SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.

Mar. The usual fate of a large mansion. Having first ruined the master by good house-keeping, it at last comes to levy contributions as an inn.

Hast. You have lived pretty much among them. In truth, I have been often surprised that you who have seen so much of the world could never yet acquire a requisite share of

assurance.

Mar. 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 part of the creation that chiefly teach men confidence.

Hast. You look sometimes for all the world as if you wanted an opportunity of stealing out of the room.

Mar. 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 howa 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 impudence. I can't say fine things to ladies-they freeze, they petrify me. They may talk of a comet, or a burning mountain, or some such bagatelle; but to me, a modest woman, drest out in all her finery, is the most tremendous object of the whole creation.

Hast. I pity you! But how do you intend behaving to the lady you are come down to visit at the request of your father? Mar. As I behave to all other ladies. Bow very lowanswer 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. [Exit Marlow.]

Enter MISS NEVILLE.

Miss N. My dear Mr. Hastings! 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 Miss Neville at an inn.

Miss N. An inn! 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. young fellow, whom we accidentally met at a house hard by, directed us hither.

A

Miss N. Certainly it must be one of my hopeful cousin's tricks, of whom you have heard me talk so often. Ha! ha! Miss Hardcastle is just returned from walking—what if we persuade him she is come to this house as to an inn? Come this way.

Enter MARLOW.

Mar. The assiduities of these good people teaze me beyond bearing. My host seems to think it ill manners to leave me alone, and so he claps not only himself, but his old-fashioned wife on my back. They talk of coming to sup with us too; and then, I suppose, we are to run the gauntlet through all the rest of the family. What have we got here.

Hast. My dear Charles, let me congratulate you. The most fortunate accident! Who do you think has just alighted? Mar. Cannot guess.

Hast. Miss Hardcastle, and Miss Neville. Give me leave to introduce Miss Constance Neville to your acquaintance. Happening to dine in the neighbourhood they called, on their return, to take fresh horses here. Miss Hardcastle has just stepped into the next room, and will be back in an instant. Wasn't it lucky, eh!

Mar. [Aside.] I have just been mortified enough of all conscience, and here comes something to complete my embar

rassment.

Hast. Well, but wasn't it the most fortunate thing in the world?

Mar. Oh, yes-very fortunate-a most joyful encounter. How shall I support it? Hem! hem! [Aside to HASTINGS] 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. [Aside to MARLOW.] Pshaw, man! 'tis but the first plunge, and all's over. She's but a woman, you know.

Mar. And of all women, she that I dread most to encounter.

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE.

Hast. [introducing them] Miss Hardcastle, Mr. Marlow. I'm proud of bringing two persons together, who only want to know, to esteem each other.

Miss H. [Aside.] Now, for meeting my modest gentleman with a demure face, and quite in his own manner.

I'm

glad of your safe arrival, Sir—I'm told you had some accidents by the way.

Yes,

Mar. Only a few, Madam. Yes, we had some. inadam, a good many accidents; but should be sorry, Madam or rather glad-of any accidents that are so agreeably concluded.

Hem !

Miss H. I'm afraid you flatter, Sir.

much of the finest company, can find an obscure corner of the country.

You that have seen so

little entertainment in

Mar. 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 H. An observer like you, upon life, were I fear disagreeably employed, since you must have had much more to censure than to approve.

Mar. Pardon me, Madam: I was always willing to be amused. The folly of most people is rather an object of my mirth than uneasiness.

Hast. [Aside to MAR.] Bravo, bravo! never spoke so well in your whole life. Well! Miss Hardcastle, I see that you and Mr. Marlow are going to be very good company. I believe our being here will but embarrass the interview.

Mar. Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. We like your company of all things. [aside to HASTINGS] Zounds! George, sure you won't go ! How can you leave us?

Hast. Our presence will but spoil conversation, so we'll retire to the next room.

Mar. (after a pause) What on earth shall I do ?—will you please to be seated, Madam? [gets a chair and sits down, recollects himself and rises in confusion, places a chair for her, then sits, another pause] I say, ma'am.

Miss H. Sir !

Mar. Ma'am ! [pause] I am afraid, Ma'am—I am—not so— happy-as to-as to

Miss H. As to what, Sir?

Mar. As to-make myself-that is make myself-agreeable -to the ladies.

Miss H. I hope, Sir, they have employed some part of your addresses. [draws her chair towards him.]

Mar. [relapsing into timidity] Pardon me, Madam, I—I—I -as yet have studied-only-to-deserve them.

Miss H. And that, some say, is the very worst way to obtai them.

Mar. Perhaps so, Madam ; but I love to converse only with the more grave and sensible part of the sex.

I grow tiresome.

But, I'm afraid,

Miss H. Not at all, Sir; there is nothing I like so much as

grave conversation myself; I could hear it for ever-indeed, I have often been surprised how a man of sentiment could ever admire those light airy pleasures, where nothing reache the heart.

Mar. It's a-disease-of the mind, Madam. In the variety of tastes, there must be some, who wanting a relish—for—um

-a-um

Miss H. I understand you, sir. There must be some, who wanting a relish for refined pleasures, pretend to despise what they are incapable of tasting.

Mar. My meaning, Madam- but infinitely better expressed. And I can't help observing, that in this age of hypocrisy

a

Miss H. [Aside.] Who could ever suppose this fellow impudent upon some occasions! You were going to observe, Sir

Mar. I was observing, Madam - I protest, Madam, I forget what I was going to observe.

Miss H. I vow, and so do I. [Aside.] You were observing, Sir, that in this age of hypocrisy-something about hypocrisy, Sir.

Mar. Yes, Madam; in this age of hypocrisy there are few, who upon strict enquiry, do not- -a- -a

Miss H. I understand you perfectly, Sir.

Mar. Aside.] Indeed, then, and that's more than I do myself.

Miss H. 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.

Mar. But I see Miss Neville expecting us in the next I would not intrude for the world.

room.

Miss H. I protest, Sir, I never was more agreeably entertained in all my life. Pray go on.

Mar. Yes, Madam. I was-but she beckons us to join her. Madam, shall I do myself the honour to attend you ?

Miss H. Well, then, I'll follow.

Miss H. Ha, ha, ha! Was there ever such a sober, sentimental interview? I'm certain he scarce look'd me in my face the whole time. 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 scarcely answer.-Goldsmith.

EVENING IN PARADISE.

Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied; for Beast and Bird, they to their grassy couch, these to their nests, were slunk,-all but the wakeful nightingale; she, all night long, her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleased. Now glowed the Firmament with living sapphires: Hesperus, that led the starry host, rode brightest; till the Moon, rising in clouded majesty, at length (apparent queen!) unveil'd her peerless light, and o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. When Adam thus to Eve:-" Fair Consort, the hour of night, and all things now retired to rest, mind us of like repose; since God hath set labour and rest, as day and night, to men successive; and the timely dew of sleep, now falling with soft slumbrous weight, inclines our eyelids; other creatures all day long rove idle, unemployed, and less need rest; man hath his daily work of body or mind appointed,-which declares his dignity, and the regard of Heaven on all his ways; while other animals unactive range, and of their doings God takes no account. To-morrow, ere fresh morning streak the east with first approach of light, we must be risen, and at our pleasant labour,-to reform yon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green-our walk at noon, with branches overgrown, that mock our scant manuring, and require more hands than ours to lop their wanton growth: those blossoms also, and those dropping gums, that lie bestrewn, unsightly and unsmooth, ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease; meanwhile, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest." To whom thus Eve with perfect beauty adorned:-"My Author and Disposer! what thou bid'st, unargued I obey; so GOD ordains; GOD is thy law, thou mine: to know no more is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing, I forget all time; all seasons, and their change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet, with charm of earliest birds; pleasant the Sun, when first, on this delightful land, he spreads his orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, glistening with dew; fragrant the fertile Earth after soft showers; and sweet the coming on of grateful Evening mild; then silent Night, with this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, and these the gems of Heaven!-her starry train: but neither breath of Morn, when she ascends with charm of earliest birds; nor rising Sun on this delightful land; nor

T