must beg your patience till another time, for I expect more

company this minute; besides, I must discharge the gentleman under the

table.

_Lucy._ O, pray, sir, discharge us first!

_Kite._ Tycho, wait on the ladies down stairs.

[_Exeunt_ MELINDA _and_ LUCY.

_Enter_ WORTHY _and_ PLUME.

_Kite._ Mr. Worthy, you were pleased to wish me joy to-day; I hope to be

able to return the compliment to-morrow.

_Wor._ I'll make it the best compliment to you that ever I made in my

life, if you do; but I must be a traveller, you say?

_Kite._ No farther than the chops of the channel, I presume, sir.

_Plume._ That we have concerted already. [_Knocking hard._] Heyday! you

don't profess midwifery, doctor?

_Kite._ Away to your ambuscade. [_Exeunt_ WORTHY _and_ PLUME.

_Enter_ BRAZEN.

_Brazen._ Your servant, my dear?

_Kite._ Stand off, I have my familiar already.

_Brazen._ Are you bewitched, my dear?

_Kite._ Yes, my dear! but mine is a peaceable spirit, and hates

gunpowder. Thus I fortify myself: [_Draws a Circle round him._] and now,

captain, have a care how you force my lines.

_Brazen._ Lines! what dost talk of lines! you have something like a

fishing-rod there, indeed; but I come to be acquainted with you,

man--What's your name, my dear?

_Kite._ Conundrum.

_Brazen._ Conundrum? rat me! I knew a famous doctor in London of your

name--Where were you born?

_Kite._ I was born in Algebra.

_Brazen._ Algebra! 'tis no country in Christendom, I'm sure, unless it

be some place in the Highlands in Scotland.

_Kite._ Right--I told you I was bewitched.

_Brazen._ So am I, my dear! I am going to be married--I have had two

letters from a lady of fortune, that loves me to madness, fits, cholic,

spleen, and vapours----shall I marry her in four and twenty hours, ay or

no?

_Kite._ Certainly.

_Brazen._ Gadso, ay----

_Kite._--Or no--but I must have the year and the day of the month when

these letters were dated.

_Brazen._ Why, you old bitch! did you ever hear of love letters dated

with the year and day of the month? do you think billetdoux are like

bank bills?

_Kite._ They are not so good, my dear--but if they bear no date, I must

examine the contents.

_Brazen._ Contents! that you shall, old boy! here they be both.

_Kite._ Only the last you received, if you please. [_Takes the Letter._]

Now, sir, if you please to let me consult my books for a minute, I'll

send this letter enclosed to you with the determination of the stars

upon it to your lodgings.

_Brazen._ With all my heart--I must give him--[_Puts his Hands in his

Pockets._] Algebra! I fancy, doctor, 'tis hard to calculate the place of

your nativity--Here--[_Gives him Money._] And, if I succeed, I'll build

a watch-tower on the top of the highest mountain in Wales, for the study

of astrology, and the benefit of the Conundrums. [_Exit._

_Enter_ PLUME _and_ WORTHY.

_Wor._ O doctor! that letter's worth a million; let me see it: and now

I have it, I'm afraid to open it.

_Plume._ Pho! let me see it. [_Opening the Letter._] If she be a

jilt--Damn her, she is one--there's her name at the bottom on't.

_Wor._ How! then I'll travel in good earnest--By all my hopes, 'tis

Lucy's hand.

_Plume._ Lucy's!

_Wor._ Certainly--'tis no more like Melinda's character, than black is

to white.

_Plume._ Then 'tis certainly Lucy's contrivance to draw in Brazen for a

husband--But are you sure 'tis not Melinda's hand?

_Wor._ You shall see; where's the bit of paper I gave you just now that

the devil wrote Melinda upon?

_Kite._ Here, sir.

_Plume._ 'Tis plain they are not the same; and is this the malicious

name that was subscribed to the letter which made Mr. Balance send his

daughter into the country?

_Wor._ The very same: the other fragments I showed you just now.

_Plume._ But 'twas barbarous to conceal this so long, and to continue me

so many hours in the pernicious heresy of believing that angelic

creature could change. Poor Sylvia!

_Wor._ Rich Sylvia, you mean, and poor captain; ha! ha! ha!--Come, come,

friend, Melinda is true, and shall be mine; Sylvia is constant, and may

be yours.

_Plume._ No, she's above my hopes----but for her sake, I'll recant my

opinion of her sex.

By some the sex is blam'd without design,

Light harmless censure, such as yours and mine,

Sallies of wit, and vapours of our wine:

Others the justice of the sex condemn,

And, wanting merit to create esteem,

Would hide their own defects by censuring them:

But they, secure in their all-conq'ring charms,

Laugh at our vain attempts, our false alarms.

He magnifies their conquests who complains,

For none would struggle, were they not in chains.

[_Exeunt._

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

JUSTICE BALANCE'S _House_.

_Enter_ BALANCE _and_ SCALE.

_Scale._ I say, 'tis not to be borne, Mr. Balance.

_Bal._ Lookye, Mr. Scale, for my own part I shall be very tender in what

regards the officers of the army--I only speak in reference to Captain

Plume--for the other spark I know nothing of.

_Scale._ Nor can I hear of any body that does--Oh! here they come.

_Enter_ SYLVIA, BULLOCK, ROSE, PRISONERS, _and_ CONSTABLE.

_Const._ May it please your worships, we took them in the very act, _re

infecta_, sir--The gentleman, indeed, behaved himself like a gentleman,

for he drew his sword and swore, and afterwards laid it down and said

nothing.

_Bal._ Give the gentleman his sword again--Wait you without. [_Exeunt_

CONSTABLE _and_ WATCH.] I'm sorry, sir, [_To_ SYLVIA.] to know a

gentleman upon such terms, that the occasion of our meeting should

prevent the satisfaction of an acquaintance.

_Syl._ Sir, you need make no apology for your warrant, no more than I

shall do for my behaviour--my innocence is upon an equal foot with your

authority.

_Scale._ Innocence! have you not seduced that young maid?

_Syl._ No, Mr. Goosecap, she seduced me.

_Bul._ So she did, I'll swear--for she proposed marriage first.

_Bal._ What, then you are married, child? [_To_ ROSE.

_Rose._ Yes, sir, to my sorrow.

_Bal._ Who was witness?

_Bul._ That was I--I danc'd, threw the stocking, and spoke jokes by

their bedside, I'm sure.

_Bal._ Who was the minister?

_Bul._ Minister! we are soldiers, and want no minister--they were

married by the articles of war.

_Bal._ Hold thy prating, fool----Your appearance, sir, promises some

understanding; pray, what does this fellow mean?

_Syl._ He means marriage, I think--but that, you know, is so odd a

thing, that hardly any two people under the sun agree in the ceremony;

but among soldiers 'tis most sacred--our sword, you know, is our honour,

that we lay down--the Hero jumps over it first, and the Amazon

after--Leap, rogue; follow, whore--the drum beats a ruff, and so to bed:

that's all: the ceremony is concise.

_Bul._ And the prettiest ceremony, so full of pastime and

prodigality----

_Bal._ What! are you a soldier?

_Bul._ Ay, that I am--Will your worship lend me your cane, and I'll show

you how I can exercise?

_Bal._ Take it. [_Strikes him over the Head._]--Your name, pray, sir?

[_To_ SYLVIA.

_Syl._ Captain Pinch: I cock my hat with a pinch, I take snuff with a

pinch, pay my whores with a pinch; in short, I can do any thing at a

pinch but fight.

_Bal._ And pray, sir, what brought you into Shropshire?

_Syl._ A pinch, sir: I know you country gentlemen want wit, and you know

that we town gentlemen want money, and so----

_Bal._ I understand you, sir--Here, constable----

_Enter_ CONSTABLE.

Take this gentleman into custody, till further orders.

_Rose._ Pray, your worship, don't be uncivil to him, for he did me no

hurt; he's the most harmless man in the world, for all he talks so.

_Scale._ Come, come, child, I'll take care of you.

_Syl._ What, gentlemen, rob me of my freedom and my wife at once! 'tis

the first time they ever went together.

_Bal._ Harkye, constable. [_Whispers him._

_Const._ It shall be done, sir--come along, sir.

[_Exeunt_ CONSTABLE, BULLOCK, _and_ SYLVIA.

_Bal._ Come, Mr. Scale, we'll manage the spark presently. [_Exeunt._