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By Oliver Goldsmith
To come to my house, to call for what he likes, to turn me out of my own chair, to insult the family, to order his servants to get drunk, and then to tell me, "This house is mine, sir". By all that's impudent it makes me laugh.
Hardcastle, a man of substance, looks forward to acquainting his daughter with his old pal's son
with a view to marriage. But thanks to playboy Lumpkin, he's mistaken by his prospective son-in-law Marlow for an innkeeper, and his daughter for the local barmaid.
The good news is, while Marlow can barely speak to a woman of quality, he's a charmer with those of a different stamp. And so, as Hardcastle's indignation intensifies Miss Hardcastle's appreciation for her misguided suitor soars.
Misdemeanours multiply, love blossoms, mayhem ensues.
This little barmaid though runs in my head most strangely, and drives out the absurdities of all the rest of the family. She's mine, she must be mine, or I'm greatly mistaken.
One of the great, generous-hearted and ingenious comedies of the English language, Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer offers a celebration of chaos, courtship and the dysfunctional family.