and OLIVIA. fortune, to be satisfied with his choice, and which may give strength to the mind, and not run the hazard of another Mr. Lofty, in marshal all its dissipated virtues. Yet, ere I helping him to a better. depart, permit me to solicit favour for this Sir W. I approve your resolution, and here gentleman; who, notwithstanding what bas they come to receive a confirmation of your happened, has laid me under the most signal pardon and consent. obligations. Mr. LoftyLofty. Mr. Honeywood, I'm resolved upon Re-enter MRS. CROAKER, JARVIS, LEONTINE, a reformation, as well as you. I now begin to find, that the man who first invented the Mrs. C. Where's my husband? Come, come, art of speaking truth was a much cunninger lovey, you must forgive them. Jarvis here fellow than I thought him. And to prove that has been to tell me the whole affair; and, I design to speak truth for the future, I must say, you must forgive them. Our own was now assure you, that you owe your late ena stolen match, you know, my dear; and we largement to another; as, upon my soul, I never had any reason to repent of it. had no hand in the matter. So now, if any Croak. I wish we could hoth say so: how- of the company has a mind for preferment, ever, this gentleman, sir William Honey- he may take my place. I'm determined to wood, has been beforehand with you in ob-resign. [Exit. taining their pardon. So, if the two poor fools! Honey. How have I been deceived? have a mind to marry, I think we can tack Sir W. No, sir, you have been obliged to them together without crossing the Tweed for it. a kinder, fairer friend for that favour. Το [Joining their Hands. miss Richland. Would she complete our joy, Leon. How blest, and unexpected! What, and make the man she has honoured by her what can we say to such goodness? But our friendship happy in her love, I should then future obedience shall be the best reply. And, forget all, and be as blest as the welfare of as for this gentleman, to whom we owe- my dearest kinsman can make me. Sir W. Excuse me, sir, if I interrupt your Miss R. After what is past, it would be but thanks, as I have here an interest that calls affectation to pretend to indifference. Yes, I me. [Turning to Honeywood] Yes, sir, you will own an attachment, which I find was are surprised to see me; and I own that a more than friendship. And if my entreaties desire of correcting your follies led me hither. cannot alter his resolution to quit the country, I saw, with indignation, the errors of a mind I will even try if my hand has not power to that only sought applause from others; that detain him. [Giving her Hand. easiness of disposition, which, though inclined Honey. Heavens! how can I have deserved to the right, had not courage to condemn the all this? How express my happiness, my grawith regret, those splendid titude? A moment like this overpays an age errors, that still took name from some neigh- of apprehension. wrong. I saw bouring duty. Your charity, that was but in- Croak. Well, now I see content in every justice; your benevolence, that was but weak-face; but heaven send we be all better this ness; and your friendship but credulity. I saw, day three months. with regret, great talents and extensive learning Sir W. Henceforth, nephew, learn to respect only employed to add sprightliness to error, yourself. He who seeks only for applause and increase your perplexities. I saw your from without, has all his happiness in another's mind with a thousand natural charms: but the keeping. greatness of its beauty served only to heighten Honey. Yes, sir, I now too plainly perceive my pity for its prostitution. my errors. My vanity, in attempting to please Honey. Cease to upbraid me, sir; I have all, by fearing to offend any. My meanness for some time but too strongly felt the justice in approving folly, lest fools should disapprove. of your reproaches. But there is one way Henceforth, therefore, it shall be my study to still left me. Yes, sir, I have determined, this reserve my pity for real distress; my friendvery hour, to quit for ever a place where I ship for true merit; and my love for her, have made myself the voluntary slave of all; who first taught me what it is to be happy. and to seek among strangers that fortitude [Exeunt. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, or, The Mistakes of a Night; Comedy by Oliver Goldsmith, acted at Covent-Garden 1773. When this piece was originally brought forward, the Laste of the nation had sickened with a preposterous love for what was termed sentimental comedy; that is, a dramatic composition, in which the ordinary business of life, which, in a free country, like Great Britain, produces such a diversity of character, was to be superseded by an unnatural affectation of polished dialogue, in which the usages and singularities of the multitude were to be nearly, if not altogether, rejected. This false taste was borrowed from France; where it was the practice then, more than at the present day, to keep, what they were pleased to term, the higher order of comedy, in a material sense unconnected with the unshackled ebullitions of nature; and Kelly, and others, were enforcing this principle with ardour, when Oliver Goldsmith planted the standard of Thalia on the boards of Covent-Garden Theatre, and banished, triumphantly, those mawkish monsters of fashion, which were tending to make sentiment ridiculous, by dissolving its ties with common incidents, and thereby rendering it somewhat independent of social virtue, by weakening its moral interest. The elder Colman, whose theatrical judgment was highly esteemed by the critical world, had suffered himself to be so inoculated with this sentimental influenza of the mind, that he rather tolerated this comedy from a respect to the author, than encouraged it from a hope of its success: even the actors caught the contagion; and Woodward and Smith, who were designed to play Tony Lumpkin and Young Marlow, resigned their parts. It was to this fanciful resignation that Quick and Lee Lewes owed much of their early celebrity; for, contrary to the declarations of the knowing ones, John Bull welcomed this comedy with cheers; and, by the aid of Goldsmith, Nature and Laughter resumed their honours on the British stage. We know that this piece is, by some critics, considered as a farce; but still it must be ranked among the farces of a man of genias. One of the most ludicrous circumstances it contains (that of the robbery) is borrowed from Albumazar. It met with great success, and is still frequently acted. ACT I. humour. Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must SCENE I. A Chamber in an old-fashioned allow the boy a little humour. House. he Hard. I'd sooner allow him an horsepond. If burning the footman's shoes, frighting the Enter HARDCASTLE and MRS. HARDCASTLE. maids, worrying the kittens, be humour, Mrs. H. I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're very has it. It was but yesterday he fastened my particular. Is there a creature in the whole wig to the back of my chair, and when I went country, but ourselves, that does not take a to make a bow, I popp'd my bald head into trip to town now and then to rub off the rust Mrs. Frizzle's face. a little? There's the two miss Hoggs, and our Mrs. H. And am I to blame? The poor boy neighbour, Mrs. Grigsby, go to take a month's was always too sickly to do any good. A polishing every winter. school would be his death. When he comes Hard. Ay, and bring back vanity and affec-to be a little stronger, who knows what a tation to last them the whole year. I wonder year or two's Latin may do for him? why London cannot keep its own fools at Hard. Latin for him! a cat and a fiddle. home. In my time, the follies of the town No, no, the alehouse and the stable are the crept slowly among us, but now they travel only schools he'll ever go to. faster than a stage-coach. Its fopperies come Mrs. H. Well, we must not snub the poor down, not only as inside passengers, but in boy now; for I believe we shan't have him the very basket. long among us. Any body that looks in his face may see he's consumptive. Hard. Ay, 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. Ay, 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 inn, but that we never see company. Our best visitors are old Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's wife, and little Cripplegate, the lame dancingmaster; and all our entertainment your old stories of prince Eugene and the duke times whoops like a speaking-trumpet-[Tony of Marlborough. I hate such old-fashioned trumpery. Hard. And I love it. I love every thing 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 for ever at your Dorothy's, and your old wives. You may be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I promise you. I'm not so old as you'd make ine 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. I'm actually afraid of his lungs. hallooing behind the Scenes]-O there he Enter TONY, crossing the Stage. 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 shockingly. Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three Pigeons expect me down every moment. There's some fun going forward. Hard. Ay; the alehouse, the old place: I thought so. Mrs. H. Its false, Mr. Hardcastle: I was but Mrs. H. A low, paltry set of fellows. twenty when I was brought to bed of Tony, Tony. Not so low, neither. There's Dick that I had by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband; Muggins the exciseman, Jack Slang the horseaud he's not come to years of discretion yet. doctor, little Aminidab that grinds the music Hard. Nor ever will, I dare answer for box, and Tom Twist that spins the pewter him. Ay, you have taught him finely. 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. Humour, my dear; nothing but 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. Mrs. H. I say you shan't. to catch me, I promise you. However, if he Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you be so young, so handsome, and so every thing, [Exit, hauling her out. as you mention, I believe he'll do still. Ï Hard. Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil think I'll have him. or I. each other. But is not the whole age in a Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. combination to drive sense and discretion out It's more than an even wager he may not of doors? There's my pretty darling Kate; have you. the fashions of the times have almost infected Miss H. My dear papa, why will you morher too. By living a year or two in town, tify one so?-Well, if he refuses, instead of she is as fond of gauze and French frippery, breaking my heart at his indifference, I'll only as the best of them. break my glass for its flattery; set my cap to some newer fashion, and look out for some less difficult admirer. Enter MISS HARDCASTLE. Hard. Blessings on my pretty innocence! Hard. Bravely resolved! In the mean time Dress'd out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! I'll go prepare the servants for his reception; what a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou as we seldom see company, they want as much got about thee, girl! I could never teach the training as a company of recruits the first fools of this age, that the indigent world could day's muster. [Exit. be clothed out of the trimmings of the vain. Miss H. Lud, this news of papa's puls me Miss H. You know our agreement, sir. You all in a flutter. Young, handsome; these he allow me the morning to receive and pay puts last; but I put them foremost. Sensible, visits, and to dress in my own manner; and good-natured; I like all that. But then rein the evening, I put on my housewife's dress served and sheepish; that's much against him. to please you. 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'm disposing of the husband, before I have secured the lover. 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. Enter Miss NEVILLE. Miss H. I'm glad you're come, Neville, my Hard. Then to be plain with you, Kate, Idear. Tell me, Constance, how do I look this expect the young gentleman I have chosen to evening? Is there any thing whimsical about be your husband from town this very day. me? Is it one of my well looking days, child? I have his father's letter, in which he informs am I in face to-day? me his son is set out, and that he intends to follow himself shortly after. Miss N. Perfectly, my dear. Yet now I look again-bless me! sure no accident has hapMiss H. Indeed! I wish I had known some- pened among the canary birds or the gold thing of this before. Bless me, how shall I fishes. Has your brother or the cat been behave? It's a thousand to one I shan't like meddling? Or has the last novel been too him; our meeting will be so formal, and so moving? like a thing of business, 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. 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. No; nothing of all this. Miss N. Indeed! I have out — I 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, 1 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: you under Miss H. My dear papa, say no more; [Kiss-stand me. ing his Hand] he's mine, I'll have him. Miss H. An odd character indeed. I shall Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's one of never be able to manage him. What shall I the most bashful and reserved young fellows do? Pshaw, think no more of him; but trust in the world. to occurrences for success. But how goes on Miss H. Eh! you have frozen me to death your own affair, my dear? has my mother again. That word reserved has undone all been courting you for my brother Tony, as the rest of his accomplishments. A reserved usual? 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 Miss N. I have just come from one of our agreeable tête-a-têtes. She has been saying a hundred tender things, and setting off her pretty monster as the very pink of perfection. Miss H. And her partiality is such, that she actually 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. Omnes. Bravo, bravo. 1 Fel. The squire has got spunk in him. 2 Fel. I loves to hear him sing, bekeays he never gives us nothing that's low. 3 Fel. O, damn any thing that's low; 1 can't bear it. Miss N. 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 4 Fel. The genteel thing is the genteel thing hard for her at last. However, I let her sup- at any time, if so be that a gentleman bees pose that I am in love with her son, and she in a concatenation accordingly. never once dreams that my affections are fixed 3 Fel. I like the maxum of it, master Mugupon another. gins. What though I am obligated to dance Miss H. My good brother holds out stoutly. a bear, a man may be a gentleman for all I could almost love him for hating you so. that. May this be my poison if my bear ever Miss N. It is a good natur'd creature at dances but to the very genteelest of tunes.bottom, and I'm sure would wish to see me "Water parted," or the minuet in Ariadne. married to any body but himself. But my 2 Fel. What a pity it is the squire is aunt's bell rings for our afternoon's walk round not come to his own. It would be well the improvements. Allons, courage is neces- for all the publicans within ten miles round sary, as our affairs are critical. of him. Miss H. Would it were bed time and all Tony. Ecod, and so it would, master Slang. were well. [Exeunt. I'd then show what it was to keep choice of company. SCENE II.-An Alehouse-room. Several shabby Fellows, with Punch and Tobacco. TONY at the Head of the Table, a little higher than the Rest: a Mallet in his Hand. Omnes. Hurrea, hurrea, burrea, bravo. 1 Fel. Now, gentlemen, silence for a song. The squire is going to knock himself down for a song 1). Cmnes. Ay, a song, a song. SONG. Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain, Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians: Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. They always preach best with a skinful. But you, my good friend, are the pigeon. Then come, put the jorum about, 2 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 county. Tony. Ecod, and when I'm of age I'll be no bastard, I promise you. I have been thinking of Bet Bouncer and the miller's grey mare to begin with. But come, my boys, drink about and be merry, for you pay no reckoning. Well, Stingo, what's the matter? Enter Landlord. Land. There be two gentlemen in a postchaise 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. Do they seem to be Londoners? Land. I believe they may. They look woundily like Frenchmen. Tony. Then desire them to step this way, and lord] Gentlemen, as they mayn't be good I'll set them right in a twinkling. [Exit Landenough company for you, step down for a moment, and I'll be with you in the squeeztoroll.ing of a lemon. [Exeunt Mob] Father-in-law has been calling 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 of what! I shall soon be worth fifteen hundred a year, and let him frighten me out of that if he can. And let us be merry and clever; Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons; 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 threescore. 1) It is the business of the President at a free and easy club, snch as this, to call to silence, proclaim a toast, call for a song, etc., by striking on the table with Hast. And all, Marlow, from that unachis hammer, which every one is bound to obey, under penalty of a fine of glasses round (a glass of whatever countable reserve of yours, that would not the company is drinking to every person present), or let us inquire more frequently on the way. to drink a pint glass of salt and water, this, of course, means as long as the members are not quite intoxicated. 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. 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, Tony. No offence, gentlemen; but I'm told in which the rest seem disconcerted] I have you have been inquiring for one Mr. Hard-hit it; don't you think, Stingo, our landlady could castle, in these parts. Do you know what accommodate the gentlemen by the fireside, part of the country you are in? with-three chairs and a bolster? Hast. Not in the least, sir; but should thank you for information. Hast. I hate sleeping by the fireside, Mar. And I detest your three chairs and a bolster. Tony. Nor the way you came? Hast. No, sir; but if you can inform us- Tony. You do, do you?-than let me see Tony. Why, gentlemen, if you know nei--what-if you go on a mile further, to the ther the road you are going, nor where you Buck's Head, the old Buck's Head on the hill, are, nor the road you came, the first thing one of the best inns in the whole country? I have to inform you is, that-you have lost Hast. O ho! so we have escaped an adyour way. venture for this night, however. Mar. We wanted no ghost to tell us that. Land. [Apart to Tony] Sure you ben't Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold sending them to your father's as an inn, be as to ask the place from whence you came? you? Mar. That's not necessary towards directing Tony. Mum, you fool you; let them find us where we are to go. that out. [To them] You have only to keep Tony. No offence. but question for question on straight forward till you come to a large is all fair, you know. Pray, gentlemen, is not house by the road side: you'll see a pair of this same Hardcastle a cross-grain'd, old-fa- large horns over the door: that's the sign. shion'd, whimsical fellow, with an ugly face, a Drive up the yard, and call stoutly about you. daughter, and a pretty son? Hast. Sir, we are obliged to you. The servants can't miss the way? Tony. No, no: but I tell you, though, the Tony. The daughter, a tall, trapesing, trol- landlord is rich, and going to leave off busiloping, talkative maypole-the son, a pretty, ness; so he wants to be thought a gentleman, well-bred, agreeable youth, that every body saving your presence, he! he! he! He'll be for giving you his company, and ecod if you Hast. We have not seen the gentleman, but he has the family you mention. is fond of. Mar. Our information differs in this: the mind him, he'll persuade you that his mother daughter is said to be well-bred and beauti-was an alderman, and his aunt a justice of ful; the son, an awkward booby, reared up peace. and spoiled at his mother's apronstring. Land. A troublesome old blade, to be sure; Tony. He-he-hem-Then, gentlemen, all I but a keeps as good wines and beds as any have to tell you is, that you won't reach Mr. in the whole country. Hardcastle's house this night, I believe. Hast, Unfortunate! Mar. Well, if he supplies us with these, we shall want no further connexion. We Tony. It's a damn'd long, dark, boggy, are to turn to the right, did you say? dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentle- Tony. No, no, straight forward. I'll just men the way to Mr. Hardcastle's; [Winking step myself, and show you a piece of the upon the Landlord] Mr. Hardcastle's, of way. [To the Landlord] Mum. Quagmire-marsh, you understand me. 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 cross'd down Squash-lane. Mar. Cross down Squash-lane. Land. Then you were to keep straight forward till you came to four roads. Mar. Come to where four roads meet? Tony. Ay, but you must be sure to take only one of them. Mar. O, 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! re Hast. What's to be done, Marlow? Mar. This house promises but a poor ception; though perhaps the landlord can accommodate us. Land. Ah, bless your heart, for a sweet, pleasant-damn'd, mischievous son of a whore. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.-An old fashioned House. Enter HARDCASTLE, followed by three or four awkward Servants. Hard. Well, I hope you're perfect in the table exercise I have been teaching you these three days. You all know your posts and your places, and can show that you have been used to good company, without stirring from home. Omnes. Ay, ay. Hard. When company comes, you are not to pop out and stare, and then run in again, like frighted rabbits in a warren. Omnes. 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 plough, 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 |