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where to parry ; that know how the land lies-ch, Croaker. And so it does, indeed; and all my susHoneywood ?
picions are over. Miss Prichland. It has fallen into yours.
Lofly. Your suspicions! What, then, you have Lofly. Well, to keep you no longer in suspense, been suspecting, you have been suspecting, hare your thing is done. It is done, I say, that's all. you? Mr. Croaker, you and I were friends; we I have just had assurances from Lord Neverout, are friends no longer. Never talk to me. It's over; that the claim has been examined, and found ad- I say, it's over. missible. Quictus is the word, madam.
Croaker. As I hope for your favour I did not Honeywood. But how? his lordsirip has been at mean to offend. It escaped me. Don't be discomNewmarket these ten days.
posed. Lofty. Indeed! Then Sir Gilbert Goose must Lofty. Zounds! sir, but I am discomposed, and have been most damnably mistaken. I had it of will be discomposed. To be treated thus! Who him.
am I? Was it for this I have been dreaded both by Miss Richland. He! why Sir Gilbert and his ins and outs? Have I been libelled in the Gazetteer, family have been in the country this month. and praised in the St. James's? have I been chaired
Lofty. This month! it must certainly be so— at Wildman's, and a speaker at Merchant-Tailor's Sir Gilbert's letter did come to me from New- Hall? have I had my hand to addresses, and my market, so that he must have met his lordship there; head in the print-shops; and talk to me of suspects ? and so it came about. I have his letter about me;
Croaker. My dear sir, be pacified. What can I'll read it to you. (Taking out a large bundle.) you have but asking pardon ? That's from Paoli of Corsica, that from the Mar
Lufty. Sir, I will not be pacified—Suspects ! quis of Squilachi.—Have you a mind to see a letter Who am I? To be used thus ! Have I paid court from Count Poniatowski, now King of Poland ?— to men in favour to serve my friends; the lords of Honest Pon—Searching.) O, sir, what are you the treasury, Sir William Honeywood, and the here too? I'll tell you what, honest friend, if you rest of the gang, and talk to me of suspects ? Who have not absolutely delivered my letter to Sir Wil
am I, I say, who am I? liam Honeywood, you may return it. The thing
Sir William. Since, sir, you are so pressing for will do without him.
an answer, I'll tell you who you are:-A gentleSir William. Sir, I have delivered it; and must
man, as well acquainted with politics as with men inform you, it was received with the most mortify in power ; as well acquainted with persons of fashing contempt.
ion as with modesty; with lords of the treasury as Croaker. Contempt! Mr. Lofty, what can that with truth; and with all, as you are with Sir Wil
liam Honeywood. I am Sir William Honeywood. Lofty. Let him go on, let him go on, I say. (Discovering his unsigns of the Bath. You'll find it come w something presently. Croaker. Sir Williarn Honeywood! Sir William. Yes, sir; I believe you'll be
Honeywood. Astonishinent! my uncle! (Aside. amazed, if after waiting some time in the ante
Lofty. So then, my confounded genius has been chamber, after being surveyed with insolent curi- all this time only leading me up to the garret, in osity by the passing servants, I was at last assured, order to fling me out of the window. that Sir William Honeywood knew no such per
Croa.ber. What, Mr. Importance, and are these son, and I must certainly have been imposed upon your works? Suspect you! You, who have been
Lofty. Good! let me die; very good. Ha! ha! dreaded by the ins and outs; you, who have had ha!
your hands to addresses, and your head stuck up Croaker. Now, for my life, I can't find out half in print-shops. If you were served right, you the goodness of it.
should have your head stuck up in a pillory. Lofty. You can't. Ha! ha!
Lofty. Ay, stick it where you will; for by the Croaker. No, for the soul of me! I think it was lord, it cuts but a very poor figure where it sticks as confounded a bad answer as ever was sent from at present. one private gentleman to another.
Sir William. Well, Mr. Croaker, I hope you Lofty. And so you can't find out the force of the now see how incapable this gentleman is of serv. message? Why, I was in the house at that very ing you, and how little Miss Richland has to es. time. Ha! ha! It was I that sent that very an- pect fronı his influence. swer to my own letter. Ha! ha!
Croaker. Ay, sir, too well I see it; and I can't Croaker. Indeed! How? Why?
but say I have had some boding of it these ten Lofty. In one word, things between Sir William days. So I'm resolved, since my son has placed and me must be behind the curtain. A party has his affections on a lady of moderate fortune, to be many eyes. He sides with Lord Buzzard, 1 side satisfied with his choice, and not run the hazard of with Sir Gilbert Goose. So that unriddles the another Mr. Lofty in helping him to a better. mystery.
Sir William. I approve your resolution; and
here they come to receive a confirmation of your my soul, I had no hand in the matter. So now pardon and consent.
if any of the company has a mind for preferment,
he may take my place; I'm determined to resign. Enter MRS. CROAKER, JARVIS, LEONTINE, and
Honeymood, How have I been deceived ! Mrs. Croaker, Where's my husband ? Come, Sir William. No, sir, you have been obliged to come, lovey, you must forgive them. Jarvis here a kinder, fairer friend, for that favour—to Miss has been to tell me the whole affair; and I say, you Richland. Would she complete our joy, and make must forgive them. Our own was a stolen match, the man she has honoured by her friendship happy you know, my dear; and we never had any reason in her love, I should then forget all, and be as blest to repent of it.
as the welfare of my dearest kinsman can make Croaker, I wish we could both say so. Howev- me. er, this gentleman, Sir William Honeywood, has Miss Richland. After what is past it would be been beforehand with you in obtaining their pardon. but affectation to pretend to indifference. Yes, I So if the two pour fools have a mind to marry, 1 will own an attachment, which I find was more think we can tack them together without crossing than friendship. And if my entreaties can not altes the Tweed for it. (Joining their hands. his resolution to quit the country, I will even try
Leonline. How blest and unexpected! What, if my hand has not power to detain him. [Giving what can we say to such goodness? But our fu- her hand.) ture obedience shall be the best reply. And as for Honcyrood. Heavens! how can I have deserved this gentleman, to whom we owe
all this? How express my happiness, my gratitude? Sir William. Excuse me, sir, if I interrupt your A moment like this overpays an age of apprehenthanks, as I have here an interest that calls me. sion. (Turning to Honcywood.) Yes, sir, you are sur Croaker. Well, now I see content in every face; prised to see me; and I own that a desire of cor- but Heaven send we be all better this day three recting your follies led me hither. I saw with in- months! dignation the errors of a mind that only sought ap Sir William. Henceforth, nephew, learn to replause from others; that easiness of disposition spect yourself. He who seeks only for applause which, though inclined to the right, had not cou- from without, has all his happiness in another's rage to condemn the wrong. I saw with regret keeping. those splendid errors, that still took name from Honeywond. Yes, sir, I now too plainly persome neighbouring duty; your charity, that was but ceive my errors; my vanity in attempting to please injustice ; ; your benevolence, that was but weak- all by fcaring to offend any; my meanness, in apness; and your friendship but credulity. I saw proving folly lest fools should disapprove. Hencewith regret, great talents and extensive learning forth, therefore, it shall be my study to reserve my only employed to add sprightliness to error, and in- pity for real distress ; my friendship for true merit; crease your perplexities. I saw your mind with and my love for her, who first taught me what it a thousand natural charms; but the greatness of its is to be happy beauty served only to heighten my pity for its prostitution.
Honeywood. Cease to upbraid me, sir: I have for some time but too strongly felt the justice of
EPILOGUE. your reproaches. But there is one way still left me. Yes, sir, I have determined this very hour to quit forever a place where I have made myself the volun
As puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure tary slave of all, and to seek among strangers that To swear the pill, or drop, has wrought a cure; fortitude which may give strength to the mind, and Thus, on the stage, our play-wrights still depend marshal all its dissipated virtues. Yet ere I de- For epilogues and prologues on some friend, part, permit me to solicit favour for this gentle. Who knows each art of coaxing up the town, man; who, notwithstanding what has happened, and make full many a bitter pill go down. has laid me under the most signal obligations. Mr. Conscious of this, our bard has gone about, Lofty
And teased each rhyming friend to help him out. Lofty. Mr. Honeywood, I'm resolved upon a re- An epilogue, things can't go on without it; formation as well as you. I now begin to find that it could not fail, would you but set about it. 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
* The author, in expectation of an Epilogue from a friend at
Oxforil, deserred writing one himself vill the very last hour, for the future, I must now assure you, that you what is here offered, owes all its success to the graceful man. ove your late enlargement to another; as, upon ner of the actress who spoke il
SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY.
Young man, cries one (a bard laid up in clover,) As some unhappy wight at some new play,
He nods, they nod; he cringes, they grimace;
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER:
THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT.
AS ACTED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN.
I am undone, that's all-shall lose my bread
I'd rather, but that's nothing-lose my head. TO SAMUEL JOHNSON, L L. D.
When the sweet maid is laid upon the bier,
SHUTER and I shall be chief mourners here. By inscribing this slight performance to you, 1 To her a mawkish drab of spurious breed, Jo not mean so much to compliment you as mysell. Who deals in sentimentals, will succeed ! It may do me some honour to inform the public, Poor Ned and I are dead to all intents; that I have lived many years in intimacy with you. We can as soon speak Greek as sentiments ! It may serve the interests of mankind also to in- Both nervous grown, to keep our spirits up, form them, that the greatest wit may be found in We now and then take down a hearty cup. a character without impairing the most unaffected What shall we do ?—If Comedy forsake us, piety.
They'll turn us out, and no one else will take us. I have, particularly, reason to thank you for But why can't I be moral ?—Let me tryyour partiality to this performance. The under- My heart thus pressing—fix'd my face and eyetaking a Comedy, not merely sentimental, was with a sententious look that nothing means, very dangerous; and Mr. Colman, who saw this (Faces are blocks in sentimental scenes) piece in its various stages, always thought it so. Thus I begin—"All is not gold that glitters; However, I ventured to trust it to the public; and, Pleasures seem sweet, but prove a glass of bitters. though it was necessarily delayed till late in the When ign’rance enters, folly is at hand : keason, I have every reason to be grateful.
Learning is better far than house or 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 ;
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, BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.
He, in five draughts prepared, presents a potion : Enter MR. WOODWARD, dressed in black, and holding a A kind of magic charm-for be assured, handkerchief to his eyes.
If you will swallow it the maid is cured; Excuse me, sirs, I pray, I can't yet speak, – But desperate the Doctor, and her case is, I'm crying now—and have been all the week. If you reject the dose, and make wry faces ! " 'Tis not alone this mourning suit,” good masters: This truth he hoasts, will boast it wbile he lives, 'I've that within”—for which there are no plasters! No pois' nous drugs are mix'd in what he gives. Pray, would you know the reason why I'm crying ? Should he succeed, you'll give him his degree; The Comic Muse, long sick, is now a-dying! If not, within he will receive no fee ! And if she goes, my tears will never stop; The college, you, must his pretensions back, For as a player, I can't squeeze out one drop: Pronounce him Regular, or dub him Quack.
| I'm not so old as you'd make me, by more than ono DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
good year. Add twenty to twenty, and make mo ney of that.
Hardcastle. Let me see: twenty added to twenSIR CHARLES MARLOW MR. GARDNER. ty makes just fifty and seven. Young Marlow (his son)
MR. Lewis. Mrs. Hardcastle. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle; I HARDCASTLE
Mr. Suuter. was but twenty when I was brought to bed of ToHASTINGS
MR. DUBELLAMY. ny, that I had by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband; TONY LUMPKIN
Mr. Quick. and he's not come to years of discretion yet. DIGGORY
MR. SAUNDERS. Hardcastle. Norever will, I dare answer for him.
Ay, you have taught him finely.
Mrs. Hardcastle. No matter. Tony Lumpkin MRS. HARDCASTLE
has a good fortune. My son is not to live by his Miss HARDCASTLE
learning. I don't think a boy wants much learnMiss NEVILLE
ing to spend fifteen hundred a-year. Maid
Hardcastle. Learning quotha! a mere composiLANDLORD, SERVANTS, &c. &c.
tion of tricks and mischief.
Mrs. Hardcastle. Humour, my dear, nothing but
humour. Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER; the boy a little humour.
Hardcastle. I'd sooner allow him a horsepond. OR, THE MISTAKES OF A NIGIIT.
If burning the footman's shoes, frightening the ACT I.
maids, and worrying the kittens be humour, he has
it. It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the BCENE-A CHAMBER IN AN OLD-FASHIONED HOUSE. back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow,
I popped my bald head in Mrs. Frizzle's face, Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE and MR. IIARDCASTLE.
Mrs. Hardcastle. And am I to blame? The Mrs. Hardcastle. I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're poor boy was always too sickly to do any good. A very particular. Is there a creature in the whole school would be his death. When he comes to be a country but ourselves, that does not take a trip to little stronger, who knows what a year or two's town now and then, to rub off the rust a little ? Latin may do for him? There's the two Miss Hoggs, and our neighbour Hardcastle. Latin for him! A cat and fiddle, Mrs. Grigsby, go to take a month's polishing every No, no; the alehouse and the stable are the only winter.
schools he'll ever go to. Hardcastle. Ay, and bring back vanity and affec Mrs. Hardcastle. Well, we must not snub the tation to last them the whole year. I wonder why poor boy now, for I believe we shan't have him long London can not keep its own fools at home! In among us. Any body that looks in his face may see my time, the follies of the town crept siowly among he's consumptive. us, but now they travel faster than a stage-coach. Hardcastle. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the Its fopperies come down not only as inside passen- symptoms. gers, but in the very basket.
Mrs. Hardcastle. He coughs sometimes. Mrs. Hardcastle. Ay, your times were fine times Hardcastle. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong indeed; you have been telling us of them for many way. a long year. Here we live in an old rumbling Mrs. Hardcastle. I'm actually afraid of his lungs. mansion, that looks for all the world like an inn, Hardcastle. And truly so am I; for he somebut that we never see company. Our best visiters times whoops like a speaking trumpet – Tony halare old Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's wife, and little looing behind the scenes. --O, there he goes Cripplegate, the lame dancing-master: and all our very consumptive figure, truly. entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene
Enter TONY, crossing the flage. and the Duke of Marlborough. I hate such oldfashioned trumpery.
Mrs. Hardcastle. Tony, where are you going, my Hardcastle. And I love it. I love every thing charmer? Won't you give papa and I a little of that's old; old friends, old times, old manners, old your company, lovey? books, uld wines; and, I believe, Dorothy, (taking Tony. I'm in haste, mother; I can not stay. lur hand) you'll own I have been pretty fond of an Mrs. Hardcastle. You shan't venture out this old wife.
raw evening, my dear; you look most shockingly. Mrs. Hardcastle. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three Jor ever at your Dorothys and your old wives. You Pigeons expects me down every moment. There's may be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I promise you. some fun going forward.