SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER(屈身求爱)

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"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER"

"SHE STOOPS TO

CONQUER"

by OLIVER GOLDSMITH

A COMEDY.

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER"

To SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.

Dear Sir,--By inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not mean

so much to compliment you as myself. It may do me some honour to

inform the public, that I have lived many years in intimacy with you. It

may serve the interests of mankind also to inform them, that the greatest

wit may be found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected

piety.

I have, particularly, reason to thank you for your partiality to this

performance. The undertaking a comedy not merely sentimental was

very dangerous; and Mr. Colman, who saw this piece in its various stages,

always thought it so. However, I ventured to trust it to the public; and,

though it was necessarily delayed till late in the season, I have every

reason to be grateful.

I am, dear Sir, your most sincere friend and admirer,

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER"

PROLOGUE

BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

Enter MR. WOODWARD, dressed in black, and holding a

handkerchief to his eyes.

Excuse me, sirs, I pray--I can't yet speak-- I'm crying now--and have

been all the week. "'Tis not alone this mourning suit," good masters: "I've

that within"--for which there are no plasters! Pray, would you know the

reason why I'm crying? The Comic Muse, long sick, is now a-dying! And

if she goes, my tears will never stop; For as a player, I can't squeeze out

one drop: I am undone, that's all--shall lose my bread-- I'd rather, but that's

nothing--lose my head. When the sweet maid is laid upon the bier, Shuter

and I shall be chief mourners here. To her a mawkish drab of spurious

breed, Who deals in sentimentals, will succeed! Poor Ned and I are dead

to all intents; We can as soon speak Greek as sentiments! Both nervous

grown, to keep our spirits up. We now and then take down a hearty cup.

What shall we do? If Comedy forsake us, They'll turn us out, and no one

else will take us. But why can't I be moral?--Let me try-- My heart thus

pressing--fixed my face and eye-- With a sententious look, that nothing

means, (Faces are blocks in sentimental scenes) Thus I begin: "All is not

gold that glitters, "Pleasure seems sweet, but proves a glass of bitters.

"When Ignorance enters, Folly is at hand: "Learning is better far than

house and land. "Let not your virtue trip; who trips may stumble, "And

virtue is not virtue, if she tumble."

I give it up--morals won't do for me; To make you laugh, I must play

tragedy. One hope remains--hearing the maid was ill, A Doctor comes this

night to show his skill. To cheer her heart, and give your muscles motion,

He, in Five Draughts prepar'd, presents a potion: A kind of magic charm--

for be assur'd, If you will swallow it, the maid is cur'd: But desperate the

Doctor, and her case is, If you reject the dose, and make wry faces! This

truth he boasts, will boast it while he lives, No poisonous drugs are mixed

in what he gives. Should he succeed, you'll give him his degree; If not,

within he will receive no fee! The College YOU, must his pretensions

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER"

back, Pronounce him Regular, or dub him Quack.

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER"

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

MEN.

SIR CHARLES MARLOW Mr. Gardner. YOUNG

MARLOW (His Son) Mr. Lee Lewes. HARDCASTLE

Mr. Shuter. HASTINGS Mr. Dubellamy. TONY

LUMPKIN Mr. Quick. DIGGORY

Mr. Saunders.

WOMEN.

MRS. HARDCASTLE Mrs. Green. MISS

HARDCASTLE Mrs. Bulkley. MISS NEVILLE

Mrs. Kniveton. MAID Miss Williams.

LANDLORD, SERVANTS, Etc. Etc.

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER"

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE--A Chamber in an old-fashioned House.

Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE and MR. HARDCASTLE.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're very

particular. Is there a creature in the whole country but ourselves, that

does not take a trip to town now and then, to rub off the rust a little?

There's the two Miss Hoggs, and our neighbour Mrs. Grigsby, go to take a

month's polishing every winter.

HARDCASTLE. Ay, and bring back vanity and affectation to last

them the whole year. I wonder why London cannot keep its own fools at

home! In my time, the follies of the town crept slowly among us, but

now they travel faster than a stage-coach. Its fopperies come down not

only as inside passengers, but in the very basket.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Ay, your times were fine times indeed; you

have been telling us of them for many a long year. Here we live in an old

rumbling mansion, that looks for all the world like an inn, but that we

never see company. Our best visitors are old Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's

wife, and little Cripplegate, the lame dancing-master; and all our

entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene and the Duke of

Marlborough. I hate such old-fashioned trumpery.

HARDCASTLE. And I love it. I love everything that's old: old

friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine; and I believe,

Dorothy (taking her hand), you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old

wife.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're for ever at your

Dorothys and your old wifes. You may be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I

promise you. I'm not so old as you'd make me, by more than one good

year. Add twenty to twenty, and make money of that.

HARDCASTLE. Let me see; twenty added to twenty makes just

fifty and seven.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle; I was but twenty

when I was brought to bed of Tony, that I had by Mr. Lumpkin, my first

husband; and he's not come to years of discretion yet.

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER"

HARDCASTLE. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. Ay, you

have taught him finely.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. No matter. Tony Lumpkin has a good

fortune. My son is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy wants

much learning to spend fifteen hundred a year.

HARDCASTLE. Learning, quotha! a mere composition of tricks and

mischief.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Humour, my dear; nothing but humour.

Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humour.

HARDCASTLE. I'd sooner allow him a horse-pond. If burning the

footmen's shoes, frightening the maids, and worrying the kittens be

humour, he has it. It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the back of

my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I popt my bald head in Mrs.

Frizzle's face.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. And am I to blame? The poor boy was

always too sickly to do any good. A school would be his death. When

he comes to be a little stronger, who knows what a year or two's Latin may

do for him?

HARDCASTLE. Latin for him! A cat and fiddle. No, no; the

alehouse and the stable are the only schools he'll ever go to.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Well, we must not snub the poor boy now,

for I believe we shan't have him long among us. Anybody that looks in

his face may see he's consumptive.

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

MRS. HARDCASTLE. He coughs sometimes.

HARDCASTLE. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong way.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. I'm actually afraid of his lungs.

HARDCASTLE. And truly so am I; for he sometimes whoops like a

speaking trumpet--(Tony hallooing behind the scenes)--O, there he goes--a

very consumptive figure, truly.

Enter TONY, crossing the stage.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Tony, where are you going, my charmer?

Won't you give papa and I a little of your company, lovee?

TONY. I'm in haste, mother; I cannot stay.

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER"

MRS. HARDCASTLE. You shan't venture out this raw evening, my

dear; you look most shockingly.

TONY. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three Pigeons expects me down

every moment. There's some fun going forward.

HARDCASTLE. Ay; the alehouse, the old place: I thought so.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. A low, paltry set of fellows.

TONY. Not so low, neither. There's Dick Muggins the exciseman,

Jack Slang the horse doctor, Little Aminadab that grinds the music box,

and Tom Twist that spins the pewter platter.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. 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. HARDCASTLE. (detaining him.) You shan't go.

TONY. I will, I tell you.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. I say you shan't. TONY. We'll see which

is strongest, you or I. [Exit, hauling her out.]

HARDCASTLE. (solus.) Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil each

other. But is not the whole age in a combination to drive sense and

discretion out of doors? There's my pretty darling Kate! the fashions of

the times have almost infected her too. By living a year or two in town,

she is as fond of gauze and French frippery as the best of them.

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE.

HARDCASTLE. Blessings on my pretty innocence! drest out as

usual, my Kate. Goodness! What a quantity of superfluous silk hast

thou got about thee, girl! I could never teach the fools of this age, that

the indigent world could be clothed out of the trimmings of the vain.

MISS HARDCASTLE. You know our agreement, sir. You allow

me the morning to receive and pay visits, and to dress in my own manner;

and in the evening I put on my housewife's dress to please you.

HARDCASTLE. 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 HARDCASTLE. I protest, sir, I don't comprehend your

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER"

meaning.

HARDCASTLE. 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 HARDCASTLE. Indeed! I wish I had known something of

this before. Bless me, how shall I behave? It's a thousand to one I

shan't like him; our meeting will be so formal, and so like a thing of

business, that I shall find no room for friendship or esteem.

HARDCASTLE. 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

employment in the service of his country. I am told he's a man of an

excellent understanding.

MISS HARDCASTLE. Is he?

HARDCASTLE. Very generous.

MISS HARDCASTLE. I believe I shall like him.

HARDCASTLE. Young and brave.

MISS HARDCASTLE. I'm sure I shall like him.

HARDCASTLE. And very handsome.

MISS HARDCASTLE. My dear papa, say no more, (kissing his

hand), he's mine; I'll have him.

HARDCASTLE. And, to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most

bashful and reserved young fellows in all the world.

MISS HARDCASTLE. Eh! you have frozen me to death again.

That word RESERVED has undone all the rest of his accomplishments.

A reserved lover, it is said, always makes a suspicious husband.

HARDCASTLE. On the contrary, modesty seldom resides in a

breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues. It was the very feature in

his character that first struck me.

MISS HARDCASTLE. He must have more striking features to catch

me, I promise you. However, if he be so young, so handsome, and so

everything as you mention, I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have him.

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER"

HARDCASTLE. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. It's more

than an even wager he may not have you.

MISS HARDCASTLE. My dear papa, why will you mortify one

so?--Well, if he refuses, instead of breaking my heart at his indifference,

I'll only break my glass for its flattery, set my cap to some newer fashion,

and look out for some less difficult admirer.

HARDCASTLE. Bravely resolved! In the mean time I'll go

prepare the servants for his reception: as we seldom see company, they

want as much training as a company of recruits the first day's muster.

[Exit.]

MISS HARDCASTLE. (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 HARDCASTLE. 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 days, child? Am I in

face to-day?

MISS NEVILLE. Perfectly, my dear. Yet now I look again--bless

me!--sure no accident has happened among the canary birds or the gold

fishes. Has your brother or the cat been meddling? or has the last novel

been too moving?

MISS HARDCASTLE. No; nothing of all this. I have been

threatened--I can scarce get it out--I have been threatened with a lover.

MISS NEVILLE. And his name--

MISS HARDCASTLE. Is Marlow.

MISS NEVILLE. Indeed!

MISS HARDCASTLE. The son of Sir Charles Marlow.

MISS NEVILLE. As I live, the most intimate friend of Mr. Hastings,

my admirer. They are never asunder. I believe you must have seen him

when we lived in town.

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"SHESTOOPSTOCONQUER"1"SHESTOOPSTOCONQUER"byOLIVERGOLDSMITHACOMEDY."SHESTOOPSTOCONQUER"2ToSAMUELJOHNSON,LL.D.DearSir,--Byinscribingthisslightperformancetoyou,Idonotmeansomuchtocomplimentyouasmyself.Itmaydomesomehonourtoinformthepublic,thatIhavelivedmanyyearsinintimacywithyou.Itmayservetheinterestsofm...

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