Syl. I promise.

Bal. Very well; and to be even with you, I promise I never will dispose of you without your own consent: and so, Sylvia, the coach is ready. Farewell. [Leads her to the door, and returns. Now she's gone, I'll examine the contents of this letter a little nearer. [Reads.

SIR,

"My intimacy with Mr Worthy has drawn a secret from him, that he had from his friend Captain Plume, and my friendship and relation to your family oblige me to give you timely notice of it. The captain has dishonourable designs upon my cousin Sylvia. Evils of this nature are more easily prevented than amended: and that you would immediately send my cousin into the country is the advice of,

Sir, your humble servant, Melinda.' Why, the devil's in the young fellows of this age; they are ten times worse than they were in my time: had he made my daughter a whore, and forswore it like a gentleman, I could almost have pardon'd it, but to tell tales before-hand is monstrous-Hang it! I can fetch down a woodcock or a snipe, and why not a hat and cockade? I have a case of good pistols, and have a good mind to try.

Bal. I apprehend it, sir; you have heard that my son Owen is past recovery.

Wor. My letters say he's dead, sir.

Bal. He's happy, and I am satisfied: the stroke of Heaven I can bear, but injuries from men, Mr Worthy, are not so easily supported.

Wor. I hope, sir, you're under no apprehensions of wrong from any body.

Bal. You know I ought to be.

Wor. You wrong my honour in believing I could know any thing to your prejudice without resenting it as much as you should.

Bal. This letter, sir, which I tear in pieces, to conceal the person that sent it, informs me that Plume has a design upon Sylvia, and that you are privy to't.

Wor. Nay, then, sir, I must do myself justice, and endeavour to find out the author. [Takes up a bit.] Sir, I know the hand, and if you refuse to discover the contents, Melinda shall tell me.

[Going.

Bal. Hold, sir; the contents I have told you already, only with this circumstance, that her intimacy with Mr Worthy had drawn the secret from him.

Wor. Her intimacy with me! Dear sir! let me pick up the pieces of this letter, 'twill give me such a power over her pride, to have her own an intimacy under her hand-This was the luckiest accident! [Gathering up the letter.] The asper

Bal. Are you sure of that, sir?

Wor. Her maid gave me the history of part of the battle just now, as she overheard it but I hope, sir, your daughter has suffered nothing upon the account.

Bal. No, no, poor girl; she's so afflicted with the news of her brother's death, that, to avoid company, she begg'd leave to go into the country. Wor. And is she gone?

Bal. I could not refuse her, she was so pressing; the coach went from the door the minute before you came.

Wor. So pressing to be gone, sir?—I find her fortune will give her the same airs with Melinda, and then Plume and I may laugh at one another.

Bal. Like enough: women are as subject to pride as men are; and why mayn't great women as well as great men forget their old acquaintance?-But come, where's this young fellow? I love him so well, it would break the heart of me to think him a rascal-I am glad my daughter's gone fairly off though. [Aside.] Where does the captain quarter?

Wor. At Horton's; I am to meet him there two hours hence, and we should be glad of your company.

Bal. Your pardon, dear Worthy! I must allow a day or two to the death of my son. The decorum of mourning is what we owe the world, because they pay it to us: afterwards, I'm yours over a bottle, or how you will.

Wor. Sir, I'm your humble servant.

Plume. Look'e, rascal, you villain! If I find that you have impos'd upon these two honest fellows, I'll trample you to death, you dogCome, how was't?

Tho. Nay, then we'll speak. Your serjeant, as you say, is a rogue, an't like your worship, begging your worship's pardon-and

Cost. Nay, Tummas, let me speak, you know I can read. -And so, sir, he gave us those two pieces of money for pictures of the king, by way of a present.

Plume. How? by way of a present! the son of a whore! I'll teach him to abuse honest fellows like you! scoundrel! rogue! villain !

[Beats off the serjeant, and follows. Both. O brave, noble captain! huzza. A brave captain, faith!

Cost. Now, Tummas, Carolus is Latin for a beating. This is the bravest captain I ever saw -Wounds! I've a month's mind to go with him.

Enter PLUME.

Plume. A dog, to abuse two such, honest fellows as you- -Look'e, gentlemen, I love a pretty fellow; I come among you as an officer, to list soldiers, not as a kidnapper, to steal slaves. Cost. Mind that, Tummas.

Plume. I desire no man to go with me but as I went myself: I went a volunteer, as you or you may do, for a little time carried a musket, and now I command a company.

Tho. Mind that, Costar. A sweet gentleman! Plume. 'Tis true, gentlemen, I might take an advantage of you: the king's money was in your pockets, my serjeant was ready to take his oath you were listed; but I scorn to do a base thing: you are both of you at your liberty.

Cost. Thank you, noble captain-I'cod! I cann't find in my heart to leave him, he talks so finely.

Tho. Ay, Costar, would he always hold in this

mind.

Plume. Come, my lads, one thing more I'll tell you :-you're both young, tight fellows, and the army is the place to make you men for ever: every man has his lot, and you have yours: what think you of a purse of French gold out of a

monsieur's pocket, after you have dash'd out his brains with the but-end of your firelock? eh!

Cost. Wauns! I'll have it. Captain-give me a shilling: I'll follow you to the end of the world.

Tho. Nay, dear Costar! do'na: be advis❜d. Plume. Here, my hero, here are two guineas for thee, as earnest of what I'll do farther for thee. Tho. Do'na take it, do'na, dear Costar!

[Cries, and pulls back his arm. Cost. I wull-I wull-Waunds! my mind gives me that I shall be a captain myself.—I take your money, sir, and now I am a gentleman.

Plume. Give me thy hand, and now you and I will travel the world o'er, and command it wherever we tread.-Bring your friend with you, if [Aside.

you can.

Cost. Well, Tummas, must we part?

Tho. No, Costar, I cannot leave thee-Come, captain, I'll e'en go along too; and if you have two honester, simpler lads in your company than we two have been, I'll say no more.

Plume. Here, my lad. [Gives him money.] Now, your name?

Tho. Tummas Appletree.
Plume. And yours?

Cost. Costar Pearmain.

Plume. Well said, Costar! Born where?
Tho. Both in Herefordshire.

Plume, Very well. Courage, my lads-Now

we'll

Wor. No!

Plume. No; I think myself above administering to the pride of any woman, were she worth twelve thousand a-year; and I ha'n't the vanity to believe I shall gain a lady worth twelve hundred. The generous, good-natur'd Sylvia, in her smock, I admire; but the haughty and scornful Sylvia, with her fortune, I despise-What! sneak out of town, and not so much as a word, a line, a compliment!-'Sdeath! how far off does she live? I'll go and break her windows.

Wor. Ha, ha, ha! ay, and the window-bars too, to come at her. Come, come, friend, no more of your rough military airs.

Enter Rose, followed by her Brother BULLOCK,
with Chickens on her Arm, in a Basket.
Rose. Buy chickens, young and tender chickens,
young and tender chickens.

Plume. Here, you chickens.
Rose. Who calls?

Plume. Come hither, pretty maid!
Rose. Will you please to buy, sir?
Wor. Yes, child, we'll both buy.
Plume. Nay, Worthy, that's not fair; market
for yourself.-Come, child, I'll buy all you have.
Rose. Then all I have is at your service.

[Courtesies. Wor. Then must I shift for myself, I find. [Exit. Plume. Let me see; young and tender you say. [Chucks her under the chin. Rose. As ever you tasted in your life, sir. Plume. Come, I must examine your basket to the bottom, my dear!

Rose. Nay, for that matter, put in your hand; feel, sir; I warrant my ware is as good as any in

the market.

Plume. And I'll buy it all, child, were it ten

times more.

Rose. Sir, I can furnish you. Plume. Come, then we won't quarrel about the price; they're fine birds.-Pray, what's your name, pretty creature?

Rose. Rose, sir. My father is a farmer within three short miles o' the town: we keep this market; I sell chickens, eggs, and butter, and my brother Bullock there sells corn.

Bul. Come, sister, haste, we shall be late home. [Whistles about the stage. Plume. Kite! [Tips him the wink, he returns it.] Pretty Mrs Rose-you have-let me seehow many?

Rose. A dozen, sir, and they are richly worth

a crown.

Bul. Come, Ruose; I sold fifty strake of barley to-day in half this time; but you will higgle

VOL. IV.

and higgle for a penny more than the commodity is worth.

Rose. What's that to you, oaf? I can make as much out of a groat as you can out of four pence, I'm sure-The gentleman bids fair, and when I meet with a chapman, I know how to make the best of him-And so, sir, I say, for a crown-piece the bargain's yours.

Plume. Here's a guinea, my dear! Rose. I cann't change your money, sir. Plume. Indeed, indeed, but you can-my lodg ing is hard by, chicken! and we'll make change there. [Goes off; she follows him.

Kite. So, sir, as I was telling you, I have seen one of these hussars eat up a ravelin for his breakfast, and afterwards pick his teeth with a palisado.

Bul. Ay, you soldiers see very strange things: but pray, sir, what is a rabelin?

Kite. Why, 'tis like a modern minc'd pie, but the crust is confounded hard, and the plums are somewhat hard of digestion.

Bul. Then your palisado, pray what may he be? Come, Ruose, pray ha' done.

Kite. Your palisado is a pretty sort of bodkin, about the thickness of my leg.

Bul. That's a fib, I believe. [Aside.] Eh! where's Ruose? Ruose, Ruose! S'flesh! where's Ruose gone?

Kite. She's gone with the captain.

Bul. The captain! wauns! there's no pres sing of women, sure.

Kite. But there is, sure.

Bul. If the captain shou'd press Ruose, I should be ruin'd-Which way went she? Oh! the devil take your rabelins and palisadoes!

[Exit.

Kite. You shall be better acquainted with them, honest Bullock, or I shall miss of my aim. Enter WORTHY.

Wor. Why, thou art the most useful fellow in nature to your captain, admirable in your way, I find.

Kite. Yes, sir, I understand my business, I will say it.

Wor. How came you so qualify'd?

Kite. You must know, sir, I was born a gipsy, and bred among that crew till I was ten years old; there I learned canting and lying: I was bought from my mother Cleopatra by a certain nobleman for three pistoles, who, liking my beauty, made me his page; there I learn'd impudence and pimping: I was turn'd off for wearing my lord's linen, and drinking my lady's ratafia, and turn'd bailiff's follower; there I learn'd bullying and swearing: I at last got into the army; and there I learn'd whoring and drinking-so that if your worship pleases to cast up the whole sum, viz. canting, lying, impudence, pimping, bullying, swearing, whoring, drinking, and a halberd, you will find the sum total amount to a Recruiting Serjeant.

Wor. And, pray, what induced you to turn

soldier?

H

Kite. Hunger and ambition. The fears of starving and hopes of a truncheon led me along to a gentleman with a fair tongue and fair periwig, who loaded me with promises; but, 'gad, it was the lightest load that ever I felt in my life. He promised to advance me; and indeed he did so to a garret in the Savoy.-I asked him why he put me in prison? he called me lying dog, and said I was in garrison; and indeed 'tis a garrison that may hold out till doomsday before I should desire to take it again.--But here comes Justice Balance.

Enter BALANCE and BULLock.

Bal. Here, you serjeant, where's your captain? Here's a poor foolish fellow comes clamouring to with a complaint that your captain has press'd his sister. Do you know any thing of this matter, Worthy?

me,

Wor. Ha, ha, ha!-I know his sister is gone with Plume to his lodging, to sell him some

chickens.

Bal. Is that all?-The fellow's a fool. Bul. I know that, an't like your worship; but if your worship pleases to grant me a warrant to bring her before your worship, for fear of the worst. Bal. Thou'rt mad, fellow;-thy sister's safe enough.

Kite. I hope so too.

[dside. Wor. Hast thou no more sense, fellow, than to believe that the captain can list women?

Bul. I know not whether they list them, or what they do with them, but I'm sure they carry as many women as men with them out of the. country.

Bal. But how came you not to go along with your sister?

Bul. Lord, sir, I thought no more of her going than I do of the day I shall die: but this gentleman here, not suspecting any hurt neither, I believe-you thought no harm, friend, did you?

Kite. Lack-a-day, sir, not I—only that I believe I shall marry her to-morrow.

Bal. I begin to smell powder. Well, friend, but what did that gentleman with you?

Bul. Why, sir, he entertain'd me with a fine story of a great sea-fight between the Hungarians, I think it was, and the wild Irish.

Kite. And so, sir, while we were in the heat of battle-the captain carry'd off the baggage.

Bal. Serjeant, go along with this fellow to your captain, give him my humble service, and desire him to discharge the wench, though he has listed her.

Bul. Ay, and if she ben't free for that, he shall have another man in her place.

Kite. Come, honest friend;-you quarters instead of the captain's.

shall go to my [Aside. [Exeunt KITE and BULLOCK.

Bal. We must get this mad captain his complement of men, and send him packing, else he'll over-run the country.

Wor. You see, sir, how little he values your daughter's disdain.

Bal. I like him the better: I was just such

another fellow at his age: I never set my heart upon any woman so much as to make myself uneasy at the disappointment: but what was very surprising, both to myself and friends, I chang'd, o' th' sudden, from the most fickle lover to the most constant husband in the world.-But how goes your affair with Melinda?

Wor. Very slowly. Cupid had formerly wings, but I think in this age he goes upon crutches; or, I fancy, Venus had been dallying with her cripple Vulcan when my amour commenc'd, which has made it go on so lamely.-My mistress has got a captain too, but such a captain!—as I live, yonder he comes!

Bal. Who, that bluff fellow in the sash? I don't know him.

Wor. But I engage he knows you and every body at first sight: his impudence were a prodi gy, were not his ignorance proportionable; he has the most universal acquaintance of any man living, for he won't be alone, and nobody will keep him company twice: then he's a Čæsar among the women, veni, vidi, vici, that's all. If he has but talk'd with the maid, he swears he has lain with the mistress: but the most surprising part of his character is his memory, which is the most prodigious and the most trifling in the world.

Bal. I have met with such men; and I take this good-for-nothing memory to proceed from a certain contexture of the brain which is purely adapted to impertinencies, and there they lodge secure, the owner having no thoughts of his own to disturb them. I have known a man as perfect as a chronologer as to the day and year of most important transactions, but be altogether ignorant in the causes or consequences of any one thing of moment: I have known another acquire so much by travel as to tell you the names of most places in Europe, with their distances of miles, leagues, or hours, as punctually as a postboy; but for any thing else as ignorant as the horse that carries the mail.

Wor. This is your man, sir; add but the traveller's privilege of lying, and even that he abuses: this is the picture, behold the life.