fections 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. | the mind, and marshal all its dissipated virtues. Yet, ere I depart, permit me to solicit favour for this gentleman; who, notwithstanding what has happened, has laid me under the most signal ob‐ Sir Wil. I approve your resolution, and here they come, to receive a confirmation of your par-ligations. Mr Loftydon and consent. Lof. Mr Honeywood, I'm resolved upon a re formation, as well as you. I now begin to find Enter Mrs CROAKER, JARVIS, LEONTINE, and that the man who first invented the art of speak 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. Gro. 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. Leo. 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, tho' 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. Hon. Cease to upbraid me, sir; I have for some time but too strongly felt the justice of your reproaches. But 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 Hon. How have I been deceived! Sir Wil. No, sir, you have been obliged to: kinder, fairer friend for that favour-To Richland. Would she complete our joy, a make the man she has honoured by her friese ship happy in her love, I should then forget and be as blest as the welfare of my dearestas man can make me. Miss Rich. After what is past, it would but affectation to pretend to indifference. Ye I will own an attachment, which, I find, vi more than friendship. And if my entrect: cannot alter his resolution to quit the cour I will even try if my hand has not power to i tain him. [Giving her hus Hon. Heavens! how can I have descrved this! How express my happiness, my gratitu A moment, like this, overpays an age of a hension. Gro. Well, now I see content in every fa but Heaven send we be all better this day thi months. Sir Wil. Henceforth, nephew, learn to si spect yourself. He who seeks only for app from without, has all his happiness in anothe keeping. Hon. Yes, sir, I now too plainly perceive errors. My vanity, in attempting to please. by fearing to offend any; my meanness in proving folly, lest fools should disapprove. Heas forth, therefore, it shall be my study to reser my pity for real distress; my friendship for the merit; and my love for her, who first taught what it is to be happy. [Excu EPILOGUE. SPOKEN BY MRS BULKLEY. As puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure Go, ask your manager-Who, me! Your pardon; Give him good words indeed, but no assistance. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER; OR THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT. BY GOLDSMITH. PROLOGUE. BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ. Enter Mr WOODWARD, dressed in Black, and holding a Handkerchief to his Eyes. EXCUSE me, sirs, I pray-I cann't yet speakI'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 cann't squeeze out one drop: I am undone, that's all-shall lose my breadI'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 cann't I be moral ?-Let me tryMy heart thus pressing-fix'd 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 bittes When ign'rance enters, folly is at hand; Learning is better far than house or land. Let not your virtue trip; who trips may stun 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 shew his skill. To cheer her heart, and give your muscles motic, He, in five draughts prepared, presents a potion A kind of magic charm-for, be assured, If you will swallow it, the maid is cured; But desp'rate the doctor, and her case is, If y f you reject the dose, and make wry faces! This truth he boasts, will boast it while he lives No pois'nous drugs are mixed with 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. SCENE I.-A Chamber in an old-fashioned House. TLE. Mrs Hard. I vow, Mr Hardcastle, you're very particular. Is there a creature in the whole coun-I try, 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 neighbour, Mrs Grigsby, go to take a month's polishing every winter. Hard. Ay, and bring back vanity and affectation to last them the 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 stage-coach. Its fopperies come down, not only as inside passengers, but in the very basket. 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 Hard. It's false, Mr Hardcastle : I was but twenty when I was brought to bed of Tony, that had 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. Ay, you have taught him finely. Mrs Hard. 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 Hard. Humour, my dear; nothing but humour. Come, Mr Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humour. Mrs Hard. Ay, your times were fine times, indeed: you have been telling us of them for many Hard. I'd sooner allow him a horse-pond. If a long year. Here we live in an old rumbling man-burning the footmen's shoes, frigh ing the maids, sion, that looks for all the world like an inn, but worrying the kittens, be humour, he has it. It that we never see company. Our best visitors are was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the back old Mrs Oddfish, the curate's wife, and little Crip- of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I plegate, the lame dancing-master; and all our en- popt my bald head in Mrs Frizzle's face. tertainment, your old stories of Prince Eugene and the duke of Marlborough. I hate such oldfashioned 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 Hard. Lord, Mr Hardcastle, you're for ever at your Dorothy's and your old wife's. 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 Mrs Hard. 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 Hard, Well, we must not snub the poor boy now, for I believe we sha'n't have him long among us. Any body that .ooks in his face may see he's consumptive. Hard. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the father's letter, in which he informs me his son symptoms. set out, and that he intends to follow h shortly after. Mrs Hard. He coughs sometimes. Hard. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong way. Mrs Hard. 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.]-O there he goes-A very consumptive figure, truly. Enter TONY, crossing the Stage. Mrs Hard. Tony, where are you going, my charmer? Won't you give papa andI a little of your company, lovee? Tony. I'm in haste, mother, I cannot stay. Mrs Hard. You sha'n't venture out this raw evening, my dear You look most shockingly. Tony. I can stay, I tell you. The Three Pigeons expects me down every moment. There's some fun going forward. SO. Hard. Ay; the ale-house, the old place: I thought Mrs Hard. 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 Hard. Pray, my dear, disappoint them for one night at least. Tony. As for disappointing them, I should not so much mind, but I cann't abide to disappoint myself. Mrs Hard. [Detaining him.] You sha'n't go. Mrs Hard. I say you sha'n't. Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you or I. [Exit, hawling her out. Hard. Ay, 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. Hard. Blessings on my pretty innocence ! Drest 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 cloathed out of the trimmings of the vain. Miss Hard. You know our agreement, sir. You allow me 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 bye, I believe I shall have occasion to try your obedience this very evening. Miss Hard. 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 Miss Hard. Indeed! I wish I had known s thing of this before. Bless me, how shai I have? It's a thousand to one I sha'n't like r our meeting will be so formal, and so like a t of business, that I shall find no room for friends. or esteem. Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never cont your choice; but Mr Marlow, whom I have p ed upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Ch Marlow, of whom you have heard me talk so The young gentleman has been bred a sch and is designed for an employment in the sen of his country. I am told he's a man of an ex lent understanding. Miss Hard. Is he? Miss Hard. I believe I shall like him. Miss Hurd. I'm sure I shall like him. Miss Hard. My dear papa, say no more: L ing his hand.] he's mine, I'll have him. Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's one o most bashful and reserved young fellows in a world. Miss Hard. Eh! you have frozen me to des again. That word reserved, has undone a rest of his accomplishments. A reserved k it is said, always makes a suspicious husband. Hard. On the contrary, modesty seldom re in a breast that is not enriched with nobler vir It was the very feature in his character that is struck me. Miss Hard. He must have more striking! tures to catch me, I promise you. How he be so young, so handsome, and so everyth as you mention, I believe he'll do still. It I'll have him. Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstac It's more than an even wager he may not have Miss Hard. My dear papa, why will you tify one so?-Well, if he refuses, instead of t ing my heart at his indifference, I'll only break glass for its flattery; set my cap to some fashion, and look out for some less difficult ad Hard. Bravely resolved! In the mean time go prepare the servants for his reception; & seldom see company, they want as much tra as a company of recruits, the first day's must Miss Hard. Lud, this news of papa's puts te all in a flutter. Young, handsome; these be last; but I put them foremost. Sensible, go natured; I like all that. But then reserved sheepish, that's much against him. Yet can he be cured of his timidity, by being taught tex proud of his wife? Yes, and cann't Ï--But I w I'm disposing of the husband, before I have cured the lover. Enter Miss Neville. Miss Hard. I'm glad you're come, Neville, dear. Tell me, Constance, how do I look this |