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my company that can write ;-I say this min- Spleen, thou worst of fiends below, ute discharge him.
Fly, I conjure thee, by this magic blow. Serg. K. And what shall I do with the par
(Slaps WORTHY on the shoulder. son?
Wor. Plume! my dear captain! returned! Capt. P. Can he write ?
safe and sound, I hope. Serg. K. Hum! he plays rarely upon the Capt. P. You see I have lost neither leg nor fiddle.
arm; tben for my inside, 'tis neither troubled Capt. P. Keep him by all means But how with sympathies nor antipathies; and I have stands the country affected ? Were the people an excellent stomach for roast beef. pleased with the news of my coming to town? Wor. Thou art a happy fellow: once I was
Serg. K. Sir, the mob are so pleased with so. your honour, and the justices and better sort Capt. P. What ails thee, mao? no inundaof people are so delighted with me, that we tions nor earthquakes in Wales I hope ! Has sball soon do your business-But, Sir, you your father rose from the dead, and resumed have got a recruit here that you little think his estate ? of.
Wor. No. Cupt. P. Who?
Capt. P. Then you are married, surely ? Serg. K. One that you beat up for the last Wor. No. time you were in the country. You remem- Capt. P. Then you are mad, or turning meber your old friend Molly at the Castle ?
thodist ? Capt. P. She's not breeding I hope.
Wor. Come, I must out with it. Your once Serg. K. She was brought to bed yesterday. gay roving friend is dwindled into an obseCapt. P. Kite, you must father the child. quious, thoughtful, romantic, constant coxcomb.
Serg. K. And so her friends will oblige me Capt. P. And pray what is all this for ? to marry the mother.
Wor. For a woman. Capt. P. If they should, we'll take her Capt. P. Shake hands, brother. If thou go with us; she can wash, you know, and make to that, behold me as obsequious, as thought. a bed upon occasion.
ful, as constant a coxcomb as your worship. Serg. K. But your honour knows that I am
Wor, For whom ! married already.
Capt. P. For a regiment-but for a woman! Capt. P. To bow many?
'Sdeath! I have been constant to fifteeen at a Serg: R. I can't tell readily-I have set time, but never melancholy for one. Pray them dowp here upon the back of the muster. who is this wonderful Helen? roll. [Draws it out.] Let me see--Imprimis,
Wor. A Helen indeed ! not to be won under Mrs. Shely Snikereyes ; she sells potatoes up ten years siege ; as great a beauty, and as on Ormond key in Dublin ;-Peggy Guzzle, great a jilt. the brandy woman at the Horse-Guards, at Capt. P. But who is she? do I know her? Whiteball ;-Dolly Waggon, the carrier's Wor. Very well. daughter at Hull; Madamoiselle Van Bottom- Capt. P. That's impossible. I know no WOfiat, at the Buss ;-then Jenny Oakum, the man that will hold out a ten year's siege.
I Woryou , the same time to two lieutenants of marines, surmount her pride by bumility. Would you and a man-of-war's boatswain.
bring her to better thoughts of you, she Capt. P. A full company-you have named must be reduced to a meaner opinion of herfive-Come, make them half a dozen. Kite, self. Let me see, the very first thing that is the child a boy or a girl ?
I would do, should be to make love to her Serg. K. A chopping boy.
chambermaid. Suppose we lampooned all Capt. P. Then set the mother down in your the pretty women in town, and left her out; list, and the boy in mine ; and now go comfort or, what if we made a ball, and forgot to inthe wench in the straw.
vite her, with one or two of the ugliest ? Serg. K. I shall, Sir.
Wor. These would be mortifications, I must Capt. P. But hold, have you made any use confess; but we live in such a precise dull of your German doctor's habit since you ar- place, that we can have no balls, no lampoons, rived ?
Serg. K. Yes, yes, Sir, and my fame's all Capt. P. What! no young ones? and so about the country for the most faithful fortune- many recruiting officers in town! I thought teller that ever told a lie. I was obliged to 'twas a maxim among them to leave as many let my landlord into the secret for the conve- recruits in the country as they carried out. nience of keeping it so; but he is an honest Wor. Nobody doubts your good will, noble fellow, and will be faithful to any roguery captain ! witness our friend Molly at the Casthat is trusted to bim. This device, Sir, will tle; there have been tears in town about that get you men, and me money, which I think is business, captain. all we want at present.-But yonder comes Capt. P. I hope Sylvia has not heard of it. your friend, Mr. Worthy. Has your honour Wor. Oh, Sir! have you thought of her? I any further commands?
began to fancy you had forgot poor Sylvia. Capt. P. None at present. [Exit SERG. Capt. P. Your affairs had quite put mine ont KITE.), 'Tis indeed the picture of Worthy, but of my head. 'Tis true, Sylvia and I had once the life's departed.
agreed, could we bave adjusted preliminar. ies; but I am resolved never
to bind myself to a
woman for my whole life, till I know whether Enter WORTHY.
I shall like her company for half an hour. If
people would but try one another before they What, arms across, Worthy! methinks you engaged, it would prevent all these elopeshould hold them open when a friend's so near. ments, divorces, and the devil knows what. The man has got the vapours in his ears I be. Wor. Nay, for that matter, the town did not lieve. I must expel this melancholy spirit. stick to say that.
Capt. P. I hate country towns for that reason. SCENE II.-An Apartment.
Enter MELINDA, and SYLVIA.
Mel. Welcome to town, cousin Sylvia. would marry her.
[They salute.]. I envied you your retreat in Wor. Faith, you have reason ; for were you all your heads of shires, are the most irregular
the country; for Shrewsbury, metbioks, and but a corporal, she would marry you. But my places for living: here we have smoke, noise, Melinda coquets it with every fellow she sees; Scandal, affectation and pretension; in short, l'II lay fifty pounds she makes love to your every thing to give the spleen, and nothing to
Capt. P. I'll lay you a hundred that turn it if sbe does.
divert it: then the air is intolérable.
Syl. Oh, Madam! I have heard the town
commended for its air. Re-enter SERGEANT KITE.
Mel. But you don't consider, Sylvia, how
long I have lived in't! for I can assure you, Serg. K. Captain, captain! a word in your that to a lady the least pice in ber constitution,
no air can be good above half a year. Change Capt. P. You may speak out; here are none of air I take to be the most agreeable of any but friends.
variety in life. Serg. K. You know, Sir, that you sent me Syl. As you say, cousin Melinda, there are to comfort the good woman in the straw, Mrs. several sorts of airs. Molly ; my wife, Mr. Worthy.
Mel. Pshaw! I talk only of the air we Wor. O ho! 'very well. I wish you joy, breathe, or more properly of that we taste. Mr. Kite.
Have not you, Sylvia, found a vast difference Serg. K. Your worship very well may; for in the taste of airs ? I have got both a wife and child in half an Syl. Pray, cousin, are not vapours a sort of hour. But as I was saying, you sent me to air ? Taste air! you might as well tell me I comfort Mrs. Molly,-my wife, I mean ;-But may feed upon air ! But, pr’ythee, my dear what do you think, Sir ? she was better com- Melinda! don't put on such ao air to me. forted before I came.
Your education and mine were just the same; Capt. P. As how ?
and I remember the time when we never Serg. K. Why, Sir, a footman in livery had troubled our beads about air, but when the brought her ten guineas to buy her baby- sharp air from the Welch mountains made our clothes.
fingers ache in a cold morning at the boardingCapt. P. Who, in the name of wonder, could school. send them?
Mel. Our education, cousin, was the same, Serg. K. Nay, Sir, I must whisper that;- but our temperaments had nothing alike: you Mrs. Sylvia.
have the constitution of a horse. Capt. P. Sylvia ! generous creature !
Syl. So far as to be troubled neither with Wor. Sylvia! Impossible !
spleen, cholic, nor vapours. I need no salts Serg. K. Here are the guineas, Sir. I took for my stomach, no hartshorn for my head, nor the gold as part of my wife's portion. Nay, wash for my complexion ; I cau gallop all the further, Sir, she sent word the child should morning after the hunting born, and all the be taken all imaginable care of, and that she evening after a fiddle. intended to stand godmother. The same foot- Mel. I am told your captain is come to town. man, as I was coming to you with the news, Syl: Ay, Melinda, he is come, and I'll take called after me, and told me that his lady care he sha'n't go without a companion. would speak with me: I went; and upon Mel. You are certainly mad, cousin. hearing that you were come to town sbe gave Syl. And there's a pleasure in being mad me half-a-guinea for the news, and ordered
Which none but madmen know.' me to tell you that justice Balance, her father, Mel. Thou poor romantic Quixote ! hast thou who is jusi come out of the country, would be the vanity to imagine that a young sprightly glad to see you.
officer, that rambles over half the globe in half Capt. P. There's a girl for you, Worthy. Is a year, can confine his thoughts to the little there any thing of woman in this! No,'tis noble, daughter of a country justice in an obscure generous, manly friendship. The common part of the world? jealousy of her sex, which is nothing but their Syl. Pshaw! what care 1 for his thoughts ! avarice of pleasure, she despises; and can I should not like a man with confined thoughts; part with the lover, though she dies for the it shows a narrowness of soul. man. Come, Worthy, where's the best wine, Mel. O’my conscience, Sylvia st thou for there I'll quarter ?
been a man thou badst been the greatest rake Wor. Horton has a fresh pipe of choice Bar. in Christendom. celona, which I would not let him pierce be- Syl. I should have endeavoured to know fore, because I reserved it for your welcome to the world. But now I think on't, bow stands town.
your affair with Mr. Worthy? Capt. P. Let's away, then. Mr. Kite, go to Mel. He's my aversion. the lady, with my humble service, and tell her Syl. Vapours ! I shall only refresh a little and wait upon her. Mel. What do you say, Madam ?
Wor. Hold, Kite! have you seen the other Syl. I say that you should not use that recruiting captain ?
honest fellow so inhumanly; he's a gentleman Serg. Å. No, Sir; I'd have you to know I of parts and fortune, and besides that he's my don't keep such company:
[Exit. Plume's friend ! and by all that's sacred if Capt. P. Another! who is he ?
you don't use him better I shall expect satisWor. My rival, in the first place, and the faction. most unaccountable fellow: but I'll tell you Mel. Satisfaction! you begin to fancy yourmore as we go.
(Exeunt. self a man in good earnest. But to be plain with you, I like Worthy the worse for being so enemy, and we did so; and if he pleases but intimate with your captain, for I take him to to say the word, we'll do it again. But pray, be a loose, idle, ill-mannerly coxcomb. Sir, how does Mrs. Sylvia?
Syl. Ob, Madam! you never saw him per- Just. B. Still upon Sylvia! for shame, caphaps since you were mistress of twenty thou- tain! you are engaged already, wedded to the sand pounds: you only knew him when you war; victory is your mistress, and’uis below a were capitulating with Worthy for a settle- soldier to think of any other. ment, which perhaps might encourage him to Capt. P. As a mistress I confess, but as a be a little loose and unmannerly with you. friend, Mr. Balance. Mel. What do you mean, Madam?
Just, B. Come, come, captain, never mince Syl. My meaning needs no interpretation, the matter ; would not you deceive my daughMadam.
ter if you could ? Mel. Better it bad, Madam, for methinks you Capt. P. How, Sir ? I hope she is not to be are too plain.
deceived. Syl. If you mean the plaindegs of my person, Just. B. Faith, but she is, Sir, and any woI think your ladyship's as plain as me to the man in England of her age and complexion, by - full.
a man of your youth and person. Lookye, Mel. Were I sure of that, I would be glad captain, once I was young, and once an officer, to take up with a rakish officer as you do. as you are, and I can guess at your thoughts
Syl. Again! lookye, Madam, you are in now by wbat mine were then; and I remenyour own house.
ber very well that I would bave given one of Mel. And if you had kept in yours I should my legs, to have deluded the daughter of an have excused you.
old country gentleman as like me as I was then Syl. Don't be troubled, Madam, I sha’n't like you. desire to have my visit returned.
Capt. P. But, Sir, was that country gentle Mel. The sooner therefore you make an end man your friend and benefactor ! of this the better.
Just. B. Not much of that. Syl. I am easily persuaded to follow my Capt. P. There the comparison breaks : the inclinations; and '80, Madam, your humble favours, Sir, thatservant.
[Exit. Just. 'B. Pho, pho! I hate set speeches : if I Mel. Sancy thing !
have done you any service, captain, it was to
please myself. I love thee, and if I could part Enter Lucy.
with my girl you should have her as soon as
any young fellow I know; but I hope you Lucy. What's the matter, Madam,
have more honour than to quit the service, Mel. Did not you see the proud nothing, and she more prudence than to follow the how she swelled upon the arrival of her fel camp; but she's at her own disposal; she bas low ?
ten thousand pogods in her pocket, and so Lucy. I don't believe she has seen him Sylvia, Sylvia !
(Calls. yet. Mel. Nor sha'n't, if I can help it. Let me
Syl. There are some letters, Sir, come by the dam.
[Presents a letter. post from London ; I left them upon the table Mel. Who sent it?
in your closet.
Just. B. And here is a gentleman from Lucy. Your captain, Madam.
Mel. He's a fool, and I'm tired of him : send abroad. [Presents Capt. P. to her.] Captain, it back unopened.
you'll excuse me; I'll go and read my letters
and wait on you. Lucy. The messenger's gone, Madam.
[Erit, Mel. Then how should I send an answer!
Syl. Sir, you are welcome to England. Call bim back immediately, while I go write. Madam, since the hopes of receiving it from
Capt. P. You are indebted to me a welcome, (Exeunt. this fair hand was the principal cause of my
seeing England. ACT II.
Syl. I have often heard that soldiers were
sincere ; shall I venture to believe public reSCENE 1.-An Apartment.
Capt. P. You may, when 'tis backed by priEnter Justice BALANCE and CAPTAIN PLUME. vate insurance ; for I swear, Madam, by the
honour of my profession, that whatever danJust. B. Lookye, captain, give us but blood gers. I went upon, it was with the hope of for our money, and you sha'n't want men making myself more worthy of your esteem; Adds my life, captain, get us but another and if ever I had thoughts of preserving my marshal of France, and I'll go myself for a life, 'twas for the pleasure of dying at your soldier.
feet. Cupt. P. Pray, Mr. Balance, how does your Syl. Well, well, you shall die at my feet, or fair daughter ?
where you will; but you know, Sir, there is a Just. B. Ab, captain! what is my daughter certain will and testament to be made before to a marshal of France ? We're upon a nobler hand. subject; I want to have a particular descrip- Capt. P. My will, Madam, is made already, tion of the last battle.
and there it is; and if you please to open this Capt. P. The battle, Sir, was a very pretty paper, which was drawn the evening before battle as any one should desire to see ; but we our last battle, you will find whom I left my were all so intent upon victory that we never heir. mioded the battle : all that I know of the mat. Syl. “Mrs. Sylvia Balance." [Opens the Will ter is, our general commanded us to beat the and
reads.] Wet, captain, this is a bandsome and a substantial compliment; but I can as- worship, but he will deliver it into no hands sure you I am much better pleased with the but your own. bare knowledge of your intention, than I Just. B. Come, show me the messenger. should have been in the possession of your
[Exit with SERVANT. legacy: but, methinks, Sir, you should have Syl. Make the dispute between love and left something to your little boy at the Cas- duty, and I am Prince Pretty man exacıly. If tle.
my brother dies, ah, poor brother! if he lives, Capt. P. That's home. [Aside.) My little ah, poor sister! 'It is bad both ways. I'll try boy ! lack-a-day, Madam! that alone may it again–Follow my own inclinations and convince you 'twas none of mine: why, the break my father's heart, or obey his commands girl, Madam, is my sergeant's wife, and so the and break my own! Worse and worse. Suppoor creature gave out that I was the father, pose I take it thus : a moderate fortune, a in hopes that my friends might support her id pretty fellow, and a pad; or a fine estate, a case of oecessity-That was all, Madam-My coach and six, and an ass, that will never do boy ! no, no, no!
Enter a SERVANT,
Re-enter JUSTICE BALANCE.
Just. B. Put four horses to the coach. [To a Serv. Madam, my master has received some Serrant without.] Ho, Sylvia ! ill news from London, and desires to speak Syl. Sir, with you immediately; and he begs the cap- Just. B. How old were you when your motain's pardon that he can't wait on him as he ther died ? promised.
[Exit. Syl. So young that I don't remember I ever Capt. P. Ill news ! Heaven avert it! 00- had one ; and you have been so careful, so thing could touch me nearer than to see that indulgent to me since, that indeed I never generous worthy gentleman afflicted. I'll leave wanted one. you to comfort him, and be assured that if my Just. B. Have I ever denied you any thing life and fortune can be any way seviceable to you asked of me? the father of my Sylvia, he sball freely com- Syl. Never, that I remember. mand both.
(Exeunt. Just. B. Then, Sylvia, I must beg that, once
in your life, you will grant me a favour. SCENE II.-An Apartment.
Syl. Why should you question it, Sir ?
Just. B. I don't; but I would rather counsel
thap command. I don't propose this with the Enter JUSTICE BALANCE and SYLVIA.
authority of a parent, but as the advice of
your friend, that you would take the coach Syl. Whilst there is life there is hope, Sir; this moment and go into the country. perhaps my brother may recover.
Syl. Does this advice, Sir, proceed from Jusi. B. We have but little reason to ex. the contents of the letter you received just pect it; the doctor acquaints me here, that now? before this comes to my hands he fears I shall Just. B. No matter; I will be with you in have no son-Poor Owen -but the decree is three or four days, and then give you my rea. just; I was pleased with the death of my fa sons. But before you go, I expect you will iber, because he left me an estate, and now I make me one solemn promise. am punished with the loss of an heir to inherit Syl. Propose the thing, Sir. mine. I must now look opon you as the only Just. B. That you will never dispose of hopes of my family, and I expect that the aug- yourself to any man without my consent. mentation of your fortune will give you fresh Syl. I promise. thoughts and new prospects.
Just. B. Very well ; and to be even with Syl. My desire in being punctual in my you, I promise I never will dispose of you obedience, requires that you would be plain in without your own consent: and so, Sylvia, your commands, Sir.
the coach is ready. Farewell. (Exit Sylvia.) Just. B. The death of your brother makes Now she's gone, I'll examine the contents oi you sole heiress to my estate, which you know this letter a little nearer. (Reuds.) “ Sir, My is about two thousand pounds a-year: this intimacy with Mr. Worthy has drawn a secret fortune gives you a fair claim to quality and a from him, that he had from his friend, Captain title : you must set a just value upon yourself, Plume: and my friendship and relation to aod in plain terms, think no more of Captain your family oblige me to give you timely noPlume.
tice of it. The captain has dishonourable deSyl. You have often commended the gentle- signs upon my cousin Sylvia. Evils of this man, Sir.
pature are more easily, prevented than an endJust. B. And I do so still ; he's a very pretty ed; and that you would inimediately send my fellow ; but though I liked him well enough cousin into the country is the advice of, for a bare son-in-law, I don't approve of bim Sir, your humble servant, Melinda.”—Why, for an heir to my estate and family: ten thou- the devil's in the young fellows of this age; sand pounds indeed I might trust in his hands, they are ten times worse than they were ip my and it might do the young fellow a kindness; time.-Hang it! I can fetch down a woodcock but, odds my life! two thousand ponods or a snipe, and why not a bat and cockade ? ! a-year would ruin him, quite turn his brain. have a case of good pistols, and have a good A captain of foot worth two thousand pounds mind to try. a-year! 'tis a prodigy in nature !
Worthy! your servant.
Wor. I'm sorry, Sir, to be the messenger of Serv. Sir, here's one with a letter for your ill news.
Just. B. I apprehend it, Sir ; you have heard For now be's free to sing and play, that my son Owen is past recovery.
Over the hills and far away.-Over, &c. Wor. My letters say he's dead, Sir.
(The Mob sing the Chorus.) Just. B. He's happy, and I am satisfied: the stroke of Heaven I can bear; but injuries from We shall lead more happy lives, men, Mr. Worthy, are not so easily supported. By getting rid of brats and wives, Wor. I hope, Sir, you're under no appre
That scold and brawl both night and day, hensions of wrong from any body,
Over the bills and far away.-Over, &c. Just. B. You know I ought to be.
Wor. You wrong my honour in believing. I Hey, boys! thus we soldiers live! drink, sing, could know any thing to your prejudice, with dance, play ;-we live, as one should say,-we out resenting it as much as you should. live,- 'tis impossible to tell how we live ;-we
Just. B. This letter, Sir, which I tear in are all princes,-why-why, you are a king, pieces to conceal the person that sent it, in- you are an emperor, and I'm a prince ;-now, forms me that Plume has a design upon Syl- -an't we? via, and that you are privy to't.
Tho. No, sergeant, I'll be no emperor. Wor. Nay then, Sir, I must do myself jus. Serg. K. No? tice, and endeavour to find out the author. Tho. I'll be a justice of peace. [Takes up a piece.) Sir, I know the
hand, and Serg. K. A justice of peace, man? if you refuse to discover the contents, Melinda Tho. Ay, wauns, will I. shall tell me.
[Going. Serg. K. Done; you are a justice of peace, Just. B. Hold, Sir; the contents I have told and you are a king. (To Cos.) And I am you already, only with this circumstance, that duke, and a rum duke, an't I ? her intimacy with Mr. Worthy had drawn the Cos. Ay, but I'll be po king. secret from him.
Serg. K. Wbat then? Wor. Her intimacy with me!-Dear Sir, Cos. I'll be a queen. let me pick up the pieces of this letter ; 'twill Serg. K. A queen ? give me such a power over her pride to have Cos. Ay, of England ; that's greater than her own an intimacy under ber hand. This any king of 'em all. was the luckiest accident. [Gathers up the Serg. K. Bravely said, faith! buzza for the Letter.] The aspersion, Sir, was nothing but queen. [Huzza.) But harkye, you Mr. Jusmalice, the effeci of a little quarrel between her lice and you Mr. Queen, did you ever see the and Sylvia.
king's picture ? Just. B. Are you sure of that, Sir ?
Cos. Tho. No, no, no. Wor. Her maid gave me the history of part Serg. K. I wonder at that; I have two of of the battle just now, as she overheard it. 'em set in gold, and as like his majesty,-bless But I hope, Sir, your daughter has suffered the mark! see here, they are set in gold. nothing upon the account?
[Takes two broad Pieces out of his pocket, Just. B. No, no, poor girl! she's so afflicted gives one to each. with the news of her brother's death, that to Tho. The wonderful works of nature! avoid company she begged leave to go into the
(Looks d it. country.
Cos. What's this written about ? here's a Wor. And is she gone?
pasy, I believe. Ca-ro-lus !- what's that, ser. Just. B. I could not refuse her, she was so geant? pressing ; the coach went from the door the Serg. K. ()! Carolus ! wby, Carolus is minute before you came.
Latin for king George; that's all. Wor. So pressing to be gone, Sir?-I find Cos. 'Tis a fine thing to be a scollard. Serher fortune will give her the same airs with geant, will you part with this? I'll buy it on Melinda ; and then Plume and I may laugh you, if it come within the compass of a crowd. at one another.
Serg. K. A crown! never talk of buying; Just. B. Like enough; women are as sub- 'tis the same thing among friends, you know; ject to pride as nien are; and why mayn't great I'll present them to ye both: you shall gire women, as well as great men, forget their old me as good a thing. Put 'em up, and rememacquaintance ?—But come, where's this young ber your old friend when I am over the hills fellow? I love him so well, it would break and far away. the heart of me to think him a rascal.-I am
[They sing, and put up the Money. glad my daughter's fairly off though. [Aside.] Where does the captain quarter ? Wor. At Horton's: I am to meet him there
Enter CAPTAIN PLUME, singing. two hours hence, and we should be glad of
Over the hills, and over the main, your company. Just. B. Your pardon, dear Worthy. I must
To Flanders, Portugal, or Spain; allow a day or two to the death of my son.
The king commands, and we'll obey,
Over the hills and far away.
Come on my men of mirth, away with it; In [Exeunt. make one among ye. Who are these hearty
lads? SCENE III.-The Street.
Serg. K. Off with your hats ! 'ounds! off
with your hats! This is the captain, the capEnter Sergeant Kite, with CostaK PEARMAIN tain, in one hand, and THOMAS APPLETREE in the
Tho. We have seen captains afore now, mun. other, drunk.
Cos. Ay, and lieutenant-captains too. 'Sflesh!
I'll keep on my nab. Serg. K. (Sings.] Our 'prentice Tom may Tho. And l'se scarcely d'off mine for any now refuse
captain in England. My vether's a freehold To wipe his scoundrel master's shoes,