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spleen—and nothing to divert it—then the air is amours. But, now I think on't, how stands your intolerable.

affair with Mr Worthy? Syl. Oh, madam! I have heard the town com Mel. He's my aversion. mended for its air.

Syl. Vapours! Mel. But

you

don't consider, Sylvia, how long Mel. What do you say, madam? I have lived in it; for I can assure you, that, to Syl. I say that you should not use that honest' a lady, the least nice in her constitution, no air fellow so inhumanly: he's a gentleman of parts can be good above half a year. Change of air I and fortune; and, besides that, he's my Plumne's take to be the most agreeable of any variety in life. friend; and, by all that's sacred, if you don't use

Syl. As you say, cousin Melinda, there are se- him better, I shall expect satisfaction. veral sorts of airs.

Mel. Satisfaction !' you begin to fancy yourMel. Psha! I talk only of the air we breathe, self in breeches in good earnest-But, to be plain or, more properly, of that we taste-Have not with you, I like Worthy the worse for being so you, Sylvia, found a vast difference in the taste intimate with your captain; for I take hiin to be of airs?

a loose, idle, unmannerly coscomb. Syl. Pray, cousin, are not the vapours a sort of Syl. Oh, madam! you never saw him, perhaps, air? Taste air ! you might as well tell me I may since you were mistress of twenty thousand feed upon air! but prithee, my dear Melinda, pounds: you only knew him, when you were cadon't put on such an air to me. Your education pitulating with Worthy for a settlement, which, and mine were just the same; and I remember perhaps, might encourage him to be a little loose the time when we never troubled our heads about and unnanverly with you. air, but when the sharp air from the Welch Mel. What do you mean, madam! mountains made our fingers ache in a cold morn Syl. My meaning needs no interpretation, maing at the boarding-school.

dam. Mel. Our education, cousin, was the same, but Mel. Better it had, madam; for methinks our temperaments had nothing alike; you have are too plain. the constitution of an horse.

Syl. If you mean the plainness of my person, Syl. So far as to be troubled neither with I think your ladyship's as plain as me to the full. spleen, cholic, nor vapours. I need no salts for Mel. Were I sure of that, I would be glad to my stomach, no hartshorn for my head, nor wash take up with a rakehelly officer, as you do. for my complexion; I can gallop all the morning Syl. Again! look'e, madam; you are in your after the hunting-horn, and all the evening after own house. a fiddle. In short, I can do every thing with my Mel. And if you had kept in yours, I should father, but drink and shoot Aying; and am sure have excused you. I can do every thing my mother could, were I put Syl. Don't be troubled, madam; I sha'nt desire to the trial.

to have my visit returned. Mel. You are in a fair way of being put to't; Mel. The sooner, therefore, you make an end for I am told your captain is come to town. of this, the better.

Syl. Ay, Melinda, he is come; and I'll take Syl. I am easily persuaded to follow my inclicare he shan't go—without a companion. nations; and so, madam, your humble servant. Mel. You are certainly mad, cousin.

[Exit. Syl. ' And there's a pleasure in being mad,

Mel. Saucy thing! "Which none but madmen know.' Mel. Thou poor romantic Quixotte ! hast thou

Enter Lucy. the vanity to imagine, that a young, sprightly of Lucy. What's the matter, madam? ficer, that rambles o'er half the globe in half a Mel. Did not you see the proud nothing, how year, can confine his thoughts to the little daugh- she swell’d upon the arrival of her fellow? ter of a country justice, in an obscure part of the Lucy. Her fellow has not been long enough world?

arrived to occasion any great swelling, nadam;, Syl. Psha! what care I for his thoughts? I | I don't believe she has seen him yet. should not like a man with confined thoughts; it Mel. Nor sha'nt, if I can help it--Let me see shews a narrowness of soul. In short, Melinda, --I have it-bring me pen and ink-Hold, I'll I think a petticoat a mighty simple thing, and I go write in my closet. am heartily tired of my sex.

Lucy. An answer to this letter, I hope, maMel. That is, you are tired of an appendix to damn?

[Presents a letter. our sex, that you can't so handsomely get rid of Mel. Who sent it? in petticoats as if you were in breeches. O’my Lucy. Your captain, madam. conscience, Sylvia, hadst thou been a man, thou Mel. He's a fool, and I'm tir'd of him: send it hadst been the greatest rake in Christendom! back, unopened.

Syl. I should have endeavoured to know the Lucy. The messenger's gone, madam. world, which a man can never do thoroughly, Mel. Then how should I send an answer? Call without half a hundred friendships, and as many him back immediately, while I go write. (Ereunt.

ACT II.

you could?

SCENE I.-An Apartment.

Bal. And here is a gentleman from Germany.

[Presents Plume to her.] Captain, you'll excuse Enter JUSTICE BALANCE and PLUME. me; I'll go read my letters, and wait on you.

[Erit. Bal. Look'e, captain, give us but blood for our Syl. Sir, you are welcome to England. money, and you sha'nt want men.

Plume. You are indebted to me a welcome, Plume. Pray, Mr Balance, how does your fair madam, since the hopes of receiving it from this daughter?

fair hand was the principal cause of my seeing Bal. Ah, captain! what is my daughter to a England. marshal of France? we're upon a nobler subject; Syl. I have often heard, that soldiers were I want to have a particular description of the sincere; may I venture to believe public rebattle of Hockstet.

port? Plume. The battle, sir, was a very pretty battle Plume. You may, when 'tis backed by private as any one should desire to see; but we were all insurance; for, I swear, madamn, by the honour so intent upon victory, that we never minded the of my profession, that whatever dangers I went battle: all that I know of the matter is, our ge- upon, it was with the hope of making myself neral commanded us to beat the French, and we

more worthy of your esteem; and if ever I had did so; and, if he pleases but to say the word, thoughts of preserving my life,'twas for the pleawe'll do it again. But pray, sir, how does Mrs sure of dying at your feet. Sylvia?

Syl. Well, well, you shall die at my feet, or Bal. Still upon Sylvia! for shame, captain! where you will; but you know, sir, there is a you are engaged already, wedded to the war: certain will and testament to be made beforeVictory is your mistress, and 'tis below a soldier hand. to think of any other.

Plume. My will, madam, is made already, and Plume. As a mistress, I confess; but as a there it is; and if you please to open that parchfriend, Mr Balance

ment, which was drawn the evening before the Bal. Come, come, captain, never mince the battle of Ilockstet, you will find whom I left my matter; would not you debauch my daughter, if beir.

Syl. Mrs Sylvia Balance-[Opens the will, and Plume. How, Sir! I hope she is not to be de- reads.] Well, captain, this is a handsome and a bauched.

substantial compliment; but I can assure you I Bal. Faith, but she is, sir; and any woman in am much better pleased with the bare knowledge England, of her age and complexion, by your of your intention, than I should have been in the youth and vigour.. Look'e, captain, once I was possession of your legacy: but, methinks, sir, you young, and once an officer, as you are, and I can should have left something to your little boy at guess at your thoughts now, by what mine were the Castle. then; and I remember very well, that I would Plume. That's home. (Aside.] My little boy! have given one of my legs to have deluded the lack-a-day, madam! that alone may convince you daughter of an old country gentleman like me, as 'twas none of mine : why, the girl, madam, is my I was then like you.

serjeant's wife; and so the poor creature gave out, Plume. But, sir, was that country gentleman that I was the father, in hopes that my friends your friend and benefactor?

might support her in case of necessity. That was Bal. Not much of that.

all, madam.—My boy! no, no, no! Plume. There the comparison breaks : the favours, sir, that

Enter a servant. Bal. Pho, pho! I hate set speeches: if I have done you any service, captain, it was to please Ser. Madam, my master has received some ill myself. I love thee, and if I could part with my news from London, and desires to speak with girl

, you should have her as soon as any young you immediately, and he begs the captain's parfellow I know; but I hope you have more ho-don, that he can't wait ou bim as he promised. nour than to quit the service, and she more pru Plume. Ill news! Heavens avert it! nothing dence than to follow the camp; but she's at her could touch me nearer than to see that generous, own disposal; she has fifteen hundred pounds in worthy gentleman afflicted. I'll leave you to her pocket, and so-Sylvia, Sylvia! (Calls. comfort him; and be assured, that if my life and Enter SYLVIA.

fortune can be any way serviceable to the father

of my Sylvia, he shall freely cominand both. Syl. There are some letters, sir, come by the Syl. The necessity must be very pressing, that post from London: I left thein upon the table in would engage me to endanger either. your closet.

[Exeunt severally l'ob. II.

3N

one.

mani, sir.

SCENE II.- Another Apartment. had one; and you have been so careful, so in

dulgent, to me since, that indeed I never wanted Enter BALANCE and SYLVIA.

Bal. Have I ever denied you any thing you Syl. Whilst there is life there is hope, sir; per- asked of me? haps my brother may recover.

Syl. Never, that I remember, Bal. We have but little reason to expect it; Bal. Then, Sylvia, I must beg, that, once in the doctor acquaints me here, that before this your life, you would grant me a favour. comes to my hands, be fears I shall have no son Syl. Why should you question it, sir? -Poor Owen - but the decree is just; I was

Bal. I don't; but I would rather counsel than pleased with the death of my father, because he command. I don't propose this with the autholeft me an estate, and now I am punished with rity of a parent, but as the advice of your friend, the loss of an beir to inherit mine. I must now that you would take the coach this moment, and look upon you as the only hope of my family; and go into the country. I expect that the augmentation of your

fortune Syl. Does this advice, sir, proceed from the will give you fresh thoughts and new prospects. contents of the letter you received just now?

Syl. My desire in being punctual in my obe Bal. No matter; I will be with you in three dience, requires that you would be plain in your or four days, and then give you my reasons—but, commands, sir.

before you go, I expect you will make me one som Bal. The death of your brother makes you lemn promise. sole heiress to my estate, which you know is about Syl. Propose the thing, sir. twelve hundred pounds a-year: this fortune gives

Bal. That

you will never dispose of yourself you a fair claim to quality and a title : you must to any man, without my consent. set a just value upon yourself, and, in plain terms, Syl. I promise. think no more of Captain Plume.

Bal. Very well; and to be even with you, I Syl. You have often commended the gentle- promise I never will dispose of you, without your

own consent: and so, Sylvia, the coach is ready. Bul. And I do so still; he's a very pretty fel- Farewell-Leads her to the door, and returns.) low: but, though I liked bim well enough for a --Now, she's gone, I'll examine the contents of bare son-in-law, I don't approve of him for an this letter a little nearer. heir to my estate and family: fifteen hundred

[Reads. pounds, indeed, I might trust in his hands, and it Sir, might do the young fellow a kindness; but-odd's My intimacy with Mr Worthy has drawn a my life! twelve hundred pounds a-year would secret from him, that he had from his friend ruin him, quite turn his brain-A captain of foot captain Plume; and my friendship and relation worth twelve hundred pounds a-year ! 'tis a pro to your family, oblige me to give you timely nodigy in nature!

tice of it. The captain has dishonourable de 1

signs upon my cousin Sylvia. Evils of this naEnter a servant.

ture are more easily prevented, than amended; Ser. Sir, here's one with a letter below for and that you would immediately send my couyour worship; but he will deliver it into no hands sin into the country, is the advice ot, but your own.

Sir, your humble servant, Bal. Come, shew me the messenger.

• Melinda.' [Exit with servant. Why, the devil's in the young fellows of this age! Syl. Make the dispute between love and duty, they are ten times worse than they were in my and I am Prince Prettyman exactly. If my brö- time: had he made my daughter a whore, and ther dies, ah, poor brother! if he lives, ah, poor foreswore it, like a gentleman, I could almost sister! It is bad both ways. I'll try it again--have pardoned it; but to tell tales before-hand is Follow my own inclinations, and break my fa- monstrous. Hang it! I can fetch down a wondther's heart, or obey bis commands, and break cock, or a snipe, and why not a hat and a cockade? my own? Worse and worse. Suppose I take it I have a case of good pistols, and have a good thus: A moderate fortune, a pretty fellow, and mind to try. a pad; or, a fine estate, a coach-and-six, and an ass? -That will never do neither.

Enter WORTIY.
Enter BALANCE and a servant.

Worthy!

your servant, Bal. Put four horses to the coach. [To a ser Wor. I'in sorry, sir, to be the messenger of ill vant, who goes out.] Ho, Sylvia! Syl. Sir.

Bal. I apprehend it, sir ; you have heard that Bal. How old were you, when your mother my son Owen is past recovery. died?

Wor. My letters say he's dead, sir. Syl. So young, that I don't remember I ever Bal. He's happy, and I am satished: The

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stroke of Heaven I cau bear; but injuries from men, Mr Worthy, are not so easily supported.

SCENE III.-The street, Wor. I hope, sir, you're under no apprehensions of wrong from any body?

Enter Kite, with Costar PEARMAIN in one Bal. You know I ought to be.

hand, and Thomas APPLETREE in the other,

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

Kite sings. Bal. This letter, sir, which I tear in pieces to conceal the person that sent it, informs me that Our 'prentice Tom may now refuse Plume has a design upon Sylvia, and that you are To wipe his scoundrel master's shoes, privy to it.

For now he's free to sing and play Wor. Nay, then, sir, I must do myself justice

Over the hills and far away.-

-Over, &c. and endeavour to find out the author.- Takes

[The mob sing the chorus. up a bit.Sir, I know the hand, and, if you refuse to discover the contents, Melinda shall tell We shall lead more happy lides, me.

By getting rid of brats and wives,

[Going. That scold and brawl both night and day, Bal. Hold, sir! the contents I have told you

Over the hills and far away.-

-Over, &c. already; only with this circumstance, that her intimacy with Mr Worthy had drawn the secret Kite. Hey, boys! thus we soldiers live! drink, from him.

sing, dance, play—we live, us one should say— Wor. Her intimacy with me! Dear sir! Let we live-—'tis impossible to tell how we live-we me pick up the pieces of this letter, 'twill give are all princes-why-why, you are a king-you me such a power over her pride, to have her own are an emperor, and I'm a prince-now-an't an intimaey under her hand This was the we? luckiest accident !--[Gathering up the letter.}

Tho. No, serjeant; I'll be no emperor. The aspersion, sir, was nothing but malice, the Kite. No! effect of a little quarrel between her and Mrs

Tho. I'll be a justice of peace. Sylvia.

Kite. A justice of peace, man! Bal. Are you sure of that, sir?

Tho. Aye, wauns, will I; for, since this presWor. Her maid gave me the history of part of sing act, they are greater than any emperor unthe battle, just now, as she overheard it : But I der the sun. hope, sir, your daughter has suffered nothing up Kite. Done; you are a justice of peace, and on the account?

you are a king; and I am a duke, and a rum Bal. No, no, poor girl; she's so afflicted with duke, an't I? the news of her brother's death, that, to avoid Cos. Aye, but I'll be no king. company, she begged leave to go into the coun Kite. What, then? try.

Cos. I'll be a queen. Wor. And is she gone?

Kite. A queen! Bal. I could not refuse her, she was so pres

Cos. Aye, of England, that's greater than any sing: the coach went from the door the minute king of them all. before you came.

Kite. Bravely said, faith! Huzza for the Wor. So pressing to be gone, sir! I find her queen !--[Huzza.)—But, hark'e, you, Mr Jusfortune will give her the same airs with Melinda, tice, and you, Mr Queen, did you ever see the and then Pluine and I may laugh at one another. king's picture? Bal. Like enough; women are as subject to

Both. No, no, no ! pride as men are ; and why mayn't great women,

Kite. I wonder at that; I have two of them as well as great men, forget their old acquaint- set in gold, and as like his majesty, God bless the i ance? But come, where's this young fellow? I mark ! see here, they are set in gold. love him so well, it would break the heart of me [Takes two broud pieces out of his pocket ; to think him a rascal -I am glad my daughter's

presents one to each. gone fairly off, though—[ Aside.]—Where does Tho. The wonderful works of nature ! the captain quarter?

Looking at it. Wor. At Horton's; I am to meet him there Cos. What's this written about? Here's a two hours hence, and we should be glad of your posy, I believe. Ca-ro-lus? . What's that, sercompany.

Bal. Your pardon, dear Worthy! I must al Kite. O! Carolus ! Why, Carolus is Latin for low a day or two to the death of my son ; after- king George ; that's all. wards, I'm yours over

bottle, or how you will. Cos. 'Tis a fine thing to be a scollard !-SerWor. Sir, I'm your humble servant. jeant, will you part with this? I'll buy it of you,

[Exeunt apart. if it come within the compass of a crown.

jeant !

ets.

Kite. A crown! never talk of buying; 'tis the it, neither; that we dare not do, for fear of besame thing among friends, you know ; I'll pre- ing shot; but we humbly conceive, in a civil sent them to

ye
both :

: you shall give me as good way, and begging your worship’s pardon, that we a thing. Put them up, and remember your old

may go home. friend when I am over the hills and far away. Plume. That's easily known. Have either of [They sing, and put up the money. you received any of the king's money?

Cos. Not a brass farthing, sir.
Enter Plume, singing.

Kite. They have each of them received one

and-twenty shillings, and 'tis now in their pockOver the hills and over the main, To Flanders, Portugal, or Spain;

Cos. Wounds! if I have a penny in my pockThe king commands, and we'll obey,

et but a bent sixpence, I'll be content to be listOver the hills and far away.

ed, and shot into the bargain.

Tho. And I: look ye, here, sir. Come on, my men of mirth; away with it; I'll Cos. Nothing but the king's picture that the make one among ye. Who are these hearty serjeant gave me, just now. lads?

Kite. See there, a guinea, one-and-twenty shilKite. Off with your hats; lounds! off with lings; t'other has the fellow on't. your bats; this is the captain, the captain! Plume. The case iş plain, gentlemen ; the

Tho. We have seen captains afore now, mun. goods are found upon you: those pieces of gold Cos. Aye, and lieutenant-captains, too. 'Shesh! are worth one-and-twenty shillings, each. I'll keep on my nab.

Cos. So it seems that Carolus is one-and-twenT'ho. And I'se scarcely d'off mine for any cap- ty shillings in Latin. tain in England. My vether's a freeholder. Tho. 'T'is the same thing in Greek; for we are

Fume. Who are those jolly lads, serjeant? listed.

Kite. A couple of honest, brave fellows, that Cos. Flesh! But we an't, Tummas; I desire are willing to serve the king : I have entertained to be carried before the mayor, captain. them, just now, as volunteers under your ho (Captain and serjeant whisper the while. nour's command.

Plume. 'I will never do, Kite-your damned Plume. And good entertainment they shall tricks will ruin me at last-I won't lose the felhave: volunteers are the men I want; those are lows, though, if I can help it-Well

, gentlemen, the men fit to make soldiers, captains, generals. there must be some trick in this; my serjeant of

Cos. Wounds, Tummas, what's this? Are you fers to take his oath, that you are fairly listed, listed?

Tho. Why, captain, we know that you soldiers Tho. Flesh ! not I: are you, Costar? have more liberty of conscience than other folks ; Cos. Wounds! not I.

but, for me, or neighbour Costar here, to take Kite. What! Not listed ? Ha, ha, ha! a very such an oath, 'twould be downright perjuration. good jest, i'faith!

Plyme. Look'e, rascal, you villain! If I find, Cos. Come, Tummas, we'll go

home.

that you have imposed upon these two honest Tho. Ave, ave, come.

fellows, I'll trample you to death, you dogKite. Home for shame, gentlemen; behave Come, how was't? yourselves better before your captain. Dear Tho. Nay, then, we'll speak. Your serjeant, Tuminas, honest Costar!

as you say, is a rogue, an't like your worship, Tho. No, no, we'll be gone.

beyging your worship's pardon--andkite. Nay, then, I command you to stay; I Cost. Nay, Tummas, let me speak; you know place you both centinels in this place for two I can read." And so, sir, he gave us those two hours, to watch the motion of St Mary's clock, pieces of money for pictures of the king, by way you and you the motion of St Chad's; and he of a present. that dares stir from his post, till he be relieved, Plume. How! by way of a present ? the son shall have my sword in his guts the next minute. of a whore! I'll teach him to abuse honest fel

Plume. What's the matter, serjeant? I'm lows like you! scoundrel! rogue ! villain! afraid you are too rough with these gentlemen.

[Beats off the serjeant, and follous. Kite. I'm too mild, sir; they disobey com Both. O brave, noble captain ! huzza! A brave inand, sir; and one of them should be shot for captain, faith! an example to the other.

Cos. Now, Tummas, Carolus is Latin for a Cos. Shot! Tummas?

beating. This is the bravest captain I ever saw Plume. Come, gentlemen, what's the matter? --Wounds! I have a month's mind to go with

Tho. We don't know; the noble serjeant is him. pleased to be in a passion, sir-butKite. They disobey command; they deny their

Enter Plume. being listed.

Plume. A dog, to abuse two such honest felTho. Nay, scrjcant, we don't downright deny lows as you-Look'e, gentlemen, I love a pretty

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