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of me.

arm.

Plume. I'm very glad to hear it; for I wanted

Bal Come, gentlemen, there needs no great | gone from her father's, and nobody could tell ceremony in adjourning this court.--Captain, you whither. shall dine with me.

Wur. Sylvia gone from her father's! this will Kite. Come, Mr Militia Serjeant, I shall silence be news to Plume. Go home, and tell your lady you now, I believe, without your taking the law how near I was being shot for her. Ereunt.

(Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-A Room in BALANCE's House. SCENE V.-The Fields.

Enter BALANCE and Steward. Enter BRAZEN, leading in Lucy, musked.

Stew. We did not miss her till the evening, Braz. The boat is just below here.

sir; and then, searching for her in the chamber Enter Worthy, with a case of pistols under his there; but the suit that your son left in the press

that was my young master's, we found her clothes

when he went to London was gone. W’or. Here, sir, take your choice.

Bal. The white, trimm'd with silver ? [Going between 'em, and offering them. Stew. The same. Braz. Wbat! pistols ! are they charged, my Bal. You ha'n't told that circumstance to any dear?

body? Wor. With a brace of bullets each.

Stew. To none but your worship. Bruz. But I'm a foot-officer, my dear! and ne Bal. And be sure you don't.-Go into the diver use pistols; the sword is my way, and I ning-room, and tell Čaptain Plume that I beg to won't be put out of my road to please any man.

speak with him. Wor. Nor I neither; so have at you.

Stew. I shall.

(Exit. (Cocks one pistol. Bal. Was ever man so imposed upon ! I had Braz. Look'e, my dear! I don't care for pis- her promise, indeed, that she would never dispose tols—Pray, oblige me, and let us have a bout at of herself without my consent, I have consent, sharps. Ďamni:! there's no parrying these bul ed with a witness ; given her away as my act and lets,

deed—and this, I warrant, the captain thinks will Wor. Sir, if you ha'n't your bellyful of these, pass. No, I shall never pardon him the villany, the sword shall come in for second course. first, of robbing me of my daughter, and then the

Braz. Why, then :—fire and fury! I have eaten mean opinion he must have of me, to think that smoke from the mouth of a cannon, sir: don't I could be so wretchedly imposed upon :-her exthink I fear powder, for I live upon't. Let me travagant passion might encourage her in the atsee: (Takes onc) and now, sir, how many paces tempt, but the contrivance must be his. I'll know distance shall we fire ?

the truth presentlyIlor. Fire when you please; I'll reserve my shot till I am sure of

Enter PLUME. you. Braz. Come, where's your cloak ?

Pray, captain, what have you done with our young Wor. Cloak ! what d’je mean?

gentleman soldier? Braz. To fight upon; I always fight upon a Plume. He's at my quarters, I suppose, with cloak; 'tis our way abroad,

the rest of my men. Lucy. Come, gentlemen, I'll end the strife.

Bal. Does he keep company with the common

[Unmasks. soldiers? Wor. Lucy!-take her.

Plume. No, he's generally with me. Braz. The devil take me if I do -Huzza!

Bal. He lies with you, I presume. [Fires his pistol.]D'ye hear, d’ye hear, you plaguy Plume. No, faith; I offered him part of my harridan, how those bullets whistle ? Suppose they bed—but the young rogue fell in love with Rose, had been dodged in my gizzard?

and has lain with her, I think, since she came to Lucy. Pray, sir, pardon me.

town. Bruz. I cann't tell, child, till I know whether Bal. So that, between you both, Rose has been my money is safe. [Searching his pockets.] Yes, finely manag’d. yes, I do pardon you; but if I had you at the Plume. Upon my honour, sir, she had no harm Rose Tavern, in Covent-Garden, with three or

from me. four hearty rakes, and three or four smart napkins, Bal. All's safe, I find–Now, captain, you I would tell you another story, my dear! (Erit. must know, that the young fellow's impudence in

Wor. And was Melinda privy to this ? court was well grounded; he said I should heart

Lucy. No, sir; she wrote her name upon a ily repent his being listed; and so I do from my piece of paper at the fortune-teller's last night, soul. which I put in my pocket, and so writ above it Plume. Ay! for what reason? to the captain.

Bal. Because he is no less than what he said l'or. And how came Melinda's journey put he was ; born of as good a family as any in this off ?

county, and he is heir to twelve hundred pounds Lucy. At the town's end she met Mr Balance's a-year. steward, who told her that Mrs Sylvia was

you

but a man of that quality to make my company a your love, madam, I resign my freedom, and to perfect representative of the whole commons of your beauty my ambition--greater in obeying at England.

your feet than commanding at the head of an Bal. Won't you discharge him?

army. Plume. Not under a hundred pounds sterling. Bul. You shall have it; for his father is my in

Enter Worthy. timate friend.

Wor. I am sorry to hear, Mr Balance, that Plume. Then you shall have him for nothing.

your daughter is lost. Bal. Nay, sir, you shall have your price.

Bal. So am not I, sir, since an honest gentlePlume. Not a penny, sir ; I value an obligation

man has found her. to you much above an hundred pounds. Bal. Perhaps, sir, you sha'n't repent your ge

Enter MELINDA. nerosity-Will you please to write his discharge in my pocket-book? (Gives his book.] In the mean

Mel. Pray, Mr Balance, what's become of my

cousin Sylvia? time, we'll send for the gentleman.-Wao waits there?

· Bal. Your cousin Sylvia is talking yonder with

your cousin Plume. Enter a Sertant.

Miel. And Worthy !-How ! Go to the captain's lodging, and inquire for Mr

Syl. Do you think it strange, cousin, that a Wilful; tell him his captain wants him here im

woman should change? But I hope you'll excuse mediately.

a change that has proceeded from constancy: I Sero. Sir, the gentleman's below at the door, altered my outside because I was the same withinquiring for the captain.

in, and only laid by the woman to make sure Plume. Bid him come up.—Here's the dis

of my man: that's my history. charge, sir.

Mel. Your history is a little romantic, cousin;

but since success has crowned your adventures, Bal. Sir, I thank you—'Tis plain he had no hand in't.

Aside.

will have the world on your side, and I shall

be willing to go with the tide, provided you'll parEnter SYLVIA.

don an injury I offered you in the letter to your

father. Syl. I think, captain, you might have used me better than to leave me yonder among your swear

Plume. That injury, madam, was done to me, ing, drunken crew; and you, Mr Justice, might and the reparation I expect shall be made to my have been so civil as to have invited me to din friend:-make Mr Worthy happy, and I shall be

satisfied. ner; for I have eaten with as good a man as your

Mel. A good example, sir, will go a great way worship.

-When my cousin is pleased to surrender, 'tis Plume. Sir, you must charge our want of respect upon our ignorance of your quality—but probable I sha’n’t hold out much longer. now you are at liberty-I have discharg'd you.

Enter BRAZEN. Syl. Discharg'd me!

Bal. Yes, sir, and you must once more go Braz. Gentlemen, I am yours-Madam, I am home to your father.

not yours: Syl. My father! then I'm discovered -Oh, Mel. I'm glad on't, sir, sir ! (Kneeling] I expect no pardon.

Braz. So am I-You have got a pretty house Bal. “Pardon! no, no, child; your crime shall here, Mr Laconic. be your punishment:-here, captain, I deliver her Bul. 'Tis time to right all mistakes.-My over to the conjugal power for her chastisement. name, sir, is Balance. Since she will be a wife, be you a husband, a very Braz, Balance ! Sir, I am your most obatlient husband—When she tells you of her love, upbraid -I know your whole generation-Had not you her with her folly; be modishly ungrateful, be an uncle that was governor of the Leeward Islands cause she has been unfashionably kind; and use some years ago? her worse than you would any body else, because Bul. Did you know him? you cann't use her so well as she deserves.

Braz. Intimately, sir-He played at billiards Plume. And are you Sylvia, in good earnest? to a miracle—You had a brother, too, that was a Syl. Earnest ! I have gone too far to make it captain of a fire-ship.--Poor Dick-he had the a jest, sir.

most engaging way with him of making punchPlume. And do you give her to me in good and then his cabin was so neat—but his poor boy earnest ?

Jack was the most conical bastard-ha, ha, ha, Bal. If you please to take her, sir.

ha, ha! a pickled dog; I shall never forget him. Plume. Why, then, I have saved my legs and Plume. Well, captain, are you fixed in your arms, and lost my liberty; secure from wounds, project yet? are you still for the privateer?'

prepared for the gout :-farewell subsist Braz. No, no—I had enongh of a privateer ence, and welcome taxes-Sir, my liberty and the just now; I had like to have been picked up by hope of being a general are much dearer to me a cruiser under false colours, and a french picka

your twelve hundred pounds a-year--but to | roon, for aught I know,

I am

than

ever you

Plume. Have you got your recruits, my dear? Syl. She shall be my charge, sir ; you niay find Bruz. Not a stick, my dear !

it business enough to take care of me. Plume. Probably I shall furnish yon.

Bul, Ay, and of me, captain ; for, wauns! if

lift Enter Rose and BULLOCK.

yonr

hand against me, I'll desert

Plume. Captain Brazen shall take care o' that. Rose. Captain, captain, I have got loose once My dear! instead of the twenty thousand pounds more, and have persuaded my sweetheart Cart you talked of, you shall have the twenty brave wheel to go with us; but you must promise not recruits that I have raised, at the rate they cost to part with me again.

me -My commission I lay down, to be taken up Syl. I find Mrs Rose has not been pleased with by some braver fellow, that has more merit, and her bed-fellow.

less good fortune-whilst I endeavour, by the exRose. Bed-fellow! I don't know whether I had ample of this worthy gentleman, to serve my a bed-fellow or not.

king and country at home. Syl. Don't be in a passion, child; I was as lit. tle pleas’d with your company as you could be With some regret I quit the active field, with mine.

Where glory full reward for life does yield; Bul. Pray, sir, donna be offended at my sister; But the recruiting trade, with all its train she's something under-bred; but if you please I'll Of endless plague, fatigue, and endless pain, lie with you in her stead.

I gladly quit, with my fair spouse to stay, Plume, I have promised, madam, to provide And raise recruits the matrimonial way. for this girl : now, will you be pleased to let her

(Excunt omnes. wait upon you, or shall I take care of her?

EPILOGUE.

ALL ladies and gentlemen that are willing to see Ladies, we must own that this music of ours is the Comedy called The Recruiting Officer, let not altogether so soft as Bonancini's; yet we them repair, to-morrow night, by six o'clock, to dare affirm that it has laid more people asleep the sign of the Theatre Royal, in Drury-Lane, than all the Camillas in the world ; and you'll and they shall be kindly entertained.

condescend to own that it keeps one awake betWe scorn the vulgar ways to bid you come ;

ter than any opera that ever was acted. Whole Europe now obeys the call of drum.

The Grenadiers' March seems to be a compoThe soldier, not the poet, here appears,

sure excellently adapted to the genius of the And beats up for a corps of volunteers ;

English; or no music was ever follow'd so far by He finds that music chiefly does delight ye,

us, nor with so much alacrity: and, with all deAnd therefore chooses music to invite ye.

ference to the present subscription, we must say:

that the Grenadiers' March has been subscrib'd Beat the Grenadiers' March-Row, tow,

for by the whole grand alliance; and we presume row-Gentlemen, this piece of music, call'dan

to inform the ladies, that .it always has the preOverture to a Battle, was composed by a famous

eminence abroad, and is constantly heard by the Italian master, and was perform’d, with wonder- tallest, handsomest men in the whole army. In ful success, at the great operas of Vigo, Schellen- short, to gratify the present taste, our author iş bergh, and Blenheim: it came off with the ap

now adapting some words to the Grenadiers' plause of all Europe, excepting France; the

March, which he intends to have perform’d toFrench found it a little too rough for their delica

morrow, if the lady who is to sing it should not tesse.

happen to be sick. Some that have acted on those glorious stages This he concludes to be the surest way Are here, to witness to succeeding ages, To draw you hither ; for you'll all obey

. No musie like the grenadiers' engages.

Soft music's call, tho' you should damn his play.

THE

BEAUX STRATAGEM.

BY

FARQUHAR.

PROLOGUE.

WHEN strife disturbs, or sloth corrupts an age, But as, in grounds best cultivated, tares
Keen satire is the business of the stage. And poppies rise among the golden ears;
When the Plain Dealer writ, he lash'd those Our product so, fit for the field or school,
crimes

Must mix with Nature's favourite plant-a fool:
Which then infested most the modish times : A weed that has to twenty summers ran,
But now, when faction sleeps, and sloth is fled, Shoots up in stalk, and vegetates to man.
And all our youth in active fields are bred; Simpling, our author goes from field to field,
When thro' Great Britain's fair, extensive round, and culls such fools as may diversion yield :
The trumps of Fame the notes of Union sound; And, thanks to nature, there's no want of those,
When Anna's sceptre points the laws their For rain or shine the thriving coxcorab grows.
course,

Follies to-night we shew ne'er lash'd before, And her example gives her precepts force, Yet such as Nature shews you ev'ry hour : There scarce is room for satire; all our laye Nor can the picture give a just offence, Must be, or songs of triumph, or of praise. For fools are made for jests to men of sense.

DRAMATIS PERSONA.

MEN.

BONIFACE, Landlord of the Inn.
AIMWELL, two Gentlemen of broken for- SCRUB, Servant to Mr Sullen.
ARCHER,
tunes.

WOMEN.
SULLEN, a country Blockhead.
Sir C. FREEMAN, a Gentleman from London. Lady BOUNTIFUL, an old, civil, country Gent
FOIGARD, a French Priest.

woman, that cures all distempers. GIBBET, a Highwayman.

DORINDA, Lady Bountiful's Daughter. HOUNSLOW,

Mrs SULLEN, her Daughter-in-law. BAGSHOT, his Companions.

Gipsy.

CHERRY.
Scene,-Litchfield.

ACT I.

ing is.

SCENE I.-An Inn.

Bon. Not in my life, sir : I have fed purely Enter BONIFACE, running.

upon ale : I have eat my ale, drank my ale, and

I always sleep upon ale.

[Bar bell rings. Bon. Chamberlain, maid, Cherry, daughter

Enter Tapster, with a tankard, Cherry! All asleep, all dead?

Now, sir, you shall see. [Filling it out.] Your wor

ship’s health. Ha! delicious, delicious— fancy Enter CHERRY, running.

it Burgundy, only fancy it, and 'tis worth ten shilCher. Here, here.—Why d'ye bawl so, father? lings a quart. D'ye think we have no ears ?

Aim. [Drinks.] 'Tis confounded strong. Bon. You deserve to have none, you young Bon. Strong! It must be so, or how would we minx-the company of the Warrington coach has be strong that drink it?. stood in the hall this hour, and nobody to shew Aim. And have you liv'd so long upon this ale, them to their chambers.

landlord ? Cher. And let 'em wait, father; there's nei Bon. Eight-and-fifty years, upon my credit, sir; ther red-coat in the coach, nor footman behind but it kill'd my wife, poor woman !'as the sayit.

Bon. But they threaten to go to another inn Aim. How came that to pass ? to-night.

Bon. I don't know how, sir : she would not Cher. That they dare not, for fear the coach- let the ale take its natural course, sir; she was man should overturn them to-morrow. [Ringing.] for qualifying it every now and then with a dram, Coming, coming.-Here's the London coach ar as the saying is; and an honest gentleman that riv'd.

came this way from Ireland made her a present Enter several People, with trunks, band-boxes, of a dozen bottles of usquebaugh—but the poor with other luggage, and cross the stage.

woman was never well after ;-but, however, I

was obliged to the gentleman, you know. Bon. Welcome, ladies.

Aim. Why, was it the usquebaugh that killed Cher. Very welcome, gentlemen.-Chamber- her ? lain, shew the Lion and the Rose.

Bon. My lady Bountiful said so—she, good [Erit with the company. lady, did what could be done; she cur'd her of

three tympanies, but the fourth carried her off'; Enter AIMWELL, in a riding habit ; ARCHER, as but she's happy, and I am contented, as the say

foolman, carrying a portmanteau. Bon. This

way,
this
way, gentlemen.

Aim. Who's that Lady Bountiful you mentioned? Aim. Set down the things; go to the stable, Bon. Ods my life, sir, we'll drink her health. and see my horse well rubb’d.

[Erit. [Drinks.) My lady Bountiful is one of the best Arch. I shall, sir.

of women: her last husband, Sir Charles BounAim. You're my landlord, I suppose

?

tiful, left her worth a thousand pounds a-year ; Bon. Yes, sir; 'I'm old Will Boniface, pretty and, I believe, she lays out one half on’t in chawell known upon this road, as the saying is. ritable uses, for the good of her neighbours: she Aim. O, Mr Boniface, your servant.

cures rheumatisms, ruptures, and broken shins in Bon. O, sir-What will your honour please men; green sickness, obstructions, and fits of to drink, as the saying is ?

the mother in women; the king's evil, chin-cough, Aim. 'I have heard your town of Litchfield and chilblains in children: in short, she has cimuch fam'd for ale: I think I'll taste that. red more people, in and about Litchfield, within

Bon. Sir, I have now in my cellar ten tun of ten years, than the doctors have kill'd in twenty; the best ale in Staftordshire; 'tis smooth as oil, and that's a bold word. sweet as milk, clear as amber, and strong as brandy, Aim. Has the lady been any other

way

useful and will be just fourteen years old the fifth day in her generation? of March next, old style.

Bon. Yes, sir, she has a daughter, by Sir Charles, Aim. You're very exact, I find, in the age of the finest woman in all our country, and the

greatest fortune: she has a son, too, by her first Bon. As punctual, sir, as I am in the age of husband, 'Squire Sullen, who married a fine lady my children :-I'll shew you such ale.- Here, from London t'other day: if you please, sir, tapster, broach number 1706, as the saying is. we'll drink his health. Sir, you shall taste my anno Domini - I haveliv'd Aim. What sort of a man is he? in Litchfield, man and boy, above eight-and-fifty Bon. Why, sir, the man's well enough; says years, and, i believe, have not consumed eight-little, thinks less, and does nothing at all, faith; and-fifty ounces of meat.

but he's a man of great estate, and values noAim. At a meal, you mean, if one may guess body: your sense by your bulk.

Aim. A sportsman, I suppose ?

ing is.

your ale.

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