Hard, You, Diggory, whom I have taken from the barn, are to make a shew at the side table; and you, Roger, whom I have advanced from the plough, are to place yourself behind my chair. But you're not to stand so, with your hands in your pockets. Take your hands from your pockets, Roger; and from your head, you blockhead you! They're a little too stiff, indeed; but that's no great matter.

Hard. What! will no body move?
1st Ser. I'm not to leave this place.
2d Ser. I'm sure its no pleace of mine,
3d Ser. Nor mine, for sartain.

Dig. Wauns, and I'm sure it canna be mine. Hard. You numskulls! and so, while, like your betters, you are quarrelling for places, the guests must be starved? O you dunces! I find I must begin all over again. But don't I hear a coach drive into the yard? To your posts, you blockheads! I'll go, in the mean time, and give my old friend's son a hearty welcome at the gate. [Exit HARDCASTLE.

Dig. By the elevens, my place is gone quite out of my head!

Roger. I know that my place is to be every

where.

1st Ser. Where the devil is mine?

2d Ser. My pleace is to be no where at all; and so Ize go about my business.

[Exeunt Servants, running about as if frighted, different ways.

Hard. You must not be so talkative, Diggory. You must be all attention to the guests. You must hear us talk, and not think of talking; you must see us drink, and not think of drinking; you must see us eat, and not think of eating!

Dig. By the laws, your worship, that's par fectly unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forwards, ecod, he's always for wishing for a mouthful himself!

Hard. Blockhead! is not a belly-full in the kitchen as good as a belly-full in the parlour? stay your stomach with that reflection!

Dig. Ecod, I thank your worship; I'll make a shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry!

Hard. Diggory, you are too talkative. Then, if I happen to say a good thing, or tell a good story at table, you must not all burst out a laughing, as if you made part of the company.

Dig. Then, ecod, your worship must not tell the story of Ould Grouse in the gun-room: I can't help laughing at that-he, he, he!--for the soul of me! We have laughed at that these twenty years-ha, ha, ha!

Hard. Ha, ha, ha! The story is a good one. Well, honest Diggory, you may laugh at thatbut still remember to be attentive. Suppose one of the company should call for a glass of wine, how will you behave? A glass of wine, sir, if you please. [To Diggory.]-Eh, why don't you move? Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never have courage till I see the eatables and drinkables brought upo' the table, and then I'm as bauld as a lion,

and HASTINGS.

Ser. Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome! This way.

Hast. After the disappointments of the day, welcome once more, Charles, to the comforts of a clean room and a good fire. Upon my word, a very well looking house! antique, but creditable.

Mar. The usual fate of a large mansion. Having first ruined the master by good housekeeping, it at last comes to levy contributions as an inn.

Hast. As you say, we passengers are to be taxed to pay all these fineries. I have often seen a good sideboard, or a marble chimney-piece, though not actually put in the bill, enflame the reckoning confoundedly.

Mar. Travellers, George, must pay in all places. The only difference is, that in good inns, you pay dearly for luxuries; in bad inns, you are fleeced and starved.

Hast. You have lived pretty much among them. In truth, I have been often surprised, that you, who have seen so much of the world, with your natural good sense, and your many opportunities, could never yet acquire a requisite share of assu

rance.

Mar. The Englishman's malady. But tell me, George, where could I have learned that assurance you talk of? My life has been chiefly spent in a college, or an inn, in seclusion from that lovely part of the creation that chiefly teach men confidence. I don't know that I was ever familiarly acquainted with a single modest woman

ker-

Mar. Why, George, I can't say fine things to them. They freeze, they petrify me. They may talk of a comet, or a burning mountain, or some such bagatelle. But, to me, a modest woman, drest out in all her finery, is the most tremendous object of the whole creation!

Hust. Ha, ha, ha! At this rate, man, how can you ever expect to marry?

Mar. Happy man! You have talents and art to captivate any woman. I'm doomed to adore the sex, and yet to converse with the only part of it I despise. This stammer in my address, and this awkward prepossessing visage of mine, can never permit me to soar above the reach of a milliner's 'prentice, or one of the dutchesses of Drury-lane. Pshaw! this fellow here to interrupt us.

Enter HARDCASTLE.

Mar. Never, unless, as among kings and princes, my bride were to be courted by proxy. indeed, like an eastern bridegroom, one were to be introduced to a wife he never saw before, it might be endured. But to go through all the terrors of a formal courtship, together with the episode of aunts, grand-mothers and cousins, and at last to blurt out the broad staring-question, of, madan, will you marry me? No, no; that's a strain much above me, I assure you.

Hast. I pity you. But how do you intend behaving to the lady you are come down to visit at the request of your father?

Mar. As I behave to all other ladies. Bow very low. Answer yes, or no, to all her demands-But, for the rest, I don't think I shall venture to look in her face, till I see my father's again.

Hast. I'm surprised, that one, who is so warm a friend, can be so cool a lover.

Mar. To be explicit, my dear Hastings, my chief inducement down was to be instrumental in forwarding your happiness, not my own. Miss Neville loves you; the family don't know you; as my friend, you are sure of a reception, and let honour do the rest,

Hast. My dear Marlow! But I'll suppress the emotion. Were I a wretch, meanly seeking to carry off a fortune, you should be the last man in the world I would apply to for assistance. But Miss Neville's person is all I ask, and that is mine, both from her deceased father's consent, and her own inclination.

VOL. II.

Mar. Yet, George, if we open the campaign too fiercely at first, we may want am'nunition before it is over. I think to reserve the embroidery to secure a retreat.

Hard. Your talking of a retreat, Mr Marlow, puts me in mind of the duke of Marlborough, when he went to besiege Denain. He first summoned the garrison

Mar. Don't you think the ventre dor waistcoat will do with the plain brown?

Hard. He first summoned the garrison, which might consist of about five thousand men

Hast. I think not: Brown and yellow mix but very poorly.

Hard. I say, gentlemen, as I was telling you, he summoned the garrison, which might consist of about five thousand men

Mar. The girls like finery.

Hard. Which might consist of about five thousand men, well appointed with stores, ammunition, and other implements of war. Now, says the duke of Marlborough to George Brooks, that stood next to him—You must have heard of George Brooks?—I'll pawn my dukedom, says he, but I take that garrison without spilling a drop of blood. So

Mar. What, my good friend, if you give 1- a glass of punch in the mean time? it would help us to carry on the siege with vigour. 6 D

Hard. Punch, sir! [Aside.] This is the most unaccountable kind of modesty I ever met with! Mar. Yes, sir, punch. A glass of warm punch, after our journey, will be comfortable. This is Liberty-hall, you know.

Hard. Here's cup, sir.

Mar. [Aside.] So this fellow, in his Libertyhall, will only let us have just what he pleases.

Hard. [Taking the cup.] I hope you'll find it to your mind. I have prepared it with my own hands, and I believe you'll own the ingredients are tolerable. Will you be so good as to pledge me, sir? Here, Mr Marlow, here is to our better acquaintance! [Drinks. Mar. [Aside.] A very impudent fellow this! but he's a character, and I'll humour him a little. Sir, my service to you. [Drinks. Hast. [Aside.] I see this fellow wants to give us his company, and forgets that he's an innkeeper, before he has learned to be a gentle

man.

Mar. From the excellence of your cup, my old friend, I suppose you have a good deal of business in this part of the country? Warm work, now and then, at elections, I suppose?

Hard. No, sir, I have long given that work over. Since our betters have hit upon the expedient of electing each other, there's no business for us that sell ale.

Hast. So, then, you have no turn for politics, I find?

Hard. Not in the least. There was a time, indeed, I fretted myself about the mistakes of government, like other people; but finding myself every day grow more angry, and the government growing no better, I left it to mend itself. Since that, I no more trouble my head about Heyder Alley, or Ally Cawn, than about Ally Croaker. Sir, my service to you. [Drinks. Hast. So that, with eating above stairs, and drinking below, with receiving your friends within, and amusing them without, you lead a good pleasant bustling life of it.

Hard. I do stir about a good deal, that's cer tain. Half the differences of the parish are adjusted in this very parlour.

Mar. [After drinking.] And you have an argument in your cup, old gentleman, better than any in Westminster-hall.

Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that, and a little philosophy.

Mar. [Aside.] Well, this is the first time I ever heard of an innkeeper's philosophy.

Hust. So then, like an experienced general, you attack them on every quarter. If you find their reason manageable, you attack it with your philosophy; if you find they have no reason, you attack them with this. Here's your health, my philosopher! [Drinks.

gene, when he fought the Turks at the battle or Belgrade. You shall hear.

Mar. Instead of the battle of Belgrade, I think it's almost time to talk about supper. What has your philosophy got in the house for supper?

Hard. For supper, sir!-[Aside.] Was ever such a request to a man in his own house!

Mar. Yes, sir, supper, sir; I begin to feel an appetite. I shall make devilish work to-night in the larder, I promise you.

Hard. [Aside.] Such a brazen dog sure never my eyes beheld [To him.] Why, really, sir, as for supper, I can't well tell. My Dorothy and the cook-maid settle these things between them, I leave these kind of things entirely to them. Mar. You do, do you?

Hard. Entirely. By the by, I believe they are in actual consultation upon what's for supper this moment in the kitchen.

Mar. Then I beg they'll admit me as one of their privy council. It's a way I have got. When I travel, I always chuse to regulate my own supper. Let the cook be called. No offence, I hope,

sir?

Hard. O no, sir; none in the least; yet I don't know how, our Bridget, the cook-maid, is not very communicative upon these occasions. Should we send for her, she might scold us all out of the house.

Hast. Let's see the list of the larder, then. I ask it as a favour. I always match my appetite to my bill of fare.

Mar. [To HARDCASTLE, who looks at them with surprise.] Sir, he's very right, and it's my way, too.

Hard. Sir, you have a right to command here. Here, Roger, bring us the bill of fare for tonight's supper. I believe it's drawn out Your manner, Mr Hastings, puts me in mind of my uncle, colonel Wallop. It was a saying of his, that no man was sure of his supper till he had eaten it.

Hast: [Aside.] All upon the high ropes! His uncle a colonel! we shall soon hear of his mo ther being a justice of peace. But let's hear the bill of fare.

Mar. [Perusing.] What's here? For the first course; for the second course; for the dessert. The devil, sir! do you think we have brought down the whole joiners' company, or the corporation of Bedford, to eat up such a supper? Two or three little things, clean and comfortable, will do.

Hast. But, let's hear it.

Mar. [Reading] For the first course at the top, a pig and pruin sauce.

Hast. Damn your pig, I say!

Mar. And damn your prum sauce, say I! Hard. And yet, gentlemen, to men that are

Hast. Let your brains be knocked out, my good sir; I don't like them.

Mar. Or you may clap them on a plate by themselves. I do.

hopeful cousin's tricks, of whom you have heard me talk so often; ha, ha, ha, ha!

Hast. He whom your aunt intends for you? He, of whom I have such just apprehensions ?

men ?

Mar. Item, a pork pie, a boiled rabbit and sausages, a florentine, a shaking pudding, and a dish of tiff-taff-taffety cream!

Hast. Confound your made dishes! I shall be as much at a loss in this house as at a green and yellow dinner at the French ambassador's table. I'm for plain eating.

Hard. I'm sorry, gentlemen, that I have nothing you like; but if there be any thing you have a particular fancy to

Mar. Why, really, sir, your bill of fare is so exquisite, that any one part of it is full as good as another. Send us what you please. So much for supper. And now to see that our beds are aired, and properly taken care of.

Hard. I entreat you'll leave all that to me. You shall not stir a step.

Mar. Leave that to you! I protest, sir, you must excuse me; I always look to these things myself.

Hard. I must insist, sir, you'll make yourself easy on that head.

Mar. You see I'm resolved on it.-[Aside.] A very troublesome fellow this, as ever I met with. Hard. Well, sir, I'm resolved, at least, to attend you.-[Aside.] This may be modern modesty, but I never saw any thing look so like oldfashioned impudence.

Hast. Thou dear dissembler! You must know, my Constance, I have just seized this happy opportunity of my friend's visit here, to get admittance into the family. The horses that carried us down are now fatigued with the journey, but they'll soon be refreshed; and then, if my dearest girl will trust in her faithful Hastings, we shall soon be landed in France, where, even among slaves, the laws of marriage are respected.

Miss Nev. I have often told you, that, though ready to obey you, I yet should leave my little fortune behind with reluctance. The greatest part of it was left me by my uncle, the India director, and chiefly consists in jewels. I have been for some time persuading my aunt to let me wear them. I fancy I'm very near succeeding. The instant they are put into my possession you shall find me ready to make them and myself yours.

Hast. Perish the baubles! Your person is all I desire. In the mean time, my friend Marlow must not be let into his mistake. I know the strange reserve of his temper is such, that, if abruptly informed of it, he would instantly quit the house before our plan was ripe for execution.

Miss Nev. But how shall we keep him in the deception! Miss Hardcastle is just returned from walking; what if we still continue to de-This, this way[ They confer.

Enter MISS NEVILLE,

Enter MARLOW.

Mar. The assiduities of these good people tease me beyond bearing! My host seems to think it ill manners to leave me alone, and so he

Hast. Rather let me ask the same question, as I could never have hoped to meet my dearest Constance at an inn.

Miss Nev. An inn! sure you mistake! my aunt, my guardian, lives here. What could induce you to think this house an inn?

Hast. My friend, Mr Marlow, with whom I came down, and I, have been sent here, as to an inn, I assure you. A young fellow, whom we accidentally met at a house hard by, directed us

hither.

Miss Neo. Certainly it must be one of my

on my back. They talk of coming to sup with us, too; and then, I suppose, we are to run the gauntiet through all the rest of the family-What have we got here?

Hast. My dear Charles! Let me congratulate you-The most fortunate accident!-Who do you think is just alighted?

Mar. Cannot guess.

Hast. Our mistresses, boy; Miss Hardcastle, and Miss Neville! Give me leave to introduce Miss Constance Neville to your acquaintance. Happening to dine in the neighbourhood, they called, on their return, to take fresh horses here.Miss Hardcastle has just stepped into the next

Mar. [Aside.] I have just been mortified enough of all conscience, and here comes something to complete my embarrassment.

Hast. Well! but was not it the most fortunate thing in the world?

Mar. Oh! yes. ful encounter!

you know, are in

Very fortunate-a most joy-But our dresses, George, disorder- -What if we

Mar. [To him.] Hem! Stand by me, then, and when I'm down, throw in a word or two to set me up again.

Miss Hard. An observer, like you, upon life, were, I fear, disagreeably employed, since you must have had much more to censure, than to approve.

Mar. O the devil! How shall I support it? Hem! hem! Hastings, you must not go. You are to assist me, you know. I shall be confoundedly ridiculous. Yet, hang it! I'll take courage. Hem!

Hast. Pshaw, man! it's but the first plunge, and all is over. She's but a woman, you know. Mar. And of all women, she that I dread most to encounter!

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE as returning from walking, a bonnet, &c.

Hast. [Introducing them.] Miss Hardcastle, Mr Marlow. I am proud of bringing two persons of such merit together, that only want to know, to esteem each other.

Miss Hard. [Aside.] Now, for meeting my modest gentleman with a demure face, and quite in his own manner. [After a pause, in which he appears very uneasy and disconcerted.] I am glad of your safe arrival, sir- -I am told you had some accidents by the way.

Mar. Only a few, madam. Yes, we had some. Yes, madam, a good many accidents, but should be sorry-madam-or rather glad of any accidents-that are so agreeably concluded.Hem!

Hast. [To him.] You never spoke better in your whole life. Keep it up, and I'll insure you the victory.

Hast. [To him.] Bravo, Bravo' Never spoke so well in your whole life. Well, Miss Hardcastle, I see that you and Mr Marlow are going to be very good company. I believe our being here will but embarrass the interview.

Mar. Not in the least, Mr Hastings. We like your company of all things. [To him.] Zounds! George, sure you won't go! How can you leave us?

Hast. Our presence will but spoil conversation; so we'll retire to the next room. [To him.] You don't consider, man, that we are to manage a little tete-a-tete of our own. [Exeunt.

Miss Hard. [After a pause.] But you have not been wholly an observer, I presume, sir? The ladies, I should hope, have employed some part of your addresses.

Mar. [Relapsing into timidity.] Pardon me, madan, Ï-I-I-as yet have studied-onlyto-deserve them.

Miss Hard. And that, some say, is the very worst way to obtain them.

Mar. Perhaps so, madam. But I love to converse only with the more grave and sensible part of the sex -But I'm afraid I grow tiresome.

Miss Hard. Not at all, sir; there is nothing I like so much as grave conversation myself; I could hear it for ever. Indeed, I have often been surprised how a man of sentiment could ever admire those light airy pleasures, where nothing reaches the heart.

Miss Hard. I understand you, sir. There must be some who, wanting a relish for refined pleasures, pretend to despise what they are inca

Mar. My meaning, madam; but infinitely better expressed. And I can't help observing

Miss Hard. [Aside.] Who could ever suppose this fellow impudent upon some occasions? [To him.] You were going to observe, sir

-I pro

Mar. I was observing, madamrest, madam, I forget what I was going to ob

serve.

Miss Hard. [Aside.] I vow, and so do I. [To