Re-enter WIFE.

Mother. Call you this charming? "Tis the work of

But mayn't I happen too to lose my head?

Serg. Why, how now, Joseph? Sure you mean to

jest!

Country. I have thought twice, and second thoughts

are best.

Show folks with beastes to our village came,
And hung at door a picture of their game;
Bears, lions, tigers, there were four or five;
And all so like, you'd swear they were alive,

A gaping at the cloth, the mon spied me;

"For twopence, friend, you may walk in," says he :
But, 'gad, I was more wise, and walk'd my way;
I saw so much for naught, I would not pay.
To see a battle thus, my moind was bent;
But you've so well describ'd it, I'm content.

Serg. Come, brother soldiers, let us then be gone: Thou art a base poltroon.

Country.

That's all as one.

AIR.

Ay, ay, master sergeant, I wish you good day;
You've no need at present, I thank you, to stay;
My stomach for battle's gone from me, I trow;
When it comes back again, I'll take care you shall

know.

With cudgel or fist, as long as you list:

But as for this fighting,

Which some take delight in;

This slashing and smashing, with sword and with gun;

On consideration,

I've no inclination,

To be the partaker of any such fun.
I'll e'en stay at home in my village,
And carry no arms but for tillage;
My wounds shall be made
With the scythe or the spade,

If ever my blood should be shed.

A finger or so

Should one wound, or a toe,

For such a disaster

There may be a plaster;

But no plaster sticks on a head.

Wife. Then wilt thou stay, Joe?

Mother.

[Exit Sergeant.

Wilt thou, boy of mine?

Country. Wife, give's thy hand, and, mother, give

us thine.

Last night you dodg'd me to the alehouse, Jane;

I swore to be reveng❜d

Wife.

I see it plain.

Country. I swore to be reveng'd, and vow'd, in

short,

To list ma, to be even with thee for't;

But kiss me, now my plaguy anger's o'er.

Wife. And I'll ne'er dodge thee to the alehouse

more.

DUET.-COUNTRYMAN and WIFE.

Country. From henceforth, wedded to my farm,
My thoughts shall never rove on harm;
I to the field perchance may go,

But it shall be to reap or sow.

Wife. Now blessings on thy honest heart,

Thy wife shall bear an equal part;

Work thee without doors, she within

Will keep the house, and card and spin.
Country. How foolish they, in love with strife,
Who quit the peaceful country life;
Wife. Where wholesome labour is the best
And surest guide to balmy rest!
Together. That lot true happiness secures,

And, bless'd be prais'd, is mine and yours.
Content beneath the humble shed,

We'll toil to earn our babies bread;
With mutual kindness bear love's yoke,
And pity greater, finer folk.

[Here is introduced a Dance of Light-horse Men, Recruits, and country Girls ; after which the Sergeant comes out, with a drinking Glass in his Hand, followed by his Party, to the Countryman, the Wife, and the Mother, who have been looking on the Dance.

Serg. Well, countryman, art off the listing pin, Yet wilt thou beat a march?

Wife.

Dear Joe! come in.

Mother. Hang-dog, be gone, and tempt my boy no

inore.

Wife. Do, sergeant, pray now.

Country.

Mother, wife, give o'er.

I see the gentleman no harm intends.

Serg. I! heav'n forbid; but let us part like friends.

We've got a bottle here of humming ale.

'Tis the king's health.

Country.

And that I never fail.

Lord love and bless him, he's an honest man.

Serg. Lads, where's your music?

Here's a health to king George; peace and glory attend

him;

He's merciful, pious; he's prudent and just;

Long life, and a race like himself, heav'n send him,
And humble the foes to his crown in the dust.

CHORUS.

Beat drums, beat amain;
Let the ear-piercing fife
To our measures give life;
While each British heart
In the health bears a part,

And joins the loyal strain.

Wife. Here's a health to the queen; gracious, mild, and engaging,

Accomplish'd in all that a woman should own;
The cares of her consort with softness assuaging,
Whose manners add splendour and grace to a throne.