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Serj. 0, the villain! seize him directly-Fellow, you area dead man if you slir!-We seize you, sir, as a spy.

(Daub. A spy-phoo, phoo; get about your business.

Serj. Bind him, and blindfold him if he resists.

2d C Aye, blindfold him for certain, and search him too; I dare say his pockets are crowded with powder, matches, and tinder-boxes, at every corner.

O'Daub. Tunder and ouns! what do you mean?
1st C. Hold him fast.

ODaub. Why, here's some ladies coming, who know me. Here's Lady Sarah Sash, and Lady Plume, who were at the Fête-Champêtre, and will give me a good character.

Serj. Why, villain, your papers have proved you spy, and sent by the old Pretender.

O Daub. O Lord! O Lord! I never saw the old gentleman in all my life.

Serj. Why, you dog, did'nt you say the camp was easier taken than you thought it was.

2d. C. Aye, deny that.

Serj. And that you would burn the artillery, and surprise his majesty—so come, you had better confess before you are hanged.

O Daub. Hanged for a spy! 0, to be sure myself is got into a pretty scrape.

Serj. Bring him away; but blindfold him, the dog shall see no more.

O Daub. I'll tell you what, Mr. Soldier, or Mr. Sarjeant, or what the devil's your name, apon my conscience and soul I'm nothing at all but an Irish painter employed by Monsieur Lanternburg.

Serj. There, he has confessed himself a foreigner, and employed by Marshal Leatherbag.

2d C. o, he'll be convicted by his tongue. You may swear he is a foreigner by his lingo.

1st C. Bring him away. I long too see him hanging.

ODaub. Tunder and wounds! if I am hanged, what will become of the theatre and the managers; and the

devil fly away with yon all together, for a parcel of red black-guards!

[They hurry him off. SCENE III.—Part of the Camp. Enter LADY GORGET, LADY Sash and Lady PLUME.

Lady Plume. O! my dear Lady Sash, indeed, you are too severe; and I'm sure if Lady Gorget had been here she would have been of my opinion.

L. Sash. Not in the least.

L. Plume. You must know, she has been rallying my poor brother, Sir Harry Bouquet, for not bei'g in the militia , and so ill-naturedly.

L. Sash. So he should indeed; but all I said was, he looked so French and so finical, that I thought he ran a risk of being mistaken for another female chevalier.

L. Plume. Yes, you must confess, that our situation is open to a little raillery: a few clegancies of accommodation are considerably wanting, though one's toilet, as Sir Harry says, is not absolutely spread on a drum head.

L. Sash. He vows there is an eternal confusion between stores military, and millinery ; such a description he gives-On one shelf, cartridges and cosmetics, pouches and patches; here a stand of arms, there a file of black pins ; in one drawer bullet-moulds and essencebottles, pistols and tweezer cases, with baltle-powder mixed with marechelle.

L. Gorget. 0, the malicious creature !

L. Plume. But pray, Lady Sash, don't renew it, for see, here comes Sir Harry to join us.

Enter SIR HARRY BOUQUET. Sir Harry. Now, Lady Sash, I beg a truce; Lady Gorget, I am rejoiced to see you at this delectable spot, where, Lady Plume, you may be amused with such a dismal variety

L. Gorget. You see, Lady Plume, he perseveres.

L. Sash. I assure you, Sir Harry, I should have been against you in your raillery.

Sir Harry. Now, as Gad's my judge, I admire the

place; here's all the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! Mars in a vis-a-vis, and Bellona giving a Fêle-Champêtre.

L. Plume. But now, seriously, brother, what can make you judge so indifferently of the camp from any body else ?

Sir Harry. Why, seriously, then, I think it the worst planned thing I ever beheld; for instance now, the tents are all ranged in a straight line; now, Lady Gorget, can any thing be worse than a straight line? and is not there a horrid uniformity in their infinite vista of canvass? no curve, no break, and the avenue of marquees abominable.

L. Sash. O, to be sure, a circus or a crescent, would have been vastly better.

L. Gorget. What a pity Sir Harry was not consulted.

Sir Harry. As Gad's my judge. I think so; for there is a great capability in the ground.

L. Sash. A camp cognoscenti, positively, Sir Harry; we will have you publish a treatise on military virtue.

Sir Harry: Very well, but how will you excuse this; the officers' tents are close to the common soldiers; what an arrangement is that now? If I might have advised, there certainly should have been one part for the canaille, and the west end of the camp for the poblesse, and persons of a certain rank.

L. Gorget. Very right. I dare say you would have thought of proper marquees far hazard and quinze.

L. Plume. To be sure, with festino tents, and opera paviliors.

Sir Harry. Gad, the only plan that could make it supportable for a week; well, certainly, the greatest defect in a general is want of taste.

L. Sash. Undoubtedly, and conduct, discipline, and want of humanity, are no atonement for it.

Sir Harry. None in nature.

L. Plume. But, Sir Harry, it is rather unlucky, that the military spirit is so universal, for you will hardly find one to side with you.

Sir Harry. Universal indeed; and the ridicule of it is to see how this madness has infected the whole road from Maidstone to London; thc camp jargon is as current all the way as bad silver; the very postillions that drive you talk of their cavalry, and refuse to charge on a trot up the hill, the turnpikes seem converted in to redoubts, and the dogs demanded the countersign of my servants, instead of ihe tickets; then when I got to Maidstone, I found the very waiters had got a smattering of tactics, for inquiring what I could have for dinner, a cursed drill waiter, after reviewing his bill of fare with the air of a field-marshal, proposed an advanced party of soup and bouille, to be followed by the main body of ham and chickens, flanked by a fricasee, with sallads in the intervals, and a corps de reserve of sweetmeats and whipt syllabubs to form a hollow square in the centre.

L. Plume. Ha, ha, ha! Sir Harry, I'm very sorry you have so strong a dislike to every thing military, for unless you would contribute to the fortune of our little recruit

Sir Harry. 0, madam, most willingly; and very apropos, here comes your ladyship’s protegée, and has brought, I see, the little recruit, as you desired.

Enter NELL and Nancy. Nell. Here, Nancy, make your curtsey, or your bow, to the ladies, who have so kindly promised you protection.

Nancy. Simple gratitude is the only return I can make; but I am sure, the ladies who have hearts to do so good-natured a deed, will excuse my not being able to answer them as I ought.

Nell. She means, an' please your ladyships, that she will always acknowledge your ladyships' goodness, to the last hour of her life, and, as in duty bound, will ever pray for your ladyships' happiness and prosperity. That's what you mean, you know.

[ Aside to Nancy.

L. Plume. Very well: but Nancy, are you satisfied that your soldier shall continue in his duty ?

Nell. O yes, your ladyship, she's quite satisfied.

L. Plume. Well, child, we're all your friends, and be assured your William shall be no sufferer by his constancy

Nell. There, Nancy, say something.

L. Sash. But, are you sure you will be able to bear the hardships of your situation?

[Retires up with Nancy. L. Plume. [To Nell.] You have seen him then ? Nell. 0, yes, your ladyship.

L. Plume. Go, and bring him here. [Exit Nell.] Sir Harry, we have a little plot, which you must assist us in.

Nancy. [Coming forwurd with LADY SASH.] 0, madam, most willingly.

SONG.
The fife and drum sounds merrily,
A soldier, a soldier's the lad for me;
With my true love I soon shall be;
For who so kind, so true as he;
With him in every toil l'll share,
To please him shall be all my care;
Each peril l'll dare, all hardship I'll bear,
For a soldier, a soldier's the lad for me.
Then if kind Heaven preserve my love,
What rapturous joys shall Nancy prove!
Swift through the camp shall my footstep bound,
To meet my William, with conquest crown'd;
Close to my faithful bosom prest,
Soon shall he hush his cares to rest;
Clasp'd in these arms, forget war's alarms,

For a soldier, a soldier's the lad for me.
L. Plume. Now, Nancy, you must be ruled by us.
Nancy. As I live, there's my dear William.
L. Plume. Turn from him

Nuncy. O, I shall discover myself I tremble so unlike a soldier.

- you must.

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