V v \/ 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 A Comedy in Three Acts 
 
 BY 
 
 AUGUSTUS THOMAS 
 
 Revised 1916 by AUGUSTUS THOMAS 
 
 Copyright. 1916, by AUGUSTUS THOMAS 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 CAUTION. All persons are hereby warned that "OLI 
 VER GOLDSMITH," being fully protected under the 
 copyright laws of the United States, is subject to 
 royalty, and anyone presenting the play without the 
 consent of the owners or their authorized agents 
 will be liable to the penalties by law provided Ap 
 plication for amateur acting rights must be made to 
 SAMUEL FRENCH. 2S-30 Went 38th street. New York. 
 Application for the professional acting rights must 
 be made to the AMERICAN PLAY COMPANY 33 
 West 42nd Street, New York. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 SAMUEL FRENCH 
 
 PUBLISHER 
 
 28-30 WEST 38TH STREET 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SAMUEL FRENCH. LTD. 
 SOUTHAMPTON STREET 
 STRAND 
 
Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this 
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 been obtained from the publisher, confers no right or license 
 to professionals or amateurs to produce the play publicly or 
 in private for gain or charity. 
 
 In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading 
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 by special arrangement with Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th 
 Street, New York. 
 
 SECTION 28 That any person who wilfully or for profit 
 shall infringe any copyright secured by this act, or who shall 
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 be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction 
 thereof shall be punished by imprisonment for not exceeding 
 one year, or by a fine of not less than one hundred nor more 
 than one thousand dollars, or both ; in the discretion of the 
 court. 
 
 Act of March 4, 1909. 
 
 LOAN r AOC 
 
/I* 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THIS preface is the fourth of a short series pre 
 fixed each to a play. The first dealt with a drama 
 written to exploit a theory: perhaps the most dif 
 ficult starting point that a playwright can take. The 
 second explained a play written to fit a particular 
 actor. The third showed a method of utilizing some 
 bits of material in the playwright s possession and 
 supposed to be funny. 
 
 This preface will tell of the construction of a play 
 about an historical character ; a comedy made from 
 incidents principally authentic and associated in this 
 case with a figure in literary history ; the building of 
 a play about a man more or less well known in 
 anecdote and biography. 
 
 Except for the writer engaged in similar work, it 
 cannot have the interest of the task imposed by the 
 other plays. It is largely a " scissors and paste-pot " 
 undertaking, and is the least difficult and least com 
 mendable of a playwright s performances, except 
 ing, perhaps, the dramatizing of a novel, which it 
 strongly resembles. The finished product, depend 
 ent as it is upon research, can never have the value 
 of a play written by equal experience and based on 
 observation, but dramatic literature would neverthe 
 less be the loser if we eliminated such plays as 
 Richelieu, David Garrick, Edmund Kean, Amy 
 Robsart, Beau Brummell, Nathan Hale, Tom 
 Moore, Disraeli and the like, all made after much 
 the same fashion. It is perhaps pertinent then to 
 repeat the implication of the other prefaces that the 
 series is modestly addressed to workers in the same 
 field. 
 
 I had already made for Mr. Stuart Robson so 
 
 3 
 
 931 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 long and so well known as business associate and 
 fellow artist with Mr. William H. Crane, a drama 
 tization of Mr. Opie Reed s " Jucklins " and had 
 written for him an original comedy called " The 
 Meddler ". Both pieces had served their time and 
 purpose and Mr. Robson was in need of a new 
 vehicle. We were old friends of many years inti 
 mate acquaintance and I had for " Rob " a great 
 respect and real affection. In our earlier days I 
 had been " haunted " with a sense of having known 
 him before ; that consciousness so common of being 
 constantly reminded of some uncertain other. This 
 feeling cleared up one day, with the sudden recogni 
 tion of his resemblance to the profile portraits of 
 Oliver Goldsmith; and the idea being brought to 
 the surface we amused ourselves by my establishing 
 such resemblances of character between the poet 
 and the actor as a tolerant fancy and the absence of 
 vanity would accept. And with the profile and 
 these convivial qualifications " Rob " consented to 
 announce "Oliver Goldsmith" in preparation; and 
 I began training for the play. 
 
 The pitfalls in such a task are the disposition to 
 Crowd a life time into two hours and a half; the 
 temptation to touch briefly all the attractive inci 
 dents in a biography rather than to grasp firmly, 
 and treat thoroughly, the principal dramatic hap 
 pening; the inclination to be episodic, instead of 
 symmetrical and proportionate ; and the weakness 
 to be historically accurate, and historically cribbed, 
 instead of bending the facts to one s purpose and 
 inventing enough line to round out an indicated arc. 
 The fatal wish " to tell all " almost invariably in 
 cludes " the death ", that headsman in so many 
 semi-historical attempts. Now deaths are naturally 
 very definite finishes but unless they affect the emo 
 tions of remaining and very important characters 
 in the play, or are in themselves the result of the 
 
PREFACE. 5 
 
 dramatic clash, their usefulness should be ques 
 tioned. 
 
 The big thing in Goldsmith s life from my point 
 of view was his production of " She Stoops to Con 
 quer ". It was a fairly sized fact in Stuart Rob- 
 son s life, as Tony Lumpkin in that play was a part 
 in which he had won much applause. Also Gold 
 smith s seizing of the idea that was the germ of the 
 play, the mistaking the house of a private gentleman 
 for an inn, was of itself capital material as his own 
 play showed; and in a theatrical use of Goldsmith 
 and his play that initial happening had logical place. 
 
 I therefore decided to make his conception of 
 " She Stoops to Conquer "; the public production of 
 it; and the immediate consequences of its success 
 the subject of the play to be called Oliver Gold 
 smith; and to take the time included in that action 
 for the period we would try to dramatize ; and to 
 make the persons logically or poetically associated 
 with his play, and with Goldsmith during that 
 period, the characters in the play for Stuart 
 Robson. 
 
 Within this restricted field I re-read the few re 
 lated things with which I had any familiarity, and 
 read newly all that these pointed to as valuable: 
 that is to say I read, or re-read, the lives of Gold 
 smith, Doctor Samuel Johnson, David Garrick, Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, Edmund Burke and James Bos- 
 well. I read also the things those men had written. 
 As Goldsmith had drawn upon one misadventure of 
 his own for the idea of " She Stoops to Conquer ", I 
 suspected him of other biographical confessions dis 
 guised in his other writings. I found an excellently 
 humorous situation, rather indifferently treated, in 
 his " Good Natured Man ", where a bailiff and his 
 deputy, in possession of the hero and his premises, 
 are persuaded to disguise themselves as visitors and 
 to be so introduced to some unexpected callers. I 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 had little doubt that in those old days of arrest for 
 small accounts over due; of bribes to bailiffs; of 
 sudden seizure of goods and person ; of the spong 
 ing house; and imprisonment for debt, some such 
 occurrence was within Goldsmith s knowledge and 
 may be experience. In fact his casual, rather than 
 a capital use of it, inclined me to think that perhaps 
 it was too common to be played up strongly; just as 
 some years ago in America, a hotel proprietor, 
 hopefully accompanying some hard up, fly-by-night 
 show company was too recurrent for astonished 
 comment. That was the only scene that I adapted 
 from a Goldsmith play, and there is a singular irony 
 in the fact that it was the only one that was criti 
 cized by a newspaper as being too improbable. 
 
 With " She Stoops to Conquer " as my assem 
 bling point of interest I found these historical facts : 
 
 That it was founded on a blunder of his own 
 previously referred to ; Colman, his manager, ob 
 jected to it on the ground that no such blunder 
 could occur; David Garrick, a rival manager and 
 the friend of Goldsmith was ready to produce the 
 play; Doctor Samuel Johnson thought it excellent 
 and was instrumental in having it done by Col 
 man ; Dr. Johnson suggested the name for it ; Gold 
 smith caned a critic who in reviewing it unfavor 
 ably had unpleasantly connected Goldsmith s name 
 with that of a young lady for whose family Gold 
 smith had acted as escort during a trip on the Con 
 tinent; Goldsmith was familiar with the lines in the 
 part of Tony Lumpkin; Edmund Burke thought it 
 a good play and was very friendly with Goldsmith 
 during the period of its preparation. 
 
 These facts all made " She Stoops " not only a 
 central point for a dramatic story of Goldsmith but 
 they enforced a veritable portrait gallery of notables 
 for the cast, each strongly characterized, and all 
 picturesque to a degree. The most notable of the 
 lot was of course Doctor Johnson. The most lov- 
 
PREFACE. 7 
 
 able and warm-hearted, after Oliver himself, was 
 his fellow Irishman, Edmund Burke ; while the most 
 gallantly picturesque was Garrick. Boswell de 
 lightfully pictures him, holding Johnson by the 
 lapels and dancing about him with laughter, trying 
 to cheer the old man from some fit of displeasure; 
 or making the coffee house club roar with some imi 
 tation of a member ; or playing some protean prank 
 of impersonation. It was all so warm and human 
 and fraternal, the daily association of these gifted 
 men drawn together by their congenial tastes, and 
 their common interest in art, in letters, and in the 
 playhouse for which all were writing, and some 
 what held together by their occasionally equal pov 
 erty. 
 
 In my own observation there had been certain 
 memorable, chimney-corner, nights at the Lambs 
 Club, which gave the nearest modern approach that 
 America furnished to that coffee house atmosphere ; 
 nights in which the gentle influence of Robson him 
 self was measurable, and that made the considera 
 tion of such a play a genuine pleasure. 
 
 The wish to use that earlier group of men made 
 not only a portrait of Goldsmith necessary but 
 called for equal physical resemblance in the others. 
 
 That distinguished writer and illustrator of the 
 present day, Mr. Walter Hale, was at the time of 
 our production an actor ; and while finer looking and 
 more romantic than the portraits of Edmund Burke, 
 he was as strikingly like them as Robson was like 
 the Goldsmith pictures. The nearest approach we 
 could make to Garrick among the American players 
 of prominence was Mr. Henry Dixey. Both these 
 men were tentatively engaged before the play was 
 written and the idea of each was inspiring to the 
 writer. In private life Henry Dixey is so con 
 stantly protean that his existence seems a continu 
 ous series of secondary personalities from long 
 shoreman to grand dukes ; and chameleon like, he 
 
8 PREFACE. 
 
 takes his color from the dominant factor of the 
 running talk, or group composition. If Mr. DeWolf 
 Hopper comes into the circle, Dixey beams as a 
 comic opera buffo. If Dixey meets Mr. Drew on 
 the steps of the club house, out comes the imaginary 
 snuff box and with " Sir John " he exchanges the 
 courtesies of the old English gentleman, and fin 
 ishes by dusting the snuff from his phantom ruffles. 
 
 We were equally fortunate in getting an expon 
 ent for Doctor Johnson in the person of Mr. 
 Weaver, a venerable actor of that time. 
 
 In shaping a first outline of the play for Robson, 
 I felt that the form should be three acts ; and if so 
 that the production of " She Stoops " should serve 
 as act two. The first night itself would be the ap 
 parently logical setting ; but as plays when depicted 
 in the moment of presentation are usually looked at 
 from behind the scenes, and their progress reported 
 by eager relays of couriers from the wings, I felt 
 that a rehearsal that could be shown, was preferable 
 to a performance that had to be only talked about. 
 
 Moreover, the rehearsal, if we introduced Gar- 
 rick, might show the professional side of that actor. 
 It could show Johnson s interest ; and it would give 
 Mr. Goldsmith, as author, a chance to rehearse. 
 Tony Lumpkin, which Mr. Robson would do very 
 well. 
 
 In picking your proposed work up that way by 
 the middle, as a tailor might pick up the basted 
 pattern of a pair of trousers it is well to study a 
 more graceful presentation for the finished prod 
 uct; and the finish of the second act of a three act 
 play is likely to be your climax and most important 
 moment. Years ago Mr. George Broadhurst 
 thought his failures had taught him and the best 
 things a playwright knows are learned that way 
 had taught him that " an audience at your penulti 
 mate curtain will not applaud a thing that they do 
 
PREFACE. 9 
 
 not wish to see happen." I haven t since then found 
 any reason to quarrel with that Broadhurst dictum 
 at that time I resolved to be guided by it. I was 
 to choose from my bulk of material a situation, or 
 using some of it as spring board, was to jump to 
 some invented situation, that would give my hero 
 an emotion stirring moment in the accomplishment 
 of something the audience would like to see take 
 place. 
 
 My memoranda included those items of interest 
 connected with the play and above enumerated and 
 also scores of lines of speech or dialogue trans- 
 scribed from the books, and possibly available to 
 their proper characters, or as suggestions of episode 
 or situation. In a review of them and after I had 
 discounted all personal feeling in judging them, it I 
 still seemed to me that Goldsmith caning a critic 
 was the most spirited and acceptable bit. If the set-\ 
 ting were for a rehearsal, and the company were^ 
 present, the caning could of course not go far with 
 out interference. The critic of the records, a man 
 named Kenrick was a bitter person, but by no means 
 a coward. In that hostile group I had him draw his 
 sword gentlemen still wore them occasionally at 
 that period I gave Garrick the showy bit of wrest 
 ing the sword from him and breaking it while 
 Burke and Johnson restrained Goldsmith from fur 
 ther assault. 
 
 One memorandum was a transcription of the par 
 agraph that had aroused Goldsmith s anger and it 
 contained the phrase " Could the lovely H-K but 
 know " etc. The lovely H-K was understood to 
 be Miss Mary Horneck the young lady who, with 
 her mother and younger sister, had been under 
 Goldsmith s escort in France. The sister, Cather 
 ine, was generally referred to by Goldsmith as " Lit 
 tle Comedy ", and for Mary his regard was evi 
 dently more serious and his address more formal. 
 
jo PREFACE. 
 
 Kenrick s allusion to her implied that Goldsmith s 
 attentions were at least noticeable; and the use of 
 the knowledge in that way indicated an envy, and 
 perhaps a rivalry, on the part of the critic. 
 
 Evidences of Goldsmith s sentimental interests in 
 women are about as rare and as slight as those 
 recorded of George Washington before his meeting 
 with Martha Custis, and any romance constructed 
 from them must hinge upon slender hints. Ken- 
 rick s printed resentment; Goldsmith s prompt can 
 ing of him; and the recorded friendship of the 
 Horneck family for the poet, gave me enough stage 
 license to portray Mary as his sweetheart, and in 
 vent such romance as the sketchy confines of the 
 facts did not violently contradict. Of course Mary 
 should be present at this spontaneous encounter, 
 and bear the most effective relation to the scene that 
 .the playwright could devise. 
 
 To be back of the scenes in the day time, a young 
 lady would need more than the company of a 
 younger sister. I think I found Mrs. Featherstone 
 in Boswell s life of Johnson ; also her connection 
 with the theatre; and her suburban residence I 
 made Kenrick, Goldsmith s avowed rival, and to 
 further enhance Mary s popularity, I made Burke 
 also interested in her. 
 
 When a play in rehearsal is much in doubt there 
 is always considerable flutter between the stage and 
 the box office ; and in the day time the shortest way 
 between these points is through the auditorium. At 
 the time we were doing this for Robson, putting 
 members of the company in the stage boxes was not 
 unknown, but marching actors and ballet girls up 
 and down the aisles of the theatre had not yet been 
 introduced by Sumurun and the Winter Garden 
 we felt that Garrick suddenly appearing in the par 
 quet with Goldsmith, and taking the rehearsal from 
 less experienced hands would be effective as it 
 was. In the text of the play it is rather hard read- 
 
PREFACE. ii 
 
 Ing for the layman to follow the technical shifts in 
 the rehearsal scene, but I knew with the experience 
 of Lambs Club Gambols, what these shifts would be 
 in Dixey s swift changing treatment. Even with 
 the danger of turning this preface into a " gaffer s " 
 
 fossip I must record one episode that was the model 
 or a short passage, again nothing in the printed 
 line, but irresistible with Dixey. The late Dan 
 Daly, gifted comedian and dancer, was bending 
 over a pool table in the club carefully " addressing " 
 a difficult shot; Dixey happened in at the moment 
 and, immediately possessed by the Daly personality, 
 he said in the wooden drawl of Daly s, " Do you 
 think you can make that shot " and followed the 
 speech with the stencil " break " of the clog dancer, 
 rap tap a raptap rap tap tap. Daly didn t alter his 
 pose a particle but with his left hand still making a 
 bridge on the cloth and divining the imitator with 
 out looking around, answered in the same tone, " I 
 don t know, but I mean to try " ; and in true mum 
 mer masonry followed his speech with a repetition 
 of the clog finish; rap tap a raptap rap tap tap; 
 and capped the last step with the rythmic stroke of 
 the billiard cue, and a successful shot. Neither co 
 median smiled although the score or so of onlook 
 ers roared with laughter. I paraphrased that 
 spirited exchange and gave it to Dixey and the 
 young comic who did " props ". 
 
 The incidents related and referred to made a 
 sufficiently full second act and the preparation for 
 them enforced an adequate first one. 
 
 For the third act the advisable thing was to carry 
 the Mary Horneck interest to an implied promise of 
 marriage; to show Goldsmith in his historic attic; 
 and display the help of Johnson, Burke and Gar- 
 rick in those trying days. The sordid arrest for 
 debt was modified by Goldsmith s own device of 
 dressing up the bailiff ; and made further useful by 
 having the bailiff not genuine, but a masquerade of 
 
12 PREFACE. 
 
 Garrick s, undertaken to keep Goldsmith, an inex 
 perienced swordsman, from a duel with Kenrick 
 who had some knowledge of the weapon. This was 
 the act that offered an over numerous choice of con 
 struction and treatment. Goldsmith could have 
 been shown as suffering, and dying in want, as he 
 finally did, but a more cheerful period was just as 
 accurate, and more closely related to the production 
 of his comedy, which, as was stated earlier, was 
 chosen as the cohesive idea for the play printed 
 herewith. 
 
 I should like more definitely to indicate my in 
 debtedness for such lines as were transcribed from 
 various historical sources, but at this late day I find 
 it is not possible in all cases to tell the borrowed 
 from the invented speeches. A few weeks reading 
 of Johnson, Boswell, Goldsmith, Burke and Garrick 
 saturates one with the manner of the day, and, when 
 needed, a little sympathetic reflection gives even the 
 manner of the individual. Nothing in fact is much 
 easier than such imitation and I naturally practiced 
 it wherever it did not halt the action. It is a plea 
 sure to record Stuart Robson s success in the part, 
 and to acknowledge the many illuminating touches 
 his gentle art brought to the presentation. A fact 
 that gratified him profoundly was the disposition, 
 largely inspired by the advance agent I suspect, of 
 the English literature classes of the various semi 
 naries to come in large parties to see his play. 
 Their undiluted interest and fluttering approval 
 were more valued than the praise of the profes 
 sional critics ; the gentlemen of the press were look 
 ing at the actor, but the girls in the senior division 
 were seeing Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 Augustus Thomas. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 A PLAY IN THREE ACTS. 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS IN ORDER OF 
 THEIR APPEARANCE. 
 
 SARAH FEATHERSTONE Jeffreys Lewis 
 
 MARY HORNECK Florence Rockwell 
 
 EDMUND BURKE Walter Hale 
 
 FEATHERSTONE Edward Dodge 
 
 ROGER Walter Clews 
 
 DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON H. A. Weaver 
 
 BOSWELL Beaumont Smith 
 
 DAVID GARRICK Harry Dixey 
 
 CATHERINE HORNECK Helen Mortimer 
 
 KENRICK Ogden Stevens 
 
 CAPT. HORNECK Clifford Leigh 
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH Stuart Robson 
 
 LEADER ORCHESTRA 
 PROPERTY MAN 
 PROMPTER 
 
 COLMAN Joseph P. Winter 
 
 DRUMMOND Bert Washburn 
 
 MR. QUIRK 
 
 LITTLE MARY Monica Harris 
 
 LITTLE ANNIE Rice a Scott 
 
 MRS. HIGGINS Bessie Scott 
 
 TWITCH Harry Dixey 
 
 FLANNIGAN James Grant 
 
 BIFF Charles E. Long 
 
 13 
 
14 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 ACT I. Scene Interior of an old English 
 country-house. Main room done in 
 oak. 
 
 ACT II. Theatre. Stage set for rehearsal and 
 one or two of leading characters 
 make their entrance through the 
 audience. 
 
 ACT III. A garret. GOLDSMITH S historical 
 lodgings in London. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE : Interior of hall of English country house. 
 Low ceiling with beams. At back and center 
 is fireplace with heavy shelf and inglenook 
 seats seats are about ten feet apart. To left 
 of inglenook is square opening five feet wide 
 into reception hall. To R. of inglenook is flight 
 of four steps and platform going to arch lead- 
 ing off through wall R. The steps and landing 
 come into stage from back flat. There are also 
 double width openings in I R. and I L. with in 
 terior backings. The one R. is to dining room. 
 The one L. to music room and gallery. There 
 is a bay window L. u. E. A stag s head is over 
 fireplace. Window is fitted with seat. Be 
 tween window and door is old black wood set 
 tle. There is a massive round top mahogany 
 table down R. c. with high back heavy arm 
 chairs to match. Walls are wainscoted and 
 finished above in terra cotta. Ceiling between 
 beams is plain dark wood. 
 
 DISCOVERED : MRS. FEATHERSTONE on landing 
 of steps. She is a wholesome and robust lady 
 about forty years old and wears the Kate 
 Hard castle dress of the period. She is looking 
 R. I and smiling in anticipation. Enter MARY 
 HORNECK from R. MARY starts up steps. MRS. 
 FEATHERSTONE smiles and exit. MARY is a 
 15 
 
16 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 beautiful girl of twenty. Enter EDMUND 
 BURKE, R. BURKE has followed MARY. He is 
 the young BURKE of the early portraits. 
 
 BURKE. Mary. (Goes to side of staircase) 
 
 MARY. Mr. Burke. 
 
 BURKE. A moment with you. 
 
 MARY. Well. 
 
 BURKE. (Gallantly, yet with diffidence as he 
 talks to her over the banister) It isn t an Irish 
 man s way to stammer, or grow still, before the face 
 of a woman he loves, but I seem an alien and a 
 weakling whin I try to spake to you. 
 
 MARY. I hope you will say no more, Mr. Burke. 
 
 BURKE. That may be justice, Miss Mary but it 
 isn t hope (Defers) Won t you come down. 
 Ye ll be far enough above me wherever ye stand. 
 
 MARY. (Coming down to stage) I don t feel 
 that way. You re only a boy, you know and I 
 want you to remember some day to my credit that 
 I say the time will come when the name of Edmund 
 Burke will have magic in it. 
 
 BURKE. If thinkin of you could make it so 
 
 MARY. (Stopping him) Not that Don t think 
 of me. 
 
 BURKE. That may be what the God o Day says 
 to the sun flower but 
 
 MARY. (Compassionate and smiling) Oh Burke 
 you boys of Ireland you say those things. 
 
 BURKE. We feel them. 
 
 MARY. You think you do. 
 
 BURKE. We prove it whin we may. Give me a 
 chance to die for you. 
 
 MARY. Nonsense ! I ll give you a chance to live 
 for yourself. You re just a boy, Ned Burke 
 
 BURKE. I m older n you 
 
 MARY. (Not regarding the interruption) You re 
 filled with a great strength that s ready to lavish 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 17 
 
 5tself on some ideal. You think now that / am that ; 
 and as you say you d die for me 
 
 BURKE. (In fervor almost tearful) With a 
 smile 
 
 MARY. Yes, you spendthrift " with a smile " 
 but no woman is worthy of the sacrifice. 
 
 BURKE. (Accusing) You don t love me, Mary 
 Horneck. 
 
 MARY. (Smiling) No, Burke, I don t love you. 
 
 BURKE. If I were only an Englishman 
 
 MARY. (Imitating him) Burke whisper if 
 ever I marry any man twill be an Irishman. (Runs 
 up the stairs) 
 
 BURKE. (Eagerly) Mary (She turns on the 
 landing and laughs over the rail) Is it Goldsmith? 
 
 MARY. I won t tell you. You d be a dangerous 
 rival. 
 
 BURKE. To him, Nolly Goldsmith? Why with 
 him I d divide me last glass of liquor. 
 
 MARY. (Piquantly) " Your last glass." I m 
 told you never knew it. ( BURKE waves hand down 
 in a " shoo fly " manner. Exit MARY R. thru arch at 
 landing) 
 
 BURKE. English? She s no more English than 
 the Goddess of Liberty. 
 
 (Enter FEATHERSTONE R. He is the host ample 
 and well to do.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Where are the ladies ? 
 
 BURKE. Like the angels, Mr. Featherstone 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Eh 
 
 BURKE. Above. (Exit i R.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Calling up to stairway) 
 Sarah, Sarah dear (Pause) Sarah 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Upstairs) Yes William. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. A moment, my love. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Appearing on steps) 
 What is it? (Burst of laughter i R.) 
 
i8 OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (With the nervousness of the 
 man giving the party ) Don t keep the ladies too 
 long above. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Why, William, what have 
 I to do with it? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. I know, my dear I know but 
 let s have no formality. I mean I m going to order 
 our tea in here; and pipes Mr. Garrick s in one of 
 his best moods, and the ladies must be with us. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Very well, William. It s 
 good of you, and thoughtful. (Starts off) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. But wait, Sarah! until I ve got 
 em here and well in hand; and then just happen 
 down as it were, and so on ; and of course the ladies 
 will excuse the pipes or it s no doing it at all. 
 (Taps gong on mantel and is fussy) 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Of course, dear. 
 
 (Enter servant from hall) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Roger, I m home to no one, un 
 derstand ? 
 
 ROGER. Yes sir. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. That s all. (To wife) I 
 wouldn t have this evening spoiled by any soul in 
 Blackheath happening in not for a fortune. Air. 
 Boswell has his note book in hand, and I m told 
 that s a sign Doctor Johnson will say something 
 notable. Now look to it, Sarah. (Motions her off) 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Yes, William. (Exit) 
 
 (Enter JOHNSON R. i. He is heavy and positive. 
 The Doctor JOHNSON of the dictionary.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Why, Doctor? 
 
 JOHNSON. , (In unctuous diction) Oh, Mr. 
 Featherstone, sir. I have not met with any man for 
 a long time who has given me such general dis 
 pleasure. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 19 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. As whom, sir? 
 
 (Enter BOSWELL R. following JOHNSON atten 
 tively. ) 
 
 JOHNSON. (Going c.) That man Kenrick. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. He is a friend of Captain Hor- 
 neck, sir. 
 
 JOHNSON. So much the worse, sir, for Captain 
 Horneck. (Goes L. of table. Laughter off) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. What has Mr. Kenrick done, 
 Doctor? How offended you? 
 
 ( BOSWELL comes attentively back of table.) 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir, he swears; and talks bawdy; and 
 to annoy me, Davy Garrick encourages him by his 
 laughter. 
 
 BOSWELL. Oh, sir I think that cannot be Mr. 
 Garrick s intention. 
 
 JOHNSON. (In stormy temper) Sir, I have 
 known David Garrick longer than you have done: 
 and I know no right you have to talk to me on 
 the subject. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (To BOSWELL) It doesn t look 
 so promising for our pleasant evening. 
 
 BOSWELL. Don t think of me, sir. I deserved 
 the check (Goes L. c.) 
 
 (Enter GARRICK. He is in full dress and court- 
 wig and with the ease and grace of the prac 
 ticed actor.) 
 
 GARRICK. (Laughing) How now, Doctor you 
 leave us just when I ve reduced every listener to a 
 comatose condition and your audience was ready 
 for you. 
 
 (JOHNSON waves him off.) 
 
20 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Dr. Johnson thinks Mr. Ken- 
 rick is too broad in his converse, sir. 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir, I think him too narrow 
 
 BOSWELL. Doctor Kenrick spoke disrespectfully 
 of Bishops. 
 
 GARRICK. Yes but of a Roman Bishop 
 
 JOHNSON. All churchmen, sir, stand for the idea 
 of immortality ; and if it wasn t for the idea of im 
 mortality this fellow Kenrick would cut throats to 
 fill his pocket. 
 
 GARRICK. You wrong him, believe me. I know 
 Kenrick very well. He d cut throats to fill his 
 pocket if it wasn t for the fear of being hanged. 
 (Laughs) 
 
 (Enter BURKE.) 
 
 BURKE. (Laughing) Not me You fellows are 
 dev lish cunning but you can t unload the gentle 
 man onto me. 
 
 GARRICK. Who is he? 
 
 BURKE. I m damned if I know. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Growling) Ugh! (Glares at 
 BURKE. GARRICK mimics him- in tone and manner, 
 to the quiet amusement of all but BOSWELL. Pause) 
 I don t like to say anything against the man behind 
 his back but I think he s an attorney. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Oh no, sir Captain Horneck 
 fetched him as company to one of his sisters 
 
 GARRICK. (Glancing at BURKE) Oh, then 
 clearly not an attorney. 
 
 BURKE. To the devil with you, Garrick, an at 
 torney ; a coach and six to a player. 
 
 JOHNSON. Why look you, Mr. Burke, Garrick 
 refuses a play or a part that he doesn t like 
 
 BURKE. Well, sir? 
 
 JOHNSON. A lawyer never does. 
 
 GARRICK. (Playfully catching JOHNSON by the 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 21 
 
 coat) Now attend me, sir In a bout with Ned 
 Burke and his Irish imagination for facts, I may 
 need a bit of friendly help, but I don t need a three- 
 decker. (Dances about him as JOHNSON grows 
 serious) Come, cheer up, old Grumpy. 
 
 JOHNSON. Why, Davy, I d consent to the ampu 
 tation of a limb to have my spirits restored. 
 
 GARRICK. It s more simply done. Come, take the 
 head of the table (Raps on it) and say " gentle 
 men! Who s for poonsli." (Mimics JOHNSON) 
 
 JOHNSON. (Smiling) Don t pretend to mimic 
 me, you rascal. I don t say poonsh. 
 
 BOSWELL. Sir, your pardon but I ve often noted 
 that you do so in moments of deep abstraction. 
 
 BURKE. Faith there s politeness. He calls it 
 " deep abstraction." 
 
 JOHNSON. Mr. Boswell, I wish you d make a 
 trip through through Spain. 
 
 BOSWELL. (Writing) Through Spain, sir? 
 
 JOHNSON. Yes on foot. 
 
 BOSWELL. On fuit, sir. 
 
 GARRICK. (Mimicing) The gentleman said on 
 fuit. 
 
 BOSWELL. Now he mimics me, sir. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Sits) Does he (Raps) Well, 
 gentlemen who is for " poonsh." (Glares at GAR 
 RICK) 
 
 GARRICK. And London says he taught me Eng 
 lish. (All laugh) 
 
 JOHNSON. A clever ruse, sir (Pause) But 
 nobody taught you English. 
 
 (Laughter in which JOHNSON leads boisterously. 
 Exit JOHNSON laughing.) 
 
 GARRICK. He laughs like a rhinoceros. 
 (Enter CATHERINE to landing of stairs.) 
 
22 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 BURKE. You re a true comedian, Davy yoti 
 can t stand the laugh at your expense. (Exit) 
 
 GARRICK. I never have to. (Following) 
 
 CATHERINE. Mr. Garrick! 
 
 GARRICK. Ah! what light thro* yonder window; 
 shines ? (" Takes the stage ") 
 
 CATHERINE. Don t play-act, David I ve only 
 a moment Mary wishes some excuse to call us 
 home. 
 
 GARRICK. Why ? 
 
 CATHERINE. She didn t know this man was to be 
 here. 
 
 GARRICK. Which man ? 
 
 CATHERINE. Kenrick. 
 
 GARRICK. Does Mary dislike Kenrick? 
 
 CATHERINE. Don t you? 
 
 GARRICK. I ? Naturally He s a dramatic critic 
 but Mary s not an actress. 
 
 CATHERINE. Can t you pretend a message has 
 come for us? 
 
 GARRICK. (In his romantic manner) I can 
 but I won t Do you think my sweet lady, that you 
 may make eyes at me night after night from the 
 stalls where the orange girls and the bailiffs pro 
 tect you and then escape me with my consent the 
 first time that chance throws us together in a coun 
 try house ha ha 
 
 CATHERINE. Please do Mary ll be so grate 
 ful 
 
 GARRICK. Now (Takes her hand anad drama 
 tizes the balcony) 
 
 CATHERINE. Don t do that. 
 
 GARRICK. I would I were a glove upon that 
 hand 
 
 CATHERINE. Mrs. Featherstone is calling me. 
 
 GARRICK. Say " Bye and Bye I come." 
 
 CATHERINE. David don t be stupid. 
 
 GARRICK. (With her hand) By Jove not big- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 23 
 
 ger than a puff ball and soft as a kitten s to think 
 how they ve made my heart flutter when I ve seen 
 you patting them together at the play. 
 
 CATHERINE. This is very unkind of you some 
 one may come. 
 
 GARRICK. (Shaking head) Don t allow them at 
 rehearsals. 
 
 CATHERINE. (Pretending to be offended) Oh, 
 this is a rehearsal, is it ? 
 
 GARRICK. Did you think it was the finished per 
 formance? Ha ha Bless your sweet innocence 
 I shall do this so much better for you some day. 
 
 CATHERINE. (Withdrawing her hand) I had no 
 idea you were this kind of a man, David. 
 
 GARRICK. Nor I ? You see what a demoralizing 
 influence you are now I suppose you mean to cast 
 me off when your plain duty is to undo the mis 
 chief by reforming me. 
 
 CATHERINE. (Nursing her hand) My hand 
 really pains. 
 
 GARRICK. Of course it does never be easy 
 again until you give it to me. (Starts to regain her 
 hand) 
 
 (Enter servant with tea and pipes.) 
 
 CATHERINE. Don t 
 
 GARRICK. (As servant puts tray on table) An 
 gels and ministers of grace defend us 
 
 CATHERINE. You goose. 
 
 GARRICK. (As servant exit) Look where it 
 goes, even now, out at the portal. 
 
 CATHERINE. (Going) Not a sincere bone in 
 your body. 
 
 GARRICK. Catherine. (Exit CATHERINE) 
 
 (Enter FEATHERSTONE and JOHNSON.) 
 FEATHERSTONE. Gentlemen, the tea. 
 
24 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 (Enter KENRICK and CAPTAIN HORNECK. KEN- 
 RICK is sinister CAPTAIN HORNECK the 
 brother of CATHERINE and MARY is the frank 
 young Englishman.) 
 
 CAPTAIN. (Laughing) Tell that to Mr. Gar- 
 rick. He ll put it into a play. 
 
 (Enter BURKE.) 
 
 GARRICK. (Lighting a pipe up c.) What is it? 
 
 CAPTAIN. Tell it, Kenrick. 
 
 KENRICK. (Producing coin) A bad guinea 
 In Fleet Street last week a drab of a woman locked 
 arms with me 
 
 JOHNSON. I trust, sir, no one saw the poor crea 
 ture. 
 
 KENRICK. I think not. I couldn t begin to. 
 (Laughs) 
 
 BURKE. And you re not hard to please, sir? 
 (Takes a pipe) 
 
 KENRICK. No but I had this bad guinea in my 
 pocket so I said " render to Caesar," etc. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Rising) Stop, sir I won t have the 
 gospel lightly quoted in my hearing to embellish the 
 story of a harlot 
 
 KENRICK. Is that gospel I associated it with 
 the " Rambler " and this feminine member of that 
 fraternity revived it. (Business of hard hit in 
 pantomime between GARRICK and BURKE) At any 
 rate I gave her the guinea to be rid of her. Well, 
 it seems she knew me; and blast my eyes if she 
 didn t turn up at my lodgings the next day with 
 an officer swear I d given her the guinea in a fair 
 exchange and force me to make restitution ha ha. 
 How is that? (Throws guinea on table) 
 
 HORNECK. I say good for a play? 
 
 GARRICK. (Takes coin mechanically) Very 
 good for a play because a play s all counterfeit. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 25 
 
 (Enter servant with bowl of punch. GARRICK 
 plays with the guinea a moment and with KEN- 
 RICK S consent keeps it.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Here s the punch, gentlemen. 
 I hope you ll take charge of it, Doctor Johnson. 
 (JOHNSON stirs punch) 
 
 KENRICK. Hear hear In vino veritas Good 
 liquor s a fine thing for arriving to the truth. Isn t 
 it, Doctor Johnson ? 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir, it is. If a man must keep com 
 pany with a liar. (Pause) Mr. Burke, may I help 
 you. 
 
 BURKE. After that, not first, sir. 
 
 GARRICK. (Tragically) "I ll cross it tho* it 
 blast me." (Takes the cup) 
 
 (MRS. FEATHERSTONE and CATHERINE appear on 
 stairs.) 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. May we come too if we 
 promise to be very good? 
 
 GARRICK. (Acting the Herald) The ladies. 
 
 JOHNSON. Madame! Come! We beg of you. 
 (Men start to put out pipes) 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Oh no. You must smoke, 
 gentlemen. I like it, and I think my young friends 
 must learn to do the same. (Defers to the girls) 
 
 CAPTAIN. (Laughing) Why bless you, gentle 
 men, my sisters are as used to the smell of tobacco 
 as I am to that of musk. 
 
 GARRICK. (In general appeal) Can one go 
 further? 
 
 CAPTAIN. (As he leads them down) Where s 
 Mary? 
 
 CATHERINE. Mary will join us immediately. 
 
 (They take seats.) 
 
2 6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Doctor Johnson. 
 
 JOHNSON. Madame. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Mr. Featherstone has 
 promised us that you are to read some verses of 
 Doctor Goldsmith. 
 
 CATHERINE. Oh, how delightful. 
 
 KENRICK. You evidently haven t heard them, 
 Miss Catherine. 
 
 CATHERINE. You dreadful man. Its awful to 
 be a critic, isn t it, Doctor Johnson ? 
 
 JOHNSON. Awful is not the word, my dear. 
 
 BOSWELL. How would you define a critic? 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir, a critic is an intellectual capon, 
 a biped who gets fat because it produces nothing. 
 
 (KENRICK affects a smile BURKE and GARRICK 
 exchange looks BOSWELL makes a note.) 
 
 (Enter MARY.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Miss Mary, we are waiting for 
 
 you. 
 
 OMNES. Miss Mary. 
 
 KENRICK. Have this chair, Miss Mary? 
 
 MARY. Thank you. 
 
 KENRICK. It is comfortable to sleep in; and 
 Doctor Johnson is going to read some verses. 
 
 MRS FEATHERSTONE. By Doctor Goldsmith. 
 
 CATHERINE. Dear Goldsmith, I think he s the 
 homeliest man alive. 
 
 KENRICK. And you say that in the presence of 
 his friend, Doctor Johnson. (Turns away laugh 
 ing) 
 
 MARY. I ve read his verses. 
 
 JOHNSON. The Traveller? 
 
 MARY. Yes. And / never more shall think Dr. 
 Goldsmith ugly. , 
 
 JOHNSON. My dear girl that sentiment ad- 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 27 
 
 vances your entire sex in the good opinion of the 
 world. 
 
 KENRICK. Do you believe, sir, that Goldsmith 
 wrote the verses himself? 
 
 JOHNSON. I do. 
 
 GARRICK. And I. 
 
 BURKE. And let me tell you that s believing a 
 great deal. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Despairing) Well, have all heard 
 them? 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Not I. 
 
 CATHERINE. Nor I. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Nor I. 
 
 CAPTAIN. Nor I. 
 
 BOSWELL. Nor have I heard them. 
 
 JOHNSON. Very well (Begins to read) "The 
 Traveller : Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow 
 
 H 
 
 (Noise in hall.) 
 
 OMNES. Sh 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Stop that noise, Roger. 
 
 (All look toward L. u. E.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Outside) The best room in the 
 house, mind you, and something hot to eat. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Rising) Why, what can it be? 
 (ROGER appears at the door smiling) 
 
 GARRICK. That s Goldy s voice. Do you expect 
 him? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. No sir. Well, Roger? 
 
 ROGER. (Suppressing a smile) A gentleman, 
 sir, has mistook the house for an inn. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. An inn. 
 
 ROGER. He s sending his cab away. 
 
 GARRICK. (Quickly and with eager enjoyment) 
 Small gentleman Irish, 
 men? 
 
28 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 ROGER. I should say Irish, sir. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Off) Come, come, lad here s 
 my bag. Lend a hand to it. 
 
 BURKE. (Rapidly) Oliver Goldsmith for all 
 the world. Do you know him ? 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Why no, sir. 
 
 BURKE. (Running to door) Go keep him 
 
 (ROGER exit.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Indignantly) An inn! 
 
 BURKE. (Excitedly at the door up L.) It s he. 
 Now don t spoil it Don t spoil it. For Heaven s 
 sake, ladies, leave us a minute. (General move 
 ment) Gentlemen, get between the doors all but 
 "landlord" Featherstone. (Laughter) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Landlord ! 
 
 BURKE. (Pleading) A chance like this comes 
 once in a life time. It s like first love, or repent 
 ance. 
 
 MARY. Why, it s a shame to play a joke on him. 
 
 CATHERINE. (Lightly) Oh come, Mary. 
 (Takes her to stairs) 
 
 BURKE. Off with you, Captain. Get out, Davy 
 (CAPTAIN goes i E. R. GARRICK goes L. to JOHN 
 SON) Come, sir (Exit I L.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (At door) Well, quickly, gen 
 tlemen. 
 
 JOHNSON. (The last to go, reaches door I L.) 
 The wrong foot (He turns back a few paces an 
 noyed with this characteristic superstition) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Warning) Doctor Doctor! 
 
 JOHNSON. (Counting) Two, three, four 
 (Reaches doorway where GARRICK meets him) 
 
 GARRICK. " Bad luck " be hanged. (Pulls him 
 through doorway) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Sir Good-evening. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Appearing in doorway. He wears 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 29 
 
 a cape coat, a cocked hat, and carries a stick) The 
 Landlord ? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. This is my place, sir I hope it 
 pleases you. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Surveying the room) Pleases me 
 Well it should, sir. I ve never seen a more cosy 
 tavern in my life. It must have been some gentle 
 man s place before you got it. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. You re right there, sir. It was 
 a gentleman s place. (ROGER brings GOLDSMITH S 
 bag) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Put it there. (ROGER sets the bag 
 down back of table) What s this Punch. 
 
 (Exit ROGER.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (L. c.) I have other guests, sir, 
 and they ordered; but you re welcome. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Thank you. Damme, you re not an 
 Englishman, are you ? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. I am an Englishman, sir. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. You should have been born in Ire 
 land. You have the generosity of one of her un 
 fortunate sons but your hand, sir. Englishman 
 or no Englishman. Landlord or no Landlord, 
 you re a man; and hang me I d kiss a Turk if he 
 had in his face the milk o human kindness that s in 
 yours Whisper They make a gentleman of me, 
 but damme I d rather be a man join me. (They 
 drink) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Thank you, sir. 
 
 BURKE. (In the doorway. To GARRICK) Don t 
 laugh at him, David. Hang me, but he rings true 
 as steel. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Now, sir, I d like a bite You ve 
 dined yourself? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. This hour, sir. (Crosses R.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. You re married, of course. (Sits) 
 
3 o OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Of course, sir. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Expansively) To be sure It 
 gives respectability to the place. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. In fact, sir, I m married twice 
 and living now with my second wife. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Rising) Your hand. (They 
 shake hands) I consider a second marriage the 
 triumph of hope over experience. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Aside) I hope Sarah didn t 
 hear that. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Then I trust your lady will sit with 
 us. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Twill be an honor, sir. (Go 
 ing) I ll order. (Exit i R.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Alone) Failed! Failed as a mis 
 erable carpenter of human anatomy ! M ! Not 
 food enough to sign death certificates on an East 
 ndian steamer. Ah well it s fate. It s fate. I m 
 trying to run away from Mary from Mary Hor- 
 neck and twas a cowardly device. Sure she 
 brought me safe to pot with one smile of her angel 
 face and I ll stand me broiling as any game bird 
 should. 
 
 (Re-enter FEATHERSTONE.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. It s mostly cold, sir but such 
 as it is I think twill please you, sir. (He consults 
 a seeming menu) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Let s have it. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. For the first course; "pig and 
 prune sauce." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. To a man that is hungry, pig and 
 prune sauce is good eating. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Then there is " pork pie " a 
 " boiled rabbit and sausage " a " shaking pudding 
 and taffety cream." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (With unction) It sounds like the 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 31 
 
 wedding breakfast at Elsinor Send me what you 
 please, sir, but be sure my bed is well aired. 
 FEATHERSTONE. Yes, sir. 
 
 (Enter MRS. FEATHERSTONE at stairs.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. And look you, landlord, I d as lief 
 fast as eat alone myself. Won t you and your lady 
 sit with me? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. I thank you, sir Oh my wife 
 is here. The name please ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Goldsmith, sir. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Goldsmith? Surely not Dr. 
 Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Pleased) Yes, sir. Doctor 
 Oliver Goldsmith. You know of me? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Tries to remember) We know 
 The Traveller, sir. " Remote, unfriendly, some 
 thing, something slow." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well not so slow as that still you 
 read and you are my guests Madam, your ser 
 vant (Bows) 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Dr. Goldsmith. (Bows. 
 Apart to FEATHERSTONE) He is ugly, isn t he? 
 (FEATHERSTONE motions caution) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Fixing chair) Here, my dear, 
 since Doctor Goldsmith honors us (MRS. FEATH 
 ERSTONE sits) 
 
 (Enter servant with supper.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. I have other guests to-night, sir. 
 In fact, my poor house is rather put to it for ca 
 pacity. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, sir, I called for the best room 
 in the house but don t let it worry you. To tell 
 you the truth, Fve slept many a night in a garret 
 so there. 
 
32 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Oh we shan t put you in 
 the garret, sir. 
 
 (Enter BURKE.) 
 
 BURKE. (With affected surprise) Why bless 
 me if it isn t Nolly Goldsmith. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Rising in glee) Burke ! Ned 
 Burke why of all the men in the world (Shakes 
 his hand and pats his back affectionately) To think 
 I find you. (To FEATHERSTONE) I d rather you 
 gave me the garret, landlord. Twill be near the 
 roof that shelters Ned Burke (Again shakes 
 BURKE S hand) 
 
 BURKE. I m glad to see you, Noll. (Half em 
 braces him) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (To Landlord in fine display) The 
 same school together. He s Irish himself. Burke s 
 his name. Did he tell you ? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. I heard it, sir, from one of his 
 party. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Turning to BURKE) Party? 
 Then you re not alone, Ned? 
 
 BURKE. (Apologetically) A few friends. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Cast down) What a pity. We d 
 J a made a night of it. I ve just had the worst luck, 
 Ned. Sit down and share me banquet. (They sit) 
 
 BURKE. Bad luck, Noll ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Failed at a Doctor s examination 
 for East Indian service He says I ve a liver and 
 lungs and a number of other organs that are not 
 active. 
 
 BURKE. Well, that is bad luck. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Changing manner) And I ve 
 some good luck too. My picture is in the windows 
 of all the print shops. Have you seen it, Ned? 
 (To MRS. FEATHERSTONE.) By Joshua Reynolds 
 Have you bought an engraving? (Again to BURKE) 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 33 
 
 BURKE. Well I haven t bought it, Noll, but I 
 know where to hang it when I do. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Ah, Ned, Ned (Rises to MRS. 
 FEATHERSTONE) if there was a picture of Edmund 
 Burke, I should not have waited an hour without 
 having it. (In quick recovery) But there I ve 
 much better than a picture. I ve Ned himself. 
 (Pausing) No, I forgot your friends. Who are 
 
 BURKE. Why, Noll quite a party. Boys from 
 the club. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Again elated) From the club 
 what luck who are they ? Beauclerk 
 
 BURKE. No ; but Johnson 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Rising) Johnson where is he? 
 
 BURKE. And and Bossy. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Bossy, of course, if ye have John 
 son. 
 
 BURKE. And Davy Garrick. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (More quietly) Garrick! 
 
 BURKE. (Noting his change of manner) Non 
 sense, Noll That s all over, isn t it ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. With me of course only he s stiff 
 as buckram. 
 
 BURKE. He won t be now, I promise you. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well let s lose no time. (Goes 
 down R.) Who thinks of eating when such spirits 
 are by. Call them in. (Introduces FEATHERSTONE) 
 The landlord, Ned; and his wife. I ve asked them 
 to sit with me. You don t mind. (Anxiously) 
 
 BURKE. Why not at all. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I ll not slape in the garret. I ll not 
 slape at all. We ll make a night of it, eh ? (Crosses 
 upc.) 
 
 BURKE. If the ladies don t object. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Looks to MRS. FEATHERSTONE) 
 Ladies? Is there a daughter? 
 
 BURKE. Ladies with us. Captain Horneck has 
 brought his sisters. 
 
34 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Pause and complete change of 
 manner) Mary ? 
 
 BURKE. Both of them. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. But Mary? 
 
 BURKE. Mary of course ; and Catherine. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. God bless me. It s fate that brings 
 me here. Is me wig on straight? 
 
 (JOHNSON and GARRICK enter L. I arm in arm.) 
 GARRICK. (Reciting) 
 
 Stern o er each bosom reason holds her state ; 
 With daring aims irregularly great, 
 I see the lords of human kind pass by, 
 Pride in their port, defiance in their eye. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Aside) My verses How beauti 
 ful! 
 
 JOHNSON. (Pretending surprise) Ah Goldy 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Doctor (Eagerly shaking hands) 
 Mr. Garrick ! (Shakes hands) 
 
 JOHNSON. This is an unexpected pleasure. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. The merest chance. I stopped for 
 the night at a ramshackle place below and I said 
 to the cabby " You rascal, take me to the best house 
 in the town." 
 
 GARRICK. Well, he did it. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Expansively) And the best 
 spirits. 
 
 GARRICK. You ve tried the punch then ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. No, but I will. Ned tells me you ve 
 ladies too. 
 
 GARRICK. That s right; two. 
 
 (Enter BOSWELL, HORNECK and KENRICK.) 
 GOLDSMITH. Captain, Horned^ your servant. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 35 
 
 CAPTAIN. You know Mr. Kenrick, Doctor Gold 
 smith ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Of the reviews? 
 
 KENRICK. Occasionally in an anonymous way. 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir. Mr. Kenrick is one of those who 
 make themselves public without making themselves 
 known. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Apart to BURKE with some un 
 easiness) One of the party? 
 
 BURKE. (Lightly) Oh yes. 
 
 (Enter CATHERINE and MARY.) 
 
 CATHERINE. Good evening, Doctor. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Why my " Little Comedy " and 
 Miss Mary 
 
 MARY. Doctor Goldsmith ! 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Apart) Tell me, my dear lady, 
 what is the occasion for this gathering? 
 
 MARY. Well truly but it will make you vain, 
 sir. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Shaking head) It comes too late 
 I ve had your frindship. 
 
 MARY. Why then to hear your verses. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Ah, ah, how could you know I d 
 be here. 
 
 MARY. To be read I mean Dr. Johnson is to 
 read them to us. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. But why here? 
 
 MARY. Mr. Featherstone invited us. 
 
 GOLDSM ITH . Featherstone ? 
 
 MARY. Our host. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Looking around at FEATHER- 
 STONE) What a remarkable man. (Pause) Still 
 my own father was only a clergyman. 
 
 MARY. He was more, sir. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. More? 
 
 MARY. Yes, Dr. Goldsmith, he was your father. 
 
36 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. He was and of seven more besides 
 (MARY turns away smiling) But faith the 
 church paid him better. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Rapping on table) Dr. Goldsmith 
 Dr. Goldsmith, sir! 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Sir, to you, Doctor Johnson. 
 
 GARRICK. Who s for " Poonsh "- 
 
 JOHNSON. (After a withering look) I don t say 
 " Poonsh." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Call it what you will. (Feels in 
 pocket) One may summon spirits from the vasty 
 deep but will they come? (Looks at coin in hand 
 with consternation) 
 
 MARY. What is it, Doctor? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. A shilling (Feels in other pockets) 
 I was going to call for another bowl of punch but I 
 gave that cab driver a guinea. (Pause) Yes I 
 did. (Regards the shilling) 
 
 BURKE. (Looking about) What cab driver? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. The man that fetched me no mat 
 ter. (Tosses off his disappointment) My only re 
 gret. (Looking at MARY) is that it wasn t ten 
 guineas; for the pleasure is cheaply purchased. 
 
 MARY. You meant to give him a shilling instead ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Among others, yes but no matter, 
 a discerning Providence put the gold where twould 
 do the most good. 
 
 MARY. Perhaps he s an honest man and may re 
 turn it. (Start by GARRICK and gesture of silence 
 to others) 
 
 (GARRICK tiptoes out unseen by GOLDSMITH.) 
 
 BURKE. Perhaps our host will trust you, Noll. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Right! he may. (To FEATHER- 
 STONE) If my friends here guarantee my fair 
 character. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Why, surely. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 37 
 
 CATHERINE. Which we do gladly, Doctor. 
 
 OMNES. Yes, we do. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Then look sharp, my good man and 
 don t spare the liquor (FEATHERSTONE starts off) 
 Be quick about it for Doctor Johnson s going to 
 read to us. (Pause as he regards MRS. FEATHER- 
 STONE) Madam it seems to me we have met be 
 fore? 
 
 (Exit FEATHERSTONE.) 
 
 MARY. (MRS. FEATHERSTONE nods and smiles) 
 Mrs. Featherstone is occasionally of the Covent 
 Garden Theatre. " Mrs. Hughes " on the bills. 
 
 BOSWELL. Played Mistress Croaker in your Good 
 Natured Man. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Sure sure but youVe grown 
 more plump. I heard you were married but I 
 never knew to an innkeeper. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Smilingly changing sub 
 ject) I ve heard at the theatre that we may have 
 another play from your pen. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I have all the material characters 
 everything, but a story to carry it, and hang me 
 but my thick wits won t make even the start at a 
 story. 
 
 JOHNSON. Doctor Goldsmith, the reading of 
 your poem has been once interrupted to-night ; and 
 whether we read it or not, I take this occasion to 
 say that it s the finest poem that has appeared since 
 the day of Pope. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Impressively taking his hand) 
 Sir I d rather have you say that, than have it 
 from any other man that lives. 
 
 OMNES. Good, good. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (In undertone to JOHNSON) And 
 I d rather that girl heard you (Nodding toward 
 MARY) than have a thousand pounds. 
 
38 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 CATHERINE. Doctor Doctor Johnson. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Prompting) Doctor. (Calls his 
 attention to CATHERINE) 
 
 JOHNSON. Pardon, miss. 
 
 CATHERINE. Mrs. Featherstone tells me there is 
 a new portrait by Mr. Reynolds in the music room. 
 
 JOHNSON. I should like to see it. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. You think him our best, 
 do you not, Doctor? 
 
 JOHNSON. (Taking MRS. FEATHERSTONE S arm 
 and going) Quite. I have only one suggestion to 
 the improvement of Joshua Reynolds. (BoswELL 
 attends) I wish he would read his bible and never 
 use his pencil on Sunday. 
 
 (Exit with MRS. FEATHERSTONE, BOSWELL follows.} 
 
 CATHERINE. (Going with BURKE and hiding her 
 mirth) Do you really think he mistakes it for an 
 inn? 
 
 BURKE. Beyond a doubt. I went to school with 
 him, and you may be sure if there s a wrong way 
 to anything Nolly Goldsmith ll take it. (Exit with 
 CATHERINE) 
 
 CAPTAIN. (To GOLDSMITH who is disposed to 
 wait for MARY) Oh, she ll come with Kenrick. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Yielding and following) A bad 
 face a bad face. 
 
 CAPTAIN. Well some people think Mary very 
 pretty 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Hang it, man I mean Kenrick s 
 face. (Exit with CAPTAIN who is chaffing him) 
 
 KENRICK. (Who has affected to follow with 
 MARY interposes) I was to have your answer to 
 night. 
 
 MARY. (With dignity) I have given it. 
 
 KENRICK. Refused ! 
 
 MARY. No. Simply not permitted to offer. It s 
 a subject forbidden between you and me. (Starts) 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 39 
 
 MARY. Let us join the others, please! 
 
 KENRICK. (Meaningly) There s a great service 
 dependent upon your answer. 
 
 MARY. What service? 
 
 KENRICK. (Nodding off) It concerns your 
 brother, Captain Horneck 
 
 MARY. (Pause) Well 
 
 KENRICK. It concerns your mother it is a mat 
 ter that affects even your sister, and yourself. 
 
 MARY. What is it? You approach it so warily, 
 Mr. Kenrick, that you force me to distrust. 
 
 KENRICK. It concerns your father s reputation 
 his memory. 
 
 MARY. Do you attack the reputation of dead men ? 
 
 KENRICK. I would defend them? 
 
 MARY. And my father s memory needs defense? 
 
 KENRICK. (Pause) Seriously. 
 
 MARY. I don t believe you. 
 
 KENRICK. You must 
 
 MARY. What does my brother say? 
 
 KENRICK. I haven t told him. 
 
 MARY. Why not ? 
 
 KENRICK. The charge too nearly affects himself. 
 
 MARY. You must speak more definitely. 
 
 KENRICK. The money that bought Charlie his 
 commission 
 
 MARY. Well? 
 
 KENRICK. The funds that purchased the home 
 in which your mother lives 
 
 MARY. What of it quick ! 
 
 KENRICK. A a misappropriation of a trust, 
 given into your father s keeping. 
 
 MARY. (Indignant) A falsehood a base and 
 cowardly falsehood. 
 * KENRICK. So / believe so I would prove 
 
 MARY. My brother will do that. 
 
 KENRICK. He can t he is not in a position to do 
 
 KENRICK. (Again interposing) Mary. 
 
40 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 so. The mere publication of this charge would put 
 upon him the obligation of selling his commission 
 to restore this money 
 
 MARY. What of that he is young and coura 
 geous. 
 
 KENRICK. And very proud 
 
 MARY. Yes, with pride of the right kind. 
 
 KENRICK. Why force him from his regiment^ 
 from his clubs from his associates it will put 
 your mother out of her home it will be even an in 
 superable blight upon yourself. 
 
 MARY. But it is false. 
 
 KENRICK. So So I believe Yet false accusa 
 tions leave scars scarcely less indelible than true 
 ones. I want to stop even the printing of thisI 
 want to go to the proprietor of the magazine who is 
 debating their publication, and with whom I have 
 business relation and pressure, and I want to say to 
 him One of these young ladies is to be my wife 
 
 MARY. (Agitated) No no 
 
 KENRICK. Even though she never becomes my 
 wife I want the right which the promise gives 
 
 MARY. I cannot If you are honest if you be 
 lieve this calumny is malicious 
 
 (Enter GOLDSMITH.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Noting the girl s agitation and her 
 company) Mary ! 
 
 KENRICK. (Pause) Miss Horneck is not feeling 
 well. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. What s the matter? 
 
 MARY. Nothing before these people. 
 
 (Exit KENRICK.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. It s mighty strange. I start out on 
 a journey, to run away from my own thought of 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 41 
 
 certain people, and plump! I find myself face to 
 face with them. Why, it s like something in a 
 nightmare. 
 
 MARY. Oh, I hope you don t call meeting old 
 friends a nightmare, Doctor? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. That s my blunder in tongue. You 
 know what I mane. 
 
 MARY. Yes, I know what you mean. You had 
 taken a journey to get away from some people, and 
 you come to the end of your journey, and there 
 they are ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. That s it. 
 
 MARY. Who are they? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Embarrassed) Well well cer 
 tain people I was thinkin of too much entirely. 
 
 MARY. Dr. Johnson? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, not exactly Johnson. 
 
 MARY. Burke ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Why, Burke s me brother. 
 
 MARY. Garrick ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Oh, I like Garrick. 
 
 MARY. Then, which of the gentlemen is it? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. It s no gentleman at all. 
 
 MARY. A woman! Oh! But you don t know 
 Mrs. Featherstone. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. No God bless me it s yourself. 
 
 MARY. You were running away from me ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. From thinkin of you. Don t turn 
 away. Why, your own mother never laid you to 
 rest in yer cradle with half the tenderness and care 
 of me boldest thoughts, whenever they touched your 
 swate image. 
 
 MARY. But you " ran away." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I did. 
 
 MARY. Why was that? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, I m more kinds of a failure 
 than one woman could stand. I m no Doctor, and 
 no lawyer, and no musician at all. I know, because 
 
42 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 I ve tried all three o thim. I think I m a poet, whin 
 I drame of you, and thin I get a peep at a lookin 
 glass, and I m only a shoemaker. 
 
 MARY. And there s a picture of you in all the 
 print shops of London. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. There is? May I send you one? 
 
 MARY. Yes. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Thank you. 
 
 MARY. But I have one already. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Of me? 
 
 MARY. Of you, Dr. Goldsmith. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. In the parlor. 
 
 MARY. No. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Subdued) Oh! 
 
 MARY. In my own room. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Elated) Mary Mary (Pause) 
 Of course, it s just the picture of your old friend 
 that went with you on your tour to Paris, eh ? 
 
 MARY. It is an old friend, of course. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. D ye think it could be more? D ye 
 think if me book was to sell and I d really write a 
 play and I d stand up straight and take dancin 
 lessons (He looks at his awkward legs) 
 
 MARY. (Pause) Well? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Oh, I wish there wasn t a lookin 
 glass in the world. Mary ! In a matter of beauty, 
 could ye take the will for the dade? There s a 
 divil s own lot in good nature. Could ye, Mary, if I 
 were to ask ye? 
 
 MARY. But don t ask me any more now 
 
 (Enter CAPTAIN, JOHNSON and CATHERINE.) 
 
 JOHNSON. (Importing the conversation) I 
 know of no man who passes through life with more 
 observation than Reynolds. 
 
 (Enter BOSWELL, BURKE and MRS. FEATHERSTONE. 
 ROGER appears at door back.) 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 43 
 
 ROGER. If you please, mam, a cabman to see the 
 last gentleman. 
 
 (Enter FEATHERSTONE with punch R. i.) 
 GOLDSMITH. To see me? (Goes to door up L.) 
 
 (Enter GARRICK as cabman. The improvised 
 makeup is complete and the acting deceives 
 all.) 
 
 GARRICK. A gentleman gi me a guinea I think 
 by mistake. (He speaks a broad cockney) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I did but faith, man, I never ex 
 pected to see it back. (To others) Look ye it s 
 among the poor that honor has the surest hold. 
 
 GARRICK. (Offering guinea) But I d like the 
 shilling the gentleman meant to give me. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Tis here; my last. Ned, lend me 
 another Honesty like this must not go unrecog 
 nized. 
 
 ( BURKE gives a shilling.) 
 
 KENRICK. Here. (Giving a coin) 
 GOLDSMITH. Good a collection. 
 
 (GARRICK discloses himself to the others excepting 
 JOHNSON as GOLDSMITH S back is turned.) 
 
 CAPTAIN. Take mine. (Gives a shilling) 
 GOLDSMITH. Come, Doctor, a sixpence anyway. 
 JOHNSON. (Who did not see GARRICK) Yes 
 
 (Contributes sixpence) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Mr. Boswell 
 
 BOSWELL. What did Dr. Johnson give? 
 GOLDSMITH. Sixpence. ( BOSWELL contributes) 
 
 Now where s Mr. Gar rick? 
 
44 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 BURKE. Yes, where is Garrick? 
 JOHNSON. (Calling) Davy! Davy! 
 
 ( BURKE privately informs JOHNSON of the comedy 
 being played.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Never mind. Give me a shilling 
 for him, Captain, and we ll make him repay you 
 when he joins us. 
 
 (CAPTAIN gives another piece.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Let me give a shilling also. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Not at all, man, you re keeping a 
 public house and work hard enough yourself. 
 (Suppressed laughter all around as GOLDSMITH 
 goes to GARRICK) There, my good fellow, take 
 that, and always remember that virtue, and an easy 
 conscience are better than riches. 
 
 GARRICK. God bless you, sir. There s a new 
 babby at ome an* my old woman ll be glad to call 
 it after you, sir. May I ask your name ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Thoughtfully) Then call it 
 Burke. 
 
 GARRICK. Burke. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Aye, Edmund Burke God bless 
 you. (Pats GARRICK on back and puts him out) 
 I couldn t help it, Ned. I d call my own boy after 
 you, if ever Heaven sent me one, and I was mar 
 ried but I think that s (Nodding toward door) 
 the nearest I ll ever come to being a father. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Meaningly) That cabby was as fine 
 a character as I ever saw. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (To MARY) Ah, ha he was poor 
 and honest and that s recommendation enough 
 for Sam Johnson. (Goes aside to MARY. The com 
 pany one and all are moved by GOLDSMITH S truth) 
 
 JOHNSON. (Pause) Shall we read? 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 45 
 
 GOLDSMITH. My verses, Doctor? 
 JOHNSON. Yes, sir but where is David Gar- 
 rick? 
 
 X GOLDSMITH engrossed in talk. Enter GARRICK. 
 He has dropped his disguise.) 
 
 GARRICK. Here, sir. 
 
 BURKE. You re a devil, Davy. 
 
 GARRICK. (Gleefully showing silver) Five shill 
 ing. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Oh, Mr. Garrick a poor cabman 
 was here brought me a guinea I gave him by mis 
 take for a bob. We took up a collection because of 
 his honesty, and Captain Horneck put in a shilling 
 for you. 
 
 GARRICK. Thank you, Captain. Let s see the 
 guinea. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Indicating CAPTAIN) I told him 
 you d make it good! (Hands guinea to GARRICK. 
 It is the one GARRICK first had from KENRICK) 
 
 GARRICK. Of course but see here, this guinea s 
 bad. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. What s that you say? 
 
 GARRICK. (Throws it on the table where it rings 
 dull) Counterfeit. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Counterfeit ! ! (All laugh but 
 GOLDSMITH. Pause) And I named his baby Ned 
 Burke. (Apologetically to BURKE others laugh 
 again) 
 
 BURKE. (Consoling GOLDSMITH) No matter I 
 <iare say the baby s a counterfeit, too. (Another 
 laugh) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (At the punch and serving it) 
 Well, let s forget em. The poor man himself was 
 real The punch, thank Heaven, is real Our good, 
 landlord is real love and friendship are real and 
 that s all the world. 
 
46 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 JOHNSON. (With tolerant admiration) Yes, 
 Goldy, everything s as real as your wonderful im 
 agination can make it. (General laugh. All take 
 seats. As the noise subsides, the voice of a woman 
 singing in the street is heard. About to read) 
 Well, now what s that? 
 
 GARRICK. A street singer. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Calling) Roger send that 
 woman away. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. No there s distress in that voice 
 or I never heard it. Excuse me a minute. (Exit) 
 
 CATHERINE. What s he going to do ? 
 
 KENRICK. Give her that bad guinea. 
 
 (Several laugh. Singing ceases.) 
 
 JOHNSON. (With book) Shall we wait for him? 
 
 MARY and OTHERS. Oh, yes ! 
 
 JOHNSON. See here, Davy give me back my 
 sixpence. 
 
 GARRICK. (Jingling the money) Not at all 
 You ve had a private performance for what you 
 usually pay to enter the pit. (Laughter) 
 
 JOHNSON. (Nodding toward GARRICK) He be 
 gan the world with great hunger for money. The 
 son of a half pay officer. 
 
 GARRICK. Half pay ! I see. That explains your 
 sixpence. 
 
 (ROGER enters and gets bag.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. What s that, Roger? 
 
 ROGER. Dr. Goldsmith s bag he gave that 
 poor woman his coat (Exit with bag) 
 
 OMNES. His coat!! 
 
 BURKE. (Smiling) At school once, when he had 
 nothing himself he gave a suit of mine to a beggar 
 (Laughter) and I ve loved him ever since. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 47 
 
 GARRICK. Let s make him confess. (Exit with 
 BURKE) 
 
 JOHNSON. It s a pity Goldsmith isn t knowing 
 He d never keep his knowledge from the world. 
 
 (Enter BURKE and GARRICK with GOLDSMITH be 
 tween them, trying to get a coat from his bag.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (In his shirt-sleeves ) Ladies, your 
 pardon. Ned, it s not fair play. I ll trouble "you, 
 landlord, to show me my room. (Laughter) 
 
 BURKE. (With his arm about him) Landlord! 
 Why, you dear old goose, Noll This isn t a tavern. 
 (Laughter) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Abashed) Not an inn? (Laugh 
 ter by all) 
 
 JOHNSON. (Introducing FEATHERSTONE) This 
 is William Featherstone, Esquire, of Blackheath 
 Manor. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. And most delighted, Doctor, to 
 have you honor my poor house. 
 
 BURKE. (Reversing GOLDSMITH S wig) Now, 
 bow to the gentlemen. (Laughter) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (In the hush that his plight pro 
 duces) ^ Ned Ned my old schoolfellow, you let 
 me be ridiculous before this company! (He looks 
 away from MARY) 
 
 (A murmur of sympathy and deprecation. MARY 
 impulsively steps forward to champion him 
 GARRICK playfully restrains her. BURKE has 
 his arm apologetically and comfortingly about 
 his old friend.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
48 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE: The theatre of the present day with cur* 
 tain down. 
 
 DISCOVERED: In stage lox R. accessible to 
 stage, JOHNSON, CATHERINE, MARY, BOSWELL, 
 The Covent Garden Leader in dress of period 
 is in Conductor s chair in the musician s pit. 
 " PROPS," a boy, comes from back of curtain 
 and sets candle footlights and lights them by 
 extra candle. 
 
 LEADER. What are we waiting for, Props? 
 
 PROPS. Wytin for a plai. This bloomin rot 
 wouldn t go if it was melted. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Ponderously) What does the boy 
 say? Why do we wait? 
 
 PROPS. Oh, you can gow if you wants to Gov 
 ernor. (Dances a step or two impertinently) 
 Hit ll be an awful blow of course but we ll try an 
 bear up, don t you know ? (Dances a step) ^ 
 
 JOHNSON. (Leaning from box with his cane) 
 Why you impertinent young spawn of the kennel 
 
 BOSWELL. (Rising) I ll have you discharged. 
 
 JOHNSON. (To BOSWELL) Keep still, sir. 
 (Curtain goes up PROPS retires To boy) Do you 
 know to whom you are speaking to whom 
 
 (On stage at back are BURKE, GOLDSMITH, 
 PROMPTER, MR. QUIRK and MRS. FEATHER- 
 STONE.) 
 
 PROMPTER. Sh sh 
 
 (PROPS disappears. GOLDSMITH comes down. He 
 carries a manuscript.) 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 49 
 
 LEADER. Dr. Goldsmith, sir about that song 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Wearily) Not now. (Ap 
 proaches box) 
 
 MARY. What is the matter, Doctor Goldsmith? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Nodding toward the group on 
 stage) Some of the company refuse to play their 
 parts. (Down to box) 
 
 JOHNSON. Refuse? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Refuse. 
 
 ( BURKE comes down to the box.) 
 
 MARY. Why? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. They don t care to be connected 
 
 with a failure. 
 
 ( BURKE puts arm affectionately about GOLDSMITH 
 for a second.) 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir you don t mean to say Mr. 
 Burke your hand ( BURKE helps him over the rail 
 MARY follows) Refuse where are they? 
 (Sees group at back. Continuing) Look you, my 
 friends. (Starts to them. BOSWELL assists CATH 
 ERINE to stage) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Not those, Doctor. The mutineers 
 have gone home. 
 
 JOHNSON, (c. returning) Gone home? 
 
 BURKE. (L.) Yes the manager dismissed them. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. It s all off Colman s refused the 
 play. (L. c.) 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir ! he has not. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (With his play) Well here it is, 
 scribbled full of trifling objections. Among them 
 the one that (Reads) " no man could mistake a 
 private house for an Inn. But Garrick will know 
 better ; for Garrick was there himself when I made 
 the mistake myself. 
 
50 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 BURKE. Was where? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. At Blackheath when I ordered out: 
 friend, Mr. Featherstone, to brew punch for us. 
 
 BURKE. You put that in a play ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I did Faith, Misfortune never, 
 comes my way that I don t hitch her to my wagon. 
 But I m off to peddle it to Davy Garrick again. 
 (Crosses R. c.) This is the second time Colman 
 called it out of rehearsal. The first time Garrick 
 accepted it but the Doctor here made him 
 give it back Colman Garrick Garrick Colman. 
 (Pantomimes ball tossing over a net) Oh, I tell 
 you there s a lot of go in it. 
 
 BURKE. But why take it away from Garrick? 
 
 JOHNSON. Think of the black eye it would have 
 given the play at the start to have it said Colman 
 refused it. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. That s the value of the double neg 
 ative. It s so much better to say he refused it 
 twice. 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir, he did not he has simply handed 
 it back. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (With a wink to BURKE) Oh is 
 that all? 
 
 (LEADER begins plaintive strain.) 
 
 JOHNSON. That is all. / brought that play to 
 Colman and it isn t refused until he convinces me 
 which hang it, sir, he never can. 
 
 (MARY applauds.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. No, for when your pistols miss fire 
 you ll knock him down with the butt end of em. 
 
 JOHNSON. (To LEADER and annoyed by the 
 music) You seem pretty sure of that, sir could 
 you defer it? (LEADER stops and mumbles to the 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 51 
 
 2nd fiddler. To PROMPTER) Where is Mr. Col- 
 man? (Cross R.) 
 
 PROMPTER. Gone home I think though he may 
 have stopped in front. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Starting in front) I ll see him. 
 
 PROMPTER. That door s locked, sir besides it s 
 against the rules. 
 
 JOHNSON. (To GOLDSMITH c.) Come, come 
 with me, Doctor. (Growls himself out at back to 
 ward stage door) 
 
 CATHERINE. The dear old bear, I could hug him. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. There s nothin of the bear about 
 him but the skin. (Exit after JOHNSON) 
 
 MARY. I m so sorry for him I feel that his play 
 will succeed. (R. with MRS. FEATHERSTONE) 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Of course it will succeed. 
 It isn t the sentimental Laura Matilda stuff we ve 
 been having to be sure, but it s a splendid play. 
 And, oh, I feel such an interest in it, Mr. Craddock, 
 because he got his idea for it that night in our 
 house. Mary was there. 
 
 KENRICK. (Enters from wings) Miss Mary? 
 
 MARY. (Calmly) Mr. Kenrick! 
 
 MR. KENRICK. The playhouse in the daytime is 
 no place for a young lady, and especially the stage 
 of it. 
 
 MARY. I am with my sister ; and friends ; and in 
 Dr. Johnson s care. 
 
 KENRICK. Still, the associates are not proper. 
 
 MARY. Which ones ? 
 
 KENRICK. Any players. The whole atmosphere 
 is wrong. I wouldn t like people to see the young 
 woman I am to marry entering the stage door. 
 Come, let us go? 
 
 MARY. No. These people are my friends. I 
 thing it is a great privilege to be allowed to come to 
 their rehearsals. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Who has seen but not 
 
52 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 heard. Playfully) What is it, Mary? Now, she 
 isn t a bit in the way; Mr. Kenrick, and I want her 
 advice about my gowns, and really, there shan t 
 anybody run away with her. 
 
 KENRICK. Oh, I don t think Miss Mary d be in 
 the way, anywhere. (Bows cold curtsey from 
 MARY) But it s a play by Dr. Goldsmith, and al 
 ready the magazines are hinting at the unusual in 
 terest certain young ladies take in his rehearsals. 
 
 MARY. Magazines ? 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. You don t mean that any 
 magazine has dared to comment on the girls coming 
 here? 
 
 KENRICK. (Hesitating) I m told they have. 
 
 MARY. My name ? 
 
 KENRICK. I don t know that any names are men 
 tioned but I think it wise to stop Miss Mary s 
 visits. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Why! to think of it! 
 
 KENRICK. And so many men are here besides 
 more or less notorious in the coffee-houses. Burke 
 - and Boswell. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Notorious Burke? 
 
 BURKE. (Catching his name) I beg pardon? 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. I didn t mean to call you. 
 
 BURKE. Oh! (Is about to turn away but. next 
 speech stops him) 
 
 KENRICK. I insist upon you re going. 
 
 MARY. Insist ? 
 
 BURKE. Insist? Where? What is it? 
 
 KENRICK. Miss Mary s people object to her 
 presence behind the scenes in the daytime 
 
 BURKE. Well, get in front of them, Mary. 
 
 KENRICK. And / object to it. 
 
 BURKE. (Smiling) Well, that s more serious, 
 but just as hard to understand. (Laughs) Who 
 are you? 
 
 KENRICK. Miss Mary will tell you. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 53 
 
 BURKE. (Turning to MARY) Well? 
 
 KENRICK. Will you come? 
 
 MARY. No. 
 
 KENRICK. If your brother comes for you? 
 
 MARY. No unless he has some better reason 
 than you ve given. 
 
 BURKE. (Walking away with KENRICK) Hang 
 it, man, the girl s not an infant, and if she were, 
 you re no great shakes of a nurse yourself. 
 
 KENRICK. That s Irish brilliancy, I suppose? 
 
 BURKE. It s Irish anyway call it what you will, 
 and I ve a blackthorn stick in the corner there, 
 that s Irish too. 
 
 (Exit KENRICK.) 
 
 MARY. Mr. Kenrick (Starts) 
 BURKE. (Detaining her) You re not going? 
 MARY. I don t know. I suppose I should. 
 BURKE. Why ? 
 MARY. Because he asks it. 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Engaged, you know. 
 BURKE. Oh (Pause) Bat not married. 
 MARY. No, we re not. 
 
 BURKE. (Smiling) Good, because you don t 
 nade to take him for want of a better. 
 
 (MARY turns away.) 
 
 CATHERINE. Mr. Burke? 
 
 BURKE. My dear 
 
 CATHERINE. Mother needs some legal advice she 
 thinks. You could give it to her, couldn t you ? 
 
 (Enter GOLDSMITH.) 
 
 BURKE. I could, but before she follows it, she d 
 better consult an attorney. 
 
54 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (To BURKE) I just met that 
 Kenrick fellow outside, and he said somethin cross- 
 patch about the girls bein here. D ye think it s 
 improper ? 
 
 BURKE. He s engaged to marry Mary, you 
 know. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. My God! 
 
 BURKE. But twill never happen. Sure we re 
 two to one against him. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. But folks don t get married that 
 way. 
 
 (MARY approaches them GOLDSMITH, avoids her, 
 and goes to the LEADER.) 
 
 BOSWELL. Do you know, Miss Catherine, Gold 
 smith owes upwards of two thousand pounds. 
 Rather hard, isn t it? 
 
 CATHERINE. Does he owe you any Bossy? 
 
 BOSWELL. Oh, no nothing 
 
 CATHERINE. That would be rather hard too, 
 wouldn t it? Hard to do. 
 
 BOSWELL. What do you mean? 
 
 CATHERINE. Oh, I simply recognize that you re 
 Scotch. 
 
 BOSWELL. Well, don t you think, dear lady, 
 something may be made even of a Scotchman ? 
 
 CATHERINE. Yes, if they catch him young. 
 
 BOSWELL. (Pleadingly) Catherine. 
 
 (CATHERINE turns from BOSWELL laughing. BOS 
 WELL follows perplexed. BURKE joins promp 
 ter group. GOLDSMITH turns from LEADER 
 MARY meets him.) 
 
 MARY. (Taking his lapel) You don t know 
 much about women, do you, Doctor? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, that little I do know is greatly 
 to their credit. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 55 
 
 MARY. This is the seventh rehearsal I ve been 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Oh, you were speaking of their en 
 durance ? 
 
 MARY. And you have persistently avoided me. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Avoided you why why why I 
 attend the rehearsals myself only because you re 
 here. 
 
 MARY. Always an Irishman s defense; his 
 blarney. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Believe me! and Ned Burke there. 
 Couldn t get him up to the stage door till I told him 
 you came every day. 
 
 MARY. Why do you talk to me always of Burke? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, then his antithesis I ll bet 
 Kenrick comes, too, when he finds out. You frown. 
 That blackguard s not bothering you again ? 
 
 MARY. Never mind Kenrick, or Burke either. 
 You do avoid me and some way you don t make me 
 so much your friend. It s been weeks since you 
 called at our home. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Smiling) Well you know the 
 my doctor s forbidden all stimulants. 
 
 MARY. (Pained) You refuse to be candid with 
 me, do you, doctor? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Very serious) Why, if I were 
 candid with you about myself I d frighten those 
 roses out o your cheek why my life s a 
 (Pause) 
 
 (Enter JOHNSON from the lack, and by stage door.) 
 
 JOHNSON. (Calls) Doctor Doctor Gold 
 smith 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Yes, sir. 
 
 JOHNSON. I ve got Colman in the Box office. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Indicating JOHNSON) Always my 
 You come with me. 
 
56 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 good genius. He s just saved me from a very fool 
 ish exhibition excuse me. (Goes to JOHNSON) 
 
 BOSWELL. May I accompany you, doctor ? 
 
 JOHNSON. No, sir. (Exit with GOLDSMITH) 
 
 (MARY sits by dejected. MRS. FEATHERSTONE 
 comes down with BURKE.) 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. He s the finest man that 
 ever brought a play into this theatre. 
 
 BURKE. (Chaffing) Got a good part I see. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Not the best, no but 
 tisn t that. He s just a dear fellow. I want em to 
 put Lee Lewis in for young Marlowe and go ahead. 
 Lewis is a good looker and really the part is actor 
 proof. Now don t let them postpone it, Mr. Burke 
 come here; there s something I want to tell you. 
 (Brings him down) If this piece isn t done this 
 season Goldsmith will never see it when it is done. 
 
 BURKE. Why, what do you mean? 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. I persuaded him to let my 
 physician look him over. (Holds up her hands) 
 
 BURKE. I knew he was ailing but it isn t seri 
 ous? 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (With emotion) Serious? 
 He s a physical wreck he doesn t look it but cold 
 garrets poor food all sorts of hours (Uses 
 handkerchief) You know he s got to calling me 
 " ma " like these young snips around the green 
 room well I like it from him. You re his friend 
 Burke and I do like him. (Wipes eyes and 
 goes up) 
 
 BURKE. But what s the physician say? 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Returns} He just shook 
 his head when I asked him and that s worse than 
 anything he could say. 
 
 BURKE. When they say nothing at all but shake 
 their heads you call that in the theatre, don t you 
 " business? " 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 57 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Yes, why? 
 
 BURKE. Well, that s business with a doctor too 
 sure they make mountains of mole hills. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Sadly) Ah (Goes up 
 shaking her head BOSWELL and CATHERINE join 
 her) 
 
 BURKE. (To MARY) And what s the matter, 
 Mary, with you ? 
 
 MARY. Oh, I m positively ill over it. 
 
 BURKE. We envy the glittter and the romance of 
 it but (Shakes head and smiles) 
 
 MARY. Why do you shake your head ? 
 
 BURKE. That s business." (To LEADER) Do 
 you have much of this ? 
 
 LEADER. God bless you, yes. Why we don t do 
 half the pieces we rehearse. 
 
 BURKE. (To MARY) Think of that still it s 
 the same with me. I don t speak or publish half the 
 things I construct. 
 
 MARY. (Bantering) You couldn t. 
 
 BURKE. Well you should know for you re in 
 most o thim. (Follows her to R.) Noll Goldsmith 
 said you d be here. That s why I m in this temple 
 of art. Hang it Black art I d call it. Just think 
 of it. Here we are back o the footlights. I m a 
 lover dumb with despair ; and you re a proud lady. 
 
 MARY. And it s all of it play? 
 
 BURKE. Tell me your perversity is 
 
 MARY. I ll tell you nothing what was Mrs. 
 Featherstone saying of Goldsmith? 
 
 BURKE. Oh, she has some physician with a big 
 wig and he shakes his head. 
 
 MARY. (Anxiously) About Goldsmmith? 
 
 BURKE. Oh, yes but sure you have to frighten 
 Noll to get him to pull up Tut tut little one 
 don t look so scared. What s your interest in Gold 
 smith anyway? What s your interest in his com 
 edy? 
 
58 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 MARY. What s yours? 
 
 BURKE. Yourself. He said you d be here. But 
 down at Blackheath you said you d marry an Irish 
 man if you married at all ; and you looked at Gold 
 smith when I mussed up his wig Is it he? (She 
 turns quickly away BURKE follows confronting 
 her) Tell me do you really love him? 
 
 MARY. Would it be so surprising? 
 
 BURKE. Faith it would. 
 
 MARY. You love him? 
 
 BURKE. I do but I m I m 
 
 MARY. Peculiar. 
 
 BURKE. I see you re in earnest. 
 
 MARY. Dr. Johnson loves him. So does Sir 
 Joshua and Garrick. 
 
 BURKE. Sure but they re none o them women. 
 
 MARY. Well, I m a woman. (Walks from him) 
 
 BURKE. (Aside, and looking after her) And a 
 damned fine one. To think a woman could have 
 sense enough to see inside of dear old Noll. 
 
 (Enter GARRICK at back as from stage door.) 
 
 GARRICK. Mr. Colman here? 
 
 CATHERINE. Oh, Mr. Garrick? 
 
 BURKE. How d ye do, Davy? 
 
 GARRICK. How dy, Ned? Where s Colman? 
 
 BURKE. Gone home, we fear. He s dismissed 
 the rehearsal, and thrown up Goldy s play. 
 
 GARRICK. That s like George. When we were 
 jointly interested in management I went nearly 
 wild. Couldn t make up his mind never anything 
 definite. Seen the London " Packet? " 
 
 BURKE. No. 
 
 GARRICK. Horrible attack on Goldy. Tell you 
 later. 
 
 CATHERINE. I saw you last night, David. 
 
 GARRICK. Where ? 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 59 
 
 CATHERINE. At your theatre. 
 
 GARRICK. As Romeo? 
 
 CATHERINE. Yes. 
 
 GARRICK. Please you? 
 
 CATHERINE. I thought it was lovely. 
 
 GARRICK. Don t call Romeo " it." 
 
 CATHERINE. I mean the performance. 
 
 GARRICK. Whose ? 
 
 CATHERINE. Well, yours for one. 
 
 GARRICK. Well, one was all I tried. 
 
 CATHERINE. For a wonder. You generally try 
 io be everybody about you. 
 
 GARRICK. I never tried to be you, did I ? 
 
 CATHERINE. No. I don t believe you ever did. 
 
 GARRICK. Yet you and I might be one. 
 
 CATHERINE. Oh pshaw. It s all so matter-of- 
 fact in real life. Tell me why do the musicians al 
 ways play when there s anything sentimental on the 
 stage ? 
 
 GARRICK. Well, unless the auditor is very 
 sympathetic and listens with the ear of faith, words 
 won t mean all that a lover thinks they mean. 
 Music is the language of emotion. Music helps 
 convey the meaning. Why it even helps the actor. 
 
 CATHERINE. To speak? 
 
 GARRICK. Yes and not to speak. It helps him 
 listen. (To LEADER) Can you give me a few bars 
 plaintive tremolo andante ? 
 
 LEADER. Plaintive andante ? 
 
 GARRICK. Yes pianissimo and don t look. 
 (To CATHERINE) Sit here, please. (L. of table) 
 Thank you. (She sits. The orchestra plays a ro 
 mantic melody as GARRICK talks) Catherine, 
 Look at me. Ah. There s something in your eyes, 
 little girl, that sinks into my soul, and seems part 
 of myself. There s somewhat in the perfume of 
 your hair like the smell of hazel bushes, and which, 
 as I breathe it, lulls my senses, as the breath of jas 
 mine does. 
 
60 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 CATHERINE. (Looking at him seriously) You 
 are acting? 
 
 GARRICK. I m in the theatre now, and that is 
 where I am myself. This is my world. The music 
 is the still more real and better part of me which no 
 poet can express, and for which no speech is cur 
 rent, and here I love you always always you. 
 
 CATHERINE. (Hypnotised by speech and voice 
 and music} I know it isn t so at all any of it 
 and yet I find myself believing you. I understand 
 why the women of the playhouse have their heart 
 aches. 
 
 GARRICK. (In warm undertone) You find your 
 self believing me? 
 
 CATHERINE. Yes. 
 
 GARRICK. Do you care to believe me ? 
 
 CATHERINE. (Pause) I think I do. 
 
 GARRICK. Then do. 
 
 CATHERINE. Believe you? 
 
 GARRICK. Yes. (Naturally) That will do, Mr. 
 Leader. Thank you. (Exit L. with CATHERINE 
 who is still dazed) 
 
 (Enter JOHNSON and COLMAN.) 
 
 JOHNSON. And, sir, in no half hearted way, 
 either. (L. c. follows MARY L. 3) 
 
 COLMAN. (c.) Where are the people? 
 
 PROMPTER. Miss Catley is here and Mr. Quirk 
 and Mrs. Feather stone Miss Bulkley s gone home. 
 
 COLMAN. Where s Doctor Goldsmith? 
 
 PROPS. (Repeating loudly) Doctor Goldsmith? 
 
 (COLMAN looks at JOHNSON and shrugs shoulders 
 JOHNSON does the same in reply and turns to 
 MARY. ) 
 
 \ COLMAN. I ve decided to put the piece on for a. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 61 
 
 night anyway, Craddock. Put in Mr. Quirk for 
 Tony Lumpkin. 
 
 PROMPTER. He has the part, sir. 
 
 COLMAN. Let Mr. Lewis try young Marloiv. 
 
 PROMPTER. Yes, sir, 
 
 COLMAN. Call for nine in the morning. 
 
 JOHNSON. Morning? Can t something be done 
 to-day ? 
 
 PROMPTER. Mr. Quirk s been standing by, sir, 
 and he d like to run through his stuff with Mrs. 
 Hardcastle. 
 
 COLMAN. Very well. 
 
 LEADER. (Standing up) Am I wanted any 
 longer ? 
 
 PROMPTER. (Garrick appears at back) Just a 
 few minutes, Mr. Cowley we ve got a new Lump- 
 kin and we d like to hear his song. 
 
 (LEADER sits growling. Enter L. GARRICK and 
 CATHERINE.) 
 
 GARRICK. Mr. Colman here? ( COLMAN turns) 
 
 COLMAN. How dy, David? 
 
 GARRICK. Interrupting anything? 
 
 COLMAN. (Shaking head) Just bits. 
 
 (GARRICK crosses to MARY and JOHNSON.) 
 
 GARRICK. Want to see you, George. (Shakes 
 hands with MARY and comes down L. Bos WELL 
 Joins CATHERINE) 
 
 PROPS. Who s that Macaroni ? 
 
 PROMPTER. Sh! (Dumb show to PROPS) 
 
 COLMAN. (To GARRICK c.) What can I do for 
 you? 
 
 GARRICK. Nothing but I m afraid you ve done 
 for yourself. (Draws paper) Look at that. 
 
 COLMAN. An open letter to Goldsmith. 
 
62 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GARRICK. Kenrick. 
 
 COLMAN. What an ass. He told me he wouldn t 
 print a line about the play unless it was done. 
 
 GARRICK. (Pointing to paper) Did you tell him 
 it was sure to fail ? 
 
 COLMAN. Yes, I think I did. 
 
 GARRICK. (Smiling) And we used to be in busi 
 ness together. Is that your belief ? 
 
 COLMAN. Honestly. 
 
 GARRICK. Did you tell Kenrick you didn t mean 
 to do it? 
 
 COLMAN. Told him I thought I wouldn t. 
 
 GARRICK. Then why do you do it ? 
 
 COLMAN. Damn it, Johnson bullyrags me into it. 
 Why, Dave, the piece is so bad that the people are 
 throwing up their parts. 
 
 GARRICK. I think it s pretty good. 
 
 COLMAN. You read it ? 
 
 GARRICK. Yes. 
 
 COLMAN. Why didn t you do it ? 
 
 GARRICK. (Smiling) Johnson bullyragged me 
 out of it. 
 
 (Whistle blows at prompt stand evidently a speak 
 ing tube.) 
 
 COLMAN. Deuce he did. (GARRICK nods) 
 PROMPTER. Mr. Colman. ( COLMAN turns) 
 Box Office wants to speak to you. 
 
 COLMAN. See who it is If it s Doctor Gold 
 smith tell him to come on the stage. 
 
 (PROMPTER and COLMAN now speak together.) 
 
 PROMPTER. (At tube) Who is it? Is it Doctor 
 Goldsmith who wants Mr. Colman. 
 
 COLMAN. The man s rattled. He goes about the 
 streets talking to himself. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 63 
 
 PROMPTER. It s the treasurer, sir. He says the 
 Duke of Gloucester s man is there to buy a box. 
 
 GARRICK. (Encouragingly) There you are the 
 Duke of Gloucester. 
 
 COLMAN. (Approaching) Well tell him give 
 me the tube (Taking the mouth piece of tube) 
 John Tell the Duke s man to say to his Grace that 
 Mr. Colman is deeply grateful of his Grace s 
 patronage, but that as the play is sure to fail 
 
 GARRICK. What? (Omnes surprised) 
 
 COLMAN. That Mr. Colman cannot accept the 
 booking fee from his Grace. 
 
 MARY. (Crossing toward COLMAN) You cow 
 ard! 
 
 COLMAN. (Turning) What what s that? 
 
 MARY. You coward You re worse than coward 
 You traitor How dare you anyway? What do 
 you know about it? You never wrote anything 
 yourself worth listening to but the piece Mr. Gar- 
 rick helped you with Doctor Johnson says so him 
 self. 
 
 GARRICK. (Expostulating) My dear Miss Hor- 
 neck! 
 
 ( BURKE takes MARY away. MRS. FEATHERSTONE 
 comforts them as MARY is almost in tears.) 
 
 ^ COLMAN. I only give my opinion, David. The 
 piece dwindles and dwindles and goes out like the 
 snuff of a candle. 
 
 GARRICK. Nonsense, George, you ve just lost 
 your nerve. I ll take the venture off your hands. 
 (Cries of " Good" etc.) I ll buy the week at the 
 figure of your expenses. 
 
 COLMAN. Week? Why it won t go two nights. 
 
 GARRICK. Ha, ha That s because it s comedy 
 Comedy s the most ghastly stuff to rehearse. 
 You ve got to have your laughs. 
 
64 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Scowling and scolding) I laugh I 
 come every rehearsal and laugh, laugh! laugh. 
 (Finishes in a deep growl) 
 
 GARRICK. There you are Now I fetched over 
 Drummond from my theatre (Calls) Adam 
 Drummond ! Drummond ! 
 
 COLMAN. Who s Drummond? 
 
 GARRICK. Leads my laughs in the audience at 
 Drury Lane. He s got a laugh well the neighing 
 of a horse of the son of Hystaspes was a whisper to 
 it. (Calls) Adam Oh, here he is. Only one 
 trouble Doesn t know when to do it. (Enter 
 DRUMMOND a robust peri-wig ged fellow) Mr. 
 Drummond Mr. Colman, manager here Mr. Col- 
 man is bringing out a new play by a friend of mine 
 a comedy, and I want to see it succeed. Now this 
 is Doctor Samuel Johnson. Where do you sit the 
 first night, Doctor? 
 
 JOHNSON. That box. 
 
 GARRICK. Good (He carefully explains to 
 DRUMMOND) I ll hold a stall for you over there. 
 (Points L. in parquet) Never mind the play you 
 watch Doctor Johnson when he smiles (DRUM- 
 MONO nods) that s all. They re going to rehearse 
 some bits of it. (To PROMPTER) You are? 
 
 PROMPTER. Yes, sir. 
 
 GARRICK. You just sit over here now, Adam, 
 and show them how much a little discriminating ap 
 preciation can do. (To COLMAN) And George 
 see here. (Aside to COLMAN. DRUMMOND sits to 
 stage left and carefully watches JOHNSON) What 
 I really intruded for you don t mind this imper 
 tinence (Indicates whole stage) 
 
 COLMAN. Why, David? 
 
 GARRICK. (He produces the newspaper) We 
 must keep this thing from Goldsmith. It s the talk 
 of the whole street. Look at this line 
 
 COLMAN. (Reading) " Will woman bear it to 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 65 
 
 be told that for hours the great Goldsmith will stand 
 surveying his grotesque Orang-outang s figure in 
 a pier glass? was but the lovely H dash K as 
 much enamored (Speaks} H K 
 
 GARRICK. (Explaining) Horneck Mary Hor- 
 neck Kenrick s in love with her himself, and he 
 thinks Goldsmith s his rival. Oh, I tell you it s 
 pretty venomous Now we must keep it from Goldy 
 - You know that s too dirty. (Scans the print with 
 his finger) Orang-outang and all that s very well 
 but to drag in a lady s name where is he? (GAR- 
 RICK folds the paper) 
 
 COLMAN. Goldsmith ? 
 
 GARRICK. Yes. 
 
 COLMAN. He went out of the box office ahead of 
 Johnson and myself I thought to come here. 
 
 GARRICK. Depressed ? 
 
 COLMAN. Yes. 
 
 GARRICK. I ll find him. (Going) Good-day, 
 ladies Doctor. 
 
 ( COLMAN speaks to PROMPTER.) 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Calls) Oh, David! 
 (She detains him in dumb show talk) 
 
 COLMAN. (Testily. To PROMOTER) Get 
 through as quickly as you can and get rid of these 
 people. I ve got a piece of Kelley s that I know s 
 all right so let s get this on and off and be done 
 with it. 
 
 PROMOTER. (With vicarious authority) Clear 
 the stage everybody. 
 
 GARRICK. (Coming down) Oh, George just a 
 minute (Hands paper) Show that to Burke and 
 Johnson and tell them to keep Goldsmith busy so 
 that he doesn t see it. And the young lady too of 
 course. 
 
 COLMAN. I will. 
 
\ 
 
 66 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GARRICK. I ll find Goldy. (Goes quickly out 
 back of stage) 
 
 COLMAN. Mr. Burke ! 
 
 BURKE. (Who has "cleared" from the stage} 
 Yes, sir (Returns) I thought I was in the way. 
 
 COLMAN. And Doctor Johnson May I see you 
 a moment (To PROMPTER) Just wait a bit with 
 the rehearsal. 
 
 (JOHNSON, BURKE, COLMAN aside with paper, 
 MARY and MRS. FEATHERSTONE together at 
 other side. CATHERINE and BOSWELL come 
 down c.) 
 
 BOSWELL. That was a strong exhibition of spirit 
 by Miss Mary 
 
 CATHERINE. You Scotchman like your spirits 
 that way I believe. 
 
 BOSWELL. And I m sure Doctor Johnson ad 
 mired it. 
 
 CATHERINE. I pity the woman that marries you, 
 Bossy, if one ever does. 
 
 BOSWELL. Pity ? 
 
 CATHERINE. Yes. She ll have Johnson for 
 breakfast, dinner and supper. 
 
 BOSWELL. Why, no. I shouldn t invite him al 
 ways. 
 
 CATHERINE. (In despair at his density) Oh, 
 think of it Johnson and calves head. (Taps his 
 forehead with her lorgnette) 
 
 BOSWELL. Now what does that mean? 
 
 (CATHERINE hums SCOTCH tune.) 
 
 COLMAN. (The conference about the paper is 
 over) Now, Mr. Craddock. 
 
 PROMPTER. (Impatiently) Clear everybody. 
 COLMAN. (Going R. with JOHNSON) I still think 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 67 
 
 it impossible, Doctor. The idea of mistaking a 
 gntleman s house for an Inn. 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir, Dr. Goldsmith himself did it. 
 
 COLMAN. That rather strengthens my contention 
 and having done this, the heroine stoops to play 
 ing barmaid in order to win him. Would any young 
 lady do that? Would you. Miss Horneck? 
 
 CATHERINE. Provided it did win him, yes. 
 
 MARY. Often women must stoop in order to 
 conquer. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Suddenly struck by the phrase) 
 There s the name for Goldy s play. (Back to MARY 
 I R.) "She stoops to Conquer" 
 
 COLMAN. I like the " Mistakes of a Night," bet 
 ter. 
 
 BURKE. (Laughing) That certainly expresses 
 the managerial position. 
 
 COLMAN. It does. But that s another matter. 
 I ve nobody for the hero but Lewis. 
 
 JOHNSON. Who s Lewis? 
 
 COLMAN. The harlequin of the theatre. 
 
 MARY. Oh, how cruel ! 
 
 BURKE. Harlequin? Well he s a tough acrobatic 
 fellow, isn t he? 
 
 MARY. How can you? 
 
 PROMPTER. Clear, please. (Calls) Mr. Quirk, 
 Mrs. Featherstone ; we ll run through that scene of 
 yours in the last act. 
 
 QUIRK. (Reading LUMPKIN. With part) 
 " Never fear me " and so forth 1 
 
 PROMPTER. Yes. That speech is to Hastings. 
 who goes off right. I ll stand for Hastings. 
 (Reads) (( Rebuke" and so forth, and so forth 
 "care of the young man." (Makes false exit. 
 Continues to watch the text) 
 
 QUIRK. (As LUMPKIN) Never fear me. Here 
 she comes." 
 
 PROMPTER. (Interrupting to explain) It s a 
 
68 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 dark landscape you know in " three " with a cut 
 wood in two and Mrs. Hardcastle comes through 
 the cut wood from two. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Waiting to rehearse the 
 part of MRS. HARDCASTLE and correcting LUMP- 
 KIN as he faces R.) Two left. 
 
 LUMPKIN. (Turning) Oh you come left. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Yes. (She goes to the left 
 wing) 
 
 LUMPKIN. Just give me that cue again, please. 
 
 PROMPTER. (Mumbling) M-m-m-m-m " care of 
 the young one." (PROMPTER goes off R.) 
 
 LUMPKIN. Never fear me. (Looks left) Here 
 she comes. Vanish she s got from the pond and 
 draggled up to the waist like a mermaid 
 
 (Enter GARRICK and GOLDSMITH at back of the. 
 auditorium. ) 
 
 GARRICK. (Walking down the aisle and thru 
 the audience, -followed by GOLDSMITH, as tho com 
 ing from the box office in to an empty theater) Oh, 
 Mr. Prompter just a moment Mr. Goldsmith has 
 consented to my assisting a little here. I hope Mr. 
 Colman doesn t object (Shading his eyes and look 
 ing stage over from the auditorium. Pause) Is 
 Mr. Colman there? 
 
 PROMOTER. (Leaning over foot lights) He s 
 gone out, sir. 
 
 GARRICK. Well, I m sure he wouldn t mind 
 Just run that last speech for me again, will you ? 
 
 (MRS. FEATHERSTONE exit.) 
 
 LUMPKIN. (Inquiring) " She s got from the 
 pond and draggled up to the waist like a mermaid ? " 
 
 GARRICK. Yes. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Entering. Catching the 
 last three words) Like a mermaid" that s 
 me. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 69 
 
 GARRICK. (Now standing by the leader and di 
 recting rehearsal) One moment, Mrs. Feather- 
 stone. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Oh going back? 
 
 GARRICK. One speech only (Exit MRS. FEA 
 THERSTONE) Now, son, (To LUMPKIN whom he 
 addresses very soothingly} I know you re simply 
 reading, but you go on to-morrow night, so you 
 might as well study correctly 
 
 LUMPKIN. (Half embarrassed in presence of the 
 great actor manager) Why certainly, Mr. Garrick 
 very much obliged I m sure - 
 
 GARRICK. (Continuing his explanation) The 
 idea of mother in the horse pond ; and draggled like 
 a mermaid, is meant to be funny. 
 
 LUMPKIN. Yes, sir. 
 
 GARRICK. Perhaps it isn t. Maybe " our dear 
 friends in front, et cetera" won t care for it; but 
 this boy thinks it s funny. 
 
 LUMPKIN. Oh, yes I suppose I think it s funny. 
 
 GARRICK. Well that s why I stopped you. Speak 
 the line almost not quite, you understand, but al 
 most inarticulately through laughter. 
 
 LUMPKIN. (Trying it) And drag drag drag 
 gled up to the waist 
 
 GARRICK. No, no don t try " to write up the 
 part " my boy something like this What are the 
 words. (To PROMPTER) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Nervously beside GARRICK) 
 Draggled up to the waist like a mermaid. 
 
 GARRICK. (Soberly) Oh, yes up to the waist 
 (Then to Actor) Mother and so forth and so 
 forth (With murmur) And draggled up to the 
 waist like a mermaid. (He laughs thru the speech 
 with consummate skill) 
 
 JOHNSON. (Overborne by the naturalness of 
 GARRICK) Ha ha! ha! (Loud laugh) 
 
 DRUMMOND. (Following instructions) Ha, ha 
 ha, ha (Still louder) 
 
70 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GARRICK. (To DRUMMOND) Adam Adam 
 not yet not yet 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Ignorant of the plan and resenting 
 DRUMMOND S bellow) Get out of the house, sir 
 get out of the house. 
 
 GARRICK. No, no, Goldy, / fetched him he s 
 all right and he ll be out here to-morrow night. (He 
 indicates a seat in the parquet) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Oh, he will? Who is he? 
 
 GARRICK. (Introducing DRUMMOND to GOLD 
 SMITH) Mr. Adam Drummond, Dr. Goldsmith; 
 some of the " popularity " from Drury Lane. 
 
 DRUMMOND. (Leaving his chair in i L.) Pleased 
 to meet you. (They shake hands over the foot 
 lights) 
 
 (GARRICK climbs onto stage. DRUMMOND resumes 
 his chair.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (To JOHNSON who is in box R.) 
 Sure I thought he was the carpenter. 
 
 GARRICK. (On the stage and taking command in 
 fine fashion) Now let s go at this in earnest. 
 (Calls) Props Props 
 
 PROPS. (Coming on) Well, sir. 
 
 GARRICK. (To PROMPTER) Let s have this table 
 out of the way. (GARRICK talks to MRS. FEATHER- 
 STONE frantically) 
 
 PROMPTER. Props. 
 
 (PROPS and PROMOTER remove table.} 
 
 LEADER. (Who has been whispering to GOLD 
 SMITH still in parquet) I thought something of this 
 kind. (Runs few bars, tremolo) 
 
 LUMPKIN. (With trouble enough already) That 
 isn t for this scene, is it? 
 
 LEADER. No no. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Seeing that they are interfering. 
 To LEADER) Well we ll talk it over later. 
 
 GARRICK. (Smartly) Now again, please. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 71 
 
 PROMPTER. (Reading HASTINGS) " Rebuke " 
 etc. and so forth " care of the young one." (False 
 exit) 
 
 LUMPKIN. (By MR. QUIRK) Never fear me 
 Here she comes Vanish! She s got from the 
 pond 
 
 GARRICK. (Seeing PROMPTER whom LUMPKIN 
 has indicated) Are you off before he says Vanish? 
 
 PROMPTER. I m simply standing for the part. 
 
 GARRICK. I know but where is the exit marked? 
 
 PROMPTER. (Reading) " Care of the young one 
 exit." 
 
 GARRICK. Well put it after " Vanish "Boy 
 doesin t want to be saying Vanish to the wood- 
 wings. 
 
 LUMPKIN. (Glad of an excuse) That s what 
 kind a " threw me " nobody to play to. 
 
 GARRICK. (Sympathetic) Of course (Sharply) 
 Now again "Rebuke and so forth (To wing) 
 " Care of the young one." 
 
 LUMPKIN. Never fear me 
 
 GARRICK. (Encouragingly) Lift it. Lift it. 
 
 LUMPKIN. (Brightening) Here she comes 
 Vanish (GARRICK exit) She s got from the pond 
 and (Imitating GARRICK S manner) draggled up to 
 the waist like a mermaid, ha, ha ha ha (Pause) 
 
 PROMPTER. (Calls) " Like a mermaid." 
 
 GARRICK. (Impatiently repeats and inquires) 
 " Like a mermaid." 
 
 PROMPTER. (Annoyed) Mrs. Featherstone. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Who has been talking to 
 JOHNSON) Yes? 
 
 PROMPTER. (In disgust) " Like a mermaid" 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. " Like a mermaid," that s 
 me. (Enters i) 
 
 PROMPTER. Enter in two please. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. I know but I thought you 
 were going back. (MRS. FEATHERSTONE retires) 
 
72 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 (PROMOTER nods to LUMPKIN.) 
 
 LUMPKIN. (Laughing) Up to the waist like a 
 mermaid." 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (As MRS. HARDCASTLE 
 enters) " Oh, Tony, I m killed shook battered 
 to death I shall never survive it. That last jolt has 
 done my business." 
 
 LUMPKIN. Alack, Mamma, it was all your own 
 fault. You would be for running away by night 
 without knowing one inch of the way." 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. " I wish we were at home 
 again I never met so many accidents in so short a 
 journed." (Speaks in sudden descent from the 
 characterization) I wanted to ask you, Doctor 
 Goldsmith, about that line. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Yes, Madame. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Squatting at foot-lights) 
 " So short a journey." But it isn t a short journey 
 you know. In his next lines to me, my son says 
 about forty miles from home. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, it s short for so many acci 
 dents you see, and the lady goes on to describe 
 them. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Dubiously) Yes short 
 that way I suppose. (Rises and returns) 
 
 PROMPTER. (Tired of excuses) Go on please. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Remembering) " Dren 
 ched 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 ? " 
 
 LUMPKIN. " But my guess we should be upon 
 Heavy tree Heath, about forty miles from home." 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. " Oh Lud Oh Lud The 
 most notorious spot in all the country. We only 
 want a robbery to make a complete night on t." 
 
 PROMPTER. (Bringing the illusion to earth again) 
 Now there ll be a stump there that the old lady 
 sinks on to. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 73 
 
 GARRICK. Well, let s have it, Mr. Prompter. 
 PROMPTER. Props. 
 
 (PROPS appears.) 
 
 GARRICK. (Smartly) We want a stump here 
 you ve got a stump in the property-room, haven t 
 you? 
 
 PROPS. (Spurred "by GARRICK S manner) Oh I 
 think so ! (Dances a break) 
 
 GARRICK. (In cockney reproduction) Well 
 fetch it please. (Dances like PROPS. Exit PROPS) 
 
 (All smile or laugh excepting JOHNSON and DRUM- 
 MOND who awaits his example.) 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (Utilizing the interrup 
 tion) Now, Doctor Goldsmith, I wish you d tell me 
 how you want this done. You ve been so busy with 
 the other people I haven t had time to ask you. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Going on to stage over the foot 
 lights) Well, do it broadly In fact overdo it a 
 trifle. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. (In great perplexity) Oh 
 it s so out of my line. (Turns to GARRICK) You 
 know Mr. Garrick " Queen mothers " and that 
 sort of thing; but these nervous old women; not my 
 line at all. If you d only give me some idea. 
 
 (LUMPKIN goes to PROMPTER.) 
 
 GARRICK. Why very simple. (Takes part. 
 Enter PROPS with stump) Nowhere s the stump 
 (Places it) Your son is there Oh Oh (Looks 
 at LUMPKIN, hesitates turns to GOLDSMITH) You 
 know your own lines, Doctor. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I do. 
 
 GARRICK. Then just run this " opposite part " 
 yvith me " forty miles from home." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Assuming the part of LUMPKIN) 
 
74 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 " By my guess we should be upon Heavytree Heath 
 about forty miles from home/ 
 
 (GARRICK nods to LUMPKIN to observe GOLD 
 SMITH S treatment.) 
 
 GARRICK. (Assuming the old woman role and as 
 MRS. HARDCASTLE, giving another example of his 
 genius) " Oh, Lud Oh, Lud the most notorious 
 spot in all the country. We only want a robbery to 
 make a complete night on t." (Sinks to stump) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Treating GARRICK as his mother) 
 " 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." 
 
 GARRICK. (Resuming the stage manager for the 
 moment) Wouldn t it help that to emphasize 
 " may " other three may not find us." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Seem strained, wouldn t it? 
 
 GARRICK. Well (Touching forehead) pretty 
 low out there (Points to the parquet) got to hand 
 it right to them and sometimes they won t take it 
 then. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well you know your business 
 (They resume their play of son and mother) 
 " other three may not find us. Don t be afraid. Is 
 that a man that s galloping behind us ? " 
 
 {(Start and scream by GARRICK. JOHNSON laughs. 
 DRUMMOND laughs. GARRICK stimulated by 
 his hit continues the caricature until DRUM- 
 MONO, overcome, leaves the stage in a gale.) 
 
 GARRICK. (To others) That ought to be a very 
 good scene. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Oh I studied it quite the 
 other way. I m so much obliged, so much^ obliged. 
 
 LUMPKIN. I see what you want and I ll be all 
 right to-morrow morning at rehearsal. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 75 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Good. (He is in high spirits over 
 the color GARRICK has infused) 
 
 (Enter PROPS with paper.) 
 
 PROPS. See this, sir. (Hands paper to GOLD 
 SMITH) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Taking paper) What is it. 
 
 PROPS. Just a pleasant little " turn over." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Reading indifferently) Why this 
 will only re-act in my favor. 
 
 (To others who have been talking aside, gradually 
 realize that GOLDSMITH has the abusive attack.) 
 
 BURKE. I say, Noll I wouldn t read that. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Why, bless you, Ned, I don t mind 
 it. (Sudden change of manner and cry a turn to 
 ward MARY and an involuntary hiding of the paper) 
 
 BURKE. (Tenderly) That s what we didn t 
 want you to see, old fellow. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Crushed) Her name in this dirty 
 sheet has she seen it? 
 
 BURKE. No, and we won t let her. 
 
 GARRICK. (Joining them) Don t mind, Goldy 
 
 GOLDSMITH. But to drag her name into it, David. 
 
 GARRICK. I know, but be careful. (They lead 
 GOLDY off R.) 
 
 MARY. (Advancing) What was that? I saw a 
 paper ? 
 
 GARRICK. A personal attack on Doctor Gold 
 smith. (Gives paper to JOHNSON) 
 
 MARY. Is that the truth was my family not 
 mentioned ? 
 
 BURKE. Why, Mary it can t hurt you. 
 
 MARY. What was it? 
 
 GARRICK. (To JOHNSON, who wavers) Don t 
 don t show it. 
 
 MARY. There are other copies of the paper 
 How can you keep it from me? 
 
76 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 JOHNSON. True! It is a vile and over written 
 attack on this worthy gentleman (Reads paper) 
 and the only allusion to yourself is in this line 
 " was but the lovely H K " presumably Hor- 
 neck " as much enamored. You would not sigh, 
 my gentle swain in vain." (KENRICK enters un 
 suspecting) Merely a coupling of Goldsmith s 
 name with yours. 
 
 MARY. I want that paper. 
 
 JOHNSON. Why ? 
 
 MARY. To keep it. (Pause) 
 
 BURKE. (Dashed) To keep it 
 
 MARY. Yes, it is an honour I have not deserved. 
 
 (KENRICK comes down.) 
 
 KENRICK. Miss Horneck. 
 
 SEVERAL. Kenrick ! 
 
 KENRICK. It is the wish of your mother, and 
 Captain Horneck that you leave this place at once. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Rushing from the side) Did you 
 write that? Did you? 
 
 KENRICK. What of it? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Did you? Did you? (Strikes him 
 with his cane until seized by BURKE and GARRICK 
 but again breaks away) 
 
 (KENRICK draws his sword.) 
 
 GARRICK. (Taking sword from KENRICK) You 
 disgrace a sword, sir. (Breaks it over his knee) 
 Go ! ! ! (He points to the door) 
 
 (MARY goes tenderly to GOLDSMITH who leans 
 overcome on BURKE.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 77 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 1 SCENE: A garret with the roof sloping down at 
 back. Fireplace left 2. Window to small 
 balcony left I. Dormer window at back. Door 
 I R. Thru the window is seen a London house 
 top backing. Furniture: Wash-stand with 
 metal ewer and basin. Flower pots in window 
 at back. Bed, R. u. corner. Small box of coals, 
 table and two chairs center. Profusion of 
 books and MSS. Fire in fireplace. Strong 
 sunlight in window left. 
 
 DISCOVERED : GOLDSMITH, MRS. FEATHER- 
 STONE, LITTLE MARY, and ANNIE. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. ( With mortar and pestle at work at 
 table) And you say the pains came back on 
 mother ? 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Yes, sir. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Did she take all the medicine? 
 
 LITTLE MARY. I don t know, sir. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Why do you do this kind of 
 work, Doctor when you succeed so much better 
 with your pen? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Oh, I succeed very well at this, sir. 
 I never in all me practice lost a single patient. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Astonished) Well! Well! 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Except by death. (MRS. FEATHER- 
 STONE and FEATHERSTONE laugh) Now, where s 
 that bottle? (Gets wine bottle, pours into vial) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. What s that? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Sure you don t have to ask that, 
 smell it. (Puts bottle under FEATHERSTONE S nose, 
 pours again) And it s the last ; but the poor woman 
 thinks she wants physic, when I know it s this she 
 nades. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. But what was that stuff 
 you ground up there? 
 
78 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Some pepper and a bit of carroway 
 seed to make it professional. (Aside with ANNIE) 
 Here, my dear, take this to mother and tell her it 
 doesn t look so red as the first lot because it s not 
 quite as strong but it ll taste just as bad. 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Mother says she ll pay you as 
 soon as she gets the money. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Faith no one could do more. Wait 
 a minute, my love, I ll go with you. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (At window left) It s an in 
 spiring view from here, Doctor.^ 
 
 GOLDSMITH. The most inspiring to a man of my 
 nature. That window, looks fair upon Fleet Street 
 prison and by cranin your neck from this one in 
 the dormer you can just get a peep of Covent 
 Garden to the left. (Back to table) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Laughing) You pays your 
 money and you takes your choice. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Faith if you don t pay your money 
 it s no choice at all but off there to the Fleet 
 (They laugh) 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Well, it s no choice with 
 me, either, for I must off to rehearsal. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. A new play so soon? (Front of 
 table) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Yes. They don t need it of 
 course. Your play will run two weeks easily, but 
 Colman s out of town and his assistant must be 
 prepared with a new play. So they are rehearsing 
 something of Kelly s. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Colman out of town? ^ts on 
 table) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Yes laughed out (All laugh) 
 He s the butt of the town since " She stoops to Con 
 quer" so completely reversed his prediction. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. " She Stoops to Conquer "what a 
 good name for it. I tell you Sam Johnson s a 
 wonderful man. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 79 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Why, he didn t name it. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I thought he did. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. No. He seized upon the 
 expression when he heard it but it was Mary 
 Horneck who spoke it. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Mary! (Rises) and to think she s 
 to be wasted on that blackguard Kenrick. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. It s your fault, Doctor. 
 She thinks more of your little finger than of ail the 
 Kenricks in the world. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. No no why I m fourteen or fif 
 teen years older than she is. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. What of that? Look at 
 William. He s tv/elve years older than me. Why 
 that simply makes a woman feel safe. (GOLD 
 SMITH laughs. MRS. FEATHERSTONE joins laugh} 
 
 WILLIAM. (Less appreciative of the humor) 
 See here, Sarah 
 
 GOLDSMITH. But what of William? Where s his 
 peace of mind? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Yes ; tied up at Blackheath and 
 she is here at rehearsals. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. Nonsense. He always 
 moves into town when I m in the bill but I must 
 be going. (Pause. Notices FEATHERSTONE is 
 crosspatch, goes to him and pats his cheek) Why, 
 cross patch, goes to him and pats his cheek) Why, 
 wasn t for the little excitement we get out of my 
 being in the theatre. Kiss me. 
 
 (FEATHERSTONE pouts.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Hang it, man, kiss her or I will. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. (Mock indignation) You will? 
 (Kisses MRS. FEATHERSTONE) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Yes and maybe I will anyway. 
 (MRS. FEATHERSTONE runs laughing to door) 
 You re forgetting your basket. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. I was trying to forget it. 
 There s a pair of grouse in it. 
 
8o OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. How fortunate ! I m writing about 
 grouse. 
 
 MRS. FEATHERSTONE. These are trussed^ and 
 Jdone nicely brown with the compliments of " Mr. 
 Hardcastle." William will never get over being put 
 in a play. Now, good morning and take better care 
 of yourself. You must come and visit us at Black- 
 heath. I ll send William for you the first week I m 
 out of the bill. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Thank you. (Exit MRS. FEATHER- 
 STONE. GOLDSMITH looks into basket) When a 
 good woman has no children she adopts a dog or a 
 poet or something. D ye mind if I don t eat both 
 of these ? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Of course not. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Taking one of the grouse and 
 wrapping it) Mary, take this to mother and tell her 
 to take a few bites every hour. 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Shall I bring back the napkin? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Yes ; I was forgettin that. 
 
 (Exit LITTLE MARY.) 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Now, get your hat and coat and 
 let s go to Tom Davies. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. My, but I ve a world of work to do 
 here. (Looks about at the disordered books} 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. But your mind won t be on it if 
 you know the wits are at the coffee house discussing 
 your success. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. True; and the fog s entirely gone, 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Entirely. The Strand is like 
 the south of France. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Getting his hat and coat) tor me 
 doctor told me not to go out in the damp. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Come. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 81 
 
 [(Enter JOHNSON and LITTLE MARY ; she carries the 
 napkin.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Why, Doctor Johnson! You find 
 it a hard climb? 
 
 LITTLE MARY. I showed him the way. 
 
 JOHNSON, (puffing) What is a man of your 
 genius doing in quarters like these? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Retrenchment. 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. But you re getting a good sum 
 for your play, aren t you great success ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Three hundred pounds and that 
 was gone long before I got it. Faith, I never made 
 sixpence in me life, that didn t get me a shilling in 
 debt. 
 
 (Enter LANDLADY.) 
 
 LANDLADY. (Angrily) Well, Doctor Gold- 
 Smith ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Mrs. Higgins. 
 
 LANDLADY. People say your play s a great suc 
 cess and you know what you promised me if it 
 was 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Won t you have a chair ? 
 
 LANDLADY. I ll have all of them, sir, if my rent 
 isn t paid. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Rising and slapping table) Quiet 
 woman (The LANDLADY recoils before the explo 
 sion) don t you see that Doctor Goldsmith has 
 callers? What a hussy you must be to choose a 
 time like this for your importunity. Don t you 
 know that his occupancy of your garret is the only 
 fact that lends any distinction to your rat trap? 
 
 LANDLADY. Rat trap yourself why don t he 
 work instead of wastin hour after hour on them 
 flower pots and everything ; with that child and 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Smiling at LITTLE MARY) Aye 
 and wasted in the same way. 
 
82 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 LANDLADY. Why don t that young one go Home? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Not at all not at all. Mrs. 
 Higgins, to be sure I can t pay the rent but I may 
 share me poverty. 
 
 LANDLADY. Well, you won t share it long. Rat 
 trap!. Pockmarked old butcher. (Exit) 
 
 (FEATHERSTONE turns laughing to window L.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (To LITTLE MARY) Miss Mary, I 
 regret that this awkward contretemps should have 
 been contemporaneous with your call upon me. 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Mother sent back this napkin, 
 and oh she s ever so much obliged for the grouse. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. She is entirely welcome. 
 
 JOHNSON. Grouse what grouse? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Sarah brought in a brace from a 
 bag I made last week. 
 
 JOHNSON. (At basket) Is this one of them? 
 
 FEATHERSTONE. Yes. 
 
 (GOLDSMITH walks anxiously around at back watch" 
 ing JOHNSON S interest in the grouse.) 
 
 JOHNSON. M ! 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I thought it would make a dainty 
 morsel at Tom Davies. 
 
 JOHNSON. It will. But two would have been 
 better. (Puts basket aside) Here, sir, are four 
 books from Griffith s; bound in tree calf, and 
 turned, with gilt edges. The binding alone is worth 
 two guineas the volume. Griffith tells me the sub 
 scription to the press was two guineas more. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, sir, what of the matter? 
 You don t think to put us out of countenance by the 
 cost of the dress ? 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir, Griffith wants them reviewed for 
 his forthcoming issue; but he is much distressed 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 83 
 
 over the slovenly treatment you have given some 
 books entrusted to your care. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Fie on him! The merest proof 
 sheets no such nobility as these. 
 
 JOHNSON. I am his security for these. I prom 
 ised him you d do the work in a week. I know you 
 don t like the labor but the remuneration is sure. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I thank you. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Rising) And, sir, a week is no time 
 too much for the proper performance of the task. 
 (Takes basket) One grouse! (To GOLDSMITH) 
 Don t you know, sir, that a neck of mutton would 
 have been just as good for your mendicants? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I do, but I was just out of necks o* 
 mutton. 
 
 JOHNSON. (To FEATHERSTONE) Come, let us 
 go to Tom Davies. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Yes. (Gathers his coat and hat) 
 
 JOHNSON. Not you, sir ! I spoke to Mr. Feather- 
 stone. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. But you don t intend to lave me? 
 
 JOHNSON. Sir, I rebuked that intruding female 
 because her conduct deserved rebuke but her con 
 tention was not entirely without merit. You do 
 waste your time, Doctor Goldsmith; not only on 
 these children or your flower pots but upon idle 
 listeners at the coffee house, and club ; and sir I de 
 cline to be one to your misleading come. (Exit) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (To FEATHERSTONE) I d like the 
 next ones with feathers on em. 
 
 (FEATHERSTONE goes out suppressing laughter.) 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Is he your father ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. My dear, he isn t even a brother. 
 " Wastin time" wastin time. (To flowers) 
 Whin I ve even forgot ye the entire day. 
 (Sprinkles flowers) 
 
 LITTLE MARY. You said you d play the flute for 
 me. 
 
34 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. So I did. 
 
 MARY. Well, why don t you? (Banging the 
 table) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I will I will. 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Of course you will. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Getting flute) Faith, she s as 
 exigent as royalty, before her petticoats come to her 
 knees. (Sees paper) See here, you baby Mary, 
 oh, the sweetness o that name. Here s something 
 I wrote before I began wastin time on those dis 
 tinguished gintlemen from Parnassus Listen 
 
 [(Reads) 
 
 The wretch condemned from life to part, 
 
 Still, still on hope relies ; 
 
 And every pang that rends the heart, 
 
 Bids expectation rise. 
 
 Hope, like the glimmering taper s light 
 
 Illumines and cheers our way ; 
 
 And still as darker grows the night 
 
 Emits a brighter ray. (Speaks) 
 
 Now, how do you like that? 
 
 LITTLE MARY. (Tentatively) Why, I think 
 that s pretty. But what does it mean ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. The world shall ask that question 
 and I won t tell em. It means, I love a little girl 
 named Mary. (Plays a Flute. Loud knocking in 
 terrupts) Come in! (Enter CAPTAIN HORNECK 
 and KENRICK angrily, and wearing swords) Cap 
 tain Horneck. (Goes toward mantel) 
 
 CAPTAIN. Where, sir, is my sister? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Mary? 
 
 KENRICK. (Advancing) Yes, sir, Mary. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Confronting him) Don t you talk 
 to me Don t you. 
 
 CAPTAIN. Where is she? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I haven t seen her, sir, since the 
 first night of the play. 
 
 KENRICK. You lie ! 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 85 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Looking about and getting candle- 
 stick from mantel) Oh, do I ? 
 
 (LITTLE MARY runs off.) 
 
 CAPTAIN. (Interposing and addressing GOLD 
 SMITH) That business later. My sisters left home 
 an hour ago after a distressing scene with my 
 mother in which Mary declared that she was your 
 wife. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. My wife Mary? 
 
 CAPTAIN. Yes, sir Mary. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Never in the world she never said 
 anything of the kind. 
 
 (Enter BURKE.) 
 
 KENRICK. (To CAPTAIN) I told you he d lie 
 about it. Let me get at him I m not afraid of his 
 candlestick. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Hopping about) Gad! I ll have 
 two o thim. (Gets second candlestick) 
 
 BURKE. (Interposing) What s the mattter, 
 Noll ? Has Davy Garrick been here ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. He has not. Take one of me can 
 delabra here. 
 
 CAPTAIN. Doctor Goldsmith who has been ad 
 mitted to our house, as a friend, and who acted as 
 my mother s and sister s escort to the Continent, 
 has betrayed the trust reposed in him and clandes 
 tinely married my sister Mary. 
 
 BURKE. (Shocked at first and then loyal to 
 GOLDSMITH) Noll! (Crosses to GOLDSMITH c., 
 shakes his hand. Turns upon CAPTAIN) Well, sir, 
 and who are you that a connection with a man who 
 has written the best poem, the best novel and the 
 best play of his generation is not an honor; to say 
 nothing of his bein one o the best fellows? (To 
 GOLDSMITH) Though, hang it, Noll, it s bettin on 
 a sure thing when we play at rivals, and you already 
 married to the girl. 
 
86 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. You too, Ned? I tell you that 
 we re not married. 
 
 CAPTAIN. My sister says they were married in 
 France and Catherine says so too. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (More angrily) Hang it all, I con 
 fess I m a man easily deceived but I m damned if I 
 wouldn t know it if I was married wouldn t I ? 
 
 BURKE. Well / should. And you give me your 
 word? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I do. 
 
 BURKE. (Magnificently to CAPTAIN and KEN- 
 RICK) Then we ll have no more talk about it at all, 
 at all. 
 
 KENRICK. My sentiments exactly. We ve had 
 
 far too much talk. (Turns to GOLDSMITH) Dr. 
 
 Goldsmith, Mr. Burke will act as your friend I ve 
 
 : seen you wear a sword at times for dress parade 
 
 will you get it now and follow us ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I will. (To BURKE) Have you a 
 guinea, Ned? The sword s in pawn for that 
 amount. 
 
 BURKE. Divil a guinea, but I ve a friend in the 
 Temple will lend us two swords. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Getting hat) Good! 
 
 (Enter LANDLADY, TWITCH and FLANAGAN. 
 TWITCH is GARRICK disguised as a Dogberry 
 type of bailiff. The make up is so perfect that 
 the audience do not suspect GARRICK until he 
 discloses himself.) 
 
 LANDLADY. That s him. 
 
 TWITCH. Doctor O Goldsmith? (The voice is 
 the kind known in England as " gin and fog ") 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 TWITCH. (Correcting paper) Oh! 
 
 FLANAGAN. (In high thin Irish brogue) I told 
 you there were no O Goldsmiths sure Goldsmith s 
 a Jew name. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 87 
 
 (TWITCH attends every word of FLANAGAN S with 
 bovine admiration and respect.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. What can I do for you? 
 
 TWITCH. You can pay me this woman s reckon 
 ing o three guineas or I seizes your person and 
 household effects. 
 
 KENRICK. Well gentlemen we await your 
 pleasure. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. We re with you. 
 
 TWITCH. Don t forget me, sir. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Take the stuff and welcome. 
 (Starts and is stopped again) Would you kape me 
 here whin there s a matter of honor? 
 
 TWITCH. It s a matter of business with me. I 
 hold yer person and yer household effects. 
 
 (KENRICK and CAPTAIN laugh.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (To KENRICK) You ll not take 
 advantage of this predicament, will ye, after callin 
 me all kinds of a liar? If you re a man lind me 
 three guineas to discharge this bailiff and I ll pay 
 ye as soon as I ve run ye through. 
 
 KENRICK. As you are going to the sponging 
 house I trust you ll tell us where to find Mrs. Gold 
 smith to extend her relief. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. You ll find Mister Goldsmith about 
 half a sword s length from your dirty face before 
 the morning s over. 
 
 CAPTAIN. Any messenger may find us at Tom 
 Davies. (Exit) 
 
 (KENRICK laughs and follows.) 
 
 BURKE. See here, officer. I m a barrister 
 Burke s me name. 
 
 TWITCH. (Growling hoarsely) I don t care for 
 no barrister. There s my papers. 
 
 (Enter BIFF, a tailor s boy, with a bundle.) 
 BIFF. Dr. Goldsmith? 
 
88 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (To BURKE) I can lick this one 
 without a sword. Yes, sir, I m Goldsmith. 
 
 BIFF. Here. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. What is it? 
 
 BIFF. Your coats from Mr. Filby. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, as I can t pay for them, you d 
 better take them back to Mr. Filby and say 
 
 TWITCH. (Laying heavy hand on the parcel) 
 No, sir; bein in your possession I seizes em. (To 
 BIFF) Your master ll have to proceed by constable 
 and replevin. 
 
 BIFF. (To GOLDSMITH) I give em to you, 
 didn t I? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. You did; with a princely gener 
 osity. 
 
 BIFF. Well, that s what Mr. Filby told me. 
 \(Exit) 
 {TWITCH opens the bundle disclosing two coats.) 
 
 BURKE. Blue velvet, Noll. 
 GOLDSMITH. And bloom colored satin. 
 BURKE. (Incredulous) And you re not mar 
 ried?. 
 
 (GOLDSMITH is too angry to speak.) 
 
 FLANAGAN. (To TWITCH and picking up a 
 chair) Shall I move out me stuff? 
 
 BURKE. Officer. All trades must live, and yours 
 is a necessary one. My friend and I must have a 
 word together. (Hands shilling) 
 
 TWITCH. (Walking over and examining "bal 
 cony) I hope your honor takes nothing amiss as I 
 does; as I does nothing but my duty. I m sure no 
 man can say I ever give a gentleman as was a gen 
 tleman, ill usage. If I saw a gentleman was a gen 
 tleman I ve arranged not to see him for ten weeks 
 together. Don t you know me, Ned? (Aside) 
 
 (TWITCH discloses himself as GARRICK.) 
 BURKE. No why, yes. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 89 
 
 TWITCH. Sh- 
 
 BURKE. Davey Garrick ! 
 
 TWITCH. (Indicating FLANAGAN) The Prop 
 erty Boy from the theatre. 
 
 BURKE. What the divil s it all mean? 
 
 TWITCH. They can t run a sword thro* a gentle 
 man when he s in the hands of the law, can they? 
 He can t fight. I m the law. (Aloud and resuming 
 character) Under the circumstances just outside 
 
 LANDLADY. (Objecting to the apparent bribe and 
 the diminution of official pressure) But see here 
 
 BURKE. (Represssing laughter} Please take 
 your client with you. 
 
 TWITCH. Purceedin is perfectly regular. 
 (Takes LANDLADY S arm) 
 
 FLANAGAN. Come on. (Takes the other arm) 
 
 LANDLADY. (Going) Well, see here 
 
 (Exit FLANAGAN.) 
 
 TWITCH. Perfectly regular. (Puts her out and 
 follows) 
 
 BURKE. (Aside} I don t understand it at all. 
 (Standing R. of table, leaning on it and facing { 
 GOLDSMITH) Oliver Goldsmith? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. ( Some business left of table} 
 Edmund Burke. 
 
 BURKE. Man to man. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Man to man. 
 
 BURKE. Ye re not married? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I m not married. Do I look like & 
 liar? 
 
 BURKE. Not now. (Pause) But you did whin 
 those two blackguards were baitin* you. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Married to Mary; with these legs, 
 and this bald head o mine ? 
 
 BURKE. That s what I was thinkin meself ; but 
 she brought me up with a round turn, I tell you. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Whin was this? 
 
90 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 BURKE. That day at rehearsal. 
 GOLDSMITH. You were makin fun o me legs, 
 Mr. Burke. 
 
 BURKE. No, but thinkin of em and Mary 
 countin out on her fingers the men that love you, 
 Noll. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. On one hand. 
 
 BURKE. On three fingers and says I " Yes, but 
 none of em s women " and she turned on me like 
 the wife of Ulysses scolding the boarders and says 
 she " But I m a woman and put that in your pipe 
 and smoke it." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Why, you re the man of all the 
 world for her, Ned. 
 
 BURKE. - Tis you she loves. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, at times I ve thought she did. 
 
 BURKE. Then why don t you marry her ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Why, Ned, the doctor gives me a 
 year one year 
 
 BURKE. Drat the doctor where does he get a 
 year to give anybody? Luck s with you now and 
 you may live a thousand. Why the touch o her 
 hand d be like the fountain of youth. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Shaking head) No, no, me father 
 was about me same age when he died. I wouldn t 
 do it. (To fireplace) If she walked in this minute 
 I d tell her I never loved her; though to think she 
 cared for me makes rainbows in me eyes whin I 
 wink em. 
 
 BURKE. Why, Noll, it s something, as times go 
 now, to be the widow of a chap like you. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. D ye mane it s that she wants? 
 
 BURKE. That s better than Kenrick. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Do you think she s really promised 
 to him ? 
 
 BURKE. I don t know. (Down R.) There s been 
 some divil s own work in the Horneck family. The 
 old lady sent for me early yesterday morning. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. The mother? 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 91 
 
 BURKE. (Nodding) The mother, and says 
 she (Pause) But twas as a barrister she asked 
 me advice; and I ve no right to talk at all. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Whin ye nade consulting counsel? 
 Couldn t you ? 
 
 BURKE. (Relieved) That ll do. (GOLDSMITH 
 sits) Well This cut-throat Kenrick s blackmailin 
 the family. The Horneck s dead father was trustee 
 for some estate; and he died with his books in a 
 muddle. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Go on 
 
 BURKE. Well, this fellow Kenrick s bought up 
 for a song, half a dozen claims against em, and 
 threatens suit. The old lady sees her cottage, and 
 her son s commission in the guards, and the reputa 
 tion o the dead man, and the future o both the 
 girls, in her mind s eye, goin over the cataract. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Densely) Has she a cataract? 
 
 BURKE. (Angrily) Twas a figure of speech 
 like your damned rainbows whin yer winkin 
 (Goes right) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Go on. 
 
 BURKE. There s a sayin* that a man who s his 
 own lawyer has a fool for a client I think he has 
 a knave just as often. This fellow s engaged no 
 lawyer at all. Now I want to look up the Court 
 records before I do anything else meself. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. That s best. 
 
 BURKE. But that takes money I came to you, a 
 successful playwright to get it. The tip I gave that 
 officer was me last shilling. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Consoling) Sure that s what 
 shillin s are for. 
 
 BURKE. But what s to be done? I should be 
 knee-deep now in parchments across the street. 
 (Crosses to window) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Rises front of table) And I ve 
 got to fight that blackguard before dinner. 
 
 BURKE. Not sixpence between us. 
 
92 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Garrick wants a play now I m a 
 success; and I ve written to em for sixty pounds. 
 ( BURKE shakes his head) Too much, eh? That s 
 what I feared. Well here s four books hand 
 tooled and gilt edges. They re worth sixteen guin 
 eas. 
 
 BURKE. Where did you get em ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Doctor Johnson brought them here 
 for me to review. Take em to Tom Davies; and 
 tell him I want five guineas till this day week 
 borrow those swords you say you can get from your 
 friend. Put them, two here; and three in here. 
 (Dramatizes putting two and three guineas in 
 BURKE S respective vest pockets) Three to my 
 landlady and two to you. (Pushes him) 
 
 (Enter TWITCH and FLANAGAN.) 
 
 TWITCH. There s a carriage downstairs; with a 
 gentleman and two ladies in it 
 
 BURKE. Well ? 
 
 TWITCH. To see Dr. Goldsmith. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Who are they? 
 
 TWITCH. One of em give my man Flanagan a 
 card. (Indicates FLANAGAN in great pride) 
 
 BURKE. Let s have the card. 
 
 TWITCH. (Pause and Dogberry exposition) If 
 yer honors only knew that little bit of flesh as I do 
 Rabbit me, but he d die first before he give up 
 that card; unless I told him to. (Pause and dis 
 play) Flanagan, give up the card. 
 
 (FLANAGAN obeys.) 
 
 BURKE. (Takes card. Reading) Boswell. 
 (Goes to balcony and looks down) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (To TWITCH) And two ladies you 
 said? 
 
 (TWITCH heavily defers to FLANAGAN and nods for 
 him to reply.) 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 93 
 
 FLANAGAN. Two ladies ; and a coachman ; and a 
 footman ; and a carriage ; and two horses. 
 
 TWITCH. (Bursting with admiration) Little 
 Flanagan ! Rabbit me ! but he s a weasel. 
 
 BURKE. (Returning) Bos well s on the pave 
 ment I can t see the ladies the carriage is cov 
 ered. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Did he see you? 
 
 FLANAGAN. He gi me the card with both his 
 two eyes on me 
 
 BURKE. Did you tell him why you were here? 
 
 FLANAGAN. He axed for Doctor Goldsmith. 
 
 BURKE. Yes yes 
 
 FLANAGAN. And I says, says I I m his man, sir. 
 (Looks to TWITCH for further orders) 
 
 BURKE. His man? 
 
 TWITCH. (Pause and smile) That s Flanagan 
 when he sees a gentleman is a gentleman 
 
 FLANAGAN. And an Irish gentleman 
 
 TWITCH. Why, he s a good un. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, go down again, Mr. Flana 
 gan ; and say to Mr. Boswell that Doctor Goldsmith 
 is very busy and that unless his business is very im 
 portant, that Doctor Goldsmith will see Mr. Boswell 
 at his club. 
 
 FLANAGAN. (To TWITCH) Shall I tell him 
 that? 
 
 TWITCH. (Exasperating pause and smile) Die 
 first! Yes, Flanagan tell him that? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. And whisper to him that Doctor 
 Goldsmith s in no condition to see ladies. 
 
 (FLANAGAN looks at TWITCH TWITCH nods, 
 FLANAGAN goes.) 
 
 TWITCH. (Indicating the door where FLANAGAN 
 went) Die first. (Goes up) 
 
 BURKE. He may insist ; and I don t care to meet 
 him. 
 
94 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Taking BURKE and the books to 
 the door) At the last landing the stairs divide. Go 
 through the courtyard and out the back way; and 
 Ned, get a bottle of Madeira. There s sixpence on 
 the empty bottle. (Hands BURKE the bottle from 
 table. BURKE exit. GOLDSMITH removes coat and 
 begins to put on the bloom coat) And now, Mis 
 ter Mister I forgot your name. 
 
 TWITCH. How can you forget what you never 
 knew? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. True. May I ask your name? 
 
 TWITCH. You may. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Tidying room) Then pray, sir, 
 what is your name? 
 
 TWITCH. I didn t promise to tell you that. Ha, 
 ha ! A joke breaks no bones as we say amongst us 
 as practices the law. Ha, ha. 
 
 (Enter FLANAGAN.) 
 
 FLANAGAN. A note from one of the ladies. 
 GOLDSMITH. For me? 
 
 (FLANAGAN gives note to TWITCH.) 
 
 TWITCH. Die first. (Takes note .reads) "Doc 
 tor Goldsmith" (Passes note) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. From Mary (Reads) "I must 
 see you. Mary Horneck." (Speaks) In quarters 
 like this. (Reads) " I must see you " and I m 
 keeping her waiting. Go down, please, Mr. Flana 
 gan, and show the ladies up. 
 
 FLANAGAN. (To TWITCH) Shall I? 
 
 TWITCH. (Pause and smiling nods toward 
 FLANAGAN) Yes, Flanagan, show em up. 
 
 (Exit FLANAGAN.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I trust, sir, you have no reason for 
 keeping your name a secret. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 95 
 
 TWITCH. The law does nothing without reason. 
 But I m ashamed to tell no man my name. It s 
 Twitch, sir Timothy Twitch. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Do you mind, sir, if I introduce you 
 as a friend of mine? 
 
 TWITCH. Not at all, sir, when there s a lady in 
 the case. If you think I look like a friend of yours. 
 I m not over well in clothes. Smoke the pocket 
 holes. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Perhaps this coat would fit you. 
 
 TWITCH. (Regarding the renovated coat} Per 
 haps it would ; but it s a color I d never choose for 
 myself. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Try it on. 
 
 TWITCH. (TWITCH removes his coat and is 
 helped into the new one) Only to oblige you. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Fairly well; and the color s as 
 pretty a contrast as I ever saw. 
 
 TWITCH. People say us bailiffs have no humanity 
 but I shows you my humanity this minute. Rab 
 bit me, but I d hate to be found dead in this. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I trust you ll say as little as possible, 
 Mr. Twitch, and nothing at all without I ask you. 
 
 TWITCH. Never fear me, sir. 
 
 (Enter FLANAGAN followed by MARY, CATHERINE 
 and BOSWELL.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Kissing her hand) My dear Miss 
 Mary. 
 
 MARY. (Anxiously) Has my brother been here? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. He has. 
 
 MARY. Oh (Handkerchief to face and crosses 
 to balcony) 
 
 CATHERINE. Was Mr. Garrick here? 
 
 TWITCH. Yes, mum. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. He was not. 
 
96 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 TWITCH. Who was that gentleman then? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Mr Burke. 
 
 TWITCH. (To FLANAGAN) Mr. Garrick wasn t 
 here. 
 
 CATHERINE. We surprised you, didn t we ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Looking after MARY) Tis a way 
 you have, (c.) 
 
 CATHERINE. (L. c.) We didn t know where you 
 lived. Mr. Boswell was good enough to bring us. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Thank you, Mr. Boswell. 
 
 BOSWELL. (Crosses up) You re kind of a high 
 liver, Doctor. 
 
 ( ( TWITCH and FLANAGAN laugh. CATHERINE goes 
 in front of table. ,\ 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (To TWITCH) Be still, sir, be 
 still. (To BOSWELL and CATHERINE) I haven t 
 had him in my service before this week. 
 
 TWITCH. Introduce me. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Permit me to introduce a friend, 
 Mr. Twitch. 
 
 TWITCH. (Bowing) In his majesty s service. 
 
 BOSWELL. Oh, the marine, I presume. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, they do occasionally serve in 
 the fleet. (Goes to MARY who keeps her back to 
 him and looks, over the balcony) 
 
 CATHERINE. Now, we re very much obliged to 
 you, Bossy, for fetching us; but we can go back 
 alone. 
 
 BOSWELL. Can t I wait for you? 
 
 CATHERINE. No. 
 
 BOSWELL. I want to talk to you, little one. 
 
 CATHERINE. Nonsense you talked all the way 
 
 BOSWELL. But not alone, as I would like to. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 97 
 
 (Pause) You don t think me serious, do you, Cath 
 erine ? 
 
 CATHERINE. Oh, yes, I do. That s what s the 
 matter with you you re too serious. (Turns and 
 meets TWITCH) 
 
 TWITCH. Catherine 
 
 CATHERINE. How dare you? 
 
 TWITCH. My sweetheart Sh " there s some 
 thing in your eyes, little girl that sinks into my soul 
 and seems part of myself " 
 
 CATHERINE. (Recognizing GARRICK) Davey! 
 
 TWITCH. Oh (GOLDSMITH is recalled by 
 TWITCH S voice. In his bailiff voice. To CATH 
 ERINE) Pleasant weather we re having very 
 pleasant weather for this time of year. 
 
 CATHERINE. Very pleasant indeed. 
 
 FLANAGAN. (Declaring himself "in") Very 
 good circuit weather; in the country. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Why, we haven t chairs enough, 
 Flanagan, go to Mrs. the next flight below and 
 borrow a couple of chairs. 
 
 BOSWELL. Why, we gentlemen can stand. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Not at all I ll go with you. 
 
 TWITCH. And I ll go too. One minute (Ar 
 rests GOLDSMITH) Before and behind; that s the 
 rule, Flanagan. (To GOLDSMITH) After you, sir. 
 (Exeunt FLANAGAN, GOLDSMITH, TWITCH) 
 
 (BOSWELL laughs. ) 
 
 MARY. What an odd looking friend. 
 CATHERINE. And what a peculiar servant. 
 BOSWELL. They re neither friend nor servant ; or 
 I m mistaken. They re officers. 
 CATHERINE. Officers ? 
 
98 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 BOSWELL. Yes sheriff s officers the Doctor s 
 under arrest. 
 
 MARY. (Entering from balcony) Arrest for 
 what, think you ? 
 
 BOSWELL. Debt. 
 
 CATHERINE. Debt? 
 
 BOSWELL. No doubt of it. 
 
 MARY. Oh, how cruel Lend me your purse, 
 sister. 
 
 CATHERINE. But, will he take it? 
 
 MARY. / shall offer it. You take it, Mr. Boswell, 
 and find some way to give it secretly to these men 
 and send them away. 
 
 BOSWELL. (Demurring) But my own purse, 
 Miss Mary 
 
 MARY. You may need both. 
 
 (Enter GOLDSMITH, FLANAGAN and TWITCH. First 
 two have a chair each.) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Here are chairs for all. The sim 
 plicity of me lodging is unused to such sudden 
 popularity. 
 
 CATHERINE. The simplicity is all right but 
 where s your housemaid Just look at that cobweb ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Catching the broom she picks up) 
 For goodness sake, " Little Comedy " I ve been 
 watching the habits of that spider for a six months 
 - (Laughs) I m writing a history of animated na 
 ture that s why I m up here. The swallows build 
 about me windows the mice creep over me coun 
 terpane that spider s worth sixpence a page to me. 
 See what I ve written. (Reads) "There i a, 
 singular law governing a spider in the construction 
 of his web." 
 
 TWITCH. No, sir. (All look startled) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I beg your pardon. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 99 
 
 TWITCH. They ain t no law about spiders. 
 When it comes down to talkin about the law, why 
 I m at ome. Now in a course of law 
 
 MARY. (Interrupting) I m afraid I haven t 
 time to acquire the law. Doctor Goldsmith, I m on 
 a very important errand; and if your friends will 
 excuse us 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Pleading to TWITCH) To be 
 sure. You heard the lady s request, sir and our 
 stand. 
 
 TWITCH. (Moving toward door) Oh, I won t 
 go away and as for Flanagan (Pause and smile) 
 Die first! Madame (To MARY) you re a gentle 
 woman. I challenge the whole town to show a man 
 in a genteeler pactice than myself and I can tell 
 a gentlewoman as far as I sees her. Flanagan 
 
 (FLANAGAN obeys and stands at the door.) 
 
 Bos WELL. I think I ll go too Good mornin , 
 ladies Doctor 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Your servant, sir. 
 
 BOSWELL. Mister Mister 
 
 TWITCH. Twitch, sir. 
 
 BOSWELL. (Bowing) Mr. Twitcher. 
 
 FLANAGAN. Not at all. Twitch is his name 
 Timothy Twitch. (Exit FLANAGAN) 
 
 BOSWELL. (Holding up purse) Oh after you, 
 sir. 
 
 TWITCH. Before and be oh! (To GOLD 
 SMITH) Just oustide. (Exit) 
 
 (BOSWELL -follows laughing.) 
 
 CATHERINE. (Quickly explaining) It s all my 
 fault, Doctor. 
 GOLDSMITH. What is? 
 
lioo OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 CATHERINE. The fib. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. About me and 
 
 CATHERINE. And Mary being married. 
 
 MARY. You didn t think / ever said that ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, I don t know. I m so happy 
 with you girls here ; and the sunshine a-streamin in 
 there at the window, that I need only a few pans 
 and kettles to make me wish I was married to both 
 o ye. 
 
 CATHERINE. But the mischief s done. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Mischief? 
 
 CATHERINE. And we ve got to stand by it, for a 
 few days. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. What s that? 
 
 MARY. (Reprovingly} I told you, Catherine. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. But not here. There s no room for 
 three of us. (CATHERINE laughs MARY goes to 
 window annoyed) 
 
 MARY. Catherine ! 
 
 GOLDSMITH. But I ll get out meself. (Girls turn, 
 away) Plague take it, I say nothing that s right. 
 Come, tell me please. If I m married at all tell me 
 whin it all happened. 
 
 MARY. I know you don t think I m so unmaid- 
 enly, Doctor Goldsmith, as to have been the author 
 of that statement. 
 
 CATHERINE. (Haughtily) Oh, I m the unmaid- 
 enly one, am I? 
 
 MARY. (Severely) Well, are you not? 
 
 CATHERINE. It s not unwomanly anyway. If it 
 is unmaidenly, so there, and if you wouldn t have 
 done as much for me, you re no sister of mine. 
 (Goes to MARY; dumb show exchange) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. My! My! But two girls a- 
 squibbling takes me back to me boyhood. If one 
 of em d only shake her fist at me, I d feel married; 
 I d feel married I know. 
 
 MARY. I don t know why we are here now. 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 101 
 
 CATHERINE. We hoped to reach you, Doctor, be 
 fore my brother did that s the reason we wanted 
 you 
 
 MARY. Say you wanted it, Catherine. 
 
 CATHERINE. Well, / wanted you not to deny 
 that you and Mary were married. 
 
 MARY. Oh! (Goes out onto balcony) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. If I did appearances d be against 
 me now. (Looks yearningly after MARY) We re 
 as far apart as a couple that have been together for 
 life. (Pause, turns to CATHERINE) Well then 
 we re married. Now, what s the joke? 
 
 CATHERINE. My mother, and brother Charles 
 have been trying every way in their power, to make 
 Mary marry Mr. Kenrick. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (In disgust) AH 
 
 CATHERINE. I know Mary better than anybody ; 
 and all her life I ve had to take care of her. They 
 wouldn t take " no " for an answer. She said her 
 heart was not free; but bless you that made no dif 
 ference to them ; and then there came last night 
 (Holds up her hands) I don t suppose you know, 
 Doctor, how miserable the members of a little 
 family who love one another, can make themselves, 
 trying to regulate each other s affairs. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Oh, don t I? There were eight of 
 us 
 
 CATHERINE. (With some pages of print) Well, 
 to make a long story short, this man Kenrick at 
 last produced this. Do you know what those are? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. The bane of my existence galley 
 proof-sheets. (He goes to MARY) 
 
 MARY. Mr. Kenrick says it s an article ready 
 for Griffith s Review. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Scanning the type) The name of 
 your father. 
 
 MARY. Yes a vile slander and Griffiths is to 
 print it. Kenrick said he could stop it, if he might 
 
102 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 say to the publisher, that one of the young ladies 
 concerned, was his promised wife. Charles 
 threatened to sell his commission, as it seemed to 
 have been bought with stolen money. Mother was 
 going to move out of the house 
 
 CATHERINE. Yes, and camp on the street but I 
 spiked everybody s gun by simply declaring that 
 Mary was married. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Beautiful. 
 
 CATHERINE. They wanted to know to whom; 
 and of course I couldn t stop then, could I ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Not if you had any spirit about you 
 at all, you couldn t. 
 
 CATHERINE. I just had time to think, that the 
 only occasion when any such thing could have hap 
 pened, was when we were all together, in Paris. 
 So that put it onto you. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Disappointed) Oh, I see simply 
 as a matter of probability? 
 
 CATHERINE. That s it. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. And not consulting any preference 
 that Mary could have had herself. 
 
 CATHERINE. Not at all. Besides it had to be 
 some good natured fellow like you to consent to it. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Depressed. Pause) I See 
 (Pause) And how long does the joke last? 
 
 MARY. (Measuring the awkwardness of the 
 situation) No longer. I am already humiliated be 
 yond enduring. (Goes toward door) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Detaining her. Seriously) Miss 
 Mary, d ye remember what you said at rehearsal; 
 and 7 was humiliated past endurance by the couplin 
 o my ourang outang figure with the bare initials o 
 your sainted name. You took the paper and you 
 said : " It s an honor I have not deserved." (CATH 
 ERINE goes to balcony) Why, those words have 
 rung and echoed from my heart through the corners 
 o this garret and out o that dusty chimney to the 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 103 
 
 stars. That that was the tragedy of spleen and 
 printers ink. This this is only the joke of the 
 colleen, " Little Comedy ; " and yet it is an honor 
 that could give lustre to a crown. 
 
 (Enter BURKE. He carries a bottle and two swords. 
 BURKE stands still and looks from one to the 
 other until all three are embarrassed.) 
 
 MARY. (After the pause) What is that? 
 
 BURKE. A bottle I had it filled for Mr. Gold 
 smith. (GOLDSMITH crosses to BURKE) Where 
 are your friends? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. What friends? 
 
 BURKE. Your man Flanagan and the other one ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Just outside. 
 
 ( BURKE shakes his head both men look at the 
 girls in questioning mood and wonder.) 
 
 MARY. (Pause) Yes, I paid it. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Give me that (Takes bottle and 
 pours drink) 
 
 MARY. I m afraid yours is a bad influence, 
 Burke. 
 
 BURKE. Have I any at all ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. And God knows I want it, Ed 
 mund. (Pause and turns to the girls) You see, 
 Ladies, one must never deceive one s doctor nor 
 one s lawyer Edmund (Again to BURKE) for 
 prudential reasons it s been decided to say that Miss 
 Mary Horneck and meself were married in 
 France. The use of my name was purely accidental 
 as Miss Mary was not consulted ; and for me own 
 part as you well know I m an old fellow wrapped 
 up in his manuscripts and with room in his heart 
 for no one. 
 
104 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 (Knock. Pause. Enter GARRICK as himself.) 
 
 GARRICK. Ladies (Low bow) 
 
 MARY and CATHERINE. Mr. Garrick. (Curt 
 sies) 
 
 GARRICK. I got your note, Goldy and in the 
 absence of a contract I hope you don t object to 
 witnesses (Draws pocketbook) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Not at all, sir. 
 
 GARRICK. A play by June. Sixty pounds in ad 
 vance. (Hands GOLDSMITH the banknotes) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Apart to BURKE) Ned, am I 
 draymin ? 
 
 BURKE. (With the TWITCH deception in mind) 
 No, Noll, but you re not very wide awake. (They 
 go to MARY) 
 
 CATHERINE. Oh, Mr. Garrick you ve just got 
 me into the most awful lot of trouble. 
 
 GARRICK. That s my specialty. 
 
 CATHERINE. I wish I d never read that play of 
 yours. 
 
 GARRICK. Which one ? 
 
 CATHERINE. The Clandestine Marriage. 
 
 GARRICK. (Laughing) I wish I d never written 
 it. 
 
 CATHERINE. I followed some of the hints in it 
 and with dreadful consequences. 
 
 GARRICK. (Imitating Bos WELL) You haven t 
 married Boswell, have you? 
 
 CATHERINE. Hardly. 
 
 GARRICK. Well, nothing is dreadful if you ve 
 escaped that. (Laughs) 
 
 (Enter JOHNSON and BOSWELL.) 
 
 JOHNSON. Dr. Goldsmith! Dr. Goldsmith! 
 GOLDSMITH. Sir, to you, Dr. Johnson. 
 JOHNSON. Ladies (All bow) Griffith has 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 105 
 
 changed his mind about the review of those books 
 (Pause) Where are they ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Those books? Well, sir (Looks 
 from JOHNSON to BURKE) Where are they, Ned? 
 
 BURKE. Where are what ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. The books. 
 
 BURKE. Well, blame my thick wits but I left 
 em 
 
 JOHNSON. Left them? Left them where (To 
 GOLDSMITH) what was he doing with them? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. You said they were worth sixteen 
 guineas, didn t you? 
 
 JOHNSON. I did. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well I I (Looks helplessly about 
 his garret) tis a rat-trap as you said and fine books 
 aren t safe in a place like this. 
 
 JOHNSON. So it seems (To BURKE) Where 
 are they? 
 
 BURKE. I left them in care of Tom Davies ! 
 
 JOHNSON. And I was there when you did it. 
 Where are those five guineas Davies gave you f or- 
 them? 
 
 BURKE. Here, sir all but two bob I gave for 
 the wine. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Producing books) And here are the 
 books. (General laugh) Now, sir, you ll review 
 them. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I ll see Griffith hanged first I ve 
 sixty pounds and ye ll all take breakfast with me at 
 Dilly s. We ll have some trussed grouse all but 
 Doctor Johnson and he gets a neck of mutton. 
 
 JOHNSON. Before we go, sir, let us come to the 
 real object of our call. What is this gossip in the 
 air of a clandestine marriage? 
 
 GARRICK. (Trying to help) That s about Cath 
 erine and me. 
 
 JOHNSON. Not all, sir. 
 
 GARRICK. (Complaining to CATHERINE) Well 
 won t anybody talk about us? 
 
io6 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 JOHNSON. (To GOLDSMITH) You are reported 
 to have married Miss Mary ; in France. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, my friends my clandestine 
 marriage with Miss Mary is a matter I hope you ll 
 regard as a secret until one year from now. 
 
 BOSWELL. Is the breakfast postponed till then? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Not at all. We ll go to breakfast at 
 once Oh but you ll have to do without me. I ve 
 an engagement elsewhere. 
 
 GARRICK. A bridal trip by yourself ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. To mate a man, sir. 
 
 (Enter CAPTAIN and KENRICK.) 
 
 CAPTAIN. She is here. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Here s me man now. 
 
 BURKE. Won t you all move on ; Noll ! Doctor 
 Johnson, please conduct the party to Dilly s. 
 
 JOHNSON. (Offering MARY his arm) Mrs. 
 Goldsmith, may I have the honor ? 
 
 MARY. (Laughing) Thanks, Doctor, I ll go 
 ftdth Mr. Goldsmith. 
 
 (JOHNSON laughs, crosses to L. and exit.) 
 
 GARRICK. (Conducts CATHERINE) Mr. Boswell, 
 Will you escort Mistress Garrick? (Laughs as 
 CATHERINE affects resentment) 
 
 BOSWELL. Mistress Garrick! 
 
 GARRICK. (Scoring on BOSWELL S hesitation) I 
 won t trouble you. You might lose Doctor Johnson. 
 (Exit laughing with CATHERINE. BOSWELL angrily 
 exit) 
 
 BURKE. (To CAPTAIN) You ll join us at a 
 breakfast to your sister s husband? 
 
 CAPTAIN. (Laughingly) Certainly. (Exit) 
 
 BURKE. (Alone with KENRICK, GOLDSMITH and 
 MARY. To KENRICK) Catherine gave us these 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 107 
 
 proof sheets. (Pause) If you print them I ll kill 
 you. 
 
 (Enter LITTLE MARY with a stone pot.) 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Please, sir, Doctor Goldsmith. 
 GOLDSMITH. Why, little one, what have you 
 there? 
 
 (KENRICK exit after a glare at BURKE.) 
 
 LITTLE MARY. My mother says she hopes you re 
 well and will you please lend her this pot full o 
 coals ? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. To be sure. 
 
 MARY. (Noticing the pretty child) Won t you 
 shake hands with me? 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Yes, ma am. 
 
 MARY. What s your name? 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Mary. 
 
 MARY. Well, my name is Mary, too. 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Does he love you? 
 
 MARY. Who ? 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Doctor Goldsmith? 
 
 MARY. (Embarrassed) Why I think he s a 
 very good friend of mine. 
 
 LITTLE MARY. Cause he said he loved a girl 
 named Mary. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. (Dropping coals) My! I hope I 
 haven t cracked it. (Gives pot to LITTLE MARY) 
 There, run on, my dear. 
 
 (Exit LITTLE MARY. MARY goes to window left.) 
 
 BURKE. What had you told that child of another 
 Mary? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Some poor verses I was tinkerin* 
 with 
 
OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 BURKE. You wrote verses to to this other 
 Mary? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Tis a way verses have. Sure you 
 must write them to some one. 
 
 BURKE. Did you send them? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I haven t. 
 
 BURKE. Why not? 
 
 GOLDSMITH. Well, one writes to the stars some 
 times and then 
 
 MARY. (Who has overheard, comes to the men) 
 Is she so far away? (Pause) 
 
 BURKE. (Pause) Faith he won t answer, but I 
 may. If she were as near to me she d regret it for 
 the rest of her natural life. Ah, Mary Horneck, 
 you re the kind o home rule I d like to see for the 
 whole of Ireland. I don t know what it is that 
 makes Irishmen love you so; but I think it s yer 
 blue eyes, yer dimples and the way you show yer 
 teeth. Why, that man loves you, girl, as the words 
 in the poems love each other; and he d a told you 
 years ago but that some doctors made him think he 
 wasn t long for this world. 
 
 MARY. (Anxiously) He isn t ill? 
 
 BURKE. Are ye Noll Look at that (Indi 
 cating MARY S face) 
 
 GOLDSMITH. I never had a day s sickness in my 
 life. 
 
 (MARY impulsively takes his hand BURKE de 
 lighted turns to the balcony and leaves them to 
 gether.) 
 
 SLOW CURTAIN. 
 
YC1424?!