TO SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. DEAR SIR,-By inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not mean so much to compliment you as myself. It may do me some honor to inform the public, that I have lived many years in intimacy with you. It may serve the interests of mankind also to inform them, that the greatest wit may be found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected piety. I have, particularly, reason to thank you for your partiality to this performance. The undertaking a Comedy, not merely sentimental, was very dangerous; and Mr. Colman, who saw this piece in its various stages, always thought it so. However, I ventured to trust it to the public; and, though it was necessarily delayed till late in the season, I have every reason to be grateful. I am, Your most sincere friend and admirer, OLIVER GOLDSMITH. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER; OR, THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT. A COMEDY. AS IT IS ACTED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN. BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ. Enter Mr. WOODWARD, dressed in black, and holding a handkerchief to his Eyes. Excuse me, Sirs, I pray-I can't yet speak— I'm crying now-and have been all the week. ""Tis not alone this mourning suit," good mas 'ters: "I've that within "—for which there are no plasters ! [ing? Pray, would you know the reason why I'm cryThe Comic Muse, long sick, is now a dying! And if she goes, my tears will never stop; For as a play'r, I can't squeeze out one drop; I am undone, that's all-shall lose my breadI'd rather, but that's nothing-lose my head. When the sweet maid is laid upon the bier, What shall we do?—If Comedy forsake us! us. But, why can't I be moral ?-Let me tryMy heart thus pressing-fix'd my face and eye With a sententious look, that nothing means, (Faces are blocks in sentimental scenes) Thus I begin-"All is not gold that glitters, "Pleasures seem sweet, but prove a glass of bitters. "When ign'rance enters, folly is at hand: 66 Learning is better far than house and land. "Let not your virtue trip, who trips may stumble, "And virtue is not virtue, if she tumble." I give it up-morals won't do for me; To make you laugh, I must play tragedy. One hope remains-hearing the maid was ill, A Doctor comes this night to show his skill. To cheer her heart, and give your muscles motion, He, in five draughts prepar'd, presents a potion : A kind of magic charm-for be assur'd, If you will swallow it, the maid is cur'd : No pois'nous drugs are mix'd in what he gives. The College you, must his pretensions back, |