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 Dorothys 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 me 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. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle: I was but twenty when I was brought to bed of Tony, that I 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. 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 learing to spend fifteen hundred a year. Hard. Learning, quotha! a mere composition of tricks and mischief. Mrs. H. Humour, my dear; nothing but humour. Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humour. Hard. I'd sooner allow him a horsepond. If burning the footman's shoes, frighting the maids, worrying the kittens, be humour, he has it. It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I popp'd my bald head into Mrs. Frizzle's face. doctor, little Aminidab that grinds the music-box, and Tom Twist that spins the pewter-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 sha'n't go. Mrs. H. I say, you sha'n't. Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you or I. [Exeunt. 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 !— Dressed 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 clothed out of the trimmings of the vain. Miss H. 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 by, I believe I shall have occasion to try your obedience this very even Miss H. I protest, Sir, I don't comprehend your meaning. Mrs. H. And am I to blame? The poor boying. 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 alehouse and the stable are the only schools he'll ever go to. Mrs. H. Well, we must not snub the poor boy see he's consumptive. Mrs. H. He coughs sometimes. way. Mrs. H. I'm actually afraid of his lungs. Hard. And truly, so am I; for he sometimes whoops like a speaking-trumpet-[TONY halloo ing behind the scenes.]-O there he goes-A very consumptive figure, truly. 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 sha'n't venture out this raw evening, my dear; you look most shockingly. Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three l'igeons expect me down every moment. There's some fun going forward. Hard. Ay; the alehouse, the old place: I thought so. Mrs. H. A low, paltry set of fellows. 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 father's letter, in which he informs me his son is set out, and that he intends to follow himself shortly after. Miss H. Indeed! I wish I had known something of this before. Bless me, how shall I be have? It's a thousand to one I sha'n't like him; our meeting will be so formal, and so 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. I am told he's a man of 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. My dear papa, say no more; [Kissing his hand.] he's mine, I'll have him. Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most bashful and reserved young fellows in the world. Miss H. Eh! you have frozen me to death again. That word reserved has undone all the rest of his accomplishments. A reserved 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 to catch me, I promise you. However, if he be so young, so handsome, and so every thing, as you mention, I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have him. Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. It's more than an even wager he may not have you. Miss H. My dear papa, why will you mortify one so ?-Well, if he refuses, instead of breaking my heart at his indifference, I'll only break my glass for its flattery; set my cap to some newer fashion, and look out for some less difficult admirer. ter. Hard. Bravely resolved! In the mean time I'll go prepare the servants for his reception; as we seldom see company, they want as much training as a company of recruits the first day's mus[Exit. Miss H. Lud, this news of papa's puts me all in a flutter. Young, handsome; these he puts last; but I put them foremost. Sensible, goodnatured; I like all that. But then reserved and sheepish; that's much against him. 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. Enter Miss NEVILLE. Miss H. I'm glad you're come, Neville, my dear. Tell me, Constance, how do I look this evening? Is there any thing whimsical about me? Is it one of my well looking days, child? am I in face to-day? Miss N. Perfectly, my dear. Yet now I look again-bless me! surely no accident has happened among the canary birds or the gold fishes. Has your brother or the cat been meddling? Or has the last novel been too moving? Miss H. No; nothing of all this. I have been threatened-I can scarce get it out-I have been threatened with a lover. Miss N. And his nameMiss H. Is Marlow. Miss N. Indeed! 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, I 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: yu understand me. Miss H. An odd character indeed. I shall never be able to manage him. What shall I do? Pshaw, think no more of him; but trust to occurrences for success. But how goes on your own affair, my dear? has my mother been courting you for my brother Tony, as usual? Miss N. I have just come from one of our agreeable tete-a-tetes. 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. 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 hard for her at last. However, I let her suppose that I am in love with her son, and she never once dreams that my affections are fixed upon another. Miss H. My good brother holds out stoutly. I could almost love him for hating you so. Miss N. It is a good natured creature at bottom, and I'm sure would wish to see me married to any body but himself. But my aunt's bell rings for our afternoon's walk round the improvements. Allon's, courage is necessary, as our affairs are critical. Miss H. Would it were bed time, and all were well. SCENE II-An Alehouse Room. Several shabby fellows, with punch and tobacco. TONY at the head of the table. Omnes. Hurra, hurra, hurra, bravo. The squire is going to knock himself down for a 1 Fel. Now, gentlemen, silence for a song. song. Omnes. Ay, a song, a song. Tony. Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song I made upon this alehouse, the Three Pigeons. Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain, With grammar, and nonsense, and learning ; Good liquor, I stoutly maintain, Gives genius a better discerning. Let them brag of their heathenish gods, Their Lethes, their Styres, and Stygians, Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. They always preach best with a skinful. Then come, put the jorum about, And let us be merry and clever ; Our hearts and our liquors are stout. Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever. Let some cry up woodcock or hare, Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons, But of all the birds in the air, Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. Omnes. Bravo, bravo. 1 Fel. The squire has got spunk in him. 2 Fel. I loves to hear him sing, bekeays ho never gives us nothing that's low. 3 Fel. O, damn any thing that's low; I can't bear it. 4 Fel. The genteel thing is the genteel thing at any time, if so be that a gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly. 3 Fel. I like the maxum of it, master Muggins. What though I am obligated to dance a bear, man may be a gentleman for all that. May this be my poison if my bear ever dances but to the very genteelest of tunes;-" Water parted," or the minuet in Ariadne. 2 Fel. What a pity it is the squire is not come to his own. It would be well for all the publicans within ten miles round of him. Tony. Ecod, and so it would, master Slang. I'd then show what it was to keep choice of company. 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 country. 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 gray 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 post-chaise at the door. They have lost their way up o' 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 I'll set them right in a twinkling. [Exit LANDLORD.] Gentlemen, as they mayn't be good enough company for you, step down for a moment, and I'll be with you in the squeezing 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? shall soon be worth fifteen hundred a year, and let him frighten me out of that if he can. Enter LANDLORD, conducting MARLOW and HASTINGS. 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. Hast. And all, Marlow, from that unaccountable reserve of yours, that would not let us inquire more frequently on the way. Mar. I own, Hastings, I am unwilling to lay myself under an obligation to every one meet; and often stand the chance of an unmannerly an swer. Hast. At present, however, we are not likely to receive any answer. Tony. No offence, gentlemen; but I'm told you have been inquiring for one Mr. Hardcastle, in these parts. Do you know what part of the country you are in? Hast. Not in the least, Sir; but should thank you for information. Tony. Nor the way you came? Hast. No, Sir; but if you can inform usTony. Why, gentlemen, if you know neither the road you are going, nor where you are, nor the road you came, the first thing I have to inform you is, that-you have lost your way. Mar. We wanted no ghost to tell us that. Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may 1 be so bold as to ask the place from whence you came? Mar. That's not necessary towards directing us where we are to go. Tony.. No offence: but question for question is all fair, you know. Pray, gentlemen, is not this same Hardcastle a cross-grained, old-fashioned, whimsical fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter, and a pretty son? Hast. We have not seen the gentleman, but he has the family you mention. Tony. The daughter, a tall, trapesing, trolloping, talkative maypole-the son, a pretty, wellbred, agreeable youth, that every body is fond of. Mar. Our information differs in this: the daughter is said to be well-bred and beautiful; the son, an awkward booby, reared up and spoiled at his mother's apron-string. Tony. He-he-hem-Then, gentlemen, all I have to tell you is, that you wont reach Mr. Hardcastle's house this night, I believe. Hast. Unfortunate! Tony. It's a damned long, dark, boggy, dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentlemen the way to Mr. Hardcastle's; [Winking upon the LANDLORD.] Mr. Hardcastle's, of Quagmiremarsh, 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 crossed 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. Oh, Sir, you're facetious. Tony. Then keeping to the right, you are to go sideways till you come upon Crack-skull 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 the right about again, till you find out the old mill Mar. Zounds, man! we could as soon find out the longitude! Hast. What's to be done, Marlow? Mar. This house promises but a poor reception; though perhaps the landlord can accommodate us. 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, in which the rest seem disconcerted.] I have hit it; don't you think, Stingo, our landlady could accommodate the gentlemen by the fireside, with-three chairs and a bolster? Hast. I hate sleeping by the fireside. Mar. And I detest your three chairs and a bolster. Tony. You do, do you?-then let me seewhat-if f you go on a mile farther, to the Buck's Head, the old Buck's Head on the hill, one of the best inns in the whole country? Hast. Oho! so we have escaped an adventure for this night, however. Land. [Apart to TONY.] Sure you ben't sending them to your father's as an inn, be you? Tony. Mum, you fool you; let them find that out. [To them.] You have only to keep on straight forward till you come to a large house by the road side you'll see a pair of large horns over the door: that's the sign. Drive up the yard, and rall stoutly about you. Hast. Sir, we are obliged to you. The servants can't miss the way? Tony. No, no: but I tell you, though, the land lord is rich, and going to leave off business; so he wants to be thought a gentleman, saving your presence, he, he, he! He'll be for giving you his company, and ecod if you mind him, he'll persuade you that his mother was an alderman, and his aunt a justice of peace. Land. A troublesome old blade, to be sure; but a keeps as good wines and beds as any in the whole country. with these, we We are to turn Mar. Well, if he supplies us shall want no further connection. to the right, did you say? Tony. No, no, straight forward. I'll just step myself, and show you a piece of the way. [To LAND. Mum. Land. Ah, bless your heart, for a sweet, pleasant -damned mischievous son of a whore. [Exeunt. 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 Diggory carries his hands. They're a little too stiff, indeed, but that's no great matter. Dig. Ay, mind how I hold them: I learned to hold my hands this way when I was upon drill for the militia. And so being upon drill Hard. You must not be too talkative, Diggory; you must be all attention to the guests. You must hear us talk, and not think of talking; you must see us drink, and not think of drinking; you must see us eat, and not think of eating. Dig. By the laws, your worship, that's perfectly unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forwards, ecod he's always wishing for a mouthful himself. Hard. Blockhead! is not a bellyful in the kitchen as good as a bellyful in the parlour? Stay your stomach with that reflection. Dig. Ecod I thank your worship; I'll make a shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry. Hard. Diggory you are too talkative. Then if happen to say a good thing, or tell a good story at table, you must not all burst out a laughing, as if you made part of the company. Dig. Then ecod your worship must not tell the story of Ould Grouse in the gun-room: I can't help laughing at that-he, he, he -for the soul of me. We have laughed at that these twenty years-ha, ha, ha! Hard. Ha, ha, ha! The story is a good one. Well, honest Diggory, you may laugh at that-but still remember to be attentive. Suppose one of the company should call for a glass of wine, how will you behave? A glass of wine, Sir, if you please. [To DIGGORY.]-Eh, why don't you move! Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never have courage till I see the eatables and drinkables brought upo' the table, and then I'm as bauld as a lion. Hard. What, will nobody move? 1 Serv. I'm not to leave this place. Dig. Wauns, and I'm sure it canna be mine. Hard. You numskulls! and so while, like your betters, you are quarrelling for places, the guests must be starved. Oh, you dunces! I find I must begin all over again. But don't I hear a coach drive into the yard? To your posts, you blockheads. I'll go in the mean time and give my old friend's son a hearty welcome at the gate. [Exit. Dig. By the elevens, my place is gone quite out of my head. Roger. I know that my place is to be every where. 1 Serv. Where the devil is mine? 2 Serv. My place is to be nowhere at all; and so I'ze go about my business. [Exeunt SERVANTS, running. Enter MARLOW and HASTINGS. Hast. After the disappointments of the day, welcome once more, Charles, to the comforts of a clean room and a good fire. Upon my word, a very well-looking house; antique, but creditable, Mar. The usual fate of a large mansion. Having first ruined the master by good house-keeping, it at last comes to levy contributions as an inn. Hast. As you say, we passengers are to be taxed to pay all these fineries. I have often seen a good sideboard, or a marble chimney-piece, though not actually put in the bill, inflame the bill confoundedly. Mar. Travellers, George, must pay in all places; the only difference is, that in good inns you pay dearly for luxuries; in bad inns you are fleeced and starved. Hast. You have lived pretty much among them. In truth, I have been often surprised, that you, who have seen so much of the world, with your natural good sense, and your many opportunities, could never yet acquire a requisite share of assurance. Mar. The Englishman's malady; but tell me, George, where could I have learned that assurance you talk of? My life has been chiefly spent in a college or an inn, in seclusion from that lovely part of the creation, that chiefly teach men confidence. I don't know that I was ever familiarly acquainted with a single woman except my mother. But ainong females of another class, you know Hast. Ay, among them you are impudent enough of all conscience. Mar. They are of us, you know. Hast. But in the company of women of reputation I never saw such an idiot, such a trembler you look for all the world as if you wanted an o portunity of stealing out of the room. 308 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. [ACT II. puts me in mind of the Duke of Marlborough, when he went to besiege Denain. He first summoned the garrison. Mar. Ay, and we'll summon your garrison, old might consist of about five thousand men- he summoned the garrison, which might consist Mar. Five minutes to seven. thousand men, well appointed with stores, ammu- glass of punch in the mean time, it would help countable kind of modesty I ever met with. Hard. Punch, Sir!-This is the most unacpunch, after our journey, will be comfortable. Mar. Yes, Sir, punch. A glass of warm od [Aside. This is Liberty-hall, you know. Enter SERVANT, with a tankard.. Hard. Here's a cup, Sir. only let us have just what he pleases. Mar. So this fellow, in his Liberty-hall, will Hard. [Taking the cup.] I hope you'll find [Aside hands, and I believe you'll own the ingredients it to your mind. I have prepared it with my own me, Sir? Here, Mr. Marlow, here is to our betare tolerable. Will you be so good as to pledge ter acquaintance. character, and I'll humour him a little. [Aside.] Mar. A very impudent fellow this! but he's a [Drinks. Sir, my service to you. [Drinks, and gives the acup to HASTINGS. Mar. [Aside.] He has got our names from the servants already. [To HARDCASTLE.J We approve your caution and hospitality, Sir. [To HASTINGS.] I have been thinking, George, of changing our travelling dresses in the morning; I am grown confoundedly ashamed of mine. Hard. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you'll use no ceremony in this house. Hast. I fancy, George, you're right: the first blow is half the battle. Hard. Mr. Marlow-Mr. Hastings-gentlemen-pray be under no restraint in this house. This is Liberty-hall, gentlemen; you may do just as you please here. Mar. Yet, George, if we open the campaign too fiercely at first, we may want ammunition before it is over. We must show our generalship, by securing, if necessary, a retreat. Hard. Your talking of a retreat, Mr. Marlow, |