No More Learning

HARDCASTLE: It means that you 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? Oh, the devil! Oh--!

KATE: In which of your characters may we address you? The faltering
gentleman who looks on the ground and hates hypocrisy, or the bold,
forward Agreeable Rattle of the ladies' club?

MARLOW: Zounds, this is worse than death! I must be gone.

HARDCASTLE: But you shall not! I see it was all a mistake. She'll
forgive you; we'll all forgive you. Courage, man! And 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 this parish about us; the mistakes of the night shall be crowned
with a merry morning.


FOOTNOTES:

[D] The Life of Goldsmith, by John Forster, may be found in
Volume IX of the WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS (see also Vol. IV, p. 275).
"The Mistakes of a Night, or She Stoops to Conquer," appeared at Covent
Garden, in March, 1773. So convinced was George Colman that the public
would endure nothing but sentiment, that he could hardly be induced to
accept the play, and was extremely nervous about its success, almost
until the fall of the curtain on the first night. Nevertheless, its
success was immediate and decisive, and it became established as a
stock piece. The play loses nothing by the suppression of sentimental
passages between Hastings and Miss Neville, without which Colman
would certainly have declined it altogether. Apart from the main
argument--the wooing of Kate Hardcastle--the plot turns on the points
that Tony Lumpkin is the son of Mrs. Hardcastle by her first marriage,
and that Constance Neville is her niece and ward, not her husband's.




HEINRICH HEINE[E]




Atta Troll

_A Summer Night's Dream_


I

In the valley lies attractive Cauterets. The shining houses
Gay with balconies, and on them
Stand fair ladies loudly laughing.

Laughing as they look beneath them
On the brightly swarming market,
Where are dancing bear and she-bear
To the droning of the bagpipes.

Atta Troll and his good lady,
Whom the people call black Mumma,
Are the dancers; the Biscayans
Shout aloud in admiration.

Atta Troll, who once paraded
Like a mighty lord of deserts,
Free upon the mountain summit,
Dances in the vale to rabble!

Both the music and the laughter
Quickly cease, and shrieking loudly,
From the market fly the people,
And the ladies they are fainting.