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Show 48 The Recruiting Officer. But. Oons! and fo fhe has, but very few know fo much. Kite. 1 know it, and that Rogue, what's his Name, Kite knew it, and offer'd you five Guineas to lift, becaufe he knew your poor Mother wou'd give the Hundred for your Difcharge. But. There's a Dog now • 'sflefh, Doctor, I'll give you t'other Half-Crown, and tell m e that this fame Kite will be hang'd. Kite. He's in as much danger as any M a n in the County of Salop. But. There's your Fee but you have forgot the Surgeon General all this while. Kite. You put the Stars in a Paffion. (Looks on his Booh.) But now they are pacify'd agen Let m e fee, did you never cut off a Man's Leg ? But. N o. Kite. Recollect, pray. But. I fay, no. Kite. That's ftrange , wonderful ftrange; but nothing is ftrange to me, fuch wonderful Changes have I feen • The Second, or Third, ay, the Third Campaign that you make in Flanders, the Leg of a great Officer will be fhatter'd by a great Shot, you will be there accidentally, and with your Clever chop off the Limb at a Blow: In fhort, the Operation will be perform'd with fo much Dexterity, that with general Applaufe you will be made Surgeon-General of the whole Army. But. Nay, for the matter of cutting off a Limb, ill dot, 111 doWvith any Surgeon in Europe; but I have no thoughts of mafflNg a Campaign. Kite. You have no thoughts ! what's matter for your thoughts, the Stars have decreed it, and you muft go. But. The Stars decree it! Oons, Sir, the Juftices can't prefs me. Kite. Nay, Friend, 'tis none of m y bufinefs, I have done; only mind this, you'll know more an hour and half hence, that's all, farewel. But. Hold, hold, Doctor, Surgeon-General! W h a t is the Place worth, pray ? Kite. Five hundred Pounds a Year , befides Guineas for Claps. But. Five hundred Pounds a Year! An hour an a half hence, you lay. Kite. Prithee, Friend, be quiet, don't be troublefome, here's fucii a work to make a Booby Butcher accept of Five hdurned* |
