She Stoops to Conquer; Or, The Mistakes of a Night: A ComedyGoldsmith, Oliver
General
She Stoops to Conquer; Or, The Mistakes of a Night: A Comedy
Goldsmith, Oliver
Comedy plays
HASTINGS. (To HARDCASTLE.) For my late attempt to fly off with your
niece let my present confusion be my punishment. We are now come back,
to appeal from your justice to your humanity. By her father’s consent,
I first paid her my addresses, and our passions were first founded in
duty.
MISS NEVILLE. Since his death, I have been obliged to stoop to
dissimulation to avoid oppression. In an hour of levity, I was ready
to give up my fortune to secure my choice. But I am now recovered from
the delusion, and hope from your tenderness what is denied me from a
nearer connexion.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Pshaw, pshaw! this is all but the whining end of a
modern novel.
HARDCASTLE. Be it what it will, I’m glad they’re come back to reclaim
their due. Come hither, Tony, boy. Do you refuse this lady’s hand
whom I now offer you?
TONY. What signifies my refusing? You know I can’t refuse her till
I’m of age, father.
HARDCASTLE. While I thought concealing your age, boy, was likely to
conduce to your improvement, I concurred with your mother’s desire to
keep it secret. But since I find she turns it to a wrong use, I must
now declare you have been of age these three months.
TONY. Of age! Am I of age, father?
HARDCASTLE. Above three months.
TONY. Then you’ll see the first use I’ll make of my liberty. (Taking
MISS NEVILLE’s hand.) Witness all men by these presents, that I,
Anthony Lumpkin, Esquire, of BLANK place, refuse you, Constantia
Neville, spinster, of no place at all, for my true and lawful wife. So
Constance Neville may marry whom she pleases, and Tony Lumpkin is his
own man again.
SIR CHARLES. O brave ’squire!
HASTINGS. My worthy friend!
MRS. HARDCASTLE. My undutiful offspring!
MARLOW. Joy, my dear George! I give you joy sincerely. And could I
prevail upon my little tyrant here to be less arbitrary, I should be
the happiest man alive, if you would return me the favour.
HASTINGS. (To MISS HARDCASTLE.) Come, madam, you are now driven to
the very last scene of all your contrivances. I know you like him, I’m
sure he loves you, and you must and shall have him.
HARDCASTLE. (Joining their hands.) And I say so too. And, Mr.
Marlow, if she makes as good a wife as she has a daughter, I don’t
believe you’ll ever repent your bargain. So now to supper. To-morrow
we shall gather all the poor of the parish about us, and the mistakes
of the night shall be crowned with a merry morning. So, boy, take her;
and as you have been mistaken in the mistress, my wish is, that you may
never be mistaken in the wife. [Exeunt Omnes.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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