Mrs. H. Do you insult me, monster? I'll teach you vex your mother, I will. Here, thieves, thieves, thieves, thieves! [He runs off, she follows him, L.

to

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE and MAID, R.

Miss H. 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, asked me if you were the bar-maid? He mistook you for a bar-maid, madam.

Miss H. Did he? keep up the delusion.

Then, as I live, I'm resolved to Tell me, Dolly, 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 H. And are you sure he does not remember my face or person?

Maid. Certain of it.

Miss H. 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.

Maid. But what do you hope for from keeping him in his mistake?

Miss H. In the first place, I shall be seen, and that is no small advantage to a girl who brings her face to market. Then I shall perhaps make an acquaintance, and that's no small victory gained over one, who never addresses any but the vilest of her sex. But my chief aim is to take my gentleman off his guard, and, like an invincible 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 H. Never fear me. I think I have got the true bar cant-Did your honor call?—Attend the Lion, there -Pipes and tobacco for the Angel-The Lamb has been outrageous this half hour.

Maid. It will do, madam. But he's here. [Exit, R.

Enter MARLOW, L.

Mar. What a bawling in every part of the house! I repose. If I go to the best room, If I fly to the gallery, there we have my hostess with her courtesy down to the ground. I have at last got a moment to myself, and now for recollection. [Walks and muses. Miss H. Did you call, sir? did your honor call? Mar. [Musing.] As for Miss Hardcastle, she's too grave and sentimental for me.

have scarce a moment's
there I find my host and his story.

Miss H. Did your honor call?

[She still places herself before him, he turning away. Mar. No, child. [Musing.] Besides, from the glimpse I had of her, I think she squints.

Miss H. I am sure, sir, I heard the bell ring.

Mar. No, no. [Musing.] I have pleased my father, however, by coming down, and I'll to-morrow please myself by returning. [Taking out his tablets and perusing. Miss H. Perhaps the other gentleman called, sir?

Mar. No, no, I tell you. [Looks full in her face.] Yes, child, I think I did call. I wanted-I wanted-I vow, child, you are vastly handsome.

Miss H. Oh, la, sir, you'll make one ashamed.
Mar. Never saw a more sprightly malicious

eye.-Ye

es,

yes, my dear, I did call. Have you got any of your-a

-what d'ye call it, in the house?

Miss H. No, sir, we have been out of that these ten days.

Mar. 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 H. Nectar! nectar! that's a liquor there's no call for in these parts. French, I suppose. We keep no

French wines here, sir.

Mar. Of true English growth, I assure you.

Miss H. Then it's odd I should not know it. We brew all sorts of wines in this house, and I have lived here these eighteen years.

Mar. Eighteen years! Why one would think, child, you kept the bar before you were born. How old are you?

Miss H. Oh, sir, I must not tell my age. They say women and music should never be dated.

Mar. 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 H. Pray, sir, keep your distance. One would think you wanted to know one's age as they do horses, by mark of mouth.

Mar. I protest, child, you use me extremely ill. If you keep me at this distance, how is it possible you and I can be ever acquainted?

Miss H. And who wants to be acquainted with you? I want no such acquaintance, not I. I'm sure you did not treat Miss Hardcastle 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 a justice of the peace.

Mar. [Aside.] Egad! she has hit it sure enough. [To Miss Hardcastle.] In awe of her, child? Ha! ha! ha! A mere awkward, squinting thing; no, no, I find you don't know me. I laughed, and rallied her a little; but I was unwilling to be too severe. No, I could not be too severe, curse me!

Miss H. Oh! then, sir, you are a favorite, I find, among the ladies ?

Mar. Yes, my dear, a great favorite; and yet, hang me, I don't see what they find in me to follow. At the ladies' club in town, I am called their agreeable Rattle. Rattle, child, is not my real name, but one I'm known by. My name is Jenkins. Mr. Jenkins, my dear, at your service.

[Offering to salute her. Miss H. Hold, sir; you were introducing me to your club not to yourself. And you're so great a favorite there you say

?

Mar. Yes, my dear. There's Mrs. Mantrap, Lady Betty Blacklog, the Countess of Cog, Mrs. Longhorns, old Miss Biddy Buckskin, and your humble servant, keep up the spirit of the place.

Miss H. Then it's a very merry place, I suppose?

1

Mar. Yes, as merry as cards, suppers, wine and old

women can make us.

Miss H. And their agreeable Rattle, ha! ha! ha! Mar. [Aside.] Egad! I don't quite like this chit. She looks knowing, methinks. You laugh, child?

Miss H. I can't but laugh, to think what time they all have for minding their work or their family.

Mar. [Aside All's well, she don't laugh at me. [To Miss Hardcastle.] Do you ever work, child?

Miss H. Ay, sure. There's not a screen or a quilt in

the whole house but what can bear witness to that.

Mar. Odso! Then you must show me your embroidery. I embroider and draw patterns myself a little. f you want a judge of your work, you must apply to me. [Seizing her hand.

If

Miss. H. Ay, but the colors don't look well by candlelight. You shall see all in the morning. [Struggling. Mar. And why not now, my angel?-Pshaw! the landlord here! My good luck! [Exit Marlow.

Enter HARDCASTLE, R., who stands in surprise. Hard. 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 H. Never trust me, dear papa, but he's still the modest man I first took him for; you'll be convinced of it as well as I.

Hard. 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 milkmaid? and now you talk of his respect and his modesty, forsooth!

Miss H. 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.

Hard. I tell you I'll not be convinced. I am convinced. He has scarcely been three hours in the house, and he has already encroached on all my prerogatives.

Miss H. Sir, I ask but this night to convince you.

Hard. You shall not have half the time, for I have thoughts of turning him out this very hour.

Miss H. Give me that hour then, and I hope to satisfy you.

Hard. Well, an hour let it be then. But I'll have no trifling with your father. All fair and open, do you mind

me?

Miss H. I hope, sir, you have ever found, that I considered your commands as my pride; for your kindness is such that my duty as yet has been inclination.

[Exeunt, Hardcastle, R., Miss Hardcastle, L.

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV.

SCENE I-A Room in Hardcastle's House.

Enter MARLOW, followed by a SERVANT, R.

Mar. 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 I 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?

Ser. Yes, your honor.

Mar. She said she'd keep it safe, did she?

Ser. 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 account of myself.

What an

[Exit Servant. Mar. Ha ha! ha! They're safe, however. unaccountable set of beings have we got amongst! 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.

Enter HASTINGs, r.

Hast. Marlow here, and in spirits, too!

Mar. Give me joy, George! Crown me, shadow me