J 
 
 -3 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 A COMEDY 
 
 BY 
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 - v^ ~ ^A 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR 
 FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY 
 FREDERICK SIMPSON COBURN 
 
 GP PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
 Cheftnicherbocher Press 
 
* 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 OR 
 
 THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT 
 A COMEDY 
 
 London: Printed for F. Newbery, in St. Paul's Church-yard, 1773- 
 8vo. Price is. &/. 
 
 iii 
 
 282473 
 
h. "\ 
 
She Stoops to Conquer; or, the Mistakes of a Night, a Comedy, 
 was acted for the first time at Covent Garden Theatre (then 
 under the management of the elder Colman), on the isth of 
 March, 1773, and ran twelve nights, the theatre closing for the 
 season with it on the 3ist of May. The leading incident of the 
 piece, the mistaking a gentleman's house for an inn, is said to 
 have been borrowed from a blunder of the author himself, 
 while travelling to school at Edgeworthstown. Its first MS. 
 title was The Old House a New Inn, but this was soon 
 rejected. The title, it is suggested (Forster ii. 374), may 
 have originated in one of Dryden's well-known couplets : 
 
 "The prostrate loon, when he lowest lies, 
 But kneels to conquer, and but stoops to rise." 
 
TO 
 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.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; 1 
 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. 
 
 1 "With Steele the unlucky notion began of setting Comedy to 
 reform the morals instead of imitating the manners of the age. 
 Fielding slily glances at this, when he makes Parson Adams 
 declare, The Conscious Lovers to be the only play fit for a Christian 
 to see, and as good as a sermon." FORSTER'S Goldsmith, vol. ii., 
 p. 116. 
 
 vii 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Miss Hardcastle. " Was there ever such a 
 sober, sentimental interview?" . Frontispiece 
 
 Tony. "Here's a health to the Three Jolly 18 
 Pigeons." . . . . , . 
 
 Hastings. " Thou dear dissembler." . . 42 
 Miss Hardcastle. "Did you call, sir?" . 72 
 Marlow. "And why not now, my angel?" go 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
 BY 
 DAVID GARRICK, ESQ. 
 
 Enter MR. WOODWARD, 1 dressed in black, and holding a 
 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: 
 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, 
 
 1 Woodward (who had no part in the play) was a good actor. 
 He died April 17, 1777. There is a clever full-length engraving of 
 him by M'Ardell, as the Fine Gentleman, in Lethe; also a good half- 
 length of him by J. R. Smith, as Petruchio. His portrait by Sir 
 Joshua is at Petworth. 
 
 xi 
 
xii prologue 
 
 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, 
 Pleasure seems sweet, but proves a glass of bitters. 
 When Ignorance enters, Folly is at hand: 
 Learning is better far than house and 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 prepar'd, presents a potion: 
 
 A kind of magic charm for be assur'd, 
 
 If you will swallow it, the maid is cur'd : 
 
 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, 
 
prologue 
 
 No poisonous 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 . 
 
 Xlll 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 MEN. 
 
 SIR CHARLES MARLOW . . Mr. Gardner. 
 
 YOUNG MARLOW (his Son) . . Mr. Lee Lewes. l 
 
 HARDCASTLE . . . . Mr. Shuter. 
 
 HASTINGS Mr. Dubellamy. 
 
 TONY LUMPKIN . . . Mr. Quick. 
 
 DIGGORY Mr. Saunders. 
 
 WOMEN. 
 
 MRS. HARDCASTLE. . . . Mrs. Green. 
 
 Miss HARDCASTLE . . . Mrs. Bulkley. 
 
 Miss NEVILLE .... Mrs. Kniveton. 
 
 MAID ...... Miss Williams. 
 
 Landlord, Servants, etc., etc. 
 
 1 Smith and Woodward, who were designed to play Young 
 Marlow and Tony Lumpkin, threw up their parts. To this unlocked 
 for and unnecessary resignation Lee Lewes and Quick owed much 
 of their early celebrity. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 OR 
 
 THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 SCENE A Chamber in an old-fashioned House. 
 Enter MRS. Hf RDCASTLE and MR. HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. 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. 
 
 Hard. Ay, and bring back vanity and affecta- 
 tion 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 passen- 
 gers, but in the very basket. 
 
 3 
 
4 Sbe Stoop0 to Conquer 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ay, your times were fine times in- 
 deed; you have been telling us of them for many a 
 long year. Here we live in an old rumbling man- 
 sion, that looks for all the world like an inn, but 
 that we never see company. Our best visitors are 
 old Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's wife, and little Crip- 
 plegate, the lame dancing-master; and all our 
 entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene 
 and the Duke of Marlborough. I hate such old- 
 fashioned trumpery. 
 
 Hard. And I love it. I love everything that 's 
 old: old friends, old times, old manners, old books, 
 old wine; and I believe, Dorothy (taking her hand), 
 you '11 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 wifes. You 
 may be a Darby but I '11 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. Hard. 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. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 5 
 
 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 learn- 
 ing. 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. 
 
 Hard. I 'd sooner allow him a horse-pond. If 
 burning the footmen's shoes, frighting the maids, 
 and 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 / 
 popt my bald head in Mrs. Frizzle's face. 1 
 
 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 fiddle. No, 
 no; the alehouse and the stable are the only schools 
 he '11 ever go to. 
 
 1 This incident was but the counterpart of a trick played upon 
 Goldsmith himself, during his last visit to Gosfield, by the daughter 
 of Lord Clare. 
 
6 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Mrs. Hard. 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 that he 's consumptive. 
 
 Hard. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the 
 symptoms. 
 
 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 and I a little of 
 your company, lovee ? 
 
 Tony. I 'm in haste mother, I cannot stay. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. You shan 't venture out this raw 
 evening, my dear; you look most shockingly. 
 
 Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three 
 Pigeons expects me down every moment. There 's 
 some fun going forward. 
 
 Hard. Ay; the alehouse, the old place; I 
 thought so. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. A low, paltry set of fellows. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 7 
 
 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 can't abide to disappoint 
 myself. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Detaining him.) You shan't go. 
 
 Tony. I will, I tell you. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. I say you shan't. . ^, 
 
 Tony. We '11 see which is strongest, you or I. 
 
 [Exit, hauling her out. 
 
 Hard. (Solus.) 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 HARDCASTLB. 
 
 Hard. Blessings on my pretty innocence! drest 
 out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! What a quan- 
 tity of superfluous silk hast thou got about thee, 
 girl! I could never teach the fools of this age, that 
 
8 Sbe Stoopa to Conquer 
 
 the indigent world could be clothed 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 ex- 
 pect 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 Hard. 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. 
 
 Hard. Depend upon it, child, I '11 never control 
 your choice; but Mr. Marlow, whom I have pitched 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 9 
 
 upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Charles Mar- 
 low, 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 Hard. Is he? 
 
 Hard. Very generous. 
 
 Miss Hard. I believe I shall like him. 
 
 Hard. Young and brave. 
 
 Miss Hard. I 'm sure I shall like him. 
 
 Hard. And very handsome. 
 
 Miss Hard. My dear papa, say no more (kiss- 
 ing his hand), he 's mine; 1 11 have him. 
 
 Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he 's one of 
 the most bashful and reserved young fellows in 
 all the world. 
 
 Miss Hard. 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 re- 
 sides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler 
 virtues. It was the very feature in his character 
 that first struck me. 
 
 Miss Hard. He must have more striking 
 
io gbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 features to catch me, I promise you. However, if 
 he be so young, so handsome, and so everything as 
 you mention, I believe he '11 do still. I think I 11 
 have him. 
 
 Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. 
 It 's more than an even wager he may not have 
 you. 
 
 Miss Hard. My dear papa, why will you mor- 
 tify one so ? Well, if he refuses, instead of break- 
 ing my heart at his indifference, I '11 only break 
 my glass for its flattery, set my cap to some 
 newer fashion, and look out for some less difficult 
 admirer. 
 
 Hard. Bravely resolved! In the mean time 
 I 11 go prepare the servants for his reception: as 
 we seldom see company, they want as much train- 
 ing as a company of recruits the first day's muster. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Miss Hard. (Alone.) Lud, this news of papa's 
 puts me all in a flutter. Young, handsome; these 
 he put last; but I put them foremost. Sensible, 
 good-natured; 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. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 1 1 
 
 Enter Miss NEVILLE. 
 
 Miss Hard. I 'm glad you 're come, Neville, my 
 dear. Tell me, Constance, how do I look this even- 
 ing? Is there any thing whimsical about me ? Is 
 it one of my well-looking days, child? Am I in 
 face to-day? 
 
 Miss Nev. Perfectly, my dear. Yet now I 
 look again bless me! sure no accident has hap- 
 pened 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 Hard. No; nothing of all this. I have 
 been threatened I can scarce get it out I have 
 been threatened with a lover. 
 
 Miss Nev. And his name 
 
 Miss Hard. Is Marlow. 
 
 Miss Nev. Indeed! 
 
 Miss Hard. The son of Sir Charles Marlow. 
 
 Miss Nev. 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 Hard. Never. 
 
 Miss Nev. 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 
 
12 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 among creatures of another stamp: you understand 
 me. 
 
 Miss Hard. 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 occur- 
 rences for success. But how goes on your own 
 affair, my dear? has my mother been courting you 
 for my brother Tony as usual? 
 
 Miss Nev. I have just come from one of our 
 agreeable tete-a-tetes. She has been saying a hund- 
 red tender things, and setting off her pretty 
 monster as the very pink of perfection. 
 
 Miss Hard. 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 Nev. A fortune like mine, which chiefly 
 consists in jewels, is no such mighty temptation. 
 But at any rate, if my dear Hastings be but con- 
 stant, 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 Hard. My good brother holds out stoutly. 
 I could almost love him for hating you so. 
 
 Miss Nev. It is a good-natured creature at 
 
Sbe Stoopa to Conquer 13 
 
 bottom, and I 'm sure would wish to see me mar- 
 ried to any body but himself. But my aunt's bell 
 rings for our afternoon's walk round the improve- 
 ments. Allans! Courage is necessary, as our 
 affairs are critical. 
 
 Miss Hard. " Would it were bed-time, and all 
 were well." [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE An Alehouse Room. 
 
 Several shabby Fellows with punch and tobacco. TONY at 
 the head of the table, a little higher than the rest, a mallet 
 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 '11 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 Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians, 
 
 Their Quis, and their Quses, and their Quods, 
 
14 Sbe Stoopa to Conquer 
 
 They 're all but a parcel of Pigeons. 
 
 Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 
 
 When Methodist preachers come down, 
 
 A-preaching that drinking is sinful, 
 1 11 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 '11 leave it to all men of sense, 
 
 But you, my good friend, are the Pigeon. 
 
 Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 
 
 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 gay birds in the air, 
 
 Here 's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. 
 
 Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 1 
 
 Omnes. Bravo, bravo! 
 
 First Fellow. The 'Squire has got spunk in him. 
 Sec. Fellow. I loves to hear him sing, bekeays 
 he never gives us nothing that 's low. 
 
 1 " We drank tea with the ladies [after a dinner at General Ogle- 
 thorpe's] and Goldsmith sang Tony Lumpkin's song in his comedy, 
 She Stoops to Conquer. BOSWELL by CROKER, p. 251. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 15 
 
 Third Fellow. O damn any thing that 's low, 
 I cannot bear it. 1 
 
 Fourth Fellow. The genteel thing is the genteel 
 thing 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 'm obligated to dance 
 a bear, a man may be a gentleman for all that. 
 May this be my poison, 2 if my bear ever dances but 
 to the very genteelest of tunes; " Water Parted," 
 or "The Minuet in Ariadne." 
 
 Sec. Fellow. What a pity it is the 'Squire is not 
 come to his own. It would be well for all the pub- 
 licans 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. 
 
 Sec. 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, 1 11 be no 
 bastard, I promise you. . I have been thinking of 
 
 1 See these low allusions explained in Forster's Goldsmith, ii., 121. 
 
 2 See Vol. I., p. 8 1, note 2. 
 
1 6 gbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Bet Bouncer and the miller's grey 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 upo' 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 wound- 
 ily like Frenchmen. 
 
 Tony. Then desire them to step this way, and 
 I '11 set them right in a twinkling. (Exit Landlord.) 
 Gentlemen, as they may n't be good enough com- 
 pany for you, step down for a moment, and I '11 be 
 with you in the squeezing of a lemon. 
 
 [Exeunt mob. 
 
 Tony. (Sofas.) 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 grum- 
 bletonian. 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. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 1 7 
 
 Enter Landlord, conducting MARLOW and HASTINGS. 
 
 Marl. 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 unaccount- 
 able reserve of yours, that would not let us inquire 
 more frequently on the way. 
 
 Marl. I own, Hastings, I am unwilling to lay 
 myself under an obligation to every one I meet, 
 and often stand the chance of an unmannerly 
 answer. 
 
 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 us 
 
 Tony. 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. 
 
 Marl. We wanted no ghost to tell us that. 
 
1 8 be Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold as 
 to ask the place from whence you came? 
 
 Marl. 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, trollop- 
 ing, talkative may-pole the son, a pretty, well- 
 bred, agreeable youth, that everybody is fond of? 
 
 Marl. 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-strings. 
 
 Tony. He-he-hem! Then, gentlemen, all I 
 have to tell you is, that you won't reach Mr. Hard- 
 castle's house this night, I believe. 
 
 Hast. Unfortunate! 
 
 Tony. It 's a damn'd long, dark, boggy, dirty, 
 dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentlemen the 
 way to Mr. Hardcastle's! (Winking upon the Land- 
 lord.) Mr. Hardcastle's, of Quagmire Marsh, you 
 understand me. 
 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 19 
 
 Land. Master Hardcastle's! Lock-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. 
 
 Marl. Cross down Squash Lane! 
 
 Land. Then you were to keep straight forward, 
 till you came to four roads. 
 
 Marl. Come to where four roads meet? 
 
 Tony. Ay; but you must be sure to take only 
 one of them. 
 
 Marl. O, Sir, you 're facetious. 
 
 Tony. Then keeping to the right, you are to 
 go sideways, till you come upon Crackskull Com- 
 mon: 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 to the right about again, till you find out 
 the old mill 
 
 Marl. Zounds, man! we could as soon find out 
 the longitude! 
 
 Hast. What 's to be done, Marlow? 
 
 Marl. 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 
 
2 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 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 accommo- 
 date the gentlemen by the fire-side, with three 
 
 chairs and a bolster? 
 
 Hast. I hate sleeping by the fire-side. 
 
 Marl. And I detest your three chairs and a 
 bolster. 
 
 Tony. You do, do you? then, let me see 
 what if you go on a mile further, to the Buck's 
 Head; the old Buck's Head on the hill, one of the 
 best inns in the whole county? 
 
 Hast. O ho! so we have escaped an adventure 
 for this night, however. 
 
 Land. (Apart to TONY.) Sure, you be n't send- 
 ing 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 old house by the 
 road-side. You '11 see a pair of large horns over 
 the door. That 's the sign. Drive up the yard, 
 and call 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 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 21 
 
 presence, he! he! he! He '11 be for giving you his 
 company; and, ecod, if you mind him, he 11 per- 
 suade you that his mother was an alderman, and 
 his aunt a justice of the peace. 
 
 Land. A troublesome old blade, to be sure; 
 but a keeps as good wines and beds as any in the 
 whole country. 
 
 Marl. Well, if he supplies us with these, we 
 shall want no further connection. We are to turn 
 to the right, did you say? 
 
 Tony. No, no; straight forward. 1 11 just step 
 myself, and show you a piece of the way. (To the 
 Landlord.) Mum! 
 
 Land. Ah, bless your heart, for a sweet, pleas- 
 ant damn'd mischievous son of a whore. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 

 ACT THE SECOND 
 
 SCENE An Old-fashioned House. 
 
 Enter HARDCASTLE, followed by three or four awkward 
 Servants. 
 
 Hard. Well, I hope you are perfect in the table 
 exercise I have been teaching you these three days. 
 You all know your posts and your places, and can 
 show that you have been used to good company, 
 without ever stirring from home. 
 
 Omnes. Ay, ay. 
 
 Hard. When company comes you are not to 
 pop out and stare, and then run in again, like 
 frightened rabbits in a warren. 
 
 Omnes. No, no. 
 
 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 pock- 
 ets, Roger; and from your head, you blockhead 
 
 22 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 23 
 
 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 so 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 par- 
 fectly impossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating 
 going forward, ecod, he 's always wishing for a 
 mouthful himself. 
 
 Hard. Blockhead! Is not a belly-full in the 
 kitchen as good as a belly-full in the parlour ? Stay 
 your stomach with that reflection. 
 
 Dig. Ecod, I thank your worship, I '11 make 
 a shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef 
 in the pantry. . 
 
 Hard. Diggory, you are too talkative. Then, i 
 if I happen to say a good thing, or tell a good story J 
 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 
 
2 4 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 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 renjember 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? 
 
 First Servant. I 'm not to leave this pleace. 
 
 Sec. Servant. I 'm sure it 's no pleace of mine. 
 
 Th. Servant. Nor mine for sartain. 
 
 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. O 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 block- 
 heads. I '11 go in the mean time and give my old 
 friend's son a hearty reception at the gate. 
 
 [Exit HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Dig. By the elevens, my pleace is gone quite 
 out of my head. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 25 
 
 Roger. I know that my pleace is to be every . 
 where. % 
 
 First Servant. Where the devil is mine? 
 
 Sec. Servant. My pleace is to be no-where. at 
 all; and so I 'ze go about my business. 
 
 [Exeunt Servants, running about as if frighted, 
 different ways. 
 
 Enter Servant with candles, showing in MARLOW and 
 HASTINGS. 
 
 Servant. Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome! 
 This way. 
 
 Hast. After the disappointments of the day, 
 welcome oi^Aiore, Charles, to the comforts of ' 
 a clean room^md a good fire. Upon my word, a 
 very well-looking house; antique but creditable. 
 
 Marl. The usual fate of a large mansion. Hav- 
 ing first ruined the master by good housekeeping, 
 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 a reck- 
 oning confoundedly. 
 
 Marl. 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. 
 
*6 Qhe stoops to Conquer 
 
 Hast. You have lived very 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 opportun- 
 ities, could never yet acquire a requisite share of 
 assurance. 
 
 Marl. The Englishman's malady. But tell 
 me, George, where could I have learned that as- 
 surance 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 famil- 
 iarly acquainted with a single modest woman, 
 except my mother But among females of another 
 class, you know 
 
 Hast. Ay. among them you are impudent 
 enough of all conscience. 
 
 Marl. They are of us, you know. 
 
 Hast. But in the company of women of repu- 
 tation, I never saw such an idiot, such a trembler; 
 you look for all the world as if you wanted an 
 opportunity of stealing out of the room. 
 
 Marl. Why, man, that 's because I do want to 
 steal out of the room. Faith, I have often formed 
 a resolution to break the ice, and rattle away at 
 any rate. But I don't know how, a single glance 
 from a pair of fine eyes has totally overset my 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 27 
 
 resolution. An impudent fellow may counterfeit 
 modesty, but I '11 be hanged if a modest man can 
 ever counterfeit impudence. 
 
 Hast. If you could but say half the fine things 
 to them, that I have heard you lavish upon the 
 barmaid of an inn, or even a college bed-maker 
 
 Marl. Why, George, I can't say fine things to 
 them; they freeze, they petrify me. They may 
 talk of a comet, or a burning mountain, or some 
 such bagatelle; but to me, a modest woman, drest 
 out in all her finery, is the most tremendous object 
 of the whole creation. 
 
 Hast. Ha! ha! ha! At this rate, man, how can 
 you ever expect to marry? 
 
 Marl. Never; unless, as among kings and 
 princes, my bride were to be courted by proxy. If, 
 indeed, like an Eastern bridegroom, one were to be 
 introduced to a wife he never saw before, it might 
 be endured. But to go through all the terrors of 
 a formal courtship, together with the episode of 
 aunts, grandmothers, and cousins, and at last to 
 blurt out the broad staring question of, " Madam, 
 will you marry me?" No, no, that 's a strain 
 much above me, I assure you. 
 
 Hast. I pity you. But how do you intend 
 behaving to the lady you are come down to visit 
 at the request of your father? 
 
28 gbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Marl. As I behave to all other ladies. Bow 
 very low, answer yes or no to all her demands. 
 But for the rest, I don't think I shall ven- 
 ture to look in her face till I see my father's 
 again. 
 
 Hast. I 'm surprised that one who is so warm 
 a friend can be so cool a lover. 
 
 Marl. To be explicit, my dear Hastings, my 
 chief inducement down was to be instrumental in 
 forwarding your happiness, not my own. Miss 
 Neville loves you, the family don't know you; as 
 my friend you are sure of a reception, and let 
 honour do the rest. 
 
 Hast. My dear Marlow but I '11 suppress the 
 emotion. Were I a wretch, meanly seeking to 
 carry off a fortune, you should be the last man in 
 the world I would apply to for assistance. But 
 Miss Neville's person is all I ask, and that is mine, 
 both from her deceased father's consent, and her 
 own inclination. 
 
 Marl. Happy man! You have talents and art 
 to captivate any woman. I 'm doomed to adore 
 the sex, and yet to converse with the only part 
 of it I despise. This stammer in my address, and 
 this awkward prepossessing visage of mine, can 
 never permit me to soar above the reach of a 
 milliner's 'prentice, or one of the duchesses of 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 29 
 
 Drury Lane. Pshaw! this fellow here to interrupt 
 us. 
 
 Enter HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Hard. Gentlemen, once more you are heartily 
 welcome. Which is Mr. Marlow? Sir, you are 
 heartily welcome. It 's not my way, you see, to 
 receive my friends with my back to the fire. I 
 like to give them a hearty reception in the old 
 style at my gate. I like to see their horses and 
 trunks taken care of. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.} He has got our names from the 
 servants already. (To him.} We approve your 
 caution and hospitality, Sir. (To HASTINGS.) I 
 have been thinking, George, of changing our trav- 
 elling dresses in the morning. I am grown con- 
 foundedly ashamed of mine. 
 
 Hard. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you '11 use no cere- 
 mony in this house. 
 
 Hast. I fancy, Charles, you 're right: the first 
 blow is half the battle. I intend opening the 
 campaign with the white and gold. 
 
 Hard. Mr. Marlow Mr. Hastings gentlemen 
 pray be under no constraint in this house. This 
 is Liberty Hall, gentlemen. You may do just as 
 you please here. ^ 
 
 Marl. Yet, George, if we open the campaign 
 
30 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 too fiercely at first, we may want ammunition 
 before it is over. I think to reserve the embroid- 
 ery to secure a retreat. 
 
 Hard. Your talking of a retreat, Mr. Marlow, 
 puts me in mind of the Duke of Marlborough, 
 when we went to besiege Denain. He first sum- 
 moned the garrison 
 
 Marl. Don't you think the venire d'or waist- 
 coat will do with the plain brown? 
 
 Hard. He first summoned the garrison, which 
 might consist of about five thousand men 
 
 Hast. I think not: brown and yellow mix but 
 very poorly. 
 
 Hard. I say, gentlemen, as I was telling you, 
 he summoned the garrison, which might consist of 
 about five thousand men 
 
 Marl. The girls like finery. 
 
 Hard. Which might consist of about five thou- 
 sand men, well appointed with stores, ammunition, 
 and other implements of war. Now, says the Duke 
 of Marlborough to George Brooks, that stood next 
 to him you must have heard of George Brooks 
 " I '11 pawn my dukedom, ' ' says he, ' * but I take that 
 garrison without spilling a drop of blood. " So 
 
 Marl. What, my good friend, if you gave us 
 a glass of punch in the mean time; it would help 
 us to carry on the siege with vigour. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 3 1 
 
 Hard. Punch, Sir! (Aside.) This is the most 
 unaccountable kind of modesty I ever met 
 with. 
 
 Marl. Yes, Sir, punch. A glass of warm punch 
 after our journey, will be comfortable. This is 
 Liberty Hall, you know. 
 
 Hard. Here 's a cup, Sir. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) So this fellow, in his Liberty 
 Hall, will only let us have just what he pleases. 
 
 Hard. (Taking the cup.) I hope you '11 find it 
 to your mind. I have prepared it with my own 
 hands, and I believe you '11 own the ingredients 
 are tolerable. Will you be so good as to pledge 
 me, Sir? Here, Mr. Marlow, here is to our better 
 acquaintance. (Drinks.) 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) A very impudent fellow this! 
 but he 's a character, and I '11 humour him a little. 
 Sir, my service to you. (Drinks.) 
 
 Hast. (Aside.) I see this fellow wants to give 
 us his company, and forgets that he 's an inn- 
 keeper before he has learned to be a gentleman. 
 
 Marl. From the excellence of your cup, my old 
 friend, I suppose you have a good deal of business 
 in this part of the country. Warm work, now 
 and then, at elections, I suppose. 
 
 Hard. No, Sir, I have long given that work 
 over. Since our betters have hit upon the expe- 
 
32 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 dient of electing each other, there is no business 
 " for us that sell ale." 
 
 Hast. So, then, you have no turn for politics, 
 I find. 
 
 Hard. Not in the least. There was a time, 
 indeed, I fretted myself about the mistakes of 
 government, like other people; but finding my- 
 self every day growing more angry, and the gov- 
 ernment growing no better, I left it to mend itself. 
 Since that, I no more trouble my head about Hy- 
 der Ally, or Ally Cawn, than about Ally Croker. 
 Sir, my service to you. 
 
 Hast. So that with eating above stairs, and 
 drinking below, with receiving your friends within, 
 and amusing them without, you lead a good 
 pleasant bustling life of it. 
 
 Hard. I do stir about a great deal, that 's 
 certain. Half the differences of the parish are 
 adjusted in this very parlour. 
 
 Marl. (After drinking.) And you have an argu- 
 ment in your cup, old gentleman, better than any 
 in Westminster Hall. 
 
 Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that, and a little 
 philosophy. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) Well, this is the first time I 
 ever heard of an innkeeper's philosophy. 
 
 Hast. So then, like an experienced general, 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 33 
 
 you attack them on every quarter. If you find 
 their reason manageable, you attack it with your 
 philosophy; if you find they have no reason, you 
 attack them with this. Here 's your health, my 
 philosopher. (Drinks.) 
 
 Hard. Good, very good, thank you; ha! ha! ha! 
 Your generalship puts me in mind of Prince Eu- 
 gene, when he fought the Turks at the battle of 
 Belgrade. You shall hear. 
 
 Marl. Instead of the battle of Belgrade, I 
 believe it 's almost time to talk about supper. 
 What has your philosophy got in the house for 
 supper! 
 
 Hard. For supper, Sir! (Aside.) Was ever 
 such a request to a man in his own house? 
 
 Marl. Yes, Sir, supper, Sir; I begin to feel an 
 appetite. I shall make devilish work to-night in 
 the larder, I promise you. 
 
 Hard. (Aside.) Such a brazen dog sure never 
 my eyes beheld. (To him.) Why, really, Sir, as 
 for supper, I can't well tell. My Dorothy and 
 the cook-maid settle these things between them. 
 I leave these kind of things entirely to them. 
 
 Marl. You do, do you? 
 
 Hard. Entirely. By the bye, I believe they 
 are in actual consultation upon what 's for supper, 
 this moment in the kitchen. 
 
34 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Marl. Then I beg they '11 admit me as one of 
 their privy-council. It 's a way I have got. When 
 I travel I always choose to regulate my own supper. 
 Let the cook be called. No offence I hope, Sir ? 
 
 Hard. O no, Sir, none in the least; yet I don't 
 know how; our Bridget, the cook-maid, is not very 
 communicative upon these occasions. Should we 
 send for her, she might scold us all out of the house. 
 
 Hast. Let 's see your list of the larder then. I 
 ask it as a favour. I always match my appetite 
 to my bill of fare. 
 
 Marl. (To HARDCASTLE, who looks at them with 
 surprise.) Sir, he 's very right, and it 's my way 
 too. 
 
 Hard. Sir, you have a right to command here. 
 Here, Roger, bring us the bill of fare for to-night's 
 supper: I believe it 's drawn out. Your manner 
 Mr. Hastings, puts me in mind of my uncle, Colo- 
 nel Wallop. It was a saying of his, that no man 
 was sure of his supper till he had eaten it. 
 
 Hast. (Aside.) All upon the high ropes! His 
 uncle a colonel! we shall soon hear of his mother 
 being a justice of the peace. But let 's hear the 
 bill of fare. 
 
 Marl. (Perusing.) What 's here? For the first 
 course; for the second course; for the dessert. The 
 devil, Sir, do you think we have brought down the 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 35 
 
 whole Joiners' Company, or the corporation of 
 Bedford, to eat up such a supper? Two or three 
 little things, clean and comfortable will do. 
 
 Hast. But let 's hear it. 
 
 Marl. (Reading.) For the first course at the 
 top, a pig, and prune sauce. 
 
 Hast. Damn your pig, I say. 
 
 Marl. And damn your prune sauce, say I. 
 
 Hard. And yet, gentlemen, to men that are 
 hungry, pig with prune sauce is very good eating. 
 
 Marl. At the bottom, a calf's tongue and 
 brains. 
 
 Hast. Let your brains be knocked out, my good 
 Sir, I don't like them. 
 
 Marl. Or you may clap them on a plate by 
 themselves. I do. 
 
 Hard. (Aside.) Their impudence confounds 
 me. (To them.) Gentlemen, you are my guests, 
 make what alterations you please. Is there any- 
 thing else you wish to retrench or alter, gentlemen ? 
 
 Marl. Item. A pork pie, a boiled rabbit and 
 sausages, a Florentine, a shaking pudding, and a 
 dish of tiff taff taffety cream. 
 
 Hast. Confound your made dishes; I shall be 
 as much at a loss in this house as at a green and 
 
 x- y ^- 
 
 yellow dinner at the French Ambassador's table. 
 I 'm for plain eating. 
 
36 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Hard. I 'm sorry, gentlemen, that I have no- 
 thing you like, but if there be anything you have 
 a particular fancy to 
 
 Marl. Why, really, Sir, your bill of fare is so 
 exquisite, that any one part of it is full as good as 
 another. Send us what you please. So much for 
 supper. And now to see that our beds are aired, 
 and properly taken care of. 
 
 Hard. . I entreat you 11 leave all that to me. 
 You shall not stir a step. 
 
 Marl. Leave that to you! I protest, Sir, you 
 must excuse me, I always look to these things 
 myself. 
 
 Hard. I must insist, Sir, you 11 make yourself 
 easy on that head. 
 
 Marl. You see I 'm resolved on it. (Aside.) 
 A very troublesome fellow this, as I ever met with. 
 
 Hard. Well, Sir, I 'm resolved at least to attend 
 you. (Aside.) This may be modern modesty, 
 but I never saw anything look so like old-fashioned 
 impudence. [Exeunt MARLOW and HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Hast. (Alone.) So I find this fellow's civilities 
 begin to grow troublesome. But who can be angry 
 at those assiduities which are meant to please him ? 
 Ha! what do I see? Miss Neville, by all that 's 
 happy! 
 
 Enter Miss NEVILLE. 
 
Sbe Stoopa to Conquer 37 
 
 Miss Nev. My dear Hastings! To what unex- 
 pected good fortune, to what accident, am I to 
 ascribe this happy meeting? 
 
 Hast. Rather let me ask the same question, as 
 I could never have hoped to meet my dearest 
 Constance at an inn. 
 
 Miss Nev. An inn! sure you mistake: my aunt, 
 my guardian, lives here. What could induce you 
 to think this house an inn? 
 
 Hast. My friend, Mr. Marlow, with whom I 
 came down, and I, have been sent here as to an 
 inn, I assure you. A young fellow, whom we acci- 
 dentally met at a house hard by, directed us 
 hither. 
 
 Miss Nev. Certainly it must be one of my hope- 
 ful cousin's tricks, of whom you have heard me 
 talk so often; ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Hast. He whom your aunt intends for you ? he 
 of whom I have such just apprehensions? 
 
 Miss Nev. You have nothing to fear from him, 
 I assure you. You 'd adore him if you knew how 
 heartily he despises me. My aunt knows it too, 
 and has undertaken to court me for him, and 
 actually begins to think she has made a conquest. 
 
 Hast. Thou dear dissembler! You must know, 
 my Constance, I have just seized this happy oppor- 
 tunity of my friend's visit here to get admittance 
 
38 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 into the family. The horses that carried us down 
 are now fatigued with their journey, but they '11 
 soon be refreshed; and then, if my dearest girl will 
 trust in her faithful Hastings, we shall soon be 
 landed in France, where even among slaves the 
 laws of marriage are respected. 1 
 
 Miss Nev. I have often told you, that though 
 ready to obey you, I yet should leave my little for- 
 tune behind with reluctance. The greatest part 
 of it was left me by my uncle, the India director, 
 and chiefly consists in jewels. I have been for 
 some time persuading my aunt to let me wear 
 them. I fancy I 'm very near succeeding. The 
 instant they are put into my possession, you shall 
 find me ready to make them and myself yours. 
 
 Hast. Perish the baubles! Your person is all 
 I desire. In the mean time, my friend Marlow 
 must not be let into his mistake. I know the 
 strange reserve of his temper is such, that if 
 abruptly informed of it, he would instantly quit 
 the house before our plan was ripe for execution. 
 
 1 "The Duke of Gloucester, for whom, in consequence of the 
 Royal Marriage Act, some public sympathy existed, was present 
 the first night of representation; whether from previous intimation 
 of a passage in the play does not appear. But when Hastings 
 uttered the speech, 'we shall soon be landed in France, where even 
 among slaves the laws of marriage are respected,' it was instantly 
 applied to his Royal Highness by the audience, and several rounds 
 of applause testified their feeling for his situation." PRIOR'S Life of 
 Goldsmith, vol. ii. p. 394. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 39 
 
 Miss Nev. But how shall we keep him in the 
 
 deception? Miss Hardcastle is just returned from 
 
 walking; what if we still continue to deceive him? 
 
 This, this way [They confer. 
 
 Enter MARLOW. 
 
 Marl. The assiduities of these good people 
 tease me beyond bearing. My host seems to think 
 it ill manners to leave me alone, and so he claps 
 not only himself but his old-fashioned wife on my 
 back. They talk of coming to sup with us too; 
 and then, I suppose, we are to run the gauntlet 
 through all the rest of the family. What have 
 we got here? 
 
 Hast. My dear Charles! Let me congratulate 
 you! The most fortunate accident! Who do you 
 think has just alighted? 
 
 Marl. Cannot guess. 
 
 Hast. Our mistresses, boy, Miss Hardcastle 
 and Miss Neville. Give me leave to introduce 
 Miss Constance Neville to your acquaintance. 
 Happening to dine in the neighbourhood, they 
 called on their return to take fresh horses here. 
 Miss Hardcastle has just stepped into the next 
 room, and will be back in an instant. Was n't it 
 lucky? eh! 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) I have been mortified enough 
 
40 sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 of all conscience, and here comes something to 
 complete my embarrassment. 
 
 Hast. Well, but was n't it the most fortunate 
 thing in the world? 
 
 Marl. Oh! yes. Very fortunate a most joy- 
 ful encounter But our dresses, George, you know 
 are in disorder What if we should postpone the 
 happiness till to-morrow? To-morrow at her own 
 house It will be every bit as convenient and 
 rather more respectful To-morrow let it be. 
 
 [Offering to go. 
 
 Miss Nev. By no means, Sir. Your ceremony 
 will displease her. The disorder of your dress will 
 show the ardour of your impatience. Besides, she 
 knows you are in the house, and will permit you to 
 see her. 
 
 Marl. O! the devil! how shall I support it? 
 Hem! hem! Hastings, you must not go. You are 
 to assist me, you know. I shall be confoundedly 
 ridiculous. Yet, hang it! 1 '11 take courage. 
 Hem! 
 
 Hast. Pshaw, man! it 's but the first plunge, and 
 all 's over. She 's but a woman, you know. 
 
 Marl. And of all women, she that I dread most 
 to encounter. 
 
 Enter Miss HARDCASTLE, as returned from walking, 
 a bonnet, &c. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 4* 
 
 Hast. (Introducing them.) Miss Hardcastle. 
 Mr. Marlow. I 'm proud of bringing two persons 
 of such merit together, that only want to know, to 
 esteem each other. 
 
 Miss Hard. (Aside.) Now for meeting my 
 modest gentleman with a demure face, and quite 
 in his own manner. (After a pause, in which he 
 appears very uneasy and disconcerted.) I 'm glad 
 of your safe arrival, Sir. I 'm told you had some 
 accidents by the way. 
 
 Marl. Only a few, Madam. Yes, we had some. 
 Yes, Madam, a good many accidents, but should 
 be sorry Madam or rather glad of any accidents, 
 that are so agreeably concluded. Hem! 
 
 Hast. (To him.) You never spoke better in 
 your whole life. Keep it up, and 1 11 insure you 
 the victory. 
 
 Miss Hard. I 'm afraid you flatter, Sir. You 
 that have seen so much of the finest company, can 
 find little entertainment in an obscure corner of 
 the country. 
 
 Marl. (Gathering courage.) I have lived, indeed, 
 in the world, Madam; but I have kept very little 
 company. I have been but an observer upon life, 
 Madam, while others were enjoying it. 
 
 Miss Nev. But that, I am told, is the way to 
 enjoy it at last. 
 
42 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Hast. (To him.) Cicero never spoke better. 
 Once more, and you are confirmed in assurance 
 forever. 
 
 Marl. (To him.) Stand by me, then, and when 
 I 'm down, throw in a word or two to set me up 
 again. 
 
 Miss Hard. An observer, like you, upon life 
 were, I fear, disagreeably employed, since you 
 must have had much more to censure than to 
 approve. 
 
 Marl. Pardon me, Madam. I was always will- 
 ing to be amused. The folly of most people is 
 rather an object of mirth than uneasiness. 
 
 Hast. (To him.) Bravo, bravo. Never spoke 
 so well in your whole life. Well, Miss Hardcastle, 
 I see that you and Mr. Marlow are going to be very 
 good company. I believe our being here will but 
 embarrass the interview. 
 
 Marl. Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. We like 
 your company of all things. (To him.) Zounds! 
 George, sure you won't go? how can you leave 
 us? 
 
 Hast. Our presence will but spoil conversation, 
 so we '11 retire to the next room. (To him.) You 
 don't consider, man, that we are to manage a little 
 tete-b-tete of our own. [Exeunt. 
 
 Miss Hard. (After a pause.) But you have 
 

 .ft 
 
 mudoD 
 
 uoriT* 
 
 yrf niwifa 
 

 Sbc Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Cicero ne' 
 had rr 
 
 oke better, 
 .nee 
 
 1 when 
 set me up 
 
 life 
 
 : tO 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 ^sence 
 
 
 
 Hastings. "Thou dear dissembler." 
 
 Hct 1Tf . 
 
 From the drawing by Frederick Simpson Coburn 
 
be Stoops to Conquer 43 
 
 not been wholly an observer, I presume, Sir: the 
 ladies, I should hope, have employed some part of 
 your addresses. 
 
 Marl. (Relapsing into timidity.) Pardon me, 
 Madam, I I I as yet have studied only to 
 deserve them. 
 
 Miss Hard. And that, some say, is the very 
 worst way to obtain them. 
 
 Marl. Perhaps so, Madam. But I love to con- 
 verse only with the more grave and sensible part 
 of the sex. But I 'm afraid I grow tiresome. 
 
 Miss Hard. Not at all, Sir; there is nothing I 
 like so much as grave conversation myself; I could 
 hear it forever. Indeed, I have often been sur- 
 prised how a man of sentiment could ever admire 
 those light airy pleasures, where nothing reaches 
 the heart. 
 
 Marl. It 's a disease of the mind, Madam. 
 
 In the variety of tastes there must be some who, 
 wanting a relish for um a um. 
 
 Miss Hard. I understand you, Sir. There 
 must be some who, wanting a relish for refined 
 pleasures, pretend to despise what they are incap- 
 able of tasting. 
 
 Marl. My meaning, Madam, but infinitely bet- 
 ter expressed. And I can't help observing a 
 
 Miss Hard. (Aside.) Who could ever suppose 
 
44 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 this fellow impudent upon some occasions! (To 
 him.) You were going to observe, Sir 
 
 Marl. I was observing, Madam I protest, 
 Madam, I forget what I was going to observe. 
 
 Miss Hard. (Aside.) I vow and so do I. (To 
 him.) You were observing, Sir, that in this age of 
 hypocrisy something about hypocrisy, Sir. 
 
 Marl. Yes, Madam. In this age of hypocrisy 
 there are few who upon strict inquiry do not a a 
 a 
 
 Miss Hard. I understand you perfectly, Sir. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) Egad! and that 's more than 
 I do myself. 
 
 Miss Hard. You mean that in this hypocritical 
 age there are few that do not condemn in public 
 what they practise in private, and think they pay 
 every debt to virtue when they praise it. 
 
 Marl. True, Madam; those who have most vir- 
 tue in their mouths, have least of it in their bo- 
 soms. But I 'm sure I tire you, Madam. 
 
 Miss Hard. Not in the least, Sir; there 's some- 
 thing so agreeable and spirited in your manner, 
 such life and force pray, Sir, go on. 
 
 Marl. Yes, Madam. I was saying that 
 there are some occasions, when a total want of 
 
 courage, Madam, destroys all the and puts us 
 
 upon a SL a 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 45 
 
 Miss Hard. I agree with you entirely; a want 
 of courage upon some occasions assumes the ap- 
 pearance of ignorance, and betrays us when we 
 most want to excel. I beg you '11 proceed. 
 
 Marl. Yes, Madam. Morally speaking, Madam 
 But I see Miss Neville expecting us in the next 
 room. I would not intrude for the world. 
 
 Miss Hard. I protest, Sir, I never was more 
 agreeably entertained in all my life. Pray go 
 on. 
 
 Marl. Yes, Madam, I was But she beckons 
 
 us to join her. Madam, shall I do myself the 
 honour to attend you? 
 
 Miss Hard. Well then, 1 11 follow. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) This pretty smooth dialogue 
 has done for me. [Exit. 
 
 Miss Hard. (Alone.) Ha! ha! ha! Was there 
 ever such a sober, sentimental interview? I 'm 
 certain he scarce looked in my face the whole time. 
 Yet the fellow, but for his unaccountable bashful- 
 ness, is pretty well too. He has good sense, but 
 then so buried in his fears, that it fatigues one more 
 than ignorance. If I could teach him a little confi- 
 dence, it would be doing somebody that I know of 
 a piece of service. But who is that somebody? 
 That, faith, is a question I can scarce answer. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
46 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Enter TONY and Miss NEVILLE, followed by MRS. HARD- 
 CASTLE and HASTINGS. 
 
 Tony. What do you follow me for, Cousin Con ? 
 I wonder you 're not ashamed to be so very engag- 
 ing. 
 
 Miss Nev. I hope, cousin, one may speak to 
 one's own relations, and not be to blame. 
 
 Tony. Ay, but I know what sort of a relation 
 
 you want to make me, though; but it won't do. 
 
 I tell you, Cousin Con, it won't do; so I beg you '11 
 
 keep your distance, I want no nearer relationship. 
 
 [She follows, coquetting him to the back scene. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Well! I vow, Mr. Hastings, you are 
 very entertaining. There is nothing in the world 
 I love to talk of so much as London, and the fash- 
 ions, though I was never there myself. 
 
 Hast. Never there! You amaze me! From 
 your air and manner, I concluded you had been 
 bred all your life either at Ranelagh, St. James's, 
 or Tower Wharf. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. 0! Sir, you 're only pleased to say 
 so. We country persons can have no manner at 
 all. I 'm in love with the town, and that serves to 
 raise me above some of our neighbouring rustics; 
 but who can have a manner, that has never seen 
 the Pantheon, the Grotto Gardens, the Borough, 
 and such places where the nobility chiefly resort? 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 47 
 
 All I can do is to enjoy London at second-hand. I 
 take care to know every tete-a-tete from the Scandal- 
 ous Magazine,and have all the fashions, as they come 
 out, in a letter from the two Miss Rickets of Crooked 
 Lane. Pray how do you like this head, Mr. Hastings ? 
 
 Hast. Extremely elegant and degagte, upon 
 my word, Madam. Your friseur is a Frenchman, 
 I suppose. ? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. I protest, I dressed it myself from 
 a print in the Ladies' Memorandum Book for the 
 last year. 
 
 Hast. Indeed! Such a head in a side-box at 
 the playhouse would draw as many gazers as my 
 Lady Mayoress at a city ball. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. I vow, since inoculation began, 
 there is no such thing to be seen as a plain woman, 
 so one must dress a little particular, or one may 
 escape in the crowd. 
 
 Hast. But that can never be your case, Madam, 
 in any dress. (Bowing.) 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Yet, what signifies my dressing 
 when I have such a piece of antiquity by my side 
 as Mr. Hardcastle: all I can say will never argue 
 down a single button from his clothes. I have 
 often wanted him to throw off his great flaxen wig, 
 and where he was bald, to plaster it over like my 
 Lord Pately, with powder. 
 
48 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Hast. You are right, Madam; for, as among 
 the ladies there are none ugly, so among the men 
 there are none old. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. But what do you think his answer 
 was ? Why, with his usual Gothic vivacity, he said 
 I only wanted him to throw off his wig to convert 
 it into a tete for my own wearing. 
 
 Hast. Intolerable! At your age you may wear 
 what you please, and it must become you. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Pray, Mr. Hastings, what do you 
 take to be the most fashionable age about town? 
 
 Hast. Some time ago, forty was all the mode; 
 but I 'm told the ladies intend to bring up fifty for 
 the ensuing winter. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Seriously. Then I shall be too 
 young for the fashion. 
 
 Hast. No lady begins now to put on jewels 
 till she 's past forty. For instance, Miss there, in a 
 polite circle, would be considered as a child, as a 
 mere maker of samplers. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. And yet Mrs. Niece thinks herself 
 as much a woman, and is as fond of jewels, as the 
 oldest of us all. 
 
 Hast. Your niece, is she? And that young 
 gentleman, a brother of yours, I should presume? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. My son, Sir. They are contracted 
 to each other. Observe their little sports. They 
 
Sbc Stoops to Conquer 49 
 
 fall in and out ten times a day, as if they were man 
 and wife already. (To them.) Well, Tony, child, 
 what soft things are you saying to your cousin 
 Constance this evening? 
 
 Tony. I have been saying no soft things; but 
 that it 's very hard to be followed about so. Ecod! 
 I 've not a place in the house now that 's left to 
 myself, but the stable. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Never mind him, Con, my dear. 
 He 's in another story behind your back. 
 
 Miss Nev. There 's something generous in my 
 cousin's manner. He falls out before faces to be 
 forgiven in private. 
 
 Tony. That 's a damned confounded crack. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ah! he 's a sly one. Don't you 
 think they 're like each other about the mouth, 
 Mr. Hastings? The Blenkinsop mouth to a T. 
 They 're of a size too. Back to back, my pretties, 
 that Mr. Hastings may see you. Come, Tony. 
 
 Tony. You had as good not make me, I tell 
 you. (Measuring.) 
 
 Miss Nev. O lud! he has almost cracked my 
 head. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. O, the monster! For shame, Tony. 
 You a man, and behave so! 
 
 Tony. If I 'm a man, let me have my fortin. 
 Ecod! I '11 not be made a fool of no longer. 
 
50 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Is this, ungrateful boy, all that 
 I 'm to get for the pains I have taken in your edu- 
 cation? I that have rocked you in your cradle, 
 and fed that pretty mouth with a spoon! Did not 
 I work that waistcoat to make you genteel? Did 
 not I prescribe for you every day, and weep while 
 the receipt was operating? 
 
 Tony. Ecod! you had reason to weep, for you 
 have been dosing me ever since I was born. I 
 have gone through every receipt in the Complete 
 Huswife ten times over; and you have thoughts 
 of coursing me through Quincy next spring. But, 
 ecod! I tell you, I '11 not be made a fool of no longer. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Was n't it all for your good, viper ? 
 Wasn't it all for your good? 
 
 Tony. I wish you 'd let me and my good alone, 
 then. Snubbing this way when I 'm in spirits. 
 If I 'm to have any good, let it come of itself; not 
 to keep dinging it, dinging it into one so. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. That 's false; I never see you when 
 you 're in spirits. No, Tony, you then go to the 
 alehouse or kennel. I 'm never to be delighted 
 with your agreeable wild notes, unfeeling monster! 
 
 Tony. Ecod! Mamma, your own notes are the 
 wildest of the two. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Was ever the like? But I see he 
 wants to break my heart; I see he does. . 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 51 
 
 Hast. Dear Madam, permit me to lecture the 
 young gentleman a little. I 'm certain I can 
 persuade him to his duty. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Well, I must retire. Come, Con- 
 stance, my love. You see, Mr. Hastings, the 
 wretchedness of my situation: was ever poor 
 woman so plagued with a dear, sweet, pretty, 
 provoking, undutiful boy? 
 
 [Exeunt MRS. HARDCASTLE and Miss NEVILLE. 
 
 HASTINGS, TONY. 
 
 TONY (singing). " There was a young man rid- 
 ing by, and fain would have his will. Rang do 
 didlo dee."- Don't mind her. Let her cry. 
 It 's the comfort of her heart. I have seen her 
 and sister cry over a book for an hour together; 
 and they said they liked the book the better the 
 more it made them cry. 
 
 Hast. Then you 're no friend to the ladies, I 
 find, my pretty young gentleman? 
 
 Tony. That 's as I find 'urn. 
 
 Hast. Not to her of your mother's choosing, I 
 dare answer? And yet she appears to me a pretty 
 well-tempered girl. 
 
 Tony. That 's because you don't know her as 
 well as I, Ecod! I know every inch about her; 
 
52 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 and there 's not a more bitter cantanckerous toad 
 in all Christendom. 
 
 Hast. (Aside). Pretty encouragement this for 
 a lover! 
 
 Tony. I have seen her since the height of that. 
 She has as many tricks as a hare in a thicket, or 
 a colt the first day's breaking. 
 
 Hast. To me she appears sensible and silent. 
 
 Tony. Ay, before company. But when she 's 
 with her playmate, she 's as loud as a hog in a 
 gate. 
 
 Hast. But there is a meek modesty about her 
 that charms me. 
 
 Tony. Yes, but curb her never so little, she 
 kicks up, and you 're flung in a ditch. 
 
 Hast. Well, but you must allow her a little 
 beauty. Yes, you must allow her some beauty. 
 
 Tony. Bandbox! She 's all a made-up thing, 
 mun. Ah! could you but see Bet Bouncer of these 
 parts, you might then talk of beauty. Ecod! she 
 has two eyes as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad 
 and red as a pulpit cushion. She 'd make two of 
 she. 
 
 Hast. Well, what say you to a friend that would 
 take this bitter bargain off your hands? 
 
 Tony. Anon. 
 
 Hast. Would you thank him that would take 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 53 
 
 Miss Neville, and leave you to happiness and your 
 dear Betsy? 
 
 Tony. Ay; but where is there such a friend, 
 for who would take her? 
 
 Hast. I am he. If you but assist me, I '11 en- 
 gage to whip her off to France, and you shall never 
 hear more of her. 
 
 Tony. Assist you! Ecod! I will, to the last drop 
 of my blood. I '11 clap a pair of horses to your 
 chaise that shall trundle you off in a twinkling, 
 and may be get you a part of her fortin beside, in 
 jewels, that you little dream of. 
 
 Hast. My dear 'squire, this looks like a lad of 
 spirit. 
 
 Tony. Come along, then, and you shall see 
 more of my spirit before you have done with me. 
 (Singing.) 
 
 " We are the boys 
 That fears no noise 
 Where the thundering cannons roar." 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE THIRD 
 
 Enter HARDCASTLE alone. 
 
 Hard. What could my old friend Sir Charles mean 
 by recommending his son as the modestest young 
 man in town? To me he appears the most impu- 
 dent piece of brass that ever spoke with a tongue. 
 He has taken possession of the easy chair by the 
 fire-side already. He took off his boots in the 
 parlour, and desired me to see them taken care of. 
 I 'm desirous to know how his impudence affects 
 my daughter. She will certainly be shocked at it. 
 
 Enter Miss HARDCASTLE, plainly dressed. 
 
 Hard. Well, my Kate, I see you have changed 
 your dress, as I bid you; and yet, I believe, there 
 was no great occasion. 
 
 Miss Hard. I find such a pleasure, Sir, in obey- 
 ing your commands, that I take care to observe 
 them without ever debating their propriety. 
 
 Hard. And yet, Kate, I sometimes give you 
 
 54 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 55 
 
 some cause, particularly when I recommended 
 my modest gentleman to you as a lover to- 
 day. 
 
 Miss Hard. You taught me to expect some- 
 thing extraordinary, and I find the original exceeds 
 the description. 
 
 Hard. I was never so surprised in my life! He 
 has quite confounded all my faculties! 
 
 Miss Hard. I never saw anything like it: and 
 a man of the world too! 
 
 Hard. Ay, he learned it all abroad what a fool 
 was I, to think a young man could learn mod- 
 esty by travelling. He might as soon learn wit 
 at a masquerade. 
 
 Miss Hard. It seems all natural to him. 
 
 Hard. A good deal assisted by bad company 
 and a French dancing-master. 
 
 Miss Hard. Sure you mistake, Papa ! A French 
 dancing-master could never have taught him that 
 timid look that awkward address that bashful 
 manner 
 
 Hard. Whose look ? whose manner, child ? 
 
 Miss Hard. Mr. Marlow's: his mauvaise honte, 
 his timidity, struck me at the first sight. 
 
 Hard. Then your first sight deceived you; for 
 I think him one of the most brazen first sights that 
 ever astonished my senses. 
 
56 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Miss Hard. Sure, Sir, you rally! I never saw 
 any one so modest. 
 
 Hard. And can you be serious? I never saw 
 such a bouncing, swaggering puppy since I was 
 born. Bully Dawson was but a fool to him. 
 
 Miss Hard. Surprising! He met me with a 
 respectful bow, a stammering voice, and a look 
 fixed on the ground. 
 
 Hard. He met me with a loud voice, a lordly 
 air, and a familiarity that made my blood freeze 
 again. 
 
 Miss Hard. He treated me with diffidence and 
 respect; censured the manners of the age; admired 
 the prudence of girls that never laughed; tired me 
 with apologies for being tiresome; then left the 
 room with a bow, and " Madam, I would not for 
 the world detain you." 
 
 Hard. He spoke to me as if he knew me all his 
 life before; asked twenty questions, and never 
 waited for an answer; interrupted my best re- 
 marks with some silly pun; and when I was in 
 my best story of the Duke of Marlborough and 
 Prince Eugene, he asked if I had not a good hand 
 at making punch. Yes, Kate, he asked your 
 father if he was a maker of punch! 
 
 Miss Hard. One of us must certainly be mis- 
 taken. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 57 
 
 Hard. If he be what he has shown himself, } 
 I 'm determined he shall never have my consent. \ 
 
 Miss Hard. And if he be the sullen thing I take I 
 him, he shall never have mine. / 
 
 Hard. In one thing then we are agreed to 
 reject him. 
 
 Miss Hard. Yes: but upon conditions. For 
 if you should find him less impudent, and I more 
 presuming if you find him more respectful, and 
 I more importunate I don't know the fellow 
 is well enough for a man Certainly, we don't 
 meet many such at a horse-race in the country. 
 
 Hard. If we should find him so But that 's 
 
 impossible. The first appearance has done my 
 business. I 'm seldom deceived in that. 
 
 Miss Hard. And yet there may be many good 
 qualities under that first appearance. 
 
 Hard. Ay, when a girl finds a fellow's outside 
 to her taste, she then sets about guessing the rest 
 of his furniture. With her, a smooth face stands 
 for good sense, and a genteel figure for every virtue. 
 
 Miss Hard. I hope, Sir, a conversation begun 
 with a compliment to my good sense, won't end 
 with a sneer at my understanding? 
 
 Hard. Pardon me, Kate. But if young Mr. 
 Brazen can find the art of reconciling contradic- 
 tions, he may please us both, perhaps. 
 
58 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Miss Hard. And as one of us must be mistaken, 
 what if we go to make further discoveries? 
 
 Hard. Agreed. But depend on 't I 'm in the 
 right. 
 
 Miss Hard. And depend on 't I 'm not much 
 in the wrong. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter TONY, running in with a casket. 
 
 Tony. Ecod! I have got them. Here they are. 
 My cousin Con's necklaces, bobs and all. My 
 mother shan't cheat the poor souls out of their 
 fortin neither. 0! my genus is that you? 
 
 Enter HASTINGS. 
 
 Hast. My dear friend, how have you managed 
 with your mother? I hope you have amused her 
 with pretending love for your cousin, and that you 
 are willing to be reconciled at last ? Our horses 
 will be refreshed in a short time, and we shall 
 soon be ready to set off. 
 
 Tony. And here 's something to bear your 
 charges by the way (giving the casket} ; your sweet- 
 heart's jewels. Keep them and hang those, I say, 
 that would rob you of one of them. 
 
 Hast. But how have you procured them from 
 your mother? 
 
 Tony. Ask me no questions, and I '11 tell you 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 59 
 
 no fibs. I procured them by the rule of the thumb. 
 If I had not a key to every drawer in mother's 
 bureau, how could I go to the alehouse so often 
 as I do? An honest man may rob himself of his 
 own at any time. 
 
 Hast. Thousands do it every day. But to be 
 plain with you; Miss Neville is endeavouring to 
 procure them from her aunt this very instant. If 
 she succeeds, it will be the most delicate way at 
 least of obtaining them. 
 
 Tony. Well, keep them, till you know how it 
 will be. But I know how it will be well enough; 
 she 'd as soon part with the only sound tooth in 
 her head. 
 
 Hast. But I dread the effects of her resent- 
 ment, when she finds she has lost them. 
 
 Tony. Never you mind her resentment, leave 
 me to manage that. I don't value her resentment 
 the bounce of a cracker. Zounds! here they are. 
 Morrice! Prance! [Exit HASTINGS. 
 
 TONY, MRS. HARDCASTLE, and Miss NEVILLE. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Indeed, Constance, you amaze 
 me. Such a girl as you want jewels! It will be 
 time enough for jewels, my dear, twenty years 
 hence, when your beauty begins to want re- 
 pairs. 
 
60 gbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Miss Nev. But what will repair beauty at forty, 
 will certainly improve it at twenty, Madam. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Yours, my dear, can admit of none. 
 That natural blush is beyond a thousand orna- 
 ments. Besides, child, jewels are quite out at 
 present. Don't you see half the ladies of our 
 acquaintance, my lady Kill-day-light, and Mrs. 
 Crump, and the rest of them, carry their jewels 
 to town, and bring nothing but paste and mar- 
 casites back. 
 
 Miss Nev. But who knows, Madam, but some- 
 body that shall be nameless would like me best 
 with all my little finery about me? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Consult your glass, my dear, and 
 then see if with such a pair of eyes, you want any 
 better sparklers. What do you think, Tony, my 
 dear? does your cousin Con want any jewels in 
 your eyes to set off her beauty ? 
 
 Tony. That 's as thereafter may be. 
 
 Miss Nev. My dear aunt, if you knew how it 
 would oblige me. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. A parcel of old-fashioned rose and 
 table-cut things. They would make you look like 
 the court of King Solomon at a puppet-show. 
 Besides, I believe, I can't readily come at them. 
 They may be missing, for aught I know to the 
 contrary. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 61 
 
 Tony. (Apart to MRS. HARDCASTLE.) Then why 
 don't you tell her so at once, as she 's so longing for 
 them? Tell her they 're lost. It 's the only way 
 to quiet her. Say they 're lost, and call me to bear 
 witness. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Apart to TONY.) You know, my 
 dear, I 'm only keeping them for you. So if I say 
 they 're gone, you '11 bear me witness, will you? 
 He! he! he! 
 
 Tony. Never fear me. Ecod! I '11 say I saw 
 them taken out with my own eyes. 
 
 Miss Nev. I desire them but for a day, Madam. 
 Just to be permitted to show them as relics, and 
 then they may be locked up again. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. To be plain with you, my dear 
 Constance, if I could find them you should have 
 them. They're missing, I assure you. Lost, for 
 aught I know; but we must have patience wherever 
 they are. 
 
 Miss Nev. I'll not believe it! this is but a 
 shallow pretence to deny me. I know they are 
 too valuable to be so slightly kept, and as you are 
 to answer for the loss 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Don't be alarmed, Constance. 
 If they be lost, I must restore an equivalent. But 
 my son knows they are missing, and not to be 
 found. 
 
62 sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Tony. That I can bear witness to. They are 
 missing, and not to be found; I '11 take my oath 
 on't. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. You must learn resignation, my 
 dear; for though we lose our fortune, yet we should 
 not lose our patience. See me, how calm I 
 am. 
 
 Miss Nev. Ay, people are generally calm at 
 the misfortunes of others. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Now I wonder a girl of your good 
 sense should waste a thought upon such trumpery. 
 We shall soon find them; and in the meantime you 
 shall make use of my garnets till your jewels be 
 found. 
 
 Miss Nev. I detest garnets. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. The most becoming things in the 
 world to set off a clear complexion. You have 
 often seen how well they look upon me. You shall 
 have them. [Exit. 
 
 Miss Nev. I dislike them of all things. You 
 shan't stir. Was ever anything so provoking, 
 to mislay my own jewels, and force me to wear 
 her trumpery. 
 
 Tony. Don't be a fool. If she gives you the gar- 
 nets, take what you can get. The jewels are your 
 own already. I have stolen them out of her bureau, 
 and she does not know it. Fly to your spark, 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 63 
 
 he '11 tell you more of the matter. Leave me to 
 manage her. 
 
 Miss Nev. My dear cousin! 
 
 Tony. Vanish. She 's here, and has missed 
 them already. [Exit Miss NEVILLE.] Zounds! 
 how she fidgets and spits about like a Catherine 
 wheel. 
 
 Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Confusion! thieves! robbers! we are 
 cheated, plundered, broke open, undone. 
 
 Tony. What 's the matter, what 's the matter, 
 Mamma? I hope nothing has happened to any of 
 the good family! 
 
 Mrs. Hard. We are robbed. My bureau has 
 been broken open, the jewels taken out and I 'm 
 undone. 
 
 Tony. Oh! is that all? Ha! ha! ha! By the 
 laws, I never saw it acted better in my life. 
 Ecod, I thought you was ruined in earnest, ha! ha! 
 ha! 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Why, boy, I am ruined in earnest. 
 My bureau has been broke open, and all taken 
 away. 
 
 Tony. Stick to that: ha! ha! ha! stick to that. 
 I '11 bear witness, you know; call me to bear witness. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. I tell you, Tony, by all that's 
 
64 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 precious, the jewels are gone, and I shall be ruined 
 for ever. 
 
 Tony. Sure I know they are gone, and I am to 
 say so. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. My dearest Tony, but hear me. 
 They 're gone, I say. 
 
 Tony. By the laws, Mamma, you make me for 
 to laugh, ha! ha! I know who took them well 
 enough, ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Was there ever such a blockhead, 
 that can't tell the difference between jest and 
 earnest? I tell you I 'm not in jest, booby! 
 
 Tony. That 's right, that 's right; you must be 
 in a bitter passion, and then nobody will suspect 
 either of us. 1 11 bear witness that they are gone. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Was there ever such a cross- 
 grained brute, that won't hear me? Can you 
 bear witness that you 're no better than a fool? 
 Was ever poor woman so beset with fools on one 
 hand, and thieves on the other? 
 
 Tony. I can bear witness to that. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Bear witness again, you block- 
 head, you, and I '11 turn you out of the room 
 directly. My poor niece, what will become of 
 her? Do you laugh, you unfeeling brute, as if you 
 enjoyed my distress? 
 
 Tony. I can bear witness to that. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 65 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Do you insult me, monster? I '11 
 teach you to vex your mother, I will. 
 Tony. I can bear witness to that. 
 
 [He runs off, she follows him. 
 
 Enter Miss HARDCASTLE and Maid. 
 
 Miss Hard. What an unaccountable creature 
 is that brother of mine, to send them to the 
 house as an inn, ha! ha! I don't wonder at his 
 impudence. 
 
 Maid. But what is more Madam, the young 
 gentleman, as you passed by in your present dress, 
 asked me if you were the bar-maid? He mistook 
 you for the bar-maid, Madam. 
 
 Miss Hard. Did he? Then as I live I 'm re- 
 solved to keep up the delusion. Tell me, Pimple, 
 how do you like my present dress? Don't you 
 think I look something like Cherry in the Bjauoc? 
 Stratagem ? 
 
 Maid. It 's the dress, Madam, that every lady 
 wears in the country, but when she visits or receives 
 company. 
 
 Miss Hard. And are you sure he does not 
 remember my face or person? 
 
 Maid. Certain of it. 
 
 Miss Hard. I vow I thought so; for though we 
 spoke for some time together, yet his fears were 
 
66 gbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 such, that he never once looked up during the inter- 
 view. Indeed, if he had, my bonnet would have 
 kept him from seeing me. 
 
 Maid. But what do you hope from keeping 
 him in his mistake? 
 
 Miss Hard. In the first place, I shall be seen, 
 and that is no small advantage to a girl who brings 
 her face to market. Then I shall perhaps make 
 an acquaintance, and that 's no small victory 
 gained over one who never addresses any but the 
 wildest of her sex. But my chief aim is to take 
 my gentleman off his guard, and, like an invisible 
 champion of romance, examine the giant's force 
 before I offer to combat. 
 
 Maid. But you are sure you can act your part, 
 and disguise your voice so that he may mistake 
 that, as he has already mistaken your person ? 
 
 Miss Hard. Never fear me. I think I have 
 got the true bar cant Did your honour call? 
 Attend the Lion there Pipes and tobacco for the 
 Angel. The Lamb has been outrageous this half 
 hour. 
 
 Maid. It will do, Madam. But he 's here. 
 
 [Exit Maid. 
 
 Enter MARLOW. 
 Marl. What a bawling in every part of the 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 67 
 
 house! I have scarce a moment's repose; if I go 
 to the best room, there I find my host and his 
 story; if I fly to the gallery, there we have my 
 hostess with her curtsey down to the ground. I 
 have at last got a moment to myself, and now for 
 recollection. [Walks and muses. 
 
 Miss Hard. Did you call, Sir ? Did your honour 
 call? 
 
 Marl. (Musing.) As for Miss Hardcastle, she 's 
 too grave and sentimental for me. 
 
 Miss Hard. Did your honour call? 
 [She still places herself before him, he turning away. 
 
 Marl. No, child (musing). Besides, from the 
 glimpse I had of her, I think she squints. 
 
 Miss Hard. I 'm sure, Sir, I heard the bell ring. 
 
 Marl. No, no (musing). I have pleased my 
 father, however, by coming down, and I '11 to- 
 morrow please myself by returning. 
 
 [Taking out his tablets and perusing. 
 
 Miss Hard. Perhaps the other gentleman 
 called, Sir? 
 
 Marl. I tell you, no. 
 
 Miss Hard. I should be glad to know, Sir. We 
 have such a parcel of servants! 
 
 Marl. No, no, I tell you (looks full in her face). 
 Yes, child, I think I did call. I wanted I wanted 
 I vow, child, you are vastly handsome. 
 
68 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Miss Hard. O la, Sir, you 11 make one ashamed. 
 
 Marl. Never saw a more sprightly, malicious 
 eye. Yes, yes, my dear, I did call. Have you 
 got any of your a what d' ye call it in the house ? 
 
 Miss Hard. No, Sir; we have been out of that 
 these ten days. 
 
 Marl. One may call in this house, I find, to 
 very little purpose. Suppose I should call for a 
 taste, just by way of trial, of the nectar of your 
 lips; perhaps I might be disappointed in that 
 too. 
 
 Miss Hard. Nectar! nectar! That 's a liquor 
 there 's no call for in these parts. French, I sup- 
 pose. We keep no French wines here, Sir. 
 
 Marl. Of true English growth, I assure you. 
 
 Miss Hard. Then it 's odd I should not know 
 it. We brew all sorts of wines in this house, and I 
 have lived here these eighteen years. 
 
 Marl. Eighteen years! Why, one would think, 
 child, you kept the bar before you were born. How 
 old are you? 
 
 Miss Hard. O! Sir, I must not tell my age. 
 They say women and music should never be dated. 
 
 Marl. To guess at this distance, you can't 
 be much above forty (approaching). Yet nearer 
 I don't think so much (approaching). By coming 
 closer to some women, they look younger still; 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 6 9 
 
 but when we come very close indeed (attempting 
 to kiss her.) 
 
 Miss Hard. Pray, Sir, keep your distance. One 
 would think you wanted to know one's age as they 
 do horses, by mark of mouth. 
 
 Marl. I protest, child, you use me extremely 
 ill. If you keep me at this distance, how is it pos- 
 sible you and I can ever be acquainted? 
 
 Miss Hard. And who wants to be acquainted 
 with you? I want no such acquaintance, not I. 
 I 'm sure you did not treat Miss Hardcastle, that 
 was here awhile ago, in this obstropalous manner. 
 I '11 warrant me, before her you looked dashed, 
 and kept bowing to the ground, and talked, for all 
 the world, as if you was before a justice of the 
 peace. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) Egad, she has hit it, sure 
 enough! (To her) In awe of her, child? Ha! ha! 
 ha! A mere awkward squinting thing; no, no. 
 I find you don't know me. I laughed and rallied 
 her a little; but I was unwilling to be too severe. 
 No, I could not be too severe, curse me! 
 
 Miss Hard. O! then, Sir, you are a favourite, 
 I find, among the ladies? 
 
 Marl. Yes, my dear, a great favourite. And 
 yet hang me, I don't see what they find in me to 
 follow. At the Ladies' Club in town I 'm call'd 
 
70 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 their agreeable Rattle. Rattle, child, is not my 
 real name, but one I 'm known by. My name is 
 Solomons; Mr. Solomons, my dear, at your service. 
 (Offering to salute her.) 
 
 Miss Hard. Hold, Sir, you are introducing me 
 to your club, not to yourself. And you 're so great 
 a favourite there, you say? 
 
 Marl. Yes, my dear. There 's Mrs. Mantrap, 
 Lady Betty Blackleg, the Countess of Sligo, Mrs. 
 Langhorns, old Miss Biddy Buckskin, 1 and your 
 humble servant, keep up the spirit of the 
 place. 
 
 Miss Hard. Then it is a very merry place, I 
 I suppose? 
 
 Marl. Yes, as merry as cards, supper, wine, and 
 old women can make us. 
 
 Miss Hard. And their agreeable Rattle, ha! 
 ha! ha! 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) Egad! I don't quite like this 
 chit. She looks knowing, methinks. You laugh, 
 child? 
 
 1 The allusion here was to an actual club (the " Albemarle 
 Street") recently established, of which ladies as well as gentlemen 
 were privileged to be members, and the introduction of Miss Biddy 
 Buckskin was resented by Horace Walpole and others belonging to 
 the club as an attack on their friend and fellow-member, Miss 
 Lloyd. Goldsmith, in the manuscript of the comedy, and on the 
 early nights of its performance, used Miss Lloyd's name, Rachael, 
 but altered it in the printed copies. See the Letters of Walpole 
 and Lady Ossory, vol. i., p. 60. 
 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 71 
 
 Miss Hard. I can't but laugh, to think what 
 time they all have for minding their work or their 
 family. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) All 's well; she don't laugh at 
 me. (To her.) Do you ever work, child? 
 
 Miss Hard. Ay, sure. There 's not a screen 
 or a quilt in the whole house but what can bear 
 witness to that. 
 
 Marl. Odso! then you must show me your 
 embroidery. I embroider and draw patterns my- 
 self a little. If you want a judge of your work, 
 you must apply to me. (Seizing her hand.) 
 
 Miss Hard. Ay, but the colours do not look 
 well by candle-light. You shall see all in the 
 morning. (Struggling.) 
 
 Marl. And why not now, my angel? Such 
 beauty fires beyond the powers of resistance. 
 Pshaw! the father here! My old luck: I never 
 nicked seven that I did not throw ames ace three 
 times following. [Exit MARLOW. 
 
 Enter HARDCASTLE, who stands in surprise. 
 
 Hard. So, Madam. So I find this is your 
 modest lover. This is your humble admirer, that 
 kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and only adored 
 at humble distance. Kate, Kate, art thou not 
 ashamed to deceive your father so ? 
 
72 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Miss Hard. Never trust me, dear Papa, but 
 he 's still the modest man I first took him for; 
 you '11 be convinced of it as well as I. 
 
 Hard. By the hand of my body, I believe his 
 impudence is infectious! Did n't I see him seize 
 your hand? Did n't I see him haul you about like 
 a milk-maid? And now you talk of his respect 
 and his modesty, forsooth! 
 
 Miss Hard. But if I shortly convince you of 
 his modesty, that he has only faults that will pass 
 off with time, and the virtues that will improve 
 with age, I hope you '11 forgive him. 
 
 Hard. The girl would actually make one run 
 mad! I tell you 1 11 not be convinced. I am con- 
 vinced. He has scarcely been three hours in the 
 house, and he has already encroached on all my 
 prerogatives. You may like his impudence, and 
 call it modesty; but my son-in-law, Madam, must 
 have very different qualifications. 
 
 Miss Hard. Sir, I ask but this night to convince 
 you. 
 
 Hard. You shall not have half the time, for I 
 have thoughts of turning them out this very 
 hour. 
 
 Miss Hard. Give me that hour then, and I 
 hope to satisfy you. 
 
 Hard. Well, an hour let it be then. But I '11 
 
.fit 
 
 mudoD noaqmiZ 
 
 yd gniwcib 9riJ movl 
 

 but 
 him for; 
 
 seize 
 you; ut like 
 
 convii u of 
 
 5 that will pass 
 
 improve 
 
 run 
 
 I am con- 
 
 -.ours in the 
 
 hed on all my 
 
 dence, and 
 a, must 
 
 nvince 
 
 very 
 
 Give me . and I 
 
 Well, an he- But I 'U 
 
 Miss Hardcastle." Did you call, sir ?" 
 
 ?ict iff. 
 
 From the drawing by Frederick Simpson Coburn 
 
Sbc Stoops to Conquer 73 
 
 have no trifling with your father. All fair and 
 open, do you mind me? 
 
 Miss Hard. I hope, Sir, you have ever found 
 that I considered your commands as my pride; 
 for your kindness is such, that my duty as yet has 
 been inclination. [Exeunt. 
 

 
 ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 Enter HASTINGS and Miss NEVILLE. 
 
 Hast. You surprise me; Sir Charles Marlow 
 expected here this night! Where have you had 
 your information? 
 
 Miss Nev. You may depend upon it. I just 
 saw his letter to Mr. Hardcastle, in which he tells 
 him he intends setting out a few hours after his son. 
 
 Hast. Then, my Constance, all must be com- 
 pleted before he arrives. He knows me; and 
 should he find me here, would discover my name, 
 and perhaps my designs, to the rest of the family. 
 
 Miss Nev. The jewels, I hope, are safe? 
 
 Hast. Yes, yes. I have sent them to Marlow, 
 who keeps the keys of our baggage. In the mean 
 time I '11 go to prepare matters for our elopement. 
 I have had the 'squire's promise of a fresh pair of 
 horses; and if I should not see him again, will write 
 him further directions. [Exit. 
 
 Miss Nev. Well! success attend you. In the 
 
 74 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 75 
 
 mean time I '11 go and amuse my aunt with the old 
 pretence of a violent passion for my cousin. [Exit. 
 
 Enter MARLOW, followed by a Servant. 
 
 Marl. 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 inn door. Have 
 you deposited the casket with the landlady, as I 
 ordered you? Have you put it into her own 
 hands? 
 
 Ser. Yes, your honour. 
 
 Marl. She said she 'd keep it safe, did she? 
 
 Ser. 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. [Exit Servant. 
 
 Marl. Ha! ha! ha! They 're safe, however. 
 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 absurd- 
 ities 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 
 
76 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 I intended to prepare at the bottom of the garden. 
 Marlow here, and in spirits too! 
 
 Marl. 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. But what 
 success has your honour's modesty been crowned 
 with now, that it grows so insolent upon us? 
 
 Marl. Did n'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? 
 
 Marl. 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 sure, so very sure of her? 
 
 Marl. Why, man, she talked of showing me 
 her work above stairs, and I am to improve the 
 pattern. 
 
 Hast. But how can you, Charles, go about to 
 rob a woman of her honour? 
 
 Marl. Pshaw! pshaw! We all know the hon- 
 our 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 shan't honestly pay for. 
 
 Hast. I believe the girl has virtue. 
 
Sbe Stoopa to Conquer 77 
 
 Marl. 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? 
 
 Marl. 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 have 
 
 Hast. What? 
 
 Marl. I have sent it to the landlady to keep 
 for you. 
 
 Hast. To the landlady! 
 
 Marl. The landlady. 
 
 Hast. You did? 
 
 Marl. I did. She 's to be answerable for its 
 forthcoming, you know. 
 
 Hast. Yes, she '11 bring it forth with a witness. 
 
 Marl. Was n't I right? I believe you '11 allow 
 that I acted prudently upon this occasion. 
 
 Hast. (Aside.) He must not see my uneasiness. 
 
 Marl. You seem a little disconcerted though, 
 methinks. Sure nothing has happened? 
 
 Hast. No, nothing. Never was in better spir- 
 its in all my life. And so you left it with the land- 
 
78 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 lady, who, no doubt, very readily undertook the 
 charge. 
 
 Marl. Rather too readily. For she not only 
 kept the casket, but, through her great precaution, 
 was going to keep the messenger too. Ha! ha! 
 ha! 
 
 Hast. He! he! he! They 're safe, however. 
 
 Marl. As a guinea in a miser's purse. 
 
 Hast. (Aside.) So now all hopes of fortune 
 are at an end, and we must set off without it. (To 
 him.) Well, Charles, I '11 leave you to your med- 
 itations on the pretty barmaid, and, he! he! he! 
 may you be as successful for yourself, as you have 
 been for me! [Exit. 
 
 Marl. Thank ye, George: I ask no more. Ha! 
 ha! ha! 
 
 Enter HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Hard. I no longer know my own house. It 's 
 turned all topsy-turvy. His servants have got 
 drunk already. I '11 bear it no longer; and yet, 
 from my respect for his father, I '11 be calm. (To 
 him.) Mr. Marlow, your servant. I 'm your very- 
 humble servant. (Bowing low.) 
 
 Marl. Sir, your humble servant. (Aside.) 
 What 's to be the wonder now? 
 
 Hard. I believe, Sir, you must be sensible, Sir, 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer ; 9 
 
 that no man alive ought to be more welcome 
 than your father's son, Sir. I hope you think 
 so? 
 
 Marl. I do from my soul, Sir. I don't want 
 much entreaty. I generally make my father's 
 son welcome wherever he goes. 
 
 Hard. I believe you do, from my soul, Sir. But 
 though I say nothing to your conduct, that of your 
 servants is insufferable. Their manner of drink- 
 ing is setting a very bad example in this house, I 
 assure you. 
 
 Marl. I protest, my very good Sir, that is no 
 fault of mine. If they don't drink as they ought, 
 they are to blame. I ordered them not to spare 
 the cellar. I did, I assure you. (To the side- 
 scene.) Here, let one of my servants come up. 
 (To him.) My positive directions were, that as 
 I did not drink myself, they should make up for 
 my deficiencies below. 
 
 Hard. Then they had your orders for what 
 they do? I 'm satisfied! 
 
 Marl. They had, I assure you. You shall hear 
 from one of themselves. 
 
 Enter Servant, drunk. 
 
 Marl. You, Jeremy! Come forward, sirrah! 
 What were my orders ? Were you not told to drink 
 
Stoops to Conquer 
 
 freely, and call for what you thought fit, for the 
 good of the house? 
 
 Hard. (Aside.) I begin to lose my patience. 
 
 Jer. Please your honour, liberty and Fleet 
 Street for ever! Though I 'm but a servant, I 'm 
 as good as another man. I '11 drink for no man 
 before supper, Sir, damme! Good liquor will sit 
 upon a good supper, but a good supper will 
 
 not sit upon hiccup upon my conscience, 
 
 Sir. 
 
 Marl. You see, my old friend, the fellow is as 
 drunk as he can possibly be. I don't know what 
 you 'd have more, unless you 'd have the poor 
 devil soused in a beer-barrel. 
 
 Hard. Zounds! he 11 drive me distracted, if 
 I contain myself any longer. Mr. Mario w Sir; 
 I have submitted to your insolence for more than 
 four hours, and I see no likelihood of its coming 
 to an end. I 'm now resolved to be master here, 
 Sir; and I desire that you and your drunken pack 
 may leave my house directly. 
 
 Marl. Leave your house! Sure you jest, 
 
 my good friend! What? when I 'm doing what 
 I can to please you. 
 
 Hard. I tell you, Sir, you don't please me; so 
 I desire you '11 leave my house. 
 
 Marl. Sure you cannot be serious? at this time 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 81 
 
 o' night, and such a night? You only mean to 
 banter me. 
 
 Hard. I tell you, Sir, I 'm serious! And now 
 that my passions are roused, I say this house is 
 mine, and I command you to leave it directly. 
 
 Marl. Ha! ha! ha! A puddle in a storm. I 
 shan't stir a step, I assure you. (In a serious 
 tone.) This your house, fellow! It 's my house. 
 This is my house. Mine, while I choose to stay. 
 What right have you to bid me leave this house, 
 Sir? I never met with such impudence, curse me; 
 never in my whole life before. 
 
 Hard. Nor I, confound me if I ever did. To 
 come to my house, to call for what he likes, to turn 
 me out of my own chair, to insult the family, to 
 order his servants to get drunk, and then to tell 
 me, " This house is mine, Sir." By all that 's im- 
 pudent it makes me laugh. Ha! ha! ha! Pray, 
 Sir (banteringly) , as you take the house, what think 
 you of taking the rest of the furniture? There 's 
 a pair of silver candlesticks, and there 's a fire- 
 screen, and here 's a pair of brazen-nosed bellows; 
 perhaps you may take a fancy to them. 
 
 Marl. Bring me your bill, Sir; bring me 
 your bill, and let 's make no more words about 
 it. 
 
 Hard. There are a set of prints, too. What 
 
8 2 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 think you of the Rake's Progress, for your own 
 apartment? 
 
 Marl. Bring me your bill, I say; and I '11 leave 
 you and your infernal house directly. 
 
 Hard. Then there 's a mahogany table that 
 you may see your own face in. 
 
 Marl. My bill, I say. 
 
 Hard. I had forgot the great chair for your 
 own particular slumbers, after a hearty meal. 
 
 Marl. Zounds! bring me my bill, I say, and 
 let 's hear no more on 't. 
 
 Hard. Young man, young man, from your 
 father's letter to me, I was taught to expect a well- 
 bred modest man as a visitor here, but now I find 
 him no better than a coxcomb and a bully; but he 
 will be down here presently, and shall hear more 
 of it. [Exit 
 
 Marl. How 's this? Sure I have not mistaken 
 the house. Everything looks like an inn; the ser- 
 vants cry, " Coming "; the attendance is awkward; 
 the barmaid, too, to attend us. But she 's here, 
 and will further inform me. Whither so fast, 
 child? A word with you. 
 
 Enter Miss HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Miss Hard. Let it be short, then. I 'm in a 
 hurry. (Aside.) I believe he begins to find out 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 83 
 
 his mistake. But it 's too soon quite to undeceive 
 him. 
 
 Marl. Pray, child, answer me one question. 
 What are you, and what may be your business in 
 this house ? 
 
 Miss Hard. A relation of the family, Sir. 
 
 Marl. What! a poor relation? 
 
 Miss Hard. Yes, Sir; a poor relation, appointed 
 to keep the keys, and to see that the guests want 
 nothing in my power to give them. 
 
 Marl. That is, you act as the barmaid of this 
 inn. 
 
 Miss Hard. Inn! O law what brought that 
 
 in your head? One of the best families in the 
 country keep an inn Ha! ha! ha! old Mr. Hard- 
 castle's house an inn! 
 
 Marl. Mr. Hardcastle's house! Is this Mr. 
 Hardcastle's house, child? 
 
 Miss Hard. Ay, sure ! Whose else should it be ? 
 
 Marl. So then, all 's out, and I have been 
 damnably imposed on. 0, confound my stupid 
 head, I shall be laughed at over the whole town. 
 I shall be stuck up in caricatura in all the print- 
 shops. The Dullissimo-Maccaroni. To mistake 
 this house of all others for an inn, and my father's 
 old friend for an innkeeper! What a swaggering 
 puppy must he take me for! What a silly puppy 
 
8 4 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 do I find myself! There, again, may I be hang'd, 
 my dear, but I mistook you for the barmaid. 
 
 Miss Hard. Dear me! dear me! I 'm sure 
 there 's nothing in my behaviour to put me on a 
 level with one of that stamp. 
 
 Marl. Nothing, my dear, nothing. But I was 
 in for a list of blunders, and could not help making 
 you a subscriber. My stupidity saw everything 
 the wrong way. I mistook your assiduity for 
 assurance, and your simplicity for allurement. 
 But it 's over This house I no more show my 
 face in. 
 
 Miss Hard. I hope, Sir, I have done nothing 
 to disoblige you. I 'm sure I should be sorry to 
 affront any gentleman who has been so polite, and 
 said so many civil things to me. I 'm sure I 
 should be sorry (pretending to cry) if he left the 
 family on my account. I'm sure I should be 
 sorry people said anything amiss, since I have no 
 fortune but my character. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) By Heaven! she weeps. This 
 is the first mark of tenderness I ever had from a 
 modest , woman, and it touches me. (To her.) 
 Excuse me, my lovely girl; you are the only part 
 of the family I leave with reluctance. But to be 
 plain with you, the difference of our birth, for- 
 tune, and education, makes an honourable con- 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 85 
 
 nection impossible; and I can never harbour a 
 thought of seducing simplicity that trusted in my 
 honour, of bringing ruin upon one, whose only 
 fault was being too lovely. 
 
 Miss Hard. (Aside.) Generous man! I now 
 begin to admire him. (To him.) But I am sure 
 my family is as good as Miss Hardcastle's; and 
 though I 'm poor, that 's no great misfortune to 
 a contented mind; and until this moment, I 
 never thought that it was bad to want fortune. 
 
 Marl. And why now, my pretty simplicity? 
 
 Miss Hard. Because it puts me at a distance 
 from one, that, if I had a thousand pounds, I 
 would give it all to. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) This simplicity bewitches me, 
 so that if I stay, I 'm undone. I must make one 
 bold effort, and leave her. (To her.) Your par- 
 tiality in my favour, my dear, touches me most 
 sensibly: and were I to live for myself alone, I 
 could easily fix my choice. But I owe too much 
 to the opinion of the world, too much to the au- 
 thority of a father; so that I can scarcely speak 
 it it affects me. Farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Miss Hard. I never knew half his merit till 
 now. He shall not go, if I have power or art to 
 detain him. I '11 still preserve the character in 
 which I stooped to conquer, but will undeceive my 
 
86 gfoe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 papa, who perhaps may laugh him out of his 
 resolution. [Exit. 
 
 Enter TONY, Miss NEVILLE. 
 
 Tony. Ay, you may steal for yourselves the 
 next time. I have done my duty. She has got 
 the jewels again, that 's a sure thing; but she 
 believes it was all a mistake of the servants. 
 
 Miss Nev. But, my dear cousin, sure you 
 won't 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 Whistle- jacket; 
 and I 'm sure you can't 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. [They retire and seem to fondle. 
 
 Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Well, I was greatly fluttered, to be 
 sure. But my son tells me it was all a mistake of 
 the servants. I shan't be easy, however, till they 
 are fairly married, and then let her keep her own 
 fortune. But what do I see? fondling together, 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 87 
 
 as I 'm alive. I never saw Tony so sprightly 
 before. Ah! have I caught you, my pretty 
 doves? What, billing, exchanging stolen glances, 
 and broken murmurs? Ah! 
 
 Tony. As for murmurs, mother, we grumble 
 a little now and then to be sure. But there 's no 
 love lost between us. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. A mere sprinkling, Tony, upon the 
 flame, only to make it burn brighter. 
 
 Miss Nev. Cousin Tony promises to give us 
 more of his company at home. Indeed, he shan't 
 leave us any more. It won't leave us, Cousin 
 Tony, will it? 
 
 Tony. O! it 's a pretty creature. No, I 'd 
 sooner leave my horse in a pound, than leave you 
 when you smile upon one so. Your laugh makes 
 you so becoming. 
 
 Miss Nev. Agreeable cousin! Who can help 
 admiring that natural humour, that pleasant, 
 broad, red, thoughtless (patting his cheek) ah! 
 it 's a bold face. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Pretty innocence! 
 
 Tony. I 'm sure I always loved cousin Con's 
 hazel eyes, and her pretty long fingers, that she 
 twists this way and that over the haspicholls, like 
 a parcel of bobbins. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ah, he would charm the bird 
 
88 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 from the tree. I was never so happy before. My 
 boy takes after his father, poor Mr. Lumpkin, ex- 
 actly. 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 '11 put off the rest of his education, 
 like Dr. Drowsy 's sermons, to a fitter opportunity. 
 
 Enter DIGGORY. 
 
 Dig. Where 's the Squire? I have got a letter 
 for your worship. 
 
 Tony. Give it to my mamma. She reads all 
 my letters first. 
 
 Dig. I had orders to deliver it into your own 
 hands. 
 
 Tony. Who does it come from ? 
 
 Dig. Your worship mun ask that o' the letter 
 itself. 
 
 Tony. I could wish to know though (turning 
 the letter and gazing on it.). 
 
 Miss Nev. (Aside.) Undone! undone! A let- 
 ter to him from Hastings. I know the hand. If 
 my aunt sees it, we are ruined for ever. I '11 keep 
 her employed a little if I can. (To MRS. HARD- 
 CASTLE.) 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 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 89 
 
 way a little, for he must not hear us. 
 
 [They confer. 
 
 Tony. (Still gazing.) A damn'd cramp piece 
 of penmanship, as ever I saw in my life. I 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, Esquire." It 's very odd, 
 I can read the outside of my letters, where my 
 own name is, well enough. But when I come to 
 
 open it, it 's all buzz. That 's hard, very hard; 
 
 for the inside of the letter is always the cream 
 of the correspondence. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ha! ha! ha! Very well, very well. 
 And so my son was too hard for the philosopher. 
 
 Miss Nev. Yes, Madam; but you must hear the 
 rest, Madam. A little more this way, or he may 
 hear us. You 11 hear how he puzzled him again. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. He seems strangely puzzled now, 
 himself, methinks. 
 
 Tony. (Still gazing.) A damn'd up and down 
 hand, as if it was disguised in liquor. (Reading.) 
 " Dear Sir," ay, that 's that. Then there 's an 
 M and a T, and an S, but whether the next be 
 an izzard, or an R, confound me, I cannot tell. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. What 's that, my dear? Can I 
 give you any assistance? 
 
90 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Miss Nev. Pray, Aunt, let me read it. No- 
 body reads a cramp hand better than I. (Twitch- 
 ing the letter from him.) Do you know who it is 
 from? 
 
 Tony. Can't tell, except from Dick Ginger, 
 the feeder. 
 
 Miss Nev. Ay, so it is (pretending to read.) 
 " Dear Squire, hoping that you 're in health, as I 
 am at this present. The gentleman of the Shake- 
 bag club has cut the gentlemen of goose-green 
 
 quite out of feather. The odds um odd 
 
 battle long fighting um " Here, here, it 's all 
 about cocks and fighting; it 's of no consequence, 
 here, put it up, put it up. (Thrusting the crumpled 
 letter upon him.) 
 
 Tony. But I tell you, miss, it 's of all the con- 
 sequence 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. HARD- 
 CASTLE the letter.) 
 
 Mrs. Hard. How's this? (foods.) "Dear 
 Squire, I 'm now waiting for Miss Neville, with a 
 post-chaise and pair, at the bottom of the garden, 
 but I find my horses yet unable to perform the 
 journey. I expect you '11 assist us with a pair of 
 fresh horses, as you promised. Dispatch is 
 necessary, as the hag (ay, the hag) your mother, 
 
ym <won Jon ydw bnA " 
 
 toE 
 
 mudoD noeqmi2 ^bhsbaiH yd 
 

 
 Stoopa to Conquer 
 
 read it. No- 
 
 np l v in I (Twitch- 
 
 10 it is 
 
 mger, 
 
 Squi 
 
 but I find 
 journey. J 
 
 i horses, a 
 necessary, as th< 
 
 you II 
 
 it 
 
 LD- 
 
 th a 
 
 len, 
 
 the 
 
 i pair of 
 
 motner, 
 
 Marlow. " And why not now, my angel ? " 
 
 flct f I f . 
 
 From the drawing by Frederick Simpson Coburn 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 91 
 
 will otherwise suspect us. Yours, Hastings." 
 Grant me patience: I shall run distracted! My 
 rage chokes me. 
 
 Miss Nev. I hope, Madam, you 11 suspend 
 your resentment for a few moments, and not im- 
 pute to me any impertinence, or sinister design, 
 that belongs to another. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Curtseying very low.) Fine spoken 
 Madam, you are most miraculously polite and en- 
 gaging, and quite the very pink of courtesy 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 '11 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 
 Aunt Pedigree will keep you secure, 1 11 warrant 
 me. You too, Sir, may mount your horse, and 
 guard us upon the way. Here, Thomas, Roger, 
 Diggory! 1 11 show you, that I wish you better 
 than you do yourselves. [Exit 
 
 Miss Nev. So now I 'm completely ruined. 
 
 Tony. Ay, that 's a sure thing. 
 
 Miss Nev. What better could be expected 
 
9 2 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 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 clev- 
 erness, and not my stupidity, that did your busi- 
 ness. 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. 
 
 Marl. So I have been finely used here among 
 you. Rendered contemptible, driven into ill- 
 manners, despised, insulted, laughed at. 
 
 Tony. Here 's another. We shall have old 
 Bedlam broke loose presently. 
 
 Miss Nev. And there, Sir, is the gentleman to 
 whom we all owe every obligation. 
 
 Marl. What can I say to him, a mere boy, an 
 idiot, whose ignorance and age are a protection ? 
 
 Hast. A poor contemptible booby, that would 
 but disgrace correction. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 93 
 
 Miss Nev. Yet with cunning and malice enough 
 to make himself merry with all our embarrassments. 
 
 Hast. An insensible cub. 
 
 Marl. Replete with tricks and mischief. 
 
 Tony. Baw! damme, but I '11 fight you both, 
 one after the other with baskets. 
 
 Marl. As for him, he 's below resentment. But 
 your conduct, Mr. Hastings, requires an explana- 
 tion. You knew of my mistakes, yet would not 
 undeceive me. 
 
 Hast. Tortured as I am with my own disap- 
 pointments, is this a time for explanations? It 
 is not friendly, Mr. Marlow. 
 
 Marl. But, Sir 
 
 Miss Nev. Mr. Marlow, we never kept on your 
 mistake, till it was too late to undeceive you. Be 
 pacified. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Seru. My mistress desires you 11 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 Servant. 
 
 Miss Nev. Well, well: 1 11 come presently. 
 
 Marl. (To HASTINGS.) Was it well done, Sir, 
 to assist in rendering me ridiculous? To hang me 
 
94 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 out for the scorn of all my acquaintance? De- 
 pend upon it, Sir, I shall expect an explanation. 
 
 Hast. Was it well done, Sir, if you 're upon 
 that subject, to deliver what I entrusted to your- 
 self, to the care of another, Sir? 
 
 Miss Nev. Mr. Hastings! Mr. Marlow! Why 
 will you increase my distress by this groundless 
 dispute? I implore, I entreat you 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. Your cloak, Madam. My mistress is 
 impatient. [Exit Servant. 
 
 Miss Nev. I come. Pray be pacified. If I 
 leave you thus, I shall die with apprehension. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. Your fan, muff, and gloves, Madam. 
 The horses are waiting. 
 
 Miss Nev. O, Mr. Marlow, if you knew what 
 a scene of constraint and ill-nature lies before me, 
 I am sure it would convert your resentment into 
 pity. 
 
 Marl. I 'm so distracted with a variety of pas- 
 sions, that I don't know what I do. Forgive me, 
 Madam. George, forgive me. You know my 
 hasty temper, and should not exasperate it. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 95 
 
 Hast. The torture of my situation is my only 
 excuse. 
 
 Miss Nev. Well, my dear Hastings, if you 
 have that esteem for me that I think, that I am 
 sure you have, your constancy for three years will 
 but increase the happiness of our future connec- 
 tion. If 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Within.) Miss Neville. Con- 
 stance, why, Constance, I say. 
 
 Miss Nev. 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! 
 
 Marl. (To TONY.) You see now, young gen- 
 tleman, the effects of your folly. What might be 
 amusement to you, is here disappointment, and 
 even distress. 
 
 Tony. (From a reverie.) Ecod! I have hit it: 
 it 's here. Your hands. Yours and yours, my 
 poor Sulky. My boots there, ho! Meet me two 
 hours hence at the bottom of the garden; and if 
 you don't find Tony Lumpkin a more good- 
 natured fellow than you thought for, I '11 give you 
 leave to take my best horse, and Bet Bouncer into 
 the bargain. Come along. My boots, ho! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 (SCENE continued.) 
 Enter HASTINGS and Servant. 
 
 Hast. You saw the old lady and Miss Neville 
 you say? 
 
 Serv. Yes, your honour. They went off in a 
 post-coach, and the young Squire went on horse- 
 back. They 're thirty miles off by this time. 
 
 Hast. Then all my hopes are over. 
 
 Serv. Yes, Sir. Old Sir Charles is arrived. 
 He and the old gentleman of the house have been 
 laughing at Mr. Marlow's mistake this half hour. 
 They are coming this way. 
 
 Hast. Then I must not be seen. So now to 
 my fruitless appointment at the bottom of the 
 garden. This is about the time. [Exit. 
 
 Enter SIR CHARLES and HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Hard. Ha! ha! ha! The peremptory tone in 
 which he sent forth his sublime commands! 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 97 
 
 Sir Chas. 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 Chas. Yes, Dick, but he mistook you for 
 an uncommon innkeeper; ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Hard. Well, I 'm in too good spirits to think 
 of any thing but joy. Yes, my dear friend, this 
 union of our families will make our personal friend- 
 ships hereditary, and though my daughter's 
 fortune is but small 
 
 Sir Chas. Why, Dick, will you talk of fortune 
 to me? My son is possessed of more than a com- 
 petence already, and can want nothing but a good 
 and virtuous girl to share his happiness, and in- 
 crease it. If they like each other, as they say 
 they do 
 
 Hard. If, man! I tell you they do like each 
 other. My daughter as good as told me so. 
 
 Sir Chas. But girls are apt to flatter themselves, 
 you know. 
 
 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. 
 Marl. I come, Sir, once more, to ask pardon for 
 
98 be Stoops to Conquer 
 
 my strange conduct. I can scarce reflect on my 
 insolence without confusion. 
 
 Hard. Tut, boy, trifle. You take it too gravely. 
 An hour or two's laughing with my daughter will 
 set it all to rights again. She '11 never like you 
 the worse for it. 
 
 Marl. Sir, I shall be always proud of her 
 approbation. 
 
 Hard. Approbation is but a cold word, Mr. 
 Mario w; if I am not deceived, you have something 
 more than approbation thereabouts. You take 
 me? 
 
 Marl. 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. 
 
 Marl. Sure, Sir, nothing has passed between us 
 but the most profound respect on my side, and the 
 most distant reserve on hers. You don't think, 
 Sir, that my impudence has been passed upon all 
 the rest of the family? 
 
 Hard. Impudence! No, I don't say that 
 not quite impudence though girls like to be 
 played with, and rumpled a little, too, sometimes. 
 But she has told no tales, I assure you. 
 
 Marl. I never gave her the slightest cause. 
 
 Hard. Well, well, I like modesty in its place well 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 99 
 
 enough. But this is over-acting, young gentle- 
 man. You may be open. Your father and I will 
 like you the better for it. 
 
 Marl. May I die, Sir, if I ever 
 
 Hard. I tell you, she don't dislike you; and 
 as I 'm sure you like her 
 
 Marl. Dear Sir I protest, Sir 
 
 Hard. I see no reason why you should not be 
 joined as fast as the parson can tie you. 
 
 Marl. But hear me, Sir 
 
 Hard. Your father approves the match, I ad- 
 mire it; every moment's delay will be doing mis- 
 chief, so 
 
 Marl. But why won't you hear me? By all '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. (Aside.) This fellow's formal modest 
 impudence is beyond bearing. 
 
 Sir Chas. And you never grasped her hand or 
 made any protestations ? 
 
 Marl. 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 '11 exact no farther proofs of my duty, 
 
ioo gbe Stoopa to Conquer 
 
 nor prevent me from leaving a house in which I 
 suffer so many mortifications. [Exit. 
 
 Sir Chas. 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 Chas. 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. 
 
 Hard. Kate, come hither, child. Answer us 
 sincerely and without reserve: has Mr. Marlow 
 made you any professions of love and affection ? 
 
 Miss Hard. The question is very abrupt, Sir! 
 But since you require unreserved sincerity, I think 
 he has. 
 
 Hard. (To SIR CHARLES.) You see. 
 
 Sir Chas. And pray, Madam, have you and my 
 son had more than one interview? 
 
 Miss Hard. Yes, Sir, several. 
 
 Hard. (To SIR CHARLES.) You see. 
 
 Sir Chas. But did he profess any attach- 
 ment? 
 
 Miss Hard. A lasting one. 
 
 Sir Chas. Did he talk of love? 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 101 
 
 Miss Hard. Much, Sir. 
 
 Sir Chas. Amazing! And all this formally? 
 
 Miss Hard. Formally. 
 
 Hard. Now, my friend, I hope you are 
 satisfied. 
 
 Sir Chas. And how did he behave, Madam? 
 
 Miss Hard. As most professed admirers do : said 
 some civil things of my face; talked much of his 
 want of merit, and the greatness of mine; men- 
 tioned his heart, gave a short tragedy speech, and 
 ended with pretended rapture. 
 
 Sir Chas. Now I 'm perfectly convinced in- 
 deed, I know his conversation among women 
 to be modest and submissive: this forward cant- 
 ing ranting manner by no means describes him; 
 and, I am confident, he never sat for the picture. 
 
 Miss Hard. Then, what, Sir, if I should con- 
 vince you to your face of my sincerity? If you 
 and my papa, in about half an hour, will place 
 yourselves behind that screen, you shall hear 
 him declare his passion to me in person. 
 
 Sir Chas. Agreed. And if I find him what 
 you describe, all my happiness in him must have 
 an end. [Exit. 
 
 Miss Hard. And if you don't find him what 
 I describe I fear my happiness must never have 
 a beginning. [Exeunt. 
 
102 sfoe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 SCENE changes to the back of the garden. 
 Enter HASTINGS. 
 
 Hast. What an idiot am I, to wait here for a 
 fellow who probably takes a delight in mortifying 
 me. He never intended to be punctual, and I 11 
 wait no longer. What do I see? It is he! and 
 perhaps with news of my Constance. 
 
 Enter TONY, booted and spattered. 
 
 Hast. My honest Squire! I now find you a 
 man of your word. This looks like friendship. 
 
 Tony. Ay, I 'm your friend, and the best friend 
 you have in the world, if you knew but all. This 
 riding by night, by the bye, 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? 
 
 Tony. Five-and-twenty miles in two hours and 
 a half is no such bad driving. The poor beasts 
 have smoked for it: Rabbit me, but I 'd rather 
 ride forty miles after a fox than ten with such 
 varment. 
 
 Hast. Well, but where have you left the ladies? 
 I die with impatience. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 103 
 
 Tony. Left them! Why where should I leave 
 them but where I found them ? 
 
 Hast. This is a riddle. 
 
 Tony. Riddle me this then. What 's that 
 goes round the house, and round the house, and 
 never touches the house? 
 
 Hast. I 'm still astray. 
 
 Tony. Why, that 's it, mon. I have led them 
 astray. By jingo, there 's not a pond or a slough 
 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 introuduced them to the 
 gibbet on Heavy-tree Heath; and from that, with 
 a circumbendibus I fairly lodged them in the horse- 
 pond at the bottom of the garden. 
 
 Hast. But no accident, I hope? 
 
 Tony. No, no, only mother is confoundedly 
 frightened. She thinks herself forty miles off. 
 She 's sick of the journey; and the cattle can scarce 
 crawl. So if your horses be ready, you may whip 
 
104 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 off with cousin, and I '11 be bound that no soul here 
 can budge a foot to follow you. 
 
 Hast. My dear friend, how can I be grateful? 
 
 Tony. Ay, now it 's dear friend, noble Squire. 
 Just now, it was all idiot, cub, and run me through 
 the guts. Damn your way of fighting, I say. 
 After we take a knock in this part of the country, 
 we kiss and be friends. But if you had run me 
 through the guts, then I should be dead, and you 
 might go kiss the hangman. 
 
 Hast. The rebuke is just. But I must hasten 
 to relieve Miss Neville: if you keep the old lady em- 
 ployed, I promise to take care of the young one. 
 
 [Exit HASTINGS. 
 
 Tony. Never fear me. Here she comes. Van- 
 ish! She 's got from the pond, and draggled up 
 to the waist like a mermaid. 
 
 Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Oh, Tony, I 'm killed! Shook! 
 Battered to death. I shall never survive it. That 
 last jolt, that laid us against the quickset hedge, 
 has done my business. 
 
 Tony. Alack, Mamma, it was all your own 
 fault. You would be for running away by night, 
 without knowing one inch of the way. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. I wish we were at home again. I 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 105 
 
 never met so many accidents in so short a journey. 
 Drenched in the mud, overturned in a ditch, stuck 
 fast in a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to lose 
 our way. Whereabouts do you think we are, 
 Tony? 
 
 Tony. By my guess we should come upon 
 Crackskull Common, about forty miles from 
 home. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. lud! O lud! The most notorious 
 spot in all the country. We only want a robbery 
 to make a complete night on 't. 
 
 Tony. Don't be afraid, Mamma, don't be 
 afraid. Two of the five that kept here are hanged, 
 and the other three may not find us. Don't be 
 afraid. Is that a man that 's galloping behind us? 
 No; it 's only a tree. Don't be afraid. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. The fright will certainly kill me. 
 
 Tony. Do you see anything like a black hat 
 moving behind the thicket ? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Oh, death! 
 
 Tony. No; it 's only a cow. Don't be afraid, 
 Mamma; don't be afraid. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. As I 'm alive, Tony, I see a man 
 coming towards us. Ah! I 'm sure on 't. If he 
 perceives us we are undone. 
 
 Tony. (Aside.) Father-in-law, by all that 's 
 unlucky, come to take one of his night walks. 
 
io6 sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 (To her.) Ah! it 's a highwayman with pistols as 
 long as my arm. A damn'd ill-looking fellow. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Good Heaven defend us! He 
 approaches. 
 
 Tony. Do you hide yourself in that thicket, 
 and leave me to manage him. If there be any 
 danger, 1 11 cough, and cry hem. When I cough, 
 be sure to keep close. 
 [MRS. HARDCASTLE hides behind a tree In the back 
 
 scene. 
 Enter HARDCASTLE. 
 
 Hard. I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people 
 in want of help. Oh, Tony ! is that you ? I did not 
 expect you so soon back. Are your mother and 
 her charge in safety? 
 
 Tony. Very safe, Sir, at my Aunt Pedigree's. 
 Hem. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Ah, death! I 
 find there 's danger. 
 
 Hard. Forty miles in three hours; sure that's 
 too much, my youngster. 
 
 Tony. Stout horses and willing minds make 
 short journeys, as they say. Hem. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Sure he'll do the 
 dear boy no harm. 
 
 Hard. But I heard a voice here; I should be 
 glad to know from whence it came. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 107 
 
 Tony. It was I, Sir, talking to myself, Sir. I 
 was saying that forty miles in four hours was 
 very good going. Hem. As to be sure it was. 
 Hem. I have got a sort of cold by going out in 
 the air. Well go in, if you please. Hem. 
 
 Hard. But if you talked to yourself you did not 
 answer yourself. I'm certain I heard two voices, 
 and am resolved (raising his voice) to find the 
 other out. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Oh! he 's coming 
 to find me out. Oh! 
 
 Tony. What need you go, Sir, if I tell you? 
 Hem. I 11 lay down my life for the truth hem 
 I 11 tell you all, Sir. (Detaining him.) 
 
 Hard. I tell you I will not be detained. I in- 
 sist on seeing. It 's in vain to expect I '11 believe 
 you. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Running forward from behind.) 
 O lud! he 11 murder my poor boy, my darling! 
 Here, good gentleman, whet your rage upon me. 
 Take my money, my life, but spare that young 
 gentleman; spare my child, if you have any mercy. 
 
 Hard. My wife, as I 'm a Christian. From 
 whence can she come? or what does she mean? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Kneeling.) Take compassion on 
 us, good Mr. Highwayman. Take our money, 
 our watches, all we have, but spare our lives. We 
 
io8 gbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 will never bring you to justice; indeed we won't, 
 good Mr. Highwayman. 
 
 Hard. I believe the woman 's out of her senses. 
 What! Dorothy, don 't you know me? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Mr. Hardcastle, as I 'm alive! My 
 fears blinded me. But who, my dear, could have 
 expected to meet you here, in this frightful place, 
 so far from home? What has brought you to 
 follow us? 
 
 Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your 
 wits? So far from home, when ,you are within 
 forty yards of your own door! (To him.) 
 This is one of your old tricks, you graceless rogue, 
 you. (To her.) Don't you know the gate and 
 the mulberry-tree; and don't you remember the 
 horse-pond, my dear? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Yes, I shall remember the horse- 
 pond as long as I live; I have caught my death in 
 it. (To TONY.) And is it to you, you graceless 
 varlet, I owe all this ? 1 11 teach you to abuse your 
 mother, I will. 
 
 Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you 
 have spoiled me, and so you may take the fruits 
 on't. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. I '11 spoil you, I will. 
 
 [Follows him off the stage. Exit. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 109 
 
 Hard. There 's morality, however, in his reply. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter HASTINGS and Miss NEVILLE. 
 
 Hast. My dear Constance, why will you delib- 
 erate thus? If we delay a moment, all is lost for 
 ever. Pluck up a little resolution, and we shall 
 soon be out of the reach of her malignity. 
 
 Miss Nev. I find it impossible. My spirits are 
 so sunk with the agitations I have suffered, that I 
 am unable to face any new danger. Two or three 
 years' patience will at last crown us with happiness. 
 
 Hast. Such a tedious delay is worse than in- 
 constancy. Let us fly, my charmer. Let us date 
 our happiness from this very moment. Perish 
 fortune! Love and content will increase what we 
 possess beyond a monarch's revenue. Let me 
 prevail! 
 
 Miss Nev. No, Mr, Hastings, no. Prudence 
 once more comes to my relief, and I will obey its 
 dictates. In the moment of passion, fortune may 
 be despised, but it ever produces a lasting repent- 
 ance. I 'm resolved to apply to Mr. Hardcastle's 
 compassion and justice for redress. 
 
 Hast. But though he had the will, he has not 
 the power to relieve you. 
 
i 10 sfoe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Miss Nev. But he has influence, and upon that 
 I am resolved to rely. 
 
 Hast. I have no hopes. But since you persist, 
 I must reluctantly obey you. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE changes. 
 Enter SIR CHARLES and Miss HARDCASTLB. 
 
 Sir Chas. What a situation am I in! If what 
 you say appears, I shall then find a guilty son. If 
 what he says be true, I shall then lose one that, of 
 all others, I most wished for a daughter. 
 
 Miss Hard. I am proud of your approbation; 
 and to show I merit it, if you place yourselves as 
 I directed, you shall hear his explicit declaration. 
 But he comes. 
 
 Sir Chas. I '11 to your father, and keep him to 
 the appointment. [Exit SIR CHARLES. 
 
 Enter MARLOW. 
 
 Marl. Though prepared for setting out, I come 
 once more to take leave; nor did I, till this mo- 
 ment, know the pain I feel in the separation. 
 
 Miss Hard. (In her own natural manner.) I 
 believe these sufferings cannot be very great, Sir, 
 which you can so easily remove. A day or two 
 longer perhaps, might lessen your uneasiness, by 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 1 1 1 
 
 showing the little value of what you now think 
 proper to regret. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) This girl every moment im- 
 proves upon me. (To her.) It must not be, 
 Madam. I have already trifled too long with my 
 heart. My very pride begins to submit to my 
 passion. The disparity of education and fortune, 
 the anger of a parent, and the contempt of my 
 equals, begin to lose their weight; and nothing 
 can restore me to myself but this painful effort of 
 resolution. 
 
 Miss Hard. Then go, Sir: I '11 urge nothing 
 more to detain you. Though my family be as 
 good as hers you come down to visit, and my edu- 
 cation, I hope, not inferior, what are these 
 advantages without equal affluence. I must re- 
 main contented with the slight approbation of im- 
 puted merit; I must have only the mockery of 
 your addresses, while all your serious aims are 
 fixed on fortune. 
 
 Enter HARDCASTLE and SIR CHARLES, from behind. <^ 
 
 Sir. Chas. Here, behind this screen. 
 
 Hard. Ay, ay; make no noise. I '11 engage my 
 Kate covers him with confusion at last. 
 
 Marl. By heavens, Madam! fortune was ever 
 my smallest consideration. Your beauty at first 
 
112 
 
 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 caught my eye; for who could see that without 
 emotion? But every moment that I converse 
 with you, steals in some new grace, heightens the 
 picture, and gives it stronger expression. What 
 at first seemed rustic plainness, now appears re- 
 fined simplicity. What seemed forward assurance, 
 now strikes me as the result of courageous inno- 
 cence and conscious virtue. 
 
 Sir Chas. What can it mean? He amazes me! 
 
 Hard. I told you how it would be. Hush! 
 
 Marl. I am now determined to stay, Madam, 
 and I have too good an opinion of my father's 
 discernment, when he sees you, to doubt his 
 approbation. 
 
 Miss Hard. No, Mr. Marlow, I will not, cannot 
 detain you. Do you think I could suffer a con- 
 nection in which there is the smallest room for 
 repentance? Do you think I would take the mean 
 advantage of a transient passion, to load you with 
 confusion? Do you think I could ever relish 
 that happiness which was acquired by lessening 
 yours? 
 
 Marl. By all that 's good, I can have no hap- 
 piness but what 's in your power to grant me! 
 Nor shall I ever feel repentance but in not having 
 seen your merits before. I will stay even contrary 
 to your wishes; and though you should persist to 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 1 1 3 
 
 shun me, I will make my respectful assiduities 
 atone for the levity of my past conduct. 
 
 Miss Hard. Sir, I must entreat you '11 desist. 
 As our acquaintance began, so let it end, in indif- 
 ference. I might have given an hour or two of 
 levity; but seriously, Mr. Marlow, do you think I 
 could ever submit to a connection where I must 
 appear mercenary, and you imprudent? Do you 
 think I could ever catch at the confident addresses 
 of a secure admirer? 
 
 Marl. (Kneeling.) Does this look like security? 
 Does this look like confidence ? No, Madam, every 
 moment that shows me your merit, only serves to 
 increase my diffidence and confusion. Here let 
 me continue 
 
 Sir Chas. I can hold it no longer. Charles, 
 Charles, how hast thou deceived me! Is this your 
 indifference, your uninteresting conversation? 
 
 Hard. Your cold contempt; your formal inter- 
 view! What have you to say now? 
 
 Marl. That I 'm all amazement! What can 
 it mean? 
 
 Hard. It means that you can say and unsay 
 things at pleasure: that you can address a lady in 
 private, and deny it in public: that you have one 
 story for us, and another for my daughter. 
 
 Marl. Daughter! This lady your daughter? 
 
1 14 Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Hard. Yes, Sir, my only daughter; my Kate; 
 whose else should she be? 
 
 Marl. Oh, the devil! 
 
 Miss Hard. Yes, Sir, that very identical tall 
 squinting lady, you were pleased to take me for 
 (courtesying) ; she that you addressed as the mild, 
 modest, sentimental man of gravity, and the bold, 
 forward, agreeable Rattle of the Ladies' Club. 
 Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Marl. Zounds! there 's no bearing this; it 's 
 worse than death! 
 
 Miss Hard. In which of your characters, Sir, 
 will you give us leave to address you? As the fal- 
 tering gentleman, with look on the ground, that 
 speaks just to be heard, and hates hypocrisy; or 
 the loud, confident creature, that keeps it up with 
 Mrs. Mantrap, and old Miss Biddy Buckskin, till 
 three in the morning? Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Marl. O, curse on my noisy head: I never at- 
 tempted to be impudent yet, that I was not taken 
 down! I must be gone. 
 
 Hard. By the hand of my body, but you shall 
 (not. I see it was all a mistake, and I am rejoiced 
 to find it. You shall not, Sir, I tell you. I know 
 she '11 forgive you. Won't you forgive him, Kate? 
 We '11 all forgive you. Take courage, man. 
 
 [They retire, she tormenting him, to the back scene. 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 1 15 
 
 Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE, TONY. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. So, so, they 're gone off. Let them 
 go, I care not. 
 
 Hard. Who gone? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. My dutiful niece and her gentle- 
 man, Mr. Hastings, from town. He who came 
 down with our modest visitor here. 
 
 Sir Chas. Who, my honest George Hastings? 
 As worthy a fellow as lives, and the girl could not 
 have made a more prudent choice. 
 
 Hard. Then, by the hand of my body, I 'm 
 proud of the connection. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Well, if he has taken away the lady, 
 he has not taken her fortune; that remains in this 
 family to console us for her loss. 
 
 Hard.. Sure, Dorothy, you would not be so 
 mercenary? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ay, that 's my affair, not yours. 
 
 Hard. But you know if your son, when of age, 
 refuses to marry his cousin, her whole fortune is 
 then at her own disposal. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ay, but he 's not of age, and she 
 has not thought proper to wait for his refusal. 
 
 Enter HASTINGS and Miss NEVILLB. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Aside.) What, returned so soon! 
 I begin not to like it. 
 
1 1 6 gfoe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 Hast. (To HARDCASTLE.) For my late attempt 
 to fly off with your niece, let my present confusion 
 be my punishment. We are now come back, to 
 appeal from your justice to your humanity. By 
 her father's consent I first paid her my addresses, 
 and our passions were first founded in duty. 
 
 Miss Nev. Since his death, I have been obliged 
 to stoop to dissimulation to avoid oppression. In 
 an hour of levity, I was ready to give up my for- 
 tune to secure my choice: but I am now recovered 
 from the delusion, and hope from your tenderness 
 what is denied me from a nearer connection. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Pshaw, pshaw! this is all but the 
 whining end of a modern novel. 
 
 Hard. Be it what it will, I 'm glad they 're 
 come back to reclaim their due. Come hither, 
 Tony, boy. Do you refuse this lady's hand whom 
 I now offer you? 
 
 Tony. What signifies my refusing? You know 
 I can't refuse her till I 'm of age, father. 
 
 Hard. While I thought concealing your age, 
 boy, was likely to conduce to your improvement, 
 I concurred with your mother's desire to keep it 
 secret. But since I find she turns it to a wrong 
 use, I must now declare you have been of age these 
 three months. 
 
 Tony. Of age! Am I of age, father? 
 
Sbe Stoops to Conquer 1 1 7 
 
 Hard. Above three months. 
 
 Tony. Then you '11 see the first use I '11 make 
 of my liberty. (Taking Miss NEVILLE'S hand.) 
 Witness all men by these presents, that I, Anthony 
 Lumpkin, Esquire, of blank place, refuse you, 
 Constantia Neville, spinster, of no place at all, for 
 my true and lawful wife. So Constance Neville 
 may marry whom she pleases, and Tony Lumpkin 
 is his own man again. 
 
 Sir Chas. O brave Squire! 
 
 Hast. My worthy friend! 
 
 Mrs. Hard. My undutiful offspring! 
 
 Marl. Joy, my dear George, I give you joy 
 sincerely. And could I prevail upon my little 
 tyrant here to be less arbitrary, I should be the 
 happiest man alive, if you would return me the 
 favour. 
 
 Hast. (To Miss HARDCASTLE.) Come, Madam, 
 you are now driven to the very last scene of all 
 your contrivances. I know you like him, I 'm 
 sure he loves you, and you must and shall have 
 him. 
 
 Hard. (Joining their hands.) And I say so too. 
 And, Mr. Marlow, if she makes as good a wife as she 
 has a daughter, I don't believe you '11 ever repent 
 your bargain. So now to supper. To-morrow 
 we shall gather all the poor of the parish about us, 
 
us Sbe Stoops to Conquer 
 
 and the mistakes of the night shall be crowned 
 with a merry morning. So, boy, take her; and as 
 you have been mistaken in the mistress, my wish is, 
 that you may never be mistaken in the wife. 
 
 [Exeunt Omnes. 
 
EPILOGUE 1 
 
 Spoken by Mrs. Bulkley in the character of Miss HARDCASTLB 
 
 WELL, having stooped to conquer with success, 
 And gain'd a husband without aid from dress, 
 Still, as a barmaid, I could wish it too, 
 As I have conquer'd him to conquer you: 
 And let me say, for all your resolution, 
 That pretty barmaids have done execution. 
 Qur life is a play, composed to please, 
 "We have our exits and our entrances." 
 The first act shows the simple country maid, 
 Harmless and young, of everything afraid ; 
 Blushes when hir'd, and with unmeaning action, 
 11 1 hopes as how to give you satisfaction." 
 Her second act displays a livelier scene 
 The unblushing barmaid of a country inn 
 Who whisks about the house, at market caters, 
 Talks loud, coquets the guests, and scolds the waiters. 
 
 * Goldsmith wrote two other Epilogues to this Comedy, neither 
 of which however appear to have been spoken. See Vol. I., pp. i8a, 
 187 and Vol. X., Letter xxvi. 
 
 119 
 
120 Bptlogue 
 
 Next the scene shifts to town, and there she soars. 
 
 The chop-house toast of ogling connoisseurs. 
 
 On 'squires and cits she there displays her arts, 
 
 And on the gridiron broils her lovers' hearts 
 
 And as she smiles, her triumphs to complete, 
 
 E'en common-councilmen forget to eat. 
 
 The fourth act shows her wedded to the 'squire, 
 
 And madam now begins to hold it higher; 
 
 Pretends to taste, at operas cries caro! 
 
 And quits her Nancy Dawson, for Che Faroj 
 
 Boats upon dancing, and in all her pride 
 
 Swims round the room, the Heinel of Cheapside 1 i 
 
 Ogles and leers with artificial skill, 
 
 Till, having lost in age the power to kill, 
 
 She sits all night at cards, and ogles at spadille. 
 
 Such, through our lives the eventful history 
 
 The fifth and last act still remains for me. 
 
 The barmaid now for your protection prays, 
 
 Turns female barrister, and pleads for Bayes. 2 
 
 Madame Heinel was a favourite dancer in London, when this 
 Epilogue was spoken. 
 
 2 In the fourth volume of A Collection of Prologues and Epilogues, 
 4 vols., i2mo, 1779, there is a characteristic full-length portrait 
 of Mrs. Bulkley in the dress she wore when she spoke this epilogue. 
 Mrs. Bulkley (originally Miss Wilford) died in 1792. She was 
 famous as Lady Racket. 
 
EPILOGUE ' 
 
 To be spoken in the character of TONY LUMPKIN 
 BY J. CRADOCK, ESQ. 2 
 
 WELL now all 's ended and my comrades gone, 
 Pray what becomes of "mother's nonly son?" 
 A hopeful blade ! in town I '11 fix my station, 
 And try to make a bluster in the nation; 
 As for my cousin Neville, I renounce her, 
 Off in a crack I '11 carry big Bet Bouncer. 
 
 WHY should not I in the great world appear? 
 I soon shall have a thousand pounds a year! 
 No matter what a man may here inherit, 
 In London 'gad, they 've some regard to spirit. 
 I see the horses prancing up the streets, 
 And big Bet Bouncer bobs to all she meets; 
 
 This came too late to be spoken GOLDSMITH. See Gold- 
 smith's Letter to Cradock, in Vol. X. 
 
 1 Joseph Cradock, Esq., of Gumley in Leicestershire. He was 
 among the last survivors of Goldsmith's circle, and is now favourably 
 remembered by his Memoirs, 5 vols. 8vo, 1828. He died, 
 Dec. 15, 1826, in his 8$th year. 
 
 X2I 
 
122 
 
 Then hoiks to jigs and pastimes ev'ry night 
 Not to the plays they say it a'n't polite; 
 To Sadler's- Well perhaps, or operas go, 
 And once by chance, to the roratorio. 
 Thus here and there, for ever up and down, 
 We '11 set the fashions too to half the town; 
 And then at auctions money ne'er regard, 
 Buy pictures like the great, ten pounds a yard: 
 Zounds, we shall make these London gentry say, 
 We know what 's damn'd genteel as well as they 
 
UETUI 
 
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