Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE. Mrs. Hardcastle. Confusion! thieves! robbers! we are cheated, plundered, broke open, undone. Tony. What's the matter, what's the matter, mamma? I hope nothing has happened to any of the good family? Mrs. Hardcastle. We are robbed. My bureau has been broken open, the jewels taken out, and I'm undone. Tony. Oh! is that all? Ha! ha! ha! By the laws, I never saw it better acted in my life. Ecod, I thought you was ruined in earnest, ha! ha! ha! Mrs. Hardcastle. Why, boy, I'm ruined in earnest. My bureau has been broken open, and all taken away. Tony. Stick to that: ha! ha! ha! stick to that. I'll bear witness, you know; call me to bear wit ness. Mrs. Hardcastle. I tell you, Tony, by all that's precious, the jewels are gone, and I shall be ruined for ever. asked me if you were the bar maid. He mistoo you for the bar-maid, madam. Miss Hardcastle. Did he? Then as I live I' resolved to keep up the delusion. Tell me, Pin ple, how do you like my present dress? Don't you think I look something like Cherry in the Beaux Stratagem? Maid. It's the dress, madam, that every lady wears in the country, but when she visits or receives company. Miss Hardcastle. And are you sure he does not remember my face or person? Maid. Certain of it. Miss Hardcastle. I vow I thought so; for though we spoke for some time together, yet his fears were such that he never once looked up during the interview. Indeed, if he had, my bonnet would have kept him from seeing me. Maid. But what do you hope from keeping him in his mistake? Miss Hardcastle. In the first place, I shall be seen, and that is no small advantage to a girl Tony. Sure I know they are gone, and I'm to who brings her face to market. Then I shall perhaps make an acquaintance, and that's no small say so. Mrs Hardcastle. My dearest Tony, but hear victory gained over one who never addresses any me. They're gone, I say. Tony. By the laws, mamma, you make me for to laugh, ha ha! I know who took them well enough, ha! ha! ha! Mrs. Hardcastle. Was there ever such a block head, that can't tell the difference between jest and earnest? I tell you I'm not in jest, booby. but the wildest of our sex. But my chief aim is to take my gentleman off his guard, and like an invisible champion of romance, examine the giant's force before I offer to combat. Maid. But are you sure you can act your part, and disguise your voice so that he may mistake that, as he has already mistaken your person? Miss Hardcastle. Never fear me. I think I have got the true bar cant-Did your honour call? Attend the Lion there.-Pipes and tobacco for Tony. That's right, that's right: you must be in a bitter passion, and then nobody will suspect either of us. I'll bear witness that they are gone. Mrs. Hardcastle. Was there ever such a cross-the Angel.-The Lamb has been outrageous this grained brute, that won't hear me? Can you bear half hour. witness that you're no better than a fool? Was Maid. It will do, madam. But he's here. ever poor woman so beset with fools on one hand, and thieves on the other? Tony. I can bear witness to that. Enter MARLOW. [Exit Maid. Marlow. What a bawling in every part of the Mrs. Hardcastle. Bear witness again, you blockhead you, and I'll turn you out of the room house. I have scarce a moment's repose. If I go directly. My poor niece, what will become of her! to the best room, there I find my host and his Do you laugh, you unfeeling brute, as if you enjoyed my distress? Tony. I can bear witness to that. [He runs off, she follows him. Enter MISS HARDCASTLE and MAID. Miss Hardcastle. What an unaccountable creature is that brother of mine, to send them to the house as an inn, ha! ha! I don't wonder at his impudence. Maid. But what is more, madam, the young gentleman, as you passed by in your present dress, story; if I fly to the gallery, there we have my Marlow [musing]. As for Miss Hardcastle, [She still places herself before him, he turning away. Marlow. No, child. [Musing.] Besides, from the glimpse I had of her, I think she squints. Miss Hardcastle. I'm sure, sir, I heard the bell ring. Marlow. No, no. [Musing.] I have pleased my ha! ha! A mere awkward squinting thing; no, father, however, by coming down, and I'll to-mor- no. I find you don't know me. I laughed and row please myself by returning. [Taking out his tablets, and perusing. Miss Hardcastle. Perhaps the other gentleman called, sir? Marlow. I tell you no. rallied her a little; but I was unwilling to be too severe. No, I could not be too severe, curse me! Miss Hardcastle. O then, sir, you are a favourite, I find, among the ladies? Marlow. Yes, my dear, a great favourite. And Miss Hardcastle. I should be glad to know, sir. yet, hang me, I don't see what they find in me to We have such a parcel of servants! follow. At the ladies' club in town I'm called Marlow. No, no, I tell you. [Looks full in her their agreeable Rattle. Rattle, child, is not my face.] Yes, child, I think I did call. I wanted real name, but one I'm known by. My name is I wanted-1 vow, child, you are vastly handsome. Solomons-Mr. Solomons, my dear, at your serMiss Hardcastle. O la, sir, you'll make one vice. ashamed. Marlow. Never saw a more sprightly malicious eye. Yes, yes, my dear, I did call. Have you got any of your-a-what d'ye call it in the house? Miss Hardcastle. No, sir; we have been out of that these ten days. [Offering to salute her. Miss Hardcastle. Hold, sir; you are introducing me to your club, not to yourself. And you'ro so great a favourite there, you say? Marlow. Yes, my dear. There's Mrs. Mantrap, Lady Betty Blackleg, the Countess of Sligo, Mrs. Langhorns, old Miss Biddy Buckskin, and your humble servant, keep up the spirit of the place. Miss Hardcastle. Then it is a very merry place, I suppose? Marlow. Yes, as merry as cards, supper, wine, and old women can make us. Marlow. One may call in this house, I find to very little purpose. Suppose I should call for a taste, just by way of trial, of the nectar of your lips; perhaps I might be disappointed in that too. Miss Hardcastle. Nectar! nectar! That's a liquor there's no call for in these parts. French, I suppose. We keep no French wines here, sir. Marlow. Of true English growth, I assure you. Miss Hardcastle. Then its odd I should not know it. We brew all sorts of wines in this house, child? and I have lived here these eighteen years. Marlow. Eighteen years! Why one would think, child, you kept the bar before you was born. How old are you? Miss Hardcastle. O! sir, I must not tell my age. They say women and music should never be dated. Marlow. To guess at this distance you can't be much above forty. [Approaching.] Yet nearer I don't think so much. [Approaching.] By coming close to some women, they look younger still; but when we come very close indeed. [Attempting to kiss her. Miss Hardca tle. Pray, sir, keep your distance. One would think you wanted to know one's age as they do horses, by mark of mouth, Marlow. I protest, child, you use me extremely ill. If you keep me at this distance, how is it possible you and I can ever be acquainted? Miss Hardcastle. And their agreeable Rattle, ha! ha! ha! Marlow [aside]. Egad! I don't quite like this chit. She looks knowing, methinks. You laugh, Miss Hardcastle. I can't but laugh to think what time they all have for minding their work or their family. Marlow [aside]. All's well; she don't laugh at me. [To her.] Do you ever work child? Miss Hardcastle. Ay, sure. There's not a screen or a quilt in the whole house but what can bear witness to that. Marlow. Odso! then you must show me your embroidery. I embroider and draw patterns myself a little. If you want a judge of your work, you must apply to me. [Seizing her hand. but the colours do not You shall see all in the [Struggling. Miss Hardcastle. Ay, look well by candle-light. morning. Marlow. And why not now, my angel? Such beauty fires beyond the power of resistance.Pshaw! the father here? My old luck: I never nicked seven that I did not throw ames ace three [Exit Marlow. Enter HARDCASTLE, who stands in surprise. Miss Hardcastle. And who wants to be ac- times following. quainted with you? I want no such acquaintance, not I I'm sure you did not treat Miss Hardcastle, that was here awhile ago, in this obstropalous manner. I'll warrant me, before her you looked dashed, and kept bowing to the ground, and talked for all the world as if you were before a Justice of Peace. Marlow (aside). Egad, she has hit it, sure enough! [To her.] In awe of her, child? Ha! Hardcastle. So, madam. So I find this is your modest lover. This is your humble admirer, that kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and only adored at humble distance. Kate, Kate, art thou not ashamed to deceive your father so? Miss Hardcastle. Never trust me, dear papa, but he's still the modest man I first took him for; the mean time I'll go amuse my aunt with the old you'll be convinced of it as well as I. pretence of a violent passion for my cousin. Hardcastle. By the hand of my body I believe his impudence is infectious! Didn't I see him seize your hand? Didn't I see him haul you about like a milk-maid? And now you talk of his respect and his modesty, forsooth! Miss Hardcastle. But if I shortly convince you of his modesty, that he has only the faults that will pass off with time, and the virtues that will improve with age, I hope you'll forgive him. [Exit. Enter MARLOW, followed by a Servant, Marlow. I wonder what Hastings could mean by sending me so valuable a thing as a casket to keep for him, when he knows the only place } have is the seat of a post-coach at an inn-door. Have you deposited the casket with the landlady, as I ordered you? Have you put it into her own hands? Servant. Yes, your honour. Hardcastle. The girl would actually make one run mad! I tell you I'll not be convinced. I am convinced. He has scarce been three hours in the house, and he has already encroached on all my prerogatives. You may like his impudence, and call it modesty; but my son-in-law, madam, must have very different qualifications. Miss Hardcastle. Sir, I ask but this night to count of myself. convince you. Hardcastle. You shall not have half the time, for I have thoughts of turning him out this very Hastings. Then, my Constance, all must be completed before he arrives. He knows me; and, should he find me here, would discover my name, and perhaps my designs, to the rest of the family. Miss Neville. The jewels, I hope, are safe? Hastings. Yes, yes. I have sent them to Marlow, who keeps the keys of our baggage. In the mean time I'll go to prepare matters for our elopement. I have had the 'Squire's promise of a fresh pair of horses; and if I should not see him again, will write him further directions. [Exit. Miss Neville. Well! success attend you. In Marlow. She said she'd keep it safe, did she? Servant. Yes, she said she'd keep it safe enough; she asked me how I came by it? and she said she had a great mind to make me give an ac[Exit Servant. Marlow. Ha! ha! ha! They're safe, however. What an unaccountable set of beings have we got amongst! This little bar-maid 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. Enter HASTINGS. Hastings. Bless me! I quite forgot to tell her that I intended to prepare at the bottom of the garden. Marlow here, and in spirits too! Marlow. Give me joy, George! Crown me, shadow me with laurels! Well, George, after all, we modest fellows don't want for success among the women. Hastings. Some women, you mean. But what success has your honour's modesty been crowned with now, that it grows so insolent upon us? Marlow. Didn't you see the tempting, brisk, lovely, little thing, that runs about the house with a bunch of keys to its girdle? Hastings. Well, and what then? Marlow. She's mine, you rogue you. Such fire, such motion, such eyes, such lips-but, egad! she would not let me kiss them though. Hastings. But are you so sure, so very sure of her? Marlow. Why, man, she talked of showing me her work above stairs, and I am to approve the pattern. Hastings. But how can you, Charles, go about to rob a woman of her honour? Marlow. Pshaw! pshaw! We all know the honour of the bar-maid of an inn. I don't intend to rob her, take my word for it; there's nothing in this house I shan't honestly pay for. Hastings. I believe the girl has virtue. Marlow. And if she has, I should be the last man in the world that would attempt to corrupt it. Hastings. You have taken care, I hope, of the that of your servants is insufferable. Their mancasket I sent you to lock up? It's in safety? ner of drinking is setting a very bad example in this house, I assure you. the Marlow. Yes, yes. It's safe enough. I have taken care of it. But how could you think the Marlow. I protest, my very good sir, that is no seat of a post-coach at an inn-door a place of safe- fault of mine. If they don't drink as they ought, ty? Ah! numskull! I have taken better precau- they are to blame. I ordered them not to spare tions for you than you did for yourself1 cellar. I did, I assure you. [To the side-scene.] Here, let one of my servants come up. [To him.] have My positive directions were, that as I did not drink Hastings. What? Marlow. I have sent it to the landlady to keep myself, they should make up for my deficiencies below. for you. Hastings. To the landlady! Marlow. The landlady. Hastings. You did? Hardcastle. Then they had your orders for what they do! I'm satisfied! Marlow. They had, I assure you. You shall Marlow. I did. She's to be answerable for its hear from one of themselves. forthcoming, you know. Hastings. Yes, she'll bring it forth with a wit ness. Marlow. Wasn't I right? I believe you'll allow that I acted prudently upon this occasion. Hastings [aside]. He must not see my uneasi ness. Marlow. You seem a little disconcerted though, methinks. Sure nothing has happened? Enter SERVANT, drunk. Marlow. You, Jeremy! Come forward, sirrah! What were my orders? Were you not told to drink freely, and call for what you thought fit, for the good of the house? Hardcastle [uside]. I begin to lose my patience. Jeremy. Please your honour, liberty and Fleetstreet for ever! Though I'm but a servant, I'm as I'll drink for no man before Hastings. No, nothing. Never was in better good as another man. spirits in all my life. And so you left it with the supper, sir, damme! Good liquor will sit upon a landlady, who, no doubt, very readily undertook good supper, but a good supper will not sit upon— [hickuping]-upon my conscience, sir. the charge. Marlow. You sce, my old friend, the fellow is as drunk as he can possibly be. I don't know what you'd have more, unless you'd have the poor devil soused in a beer-barrel. Marlow. Rather too readily. For she not only kept the casket, but, through her great precaution, was going to keep the messenger too. Ha! ha! ha! Hastings. He! he! he! They're safe, however. Hardcastle. Zounds! he'll drive me distracted, Marlow. As a guinea in a miser's purse. Hastings [aside]. So now all hopes of fortune if I contain myself any longer. Mr. Marlow. Sir; are at an end, and we must set off without it. I have submitted to your insolence for more than [To him.] Well, Charles, I'll leave you to your four hours, and I see no likelihood of its coming to meditations on the pretty bar-maid, and, he! he! an end. I'm now resolved to be master here, sir, and he! may you be as successful for yourself as you I desire that you and your drunken pack may leave my house directly. (Exit. have been for me! Marlow. Thank ye, George: I ask no more Ha! ha! ha! Enter HARDCASTLE. Hardcastle. I m longer know my own house. Le turned all topsy-turvy. His servants have got Grunk already. I bear it no longer; and yet, from my respect for his father, I'll be calm. [To him.] Mr. Martow, your servant. I'm your very humble servant. [Bowing low. Marlow. Sir, your humble servant. [Aside.] What's to be the wonder now? Hardcastle. I believe, sir, you must be sensible, sir, that no man alive ought to be more welcome than your father's son, sir. I hope you think so? Marlow. I do from my soul, sir. I don't want much entreaty. I generally make my father's son welcome wherever he goes. Hardcastle. I believe you do, from my soul, sir. But though I say nothing to your own conduct, Marlov. Leave your house!Sure you jest, my good friend! What? when I'm doing what I can to please you. Hardcastle. I tell you, sir, you don't please me; so I desire you'll leave my house. Marlow. Sure you can not be serious? at this time o' night, and such a night? You only mean to banter me. Hardcastle. I tell you, sir, I'm serious! and now that my passions are roused, I say this house is mine, sir; this house is mine, and I command you to leave it directly. Marlow. Ha! ha! ha! A puddle in a storm. I shan't stir a step, I assure you. [In a serious tone.] This your house, fellow! It's my house. This is my house. Mine, while I choose to stay. What right have vou to bid me leave this house, sir? I never met with such impudence, curse me; never in my whole life before. Hardcastle. Nor I, confound me if ever I did. To mis To come to my house, to call for what he likes, to| Marlow. So then, all's out, and I have beeti turn me out of my own chair, to insult the family, damnably imposed on. O confound my stupid to order his servants to get drunk, and then to tell head, I shall be laughed at over the whole town. I me, "This house is mine, sir." By all that's im- shall be stuck up in caricature in all the printpudent it makes me laugh. Ha! ha! ha! Pray, shops. The Duilissimo-Maccaroni. Sir, [bantering] as you take the house, what think take this house of all others for an inn, and my you of taking the rest of the furniture? There's a father's old friend for an innkeeper! What a swagpair of silver candlesticks, and there's a fire-screen, gering puppy must he take me for? What a silly and here's a pair of brazen-nosed bellows; perhaps puppy do I find myself. There, again, may I be you may take a fancy to them. hang'd, my dear, but I mistook you for the bar Marlow. Bring me your bill, sir; bring me your maid. bill, and let's have no more words about it. Hardcastle. There are a set of prints, too. What think you of the Rake's Progress for your own apartment? Marlow. Bring me your bill, I say; and I'll leave you and your infernal house directly. Hardcastle. Then there's a mahogany table that you may see your face in. Marlow. My bill, I say. Hardcastle. I had forgot the great chair for your own particular slumbers, after a hearty meal. Marlow. Zounds! bring me my bill, I say, and let's hear no more on't. Miss Hardcastle. Dear me! dear me! 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 1 was in for a list of blunders, and could not help making you a subscriber. My stupidity saw every thing 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, Hardcastle. Young man, young man, from your and said so many civil things to me. I'm sure I father's letter to me, I was taught to expect a well-should be sorry [pretending to cry] if he left the bred modest man as a visiter here, but now I find him no better than a coxcomb and a bully; but he will be down here presently, and shall hear more of it. [Exit. Marlow. How's this! Sure I have not mistaken the house. Every thing looks like an inn; the servants cry coming; the attendance is awkward; the bar maid too to attend us. But she's here, and will further inform me. Whither so fast, child. A word with you. Enter MISS HARDCASTLE. Miss Hardcastle. Let it be short, then. I'm in a hurry. [aside.] I believe he begins to find out his mistake. But it's too soon quite to undeceive him. family upon my account. I'm sure I should be sorry people said any thing 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 connexion 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 Marlow. Pray, child, answer me one question. Miss Hardcastle. Yes, sir; a poor relation appointed to keep the keys, and to see that the guests want nothing in my power to give them. Marlow. That is, you act as bar-maid of the inn. Miss Hardcastle. Inn! O la—what brought that in your head? One of the best families in the county keep an inn-Ha!ha! ha! old Mr. Hardcastle's house an inn! 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 par tiality in my favour, my dear, touches me most sen. sibly; and were I to live for myself alone, I could Marlow. Mr. Hardcastle's house. Is this Mr. easily fix my choice. But I owe too much to the Hardcastle's house, child? opinion of the world, too much to the authority of Miss Hardcastle. Ay, sure. Whose else should a father; so that I can scarcely speak it-it affects it be? me. Farewell.. [Exil. |