Recruiting Officer — Act 1
</pre> THE
RECRUITING OFFICER,
A COMEDY,
IN FIVE ACTS;
BY GEORGE FARQUHAR, ESQ.
AS PERFORMED AT THE
THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN.
PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS
FROM THE PROMPT BOOK.
WITH REMARKS
BY MRS.
INCHBALD.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME
PATERNOSTER ROW.
WILLIAM SAVAGE, PRINTER,
LONDON.
REMARKS.
If the two last acts of this drama were equal to the three first, it would rank the foremost among Farquhar's works; for these are brilliant in wit, humour, character, incident, and every other requisite necessary to form a complete comedy.
But the decrease of merit in a play, on approaching its conclusion, is, as in all other productions, of most unfortunate consequence.
The author was himself a recruiting officer, and possibly gathered all the materials for this play on the very spot where he has placed his scene--Shrewsbury.
He has dedicated the piece "to all friends round the Wrekin," and has thanked the inhabitants of the town for that cheerful hospitality, which made, he adds, "the recruiting service, to some men the greatest fatigue on earth, to me the greatest pleasure in the world."
He even acknowledges, that he found the country folk, whom he has here introduced--meaning those most excellently drawn characters of Rose, her brother, and the two recruits,--under the shade of that beforementioned hill near Shrewsbury, the Wrekin; and it may be well supposed, that he discovered Serjeant Kite in his own Regiment, and Captain Plume in his own person.
Certainly those characters have every appearance of being copied from life--and probably, many other of his Salopian acquaintance have here had their portraits drawn to perfection.
The disguise of Sylvia in boy's clothes, is an improbable, and romantic occurrence; yet it is one of those dramatic events, which were considered as perfectly natural in former times; although neither history, nor tradition, gives any cause to suppose, that the English ladies were accustomed to attire themselves in man's apparel; and reason assures us, that they could seldom, if ever, have concealed their sex by such stratagem.
Another incident in the "Recruiting Officer" might have had its value a hundred years ago--just the time since the play was first acted; but to the present generation, it is so dull, that it casts a heaviness upon all those scenes, whereon it has any influence.
Fortune-tellers are now a set of personages, in whom, and in whose skill or fraud, no rational person takes interest; and though such people still exist by their profession, they are so vile, they are beneath satire; and their dupes such ideots, they do not even enjoy sense enough, for their folly to produce risibility.
Perhaps, the author despised this part of his play, as much as the severest critic can do; but having expended his store of entertainment upon the foregoing scenes, he was compelled to supply the bulk of the two last acts, from the scanty fund of wasted spirits, and exhausted invention.
The life of Farquhar was full of adventures.
--As a student, he was expelled the college of Dublin, for adventuring profane wit upon a sacred theme, given to him by his tutor for his exercise.
As an actor, he forsook the stage in grief and horror, on having unknowingly made use of a real sword, instead of a counterfeit one, by which he wounded a brother performer, with whom he had to fence in a tragedy, nearly to the loss of his life.
In love, and marriage, his enterprises were still more unhappily terminated.
--And merely as an author, and a soldier, can any events of his life be accounted prosperous.
As a dramatic writer, Farquhar was eminently successful; and in his military capacity, he was ever honoured and beloved--whether fighting with a great army in Flanders, or recruiting with a small party in Shropshire.
DRAMATIS PERSON∆.
CAPTAIN PLUME _Mr.
Holman.
_ JUSTICE BALANCE _Mr.
Murray.
_ WORTHY _Mr.
Whitfield.
_ SERJEANT KITE _Mr.
Knight.
_ BULLOCK _Mr.
Fawcett.
_ FIRST RECRUIT _Mr.
Munden.
_ SECOND RECRUIT _Mr.
Emery.
_ WELSH COLLIER _Mr.
Farley.
_ CONSTABLE _Mr.
Thompson.
_ CAPTAIN BRAZEN _Mr.
Lewis.
_ MELINDA _Miss Chapman.
_ ROSE _Mrs.
Gibbs.
_ LUCY _Mrs.
Litchfield.
_ SYLVIA _Mrs.
Johnson.
_ _SCENE--Shrewsbury.
_ THE RECRUITING OFFICER.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
_The Market Place.
_ _Drum beats the Grenadier's March.
--Enter_ SERJEANT KITE, _followed by_ THOMAS APPLETREE, COSTAR PEARMAIN, _and the_ MOB.
Kite.
[_Making a Speech.
_] If any gentlemen soldiers or others, have a mind to serve his majesty, and pull down the French king; if any 'prentices have severe masters, any children have undutiful parents; if any servants have too little wages, or any husband too much wife, let them repair to the noble Serjeant Kite, at the sign of the Raven, in this good town of Shrewsbury, and they shall receive present relief and entertainment.
--[_Drum.
_]--Gentlemen, I don't beat my drums here to insnare or inveigle any man; for you must know, gentlemen, that I am a man of honour: besides, I don't beat up for common soldiers; no, I list only grenadiers; grenadiers, gentlemen.
----Pray, gentlemen, observe this cap--this is the cap of honour; it dubs a man a gentleman, in the drawing of a trigger; and he, that has the good fortune to be born six foot high, was born to be a great man--Sir, will you give me leave to try this cap upon your head?
_Cost.
_ Is there no harm in't?
won't the cap list me?
_Kite.
_ No, no, no more than I can.
--Come, let me see how it becomes you.
_Cost.
_ Are you sure there is no conjuration in it?
no gunpowder plot upon me?
_Kite.
_ No, no, friend; don't fear, man.
_Cost.
_ My mind misgives me plaguily.
--Let me see it--[_Going to put it on.
_] It smells woundily of sweat and brimstone.
Smell, Tummas.
_Tho.
_ Ay, wauns does it.
_Cost.
_ Pray, Serjeant, what writing is this upon the face of it?
_Kite.
_ The crown, or the bed of honour.
_Cost.
_ Pray now, what may be that same bed of honour?
_Kite.
_ Oh!
a mighty large bed!
bigger by half than the great bed at Ware--ten thousand people may lie in it together, and never feel one another.
_Cost.
_ My wife and I would do well to lie in't, for we don't care for feeling one another----But do folk sleep sound in this same bed of honour?
_Kite.
_ Sound!
ay, so sound that they never wake.
_Cost.
_ Wauns!
I wish again that my wife lay there.
_Kite.
_ Say you so!
then I find, brother---- _Cost.
_ Brother!
hold there friend; I am no kindred to you that I know of yet.
--Lookye, serjeant, no coaxing, no wheedling, d'ye see--If I have a mind to list, why so--if not, why 'tis not so--therefore take your cap and your brothership back again, for I am not disposed at this present writing.
--No coaxing, no brothering me, 'faith.
_Kite.
_ I coax!
I wheedle!
I'm above it, sir: I have served twenty campaigns----but, sir, you talk well, and I must own that you are a man, every inch of you; a pretty, young, sprightly fellow!
--I love a fellow with a spirit; but I scorn to coax; 'tis base; though I must say, that never in my life have I seen a man better built.
How firm and strong he treads!
he steps like a castle!
but I scorn to wheedle any man--Come, honest lad!
will you take share of a pot?
_Cost.
_ Nay, for that matter, I'll spend my penny with the best he that wears a head, that is, begging your pardon, sir, and in a fair way.
_Kite.
_ Give me your hand then; and now, gentlemen, I have no more to say but this--here's a purse of gold, and there is a tub of humming ale at my quarters--'tis the king's money, and the king's drink--he's a generous king, and loves his subjects--I hope, gentlemen, you won't refuse the king's health.
_All Mob.
_ No, no, no. _Kite.
_ Huzza, then!
huzza for the king, and the honour of Shropshire.
_All Mob.
_ Huzza!
_Kite.
_ Beat drum.
[_Exeunt, shouting.
--Drum beating the Grenadier's March.
_ _Enter_ PLUME, _in a Riding Habit_.
_Plume.
_ By the Grenadier's march, that should be my drum, and by that shout, it should beat with success.
--Let me see--four o'clock--[_Looking on his Watch.
_] At ten yesterday morning I left London--an hundred and twenty miles in thirty hours is pretty smart riding, but nothing to the fatigue of recruiting.
_Enter_ KITE.
_Kite.
_ Welcome to Shrewsbury, noble captain!
from the banks of the Danube to the Severn side, noble captain!
you're welcome.
_Plume.
_ A very elegant reception, indeed, Mr. Kite.
I find you are fairly entered into your recruiting strain--Pray what success?
_Kite.
_ I've been here a week, and I've recruited five.
_Plume.
_ Five!
pray what are they?
_Kite.
_ I have listed the strong man of Kent, the king of the gipsies, a Scotch pedlar, a scoundrel attorney, and a Welsh parson.
_Plume.
_ An attorney!
wert thou mad?
list a lawyer!
discharge him, discharge him, this minute.
_Kite.
_ Why, sir?
_Plume.
_ Because I will have nobody in my company that can write; a fellow that can write, can draw petitions--I say this minute discharge him.
_Kite.
_ And what shall I do with the parson?
_Plume.
_ Can he write?
_Kite.
_ Hum?
he plays rarely upon the fiddle.
_Plume.
_ Keep him, by all means--But how stands the country affected?
were the people pleased with the news of my coming to town?
_Kite.
_ Sir, the mob are so pleased with your honour, and the justices and better sort of people, are so delighted with me, that we shall soon do your business----But, sir, you have got a recruit here, that you little think of.
_Plume.
_ Who?
_Kite.
_ One that you beat up for the last time you were in the country.
You remember your old friend Molly, at the Castle?
_Plume.
_ She's not with child, I hope?
_Kite.
_ She was brought to-bed yesterday.
_Plume.
_ Kite, you must father the child.
_Kite.
_ And so her friends will oblige me to marry the mother.
_Plume.
_ If they should, we'll take her with us; she can wash, you know, and make a bed upon occasion.
_Kite.
_ Ay, or unmake it upon occasion.
But your honour knows that I am married already.
_Plume.
_ To how many?
_Kite.
_ I can't tell readily--I have set them down here upon the back of the muster-roll.
[_Draws it out.
_] Let me see--_Imprimis_, Mrs. Shely Snikereyes; she sells potatoes upon Ormond key, in Dublin--Peggy Guzzle, the brandy woman at the Horse Guards, at Whitehall--Dolly Waggon, the carrier's daughter, at Hull--Mademoiselle Van Bottomflat, at the Buss--then Jenny Oakum, the ship-carpenter's widow, at Portsmouth; but I don't reckon upon her, for she was married at the same time to two lieutenants of marines, and a man of war's boatswain.
_Plume.
_ A full company--you have named five--come, make them half a dozen--Kite, is the child a boy, or a girl?
_Kite.
_ A chopping boy.
_Plume.
_ Then set the mother down in your list, and the boy in mine;
enter him a grenadier, by the name of Francis Kite, absent upon furlow--I'll allow you a man's pay for his subsistence; and now, go comfort the wench in the straw.
_Kite.
_ I shall, sir.
_Plume.
_ But hold, have you made any use of your fortune-teller's habit since you arrived?
_Kite.
_ Yes, yes, sir; and my fame's all about the country for the most faithful fortune-teller that ever told a lie--I was obliged to let my landlord into the secret, for the convenience of keeping it so; but he is an honest fellow, and will be faithful to any roguery that is trusted to him.
This device, sir, will get you men, and me, money, which, I think, is all we want at present--But yonder comes your friend, Mr. Worthy--Has your honour any further commands?
_Plume.
_ None at present.
[_Exit_ KITE.
] 'Tis indeed, the picture of Worthy, but the life is departed.
_Enter_ WORTHY.
What, arms across, Worthy!
methinks you should hold them open when a friend's so near--The man has got the vapours in his ears, I believe.
I
must expel this melancholy spirit.
_Spleen, thou worst of fiends below,_ _Fly, I conjure thee, by this magic blow.
_ [_Slaps_ WORTHY _on the Shoulder_.
_Wor.
_ Plume!
my dear captain!
welcome.
Safe and sound returned!
_Plume.
_ I escaped safe from Germany, and sound, I hope, from London: you see I have lost neither leg, arm, nor nose.
Then for my inside, 'tis neither troubled with sympathies, nor antipathies; and I have an excellent stomach for roast beef.
_Wor.
_ Thou art a happy fellow: once I was so.
_Plume.
_ What ails thee, man?
no inundations nor earthquakes, in Wales, I hope?
Has your father rose from the dead, and reassumed his estate?
_Wor.
_ No. _Plume.
_ Then you are married, surely?
_Wor.
_ No. _Plume.
_ Then you are mad, or turning quaker?
_Wor.
_ Come, I must out with it.
----Your once gay, roving friend, is dwindled into an obsequious, thoughtful, romantic, constant coxcomb.
_Plume.
_ And pray, what is all this for?
_Wor.
_ For a woman.
_Plume.
_ Shake hands, brother.
If you go to that, behold me as obsequious, as thoughtful, and as constant a coxcomb, as your worship.
_Wor.
_ For whom?
_Plume.
_ For a regiment--but for a woman!
'Sdeath!
I have been constant to fifteen at a time, but never melancholy for one: and can the love of one bring you into this condition?
Pray, who is this wonderful Helen?
_Wor.
_ A Helen, indeed!
not to be won under ten years' siege; as great a beauty, and as great a jilt.
_Plume.
_ A jilt!
pho!
is she as great a whore?
_Wor.
_ No, no. _Plume.
_ 'Tis ten thousand pities!
--But who is she?
--do I know her?
_Wor.
_ Very well.
_Plume.
_ That's impossible----I know no woman that will hold out a ten years' siege.
_Wor.
_ What think you of Melinda?
_Plume.
_ Melinda!
why she began to capitulate this time twelvemonth, and offered to surrender upon honourable terms: and I advised you to propose a settlement of five hundred pounds a year to her, before I went last abroad.
_Wor.
_ I did, and she hearkened to it, desiring only one week to consider--when beyond her hopes the town was relieved, and I forced to turn the siege into a blockade.
_Plume.
_ Explain, explain.
_Wor.
_ My Lady Richly, her aunt in Flintshire, dies, and leaves her, at this critical time, twenty thousand pounds.
_Plume.
_ Oh, the devil!
what a delicate woman was there spoiled!
But, by the rules of war, now----Worthy, blockade was foolish--After such a convoy of provisions was entered the place, you could have no thought of reducing it by famine; you should have redoubled your attacks, taken the town by storm, or have died upon the breach.
_Wor.
