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´╗┐Title: St. Patrick's Day; Or, The Scheming Lieutenant: A Farce in One Act
Author: Sheridan, Richard Brinsley
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "St. Patrick's Day; Or, The Scheming Lieutenant: A Farce in One Act" ***

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LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR                   _Mr. Clinch_.
DR. ROSY                              _Mr. Quick_.
JUSTICE CREDULOUS                     _Mr. Lee Lewes_.
SERJEANT TROUNCE                      _Mr. Booth_.
CORPORAL FLINT........................
LAURETTA                              _Mrs. Cargill_.
MRS. BRIDGET CREDULOUS                _Mrs. Pitt_.

Drummer, Soldiers, Countrymen, _and_ Servant.





1 _Sol_. I say you are wrong; we should all speak together, each
for himself, and all at once, that we may be heard the better.

2 _Sol_. Right, Jack, we'll argue in platoons.

3 _Sol_. Ay, ay, let him have our grievances in a volley, and if
we be to have a spokesman, there's the corporal is the lieutenant's
countryman, and knows his humour.

_Flint_. Let me alone for that. I served three years, within a
bit, under his honour, in the Royal Inniskillions, and I never will
see a sweeter tempered gentleman, nor one more free with his purse. I
put a great shammock in his hat this morning, and I'll be bound for
him he'll wear it, was it as big as Steven's Green.

4 _Sol_. I say again then you talk like youngsters, like militia
striplings: there's a discipline, look'ee in all things, whereof the
serjeant must be our guide; he's a gentleman of words; he understands
your foreign lingo, your figures, and such like auxiliaries in
scoring. Confess now for a reckoning, whether in chalk or writing,
ben't he your only man?

_Flint_. Why the serjeant is a scholar to be sure, and has the
gift of reading.

_Trounce_: Good soldiers, and fellow-gentlemen, if you make me
your spokesman, you will show the more judgment; and let me alone for
the argument. I'll be as loud as a drum, and point blank from the

_All_. Agreed, agreed.

_Flint_. Oh, faith! here comes the lieutenant.--Now, Serjeant.

_Trounce_. So then, to order.--Put on your mutiny looks; every
man grumble a little to himself, and some of you hum the Deserter's


_O'Con_. Well, honest lads, what is it you have to complain of?

_Sol_. Ahem! hem!

_Trounce_. So please your honour, the very grievance of the
matter is this:--ever since your honour differed with justice
Credulous, our inn-keepers use us most scurvily. By my halbert, their
treatment is such, that if your spirit was willing to put up with it,
flesh and blood could by no means agree; so we humbly petition that
your honour would make an end of the matter at once, by running away
with the justice's daughter, or else get us fresh quarters,--hem! hem!

_O'Con_. Indeed! Pray which of the houses use you ill?

1 _Sol_. There's the Red Lion an't half the civility of the old
Red Lion.

2 _Sol_. There's the White Horse, if he wasn't case-hardened,
ought to be ashamed to show his face.

_O'Con_. Very well; the Horse and the Lion shall answer for it at
the quarter sessions.

_Trounce_. The two Magpies are civil enough; but the Angel uses
us like devils, and the Rising Sun refuses us light to go to bed by.

_O'Con_. Then, upon my word, I'll have the Rising Sun put down,
and the Angel shall give security for his good behaviour; but are you
sure you do nothing to quit scores with them?

_Flint_. Nothing at all, your honour, unless now and then we
happen to fling a cartridge into the kitchen fire, or put a
spatterdash or so into the soup; and sometimes Ned drums up and down
stairs a little of a night.

_O'Con_. Oh, all that's fair; but hark'ee, lads, I must have no
grumbling on St. Patrick's Day; so here, take this, and divide it
amongst you. But observe me now,--show yourselves men of spirit, and
don't spend sixpence of it in drink.

_Trounce_. Nay, hang it, your honour, soldiers should never bear
malice; we must drink St. Patrick's and your honour's health.

_All_. Oh, damn malice! St. Patrick's and his honour's by all

_Flint_. Come away, then, lads, and first we'll parade round the
Market-cross, for the honour of King George.

1 _Sol_. Thank your honour.--Come along; St. Patrick, his honour,
and strong beer for ever! [_Exeunt_ SOLDIERS.]

_O'Con_. Get along, you thoughtless vagabonds! yet, upon my
conscience, 'tis very hard these poor fellows should scarcely have
bread from the soil they would die to defend.


Ah, my little Dr. Rosy, my Galen a-bridge, what's the news?

_Rosy_. All things are as they were, my Alexander; the justice is
as violent as ever: I felt his pulse on the matter again, and,
thinking his rage began to intermit, I wanted to throw in the bark of
good advice, but it would not do. He says you and your cut-throats
have a plot upon his life, and swears he had rather see his daughter
in a scarlet fever than in the arms of a soldier.

_O'Con_. Upon my word the army is very much obliged to him. Well,
then, I must marry the girl first, and ask his consent afterwards.

_Rosy_. So, then, the case of her fortune is desperate, hey?

_O'Con_. Oh, hang fortune,--let that take its chance; there is a
beauty in Lauretta's simplicity, so pure a bloom upon her charms.

_Rosy_. So there is, so there is. You are for beauty as nature
made her, hey! No artificial graces, no cosmetic varnish, no beauty in
grey, hey!

_O'Con_. Upon my word, doctor, you are right; the London ladies
were always too handsome for me; then they are so defended, such a
circumvallation of hoop, with a breastwork of whale-bone that would
turn a pistol-bullet, much less Cupid's arrows,--then turret on turret
on top, with stores of concealed weapons, under pretence of black
pins,--and above all, a standard of feathers that would do honour to a
knight of the Bath. Upon my conscience, I could as soon embrace an
Amazon, armed at all points.

_Rosy_. Right, right, my Alexander! my taste to a tittle.

_O'Con_. Then, doctor, though I admire modesty in women, I like
to see their faces. I am for the changeable rose; but with one of
these quality Amazons, if their midnight dissipations had left them
blood enough to raise a blush, they have not room enough in their
cheeks to show it. To be sure, bashfulness is a very pretty thing;
but, in my mind, there is nothing on earth so impudent as an
everlasting blush.

_Rosy_. My taste, my taste!--Well, Lauretta is none of these. Ah!
I never see her but she put me in mind of my poor dear wife.

_O'Con_. [_Aside_.] Ay, faith; in my opinion she can't do a
worse thing. Now he is going to bother me about an old hag that has
been dead these six years.

_Rosy_. Oh, poor Dolly! I never shall see her like again; such an
arm for a bandage--veins that seemed to invite the lancet. Then her
skin, smoothe and white as a gallipot; her mouth as large and not
larger than the mouth of a penny phial; her lips conserve of roses;
and then her teeth--none of your sturdy fixtures--ache as they would,
it was but a small pull, and out they came. I believe I have drawn
half a score of her poor dear pearls--[_weeps_]--But what avails
her beauty? Death has no consideration--one must die as well as

_O'Con_. [_Aside_.] Oh, if he begins to moralize---[_Takes
out his snuff-box_.]

_Rosy_. Fair and ugly, crooked or straight, rich or poor--flesh
is grass--flowers fade!

_O'Con_. Here, doctor, take a pinch, and keep up your spirits.

_Rosy_. True, true, my friend; grief can't mend the matter--all's
for the best; but such a woman was a great loss, lieutenant.

_O'Con_. To be sure, for doubtless she had mental accomplishments
equal to her beauty.

_Rosy_. Mental accomplishments! she would have stuffed an
alligator, or pickled a lizard, with any apothecary's wife in the
kingdom. Why, she could decipher a prescription, and invent the
ingredients, almost as well as myself: then she was such a hand at
making foreign waters!--for Seltzer, Pyrmont, Islington, or
Chalybeate, she never had her equal; and her Bath and Bristol springs
exceeded the originals.--Ah, poor Dolly! she fell a martyr to her own

_O'Con_. How so, pray?

_Rosy_. Poor soul! her illness was occasioned by her zeal in
trying an improvement on the Spa-water by an infusion of rum and acid.

_O'Con_. Ay, ay, spirits never agree with water-drinkers.

_Rosy_. No, no, you mistake. Rum agreed with her well enough; it
was not the rum that killed the poor dear creature, for she died of a
dropsy. Well, she is gone, never to return, and has left no pledge of
our loves behind. No little babe, to hang like a label round papa's
neck. Well, well, we are all mortal--sooner or later--flesh is grass--
flowers fade.

_O'Con_. [_Aside_.] Oh, the devil!--again!

_Rosy_. Life's a shadow--the world a stage--we strut an hour.

_O'Con_. Here, doctor. [_Offers snuff_.]

_Rosy_. True, true, my friend: well, high grief can't cure it.
All's for the best, hey! my little Alexander?

_O'Con_. Right, right; an apothecary should never be out of
spirits. But come, faith, 'tis time honest Humphrey should wait on the
justice; that must be our first scheme.

_Rosy_. True, true; you should be ready: the clothes are at my
house, and I have given you such a character, that he is impatient to
have you: he swears you shall be his body-guard. Well, I honour the
army, or I should never do so much to serve you.

_O'Con_. Indeed I am bound to you for ever, doctor; and when once
I'm possessed of my dear Lauretta, I will endeavour to make work for
you as fast as possible.

_Rosy_. Now you put me in mind of my poor wife again.

_O'Con_. Ah, pray forget her a little: we shall be too late.

_Rosy_. Poor Dolly!

_O'Con_. 'Tis past twelve.

_Rosy_. Inhuman dropsy!

_O'Con_. The justice will wait.

_Rosy_. Cropped in her prime!

_O'Con_. For heaven's sake, come!

_Rosy_. Well, flesh is grass.

_O'Con_. O, the devil!

_Rosy_. We must all die--

_O'Con_. Doctor!

_Rosy_. Kings, lords, and common whores--

[_Exeunt_ LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR _forcing_ Rosy _off_.]



_Lau_. I repeat it again, mamma, officers are the prettiest men
in the world, and Lieutenant O'Connor is the prettiest officer I ever

_Mrs. Bri_. For shame, Laura! how can you talk so?--or if you
must have a military man, there's Lieutenant Plow, or Captain Haycock,
or Major Dray, the brewer, are all your admirers; and though they are
peaceable, good kind of men, they have as large cockades, and become
scarlet, as well as the fighting folks.

_Lau_. Psha! you know, mamma, I hate militia officers; a set of
dunghill cocks with spurs on--heroes scratched off a church door--
clowns in military masquerade, wearing the dress without supporting
the character. No, give me the bold upright youth, who makes love to-
day, and his head shot off to-morrow. Dear! to think how the sweet
fellows sleep on the ground, and fight in silk stockings and lace

_Mrs. Bri_. Oh, barbarous! to want a husband that may wed you to-
day, and be sent the Lord knows where before night; then in a
twelvemonth perhaps to have him come like a Colossus, with one leg at
New York, and the other at Chelsea Hospital.

_Lau_. Then I'll be his crutch, mamma.

_Mrs. Bri_. No, give me a husband that knows where his limbs are,
though he want the use of them:--and if he should take you with him,
to sleep in a baggage-cart, and stroll about the camp like a gipsy,
with a knapsack and two children at your back; then, by way of
entertainment in the evening, to make a party with the serjeant's wife
to drink bohea tea, and play at all-fours on a drum-head:--'tis a
precious life, to be sure!

_Lau_. Nay, mamma, you shouldn't be against my lieutenant, for I
heard him say you were the best natured and best looking woman in the

_Mrs. Bri_. Why, child, I never said but that Lieutenant O'Connor
was a very well-bred and discerning young man; 'tis your papa is so
violent against him.

_Lau_. Why, Cousin Sophy married an officer.

_Mrs. Bri_. Ay, Laura, an officer of the militia.

_Lau_. No, indeed, ma'am, a marching regiment.

_Mrs. Bri_. No, child, I tell you he was a major of militia.

_Lau_. Indeed, mamma, it wasn't.


_Just_. Bridget, my love, I have had a message.

_Lau_. It was cousin Sophy told me so.

_Just_. I have had a message, love--

_Mrs. Bri_. No, child, she would say no such thing.

_Just_. A message, I say.

_Lau_. How could he be in the militia when he was ordered abroad?

_Mrs. Bri_. Ay, girl, hold your tongue!--Well, my dear.

_Just_. I have had a message from Doctor Rosy.

_Mrs. Bri_. He ordered abroad! He went abroad for his health.

_Just_. Why, Bridget!--

_Mrs. Bri_. Well, deary.--Now hold your tongue, miss.

_Jus_. A message from Dr. Rosy, and Dr. Rosy says--

_Lau_. I'm sure, mamma, his regimentals--

_Just_. Damn his regimentals!--Why don't you listen?

_Mrs. Bri_. Ay, girl, how durst you interrupt your papa?

_Lau_. Well, papa.

_Just_. Dr. Rosy says he'll bring--

_Lau_. Were blue turned up with red, mamma.

_Just_. Laury!--says he will bring the young man--

_Mrs. Bri_. Red! yellow, if you please, miss.

_Just_. Bridget!--the young man that is to be hired--

_Mrs. Bri_. Besides, miss, it is very unbecoming in you to want
to have the last word with your mamma; you should know--

_Just_. Why, zounds! will you hear me or no?

_Mrs. Bri_. I am listening, my love, I am listening!--But what
signifies my silence, what good is my not speaking a word, if this
girl will interrupt and let nobody speak but herself?--Ay, I don't
wonder, my life, at your impatience; your poor dear lips quiver to
speak; but I suppose she'll run on, and not let you put in a word.--
You may very well be angry; there is nothing, sure, so provoking as a
chattering, talking--

_Lau_. Nay, I'm sure, mamma, it is you will not let papa speak

_Mrs. Bri_. Why, you little provoking minx----

_Just_. Get out of the room directly, both of you--get out!

_Mrs. Bri_. Ay, go, girl.

_Just_. Go, Bridget, you are worse than she, you old hag. I wish
you were both up to the neck in the canal, to argue there till I took
you out.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

_Ser_. Doctor Rosy, sir

_Just_. Show him up. [_Exit_ SERVANT.]

_Lau_. Then you own, mamma, it was a marching regiment?

_Mrs. Bri_. You're an obstinate fool, I tell you; for if that had
been the case----

_Just_. You won't go?

_Mrs. Bri_. We are going, Mr. Surly.--If that had been the case,
I say, how could----

_Lau_. Nay, mamma, one proof----

_Mrs. Bri_. How could Major----

_Lau_. And a full proof----

[JUSTICE CREDULOUS _drives them off_.]

_Just_. There they go, ding dong in for the day. Good lack! a
fluent tongue is the only thing a mother don't like her daughter to
resemble her in.


Well, doctor, where's the lad--where's Trusty?

_Rosy_. At hand; he'll be here in a minute, I'll answer for't.
He's such a one as you an't met with,--brave as a lion, gentle as a
saline draught.

_Just_. Ah, he comes in the place of a rogue, a dog that was
corrupted by the lieutenant. But this is a sturdy fellow, is he,

_Rosy_. As Hercules; and the best back-sword in the country.
Egad, he'll make the red coats keep their distance.

_Just._ O the villains; this is St. Patrick's day, and the rascals
have been parading my house all the morning. I know they have a design
upon me; but I have taken all precautions: I have magazines of arms,
and if this fellow does but prove faithful, I shall be more at ease.

_Rosy_. Doubtless he'll be a comfort to you.

_Re-enter_ SERVANT.

_Ser_. There is a man below, inquires for Doctor Rosy.

_Rosy_. Show him up.

_Just_. Hold! a little caution--how does he look?

_Ser_. A country-looking fellow, your worship.

_Just_. Oh, well, well, for Doctor Rosy; these rascals try all
ways to get in here.

_Ser_. Yes, please your worship; there was one here this morning
wanted to speak to you; he said his name was Corporal Breakbones.

_Just_. Corporal Breakbones!

_Ser_. And Drummer Crackskull came again.

_Just_. Ay, did you ever hear of such a damned confounded crew?
Well, show the lad in here! [_Exit_ SERVANT.]

_Rosy_. Ay, he'll be your porter; he'll give the rogues an

_Enter_ LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR, _disguised_.

_Just_. So, a tall--Efacks! what! has lost an eye?

_Rosy_. Only a bruise he got in taking seven or eight highwaymen.

_Just_. He has a damned wicked leer somehow with the other.

_Rosy_. Oh, no, he's bashful--a sheepish look----

_Just_. Well, my lad, what's your name?

_O'Con_. Humphrey Hum.

_Just_. Hum--I don't like Hum!

_O'Con_. But I be mostly called honest Humphrey----

_Rosy_. There, I told you so, of noted honesty.

_Just_. Well, honest Humphrey, the doctor has told you my terms,
and you are willing to serve, hey?

_O'Con_. And please your worship I shall be well content.

_Just_. Well, then, hark'ye, honest Humphrey,--you are sure now,
you will never be a rogue--never take a bribe hey, honest Humphrey?

_O'Con_. A bribe! what's that?

_Just._ A very ignorant fellow indeed!

_Rosy_. His worship hopes you will not part with your honesty for

_O'Con_. Noa, noa.

_Just_. Well said, Humphrey--my chief business with you is to
watch the motions of a rake-helly fellow here, one Lieutenant

_Rosy_. Ay, you don't value the soldiers, do you, Humphrey?

_O'Con_. Not I; they are but zwaggerers, and you'll see they'll
be as much afraid of me as they would of their captain.

_Just_. And i'faith, Humphrey, you have a pretty cudgel there!

_O'Con_. Ay, the zwitch is better than nothing, but I should be
glad of a stouter: ha' you got such a thing in the house as an old
coach-pole, or a spare bed-post?

_Just_. Oons, what a dragon it is!--Well, Humphrey, come with
me.--I'll just show him to Bridget, doctor, and we'll agree.--Come
along, honest Humphrey. [_Exit_.]

_O'Con_. My dear doctor, now remember to bring the justice
presently to the walk: I have a scheme to get into his confidence at

_Rosy_. I will, I will. [_They shake hands_.]


_Just_. Why, honest Humphrey, hey! what the devil are you at?

_Rosy_. I was just giving him a little advice.--Well I must go
for the present.--Good-morning to your worship--you need not fear the
lieutenant while he is in your house.

_Just_. Well, get in, Humphrey. Good-morning to you, doctor.--
[_Exit_ DOCTOR ROSY.] Come along, Humphrey.--Now I think I am a
match for the lieutenant and all his gang. [_Exeunt_.]


SCENE I.--_A Street_.


_Trounce_. Come, silence your drum--there is no valour stirring
to-day. I thought St. Patrick would have given us a recruit or two to-

_Sol_. Mark, serjeant!

_Enter two_ COUNTRYMEN.

_Trounce_. Oh! these are the lads I was looking for; they have
the look of gentlemen.--An't you single, my lads?

1 _Coun_. Yes, an please you, I be quite single: my relations be
all dead, thank heavens, more or less. I have but one poor mother left
in the world, and she's an helpless woman.

_Trounce_. Indeed! a very extraordinary case--quite your own
master then--the fitter to serve his Majesty.--Can you read?

1 _Coun_. Noa, I was always too lively to take to learning; but
John here is main clever at it.

_Trounce_. So, what you're a scholar, friend?

2 _Coun_. I was born so, measter. Feyther kept grammar-school.

_Trounce_. Lucky man--in a campaign or two put yourself down
chaplain to the regiment. And I warrant you have read of warriors and

2 _Coun_. Yes, that I have: I have read of Jack the Giant Killer,
and the Dragon of Wantly, and the--Noa, I believe that's all in the
hero way, except once about a comet.

_Trounce_. Wonderful knowledge!--Well, my heroes, I'll write word
to the king of your good intentions, and meet me half an hour hence at
the Two Magpies.

_Coun_. We will, your honour, we will.

_Trounce_. But stay; for fear I shouldn't see you again in the
crowd, clap these little bits of ribbon into your hats.

1 _Coun_. Our hats are none of the best.

_Trounce_. Well, meet me at the Magpies, and I'll give you money
to buy new ones.

_Coun_. Bless your honour, thank your honour. [_Exeunt_.]

_Trounce_. [_Winking at_ SOLDIERS.] Jack! [_Exeunt_


So, here comes one would make a grenadier--Stop, friend, will you

_O'Con_. Who shall I serve under?

_Trounce_. Under me, to be sure.

_O'Con_. Isn't Lieutenant O'Connor your officer?

_Trounce_. He is, and I am commander over him.

_O'Con_. What! be your serjeants greater than your captains?

_Trounce_. To be sure we are; 'tis our business to keep them in
order. For instance, now, the general writes to me, dear Serjeant, or
dear Trounce, or dear Serjeant Trounce, according to his hurry, if
your lieutenant does not demean himself accordingly, let me know.--
Yours, General Deluge.

_O'Con_. And do you complain of him often?

_Trounce_. No, hang him, the lad is good-natured at the bottom,
so I pass over small things. But hark'ee, between ourselves, he is
most confoundedly given to wenching.


_Flint_. Please your honour, the doctor is coming this way with
his worship--We are all ready, and have our cues. [_Exit_.]

_O'Con_. Then, my dear Trounce, or my dear Sergeant, or my dear
Serjeant Trounce, take yourself away.

_Trounce_. Zounds! the lieutenant--I smell of the black hole
already. [_Exit_.]


_Just_. I thought I saw some of the cut-throats.

_Rosy_. I fancy not; there's no one but honest Humphrey. Ha! Odds
life, here comes some of them--we'll stay by these trees, and let them

_Just_. Oh, the bloody-looking dogs!

[_Walks aside with_ DOCTOR ROSY.] _Re-enter_ CORPORAL FLINT
_and two_ SOLDIERS.

_Flint_. Halloa, friend! do you serve Justice Credulous?

_O'Con_. I do.

_Flint_. Are you rich?

_O'Con_. Noa.

_Flint_. Nor ever will be with that old stingy booby. Look here--
take it. [_Gives him a purse_.]

_O'Con_. What must I do for this?

_Flint_. Mark me, our lieutenant is in love with the old rogue's
daughter: help us to break his worship's bones, and carry off the
girl, and you are a made man.

_O'Con_. I'll see you hanged first, you pack of skurry villains!
[_Throws away the purse_.]

_Flint_. What, sirrah, do you mutiny? Lay hold of him.

_O'Con_. Nay, then, I'll try your armour for you. [_Beats

_All_. Oh! oh!--quarter! quarter!


_Just_. [_Coming forward_.] Trim them, trounce them, break
their bones, honest Humphrey--What a spirit he has!

_Rosy_. Aquafortis. _O'Con_. Betray your master!

_Rosy_. What a miracle of fidelity!

_Just_. Ay, and it shall not go unrewarded--I'll give him
sixpence on the spot. Here, honest Humphrey, there's for yourself: as
for this bribe, [_takes up the purse_,] such trash is best in the
hands of justice. Now, then, doctor, I think I may trust him to guard
the women: while he is with them I may go out with safety.

_Rosy_. Doubtless you may--I'll answer for the lieutenant's
behaviour whilst honest Humphrey is with your daughter.

_Just_. Ay, ay, she shall go nowhere without him. Come along,
honest Humphrey. How rare it is to meet with such a servant!

SCENE II.--_A Garden_.

LAURETTA _discovered. Enter_ JUSTICE CREDULOUS _and_

_Just_. Why, you little truant, how durst you wander so far from
the house without my leave? Do you want to invite that scoundrel
lieutenant to scale the walls and carry you off?

_Lau_. Lud, papa, you are so apprehensive for nothing.

_Just_. Why, hussy----

_Lau_. Well, then, I can't bear to be shut up all day so like a
nun. I am sure it is enough to make one wish to be run away with--and
I wish I was run away with--I do--and I wish the lieutenant knew it.

_Just_. You do, do you, hussy? Well, I think I'll take pretty
good care of you. Here, Humphrey, I leave this lady in your care. Now
you may walk about the garden, Miss Pert; but Humphrey shall go with
you wherever you go. So mind, honest Humphrey, I am obliged to go
abroad for a little while; let no one but yourself come near her;
don't be shame-faced, you booby, but keep close to her. And now, miss,
let your lieutenant or any of his crew come near you if they can.

_Lau_. How this booby stares after him! [_Sits down and

_O'Con_. Lauretta!

_Lau_. Not so free, fellow! [_Sings_.]

_O'Con_. Lauretta! look on me.

_Lau_. Not so free, fellow!

_O'Con_. No recollection!

_Lau_. Honest Humphrey, be quiet.

_O'Con_. Have you forgot your faithful soldier?

_Lau_. Ah! Oh preserve me!

_O'Con_. 'Tis, my soul! your truest slave, passing on your father
in this disguise.

_Lau_. Well now, I declare this is charming--you are so
disguised, my dear lieutenant, and you look so delightfully ugly. I am
sure no one will find you out, ha! ha! ha!--You know I am under your
protection; papa charged you to keep close to me.

_O'Con_. True, my angel, and thus let me fulfil----

_Lau_. O pray now, dear Humphrey----

_O'Con_. Nay, 'tis but what old Mittimus commanded. [_Offers to
kiss her_.]


_Just_. Laury, my--hey! what the devil's here?

_Lau_. Well now, one kiss, and be quiet.

_Just_. Your very humble servant, honest Humphrey! Don't let me--
pray don't let me interrupt you!

_Lau_. Lud, papa! Now that's so good-natured--indeed there's no
harm. You did not mean any rudeness, did you, Humphrey?

_O'Con_. No, indeed, miss; his worship knows it is not in me.

_Just_. I know that you are a lying, canting, hypocritical
scoundrel; and if you don't take yourself out of my sight----

_Lau_. Indeed, papa, now I'll tell you how it was. I was sometime
taken with a sudden giddiness, and Humphrey seeing me beginning to
totter, ran to my assistance, quite frightened, poor fellow, and took
me in his arms.

_Just_. Oh! was that all--nothing but a little giddiness, hey!

_O'Con_. That's all, indeed, your worship; for seeing miss change
colour, I ran up instantly.

_Just_. Oh, 'twas very kind in you!

_O'Con_. And luckily recovered her.

_Just_. And who made you a doctor, you impudent rascal, hey? Get
out of my sight, I say, this instant, or by all the statutes--

_Lau_. Oh now, papa, you frighten me, and I am giddy again!--Oh,

_O'Con_. O dear lady, she'll fall! [_Takes her into his

_Just_. Zounds! what before my face--why then, thou miracle of
impudence!--[_Lays hold of him and discovers him_.]--Mercy on me,
who have we here?--Murder! Robbery! Fire! Rape! Gunpowder! Soldiers!
John! Susan! Bridget!

_O'Con_. Good sir, don't be alarmed; I mean you no harm.

_Just_. Thieves! Robbers! Soldiers!

_O'Con_. You know my love for your daughter--

_Just_. Fire! Cut-throats!

_O'Con_. And that alone--

_Just_. Treason! Gunpowder!

_Enter a_ SERVANT _with a blunderbuss_.

Now, scoundrel! let her go this instant.

_Lau_. O papa, you'll kill me!

_Just_. Honest Humphrey, be advised. Ay, miss, this way, if you

_O'Con_. Nay, sir, but hear me----

_Just_. I'll shoot.

_O'Con_. And you'll be convinced----

_Just_. I'll shoot.

_O'Con_. How injurious----

_Just_. I'll shoot--and so your very humble servant, honest
Humphrey Hum. [_Exeunt separately_.]

SCENE III.--_A Walk_.


_Rosy_. Well, I think my friend is now in a fair way of
succeeding. Ah! I warrant he is full of hope and fear, doubt and
anxiety; truly he has the fever of love strong upon him: faint,
peevish, languishing all day, with burning, restless nights. Ah! just
my case when I pined for my poor dear Dolly! when she used to have her
daily colics, and her little doctor be sent for. Then would I
interpret the language of her pulse--declare my own sufferings in my
receipt for her--send her a pearl necklace in a pill-box, or a cordial
draught with an acrostic on the label. Well, those days are over: no
happiness lasting: all is vanity--now sunshine, now cloudy--we are, as
it were, king and beggar--then what avails----


_O'Con_. O doctor! ruined and undone.

_Rosy_. The pride of beauty----

_O'Con_. I am discovered, and----

_Rosy_. The gaudy palace----

_O'Con_. The justice is----

_Rosy_. The pompous wig----

_O'Con_. Is more enraged than ever.

_Rosy_. The gilded cane----

_O'Con_. Why, doctor! [_Slapping him on the shoulder_.]

_Rosy_. Hey!

_O'Con_. Confound your morals! I tell you I am discovered,
discomfited, disappointed.

_Rosy_. Indeed! Good lack, good lack, to think of the instability
of human affairs! Nothing certain in this world--most deceived when
most confident--fools of fortune all.

_O'Con_. My dear doctor, I want at present a little practical
wisdom. I am resolved this instant to try the scheme we were going to
put into execution last week. I have the letter ready, and only want
your assistance to recover my ground.

_Rosy_. With all my heart--I'll warrant you I'll bear a part in
it: but how the deuce were you discovered?

_O'Con_. I'll tell you as we go; there's not a moment to be lost.

_Rosy_. Heaven send we succeed better!--but there's no knowing.

_O'Con_. Very true.

_Rosy_. We may and we may not.

_O'Con_. Right.

_Rosy_. Time must show.

_O'Con_. Certainly.

_Rosy_. We are but blind guessers.

_O'Con_. Nothing more.

_Rosy_. Thick-sighted mortals.

_O'Con_. Remarkably.

_Rosy_. Wandering in error.

_O'Con_. Even so.

_Rosy_. Futurity is dark.

_O'Con_. As a cellar.

_Rosy_. Men are moles.

[_Exeunt_ LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR _forcing out_ ROSY.]



_Just_. Odds life, Bridget, you are enough to make one mad! I
tell you he would have deceived a chief justice; the dog seemed as
ignorant as my clerk, and talked of honesty as if he had been a

_Mrs. Bri_. Pho! nonsense, honesty!--what had you to do, pray,
with honesty? A fine business you have made of it with your Humphrey
Hum: and miss, too, she must have been privy to it. Lauretta! ay, you
would have her called so; but for my part I never knew any good come
of giving girls these heathen Christian names: if you had called her
Deborrah, or Tabitha, or Ruth, or Rebecca, or Joan, nothing of this
had ever happened; but I always knew Lauretta was a runaway name.

_Just_. Psha, you're a fool!

_Mrs. Bri_. No, Mr. Credulous, it is you who are a fool, and no
one but such a simpleton would be so imposed on.

_Just_. Why zounds, madam, how durst you talk so? If you have no
respect for your husband, I should think _unus quorum_ might
command a little deference.

_Mrs. Bri_. Don't tell me!--Unus fiddlestick! you ought to be
ashamed to show your face at the sessions: you'll be a laughing-stock
to the whole bench, and a byword with all the pig-tailed lawyers and
bag-wigged attorneys about town.

_Just_. Is this language for his majesty's representative? By the
statutes, it's high treason and petty treason, both at once!

_Enter_ SERVANT.

_Ser_. A letter for your worship.

_Just_. Who brought it?

_Ser_. A soldier.

_Just_. Take it away and burn it.

_Mrs. Bri_. Stay!--Now you're in such a hurry--it is some canting
scrawl from the lieutenant, I suppose.--[_Takes the letter.--
Exit_ SERVANT.] Let me see:--ay, 'tis signed O'Connor.

_Just_. Well, come read it out.

_Mrs. Bri_. [_Reads_.] _Revenge is sweet_.

_Just_. It begins so, does it? I'm glad of that; I'll let the dog
know I'm of his opinion.

_Mrs. Bri_. [_Reads_.] _And though disappointed of my
designs upon your daughter, I have still the satisfaction of knowing I
am revenged on her unnatural father; for this morning, in your
chocolate, I had the pleasure to administer to you a dose of
poison!_--Mercy on us!

_Just_. No tricks, Bridget; come, you know it is not so; you know
it is a lie.

_Mrs. Bri_. Read it yourself.

_Just_. [_Reads_.] _Pleasure to administer a dose of
poison_!--Oh, horrible! Cut-throat villain!--Bridget!

_Mrs. Bri_. Lovee, stay, here's a postscript.--[_Reads_.]
_N.B. 'Tis not in the power of medicine to save you_.

_Just_. Odds my life, Bridget! why don't you call for help? I've
lost my voice.--My brain is giddy--I shall burst, and no assistance.--

_Mrs. Bri_. You see, lovee, what you have brought on yourself.

_Re-enter_ SERVANT.

_Ser_. Your worship!

_Just_. Stay, John; did you perceive anything in my chocolate cup
this morning?

_Ser_. Nothing, your worship, unless it was a little grounds.

_Just_. What colour were they?

_Ser_. Blackish, your worship.

_Just_. Ay, arsenic, black arsenic!--Why don't you run for Dr.
Rosy, you rascal?

_Ser_. Now, sir?

_Mrs. Bri_. Oh, lovee, you may be sure it is in vain; let him run
for the lawyer to witness your will, my life.

_Just_. Zounds! go for the doctor, you scoundrel. You are all
confederate murderers.

_Ser_. Oh, here he is, your worship. [_Exit_.]

_Just_. Now, Bridget, hold your tongue, and let me see if my
horrid situation be apparent.


_Rosy_. I have but just called to inform--hey! bless me, what's
the matter with your worship?

_Just_. There, he sees it already!--Poison in my face, in
capitals! Yes, yes, I'm a sure job for the undertakers indeed!

_Mrs. Bri_. Oh! oh! alas, doctor!

_Just_. Peace, Bridget!--Why, doctor, my dear old friend, do you
really see any change in me?

_Rosy_. Change! never was man so altered: how came these black
spots on your nose?

_Just_. Spots on my nose!

_Rosy_. And that wild stare in your right eye!

_Just_. In my right eye?

_Rosy_. Ay, and, alack, alack, how you are swelled!

_Just_. Swelled!

_Rosy_. Ay, don't you think he is, madam?

_Mrs. Bri_. Oh! 'tis in vain to conceal it!--Indeed, lovee, you
are as big again as you were this morning.

_Just_. Yes, I feel it now--I'm poisoned!--Doctor, help me, for
the love of justice! Give me life to see my murderer hanged.

_Rosy_. What?

_Just_. I'm poisoned, I say!

_Rosy_. Speak out!

_Just_. What! can't you hear me?

_Rosy_. Your voice is so low and hollow, as it were, I can't hear
a word you say.

_Just_. I'm gone then!--_Hic jacet_, many years one of his
majesty's justices!

_Mrs. Bri_. Read, doctor!--Ah, lovee, the will!--Consider, my
life, how soon you will be dead.

_Just_. No, Bridget, I shall die by inches.

_Rosy_. I never heard such monstrous iniquity.--Oh, you are gone
indeed, my friend! the mortgage of your little bit of clay is out, and
the sexton has nothing to do but to close. We must all go, sooner or
later--high and low--Death's a debt; his mandamus binds all alike--no
bail, no demurrer.

_Just_. Silence, Dr. Croaker! will you cure me or will you not?

_Rosy_. Alas! my dear friend, it is not in my power; but I'll
certainly see justice done on your murderer.

_Just_. I thank you, my dear friend, but I had rather see it

_Rosy_. Ay, but if you recover, the villain will escape.

_Mrs. Bri_. Will he? then indeed it would be a pity you should
recover. I am so enraged against the villain, I can't bear the thought
of his escaping the halter.

_Just_. That's very kind in you, my dear; but if it's the same
thing to you, my dear, I had as soon recover, notwithstanding.--What,
doctor, no assistance!

_Rosy_. Efacks, I can do nothing, but there's the German quack,
whom you wanted to send from town; I met him at the next door, and I
know he has antidotes for all poisons.

_Just_. Fetch him, my dear friend, fetch him! I'll get him a
diploma if he cures me.

_Rosy_. Well, there's no time to be lost; you continue to swell
immensely. [_Exit_.]

_Mrs. Bri_. What, my dear, will you submit to be cured by a quack
nostrum-monger? For my part, as much as I love you, I had rather
follow you to your grave than see you owe your life to any but a
regular-bred physician.

_Just_. I'm sensible of your affection, dearest; and be assured
nothing consoles me in my melancholy situation so much as the thoughts
of leaving you behind.


_Rosy_. Great luck; met him passing by the door.

_O'Con_. Metto dowsei pulsum.

_Rosy_. He desires me to feel your pulse.

_Just_. Can't he speak English?

_Rosy_. Not a word.

_O'Con_. Palio vivem mortem soonem.

_Rosy_. He says you have not six hours to live.

_Just_. O mercy! does he know my distemper?

_Rosy_. I believe not.

_Just_. Tell him 'tis black arsenic they have given me.

_Rosy_. Geneable illi arsnecca.

_O'Con_. Pisonatus.

_Just_. What does he say?

_Rosy_. He says you are poisoned.

_Just_. We know that; but what will be the effect?

_Rosy_. Quid effectum?

_O'Con_. Diable tutellum.

_Rosy_. He says you'll die presently.

_Just_. Oh, horrible! What, no antidote?

_O'Con_. Curum benakere bono fullum.

_Just_. What, does he say I must row in a boat to Fulham?

_Rosy_. He says he'll undertake to cure you for three thousand

_Mrs. Bri_. Three thousand pounds! three thousand halters!--No,
lovee, you shall never submit to such impositions; die at once, and be
a customer to none of them.

_Just_. I won't die, Bridget--I don't like death.

_Mrs. Bri_. Psha! there is nothing in it: a moment, and it is

_Just_. Ay, but it leaves a numbness behind that lasts a plaguy
long time.

_Mrs. Bri_. O my dear, pray consider the will.


_Lau_. O my father, what is this I hear?

_O'Con_. Quiddam seomriam deos tollam rosam.

_Rosy_. The doctor is astonished at the sight of your fair

_Just_. How so?

_O'Con_. Damsellum livivum suvum rislibani.

_Rosy_. He says that he has lost his heart to her, and that if
you will give him leave to pay his addresses to the young lady, and
promise your consent to the union, if he should gain her affections,
he will, on those conditions, cure you instantly, without fee or

_Just_. The devil! did he say all that in so few words? What a
fine language it is! Well, I agree, if he can prevail on the girl.--
[_Aside_.] And that I am sure he never will.

_Rosy_. Greal.

_O'Con_. Writhum bothum.

_Rosy_. He says you must give this under your hand, while he
writes you a miraculous receipt. [_Both sit down to write_.]

_Lau_. Do, mamma, tell me the meaning of this.

_Mrs. Bri_. Don't speak to me, girl.--Unnatural parent!

_Just_. There, doctor; there's what he requires.

_Rosy_. And here's your receipt: read it yourself.

_Just_. Hey! what's here? plain English!

_Rosy_. Read it out; a wondrous nostrum, I'll answer for it.

_Just_. [_Reads_.] _In reading this you are cured, by your
affectionate son-in-law,_ O'CONNOR.--Who in the name of Beelzebub,
sirrah, who are you?

_O'Con_. Your affectionate son-in-law, O'Connor, and your very
humble servant, Humphrey Hum.

_Just_. 'Tis false, you dog! you are not my son-in-law; for I'll
be poisoned again, and you shall be hanged.--I'll die, sirrah, and
leave Bridget my estate.

_Mrs. Bri_. Ay, pray do, my dear, leave me your estate; I'm sure
he deserves to be hanged.

_Just_. He does, you say!--Hark'ee, Bridget, you showed such a
tender concern for me when you thought me poisoned, that, for the
future, I am resolved never to take your advice again in anything.--
[_To_ LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR] So, do you hear, sir, you are an
Irishman and a soldier, ain't you?

_O'Con_. I am sir, and proud of both.

_Just_. The two things on earth I most hate; so I tell you what--
renounce your country and sell your commission, and I'll forgive you.

_O'Con_. Hark'ee, Mr. Justice--if you were not the father of my
Lauretta, I would pull your nose for asking the first, and break your
bones for desiring the second.

_Rosy_. Ay, ay, you're right.

_Just_. Is he? then I'm sure I must be wrong.--Here, sir, I give
my daughter to you, who are the most impudent dog I ever saw in my

_O'Con_. Oh, sir, say what you please; with such a gift as
Lauretta, every word is a compliment.

_Mrs. Bri_. Well, my lovee, I think this will be a good subject
for us to quarrel about the rest of our lives.

_Just_. Why, truly, my dear,--I think so, though we are seldom at
a loss for that.

_Rosy_. This is all as it should be.--My Alexander, I give you
joy, and you, my little god-daughter; and now my sincere wish is, that
you may make just such a wife as my poor dear Dolly. [_Exeunt

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