house.

Enter MRS HARDCASTLE and MR HARDCASTLE

Mrs Hard. I vow, Mr Hardcastle, you're very particular. Is there a creature in the whole country, but ourselves, that does not take a trip to town now and then, to rub off the rust a little! There's the two Miss Hoggs, and our neighbour, Mrs Grigsby, go to take a month's polishing every winter.

Hord. Ay, and bring back vanity and affectation to last them the whole year. I wonder why London cannot keep its own fools at home. In my time, the follies of the town crept slowly

stage-coach. Its fopperies come down, not only as inside passengers, but in the very basket.

Mrs Hard. Ay, your times were fine times, indeed you have been telling us of them for many a long year. Here we live in an old rumbling mansion, that looks for all the world like, an inn, but that we never see company. Our best visitors are old Mrs Oddfish, the curate's wife and little Cripplegate, the lame dancing master; and all our entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene and the duke of Marlboroug. I hate such old-fashioned trumpery.

Hard. And I love it. I love every thing that's old: old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine; and, I believe, Dorothy, [To

king her hand.] you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old wife.

Mrs Hard. Lord, Mr Hardcastle, you're for ever at your Dorothy's, and your old wife's. You may be a Darby, but I'll be no Joan, I promise you. I'm not so old as you'd make me by more than one good year. Add twenty to twenty, and make money of that.

Hard. Let me see-twenty added to twenty, makes just fifty and seven.

Mrs Hard. Its false, Mr Hardcastle: I was but twenty when I was brought to bed of Tony, that I had by Mr Lumpkin, my first husband: and he's not come to years of discretion yet. Hard. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. Ay, you have taught him finely.

Mrs Hard. No matter, Tony Lumpkin has a good fortune. My son is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy wants much learning to spend fifteen hundred a year.

Hard. Learning, quotha! a mere composition

of tricks and mischief.

Mrs Hard. Humour, my dear: nothing but humour. Come, Mr Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humour.

Hard. I'd sooner allow him an horse-pond. If burning the footmen's shoes, frighting the maids, worrying the kittens, be humour, he has it. It was but yesterday he fastened my wig to the back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I popt my bald head in Mrs Frizzle's face.

geons expects me down every moment. There's some fun going forward.

Hard. Ay-the ale-house, the old place: I thought so.

Mrs Hard. A low, paltry set of fellows. Tony. Not so low neither. There's Dick Muggins, the exciseman, Jack Slang, the horse doctor, Little Aminadab, that grinds the music box, and Tom Twist, that spins the pewter plat

ter.

Mrs Hard. Pray, my dear, disappoint them for one night at least!

Tony. As for disappointing them, I should not so much mind; but I can't abide to disappoint myself.

Mrs Hard. [Detaining him.] You shan't go. Tony. I will, I tell you.

Mrs Hard. I say, you shan't. Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you or I. [Erit, hawling her out.

Hard. Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil each other. But is not the whole age in a combination to drive sense and discretion out of doors? There's my pretty darling Kate; the fashions of the times have almost infected her, too. By living a year or two in town, she is as fond of gauze, and French frippery, as the best of them.

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE.

Hard. Latin for him! A cat and a fiddle. No, no; the ale-house and the stable are the only schools he'll ever go to.

Mrs Hard. Well, we must not snub the poor boy now, for I believe we shan't have him long among us. Any body that looks in his face may see he's consumptive.

Hard. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the symptoms.

Mrs Hard. He coughs sometimes.
Hard. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong

way.

Mrs Hurd. I'm actually afraid of his lungs. Hard. And truly so am I; for he sometimes whoops like a speaking trumpet-[Tony hallooing behind the scenes.]-O there he goes!-A very consumptive figure, truly!

Enter TONY, crossing the stage. Mrs Hard. Tony, where are you going, my charmer? Won't you give papa and I a little of your company, lovee?

Tony. I'm in haste, mother; I cannot stay. Mrs Hard. You shan't venture out this raw evening, my dear: You look most shockingly.

Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three Pi

Miss Hard. You know our agreement, sir.You allow me the morning to receive and pay visits, and to dress in my own manner; and, in the evening, I put on my housewife's dress to please you.

Hard. Well, remember, I insist on the terms of our agreement; and, by the by, I believe I shall have occasion to try your obedience this very evening.

Miss Hard. I protest, sir, I don't comprehend your meaning.

Hard. Then, to be plain with you, Kate, I expect the young gentleman, I have chosen to be your husband, from town this very day. I have his father's letter, in which he informs me his son is set out, and that he intends to follow himself shortly after.

Miss Hard. Indeed! I wish I had known something of this before! Bless me, how shall I behave? It is a thousand to one I shan't like him; our meeting will be so formal, and so like a thing of business, that I shall find no room for friendship or esteem.

Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never controul your choice: but Mr Marlow, whom I have pitched upon, is the son of my old friend

ment in the service of his country. I am told he's a man of an excellent understanding.

Miss Hard. Is he?

Hard. Very generous.

Miss Hard. I believe I shall like him.
Hard. Young and brave.

Miss Hard. I'm sure I shall like him.

Hard. And very handsome.

Miss Hard. My dear papa, say no more [kissing his hand.]; he's mine, I'll have him.

Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most bashful and reserved young fellows in all the world.

Miss Hard. Eh! you have frozen me to death again. That word, reserved, has undone all the rest of his accomplishments. A reserved lover, it is said, always makes a suspicious husband.

Miss Hard. No; nothing of all this. I have been threatened-I can scarce get it out-I have been threatened-with a lover.

Miss Nev. And his name

Miss Hard. Is Marlow.

Miss Nev. Indeed!

Miss Hard. The son of sir Charles Marlow.

Miss Nev. As I live, the most intimate friend of Mr Hastings, my admirer! They are never asunder. I believe you must have seen him when we lived in town.

Miss Hard. Never.

Miss Nev. He's a very singular character, I assure you. Among women of reputation and virtue, he is the modestest man alive; but his acquaintance give him a very different character among creatures of another stamp: you understand me?

Miss Hard. An odd character, indeed! I shall

Miss Hard. He must have more striking features to catch me, I promise you. However, if he be so young, so handsome, and so every thing, as you mention, I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have him.

Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. It's more than an even wager he may not have you.

Miss Hard. My dear papa, why will you mortify one so ?-Well, if he refuses, instead of breaking my heart at his indifference, I'll only break my glass for its flattery; set my cap to some newer fashion, and look out for some less difficult admirer.

muster.

Hard. Bravely resolved! In the mean time, I'll go prepare the servants for his reception. As we seldom see company, they want as much training as a company of recruits, the first day's [Exit. Miss Hard. Lud! this news of papa's puts me all in a flutter. Young, handsome! these he put last; but I put them foremost. Sensible, goodnatured; I like all that. But then reserved, and sheepish! that's much against him. Yet can't he be cured of his timidity, by being taught to be proud of his wife? Yes, and can't I-But I vow I'm disposing of the husband, before I have secured the lover.

Pshaw, think no more of him, but trust to occurrences for success. But how goes on your own affair, my dear? has my mother been courting you for my brother Tony, as usual?

Miss Nev. I have just come from one of our agreeable tete-a-tetes. She has been saying a hundred tender things, and setting off her pretty monster as the very pink of perfection.

Miss Hard. And her partiality is such, that she actually thinks him so. A fortune like yours is no small temptation. Besides, as she has the sole management of it, I'm not surprised to see her unwilling to let it go out of the family.

Miss Nev. A fortune like mine, which chiefly consists in jewels, is no such mighty temptation. But, at any rate, if my dear Hastings be but constant, I make no doubt to be too hard for her at last. However, I let her suppose that I am in love with her son, and she never once dreams that my affections are fixed upon another.

Miss Hard. My good brother holds out stoutly. I could almost love him for hating you so.

Miss Nev. It is a good natured creature at bottom, and I'm sure would wish to see me married to any body but himself. But my aunt's bell rings for our afternoon's walk round the improvements. Allons! Courage is necessary, as our affairs are critical.

Miss Hard. Would it were bed time, and all were well! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-An alehouse room.

Several shabby fellows, with punch and tobacco. TONY at the head of the table, a little higher than the rest: A mallet in his hand.

Omnes. Hurrea, hurrea, hurrea! bravo! 1st Fel. Now, gentlemen, silence for a song.

Omines. Ay, a song, a song!

Tony. Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song I made upon this ale-house, the Three Pigeons.

SONG.

Let school-masters puzzle their brain,

With grammar, and nonsense, and learning;

Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,

Gives Genus a better discerning.
Let them brag of their Heathenish Gods,
Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians:
Their Quis, and their Ques, and their Quods,
They're all but a parcel of Pigeons.
Toroddle, toroddle, toroll!

When Methodist preachers come down,
A preaching that drinking is sinful,
I wager the rascals a crown,
They always preach best with a skinful.
But when you come down with your pence,
For a slice of their scurvy religion,
I'll leave it to all men of sense,
But you my good friends are the Pigeon.
Toroddle, toroddle, toroll!

Then come, put the jorum about,
And let us be merry and clever,
Our hearts and our liquors are stout,

Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever!
Let some cry up woodcock or hare,

Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons; But of all the birds in the air,

Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons! Toroddle, toroddle, toroll!

Omnes. Bravo, bravo!

1st Fel. The 'Squire has got spunk in him. 2d Fel. I loves to hear him sing, bekeays he never gives us nothing that's low.

3d Fel. O, damn any thing that's low! I cannot bear it.

4th Fel. The genteel thing is the genteel thing at any time. If so be that a gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly.

3d Fel. I like the maxum of it, Master Muggins. What though I am obligated to dance a bear, a man may be a gentleman for all that. May this be my poison, if my bear ever dances but to the very genteelest of tunes! Water Parted, or the minuet in Ariadne.

2d Fel. What a pity it is the 'squire is not come to his own! It would be well for all the publicans within ten miles round of him.

Tony. Ecod, and so it would, Master Slang. I'd then shew what it was to keep choice of company.

2d Fel. O he takes after his own father for that. To be sure,' old 'squire Lumpkin was the finest gentleman I ever set my eyes on. For

for a hare, or a wench, he never had his fel low. It was a saying in the place, that he kept the best horses, dogs, and girls, in the whole county.

Tony. Ecod, and when I'm of fage, I'll be no bastard, I promise you. I have been thinking of Bett Bouncer and the miller's grey mare to begin with. But come, my boys, drink about and be merry, for you pay no reckoning. Well Stingo, what's the matter?

Enter Landlord.

Land. There be two gentlemen in a postchaise at the door. They have lost their way upon the forest; and they are talking something about Mr Hardcastle.

Tony. As sure as can be, one of them must be the gentleman that's coming down to court my sister. Do they seem to be Londoners?

Land. I believe they may. They look woundily like Frenchmen.

Tony. Then desire them to step this way, and I'll set them right in a twinkling. [Exit Landlord.] Gentlemen, as they may'nt be good enough company for you, step down for a moment, and I'll be with you in the squeezing of a lemon. [Exeunt Mob.

Father-in-law has been calling me whelp, and hound, this half year. Now, if I pleased, I could be so revenged upon the old grumbletonian! But, then, I'm afraid-afraid of what! I shall soon be worth fifteen hundred a-year, and let him frighten me out of that, if he can.

Enter LANDLORD, conducting MARLOW and HASTINGS.

Mar. What a tedious uncomfortable day have we had of it! We were told it was but forty miles across the country, and we have come above threescore.

Hast. And all, Marlow, from that unaccountable reserve of yours, that would not let us inquire more frequently on the way.

Mar. I own, Hastings, I am unwilling to lay myself under an obligation to every one I meet; and often stand the chance of an unmannerly

answer.

Hast. At present, however, we are not likely to receive any answer.

Tony. No offence, gentlemen. But I'm told you have been inquiring for one Mr Hardcastle, in these parts. Do you know what part of the country you are in?

Hast. Not in the least, sir; but should thank you for information.

Tony. Nor the way you came?

Hast. No, sir; but if you can inform usTony. Why, gentlemen, if you know neither the road you are going, nor where you are, nor

the road you came, the first thing I have to inform you is, that-You have lost your way.

Mar. We wanted no ghost to tell us that! Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold as to ask the place from whence you came? Mar. That's not necessary towards directing us where we are to go.

Tony. No offence: but question for question is all fair, you know. Pray, gentlemen, is not this same Hardcastle a cross-grained, old fashioned, whimsical fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter, and a pretty son?

Hast. We have not seen the gentleman, but he has the family you mention.

Tony. The daughter, a tall trapesing, trolloping, talkative maypole-The son, a pretty, well-bred, agreeable youth, that every body is

fond of.

Mar. Our information differs in this. The daughter is said to be well-bred and beautiful; the son, an awkward booby, reared up, and spoiled at his mother's apron-string.

Tony. He-he-hem-Then, gentlemen, all I have to tell you is, that you won't reach Mr Hardcastle's house this night, I believe.

Hast. Unfortunate!

Tony. It's a damned long, dark, boggy, dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentlemen the way to Mr Hardcastle's ;-[Winking upon the landlord.] Mr Hardcastle's, of Quagmire Marsh; you understand me?

Land. Master Hardcastle's! Lock-a-daisy, my masters, you're come a deadly deal wrong! When you came to the bottom of the hill, you should have crossed down Squash-lane.

Hast. What's to be done, Marlow? Mar. This house promises but a poor reception; though, perhaps, the landlord can accommodate us.

Land. Alack, master, we have but one spare bed in the whole house.

Tony. And, to my knowledge, that's taken up by three lodgers already. [After a pause, in which the rest seem disconcerted.] I have hit it. Don't you think, Stingo, our landlady could accommodate the gentlemen by the fireside, with-three chairs and a bolster?

Hast. I hate sleeping by the fireside.

Mar. And I detest your three chairs and a bolster.

Tony. You do, do you?-then let me seewhat-if you go on a mile further, to the Buck's Head; the old Buck's Head on the hill, one of the best inns in the whole country?

Hast. Oho! so we have escaped an adventure for this night, however.

Land. [Apart to Tony.] Sure, you be'nt sending them to your father's as an inn, be you?

Tony. Mum, you fool you! Let them find that out. [To them.] You have only to keep on streight forward, till you come to a large old house by the road side. You'll see a pair of large horns over the door. That's the sign. Drive up the yard, and call stoutly about you.

Hast. Sir, we are obliged to you. The servants can't miss the way?

Mar. Cross down Squash-lane!

Mar. Come to where four roads meet!

Mar. O sir, you're facetious.

Tony. Then keeping to the right, you are to go sideways till you come upon Crack-skuil common: there you must look sharp for the track of the wheel, and go forward, till you come to farmer Murrain's barn. Coming to the farmer's barn, you are to turn to the right, and then to the left, and then to the right about again, till you find out the old mill

Mar. Zounds, man! we could as soon find put the longitude!

whole country.

Mar. Well, if he supplies us with these, we shall want no further connexion. We are to turn to the right, did you say?

Tony. No, no; straight forward. I'll just step myself, and shew you a piece of the way. [To the landlord.] Mum!

Land. Ah, bless your heart, for a sweet, pleasant-damned mischievous son of a whore!

[Exeunt.