 | The recruiting serjeant |  |
20
SCENE V.
The Serjeant, the Countryman, the Mother, the Wife.MOTHER.
Call you this charming? 'Tis the work of hell.
WIFE.
How do'st thou like it, Joe?
COUNTRYMAN.
Why pretty well.
SERJEANT.
But pretty well!
COUNTRYMAN.
Why need there be more said?
But may'nt I happen too to lose my head?
SERJEANT.
Your head!
COUNTRYMAN.
Ay.
SERJEANT.
Let me see! your head, my buck!
21
A leg, or arm too?
SERJEANT.
Not if you've good luck.
COUNTRYMAN.
Good luck!
SERJEANT.
The chance of war is doubtful still;
Soldiers must run the risk—
COUNTRYMAN.
They may that will.
SERJEANT.
Why, how now, Joseph, sure you mean to jest!
COUNTRYMAN.
I have thought twice, and second thoughts are best.
Shew folks with beastis to our village came,
And hung at door a picture of their game;
Bears, lions, tygers, there were four or five;
And all so like, you'd swear they were alive.
A gaping at the cloth, the mon spied me,
For two-pence, friend, you may walk in, says he;
But, gad, I was more wise, and walked my way;
I saw so much for naught, I would not pay.
To see a battle thus, my moind was bent;
But you've so well describ'd it, I'm content.
22
Come, brother soldiers, let us then be gone:
Thou art a base paltroon—
COUNTRYMAN.
That's all as one.
AIR.
Ay, ay, master Serjeant, I wish you good day,
You've no need at present, I thank you, to stay;
My stomach for battle's gone from me, I trow;
When it comes back again, I'll take care you shall know.
With cudgel, or fist, as long as you list:
But as for this fighting,
Which some take delight in;
This slashing and smashing, with sword and with gun;
On consideration, I've no inclination,
To be the partaker of any such fun.
I'll e'en stay at home in my village,
And carry no arms but for tillage;
My wounds shall be made,
With the scythe or the spade,
If ever my blood should be shed.
A finger or so
Shou'd one wound, or a toe;
For such a distaster
There may be a plaister,
But no plaister sticks on a head.
You've no need at present, I thank you, to stay;
My stomach for battle's gone from me, I trow;
When it comes back again, I'll take care you shall know.
With cudgel, or fist, as long as you list:
But as for this fighting,
Which some take delight in;
This slashing and smashing, with sword and with gun;
On consideration, I've no inclination,
To be the partaker of any such fun.
I'll e'en stay at home in my village,
And carry no arms but for tillage;
My wounds shall be made,
With the scythe or the spade,
If ever my blood should be shed.
A finger or so
Shou'd one wound, or a toe;
For such a distaster
There may be a plaister,
But no plaister sticks on a head.
| The recruiting serjeant | |