She Stoops to Conquer; Or, The Mistakes of a Night: A Comedy
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.
HASTINGS. Sir, we are obliged to you. The servants can’t miss the
way?
TONY. No, 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 company; and,
ecod, if you mind him, he’ll persuade you that his mother was an
alderman, and his aunt a justice of peace.
LANDLORD. A troublesome old blade, to be sure; but a keeps as good
wines and beds as any in the whole country.
MARLOW. Well, if he supplies us with these, we shall want no farther
connexion. We are to turn to the right, did you say?
TONY. No, no; straight forward. I’ll just step myself, and show you a
piece of the way. (To the Landlord.) Mum!
LANDLORD. Ah, bless your heart, for a sweet, pleasant--damn’d
mischievous son of a whore. [Exeunt.]
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE--An old-fashioned House.
Enter HARDCASTLE, followed by three or four awkward Servants.
HARDCASTLE. Well, I hope you are perfect in the table exercise I have
been teaching you these three days. You all know your posts and your
places, and can show that you have been used to good company, without
ever stirring from home.
OMNES. Ay, ay.
HARDCASTLE. When company comes you are not to pop out and stare, and
then run in again, like frightened rabbits in a warren.
OMNES. No, no.
HARDCASTLE. 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 your pockets. Take your hands from your
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.
DIGGORY. Ay, mind how I hold them. I learned to hold my hands this
way when I was upon drill for the militia. And so being upon drill----
HARDCASTLE. You must not be so talkative, Diggory. You 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.
DIGGORY. By the laws, your worship, that’s parfectly unpossible.
Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forward, ecod, he’s always wishing
for a mouthful himself.
HARDCASTLE. Blockhead! Is not a belly-full in the kitchen as good as
a belly-full in the parlour? Stay your stomach with that reflection.
DIGGORY. Ecod, I thank your worship, I’ll make a shift to stay my
stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry.
HARDCASTLE. Diggory, you are too talkative.--Then, if I happen to say
a good thing, or tell a good story at table, you must not all burst out
a-laughing, as if you made part of the company.
DIGGORY. Then ecod your worship must not tell the story of Ould
Grouse in the gun-room: I can’t help laughing at that--he! he!
he!--for the soul of me. We have laughed at that these twenty
years--ha! ha! ha!
HARDCASTLE. 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 company 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?
DIGGORY. 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.
HARDCASTLE. What, will nobody move?
FIRST SERVANT. I’m not to leave this pleace.
SECOND SERVANT. I’m sure it’s no pleace of mine.
THIRD SERVANT. Nor mine, for sartain.
DIGGORY. Wauns, and I’m sure it canna be mine.
HARDCASTLE. 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 mean time and
give my old friend’s son a hearty reception at the gate. [Exit
HARDCASTLE.]
DIGGORY. By the elevens, my pleace is gone quite out of my head.
ROGER. I know that my pleace is to be everywhere.
FIRST SERVANT. Where the devil is mine?
SECOND SERVANT. My pleace is to be nowhere at all; and so I’ze go
about my business. [Exeunt Servants, running about as if frightened,
different ways.]
Enter Servant with candles, showing in MARLOW and HASTINGS.
SERVANT. Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome! This way.
HASTINGS. After the disappointments of the day, welcome once more,
Charles, to the comforts of a clean room and a good fire. Upon my
word, a very well-looking house; antique but creditable.
MARLOW. The usual fate of a large mansion. Having first ruined the
master by good housekeeping, it at last comes to levy contributions as
an inn.
HASTINGS. 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 actually put in the bill, inflame a
reckoning confoundedly.
MARLOW. Travellers, George, must pay in all places: the only
difference is, that in good inns you pay dearly for luxuries; in bad
inns you are fleeced and starved.
HASTINGS. You have lived very much among them. In truth, I have been
often 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.
MARLOW. 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----
HASTINGS. Ay, among them you are impudent enough of all conscience.
MARLOW. They are of US, you know.
HASTINGS. 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.
MARLOW. 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 impudence.
HASTINGS. If you could but say half the fine things to them that I
have heard you lavish upon the bar-maid of an inn, or even a college
bed-maker----
MARLOW. 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 bagatelle; but, to me, a modest woman, drest out in all her
finery, is the most tremendous object of the whole creation.
HASTINGS. Ha! ha! ha! At this rate, man, how can you ever expect to
marry?
MARLOW. Never; unless, as among kings and princes, my bride were to be
courted by proxy. If, indeed, like an Eastern bridegroom, one were to
be introduced to a wife he never saw before, it might be endured. But
to go through all the terrors 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.
HASTINGS. I pity you. But how do you intend behaving to the lady you
are come down to visit at the request of your father?
MARLOW. 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.
HASTINGS. I’m surprised that one who is so warm a friend can be so
cool a lover.
MARLOW. To be explicit, my dear Hastings, my chief inducement down was
to be instrumental in forwarding your happiness, 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.
HASTINGS. My dear Marlow! But I’ll suppress the emotion. Were I a
wretch, meanly seeking to carry off a fortune, you should be the 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 inclination.
MARLOW. Happy man! You have talents and art to captivate any woman.
I’m doom’d to adore the sex, and yet to converse with the only part of
it I despise. This stammer in my address, and this awkward
prepossessing visage of 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 HARDCASTLE.
HARDCASTLE. Gentlemen, once more you are heartily welcome. Which is
Mr. Marlow? Sir, you are heartily welcome. It’s not my way, you see,
to receive my friends with my back to the fire. I like give them a
hearty reception in the old style at my gate. I like to see their
horses and trunks taken care of.
MARLOW. (Aside.) He has got our names from the servants already. (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.
HARDCASTLE. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you’ll use no ceremony in this house.
HASTINGS. I fancy, Charles, you’re right: the first blow is half the
battle. I intend opening the campaign with the white and gold.
HARDCASTLE. Mr. Marlow--Mr. Hastings--gentlemen--pray be under no
constraint in this house. This is Liberty-hall, gentlemen. You may do
just as you please here.
MARLOW. 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.
HARDCASTLE. 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 garrison----
MARLOW. Don’t you think the ventre d’or waistcoat will do with the
plain brown?
HARDCASTLE. He first summoned the garrison, which might consist of
about five thousand men----
HASTINGS. I think not: brown and yellow mix but very poorly.
HARDCASTLE. I say, gentlemen, as I was telling you, be summoned the
garrison, which might consist of about five thousand men----
MARLOW. The girls like finery.
HARDCASTLE. Which might consist of about five thousand men, well
appointed with stores, ammunition, and other implements 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 dukedom, says
he, but I take that garrison without spilling a drop of blood. So----
MARLOW. 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 vigour.
HARDCASTLE. Punch, sir! (Aside.) This is the most unaccountable kind
of modesty I ever met with.
MARLOW. Yes, sir, punch. A glass of warm punch, after our journey,
will be comfortable. This is Liberty-hall, you know.
HARDCASTLE. Here’s a cup, sir.
MARLOW. (Aside.) So this fellow, in his Liberty-hall, will only let
us have just what he pleases.
HARDCASTLE. (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