The Recruiting Officer

Plume. Sir, you must charge our want of respect upon our ignorance of your quality – but now you are at liberty, I have discharged you.

Syl. Discharged me!

Bal. Yes, sir, and you must once more go home to your father.

Syl. My father! then I am discovered – Oh, sir! [Kneeling.] I expect no pardon.

Bal. Pardon! no, no, child; your crime shall be your punishment: here, captain, I deliver her over to the conjugal power, for her chastisement. Since she will be a wife, be you a husband, a very husband – When she tells you of her love, upbraid her with her folly; be modishly ungrateful, because she has been unfashionably kind; and use her worse than you would any body else, because you can't use her so well as she deserves.

Plume. And are you, Sylvia, in good earnest?

Syl. Earnest! I have gone too far to make it jest, sir.

Plume. And do you give her to me in good earnest?

Bal. If you please to take her, sir.

Plume. Why then I have saved my legs and arms, and lost my liberty; secure from wounds, I am prepared for the gout; farewell subsistence, and welcome taxes – Sir, my liberty and the hope of being a general, are much dearer to me than your twelve hundred pounds a-year – but to your love, madam, I resign my freedom, and, to your beauty, my ambition – greater in obeying at your feet, than commanding at the head of an army.

Enter Worthy

Wor. I am sorry to hear, Mr. Balance, that your daughter is lost.

Bal. So am not I, sir, since an honest gentleman has found her.

Enter Melinda

Mel. Pray, Mr. Balance, what's become of my cousin Sylvia?

Bal. Your cousin Sylvia is talking yonder with your cousin Plume.

Mel. and Wor. How!

Syl. Do you think it strange, cousin, that a woman should change; but I hope you'll excuse a change that has proceeded from constancy: I altered my outside, because I was the same within, and only laid by the woman, to make sure of my man: that's my history.

Mel. Your history is a little romantic, cousin; but since success has crowned your adventures, you will have the world on your side, and I shall be willing to go with the tide, provided you'll pardon an injury I offered you in the letter to your father.

Plume. That injury, madam, was done to me, and the reparation I expect, shall be made to my friend: make Mr. Worthy happy, and I shall be satisfied.

Mel. A good example, sir, will go a great way – When my cousin is pleased to surrender, 'tis probable I shan't hold out much longer.

Enter Brazen

Brazen. Gentlemen, I am yours – Madam, I am not yours.

Mel. I'm glad on't, sir.

Brazen. So am I – You have got a pretty house here, Mr. Laconic.

Bal. 'Tis time to right all mistakes – My name, sir, is Balance.

Brazen. Balance! Sir, I am your most obedient – I know your whole generation – had not you an uncle that was governor of the Leeward Islands, some years ago?

Bal. Did you know him?

Brazen. Intimately, sir, he played at billiards to a miracle – You had a brother too, that was a captain of a fire-ship – poor Dick – he had the most engaging way with him of making punch – and then his cabin was so neat – but his poor boy Jack was the most comical bastard – Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! a pickled dog, I shall never forget him.

Plume. Have you got your recruits, my dear?

Brazen. Not a stick, my dear!

Plume. Probably I shall furnish you, my dear! instead of the twenty thousand pounds you talked of, you shall have the twenty brave recruits that I have raised, at the rate they cost me – My commission I lay down, to be taken up by some braver fellow, that has more merit, and less good fortune – whilst I endeavour, by the example of this worthy gentleman, to serve my king and country at home.

With some regret I quit the active field,Where glory full reward for life does yield;But the recruiting trade, with all its trainOf endless plague, fatigue, and endless pain,I gladly quit, with my fair spouse to stay,And raise recruits the matrimonial way.[Exeunt omnes.THE END