SCENE, Cn board of a French bip, lying at anchor en the coaf of Nor

mandy.

PRO.

PROLOGUE.

Spoken by Mr. HAVARD.

AN ancient fage, when death approach'd his bed,
Confign'd to Pluto bis devoted head;

And, that no fiend might bifs or prove uncivil,
With vows and prayers be 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 fentence,
He must be damn'd in spite of all repentance.
Here Fuftice 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 bis own defence,
You cannot prove bis dullness is

-propenfe.
He means to pleafe- -he owns no other view
And now prefents you with a fea ragout.

A difbbowe'er you relifh his endeavours,
Replete with a variety of flavours.

A ftout Hibernian, and ferocious Scot,

Together boil in our enchanted pot.

To taint thefe,viands with the true fumet,
He fbreds 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 fhall rattle,
And the defert fall be a bloodless battle.

What beart will fail to glow, what eye to brighten,
When Britain's wrath arous'd, begins to lighten!
Her thunders roll- -ber fearless fons advance,
And her red enfigns wave o'er th' pale flow'rs of France.
Such game our fathers play'd in days of yore,
When Edward's banners fann'd the Gallic fore;
When Howard's arm Eliza's vengeance burl'd,
And Drake diffus'd her fame around the world.
Still fall that god-like flame your bofoms fire,
generons fon fball emulate the fire.
Her ancient fplendor England fall maintain,
O'er diftant realms extend her genial reign,
And rife-
-the unrivall'd empress of the main.

The

}

ACT

ACT I.

Enter HEARTLY and BRUSH.

BRUSH.

WELL, if this be taking diversion on the water, 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 fcent of my fellow-fufferers-fifthly, to be racked with perpetual puking till my guts are turned infide out' and, fixthly and lastly, 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 he 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 ufual politenefs.

Brush. Pox on their politenefs! Ah, mafter, commend me to the blunt fincerity of the true furly British maftiff.-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 just begun to furvey with looks of defire, after the difmal evacuation I had undergone, was ravished from my fight by two famished

French

French wolves, who beheld it with equal joy and astonishment.

Heart. I must confefs they plundered us with great dexterity and dispatch; and even Monfieur de Champignon, the commander, did not keep his hands clear of the pillage: An instance of rapaciousness I did not expect to meet with in a gentleman and an officer.-Sure he will behave as fuch to Harriet.

Brush. Faith, not to flatter you, Sir, I take him to be one of thofe fellows who owe their good fortune to nothing less than their good works. He first rifled your mistress, and then made love to her with great gallantry -but you was in the right to call yourself her brother -If he knew you were his rival, you might pass your time very difagreeably.

Heart. There are two offieers on board, who feem to difapprove of his conduct; they would not be concerned in robbing us, nor would they fuffer their foldiers to take any fhare of the prey, but condoled Harriet and me on our misfortune with marks of real concern.

Brufb. You mean Lieutenant Oclabber and Enfign Maclaymore: a couple of damn'd renegadoos-You lean upon a broken reed if you truft to their compaffion.

Heart. Oclabber I knew at Paris, when I travelled with my brother; and he then bore the character of an honeft man and a brave officer.-The other is an Highlander, excluded (I fuppofe) from his own country on. account of the late rebellion; for that reafon, perhaps, more apt to pity the diftreffed.I fee them walking this way in clofe conference.-While I go down to the cabin to vifit my dear Harriet, you may lounge about,. and endeavour to overhear their converfation. [Exeunt.. Enter Oclabber and Maclaymore.

Oclab. Arrah, for what?—I don't value Monfieur de Champignon a rotten potatoe; and when the fhip goes afhore, I will be after afking him a fhivil queftion, as I told him to his face, when he turned his back upon me in the cabin.

Mac. Weel, weel, Maifter Oclabber, I wonna tak upon me to fay a'together ye're in the wrang-but ye.. ken there's a time for a' things; and we maun gang hooly and fairly while we're under command.

Oclab

Oclab. You may talk as you plaise, Mr. Maclaymore, -you're a man of learning, honey. Indeed, indeed, I am always happy when you are fpaiking, whether I am afleep or awake a gra: But, by my fhoul, I will maintain, after the breath is out of my body, that the English pleasure boat had no right to be taken before the declaration of war, much more the prisoners to be plundered, which you know is the prerogative of pirates and privateers.

Mac. To be fure, the law of nations does na prefcind that privilege in actual war; for ye ken, in ancient times, the victor took the fpolia opima; and in my country to this very day we follow the auld practice, pecudum prædas agere. But then ye maun tak notice, nae 'gentleman wad plunder a leddy-awa', awa'!-fie for hame! and a right fonfy damfel too. I'm fure it made my heart wae to see the faut brine come happing o'er her winfome cheeks.

Oclab. Devil burn me, but my bowels wept falt water to see her sweet face look so sorrowful!-Och, the delicate creature!-she's the very moral of my own honey, der Sheelah o' Shannaghan,' whom I left big with child in the county of Fermanaghan, grammachree !—' Ochone, my dear Sheelah. Look here, fhe made me this fword belt, of the skin of a fea-wolf that I fhot at the mouth of the Shannon-and I gave her at parting a nun's difcipline to keep her fweet flesh in order

Och, my dear honey captain, cried fhe, I fhall never do penance but I will be thinking of you.'-Ah, poor Sheelah! the once met with a terrible misfortune gra: we were all a merry-making at the caitle of Ballyclough; and fo Sheela having drank a cup too much, honey', fell down ftairs out of a window. When I came to her, she told me the was fpeechlefs; and by my fhoul it was tree long weeks before the got upon her legs again :' then I compofed a lamentation in the Irish tongue-and fung it to the tune of drimmendoo; but a friend of mine, of the order of St. Francis, made a relation of it into English, and it goes very well to the words of Elen a Roon.

Mac. Whether is't an elegy or an ode ?

· Oclab.