THE NEW YORK DRAMA TRAGEDIES, / A CHOICE COLLECTION OF COMEDIES, WITH FARCES, ETC. CASTS OF CHARACTERS, STAGE BUSINESS, COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, &c., ADAPTED TO THE HOME CIRCLE, PRIVATE THEATRICALS, AND THE AMERICAN STAGE. NO. 11. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by WHEAT & CORNETT, in the Office SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER: A Comedy, in Five Acts. BY DR. GOLDSMITH. CAST OF CHARACTERS. Sir Charles Marlow.... Mr. J. W. Shannon. Covent Garden, 1822. Lester Wallack. Hardcastle.... "John Gilbert. Tony Lumpkin... Harry Beckett. Diggory. Roger.......... Mears. 64 Dick.. Heath. VOL. 1. inn, but that we never see company. Our best visitors are old Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's wife, and little Cripplegate, the lame dancing-master; and all our entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene and the Duke of Marlborough. I hate such old-fashioned trumpery. Hard. And I love everything that's old: old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine; and I believe, Dorothy, [taking her hand] you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old wife. Mrs. H. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're forever at your Dorothys and your old wifes. You may be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I promise you. I'm not so old as you'd make me by more than one good year. Add twenty to twenty, and make money of that. Hard. Let me see: twenty added to twenty makes just fifty and seven. Mrs. H. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle; I was but twenty when I had Tony by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband; and he's not come to years of discretion yet. Hard. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. Mrs. Chatterly. Aye, you have taught him finely. Miss Green. EXITS AND ENTRANCES.-R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 3 E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle ACT I. SCENE I.-A Chamber in an old-fashioned House. Mrs. H. I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're very particular. Is there a creature in the whole country, but ourselves, that does not take a trip to town now and then, to rub off the rust a little? There's the two Miss Hoggs, and our neighbor, Mrs. Grigsby, go to take a month's polishing every winter. Hard. Aye, and bring back vanity and affectation to last them a whole year. I wonder why London cannot keep its own fools at home. In my time, the follies of the town crept slowly among us, but now they travel faster than a stagecoach. Its fopperies come down, not only as inside passengers, but in the very basket. Mrs. H. Aye, your times were fine times, indeed; you have been telling us of them for many a long year. Here we live in an old rumbling mansion, that looks for all the world like an Mrs. H. No matter, Tony Lumpkin has a good fortune. My son is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy wants much learning to spend fifteen hundred a year. Hard. Learning, quotha! a mere composition of tricks and mischief. Mrs. H. Humor, my dear; nothing but humor. Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humor. Hard. I'd sooner allow him a horse-pond! If burning the footman's shoes, frightening the maids, worrying the kittens, be humor, he has it. It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I popped my bald head in Mrs. Frizzle's face. Mrs. H. And am I to blame? The poor boy was always too sickly to do any good. A school would be his death. When he comes to be a little stronger, who knows what a year or two's Latin may do for him? Hard. Latin for him! a cat and a fiddle! No, no; the ale-house and the stable are the only schools he'll ever go to. Mrs. H. Well, we must not snub the poor boy now, for I believe we shan't have him long among us. Anybody who looks in his face can see he's consumptive. Hard. Aye, if growing too fat be one of the symptoms. Mrs. H. He coughs sometimes. Hard. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong way. Mrs. H. I'm actually afraid of his lungs. Hard. And truly, so am I; for he sometimes whoops like a speaking-trumpet. [TONY hallooing behind the scenes.] Oh, there he goes-a very consumptive figure, truly! Enter TONY, L. U. E., crossing to R. Mrs. H. Tony, where are you going, my charmer? Won't you give papa and I a little of your company, lovee? Tony. I'm in haste, mother, I can't stay. Mrs. H. You shan't venture out this raw evening, my dear. You look most shocking. Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. Pigeons" expects me down every moment. There's some fun going forward. The "Three Hard. Aye, the ale-house, the old place; I thought so. Mrs. H. A low, paltry set of fellows! Tony. Not so low, neither. There's Dick Muggins, the exciseman, Jack Slang, the horse-doctor, little Aminadab that grinds the music-box, and Tom Twist that spins the pewter platter. Mrs. H. Pray, my dear, disappoint them for one night, at least. Tony. As for disappointing them, I should not so much mind, but I can't abide to disappoint myself. Mrs. H. [detaining him.] You shan't go! Hard. Aye, there goes a pair that only spoil each other. But is not the whole age in a combination to drive sense and discretion out of doors? There's my pretty darling Kate; the fashions of the times have almost infected her too. By living a year or two in town, she is as fond of gauze and French frippery as the best of them. Enter MISS HARDCASTLE, L. Blessings on my pretty innocence! Dressed out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! what a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou got about thee, girl! I could never teach the fools of this age, that the indigent world could be clothed out of the trimmings of the vain. Miss H. You know our agreement, sir. You allow me in the morning to receive and pay visits, and to dress in my own manner; and in the evening, I put on my housewife's dress to please you. Hard. Well, remember, I insist on the terms of our agreement; and by-the-by, I believe I shall have occasion to try your obedience this very evening. Miss H. I protest, sir, I don't comprehend your meaning. Hard. Then, to be plain with you, Kate, I expect the young gentleman I have chosen to be your husband from town this very day. I have his father's letter, in which he informs me his son is set out, and that he intends to follow himself shortly after. ness, that I shall find no room for friendship or esteem. Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never control your choice; but Mr. Marlow, whom I have pitched upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Charles Marlow, of whom you have heard me talk so often. The young gentleman has been bred a scholar, and is designed for an employment in the service of his country. I am told he's a man of an excellent understanding. Miss H. Is he? Hard. Very generous. Miss H. I believe I shall like him. Miss H. I'm sure I shall like him. Miss H. My dear papa, say no more. [Kissing his hand.] He's mine, I'll have him. Hard. And to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most bashful and reserved young fellows in all the world. Miss H. Eh! you have frozen me to death again. That word reserved has undone all the rest of his accomplishments. A reserved lover, it is said, always makes a suspicious husband. Hard. On the contrary, modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues. It was the very feature in his character that first struck me. Miss H. He must have more striking features to catch me, I promise you. However, if he be so young, so handsome, and so everything, as you mention, I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have him. Hard. Aye, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. It's more than an even wager he may not have you. Miss H. My dear papa, why will you mortify one so? Well, if he refuse, instead of breaking my heart at his indifference, I'll only break my glass for its flattery; set my cap to some newer fashion, and look out for some less difficult admirer. Hard. Bravely resolved! In the meantime, I'll go prepare the servants for his reception; as we seldom see company, they want as much training as a company of recruits the first day's muster. [Exit L. Miss H. Lud, this news of papa's puts me all in a flutter! Young, handsome; these he put last; but I put them foremost. Sensible, good-natured; I like all that. But, then, reserved and sheepish, that's much against him. Yet, can't he be cured of his timidity, by being taught to be proud of his wife? Yes, and can't I-but I vow I am disposing of the husband before I have secured the lover. Enter MISS NEVILLE, R. I'm glad you're come, my dear. Tell me, Constance, how do I look this evening? Is there anything whimsical about me? Is it one of my well-looking days, child? Am I in face to-day? Miss N. Perfectly, my dear. Yet now I look again-bless me !-sure no accident has happened among the canary birds or the gold fishes? Has your brother or the cat been meddling? Or has the last novel been too moving? Miss H. Indeed! I wish I had known some- Miss H. No; nothing of all this. I have been thing of this before. Bless me, how shall I behave? | threatened—I can scarce get it out-I have been It's a thousand to one I shan't like him; our meet-threatened with a lover. ing will be so formal, and so like a thing of busi- Miss N. And his name Miss H. Is Marlow. Miss N. Indeed! Miss H. The son of Sir Charles Marlow. Miss N. As I live, the most intimate friend of Mr. Hastings, my admirer. They are never asunder. I believe you must have seen him when we lived in town. Miss H. Never. Miss N. He's a very singular character, I assure you. Among women of reputation and virtue he is the modestest man alive; but his acquaintance give him a very different character among creatures of another stamp; do you understand me? Miss H. An odd character, indeed. I shall never be able to manage him. What shall I do? Pshaw! think no more of him, but trust to occurrences for success. But how goes on your own affair, my dear; has my mother been courting you for my brother Tony, as usual? Miss N. I have just come from one of our agreeable tête-à-têtes. She has been saying a hundred tender things, and setting off her pretty monster as the very pink of perfection. But when you come down with your pence, I'll leave it to all men of sense, Then come, put the jorum about, Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. 1st Fel. The Squire has got spunk in him. 2d Fel. I loves to hear him sing, bekase he never gives us nothing that's low. 3d Fel. Oh, dn anything that's low, I can't bear it. 4th Fel. The genteel thing is the genteel thing, a'ter all, if so be that a gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly. 3d Fel. I like the maxim of it, Master Muggins. What though I am obligated to dance a bear, a man may be a gentleman for all that. May this be my poison if my bear ever dances but to the very genteelest of tunes-"Water Parted,"or the minuet Miss H. And her partiality is such that she ac-in "Ariadne." tually thinks him so. A fortune like yours is no small temptation. Besides, as she has the sole management of it, I'm not surprised to see her unwilling to let it go out of the family. Miss Ñ. A fortune like mine, which chiefly consists in jewels, is no such mighty temptation. But at any rate, if my dear Hastings be but constant, I make no doubt to be too hard for her at last. However, I let her suppose that I am in love with her son, and she never once dreams that my affections are fixed upon another. Miss H. My good brother holds out stoutly. I could almost love him for hating you so. Miss N. It is a good-natured creature at bottom, and I'm sure would wish to see me married to anybody but himself. But my aunt's bell rings for our afternoon's walk round the improvements. Allons! Courage is necessary, as our affairs are critical. Miss H. Would it were bed-time, and all were well! [Exeunt R. SCENE II.-An Ale-house Room. Ail. Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, bravo! 2d Fel. What a pity it is the Squire is not come to his own! It would be well for all the publicans within ten miles round of him. Tony. Ecod, and so it would, Master Slang. I'd then show what it was to keep choice of company. 3d Fel. Oh, he takes after his own father for that. To be sure, old Squire Lumpkin was the finest gentleman I ever set my eyes on. For winding the straight horn, or beating a thicket for a hare or a wench, he never had his fellow. It was a saying in the place, that he kept the best horses, dogs and girls in the whole country. Tony. Ecod, and when I'm of age I'll be no recreant, I promise you. I have een thinking of Bet Bouncer and the miller's gray mare to begin with. But come, my boys, drink about and be merry, for you pay no reckoning. Enter LANDLORD, L. Well, Stingo, what's the matter? Land. There be two gentlemen in a post-chaise at the door. They have lost their way upo' the forest; and they are talking something about Mr. Hardcastle. Tony. As sure as can be one of them must be the gentleman that's coming down to court my sister. Then desire them to step this way, and I'll set Gentlemen, as they mayn't be good enough comthem right in a twinkling. [Exit LANDLORD, L.] pany for you, step down for a moment, and I'll be with you in the squeezing of a lemon. [Exeunt Tony. Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song I MOB, L. U. E.] Father-in-law has been calling made upon this ale-house, the Three Pigeons. All. Aye, a song, a song. SONG. Let school-masters puzzle their brain With grammar, and nonsense, and learning; Good liquor, I stoutly maintain, Gives genius a better discerning. Let them brag of their heathenish gods, Their Lethes, their Styxes and Stygians; When hypocrite preachers come down, I'll wager the rascals a crown, They always preach best with a skinful. me whelp and hound this half year. Now, if I pleased, I could be so revenged upon the old grumbletonian. But then I'm afraid-afraid of what? I shall soon be worth fifteen hundred a year, and let him frighten me out of that if he can. Enter LANDLORD, conducting MARLOW and Mar. What a tedious, uncomfortable day have we had of it! We were told it was but forty miles across the country, and we have come above three score. Hast. And all, Marlow, from that unaccountable reserve of yours, that would not let us inquire more frequently on the way. Mar. I own, Hastings, I am unwilling to lay myself under an obligation to every one I meet, and often stand the chance of an unmannerly answer. Hast. At present, however, we are not likely to receive any answer. Tony. [with his pipe in his hand.] No offense, gentlemen. But I'm told you have been inquiring for one Mr. Hardcastle, in these parts. Do you know what part of the country you are in? Hast. Not in the least, sir, but should thank you for information. Tony. Nor the way you came ? Hast. No, sir; but if you can inform usTony. Why, gentlemen, if you know neither the road you are going, nor where you are, nor the road you came, the first thing I have to inform you is, that you have lost your way! Mar. We wanted no information of that, sir. Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold as to ask the place from whence you came? Mar. That's not necessary towards directing us where we are to go. Tony. No offense; but question for question is all fair, you know. Pray, gentlemen, is not this same Hardcastle a cross-grained, old-fashioned, whimsical fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter, and a pretty son? Hast. We have not seen the gentleman, but he has the family you mention. Mar. This house promises but a poor reception; though perhaps the landlord can accommodate us. Land. Alack, master, we have but one spare bed in the whole house. Tony. And to my knowledge that's taken up by three lodgers already. [After a pause, in which the rest seem disconcerted.] I have hit it. Don't you think, Stingo, our landlady could accommodate the gentlemen by the fireside, with-three chairs and a bolster? Hast. D- -n your fireside! Mar. And your three chairs and a bolster, say I. Tony. You do, do you? Then let me see--what if you go on a mile further to the Buck's Head?— the old Buck's Head on the hill-one of the best inns in the whole country? Hast. Oh, ho! so we have escaped an adventure for this night, however. Land. [aside to TONY.] Sure, you ben't sending them to your father's as an inn, be you? Tony. Mum, you fool, you. Let them find that out. [To them.] You have only to keep on straight forward, till you come to a large old house by the roadside. You'll see a pair of large horns over the door. That's the sign. Drive up the yard, and call stoutly about you. Hast. Sir, we are obliged to you. The servants can't miss the way? Tony. No, no. But I tell you though-the landlord is rich and going to leave off business; so he wants to be thought a gentleman, saving your presence, he, he, he! He'll be for giving you his company, and, ecod! if you mind him, he'll perTony. The daughter a tall, trapesing, trollop-suade you that his mother was an alderman, and ing, talkative maypole; the son a pretty, wellbred, agreeable youth, that everybody is fond of. Mar. Our information differs in this. The daughter is said to be well-bred and beautiful; the son an awkward booby, reared up and spoiled at his mother's apron-string. Tony. He-he-hem! Then, gentlemen, all I have to tell you is, that you won't reach Mr. Hardcastle's house this night, I believe. Hast. Unfortunate! Tony. It's a d-d long, dark, boggy, dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentlemen the way to Mr. Hardcastle's. [Winking upon the LANDLORD.] Mr. Hardcastle's of Quagmire Marsh, you know. Land. Master Hardcastle's! Lack-a-daisy, my masters, you're come a deadly deal wrong! When you came to the bottom of the hill, you should have crossed down Squash lane. Mar. Cross down Squash lane! Land. Then you were to keep straight forward, till you came to where four roads meet! Mar. Come to where four roads meet! his aunt a justice of the peace. Land. A troublesome old blade, to be sure; but he keeps as good wines and beds as any in the whole country. Mar. Well, if he supplies us with these, we shall want no further connection. We are to turn to the right, did you say? Tony. No, no; straight forward. I'll just step myself, and show you a piece of the way. [To the LANDLORD.] Mum. Land. Ah! bless your heart, for a sweet, pleasant-d- -d, mischievous son of-no matter. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.-A Room in HARDCASTLE'S House. Enter HARDCASTLE, followed by three or four awkward SERVANTS, R. Hard. Well, I hope you are perfect in the table exercise I have been teaching you these three Tony. Aye; but you must be sure to take only days. You all know your posts and your places, one of them. Mar. Oh, sir, you're facetious. Tony. Then, keeping to the right, you are to go sideways till you come upon Crackskull Common; there you must look sharp for the track of the wheel, and go forward till you come to Farmer Murrain's barn. Coming to the farmer's barn, you are to turn to the right, and then to the left, and then to the right about again, till you find out the old mill Mar. Zounds, man! we could as soon find out the longitude! Hast. What's to be done, Marlow? and can show that you have been used to good company without stirring from home. All. Aye, aye. Hard. When company comes, you are not to pop out and stare, and then run in again, like frightened rabbits in a warren. All. No, no. Hard. You, Diggory, whom I have taken from the barn, are to make a show at the side table; and you, Roger, whom I have advanced from the plow, are to place yourself behind my chair. But you're not to stand so with your hands in your pockets. Take your hands from your pockets, Roger, and from your head, you blockhead, you. See how Diggory carries his hands. They're a little too stiff, indeed, but that's no great matter. Dig. Aye, mind how I hold them; I learned to hold my hands this way when I was upon drill for the militia. And so, being upon drill Hard. You must not be so talkative, Diggory; you must be all attention to the guests; you must hear us talk, and not think of talking; you must see us drink, and not think of drinking; you must see us eat, and not think of eating. Dig. By the laws, your worship, that's perfectly unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forwards, ecod, he's always wishing for a mouthful himself. Hast. As you say, we passengers are to be taxed to pay all these fineries. I have often seen a good sideboard, or a marble chimney-piece, though not actually put in the bill, inflame the bill confoundedly. Mar. Travelers, George, must pay in all places. The only difference is, that in good inns you pay dearly for luxuries; in bad inns you are fleeced and starved. Hast. You have lived pretty much among them. In truth, I have been so often surprised that you who have seen so much of the world, with your natural good sense, and your many opportunities, could never yet acquire a requisite share of assur ance. Hard. Blockhead! is not a bellyful in the Mar. The Englishman's malady. But tell me, kitchen as good as a bellyful in the parlor? Stay George, where could I have learned that assuryour stomach with that reflection. ance you talk of? My life has been chiefly spent Dig. Ecod, I thank your worship, I'll make a in a college, or an inn, in seclusion from that loveshift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef ly part of the creation that chiefly teach men conin the pantry. fidence. I don't know that I was ever familiarly acquainted with a single modest woman except my mother. But among females of another class, you know Hard. Diggory, you are too talkative. Then, if I happen to say a good thing, or tell a good story at table, you must not all burst out a laughing, as if you made part of the company. Dig. Then, ecod, your worship must not tell the story of old Grouse in the gun-room; I can't help laughing at that-he, he, he!-for the soul of me. We have laughed at that these twenty years-ha, ha, ha! Hard. Ha, ha, ha! The story is a good one. Well, honest Diggory, you may laugh at that-but still remember to be attentive. Suppose one of the company should call for a glass of wine, how will you behave? A glass of wine, sir, if you please. [To DIGGORY.] Eh, why don't you move? Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never have courage till I see the eatables and drinkables brought upon the table, and then I'm as bauld as a lion. Hard. What, will nobody move? Dig. Wauns! and I'm sure it canna be mine. Hard. You numskulls! and so, while, like your betters, you are quarreling for places, the guests must be starved! Oh, you dunces! I find I must begin all over again. But don't I hear a coach drive into the yard? To your posts, you blockheads! I'll go in the meantime, and give my old friend's son a hearty welcome at the gate. [Exit L. Dig. Zounds! my place is gone clean out of my head. Roger. I know that my place is everywhere. 1st Ser. Where the devil is mine? 2d Ser. My place is to be nowhere at all; so I'ze go about my business. [Exeunt SERVANTS, running about frightened, different ways. Enter SERVANT, with candles, showing in MARLOW and HASTINGS, L. Ser. Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome. way. This Hast. After the disappointments of the day, welcome once more, Charles, to the comforts of a clean room, and a good fire. Upon my word, a very well-looking house; antique, but creditable. Mar. The usual rate of a large mansion. Havmg first ruined the master by good housekeeping, it at last comes to levy contributions as an inn. Hast. Aye, among them you are impudent enough of all conscience. Mar. They are with us, you know. Hast. But in the company of women of reputation I never saw such an idiot, such a trembler; you look for all the world as if you wanted an opportunity of stealing out of the room. Mar. Why, man, that's because I do want to steal out of the room. Faith, I have often formed a resolution to break the ice, and rattle away at any rate. But, I don't know how, a single glance from a pair of fine eyes has totally overset my resolution. An impudent fellow may counterfeit modesty, but I'll be hanged if a modest man can ever counterfeit impudence. Hast. If you could say but half the fine things to them that I have heard you lavish upon the bar maid of an inn, or even a college bed-maker Mar. Why, George, I can't say fine things to them. They freeze, they petrify me. They may talk of a comet, or a burning mountain, or some such bagatelle; but to me a modest woman, dressed out in all her finery, is the most tremendous object of the whole creation. Hast. Ha, ha, ha! At this rate, man, how can you ever expect to marry? Mar. Never, unless, as among kings and princes, my bride were to be courted by proxy. If, indeed, like an eastern bridegroom, one were to be introduced to a wife he never saw before, it might be endured. But to go through all the terrors of a formal courtship, together with the episode of aunts, grandmothers and cousins, and at last to blurt out the broad, staring question of -"Madame, will you marry me?" No, no, that's a strain much above me, I assure you. Hast. I pity you! but how do you intend behaving to the lady you are come down to visit at the request of your father? Mar. As I behave to all other ladies. Bow very low-answer yes or no to all her demands. But for the rest, I don't think I shall venture to look in her face till I see my father's again. Hast. I'm surprised that one who is so warm a friend, can be so cool a lover. Mar. To be explicit, my dear Hastings, my chief inducement down was to be instrumental in |