



Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed
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 THE
 RECRUITING OFFICER,

 A COMEDY,
 IN FIVE ACTS;

 BY GEORGE FARQUHAR, ESQ.


 AS PERFORMED AT THE
 THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN.
 PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS
 FROM THE PROMPT BOOK.


 WITH REMARKS

 BY MRS. INCHBALD.


 LONDON:

 PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME
 PATERNOSTER ROW.




 WILLIAM SAVAGE, PRINTER,
 LONDON.




REMARKS.


If the two last acts of this drama were equal to the three first, it
would rank the foremost among Farquhar's works; for these are brilliant
in wit, humour, character, incident, and every other requisite necessary
to form a complete comedy. But the decrease of merit in a play, on
approaching its conclusion, is, as in all other productions, of most
unfortunate consequence.

The author was himself a recruiting officer, and possibly gathered all
the materials for this play on the very spot where he has placed his
scene--Shrewsbury. He has dedicated the piece "to all friends round the
Wrekin," and has thanked the inhabitants of the town for that cheerful
hospitality, which made, he adds, "the recruiting service, to some men
the greatest fatigue on earth, to me the greatest pleasure in the
world."

He even acknowledges, that he found the country folk, whom he has here
introduced--meaning those most excellently drawn characters of Rose, her
brother, and the two recruits,--under the shade of that beforementioned
hill near Shrewsbury, the Wrekin; and it may be well supposed, that he
discovered Serjeant Kite in his own Regiment, and Captain Plume in his
own person. Certainly those characters have every appearance of being
copied from life--and probably, many other of his Salopian acquaintance
have here had their portraits drawn to perfection.

The disguise of Sylvia in boy's clothes, is an improbable, and romantic
occurrence; yet it is one of those dramatic events, which were considered
as perfectly natural in former times; although neither history, nor
tradition, gives any cause to suppose, that the English ladies were
accustomed to attire themselves in man's apparel; and reason assures
us, that they could seldom, if ever, have concealed their sex by such
stratagem.

Another incident in the "Recruiting Officer" might have had its value a
hundred years ago--just the time since the play was first acted; but to
the present generation, it is so dull, that it casts a heaviness upon
all those scenes, whereon it has any influence. Fortune-tellers are now
a set of personages, in whom, and in whose skill or fraud, no rational
person takes interest; and though such people still exist by their
profession, they are so vile, they are beneath satire; and their dupes
such ideots, they do not even enjoy sense enough, for their folly to
produce risibility.

Perhaps, the author despised this part of his play, as much as the
severest critic can do; but having expended his store of entertainment
upon the foregoing scenes, he was compelled to supply the bulk of the
two last acts, from the scanty fund of wasted spirits, and exhausted
invention.

The life of Farquhar was full of adventures.--As a student, he was
expelled the college of Dublin, for adventuring profane wit upon a
sacred theme, given to him by his tutor for his exercise.

As an actor, he forsook the stage in grief and horror, on having
unknowingly made use of a real sword, instead of a counterfeit one, by
which he wounded a brother performer, with whom he had to fence in a
tragedy, nearly to the loss of his life.

In love, and marriage, his enterprises were still more unhappily
terminated.--And merely as an author, and a soldier, can any events
of his life be accounted prosperous.

As a dramatic writer, Farquhar was eminently successful; and in his
military capacity, he was ever honoured and beloved--whether fighting
with a great army in Flanders, or recruiting with a small party in
Shropshire.




DRAMATIS PERSONAE.


 CAPTAIN PLUME          _Mr. Holman._
 JUSTICE BALANCE        _Mr. Murray._
 WORTHY                 _Mr. Whitfield._
 SERJEANT KITE          _Mr. Knight._
 BULLOCK                _Mr. Fawcett._
 FIRST RECRUIT          _Mr. Munden._
 SECOND RECRUIT         _Mr. Emery._
 WELSH COLLIER          _Mr. Farley._
 CONSTABLE              _Mr. Thompson._
 CAPTAIN BRAZEN         _Mr. Lewis._

 MELINDA                _Miss Chapman._
 ROSE                   _Mrs. Gibbs._
 LUCY                   _Mrs. Litchfield._
 SYLVIA                 _Mrs. Johnson._

 _SCENE--Shrewsbury._




THE RECRUITING OFFICER.




ACT THE FIRST.


SCENE I.

_The Market Place._

_Drum beats the Grenadier's March.--Enter_ SERJEANT 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 too much wife, let
them repair to the noble Serjeant 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
insnare 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?

_Cost._ Is there no harm in't? won't the cap list me?

_Kite._ No, no, no more than I can.--Come, let 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.

_Cost._ My mind misgives me plaguily.--Let me see it--[_Going to put it
on._] It smells woundily of sweat and brimstone. Smell, Tummas.

_Tho._ Ay, wauns does it.

_Cost._ Pray, Serjeant, what writing is this upon the face of it?

_Kite._ The crown, or the bed of honour.

_Cost._ Pray now, what may be that same bed of honour?

_Kite._ Oh! a mighty large bed! bigger by half than the great bed at
Ware--ten thousand people may lie in it together, and never feel one
another.

_Cost._ My wife and I would do well to lie in't, for we don't care for
feeling one another----But do folk sleep sound in this same bed of
honour?

_Kite._ Sound! ay, so sound that they never wake.

_Cost._ Wauns! I wish again that my wife lay there.

_Kite._ Say you so! then I find, brother----

_Cost._ Brother! hold there friend; I am no kindred to you that I know
of yet.--Lookye, serjeant, no coaxing, no wheedling, d'ye see--If I have
a mind to list, why so--if not, why 'tis not so--therefore take your cap
and your brothership back again, for I am not disposed at this present
writing.--No coaxing, no brothering 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 that you are a man,
every inch of you; a pretty, young, sprightly fellow!--I love a fellow
with a spirit; but I scorn to coax; 'tis base; though I must say, that
never in my life have I seen a man better built. How firm and strong he
treads! he steps like a castle! 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--I hope, gentlemen, you won't
refuse the king's health.

_All Mob._ No, no, no.

_Kite._ Huzza, then! huzza for the king, and the honour of Shropshire.

_All Mob._ Huzza!

_Kite._ Beat drum.

     [_Exeunt, shouting.--Drum beating the Grenadier's March._


     _Enter_ PLUME, _in a Riding Habit_.

_Plume._ By the Grenadier's march, that should be my drum, and by that
shout, it should beat with success.--Let me see--four o'clock--[_Looking
on his Watch._] At ten yesterday morning I left London--an hundred and
twenty miles in thirty hours is pretty smart riding, but nothing to the
fatigue of recruiting.


     _Enter_ KITE.

_Kite._ Welcome to Shrewsbury, noble captain! from the banks of the
Danube to the Severn side, noble captain! you're welcome.

_Plume._ A very elegant reception, indeed, Mr. Kite. I find you are
fairly entered into your recruiting strain--Pray what success?

_Kite._ I've been here a week, and I've recruited five.

_Plume._ Five! pray what are they?

_Kite._ I have listed the strong man of Kent, the king of the gipsies, a
Scotch pedlar, a scoundrel attorney, and a Welsh parson.

_Plume._ An attorney! wert thou mad? list a lawyer! discharge him,
discharge him, this minute.

_Kite._ Why, sir?

_Plume._ Because I will have nobody in my company that can write