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PATRICK in PRUSSIA, OR, LOVE IN A CAMP; A COMIC OPERA, IN TWO ACTS, WITH ALL THE ORIGINAL SONGS, As performed at the Theatres Royal, Covent Garden and Smock Alley.

BEING A SEQUEL TO The POOR SOLDIER.

Written by JOHN O'KEEFFE, Eſq.

AUTHOR OF THE Son-in-law, Agreeable-Surprize, Dead-Alive, Caſtle of Andaluſia, Young-Quaker, Poor-Soldier, Peeping-Tom, &c. &c.

DUBLIN. MDCCLXXXVI.

PRICE, A BRITISH SIX-PENCE.

Dramatis Perſonae.

[]
MEN.
  • Darby, Mr. RYDER.
  • Father Luke, Mr. OWENSON.
  • Quiz, Mr. MOSS.
  • Olmutz, Mr. GLENVILLE.
  • Marſhal Fehrbellin, Mr. HAMERTON.
  • Rupert, Mr. REMINGTON
  • Greenbergh, Mr. BARRET.
  • Adjutant, Mr. KING.
  • Drunmers, Meſſrs. LYNCH and SMITH.
  • Captain Patrick, Mr. WOOD.
WOMEN.
  • Flora, Mrs. HANNAM.
  • Mabel Flouriſh, Mrs. O'NEIL.
  • Norak, Miſs HITCHCOCK.

PATRICK in PRUSSIA, OR, LOVE IN A CAMP.

[]

ACT I.

SCENE I. A Camp at Sileſia—Tents, Soldiers cleaning their Arms, &c.

SONG and CHORUS, by Soldiers.
SO chearful and happy we boys of the blade,
Prepare all to meet on the ſhining parade;
Then rub,
Then ſcrub,
Your muſquets, your belts, and your bayonets bright,
We'll rub,
We'll ſcrub,
Our muſquets, our belts, and our bayonets bright.
In ſpatterdaſh white, as he throws up his leg,
Each rank and file marches a bold Scanderbeg;
The Ladies admiring,
Our charging and firing,
U [...]r ſtanding and kneeling
To right and left wheeling.
A ſmile from a woman's a ſoldier's delight,
They love as we love 'em, and for 'em we fight.
We'll jovially ſing,
Drink a health to our King,
And make the campring, &c.
Exeunt ſoldiers.
[4] Enter PATRICK.

Well, here I am near the camp of Sileſia—I ſuppoſe I ſhall eaſily find out Marſhal Fehrbellin's tent—if I could meet my old friend Darby—he ſhould conduct me to it—but let's ſee—what ſays Darby's letter—ay, here's his ſcrawl.

Takes out a letter, and reads.
MY DEAR PATRICK,

I have left Ireland, and by your example have took up arms, and like the king I ſerve, with a firm reſolution to flay both man, woman and child—I am in high favour with our officers—am a gentleman soldier, and in the high road to preferment—from your loving Friend till death.

DARBY.

Camp in Sileſia.

H [...]y, who have we here? ſome poor devil going to [...] nogg'd.

Drum beats, Fiſe plays.
Enter Adjutant, two Drummers with whips—Darby between two Soldiers.—Soldiers as Guards.
Dar.

Oh, dear good Mr. Adjutant, and you my good little drummers—my dear friends, pot companions, brother comrades and brother ſoldiers—now how can you have the heart to flog poor Darby?

Pat.

Poor Darby—and is this thy preferment?

aſide

Pray, Sir,—how came this poor fellow in ſuch diſgarce?

Adj.

A poor harmleſs devil, Sir—but ſometimes a little prone to miſchief—but for his arch tricks ſuch a favourite with our officers, that tho' he frequently deſerves puniſhment, yet he generally gets forgiven—and now, Sir, we give him this whipping as private as poſſible out of pure lenity—I have myſelf a very great friendſhip for poor Darby—ſo ſtrip, you dog.

Dar.

Lord Sir, I never ſtrip but when I go to bed.—What are you about there Tommy, Tickleback?

Tom.

Only tying knots.

Tying the laſh of his whip.
Dar.

Tying knots—now that's very childiſh of you. And pray, what are you about, Neddy Nimblewriſt?

Ned.
[5]

Twiſting whipcord and wire—to give you a red waiſtcoat.

Dar.

Whipcord and wire. Oh, dear—well if I muſt be whipp'd—If I don't like it, you ſhall leave off.

Pat.

Pray, Sir, what's his crime?

Adj.

Only ſuſpicion of drunkenneſs, and ſleeping on his poſt.

Dar.

Yes, ſleeping on my poſt—but I never dreamt that I ſhould be flogg'd for it.

Pat.

Who is your Captain?

Adj.

At preſent, Sir; we have no Captain, he that was our captain was preferr'd prior to the review, and our new one is not arrived yet from Berlin.

Pat.

Yes, Sir, but he is arrived, and honour'd with his Majeſty's commiſſion. I am he.

Dar.

Captain Pat—Patty—yes it is, did I not ſay I ſhould ſee Captain Patty?

Pat.

Adjutant—I think this buſineſs may be deferr'd.

Adj.

Why, Sir, we had not the honor to knew of your arrival—and, Sir, to oblige you, we'll poſtpone his puniſhment.

Cap.

By all means.

Dar.

By all means—Poſtpone, ay and pardon it too—the devil a bit of hurt will it do to any body.

Adj.

Releaſe him.

Dar.

Ay releaſe me—don't you hear, my dear friends—pot-companions, brother meſſmates, and brother ſoldiers, Neddy Nimblewriſt, and Tommy Tickleback—I am not for the red waiſtcoat—ſo you may go and find another mouſe for your cat o-nine-tails. Get out, get along. Ah, ha!

Exeunt ſoldiers and drummers.
Adj.

And if you pleaſe, Sir, I'll go and inform the Marſhal of your arrival—Sir, you are welcome to out corps—I am very glad to ſee you.

Exit.
Dar.

Yes, Sir, I am very glad to ſee you—but my dear Pat, how you came like my good guardian angel, to ſave me!—let me ſee—arn't you an angel?

Looking round with pleaſure and taking hold of his hand.
Pat.

But how is all this, Darby?—you ingenious rogue you, how did you bring all this about?—I left you at the plow tail in Ireland—and here I find you at the whipping poſt in Sileſia.

Dar.
[6]

Ay, 'twas you that did it—for when Captain Fitzroy made you a preſent of the colours, it ſet me all agog for a General's ſtaff—and when that jade Kathleen jilted me.

Pat.

Away went carts and waggons—plows and flails.—

Dar.

Ay, and becauſe I could not do as I would, while I was worth a farthing, ſold off all—and up to Dublin I came, mounted on a long tail'd dobin—and to be ſure I did not do things neatly—did not trim myſelf out in a ſmart ſuit of cloaths, and ſhew them the ſoul of an Iriſh lad—but hearing that there were ſome pretty boys of the Shamrock in London, I thought I'd ſee that too; I don't know how it was, but in taking leave of this body and that body, I muddled a little, and the blundering waterman, inſtead of putting me into a Parkgate Packet—launched me on board a ſhip bound for the Baltic—and I never diſcover'd the miſtake 'till I found myſelf landed at Dantzick; but how came you to ſell your Engliſh commiſſion, and turn Pruſſian ſoldier?

Pat.

Why at preſent my country does not want my ſervices, and I thought if it ſhould want them, that they would not prove leſs deſerving of George by being for the preſent under the tuition of ſo regular a diſciplined a maſter as Frederick.—The Pruſſian arms were ever fam'd for regularity—pray how comes it they have made you ſo irregular?

Dar.

Irregular—the moſt regular—as regular to my two half gallons every day, as I was to Dermot's brown jug—But Patty, tho' you are my Captain, you and I may crack a joke now and then—the devil a harm will it do our ſtrict Pruſſian diſcipline, for you and I, when we are ſnug, to talk over our merry meetings with our ſinging pot companions, Dermot and Father Luke, at the ſhoulder of murton.—Oh your honour

[ſeeing Olmutz.]

likes a ſhoulder of mutton—

Enter OLMUTZ.

I ſhall give orders to the ſutler to dreſs you a nice one.

Olm.

Marſhal Fehrbellin's complimenta—glad— hear of your arrival—expect you at camp—half an hour.

Pat.
[7]

Give my reſpectful compliments, and I'll do myſelf the pleaſure to wait on him.

Olm.

Tell him ſo.

Exit.
Pat.

Tall fellow—but of very few words.

Dar.

Very few, but he found enough to inform againſt me—but if I am not even with him for it, there are no potatoee in Munſter.

Pat.

Eh, Darby—yonder's a fine lovely girl paſſing along there—do you know her?

Dar.

Oh, yes, ſhe is a very fine girl—but we have flocks of ſuch in Pruſſia—Lord, Sir, if you'll come along with me, I'll introduce you a-la-millitare.

Darby going firſt, recollects himſelf, bows and follows.
Pat.

By all means, Darby.

Exit.

SCENE II. Front Grove.

Enter FLORA. Baſket of Fruit on her Arm.
SONG.
The tuneful birds, how ſweet they ſing,
How gay the dainty flowret's ſpring,
How light the milkmaid's briming pail,
As chaunting in the flow'ry dale;
'Tis love that wafts her blithe along,
That paints the flowers, and tunes her ſong.
Flo.

Now to count my money—let me ſee—I ſold my pippins for two pence—my ſtrawberries for ſixpence my peaches for ten pence, and my roſes for four pence: And now to tie it up in the corner of my handkerchief, leſt any rude fellow ſhould inſult me.

During this ſpeech enter PAT. and DARBY.
Pat.

There ſhe is Darby.

Dar.

Oh, yes, there ſhe is, and ſhe's yours—I know her—her name's Flora, ſhe ſells apples and flowers— and collyflowers.

Pat.

And ſhe's the ſweeteſt flower in her own garden —My lovely girl.—

Flo.
[8]

Did you call me, Sir?

Pat.

Yes my pretty dear.

SONG.
Dans votre lit that bright patere,
Shou'd Flora bloom a lilly fair:
A ſmilling jonquil I cou'd be,
To blow, ſweet flow'r, beſide of thee.
Or nodding on the thorny buſh.
You droop to hide the roſe's bluſh;
The leafy umbrage make of me,
And in this breaſt you'll ſhelter'd be.
When ev'ry flower that paints the grove,
Throws ſmiles and odours all around;
Sweet flow'r, I'll prove thy faithful bee,
And honey ſip, from none but thee,
Dar.

Pray, my dear, an't you a Whatecallum Girl— and don't you live in—Thingumy village?

Flo.

Well, ſuppoſe I am a Whatecallum girl, and do live at Thingumy village, what then?

Dar.

What then—oh, nothing at all—only that's Pat—and his honour would be glad to ſee you in his honor's tent, to take a glaſs of wine with his honor.

Flo.

Honor, and honor—I drink wine with his honor! The fellow's a fool, I think.

Pat.

So he is, my pretty dear—but, my ſweet roſebud, there's no harm, I hope, in taking a glaſs of wine, my pretty Pomona.

TRIO.
Cap.
My angel little girl,
With me a moment ſtop;
Flo.
Do, ſtop me, at your peril !
Dar.
Your tent, and then a drep.
Flo.
Nay Sir, nay, Sir.
Cap
Why ſo cold, my charmer?
Dar.
Brilliant Burgundy ſhall warm her.
Cap. and Dar.
My cherry, my plumb,
In finger and thumb;
Cap.
[9]
You ſhall fold the waſte
Of my bluſhing glaſs,
My ſweet roſy laſs,
While the nectar lip you taſte,
Such joy will I ſip,
From your ripe balmy lip,
Your charms thus I'll claſp,
Dar.
Thus the bottle I'll graſp.
Flo.
How can you ſerve me ſo?
Dar.
Then up, my dear, you go,
Do let his honor baſs.
Cap.
My ſweet a moment ſtay,
Flo.
How dare you uſe me thus,
How dare you uſe me thus,
Upon the King's highway?
Dar.
A turnpike-man am I,
To take C [...]pia's [...]ll,
A kiſs.
Flo.
I will paſs by,
Dar.
You can't, upon my ſoul.
Cap.
Lovely ſylvan beauty!
Flo.
What ſhall I do? oh! lack.
Dar.
Sweet, pay her, the duty,
Flo.
With a hearty, hearty ſmack.
Dar.
Pies on your firſt, my beauty,
O'd dang it, 'twas a whack.
Flo.
Your chaps may take the duty
Of ſuch a deucing ſmack,
Your cheeks have had a hearty ſmack.
Dar.

Oh, how ſweet ſhe would ſmack!

Pat.

Do you think ſo, Darby?

Ironically.
Dar.

Oh, yes, Sir—ſhe's yours, Sir, I'll get her for you.

Pat.

Have a care, Darby, are you ſure I ſhan't be guilty of ſeduction!—I would not for a tranſient pleaſure bring laſting ruin upon a poor innocent girl.

Dar.

Ruin! Oh, pray what have you done with Norah?

Pat.

Norah I have left her to the care of Father Luke.

Dar.

What, old two to one, that brings mutton to his mouth by means of the multiplication table.

Pat.
[10]

But, Darby—where can I find apartments— where can I put on my ſhoes?

Dar.

We all wear boots in the camp—we ſhoe none but the horſes.—But you ſhall lodge for the preſent at Mable Flouriſhes, where the officers meſs—I'll order your baggage there, and to be ſure to-morrow I won't [...]it you up the ſmarteſt booth in the camp—ſo come along—Pat—come along Patty—oh, dear—this way, Captain—Captain Patty.

Exit Darby.
Pat.

Very well, Mr. Darby; you ſeem very accommodating truly—and indeed if the girls are ſo handſome, and come much in my way, I ſhall ſtand in need of all my conſtancy.

SONG.
Away, ye giddy ſmiling throng
Of tempting beauties, fair and young.
My heart be true, altho' my tongue
Shou'd ſing of lovely Flora;
Or ſhou'd I gaze with fond deſire,
Shou'd breath of roſes fan the fire;
And tho' I on a touch expire,
My ſoul is thine, ſweet Norah.
The bonds of Hymen o'er my mind,
My conſtant ſoul muſt ever bind,
To that dear woman left behind,
My kind, my tender Norah;
But, Oh! I fear each mortal part,
Nay, e'en this true, this faithful heart,
Reſ [...]ſtleſs to the Urchin's dart,
Shot by the eyes of Flora.
Illuſive vapour, tranſient blaze,
Oh! vaniſh, while I wandering gaze,
But ſhine like Dian's ſilver rays,
My paſſion chaſte for Norah;
Yet Hymen winks, and Venus ſmiles,
And paſſion ev'ry ſenſe beguiles,
And Cupid with his thouſand wiles,
Aſſiſt my charming Flora.
Exit Pat.

SCENE Outſide of MABEL FLOURISHES.

[11]
Wrote over the Door—The Officers Meſs-Houſe, by MABEL FLOURISH.
Enter DARBY.
Dar.

I am ſtrangely puzzl'd how to get this girl for Pat—ſhe's ſo very modeſt. Mabel.

Calls.
Enter PAT.
Pat.

Where are theſe apartments, where's Mabels?

Dar.

Here, your honour—Mabel—Mabel.

Enter MABEL from the Door flat.

Here's a new gueſt for you; ſo clean up your houſe, rub up the mohogany table—turn the counterpane—lay down the great carpet—get the trumpeter's great chair uncovered—waſh-ball and ſhippers —throw ſome ſand upon the ſtairs, and kick the cat out of the way.

Exit Captain Patrick with Mabel.
Dar.

Deviliſh lucky Pat's coming—let me ſee—I'll employ Olmutz to get Flora—will draw him into a ſcrape, and I ſhall be revenged on him for his attempt to get me tied to the halberts—and it he wants to excuſe himſelf—it will be by half ſentences, ſo that nobody will believe him. Eh, here he comes, and little Quiz with him—that fellow always keeps company with great people—how high he carries his head with his hairy cap. When he comes in at a door he's obliged to duck like a gander under a gate—drinks by half-gallons out of rummer glaſſes; eats with his broad ſword and picks his teeth with a bayonet.

Enter OLMUTZ and QUIZ.
QUIZ dreſs'd in an old red Waiſtcoat and a Fur Cap,
Quiz.

I ſay Darby was ſhot from the mouth of a cannon.

Dar.
[12]

Your cannon's a great gun.

Olm.

No, no, I ſay he was only whipp'd.

Dar.

No, nor he was not whipp'd.

Quiz.

I ſay, when I am a trooper.—

Dar.

Ay, when ſhrimps are lobſters.

Quiz.

Shrimps and lobſters—I ſay, ſpirit does not conſiſt in ſize—The ſword-fiſh is not a whale—you ſhall ſee if Marſhal Fehrbellin will refuſe me a place in the grenadier corps.

Exit Quiz.
Dar.

Well, we ſhall ſoon ſee, for here he comes.

Quiz

Does he? the firſt impreſſion's a great deal— I'll go and accoutre myſelf, and appear before him ala-militare.

Dar.

Oh, Quiz is gone—he could not ſtay to ſpeak to his Highneſs—ſo Mabel ſhall—for Olmutz I want to talk to you—ſoldiers, you know, ſhould not bear malice —Your hand—I'll make your fortune—Mabel.

Enter MABEL from Flat.

His Highneſs is coming to ſee your lodger—Mabel do you receive him.

Retires with Olmutz.
Enter MARSHAL.
Mar.

Where's the new officer, Captain Patrick?

Mab.

He is but juſt taking off his beard—ſhall I call him to your Highneſs?

Mar.

No, I won't have him diſturb'd—I'll ſend my Aid-de-Camp to him—A good fine ſized woman—the proportion of our men has been for ſome time diminiſhing —now to match her with that tall fellow would produce ſoldiers equal to the full ſtandard.—Are you married?

Mab.

No, and pleaſe your Highneſs, I am a maid, at your ſervice.

Mar.

What's your name?

Mab.

Mabel Flouriſh, and pleaſe your highneſs— my father was trumpeter Flouriſh.

Mar.

Yes, they'll do very well—Soldier.

Olm.
[13]

Here.

Comes down.
Mar.

Are you married?

Olm.

No, Highneſs.

Mar.

Can you read?

Marſhal takes out his pocketbook, and writes upon a looſe leaſ.
Olm.

Can't ſay, never tried.

Mar.

Yes, they'll make an excellent match—I'll give orders to Captain Patrick to ſee the ceremony performed —It will be an excellent leſſon to him of the ſtrictneſs of our military diſcipline—Here, deliver that to Captain Patrick.—Yes, they'll be a very pretty couple.

Exit.
Mab.

His Highneſs was always very proud—I never heard him talk ſo ſweet and condeſcending before.

Bell rings

Coming, coming.

Exit into houſe.
Olm.

What devil's this?

Looking at the paper.
Dar.

What's the matter, Olmutz?

Olm.

Marſhal deſire me give this paper—Captain Patrick.

Dar.

That paper—what is it?

Olm.

Don't know—can't read.

Dar.

Let me ſee— ‘Marſhal Fehrbellin's compliments to Capt. Patrick—deſires he will, at ſight of this, ſee the bearer married to Mabel Flouriſh, with all diſpatch; and, as a portion, he will give her 50 rix-dollars from the military cheſt.’—Indeed!—but Olmutz ſhall never touch the dollars—Olmutz, you had better go about that buſineſs I was telling you of.

Olm.

What, and leave Marſhal's paper—may be of conſequence—let's hear what about.

Dar.

Oh, you want to know what its about—oh, you ſhall hear what its about—You can't read, you ſay.

Olm.

No.

Dar.

‘Marſhal Fehrbellin's compliments to Capt. Patrick; deſires he will, at fight of this, ſee the bearer ride the great horſe, for one hour, with five carbines tied to each leg.’

Olm.

Me! what have I done? Wooden horſe—five carbines!

Dar.

Poor fellow!—what a fine tall figure to ride the high horſe—Oh! your poor legs.

Olm.
[14]

For what?—What have I done?

Dar.

Poor devil!—ſuch legs to ſuffer ſo—what did he ſay to you?

Olm.

Aſk'd if I could read.

Dar.

And I ſuppoſe you told him no.

Olm.

No—didn't—ſaid—never tried.

Dar.

Never tried! Ay, that's done it.

Olm.

Here comes Quiz ſtrutting, ſo merry—I obliged to ride great horſe!

Dar.

I'll have a good joke

aſide

Olmutz, this paper don't mention your name: it only ſays the bearer.— Suppoſe we give it to Quiz to carry.

Olm.

The very thing.—Captain, make him ride the great horſe.

Dar.

So he will. Get a wafer: for Quiz can read, you know, and that would ſpoil the joke. This is fine. Come, Olmutz, there—

Seals it.
Enter QUIZ ſtrutting.
Quiz.

To be ſure I ſhall cut a very fooliſh bit of a figure at the grand review.

Dar.

Ay, Quiz, better perhaps than you think: for I don't know how it comes about, but the Marſhal, on my ſpeaking a good word for you, has made your fortune —Under this water lies your preferment.

Olm.

Yes, he'll ſoon be exalted.

Stifles a laugh.
Quiz.

Ay, great merit can't long lay hid. But what is under that wafer?

Dar.

A letter the Marſhal deſired you would give to Captain Patrick I told him you was a great man.

Quiz.

So I am—a high fellow.

Strutting.
Dar.

So I ſaid:—ſix feet and an inch high, cap and all.

Olm.

Yes, and he'll be highly mounted—a trooper.

Quiz.

Ay, Sir, little as you may think me, I may look down to-morrow on people taller than myſelf. I may, by the god of war

Olm.

Yes, he'll look down, Darby, —perhaps today

Aſide to Darby.
Dar.

You'll give the letter.

Exit Darby and Olmutz.
Quiz.
[15]

Do you think I'd neglect the Marſhal's commands —I will give it, by the god of war.

Enter PATRICK from Houſe.
Pat.

Hey day, what ſort of a figure have we here?

Quiz.

I am order'd by Marſhal Fehrbellin to deliver this biller.

Pat.
[Reads]

"Bearer—married—Mable Flouriſh." A ſtrange command this—but this I ſuppoſe his Highneſs wants to repleniſh his race of drummers.—Where, where is this Mable?

Enter MABLE from Houſe.
Mab.

Here your honor—your honor leſt the key in your great trunk.

Pat.

Well, I ſuppoſe you are both determined.

Quiz.

Yes, by the god of war—honor's my miſtreſs, and for her I'll die.

Pat.

Well then, I'll ſend for a chaplain, and you ſhall both be married directly.

Mab.

Married!

Pat.

Yes, I am ordered by the Marſhal to ſee you both married.

Mab.

I married to ſuch a ſhrimp of a man!—what does the Marſhal mean?

Quiz.

Yes, Darby has done my buſineſs for me.

Pat.

What's your name?

Quiz.

Quiz Oddbody,

Pat.

Then, Mrs Oddbody, I give you joy—and as a portion, his Highneſs has ordered you 50 rix-dollars out of the military cheſt.

Exit into houſe.
Mab.

Fifty rix-dollars! Oh, that alters the caſe— that's quite another thing.

Quiz.

I had no thought of marrying; but this is ſuch a prodigious great match—that I ſhall be proud to be Man of the Houſe.

Kiſſes her ridiculouſly.
Mab.

Well, I ſhall have the fineſt booth in the Camp; and ſo let's to the Chapel.

Quiz.

Chapel! No, we will be married in a Cathedral —we will, by the god of war—And then for the—grand review.

[16]
SONG.
Quiz.
All fierce and military,
Croſs buff-belt and regimental new,
With high cap, rough and hairy,
At cur grand review:
With ſpur and boot,
Adorn the foot.
To grace the field, while pateraroes ſhoot
Fire and ſmoke,
All a joke,
Bullets whiz,
Bully Quiz.
Erect as a ſturdy cak.
On my charger prancing,
Rat, tat, tat, his hoofs ſhall beat the grounds
Creat glove and road ſword glancing,
Salute the ladies round:
In the grand pas rear,
Up the pavement tear,
Like a Noble Col'nel, at my men I ſwear
Hey, they fight,
To the right,
Keep the rank,
Guard the ſtank,
Zounds, I'll ſoon be a brigadier.
Leads her off.

SCENE The Outſide of a Cottage.

Enter DARBY, OLMUTZ, and Soldiers.
Dar.

Softly, ſoftly, our Captain ſhall get her, my hoy—this is the place to watch for her—for that's her father's, the old ſoldier's—tho', it ſeems, her head runs of one Rupert.

Olm.

Can't help laughing, to think little Quiz is now riding the big horſe.

DAR

Huſh—Huſh—here ſhe comes.—

[17] Enter FLORA from the Houſe, croſſes the Stage and exits.

Now Olmutz, there ſhe goes amongſt the buſhes— make haſte.

Olm.

Won't you go?

Dar.

My dear Olmutz, you ſhall have the glory of the action all yourſelf—I would not rob you of a ſingle laſh you raſcal.

Exit Olmutz and ſoldiers.
Enter MARSHAL and PAT.
Mar.

I am glad you are come, Sir, for we are to have a grand review to-morrow—the Emperor ſeems prepared for hoſtile meaſures; therefore our wiſe and vigilant Maſter thinks it neceſſary to be prepared for to oppoſe them.

Flo.
[Without.]

Oh, dear—where is Rupert to protect me?

Mar.

Who's that running after a girl?—call him here, call the raſeal back.

Dar.

Yes, your honor—Here Olmutz—come back his Highneſs want's you. Why don't you come back, you raſcal;—he's a very bad fellow, he would run after the girl, notwithſtanding all I ſaid to him.

Enter OLMUTZ.
Mar.

What have you been about? come here, you raſcal.

Dar.

Ay, what have you been about?—come here, you raſcal.

Olm.

Pleaſe Highneſs—corporal thought no harm to get pretty girl for officer—got her off tho'.

Aſide to Darb,
Mar.

What officer, raſcal?

Olm.

New Captain, Highneſs.

Pat.

Me, ſirrah!

Mar.

I thought Sir, I had found you different employment.

Olm.

Highneſs—very hard—order man to ride great horſe, 'cauſe he can't read.

Mar.

Great horſe—I thought her a comely perſonable woman—Bur, Sir, to you I muſt ſay, that I am ſorry an officer ſhould be guilty of ſuch an act of [18]diſhonour—whoſe duty it is to protect—not to diſtreſs the fair.

Pat.

Sir, give me leave.—

Mar.

No, Sir, for the preſent I ſuſpend your commiſſion; when his Majeſty arrives, he may uſe his pleaſure.

Dar.

So then, Olmutz won't be puniſhed after all.

Mar.

What Sir, arn't you married?

To Olmatz.
Olm.

Not I, Highneſs.

Dar.

Here, your Highneſs, comes a pretty couple that are married.

Enter QUIZ and MABEL.
Quiz.

By the god of war, your Highneſs, I am come to thank you for all favours.

Mab.

I thank your Highneſs for my huſband and great fortune.

Quiz

Yes, your Highneſs, but mine's the biggeſt.

Mar.

What is all this?

Pat.

Your Highneſs deſired me to ſee the wedding —I have it from under your own hand—and there you are obey'd—behold your well match'd couple.

Quiz.

Yes, we're a pretty couple, by the god of war.

Mar.

Begone Sir.

Ext Quiz and Mabel.
Olm.

So, this is great horſe, raſcal?

To Darby, Exit,
Dar.

I think, I had beſt take off too—or I may chance to run againſt a whipping poſt.

Retires up the ſtage.
Mar.

Well, Sir, you are from Ireland—where I know they would call this a good jeſt—and a joke is the leading feature of your country—I ſhall not on this occaſion, differ in opinion from you—but, Sir, the young woman you have ordered to be carried away, muſt be reſtored—and I hope your future conduct won't make me repent of the deſire I have to be your friend.

Exit.

FINALE.

DARBY comes down.
During the Finale QUIZ and MABEL enter.
Dar.
And is he gone? oh, bug and bounds
How near I was a thrading;
[19] But here's your Uncle, Father Luke,
In Berlin chaiſe came daſhing.
Cap.
S'death, perhaps my Norah too,
We're in a hopeful hoble;
But I muſt to my awl and end.
The matter up to cobble.
Cap.

Diſgrac'd, I cannot face my wiſe.

Dar.

Who bid her now to come, Sir?

Cap

And ſuch a cauſe then, Father Luke,

Dar.

My hand the prieſt I'll hum.

Cap.
'Till 'Im reſtored, amuſe' em both;
Again my friend, I'll rank ye;
Dar.

I wonder how is little Quiz?

Quiz.
I'm pretty well, I thank ye.
My Mabel, by the god of war,
Is a celeſttal Houry;
As fine a bride as man can wiſh,
When here you down her dowry.
Mab.
Like ſciſſars hung on apron ſtring,
Or dangled here a locket;
But touch my caſh, and that, and you,
I'll put into my pocket.
Cap.
Come, come, agree,
Like man and wife,
And very well you'll both do.
Mab.

Aye, by the god of war, we will,

Quiz.

Already get my cath too.

Dar.
Friend Quiz, your hand, I give you joy,
Of ſpouſy and her riches;
This comfort ſtill is your's, my boy,
She ne'er can wear the breeches.
Then let the Chine and Turkey ſmoke,
Goul cheer o'erſpread the table;
The wedding, ſuch a merry [...]ke,
Of little Quiz and Mabel.
Exeunt.
END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

[20]

SCENE Mabel Flouriſhes.

Enter MABEL and OLMUTZ.
Mab.

Then it was you his Highneſs intended me for.

Olm.

Yes, one of Darby's tricks—ſent me after Flora —get her for officer.

Mab.

Ay, Flora, and the poor girl is now in my room putting on a ſuit of officer's clothes that I lent her, to elude the inſults of the officers and ſoldiers, and vows ſhe'll go through the world, till ſhe find her ſweetheart Rupert.—Ay, Darby's a ſad villain, to loſe ſo fine a tall fellow for little Quiz.

Olm.

Ay, to looſe me for him—be revenged—come to my centry-box—ſnug by ourſelves—foot of Bridge.

Mab.

Oh, fie! Olmutz—But could I depend on your honor?

Olm.

You may—ſome one coming—not ſeen together.

Exit Mabel.]

Fine woman—make Quiz believe Darby made this match to cover his own deſigne on his wife.

Enter RUPERT.
Rup.

Raſcal—I am told you know where Flora is that you have ſeized her.—Tell me of her this inſtant.

Olm.

Darby did it, ran off with her for his Captain. Come this way—tell all I know, —now I ſhall be revenged on Darby for loſs of wife—make him rine big horſe.

Exeunt.

SCENE diſcovers NORAH.

Two Chairs, a Dreſſing-Table.
Norah.

Here I am at Jaſt in Sileſia—and how my coming muſt ſurprize my dear Patrick! But the more unexpected the more welcome our meeting.

[21]
SONG.
Oh, come, my ſoldier, meet my ſight,
Full far I've come to thee;
No foe now dares you to the fight,
But gentle love and me.
My ſoldier doats on fierce alarms,
Where foes in battle join;
But when the trumpet ſounds to arms,
Oh! let him fly to mine.
In camps how rough by Mars array'd,
There fate attends his will;
At home you hear each tender maid,
Ah! was he ſorm'd to kill?
In charms ſecure the fair advance,
And ere in arrow flies,
He looks around, and at each glance
A wounded maiden dies.
He looks around, &c.
Luke. (without)

Very well, honey, I ſee the door; ſo perhaps I may find the room myſelf—You muſt know that I am Father Luke of Carton; but I left it to follow Pat, becauſe I found he was come to Sileſia to have his full ſwing among the girls.

Enter QUIZ, MABEL and FATHER LUXE.
Quiz.

My dear, I have got a moſt delicious cordial.— Darby gave it me.

Mab.

Darby! he's a pretty fellow—ſo keep your mouth ſhut.

Quiz.

No, I'll open it once more.

Luke.

Is that your huſband!

Quiz.

Yes, I am,

Luke.

Who married you?

Quiz.

The Parſon; but I'm obliged to Darby.— Darby help'd me to the match.

Luke.

Faith, and he helped you plentifully. But, d'ye hear?—we would not have Captain Patrick know of our arrival 'till we come ſmack upon him. So, d'ye [22]hear—have you never a ſnug bit of a room in a corner, where you can put Norah?

Mab.

O yes, there's my room, and a young woman in it already, that has been uſed ill by the ſoldiers.

Quiz.

Soldiers uſe women ill—who's the man of the houſe?

Luke.

Ay, where's the man of the houſe?

Quiz.

If you can't ſee, put on your ſpectacles.

Luke.

Faith and I muſt, for you are ſmall print.

Quiz.

Small print!

Luke.

Come Norah—in—in—Mabel, my dear, pleaſe to ſhew the way.

Nor.

Oh, ſir, loſe no time in finding out my huſband —only think of my anxiety.

Exit Mabel and Norah.
Luke.

Come here—what have you got in your ſquare bottle?

Quiz.

'Tis fine uſquebaugh—

Luke.

Uſquebaugh! Where did you get it— From Drogheda?

Quiz.

No, I had it from Darby.

Luke.

Then you had it from a wicked rogue,

takes it from him.

arn't you aſhamed to aſk a clergyman to drink drams. 'Tis not good, nor it can't be good—

pours out

—nor it can't be wholeſome

drinks

Now, don't you be running your noſe into every neighbours— both up and down the town, and bragging that you have got father Luke in your houſe.

Quiz.

No, my greateſt pride is that I have got myſelt in the houſe.

Bell rings loud

Oh, that dam'd bell —I'll have drums and drumſticks placed in every room in the houſe—I will, by the god of war.

Exit,
Takes a chair, and ſits down.
Enter DARBY, unperceived.
Luke

I fancy I ſhall ſoon get to the bottom of this, "For oh, it is heavenly liquor."

Sings.
Dar.

"And as good for me as the vicar."

Sings.
Luke.

Now, upon my ſoul, this is very comical, for you left me counting my beads in Ireland, and here you find me conning my book in Sileſia.

Dar.
[23]

I think its my book you are conning; but if you pleaſe. I'll read a chapter now, for I ſuppoſe by this time you have it by heart.

Luke.

Oh, Darby, you are a wicked fellow; the laſt time I ſaw you was at Carton—to be fure you was in mighty haſte, with the conſtables at your heels—but I did not think that you had ſo long a journey to take.

Dar.

Conſtables! Oh, yes, very true—but I gave them the ſlip—I would not keep ſuch fellows company.

Luke.

Ah, Darby, you was always a very great ſcapegrace—a ſad dog.

Dar.

Oh, now you talk about dogs, father Luke, pray did my little dog come back to the farm?

Luke.

Your dog!

Dar.

Ay, my Unicorn—we uſed to call him Unicorn, you know, becauſe he had but one ear—I had him from an attorney.

Luke.

Don't aſk me about your dog, you ſtupid fellow —what's your dog to me?

Dar.

Oh, he is not—now you'll hear.

SONG.
I'll ſing you a ſong, faith I'm ſinging it now,
Here I don't mean to 'front either ſmall or big,
Bow, wow;
Here the ſubject I've choſen, it is the canine race,
To prove like us twe-logg'ddogs, they are a very fine race.
Bow, wow, wow,
Fal, lal, lal, ad di, ad di.
Wow, wow.
Like you and I, other dogs may be counted ſad dogs.
At we won't drink water, ſome might think us mad dogs;
A courtier is a ſpaniel, a citizen's a dull dog,
A ſoldier is a maſtiff, a ſailor is a bull dog.
Bow, wow, wow,
Fal, lal, lal.
An old maid comes from church, the poor no lody kinder.
A luſty dog her footman, with prayer-book behind her:
[24] A poor boy aſks a farthing, and gets plenty of good kicking,
But little Shock, her lap dog, muſt have a roaſted chicken,
Bow, wow, wow,
Fal, lal, la.
When ſilly dogs for property, uncle, ſon, and brother,
Grind and ſnort, mighty gruff, and worry one another;
Should they a bit of equity, from Juſtice beg the lean of,
That cunning dog, the lawyer, Snap, carries quick the bone off.
Bow, wow, wow,
Fal, lal, la.
A port's a lank grey-bound, for the public he runs game down,
A critic is a cur, and ſtrives to run his fame down;
And though be cannot follow, where the noble ſport invites him,
"He ſlyly ſteals behind, and by the heel he bites him:
Bow, wow, wow,
Fal, lal, la.
"You've a [...] pack of friends, while to feed them you are able,
"Your dog for his morſel, crouches under your table,
"Your friends turn tale in misfortune or diſaſter,
"But your poor faithful dog will ne'er forſake his maſter,
Bow, wow, wow,
Fal, lal, la.
As your friends turn tail the moment that you need 'em,
My dog ran away when no longer I could feed him;
This cur ſo ungrateful, for ſook me on my jow ney,
And for a mouldy cruſt, went back to the attorney.
Bow, wow, wow,
Fal, lal, la.

But where's your niece, Norah—how does ſhe—is ſhe here, father?

Luke.

Here! there's a queſtion—no, I left her at Potſdam.

Dar.
[25]

And I ſaw her not half an hour ago—but I'll be even with him.

aſide.
Luke.

But, you ſly rogue, how did you find me out?— where's her huſband—have you ever met him in your walks—Pat, that run away?

Dar.

Ah father! I am very ſorry to tell you ſuch bad news; but poor Pat's dead.

Luke.

Dead!

Dar.

Ay, ſad intelligence for poor Norah.

Luke.

How did he die?

Dar.

A piſtol fever—a bullet did the buſineſs.

Luke.

A piſtol!—when?

Dar.

Laſt night—Oh you're come time enough to preach the funeral ſermon.

Luke.

Oh, oh, where ſhall I find comfort—oh!

Fills the glaſs.
Dar.

In the book.

Luke.

Oh dear—Pat dead—Norah—Norah!

Dar.

Why, do you think ſhe can hear you at Potſdam?

Luke.
[drinks]

Oh you harden'd ſoul, you.

Dar.

I'm ſure you won't be harden'd while there's a drop to ſoften you.

Luke.

A drop!—oh, you greedy creature, take the whole bottle. Poor Patt!

DUETT.
Luke.
And oh is he gone, whirra ſtrua poor Pat,
So ſorry, look here, I'm ſo ſorry for that;
[Darby ſhews the empty bottle.
My grief is ſo great, not a tear can I cry;
Dar.
And yet my good ſir, you've a ſup in your eye.
Luke.
Go, go, take your liquor away from me.
Dar.
Oh, ho, does it give you ſuch pain?
Luke.
And ne'er bring your uſquebaugh bottle again to me.
Dar.
No.
ſpeaks.
Luke.
No, Darby, no, till you fill it again.
Exit Luke.
[26] Enter QUIZ.
Quiz.

Harkey, you—do you know that I am a deſcendant of the great Hercules Quiz?—and as my great anceſtor ſtrangled a ſerpent in the cradle; ſo did I, when in mine, throttle a kitten—I was nurs'd in a mortar— have eat fire from a great gun—and made a cannon my flute, by blowing in at the touch-hole.

Dar.

Amazing!—What a great hero—I am thinking, Quiz that a wig-box will make an excellent cradle for your firſt child.

Quiz.

What do you mean by that, ſir?

Dar.

Lord, how big we are—now I'd as lief a man would ſmack my face as call me ſir.

Quiz.

And I'd as ſoon do one as t'other if you'd give me occaſion—I only want occaſion to fight with you—I do, by the god of war.

Dar.

I ſhould think a Pruſſian ſoldier would think raſcal ſufficient occaſion.

Quiz.

'I is by the god of war—where ſhall we meet?

Dar.

By the new bridge—I'll borrow my maſter's piſtols—do you bring your's; and then, with ourbacks to the certry-boxes, we will thunder away.

Quiz.

We will—and Darby I'll blow your head over the bridge into the river, and ſave your dirty face a waſhing—I will, by the god of war.

Exit Quiz and Darby.
Enter FATHER LUKE and GREENBER.
Luke.

And ſo you are father to this girl, you ſay.

Green.

Yes, and ſhe is engaged to one Rupert, a worthy fellow, who loves her; and captain Patrick's taking her away juſt at the time when he's come home, involves us all in great troub'e.

Luke.

Who told you to?

Great.

Darby ſaid that Olmutz took her for the officer.

Luke.
[27]

Oh, that Darby is a ſad lying, drunken fellow.— She's ſafe enough.—Norah, bring the young woman to her father.

Enter NORAH and FLORA from flat.
FLORA dreſs'd in breeches—blue regimentals.
Luke.

Eh, what's the meaning of all this?—what have you been about there?—As I hope to live, you don't look like a Chriſtian young woman.

Flo.

Do I look like a Chriſtian young man?—for that's what I want to look like.

Green.

But what's the reaſon of this?

Flo.

To ſhew you a woman can run all riſques, where ſhe truly loves.

Green.

Bat why this metamorphoſes?

Flo.

I was not ſafe in the abſence of Rupert—I have been inſulted as a female—ſo aſſumed this habit—being well aſſured, that thoſe who are ſo mean to inſult a woman, will want the courage to attack a man.

Nor.

True, Flora.

SONG.
With your ſex, my ſweet Flora, your bluſhes forget,
Tho' co [...], you're no longer, no longer a maid;
In your bright burniſh'd gorget a brazen face ſet,
Be a ball, hey allons, hey allons, your parade.
In your nice chicken gloves as you gallantly ſtand,
While the fiddles for action prepare;
For the dear pas de deux give the word of command,
And gracefully foot to the fair.
At your meſs, when poor virtue in bumpers is drown'd,
Tho' the tooſt give; a zeſt to each glaſs;
When Bacchus the temple of folly has crown'd,
Be the god of your favourite laſs.
[28] Oh! ne'er let her character die in a wink,
E'en a chorus of laughter deſpiſe;
Your goddeſs as pure as the wine that you drink,
Let your ſancy exalt to the ſkies.
Exeunt Norah, Flora, and Greenbergh.
Luke.

So they have had their jokes upon me; but I'll be even with Pat—for giving himſelf out for dead —faith I'll have a little bit of a joke with him.

Enter PAT and RUPERT.

Arrah, and can you be Pat—or are you his ghoſt? Now if you are dead, my dear boy, tell me ſo.

Pat.

Dead! What can this mean?

Luke.

Faith Pat, it's well you are come; for we heald you was dead, and Norah has been looking out for another huſband—Aye, and if you had ſtaid half an hour longer, ſhe'd have had one, and a ſmart fellow he is too—and then he's ſo attentive, leading her into the coach and out of the coach, at every place we ſtopp'd at.

Pat.

Dead! married in half an hour!

Luke.

Aye, certainly, you would not have her live unmarried. Now ar'nt you a pretty fellow—I have heard of all your campaigning after a gooſeberry girl —the Marſhal putting you under an arreſt, and taking the cockade out of your hat.

Pat.

Dear Sir, who told you this?

Luke.

Who? why who but your own man Darby; and to crown the whole, ſaid that you had blown the roof off your head.

Enter DARBY. Croſſes to PAT.
Dar.

Maſter, lend me your piſtols.

Pat.

Yes, you raſcal, you ſhall have them with a brace of bullets thro' your head. [Collars him] For all your lies—you told Father Luke, that I was running after every wench—you are the cauſe of all my diſgrace, by ſetting Olmutz after the flower girl.

Dar.

I—

Rup.
[29]

Ay, Sir, what have you done with my Flora? —you are the villain that took my Flora from her father's houſe.

Dar.

I—Oh dear, why did I ſell my farm?

Enter FLORA, from Flat.
Flo.

Hey, what noiſe is all this—your making a diſturbance in this chamber is what I don't underſtand —damn me.

Dar.

No, what I don't underſtand, damn me.

Gets behind her.
Rup.
[To Darby.]

Pray where is Flora?

Draws his broad ſword.
Flo.

Oh, what my little ſtrawberry girl—ſhe's very fond of me, a young fellow, tho' her father wants to give her to a ſwaggering puppy—one Rupert.

Rup.

S'death, take thy deſerts.

Draws, Pat parts them.
Flo.

Oh, what, I ſuppoſe, this is Rupert.—Oh, you may have her again now—I'll gladly reſign her to you—I aſſure you I want to get rid of her—for my heart is entirely devoted to another.—This night, I take the lovely Norah to my arms.

Pat.

You ſhall take this to your heart firſt.

Draws.
Rup.

Nay, nay—have patience.

Flo.

Oh let him alone—let me have fair play, and I ſhall be a match for both of you.

TRIO.
Flo.
The lovely fair within that room,
My wife ſhall be;
Cap.
And how, Sir, are you ſure of that?
Flo.
Oh. ſhe loves me.
Cap.
S'death and hell, Sir, what d'ye ſay?
Quick, anſwer ſpeed [...]ly;
Rup.
What of my Flora, tell me firſt?
Flo.
Oh ſhe loves me.
Rup.
She loves thee.
Dar.
He loves ſhe.
Flo.
[30]
And for her ſweet ſake,
You, Sir, or you I'll ſee.
Dar.
To'em, my little cock a nouns,
Oh, you're my Gramaghree;
Cap.
What my love love thee.
Flo.
Ay, thy love loves me.
Dar.
Knock their head, together;
Flo.
Have at you, one to three.
Dar.
Sir, leave me out a wicked rogue,
Our little Gramaghree.
Flo.
Fire or ſwerd,
When love's the ward,
Have at ye, one to three, &c.
Cap.
Satisfaction you muſt give,
Moſt ſwely, now to me, &c.
Dar.
Oh, what a tearing hero!
What a tearing, tearing hero!
At ye, one, two, three,
Surely now to me,
Little Gramaghree.
Exeunt all but Darby.
Dar.

So I go on well here in the German wars— My kind countryman, Captain Patrick—buries his nuckles in my throat, and never thinks it will ſpoil my ſinging; another ſwings a ſcythe about my ears;—and little Quiz threatens to blow my head over the bridge. Oh, to be ſure, I'm not in a good thriving way;—but I muſt contrive ſome method to frighten Quiz—for I muſt confeſs, I have no great inclination to have my head blown into the river.—Oh, dear, oh, dear!—I am like a blind fiddler, always in ſome ſerape.

Exit.

SCENE, A country Bridge, a Centry BON on each Side.

Enter QUIZ.
Quiz.

Darby is not come yet, —I knew the fellow would be aſraid to meet me! How I'll diſgrace him in the campl I'll ſwitch him thro' the ranks with a whale-bone [31]ramrod—Eh—no—this is he—he's plaguy punctual.

Enter DARBY.
Dar.

Av, there's the enemy.

Quiz.

Your mortal foe—I am, by the god of war.

Dar.
[Beckons on a man with a ſack, a brace of blunderbuſſes, a pick axe, and ſpade.]

Put down the tools,

Quiz.

Tools—Take your ground.

Dar.

Don't be raſh—in Ireland we always ſettle theſe ſort of things very cool—now to fix the grand point. When people fight, as you and I do, without ſeconds, if one ſhould be kill'd, as is always the caſe, that the conqueror may not fall a ſacrifice to the law— we have two ways of diſpoſing of the dead gentleman: —Now you may take which you pleaſe—one way is, we dig a hole on the ſpot, and cover him up, ſweet and wholeſome uncer the ſod—this we call the Galway kick—but it he don't like that, the other is—we put him into a ſack and tumble him into the river, this we call the Tipperary touch.

Quiz.

Tipperary touch—now damn me—if I'll have either a Galway kick, or a Tipperary touch.

Dar.

And now give me the blunderbuſs—charged with razor blades.

The man gives him a blunderbuſs.
Quiz.

Razor blades—I won't fight, by the god or war.

Dar.

Not fight!

Quiz.

No.

Dar.

Why then, let me tell you, that it is not handſome of you to diſappoint me thus.

Quiz.

I don't care—I'll be as ugly as the devil—but I don't like to be put ſweet and wholeſome under the ſod.—Oh, I'm glad there's ſomebody coming.

Dar.

Oh, this is the Prieſt, that I ordered to come and bury you like a chriſtian.

Quiz.

I don't care, I won't be buried like a Chriſtian.

Enter FATHER LUKE.
Luke.

Oh, you wicked reprobate—not be buried like a Chriſtian!

Quiz.
[32]

I won't, by the god of war.

Luke.

What is all this about?

Quiz.

What! why that wicked bloody ruffian has a deſign aga [...]ſt [...]he chaſtity of my virtuous wife—and when I [...] him ou [...] a-la-militare, he comes to cut, ſcarity and murder me with a brace of blunder buſſen charged with razor blades—he does, by the god of war!

Dar.

I a deſign!—'tis Olmutz has a deſign againſt your virtuous wife—and by her own appointment.—

Quiz.

No, he's my true friend.

Dar.

Is he then—here goes at the centry box—I'll not bring my Razor blades for nothing.

Enter Olmutz and Mabel ſcreaming from the Centry-box.
Quiz.

Hey! now I ſee how it is, by the god of war!

Dar.

Here's your true friend, and virtuous wife.

Quiz.

Darby your hand—Do you give Olmutz a Galway kick, and l'll give my wife a Tipperary touch.

Olm.

Kick me!—Why, I came to be your ſecond.

Quiz.

Get out, you raſcal, or I'll ſhoot you, by the good of war!.—Well, and I ſuppoſe you came to be a ſecond too.

Mab.

No, indeed, huſband, I was here firſt.

Luke.

I dare be ſworn you was—ay, ſaith, now, this is very comical—here comes Pat, and Rupert—and their wives, as if they came by deſign.

Enter PAT. and RUPERT on one ſide—NORAH and FLORA on the other.
Pat.

The young bragg [...]rt—and with North in his hand—to come thus before my face—I can contain myſelf no longer—defend your worthleſs life.

Puts his hand to his ſword.
Flo.

No, ſir—I'll not fight—to you I reſign her, if ſhe's willing.

Nor.

Moſt willing—my dear Patrick!

Flo.

And to you Rupert I reſign myſelf—if Flora be worth accepting

Embraces—as do Pat and North.
Pup.

Worth accepting—moſt dear to me.

Nor.

My dear Patrick, why in a maze?

Pat.

At this unexpected happineſs, my lovely wife—but now we'll for England—and if Darby will, [33]he ſhall attend us, where we'll return to the ſervice of our gracious ſovereign, whoſe life is a bleſſing to his people.

FINALE.

Cap.
Oh, now let the drum
Beat company come,
And let the clarionets play;
And oh, little fife,
Now whiſile for life,
While merry we foot it away.
For Fortune turns her wheel,
And with us ſhe'll dance a reel;
The late whining fellow,
Now jovial and mellow,
So jollity ring a peal,
Quiz.
As ſure as a gun
We'll ſhew you ſuch fun,
As never was ſeen before;
Like officers ſwear
And tatter and tear,
And like a cannon we'll roar.
Darby did you call?
Luke.

You devils how loud you bawl,

Quiz.

To houſe, bed and table—of Quiz.

Mab.
And poor Mabel,
You're heartily welcome all.
Oh, new let the drum, &c.
Flo.
Oh, maidens take care,
By example beware,
If ruin you'd wiſh to ſhun;
Nor.
Nor truſt to your charms
When once from your arms
You ſuffer your ſpouſy to run,
Flo.
Like birds held in a ſtring,
They'll hop about, then take wing,
Nor.
From twig to bough flying,
Your ſobbing, your crying,
Ne'er back can the wanton bring.
Oh, now let the drum, &c.
Luke.
[34]
A ſad wicked place,
A very ſad caſe;
Here nothing I'll get to do.
Child, put on your cap,
And here is a ſlap,
I'll marry that younker and you.
If you don't take't amiſs,
To Mab.
Id like to bury poor Quiz;
Without any money,
Your hand, my dear honey,
To Quiz.
So much I like your phiz.
Oh, Now let the drum, &c.
Dar.
And now, my friends may,
Of your poor ſoldier ſay,
A word in your Poet's behalf,
Oh, do not then try,
To make the boy cry,
Who ſo often has made you laugh,
Succeſs we cannot command,
But le [...] your merciful hand
Now lend us a v [...]lley,
And pardon his folly,
For the honour of old Ireland.
Oh, now let the drum, &c.
FINIS.
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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3472 Patrick in Prussia or love in a camp a comic opera in two acts with all the original songs as performed at the Theatres Royal Covent Garden and Smock Alley Being a sequel to The poor soldier. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-6125-D