Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER:

OR,

THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT.

A Comedy;

AS ACTED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN.

DEDICATION.

TO SAMUEL JOHNSON, L. L. 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,
OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

PROLOGUE.

BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

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-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;
Pleasures seem sweet, but prove a glass of bitters.
When ign'rance enters, folly is at hand:
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;
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 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.

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:

If you will swallow it the maid is cured;
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 pois'nous drugs are mix'd 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.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]

MR. GARDNER.

MR. LEWIS.

[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]

MR. SHUTER.

I'm not so old as you'd make me, by more than one good year. Add twenty to twenty, and make mo ney of that.

Hardcastle. Let me see: twenty added to twenty makes just fifty and seven.

Mrs. Hardcastle. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle; I was but twenty when I was brought to bed of To

MR. DUBELLAMY.ny, that I had by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband; and he's not come to years of discretion yet.

MR. QUICK.

MR. SAUNDERS.

MRS. GREENE.

MRS. BULKLley.

MRS. KNIVETON.

MISS WILLEMS.

LANDLORD, SERVANTS, &c. &c.

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER;

OR, THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT.

ACT I.

Hardcastle. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. Ay, you have taught him finely.

Mrs. Hardcastle. 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.

Hardcastle. Learning quotha! a mere composition of tricks and mischief.

Mrs. Hardcastle. Humour, my dear, nothing but humour. Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humour.

Hardcastle. I'd sooner allow him a horsepond. If burning the footman's shoes, frightening the maids, and worrying the kittens be humour, he has it. It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the

SCENE-A CHAMBER IN AN OLD-FASHIONED HOUSE. back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow,

Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE and MR. HARDCASTLE.

Mrs. Hardcastle. I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're very particular. Is there a creature in the whole country 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.

Hardcastle. Ay, and bring back vanity and affectation to last them the whole year. I wonder why London can not 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.

I popped my bald head in Mrs. Frizzle's face.

Mrs. Hardcastle. 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?

Hardcastle. Latin for him! A cat and fiddle. No, no; the alehouse and the stable are the only schools he'll ever go to.

Mrs. Hardcastle. Well, we must not snub the poor boy now, for I believe we shan't have him long among us. Any body that looks in his face may see he's consumptive.

Hardcastle. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the symptoms.

Mrs. Hardcastle. He coughs sometimes. Hardcastle. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong

way.

Mrs. Hardcastle. 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 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-a Cripplegate, the lame dancing-master: and all our very consumptive figure, truly.

entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene and the Duke of Marlborough. I hate such oldfashioned trumpery.

Hardcastle. And I love it. I love every thing that's old; old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wines; and, I believe, Dorothy, [taking her hand] you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old wife.

Enter TONY, crossing the stage.

Mrs. Hardcastle. Tony, where are you going, my charmer? Won't you give papa and I a little of your company, lovey?

Tony. I'm in haste, mother; I can not stay. Mrs. Hardcastle. You shan't venture out this raw evening, my dear; you look most shockingly. Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three

Mrs. Hardcastle. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're for 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.

Hardcastie. Ay; the alehouse, the old place; I control your choice; but Mr. Marlow, whom I have thought so.

[blocks in formation]

Tony, I will, I tell you.

Mrs. Hardcastle. I say you shan't. Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you or I. [Ebit, hauling her out. Hardcastle [alone]. 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's as fond of gauze and French frippery as the best of them.

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE.

Hardcastle. 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.

pitched upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Charles Marlow, of whom you have heard mo 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 an excellent understanding. Miss Hardcastle. Is he?

Hardcastle. Very generous.

Miss Hardcastle. I believe I shall like him.
Hardcastle. Young and brave.

Miss Hardcastle. I'm sure I shall like him.
Hardcastle. And very handsome.

Miss Hardcastle. My dear papa, say no more, [kissing his hand] he's mine; I'll have him.

Hardcastle. And to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most bashful and reserved young fellows in all the world.

Miss Hardcastle. 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.

Hardcastle. 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 Hardcastle. 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.

Hardcastle. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. It's more than an even wager he may not have you.

Miss Hardcastle. You know our agreement, sir. Miss Hardcastle. My dear papa, why will you You allow me the morning to receive and pay mortify one so? Well, if he refuses, instead of breakvisits, and to dress in my own manner; and in the ing my heart at his indifference, I'll only break my evening I put on my housewife's dress to please glass for its flattery, set my cap to some newer

you.

Hardcastle. 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 evening.

Miss Hardcastle. I protest, sir, I don't comprehend your meaning.

I

Hardcastle. Then to be plain with you, Kate, 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 Hardcastle. Indeed! I wish I had known something of this before, Bless me, how shall I behave? It's a thousand to one I shan'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.

[blocks in formation]

Miss Hardcastle. I'm glad you're come, Neville, my dear. Tell me, Constance, how do I look Hardcastle. Depend upon it, child, I never will 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 Neville. Perfectly, my dear. Yet now I look again-bless me !-sure 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 Hardcastle. No; nothing of all this. I nave been threatened-I can scarce get it out-I have been threatened with a lover.

Miss Neville.

And his name

Miss Hardcastle. Is Marlow.

Miss Neville. Indeed!

Miss Hardcastle. The son of Sir Charles Marlow.

Miss Neville. 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 Hardcastle. Never.

Miss Neville. 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: you understand

me.

Miss Hardcastle. 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 Neville. I have just come from one of our agreeable tête-à-têtes. She has been saying a hundred tender things, and setting off her pretty monster as the very pink of perfection.

Miss Hardcastle. 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 Neville. 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 Hardcastle. My good brother holds out stoutly. I could almost love him for hating you so. Miss Neville. 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. Allons! Courage is recessary, as our affairs are critical.

Miss Hardcastle. "Would it were bed-time, and all were well." Excunt.

SCENE-AN ALEHOUSE ROOM.

Several shabby Fellows with punch and tobacco. TONY a the head of the table, a little higher than the rest, a malles in his hand.

Omnes. Hurrea! hurrea! hurrea! bravo! First Fellow. Now, gentlemen, silence for a song. The 'Squire is going to knock himself down for a song.

Omnes. Ay, a song, a song!

Tony. Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song I made upon this alehouse, the Three Pigeons. SONG.

Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain,

With grammar, and nonsense, and learning,
Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,

Gives genus a better discerning.
Let them brag of their heathenish gods,

Their quis, and their ques, and their quods,
Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians,
They're all but a parcel of pigeons.

Tcroddle, toroddle, toroll.
When methodist preachers come down,
A-preaching that drinking is sinful,
I'll wager the rascals a crown,

They always preach best with a skinful.
But when you come down with your pence,
For a slice of their scurvy religion,
I'll leave it to all men of sense,

But you, my good friend, are the pigeon.
Then come put the jorum about,
Toroddle, toroddle, toroll.

Our hearts and our liquors are stout,
And let us be merry and clever,

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 gay birds in the air,
Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons.
Toroddle, toroddle, toroll.

Omnes. Bravo! hravo!

First Fellow. The 'Squire has got spunk in him.

Second Fellow. I loves to hear him sing, bekeays he never gives us nothing that's low.

Third Fellow. O damn any thing that's low, I can not bear it.

Fourth Fellow. The genteel thing is the gen. teel thing at any time: if so be that a gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly.

Third Fellow. I like the maxum of it, Master Muggins. What, though I am obligated to dance a bear, a 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," and often stand the chance of an unmannerly anor "The minuet in Ariadne."

Second Fellow. 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.

Second Fellow. O 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 county.

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.

swer.

Hastings. 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 ?

Hastings. Not in the least, sir, but should thank you for information.

Tony. Nor the way you came?

Hastings. 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.

Marlow. We wanted no ghost to tell us that. Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold as to ask the place from whence you came?

Marlow. 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,

and a pretty son?

Landlord. There be two gentlemen in a post-whimsical fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter, chaise at the door. They have lost their way upo' the forest; and they are talking something about Mr. Hardcastle.

Hastings. We have not seen the gentleman; but he has the family you mention.

Tony. The daughter, a tall, trapesing, trollop

Tony. As sure as can be, one of them must be the gentleman that's coming down to court my sis-ing, talkative maypole-the son, a pretty, wellter. Do they seem to be Londoners?

Landlord. 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.

Tony. [alone.] 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-afraid of what? I 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.

Marlow. 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.

Hastings. And all, Marlow, from that unaccountable reserve of yours, that would not let us inquire more frequently on the way.

bred, agreeable youth, that every body is fond of?

Marlow. 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 won't reach Mr. Hardcastle's house this night, I believe.

Hastings. 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 Quagmire Marsh, you understand me.

Landlord. 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.

Marlow. Cross down Squash Lane! Landlord. Then you were to keep straight forward, till you came to four roads.

Marlow. Come to where four roads meet! Tony. Ay, but you must be sure to take only one of them.

Marlow. O, sir, you're facetious.

Tony. Then keeping to the right, you are to go sideways, till you come upon Crack-skull Com

Marlow. I own, Hastings, I am unwilling to lay myself under an obligation to every one I meet, mon: there you must look sharp for the track of

« VorigeDoorgaan »