No More Learning

Drenched in the mud, overturned in a
ditch, stuck fast in a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to lose
our way. Whereabouts do you think we are, Tony?

TONY. By my guess we should come upon Crackskull Common, about forty
miles from home.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. O lud! O lud! The most notorious spot in all the
country. We only want a robbery to make a complete night on't.

TONY. Don't be afraid, mamma, don't be afraid. Two of the five that
kept here are hanged, and the other three may not find us. Don't be
afraid. --Is that a man that's galloping behind us? No; it's only a
tree. --Don't be afraid.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. The fright will certainly kill me.

TONY. Do you see anything like a black hat moving behind the thicket?

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Oh, death!

TONY. No; it's only a cow. Don't be afraid, mamma; don't be afraid.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. As I'm alive, Tony, I see a man coming towards us.
Ah! I'm sure on't. If he perceives us, we are undone.

TONY. (Aside. ) Father-in-law, by all that's unlucky, come to take one
of his night walks. (To her. ) Ah, it's a highwayman with pistols as
long as my arm. A damned ill-looking fellow.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Good Heaven defend us! He approaches.

TONY. Do you hide yourself in that thicket, and leave me to manage
him. If there be any danger, I'll cough, and cry hem. When I cough,
be sure to keep close. (MRS. HARDCASTLE hides behind a tree in the
back scene. )


Enter HARDCASTLE.


HARDCASTLE. I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people in want of
help. Oh, Tony! is that you? I did not expect you so soon back. Are
your mother and her charge in safety?

TONY. Very safe, sir, at my aunt Pedigree's. Hem.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. (From behind. ) Ah, death! I find there's danger.

HARDCASTLE. Forty miles in three hours; sure that's too much, my
youngster.

TONY. Stout horses and willing minds make short journeys, as they say.
Hem.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. (From behind. ) Sure he'll do the dear boy no harm.

HARDCASTLE. But I heard a voice here; I should be glad to know from
whence it came.

TONY. It was I, sir, talking to myself, sir. I was saying that forty
miles in four hours was very good going. Hem. As to be sure it was.
Hem. I have got a sort of cold by being out in the air. We'll go in,
if you please. Hem.

HARDCASTLE. But if you talked to yourself you did not answer
yourself. I'm certain I heard two voices, and am resolved (raising his
voice) to find the other out.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. (From behind. ) Oh! he's coming to find me out. Oh!

TONY. What need you go, sir, if I tell you? Hem. I'll lay down my
life for the truth--hem--I'll tell you all, sir. [Detaining him. ]

HARDCASTLE. I tell you I will not be detained. I insist on seeing.
It's in vain to expect I'll believe you.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. (Running forward from behind. ) O lud! he'll murder
my poor boy, my darling! Here, good gentleman, whet your rage upon me.
Take my money, my life, but spare that young gentleman; spare my child,
if you have any mercy.

HARDCASTLE. My wife, as I'm a Christian. From whence can she come? or
what does she mean?

MRS. HARDCASTLE. (Kneeling. ) Take compassion on us, good Mr.
Highwayman. Take our money, our watches, all we have, but spare our
lives. We will never bring you to justice; indeed we won't, good Mr.
Highwayman.

HARDCASTLE. I believe the woman's out of her senses. What, Dorothy,
don't you know ME?

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm alive! My fears blinded me.
But who, my dear, could have expected to meet you here, in this
frightful place, so far from home? What has brought you to follow us?

HARDCASTLE. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your wits? So far from
home, when you are within forty yards of your own door! (To him. )
This is one of your old tricks, you graceless rogue, you. (To her. )
Don't you know the gate, and the mulberry-tree; and don't you remember
the horse-pond, my dear?

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Yes, I shall remember the horse-pond as long as I
live; I have caught my death in it. (To TONY. ) And it is to you, you
graceless varlet, I owe all this? I'll teach you to abuse your mother,
I will.

TONY. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have spoiled me, and so
you may take the fruits on't.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. I'll spoil you, I will. [Follows him off the stage.
Exit. ]

HARDCASTLE. There's morality, however, in his reply. [Exit. ]


Enter HASTINGS and MISS NEVILLE.


HASTINGS. My dear Constance, why will you deliberate thus? If we
delay a moment, all is lost for ever. Pluck up a little resolution,
and we shall soon be out of the reach of her malignity.

MISS NEVILLE. I find it impossible. My spirits are so sunk with the
agitations I have suffered, that I am unable to face any new danger.
Two or three years' patience will at last crown us with happiness.

HASTINGS. Such a tedious delay is worse than inconstancy. Let us fly,
my charmer. Let us date our happiness from this very moment. Perish
fortune! Love and content will increase what we possess beyond a
monarch's revenue. Let me prevail!

MISS NEVILLE. No, Mr. Hastings, no. Prudence once more comes to my
relief, and I will obey its dictates. In the moment of passion fortune
may be despised, but it ever produces a lasting repentance. I'm
resolved to apply to Mr. Hardcastle's compassion and justice for
redress.

HASTINGS. But though he had the will, he has not the power to relieve
you.

MISS NEVILLE. But he has influence, and upon that I am resolved to
rely.

HASTINGS. I have no hopes. But since you persist, I must reluctantly
obey you. [Exeunt. ]


SCENE changes.


Enter SIR CHARLES and MISS HARDCASTLE.


SIR CHARLES. What a situation am I in! If what you say appears, I
shall then find a guilty son. If what he says be true, I shall then
lose one that, of all others, I most wished for a daughter.

MISS HARDCASTLE. I am proud of your approbation, and to show I merit
it, if you place yourselves as I directed, you shall hear his explicit
declaration. But he comes.

SIR CHARLES. I'll to your father, and keep him to the appointment.
[Exit SIR CHARLES. ]


Enter MARLOW.


MARLOW.
Though prepared for setting out, I come once more to take
leave; nor did I, till this moment, know the pain I feel in the
separation.

MISS HARDCASTLE. (In her own natural manner. ) I believe sufferings
cannot be very great, sir, which you can so easily remove. A day or
two longer, perhaps, might lessen your uneasiness, by showing the
little value of what you now think proper to regret.

MARLOW. (Aside. ) This girl every moment improves upon me. (To her. )
It must not be, madam. I have already trifled too long with my heart.
My very pride begins to submit to my passion. The disparity of
education and fortune, the anger of a parent, and the contempt of my
equals, begin to lose their weight; and nothing can restore me to
myself but this painful effort of resolution.

MISS HARDCASTLE. Then go, sir: I'll urge nothing more to detain you.
Though my family be as good as hers you came down to visit, and my
education, I hope, not inferior, what are these advantages without
equal affluence? I must remain contented with the slight approbation
of imputed merit; I must have only the mockery of your addresses, while
all your serious aims are fixed on fortune.


Enter HARDCASTLE and SIR CHARLES from behind.


SIR CHARLES. Here, behind this screen.

HARDCASTLE. Ay, ay; make no noise. I'll engage my Kate covers him
with confusion at last.

MARLOW. By heavens, madam! fortune was ever my smallest
consideration. Your beauty at first caught my eye; for who could see
that without emotion? But every moment that I converse with you steals
in some new grace, heightens the picture, and gives it stronger
expression. What at first seemed rustic plainness, now appears refined
simplicity. What seemed forward assurance, now strikes me as the
result of courageous innocence and conscious virtue.

SIR CHARLES. What can it mean? He amazes me!

HARDCASTLE. I told you how it would be. Hush!

MARLOW. I am now determined to stay, madam; and I have too good an
opinion of my father's discernment, when he sees you, to doubt his
approbation.

MISS HARDCASTLE. No, Mr. Marlow, I will not, cannot detain you. Do
you think I could suffer a connexion in which there is the smallest
room for repentance? Do you think I would take the mean advantage of a
transient passion, to load you with confusion? Do you think I could
ever relish that happiness which was acquired by lessening yours?

MARLOW. By all that's good, I can have no happiness but what's in your
power to grant me! Nor shall I ever feel repentance but in not having
seen your merits before. I will stay even contrary to your wishes; and
though you should persist to shun me, I will make my respectful
assiduities atone for the levity of my past conduct.

MISS HARDCASTLE. Sir, I must entreat you'll desist. As our
acquaintance began, so let it end, in indifference. I might have
given an hour or two to levity; but seriously, Mr. Marlow, do you
think I could ever submit to a connexion where I must appear
mercenary, and you imprudent? Do you think I could ever catch at the
confident addresses of a secure admirer?

MARLOW. (Kneeling. ) Does this look like security? Does this look
like confidence? No, madam, every moment that shows me your merit,
only serves to increase my diffidence and confusion. Here let me
continue----

SIR CHARLES. I can hold it no longer. Charles, Charles, how hast thou
deceived me! Is this your indifference, your uninteresting
conversation?

HARDCASTLE. Your cold contempt; your formal interview! What have you
to say now?

MARLOW. That I'm all amazement! What can it mean?

HARDCASTLE. It means that you can say and unsay things at pleasure:
that you can address a lady in private, and deny it in public: that you
have one story for us, and another for my daughter.

MARLOW. Daughter! --This lady your daughter?

HARDCASTLE. Yes, sir, my only daughter; my Kate; whose else should she
be?

MARLOW. Oh, the devil!

MISS HARDCASTLE. Yes, sir, that very identical tall squinting lady you
were pleased to take me for (courtseying); she that you addressed as
the mild, modest, sentimental man of gravity, and the bold, forward,
agreeable Rattle of the Ladies' Club. Ha! ha! ha!

MARLOW. Zounds! there's no bearing this; it's worse than death!

MISS HARDCASTLE. In which of your characters, sir, will you give us
leave to address you? As the faltering gentleman, with looks on the
ground, that speaks just to be heard, and hates hypocrisy; or the loud
confident creature, that keeps it up with Mrs. Mantrap, and old Miss
Biddy Buckskin, till three in the morning? Ha! ha! ha!

MARLOW. O, curse on my noisy head. I never attempted to be impudent
yet, that I was not taken down. I must be gone.

HARDCASTLE. By the hand of my body, but you shall not. I see it was
all a mistake, and I am rejoiced to find it. You shall not, sir, I
tell you. I know she'll forgive you. Won't you forgive him, Kate?
We'll all forgive you. Take courage, man. (They retire, she
tormenting him, to the back scene. )


Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE and Tony.


MRS. HARDCASTLE. So, so, they're gone off. Let them go, I care not.

HARDCASTLE. Who gone?

MRS. HARDCASTLE. My dutiful niece and her gentleman, Mr. Hastings,
from town. He who came down with our modest visitor here.

SIR CHARLES. Who, my honest George Hastings? As worthy a fellow as
lives, and the girl could not have made a more prudent choice.

HARDCASTLE. Then, by the hand of my body, I'm proud of the connexion.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Well, if he has taken away the lady, he has not
taken her fortune; that remains in this family to console us for her
loss.

HARDCASTLE. Sure, Dorothy, you would not be so mercenary?

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Ay, that's my affair, not yours.

HARDCASTLE. But you know if your son, when of age, refuses to marry
his cousin, her whole fortune is then at her own disposal.

MRS. HARDCASTLE. Ay, but he's not of age, and she has not thought
proper to wait for his refusal.


Enter HASTINGS and MISS NEVILLE.


MRS. HARDCASTLE. (Aside. ) What, returned so soon! I begin not to
like it.

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. ]




THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD

A TALE

Supposed to be written by Himself

By Oliver Goldsmith



Sperate miseri, cavete faelices




ADVERTISEMENT

There are an hundred faults in this Thing, and an hundred things might
be said to prove them beauties.