St. Patrick's Day Or The Scheming Lieutenant E-Book

Richard Brinsley Sheridan

• Herausgeber: Interactive Media
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

"St. Patrick's Day" by Richard Brinsley Sheridan is a one-act comic play set in Ireland. It revolves around the antics of a scheming lieutenant who manipulates situations for his benefit. The plot unfolds as the lieutenant cleverly engineers misunderstandings and rivalries, ultimately orchestrating a humorous confrontation. Sheridan's witty dialogue and situational humor highlight human nature's folly, making it a delightful exploration of intrigue and comedic entanglements in a St. Patrick's Day backdrop.

Leseprobe

Richard Brinsley Sheridan

St. Patrick’s Day Or The Scheming Lieutenant

Published by Sovereign

This edition first published in 2023

Copyright © 2023 Sovereign

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 9781787367388

Contents

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ACT I.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE IN 1775

LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR Mr. Clinch.

DR. ROSY Mr. Quick.

JUSTICE CREDULOUS Mr. Lee Lewes.

SERJEANT TROUNCE Mr. Booth.

CORPORAL FLINT……………………

LAURETTA Mrs. Cargill.

MRS. BRIDGET CREDULOUS Mrs. Pitt.

Drummer, Soldiers, Countrymen, and Servant.

SCENE—A TOWN IN ENGLAND.

ACT I.

SCENE I.—LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR’s Lodgings.

Enter SERJEANT TROUNCE, CORPORAL FLINT, and four SOLDIERS.

FIRST SOLDIER.

I say you are wrong; we should all speak together, each for himself, and all at once, that we may be heard the better.

SECOND SOLDIER.

Right, Jack, we’ll argue in platoons.

THIRD SOLDIER.

Ay, ay, let him have our grievances in a volley, and if we be to have a spokesman, there’s the corporal is the lieutenant’s countryman, and knows his humour.

CORPORAL FLINT.

Let me alone for that. I served three years, within a bit, under his honour, in the Royal Inniskillions, and I never will see a sweeter tempered gentleman, nor one more free with his purse. I put a great shammock in his hat this morning, and I’ll be bound for him he’ll wear it, was it as big as Steven’s Green.

FOURTH SOLDIER.

I say again then you talk like youngsters, like militia striplings: there’s a discipline, look’ee in all things, whereof the serjeant must be our guide; he’s a gentleman of words; he understands your foreign lingo, your figures, and such like auxiliaries in scoring. Confess now for a reckoning, whether in chalk or writing, ben’t he your only man?

CORPORAL FLINT.

Why the serjeant is a scholar to be sure, and has the gift of reading.

SERJEANT TROUNCE.

Good soldiers, and fellow-gentlemen, if you make me your spokesman, you will show the more judgment; and let me alone for the argument. I’ll be as loud as a drum, and point blank from the purpose.

ALL.

Agreed, agreed.

CORPORAL FLINT.

Oh, faith! here comes the lieutenant.—Now, Serjeant.

SERJEANT TROUNCE.

So then, to order.—Put on your mutiny looks; every man grumble a little to himself, and some of you hum the Deserter’s March.

Enter LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR.

LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR.

Well, honest lads, what is it you have to complain of?

SOLDIER.

Ahem! hem!

SERJEANT TROUNCE.

So please your honour, the very grievance of the matter is this:—ever since your honour differed with justice Credulous, our inn-keepers use us most scurvily. By my halbert, their treatment is such, that if your spirit was willing to put up with it, flesh and blood could by no means agree; so we humbly petition that your honour would make an end of the matter at once, by running away with the justice’s daughter, or else get us fresh quarters,—hem! hem!

LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR.

Indeed! Pray which of the houses use you ill?

FIRST SOLDIER.

There’s the Red Lion an’t half the civility of the old Red Lion.

SECOND SOLDIER.

There’s the White Horse, if he wasn’t case-hardened, ought to be ashamed to show his face.

LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR.

Very well; the Horse and the Lion shall answer for it at the quarter sessions.

SERJEANT TROUNCE.

The two Magpies are civil enough; but the Angel uses us like devils, and the Rising Sun refuses us light to go to bed by.

LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR.

Then, upon my word, I’ll have the Rising Sun put down, and the Angel shall give security for his good behaviour; but are you sure you do nothing to quit scores with them?

CORPORAL FLINT.

Nothing at all, your honour, unless now and then we happen to fling a cartridge into the kitchen fire, or put a spatterdash or so into the soup; and sometimes Ned drums up and down stairs a little of a night.

LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR.

Oh, all that’s fair; but hark’ee, lads, I must have no grumbling on St. Patrick’s Day; so here, take this, and divide it amongst you. But observe me now,—show yourselves men of spirit, and don’t spend sixpence of it in drink.

SERJEANT TROUNCE.

Nay, hang it, your honour, soldiers should never bear malice; we must drink St. Patrick’s and your honour’s health.

ALL.

Oh, damn malice! St. Patrick’s and his honour’s by all means.

CORPORAL FLINT.

Come away, then, lads, and first we’ll parade round the Market-cross, for the honour of King George.

FIRST SOLDIER.

Thank your honour.—Come along; St. Patrick, his honour, and strong beer for ever! [Exeunt SOLDIERS.]

LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR.

Get along, you thoughtless vagabonds! yet, upon my conscience, ’tis very hard these poor fellows should scarcely have bread from the soil they would die to defend.

Enter DOCTOR ROSY.

Ah, my little Dr. Rosy, my Galen a-bridge, what’s the news?

DR. ROSY.

All things are as they were, my Alexander; the justice is as violent as ever: I felt his pulse on the matter again, and, thinking his rage began to intermit, I wanted to throw in the bark of good advice, but it would not do. He says you and your cut-throats have a plot upon his life, and swears he had rather see his daughter in a scarlet fever than in the arms of a soldier.

LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR.

Upon my word the army is very much obliged to him. Well, then, I must marry the girl first, and ask his consent afterwards.

DR. ROSY.

So, then, the case of her fortune is desperate, hey?

LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR.

Oh, hang fortune,—let that take its chance; there is a beauty in Lauretta’s simplicity, so pure a bloom upon her charms.

DR. ROSY.

So there is, so there is. You are for beauty as nature made her, hey! No artificial graces, no cosmetic varnish, no beauty in grey, hey!

LIEUTENANT O’CONNOR.