406

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.

Miss H. Give me that hour then, and I hope | to satisfy you.

Hard. Well, an hour let it be then. But I'll have no trifling with your father. All fair and open, do you mind me.

ACT IV.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-An old-fashioned House. Enter MARLOW, followed by a SERVANT. Mar. I wonder what Hastings could mean by sending me so valuable a thing as a casket to keep for him, when he knows the only place I have is the seat of a post-coach at an inndoor. Have you deposited the casket with the landlady, as I ordered you? Have you put it into her own hands?

Serv. Yes, your honour.

Mur. She said she'd keep it safe, did she? Serv. Yes, she said she'd keep it safe enough; she asked me how I came by it? and she said she had a great mind to make me give an account of myself. Mar. Ha, ha, ha! They're safe, however. [Exit. What an unaccountable set of beings have we got amongst! This little bar-maid, though, runs in my head most strangely, and drives out the absurdities of all the rest of the family. She's mine, she must be mine, or I'm greatly mistaken.

Enter HASTINGS.

Hast. Bless me! I quite forgot to tell her that I intended to prepare at the bottom of the garden. Marlow here, and in spirits too!

Mar. Give me joy, George! Crown me, shadow me with laurels! Well, George, after all, we modest fellows don't want for success among the women.

Hast. Some women, you mean. success has your honour's modesty been crownBut what ed with now, that it grows so insolent upon

us?

Mur. Didn't you see the tempting, brisk, lovely, little thing that runs about the house with a bunch of keys to its girdle?

Hast. Well! and what then?

Mar. She's mine, you rogue you. Such fire, such motion, such eyes, such lips-but, egad! she would not let me kiss them though.

Hast. But are you so sure, so very sure of her?

Mar. Why, man, she talked of showing me her work above stairs, and I'm to improve the pattern.

Hast. But how can you, Charles, go about to rob a woman of her honour?

Mur. Pshaw! pshaw! We all know the honour of the bar-maid of an inn. I don't intend to rob her, take my word for it; there's nothing in this house I sha'n't honestly pay for.

Hast. I believe the girl has virtue. Mar. And if she has, I should be the last man in the world that would attempt to corrupt it.

Hast. You have taken care, I hope, of the casket I sent you to lock up? It's in safety? Mar. Yes, yes. It's safe enough. I have taken care of it. But how could you think the seat of a post-coach at an inn-door a place of safety? Ah, numskull! I have taken better precautions for you than you did for yourself -I haveHast. What!

Hast. To the landlady!
Mar. The landlady.
Hast. You did?

[ACT IV.

Mar. I did. She's to be answerable for its forthcoming, you know.

Hast. Yes, she'll bring it forth, with a wit

ness.

Mar. Wasn't I right? I believe you'll allow that I acted prudently upon this occasion. Hast. He must not see my uneasiness. methinks. Sure nothing has happened? Mar. You seem a little disconcerted though,

[Aside.

spirits in all my life. And so you left it with Hast. No, nothing. Never was in better the landlady, who, no doubt, very readily undertook the charge?

Mar. Rather too readily. For she not only
kept the casket, but, through her great precau-
Ha, ha, ha!
tion, was going to keep the messenger too.

Hast. He, he, he! They're safe, however.
Mar. As a guinea in a miser's purse.

end, and we must set off without it. [Aside.]
Hast. So now all hopes of fortune are at an
Well, Charles, I'll leave you to your medita-
tions on the pretty bar-maid, and, he, he, he!
may you be as successful for yourself as you
have been for me.
[Exit.

Mar. Thank ye, George; I ask no more.
Ha, ha, ha!

Enter HARDCastle.

turned all topsy-turvy. His servants have got
Hard. I no longer know my own house. It's
yet from my respect for his father, I'll be calm.
drunk already. I'll bear it no longer; and
[Aside.] Mr. Marlow, your servant, I'm your
humble servant.
[Bowing low.

Mur. Sir, your humble servant.-What's to be the wonder now?

Sir, that no man alive ought to be more wel-
Hard. I believe, Sir, you must be sensible,
[Aside.
think so.
come than your father's son, Sir. I hope you

Mar. I do from my soul, Sir. I don't want much entreaty. I generally make my father's son welcome wherever he goes.

But though I say nothing to your own conHard. I believe you do, from my soul, Sir. Their manner of drinking is setting a very bad duct, that of your servants is insufferable. example in this house,

assure you.

fault of mine. If they don't drink as they
Mar. I protest, my very good Sir, that's no
to spare the cellar;
ought, they are to blame: I ordered them not
did, I assure you. [To
the side Scene.] Here, let one of my servants
were, that as I did not drink myself, they
come up. [To HARD.] My positive directions
should make up for my deficiencies below.

Hard. Then they had your orders for what they do! I'm satisfied.

from one of themselves.
Mar. They had, I assure you: you shall hear

Enter SERVANT, drunk.
were my orders? Were you not told to drink
You, Jeremy! Come forward, sirrah! What
freely, and call for what you thought fit, for
the good of the house?

Hurd. I begin to lose my patience. [Aside. Jer. Please your honour, liberty and Fleetstreet for ever, though I'm but a servant, I'm as good as another man; I'll drink for no man

Mar. I have sent it to the landlady to keep before supper, Sir, damme! Good liquor will for you.

sit upon a good supper, but a good supper

Mar. Bring me your bill, I say; and I'll Mar. By Heaven, she weeps. This is the leave you and your infernal house directly. first mark of tenderness I ever had from a moHard. Then there's a bright, brazen warm-dest woman, and it touches me. [Aside. ing-pan, that you may see your own brazen face in.

Miss H. Let it be short then; I'm in a hur- character in which I stooped to conquer, but

will undeceive my papa, who perhaps may laugh him out of his resolution. [Exit.

Enter TONY and MISS NEVILLE. Tony. Ay, you may steal for yourselves the next time; I have done my duty. She has got the jewels again, that is a sure thing; but she believes it was all a mistake of the servants.

Miss N. But, my dear cousin, sure you wont forsake us in this distress. If she in the least suspects that I am going off, I shall certainly be locked up, or sent to my aunt Pedigree's which

is ten times worse.

Tony. To be sure, aunts of all kinds are damned bad things. But what can I do? I have got you a pair of horses that will fly like Whistlejacket, and I am sure you cannot say but I have courted you nicely before her face, Here she comes; we must court a bit or two more for fear she should suspect us.

[Seem to fondle.

us.

MISS N. [Aside.] Undone, undone. A letter to him from Hastings. I know the hand. If my aunt sees it, we are ruined for ever. I'll keep her employed a little, if I can. [To MRS. HARDCASTLE.] But I have not told you, Madam, of my cousin's smart answer just now to Mr. Marlow. We so laughed-You must know, Madam-this way a little, for he must not hear TONY. [Still gazing.] A damned cramped [They confer piece of penmanship as ever I saw in my life. can read your print-hand very well. But here there are such handles, and shanks, and dashes, that one can scarce tell the head from the tail. [To ANTHONY LUMPKIN, Esq.] It's very odd, I can read the outside of my letters, where my own name is, plain enough. But when I come to open it, it is all-buz. That's hard, very hard: for the inside of the letter is always the cream of the correspondence.

Mrs. H. Ha, ha, ha! Very well, very well. And so my son was too hard for the philoso. pher.

Miss N. Yes, Madam; but you must hear the rest, Madam. A little more this way, or he may hear us. You'll hear how he puzzled him again. Mrs. H. He seems strangely puzzled now himself, methinks,

Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE. Mrs. H. Well, I was greatly fluttered, to be sure. But my son tells me it was all a mistake of the servants. I sha'n't be easy, however, till they are fairly married, and then let her keep her own fortune. But what do I see? Fondling together, as I am alive. I never saw Tony so sprightly before. Ah! have I caught hand, as if it was disguised in liquor. [ReadTONY. [Still gazing.] A damned up and down you, my pretty doves! What, billing, exchanging.] Dear Sir, Ay, that's that. Then there's ing stolen glances, and broken murmurs? Ah! Tony. As for murmurs, mother, we grumble be a izzard or an R, confound me, I cannot an M, and a T, and an S, but whether the next a little now and then, to be sure. But there's no love lost between us.

Mrs. H. A mere sprinkling, Tony, upon the flame, only to make it burn brighter? Miss N. Cousin Tony promises to give us more of his company at home. Indeed, he It wont leave us,

sha'n't leave us any more. cousin Tony, will it?

Tony. O it's a pretty creature. No, I'd sooner leave my horse in a pond, than leave Jou when you smile upon one so. Your laugh makes you so becoming.

Miss N. Agreeable cousin! who can help admiring that natural humour, that pleasant, broad, red, thoughtless-[Putting his cheek.] Ah! it's a bold face.

Mrs. H. Pretty innocence!

Tony. I am sure I always loved cousin Con's hazel eyes, and her pretty long fingers, that she twists this way and that over the harpsicholls, like a parcel of bobbins.

Mrs. H. Ah, he would charm a bird from the tree. I was never so happy before. My boy takes after his father, poor Mr. Lumpkin, exactly. The jewels, my dear Con, shall be yours incontinently. You shall have them. Isn't he a sweet boy, my dear? You shall be married to-morrow, and we'll put off the rest of his education, like Dr. Drowsy's sermons, to a fitter Opportunity.

Enter DIGGORY.

Digg. Where's the 'squire? I have got a letter for your worship.

Tony. Give it to my mamma. She reads all my letters first.

Digg. I had orders to deliver it into your own hands.

Tony. Who does it come from?

Digg. Your worship mun ask that o'the ter itself.

Tony. I could wish to know, though.

tell.

Mrs. H. What's that, my dear? Can I give you any assistance?

reads a cramp hand better than I. [Twitching Miss N. Pray, aunt, let me read it. Nobody the letter from her.] Do you know who it is from?

Tony. Can't tell, except from Dick Ginger, the feeder.

Desire, hoping that you're in health, as Miss N. read.] Shake-bag club has cut the gentlemen of the am at this present. The gentlemen of the Goose-green quite out of feather. The odds -um-old battle-um-long fighting-umhere, here, it's all about cocks, and fighting; it's of no consequence, here, put it up, put it "P [Thrusting the crumpled letter upon him. Tony. But I tell you, Miss, it's of all the consequence in the world. I would not lose the rest of it for a guinea. Here, mother, do you make it out. Of no consequence!

[Giving Mrs. HARDCASTLE the letter. Mrs. H. How's this?

[Reads. ville, with a post chaise and pair, at the bottom of Dear 'Squire,-I'm now waiting for Miss Nethe garden; but I find my horses yet unable to perform the journey. I expect you'll assist me with a pair of fresh horses, as you promised. Dispatch is necessary, as the hag ay, the hag, your mother, will otherwise suspect us. Yours,

HASTINGS.

Grant me patience. I shall run distracted. My rage chokes me.

Miss N. I hope, Madam, you'll suspend your resentment for a few moments, and not impute let-belongs to another. to me any impertinence, or sinister design that

MRS. H. [Courtesying very low.] Fine spoken [Turning the letter, and gazing on it. engaging, and quite the very pink of courtesy Madam, you are most miraculously polite and

lies before me, I'm sure it would convert your resentment into pity,

Mrs. H. [Within.] Miss Neville, Constance; why, Constance, I say,

Miss N. I'm coming. Well, constancy. Remember, constancy is the word. [Exit. Hast. My heart, how can I support this? To be so near happiness, and such happiness!

and circumspection, Madam. [Changing her tone.] And you, you great ill-fashioned oaf, with scarce sense enough to keep your mouth shut, were you too joined against me? But I'll defeat all your plots in a moment. As for you, Madam, since you have got a pair of fresh horses ready, it would be cruel to disappoint them. So, if you please, instead of running away with your spark, prepare, this very moment, to run off with me. Your old Mar. [To TONY.] You see now, young genaunt Pedigree will keep you secure, I'll war-tleman, the effects of your folly. What might rant me. You too, Sir, may mount your horse, be amusement to you, is here disappointment, and guard us upon the way. Here, Thomas, and even distress. Roger, Diggory; I'll show you, that I wish you better than you do yourselves. [Exit.

Miss N. So now I am completely ruined. Tony. Ay, that's a sure thing. Miss N. What better could be expected from being connected with such a stupid fool, and after all the nods and signs I made him? Tony. By the laws, Miss, it was your own cleverness, and not my stupidity, that did your business. You were so nice and so busy with your Shake-bags and Goose-greens, that I thought you could never be making believe,

Enter HASTINGS.

Hast. So, Sir, I find by my servant, that you have shown my letter, and betrayed us. Was this well done, young gentleman?

Tony. Here's another. Ask Miss there who betrayed you. Ecod, it was her doing, not mine.

Enter MARLOW.

Tony. [From a reverie.] Ecod, I have hit it. It's here. Your hands. Yours and yours, my poor Sulky. Meet me two hours hence at the bottom of the garden; and if you don't find Tony Lumpkin a more good natur'd fellow than you thought for, I'll give you leave to take my best horse, and Bet Bouncer into the bargain. Come along, [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE 1.-An old-fashioned House. Enter SIR CHARLES MARLOW and HARDCASTLE.

Hard. Ha, ha, ha! The peremptory tone in which he sent forth his sublime commands. Sir C. And the reserve with which I suppose he treated all your advances.

Hard. And yet he might have seen something in me above a common innkeeper, too. Sir C. Yes, Dick, but he mistook you for an uncommon innkeeper, ha, ha, ha!

Hard. Well, I'm in too good spirits to think this union of our families will make our perof any thing but joy. Yes, my dear friend, ill-sonal friendships hereditary; and though my old daughter's fortune is but small

Mar. So, I have been finely used here among you. Rendered contemptible, driven into manners, despised, insulted, laughed at. Tony. Here's another. We shall have Bedlam broke loose presently.

Miss N. And there, Sir, is the gentleman to whom we all owe every obligation.

Mar. What can I say to him, a mere booby, an idiot, whose ignorance and age are a pro

tection.

Hast. A poor, contemptible booby, that would but disgrace correction.

Miss N. Yet with cunning and malice enough to make himself merry with our embarrassments.

Hast. An insensible cub.

Mur. Replete with tricks and mischief. Tony. Baw! damme, but I'll fight you both, one after the other-with baskets.

Mur. As for him, he's below resentment. But your conduct, Mr. Hastings, requires an explanation. You knew of my mistakes, yet

would not undeceive me.

Hast. Tortured as I am with my own disappointments, is this a time for explanations? It is not friendly, Mr. Marlow.

Mar. But, Sir

Miss N. Mr. Marlow, we never kept on your mistake, till it was too late to undeceive you. Be pacified.

Enter SERVANT.

Serv. My mistress desires you'll get ready immediately, Madam. The horses are putting to. Your hat and things are in the next room. We are to go thirty miles before morning.

[Exit. Miss N. I come. O, Mr. Marlow! if you knew what a scene of constraint and ill nature

Sir C. Why, Dick, will you talk of fortune to me? My son is possessed of more than a competence already, and can want nothing but and increase it. If they like each other, as you a good, virtuous girl to share his happiness, say they do

Hard. If, man. I tell you they do like each other. My daughter as good as told me so. sel es, you know. Sir C. But girls are apt to flatter them

Hard. I saw him grasp her hand in the warmest manner myself; and here he comes to put you out of your ifs, I warrant him.

Enter MARLOW.

Mar. I come, Sir, once more, to ask pardon for my strange conduct. I can scarce reflect on my insolence without confusion.

gravely. An hour or two's laughing with my Hurd. Tut, boy, a trifle. You take it too daughter will set all to rights again.-She'll never like you the worse for it.

Mar. Sir, I shall be always proud of her approbation.

Hard. Approbation is but a cold word, Mr. Marlow; if I am not deceived, you have some thing more than approbation thereabouts. You take me?

Mar. Really, Sir, I have not that happiness. Hard. Come, boy, I'm an old fellow, and know what's what, as well as you that are younger. I know what has passed between you; but mum.

Mar. Sure, Sir, nothing has passed between us but the most profound respect on my side,

and the most distant reserve on hers. You yourselves behind that screen, you shall hear don't think, Sir, that my impudence has been him declare his passion to me in person. passed upon all the rest of the family. Hard. Impudence! No, I don't say that describe, all my happiness in him must have Sir C. Agreed. And if I find him what you Not quite impudence.-Girls like to be played an end. with, and rumpled too sometimes. But she has told no tales, I assure you.

Mar. May I die, Sir, if I ever— Hard. I tell you, she don't dislike you; and as I'm sure you like her,

Mar. Dear Sir, I protest, Sir

Hard. I see no reason why you should not be joined as fast as the parson can tie you. Mar. But why wont you hear me? By all that's just and true, I never gave Miss Hardcastle the slightest mark of my attachment, or even the most distant hint to suspect me of affection. We had but one interview, and that was formal, modest, and uninteresting.

Hard. This fellow's formal, modest_impudence is beyond bearing. [Aside. Sir C. And you never grasp'd her hand, or made any protestations?

Mar. As Heaven is my witness, I came down in obedience to your commands. I saw the lady without emotion, and parted without reluctance. I hope you'll exact no further proofs of my duty, nor prevent me from leaving a house in which I suffer so many mortifications. [Exit. Sir C. I'm astonished at the air of sincerity with which he parted. Hard. And I'm astonished at the deliberate intrepidity of his assurance.

Sir C. I dare pledge my life and honour upon his truth.

Hard. Here comes my daughter, and I would stake my happiness upon her veracity.

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE.

Kate; come hither, child. Answer me sincerely, and without reserve; has Mr. Marlow made you any professions of love and affection?

Miss H. The question is very abrupt, Sir: but since you require unreserved sincerity, I think he has.

Hard. [To SIR C.] You see.

Sir C. And pray, Madam, have you and my
son had more than one interview?
Miss H. Yes, Sir, several.
Hard. [To SIR C.] You see.

Sir C. But did he profess any attachment?
Miss H. A lasting one.

Sir C. Did he talk of love?

Miss H. Much, Sir.

Sir C. Amazing! and all this formally?
Miss H. Formally.

Hard. Now, my friend, I hope you are satisfied.

Sir C. And how did he behave, Madam? Miss H. As most professed admirers do. Said some civil things of my face, talked much of his want of merit, and the greatness of mine: mentioned his heart, gave a short tragedy speech, and ended with pretended rapture.

Sir C. Now I'm perfectly convinced, indeed. I know his conversation among women to be modest and submissive. This forward, canting, ranting manner by no means describes him, and I'm confident he never sat for that picture.

Miss H. Then what, Sir, if I should convince you to your face of my sincerity? If you and my papa, in about half an hour, will place

[Exit. Miss H. And if you don't find him what [ describe I fear my happiness must never have a beginning.

SCENE II.-The Back of a Garden.

Enter HASTINGS.

[Exit.

a fellow, who probably takes delight in morHast. What an idiot am I, to wait here for tifying me. He never intended to be punctual, and I'll wait no longer. What do I see? It is he, and perhaps with news of my Constance.

Enter TONY, booted and spattered.

My honest 'squire! I now find you a man of your word. This looks like friendship.

friend you have in the world, if you knew but Tony. Ay, I'm your friend, and the best all. This riding, by night, by the by, is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me worse than the basket of a stage coach.

Hast. But how? Where did you leave your fellow travellers? Are they in safety? Are they housed?

and a half, is no such bad driving. The poor
Tony. Five and twenty miles in two hours
I'd rather ride forty miles after a fox, than ten
beasts have smoked for it. Rabbit me, but
with such varment.

ladies? I die with impatience.
Hast. Well, but where have you left the

Tony. Left them! Why, where should I leave them, but where I found them?

Hast. This is a riddle.

What's that

goes round the house, and round the house,
Tony. Riddle me this, then.
and never touches the house?

Hast. I'm still astray.

astray. By jingo, there's not a pond or slough Tony. Why, that's it, mon. I have led them within five miles of the place, but they can tell the taste of.

Hast. Ha, ha, ha! I understand; you took them in a round, while they supposed themselves going forward. And so you have at last brought them home again.

Tony. You shall hear. I first took them down Feather-bed-lane, where we stuck fast in the mud.-I then rattled them crack over the stones of Up-and-down-hill-I then introduced them to the gibbet on Heavy-tree-heath, -and from that with a circumbendibus, I fairly lodged them in the horsepond at the bottom of the garden.

Hast. But no accident, I hope.

edly frightened. She thinks herself forty miles Tony. No, no. Only mother is confoundoff. She's sick of the journey, and the cattle can scarce crawl. So, if your own horses be ready, you may whip off with cousin, and I'll be bound that no soul here can budge a foot to follow you.

Hast. My dear friend, how can I be grate

ful?

Just now, it was all idiot, cub, and run me
Tony. Ay, now it's dear friend, noble 'squire.
ing, I say.
through the guts. Damn your way of fight-
part of the country, we shake hands and be
After we take a knock in this
friends. But if you had run me through the