Trounce. Under me, to be sure,

O’Con. Isn’t Lieutenant O’Connor your officer?

Trounce. He is, and I am commander over him.

O’Con. What! be your serjeants greater than your captains?

Trounce. To be sure we are; ’tis our business to keep them in order. For instance, now, the general writes to me, dear Serjeant, or dear Trounce, or dear Serjeant Trounce, according to his hurry, if your lieutenant does not demean himself accordingly, let me know.—Yours, General Deluge.

O’Con. And do you complain of him often?

Trounce. No, hang him, the lad is good-natured at the bottom, so I pass over small things. But hark’ee, between ourselves, he is most confoundedly given to wenching.

Enter Corporal Flint.

Flint. Please your honour, the doctor is coming this way with his worship—We are all ready, and have our cues.


O’Con. Then, my dear Trounce, or my dear Serjeant, or my dear Serjeant Trounce, take yourself away.

Trounce. Zounds! the lieutenant—I smell of the black hole already.


Enter Justice Credulous and Doctor Rosy.

Just. I thought I saw some of the cut-throats.

Rosy. I fancy not; there’s no one but honest Humphrey. Ha! Odds life, here comes some of them—we’ll stay by these trees, and let them pass.

Just. Oh, the bloody-looking dogs!

[Walks aside with Doctor Rosy.

Re-enter Corporal Flint and two Soldiers.

Flint. Halloa, friend! do you serve Justice Credulous?

O’Con. I do.

Flint. Are you rich?

O’Con. Noa.

Flint. Nor ever will be with that old stingy booby. Look here—take it.

[Gives him a purse.

O’Con. What must I do for this?

  By PanEris using Melati.

Previous chapter/page Back Home Email this Search Discuss Bookmark Next page
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Ltd, and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission. See our FAQ for more details.