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Cro. My dear sir, be pacified. What can you have but asking pardon?

Lof. Sir, I will not be pacified-Suspects! Who am I? To be used thus! Have I paid court to men in favour to serve my friends; the Lords of the Treasury, Sir William Honeywood, and the rest of the gang, and talk to me of suspects? Who am I, I say; who am I?

Sir Wil. Since, sir, you are so pressing for an answer, I'll tell you who you are. A gentleman, as well acquainted with politics as with men in power; as well acquainted with persons of fashion as with modesty; with Lords of the Treasury as with truth; and with all, as you are with Sir William Honeywood. I am Sir William Honeywood.

[Discovering his ensigns of the Bath. Cro. Sir William Honeywood!

Hon. Astonishment! my uncle! [Aside. Lof. So then, my confounded genius has been all this time only leading me up to the garret, in order to fling me out of the window.

Cro. What, Mr. Importance, and are these your works? Suspect you! You, who have been dreaded by the ins and outs; you, who have had your hand to addresses, and your head stuck up in print-shops. If you were served right, you should have your head stuck up in a pillory.

Lof. Ay, stick it where you will; for, by the Lord, it cuts but a very poor figure where it sticks at present.

Sir Wil. Well, Mr. Croaker, I hope you now see how incapable this gentleman is of serving you, and how little Miss Richland has to expect from his influence. Cro. Ay, sir, too well I see it; and I can't but say I have had some boding of at these ten days. So, I'm resolved, since my son has placed his affections on a lady of moderate fortune, to be satisfied with his choice, and not run the hazard of another Mr. Lofty in helping him to a better.

Sir Wil. I approve your resolution; and here they come to receive a confirmation of your pardon and consent.

Enter Mrs. Croaker, Jarvis, LEONTINE, and OLIVIA.

Mrs. Cro. Where's my husband?

Come, come, lovey, you must forgive them. Jarvis here has been to tell me the whole affair; and I say, you must forgive them. Our own was a stolen match, you know, my dear; and we never had any reason to repent of it.

Cro. I wish we could both say so. However, this gentleman, Sir William Honeywood, has been beforehand with you in obtaining their pardon. So, if the two poor fools have a mind to marry, I think we can tack them together without crossing the Tweed for it.

[Joining their hands.

Leon. How blest and unexpected ! What, what can we say to such goodness? But our future obedience shall be the best reply. And as for this gentleman, to whom we owe

Sir Wil. Excuse me, sir, if I interrupt your thanks, as I have here an interest that calls me. (Turning to HONEYWOOD.) Yes, sir, you are surprised to see me: and I own that a desire of correcting your follies led me hither. I saw with indignation the errors of a mind that only sought applause from others; that easiness of disposition, which, though inclined to the right, had not courage to condemn the wrong. I saw with regret those splendid errors, that still took name from some neighbouring duty; your charity, that was but injustice; your benevolence, that was but weakness; and your friendship, but credulity. I saw with regret great talents and extensive learning only employed to add sprightliness to error, and increase your perplexities. I saw your mind with a thousand natural charms; but the greatness of its beauty served only to heighten my pity for its prostitution.

But

Hon. Cease to upbraid me, sir: I have for some time but too strongly felt the justice of your reproaches. there is one way still left me. Yes, sir, I have determined this very hour to quit for ever a place where I have made myself the voluntary slave of all, and to seek among strangers that fortitude which may give strength to the mind, and marshal all its dissipated virtues. Yet ere I depart, permit ermit me to solicit favour for this gentleman; who, notwithstanding

what has happened, has laid me under the most signal obligations. Mr. Lofty

Lof. Mr. Honeywood, I'm resolved upon a reformation as well as you. I now begin to find that the man who first invented the art of speaking truth, was a much cunninger fellow than I thought him. And to prove that I design to speak truth for the future, I must now assure you, that you owe your late enlargement to another; as, upon my soul, I had no hand in the matter. So now, if any of the company has a mind for preferment, he may take my place, I'm determined to resign. [Exit.

Hon, How have I been deceived!

Sir W. No, sir, you have been obliged to a kinder, fairer friend, for that favour. To Miss Richland. Would she complete our joy, and make the man she has honoured by her friendship happy in her love, I shall then forget all, and be as blest as the welfare of my dearest kinsman can make me.

ence. Yes, I will own an attachment,
which I find was more than friendship.
And if my entreaties cannot alter his
resolution to quit the country, I will even
try if my hand has not power to detain
him.
[Giving her hand.

Hon. Heavens! how can I have deserved all this? How express my happiness, my gratitude? A moment like this overpays an age of apprehension.

Cro. Well, now I see content in every face; but Heaven send we be all better this day three months!

Sir Wil. Henceforth, nephew, learn to respect yourself. He who seeks only for applause from without, has all his happiness in another's keeping.

Hon. Yes, sir, I now too plainly perceive my errors; my vanity, in attempting to please all by fearing to offend any; my meanness, in approving folly lest fools should disapprove. Henceforth, therefore, it shall be my study to reserve my pity for real distress; my friendship for true merit; and my love for her, who

Miss Rich. After what is past it would be but affectation to pretend to indiffer-first taught me what it is to be happy.

EPILOGUE.*

SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY.

As puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure
To swear the pill, or drop, has wrought a cure ;
Thus, on the stage, our playwrights still depend
For Epilogues and Prologues on some friend,
Who knows each art of coaxing up the town,
And make full many a bitter pill go down.
Conscious of this, our bard has gone about,
And teased each rhyming friend to help him out.
An Epilogue, things can't go on without it;
It could not fail, would you but set about it.
Young man, cries one (a bard laid up in clover),
Alas! young man, my writing days are over;
Let boys play tricks, and kick the straw, not I;
Your brother doctor there, perhaps, may try.
What I! dear sir, the doctor interposes;

What, plant my thistle, sir, among his roses !

* The author, in expectation of an Epilogue from a friend at Oxford, deferred writing one hiinself till the very last hour. What is here offered, owes all its success to the graceful manner of the actress who spoke it -GOLDSMITH.

TT

No, no, I've other contests to maintain;
To-night I head our troops at Warwick-lane.
Go ask your manager-Who, me! Your pardon ;
Those things are not our forte at Covent-garden.
Our author's friends, thus placed at happy distance,
Give him good words indeed, but no assistance.
As some unhappy wight at some new play,
At the pit door stands elbowing away;
While oft, with many a smile, and many a shrug,
He eyes the centre, where his friends sit snug;
His simpering friends, with pleasure in their eyes,
Sink as he sinks, and as he rises rise :
He nods, they nod; he cringes, they grimace ;
But not a soul will budge to give him place.
Since then, unhelped, our bard must now conform
"To bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,"
Blame where you must, be candid where you can,
And be each critic the Good-natured Man.

END OF THE GOOD-NATURED MAN.

✓ SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER;

OR,

THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT.

A COMEDY,

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 honour 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, dear Sir, your most sincere friend and admirer,

PROLOGUE,

BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH,

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 masters:
"I've that within"-for which there are no plasters!
Pray, would you know the reason why I'm crying?
The Comic Muse, long sick, is now a-dying!
And if she goes, my tears will never stop;
For as a player, I can't squeeze out one drop :
I am undone, that's all-shall lose my bread-
I'd rather, but that's nothing-lose my head.
When the sweet maid is laid upon the bier,
Shuter and I shall be chief mourners here.
To her a mawkish drab of spurious breed,
Who deals in sentimentals, will succeed!
Poor Ned and I are dead to all intents;
We can as soon speak Greek as sentiments !
Both nervous grown, to keep our spirits up.
We now and then take down a hearty cup.

What shall we do? If Comedy forsake us,
They'll turn us out, and no one else will take us.
But why can't I be moral?--Let me try-
My heart thus pressing-fixed 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,
"Pleasure seems sweet, but proves a glass of bitters,
"When Ignorance enters, Folly is at hand :
"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:
But desperate the Doctor, and her case is,
If you reject the dose, and make wry faces!
This truth he boasts, will boast it while he lives,
No poisonous drugs are mixed in what he gives.
Should he succeed, you'll give him his degree ;
If not, within he will receive no fee !
The College you, must his pretensions back,
Pronounce him Regular, or dub him Quack.

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Hard. Ay, and bring back vanity and affectation to last them the whole year. I

SCENE-A Chamber in an old-fashioned wonder why London cannot keep its own

House,

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fools at home! In my time, the follies of the town crept slowly among us, but now they travel faster than a stage-coach. Its fopperies come down not only as inside passengers, but in the very basket,

Mrs. Hard. 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,

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