The Road near the CAMP.
Enter Old Man.
COME along, neighbours, come along, we shall be too late for the suttlers market.
Enter 2nd. Man.
Put on, put on, neighbours. Here Robin, where are you boy.
Robin, Behind.
I’m coming Feather, as soon as I can get the colt up, for the plaguy beast is down again, and mother and chickens are all in the slough.
Old Man.
Why, is the colt down again? You graceless dog, help your mother up. — Oh, neighbour Farrow has helped her up I see.
Enter, OLD WOMAN.
O. Woman.
Husband, as sure as you are alive, that rogue of a boy drove the colt in the dirt for the purpose, and down we came with such a wang. —
O. Man.
What a mercy it is the chickens escaped! — Come, put on neighbours.
Enter ROBIN and COLT.
Robin.
Why, Feather how could I help it? — The colt has not had an eye in his head these eight years.
O. Woman.
O, here comes our Kinswoman, and her Daughter,
(enter Miss)
Bless me child! you are in such a heat you’ll quite spoil your complexion.
Miss.
Lord neighbours, you hurry one so. —
2nd. Woman.
Put on. put on; make haste, we shall be too late — O dear, here comes Nell, and she’ll scold us all, for cheating the soldiers.
3rd. Woman.
Damn that wench, she won’t cheat herself, nor let other honest people do it, if she can help it: and she says she likes a soldier so well she would sell them goods for nothing.
2nd. Man.
Come neighbours, now we shall see what bargains your Daughter will make at the Camp.
2nd. Woman.
Aye, Aye, soldiers are testy customers — They won’t buy of the ugly ones — O, here Nell comes.
Enter NELL.
Nell.
Why how now, what you are consulting how you shall cheat the poor soldiers: for shame! for shame! how can you use the poor fellows so? a parcel of unfeeling wretches! Poor fellows, that risque their Lives to defend your property, and yet you make it your study to defraud them.
O. Woman.
It’s very hard, Nell; you won’t let us have a little picking among em. What is it to you what we do.
Nell.
Yes it is to me; I never will bear to see a soldier cheated, with my eyes open. I love a soldier, and will always stand by them.
Miss.
Mind your own business, Nell.
Nell.
What’s that you say, Miss Minx? Here’s a wench dressed out; the poor soldiers are forced to pay for all this finery, you impudent slut you.
2nd. Man.
Why, Nell, if you go on at this rate we’ll tell his worship, Mr. Gage of you: He’s an exciseman, and a great friend to us poor solks.
Nell.
What’s that you say, master Grinder? Come forward, you sneaking sniveling sot you, I think your tricks are pretty well known. Was n’t you caught soaking eggs in lime and water to make them pass for new ones: and did not you sit in the stocks for robbing the ‘Squire’s rookery to make your pigeon pies.
2nd. Woman.
Well, well, we’ll tell Mr. Gage, and then what will he say to you?
Nell.
Tell Mr. Gage, will you, he’s a pretty protector indeed he’s a disgrace to his Majesty’s inkhorn — while he seizes with one hand, he smuggles with the other. — Why, no longer ago than last summer he was a broken attorney at Rochester, and came down here, and bought this place with his vote, and now he is both a smuggler and contractor. O my conscience, if I had the management of affairs, I would severely punish all such fellows who would be so base as to cheat a poor soldier.
2nd. Woman.
If his worship was here, you dare not say so. Here he comes, here he comes. Now you’ll change your note.
Nell.
Will I? you shall see if I do. No, no; I’ll tell him my mind; that’s always my way.
Enter GAGE.
All.
Ah! Mr. Gage.
Gage.
Hey dey! what’s the matter? What the plague is there a civil war broke out among you?
1st. Woman.
Why, Mr. Gage, Nell here has been scolding us for cheating the soldiers,
2nd Woman.
Yes, and says you encourage us in it.
Gage.
Encourage you? to be sure I do, in the way of trade.
All.
Aye, in the way of trade.
1st. Woman.
Yes, and she has been rating the poor girl, and says I dress her up thus only to make the better bargains.
Gage.
And e’cod you’re in the right of it; your mother is a sensible old woman. Well said dame, put plenty in your baskets, and sell your wares at the sign of your daughters face.
1st. Woman.
Aye, aye, so I say.
Gage.
Right — Soldiers are testy customers, and this is the market where the prettiest will always make the best bargains.
All.
Very true, very true.
Gage.
To besure; I hate to see an awkward gawkey come sneaking into the market, with her damned half-price countenance, and is never able to get scarce double the value of her best goods.
Nell.
I can hold no longer: are you not ashamed you who are a contractor, and has the honour to carry his Majesty’s inkhorn at your button-hole, to teach these poor wretches all your court tricks. I’ll tell you what. If I was to sit on a court martial against such a fellow as you, you should have had your deserts, from the pilfering suttler to the head contractor, you should have the cat o’ nine tails, and be forced to run the gauntlet, from Coxheath to Warley common, that you should.
1st. Man.
How durst you talk so saucily to his worship?
Nell.
Hold your tongue, or I’ll throttle you, you sheep biter.
(collaring him.)
1st. Man.
O lord! your worship, if you don’t put her under an arrest she’ll choak me.
Gage.
(Aside.)
Come, Nell, hold your tongue, and I’ll give you a pound of smuggled hyson, and, throw you a silk handkerchief into the bargain.
Nell.
Here’s a rogue! Bear witness neighbours he has offered me a bribe; — a pound of tea. No, Sir, take your pitiful present, and know that I am not to be bribed to screen your villainies by influence and corruption.
(throws it at him,)
Gage.
Don’t mind her, she’s mad, she talks treason. Away with you! I’ll put every body under an arrest that stays to listen to her.
All.
Aye, aye, she’s mad. Come along, we shall be too late for market.
(Gage drives them all off.)
Gage.
Here Nell, will you take the tea?
(offers it to her.)
Nell.
No Sir, I wont.
Gage.
Well then I will.
(puts it in his pocket.)
AIR.
NELL.
Now coaxing, caressing,
Now wheedling, distressing,
As fortune delights to exalt or confound,
Her smile or her frown
Sets them up, knocks them down,
Turning, turning, turning as the wheel goes round.
II.
O fie, Mr. Gage!
Quit the tricks of the age;
Scorn the slaves that to fortune, false fortune are bound,
Their cringes and bows,
Protections and vows,
Turning, turning, &c.
Exit Nell.
Gage.
Foolish girl, not to accept a bribe, and follow the example of her betters. — But who have we here?
Enter O DAUB.
O Daub.
Ah, my little Gage! to be sure I am not in luck; I will not want an interpreter to shew me the views about here; and by my shoul I’ll force you to accept my offer.
Gage.
Why, what’s your errand?
O Daub.
Why upon my conscience a very dangerous one: Jack the Painter’s job was a fool to it. I am come to take the Camp.
Gage.
The devil you are!
O Daub.
Aye, and must bring it away with me in my pocket too.
Gage.
Indeed!
O Daub.
Aye, here’s my military chest; these are my colours you know.
Gage.
O, I guess your errand.
O Daub.
Then faith it’s a very foolish one. You must know, I got so much credit at the Fete Champetre there, that little Roscius recommended me to the Managers of Drury Lane, and so now I am a sort of deputy superintendant under Mr. Lanturnburg, the great painter; that as soon as he executes a thing, I always design it after him, my jewel; so I’m going to take a side front view of it.
Gage.
What then they are going to introduce the camp on the stage I suppose.
O Daub.
To be sure you have hit it — Coxheath by candle light, my jewel.
Gage.
And will that answer?
O Daub.
O, to be sure it will answer, when a jontlemen can have a warm seat, and see the whole tote of it for two thirteens, and be comfortable into the bargain. Why it has cost me above three guineas already, and I came the cheapest way too, for three of us went halves in the Maidstone Dilly, my dear.
Gage.
Well, and how do you like the prospect?
O Daub.
Upon my shoul my jewel, I dont know what to make o’nt, so I am come to be a little farther off, that I may have a nearer view of it. I think it looks like my cousin O Doiley’s great bleach yard in the County of Antrim.
(Boulard fings without)
Tunder and wounds! what outlandish creature is this coming here?
Gage.
O, that is Monsieur Boulard, the suttler.
O Daub.
Then perhaps he can help me to a bit of something to eat, for I feel a sort of craving in my stomach after my journey.
Gage.
Why he’s a very honest fellow, and will be happy in obliging you, Oh, here he comes.
Enter BOULARD.
Boul.
Ah! begar, Monsieur Gage, I am glad I have found you; begar I have been through Berkshire, Suffolk, and Yorkshire, and could not find you.
O Daub.
Through Berkshire, Suffolk, and Yorkshire — What the devil does he mean?
Gage.
O, he means through the regiments.
Boulard.
By gar, mounsieur Gage, I must depend on you for supply. I have got one, two, tree brigade dinners bespoke, besides the fat alderman and his lady from London.
Gage.
Then you must send out a party of cooks to forage at Maidstone.
Boulard.
Parblue, monsieur Gage, I must look to you, for by gar I have got nothing in de house to eat.
O Daub.
Then the devil burn me if I come to dine with you honey.
Boulard.
O, Sire, I have got every ting for you and Monsieur Gage. You shall have any ting you ike in von moment!
O Daub.
Ah, ha, I tank you honey: But pray now, Mr. Blaud, if your own countrymen were to come over here, would not you be a little puzzled to know which side to be on?
Boulard.
Puzzled! — parblue Monsieur, I do assure you I love de English ver well, and vill never leave dem vile dey are victorious; and I do love mine own countrymen very well; but depend on it, Monsieur Gage, I vill always stay with do strongest.
Gage.
You see, Mr. O Daub, my friend Monsieur Boulard is divested of all national prejudice, I assure you.
Boulard.
Prejudice — by gar I have too much honour ever to leave de English while dey do vin de battle. But, Monsieur Gage, vill you bring your friend, and taste my vine; I have got every ting for you and your friend, I assure you. M. Gage, I vill never forsake de English so long as dey are victorious; but if mine own countrymen were to come, and make de English run, I would run a little way with dem; and if mine own countrymen were likely to overtake dem, I would stop short, bow to dem, and say, how you do, my ver good countrymen. By gar I shall be ver glad to see you both, so come along — but depend on mine honour, Monsieur Gage, I vill never leave de English vile dey do vin de battle. — No, never! never!
(Exit.
[Singing.
Gage.
Well said Monsieur Boulard.
O Daub.
Your sarvant Mr. Blaud, though faith to do him justice, he has forgot the fashion of his country, for when he is determined to be a rogue he is honest enough to own it. But pray what connection have you with the suttlers? You are no victualler here are you?
Gage.
Not absolutely a victualler, but I deal in various articles.
O Daub.
Indeed.
Gage.
Yes, but no business is done here only by contract.
O Daub.
A contractor! Why what the devil you are not risen to such preferment as that sure? I never knew you was able to furnish any contract.
Gage.
Nothing more easy; the circumstance depends upon the quantity, not the quality. I got on very well lately, but at first it brought me in several confounded scrapes.
O Daub.
As how?
Gage.
Why, I undertook to serve a regiment with hair powder.
O Daub.
Hair powder? What, and you sent them flower I suppose.
Gage.
Flower! no, no — I should have saved nothing by that: I went to the fountain head — the pit, and gave ’em a plentiful stock of lime.
O Daub.
Lime? brick and mortar lime?
Gage.
Yes, brick and mortar lime.
O Daub.
And, what the plague, was not the cheat found out?
Gage.
Why at first it answered the purpose very well, while the weather was fine it did charmingly, but one field-day they was all caught in a fine soaking shower; the smoke ran along the lines, ecod their heads were all slack’d in an instant, and by the time they returned to the camp, damme if all their heads were not as smooth as an old half crown.
O Daub.
A very cross accident indeed.
Gage.
Yes, I stood a near chanceof being tied up to the halberts; but I excused myself by saying, they looked only like raw recruits before; but now they appeared like old veterans of service.
O Daub.
But you lost your contract I suppose.
Gage.
Yes, but I soon got another; a shaving Contract to a company of grenadiers.
O Daub.
‘Faith I never knew you practised that business.
Gage.
Never handled a razor in all my life: I shave by deputy; hired Sam Sickle down from London — an excellent hand! handles a razor like a scythe; — he’ll mow you down a regiment of beards in the beating a revally.
O Daub.
Upon my conscience, a pretty way this of working at secondhand. I wish myself could do a little by proxy.
Gage.
But come, what say you for something to eat, and a glass of my friend Boulard’s wine, and drink his Majesty’s health?
O Daub.
With all my heart, my dear, and to the two camps if you will.
Gage.
Two? — what two do you mean?
O Daub.
Why the one at Coxheath, and the other at Drury Lane.
[Exeunt.