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O'Daub. Aye, and must bring it away with me in my pocket too. Gage. Indeed !
O'Daub. Aye, here's my military chest; these are my colours, you know. Gage. O, I guess your errand.
O’Daub. Then, faith, it's a very foolish one. You must know, I got so much credit at the Fête Champêtre there, that little Roscius recommended me to the Managers of Drury-Lane, and so now I am a sort of deputy superintendant under Mr. Lanternberg, the great painter; that as soon as he executes a thing, I always design it after him, my jewel; so I'm going to take a side front view of it.
Gage. What then, they are going to introduce the Camp on the stage, I suppose.
O'Daub. To be sure you have hit it-Coxheath by candle-light, my jewel.
Gage. And will that answer ?
O Daub. O, to be sure it will answer, when a jon. tleman can have a warm seat, and see the whole tote of it for two thirteens, and be comfortable into the bargain. Why it has cost me above three guineas already, and I came the cheapest way too; for three of us went halves in the Maidstone Dilly, my dear.
Gage. Well, and how do you like the prospect ?
OʻDaub. Upon my shoul, my jewel, I don't know what to make on't, so I am come to be a little farther off, that I may have a nearer view of it. I think it looks like my cousin O'Doiley's great bleach yard in the county of Antrim. [BOULARD sings without.] Tunder and wounds! what outlandish creature is this coming here?
Gage. O, that is Monsieur Boulard, the sulller.
OʻDaub. Then perhaps he can help me to a bit of something to eat, for I feel a sort of craving in my stomach after my journey.
Gage. Why, he's a very honest fellow, and will be happy in obliging you. Oh, here he comes.
Enter BOULARD. Boul. Ah! begar, Monsieur Gage, I am glad I have found you ; begar, I have been through Berkshire, Suffolk, and Yorkshire, and could not find you.
OʻDaub. Through Berkshire, Suffolk, andYorkshire - What the devil does he mean?
Gage. Oh, he means through the regiments.
Boul. By gar, Monsieur Gage, I must depend on you for supply I have got one, two, tree brigade dinners bespoke, besides the fat alderman and his lady from London.
Gage. Then you must send out a party of cooks to forage at Maidstone.
Boul. Parbleu, Monsieur Gage, I must look to you, for be gar, I have got nothing in de house to eat.
O’Daub. Then the devil burn me if I come to dine with you, honey.
Boul. Ó, sare, I have got every ting for you and Monsieur Gage. You shall have any ting you like in von moment i
O’Daub. Ah, ah, I thank you, honey: but pray now, Mr. Blaud, if your own countrymen were to come over here, would not you be a little puzzled to know which side to be on?
Boul. Puzzled !-parblen, Monsieur, I do assure you I love de English ver well, and vill never leave dem vile dey are victorious; and I do love mine own countrymen very well; but depend on it, Monsieur Gage, I vill always stay with de strongest.
Gage. You see, Mr. O'Daub, my friend, Monsieur Boulard, is divested of all national prejudice, I as
Boul. Prejudice--by gar, I have too much honour ever to leave de English while dey do vin de battle. But, Monsieur Gage, vil you bring your friend and taste my vine; I have got every ting for you and your friend. I assure you, M. Gage, I vill never forsake de English, so long as dey are victorious; but if mine own countrymen were to come, and make de English run, I would run a little way with dem, and if mine own countrymen were likely to overtake dem, I would stop short, bow to dem, and say, how do you do, my ver good countrymen. By gar, I shall be ver glad to see you both, so come along- but depend on mine honour, Monsieur Gage, I vill never leave de English vile dey do vin de battle-No, never, never.
[Exit singing Gage. Well said , Monsieur Boulard
O’Duub. Your sarvant, Mr. Blaud, though, faith, to do him justice, he has forgot the fashion of his country, for when he is determined to be a rogue he is honest enough to own it. But pray, what connexion have you with the suttlers? You are no victualler here, are you?
Gage. Not absolulely a victvaller, but I deal in various articles.
Gage. Yes, but no business is done here only by contract.
O’Daub. A contractor! Why, what the devil, you are not risen to such preferment as that sure? I never knew you was able to furnish any contract.
Gage. Nothing more easy; the circumstance depends upon the quantity, not the quality. I got on very well lately, but at first it brought me into several confounded scrapes.
O’Daub. As how ?
Gage. Why, I undertook to serve a regiment with hair powder.
O‘Daub. Hair powder! what, and you sent them flour, I suppose.
Gage. Flour! no, no-I should hare saved nothing by that: I went to the fountain head-the pit , and gave them a plentiful stock of lime.
O'Daub. Lime! brick and mortar lime?
O’Daub. And, what the plague, was not the cheat found out?
Gage. Why at first it answered the purpose very well; while the weather was fine it did charmingly; but one field day they were all caught in a fine soaking shower; the smoke ran along the lines, ecod, their heads were all slack'd in an instant, and by the time they returned to the camp, damme if all their heads were not as smooth as an old half-crown.
OʻDaub. A very cross accident indeed.
Gage. Yes, I stood a near chance of being tied up to the halberts, but I excused myself by saying, they looked only like raw recruits before, but now they appeared like old veterans of service.
OʻDaub. But you lost your contract, I suppose.
Gage. Yes, but I soon got another, a shaving contract to a company of grenadiers.
O’Daub. ?Faith, I never knew you practised that business.
Gage. Never handled a razor in all my life: I shave by deputy; hired Sam Sickle down from Londonan excellent hand! handles a razor like a scythe ;he'll mow you down a regiment of beards in the beating a revally.
O’Daub. Upon my conscience, a pretly way this of working at second-hand. I wish myself could do a little by proxy
Gage. But come, what say you for something to eat, and a glass of my friend Boulard's wine, and drink his Majesty's health.
O’Daub. With all my heart, my dear, and to the two camps, if you will.
Gage. Two!-what two do you mean?
O’Daub. Why, the one at Coxheath, and the other at Drury-Lane.
[Exeunt. SCENE II.- A Grove near the Camp.
Enter Two COUNTRYMEN. 1st C. I tell you I will certainly list; I ha'made up my mind on't.
2d C. Well, well, I'll say no more.
1st C. Besides, the camp lies so convenient , I mayn't have such another opportunity.
2d C. Why, it's main jolly to be sure, and all that so fair. Now, if I were to list, I should like hugely to belong to a regiment of horse, and here is one of the grandest troop com’d lately. I see'd two of the officers, mighty delicate looking gentlemen; they were drest quite different from the others; their jackets, indeed, are pretty much the same: but then they wear a sort of petticoat as 'twere, with a large hat and feather, and a mortal sight of hair. I suppose now they are some of your outlandish troops, your foreign Hessians, or such like.
1st C. Aye, like enough. Here comes the serjeant. Ecod, he can sing louder than his own drum. Žooks! see how brave they march. Well, walking is a mighty dull way of going, after all. Enter SERJEANT, DRUMMER, RECRUITS, &c.
and a laurel brow; With his VE-NI, VI-DI, V1-ci came, And he conquer'd the world with his row, dow, dow.
Row, dow, dow; row, dow, dow,
And he conquer'd the world, &c. Then should our vaunting enemies come, And winds, and waves, their cause allow,
By freedom's flag wi'll beat our drum,
Row, dow, dow , &c.
In freedom's cause to camp repair,
Row, dow, dow, &c.
2d C. I canno' leave my farm.