She Stoops to Conquer

I’m sure there’s nothing in my behaviour to put me on a level with one of that stamp. Marlow Nothing, my dear, nothing. But I was in for a list of blunders, and could not help making you a subscriber. My stupidity saw everything the wrong way. I mistook your assiduity for assurance, and your simplicity for allurement. But it’s over⁠—this house I no more show my face in. Miss Hardcastle I hope, sir, I have done nothing to disoblige you. I’m sure I should be sorry to affront any gentleman who has been so polite, and said so many civil things to me. I’m sure I should be sorry Pretending to cry. if he left the family upon my account. I’m sure I should be sorry if people said anything amiss, since I have no fortune but my character. Marlow Aside. By Heaven! she weeps. This is the first mark of tenderness I ever had from a modest woman, and it touches me. To her. Excuse me, my lovely girl; you are the only part of the family I leave with reluctance. But to be plain with you, the difference of our birth, fortune, and education, makes an honourable connection impossible; and I can never harbour a thought of seducing simplicity that trusted in my honour, of bringing ruin upon one whose only fault was being too lovely. Miss Hardcastle Aside. Generous man! I now begin to admire him. To him. But I am sure my family is as good as Miss Hardcastle’s; and though I’m poor, that’s no great misfortune to a contented mind; and, until this moment, I never thought that it was bad to want fortune. Marlow And why now, my pretty simplicity? Miss Hardcastle Because it puts me at a distance from one that, if I had a thousand pounds, I would give it all to. Marlow Aside. This simplicity bewitches me so, that if I stay I’m undone. I must make one bold effort, and leave her. To her. Your partiality in my favour, my dear, touches me most sensibly; and were I to live for myself alone, I could easily fix my choice. But I owe too much to the opinion of the world, too much to the authority of a father; so that⁠—I can scarcely speak it⁠—it affects me! Farewell. Exit. Miss Hardcastle I never knew half his merit till now. He shall not go if I have power or art to detain him. I’ll still preserve the character in which I stooped to conquer; but will undeceive my papa, who, perhaps may laugh him out of his resolution. Exit. Enter Tony and Miss Neville. Tony Ay, you may steal for yourselves the next time. I have done my duty. She has got the jewels again, that’s a sure thing; but she believes it was all a mistake of the servants. Miss Neville But, my dear cousin, sure you won’t forsake us in this distress? If she in the least suspects that I am going off, I shall certainly be locked up, or sent to my aunt Pedigree’s, which is ten times worse. Tony To be sure, aunts of all kinds are damned bad things. But what can I do? I have got you a pair of horses that will fly like Whistle Jacket; and I’m sure you can’t say but I have courted you nicely before her face. Here she comes; we must court a bit or two more, for fear she should suspect us. They retire, and seem to fondle. Enter Mrs. Hardcastle. Mrs. Hardcastle Well, I was greatly fluttered, to be sure. But my son tells me it was all a mistake of the servants. I shan’t be easy, however, till they are fairly married, and then let her keep her own fortune. But what do I see? Fondling together, as I’m alive. I never saw Tony so sprightly before. Ah! have I caught you, my pretty doves? What, billing, exchanging stolen glances and broken murmurs? Ah! Tony As for murmurs, mother, we grumble a little now and then, to be sure. But there’s no love lost between us. Mrs. Hardcastle A mere sprinkling, Tony, upon the flame, only to make it burn brighter. Miss Neville Cousin Tony promises to give us more of his company at home. Indeed, he shan’t leave us any more. It won’t leave us, cousin Tony, will it? Tony O! it’s a pretty creature. No, I’d sooner leave my horse in a pound, than leave you when you smile upon one so. Your laugh makes you so becoming. Miss Neville Agreeable cousin! Who can help admiring that natural humour, that pleasant, broad, red, thoughtless Patting his cheek.⁠—ah! it’s a bold face. Mrs. Hardcastle Pretty innocence! Tony I’m sure I always loved cousin Con’s hazel eyes, and her pretty long fingers, that she twists this way and that over the haspicholls, like a parcel of bobbins. Mrs. Hardcastle Ah! he would charm the bird from the tree. I was never so happy before. My boy takes after his father, poor Mr. Lumpkin, exactly. The jewels, my dear Con, shall be yours incontinently. You shall have them. Isn’t he a sweet boy, my dear? You shall be married tomorrow, and we’ll put off the rest of his education, like Dr. Drowsy’s sermons, to a fitter opportunity. Enter Diggory. Diggory Where’s the Squire? I have got a letter for your worship. Tony Give it to my mamma. She reads all my letters first. Diggory I had orders to deliver it into your own hands. Tony Who does it come from? Diggory Your worship mun ask that o’ the letter itself. Exit Diggory. Tony I could wish to know, though. Turning the letter, and gazing on it. Miss Neville Aside. Undone, undone! A letter to him from Hastings. I know the hand. If my aunt sees it, we are ruined forever. I’ll keep her employed a little if I can. To Mrs. Hardcastle. But I have not told you, madam, of my cousin’s smart answer just now