Зображення сторінки

to carry them to a trapes, and a constable to Care. What say you, madam, (to dirert the carry both to the round-house.

good company) shall we send for hiin by way of Cla. Ay, but this fox-hunter, sir Solomon, mortification will come home dirty and tired as one of his Lady Dain. By all means; for your sake, mehounds; he'll be always asleep before he's a-bed, thinks, I ought to give him full despair. and on horseback before he's awake; he must Care. Why, then, to let you see, that 'tis a rise early to follow bis sport, and I sit up late at inuch easier thing to cure à fine lady of her cards for want of better diversion. Put this to- sickly taste, than å lover of his impudence gether, my wise uncle.

there's Careless for you, without the least tincSir Sol. Are you so high fed, madam, that a ture of despair about him. [Discovers himself country gentleman of fifteen hundred pounds a- All. Ha, Careless ! year won't go down with you?

Lady Dain. Abused! undone! Cla. Not so, sir; but you really kept me so All. Ha, ha! sharp, that I was e’en forced to provide for Cle. Nay, now, madam, we wish you a sumyself ; and here stands the fox-hunter for perior joy; for you have married a man instead my money, [Claps Cle. on the shoulder. of a monster. Sir Sol. How !

Care. Come, come, madam; since you find Cle. Even so, sir Solomon-Hark in your ear, you were in the power of such a cheat, you sir—You really held your consent at so high a inay be glad it was no greater: you might have price, that, to give you a proof of my good hus- fallen into a rascal's hands; but you know I am bandry, I was resolved to save charges, and e'en a gentleman, my fortune no snall one, and, if marry her without it.

your temper will give me leave, will deserve Sir Sol. Hell and

you. Cla. And hark you in t'other car, sir-Because Lady Sad. Come, e'en make the best of your I would not have you expose your reverend age fortune ; for, take my word, if the cheat had not by a mistake, know, sir, I was the young spark, been a very agreeable one, I would never have with a smooth face and a feather, that offered had a hand in't.—You must pardon me, if I can't you a thousand guineas for your consent, which help laughing. you would have been glad to have taken.

Lady Dain. Well, since it must be so, I parSir Sol. The devil! If ever I traffic in wo- don all; only one thing let me beg of you, men's flesh again, may all the bank stocks sir; that is, your promise to wear this habit. fall when I have bought them, and rise when I one month for my satisfaction. have sold them !- -Hey-day! what have we Care. Oh, madam, that's a trife! I'll lie in here? more cheats.

the sun a whole suminer for an olive complexiCle. Not unlikely, sir; for I fancy they are on, to oblige you. married,

Lady Dain. Well, Mr Careless, I begin now to Enter Lady Dainty and Careless, disguised. with apprehension of the escape I have had ;

think better of my fortune, and look back Lady Sad. That they are, I can assure you, you have already cured my folly, and, were but I give your highness joy, madam.

iny health recoverable, I should think myself Lady Dain. Lard, that people of any rank completely happy. shoule use such vulgar salutations ! though, me- Care. For that, madam, we'll venture to save thinks, highness has something of grandeur in doctor's fees; the sound. But I was in hopes, good people, And trust to nature : time will soon discover, that confident fellow, Careless, had been among Your best physician is a favoured lover.

[Ereunt omnes.










MÉLinda, a lady of fortune. MR SCALES, justices.

Sylvia, daughter to Mr BALANCE, in love with MR SCRUPLE,

CAPTAIN PLUME. MR WORTHY, a gentleman of Shropshire, Lucy, maid to MELINDA.

Rose, a country wench. CAPTAIN BRAZEM,} recruiting officers.

Constable, Recruits, Mob, Servants, and AtKuTE, Serjeant to CAPTAIN PLUME.

BULLOCK, a country clown.




SCENE I.— The Market-Place Drum beats any man; for you must know, gentlemen, that I the Grenadier's March,

am a man of honour: besides, I don't beat up

for common soldiers; no, I list only grenadiers; Enter SERJEANT KITE, followed by Thomas grenadiers, gentlemen-Pray, gentlemen, obAPPLETREE, Costar PEARMAIN, and the Mob. serve this cap—this is the cap of honour; it dubs

a man a gentleman in the drawing of a trigger; Kite, making a speech.

and he, that has the good fortune to be born six If any gentlemen, soldiers, or others, have a foot high, was born to be a great man-Sir, will mind to serve his majesty, and pull down the you give me leave to try this cap upon your French king; if any 'prentices have severe mas- head ters, any children have unduiiful parents, if any Cos. Is there no harm in't ? won't the cap

list servants have too little wages, or any husband too much wife, let them repair to the noble Ser- Kite. No, no; no more than I can—Come, let jeant Kite, at the sign of "The Raven, in this me see how it becomes you. good town of Shrewsbury, and they shall receive Cos. Are you sure there be no conjuration i present relief and entertainment—Gentlemen, I it? no gunpowder-plot upon me? don't beat my drums here to insnare or inveigle Kite. No, no, friend ; don't fear, mar


Cos. My mind misgives me plaguily-Let me | left London—an hundred and twenty miles in see it-[Going to put it on.] It smells woundily thirty hours is pretty smart riding, but nothing to of sweat and brimstone. Smell, Tummas. the fatigue of recruiting.

Tho. Ay, wauns does it.
Cos. Pray, serjeant, what writing is this upon

Enter KITE. the face of it?

Kite. Welcome to Shrewsbury, noble captain! Kite. The crown, or the bed of honour. from the banks of the Danube to the Severn side,

Cos. Pray now, what may be that same bed of noble captain, you're welcome! honour?

Plume. A very elegant reception, indeed, Mr Kite. Oh! a mighty large bed ! bigger by half Kite. I find you are fairly entered into your than the great bed at Ware-ten thousand peo- recruiting strain-Pray, what success ? ple may lie in it together, and never feel one Kite. I've been here a week, and I've recruitanother.

ed five. Cos. My wife and I would do well to lie in't, Plume. Five! pray what are they? for we don't care for feeling one another-But Kite. I have listed the strong man of Kent, .do folk sleep sound in this same bed of honour? | the king of the gipsies, a Scotch pedlar, a scoun

Kite. Sound! ay, so sound that they never drel attorney, and a Welch parson. wake.

Plume. An attorney! wert thou mad? list a Cos. Wauns! I wish again that my wife lay lawyer! discharge him, discharge him, this mithere.

nute ! Kite. Say you so ! then I find, brother

Kite. Why, sir? Cos. Brother! hold there, friend; I am no

Plume. Because I will have nobody in my kindred to you that I know of yet-Look ye, ser- company that can write; a fellow that can write jeant, no coaxing, no wheedling, d'ye see—if I can draw petitions—I say, this minute discharge have a mind to list, why somif not, why 'tis not him! 50—therefore, take your cap and your brother- Kite. And what shall I do with the parson?. ship back again, for I am not disposed at this Plume. Can he write? present writing-No coaxing, no brothering me, Kite. Hum! he plays rarely upon the fiddle. faith!

Plume. Keep him, by all means But how Kite. I coax! I wheedle ! I'm above it, sir : stands the country affected? were the people I have served twenty campaigns—but, sir, you pleased with the news of my coming to town? talk well, and I must own that you are a man,

Kite. Sir, the mob are so pleased with your every inch of you; a pretty, young, sprightly fel- honour, and the justices and better sort of peolow !—I love a fellow with a spirit; but I scorn ple are so delighted with me, that we shall soon to coax; 'tis base; though, I must say, that never do your business—But, sir, you have got a rein my life have I seen a man better built. How cruit here, that you little think of. firm and strong he treads! he steps like a castle! Plume. Who? but I scorn to wheedle any man-Come, honest Kite. One that you beat up for the last time lad! will you take share of a pot?

you were in the country. You remember your Cos. Nay, for that inatter, I'll spend my penny old friend Molly at The Castle ? with the best he that wears a head; that is, beg- Plume. She's not with child, I hope? ging your pardon, sir, and in a fair way.

Kite. She was brought to-bed yesterday. Kite. Give me your hand, then ; and now, Plume. Kite, you must father the child. gentlemen, I have no more to say but this Kite. And so her friends will oblige me to here's a purse of gold, and there is a tub of hum- marry the mother? ming, ale at my quarters—'tis the king's money, Plume. If they should, we'll take her with us; and the king's drink--he's a generous king, and she can wash, you know, and make a bed upon loves his subjects—I hope, gentlemen, you won't occasion. refuse the king's health

Kite, Aye, or unmake it upon occasion. But AU Mob. No, no, no.

your honour knows that I am married already. Kite. Huzza, then! huzza for the king, and the Plume. To bow many? honour of Shropshire !

Kite. I can't tell readily—I have set them All Mob. Huzza !

down here upon the back of the muster-roll. — Kite. Beat drum.

(Draws it out.] Let me see-Imprimis, Mrs [Exeunt shouting, drum beating a grena- Shely Snikereyes; she sells potatoes upon Ordier's march.

mond Key in Dublin-Peggy Guzzle, the brandy

woman at the Horse-Guards at WhitehallEnter Plume in a riding habit.

Dolly Waggon, the carrier's daughter at HullPlume. By the grenadier's march, that should Mademoiselle Van Bottomflat at the Buss—then be my drum, and by that shout it should beat Jenny Oakum, the ship-carpenter's widow at with success- Let me see-four o'clock—[Look- Portsmouth; but I don't reckon upon her, for ing on his watch.] At ten yesterday morning 1 she was married at the same time to two lieutenants of marines, and a man of war's boats- Wor. For whom? swain,

Plume. For a regiment—but for a woman! Plume. A full company—you have named five 'Sdeath! I have been constant to fifteen at a -come, make them half-a-dozen-Kite, is the time, but never melancholy for one: and can the child a boy or girl?

love of one bring you into this condition? Pray, Kite. A chopping boy.

who is this wonderful Helen? Plume. Then set the mother down in your list, Ilor. A Helen, indeed! not to be won under and the boy in mine; enter him a grenadier by ten years siege; as great a beauty, and as great the name of Francis Kite, absent upon furlow- a jilt. I'll allow you a man's pay for his subsistence; Plume. A jilt! pho! is she as great a whore? and, now, go comfort the wench in the straw. Wor. No, no. Kite. I shall, sir.

Plume. 'Tis ten thousand pities ! But who is Plume. But, hold-have you made any use of she? do I know her? your German doctor's habit since you arrived ? Wor. Very well.

Kile. Yes, yes, sir; and my fame's all about Plume. That's impossible—I know no woman the country for the most faithful fortune-teller, that will hold out a ten years siege. that ever told a lie-I was obliged to let my Wor. What think you of Melinda? landlord into the secret, for the convenience of Plume. Melinda ! 'why she began to capitulate keeping it so; but he is an honest fellow, and this time twelvemonth, and offered to surrender will be faithful to any roguery that is trusted to upon honourable terms: and I advised you to him. This device, sir, will get you men and me propose a settlement of five hundred pounds amoney, which I think is all we want at present- year to her, before I went last abroad. But yonder comes your friend, Mr Worthy- Wor. I did, and she hearkened to it, desiring llas your honour any further commands? only one week to consider--when, beyond her

Plume. None at present. [Erit Kute.). lis, hopes, the town was relieved, and I forced to indeed, the picture of Worthy, but the life's de- turn my siege into a blockade. parted.

Plume. Explain, explain.
Enter Worthy.

Wor. My lady Richly, her aunt in Flintshire,

dies, and leaves her, at this critical time, twenty What, arms across, Worthy! methinks you should thousand pounds. hold them open when a friend's so near-The Plume. Oh, the devil! what a delicate woman has got the vapours in his ears, I believe. I man was there spoiled! But, by the rules of must expel this melancholy spirit.

war, now-Worthy, blockade was foolish-After Spleen, the worst of fiends below,

such a convoy of provisions was entered the Fly, I conjure thee, by this magic blow! place, you could have no thought of reducing it

[Slaps Worthy on the shoulder. by famine; you should have redoubled your atWor. Plume ! my dear captain! welcome.-tacks, taken the town by storm, or have died upSafe and sound returned !

on the breach. Plume. I escaped safe from Germany, and Il'or. I did make one general assault, but was sound, I hope, from London: you see I have lost so vigorously repulsed, that, despairing of ever neither leg, arm, nor nose. Then for my inside, gaining her for a mistress, I have altered my 'tis neither troubled with sympathies nor antipa- conduct, given my addresses the obsequious and thies; and I have an excellent stomach for roast-distant turn, and court her now for a wife. beef.

Plume. So; as you grew obsequious, she grew Wor. Thou art a happy fellow: once I was haughty, and, because you approached her like a

goddess, she used you like a dog. Plume. What ails thee, man? no inundations Wor. Exactly. nor earthquakes in Wales, I hope? Has your Plume. 'Tis the way of them all --Come, Worfather rose from the dead, and reassumed his thy; your obsequious and distant airs will never estate?

bring you together; you must not think to surWor. No.

mount her pride by your humility. Would you Plume. Then you are married, surely? bring her to better thoughts of you, she must be Ilor. No.

reduced to a meaner opinion of herself. Plume. Then you are mad, or turning quaker? see-Suppose we lampooned all the pretty wo

l'or. Come, I must out with it-Your once men in town, and left her out? or, what if we gay roving friend is dwindled into an obsequious, made a ball, and forgot to invite her, with one thoughtful, romantic, constant coxcomb.

or two of the ugliest ? Plume. And, pray, what is all this for?

Wor. These would be mortifications, I must Wor. For a woman.

confess; but we live in such a precise, dull Plume. Shake hands, brother. If thou go to place, that we can have no balls, no lampoons, that, behold me as obsequious, as thoughtful, and as constant a coxcomb as your worship.

Plume. What! no bastards! and so many re

[ocr errors]

Let me

[ocr errors]

cruiting officers in town! I thought 'twas a max- Kite. Your worship very well may-for I have im among them to leave as many recruits in the got both a wife and a child in half an hour-But, country as they carried out.

as I was saying—you sent me to comfort Mrs Wor. Nobody doubts your good-will, noble Molly--my wife, Í mcan—but what d'ye think, captain, in serving your country with your best sir? she was better comforted before I came. blood; witness our friend Molly at The Castle ; Plume. As how? there have been tears in town about that busi- Kite. Why, sir, a footman, in a blue livery, ness, captain.

had brought her ten guineas to buy her babyPlume. I hope Sylvia has not heard of it. clothes.

Wor. Oh, sir, you have thought of her? I be- Plume. Who, in the name of wonder, could gan to fancy you had forgot poor Sylvia.

send them ? Plume. Your affairs had quite put mine out of Kite. Nay, sir, I must whisper that,Mrs Sylmy head.

"Tis true, Sylvia and I had once a- via. greed to go to bed together, could we have adjust- Plume. Sylvia! generous creature ! ed preliminaries; butshe would have the wedding Wor. Sylvia ! impossible ! before consummation, and I was for consumma- Kite. Here are the guincas, sir-I took the tion before the wedding : we could not agree. gold as part of my wife's portion. Nay, farther,

Wor. But do you intend to marry upon no sir, she sent word the child should be taken all other conditions ?

imaginable care of, and that she intended to stand Plume. Your pardon, sir, I'll marry upon no godinother. The same footinan, ils I was coming condition at all. If I should, I ain resolved never to you with this news, called after me, and told to bind myself down to a woman for my whole me, that his lady would speak with me—I went, life, till I know whether I shall like ber compa- and, upon hearing that you were come to town, ny for half an hour. Suppose I married a wo- she gave me hali-a-guinca for the news, and orman that wanted a leg-such a thing might be, dered me to tell you, that Justice Balance, her unless I examined the goods before-hand- father, who is just coine out of the country, would If people would but try one another's constitu- be glad to see you. tions before they engaged, it would prevent all Plume. There's a girl for you, Worthy !-Is these elopements, divorces, and the devil knows there anything of woman in this? no, 'tis noble, what.

generous, manly friendship. Shew me another Wor. Nay, for that matter, the town did not woman, that would lose an inch of her prerogastick to say that

tive that way, without tears, fits, and reproaches. Plume. I hate country towns for that reason-- The conmon jealousy of her sex, which is noIf your town has a dishonourable thought of Syl- thing but their avarice of pleasure, she despises, via, it deserves to be burnt to the ground - I love and can part with the lover, though she dies for Sylvia, I admire her frank generous disposition-- the man-Come, Worthy--where's the best wine? there's something in that girl more than woman

for there I'll quarter. her sex is but a foil to her—the ingratitude, dis- Wor. Horton bas a fresh pipe of choice Barsimulation, envy, pride, avarice, and vanity, of cclona, which I would not let bun pierce before, her sister females, do but set off their contraries because I reserved it for your welcome to town. in ber. In short, were I once a general, I would Plume. Let's away, then—Mr Kite, go to the marry her.

lady with my humble service, and tell her, I shall Wor. Faith, you have reason-for, were you only refresh a little, and wait upon her. but a corporal, she would marry you-- But my Wor. Hold, Kite !-have you seen the other Melinda coquettes it with every fellow she sees recruiting captain? I'll lay fifty pounds she makes love to you.

Kite. No, sir; I'd have you to know I don't Plume. Til lay you a hundred, that I return it, keep such company, if she does. Look'e, Worthy, I'll win her, and Plume. Another! who is he? give her to you afterwards !

Wor. My rival, in the first place, and the most l'or. If you win her, you shall wear her, faith. unaccountable fellow-but I'll tell you more as I would not value the conquest, without the cre

(Exeunt. dit of the victory. Enter Kite.

SCENE II.-An apartment. Kite. Captain, captain! a word in your car.

Melinda and Sylvia meeting. Plume. You may speak out; here are none but friends.

Mel. Welcome to town, cousin Sylvia! [SaKite. You know, sir, that you sent me to com- lute. I envied you your retreat in the country; fort the good woman in the straw, Mrs Molly, for Shrewsbury, methinks, and all your heads of my wife, Mr Worthy.

shires, are the most irregular places for living. Wor. O ho! very well! I wish you joy, Mr Here, we have sinoke, scandal, affectation, and Kite.

pretension; in short, every thing to give the

we go.

« НазадПродовжити »