[][]

THE DESERTER. A NEW MUSICAL DRAMA, As it is performed at the THEATRE-ROYAL IN DRURY-LANE.

DUBLIN: Printed for J. POTTS, D. CHAMBERLAINE, W. SLEATER, and R. MONCRIEFFE. MDCCLXXIII.

To the PUBLIC.

[][]

LE DESERTEUR, is well known to have been theſe five years the moſt favourite Muſical Piece on the French ſtage: ſo great indeed has been its ſucceſs, that in this ſhort time it has been tranſlated into three languages; one of which tranſlations we have lately ſeen at the King's Theatre in the Hay-market, under the title of Il Deſertore.

Indeed, when you once admit the circumſtance of Henry's conſeſſing himſelf a deſerter, nothing can be more truly intereſting than ſome of the incidents; but yet they were brought about in a way peculiarly calculated for the French ſtage: the reſolution of Henry was too ſudden, too unprepared, as well as the circumſtance of the mock-wedding that precedes it; and throughout the piece there were a number of cold inanimating occurrences, that had very little, if any, relation to the main deſign; and, add to this, it was never intended for an Opera, for the author himſelf calls it a Comedy, interſperſed with Songs.

It was thought, therefore, that if the unneceſſary incidents were expunged, and thoſe retained were rendered more probable; if, [4] by making an uniform partition between the dialogue and the ſongs, it could be brought more to wear the complexion of an Opera, The Deſerter might be entitled to a favourable reception on the Engliſh ſtage: how far theſe ſuggeſtions were reaſonable, the public (who are the beſt judges, and by whoſe arbitration I ſhall always be proud to abide) will determine.

With regard to the Muſic, as I found it a work of great invention, I ſhould have kept it in its original ſtate, had it been poſſible; but beſides the exceſſive length of the ſongs, the continual breaks into recitative, the frequent ſudden alterations of the ſtile, and above all, that ſameneſs which ſo particularly characterizes the French Muſic, I found it much too grave to ſtand the leaſt chance of ſucceſs in an after-piece: I, therefore, ſelected what I thought the beauties; and what I could not effect by having recourſe to the original, I have endeavoured to ſupply myſelf.

In juſtice to the French compoſer, I think it abſolutely neceſſary to declare, that the ſongs, beginning "One conduct's for both love and war;" "The nymph who in my boſom reigns;" "Mr. Simkin, I'd have you to know;" and "The whims of folks in love;" are wholly my own; and that the firſt air in the piece, and that beginning, "My life's three parts [5] diminiſh'd," are by Philidor, a name of no inconſiderable note in the muſical world.

I have nothing to add but that I take this opportunity of making my acknowledgments to the performers for the ſupport they were of to this piece; I would, indeed, but that I deſpair of finding words worthy the occaſion, expreſs my gratitude to the public for their favourable reception of it.

C. Dibdin.

Dramatis Perſonae.

[]
MEN.
HENRY,
Mr. Vernon,
RUSSET,
Mr. Baniſter,
SIMKIN,
Mr. Dibdin,
SKIRMISH,
Mr. Parſons,
FLINT,
Mr. Wright,
FIRST SOLDIER,
Mr. Ackman,
SECOND SOLDIER,
Mr. Fawcet,
THIRD SOLDIER,
Mr. Kear,
FOURTH SOLDIER,
Mr. Courtney.
WOMEN.
LOUISA,
Mrs. Smith,
JENNY,
Mrs. Wrighten,
MARGARET,
Mrs. Love.

[] THE DESERTER.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A cottage, and a view of the French camp at a diſtance.
Margaret knitting, and Jenny ſpinning, at the door of the cottage; Simkin, and other villagers, come on with baſkets of fruit.
AIR I.
Simkin.
I Can't, for my life, gueſs the cauſe of this fuſs,
Why there's pipers and fidlers; while Robin and Harry,
And Clodpole and Roger, and ten more of us,
Have pull'd as much fruit as we're ably to carry.
Margaret.
Why, numſcull, that's nothing; her ladyſhip's wine,
All over the village, runs juſt like a fouutain;
And I heard the folks ſay, every diſh, when they dine,
Will be ſwimming in claret, madeira, and mountain.
Jenny.
Then for poultry, and ſuch like—good lord, what a ſtore!
I ſaw Goodman Gander ſix baſkets full cramming;
Then ſuch comforts and jellies! why one ſuch feaſt more
Would certainly breed, in the village, a famine.
Chorus.
What the meaning can be,
We ſhall preſently ſee,
For yonder's old Ruſſet, who certainly knows;
But be what it will,
Our wiſh ſhall be ſtill,
Joy and health to the Ducheſs, wherever ſhe goes!
Sim.
[8]

What can all this feaſting be for?

Jenny.

I'll give you, while I wind up this bottom and another, and you ſhan't find it out.

Sim.

Why then if you know ſo well, why don't you tell us what it is?

Jen.

Ah, I thought you would none of you gueſs it; this grand ſeaſting at the Ducheſs's is becauſe the King's coming to the camp.

Marg.

Who told you ſo?

Jen.

I had it from Gaffer Ruſſet himſelf.

Sim.

Does the King come to the camp to-day?

Marg.

Why yes, I knew that.

Sim.

Then as ſure as can be, I know what will happen.

Jen.

Why, what will happen?

Sim.

There will be two weddings in the village before to-morrow night.

Marg.

How ſo?

Sim.

Why is not Henry, the young ſoldier, to marry Louiſa, Gaffer Ruſſet's daughter, as ſoon as the review's over?

Jen.

Not if I can prevent it.

Marg.

Well, that's but one wedding!

Sim.

Yes, but Jenny can tell you whoſe wedding t'other's to be.

Jen.

How ſhould I know?

Sim.

Ah, you wont ſay any thing before folks, becauſe you're aſham'd!

Jen.

What do you mean?

Sim.

As if you did not know—

Jen.

Not I indeed.

Sim.

Why, did not you promiſe me, that when Henry married Louiſa you'd marry me?

Jen.

Yes, yes, and I'll keep my word; whenever Henry marries Louiſa, I'll marry you.

SCENE II.

[9]
Ruſtet, Louiſa, Simkin, Margaret, Jenny and Villagers.
AIR II.
Louiſa.
Why muſt I appear ſo deceitful?
I cannot, dear father, comply:
Ah! could I think him ſo ungrateful,
With anguiſh I ſurely ſhould die.
What ſo tender, at parting, he told me,
Which ſuch joy to my boſom convey'd;
When next he was doom'd to behold me,
Could I think would be this way repaid?
Ruſ.

Well, well, but child—

Lou.

Indeed, father, 'tis impoſſible; I never can conſent to ſuch a thing.

Ruſ.

Odds heart, Louiſa, there's no harm in it. Neighbours, come round here, I'll tell you the whole affair; you know what a dear good lady the Ducheſs is?

Marg.

Ah, ſhe's a dear good lady indeed, and we all of us ought to do every thing ſhe orders us.

Ruſ.

I and my family in particular ought, for many's the good thing ſhe has given me, and my old dame; then how kind ſhe was to all my poor children! ſhe ſtood god-mother to this, and had her chriſtened after her own name.

Sim.

Louiſa!

Ruſ.

Well, now we come to the point: Henry, you know who was bred up with my girl, and intended from his infancy for her huſband, is a ſoldier.

Sim.

So he is.

Ruſ.

And becauſe ſhe has a value for every thing that belongs to me, this good lady, about three weeks ago, ſent to the colonel for his diſcharge, that the young folks may live at home at their eaſe, and be as happy as the day is long.

Marg.

That will be charming and comfortable for you, neighbour.

[8]
[...]
[9]
[...]
Ruſ.
[10]

Yes, but now comes the miſchief of it; what has occaſion'd it, I don't know; I never ſaw any harm of the lad, but there are always buſy tongues in this village, doing people ill-offices; and ſuch reports, within theſe few days, have reached the Ducheſs's ears, that ſhe is determined to ſee further into this buſineſs, before ſhe gives Louiſa the portion ſhe promiſed her.

Jen.

You may thank me for that.

Lou.

But he'll be here to-day; and ſo well I know his heart, that I am ſure he'll clear himſelf to their confuſion, who could ſo vilely traduce him.

Jen.

Perhaps not.

Ruſ.

Well, child, I am ſure you can't wiſh it more than I do; nothing has ever pleas'd me ſo much as the thought of your coming together; I wiſh to ſee you married with all my heart: for I ſhall then have nothing to do, but to liſten to the prattle of your children, and prepare myſelf to follow poor Dorothy.

AIR III.
My life's three parts diminiſh'd,
And when the ſum is finiſh'd,
The pariſh-bell may toll,
Gra'mercy on my ſoul!
Ding dong!
Swing ſwong!
Methinks my old companions ſay,
That though his hairs are now grown grey,
Old Ruſſet once, upon a day,
When all was mirth and jollity;
When ſports went round, and bells did ring,
Could briſkly dance, and blytbe could ſing;
And then upon the green to ſee
His ruſtick feats—'t was who but he!
I'd give this bauble, life, away,
Without a ſigh, could I but ſtay,
To ſee a little infant care!
Like Henry brave, Louiſa fair;
[11] Could I ſee this, I'd yield content
A life, I hope, not badly ſpent.

But as I was telling you, the Ducheſs hearing of theſe reports, is determined that we ſhall make a trial of his affections.

Lou.

Indeed, father, there's no neceſſity for it; he loves me moſt ſincerely.

Ruſ.

Nay, nay, child, I really think your love carries you away too much in this affalr; it can do no harm; 'tis only an innocent frolick; you are to make believe as if you were a bride, and let me ſee who—oh, you ſhall be the bridegroom.

Sim.

Shall I? I'cod I'm glad of that.

Ruſ.

But above all, I muſt inſtruct you, Jenny, in your part; you are to ſit here, and tell Henry, when he comes, that Louiſa and Simpkin were married yeſterday.

Jen.

The very thing I wiſh'd.

Lou.

I am vex'd to death that this trick ſhould be play'd him: I can judge by myſelf what he'll feel: if I was told ſuch a thing of him, how miſerable I ſhould be.

Ruſ.

But he'll be ſo much the happier, when he finds out the deceit, child.

AIR IV.
Louiſa.
Though prudence may preſs me,
And duty diſtreſs me,
Againſt inclination, O, what can they do!
No longer a rover,
His follies are over,
My heart, my fond heart, ſays my Henry is true.
The bee, thus as changing,
From ſweet, to ſweet, raging,
A roſe ſhould be light on, ne'er wiſhes to ſtray;
With raptures poſſeſſing,
In one every bleſſing,
'Till, torn from her boſom, he flies far away.
Ruſ.
[12]

Well, well, dont't make yourſelf uneaſy, I dare ſay he loves you as ſincerely as you think he does; if ſo, he'll ſoon be undeceived, and we ſhall finiſh the day as happily as we could wiſh: in the mean time let us think of what we have to do; we are to pretend we came from the church; the fiddles and bagpipes are to go firſt, then the lads and laſſes follow; after which, mind this now, we are to go to the Ducheſs's manſion in grand proceſſion, and there to be feaſted like ſo many princes and princeſſes.

Sim.

I'cod that will ſuit me nicely.—But Gaffer Ruſſet, Jenny ſays, you told her, the feaſting was to be for the king.

Ruſ.

For us, and the king; yes, yes, the king, after he and his courtiers have had an entertainment at the ducheſs's, goes to review the camp, where the ſoldiers are all to appear under arms.—Ah, girls! that's what none of you know any thing about; when the king goes to the camp, then's the time—the drums beat—the fifes play—the colours are flying—and—and—Lord—Lord! what a charming thing war is!

Sim.

It muſt be then when one comes home again, and its all over.

Ruſ.

There's no life like the life of a ſoldier: and then for love! let the girls take care of their hearts: I remember I won my Dorothy juſt after I came from ſuch a review now as there may be to-day,

Marg.

Ah, indeed, the ſoldiers make ſad work with young womens hearts ſure enough.

Ruſ.

And how can it be otherwiſe?

AIR V.
One conduct's for
Both love and war,
The point's to gain poffeſſion;
For this we watch
The enemy's coaſt,
'Till we, ſleeping, catch
Them on their poſt:
[13] Then good b'ye form,
The ſort we ſtorm,
And by theſe arts,
Make towns or hearts
Surrender at diſcretion.
In love the only battery,
Which with ſucceſs we play
To conquer hearts, is flattery:
No fortreſs can its power withſtand,
Neither cannons, mortars, ſword in hand,
Can make ſuch way.
As 'tis in love, ſo 'tis in war,
We make believe,
Miſlead, deceive;
Pray, what ſerve drums and trumpets for?
Cannons, and all our force of arms?
But with their thund'ring alarms,
To tell, not cover, our deſigns;
Can theſe to trenches, breaches, mines,
Blockades, or ambuſcades, compare?
No, all agree
That policy,
Is the true art militaire.

But come, come, we muſt go and prepare ourſelves; you have not much time to ſpare, and ſee where he comes hurrying a-long there; there now he clambers up yonder hill—well done, ſaith!—Ah, your lovers have no gout to ſtop them. Come, child—neighbours, come along.

Lou.

Cruel father!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

[14]
Henry. Afterwards, in the wedding proceſſion, Ruſſet, Simkin, Louiſa, Margaret, Jenny and Villagers.
AIR VI.
Henry.
The nymph, who in my boſom reigns,
With ſuch full force my heart enchains,
That nothing ever can impair,
The empire ſhe poſſeſſes there.
Who digs for ſtones of radiant ray,
Finds baſer matter in his way;
The worthleſs load he may contemn,
But prizes ſtill and ſeeks the gem.

But I hear muſic, what can this be? All the villagers are coming this way—it ſeems like a wedding—I'll retire—How I envy this couple!

Ruſ.

Charming! He has hid himſelf—pretend not to ſee him—don't turn your head that way—he's looking at you now!

Lou.

How cruel not to let me have one look!

Sim.

No, you muſt look at nobody but me now; I am the bridegroom, you know.

Ruſ.

Jenny, be ſure you play your part well.

Jen.

Never fear me—My part's a much more difficult one than they imagine.

SCENE IV.

Jenny, who ſits down to ſpinning; and Henry, who comes forward during her ſong.
AIR VII.
Jenny.
Some how my ſpindle I miſlaid,
And loſt it underneath the graſs;
Damon advancing, bow'd his head,
And ſaid, what ſeek you, pretty laſs?
A little love, but urg'd with care,
Oft leads a heart, and leads it far.
[15]
'Twas paſſing nigh yon ſpreading oak,
That I my ſpindle loſt juſt now;
His knife then kindly Damon took,
And from the tree he cut a bough.
A little love, &c. &c.
Thus did the youth his time employ,
While me he tenderly beheld;
He talk'd of love; I leap'd for joy,
For, ah! my heart did fondly yield.
A little love, &c. &c.
Hen.

Good day, young woman.

Jen.
[Sings]

'Twas paſſing nigh, &c.

Hen.

Young woman!

Jen.
[Sings]

'Twas paſſing nigh, &c.

Hen.

Pray tell me what wedding that is?

Jen.

What! that wedding?

Hen.

Yes.

Jen.

Do you want to know whoſe wedding it is?

Hen.

Ay, ay.

Jen.

What, that wedding that went paſt?

Hen.

Yes, yes.

Jen.

Why, 'tis a wedding in the village here.

Hen.

But whoſe, I aſk you?

Jen.
[Sings.]
Hen.

Are you making a jeſt of me? anſwer me, I beg of you.

Jen.

Why I do anſwer you, don't I?

[Sings.]
Hen.

What, again! Whoſe is this wedding? Whoſe is it? Speak, or I'll—did not I ſee amongſt them?—diſtraction!—will you anſwer, you?

Jen.

Lord, you are ſo impatient! why then the wedding is Louiſa's, old Ruſſet's daughter, the invalid ſoldier.

Hen.

Louiſa's wedding!

Jen.

Yes, ſhe was married yeſterday.

Hen.

Married! good heavens! Are you ſure of what you ſay? Do you know Ruſſet?

Jen.
[16]

Do I know him? to be ſure I do. Why he is bailiff to the Ducheſs. What makes you ſo uneaſy? you ſeem as if you had an intereſt in it.

Hen.

An intereſt in it! Oh!

Jen.

Dear me, if I remember right, you are the young man that every body thought ſhe'd be married to: O law! what wickedneſs there is in this world! I am ſure I very ſincerely pity you.

Hen.

I'm oblig'd to you for your concern.

Jen.

Nay, it is not more upon your account than my own, that I am uneaſy.

Hen.

How ſo?

Jen.

Why ſhe was not content with making you miſerable, but ſhe muſt make me ſo too: the vile wretch ſhe's married to, has perjur'd himſelf; for he has ſworn a thouſand and a thouſand times to marry me.

Hen.

What falſehood and treachery!

Jen.

If I was you I would not bear it quietly; not but ſhe'd brazen it all out; for I tax'd her with it myſelf, and ſhe only laugh'd in my face, and told me that you and I might go and mourn together, like two turtles, the loſs of our mates.

Hen.

Inſulting creature!

Jen.

Yes, and for my part I ſaid to myſelf, ſays I, 'twould be a good joke to take her at her word; but then again I thought that though revenge is ſweet, yet people have their likings, and their diſlikings; and as for me, to be ſure, I can't pretend to ſuch a good young man as you.

Hen.
[not regarding her]

In famous wretch! well might ſhe keep her eyes fix'd upon the ground; but I'll ſee her, upbraid her with her infidelity, and leave her to the guilty reproaches of her own ungrateful heart.

Jen.

Young man—

Hen.
[Returning]

Well, what do you ſay?

Jen.

I believe you did not rightly hear what I ſaid.

Hen.

Oh! I have no time for trifling.

SCENE V.

[17]
Jenny, Simkin.
Jen.

Poor ſoul! how he takes it to heart; but I muſt follow him; for if I loſe this opportunity, I may not find it ſo eaſy to get another. But, ſtay, upon ſecond thoughts, if I can but make a tool of Simkin, and by that means alarm Louiſa, I ſhall every way gain my ends; for if ſhe once believes him capable of ſlighting her, I am ſure ſhe has too much ſpirit ever to ſee him again.

Sim.

Oh, Jenny, I am glad I have found you; what do you think brought me away from Louiſa and them?

Jen.

I neither know nor care.

Sim.

Why, I was afraid you'd be jealous.

Jen.

I jealous!

Sim.

Why yes, you know, becauſe I pretended to be Louiſa's huſband.

Jen.

No, I'd have you to know, I am not jealous; I am only vex'd to think I have been ſuch a fool, to liſten to you ſo long, you baſe creature, you!

Sim.

If I did not think there was ſomething the matter, by your looking ſo croſs.

Jen.

And enough to make one; you know I can't help loving you, and this is the way you return my affection.

Sim.

Why you know 'twas only in play.

Jen.

In play!—I could ſee plain enough, how your eyes ſparkled upon the bare mention of being the bridegroom.

Sim.

Now, Jenny, if you would but hear me ſpeak—

Jen.

Speak! get out of my ſight, you perjur'd wretch! I was fool enough not to credit what I heard of you, but I dare ſay 'tis all true.

Sim.

Why, what did you hear of me?

Jen.

That it was you who invented all theſe reports about Henry.

Sim.

Me! as I am a living Chriſtian, Jenny—

Jen.
[18]

Don't ſay a word to me, you have made me miſerable, and now you want to inſult me.

Sim.

Indeed I don't; you can't think now, how happy I could make you, if you wou'd only hear me three words—

Jen.

Don't talk to me of happineſs, for I never ſhall be happy again as long as I live.

Sim.

How dearly ſhe loves me! what a pity it is ſhe won't let me clear up this affair.

Jen.

And then that demure little minx; oh, I could tear her eyes out; I was always afraid of it, and now I am convinc'd that her pretended love for Henry, was nothing but a contrivance to blind me the eaſier.

Sim.

Dear, dear—

Jen.

But, however, you have both miſs'd your aim, for Henry behaves as he ought to do, and holds her arts in contempt; nay, he told me himſelf he had fix'd his affections upon a more worthy object.

Sim.

He did!

Jen.

Yes, he did, and you may go and tell her ſo; and as for me,

AIR VIII.
Mr. Simkin, I'd have you to know,
That for all your fine airs,
I'm not at my laſt pray'rs,
Not put to it ſo,
That of courſe I muſt take up with you;
For I really, Sir, think, that tho' huſbands are few,
I need not go far off to ſeek,
For a better than you any day of the week.
To be ſure, I muſt own, I was fooliſh enough,
To believe all the tenderneſs, nonſenſe, and ſtuff,
Which for ever you dinn'd in my ears;
And when for a while you've been out of my ſight,
The day has been comfortleſs, dreary the night,
And my only companions my tears;
But now that's all o'er,
I hate you, deſpiſe you, will ſee you no more.

SCENE VI.

[19]
Sim.

Why, what the deuce has got hold of her? for my ſhare, I believe all the folks in our village are gone mad—mad! I'cod, I'll be hang'd if any Bedlamites are half ſo mad as folks in love.

AIR IX.
The whims of folks in love to know,
I believe would fairly poſe Old Nick:
This moment faſt—next moment ſlow;
Now conſenting,
Now repenting,
Nor at this, or that will ſtick;
But changing ſtill,
They won't—they will—
When they mean Yes, they'll anſwer No;
And fume and fret,
This hour to get
What they diſlik'd an hour ago.
If you expect to find them here,
To t'other ſide they quickly vere;
The wind and tide,
In the ſame mood will longer bide:
Like two fond turtles, ſide by ſide,
This hour they woo,
And bill and coo!
Then, by and by,
No reaſon why,
They make the devil and all to do!

SCENE VII.

A party of Soldiers, afterwards Henry.
1 Sold.

I'll tell you, my boys, how the matter ſtands; if we can but catch hold of him, the ſummum bonum of the thing is this, he'll be firſt try'd and then ſhot.

2 Sold.

Yes, but ſuppoſe we don't catch hold of him?

3 Sold.

Why then he'll neither be try'd nor ſhot.

4 Sold.
[20]

No more he won't.

2 Sold.

But I have been thinking how we ſhall do to know him.

1 Sold.

Ay, you are a fool in theſe matters, I'll tell you how you'll know him; here! here! I've got his name and his marks

[Reading]

Hannibal Firebrand, ſix foot and an inch high, of an orange tawney complexion, a Roman noſe, and the letters R. T. burnt in the palm of his hand; the devil's in it if we can miſs him.

3 Sold.

Well, but you need not have taken all this pains, for you know he was your pot companion.

1 Sold.

Faith, I forgot that.

2 Sold.

And would you go for to lift your hand againſt your friend?

1 Sold.

Againſt my friend! ay, againſt my father, if he was to deſert; but ſtay, ſtand by, perhaps this is he!

[They draw back.]
Hen.

Where ſhall I fly? the unhappy have no friends; all I meet make a ſcoff of my ſufferings.

2 Sold.

It muſt be him.

1. Sold

Keep back.

Hen

Are the inhabitants of this place turned brutes? have they no compaſſion?

1 Sold.

There, you ſee how it is, none of the people will ſkreen him, they are honeſt, and refuſe to do it; I'll take care the king ſhall know what good ſubjects he has.

Hen.

At my home, where I expected to receive ſo kind a welcome, I am ſurrounded with enemies.

1 Sold.

There! there! he ſays he expected to receive a kind welcome from the enemy.

2 Sold.

So he does.

Hen.

To deſert one ſo kind.

1 Sold.

Ah! 'twas an infamous thing of you ſure enough.

Hen.

Life is not worth keeping upon ſuch terms, and this inſtant could I lay it down with pleaſure.

1 Sold.

Mark that!

Hen.

I'll go directly, and—

1 Sold.
[21]
(Stopping him)

Not ſo faſt, if you pleaſe: hey! why, this is not the deſerter, that's my friend; but no matter, one deſerter's as good as another.

Hen.

Do you ſuſpect me for a deſerter?

1 Sold.

No, we don't ſuſpect you; we know you for one.

Hen.

Me!

1 Sold.

Me! yes you! how ſtrange you make of this matter; why, did we not hear you confeſs that you expected a kind welcome from the enemy? I'll tell you what, I am not fond of making people uneaſy, but every word you have uttered will be a bullet in your guts.

Hen.

What if I favour this, and ſo get rid of all my woes at once—Oh! Louiſa, you have broke my heart!

1 Sold.

What are you talking to yourſelf about? Come, come, you are a deſerter, and muſt go with us.

Hen.

Shall I or not?—by heav'n, I will—I own it, I am a deſerter—lead me where you pleaſe.

1 Sold.

There, he confeſſes it, and we ſhall have the reward.

AIR X.
Henry.
I'll fly theſe groves, this hated ſhade,
Each ſound I hear, each thing I ſee,
Remind me, thou perfidious maid!
Of vows ſo often made by thee.
Bluſh! bluſh, Louiſa! and look there;
Where's now thy truth? oh! tell me where?
Thy conſtancy's no more;
And like a wretch, by tempeſt toſt,
My peace is gone, nay, hope is loſt,
I ſink in ſight of ſhore!
Firſt and Second Soldier.
Come, brother, come.
Third and Fourth Soldier.
We muſt be gone.
[22]
Henry.
Yes, yes, I'll fly to death—lead on.
Firſt, Second, Third, and Fourth Soldier.
Come then.
Henry.
And yet, O cruel fate.
Firſt, Second, Third, and Fourth Soldier.
He's deviliſh loth.
Henry.
A minute ſtay,
One inſtant e're I'm drag'd away.
Firſt, Second, Third, and Fourth Soldier.
You have confeſs'd—'tis now too late.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A Priſon, a table, and ſome old chairs; Flint, who while he ſpeaks puts the ſtage in order, Henry walks about diſturbed; and afterwards Skirmiſh, who comes on, as Flint goes off the ſtage.
Fli.

THERE's ſome water for you to drink; a table and a chair, and yonder's your bed; but if you go on at the rate you have begun, there will be no great trouble in making it.—I am a deſerter, I have deſerted; I believe you'll find, you had better not have confeſs'd quite ſo ſoon:—why, what a devil of a fellow you muſt be. But, come, as I ſaid before, there's ſome water for you, and if you chuſe to have any thing better—for money, d'ye ſee—you underſtand me right—for money—and faith, if you have any, you have no great reaſon to be ſparing of it, for, I believe, your buſineſs will ſoon be ſettled.—Do you chuſe any wine?

Hen.
[23]

No, no.

Fli.

Well, very well; if you won't have wine, you muſt drink water.

Hen.

Falſe, falſe Louiſa!—Oh, heaven!

Fli.

But you ſeem a little down in the mouth about this buſineſs; never mind it, 'twill ſoon be over; you are to ſuffer at five; in the mean time I'll ſend a lodger of mine to you, he'll put you in ſpirits, by that you have drank a glaſs together; his name is Skirmiſh; he's a deviliſh hearty fellow.

[Goes off.
Hen.

That a few hours ſhould ſink me from the expectation of ſo much happineſs to this abyſs of miſery! Perſidious woman!

Skir.

Here, my boy, who wants me? who calls for Skirmiſh? Comrade, did you want me?

Hen.

Me! no.

Skir.

Why, yes you did. Ho, ho, houſe! here, houſe! we'll have a glaſs together; as we never ſaw one another before, we'll now begin to renew our acquaintance.

Hen.

Can you tell me, if I could get a ſheet of writing paper?

Skir.

Yes, ſurely, you ſhall have that: here, houſe! houſe, I ſay! where the devil are you all? But heark'ee friend! what a confounded miſtake you have made here! A miſtake! damme, you have made two miſtakes! I can prove it: In the firſt place, to deſert at all was a miſtake; then to confeſs it, Oh, damn it, that was a miſtake indeed! I am but a ſilly ignorant fellow; but had I been in your place, had he been my ſerjeant, my general, nay, my corporal, I would have ſaid, No, I am no deſerter. No, no, my lad, Skirmiſh ſcorns to deſert.

AIR XI.
Though to have a bout at drinking,
When I bear the glaſſes chinking,
There's nothing but I'd do, or ſay,
Yet Skirmiſh ne'er ſhall run away.
[24]
For here is his motto, and ſo there's an end:
He's none of your flatt'rers, who fawn and are civil;
But for country, his bottle, his king, or his friend,
Little Skirmiſh would go half-way to the devil.
Soldiers often fickle prove,
Who can know his mind for ever?
We forgive you falſe in love,
But Deſerters never, never.

SCENE II.

Henry, Louiſa, Skirmiſh, who goes off, returns, and goes off again during the Scene, and Flint, with wine, who goes off immediately after he has ſpoke.
Fli.

There's a young woman without aſking for a ſoldier

[to Skirmiſh]

I ſuppoſe it muſt be you ſhe wants.

Skir.

Yes, yes, its me I warrant you; let her come in, but give me the wine though

[ſets the bottle down on ſeeing ber.]

Ah, ah, a ſmart wench, faith!

Hen.

Good heavens! what do I ſee? You here!

Lou.

Me, Henry!

Hen.

Is it poſſible!

Skir.

Oh, ho, I ſmoke this buſineſs; comrade, I'm off, I'm off; ſhe's your ſiſter, I ſuppoſe, or your couſin but that's no buſineſs of mine; madam, no offence, I hope; my name is Skirmiſh, I underſtand what good breeding is; I'm off; brother ſoldier, faith, ſhe's a fine girl! I'll go and walk a little in the court-yard; d'ye mind me, I'm off—mum.

Hen.

This inſult, Loniſa, is beyond enduring! Is it not enough?—but I will not upbraid you.

Lou.

Hear me but a moment!

Hen.

Away! don't I know you falſe?—barbarous, faithleſs wretch!

Skir.
[Coming on]

Don't mind me; don't let me diſturb you; I only come to fetch the wine, for I believe you don't care to drink; will you take a ſup? no—well, your ſervant—I'm off again.

Hen.

It is not from your hands, but from your father's, that I ſhall expect—

Lou.
[25]

'Tis true, my father!—

Hen.

That infamous old man! but go—I have no more to ſay. Oh, Louiſa! I doat upon you ſtill! is it poſſible you can intirely have forgot me?

Lou.

Believe me, Henry!

Hen.

But with what aſſurance!—what compoſure!

Lou.

I ſhould not be compos'd, if I was really to blame.

Hen.

O thou perfidious woman!

Lou.

Enjoy your error.

Hen.

My error?

Lou.

With one word I could convince you.

Hen.

With one word! ſpeak it then if you dare.

Lou.

I am not married then.

Hen.

Not married!

Lou.

'Twas entirely my father's doings; his ſcheme to—

Hen.

O cruel! 'Tis to no purpoſe whether 'twas you or him.

Lou.

The Ducheſs—

Hen.

Don't name her; you dare not ſhew yourſelf to her.

Lou.

'Twas her who ordered the whole affair?

Hen.

How!

Lou.

What I tell you is true; ſome reports to your difadvantage having reach'd her, which I then knew, and we have ſince found to be falſe, ſhe ordered this mock-wedding (for ſuch only it was) to prove your affections; ſo that every thing you ſaw and heard was contrived on purpoſe to deceive you, and the whole Affair was but a joke.

Hen.
[Sitting down in the chair, reſts his hand on the table]

Was but a joke?

AIR XII.
Louiſa.
Ah! ceaſe this affliction, your troubles are paſt,
Of care and diſquiet, that ſigh was your laſt:
How could you once harbour a doubt of my love?
The girl you convers'd with, the feaſt and the reſt,
The muſick and dancing was all but a jeſt,
A frolick deſign'd your affections to prove.
[26]
Believe me, Louiſa reluctant comply'd,
Her father commanded—intreaty was vain;
Or, I ſwear by this hand, I would rather have dy'd,
Than have given my Henry a moment of pain.
Hen.

Oh, heavens! my heart will burſt.

Lou.

What means this grief, my love? do you ſtill doubt the truth of what I ſay?

Hen.

No, Louiſa; 'tis becauſe I believe you.

Lou.

Here's my father. Oh, Sir! I am glad you are come. Aſk him what's the matter; make him tell the cauſe of his diſtreſs.

Ruſ.

Henry, my dear boy, good day to you; I am overjoy'd to ſee you; well, all matters are clear'd up, and you may take Louiſa for your pains; when ever you will, I give her to you.

Hen.

I beſeech you, deſire your daughter to ſtep into the court-yard for a minute or two.

Ruſ.

Why ſo?

Hen.

Oblige me; only deſire ſhe will.

Ruſ.

Louiſa, we have ſomething to ſay to each other; ſtep out for a minute or two, I'll call you back preſently.

Hen.
[Taking her hand as ſhe goes out]

Louiſa, 'tis an age ſince I ſaw you laſt.

Lou.

And yet you ſend me away from you already.

Hen.

You ſhall come back again immediately.

Ruſ.

I was ſurpris'd to hear you was put in priſon, though they tell me 'tis but for a trifle. I am over-joyed to ſee you; the Ducheſs will ſoon get you releas'd, and then—but you ſeem thoughtful.

Hen.

Will you promiſe me to do whatever I requeſt.

Ruſ.

That I will, provided it is in my power.

Hen.

I beg of you to take your daughter away with you; we muſt take leave of one another.

Ruſ.

Why I know that, don't I? you muſt go back to your regiment.

Hen.

Well, return hither two days hence, and aſk for a dragoon, named Skirmiſh, he will deliver you a letter—and for me—

Ruſ.
[27]

O I know well enough what you mean; you'll be at the camp, the king's to be there.

Hen.

Have you command enough of yourſelf not to betray any thing to your daughter of what I am going to tell you?

Ruſ.

To be ſure I have.

Hen.

I am afraid ſhe'll return before—

Ruſ.
[Looking out]

No, no, we're very ſafe.

Hen.

This wedding trick—

Ruſ.

Yes, 'twas I manag'd it.

Hen.

It threw me into deſpair—

Ruſ.

Good! very good! I knew it would.

Hen.

And in my fury—

Ruſ.

Ha, ha, ha, what you was furious then? delightful!

Lou.
[Running in]

O cruel father! O unfortunate accident! this wedding has undone us all; he has confeſs'd himſelf a Deſerter, and is condemn'd to ſuffer death.

Ruſ.

What's this I hear?

Hen.

She knows it all.—O torture!

Ruſ.

A deſerter! condemn'd! Henry, can this be as ſhe ſays?

Hen.

'Tis but too true.

Ruſ.

Good heavens!

Fli.

You are wanted without.

Hen.

Me?

Fli.

You—you muſt go directly.

Hen.

Adieu, Louiſa!

AIR XIII.
Henry.
Adieu! adieu! my heart will break,
This torment's beyond bearing:
Louiſa.
Adieu! ah, why, my love? oh! ſpeak,
And baniſh this deſpairing.
Give thy Louiſa's pangs relief.
[21]
Henry.
I cannot ſpeak, oh, love! oh, grief!
Henry, Louiſa, and Ruſſet.
Ye pitying pow'rs! ſome comfort ſend:
When will our ſorrows have an end?
Lou.

For heav'ns ſake, Sir! where is he gone, who wants him?

Fli.

Only ſome friends.

Lou.

Surely, it can't be to—

Fli.

Oh, no! 'tis not for that yet—'tis too ſoon awhile, about five or ſix—perhaps, it may be ſeven firſt.

Lou.

Oh, ſupport me, Sir!

Ruſ.

No child, we may yet prevent it. I'll go to the ducheſs, and tell her the whole affair.

Lou.

She has brought me into this trouble.

Ruſ.

I'll ſeek her this inſtant, do you follow me.

[Goes off.
Lou.

Oh, Sir! on my knees, I beſeech you.

Fli.

There's no occaſion for kneeling to me; what would you have?

Lou.

Is not the king to be at the camp to day?

Fli.

Yes, and what then?

Lou.

Tell me, Sir; in ſuch a caſe, 'tis an act of juſtice; the king ſurely will do juſtice.

Fli.

Certainly; he never does otherwiſe.

Lou.

Alas, Sir! I am poor, ſo very poor—

Fli.

That won't hinder it a bit; the king's too good to deſpiſe folks becauſe they are poor.

Lou.

But 'tis for you I mean.

Fli.

For me?

Lou.

To thank you with; to intreat you; here is a ſmall ornament, of no great value indeed; I give you this, Sir, I wiſh I had more to give; 'tis ſilver; delay it but till to-morrow.

Fli.

Do what, delay it!

[looking at the trinket]

hey! it ſeems to me to be hollow: are you ſure 'tis ſilver?

Lou.

This ſuſpence is dreadful.

[Goes off.
Fli.
[29]

Why, I'll tell you; I can't abſolutely delay his execution: but I'll let him have as much wine as ever he can drink:—what gone!—Gad, this girl has a generous ſpirit.

SCENE IV.

Skirmiſh, who holds a bottle and glaſs in one hand, a ſheet of paper under his arm, and with the other drags in Simkin.
Skir.

Come along, what the devil are you afraid of? Here's a young man wants to ſee this ſoldier, and the girl that was here: where are they?

[To Flint.
Fli.

She's gone away.

Skir.

But, where's he?

Fli.

He was ſent for out to ſome friends; he'll be here again.

Sim.

If you pleaſe, Sir, I'll follow the gentleman.

Skir.

You and I muſt take a glaſs together.—So this ſoldier is your couſin, is he?

Sim.

Yes, Sir.

Skir.

Sit yourſelf down then; and he was ſent here yeſterday?

Sim.

Yes, Sir.

Skir.

Well then, ſit down, I tell you.

Sim.

But, Sir.

Skir.

Sit down, I ſay; ſit down there;—hell and fury, will you ſit down when I bid you? there!—now we'll take a glaſs together; he'll ſoon be here; come fill.

Sim.

Sir, I thank you, but I am not dry; beſides I don't care much for drinking, without knowing my company.

Skir.

Without knowing your company! why, you little ſtarv'd ſniveling—an't you in company with a gentleman? but drink this minute, or I'll—

Sim.

I will, Sir, if you won't be angry.

Skir.

Not I; I won't be angry: ſo you ſay that—

Sim.

I, Sir? I did not ſay any thing.

Skir.
[30]

Well then, if you did not ſay any thing, ſing:—ſing me a ſong.

Sim.

I am not in ſpirits for ſinging.

Skir.

Spirits! why, a ſong will raiſe your ſpirits; come, ſing away.

Sim.

But Sir, I can't ſing.

Skir.

Ever while you live, ſing.

Sim.

Indeed, Sir, I can't.—

Skir.

You can't—why, then I will.

Sim.

Well, but, Sir.

Skir.

Sit ſtill, I tell you; I am going to ſing.

Sim.

But—I wiſh you, couſin—

Skir.

He can't be long now; hear my ſong.

AIR XII.
Women and wine compare ſo well,
They run in a perfect parallel;
For women bewitch us when they will,
And ſo does wine;
They make the ſtateſman loſe his ſkill,
The ſoldier, lawyer, and divine:
They put ſtrange whims in the graveſt ſkull,
And ſend their wits to gather wool;
Then ſince the world thus runs away,
And women and wine,
Are alike divine;
Let's love all night, and drink all day!

There's ſomething like a ſong for you! now we'll ſing together.

Sim.

Together?

Skir.

Ay, both together.

Sim.

But, Sir, I don't know your ſong.

Skir.

Why, who the devil wants you to ſing my ſong?

Sim.

I never ſaw ſuch a man in my life: how ſhall I get away from him?—Sir!

Skir.

Well, what d'ye ſay?

Sim.

I believe there's ſomebody looking for you yonder.

Skir.

Is there?

[31][While Skirmiſh looks round, Simkin takes an opportunity of running off.]
Skir.

O, you young dog! I'll be after you; but ſtay, here comes the poor unfortunate young man, his couſin.

SCENE V.

Henry, Skirmiſh.
Skir.

How are your ſpirits? Take a ſup of this: Oh! here's your writing paper.

Hen.

Thank you, friend; oh, my heart! I wiſh I could have ſeen Louiſa once more.

[Sits down to write.]
Skir.

Ah, you're a happy man, you can write!

[Loud]

Oh, my curſed ſtars, what a wretched fellow I am!

Hen.

Why, what's the matter?

[Looking round.]
Skir.

The matter?—Confuſion!—I bluſh to ſay it; but ſince it muſt out, what will you ſay to ſuch a poor, miſerable—and but this one misfortune, fit to be a general: if I had known how to write, I might have had a regiment five years ago; but company is the ruin of us all; drinking with one, and drinking with another;—why, none here; I was in hopes here that I ſhou'd be able to ſtudy a little; but the devil a bit; no ſuch thing as getting the bottle out of one's hand: ah! if I could hold the pen as I have held the bottle, what a charming hand I ſhould have wrote by this time.

Hen.

Skirmiſh, do me one favour.

Skir.

What is it?

Hen.

May I depend upon you?

Skir.

To the laſt drop of my blood.

Hen.

Promiſe me to deliver this letter.

Skir.

I'll go directly.

Hen.

You can't go with it now; you are a priſoner, you know.

Skir.

Damn it, ſo I am; I forgot that: well, but to-morrow I ſhall have my liberty, and then—

Hen.

A perſon, whoſe name is Ruſſet, will be here to enquire after me; deliver it to him.

Skir.

May I periſh, if I fail.

Hen.

Let me ſpeak to you.

[They talk apart.

SCENE VI.

[32]
Henry, Skirmiſh, Margaret, Jenny, and Simkin.
Mar.

Yes, yes, you vile huſſey, 'twas all your fault.

Jen.

Well, have not I confeſs'd it?

Mar.

Confeſs'd it, indeed! is not the poor young man going to loſe his life, and all upon your account?

Jen.

I own it, I own it; I never ſhall 'joy myſelf again as long as I live; I ſhall ſee his ghoſt every night.

Sim.

And it ſerves you right; and I'll tell you more news for your comfort; I would not marry you now you've been ſo wicked, if you was worth your weight in gold.

Marg.

Ah! you need not talk; for you know well enough, you was told to run after him to call him back, and you never once offered to move.

Sim.

Why, how could I? I was the bridegroom, you know.

Jen.

See, there he is!

Marg.

Bleſs us, how alter'd he looks!

Hen.

Good day, aunt; good day;

[to the others]

give us leave, brother ſoldier.

Skir.

Yes, yes, I'll go; I won't diſturb you; I'll go and ſee what they are doing; I am afraid no good, for the time draws near.

Marg.

Ah, my poor boy! can you forgive us? 'twas all our doing.

Jen.

No, 'twas my doing.

Hen.

Let us ſay no more about it; 'twas an unfortunate affair: where's Louiſa, and her father?

Marg.

Ah! poor man! her father came running into the village, like one diſtracted; flung himſelf on the ground, tore his hair; we could not get him to ſpeak to us.

Hen.

And Louiſa, who has ſeen her?

Sim.

We none of us can tell where ſhe is.

Hen.

How! no one know where ſhe is gone? ſome accident ſure has happened to her?

Marg.
[33]

Don't afflict yourſelf ſo.

Hen.

Aunt, if ſhe is ſound, I muſt rely on you to comfort her; don't ſuffer her out of your ſight; this is now all the ſervice you can do me; your nephew muſt die; for my ſake, therefore, look upon her as your niece; ſhe ſhould have been ſo in reality.

Marg.

I promiſe you.

Hen.

I could wiſh to ſee her again.

SCENE, the laſt.

Henry, Margaret, Jenny, Simkin, Flint, Skirmiſh, and Soldiers.
Fli.

Comrade, I am ſorry to bring you bad news, but you muſt now behave yourſelf like a man; the hell-hounds are coming for you.

Hen.

Already?

Skir.

They are, indeed; here, here, you've occaſion enough for it; drink ſome of this.

Hen.

I am obliged to you,—none. Aunt, adieu! tell my Louiſa, I thought on her to my laſt moment; and, oh, my heart! bear up a little, and I ſhall be rid of this inſupportable miſery.

AIR XIII.
To die, is nothing; it is our end, we know;
But 'tis a ſure releaſe from all our woe;
'Tis from the mind to ſet the body free,
And rid the world of wretched things like me.
A thouſand ways our troubles here increaſe;
While care ſucceeding care, deſtroys our peace;
Why fly we then? what can ſuch comfort give?
We ceaſe to ſuffer, when we ceaſe to live.
[During the ſong a meſſenger comes on and talks with Flint.]
Marg.

Oh, Lord, what ſhall we do? I'd give all I have in the world to prevent it.

Sim.
[34]

And for me, I'd part with the very cloaths of my back.

Jen.

If you could but ſee Louiſa!

Marg.

Ay, if you could but ſee Louiſa!

Jen.

We'll give you, Sir, all the money we have, if you'll only ſtay till we fetch the young woman, that was here juſt now.

Fli.

Well, I am ſure no body can ſay, but as how I am always ready to ſerve every body I can:—what have you got?

Marg.

Why, here's a little piece of gold, and ſome ſilver.

Jen.

And here's my little ſtock: I am ſure every farthing.

Sim.

And there's all mine.

Fli.

Well, good nature is my pride and pleaſure; are you ſure you have given me all?

Marg.

I am ſure I have.

Jen.

And ſo have I.

Sim.

And I too, indeed.

Fli.

Why then, what ſignifies hiding good news? the young man's repriev'd.

Hen.

How?

Fli.

Here's a meſſenger from the camp.

Hen.

Let me ſit down.

Marg.

I ſhall die with pleaſure.

Sim.

Lord, lord, I ſhall leap out of my ſkin.

Ruſ.

Where is he? where's my boy, my ſon? Louiſa, Henry, has done it all!—Louiſa has ſav'd your life!

Hen.

Charming angel! tell me how, dear Sir?

Ruſ.

As the army were returning to the camp, aſſiſted in her reſolution by her love for you, to the aſtoniſhment of all who ſaw her, ſhe ruſh'd like lightning through the ranks, made her way to the king himſelf, fell at his feet,—and, after modeſtly relating the circumſtances of thy innocence, and her own diſtreſs, vow'd never to riſe till ſhe obtain'd the life of her lover: the king, having heard her ſtory with that clemency which always accompanies a noble mind, granted thy life to her interceſſion; [35] and the pomp paſs'd on amidſt the acclamations of the people.

Hen.

Charming generous creature!

Skir.

Death and damnation!

Fli.

Why, what ails you, Skirmiſh?

Skir.

The king at the camp, and I not there!

Sim.

I ſhall love my couſin Louiſa for it as long as I live.

Ruſ.

The king wept, and the nobles fill'd her lap with money; which ſhe threw to the ground, leaſt it ſhould retard her in her way to you.

Hen.

How can I reward ſuch tenderneſs?

Ruſ.

See, ſee, here ſhe comes.

Lou.

My Henry!

Falling into his arms.
Hen.

My Louiſa!

AIR XIV.
Henry.
My kind preſerver! fain I'd ſpeak,
Fain wou'd I, what I feel, expreſs;
But language is too poor, too weak,
To thank this goodneſs to expreſs;
Brothers, companions, age and youth;
Oh! tell to all the world her fame,
And when they aſk for faith and truth,
Repeat my dear Louiſa's name.
Louiſa.
And have I ſav'd my Henry's life?
Dear father, in my joy take part:
I now indeed ſhall be a wife,
Wife to the idol of my heart.
Thus when the ſtorm, diſperſing, flies,
Through which the ſailor's forc'd to ſteer;
No more he dreads inclement ſkies,
But with the tempeſt leaves his fear.
[36]
Ruſſet.
Why, why, I proy you, this delay?
Children, your hands in wedlock join,
That I may paſs my hours away,
In eaſe and peace through life's decline:
This joy's too great, my pride, my boaſt;
Both, both in my affection ſhare,
May who delights the other moſt,
Henceforward be your only care.
Skirmiſh.
I wiſh your joy may hold you long;
But yet I am not ſuch a ſot,
As not to ſee you all are wrong;
Why is the king to be forgot?
You had been wretched but for him;
Then follow Skirmiſh, dance, and ſing;
Raiſe ev'ry voice, ſtrain ev'ry limb,
Huzza, and cry, Long live the King.
FINIS.
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Citation Suggestion for this Object
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5456 The deserter A new musical drama as it is performed at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-61C2-B