The Learning Curve/The Learning Curve (Weird Science, 1996).iso/literature/drama/goldsmith/she_stoops_to_conquer/act3

Text File | 1995-06-30 | 23KB | 549 lines

   ACT THE THIRD.


   Enter HARDCASTLE, alone.


   HARDCASTLE.  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 fire-side already.  He took off his
   boots in the parlour, and desired 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, plainly dressed.


   HARDCASTLE.  Well, my Kate, I see you have changed your dress, as I
   bade you; and yet, I believe, there was no great occasion.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  I find such a pleasure, sir, in obeying your
   commands, that I take care to observe them without ever debating their
   propriety.

   HARDCASTLE.  And yet, Kate, I sometimes give you some cause,
   particularly when I recommended my modest gentleman to you as a lover
   to-day.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  You taught me to expect something extraordinary, and
   I find the original exceeds the description.

   HARDCASTLE.  I was never so surprised in my life!  He has quite
   confounded all my faculties!

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  I never saw anything like it: and a man of the world
   too!

   HARDCASTLE.  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 HARDCASTLE.  It seems all natural to him.

   HARDCASTLE.  A good deal assisted by bad company and a French
   dancing-master.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Sure you mistake, papa!  A French dancing-master
   could never have taught him that timid look--that awkward address--that
   bashful manner--

   HARDCASTLE.  Whose look?  whose manner, child?

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Mr. Marlow's: his mauvaise honte, his timidity,
   struck me at the first sight.

   HARDCASTLE.  Then your first sight deceived you; for I think him one of
   the most brazen first sights that ever astonished my senses.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Sure, sir, you rally!  I never saw any one so
   modest.

   HARDCASTLE.  And can you be serious?  I never saw such a bouncing,
   swaggering puppy since I was born.  Bully Dawson was but a fool to him.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Surprising!  He met me with a respectful bow, a
   stammering voice, and a look fixed on the ground.

   HARDCASTLE.  He met me with a loud voice, a lordly air, and a
   familiarity that made my blood freeze again.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  He treated me with diffidence and respect; censured
   the manners of the age; admired the prudence of girls that never
   laughed; tired me with apologies for being tiresome; then left the room
   with a bow, and "Madam, I would not for the world detain you."

   HARDCASTLE.  He spoke to me as if he knew me all his life before;
   asked twenty questions, and never waited for an answer; 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 HARDCASTLE.  One of us must certainly be mistaken.

   HARDCASTLE.  If he be what he has shown himself, I'm determined he
   shall never have my consent.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  And if he be the sullen thing I take him, he shall
   never have mine.

   HARDCASTLE.  In one thing then we are agreed--to reject him.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Yes: but upon conditions.  For if you should find him
   less impudent, and I more presuming--if you find him more respectful,
   and I more importunate--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.

   HARDCASTLE.  If we should find him so----But that's impossible.  The
   first appearance has done my business.  I'm seldom deceived in that.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  And yet there may be many good qualities under that
   first appearance.

   HARDCASTLE.  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 HARDCASTLE.  I hope, sir, a conversation begun with a compliment
   to my good sense, won't end with a sneer at my understanding?

   HARDCASTLE.  Pardon me, Kate.  But if young Mr. Brazen can find the art
   of reconciling contradictions, he may please us both, perhaps.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  And as one of us must be mistaken, what if we go to
   make further discoveries?

   HARDCASTLE.  Agreed.  But depend on't I'm in the right.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  And depend on't I'm not much in the wrong.
   [Exeunt.]


   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.


   HASTINGS.  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.

   HASTINGS.  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.

   HASTINGS.  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.

   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.

   HASTINGS.  But I dread the effects of her resentment, when she finds
   she has lost them.

   TONY.  Never you mind her resentment, leave ME to manage that.  I
   don't value her resentment the bounce of a cracker.  Zounds! here they
   are.  Morrice! Prance!  [Exit HASTINGS.]


   Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE and MISS NEVILLE.


   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  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 repairs.

   MISS NEVILLE.  But what will repair beauty at forty, will certainly
   improve it at twenty, madam.

   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  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 acquaintance, my
   Lady Kill-daylight, and Mrs. Crump, and the rest of them, carry their
   jewels to town, and bring nothing but paste and marcasites back.

   MISS NEVILLE.  But who knows, madam, but somebody that shall be
   nameless would like me best with all my little finery about me?

   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  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 NEVILLE.  My dear aunt, if you knew how it would oblige me.

   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  A parcel of old-fashioned rose and table-cut things.
   They would make you look like the court of King Solomon at a
   puppet-show.  Besides, I believe, 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. HARDCASTLE.  (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
   eyes.

   MISS NEVILLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  To be plain with you, my dear Constance, if I could
   find them you should have them.  They're missing, I assure you.  Lost,
   for aught I know; but we must have patience wherever they are.

   MISS NEVILLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  Don't be alarmed, Constance.  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. HARDCASTLE.  You must learn resignation, my dear; for though we
   lose our fortune, yet we should not lose our patience.  See me, how
   calm I am.

   MISS NEVILLE.  Ay, people are generally calm at the misfortunes of
   others.

   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  Now I wonder a girl of your good sense should waste a
   thought upon such trumpery.  We shall soon find them; and in the mean
   time you shall make use of my garnets till your jewels be found.

   MISS NEVILLE.  I detest garnets.

   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  The most becoming things 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 NEVILLE.  I dislike them of all things.  You shan't stir.--Was
   ever anything so 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 out 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.

   MISS NEVILLE.  My dear cousin!

   TONY.  Vanish.  She's here, and has missed them already.  [Exit MISS
   NEVILLE.] Zounds! how she fidgets and spits about like a Catherine
   wheel.


   Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE.


   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  Confusion! thieves! robbers! we are cheated,
   plundered, broke open, undone.

   TONY.  What's the matter, what's the matter, mamma?  I hope nothing has
   happened to any of the good family!

   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  We are robbed.  My bureau 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
   acted better in my life.  Ecod, I thought you was ruined in earnest,
   ha! ha! ha!

   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  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're gone, and I'm to say so.

   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  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 nobody will suspect either of us.  I'll bear witness that they are
   gone.

   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  Was there ever such a cross-grained brute, that
   won't hear me?  Can you bear witness that you're no better 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. HARDCASTLE.  Bear witness again, you blockhead you, and I'll turn
   you out of the room directly.  My poor niece, what will become of her?
   Do you laugh, you unfeeling brute, as if you enjoyed my distress?

   TONY.  I can bear witness to that.

   MRS. HARDCASTLE.  Do you insult me, monster?  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 HARDCASTLE.  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 gentleman, 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 HARDCASTLE.  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 HARDCASTLE.  And are you sure he does not remember my face or
   person?

   MAID.  Certain of it.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  I vow, I thought so; for, though we spoke for some
   time together, yet his fears were such, that he never once looked up
   during the interview.  Indeed, if he had, my bonnet would have kept him
   from seeing me.

   MAID.  But what do you hope from keeping him in his mistake?

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  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 acquaintance, 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 you are sure you can act your part, and disguise your voice
   so that he may mistake that, as he has already mistaken your person?

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  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.


   MARLOW.  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 fly to the gallery, there we have my hostess with her
   curtsey down to the ground.  I have at last got a moment to myself, and
   now for recollection.  [Walks and muses.]

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Did you call, sir?  Did your honour call?

   MARLOW.  (Musing.)  As for Miss Hardcastle, she's too grave and
   sentimental for me.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Did your honour call?  (She still places herself
   before him, he turning away.)

   MARLOW.  No, child.  (Musing.)  Besides, from the glimpse I had of her,
   I think she squints.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  I'm sure, sir, I heard the bell ring.

   MARLOW.  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 HARDCASTLE.  Perhaps the other gentleman called, sir?

   MARLOW.  I tell you, no.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  I should be glad to know, sir.  We have such a
   parcel of servants!

   MARLOW.  No, 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 HARDCASTLE.  O la, sir, you'll make one ashamed.

   MARLOW.  Never saw a more sprightly malicious eye.  Yes, yes, my dear,
   I did call.  Have you got any of your--a--what d'ye call it in the
   house?

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  No, sir, we have been out of that these ten days.

   MARLOW.  One may call in this house, I find, to very little purpose.
   Suppose I should call for a taste, just by way of a trial, of the
   nectar of your lips; perhaps I might be disappointed in that too.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Nectar! nectar!  That's a liquor there's no call for
   in these parts.  French, I suppose.  We sell no French wines here, sir.

   MARLOW.  Of true English growth, I assure you.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  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.

   MARLOW.  Eighteen years!  Why, one would think, child, you kept the bar
   before you were born.  How old are you?

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  O! sir, I must not tell my age.  They say women and
   music should never be dated.

   MARLOW.  To guess at this distance, you can't be much above forty
   (approaching).  Yet, nearer, I don't think so much (approaching).  By
   coming close to some women they look younger still; but when we come
   very close indeed--(attempting to kiss her).

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Pray, sir, keep your distance.  One would think you
   wanted to know one's age, as they do horses, by mark of mouth.

   MARLOW.  I protest, child, you use me extremely ill.  If you keep me at
   this distance, how is it possible you and I can ever be acquainted?

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  And who wants to be acquainted with you?  I want no
   such acquaintance, not I.  I'm sure you did not treat Miss Hardcastle,
   that was here awhile ago, in this obstropalous 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 was before a justice of peace.

   MARLOW.  (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 find 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 HARDCASTLE.  O! then, sir, you are a favourite, I find, among the
   ladies?

   MARLOW.  Yes, my dear, a great favourite.  And yet 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, 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 HARDCASTLE.  Hold, sir; you are introducing me to your club, not
   to yourself.  And you're so great a favourite there, you say?

   MARLOW.  Yes, my dear.  There's Mrs. Mantrap, Lady Betty Blackleg, the
   Countess of Sligo, Mrs. Langhorns, old Miss Biddy Buckskin, and your
   humble servant, keep up the spirit of the place.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Then it's a very merry place, I suppose?

   MARLOW.  Yes, as merry as cards, supper, wine, and old women can make
   us.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  And their agreeable Rattle, ha! ha! ha!

   MARLOW.  (Aside.)  Egad! I don't quite like this chit.  She looks
   knowing, methinks.  You laugh, child?

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  I can't but laugh, to think what time they all have
   for minding their work or their family.

   MARLOW.  (Aside.)  All's well; she don't laugh at me.  (To her.)  Do
   you ever work, child?

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Ay, sure.  There's not a screen or quilt in the
   whole house but what can bear witness to that.

   MARLOW.  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 HARDCASTLE.  Ay, but the colours do not look well by candlelight.
   You shall see all in the morning.  (Struggling.)

   MARLOW.  And why not now, my angel?  Such beauty fires beyond the
   power of resistance.--Pshaw! the father here!  My old luck: I never
   nicked seven that I did not throw ames ace three times following.
   [Exit MARLOW.]


   Enter HARDCASTLE, who stands in surprise.


   HARDCASTLE.  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 distance.  Kate, Kate, art thou not ashamed to deceive
   your father so?

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  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.

   HARDCASTLE.  By the hand of my body, I believe his impudence is
   infectious!  Didn't I see him seize your hand?  Didn't I see him haul
   you about like a milkmaid?  And now you talk of his respect and his
   modesty, forsooth!

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  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 hope you'll forgive him.

   HARDCASTLE.  The girl would actually make one run mad!  I tell you,
   I'll not be convinced.  I am convinced.  He has scarce been three hours
   in the house, and he has already encroached on all my prerogatives.
   You may like his impudence, and call it modesty; but my son-in-law,
   madam, must have very different qualifications.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Sir, I ask but this night to convince you.

   HARDCASTLE.  You shall not have half the time, for I have thoughts of
   turning him out this very hour.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  Give me that hour then, and I hope to satisfy you.

   HARDCASTLE.  Well, an hour let it be then.  But I'll have no trifling
   with your father.  All fair and open, do you mind me.

   MISS HARDCASTLE.  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 inclination.  [Exeunt.]