EPILOGUE 1 SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY As puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure While oft, with many a smile, and many a shrug, ΙΟ 20 30 1 The author, in expectation of an Epilogue from a friend at Oxford, deferred writing one himself till the very last hour. What is here offered, owes all its success to the graceful manner of the actress who spoke it. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER OR, THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT A COMEDY AS IT IS ACTED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN TO SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D DEAR SIR,-By inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not mean so much to compliment you as myself. It may do me some honour to inform the public, that I have lived many years in intimacy with you. It may serve the interests of mankind also to inform them, that the greatest wit may be found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected piety. I have, particularly, reason to thank you for your partiality to this performance. The undertaking a comedy, not merely sentimental, was very dangerous; and Mr. Colman, who saw this piece in its various stages, always thought it so. However, I ventured to trust it to the public; and, though it was necessarily delayed till late in the season, I have every reason to be grateful. I am, dear Sir, your most sincere friend and admirer, OLIVER GOLDSMITH. PROLOGUE BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ. Enter MR. WOODWARD, dressed in black, and holding a Excuse me, sirs, I pray-I can't yet speak— And if she goes, my tears will never stop; 110 ΤΟ Poor Ned and I are dead to all intents, I give it up-morals won't do for me; To cheer her heart, and give your muscles motion, If you will swallow it, the maid is cur'd. ACT I SCENE-A Chamber in an old-fashioned House Enter MRS. Hardcastle and Mr. HardCASTLE Is MRS. HARD. I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're very particular. there a creature in the whole country, but ourselves, that does not take a trip to town now and then, to rub off the rust a little? There's the two Miss Hoggs, and our neighbour Mrs. Grigsby, go to take a month's polishing every winter. HARD. Ay, and bring back vanity and affectation to last them the whole year. I wonder why London cannot keep its own fools at home! In my time, the follies of the town crept slowly among us, but now they travel faster than a stage-coach. Its fopperies come down, not only as inside passengers, but in the very basket. II MRS. HARD. Ay, your times were fine times, indeed; you have been telling us of them for many a long year. Here we live in an old rumbling mansion, that looks for all the world like an inn, but that we never see company. Our best visitors are old Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's wife, and little Cripplegate, the lame dancing-master; and all our entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene and the Duke of Marlborough. I hate such oldfashioned trumpery. HARD. And I love it. I love everything that's old: old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine; and I believe, Dorothy [taking her hand], you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old wife. 23 MRS. HARD. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're for ever at your Dorothys and your old wifes. be no Joan, I promise you. by more than one good year. money of that. You may be a Darby, but I'll I'm not so old as you'd make me, Add twenty to twenty, and make HARD. Let me see; twenty added to twenty, makes just fifty and seven. MRS. HARD. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle: I was but twenty when I was brought to bed of Tony, that I had by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband; and he's not come to years of discretion yet. 33 HARD. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. Ay, you have taught him finely. MRS. HARD. No matter, Tony Lumpkin has a good fortune. My son is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy wants much learning to spend fifteen hundred a year. HARD. Learning, quotha! a mere composition of tricks and mischief. MRS. HARD. Humour, my dear: nothing but humour. Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humour. 42 HARD. I'd sooner allow him a horse-pond. If burning the footmen's shoes, frightening the maids, and worrying the kittens, be humour, he has it. It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I popt my bald head in Mrs. Frizzle's face. MRS. HARD. And am I to blame? The poor boy was always too sickly to do any good. A school would be his death. When he comes to be a little stronger, who knows what a year or two's Latin may do for him? 51 Anybody that HARD. Latin for him! A cat and a fiddle! No, no; the ale- HARD. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong way. HARD. And truly, so am I; for he sometimes whoops like a speaking-trumpet-[TONY hallooing behind the scenes]-O, there he goes-A very consumptive figure, truly! Enter TONY, crossing the stage 63 MRS. HARD. Tony, where are you going, my charmer? Won't you give papa and I a little of your company, lovee? TONY. I'm in haste, mother, I cannot stay. MRS. HARD. You shan't venture out this raw evening, my dear: you look most shockingly. TONY. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three Pigeons expects me down every moment. There's some fun going forward. HARD. Ay; the alehouse, the old place; I thought so. MRS. HARD. A low, paltry set of fellows. TONY. Not so low, neither. There's Dick Muggins the exciseman, Jack Slang the horse doctor, little Aminadab that grinds the music box, and Tom Twist that spins the pewter platter. MRS. HARD. Pray, my dear, disappoint them for one night, at least. TONY. As for disappointing them, I should not so much mind; but I can't abide to disappoint myself. MRS. HARD. [detaining him]. You shan't go. TONY. I will, I tell you. MRS. HARD. I say you shan't. TONY. We'll see which is strongest, you or I. 83 [Exit, hauling her out. HARD. [Solus.] Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil each other. But is not the whole age in a combination to drive sense and |