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here they come to receive a confirmation of your my soul, I had no hand in the matter. So now pardon and consent.

if any of the company has a mind for preferment,

he may take my place; I'm determined to resign. Enter MRS. CROAKER, JARVIS, LEONTINE, and

[Erit. OLIVIA.

Honeycood. How have I been deceived ! Mrs. Croaker. Where's my husband ? Come, Sir William. No, sir, you have been obliged to come, lovey, you must forgive them. Jarvis here a kinder, fairer friend, for that favour—to Miss has been to tell me the whole affair; and I say, you Richland. Would she complete our joy, and make must forgive them. Our own was a stolen match, the man she has honoured by her friendship happy you know, my dear; and we never had any reason in her love, I should then forget all, and be as blest to repent of it.

as the welfare of my dearest kinsman can make Croaker. I wish we could both say so. Howev- me. er, this gentleman, Sir William Honeywood, has Miss Richland. After what is past it would be been beforehand with you in obtaining their pardon. but affectation to pretend to indifference. Yes, I So if the two poor fools have a mind to marry, I will own an attachment, which I find was more think we can tack them together without crossing than friendship. And if my entreaties can not alter the Tweed for it. (Joining their hands. his resolution to quit the country, I will even try

Leontine. How blest and unexpected! What, if my hand has not power to detain him. [Giring what can we say to such goodness? But our fu- her hand.] ture obedience shall be the best reply. And as for Honeyvood. Heavens! how can I have deserved this gentleman, to whom we owe

all this? How express my happiness, my gratitude? Sir William. Excuse me, sir, if I interrupt your A moment like this overpays an age of apprehenthanks, as I have here an interest that calls me. sion. [Turning to Honeywood.] Yes, sir, you are sur Croaker. Well, now I sec content in every face; prised to see me; and I own that a desire of cor- but Heaven send we be all better this day three recting your follies led me hither. I saw with in- months! dignation the errors of a mind that only sought ap Sir William. Henceforth, nephew, learn to replause from others; that easiness of disposition spect yourself. He who seeks only for applause which, though inclined to the right, had not cou- from without, hus all his happiness in another's rage to condemn the wrong. I saw with regret keeping. those splendid errors, that still took name from Honeywood. Yes, sir, I now too plainly persome neighbouring duty; your charity, that was but ceive my errors; my vanity in attempting to please injustice ; your benevolence, that was but weak- all by fearing to offend any; my meanness, in apness; and your friendship but credulity. I saw proving folly lest fools should disapprove. Hencewith regret

, great talents and extensive learning forth, therefore, it shall be my study to reserve my only employed to add sprightliness to error, and in- pity for real distress; my friendship for true merit; crease your perplexities. I saw your mind with and my love for her, who tirst taught me what it a thousand natural charms; but the greatness of its is to be happy beauty served only to heighten my pity for its prostitution.

Honeywood. Cease to upbraid me, sir: I have for some time but too strongly felt the justice of

EPILOGUE.* your reproaches. But there is one way still left me. Yes, sir, I have determined this very hour to quit forever a place where I have made myself the volun

As puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure tary slave of all, and to seek among strangers that To swear the pill, or drop, has wrought a cure; fortitude which may give strength to the mind, and Thus, on the stage, our play-wrights still depend marshal all its dissipated virtues. Yet ere I de- For epilogues and prologues on some friend, part, permit me to solicit favour for this gentle. Who knows each art of coaxing up the town, man; who, notwithstanding what has happened, and make full many a bitter pill go down. has laid me under the most signal obligations. Mr. Conscious of this, our bard has gone about, Lofty

And teased each rhyming friend to help him out. Lofty. Mr. Honeywood, I'm resolved upon a re- An epilogue, things can't go on without it; formation as well as you. I now begin to find that it could not fail

, would you but set about it. the man who first invented the art of speaking truth, was a much cunninger fellow than I thought

* The author, in expectation of an Epilogue from a friend at him. And to prove that I design to speak truth

Oxforil, deserred writing one himself till the very last hour. for the future, I must now assure you, that you What is here offered, owes all its success to the gracesul manowe your late enlargement to another; as, upon /ner of the actress who spoke it.

SPOKEN BY MRS. BOLKLEY.

Young man, cries one (a bard laid up in clover,) As some unhappy wight at some new play,
Alas! young man, my writing days are over; At the pit door stands elbowing away,
Let boys play tricks, and kick the straw, not I; While oft with many a smile, and many a shrug,
Your brother doctor there, perhaps, may try. He eyes the centre, where his friends sit snug;
What, I! dear sir, the doctor interposes: His simpering friends, with pleasure in their eyes
What, plant my thistle, sir, among his roses! Sink as he sinks, and as he rises rise :
No, no, I've other contests to maintain;

He nods, they nod; he cringes, they grimace;
To-night I head our troops at Warwick-lane. But not a soul will budge to give him place.
Go ask your manager-Who, me! Your pardon; Since then, unhelp'd our bard must now conform
Those things are not our forte at Covent-Garden.“ To 'bide the pelting of this pit'less storm."
Our author's friends, thus placed at happy distance, Blame where you must, be candid where you can,
Give him good words indeed, but no assistance. And be each critic the Good-natured Man.

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AS ACTED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN.

Dear Sir,

DEDICATION.

I am undone, that's all-shall lose my bread

I'd rather, but that's nothing—lose my head. TO SAMUEL JOHNSON, L L. D.

When the sweet maid is laid upon the bier,

SHUTER and I shall be chief mourners here. By inscribing this slight performance to you, I To her a mawkish drab of spurious breed, Jo not mean so much to compliment you as myself. Who deals in sentimentals, will succeed ! It may do me some honour to inform the public, Poor Ned and I are dead to all intents ; thai I have lived many years in intimacy with you. We can as soon speak Greek as sentiments! It may serve the interests of mankind also to in- Both nervous grown, to keep our spirits up, form them, that the greatest wit may be found in We now and then take down a hearty cup. a character without impairing the most unaffected What shall we do?—If Comedy forsake us, piety.

They'll turn us out, and no one else will take us. I have, particularly, reason to thank you for But why can't I be moral ?—Let me tryyour partiality to this performance. The under- My heart thus pressing-fix'd my face and eye taking a Comedy, not merely sentimental, was with a sententious look that nothing means, very dangerous; and Mr. Colman, who saw this (Faces are blocks in sentimental scenes) piece in its various stages, always thought it so. Thus I begin—"All is not gold that glitters; However, I ventured to trust it to the public; and, Pleasures seem sweet, but prove a glass of bitters. though it was necessarily delayed till late in the When ign’rance enters, folly is at hand: season, I have every reason to be grateful.

Learning is better far than house or land.
I am, Dear Sir,

Let not your virtue trip; who trips may stumble
Your most sincere friend and admirer,

And virtue is not virtue if she tumble."
OLIVER GOLDSMITH,

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,
PROLOGUE.

A Doctor comes this night to show his skill.

To cheer her heart, and give your muscles motion, BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

He, in five draughts prepared, presents a potion : Enter MR. WOODWARD, dressed in black, and holding a A kind of magic charm—for be assured, handkerchief to his eyes.

If you will swallow it the maid is cured; Excuse me, sirs, I pray,–I can't yet speak, But desperate the Doctor, and her case is, I'm crying now—and have been all the week. If you reject the dose, and make wry faces ! " 'Tis not alone this mourning suit,” good masters: This truth he boasts, will boast it while he lives, " I've that within”—for which there are no plasters! No pois'nous drugs are mix'd in what he gives. Pray, would you know the reason why I'm crying ? Should he succeed, you'll give him his degree; The Comic Muse, long sick, is now a-dying! If not, within he will receive no fee! And if she goes, my tears will never stop; The college, you, must his pretensions back, For, as a player, I can't squeeze out one drop: Pronounce him Regular, or dub him Quack.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

I'm not so old as you'd make me, by more than one good year. Add twenty to twenty, and make mo

ney of that.

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MEN.

Hardcastle. Let me see: twenty added to twenSIR CHARLES Marlow MR. GARDNER. ty makes just fifty and seven. Young Marlow (his son) MR. Lewis. Mrs. Hardcastle. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle; I HARDCASTLE

MR. SHUTER. was but twenty when I was brought to bed of ToHASTINGS

Mr. DuBELLAMY. ny, that I had by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband; TONY LUMPKIN

Mr. Quick. and he's not come to years of discretion yet. DIGGORY

MR. SAUNDERS. Hardcastle. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. WOMEN.

Ay, you have taught him finely.

Mrs. Hardcastle. No matter. Tony Lumpkin MRS. HARDCASTLE

Mrs. GREENE.

has a good fortune. My son is not to live by his Miss HARDCASTLE

MRS. BULKLEY.

learning. I don't think a boy wants much learnMiss Neville

Mrs. KNIVETON.

ing to spend fifteen hundred a-year. MAID

Miss WILLEMS.

Hardcastle. Learning quotha! a mere composiLANDLORD, SERVANTS, &c. &c.

tion of tricks and mischief.

Mrs. Hardcastle. Humour, my dear, nothing but

humour. Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER; the boy a little humour.

Hardcastle. I'd sooner allow him a horsepond. OR, THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT,

If burning the footman's shoes, frightening the ACT I.

maids, and worrying the kittens be humour, he has it

. It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the SCENE—A CHAMBER IN AN OLD-FASHIONED HOUSE. back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow,

I popped my bald head in Mrs. Frizzle's face. Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE and MR. HARDCASTLE.

Mrs. Hardcastle. And am I to blame? The Mrs. Hardcastle. I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're poor boy was always too sickly to do any good. A very particular. Is there a creature in the whole school would be his death. When he comes to be a country but ourselves, that does not take a trip to little stronger, who knows what a year or two's town now and then, to rub off the rust a little? Latin may do for him? There's the two Miss Hoggs, and our neighbour Hardcastle. Latin for him! A cat and fiddle. Mrs. Grigsby, go to take a month's polishing every No, no; the alehouse and the stable are the only winter.

schools he'll ever go to. Hardcastle. Ay, and bring back vanity and affec Mrs. Hardcastle. Well, we must not snub the tation to last them the whole year. I wonder why poor boy now, for I believe we shan't have him long London can not keep its own fools at home! In among us. Any body that looks in his face may see my time, the follies of the town crept slowly among he's consumptive. us, but now they travel faster than a stage-coach. Hardcastle. Ay, is growing too fat be one of the Its fopperies come down not only as inside passen- symptoms. gers, but in the very basket.

Mrs. Hardcastle. He coughs sometimes. Mrs. Hardcastle. Ay, your times were fine times Hardcastle. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong indeed; you have been telling us of them for many way. a long year. Here we live in an old rumbling Mrs. Hardcastle. I'm actually afraid of his lungs. mansion, that looks for all the world like an inn, Hardcastle. And truly so am I; for he somebut that we never see company. Our best visiters times whoops like a speaking trumpet-Tony halare old Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's wife, and little looing behind the scenes.]---, there he goesma Cripplegate, the lame dancing-master: and all our very consumptive figure, truly. entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene

Enter TONY, crossing the flage. and the Duke of Marlborough. I hate such oldfashioned trumpery.

Mrs. Hardcastle. Tony, where are you going, my Hardcastle. And I love it. I love every thing charmer? Won't you give papa and I a little of that's old; old friends, old times, old manners, old your company, lovey? books, old wines; and, I believe, Dorothy, (taking Tony. I'm in haste, mother; I can not stay. lier hand) you'll own I have been pretty fond of an Mrs. Hardcastle. You shan't venture out this old wife.

raw evening, my dear; you look most shockingly. Mrs. Hardcastle. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three for ever at your Dorothys and your old wives. You Pigeons expects me down cvery moment. There', may be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I promise you. Isome fun going forward.

s

Hardcastie. Ay; the alehouse, the old place; I control your choice; but Mr. Marlow, whom I have thought so.

pitched upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Mrs. Hardcastle. A low, paltry set of fellows. Charles Marlow, of whom you have heard mo

Tony. Not so low neither. There's Dick Mug- talk so often. The young gentleman has been gins the exciseman, Jack Slang the horse doctor, bred a scholar, and is designed for an employment little Aminidab that grinds the music box, and in the service of his country. I am told he's a Tom Twist that spins the pewter platter. man of an excellent understanding.

Mrs. Hardcastle. Pray, my dear, disappoint Miss Hardcastle. Is he? them for one night at least.

Hardcastle. Very generous. Tony. As for disappointing them, I should not Miss Hardcastle. I believe I shall like him. so much mind; but I can't abide to disappoint Hardcastle. Young and brave. myself.

Miss Hardcastle. I'm sure I shall like him. Mrs. Hardcastle [detaining him). You shan't Hardcastle. And very handsome.

Miss Hardcastle. My dear papa, say no more, Tony. I will, I tell you.

[kissing his hand] he's mine; I'll have him. Mrs. Hardcastle. I say you shan't.

Hardcastle. And to crown all, Kate, he's one of Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you or I. the most bashful and reserved young fellows in all

[Erit, hauling her out. the world. Hardcastle [alone). Ay, there goes a pair that Miss Hardcastle. Eh! you have frozen me to only spoil each other. But is not the whole age in death again. That word reserved has undone all a combination to drive sense and discretion out of the rest of his accomplishments. A reserved lover, doors ? There's my pretty darling Kate! the fash- it is said, always makes a suspicious husband. lons of the times have almost infected her too. By Hardcastle. On the contrary, modesty seldom living a year or two in town, she's as fond of gauze resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler and French frippery as the best of them. virtues. It was the very feature in his character

that first struck me. Enter MISS HARDCASTLE.

Miss Hardcastle. He must have more striking

features to catch me, I promise you. However, if Hardcastle. Blessings on my pretty innocence! he be so young, so handsome, and so every thing dressed out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! What as you mention, I believe he'll do still. I think I'll a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou got about have him. thee, girl! I could never teach the fools of this age, Hardcastle. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obthat the indigent world could be clothed out of the stacle. It's more than an even wager he may not trimmings of the vain.

Miss Hardcastle. You know our agreement, sir. Miss Hardcastle. My dear papa, why will you You allow me the morning to receive and pay mortify one so? Well, if he refuses, instead of breakvisits, and to dress in my own manner; and in the ing my heart at his indifference, I'll only break my evening I put on my housewife's dress to please glass for its flattery, set my cap to some newer you.

fashion, and look out for some less difficult admirer. Hardcastle. Well, remember I insist on the Hardcastle. Bravely resolved! In the mean time terms of our agreement; and by the by, I believe I I'll go prepare the servants for his reception: as we shall have occasion to try your obedience this very seldom see company, they want as much training evening.

as a company of recruits the first day's muster. Miss Hardcastle. I protest, sir, 1 don't compre

(Exit. hend your meaning.

Miss Hardcastle (alone). Lud, this news of Hardcastle. Then to be plain with you, Kate, I papa's puts me all in a flutter. Young, handsome; espect the young gentleman I have chosen to be these he put last; but I put them foremost. Senyour husband from town this very day. I have his sible, good natured; I like all that. But then refather's letter, in which he informs me his son is served and sheepish, that's much against him. Yet set out, and that he intends to follow himself shortly can't he be cured of his timidity, by being taught after.

to be proud of his wife? Yes; and cant I-But I Miss Hardcastle. Indeed! I wish I had known vow I'm disposing of the husband before I have sesomething of this before. Bless me, how shall I cured the lover. 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 Miss Hardcastle. I'm glad you're come, Noor esteem.

ville, my dear. Tell me, Constance, how do I look Hardcastle. Depend upon it, child, I never will this evening? Is there any thing whimsical about

have you.

Enter MISS NEVILLE.

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