Page images
PDF
EPUB
[merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small][merged small]

A MAN in many a country town we know,
Professes openly with death to wrestle;
Entering the field against the grimly foe,
Armed with a mortar and a pestle.

Yet some affirm, no enemies they are;
But meet just like prize-fighters in a fair,
Who first shake hands before they box,
Then give each other plaguy knocks,
With all the love and kindness of a brother:
So-many a suffering patient saith-
Though the apothecary fights with Death,
Still they're sworn friends to one another.

A member of this Esculapian line
Lived at Newcastle-upon-Tyne:
No man could better gild a pill,
Or make a bill;

Or draw a tooth out of your head;
Or chatter scandal by your bed.

Of occupations these were quantum suff.:
Yet still he thought the list not long enough;

And therefore midwifery he chose to pin to't.
This balanced things; for if he hurled
A few score mortals from the world,

He made amends by bringing others into't.

His fame full six miles round the country ran; In short, in reputation he was solus: 23-VOL. I.

All the old women called him " a fine man!"
His name was Bolus.

Benjamin Bolus, though in trade-
Which oftentimes will genius fetter-
Read works of fancy, it is said,

And cultivated the belles-lettres.

And why should this be thought so odd?
Can't men have taste who cure a phthisic?
Of poetry though patron god,

Apollo patronises physic.

Bolus loved verse, and took so much delight in't, That his prescriptions he resolved to write in't.

No opportunity he e'er let pass

Of writing the directions on his labels
In dapper couplets, like Gay's Fables,
Or rather like the lines in Hudibras.

Apothecary's verse! and where's the treason?
"Tis simply honest dealing; not a crime;
When patients swallow physic without reason,
It is but fair to give a little rhyme.

He had a patient lying at death's door,

Some three miles from the town, it might be four,
To whom, one evening, Bolus sent an article
In pharmacy that's called cathartical.
And on the label of the stuff

He wrote this verse,

Which one would think was clear enough,

And terse:

When taken,

To be well shaken.

Next morning carly, Bolus rose,
And to the patient's house he goes
Upon his pad,

Who a vile trick of stumbling had :
It was, indeed, a very sorry hack;
But that's of course;

For what's expected from a horse,
With an apothecary on his back?

Bolus arrived, and gave a doubtful tap, Between a single and a double rap.

Knocks of this kind

Are given by gentlemen who teach to dance;
By fiddlers, and by opera-singers;
One loud, and then a little one behind,
As if the knocker fell by chance
Out of their fingers.

The servant lets him in with dismal face,
Long as a courtier's out of place-

Portending some disaster;

John's countenance as rueful looked and grim,
As if the apothecary had physicked him,
And not his master.

"Well, how's the patient?" Bolus said;
John shook his head.
"Indeed!-hum!-ha!-that's

very odd! He took the draught ?" John gave a nod. "Well, how? what then? speak out, you dunce!" "Why, then," says John, we shook him once." "Shook him!-how?" Bolus stammered out.

66

"We jolted him about."

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

[GEORGE FARQUHAR, born at Londonderry, 1678. First an actor, then a soldier. Died in 1707.]

SCENE-The Market-place.

Drum beats the Grenadier's March. Enter SERGEANT KITE, followed by THOMAS APPLETREE, COSTAR PEARMAIN, and the Mob.

Kite. [Making a speech.] If any gentlemen, soldiers, or others, have a mind to serve His Majesty and pull down the French king; if any 'prentices have severe masters, any children have undutiful parents; if any servants have too little wages, or any husband a bad wife, let them repair to the noble Sergeant Kite, at the sign of the "Raven," in this good town of Shrewsbury, and they shall receive present relief and entertainment. [Drum.] Gentlemen, I don't beat my drums here to ensnare or inveigle any man; for you must know, gentlemen, that I am a man of honour: besides, I don't beat up for common soldiers; no, I 'list only grenadiers-grenadiers, gentlemen. Pray, gentlemen, observe this cap-this is the cap of honour: it dubs a man a gentleman in the drawing of a trigger; and he that has the good fortune to be born six foot high was born to be a great man. Sir, will you give me leave to try this cap upon your head?

Costar. Is there no harm in't? Won't the cap 'list me?

Cost. My mind misgives me plaguily. No coaxing, no bothering me, faith!

Kite. I coax! I wheedle! I'm above it, sir; I have served twenty campaigns; but, sir, you talk well, and I must own you are a man, every inch of you: a pretty, young, sprightly fellow!—but I scorn to wheedle any man! Come, honest lad, will you take share of a pot?

Cost. Nay, for that matter, I'll spend my penny with the best he that wears a head; that is, begging your pardon, sir, and in a fair way.

Kite. Give me your hand, then; and now, gentlemen, I have no more to say but this-here's a purse of gold, and there is a tub of humming ale at my quarters. "Tis the king's money and the king's drink; he's a generous king, and loves his subjects. 1 hope, gentlemen, you won't refuse the king's health? Hey, boys! thus we soldiers live, drink, sing, dance, play; we live, as one should say we live-'tis impossible to tell how we live —we are all princes; why, why you are a king, you are an emperor, and I'm a prince; now, an't we? Tho. No, sergeant; I'll be no emperor. Kite. No!

Tho. I'll be a justice of peace.

Kite. A justice of peace, man!

Tho. Ay, wauns will I; for since this pressing

Kite. No, no; no more than I can. Come, let act, they are greater than any emperor under the me see how it becomes you.

Cost. Are you sure there is no conjuration in it ?

-no gunpowder-plot upon me?

Kite. No, no, friend; don't fear, man,

sun.

Kite. Done; you are a justice of peace, and you are a king, and I'm a duke, and a rum duke, an't I?

THE RECRUITING OFFICER.

179

Cost. I'll be a queen.

Kite. A queen!

place you both sentinels in this place for two hours, to watch the motion of St. Mary's clock

Cost. Ay, of England; that's greater than any you, and you the motion of St. Chad's; and he king of them all. that dares stir from his post till he be relieved, shall have my sword through him the next minute.

Kite. Bravely said, faith! Huzza for the queen. But harkye, you, Mr. Justice, and you, Mr. Queen, did you ever see the king's picture?

Both. No, no, no.

Kite. I wonder at that; I have two of them set in gold, and as like His Majesty ;-bless the mark! see here, they are set in gold.

[Takes two broad pieces out of his pocket; presents one to each. Tho. The wonderful works of nature! [Looking at it.] What's this written about? here's a posy, I believe. Ca-ro-lus! what's that, sergeant ?

Kite. Oh, Carolus? why, Carolus is Latin for King George; that's all.

Cost. 'Tis a fine thing to be a scollard. Sergeant, will you part with this? I'll buy it on you, if it come within the compass of a crown.

Kite. A crown! never talk of buying; 'tis the same thing among friends, you know. I'll present them to ye both: you shall give me as good a thing. Put them up, and remember your old friend when I am over the hills and far away.

Enter PLUME, the Recruiting Officer. Plume. Come on, my men of mirth, away with it; I'll make one among you. Who are these hearty lads?

Plume. What's the matter, sergeant? I'm afraid you are too rough with these gentlemen.

Kite. I'm too mild, sir; they disobey command, sir; and one of them should be shot for an example to the other. They deny their being 'listed.

Tho. Nay, sergeant, we don't downright deny it neither; that we dare not do, for fear of being shot; but we humbly conceive, in a civil way, and begging your worship's pardon, that we may go home.

Plume. That's easily known. Have either of you received any of the king's money? Cost. Not a brass farthing, sir. Kite. They have each of them received one-andtwenty shillings, and 'tis now in their pockets.

Cost. Waunds! if I have a penny in my pocket but a bent sixpence, I'll be content to be listed and shot into the bargain.

Tho. And I look ye here, sir.

Cost. Nothing but the king's picture, that the sergeant gave me just now.

Kite. See there, a guinea; one-and-twenty shillings; t'other has the fellow on't.

Plume. The case is plain, gentlemen: the goods are found upon you. Those pieces of gold are

Kite. Off with your hats; 'ounds! off with your worth one-and-twenty shillings each. hats; this is the captain; the captain.

Tho. We have seen captains afore now, mun. Cost. Ay, and lieutenant-captains too. 'Sflesh! I'll keep on my nab.

Tho. And I'se scarcely doff mine for any captain in England. My vether's a freeholder.

Plume. Who are those jolly lads, sergeant? Kite. A couple of honest, brave fellows, that are willing to serve their king: I have entertained them just now as volunteers, under your honour's command.

Plume. And good entertainment they shall have: volunteers are the men I want; those are the men fit to make soldiers, captains, generals. Cost. Waunds, Tummas, what's this? are you listed?

Tho. Flesh! not I: are you, Costar?

Cost. Waunds, not I.

Cost. So it seems that Carolus is one-andtwenty shillings in Latin?

Tho. 'Tis the same thing in Greek, for we are 'listed. Cost. Flesh! but we an't, Tummas: I desire to be carried before the mayor, captain.

[Captain and Sergeant whisper the while. Plume. "Twill never do, Kite; your tricks will ruin me at last. I won't lose the fellows though, if I can help it.-Well, gentlemen, there must be some trick in this; my sergeant offers to take his oath that you are fairly listed.

Tho. Why, captain, we know that you soldiers have more liberty of conscience than other folks; but for me or neighbour Costar here to take such an oath, 'twould be downright perjuration. Plume. Look ye, rascal, you villain! if I find that you have imposed on these two honest

Kite. What! not listed? ha, ha, ha! a very fellows, I'll trample you to death, you dog! Come, good jest, i' faith.

[blocks in formation]

how was it?

Tho. Nay, then, we'll speak. Your sergeant, as you say, is a rogue; an't like your worship, begging your worship's pardon; and

Cost. Nay, Tummus, let me speak; you know I can read. And so, sir, he gave us those two pieces of money for pictures of the king, by way

Kite. Nay, then, I command you to stay; I of a present.

Plume. How? by way of a present? the rascal! I'll teach him to abuse honest fellows like you. Scoundrel, rogue, villain!

[Beats off the Sergeant, and follows. Both. Oh, brave noble captain! huzza! A brave captain, faith!

Cost. Now, Tummas, Carolus is Latin for a beating. This is the bravest captain I ever saw. Waunds! I've a month's mind to go with him.

Enter PLUME.

Plume. A dog, to abuse two such honest fellows as you. Look ye, gentlemen, I love a pretty fellow; I come among you as an officer to 'list soldiers,`not as a kidnapper, to steal slaves.

Cost. Mind that, Tummas.

Plume. I desire no man to go with me, but as I went myself. I went a volunteer, as you or you may do now; for a little time carried a musket, and now I command a company.

Tho. Mind that, Costar. A sweet gentleman. Plume. "Tis true, gentlemen, I might take an advantage of you; the king's money was in your pockets-my sergeant was ready to take his oath you were listed; but I scorn to do a base thing; you are both of you at your liberty.

Cost. Thank you, noble captain. Ecod, I can't find in my heart to leave him, he talks so finey. Tho. Ay, Costar, would he always hold in this mind.

Plume. Come, my lads, one thing more I'll tell you: you're both young tight fellows, and the army is the place to make you men for ever: every man has his lot, and you have yours. What think you of a purse of French gold out of a monsieur's pocket, after you have dashed out his brains with the butt-end of your firelock, eh?

me a shilling; I'll follow you to the end of the world.

Tho. Nay, dear Costar! do'na; be advised. Plume. Here, my hero; here are two guineas for thee, as earnest of what I'll do further for thee.

Tho. Do'na take it; do'na, dear Costar. [Cries, and pulls back his arm. Cost. I wull, I wull. Waunds! my mind gives me that I shall be a captain myself: I take your money, sir, and now I am a gentleman.

Plume. Give me thy hand; and now you and I will travel the world o'er, and command it whereever we tread. Bring your friend with you, if [Aside.

you can.

Cost. Well, Tummas, must we part? Tho. No, Costar; I cannot leave thee. Come, captain, I'll e'en go along with you too; and if you have two honester, simpler lads in your company than we two have been, I'll say no more. Plume. Here, my lad. [Gives him money. Now, your name?

Tho. Tummas Appletree.
Plume. And yours?

Cost. Costar Pearmain.

Plume. Well said, Costar. Born where?

Tho. Both in Herefordshire.

Plume. Very well. Courage, my lads. Kite,

take care of them.

Enter KITE.

Kite. An't you a couple of pretty fellows, now? Here you have complained to the captain; I am to be turned out, and one of you will be sergeant. Which of you is to have my halberd? Both. I. Kite. So you shall! Cost. Waunds! I'll have it. Captain, give | [Beats them off.]

March, you scoundrels!

DEATH OF CHATHAM.*
[THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY. See Page 129.]

THE Duke of Richmond had given notice of an address to the throne, against the further prosecution of hostilities with America. Chatham had, during some time, absented himself from Parliament, in consequence of his growing infirmities. He determined to appear in his place on this occasion, and to declare that his opinions were decidedly at variance with those of the Rockingham party. He was in a state of great excitement. His medical attendants were uneasy, and strongly advised him to calm himself, and to remain at home. But he was not to be controlled. His William, and his son-in-law, Lord Mahon, accompanied him to Westminster. He rested himself

son

in the Chancellor's room till the debate commenced, and then, leaning on his two young relations. limped to his seat. The slightest particulars of that day were remembered, and have been carefully recorded. He bowed, it was remarked, with great courtliness to those peers who rose to make way for him and his supporters. His crutch was in his hand. He wore, as was his fashion, a rich velvet coat. His legs were swathed in flannelHis wig was so large and his face so emaciated, that none of his features could be discerned, except the high curve of his nose, and his eyes, which still retained a gleam of the old fire.

When the Duke of Eichmond had spoken,

* By kind permission of Messrs. Longman and Co.

[merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small]

Chatham rose. For some time his voice was inaudible. At length his tones became distinct and his action animated. Here and there his hearers caught a thought or an expression which reminded them of William Pitt. But it was clear that he was not himself. He lost the thread of his discourse, hesitated, repeated the same words several times, and was so confused that, in speaking of the Act of Settlement, he could not recall the name of the Electress Sophia. The House listened in solemn silence, and with the aspect of profound respect and compassion. The stillness was so deep that the dropping of a handkerchief would have been heard. The Duke of Richmond replied with great tenderness and courtesy; but while he spoke, the old man was observed to be restless and irritable. The duke sat down. Chatham stood up again, pressed his hand on his breast, and sank down in an apoplectic fit. Three or four lords who sat near him caught him in his fall.

The House broke up in confusion. The

dying man was carried to the residence of one of the officers of Parliament, and was so far restored as to be able to bear a journey to Hayes. At Hayes, after lingering a few weeks, he expired in his seventieth year. His bed was watched to the last with anxious tenderness by his wife and children; and he well deserved their care. Too often haughty and wayward to others, to them he had been almost effeminately kind. He had through life been dreaded by his political opponents, and regarded with more awe than love even by his political associates. But no fear seems to have mingled with the affection which his fondness, constantly overflowing in a thousand endearing forms, had inspired in the little circle at Hayes.

Chatham, at the time of his decease, had not, in both Houses of Parliament, ten personal adherents. Half the public men of the age had been estranged from him by his errors, and the other half by the exertions which he had made to repair his errors. His last speech had been an attack at once on the

« PreviousContinue »