Classic Poem

SCENE II.

SOLDIER.

Sergeant, the captain to your quarters sent;
To ev'ry ale-house in the town I went.
Our Corp'ral now has the deserter found;
The men are all drawn out, the pris'ner bound.

SERGEANT.

Come, soldier, come — — —

KITTY.

— — — Ah! take me, take me too.

GRANDMOTHER.

Stay, forward wench; — — —

AUNT.

— — — What would the creature do?
This week thy mother means to wash and brew.

KITTY.

Brew then she may herself, or wash or bake;
I'd leave ten mothers for one sweetheart's sake.
O justice most unjust! — — —

FILBERT.

— — — O tyranny!

KITTY.

How can I part? — — —

FILBERT.

— — — Alas! and how can I?

KITTY.

O rueful day! — — —

FILBERT.

— — — Rueful indeed, I trow.

KITTY.

O woeful day!

FILBERT.

— — — A day indeed of woe!

KITTY.

When gentlefolks their sweethearts leave behind,
They can write letters, and say something kind;
But how shall Filbert unto me endite,
When neither I can read, nor he can write?
Yet Justices, permit us e'er we part
To break this ninepence, as you've broke our heart.

FILBERT.

As this divides, thus are we torn in twain.

KITTY.

And as this meets, thus may we meet again.
Yet one look more — — —

FILBERT.

— — — One more e'er yet we go.

KITTY.

To part is death. — — —

FILBERT.

— — — 'Tis death to part.

KITTY.

— — — Ah!

FILBERT.

— — — Oh!