[Exeunt, shouting.—Drum beating the Grenadier's March.
Enter Plume, in a Riding Habit.
Plume. By the Grenadier's march, that should be my drum, and by that shout, it should beat with success.—Let me see—four o'clock—[Looking on his Watch.] At ten yesterday morning I left London—an hundred and twenty miles in thirty hours is pretty smart riding, but nothing to the fatigue of recruiting.
Enter Kite.
Kite. Welcome to Shrewsbury, noble captain! from the banks of the Danube to the Severn side, noble captain! you're welcome.
Plume. A very elegant reception, indeed, Mr. Kite. I find you are fairly entered into your recruiting strain—Pray what success?
Kite. I've been here a week, and I've recruited five.
Plume. Five! pray what are they?
Kite. I have listed the strong man of Kent, the king of the gipsies, a Scotch pedlar, a scoundrel attorney, and a Welsh parson.
Plume. An attorney! wert thou mad? list a lawyer! discharge him, discharge him, this minute.