Bruin. Why, look ye, Major Sturgeon, I don't much care for your poppers and fharps, because why, they are out of my way; but if you will doff with your boots, and box a couple of bouts.

Maj. Box! box!-Blades, bullets, bagfhot!

Mrs Sneak. Not for the world, my dear Major! O risk not fo precious a life! Ungrateful wretches! and is this the reward for all the great feats he has done? After all his marchings, his foufings, his fweatings, his fwimmings; muft his dear blood be fpilt by a broker?

Maj. Be fatisfied, fweet Mrs Sneak; thefe little fracafes we foldiers are fubject to; trifles, bagatailes, Mrs Sneak. But that matters may be conducted in a military manner, I will get our chaplain to pen me a challenge. Expect to hear from my adjutant.

Mrs Sneak. Major, Sir Jacob; what, are you all leagu'd against his dear-A man, yes; a very manly action indeed, to fet married people a-quarrelling, and ferment a difference between husband and wife: if you were a man, you would not stand by and see a poor woman beat and abus'd by a brute, you would not.

Sneak. Oh Lord, I can hold out no longer! Why, brother Bruin, you have fet her a veeping: my life, my lovy, don't veep: did I ever think I fhould have made my Molly to veep!

Mrs Sneak. Laft legs! you lubberly

Sir Fac. Oh fie, Molly.

[Strikes him.

Mrs Sneak. What, are you leagu'd against me, Sir Jacob?

Sir Jac. Prithee don't expose yourself before the whole parish. But what has been the occafion of this?

Mrs Sneak. Why, has not he gone and made himself the fool of the fair? Mayor of Garratt indeed! ecod, I could trample him under my feet.

Sneak. Nay, why fhould you grudge me my purfarment ?

Mrs Sneak. Did you ever hear such an oaff? Why, thee wilt be pointed at wherever thee goeft. Look ye, Jerry, mind what I fay; go, get 'em to choose fomebody elfe, or never come near me again.

Sneak. What fhall I do, father Sir Jacob?

Sir Jac. Nay, daughter, you take this thing in too ferious a light; my honeft neighbours thought to compliment me: but come, we'll fettle the business at once. Neighbours, my fon Sneak being feldom amongst us, the duty will never be done : fo we will get our honeft friend Heel-tap to execute the office; he is, I think, every way qualified.

Mob. A Heel-tap!

Heel What d'ye mean as Mafter Jeremy's deputy? Sir Fac. Ay, ay, his locum tenens.

Sneak. Do, Crifpin; do be my locum tenens.

Heel. Give me your hand, Master Sneak, and to oblige you I will be the locum tenens.

Sir Fac. So, that is fettled: but now to heal the other breach. Come, Major, the gentlemen of your cloth feldom bear malice; let me interpose between you and my fon...

Maj. Your fon in-law, Sir Jacob, does deserve a caftigation; but on recollection, a cit would but fully my arms. I forgive him..

Sir Jac. That's right: as a token of amity, and to celebrate our feast, let us call in the fiddles. Now, if the Major had but his fhoes, he might join in a country-dance.

Maj. Sir Jacob, no fhoes; a major must be never out of his boots; always ready for action. Mrs Sneak will find me lightfome enough.

Sneak. What, are all the vomen engaged? Why then my locum ienens and I will jigg together. Forget and forgive, Major.

Maj. Freely.

Nor be it faid, that after all my toil,

I ftain'd my regimentals by a broil.

To you I dedicate boots, fword, and field, Sir Jac. As harmlefs in the chamber as the field.

Drury-Lane.

Heartly, a young gentleman of Mr Usher.

Dorfetfhire, in love with Harriet, S

Brush, his fervant,

Champignon, commander of at
French frigate,

Edinburgh, 1780.

Mr Taylor.

Mr Palmer.

Mr Williams.

}

Oclabber, an Irish lieutenant in the

French service,

the French fervice,

Maclaymore, a Scotch enfign in? Mr Johnston,

Lyon, lieutenant of an English Mr Jefferson.

man of war,

Haulyard, a midfhipman,
Block, a failor,

Mr Beard.

Mr Bailey.

Mr Mills.

Mr. Hallion.

Mr Curtis.

}

Mr Yates..

}

SCENE, On board a French ship lying at anchor on the coast of

Normandy.

Mifs Macklin.. Mifs Mills.

PRO.

31

A

PROLOGUE.

Spoken by Mr HAVARD,

N ancient fage, when death approach'd his bed,
Confign'd to Pluto his devoted head;
And, that no fiend might hifs, or prove uncivil,
With vows and pray'rs he fairly brib'd the Devil :
Yet neither vows nor pray'rs, nor rich oblation,
Cou'd always fave the finner-from damnation.
Thus authors, tott'ring on the brink of fate,
The critic's rage with prologues deprecate;
Yet oft the trembling bard implores in vain,
The wit profefs'd turns out a dunce in grain:
No plea can then avert the dreadful sentence,
He must be damn'd-in fpite of all repentance.
Here juftice feems from her ftraight line to vary,
No guilt attends a fact involuntary;

This maxim the whole cruel charge deftroys,
No poet fure was ever dull-by choice.

So pleads our culprit in his own defence,
You cannot prove his dulnefs is-prepense.
He means to pleafe-he owns no other view;
And now prefents you with a fea-ragout.
A difh-howe'er you relish his endeavours,.
Replete with a variety of flavours.

A ftout Hibernian, and ferocious Scot,
Together boil in our enchanted pot.

To taint these viands with the true fumet,
He shreds a mufty, vain, French-martinet.
This ftale ingredient might our porridge marr
Without fome acid juice of English tar.

To roufe the appetite the drum shall rattle,
And the defert fhall be a bloodless battle.

What heart will fail to glow, what eye to brighten,
When Britain's wrath arous'd begins to lighten!

Her thunders roll-her fearless fons advance,

And her red enfigns wave o'er the pale fow'rs of France.
Such game our fathers play'd in days of yore,
When Edward's banners fann'd the Gallic fhore;:
When Howard's arm Eliza's vengeance hurl'd,
And Drake diffus'd her fame around the world.
Still fhall that god-like flame your bofoms fire,
The gen'rous fon fhali emulate the fire,
Her ancient fplendor England shall maintain,
Q'er diftant realms extend her genial reign,
And rife-th' unrivall'd emprefs of the main.

}

ACT

W

ACT I.

Enter HEARTLY and BRUSH.

BRUSH.

Heav'n fend me fafe on English ground! and if ever I come in fight of the fea again, may a watery grave be my portion.-First, to be terrified with the thoughts of drowning-fecondly, to be toffed and tumbled about like a foot-ball-thirdly, to be drenched with fea-water-fourthly, to be ftunk to death with pitch. and tar, and the favoury scent of my fellow-fufferers— fifthly, to be racked with perpetual puking till my guts are turned infide out'-and, fixthly and laftly,. to be taken prifoner and plundered by the French! Heart. Enough-enough

Brush. Enough!-aye, and to fpare.-I wish I could give part to those who envy my good fortune.-But how will the good Lady Bloomwell moralize when fhe finds her daughter Mifs Harriet is fallen into the hands of Monfieur de Champignon?

Heart. No more-that reflection alarms me !-yet I have nothing to fear-as there is no war declared, we fhall foon be released; and in the mean time the French will treat us with their usual politenefs.

Brush. Pox on their politenefs! Ah, mafter, com-mend me to the blunt fincerity of the true furly British mastiff. The rascallion that took my purfe bowed fo low, and paid me fo many compliments, that I ventured to argue the matter, in hopes of convincing him he was in the wrong-but he foon stopped my mouth with a vengeance, by clapping a cocked piftol to my ear, and telling me he fhould have the honour to blow my brains out. Another of thofe polite gentlemen begged leave to exchange hats with me-a third fell in love with my filver fhoe-buckles-nay, that very individual nice buttock of beef, which I had juft begun to furvey with looks of defire, after the difmal evacuation I had undergone, was ravished from my fight by two famished

French