this, [Taking her hand] the fairest, and the dearest [Kisses her hand. [Seemingly yielding. VOW Con. Fy, my lord! Ben. Would. Your eyes are mine, they bring me tidings from your heart that this night I shall be happy. Con. Would not you despise a conquest so easily gained? Ben. Would. Yours will be the conquest, and I shall despise all the world but you. Con. But will you promise to make no attempts upon my honour? Ben. Would. [Aside.] That's foolish.-[Aloud.] Not angels sent on messages to earth shall visit with more innocence. Con. [Aside.] Ay, ay, to be sure.-[Aloud.] My lord, I'll send one to conduct you. [Exit. Ben. Would. Ha! ha! ha !-no attempts upon her honour! When I can find the place where it lies, I'll tell her more of my mind.-Now do I feel ten thousand Cupids tickling me all over with the points of their arrows.-Where's my deformity now? I have read somewhere these lines: Though Nature cast me in a rugged mould, Enter HERMES Wouldbe behind him. Herm. Would. Thus to adorn dramatic story, Stage-hero struts in borrow'd glory, Ben. Would. Ha! my brother! Herm. Would. No, perfidious man; all kindred and relation I disown! The poor attempts upon my fortune I could pardon, but thy base designs upon my love I never can forgive. My honour, birthright, riches, all I could more freely spare, than the least thought of thy prevailing here. Ben. Would. How! my hopes deceived!Cursed be the fair delusions of her sex! whilst only man opposed my cunning, I stood secure; but soon as woman interposed, luck changed hands, and the devil was immediately on her side.-Well, sir, much good may do you with your mistress, and may you love, and live, and starve together. [Going. Herm. Would. Hold, sir! I was lately your prisoner, now you are mine; when the ejectment is executed, you shall be at liberty. Ben. Would. Ejectment! Herm. Would. Yes, sir, by this time, I hope, my friends have purged my father's house of that debauched and riotous swarm that you had hived together. Ben. Would. Confusion !-Sir, let me pass; I am the elder, and will be obeyed. [Draws. Herm. Would. Darest thou dispute the eldership so nobly? Ben. Would. I dare, and will, to the last drop of my inveterate blood. [They fight. Enter Captain TRUEMAN and TEAGUE. True. [Striking down their swords.] Hold, hold, my lord! I have brought those shall soon decide the controversy. Ben. Would. If I mistake not, that is the villain that decoyed me abroad. [Runs at Captain TRUEMAN, TEAGUE catches his arm behind, and takes away his sword. Teague. Ay, be me shoule, thish ish the besht guard upon the rules of fighting, to catch a man behind his back. True. My lord, a word.-[Whispers HERMES WOULDBE.] Now, gentlemen, please to hear this venerable lady. [Goes to the door, and brings in Mrs. MANDRAKK Herm. Would. Mandrake in custody! Teague. In my custody, fet. True. Now, madam, you know what punishment is destined for the injury offered to Aurelia, if you don't immediately confess the truth. Mrs. Man. Then I must own, (Heaven forgive me!)-[Weeping] I must own, that Hermes, as he was still esteemed, so be is the first-born. Teague. A very honesht woman, be me shoul' Ben. Would. That confession is extorted by fear, and therefore of no force. True. Ay, sir; but here is your letter to her, with the ink scarce dry, where you repeat your offer of five hundred pound a year to swear in your behalf. Teague. Dat was Teague's finding out, and, I believe, St. Patrick put it in my toughts to pick her pockets. Enter CONSTANCE and AURELIA. Con. I hope, Mr. Wouldbe, you will make no attempts upon my person. Ben. Would. Damn your person! Herm. Would. But pray, madam, where have you been all this evening? [Te AUREA Aur. Very busy, I can assure you, sir. Here's an honest constable that I could find in heart my to marry, had the greasy rogue but one drop of genteel blood in his veins; what's become of him [Looking about Con. Bless me, cousin, marry a constable! Aur. Why truly, madam, if that constable had not come in a very critical minute, by this time! had been glad to marry anybody. True. I take you at your word, madam, you shall marry him this moment; and if you don't say that I have genteel blood in my veins by to-morrow morning Aur. And was it you, sir? True. Look'ee, madam, don't be ashamed; I found you a little in the déshabillé, that's the truth on't, but you made a brave defence. Aur. I am obliged to you; and though you were a little whimsical to-day, this late adventus has taught me how dangerous it is to provoke a gentleman by ill usage; therefore, if my lord and this lady will show us a good example, I think st must follow our leaders, captain. True. As boldly as when honour calls. Con. My lord, there was taken among y brother's jovial crew, his friend Subtleman, whom we have taken care to secure. Herm. Would. For him the pillory.-For you madam[To Mrs. MANDRAER. Teague. Be me shoule, she shall be married to maishter Fuller. Herm. Would. For you, brother- Herm. Would. Then take thy wish.-And now, I hope, all parties have received their due rewards and punishments? Teague. But what will you do for poor Teague, maishter? Herm. Would. What shall I do for thee !Teague. Arah, maak me a justice of peash, dear joy. Herm. Would. Justice of peace! thou art not qualified, man. Teague. Yest, fet am I-I can take the oats, and write my mark-I can be an honesht man myshelf, and keep a great rogue for my clark. Herm. Would. Well, well, you shall be taken care of. And now, captain, we set out for happiness : Let none despair whate'er their fortunes be, EPILOGUE, SPOKEN BY OUR poet open'd with a loud warlike blast, And I, you know, had a hard struggling part: MRS. HOOK. He would have ended here-but I thought meet, To keep the wits, as she the world, in awe: And if you won't protect, the men will damn him there. Then save the Muse, that flies to ye for aid; TO ALL FRIENDS ROUND THE WREKIN. MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN,-Instead of the mercenary expectations that attend addresses of this nature, I barık beg, that this may be received as an acknowledgment for the favours you have already conferred. I have transgro the rules of dedication in offering you anything in that style, without first asking your leave: but the entertain se I found in Shropshire commands me to be grateful, and that's all I intend. 'Twas my good fortune to be ordered some time ago into the place which is made the scene of this comedy; I w perfect stranger to everything in Salop, but its character of loyalty, the number of its inhabitants, the alacrity of t gentlemen in recruiting the army, with their generous and hospitable reception of strangers. This character I found so amply verified in every particular, that you made recruiting, which is the greatest fatigu upon earth to others, to be the greatest pleasure in the world to me. The kingdom cannot show better bodies of men, better inclinations for the service, more generosity, more g understanding, nor more politeness, than is to be found at the foot of the Wrekin. Some little turns of humour that I met with almost within the shade of that famous hill, gave the rise to this emedy and people were apprehensive that, by the example of some others, I would make the town merry at the expense the country-gentlemen. But they forgot that I was to write a comedy, not a libel; and that whilst I held to natur no person of any character in your country could suffer by being exposed. I have drawn the justice and the clown ; their puris naturalibus; the one an apprehensive, sturdy, brave blockhead; and the other a worthy, honest, gencroa gentleman, hearty in his country's cause, and of as good an understanding as I could give him, which I must confes far short of his own. I humbly beg leave to interline a word or two of the adventures of the Recruiting Officer upon the stage. Mr. R who commands the company for which those recruits were raised, has desired me to acquit him before the world charge which he thinks lies heavy upon him, for acting this play on Mr. Durfey's third night. Be it known unto all men by these presents, that it was my act and deed, or rather Mr. Durfey's; for he would 1 = his third night against the first of mine. He brought down a huge flight of frightful birds upon me; when (Have knows!) I had not a feathered fowl in my play, except one single Kite; but I presently made Plume a bird, because his name, and Brazen another, because of the feather in his hat; and with these three I engaged his whole emp which I think was as great a Wonder as any in the Sun. : But to answer his complaints more gravely, the season was far advanced; the officers that made the greatest for in my play were all commanded to their posts abroad, and waited only for a wind, which might possibly turn in less t than a day and I know none of Mr. Durfey's birds that had posts abroad but his Woodcocks, and their season is cvce so that he might put off a day with less prejudice than the Recruiting Officer could; who has this farther to say? himself, that he was posted before the other spoke, and could not with credit recede from his station. These and some other rubs this comedy met with before it appeared. But on the other hand, it had powerful helm to set it forward. The Duke of Ormond encouraged the author, and the Earl of Orrery approved the play. My retrat were reviewed by my general and my colonel, and could not fail to pass muster; and still to add to my success, th were raised among my friends round the Wrekin. This health has the advantage over our other celebrated toasts, never to grow worse for the wearing: 'tis a lasti beauty, old without age, and common without scandal. That you may live long to set it cheerfully round, and to c the abundant pleasures of your fair and plentiful country, is the hearty wish of, my Lords and Gentlemen, your m obliged, and most obedient servant, G. FARQUHAR In ancient times when Helen's fatal charms Roused the contending universe to arms, PROLOGUE. Him fate had warn'd to shun the Trojan blows: arms. Ulysses caught the young aspiring boy, SCENE I.-The Market Place. ACT I. Enter Drummer, beating the "Grenadier's March," Serjeant KITE, COSTAR PEARMAIN, THOMAS APPLETREE, and Mob, following. Kite. [Making a speech.] If any gentlemen soldiers, or others, have a mind to serve her 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.-Gentlemen, I don't beat my drums here to ensnare 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 tricker; and he that has the good fortune to be born six foot high, was born to be a great man.-[To COSTAR PEARMAIN.] Sir, will you give me leave to try this cap upon your head? Pear. 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? Pear. Are you sure there be no conjuration in it? no gunpowder plot upon me? Kite. No, no, friend; don't fear, man. Pear. My mind misgives me plaguily.-Let me see it.-[Going to put it on.] It smells woundily of sweat and brimstone. Pray, serjeant, what writing is this upon the face of it? Kite. The crown, or the bed of honour. Pear. Pray now, what may be that same bed of honour? Kite. Oh a mighty large bed! bigger by half than the great bed of Ware-ten thousand people may lie in it together, and never feel one another. Pear. 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. Pear. Wauns! I wish again that my wife lay there. Kite. Say you so? then, I find, brother Pear. Brother! hold there, friend; I am no kindred to you that I know of yet. Look'ee, 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 an't 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 better built man; 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? Pear. 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 queen's money, and the queen's drink. She's a generous queen, and loves her subjects-I hope, gentlemen, you won't refuse the queen's health? Mob. No, no, no! Kite. Huzza then! huzza for the queen, and the honour of Shropshire! Mob. Huzza! Kite. Beat drum. [Exeunt, Drumrer beating the "Grenadier's March." Enter Captain PLUME. Plume. By the Grenadier 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. A hundred and twenty miles in thirty hours is pretty smart riding, but nothing to the fatigue of recruiting. Re-enter Serjeant 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 have been here but a week, and I have 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 our business. But, sir, you have got a recruit here that you little think of. Plume. Who? Kite. One that you beat up for 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. No, no, sir-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. your honour knows that I am married already. Plume. To how many? But 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. Sheely Snikereyes; she sells potatoes upon Ormond Key in Dublin-Peggy Guzzle, the brandy-woman at the Horse-guard at Whitehall-Dolly Waggon, the carrier's daughter at Hull - Mademoiselle VanBottomflat at the Buss.-Then Jenny Oakham, 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 'em 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 furlough. 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 German doctor's habit since you arrived? Kite. Yes, yes, sir, and my fame's all about the country for the most famous 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's an honest fellow, and will be trusty to any roguery that is confided 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 farther commands? Plume. None at present. [Exit Serjeant KITE.] 'Tis indeed the picture of Worthy, but the life's departed. Enter Mr. WORTHY. Spleen, thou worst of fiends below, [Slaps Mr. WORTHY on the shoulder. Wor. Plume! my dear captain, welcome. Safe and sound returned? Plume. I 'scaped safe from Germany, and sound, I hope, from London; you see I have last 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 s estate? Wor. No. Plume. Then you are married surely? Plume. Then you are mad, or turning quaker` Wor. Come, I must out with it.-Your one gay, roving friend is dwindled into an obsequicas. thoughtful, romantic, constant coxcomb. Plume. And, pray, what is all this for? Plume. Shake hands, brother; if you got 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 tas but never melancholy for one; and can the k of one bring you into this pickle? Pray, who a this miraculous Helen? Wor. A Helen indeed, not to be won under a ten years' siege, as great a beauty, and as great ? jilt. Plume. A jilt! pho! is she as great a whore Wor. No, no. Plume. Tis ten thousand pities. But who she? do I know her? Wor. Very well. Plume. 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 capita |