Produced by Delphine Lettau, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE IN 1775
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.
_Enter_ SERJEANT TROUNCE, CORPORAL FLINT, _and four_ SOLDIERS.
FIRST SOLDIER. I say you are wrong; we should all speak together, each for himself, and all at once, that we may be heard the better.
SECOND SOLDIER. Right, Jack, we’ll argue in platoons.
THIRD SOLDIER. 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.
CORPORAL 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.
FOURTH SOLDIER. 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?
CORPORAL FLINT. Why the serjeant is a scholar to be sure, and has the gift of reading.
SERJEANT 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 purpose.
CORPORAL FLINT. Oh, faith! here comes the lieutenant.—Now, Serjeant.
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 March.
LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR. Well, honest lads, what is it you have to complain of?
SERJEANT 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!