SIR OLIVER. What[!] little Premium has been let too much into the secret I presume.
CHARLES. True — Sir — but they were Family Secrets, and should not be mentioned again you know.
ROWLEY. Come Sir Oliver I know you cannot speak of Charles’s Follies with anger.
SIR OLIVER. Odd’s heart no more I can — nor with gravity either — Sir Peter do you know the Rogue bargain’d with me for all his Ancestors — sold me judges and Generals by the Foot, and Maiden Aunts as cheap as broken China!
CHARLES. To be sure, Sir Oliver, I did make a little free with the Family Canvas that’s the truth on’t: — my Ancestors may certainly rise in judgment against me there’s no denying it — but believe me sincere when I tell you, and upon my soul I would not say so if I was not — that if I do not appear mortified at the exposure of my Follies, it is because I feel at this moment the warmest satisfaction in seeing you, my liberal benefactor.
SIR OLIVER. Charles — I believe you — give me your hand again: the ill-looking little fellow over the Couch has made your Peace.
CHARLES. Then Sir — my Gratitude to the original is still encreased.
LADY TEAZLE. [Advancing.] Yet I believe, Sir Oliver, here is one whom Charles is still more anxious to be reconciled to.
SIR OLIVER. O I have heard of his Attachment there — and, with the young Lady’s Pardon if I construe right that Blush ——
SIR PETER. Well — Child — speak your sentiments — you know — we are going to be reconciled to Charles —
MARIA. Sir — I have little to say — but that I shall rejoice to hear that He is happy — For me — whatever claim I had to his Affection — I willing resign to one who has a better title.
CHARLES. How Maria!
SIR PETER. Heyday — what’s the mystery now? while he appeared an incorrigible Rake, you would give your hand to no one else and now that He’s likely to reform I’ll warrant You won’t have him!
MARIA. His own Heart — and Lady Sneerwell know the cause.
[CHARLES.] Lady Sneerwell!
SURFACE. Brother it is with great concern — I am obliged to speak on this Point, but my Regard to justice obliges me — and Lady Sneerwell’s injuries can no longer — be concealed — [Goes to the Door.]
Enter LADY SNEERWELL
SIR PETER. Soh! another French milliner egad! He has one in every Room in the House I suppose —
LADY SNEERWELL. Ungrateful Charles! Well may you be surprised and feel for the indelicate situation which your Perfidy has forced me into.
CHARLES. Pray Unkle, is this another Plot of yours? for as I have Life I don’t understand it.
SURFACE. I believe Sir there is but the evidence of one Person more necessary to make it extremely clear.
SIR PETER. And that Person — I imagine, is Mr. Snake — Rowley — you were perfectly right to bring him with us — and pray let him appear.
ROWLEY. Walk in, Mr. Snake —
Enter SNAKE
I thought his Testimony might be wanted — however it happens unluckily that He comes to confront Lady Sneerwell and not to support her —
LADY SNEERWELL. A Villain! — Treacherous to me at last! Speak, Fellow, have you too conspired against me?
SNAKE. I beg your Ladyship — ten thousand Pardons — you paid me extremely Liberally for the Lie in question — but I unfortunately have been offer’d double to speak the Truth.
LADY SNEERWELL. The Torments of Shame and Disappointment on you all!
LADY TEAZLE. Hold — Lady Sneerwell — before you go let me thank you for the trouble you and that Gentleman have taken in writing Letters from me to Charles and answering them yourself — and let me also request you to make my Respects to the Scandalous College — of which you are President — and inform them that Lady Teazle, Licentiate, begs leave to return the diploma they granted her — as she leaves of[f] Practice and kills Characters no longer.
LADY SNEERWELL. Provoking — insolent! — may your Husband live these fifty years!
[Exit.]
SIR PETER. Oons what a Fury ——
LADY TEAZLE. A malicious Creature indeed!
SIR PETER. Hey — not for her last wish? —
LADY TEAZLE. O No —
SIR OLIVER. Well Sir, and what have you to say now?
SURFACE. Sir, I am so confounded, to find that Lady Sneerwell could be guilty of suborning Mr. Snake in this manner to impose on us all that I know not what to say —— however, lest her Revengeful Spirit should prompt her to injure my Brother I had certainly better follow her directly.
[Exit.]
SIR PETER. Moral to the last drop!
SIR OLIVER. Aye and marry her Joseph if you can. — Oil and Vinegar egad: — you’ll do very well together.
ROWLEY. I believe we have no more occasion for Mr. Snake at Present —
SNAKE. Before I go — I beg Pardon once for all for whatever uneasiness I have been the humble instrument of causing to the Parties present.
SIR PETER. Well — well you have made atonement by a good Deed at last —
SNAKE. But I must Request of the Company that it shall never be known —
SIR PETER. Hey! — what the Plague — are you ashamed of having done a right thing once in your life?
SNAKE. Ah: Sir — consider I live by the Badness of my Character! — I have nothing but my Infamy to depend on! — and, if it were once known that I had been betray’d into an honest Action, I should lose every Friend I have in the world.
SIR OLIVER. Well — well we’ll not traduce you by saying anything to your Praise never fear.
[Exit SNAKE.]
SIR PETER. There’s a precious Rogue — Yet that fellow is a Writer and a Critic.
LADY TEAZLE. See[,] Sir Oliver[,] there needs no persuasion now to reconcile your Nephew and Maria —
SIR OLIVER. Aye — aye — that’s as it should be and egad we’ll have the wedding to-morrow morning —
CHARLES. Thank you, dear Unkle!
SIR PETER. What! you rogue don’t you ask the Girl’s consent first —
CHARLES. Oh, I have done that a long time — above a minute ago — and She has look’d yes —
MARIA. For Shame — Charles — I protest Sir Peter, there has not been a word ——
SIR OLIVER. Well then the fewer the Better — may your love for each other never know — abatement.
SIR PETER. And may you live as happily together as Lady Teazle and I — intend to do —
CHARLES. Rowley my old Friend — I am sure you congratulate me and I suspect too that I owe you much.
SIR OLIVER. You do, indeed, Charles —
ROWLEY. If my Efforts to serve you had not succeeded you would have been in my debt for the attempt — but deserve to be happy — and you over-repay me.
SIR PETER. Aye honest Rowley always said you would reform.
CHARLES. Why as to reforming Sir Peter I’ll make no promises — and that I take to be a proof that I intend to set about it — But here shall be my Monitor — my gentle Guide. — ah! can I leave the Virtuous path those Eyes illumine?
Tho’ thou, dear Maid, should’st wave [waive] thy Beauty’s Sway,
— Thou still must Rule — because I will obey:
An humbled fugitive from Folly View,
No sanctuary near but Love and YOU:
You can indeed each anxious Fear remove,
For even Scandal dies if you approve. [To the audience.]
EPILOGUE BY MR. COLMAN SPOKEN BY LADY TEAZLE
I, who was late so volatile and gay,
Like a trade-wind must now blow all one way,
Bend all my cares, my studies, and my vows,
To one dull rusty weathercock — my spouse!
So wills our virtuous bard — the motley Bayes
Of crying epilogues and laughing plays!
Old bachelors, who marry smart young wives,
Learn from our play to regulate your lives:
Each bring his dear to town, all faults upon her —
>
London will prove the very source of honour.
Plunged fairly in, like a cold bath it serves,
When principles relax, to brace the nerves:
Such is my case; and yet I must deplore
That the gay dream of dissipation’s o’er.
And say, ye fair! was ever lively wife,
Born with a genius for the highest life,
Like me untimely blasted in her bloom,
Like me condemn’d to such a dismal doom?
Save money — when I just knew how to waste it!
Leave London — just as I began to taste it!
Must I then watch the early crowing cock,
The melancholy ticking of a clock;
In a lone rustic hall for ever pounded,
With dogs, cats, rats, and squalling brats surrounded?
With humble curate can I now retire,
(While good Sir Peter boozes with the squire,)
And at backgammon mortify my soul,
That pants for loo, or flutters at a vole?
Seven’s the main! Dear sound that must expire,
Lost at hot cockles round a Christmas fire;
The transient hour of fashion too soon spent,
Farewell the tranquil mind, farewell content!
Farewell the plumed head, the cushion’d tete,
That takes the cushion from its proper seat!
That spirit-stirring drum! — card drums I mean,
Spadille — odd trick — pam — basto — king and queen!
And you, ye knockers, that, with brazen throat,
The welcome visitors’ approach denote;
Farewell all quality of high renown,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious town!
Farewell! your revels I partake no more,
And Lady Teazle’s occupation’s o’er!
All this I told our bard; he smiled, and said ’twas clear,
I ought to play deep tragedy next year.
Meanwhile he drew wise morals from his play,
And in these solemn periods stalk’d away: —
“Bless’d were the fair like you; her faults who stopp’d,
And closed her follies when the curtain dropp’d!
No more in vice or error to engage,
Or play the fool at large on life’s great stage.”
THE CAMP
The Camp premiered on the 15 October 1778 at the Drury Lane Theatre. It was a huge hit and was by far the most performed play of the season. In fact, it was one of the few new productions at Drury Lane during the 1778/1779 season that was a success at all. The staging of Henry Fielding’s play, The Fathers, was heavily criticised and an adaptation of John Vanbrugh’s Aesop was unpopular enough to have been viciously booed. Sheridan composed The Camp with the assistance of the playwrights David Garrick and John Burgoyne. Philip James de Loutherbourg, a painter famous for his depictions of naval scenes, was responsible for the set design. The artist had first been employed at the Drury Lane Theatre by Garrick in the early 1770’s to design scenery, costumes and to oversee the stage effects. He would continue to work there until the end of the century and his designs were often one of the most discussed aspects of the productions.
The Camp is a comedy that explores life in a British military camp after the entry of France into the American War of Independence. There are some characters preparing to defend Britain against a French invasion that will never come, while others look to exploit the soldiers for profit. The play includes an unscrupulous government official, an Irish painter mistaken for a spy and a young woman disguised as a soldier. Sheridan was a supporter of the American Revolution and when he became the MP for Stafford in 1780, he advocated for an end to the war and the recognition of American Independence.
Playwright and theatre manager, David Garrick, by Thomas Gainsborough, 1770
CONTENTS
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
MEN.
Gage, Mr. PARSONS.
O Daub, Mr. MOODY.
Sir Harry Bouquet, Mr. DODD.
Serjeant, Mr. BANNISTER.
Corporal William, Mr. WEBSTER.
Boulard, Mr. BADDELY.
First Countryman, Mr. FAWCET.
Second Countryman, Mr. KEEN.
Old Man, Mr. CHAPMAN.
Boy, Mr. SUETT.
Officers, Recruits, &c.
WOMEN.
Nell, Mrs. WRIGHTON.
Lady Plume, Miss FARREN.
Lady Sash, Miss POPE.
Lady Gorget, Mrs. WARD.
Nancy, Miss WALPOLE.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
The Road near the CAMP.
Enter Old Man.
COME along, neighbours, come along, we shall be too late for the suttlers market.
Enter 2nd. Man.
Put on, put on, neighbours. Here Robin, where are you boy.
Robin, Behind.
I’m coming Feather, as soon as I can get the colt up, for the plaguy beast is down again, and mother and chickens are all in the slough.
Old Man.
Why, is the colt down again? You graceless dog, help your mother up. — Oh, neighbour Farrow has helped her up I see.
Enter, OLD WOMAN.
O. Woman.
Husband, as sure as you are alive, that rogue of a boy drove the colt in the dirt for the purpose, and down we came with such a wang. —
O. Man.
What a mercy it is the chickens escaped! — Come, put on neighbours.
Enter ROBIN and COLT.
Robin.
Why, Feather how could I help it? — The colt has not had an eye in his head these eight years.
O. Woman.
O, here comes our Kinswoman, and her Daughter,
(enter Miss)
Bless me child! you are in such a heat you’ll quite spoil your complexion.
Miss.
Lord neighbours, you hurry one so. —
2nd. Woman.
Put on. put on; make haste, we shall be too late — O dear, here comes Nell, and she’ll scold us all, for cheating the soldiers.
3rd. Woman.
Damn that wench, she won’t cheat herself, nor let other honest people do it, if she can help it: and she says she likes a soldier so well she would sell them goods for nothing.
2nd. Man.
Come neighbours, now we shall see what bargains your Daughter will make at the Camp.
2nd. Woman.
Aye, Aye, soldiers are testy customers — They won’t buy of the ugly ones — O, here Nell comes.
Enter NELL.
Nell.
Why how now, what you are consulting how you shall cheat the poor soldiers: for shame! for shame! how can you use the poor fellows so? a parcel of unfeeling wretches! Poor fellows, that risque their Lives to defend your property, and yet you make it your study to defraud them.
O. Woman.
It’s very hard, Nell; you won’t let us have a little picking among em. What is it to you what we do.
Nell.
Yes it is to me; I never will bear to see a soldier cheated, with my eyes open. I love a soldier, and will always stand by them.
Miss.
Mind your own business, Nell.
Nell.
What’s that you say, Miss Minx? Here’s a wench dressed out; the poor soldiers are forced to pay for all this finery, you impudent slut you.
2nd. Man.
Why, Nell, if you go on at this rate we’ll tell his worship, Mr. Gage of you: He’s an exciseman, and a great friend to us poor solks.
Nell.
What’s that you say, master Grinder? Come forward, you sneaking sniveling sot you, I think your tricks are pretty well known. Was n’t you caught soaking eggs in lime and water to make them pass for new ones: and did not you
sit in the stocks for robbing the ‘Squire’s rookery to make your pigeon pies.
2nd. Woman.
Well, well, we’ll tell Mr. Gage, and then what will he say to you?
Nell.
Tell Mr. Gage, will you, he’s a pretty protector indeed he’s a disgrace to his Majesty’s inkhorn — while he seizes with one hand, he smuggles with the other. — Why, no longer ago than last summer he was a broken attorney at Rochester, and came down here, and bought this place with his vote, and now he is both a smuggler and contractor. O my conscience, if I had the management of affairs, I would severely punish all such fellows who would be so base as to cheat a poor soldier.
2nd. Woman.
If his worship was here, you dare not say so. Here he comes, here he comes. Now you’ll change your note.
Nell.
Will I? you shall see if I do. No, no; I’ll tell him my mind; that’s always my way.
Enter GAGE.
All.
Ah! Mr. Gage.
Gage.
Hey dey! what’s the matter? What the plague is there a civil war broke out among you?
1st. Woman.
Why, Mr. Gage, Nell here has been scolding us for cheating the soldiers,
2nd Woman.
Yes, and says you encourage us in it.
Gage.
Encourage you? to be sure I do, in the way of trade.
All.
Aye, in the way of trade.
1st. Woman.
Yes, and she has been rating the poor girl, and says I dress her up thus only to make the better bargains.
Gage.
And e’cod you’re in the right of it; your mother is a sensible old woman. Well said dame, put plenty in your baskets, and sell your wares at the sign of your daughters face.
1st. Woman.
Aye, aye, so I say.
Gage.
Right — Soldiers are testy customers, and this is the market where the prettiest will always make the best bargains.
All.
Very true, very true.
Gage.
To besure; I hate to see an awkward gawkey come sneaking into the market, with her damned half-price countenance, and is never able to get scarce double the value of her best goods.
Nell.
I can hold no longer: are you not ashamed you who are a contractor, and has the honour to carry his Majesty’s inkhorn at your button-hole, to teach these poor wretches all your court tricks. I’ll tell you what. If I was to sit on a court martial against such a fellow as you, you should have had your deserts, from the pilfering suttler to the head contractor, you should have the cat o’ nine tails, and be forced to run the gauntlet, from Coxheath to Warley common, that you should.
Delphi Complete Works of Richard Brinsley Sheridan Page 35
