Sir Tun. Knock that rascal down! — But speak, Jezebel, how’s this?
Nurse. Alas! your honour, forgive me; I have been overreached in this business as well as you. Your worship knows, if the wedding-dinner had been ready, you would have given her away with your own hands.
Sir Tun. But how durst you do this without acquainting me?
Nurse. Alas! if your worship had seen how the poor thing begged and prayed, and clung and twined about me like ivy round an old wall, you would say, I who had nursed it, and reared it, must have had a heart like stone to refuse it.
Sir Tun. Ouns! I shall go mad! Unloose my lord there, you scoundrels!
Lord Fop. Why, when these gentlemen are at leisure, I should be glad to congratulate you on your son-in-law, with a little more freedom of address.
Miss Hoyd. Egad, though, I don’t see which is to be my husband after all.
Love. Come, come, Sir Tunbelly, a man of your understanding must perceive that an affair of this kind is not to be mended by anger and reproaches.
Col. Town. Take my word for it, Sir Tunbelly, you are only tricked into a son-in-law you may be proud of: my friend Tom
Fashion is as honest a fellow as ever breathed.
Love. That he is, depend on’t; and will hunt or drink with you most affectionately: be generous, old boy, and forgive them —
Sir Tun. Never! the hussy! — when I had set my heart on getting her a title.
Lord Fop. Now, Sir Tunbelly, that I am untrussed — give me leave to thank thee for the very extraordinary reception I have met with in thy damned, execrable mansion; and at the same time to assure you, that of all the bumpkins and blockheads I have had the misfortune to meek with, thou art the most obstinate and egregious, strike me ugly!
Sir Tun. What’s this! I believe you are both rogues alike.
Lord Fop. No, Sir Tunbelly, thou wilt find to thy unspeakable mortification, that I am the real Lord Foppington, who was to have disgraced myself by an alliance with a clod; and that thou hast matched thy girl to a beggarly younger brother of mine, whose title deeds might be contained in thy tobacco-box.
Sir Tun. Puppy! puppy! — I might prevent their being beggars, if I chose it; for I could give ’em as good a rent-roll as your lordship.
Lord Fop. Ay, old fellow, but you will not do that — for that would be acting like a Christian, and thou art a barbarian, stap my vitals.
Sir Tun. Udzookers! now six such words more, and I’ll forgive them directly.
Love. ‘Slife, Sir Tunbelly, you should do it, and bless yourself — Ladies, what say you?
Aman. Good Sir Tunbelly, you must consent.
Ber. Come, you have been young yourself, Sir Tunbelly.
Sir Tun. Well then, if I must, I must; but turn — turn that sneering lord out, however, and let me be revenged on somebody.
But first look whether I am a barbarian or not; there, children, I join your hands; and when I’m in a better humour, I’ll give you my blessing.
Love. Nobly done, Sir Tunbelly! and we shall see you dance at a grandson’s christening yet.
Miss Hoyd. By goles, though, I don’t understand this!
What! an’t I to be a lady after all? only plain Mrs. — What’s my husband’s name, nurse?
Nurse. Squire Fashion.
Miss Hoyd. Squire, is he? — Well, that’s better than nothing.
Lord Fop. [Aside.] Now I will put on a philosophic air, and show these people, that it is not possible to put a man of my quality out of countenance. — [Aloud.] Dear Tam, since things are fallen out, pr’ythee give me leave to wish thee joy; I do it de bon coeur, strike me dumb! You have married into a family of great politeness and uncommon elegance of manners, and your bride appears to be a lady beautiful in person, modest in her deportment, refined in her sentiments, and of nice morality, split my windpipe!
Miss Hoyd. By goles, husband, break his bones if he calls me names!
Fash. Your lordship may keep up your spirits with your grimace, if you please; I shall support mine, by Sir Tunbelly’s favour, with this lady and three thousand pounds a year.
Lord Fop. Well, adieu, Tam! — Ladies, I kiss your, hands! —
Sir Tunbelly, I shall now quit this thy den; but while I retain the use of my arms, I shall ever remember thou art a demned horrid savage; Ged demn me! [Exit.]
Sir Tun. By the mass, ’tis well he’s gone — for I should ha’ been provoked, by-and-by, to ha’ dun un a mischief. Well, if this is a lord, I think Hoyden has luck on her side, in troth.
Col. Town. She has, indeed, Sir Tunbelly. — But I hear the fiddles; his lordship, I know, has provided ’em.
Love. Oh, a dance and a bottle, Sir Tunbelly, by all means!
Sir Tun. I had forgot the company below; well — what — we must be merry, then, ha? and dance and drink, ha? Well, ‘fore
George, you shan’t say I do these things by halves. Son-in-law there looks like a hearty rogue, so we’ll have a night on’t: and which of these ladies will be the old man’s partner, ha? — Ecod, I don’t know how I came to be in so good a humour.
Ber. Well, Sir Tunbelly, my friend and I both will endeavour to keep you so: you have done a generous action, and are entitled to our attention. If you should be at a loss to divert your new guests, we will assist you to relate to them the plot of your daughter’s marriage, and his lordship’s deserved mortification; a subject which perhaps may afford no bad evening’s entertainment.
Sir Tun. Ecod, with all my heart; though I am a main bungler at a long story.
Ber. Never fear; we will assist you, if the tale is judged worth being repeated; but of this you may be assured, that while the intention is evidently to please, British auditors will ever be indulgent to the errors of the performance. [Exeunt omnes.]
THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL
A COMEDY
A PORTRAIT
First staged at the Drury Lane Theatre on 8 May 1777, The School for Scandal received an enthusiastic welcome from audiences, though it only initially ran for twenty performances in its first season. However, it returned the following season for more than forty performances and by the end of the eighteenth century it had been staged more than two hundred times. The play was well received by critics, as they celebrated the wit and morals of the work. The essayist and critic, William Hazlitt, was effusive in his praise, describing it ‘the most finished and faultless comedy we have’ and stating that, ‘It professes a faith in the natural goodness as well as habitual depravity of human nature’. Similarly impressed was the late nineteenth century poet and critic, Edmund Gosse, who commented in A History of Eighteenth Century Literature that it was ‘perhaps the best existing English comedy of intrigue’.
Sheridan’s most famous play, The School for Scandal is considered one of the greatest comedies of manners in English literature. The drama opens with Lady Sneerwell plotting to break up the romance between Charles Surface and Maria. She is going to disseminate vicious gossip in order to achieve her goal and she is aided in her scheme by Joseph Surface, who wishes to marry Maria. Sir Peter, Maria’s guardian, is an older gentleman who worries over his much younger wife’s extravagant lifestyle and Sir Oliver is a wealthy man that returns to London to determine which of his nephews, Charles or Joseph, is most worthy of inheriting his fortune.
1788 edition
Playbill advertising the fourth performance, 1777
Robert Baddeley as Moses, 1781
Miss Chester as Lady Teazle, 1824
CONTENTS
THE TEXT OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL
THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL ADDRESSED TO MRS. CREWE, WITH THE COMEDY OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
PROLOGUE WRITTEN BY MR. GARRICK
ACT I
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
ACT II
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
ACT III
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
ACT IV
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
ACT V
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE THE LAST.
EPILOGUE BY MR. COLMAN SPOKEN BY LADY TEAZLE
Drury Lane Theatre, 1809
The interior of the third and largest theatre to stand at Drury Lane, c. 1808
THE TEXT OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL
The text of THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL in this edition is taken, by Mr. Fraser Rae’s generous permission, from his SHERIDAN’S PLAYS NOW PRINTED AS HE WROTE THEM. In his Prefatory Notes (xxxvii), Mr. Rae writes: “The manuscript of it [THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL] in Sheridan’s own handwriting is preserved at Frampton Court and is now printed in this volume. This version differs in many respects from that which is generally known, and I think it is even better than that which has hitherto been read and acted. As I have endeavoured to reproduce the works of Sheridan as he wrote them, I may be told that he was a bad hand at punctuating and very bad at spelling. . . . But Sheridan’s shortcomings as a speller have been exaggerated.” Lest “Sheridan’s shortcomings” either in spelling or in punctuation should obscure the text, I have, in this edition, inserted in brackets some explanatory suggestions. It has seemed best, also, to adopt a uniform method for indicating stage-directions and abbreviations of the names of characters. There can be no gain to the reader in reproducing, for example, Sheridan’s different indications for the part of Lady Sneerwell — LADY SNEERWELL, LADY SNEER., LADY SN., and LADY S. — or his varying use of EXIT and EX., or his inconsistencies in the use of italics in the stage-directions. Since, however, Sheridan’s biographers, from Moore to Fraser Rae, have shown that no authorised or correct edition of THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL was published in Sheridan’s lifetime, there seems unusual justification for reproducing the text of the play itself with absolute fidelity to the original manuscript. Mr. Ridgway, who repeatedly sought to obtain a copy corrected by the author, according to Moore’s account (LIFE OF SHERIDAN, I. ), “was told by Mr. Sheridan, as an excuse for keeping it back, that he had been nineteen years endeavouring to satisfy himself with the style of The School for Scandal, but had not yet succeeded.” Mr. Rae (SHERIDAN, I. ) recorded his discovery of the manuscript of “two acts of The School for Scandal prepared by Sheridan for publication,” and hoped, before his death, to publish this partial revision. Numberless unauthorized changes in the play have been made for histrionic purposes, from the first undated Dublin edition to that of Mr. Augustin Daly. Current texts may usually be traced, directly or indirectly, to the two-volume Murray edition of Sheridan’s plays, in 1821. Some of the changes from the original manuscript, such as the blending of the parts of Miss Verjuice and Snake, are doubtless effective for reasons of dramatic economy, but many of the “cuts” are to be regretted from the reader’s standpoint. The student of English drama will prefer Sheridan’s own text to editorial emendations, however clever or effective for dramatic ends.
THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL ADDRESSED TO MRS. CREWE, WITH THE COMEDY OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL
Tell me, ye prim adepts in Scandal’s school,
Who rail by precept, and detract by rule,
Lives there no character, so tried, so known,
So deck’d with grace, and so unlike your own,
That even you assist her fame to raise,
Approve by envy, and by silence praise! —
Attend! — a model shall attract your view —
Daughters of calumny, I summon you!
You shall decide if this a portrait prove,
Or fond creation of the Muse and Love. —
Attend, ye virgin critics, shrewd and sage,
Ye matron censors of this childish age,
Whose peering eye and wrinkled front declare
A fixt antipathy to young and fair;
By cunning, cautious; or by nature, cold,
In maiden madness, virulently bold! —
Attend! ye skilled to coin the precious tale,
Creating proof, where innuendos fail!
Whose practised memories, cruelly exact,
Omit no circumstance, except the fact! —
Attend, all ye who boast, — or old or young, —
The living libel of a slanderous tongue!
So shall my theme as far contrasted be,
As saints by fiends, or hymns by calumny.
Come, gentle Amoret (for ‘neath that name,
In worthier verse is sung thy beauty’s fame);
Come — for but thee who seeks the Muse? and while
Celestial blushes check thy conscious smile,
With timid grace, and hesitating eye,
The perfect model, which I boast, supply: —
Vain Muse! couldst thou the humblest sketch create
Of her, or slightest charm couldst imitate —
Could thy blest strain in kindred colours trace
The faintest wonder of her form and face —
Poets would study the immortal line,
And REYNOLDS own HIS art subdued by thine;
That art, which well might added lustre give
To Nature’s best and Heaven’s superlative:
On GRANBY’S cheek might bid new glories rise,
Or point a purer beam from DEVON’S eyes!
Hard is the task to shape that beauty’s praise,
Whose judgment scorns the homage flattery pays!
But praising Amoret we cannot err,
No tongue o’ervalues Heaven, or flatters her!
Yet she, by Fate’s perverseness — she alone
Would doubt our truth, nor deem such praise her own!
Adorning Fashion, unadorn’d by dress,
Simple from taste, and not from carelessness;
Discreet in gesture, in deportment mild,
Not stiff with prudence, nor uncouthly wild:
No state has AMORET! no studied mien;
She frowns no GODDESS, and she moves no QUEEN.
The softer charm that in her manner lies
Is framed to captivate, yet not surprise;
It justly suits th’ expression of her face, —
’Tis less than dignity, and more than grace!
On her pure cheek the native hue is such,
That, form’d by Heav’n to be admired so much,
The hand divine, with a less partial care,
Might well have fix’d a fainter crimson there,
And bade the gentle inmate of her breast, —
Inshrined Modesty! — supply the rest.
But who the peril of her lips shall paint?
Strip them of smiles — still, still all words are faint!
But moving Love himself appears to teach
Their action, though denied to rule her speech;
And thou who seest her speak and dost not hear,
Mourn not her distant accents ‘scape thine ear;
Viewing those lips, thou still may’st make pretence
To judge of what she says, and swear ’tis sense:
Cloth’d with such grace, with such expression fraught,
They move in meaning, and they pause in thought!
But dost thou farther watch, with charm’d surprise,
The mild irresolution of her eyes,
Curious to mark how frequent they repose,
In brief eclipse and momentary close —
Ah! seest thou not an ambush’d Cupid there,
Too tim’rous of his charge, with jealous care
Veils and unveils those beams of heav’nly light,
Too full, too fatal else, for mortal sight?
Nor yet, such pleasing vengeance fond to meet,
In pard’ning dimples hope a safe retreat.
What though her peaceful breast should ne’er allow
Subduing frowns to arm her altered brow,
By Love, I swear, and by his gentle wiles,
More fatal still the mercy of her smiles!
Thus
lovely, thus adorn’d, possessing all
Of bright or fair that can to woman fall,
The height of vanity might well be thought
Prerogative in her, and Nature’s fault.
Yet gentle AMORET, in mind supreme
As well as charms, rejects the vainer theme;
And, half mistrustful of her beauty’s store,
She barbs with wit those darts too keen before: —
Read in all knowledge that her sex should reach,
Though GREVILLE, or the MUSE, should deign to teach,
Fond to improve, nor tim’rous to discern
How far it is a woman’s grace to learn;
In MILLAR’S dialect she would not prove
Apollo’s priestess, but Apollo’s love,
Graced by those signs which truth delights to own,
The timid blush, and mild submitted tone:
Whate’er she says, though sense appear throughout,
Displays the tender hue of female doubt;
Deck’d with that charm, how lovely wit appears,
How graceful SCIENCE, when that robe she wears!
Such too her talents, and her bent of mind,
As speak a sprightly heart by thought refined:
A taste for mirth, by contemplation school’d,
A turn for ridicule, by candour ruled,
A scorn of folly, which she tries to hide;
An awe of talent, which she owns with pride!
Peace, idle Muse! no more thy strain prolong,
But yield a theme thy warmest praises wrong;
Just to her merit, though thou canst not raise
Thy feeble verse, behold th’ acknowledged praise
Has spread conviction through the envious train,
And cast a fatal gloom o’er Scandal’s reign!
And lo! each pallid hag, with blister’d tongue,
Mutters assent to all thy zeal has sung —
Owns all the colours just — the outline true;
Thee my inspirer, and my MODEL — CREWE!
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Delphi Complete Works of Richard Brinsley Sheridan Page 25