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 34-88 1 
 
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 34 
 
PRAY, GENTLEMEN, IS NOT THIS SAME HARDCASTLE 
 A CROSS-GRAINED, OLD-FASHIONED, WHIMSICAL 
 FELLOW ? 
 
STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 Hard. Yes, when his liquor goes the 
 wrong way. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. 
 I'm actually 
 afraid of his 
 lungs. 
 
 Hard. And 
 truly so am I ; 
 for he some- 
 timeswhoops 
 like a speak- 
 ing-trumpet— 
 {Tony halloo- 
 ing belli ud 
 the scenes.) — 
 Oh, there he 
 goes— a very 
 consumptive figure, 
 truly ! 
 
 Enter Tox y, crossing Hie 
 Stage. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Tony, where are 
 you going, my charmer ? Won't 
 you give papa and I a little of 
 your company, lovey ? 
 
 Tony. I'm in haste, mother, I 
 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 go- 
 ing forward. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONilOEE 
 
 Hard. Ay, the alehouse, the old place ; 
 I thought so. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. A low, paltry set of fel- 
 lows. 
 
 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. 
 
 Ton v. We'll see which is the strongest, 
 you or I. 
 
 [Exit, hauling her out. 
 
 Hard. (Alone.) A\\ there goes a pair 
 that only spoil each other. But is not 
 the whole age in a combination to drive 
 sense and discretion out of doors ? 
 There's my pretty darling, Kate ; the 
 fashions of the times have almost infected 
 her too. By living a year or two in 
 town, she is as fond of gauze and French 
 frippery as the best of them. 
 
 Enter Miss Hardcastle. 
 
 Hard. Blessings on my nretty inno- 
 cence ! Drest out as usual, my Kate. 
 Goodness ! What a quantity of super- 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 fluous silk hast thou got about thee, girl ! 
 I could never teach the fools of this age, 
 that the indigent world could be clothed 
 out of the trimmings of the vain. 
 
 Miss Hani. You know our agreement, 
 Sir. You allow me the morning to re- 
 ceive and pay visits, and to dress in my 
 own manner ; and in the evening I put 
 on my housewife's dress to please you. 
 
 Hani. Well, remember I insist on the 
 terms of our agreement ; and, by-the-bye, 
 I believe I shall have occasion to try your 
 obedience this very evening. 
 
 Miss Hard. I protest, Sir, I con't com- 
 prehend your meaning. 
 
 Haul. 'Then, to be plain with you, 
 Kate, I expect the young gentleman I 
 have chosen to be your husband from 
 town this very day. I have his father's 
 letter, in which he informs me his son is 
 set out, and that he intends to follow 
 himself shortly after. 
 
 Miss Hard. ' Indeed ! I wish I had 
 known something of this before. Bless 
 me, how shall I behave ? It's a thousand 
 to one I shan't like him. Our meeting 
 will be so formal, and so like a thing of 
 business, that I shall find no room for 
 friendship or esteem. 
 
 Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never 
 control your choice ; but Mr. Marlow, 
 whom I have pitched upon, is the son 
 of my old friend, Sir Charles Marlow, 
 of whom you have heard me talk so 
 often. The young gentleman has been 
 bred a scholar, and is designed for an 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 employment in the service of his country. 
 I am told he's a man of an excellent un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 Miss Hard. Is he ? 
 
 Hard. Very generous. 
 
 Miss Hard. 1 believe I shall like him. 
 
 Hard. Young and brave. 
 
 Miss Hard. I'm sure I shall like him. 
 
 Hard. And very handsome. 
 
 Miss Hard. My dear papa, say no 
 more, {kissing Jiis hand) he's mine — I'll 
 have him. 
 
 Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's 
 one of the most bashful and reserved 
 young fellows in all the world. 
 
 Miss Hard. Eh ! You have frozen me 
 to death again. That word reserved has 
 undone all the rest of his accomplish- 
 ments. A reserved lover, it is said, al- 
 ways makes a suspicious husband. 
 
 Hard. On the contrary, modesty sel- 
 dom resides in a breast that is not en- 
 riched with nobler virtues. It was the 
 very feature in his character that first 
 struck me. 
 
 Miss Hard. He must have more strik- 
 ing features to catch me, I promise you. 
 However, if he be so young, so hand- 
 some, and so everything", as you mention, 
 I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have 
 him. 
 
 Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an 
 obstacle. It's more than an even wager 
 he may not have you. 
 
 Miss Hard. My dear papa, why will 
 you mortify one so? — Well, if he refuses, 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 instead of breaking my heart at his indif- 
 ference, I'll only break my glass for its 
 flattery, set my cap to some newer 
 fashion, and look out for some less diffi- 
 cult admirer. 
 
 Hani. Bravely resolved ! In the 
 meantime I'll go prepare the servants for 
 his reception : as we seldom see com- 
 pany, they want as much training as a 
 company" of recruits the first day's 
 muster. [Exit. 
 
 Miss Hard. (Alone.) Lud, this news of 
 papa's puts me all in a flutter. Young, 
 handsome ; these he put last, but I put 
 them foremost. Sensible, good-natured ; 
 I like all that. But then, reserved and 
 sheepish ; that's much against him. Yet 
 can't he be cured of his timidity, by being 
 taught to be proud of his wife ? Yes ; 
 and can't I — But I vow I'm disposing 
 of the husband, before I have secured the 
 lover. 
 
 Enter Miss Neville. 
 
 Miss Hard. I'm glad you're come, 
 Neville, my dear. Tell me, Constance, 
 how do I look this evening ? Is there 
 anything whimsical about me ? Is it one 
 of 'my well-looking davs, child ? Am I 
 in face to-dav ? 
 
 Miss Nev. ' Perfectly, my dear. Yet, 
 now I look again — bless me ! — sure no 
 accident has happened among the canary 
 birds or the gold fishes. Has your brother 
 or the cat been meddling ? or has the 
 last novel been too moving? 
 
 2 
 
AM I IN FACE Tn-DAT ? 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQU 
 
 Miss Hard. No ; nothing' of all this. 
 I have been threatened — I can scarce get 
 it out— I have been threatened with a 
 lover. 
 
 Miss Nev. And his name 
 
 Miss Hard. Is Marlow. 
 
 Miss Nev. Indeed ! 
 
 Miss Hard. The son of Sir Charles 
 Marlow. 
 
 Miss Nev. As I live, the most intimate 
 friend of Mr. Hastings, my admirer. 
 They are never asunder. I believe you 
 must have seen him when we lived in 
 town. 
 
 Miss Hard. Never. 
 
 Miss Nev. He's a very singular char- 
 acter, I assure you. Among women of 
 reputation and virtue, he is the modest- 
 est man alive ; but his acquaintance give 
 him a very different character among 
 creatures of another stamp — you under- 
 stand me. 
 
 Miss Hard. An odd character, indeed. 
 I shall never be able to manage him. 
 What shall I do ? Pshaw ! think no 
 more of him, but trust to occurrences for 
 success. But how goes on your own 
 affair, my dear ? has my mother been 
 courting you for my brother Tony, as 
 usual ? 
 
 Miss Nev. I have just come from one 
 of our agreeable tete-a-tetes. She has 
 been saying a hundred tender things, 
 and setting off her pretty monster as the 
 very pink of perfection. 
 
 Miss Hard. And her partiality is such, 
 
20 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 that she actually thinks him so. A for- 
 tune like yours is no small temptation. 
 Besides, as she has the sole management 
 of it, I'm not surprised to see her unwill- 
 ing to let it go out of the family. 
 
 MissNev. A fortune like mine, which 
 chiefly consists in jewels, is no such 
 mighty temptation. "But at any rate, it 
 my dear Hastings he hut constant, I 
 make no doubt to be too hard for her at 
 last. However, I let her suppose that I 
 am in love with her son, and she never 
 once dreams that my affections are fixed 
 upon another. 
 
 Miss Hani. My good brother holds out 
 stoutly. I could "almost love him for 
 hating you so. 
 
 Miss Nev. It is a good-natured creature 
 at bottom, and I'm sure would wish to see 
 me married to any body but himself. 
 But my aunt's bell rings for our after- 
 noon's walk round the improvements. 
 Allonsi Courage is necessary, as our 
 affairs are critical. 
 
 Miss Hani. " Would it were bed-time, 
 and a'l were well." [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — An Alehouse Room. 
 
 Several shabby fellows with punch and 
 tobacco: Tour at the head of the table, 
 a little higher than the rest : a mallet 
 in his hand. 
 
 nines. Hurrea ! hurrea ! hurrea ! 
 bravo I 
 First Fellow. Xow, gentlemen, silence 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQU 
 
 for a song. The Squire is going to knock 
 himself down for a song. 
 
 Omnes. Ay, a song, a song ! 
 
 Tony. Then, I'll sing you, gentlemen, 
 a song I made upon this alehouse, The 
 Three Pigeons. 
 
Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain. 
 
 With grammar, and nonsense, and learning; 
 Good liquor, 1 stoutly maintain, 
 
 Gives go/us a better discerning. 
 Let them brag of their heathenish gods, 
 
 Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians, 
 Their gin's, and their q/tcrs, and their quods, 
 
 They're all but a parcel of pigeons. 
 
 Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 
 
 When methodist preachers come down, 
 
 A-preaching that drinking is sinful, 
 I'll wager the rascals a crown. 
 
 They always preach best with a skinful. 
 But when you come down with your pence, 
 
 For a slice of their scurvy religion, 
 I'll leaveit to all men of sense, 
 
 But you, my good friend, are the 
 pigeon, 
 
 Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 
 
 Then come, put the jorum 
 
 about. 
 And let us be merry and 
 
 clever, 
 Our hearts 
 
 and our 
 
 liquors , 
 
 stout. 
 
 i 
 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever. 
 Let some cry up woodcock or hare, 
 
 Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons: 
 But of all the [gay] birds in the air, 
 
 Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. 
 
 Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 
 
 in ucs. Bravo, brav< > ! 
 
 First Fellow. The Squire has got spunk 
 in him. 
 
 Sec. Fellow. I loves to hear him sing, 
 bekeays he never gives us nothing that's 
 low. 
 
 Third Fellow. Oh, damn anything 
 that's low, I cannot bear it. 
 
 Fan rtlt Fellow. The genteel thing is 
 the genteel thing at any time : if so be 
 that a gentleman bees in a concatena- 
 tion accordingly. 
 
 Third Fellow. I like the maxum of it, 
 Master Muggins. What though I am 
 obligated to dance a bear, a man may be 
 a gentleman for all that. May this be' my 
 poison, if my bear ever dances but to 
 the very genteelest of tunes ; " Water 
 Parted," or the minuet in "Ariadne." 
 
 Sec. Fellow. What a pity it is the Squire 
 is not come to his own. It would be well 
 for all the publicans within ten miles 
 round of him 
 
 Tony. Ecod, and so it would, Master 
 Slang. I'd then show what it was to 
 keep choice of comoanv. 
 
 Sec. Fellow. Oh, he takes after his own 
 father for that. To be sure, old Squire 
 Lumpkin was the finest gentleman I 
 ever set my eyes on. For winding the 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 straight horn, or beating a thicket for a 
 hare, or a wench, he never had his fel- 
 low. It was a saying in the place, that 
 he kept the best horses, dogs, and girls 
 in the whole county. 
 
 Tony. Ecod, and when I'm of age, I'll 
 be no bastard, I promise you. I have 
 been thinking of Bet Bouncer and the 
 miller's gray mare to begin with. But 
 come, my boys, drink about and be merry, 
 for you pay ho reckoning. Well, Stingo, 
 what's the matter ? 
 
 Enter Landlord. 
 
 La iidl. There be two gentlemen in a 
 l^ost-chaise at the door. They have lost 
 their way upo' the forest ; and they are 
 talking something about Mr. Hardcastle. 
 
 Tony. As sure as can be, one of them- 
 must 'be the gentleman that's coming 
 down to court my sister. Do they seem 
 to be Londoners ? 
 
 Landl. I believe they may. They 
 look woundily like Frenchmen. 
 
 Tony Then desire them to step this 
 way, and I'll set them right in a twink- 
 ling. (Exit Landlord.) Gentlemen, as 
 they mayn't be good enough company 
 for you, step down for a moment, and I'll 
 be with you in the squeezing of a lemon. 
 \ Exeunt mob. 
 
 Tony. (Alone.) Father-in-law has been 
 calling me whelp, and hound, this half- 
 year. Xow, if I pleased, I could be so 
 revenged upon the old grumbletonian. 
 
OOPS TO CONQU1 
 
 But then I'm afraid — Afraid of what ? I 
 shall soon be worth fifteen hundred a- 
 year, and let him frighten me out of that 
 if he can. 
 
 Enter Landlord, conducting Marlow 
 and Hastings. 
 
 Mart. What a tedious, uncomfortable 
 day have we had of it ! We were told it 
 was but forty miles across the country, 
 and we have come about three score. 
 
 Hast. And all, Marlow, from that un- 
 accountable reserve of yours, that would 
 not let us inquire more frequently on the 
 way. 
 
 Marl. I own, Hastings, I am unwilling 
 to lay myself under an obligation to 
 every one I meet, and often stand the 
 chance of an unmannerly answer. 
 
 Hast. At present, however, we are not 
 likely to receive any answer. 
 
 Tony. No offence, gentlemen. But 
 I'm told you have been inquiring for one 
 Mr. Hardcastle in these parts. "Do you 
 know what part of the country you are in? 
 
 Hast. Not in the least, Sir, but should 
 thank you for information. 
 
 Tony. Nor the way you came ? 
 
 Hast. No, Sir ; but if you can inform 
 us 
 
 Tony. Why, gentlemen, if you know 
 neither the road you came, the first thing 
 I have to inform you is, that — you have 
 lost your way. 
 
 Marl. We wanted no ghost to tell us 
 that. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so 
 bold as to ask the place from whence 
 you came ? 
 
 Marl. That's not necessary towards 
 directing us where we are to go. 
 
 Tony. No offence ; but question for 
 question is all fair, you know. Pray, 
 gentlemen, is not this same Hardcastle'a 
 cross-grained, old-fashioned, whimsical 
 fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter, and 
 a pretty son ? 
 
 Hast. We have not seen the gentle- 
 man ; but he has the family you mention. 
 
 Tony. The daughter, a tall, trapesing, 
 trolloping, talkative maypole ; the son, "a 
 pretty, well-bred, agreeable youth, that 
 every body is fond of ? 
 
 Marl. Our information differs in this. 
 The daughter is said to be well-bred, and 
 beautiful; the son an awkward booby, > 
 reared up and spoiled at his mother's 
 apron-string. 
 
 Tony. He-he-hem !— Then, gentlemen, 
 all I have to tell you is, that you won't 
 reach Mr. Hardcastle's house this night, 
 I believe. 
 
 Hast. Unfortunate ! 
 
 Tony. It's a damned long, dark, boggy, 
 dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the 
 gentlemen the way to Mr. Hardcastle's ; 
 (winking upon the Landlord,) Mr. Hard- 
 castle's,' of Quagmire Marsh — you under- 
 stand me. 
 
 Landl. Master Hardcastle's ? Lock- 
 a-daisy, my masters, you're come a deadly 
 deal wrong ! When you came to the 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. ZJ 
 
 bottom of the hill, you should have 
 crossed down Squash-lane. 
 
 Marl Cross down Squash-lane ! 
 
 Landl. Then you were to keep straight 
 forward, till you came to four roads. 
 
 Marl. Come to where f< >ur n >ads meet? 
 
 Tony. Ay ; but you must be sure to take 
 only one of them, 
 
 Marl. O Sir, you're facetious. 
 
 Tony. Then keeping to the right, you 
 are to go sideways, till you come upon 
 Crack-skull common : there you must 
 look sharp for the track of the wheel, and 
 go forward till you come to farmer Mur- 
 rain's barn. Coming to the farmer's barn, 
 you are to turn to the right, and then to 
 the left, and then to the right about again, 
 till you find out the old mill — 
 
 Marl: Zounds, man ! we could as soon 
 find out the longitude ! 
 
 Hast. What's to be done, Marlow ? 
 
 Marl. This house promises but a poor 
 reception ; though perhaps the landlord 
 can accommodate us. 
 
 La in II . Alack, master, we have but one 
 spare bed in the whole house. 
 
 Tony. And to my knowledge, that's 
 taken up by three lodgers already. (After 
 a pause, in which the rest seem disconcert- 
 ed. ) I have hit it : don't you think, Stingo, 
 our landlady could accommodate the 
 gentlemen by the fireside, with — three 
 chairs and a bolster ? 
 
 Hast. I hate sleeping by the fireside. 
 
 Marl. And I detest your three chairs 
 and a bolster. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUE1 
 
 Tony. You do, do you ? — Then, let me 
 see,— what if you go on a mile further, to 
 the Buck's Head— the old Buck's Head 
 on the hill, one of the best inns in the 
 whole county ? 
 
 Hast. O ho ! so we have escaped an 
 adventure for this night, however. 
 
 Land!. ("Apart to Tony.) Sure, you 
 ben't sending them to your father's as an 
 inn, be you ? 
 
 Tony. ' Mum, you fool you. Let them 
 find that out. (To thou.) " You have only 
 to keep on straight forward, till you come 
 to a large old house by the road side. 
 You'll see a pair of large horns over the 
 door. That's the sign. Drive up the 
 yard, and call stoutly about you. 
 
 Hast. Sir. we are" obliged" to you. The 
 servants can't miss the way ? 
 
 Tony. Xo, no : But I tell you, though, 
 the landlord is rich, and going to leave 
 off business ; so he wants to be thought 
 a gentleman, saving your presence, he ! 
 he ! he ! He'll be for giving you his com- 
 pany ; and, ecod, if you mind him, he'll 
 persuade you that his mother was an al- 
 derman, and his aunt a justice of peace. 
 
 Landl. A troublesome old blade, to be 
 sure ; but a keens as good wines and beds 
 as any in the whole country. 
 
 Marl. Well, if he supplies us with 
 these, we shall want no farther connec- 
 tion. \Ye are to turn to the right, did y< >u 
 say ? 
 
 Tony. Xo, no ; straight forward. I'll 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CON Q I'Eli. 29 
 
 just step myself, and show you a piece of 
 the way. (To the Landlord'.) Mum ! 
 Laudl. Ah, bless your heart, for a 
 
 sweet, pleasant damned, mischievous, 
 
 son of a whore. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — Mr. Hardcastle's House. 
 
 Enter Hardcastle, followed by three or 
 four awkward Servants. 
 
 Hard. Well, I hope you are perfect in 
 the table exercise I have been teaching 
 you these three days. You all know your 
 places, and can show that you have been 
 used to good company, without ever stir- 
 ring from home ? 
 
 Omnes. Ay, ay. 
 
 Hard. When company comes, you are 
 not to pop out and stare, "and then run in 
 again, like frighted rabbits in a warren. 
 
 Omnes. No. no. 
 
 Hard. You, Diggory, whom I have 
 taken from the barn, are to make a show 
 at the side-table ; and you, Roger, whom 
 I have advanced from the plough, are to 
 place yourself behind my chair. But 
 you're not to stand so, with your hands 
 in vour pockets. Take your hands from 
 y< mr pockets, Roger — and from your head, 
 you blockhead you. See how Diggory 
 carries his hands. They're a little too 
 stiff, indeed, but that's no great matter. 
 
 Dig. Ay, mind how I hold them. I 
 learned to hold my hands this way, when 
 
3° 
 
 SHE S TOO 
 
 TO CONQUER. 
 
 * 
 
 Hani. You must 
 
 . not be so talkative, 
 
 fl ? Diggory. You must 
 
 I was upon drill for 
 the militia. And so 
 
 being upon drill 
 
 ;t 
 
 e 
 
 must 
 
 be all " attention to 
 
 the guests. You must 
 
 hear us talk, and not 
 
 think of talking ; you 
 
 must see us drink, and not 
 
 think of drinking; you must 
 
 see us eat, and not think of 
 
 eating. 
 
 Dig. By the laws, your wor- 
 ship, that's parfectly impossi- 
 ble. Whenever Diggory sees yeating 
 going forward, eeod, he's always wish- 
 ing for a mouthful himself. 
 
 Hard. Blockhead ! is not a bellyful in 
 the kitchen as good as a bellyful in the 
 parlour ? Stay your stomach with that 
 reflection. 
 
 Dig. Ecod, I thank your worship, I'll 
 make a shift to stay my stomach with 
 a slice of cold beef in the pantry. 
 
 Hard. Diggorv, you are ^ — 
 too talkative!7 Then, 'if I hap 
 pen to say a good thing, oi 
 tell a good story, at tab.e, yoi 
 must not all burst out a-laugh- 
 ing, as if you made part of \ ^\ 
 the company. 
 Dig. Then, ecod, your wor- / »«jf 
 
 -, 
 
 '1 
 
 ship must not tell the story of 
 Ould Grouse in the gun-room : I 
 
 can't 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 help laughing at that— he ! he ! he ! — 
 for the soul of me. We have laughed 
 at that these twenty years — ha ! ha ! 
 ha! 
 
 Hard. Ha ! ha ! ha ! The story is a 
 good one. Well, honest Diggory, you 
 may laugh at that ; but still remember 
 to be attentive. Suppose one of the com- 
 pany should call for a glass of wine, 
 how will you behave ? A glass of wine, 
 Sir, if you please, ( To Diggory, — Eh, why 
 don't you move ? 
 
 Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never 
 have courage till I see the eatables and 
 drinkables "brought upo' the table, and 
 then I'm as bauld as a lion. 
 
 Hard. What, will nobody move ? 
 
 First Servant. I'm not to leave this 
 pleace. 
 
 Sec Servant. I'm sure it's no pleace of 
 mine. 
 
 Third Servant. Nor mine, for sartain. 
 
 Dig. Wauns, and I'm sure it canna be 
 mine. 
 
 Hard. You numskulls ! and so, while, 
 like your betters, you are quarrelling for 
 places, the guests must be starved ! O 
 you dunces ! I find I must begin all 
 
 over again But don't I hear a coach 
 
 drive into the yard ? To your posts, you 
 blockheads. I'll go in the meantime, and 
 give my old friend's son a hearty recep- 
 tion at the gate. [Exit Hardcastle. 
 
 Dig. By the elevens ! my place is quite 
 gone out of my head. 
 
SHE STOOPS To CONQUE R 
 
 Roger. I know that my pleace is to be 
 everywhere. 
 
 First Servant. Where the devil is 
 mine ? 
 
 Sec. Servant My pleace is to be no 
 where at all ; and' so I'se go about my 
 business. 
 
 Exeunt Servants, running about as if 
 frighted, different ways. 
 
 Enter Servant, with candles, showing in 
 Marlow and Hastings. 
 
 Servant. Welcome, gentlemen, very 
 welcome ! This way. 
 
 Hast. After the disappointments of 
 the clay, welcome once more, Charles, to 
 the comforts of a clean room and a good 
 fire. Upon my word, a very well look- 
 ing house : antique, but creditable. 
 
 Marl. The usual fate of a large man- 
 sion. Having first ruined the master by 
 good house-keeping, it at last comes to 
 levy contributions as an inn. 
 
 Hast. As you say, we passengers are 
 to be taxed to pay all these fineries. I 
 have often seen a good sideboard, or a 
 marble chimney-piece, though not ac- 
 tually put in the bill, inflame a reckoning 
 confoundedly. 
 
 Marl. Travellers, George, must pay in 
 all places. The only difference is, that 
 in good inns you pay dearly for luxuries ; 
 in bad inns you nre fleeced and starved. 
 
 Hast. You have lived pretty much 
 among them. In truth, I have been often 
 
TOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 surprised, that you, who have seen so 
 much of the world, with your natural 
 good sense, and your many opportunities, 
 could never yet acquire a requisite share 
 of assurance. 
 
 Marl, The Englishman's malady. But 
 tell me, George, where could I have 
 learned that assurance you talk of ? My 
 life has been chiefly spent in a college, 
 or an inn, in seclusion from that lovely 
 part of the creation that chiefly teach 
 men confidence. I don't know that I 
 was ever familiarly acquainted with a 
 single modest woman, except my mother 
 — But among females of another class, 
 you know 
 
 Hast. Ay, among them you are im- 
 pudent enough, of all conscience. 
 
 Mail. They are of us, you know. 
 
 Hast. But in the company of women 
 of reputation, I never saw such an idiot 
 — such a trembler ; you look for all the 
 world as if you wanted an opportunity 
 of stealing out of the room. 
 
 Marl. Why, man, that's because I do 
 want to steal out of the room. Faith, I 
 have often formed a resolution to break 
 the ice, and rattle away at any rate. But, 
 I don't know how, a single glance from a 
 pair of fine eyes has totally overset my 
 resolution. An impudent "fellow may 
 counterfeit modesty, but I'll be hanged 
 if a modest man can ever counterfeit im- 
 pudence. 
 
 Hast. If you could but say half the 
 fine things to them, that I have heard 
 
 3 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CON QUE] 
 
 you lavish upon the bar-maid of an inn, 
 or even a college bed-maker 
 
 Marl. Why, George, I can't say fine 
 things to them — they freeze, they petrify 
 me. They may talk of a comet, or a 
 burning mountain, or some such baga- 
 telle ; but to me, a modest woman, drest 
 out in all her finery, is the most tremen- 
 dous object of the whole creation. 
 
 Hast. Ha ! ha ! ha ! At this rate, man, 
 how can you ever expect to marry ? 
 
 Marl. Never ; unless, as among kings 
 and princes, my bride were to be courted 
 by proxy. If, indeed, like an Eastern 
 bridegroom, one were introduced to a 
 wife he never saw before, it might be 
 endured. But to go through all the ter- 
 rors of a formal courtship'together with 
 the episode of aunts, grandmothers, and 
 cousins, and at last to blurt out the broad, 
 staring question of, " Madam, will you 
 marry me ? " No, no, that's a strain 
 much above me, I assure you. 
 
 Hast. I pity you. But how do you 
 intend behaving to the lady you are come 
 down to visit, at the request of your 
 father ? 
 
 Marl. As I behave to all other ladies ; 
 bow very low ; answer yes, or no, to all 
 her demands. But for the rest, I don't 
 think I shall venture to look in her face, 
 till I see my father's again. 
 
 Hast. I'm surprised that one who is so 
 warm a friend, can be so cool a lover. 
 
 Marl. To be explicit, my dear Hast- 
 ings, my chief inducement clown was to 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 2S- 
 
 be instrumental in forwarding your hap- 
 piness, not my own. Miss Neville loves- 
 you, the family don't know you ; as my 
 friend, you are sure of a reception, and 
 let honour do the rest. 
 
 Hast. My dear Marlow ! But I'll sup- 
 press the emotion. Were I a wretch,, 
 meanly seeking to carry off a fortune, 
 you should be (he last man in the world 
 I would apply to for assistance. But 
 Miss Neville's person is all I ask, and 
 that is mine, both from her deceased 
 father's consent, and her own inclina- 
 tion. 
 
 Marl. Happy man ! You have talents 
 and art to captivate any woman. I'm 
 doomed to adore the sex, and yet to con- 
 verse with the only part of it I despise. 
 This stammer in my address, and this 
 awkward unprepossessing visage cf 
 mine, can never permit me" to soar above 
 the reach of a milliner's 'prentice, or one 
 of the duchesses of Drury-lane. Pshaw !' 
 this fellow here to interrupt us. 
 
 Enter Hakdcastle. 
 
 Hard. Gentlemen, once more you are 
 heartily welcome. Which is Mr. Mar- 
 low ? Sir, you are heartily welcome. 
 It's not my way, you see, to receive my 
 friends with my back to the fire. I like 
 to give them a hearty reception in the 
 old style at my gate. I like to see their 
 horses and trunks taken care of. 
 
 Marl. [Aside.) He has got our names. 
 
36 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 from the servants already. I To him. \ We 
 approve your caution and hospitality, 
 Sir. {To Hastings.) I have been thinking, 
 George, of changing our travelling 
 dresses in the morning. I am grown 
 confoundedly ashamed of mine. 
 
 Hard. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you'll use 
 no ceremony in this house. 
 
 Hast. I fancy, Charles, you're right : 
 the first blow is half the battle. I intend 
 opening the campaign with the white 
 and g( >ld. 
 
 Hard. Mr. Marlow— Mr. Hastings- 
 gentlemen — pray be under no restraint 
 in this house. " This is Liberty-hall, 
 gentlemen. You may do just as you 
 please here. 
 
 Marl. Yet, George, if we open the 
 campaign too fiercely at first, we may 
 want ammunition before it is over. I 
 think to reserve the embroidery to secure 
 a retreat. 
 
 Hard. Your talking of a retreat. Mr. 
 Marlow, puts me in mind of the Duke of 
 Marlborough, when we went to besiege 
 Denain. He first summoned the garri- 
 son 
 
 Marl. Don't you think the ventre dor 
 waistcoat will do with the plain brown ? 
 
 Hard. He first summoned the garri- 
 son, which might consist of about five 
 thousand men— — 
 
 Hast. I think not : brown and yellow 
 mix but very poorly. 
 
 Hard. I say. gentlemen, as I was tell- 
 ing you, he summoned the garrison, 
 
STOOPS TO CONQUER. 37 
 
 which might consist of about five thou- 
 sand men 
 
 Marl. The girls like finery. 
 
 Hard. Which might consist of about 
 five thousand men, well appointed with 
 stores, ammunition, and other imple- 
 ments of war. Now, says the Duke of 
 Marlborough to George Brooks, that 
 stood next to him — You must have heard 
 of George Brooks— I'll pawn my duke- 
 dom, says he, but I take that garrison 
 without spilling a drop of blood. So 
 
 Marl. What, my good friend, if you 
 gave us a glass of punch in the mean- 
 time ? it would help us to carry on the 
 siege with vigor. 
 
 Hani. Punch, Sir! (Aside.) This is 
 the most unaccountable kind of modesty 
 I ever met with. 
 
 Marl. Yes, Sir, punch. A glass of 
 warm punch, after our journey, will be 
 comfortable. This is Liberty-hall, you 
 know. 
 
 {Enter Roger with a cup.] 
 
 Hard. Here's a cup, Sir. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) So this fellow, in his 
 Liberty-hall, will only let us have just 
 what he pleases. 
 
 Hard. (Taking the cup.) I hope you'll 
 find it to your mind. I have prepared it 
 with my own hands, and I believe you'll 
 own the ingredients are tolerable. Will 
 you be so "good as to pledge me, Sir ? 
 Mere, Mr. Marlow, here is to our better 
 acquaintance. (Drinks. ) 
 
38 SHE STOOPS TO CON QUI 
 
 Marl. [Aside.) A very impudent fellow 
 this ! but he's a character, and 1 11 humour 
 him a little. Sir, my service to you. 
 {Drinks. | 
 
 Hast. {Aside.) I see this fellow wants 
 to give us his company, and forgets that 
 he's an innkeeper, before he has learned 
 to be a gentleman. 
 
 Marl. From the excellence of your 
 cup, my old friend, I suppose you have a 
 good deal of business in this part of the 
 country. Warm work, now and then, at 
 ■elections, I suppose ? 
 
 Hard. Xo, Sir, I have long given that 
 work over. Since our betters" have hit 
 upon the expedient of electing each 
 other, there is no business " for "us that 
 sell ale." 
 
 Hast. So, then, you have no turn for 
 politics, I find. 
 
 Hard. Not in the least. There was a 
 time, indeed, I fretted myself about the 
 mistakes of government, like other 
 people ; but finding myself every day 
 grow more angry, and the government 
 growing no better, I left it to mend itself. 
 Since that, I no more trouble my head 
 about Hyder Ally, or Ally Cawri, than 
 about Ally Croaker. Sir, my service to 
 you. 
 
 Hast. So that with eating above stairs, 
 and drinking below, with receiving your- 
 friends within, and amusing them with 
 out, you lead a good, pleasant, bustling 
 life of it. 
 
 Hard. I do stir abou' a great deal, 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 that's certain. Half the differences of the 
 parish are adjusted in this very parlour. 
 
 Marl. (After drinking, i And" you have 
 an argument in your cup, old gentleman, 
 better than any in Westminster-hall. 
 
 Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that, and 
 a little philosophy. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) Well, this is the first 
 time I ever heard of an innkeeper's 
 philosophy ! 
 
 Hast So, then, like an experienced 
 general, you attack them on every quar- 
 ter. If you find their reason manage- 
 able, you attack it with your philosophy ; 
 if you find they have no reason, you 
 attack them with this. Here's your 
 health, my philosopher. (Drinks.) 
 
 Hard. "Good, very good, thank you ; 
 ha ! ha ! Your generalship puts me in 
 mind of Prince Eugene, when he fought 
 the Turks, at the battle of Belgrade. You 
 shall hear 
 
 Marl. Instead of the battle of Belgrade, 
 I believe it's almost time to talk about 
 supper. What has your philosophy got 
 in the house for supper ? 
 
 Hard. For supper, Sir! (Aside.) 
 Was ever such a request to a man in his 
 own house ! 
 
 Marl. Yes, Sir, supper, Sir ; I begin 
 to feel an appetite. I shall make devilish 
 work to-night in the larder, I promise you. 
 
 Ha I'd. (Aside.) Such a bra/en clog sure 
 never my eyes beheld ! ( To him. i Why, 
 really, Sir, as for supper, I can't well tell. 
 My Dorothy and the cook-maid settle 
 
STOOPS TO COXQUER. 
 
 these things between them. I leave these 
 kind of things entirely to them. 
 
 Marl. You do, do you ? 
 
 Hard. Entirely. By-the-bye, I believe 
 they are in actual consultation upon 
 what's for supper this moment in the 
 kitchen. 
 
 Marl. Then I beg they'll admit me as 
 one of their privy-council. It's a way I 
 have got. When I travel I always choose 
 to regulate my own supper. Let the cook 
 be called. No offence, I hope, Sir ? 
 
 Hard. O no, Sir, none in the least ; 
 yet I don't know how — our Bridget, the 
 cook-maid, is not very communicative 
 upon these occasions. " Should we send 
 for her, she might scold us all out of the 
 house. 
 
 Hast. Let's see the list of the larder, 
 then. 1 ask it as a favour. I always 
 match my appetite to my bill of fare. 
 
 Marl. {To Hardcastle, who looks at 
 than with surprise. ) Sir, he's very right, 
 and it's my way t< >< ». 
 
 Hard. Sir, you have a right to com- 
 mand here. Here. Roger, bring us the 
 bill of fare for to-night's supper : I be- 
 lieve it's drawn out.— Your manner. Mr. 
 Hastings, puts me in mind of my uncle, 
 Colonel Wallop. It was a sayipg of his, 
 that no man was sure of his supper till 
 he had eaten it. 
 
 Enter Roger. 
 
 Hast. ( Aside. \ All upon the high ropes l 
 His uncle a colonel ! we shall soon hear 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 41 
 
 of his mother being a justice of peace. 
 But let's hear the bill of fare. 
 
 Marl. {Perusing.) What's here? For 
 the first course ; for the second course ; 
 for the dessert. The devil, Sir, do you 
 think we have brought down the whole 
 joiner's Company, or the Corporation of 
 Bedford, to eat up such a supper ? Two 
 or three little things, clean and comfort- 
 able, will do. 
 
 Hast. But, let's hear it. 
 
 Marl. (Reading.) " For the first course : 
 — At the top, a pig, and pruin sauce." 
 
 Hast. Damn your pig ! f say. 
 
 Marl. And damn your pruin sauce I 
 say I. 
 
 Hard. And yet, gentlemen, to men 
 that are hungry pig with pruin sauce is 
 very good eating. 
 
 Marl. " At the bottom a calf's tongue 
 and brains." 
 
 Hast. Let your brains be knocked out, 
 my good Sir ; I don't like them. 
 
 Marl. Or you may clap them on a 
 plate by themselves. I do. 
 
 Hard. ( Aside. ) Their impudence con- 
 founds me ! ( To than. i Gentlemen, you 
 are my guests, make what alterations you 
 please. Is there any thing else you wish 
 to retrench or alter, gentlemen ? 
 
 Mail. "Item: A pork pie; a boiled 
 rabbit and sausages ; a Florentine ; a 
 shaking pudding, and a dish of tiff — taff 
 — taffety cream ! " 
 
 Hast Confound your made dishes ; I 
 shall be as much at a loss in this house as 
 
SHE STOOPS TO C O N t> V E R 
 
 at a green and yellow dinner at the 
 French ambassador's table. I'm for plain 
 eating. 
 
 Hard. I'm sorry, gentlemen, that I 
 have nothing you like ; but if there be 
 any thing you have a particular fancy 
 
 Marl. Why, really, Sir, your bill of 
 fare is so exquisite, that any one part of 
 it is lull as good as another. Send us 
 what you please. So much for supper. 
 And now to see that our beds are aired, 
 and properly taken care < >f. 
 
 Hard. I entreat you'll 
 leave all that to me. You 
 shall not stir a step. 
 
 Marl. Leave that to you ! 
 I protest, Sir, you must ex- 
 cuse me ; I always look to 
 these things myself. 
 
 Hard. I must insist, Sir, 
 I you'll make yourself easy on 
 \ that head. 
 
 ' Marl. You see I'm re- 
 
 J solved on it. {Aside.) A 
 
 very troubles* >me fellow this, 
 
 as "ever I met with. 
 
 Hard. Well, Sir, I'm re- 
 
 i : \&d solved at least to attend y< »u. 
 
 / ;jflk (Aside. ) This may be mod- 
 
 Pv" era modesty, but I never 
 
 t saw anything look so like 
 
 old-fashioned impudence. 
 
 Exeunt Marlow and 
 
 U HA ! WHAT DO I SEE 5 HARDCASTLE. 
 
 MISS NEVILLE, BY ALL Htist. (.\lO!H\) Sol find 
 
 that's happy." this fellow's civilities begin 
 
iTOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 to grow troublesome. But who can 
 be angry at those assiduities which 
 are meant to please him ? — Ha ! what 
 do I see ? Miss Neville, by all that's 
 happy ! 
 
 Enter Miss Neville. 
 
 Miss Nev. My dear Hastings ! To 
 what unexpected good fortune — to what 
 accident, am I to ascribe this happy 
 meeting ? 
 
 Hast Rather let me ask the same 
 question, as I could never have hoped to 
 meet my dearest Constance at an inn. 
 
 Miss Nev. An inn ! sure you mistake : 
 my aunt, my guardian, lives here. What 
 could induce you to think this house an 
 inn ? 
 
 Hast. My friend, Mr. Marlow, with 
 whom I came down, and I, have been 
 sent here as to an inn, I assure you. A 
 young fellow whom we accidentally met 
 at a house hard by, directed us hither. 
 
 Miss Xcv. Certainly it must be one of 
 my hopeful cousin's tricks, of whom you 
 have heard me talk so often ; ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Hast He whom your aunt intends for 
 you ? he of whom I have such just appre- 
 hensions ? 
 
 Miss Xcv. You have nothing to fear 
 from him, I assure you. You'd adore 
 him if you knew how heartily he despises 
 me. My aunt knows it too, and has un- 
 dertaken to court me for him, and ac- 
 tually begins to think she has made a 
 conquest. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 Hast Thou dear dissembler! You 
 must know, my Constance, I have just 
 seized this happy opportunity of my 
 friend's visit here to get admittance into 
 the family. The horses that carried us 
 down are" now fatigued with their jour- 
 ney, but they'll soon be refreshed ; and, 
 then, if my dearest girl will trust in her 
 faithful Hastings, we shall soon be landed 
 in France, where even among slaves the 
 laws of marriage are respected. 
 
 Miss Nev. I "have often told you, that 
 though ready to obey you, I yet should 
 leave my little fortune behind with re- 
 luctance" The greatest part of it was left 
 me by my uncle, the India Director, and 
 chiefly consists in jewels. I have been 
 for some time persuading my aunt to let 
 me wear them. I fancy I'm very neat- 
 succeeding. The instant they are put 
 into my possession, you shall find me 
 ready to make them and myself yours. 
 
 Hast. Perish the baubles" ! Your per- 
 son is a!l I desire. In the meantime, my 
 friend Marlow must not be let into his 
 mistake. I know the strange reserve of 
 his temper is such, that if abruptly in- 
 formed of it, he would instantly quit the 
 house, before our plan was ripe for exe- 
 cution. 
 
 Miss Nev. But how shall we keep 
 him in the deception ? — Miss Hardeastle 
 is just returned from walking — What if 
 
 we still continue to deceive him ? 
 
 This, this way [They confer. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 Enter Marlow. 
 
 Marl. The assiduities of these good 
 people tease me beyond bearing. My 
 host seems to think it ill manners to 
 leave me alone, and so he elaps not only 
 himself but his old-fashioned wife on my 
 back. They talk of coming to sup with 
 us too ; and then, I suppose, we are to 
 run the gauntlet through all the rest of 
 the family. — What have we got here ? 
 
 Hast. My dear Charles ! "Let me con- 
 gratulate you — The most fortunate acci- 
 dent ! — Who do you think is just alighted ? 
 
 Marl. Cannot guess. 
 
 Hast. Our mistresses, boy, Miss Hard- 
 castle and Miss Neville. Give me leave 
 to introduce Miss Constance Neville to 
 your acquaintance. Happening to dine in 
 the neighbourhood, they called, on their 
 return, to take fresh horses here. Miss 
 Hardcastle has just stept into the next 
 room, and will be back in an instant. 
 Wasn't it lucky ? eh ! 
 
 Marl. {Aside.) I have been mortified 
 enough of all conscience, and here 
 comes something to complete my em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 Hast. Well, but wasn't it the most 
 fortunate thing in the world ? 
 
 Marl. Oh, yes. Very fortunate — a 
 most joyful encounter — But our dresses, 
 George, you know, are in disorder — 
 What if we should postpone the happi- 
 ness till to-morrow ? — To-morrow at her 
 own house— It will be every bit as con- 
 
46 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 venient — and rather more respectful — 
 To-morrow let it be. [Offering to go. 
 
 Miss Nev. By no means, "Sir. Your 
 ceremony will displease her. The dis- 
 order of your dress will show the ardour 
 of your impatience. Besides, she knows 
 you are in the house, and will permit you 
 to see her. 
 
 Marl. Oh, the devil ! How shall I 
 support it ?— Hem ! hem ! Hastings, you 
 must not go. You are to assist me, you 
 know. I shall be confoundedly ridiculous. 
 Yet hang it ! I'll take courage. Hem ! 
 
 Hast. "Pshaw, man ! It's but the first 
 plunge, and all's over. She's but a wo- 
 man, you know. 
 
 Marl. And of all women, she that I 
 dread most to encounter ! 
 
 Enter Miss Hardcastlk, as returned 
 from walking, a bonnet, &c. 
 
 Hast. (Introducing them.) Miss Hard- 
 castle, Mr. Mar-low. I'm proud of bring- 
 ing two persons of such merit together, 
 that only want to know, to esteem each 
 other. 
 
 Miss Hard. {Aside.) Now for meet- 
 ing my modest gentleman with a demure 
 face, and quite in his own manner. 
 (After a pause, in which he appears very 
 uneasy and disconcerted.) I'm glad of 
 your safe arrival. Sir — I'm told you had 
 some accidents by the way. 
 
 Mail. Only a lew, Madam. Yes, we 
 had some. Yes, Madam, a good many 
 accidents : but should be sorry — Madam 
 
SHE STOOPS TO C O N Q U 3 R . 
 
 — or rather glad, of any accidents — that 
 are so agreeably concluded. Hem ! 
 
 Hast. (To him.) You never spoke 
 better in your whole life. Keep it up, 
 and I'll insure you the victory. 
 
 Miss Hard. I'm afraid you flatter. Sir. 
 You that have seen so much of the finest 
 company, can find little entertainment in 
 an obscure corner of the country. 
 
 Marl. [Gathering courage.) ' I have- 
 lived, indeed, in the world, Madam : but 
 I have kept very little company. I have 
 been but an observer upon life, Madam, 
 while others were enjoying it. 
 
 Miss Nev. But that", I am told, is the 
 way to enjoy it at last. 
 
 Hast <To him.) Cicero never spoke 
 better. Once more, and you are con- 
 tinned in assurance for ever. 
 
 Marl. ( To him. t Hem ! stand by me, 
 then ; and when I'm down, throw in a. 
 word or two to set me up again. 
 
 Miss Hard. An observer, like you^ 
 u^on life, were, I fear, disagreeably em- 
 ployed, since you must have had much, 
 more to censure than to approve. 
 
 Marl. Pardon me, Madam. I was 
 always willing to be amused. The folly 
 of most people is rather an object of 
 mirth than uneasiness. 
 
 Hast. {To him.) Bravo, bravo. Never 
 spoke so well in your whole life. Well, 
 Miss Hardcastle, "I see that you and Mr. 
 Marlow are going to be very good com- 
 pany. I believe our being here will but 
 embarrass the interview — 
 
48 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 Marl. Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. 
 We like your company of all things. 
 {To him.) Zounds! George, sure you 
 won't go ? how can you leave us ? 
 
 Hast. Our presence will but spoil con- 
 versation, so we'll retire to the next 
 room. (To him.) You don't consider, 
 man, that we are to manage a little tete- 
 a-tete of our own. [Exeunt. 
 
 Miss Hard. (After a pause.) But you 
 have not been wholly an observer, I pre- 
 sume. Sir : the ladies, I should hope, 
 have employed some part of your ad- 
 dresses. 
 
 Mart. [Relapsing into timidity.) Par- 
 don me, Madam, I— I — I— as yet, have 
 studied — only — to — deserve them. 
 
 Miss Hard. And that, some say, is the 
 verv worst way to obtain them. 
 
 Mail Perhaps so, Madam. But I 
 love to converse only with the more 
 grave and sensible part of the sex — But 
 I'm afraid I grow tiresome. 
 
 Miss Hard. Not at all, Sir ; there is 
 nothing I like so much as grave conver- 
 sation myself ; I could hear it forever. 
 Indeed I have often been surprised how 
 a man of sentiment could ever admire 
 those light airy pleasures, where nothing 
 reaches the heart. 
 
 Marl. It's a disease of the mind, 
 
 Madam. In the variety of tastes there 
 
 must be some, who, wanting a relish 
 
 for urn — a — urn. 
 
 Miss Hard. I understand you, Sir. 
 There must be some, who, wanting a 
 
" I UNDERSTAND YOU PERFECTLY, SIR. 
 
 49 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 relish for refined pleasures, pretend to de- 
 spise what they are incapable of tasting. 
 
 Marl. My meaning", Madam ; but in- 
 finitely better expressed. And I can't 
 help observing a 
 
 Miss Hard. (Aside.) Who could ever 
 suppose this fellow impudent upon some 
 occasions! (To him.) You were going 
 to observe, Sir 
 
 Marl. I was observing, Madam — I 
 protest, Madam, I forget what I was 
 going to observe. 
 
 Miss Hard. (Aside:) I vow, and so 
 do I. (To him.) You were observing, 
 Sir, that in this age of hypocrisy — some- 
 thing about hypocrisy, Sir. 
 
 Marl. Yes, Madam. In this age of 
 hypocrisy, there are few, who, upon strict 
 inquiry, do not — a — a — a 
 
 Miss Hard. I understand you perfectly, 
 Sir. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) Egad ! and that's more 
 than I do myself. 
 
 Miss Hard. You mean that in this 
 hypocritical age, there are few that do 
 not condemn in public what they practise 
 in private, and think they pay every debt 
 to virtue when they praise it. 
 
 Marl. True, Madam ; those who have 
 most virtue in their mouths, have least 
 of it in their bosoms. But I'm sure I tire 
 you, Madam. 
 
 Miss Hard. Not in the least, Sir ; 
 there's something so agreeable and spir- 
 ited in your manner, such life and force 
 — Pray, Sir, go on. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 51 
 
 Marl. Yes, Madam, I was saying 
 
 that there are some occasions— when a 
 total want of courage, Madam, destroys 
 
 all the and puts us upon — a — a — 
 
 a 
 
 Miss Hard. I agree with you entirely : 
 a want of courage upon some occasions, 
 assumes the appearance of ignorance, 
 and betrays us when we most want to 
 excel. I beg you'll proceed. 
 
 Marl. Yes, Madam. Morally speak- 
 ing, Madam— But I see Miss Neville ex- 
 pecting us in the next room. I would 
 not intrude for the world. 
 
 Miss Hard. I protest, Sir, I never was 
 more agreeably entertained in all my 
 life. Pray go on. 
 
 Marl. "Yes, Madam, I was But she 
 
 beckons us to join her. Madam, shall I 
 do myself the honour to attend vou ? 
 
 Miss Hard. Well, then, I'll follow. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) This pretty smooth 
 dialogue has done for me. [Exit 
 
 Miss Hard. (Alone.) Ha! ha! ha! 
 Was there ever such a sober, sentimental 
 interview ! I'm certain he scarce looked 
 in my face the whole time. Yet the fel- 
 low, but for his unaccountable bashful- 
 ness, is pretty well too. He has good 
 sense ; but then so buried in his fears, 
 that it fatigues one more than ignorance. 
 If I could teach him a little confidence, it 
 would be doing somebody that I know 
 of a piece of service. But who is that 
 somebody ? That, faith, is a question I 
 can scarce answer. [Exit 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 Enter Tony and Miss NEVILLE, followed 
 by Mrs. Hardcastle a«# Hastings. 
 
 Tony. What do you follow me for, 
 cousin Con ? I wonder you're not 
 ashamed to be so very engaging. 
 
 Miss Nev. I hope, cousin, one may 
 speak to one's own relations, and not be 
 to blame. 
 
 Tony. Ay, but I know what sort of a 
 relation you want to make me though ; 
 but it won't do. I tell you, cousin Con, 
 it won't do ; so I beg you'll keep your 
 distance — I want no nearer relationship. 
 [She follows, coquetting Jiim to the 
 back scene. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Well, I vow, Mr. Hastings, 
 you are very entertaining. There's noth- 
 ing in the world I love to talk of so much 
 as London, and the fashions ; though I 
 was never there myself. 
 
 Hast. Never there ! You amaze me ! 
 From your air and manner, I concluded 
 you had been bred all your life either at 
 Ranelagh, St. James's, or Tower Wharf. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Oh, Sir, you're only pleased 
 to say so. We country persons can have 
 no manner at all. I'm in love with the 
 town, and that serves to raise me above 
 some of our neighbouring rustics ; but 
 who can have a manner, that has never 
 seen the Pantheon, the Grotto Gardens, 
 the Borough, and such places where the 
 nobility chiefly resort ? All I can do is 
 to enjoy London at second-hand. I take 
 care to know every tCte-a-iele from the 
 
m 
 
 N 
 
 1Y It 
 
 
 h 
 
 .-' 
 
 EXTREMELY ELEGANT AND DEGAUEE, UPON MY 
 WORD MADAM." 
 
54 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUliR. 
 
 Scandalous Magazine, and have all the 
 fashions, as they come out, in a letter 
 from the two Miss Rickets of Crooked 
 Lane. Pray, how do you like this head, 
 Mr. Hastings ? 
 
 Hast. Extremely elegant and degagee. 
 upon my word, Madam. Your friseur is 
 a Frenchman, I suppose ? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. I protest, I dressed it my- 
 self from a print in the Ladies' Memo- 
 randum-book for the last year. 
 
 Hast. Indeed ! Such a' head in a side- 
 box at the play-house, would draw as 
 many gazers as my Lady Mayoress at a 
 city ball. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. I vow, since inoculation 
 began, there is no such thing to be seen 
 as a plain woman ; so one must dress a 
 little particular, or one may escape in the, 
 crowd. 
 
 Hast. But that can never be your case, 
 Madam, in any dress. (Bowing.) 
 
 Mrs. Hard.' Yet, what signifies my 
 dressing, when I have such a piece of 
 antiquity by my side as Mr. Hardcastle : 
 all I can say will never argue down a 
 single button from his clothes. I have 
 often wanted him to throw off his great 
 flaxen wig, and where he was baid, to 
 plaster it over, like my Lord Pately, 
 with powder. 
 
 Hast. You are right, Madam ; for, as 
 among the ladies there are none ugly, so 
 among the men there are none old. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. But what do you think 
 his answer was ? Why, with his usual 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 55 
 
 Gothic vivacity, he said I only wanted 
 him to throw off his wig to convert it 
 into a tite for my own wearing. 
 
 Hast. Intolerable ! At your age you 
 may wear what you please, and it must 
 become you. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Pray, Mr. Hastings, what 
 do you take to be "the most fashionable 
 age about town ? 
 
 Hast. Some time ago, forty was all the 
 mode ; but I'm told the ladies intend to 
 bring up fifty for the ensuing winter. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Seriously ? Then I shall be 
 too young for the fashion. 
 
 Hast. No lady begins now to put on 
 jewels till she's past forty. For instance, 
 miss there, in a polite "circle, would be 
 considered as a child — a mere maker of 
 samplers. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. And yet, Mrs. Niece thinks 
 herself as much a woman, and is as fond 
 of jewels, as the oldest of us all. 
 
 Hast Your niece, is she ? And that 
 young gentleman — a brother of yours, I 
 should presume ? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. My son, Sir. They are 
 contracted to each other. Observe their 
 little sports. They fall in and out ten 
 times a day, as if they were man and wife 
 already. (To them.) Well, Tony, child, 
 what soft things are you saying to your 
 cousin Constance this evening ? 
 
 Tony. I have been saying no soft 
 things ; but that it's very hard to be 
 followed about so. Ecod ! I've not a 
 
O LUD HE HAS ALMOST CRACKED MY HEAD. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 57 
 
 place in the house now that's left to my- 
 self but the stable. 
 
 Mrs. Hani. Nevermind, him, Con, my 
 dear, he's in another story behind your 
 back. 
 
 Miss Nev. There's something generous 
 in my cousin's manner. He falls out be- 
 fore faces, to be forgiven in private. 
 
 Tony. That's a damned, confounded — 
 crack. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ah ! he's a sly one. Don't 
 you think they're like each other about 
 the mouth, Mr. Hastings? The Blenkin- 
 sop mouth to a T. They're of a size too. 
 Back to back, my pretties, that Mr. Has- 
 tings may see you. Come, Tony. 
 
 Tony. You had as good not make" me, 
 I tell you. (Measuring.) 
 
 ,17/55. Nev. O lud ! he has almost 
 cracked my head. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Oh, the monster ! For 
 shame, Ton}-. You a man, and behave 
 so ! 
 
 Tony. If I'm a man. let me have my 
 fortin. Ecod ! I'll not be made a fool of 
 no longer. 
 
 Mvs.^Hard. Is this, ungrateful boy, all 
 that I'm to get for the pains I have taken 
 in your education ? I that have rocked 
 you in your cradle, and fed that pretty 
 mouth with a spoon ! Did not I work 
 that waistcoat to make you genteel ? Did 
 not I prescribe for you every day, and 
 weep while the receipt was operating ? 
 
 Tony. Ecod! you had reason to weep, 
 for you have been dosing me ever since 
 
58 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 I was born. I have gone through every 
 receipt in the Complete Housewife ten 
 times over ; and you have thoughts of 
 coursing me through Quincy next spring. 
 But, ecod ! I tell you, I'll not be madea 
 fool of no longer. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Wasn't it all for your good, 
 viper ? Wasn't it all for your good ? 
 
 Tony. I wish you'd let me and my good 
 alone, then. Snubbing this way when 
 I'm in spirits ! If I'm to have any good, 
 let it come of itself ; not to keep dinging 
 it, dinging it into one so. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. That's false ; I never see 
 you when you're in spirits. No, Tony, 
 you then go to the alehouse or kennel. 
 I'm never to be delighted with your 
 agreeable wild notes, unfeeling monster ! 
 
 Tony. Ecod ! mamma, youi'own notes 
 are the wildest of the two. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Was ever the like ? But 
 I see he wants to break my heart ; I see 
 he does. 
 
 Hast. Dear Madam, permit me to 
 lecture the young gentleman a little. I'm 
 certain I can persuade him to his duty. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Well, I must retire. Come, 
 Constance, my^pve. You see, Mr. Hast- 
 ings, the wretchedness of my situation : 
 was ever poor woman so plagued with a 
 dear sweet, pretty, provoking, undutiful 
 bov! 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Hardcastle and Miss 
 Neville, 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 Tony. {Singing.) 
 
 There was a young man riding by, 
 And fain would have his will. 
 
 Rang do didlo dee. — 
 
 Don't mind her. Let her cry. It's the 
 comfort of her heart. I have seen her 
 and sister cry over a book for an hour to- 
 gether ; and they said they liked the book 
 the better the more it made them cry. 
 
 Hast. Then you're no friend to the 
 ladies, I find, my pretty young gentleman? 
 
 Tony. That's as I find 'urn. 
 
 Hast. Not to her of your mother's 
 choosing, I dare answer ? And yet she 
 appears to me a pretty, well tempered 
 girl. 
 
 Tony. That's because you don't know 
 her as well as I. Ecod ! " I know every 
 inch about her ; and there's not a more 
 bitter, cantankerous toad in all Christen- 
 dom. 
 
 Hast. (Aside.) Pretty encouragement 
 this for a lover ! 
 
 Tony. I have seen her since the height 
 of that. She has as many tricks as a hare 
 in a thicket, or a colt the first day's break- 
 ing. 
 
 Hast. To me she appears sensible and 
 silent. 
 
 Tony. Ay, before company. But when 
 she's with her playmates, she's as loud as 
 a hog in a gate. 
 
 Hast. But there is a meek modesty 
 about her that charms me. 
 
I HAVE SEEN HER SINCE THE HEIGHT OF 
 THAT." 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 Tony. Yes, but curb her never so little, 
 she kicks up, and you're Hung in a ditch. 
 
 Hast. Well, but you must allow her a 
 little beauty. — Yes, you must allow her 
 some beauty. 
 
 Tony. Bandbox ! She's all a made-up 
 thing,' mun. Ah ! could you but see Bet 
 Bouncer of these parts, you might then 
 talk of beauty. Ecod ! she has two eyes 
 as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad and 
 red as a pulpit cushion. She'd make two 
 of she. 
 
 Hast. Well, what say you to a friend 
 that would take this bitter bargain off 
 your hands ? 
 
 Tony. Anon ! 
 
 Hast. Would you thank him that 
 would take Miss Neville, and leave you 
 to happiness and your dear Betsy ? 
 
 Tony. Ay ; but where is there such a 
 friend, for who would take her ? 
 
 Hast. I am he. If you but assist me, 
 I'll engage to whip her off to France, 
 and you shall never hear more of her. 
 
 Tony. Assist you ! Ecod I will, to the 
 last drop of my blood. I'll clap a pair of 
 horses to your chaise that shall trundle 
 you off in a twinkling, and may be get 
 you a part of her fortin beside, in jewels, 
 that you little dream of. 
 
 Hast. My dear Squire, this looks like a 
 lad of spirit 
 
 Tony. Come along, then, and you shall 
 see more of my spirit before you have 
 done with me. [Singing.) 
 
WE ARE THE BOYS THAT FEARS NO NOISE. 
 62 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 63 
 
 We are the boys 
 
 That fears no noise 
 
 Where the thundering cannons roar. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene.— A Room in Mr. Hardcastle's 
 House. 
 
 Enter Hardcastle. 
 
 Hard. What could my old friend Sir 
 Charles mean by recommending his son 
 as the modestest young man in town ? 
 To me he appears the most impudent 
 piece of brass that ever spoke with a 
 tongue. He has taken possession of the 
 easy chair by the fireside already. He 
 took off his boots in the parlour, and de- 
 sired me to see them taken care of. I'm 
 desirous to know how his impudence 
 affects my daughter. She will certainly 
 be shocked at it. 
 
 Enter Miss Hardcastle, plain ty dressed. 
 
 Hard. Well, my Kate, I see you have 
 changed your dress, as I bid you-; and 
 yet, I believe, there was no great occa- 
 sion. 
 
 Miss Hard. I find such a pleasure, Sir, 
 in obeying your commands, that I take 
 care to observe them without ever debat- 
 ing their propriety. 
 
 Hard. And yet, Kate, I sometimes 
 
64 SHE STOOfS TO CONQUi 
 
 give you some cause, particularly when 
 I recommended my modest gentleman to 
 you as a lover to-day. 
 
 Miss Hard. You taught me to expect 
 something extraordinary, and I find the 
 original exceeds the description. 
 
 Hani. I was never so surprised in 
 my life ! He has quite confounded all 
 my faculties. 
 
 miss Hani. I never saw any thing like 
 it ; and a man of the world too ! 
 
 Hani. Ay, he learned it all abroad — 
 what a fool was I, to think a young man 
 could learn modesty by travelling. He 
 might as soon learn wit at a masquerade. 
 
 Miss Haiti. It seems all natural to 
 him. 
 
 Hard. A good dea! assisted by bad 
 company and a French dancing-master. 
 
 Miss Hard. Sure you mistake, papa. 
 A French dancing-master could never 
 have taught him that timid look — that 
 awkward address — that bashful manner. 
 
 Hard. Whose look ? whose manner, 
 child ? 
 
 Miss Hard. Mr. Marlow's : his mau- 
 vaise hottte, his timidity, struck me at the 
 first sight. 
 
 Hard. Then your first sight deceived 
 you; for I think him one of the most 
 brazen first sights that ever astonished 
 my senses. 
 
 Miss Hard. Sure, Sir, you rally ! I 
 never saw any one so modest. 
 
 Hard. And can you be serious ? I 
 never saw such a bouncing, swaggering 
 
HE MET ME WITH A LOUD VOICE. 
 
STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 puppy since I was born. Bully Dawson 
 was but a fool to him. 
 
 Miss Hard. Surprising! He met me 
 with a respectful bow," a stammering 
 voice, and a look tixecl on the ground. 
 
 Hard. He met me with a loud voice, 
 a lordly air, and a familiarity that made 
 my blood freeze again. 
 
 Miss Hard. He'treated me with diffi- 
 dence and respect ; censured the man- 
 ners of the age ; admired the prudence 
 of girls that "never taughed ; tired me 
 with apologies for being tiresome ; then 
 left the room with a bow, and "Madam, 
 I would not for the world detain you." 
 
 Hard. He spoke to me as if he knew 
 me all his life before ; asked twenty 
 questions, and never waited for an an- 
 swer ; interrupted my best remarks with 
 some silly pun ; and when I was in my 
 best story of the Duke of Marlborough 
 and Prince Eugene, he asked if I had not 
 a good hand at making punch ! Yes, 
 Kate, he asked your father if he was a 
 maker of punch ! 
 
 Miss Hard. One of us must certainly 
 be mistaken. 
 
 Hard. If he be what he has shown 
 himself, I'm determined he shall never 
 have my consent. 
 
 Miss Hard. And if he be the suMen 
 thing I take him, he shall never have 
 mine. 
 
 Hard. In one thing, then, we are 
 agreed— to reject him. 
 
 Miss Hard. Yes — but upon conditions. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 67 
 
 For if you should find him less impu- 
 dent, and I more presuming ; if you find 
 him more respectful, and I more impor- 
 tunate — I don't know — the fellow is well 
 enough, for a man — Certainly we don't 
 meet many such at a horse-race in the 
 country. 
 
 Hard. If we should find him so 
 
 But that's impossible. The first appear- 
 ance has done my business. I'm seldom 
 deceived in that. 
 
 Miss Hard. And yet there may be 
 many good qualities" under that ' first 
 appearance. 
 
 Hard. Ay, when a girl finds a fellow's 
 outside to her taste, she then sets about 
 guessing the rest of his furniture. With 
 her, a smooth face stands for good sense, 
 and a genteel figure for every virtue. 
 
 Miss Hard. I hope. Sir. a conversation 
 begun with a compliment to my good 
 sense, won't end with a sneer at my 
 understanding ! 
 
 Hard. Pardon me, Kate. But if young 
 Mr. Brazen can find the art of reconciling 
 contradictions, he may please us both, 
 perhaps. 
 
 Miss Hard. And as one of us must be 
 mistaken, what if we go to make further 
 discoveries ? 
 
 Hard. Agreed. But, depend on't, I'm 
 in the right. 
 
 Miss Hard. And, depend on't, I'm not 
 much in the wrong. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONon-K 
 
 Enter Tony, running in with a casket. 
 
 Tony. Ecod ! I have got them. Here 
 they are. My cousin Con's necklaces, 
 bobs and all. My mother shan't cheat 
 the poor souls out of their fortin neither. 
 O my genus, is that you ? 
 
 Enter Hastings. 
 
 Hast. My dear friend, how have you 
 managed with your mother? I hope 
 you have amused her with pretending 
 love for your cousin, and that you are 
 willing to be reconciled at last ? Our 
 horses will be refreshed in a short time, 
 and we shall soon be ready to set off. 
 
 Tony. And here's something to bear 
 your charges by the way — (giving the 
 casket) — your sweetheart's jewels. Keep 
 them ; and hang those, I say, that would 
 rob you of one of them. 
 
 Hast. But how have you procured 
 them from your mother ? 
 
 Tony. Ask me no questions, and I'll 
 tell you no fibs. I procured them by the 
 rule of thumb. If I had not a key to 
 every drawer in mother's bureau, how 
 could I go to the alehouse so often as I 
 do ? An honest man may rob himself 
 of his own at any time. 
 
 Hast. Thousands do it every day. 
 But, to be plain with you, Miss Neville is 
 endeavouring to procure them from her 
 aunt this very instant. If she succeeds, 
 it will be the most delicate way, at least, 
 of obtaining them. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 69 
 
 Tony. Well, keep them, till you know 
 how it will be. But I know how it will 
 be well enough ;— she'd as soon part with 
 the only sound tooth in her head. 
 
 Hast. But I dread the effeets of her 
 resentment, when she finds she has lost 
 them. 
 
 Tony. Never you mind her resent- 
 ment, "leave mc to 'manage that. I don't 
 value her resentment the bounce of a 
 cracker. Zounds ! here they are. Mor- 
 rice ! Prance ! 
 
 [Exit Hastings. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Hardcastle and Miss 
 Neville. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Indeed, Constance, you 
 amaze me. Such a girl as you want 
 jewels ! It will be time enough for 
 jewels, my dear, twenty years hence, 
 when your beauty begins to want re- 
 pairs. 
 
 Miss Nev. But what will repair beauty 
 at forty, will certainly improve it at 
 twenty, Madam. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Yours, my dear, can admit 
 of none. That natural blush is beyond 
 a thousand ornaments. Besides, child, 
 jewels are quite out at present. Don't 
 you see half the ladies of our acquaint- 
 ance, my Lady Kill-day-light, and Mrs. 
 Crump, and the rest of them, carry their 
 jewels to town, and bring nothing but 
 "paste and marcasites back. 
 
 Miss Nev. But who knows, Madam, 
 but somebody that shall be nameless 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 would like me best with all my little 
 finery about me ? 
 
 Mrs Hard. Consult your glass, my 
 •dear, and then see if, with such a pair of 
 eyes, you want any better sparklers. 
 What do you think, Tony, my dear? 
 Does your "cousin Con want any jewels, 
 in your eyes, to set off her beauty ? 
 
 Tony. That's as thereafter may be. 
 
 Miss Nev. My clear aunt, if you knew 
 how it would oblige me. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. A parcel of old-fashioned 
 rose and table-cut things. They would 
 make you look like the court of King Sol- 
 omon at a puppet-show. Besides, I be- 
 lieve, I can't readily come at them. They 
 may be missing for aught I know to the 
 contrary. 
 
 Tony. (Apart to Mrs. HARDCASTLE.) 
 Then" why don't you tell her so at once, 
 as she's so longing for them ? Tell her 
 they're lost ; it's the only way to quiet 
 her". Say they're lost and call me to bear 
 witness. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Apart to Tony.) You 
 know, my dear, I'm only keeping them 
 for you. So if I say they're gone, you'll 
 bear me witness, will you ? He ! he ! 
 he! 
 
 Tony. Never fear me. Ecod ! I'll say 
 I saw" them taken out with my own eves. 
 
 Miss Nev. I desire them but for a day. 
 Madam — just to be permitted to show 
 them as "relics, and then they may be 
 locked up again. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. To be plain with you, my 
 
U CONQUER 
 
 dear Constance ; if I could find them you 
 should have ihem. They're missing, I 
 assure you. Lost, for aught I know ;'but 
 we must have patience wherever they 
 are. 
 
 Miss Nev. I'll not believe it : this is 
 but a shallow pretence to deny me. I 
 know they are too valuable to be so 
 slightly kept, and as you are to answer 
 for the loss 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Don't be alarmed, Con- 
 stance. If they be lost, I must restore an 
 equivalent. But my son knows they are 
 missing, and not to be found. 
 
 Tony. That I can bear witness to. 
 They "are missing, and not to be found ; 
 I'll take my oath on't ! 
 
 Mrs. Hard. You must learn resig- 
 nation, my dear ; for though we lose our 
 fortune, yet we should "not lose our 
 patience. See me, how calm I am ! 
 
 Miss Nev. Ay, people are generally 
 calm at the misfortunes of others. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Now, I wonder a girl of 
 your good sense should waste a thought 
 upon such trumpery. We shall soon 
 find them ; and in the meantime you shall 
 make use of my garnets till your jewels 
 be found. 
 
 Miss Nev. I detest garnets. 
 
 Mis. Hard. The most becomingthings 
 in the world to set off a clear complexion. 
 You have often seen how well they look 
 upon me. You shall have them. '[Exit. 
 
 Miss Nev. I dislike them of all things. 
 You shan't stir.— Was ever anvthing'so 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 provoking, to mislay my own jewels, 
 and force me to wear her trumpery. 
 
 Tony. Don't be a fool. If she" gives 
 you the garnets, take what you can get. 
 The jewels are your own" already." I 
 have stolen them but of her bureau, and 
 she does not know it. 
 Fly to your spark, 
 he'll tell you more of 
 the matter. Leave 
 me to manage her. 
 
 MissNev. My dear 
 cousin ! 
 
 Tony. Vanish. She's 
 here, " and has miss- 
 ed t h e m already. 
 [Exit Miss Neville.] 
 
 r Zounds ! how she fid- 
 
 WTOWbk gets and spits about 
 3 like a Ca t h eri n e 
 
 \ wheel ! 
 
 ZOUNDS ! HOW SHE FIDGETS 
 AND SPITS AliOUT LIKE A 
 CATHERINE WHEEL." 
 
 Enter Mrs. Hardcas- 
 tle 
 Mrs. Hani. Con- 
 fusion ! thieves ! rob- 
 bers ! We are cheated, plundered, broke 
 open, undone. 
 
 Tony. What's the matter, what's the 
 matter, mamma ? I hope nothing has 
 happened to anvof the good family? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. We are robbed ! My bu- 
 reau has been broken open, the jewels 
 taken out, and I'm undone ! 
 
 Tony. Oh ! is that all ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 By the laws, I never saw it better acted 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 in my life. Ecod, I thought you was 
 ruined in earnest, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Why, boy, I am ruined in 
 earnest. My bureau has been broken 
 open, and all taken away. 
 
 Tony. Stick to that, ha ! ha ! ha ! stick 
 to that. I'll bear witness, you know ! 
 call me to bear witness. 
 
 Mrs. Haul. I tell you, Tony, by all 
 that's precious, the jewels are gone, and 
 I shall be ruined for ever. 
 
 Tony. Sure I know they are gone, and 
 I am to say so. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. My dearest Tony, but hear 
 me. They're gone, I say. 
 
 Tony. By the laws, mamma, you make 
 me for to laugh, ha ! ha ! I know who 
 took them well enough, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Was there ever such a 
 blockhead, that can't tell the difference 
 between jest and earnest ! I tell you 
 I'm not in jest, booby. 
 
 Tony. That's right, that's right ; you 
 must be in a bitter passion, and then no- 
 body will suspect either of us. I'll bear 
 witness that they are gone. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Was there ever such a 
 cross-grained brute, that won't hear me ! 
 Can you bear witness that you're no bet- 
 ter than a fool ? Was ever poor woman 
 so beset with fools on one hand, and 
 thieves on the other ? 
 
 Tony. I can bear witness to that. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Bear witness again, you 
 blockhead, you, and I'll turn you out of 
 the room directly. My poor niece, what 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 will become of her ! Do you laugh, you 
 unfeeling brute, as if you enjoyed my 
 distress ? 
 
 Tony. I can bear witness to that. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Do you insult me, mon- 
 ster ? I'll teach you to vex your mother, 
 I will ! 
 
 Tony. I can bear witness to that. {He 
 runs off, she follows him.) 
 
 Enter Miss Hardcastle and Maid. 
 
 Miss Hard. What an unaccountable 
 creature is that brother of mine, to send 
 them to the house as an inn, ha ! ha ! I 
 don't wonder at his impudence 
 
 Maid. But what is more, Madam, the 
 young gent 'email, as you passed by in 
 your present dress, asked me if you were 
 the bar-maid ? He mistook you for the 
 bar-maid. Madam ! 
 
 Miss Hard. Did he ? Then, as I live, 
 I'm resolved to keep up the delusion 
 Tell me. Pimple, how do you like my 
 present dress? Don't you think I look 
 something like Cherry in the Beaux' 
 Stratagem .' 
 
 Maid. It's the dress. Madam, that 
 every lady wears in the country, but 
 when she visits or receives company. 
 
 Miss Hard. And are you sure he'does 
 not remember my face or person ? 
 
 Maid. Certain of it. 
 
 Miss Hard. I vow I thought so ; for 
 though we spoke for some time together, 
 yet his fears were such that he never 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQU 
 
 once looked up during the interview. 
 Indeed, if he had, my bonnet would have 
 kept him from seeing me. 
 
 Maid. Hut what "do you hope from 
 keeping him in his mistake ? 
 
 Miss Hard. In the first place, I shall 
 be seen, and that is no small advantage 
 to a girl who brings her face to market. 
 Then I shall perhaps make an acquaint- 
 ance, and that's no small victory gained 
 over one who never addresses any but 
 the wildest of her sex. But my chief aim 
 is to take my gentleman off his "guard.and, 
 like an invisible champion of romance, 
 examine the giant's force before I offer 
 to combat. 
 
 Maid. But are you sure you can act 
 your part, and disguise your voice so 
 that he may mistake that, as he has 
 already mistaken your person ? 
 
 Miss Ha I'd. Never fear me. I think I 
 have got the true bar cant— Did your 
 honour call ? — Attend the Lion there. — 
 Pipes and tobacco for the Angel. — The 
 Lamb has been outrageous this half hour. 
 
 Maid. It will do, Madam. But he's 
 here. [Exit Maid. 
 
 Enter Marlow. 
 
 Marl. What a bawling in every part 
 of the house ! I have scarce a moment's 
 repose. If I go to the best room, there I 
 find my host and his story ; if I fiy to the 
 gallery, there we have my hostess with 
 her curtsey down to the ground. I have 
 
76 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUI 
 
 at last got a moment to myself, and now 
 for recollection. [Walks and muses. 
 
 Miss Hard. Did you call, Sir ? Did 
 your honour call ? 
 
 Marl. (Musing.) As for Miss Hard- 
 castle, she's too grave and sentimental 
 for me. 
 
 Miss Hard. Did your honour call ? (She 
 still places herself before him, he turning 
 away.) 
 
 Marl. Xo, child. {Musing.) Besides, 
 from the glimpse I had of her, I think 
 she squints. 
 
 Miss Hard. I'm sure, Sir, I heard the 
 bell ring. 
 
 Marl. No, no. (Musing.) I have 
 pleased my father, however, by coming 
 down, and I'll to-morrow please myself 
 by returning. ( Taking out his tablets' and 
 perusing.) 
 
 Miss Hard. Perhaps the other gentle- 
 man called, Sir ? 
 
 Mart. I tell you, no. 
 
 Miss Hard. I should be glad to know, 
 Sir : we have such a parcel of servants. 
 
 Marl. Xo, no, I tell you. (Looks full 
 in her face.) Yes, child, I think I did 
 call. I wanted — I wanted — I vow, child, 
 you are vastly handsome. 
 
 Miss Hard. O la, Sir, you'll make one 
 ashamed. 
 
 Marl. Never saw a more sprightly 
 malicious eve. Yes, yes, my dear, I did 
 call. Have" you got any of your— a— what 
 d' ye call it, in the house ? 
 
STOOPS TO CON' 
 
 Miss Hard. No, Sir, we have been 
 out of that these ten days. 
 
 Marl. One may call" in this house, I 
 find, to very little purpose. Suppose I 
 should call for a taste, just by way of 
 trial, of the nectar of your lips, perhaps I 
 might be disappointed in that too. 
 
 Miss Haul Nectar ! nectar ! That's 
 a liquor there's no call for in these parts. 
 French, I suppose. We keep no French 
 wines here. Sir. 
 
 Marl. Of true English growth, I as- 
 sure you. 
 
 Miss Hard. Then it's odd I should not 
 know it. We brew all sorts of wines in 
 this house, and I have lived here these 
 eighteen years. 
 
 Marl. Eighteen years ! Why, one 
 would think, child, you kept the bar be- 
 fore you were born. How old are vou ? 
 
 Miss Hani Oh, Sir, I must not tell 
 my age. They say women and music 
 should never be dated. 
 
 Marl. To guess at this distance, you 
 can't be much above forty. (Approach- 
 ing.) Yet nearer, I don't think so much. 
 j. Ipproaching.) By coming close to some 
 women, they look younger still ; but 
 when we come very close indeed— 
 i Attempting to kiss tier.) 
 
 Miss Hard. Prav, Sir, keep your dis- 
 tance. One would think you wanted to 
 know one's age as they do horses, by 
 mark of mouth. 
 
 Marl. I protest, child, you use me ex- 
 tremely ill. If you keep 'me at this dis- 
 
78 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 tance, how is it possib'.e you and I can 
 ever be acquainted ? 
 
 Miss Hard. And who wants to be ac- 
 quainted with you ? I want no such ac- 
 quaintance, not I. I'm sure you did not 
 treat Miss Hardcastle, that was here 
 awhile ago, in this obstroyalous manner. 
 I'll warrant me, before her you looked 
 dashed, and kept bowing to the ground, 
 and talked, for all the world, as if you 
 were before a justice of \ eace. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) Egad, she has hit it, 
 sure enough ! {To her.) In awe of her, 
 child ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! A mere awkward, 
 squinting thing! No, no. I hud you 
 don't know me. I laughed and rallied 
 her a little ; but I was unwilling to be 
 too severe. No, I could not be too severe, 
 curse me ! 
 
 Miss Hard. Oh, then. Sir, you are a 
 favourite, I rind, among the ladies ? 
 
 Marl. Yes, my dear, a great favourite. 
 And vet, hang me, I don't see what they 
 find in me "to follow. At the Ladies' 
 Club in town I'm called their agreeable 
 Rattle. Rattle, my child, is not my real 
 name, but one I'm known by. My name 
 is Solomons ; Mr. Solomons, my dear, at 
 your service. [Offering to salute her.) 
 
 Miss Hard. Hold, Sir ; you are intro- 
 ducing me to your club, n< t to yourself. 
 And you're so great a favourite there, you 
 sav ? 
 
 Marl. Yes. my dear. There's Mrs. 
 Mantrap, Lady Betty Blackleg, the 
 Countess of Sligo, Mrs. Longhorns, old 
 
STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 Miss Biddy Buckskin, and your humble 
 servant, keep up the spirit of the place. 
 
 Miss Hard. Then it's a very merry 
 place, I suppose ? 
 
 Marl. Yes, as merry as cards, suppers, 
 wine, and ( Id women can make us. 
 
 Miss Hard. And their agreeable Rat- 
 tle, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Marl. {Aside). Egad ! I don't quite 
 like this chit. She looks knowing, me- 
 thinks. You laugh, child! 
 
 Miss Hard. I can't but laugh to think 
 what time they all have for minding 
 their work, or their family. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) All's well ; she don't 
 laugh at me. (To her.) Do you ever 
 work, child ? 
 
 Miss Hard. Ay, sure. There's not a 
 screen or a quilt in the whole house but 
 what can bear witness to that. 
 
 Marl. Odso ! then you must show 
 me your embroidery. I embroider and 
 draw patterns myself a little. If you 
 want a judge of your work, you must 
 apply to me. (Seizing her hand.) 
 
 Miss Hard. Av, but the colours don't 
 look well by candlelight. You shall see 
 all in the morning. (Struggling.) 
 
 Marl. And why not now, my angel ? 
 Such beauty fires beyond the power of 
 resistance.— Pshaw ! the father here r 
 Mv old luck: I never nicked seven that 
 I did not throw am^s-ace three times fol- 
 lowing. {Exit Marlow. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO COXnlEK 
 
 Enter Hakdcastle, who stands in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 Hard. So, Madam. So I find this is 
 your modest lover. This is your humble 
 admirer, that kept his eyes' fixed on the 
 ground, and only adored at humble dis- 
 tance. Kale, Kate, art thou not ashamed 
 to deceive your lather so ? 
 
 Miss Haul. Never trust me, dear papa, 
 but he's still the modest man I first took 
 him for ; you'll be convinced of it as well 
 as I. 
 
 Hard. By the hand of my body, I be- 
 lieve his impudence i^ infectious ! ' Didn't 
 I see him seize your hand ? Didn't I see 
 him haul you about like a milk-maid ? 
 And now you talk of his respect and his 
 modest v. forsooth ! 
 
 Miss Hard. But if I shortly convince 
 you of his modesty, that he has only the 
 faults that will pass off with time/ and 
 the virtues that will improve with age, I 
 ho^e you'll forgive him. 
 
 Hard. The girl would actually make 
 one run mad ! I tell you I'll not be con- 
 vinced. I am convinced. He has scarce 
 been three hours in the house, and he 
 has already encroached on all my pre- 
 rogatives. You may like his impudence, 
 and call it modesty; but my son-in-law, 
 Madam, must have very different qualifi- 
 cations. 
 
 Miss Hard. Sir, I ask but this night 
 to convince you. 
 
 Hard. You shall not have half the 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 time, for I have thoughts of turning him 
 out this very hour. 
 
 Miss Hani. Give me that hour, then, 
 and I hope to satisfy you. 
 
 Hard. Well, an hour let it be then. 
 But I'll have no trifling with your father. 
 All fair and open, do your mind me ? 
 
 Miss Hard. I hope", Sir, you have ever 
 found that I considered your commands 
 as my pride ; for your kindness is such 
 that my duty, as yet, has been inclina- 
 tion. [Exeunt 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene.— A Room in Mr. Hardcastle's 
 
 House. 
 
 Enter Hastings and Miss Neville. 
 
 Hast. You surprise me : Sir Charles 
 Marlow expected here this night ! Where 
 have you had your information ? 
 
 Miss Nev. You may depend upon it. 
 I just saw his letter to Mr. Hardcastle, 
 in which he tells him he intends setting 
 out a few hours after his son. 
 
 Hast. Then, my Constance, all must 
 be completed before he arrives. He 
 knows me ; and should he find me here, 
 would discover my name, and, perhaps, 
 my designs, to the Vest of the family. 
 
 Miss Nev. The jewels, I hope, are 
 safe? 
 
 Hast. Yes, yes. I have sent them to 
 
 6 
 
82 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 Mar low, who keeps the keys of our bag- 
 gage. In the meantime, I'll go to pre- 
 pare matters for our elopement. I have 
 had the Squire's promise of a fresh pair 
 of horses ; and if 1 should not see him 
 again, will write him further directions. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Miss Nev. Well, success attend you J 
 
 In the meantime, I'll go amuse my aunt 
 
 with the old pretence of a violent passion 
 
 for my cousin. [Exit, 
 
 Enter Marlow, followed by a Servant. 
 
 Marl. I wonder what Hastings could 
 mean by sending me so valuable a thing 
 as a casket to keep for him, when he 
 knows the only place I have is the seat of 
 a post-coach at an inn door. Have you 
 deposited the casket with the landlady, 
 as I ordered you ? Have you put it into 
 her own hands ? 
 
 Serv. Yes, your honour. 
 
 Marl. She said she'd keep it safe, did 
 she ? 
 
 Serv. Yes ; she said she'd keep it safe 
 
 enough. She asked me how I came by 
 
 it ; and she said she had a great mind to 
 
 make me give an account of myself. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 Marl. Ha ! ha ! ha ! They're safe, 
 however. What an unaccountable set of 
 beings have we got amongst ! This little 
 barmaid, though, runs in my head most 
 strangely, and drives out the absurdities 
 of all the rest of the family. She's mine, 
 she must be mine, or I'm greatly mistaken. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 8j 
 
 Enter Hastings. 
 
 Hast. Bless me ! I quite forgot to tell 
 her that I intended to prepare at the bot- 
 tom of the garden. Marlow here, and in 
 spirits too ! 
 
 Marl. Give me joy, George ! Crown 
 me ; shadow me with laurels ! Well, 
 George, after all, we modest fellows don't 
 want for success among the women. 
 
 Hast. Some women, you mean. But 
 what success has your honour's modesty 
 been crowned with now, that it grows so- 
 insolent upon us ? 
 
 Marl. Didn't you see the tempting,, 
 brisk, lovely little thing, that runs about 
 the house with a bunch of keys to its- 
 girdle ? 
 " Hast. Well ! and what then ? 
 
 Marl. She's mine, you rogue, you. 
 Such fire, such motion, such eyes, such 
 lips — but, egad ! she would not let me 
 kiss them though. 
 
 Hast. But are you so sure, so very sure 
 of her ? 
 
 Marl. Why, man, she talked of show- 
 ing me her work above stairs, and I am 
 to approve the pattern. 
 
 Hast. But how can you, Charles, go» 
 about to rob a woman of her honour ? 
 
 Marl. Pshaw ! phaw ! We all know 
 the honour of the barmaid of an inn. I 
 don't intend to rob her, take my word for 
 it ; there's nothing in this house 1 shan't 
 honestly pay for. 
 
 Hast. I believe the girl has virtue. 
 
84 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 Marl. And if she has, I should be the 
 last man in the world that would attempt 
 to corrupt it. 
 
 Hast. You have taken care, I hope, of 
 the casket I sent vou to lock up. It's in 
 safety ? 
 
 Marl. Yes, yes ; it's safe enough. I 
 have taken care of it. But how could you 
 think the seat of a post-coach at an inn- 
 door a place of safety ? Ah ! numskull ! 
 I have taken better precautions for you 
 than vou did for yourself. — I have 
 
 Hast. What ? 
 
 Marl. I have sent it to the landlady to 
 keep for vou. 
 
 Hast. "To the landlady ! 
 
 Marl. The landlady. 
 
 Hast. You did ! 
 
 Marl. I did. She's to be answerable 
 for its forthcoming, you know. 
 
 Hast. Yes, she'll bring it forth, with a 
 witness. 
 
 Marl. Wasn't I right ? I believe you'll 
 allow that I acted prudently upon this 
 occasion ? 
 
 Hast. (Aside.) He must not see my 
 uneasiness. 
 
 Mali. You seem a little disconcerted 
 though, methinks. Sure nothing has 
 happened ? 
 
 Hast. No, nothing. Never was in 
 better spirits in all my life. And so vou 
 left it with the landladv, who, no doubt 
 verv readily undertook the charge ? 
 
 Marl. Rather too readily ; for she not 
 only kept the casket, but," through her 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 85 
 
 great precaution, was going to keep the 
 messenger too. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Hast. He ! he ! he ! They're safe, 
 however. 
 
 Marl. As a guinea in a miser's purse. 
 
 Hast. {Aside.) So now all hopes of 
 fortune are at an end, and we must set 
 off without it. {To him.) Well. Charles, 
 I'll leave you to your meditations on the 
 pretty barmaid, and, he ! he ! he ! may 
 you be as successful for yourself as you 
 have been for me ! [Exit. 
 
 Marl. Thank ye, George : I ask no 
 more. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Enter Hardcastle. 
 
 Hard. I no longer know my own 
 house. It's turned all topsy-turvy. His 
 servants have got drunk already. I'll 
 bear it no longer ; and yet, from my re- 
 spect for his "father, I'll be calm. ( To 
 In 111.) Mr. Marlow, your servant. I'm 
 your very humble servant. ( Bowing tow. ) 
 
 Marl. Sir, your humble servant. 
 {Aside. ) What's to be the wonder now ? 
 
 Hard. I believe, Sir, you must be sen- 
 sible, Sir, that no man alive ought to be 
 more welcome than your father's son, 
 sir. I hope you think "so ? 
 
 Marl. I do, from my soul, Sir. I don't 
 want much entreaty. I generally make 
 my father's son welcome wherever he 
 goes. 
 
 Hard. I believe you do, from my soul, 
 Sir. But though Isay nothing to your 
 own conduct, that of your servants is in- 
 
TOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 sufferable. Their manner of drinking is 
 setting a very bad example in this house, 
 I assure you. 
 
 Marl. I protest, my very good Sir, that 
 is no fault of mine. If they don't drink 
 as they ought, they are to blame. I or- 
 dered them not to spare the cellar. I did, 
 I assure you. I To the side scene, i Here, 
 let one of my servants come up. {To 
 Hard, i My p< >sitive directions were, that, 
 as I did not drink myself, they should 
 make up for my deficiencies below. 
 
 Hard. Then they had your orders for 
 what they do ! I'm satisfied ! 
 
 Marl. They had, I assure you. You 
 shall hear from one of themselves. 
 
 Enter Servant, drunk. 
 
 Marl. You, Jeremy ! Come forward, 
 sirrah ! What were my orders ? Were 
 you not told to drink freely, and call for 
 what you thought fit, for the good of the 
 house ? 
 
 Hard. (Aside.) I begin to lose my 
 patience ! 
 
 Jeremy. Please your honour, liberty 
 and Fleet-Street forever! Though I'm 
 but a servant, I'm as good as another 
 man. I'll drink for no man before sup- 
 per. Sir, dammy ! Good liquor will sit 
 upon a good supper, but a good supper 
 
 will not sit upon hiccup upon my 
 
 conscience, Sir. [Exit. 
 
 Marl. You see, my old friend, the fel- 
 low is as drunk as he can possibly be. 
 J don't know what you'd have more, un- 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 87 
 
 less you'd have the poor devil soused in 
 a beer-barrel. 
 
 Hard. Zounds, he'll drive me dis- 
 tracted, if I contain myself any longer! 
 Mr. Marlow : Sir, I have submitted to 
 your insolence for more than four hours, 
 and I see no likelihood of its coming to 
 an end. I'm now resolved to be master 
 here, Sir, and I desire that you and your 
 drunken pack may leave my house 
 directly. 
 
 Marl. Leave your house ! — Sure you 
 jest, my good friend ! What ! when I'm 
 doing what I can to please you ? 
 
 Hard. I tell you, Sir, you don't please 
 me ; so I desire you'd leave my house. 
 • Mad. Sure you cannot be serious ? 
 at this time o' night, and such a night! 
 You only mean to banter me. 
 
 Hard. I tell you, Sir, I'm serious! 
 And now that my passions are roused, I 
 say this house is mine, Sir ; this house is 
 mine, and I command you to leave it 
 directly ! 
 
 Mart. Ha ! ha ! ha ! A puddle in a 
 storm. I shan't stir a step, I assure you. 
 {hi a serious tone.) This house, fellow ! 
 It's my house. This is my house. Mine 
 while I choose to stay. What right have 
 you to bid me leave" this house. Sir ? I 
 never met' with such imnudence, curse 
 me ; never in my whole life before. 
 
 Hard. Nor I, confound me if ever I 
 did ! To come to my house, to call for 
 what he likes, to turn' me out of my own 
 chair, to insult the family, to order his 
 
THEN THERE'S A MAHOGANY TABLE THAT 
 YOU MAY SEE YOUR OWN FACE IN." 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. St/, 
 
 servants to get drunk, and then to tell 
 me, " This house is mine, Sir ! " By all 
 that's impudent, it makes me laugh. Ha I 
 ha! ha! Pray, Sir, (bantering) as you 
 take the house, what think you of taking 
 the rest of the furniture ? There's a pair 
 of silver candlesticks, and there's a fire- 
 screen, and here's a pair of brazen-nosed 
 bellows, perhaps you may take a fancy 
 to them ? 
 
 Marl. Bring me your bill, Sir ; bring 
 me your bill, and let's make no more 
 words about it. 
 
 Hard. There are a set of prints, too. 
 What think you of the Rake's Progress, for 
 your own apartment ? 
 
 Marl. Bring me your bill, I say ; and 
 I'll leave you and your infernal house 
 directly. 
 
 Hard. Then there's a mahogany table 
 that you may see your own face in. 
 
 Marl. My bill, I say. 
 
 Hard. I had forgot "the great chair, for 
 your own particular slumbers, after a 
 hearty meal. 
 
 Marl. Zounds ! bring me my bill, I say r 
 and let's hear no more on't. 
 
 Hard. Young man, young man, from 
 your father's letter to me, I was taught to 
 exnect a well-bred, modest man as a vis- 
 itor here, but now I find him no better 
 than a coxcomb and a bully ; but he will 
 be down here presently, and shall hear 
 more of it. [Exit. 
 
 Marl. How's this! Sure I have not 
 mistaken the house Every thing looks 
 
■90 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 like an inn ; the servants cry, " Coining " ; 
 the attendance is awkward ; the bar- 
 maid, too, to attend us. But she's here, 
 and will farther inform me. Whither so 
 
 last, child ? A word with you. 
 
 Enter Miss Hardcastle. 
 
 Miss Hd nl. Let it be short then. I'm 
 in a hurry. (Aside. \ I believe he begins 
 to find out his mistake. But it's too soon 
 quite to undeceive him. 
 
 Marl. Pray, child, answer me one 
 question. What are you, and what may 
 your business in this house be ? 
 
 Miss Hani. A relation of the family, Sir. 
 
 Marl. What, a poor relation ? 
 
 Miss Hard. Yes, Sir ; a poor relation, 
 appointed to keep the keys, and to see 
 that the guests want nothing in my 
 power to give them. 
 
 Marl. That is, you act as the barmaid 
 of this inn. 
 
 Miss Hard. Inn ! O law ! What 
 
 brought that into your head ? One of 
 the best families in the county keep an 
 inn ! — Ha ! ha ! ha! old Mr. Hardcastle's 
 house an inn ! 
 
 Marl. Mr. Hardcastle's house ! Is this 
 Mr. Hardcastle's house, child ? 
 
 Miss Hard. Ay, sure. Whose else 
 should it be ? 
 
 Marl. So then, all's out, and I have 
 been damnably imposed on. Oh, con- 
 found my stupid head, I shall be laughed 
 at over the whole town ! I shall be stuck 
 up in caricature in all the print-shops — 
 
STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 The Dullissimo-Macaroni. To mistake 
 this house of all others for an inn, and 
 my father's old friend for an innkeeper! 
 What a swaggering puppy must he take 
 me for ! What a silly puppy do I find 
 myself ! There, again, may I be hang'd, 
 my dear, but I mistook you for the bar- 
 maid. 
 
 Miss Hard. Dear me ! dear me ! I'm 
 sure there's nothing in my behaviour to 
 put me upon a level with one of that 
 stamp. 
 
 Marl. Nothing, my dear, nothing. But 
 I was in for a list of blunders, and could 
 not help making you a subscriber. My 
 stupidity saw every thing the wrong way, 
 I mistook your assiduity for assurance, 
 and your simplicity for allurement. But 
 it's over — this house I no more show my 
 face in. 
 
 Miss Hard I hope, Sir, I have done 
 nothing to disoblige you. I'm sure I 
 should'be sorrv to affront any gentleman 
 who has been so polite, and said so many 
 civil things to me. I'm sure I should be 
 sorrv {pretending to cry) if he left the 
 family upon my account. I'm sure I 
 should be sorry people said any thing 
 amiss, since I have no fortune but my 
 character. 
 
 Marl. ( Aside.) By Heaven ! she weeps. 
 This is the first mark of tenderness I ever 
 had from a modest woman, and it touches 
 me. ( To her. ) Excuse me, my lovely 
 girl ; you are the only part of the family 
 I leave with reluctance. But, to be plain 
 
i 
 
 ■.■■■ 
 
 
 
 ■V 
 
 1 
 
 .* 
 
 w, 
 
 " by heaven! she weeps." 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 93 
 
 with you, the difference of our birth, 
 fortune, and education, make an honour- 
 able connection impossible ; and I can 
 never harbour a thought of seducing 
 simplicity that trusted in my honour, of 
 bringing ruin upon one, whose only fault 
 was being too lovely. 
 
 Miss Hard. (Aside.) Generous man! 
 I now begin to admire him. (To him.) 
 But I am sure my family is as good as 
 Miss Hardcastle's ; and though I'm poor, 
 that's no great misfortune to a contented 
 mind ; and until this moment, I never 
 thought that it was bad to want fortune. 
 
 Marl. And why now, my pretty sim- 
 plicity ? 
 
 Miss Hard. Because it puts me at a 
 distance from one, that if I had a thou- 
 sand pounds, I would give it all to. 
 
 Marl. (Aside.) This simplicity be- 
 witches me so, that if I stay I'm undone. 
 I must make one bold effort, and leave 
 her. (To her.) Your partiality in my 
 favour, my dear, touches me most sen- 
 sibly ; and were I to live for myself 
 alone, I could easily fix my choice. But 
 I owe too ' much to the opinion of the 
 world, too much to the authority of a 
 father ; so that — I can scarcely speak 
 it — it affects me. — Farewell. " [Exit 
 
 Miss Hard. I never knew half his 
 merit till now. He shall not go, if I have 
 power or art to detain him. I'll still pre- 
 serve the character in which I stoop'd 
 to conquer, but will undeceive my papa, 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 who, perhaps, may laugh him out of his 
 resolution. [Exit 
 
 Enter Toxy and Miss Neville. 
 
 Tony. Ay, you may steal for yourselves 
 the next time. I have done" my duty. 
 She has got the jewels again, that's a sure 
 thing ; but she believes it was all a mis- 
 take of the servants. 
 
 Miss A/tv. But, my dear cousin, sure 
 you won't forsake us in this distress ? If 
 she in the least suspects that I am going 
 off, I shall certainly be locked up, or sent 
 to my aunt Pedigree's, which is ten times 
 worse. 
 
 Tony. To be sure, aunts of all kinds 
 are damned bad things. But what can I 
 do ? I have got you a pair of horses that 
 will fly like Whistle-jacket ; and I'm sure 
 you can't say but I" have courted you 
 nicely before her face. Here she comes. 
 We must court a bit or two more, for fear 
 she should suspect us. (They retire, and 
 seem to fondle. ) 
 
 Enter Mrs. Hardcastle. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Well, I was greatly flut- 
 tered, to be sure. But my son tells me 
 it was all a mistake of the servants. I 
 shan't be easy, however, till they are 
 fairly married," and then let her keep her 
 own fortune. But what do I see ? fond- 
 ling together, as I'm alive. I never saw 
 Tony so sprightly before. Ah ! have I 
 caught you, my pretty doves ? What, 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 billing, exchanging stolen glances and 
 broken murmurs ? Ah ! 
 
 Tony. As for murmurs, mother, we 
 grumble a little now and then, to be 
 sure ; but there's no love lost between us. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. A mere sprinkling, Tony, 
 upon the flame, only to make "it burn 
 brighter. 
 
 Miss Nev. Cousin Tony promises to- 
 give us more of his company at home. 
 Indeed, he shan't leave us any more. It 
 won't leave us, cousin Tony, will it ? 
 
 Tony. O ! it's a pretty creature. Xo,. 
 I'd sooner leave my horse in a pound, 
 than leave you when you smile upon one 
 so. Your laugh makes you so becoming. 
 
 Miss Nev. Agreeable cousin ! Who 
 can help admiring that natural humour, 
 that pleasant, broad, red, thoughtless,. 
 (patting his cheek)— ah ! it's a bold face ! 
 
 Mrs. Hani. Pretty innocence ! 
 
 Tony. I'm sure I always loved cousin 
 Con's hazel eves, and her pret y long 
 fingers, that she twists this way and that 
 over the haspicholls, like a "parcel of 
 bobbins. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ah ! he would charm the 
 bird from the tree. I was never so happy 
 before. My boy takes after his father, 
 poor Mr. Lumpkin, exactly. The jewels, 
 my dear Con, shall be yours inconti- 
 nently. You shall have them. Isn't he 
 a sweet boy, my dear ? You shall be 
 married to-morrow, and we'll put off the 
 rest of his education, like Dr. Drowsy's 
 sermons, to a titter opportunity. 
 
^6 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 Enter DlGGORY. 
 
 Dig. Where's the Squire ? I have got 
 a letter for your worship. 
 
 Tony. Give it to my mamma. She 
 reads all my letters first. 
 
 Dig. I had orders to deliver it into 
 your own hands. 
 
 Tony. Who does it come from ? 
 
 Dig. Your worship rami ask that o' the 
 letter itself. 
 
 Tony. I could wish to know though, 
 {turning the letter, ami gazing on it.) 
 
 Miss Nev. {Aside.) Undone! undone! 
 A letter to him from Hasting : I know 
 the hand. If my aunt sees it, we are 
 ruined for ever. I'll keep her employed 
 a little, if I can. {To Mrs. Haracastte.) 
 But I have not told you, Madam, of my 
 •cousin's smart answer just 1 ow to Mr. 
 Marlow. We so laugh'd — You must 
 know. Madam — This way a little, for he 
 must not hear us. (They confer. ) 
 
 Tony, i Still gazing. I A damn'd cramp 
 piece' of penmanship, as ever I saw in 
 my life. I can read your print hand very 
 well ; but here there are such handles, 
 and shanks, and dashes, that one can 
 scarce tell the head from the tail. " To 
 Anthony Lumpkin, Esquire." It's very 
 -odd, I can read the outside of my letters, 
 where my own name is, well enough. 
 
 But when I come to open it, it's all 
 
 buzz. That's hard — very hard ; for the 
 inside of the letter is always the cream 
 of the correspondence. 
 
TOO PS TO CONQUER. 97 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ha! ha! ha! Very well, 
 very well. And so my son was too hard 
 for the philosopher ? 
 
 MissNev. Yes, Madam ; but you must 
 hear the rest, Madam. A little more this 
 way, or he may hear us. You'll hear 
 how he puzzled him again. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. He seems strangely 
 puzzled now himself, methinks. 
 
 Tony. {Still gazing.) A damned up and 
 down hand, as if it was disguised in 
 liquor. (Reading.) "Dear sir," — Ay, 
 that's that. Then there's an M, and a T, 
 and an S, but whether the next be an 
 iz/.ard or an R, confound me, I cannot 
 tell! 
 
 Mrs. Hard. What's that, my dear ; can 
 I give you any assistance ? 
 
 MissNev. "Pray, aunt, let me read it. 
 Nobody reads a cramp hand better than 
 I. [Twitching the letter from him.) Do 
 you know who it is from ? 
 
 Tony. Can't tell, except from Dick 
 Ginger, the feeder. 
 
 MissNev. Ay, so it is, {pretending to 
 read, i Dear Squire, hoping that you're 
 in health, as I am at this present. The 
 gentlemen of the Shake-bag Club has 
 cut the gentlemen of the Goose Green 
 
 quite out of feather. The odds urn 
 
 odd battle— urn- long fighting — urn 
 
 — here, here, it's a'l about cocks and fight- 
 ing ; it's of no consequence — here, put it 
 up, put it up. ( Trusting the crumpled 
 letter upon him.) 
 
 Tony. But I tell you, miss, it's of all 
 7 
 

 \ 
 
 , 
 
 (" AV, SO IT IS" PRETENDING TO READ). 
 
 Q S 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 99 
 
 the consequence in the world. I would 
 not lose the rest of it for a guinea. 
 Here, mother, do you make it out. Of 
 no consequence ! 
 
 [Giving Mrs. Hardcastle the letter. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. How's this ! {rends,) 
 " Dear Squire, I'm now waiting for Miss 
 Neville, with a postchaise and pair, at 
 the bottom of the garden, but I find my 
 horses yet unable to perform the journey. 
 I expect you'll assist us with a pair of 
 fresh horses, as you promised. Despatch 
 is necessary, as the hag" — ay, the hag — 
 " your mother, will otherwise suspect us. 
 Yours, Hastings." Grant me patience : I 
 shall run distracted ! My rage chokes 
 me ! 
 
 Miss Nev. I hope, Madam, you'll sus- 
 pend your resentment for a few moments, 
 and not impute to me any impertinence 
 or sinister design that belongs to another. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Curtsying very low.) Fine 
 spoken, Madam, you are most miracu- 
 lously polite and engaging, and quite the 
 very pink of courtesy and circumspection, 
 Madam. (Changing her tone.) And you, 
 you great ill-fashioned oaf, with scarce 
 sense enough to keep your mouth shut, — 
 were you, too, joined against me ? But 
 I'll defeat all your plots in a moment. As 
 for you, Madam, since you have got a 
 pair of fresh horses ready, it would be 
 cruel to disappoint them". So, if you 
 please, instead of running away with 
 your spark, prepare, this very moment, 
 to run off with me. Your old aunt Pedi- 
 
■SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 gree will keep you secure, I'll warrant 
 me. You too, Sir, may mount your horse 
 and guard us upon the way. — Here, 
 Thomas, Roger, Diggory !— I'll show you, 
 that I wish you better than you do your- 
 selves. [Exit. 
 
 Miss Nev. So now I'm completely 
 ruined. 
 
 Tony. Ay, that's a sure thing. 
 
 Miss Nev. What better could be ex- 
 pected, from being connected with such 
 a stupid fool — and after all the nods and 
 signs I made him. 
 
 louy. By the laws, miss, it was your 
 own cleverness, and not my stupidity, 
 that did your business ! You were s : o 
 nice and so busy with your Shake-bags 
 and Goose-Greens, that I thought you 
 could never be making believe. 
 
 Enter Hastings. 
 
 Hast. So, Sir, I find by my servant, 
 that you have shown my letter, and be- 
 trayed us. Was this well done, young 
 gentleman ? 
 
 Tony. Here's another ! Ask miss, 
 there, who betrayed you. Ecod ! it was 
 her doing, not mine. 
 
 Enter Marlow. 
 
 Marl. So, I have been finely used here 
 among you. Rendered contemptible, 
 driven into ill manners, despised, in- 
 sulted, laughed at. 
 
 Tony. Here's another ! We shall have 
 old Bedlam broke loose presently. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. IOI 
 
 Miss Nev. And there, Sir, is the gentle- 
 man to whom we all owe every obliga- 
 tion. 
 
 Marl. What can I say to him, a mere 
 boy, an idiot, whose ignorance and age 
 are a protection ? 
 
 Hast. A poor contemptible boob}', that 
 would but disgrace correction. 
 
 Miss Nev. Yet with cunning and mal- 
 ice enough to make himself merry with 
 all our embarrassments. 
 
 Hast An insensible cub. 
 
 Marl. Replete with tricks and mischief. 
 
 Tony. Baw ! damme, but I'll fight you 
 both, bne after the other, with baskets. 
 
 Marl. As for him, he's below resent- 
 ment. But your conduct, Mr. Hastings, 
 requires an exrlanation : You knew of 
 mv mistakes, yet would not undeceive me. 
 
 Hast Tortured as I am with my own 
 disappointments, is this a time for expla- 
 nations ? It is not friendly, Mr. Marlow. 
 
 Marl. But, Sir 
 
 Miss Nev. Mr. Marlow, we never kept 
 on your mistake, till it was too late to un- 
 deceive you. Be pacified. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. My mistress desires you'll get 
 readv immediately, Madam. The horses 
 are putting to. Your hat and things are 
 in the next room, We are to go thirty 
 miles before morning. [Exit Servant. 
 
 Miss Nev. Well, well, I'll come pres- 
 ently. 
 
 Marl. {To Hastings.) Was it well 
 
102 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 done, Sir, to assist in rendering me ridic- 
 ulous ?— To hang me out for the scorn of 
 all my acquaintance ? Depend upon it, 
 Sir, I shall expect an explanation. 
 
 Hast. Was it well done, Sir, if you're 
 upon that subject, to deliver what I en- 
 trusted to yourself, to the care of another, 
 Sir. 
 
 MissNev. Mr. Hastings ! Mr. Marlow! 
 Why will you increase my distress by 
 this "groundless dispute? I implore — I 
 entreat you 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. Your cloak, Madam. My mis- 
 tress is impatient. [Exit Servant. 
 
 Mss Nev. I come. Pray, be pacified. 
 If I leave you thus, I shall die with ap- 
 prehension. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. Your fan, muff, and gloves, 
 Madam. The horses are waiting. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 Miss Nev. O, Mr. Marlow ! if y. >u knew 
 what a scene of constraint and ill-nature 
 lies before me, I am sure it would con- 
 vert your resentment into pity ! 
 
 Marl. I'm so distracted with a variety 
 of passions, that I don't know what I do. 
 Forgive me, Madam. George, forgive 
 me. You know my hasty temper, and 
 should not exasperate it. 
 
 Has?. The torture of my situation is 
 my only excuse. 
 
 Miss Nev. Well, my dear Hastings, 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 103 
 
 if you have that esteem for me that I 
 think — that I am sure you have, your con- 
 stancy for three years will but increase 
 the happiness of our future connection. 
 If 
 
 Mrs. Hard. {Within.) Miss Neville- 
 Constance, why Constance, I say ! 
 
 Miss Nev. I'm coming ! Well, con- 
 stancy ; remember, constancy is the 
 word. [Exit. 
 
 Hast. My heart ! how can I support 
 this ? To be so near happiness, and such 
 happiness ! 
 
 Marl. (To Tony.) You see now, young 
 gentleman, the effects of your folly. 
 What might be amusement to you, is 
 here disappointment, and even distress. 
 
 Tony. (From a reverie.) E cod, I have 
 hit it": it's here ! Your hands. Yours, 
 and yours, my poor Sulky. My boots 
 there, ho! — Meet me, two hours hence, 
 at the bottom of the garden ; and if you 
 don't find Tony Lumpkin a more good- 
 natured fellow than you thought for, I'll 
 give you leave to take my best horse, 
 and Bet Bouncer into the bargain. 
 Come along. My boots, ho ! [Exeunt 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene continues. 
 Enter Hastings and Servant. 
 Hast. You saw the old lady and Miss 
 Neville drive off, you say ? 
 Scrv. Yes, your honour. They went 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 off in a post-coach, and the young squire 
 went on horseback. They're thirty miles 
 off by this time. 
 
 Hast. Then all my hopes are over ! 
 
 Sen: Yes, Sir. "Old Sir Charles is 
 arrived. He and the old gentleman of 
 the house have been laughing at Mr. 
 Marlow's mistake this half hour. They 
 are coming this way. [Exit. 
 
 Hast. Then I must not be seen. So 
 now to my fruitless appointment at the 
 bottom of the garden. This is about the 
 time. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Sir Charles Marlow and Hard- 
 castle. 
 
 Hant. Ha! ha! ha! The peremptory 
 tone in which he sent forth his sublime 
 commands. 
 
 Sir CJias. And the reserve with which 
 I suppose he treated all your advances. 
 
 Hard. And yet he might have seen 
 something in me above a common inn- 
 keeper, too. 
 
 Sir Clias. Yes, Dick, but he mistook you 
 for an uncommon inn-keeper ; ha ! haha ! 
 
 Hard. Well, I'min too good spirits to 
 think ot any thing but joy. Yes, my dear 
 friend, this union of" our families will 
 make our personal friendships heredi- 
 tary ; and though my daughter's fortune 
 is but small 
 
 SirCIias. Why, Dick, will you talk of 
 fortune to me ? My son is possessed of 
 more than a competence alreadv, and can 
 want nothing but a good and virtuous girl 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 105 
 
 to share his happiness and increase it. If 
 they like each other, as you say they 
 do- 
 
 Hard. If, man ! I tell you they do 
 like each other. My daughter as good 
 as told me so. 
 
 Sir Chas. But girls are apt to flatter 
 themselves, you know. 
 
 Hard. I saw him grasp her hand in 
 the warmest manner myself ; and here 
 he comes to put you out of your ifs, I 
 warrant him. 
 
 Enter Marlow. 
 
 Marl. I come, Sir, once more, to ask 
 pardon for my strange conduct. I can 
 scarce reflect on my insolence without 
 confusion. 
 
 Hard. Tut, boy, a trifle. You take it 
 too gravely. An hour or two's laughing 
 with my daughter will set all to rights 
 again. She'll never like you the worse 
 for it. 
 
 Marl. Sir, I shall be always proud of 
 her approbation. 
 
 Hard. Approbation is but a cold word, 
 Mr, Marlow ; if I am not deceived, you 
 have something more than approbation 
 thereabouts. You take me ? 
 
 Marl. Really, Sir, I have not that hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Hard. Come, boy, I'm an old fellow, 
 and know what's what as well as you that 
 are younger. I know what has past be- 
 tween you ; but, mum ! 
 
Io6 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER 
 
 Marl. Sure, Sir, nothing has past be- 
 tween us but the most profound respect 
 on my side, and the most distant reserve 
 on hers. You don't think, Sir, that my 
 impudence has been past upon all the 
 rest of the family ? 
 
 Hard. Impudence ! No, I don't say 
 that — not quite impudence — though girls 
 like to be played with, and rumpled a 
 little, too, sometimes. But she has told 
 no tales, I assure you. 
 
 Marl. I never' gave her the slightest 
 cause. 
 
 Hard. Well, well, I like modesty in its 
 place well enough ; but this is over-act- 
 ing, young gentleman. You may be 
 open. Your father and I will like you 
 the better for it, 
 
 Marl. May I die, Sir, if I ever 
 
 Hard. I tell you, she don't dislike you ; 
 and as I'm sure you like her 
 
 Marl Dear Sir — I protest, Sir 
 
 Hard. I see no reason why you should 
 not be joined as fast as the" parson can 
 tie you." 
 
 Marl. But hear me, Sir 
 
 Hard. Your father approves the 
 match, I admire it ; every moment's de- 
 lay will be doing mischief, so 
 
 Marl. But why won't you hear me ? 
 By all that's just and true", I never gave 
 Miss Hardcastle the slightest mark of my 
 attachment, or even the most distant hint 
 to suspect me of affection. We had but 
 one interview, and that was formal, 
 modest, and uninteresting. 
 
STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 Hard. [Aside.) . This fellow's formal, 
 modest impudence is beyond bearing. 
 
 Sir Chas. And you never grasped her 
 hand, or made any protestations ? 
 
 Mail. As Heaven is my witness ! I 
 came down in obedience to your com- 
 mands ; I saw the lady without emotion, 
 and parted without reluctance. I hope 
 you'll exact no further proofs of my duty, 
 nor prevent me from leaving a house in 
 which I surfer so many mortifications. 
 
 {Exit 
 
 Sir Chas. I'm astonished at the air of 
 sincerity with which he parted. 
 
 Hard. And I'm astonished at the delib- 
 erate intrepidity of his assurance. 
 
 Sir Chas. I dare pledge my life and 
 honour upon his truth. 
 
 Hard. Here comes my daughter, and 
 I would stake my happiness "upon her 
 veracity. 
 
 Enter Miss Hardcastle. 
 
 Hard. Kate, come hither, child. An- 
 swer us sincerely, and without reserve. 
 Has Mr. Marlow made you any profes- 
 sions of love and affection ? 
 
 Miss Hard. The question is very 
 abrupt, Sir ! But since you require un- 
 reserved sincerity — I think he has. 
 
 Hard, (To Sir Charles.) You see. 
 
 Sir Chas. And pray, Madam, have you 
 and my son had more than one interview ? 
 
 Miss Hard. Yes, Sir, several. 
 
 Hard. {To Sir Charles.) You see. 
 
HE STOOPS TO CUNIIUEK. 
 
 Sir Chas. But did he profess any at- 
 tachment ? 
 
 Miss Hard. A lasting one. 
 
 Sir Chas. Did he talk of love ? 
 
 Miss Haul. Much, Sir. 
 
 Sir CJias. Amazing ! And all this 
 formally ? 
 
 Miss Hani. Formally. 
 
 Hard. Now, my friend, I hope you 
 are satisfied. 
 
 Sir Chas. And how did he behave, 
 Madam ? 
 
 Miss Hard. As most protest admirers 
 do : said some civil things of my face , 
 talked much of his want of merit, and the 
 greatness of mine ; mentioned his heart, 
 gave a short tragedy speech, and ended 
 with pretended rapture. 
 
 Sir Chas. Now I'm perfectlv con- 
 vinced, indeed. I know his conversation 
 among women to be modest and sub- 
 missive. This forward, canting, ranting 
 manner by no means describes him, and I 
 am confident, he never sat for the picture. 
 
 Miss Hard. Then, what. Sir, if I should 
 convince you to your face of my sinceriiv ? 
 If you and my papa, in about half an hour, 
 will place vourselves behind that screen, 
 you shall hear him declare his passion to 
 me in person. 
 
 SirChas. Agreed. And if I find him 
 what you describe, all my happiness in 
 him must have an end. [Exit. 
 
 Miss Haid. And if vou don't find him 
 what I describe, I fear my happiness 
 must never have a beginning. [Exeunt. 
 
OOPS TO CONQU 
 
 Scene cha nges to the Back of the Garden. 
 Enter Hastings. 
 
 Hast. What an idiot am I to wait here 
 for a fellow who probably takes a delight 
 in mortifying me. He never intended to 
 be punctual, and I'll wait no longer. 
 What do I see ? It is he ! and perhaps 
 with news of my Constance. 
 
 Enter Tow, booted and spattered. 
 
 Hast. My honest Squire ! I now find 
 you a man of your word. This looks like 
 friendship. 
 
 Tony. Ay, I'm your friend, and the best 
 friend you have in the world, if you knew 
 but all. This riding by night, by the bye, 
 is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me 
 worse than the basket of a stage-coach. 
 
 Hast. But how ? Where did you leave 
 your fellow-travellers ? Are they in 
 safety ? Are they housed ? 
 
 Tony. Five and twenty mi'es in two 
 hours and a half is no such bad driving. 
 The poor beasts have smoked for it: 
 Rabbit me ! but I'd rather ride forty miles 
 altera fox, than ten with such varmint. 
 
 Hast. Well, but where have you left 
 the ladies ? I die with impatience. 
 
 Tony. Left them ! Why, where should 
 I leave them but where I found them ? 
 
 Hast. This is a riddle. 
 
 Tony Riddle me this, then. What's 
 that goes round the house, and round the 
 house, and never touches the house ? 
 
110 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 Hast. I'm still astray. 
 
 Tony. Why, that's it," raon. I have led 
 them "astray. By jingo, there's not a 
 pond or a, slough within hve miles of the 
 place but they can tell the taste of. 
 
 Hast. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I understand : 
 you took them in a round, while they 
 supposed themselves going forward ; 
 and so you have at last brought them 
 home again. 
 
 Tody. You shall hear. I first took 
 them down Feather-bed Lane, where we 
 stuck fast in the mud. I then rattled 
 them crack over the stones of Up-and- 
 down Hill. I then introduced them to 
 the gibbet on Heavy-tree Heath ; and 
 from that, with a circumbendibus, I fairly 
 lodged them in the horse-pond at the 
 bottom of the garden. 
 
 Hast. But no accident, I hope ? 
 
 Tony. No, no ; only mother is con- 
 foundedly frightened. " She thinks her- 
 self forty miles off. She's sick of the 
 journey ; and the cattle can scare crawl. 
 So, if your own horses be ready, you may 
 whip "off with cousin, and I'll be bound 
 that no soul here can budge a foot to 
 follow you. 
 
 Hast. My dear friend, how can I be 
 grateful ? 
 
 Tony. Ay, now it's dear friend ! noble 
 Squire ! Just now, it was all idiot, cub, 
 and run me through the guts. Damn 
 your way of righting. I say. After we 
 "take a knock in this part of the country, 
 we kiss and be friends. But if you had 
 
STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 run me through the guts, then I should 
 be dead, and you might go and kiss the 
 hangman. 
 
 Hast. The rebuke is just. But I must 
 hasten to relieve Miss "Neville. If you 
 keep the old lady employed, I promise 
 to take care of the young one. 
 
 c [Exit Hastings. 
 
 Tony. Never fear me. Here she 
 comes. Vanish ! She's got from the 
 pond, and draggled up to the waist like 
 a mermaid. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Hardcastle. 
 
 Mrs. Hani. Oh, Tony, I'm killed! 
 Shook ! battered to death ! I shall never 
 survive it. That last jolt, that laid us 
 against the quickset hedge, has done my 
 business. 
 
 Tony. Alack, mamma ! It was all your 
 own fault. You would be for running 
 away by night, without knowing one 
 inch of the way. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. I wish we were at home 
 again. I never met so many accidents 
 in so short a journey. Drenched in the 
 mud, overturned in a ditch, stuck fast in 
 a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to 
 lose our way ! Whereabouts do you 
 think we are, Tony ? 
 
 Tony. By my guess, we should be upon 
 Crackskull Common, about forty miles 
 from home. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. O lud ! O lud ! the most 
 notorious spot in all the country ! We 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 only want a robbery to make a complete 
 night on't. 
 
 Tony.. Don't be afraid, mamma ; don't 
 be afraid. Two of the rive that kept here 
 are hanged, and the other three may not 
 find us. Don't be afraid. — Is that a'man 
 that's galloping behind us ? Xo, it's only 
 a tree. — Don't be afraid. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. The fright will certainly 
 kill me. 
 
 Tony. Do you see any thing like a 
 black "hat moving behind the thicket ? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Oh, death ! 
 
 Tony. No ; it's only a cow. Don't be 
 afraid, mamma ; don't be afraid. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. As I'm alive, Tony, I see 
 a man coming towards us. Ah ! I'm 
 sure on't. If he perceives us, we are 
 undone. 
 
 Tony. {Aside.) Father-in-law, by- all 
 that's unlucky, come to take one of his 
 night walks. " I To her.) Ah ! it's a high- 
 wayman with pistols as long as my arm. 
 A damn'd ill-looking fellow ! 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Good Heaven defend us ! 
 He approaches. 
 
 Tony. Do you hide yourself in that 
 thicket, and leave me to manage him. 
 If there be any danger, I'll cough, and 
 cry hem. When I "cough, be sure to 
 keep close. 
 
 [Mrs. Hardcastle hides behind a lire 
 in I lie back see ue. 
 
 Enter Hardcastle. 
 
 Hard. I'm mistaken, or I heard voices 
 
STOOPS TO CON 
 
 of people in want of help. Oh, Tony, is 
 that you ? 1 did not expect you so soon 
 back. Are your mother and her charge 
 in safety ? 
 
 Tony. Very safe, Sir, at my aunt Pedi- 
 gree's. Hem. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Ah, 
 death ! I rind there's danger. 
 
 Hard. Forty miles in three hours ; 
 sure that's too much, my youngster. 
 
 Tony. Stout horses and willing minds 
 make short journeys, as they say. Hem. 
 
 Mrs. Hard, {From behind.) Sure, 
 he'll do the dear boy no harm. 
 
 Hard. But I heard a voice here ; I 
 should be glad to know from whence it 
 came. 
 
 Tony. It was I, Sir, talking to myself, 
 Sir. "I was saying that forty miles in four 
 hours was very good going. Hem. As 
 to be sure it was. Hem. I have got a 
 sort of cold by being out in the air. 
 We'll go in, if you please. Hem. 
 
 Hard. But if you talked to yourself, 
 you did not answer yourself. I'm cer- 
 tain I heard two voices, and am resolved 
 (raising his voice) to find the other out. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. {From behind.) Oh ! he's 
 coming to find me out. Oh ! 
 
 Tony. What need you go, Sir, if I tell 
 you? Hem. I'll lav" down my life for 
 the truth— hem— I'll tell you" all, Sir. 
 {Detaining him.) 
 
 Hard. I tell you I will not be detained. 
 I insist on seeing. It's in vain to expect 
 I'll believe you. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Running forward from be- 
 hind.) O lud ! he'll murder my poor 
 boy, my darling ! Here, good "gentle- 
 man, whet your rage upon me. Take 
 my money, my life, but spare that young 
 gentleman ; spare my chid, if you have 
 any mercy ! 
 
 Hard. My wife, as I'm a Christian. 
 From whence can she come, or what 
 does she mean ? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. (Kneeling.) Take com- 
 passion on us, good Mr. Highwayman. 
 Take our money, our watches, all we 
 have, but spare our lives. We will never 
 bring you to justice ; indeed we won't, 
 good Mr. Highwayman. 
 
 Hard. I believe the woman's out of 
 her senses. What, Dorothy, don't you 
 know me ? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm 
 alive ! My fears blinded me. But who, 
 my dear, "could have expected to meet 
 you here, in this frightful place, so far 
 from home. What has brought you to 
 follow us ? 
 
 Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you have not 
 lost your wits ! So far from home, when 
 you are within forty yards of your own 
 door! (To him.) This is one of your 
 old tricks, you graceless rogue, you. " ( To 
 her.) Don't you know the gate and the 
 mulberry tree ? and don't you remember 
 the horsepond, my dear ? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Yes, I shall remember the 
 horsenond as long as I live ; I have 
 caught my death in 'it. (ToToxy.) And 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 is it to you, you graceless varlet, I owe 
 all this ? Ill teach you to abuse your 
 mother — I will. 
 
 Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says 
 you have spoiled me, and so you may 
 take the fruits on't. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. I'll spoil you. I will. 
 
 [Follows him off the stage. 
 
 Hard. There's morality, however, in 
 his reply. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Hastings and Miss Neville. 
 
 Hast. My dear Constance, why will 
 you deliberate thus ? If we delay a mo- 
 ment, all is lost for ever. Pluck up a 
 little resolution, and we shall soon be out 
 of the reach of her malignity. 
 
 Miss Nev. I find it impossible. My 
 spirits are so sunk with the agitations "I 
 have suffered, that I am unable to face 
 any new danger. Two or three years' 
 patience will at last crown us with hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Hast. Such a tedious delay is worse 
 than inconstancy. Let us fly, my charm- 
 er ! Let us date our happiness from this 
 very moment. Perish fortune ! Love 
 and content will increase what we 
 possess beyond a monarch's revenue. 
 Let me prevail ! 
 
 Miss Nev. No, Mr. Hastings, no. Pru- 
 dence once more comes to my relief, and 
 I will obey its dictates. In the moment 
 of passion, fortune may be despised, but 
 it ever produces a lasting repentance. 
 
1 1 6 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 I'm resolved to apply to Mr. Hardcastle's 
 compassion and justice for redress. 
 
 Hast. But though he had the will, he 
 has not the power, to relieve you. 
 
 Miss Nev. But he has influence, and 
 upon that I am resolved to rely. 
 
 Hast. I have no hopes. But since you 
 persist, I must reluctantly obey you. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 Scene changes. 
 
 [scene iii.— a room in mr. hard- 
 castle's house.] 
 
 Enter Sir Charles Marlow and Miss 
 Hardcastle. 
 
 Sir Chart. What a situation am I in ! 
 If what you say appears, I shall then 
 find a guilty son. If what he says be 
 true, I "shall then lose one that, of all 
 others, I most wished for a daughter. 
 
 Miss Hard. I am proud of your appro- 
 bation ; and to show I merit it, if you 
 place yourselves as I directed, you shall 
 hear his explicit declaration. But he 
 comes. 
 
 SirCtiari. I'll to your father, and keep 
 him to the appointment. 
 
 [Exit Sir Charles. 
 
 Enter Marlow. 
 
 Marl. Though prepared for setting 
 out, I come once more to take leave ; nor 
 did I, till this moment, know the pain I 
 feel in the separation. 
 
 Miss Hani. [In tier own natural man- 
 
TOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 ner.) I believe these sufferings cannot 
 be very great, Sir, which you can so- 
 easily remove. A day or two longer, 
 perhaps, might lessen your uneasiness, 
 by showing the little value of what you 
 now think proper to regret. 
 
 Marl. [Aside.) This girl every mo- 
 ment improves upon me. [To her.) It 
 must not be, Madam ; I have already 
 trifled too long with my heart. My very 
 pride begins to submit to my passion. 
 The disparity cf education and fortune, 
 the anger of a parent, and the contempt 
 of my equals, begin to lose their weight ; 
 and nothing can restore me to myself 
 but this painful effort of resolution. 
 
 Miss Hard. Then go, Sir; 111 urge 
 nothing more to detain you. Though 
 my family be as good as hers you came 
 down to visit, and my education, I hope, 
 not inferior, what are these advantages 
 without equal affluence ? I must remain 
 contented with the slight approbation < f 
 imputed merit ; I must have only the 
 mockery of your addresses, while all 
 your serious aims are fixed on fortune. 
 
 Enter Hardcastle and Sir Charles. 
 Marlow, from behind. 
 
 Sir Char!. Here, behind this screen. 
 
 Hard. Ay, ay ; make no noise. I'll 
 engage my Kate covers him with con- 
 fusion at last. 
 
 Marl. By heavens ! Madam, fortune 
 was ever my smallest consideration. 
 Your beauty at first caught my eyes ; for 
 
IlS SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 who could see that without emotion ? 
 But every moment that I converse with 
 you steals in some new grace, heightens 
 the picture, and gives it stronger expres- 
 sion. What at first seemed rustic plain- 
 ness, now appears refined simplicity; 
 what seemed forward assurance, now 
 strikes me as the result of courageous in- 
 nocence and conscious virtue. 
 
 Sir Chart. What can it mean ? He 
 amazes me ! 
 
 Hard. I told vou how it would be. 
 Hush! 
 
 Marl. I am now determined to stay, 
 Madam, and I have too good an opinion 
 of my father's discernment, when he sees 
 you to doubt his approbation. 
 
 Miss Hani Xo, Mr. Marlow, I will 
 not, cannot detain you. Do you think I 
 could suffer a connection in which there 
 is the smallest room for repentance ? 
 Do you think I would take the mean ad- 
 vantage of a transient passion to load 
 you with confusion ? Do you think I 
 could ever relish that happiness which 
 was acquired by lessening yours ? 
 
 Marl. By all that's good, 1 can have 
 no happiness but what's in your power 
 to grant me ! Nor shall I ever feel re- 
 pentance but in not having seen your 
 merits before. I will stav even contrary 
 to your wishes ; and though you should 
 persist to shun me, I will make my re- 
 spectful assiduities atone for the levity of 
 my past conduct. 
 
 Miss Hani. Sir, I must entreat vou'll 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 119 
 
 desist. As our acquaintance began, so 
 let it end, in indifference. I might have 
 given an hour or two to levity ; but 
 seriously, Mr. Marlow, do you think I 
 could ever submit to a connection where 
 / must appear mercenary, and you im- 
 prudent ? Do you think I could ever 
 catch at the confident addresses of a 
 secure admirer ? 
 
 Marl. (Kneeling.) Does this look like 
 security ? Does this look like confidence ? 
 No, Madam, every moment that shows 
 me your merit, only serves to increase 
 my diffidence and confusion. Here let 
 me continue 
 
 Sir Chart. I can hold it no longer. 
 Charles, Charles, how hast thou deceived 
 me ! Is this your indifference, your un- 
 interesting conversation ? 
 
 Hard. "Your cold contempt ! your 
 formal interview ! What have you to 
 sav now ? 
 
 Marl. That I'm all amazement ! What 
 can it mean ? 
 
 Hard. It means that you can say and 
 unsay things at pleasure : that you can 
 address a lady in private, and deny it in 
 public : that you have one story for us, 
 and another for my daughter. 
 
 Marl. Daughter ! — this lady your 
 daughter ? 
 
 Hard. Yes, Sir, my only daughter — 
 mv Kate ; whose else "should she be ? 
 
 Marl. Oh, the devil ! 
 
 Miss Hard. Yes, Sir, that very iden- 
 tical tall squinting lady you were pleased 
 
IS THIS YOUR INDIFFERENCE, YOUR UNINTEREST- 
 ING CONVERSATION?" 
 
STOOPS TO CONQU 
 
 to take me for (curtsying); she that you 
 addressed as the mild,modest,sentimental 
 man of gravity, and the bold, forward, 
 agreeable Rattle of the Ladies' club. 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Marl. Zounds ! there's no bearing 
 this ; it's worse than death ! 
 
 Miss Hani. In which of your char- 
 acters, Sir, will you give us leave to ad- 
 dress you ? As the faltering gentleman, 
 with looks on the ground, that speaks 
 just to be heard, and hates hypocrisy ; or 
 the loud confident creature, that keeps it 
 up with Mrs. Mantrap and old Miss 
 Biddv Buckskin till three in the morning? 
 —Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Marl. O, curse on my noisy head ! I 
 never attempted to be impudent yet that 
 I was not taken down ! I must be gone. 
 
 Hard. By the hand of my body, but 
 you shall not. I see it was all a mistake, 
 and I am rejoiced to find it. You shall 
 not, Sir, I tell you. I know she'll forgive 
 you. Won't you forgive him, Kate ? 
 We'll all forgive you Take courage, 
 man. 
 
 [TJicy retire, she tormenting him, to the 
 back scene. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Hardcastle and Toxy. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. So, so, they're gone off. 
 Let them go, I care not. 
 
 Hard. Who gone ? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. My dutiful niece and her 
 gentleman, Mr. "Hastings, from town. 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 He who came down with our modest 
 visitor here. 
 
 Sir Chart. Who, my honest George 
 Hastings ? As worthy a fellow as lives, 
 and the girl could not have made a more 
 prudent choice. 
 
 Hani. Then, by the hand of my body, 
 I'm proud of the connection. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Well, if he has taken away 
 the lady, he has not taken her fortune ; 
 that remains in this family to console us 
 for her loss. 
 
 Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you would not 
 be so mercenary ? 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ay, that's my affair, not 
 yours. 
 
 Hard. But, you know, if your son, 
 when of age, refuses to marry His cousin, 
 her whole fortune is then "at her own 
 •disposal. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Ay, but he's not of age, 
 and she has not 'thought proper to wait 
 for his refusal. 
 
 Enter Hastings and Miss Neville. 
 
 Mrs-. Hard. {Aside.) What, returned 
 so soon ! I begin not to like it. 
 
 Hast. ( To H ardcastle. ) For my late 
 attempt to fly off with your niece, let my 
 present confusion be' my punishment. 
 We are now come back, to appeal from 
 your justice to your humanity. By her 
 father's consent' I first paid her my ad- 
 dresses, and our passions were first 
 founded in dutv. 
 
 Miss Nev. Since his death, I have been 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
 
 obliged to stoop to dissimulation to avoid 
 oppression. In an hour of levity, I was 
 ready even to give up my fortune to se- 
 cure my choice : but I am now recovered 
 from the delusion, and hope from your 
 tenderness what is denied me from a 
 nearer connection. 
 
 Mrs. Hard. Pshaw, pshaw ! this is all 
 but the whining end of a modern novel. 
 
 Hard. Be it what it will, I'm glad 
 they're come back to reclaim their due. 
 Come hither, Tony, boy. Do you refuse 
 this lady s hand, whom I now offer you ? 
 
 Tony. What signifies my refusing ? 
 You know I can't refuse her till I'm of 
 age, father. 
 
 Hard. While I thought concealing 
 your age, boy, was likely to conduce to 
 your improvement, I concurred with 
 your mother's desire to keep it secret. 
 But since I find she turns it to a wrong 
 use, I must now declare you have been of 
 age these three months. 
 
 Tony. Of age ! Am I of age, father ? 
 
 Hard. Above three months. 
 
 Tony. Then vou'll see the first use I'll 
 make of my liberty. {Taking Miss Nev- 
 ille's ha nd.) Witness all men by these 
 presents, that I, Anthony Lumpkin, es- 
 quire, of blank place, refuse you, Con- 
 stantia Neville, spinster, of no place at all, 
 for my true and lawful wife. So Con- 
 stance Neville may marrv whom she 
 pleases, and Tony Lumpkin is his own 
 man again. 
 
 Sir. Chart. O brave Squire ! 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 Hast My worthy friend ! 
 
 Mrs. Hard. My undutiful offspring ! 
 
 Marl. Joy, my dear George, I give yon 
 joy sincerely ! And, could I prevail upon 
 my little tyrant here to be less arbitrary, 
 I should be the happiest man alive—if 
 you would return me the favor. 
 
 Hast {To Miss Hakdcastle.) Come, 
 Madam, you are not driven to the very 
 last scene of all your contrivances. I 
 know you like him, I'm sure he loves you, 
 and you must and shall have him. 
 
 Hani. [Joining their hands.) And I say 
 so too. And, Mr. Marlow, if she makes 
 as good a wife as she has a daughter, I 
 don't believe you'll ever repent your bar- 
 gain. So now to supper. To-morrow we 
 shall gather all the poor of the parish 
 about us, and the Mistakes of the Night 
 shall be crowned with a merry morning. 
 So, boy, take her ; and, as you have been 
 mistaken in the mistress, my wish is, that 
 you may never be mistaken in the wife. 
 [Exeunt omnes 
 
OOPS TO CONQUER. 12$ 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 By Dr. Goldsmith. 
 
 Well, having stooped to conquer with 
 success, 
 
 And gained a husband without aid from 
 dress, 
 
 Still as a Barmaid, I could wish it too, 
 
 As I have conquered him, to conquer 
 you : 
 
 And let me say, for all your resolution, 
 
 That pretty Barmaids have done execu- 
 tion. 
 
 Our life is all a play, composed to please, 
 
 u We have our exits and our entrances." 
 
 The first act shows the simple country 
 maid, 
 
 Harmless and young, of everything 
 afraid ; 
 
 Blushes when hired, and with unmean- 
 ing action, 
 
 / hopes as June to give you satisfaction. 
 
 Her second act displays a livelier scene, — 
 
 T1V unblushing Barmaid of a country 
 inn. 
 
 Who whisks about the house, at market 
 caters, 
 
 Talks loud, coquets the guests, and scolds 
 the waiters. 
 
 Next the scene shifts to town, and there 
 she soars, 
 
SHE STOOPS TO CONQU1 
 
 The chop-house toast of ogling connois- 
 seurs. 
 
 On 'Squires and Cits she there displays 
 her ai ^, 
 
 And on tlu gridiron broils her lovers' 
 hearts— 
 
 And as she smiles, her triumphs to com- 
 plete, 
 
 Even Common Councilmen forget to eat. 
 
 The fourth act shows her wedded to the 
 'Squire, 
 
 And madam now begins to hold it 
 higher ; 
 
 Pretends to taste, at Operas cries cava, 
 
 And quits her Nancy Dawson for Che 
 Faro. 
 
 Doats upon dancing, and in all her pride 
 
 Swims round the room, the Ueinel of 
 Cheapside : 
 
 Ogles and leers with artificial skill. 
 
 Till, having lost in age the rower to kill, 
 
 She sits all night at cards, and ogles at 
 spadille. 
 
 Such, through our lives, the eventful his- 
 tory — 
 
 The fifth and last act still remains for me. 
 
 The Barmaid now for your protection 
 prays, 
 
 Turns female Barrister, and pleads for 
 Bayes. 
 
HE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 EPILOGUE, 
 
 To be spoken in the Character of Tony Lumpkin. 
 By J. Ckadock, Esq. 
 
 Well — now all's ended — and my com- 
 rades gone, 
 
 Pray what becomes of mother's nonly 
 son ? 
 
 A hopeful blade ! — in town I'll fix my 
 station, 
 
 And try to make a bluster in the nation : 
 
 As for my cousin Neville, I renounce 
 her — 
 
 Off, in a crack, I'll carry big Bet Bouncer ! 
 
 Why should not I in the great world 
 
 appear ? 
 I soon shall have a thousand pounds. 
 
 a-year ! 
 No matter what a man may here inherit, 
 In London — 'gad, they've some regard to 
 
 spirit. 
 I see the horses prancing up the streets, 
 And big Bet Bouncer bobs to all she 
 
 meets ; 
 Then hoikes to jiggs and pastimes ev'ry 
 
 night— 
 Not to the plavs — they say it a'n't polite : 
 To Sadler's- Wells, perhaps, or operas go,. 
 And once, by chance, to the roratorio. 
 

 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER, 
 
 Thus here and there, forever up and 
 down, 
 
 We'll set the fashions, too, to half the 
 town ; 
 
 And then at auctions — money ne'er re- 
 gard — 
 
 Buy pictures, like the great, ten pounds 
 a-yard : 
 
 Zounds ! we shall make these London 
 gentry say, 
 
 We know what's damn'd genteel as well 
 as they ! 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 014 159 287 7