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ACT II.

SCENE I.-An old fashioned house.

Hard. What! will no body move?

1st Ser. I'm not to leave this place. Enter HARDCASTLE, followed by three or four

2d Ser. I'm sure its no pleace of mine. aukwurd serpants.

3d Ser. Nor mine, for sartain. Hard. Well, I hope you're perfect in the ta- Dig. Wauns, and I'm sure it canna be mine. ble exercise I have been teaching you these three Hard. You numskulls ! and sn, while, like days. You all krow your posts and your places, your betters, you are quarrelling for places, the and can shew that you have been used to good guests must be starved? O you dunces! I find I company, without stirring from home.

must begin all over again. But don't I hear a Omnes. Ay, ay !

coach drive into the yard ? To your posts, you Hurd. When company comes, you are not to blockheads! I'll go, in the mean time, and give pop out and stare, and then run in again, like my old friend's son a hearty welcome at the gate. frighted rabbits in a warren.

{Erit HARDCASTLE. Omnes. No, no.

Dig. By the elevens, my place is gone quite Hard. You, Diggory, whom I have taken from out

of my head ! the barn, are to make a shew at the side table ; Roger. I know that my place is to be every and you, Roger, whom I have advanced from the where. plough, are to place yourself behind my chair. 1st Ser. Where the devil is mine? But you're not to stand so, with your hands in 2d Ser. My pleace is to be no where at all; your pockets. Take your hands from your and so Ize

go
about

my

business. pockets, Roger; and from your head, you block

[Ěreunt Servants, running about as if head you! They're a little too stiff, indeed; but

frighted, different ways. that's no great matter.

Dig. Ay, mind how. I hold them! I learned Enter Servant with candles, shewing in Marlow to hold my hands this way, when I was upon

and HASTINGS. drill for the militia. And so being upon drill —

Hard. You must not be so talkative, Diggory. Ser. Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome ! You must be all attention to the guests. You | This way. must hear us talk, and not think of talking; you Hast. After the disappointments of the day, must see us drink, and not think of drinking; welcome once more, Charles, to the comforts of you must see us eat, and not think of eating ! a clean room and a good fire. Upon my word,

Dig. By the laws, your worship, that's par- a very well looking house !' antique, but creditafectly unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeat- ble. ing going forwards, ecod, he's always for wishing Mar. The usual fate of a large mansion. for a mouthful himself!

Having first ruined the master by good houseHard. Blockhead ! is not a belly-full in the keeping, it at last comes to levy contributions as kitchen as good as a belly-full in the parlour? an inn. stay your stomach with that reflection !

Hast. As you say, we passengers are to be Dig. Ecod, I thank your worship; I'll make a taxed to pay all these fineries. I have often seen shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef a good sideboard, or a marble chimney-piece, in the pantry!

though not actually put in the bill, enflame the Hard. Diggory, you are too talkative. Then, reckoning confoundedly. if I happen to say a good thing, or tell a good Mar. Travellers

, George, must pay in all plastory at table, you must not all burst out a laugh- ces. The only difference is, that in good inns, ing, as if you made part of the company. you pay dearly for luxuries; in bad inns, you are

Dig. Then, ecod, your worship must not tell Reeced and starved. the story of Ould Grouse in the gun-room : I can't Hast. You have lived pretty much among them. help laughing at that—he, he, he !—for the soul In truth, I have been often surprised, that you, of me! We have laughed at that these twenty who have seen so much of the world, with your years—ha, ha, ha!

natural good sense, and your many opportunities, Hard. Ha, ha, ha! The story is a good one. could never yet acquire a requisite share of assuWell, honest Diggory, you may laugh at thatbut still remember to be attentive. Suppose one Mar. The Englishman's malady. But tell me, of the company should call for a glass of wine, George, where couid I have learned that assuhow will you behave? A glass of wine, sir, if you rance you talk of? My life has been chiefly spent please. [To Diggory.)-Eh, why don't you moved in a college, or an inn, in seclusion from that

Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never have cou- lovely part of the creation that chiefly teach men rage till I see the catables and drinkables brought confidence. I don't know that I was ever famiupo' the table, and then I'm as bauld as a lion. liarly acquainted with a single modest woman

rance.

except my mother-But, among females of an- Mar. Happy man! You have talents and art other class, you know

to captivate any woman. I'm doomed to adore Hast. Ay; among them you are impudent the sex, and yet to converse with the only part enough of all conscience.

of it I despise. This stammer in my address, Mar. They are of us, you know.

and this awkward prepossessing visage of mine, Hast. But, in the company of women of repu- can never permit me to soar above the reach of a tation I never saw such an idiot, such a trembler; milliner's 'prentice, or one of the dutchesses of you look for all the world as if you wanted an Drury-lane. Pshaw! this fellow to interopportunity of stealing out of the room.

rupt us. Mar. Why, man, that's because I do want to steal out of the room. Faith, I have often form

Enter HARDCASTLE. ed a resolutiou to break the ice, and rattle away Hard. Gentlemen, once more you are heartily at any rate. But, I don't know how, a single welcome. Which is Mr Marlow ? Sir, you're glanie from a pair of fine eyes has totally over-heartily welcome. It's not my way, you see, to set my resolution. An impudent fellow may receive my friends with my back to the fire. I counterfeit modesty, but I'll be hanged if a mo- like to give them a hearty reception, in the old dest man can ever conterfeit impudence. style, at my gate. I like to see their horses and

Hust. If you could but say haif the fine things trunks taken care of. to them that I have heard you lavish upon the Mar. [Aside.] He has got our names from the bar-maid of an inn, or even a college bed-ma- servants already.—{To him.] We approve your ker

caution and hospitality, sir.-[ To Hastings.] I Mar. Why, George, I can't say fine things to have been thinking, George, of changing our trathem. They freeze, they petrify me. They may velling dresses in the morning; I am grown contalk of a comet, or a burning mountain, or some foundedly ashamed of mine. such bagatelle. But, to me, a modest woman, Hard. I beg, Mr Marlow, you'll use no ceredrest out in all her finery, is the most tremen- mony in this house. dous object of the whole creation !

Hast. I fancy, George, you're right: the first Hast. Ha, ha, ha! At this rate, man, how blow is half the battle. I intend opening the can you ever expect to marry?

campaign with the white and gold. Miar. Never, unless, as among kings and prin- Hard. Mr Marlow-Mr Hastings-gentlemen ces, my bride were to be courted by proxy. If, -pray be under no restraint in this house. This indeed, like an eastern bridegroom, one were to is Liberty-hail, gentlemen. You may do just as be introduced to a wife he never saw before, it you please here. might be endured. But to go through all the Mar. Yet, George, if we open the campaign terrors of a formal courtship, together with the too fiercely at first, we may want ammunition beepisode of aunts, grand-mothers and cousins, and fore it is over. I think to reserve the embroiat last to blurt out the broad staring-question, of, dery to secure a retreat. madam, will you inarry me? No, no; that's a Hard. Your talking of a retreat, Mr Marlow, strain much above me, I assure you.

puts me in mind of the duke of Marlborough, Hast. I pity you. But how do you intend be- when he went to besiege Denain.

He first sumhaving to the lady you are come down to visit at moned the garrison

of
your father?

Mar. Don't you think the ventre dor waistMar. As I behave to all other ladies. Bow coat will do with the plain brown? very low. Answer yes, or no, to all her de- Hard. He first summoned the garrison, which mands—But, for the rest, I don't think I shall might consist of about five thousand menventure to look in her face, till I see my father's Hast, I think not: Brown and yellow mix but again.

very poorly. Hast. I'm surprised, that one, who is so warm Hard. I say, gentlemen, as I was telling you, a friend, can be so cool a lover.

he summoned the garrison, which might consist Mar. To be explicit, my dear Hastings, my of about five thousand menchief inducement down was to be instrumental Mar. The girls like finery. in forwarding your happiness, not my own. Miss Hard. Which might consist of about five thouNeville loves you; the family don't know you; as sand men, well appointed with stores, ammunimy friend, you are sure of a reception, and let tion, and other implements of war. Now, says bonour do the rest,

the duke of Marlborough to George Brooks, that Hast. My dear Marlow ! But I'll suppress the stood next to him—You must have heard of emotion. Were I a wretch, meanly seeking to George Brooks?-I'll pawn my dukedom, says he, carry off a fortune, you should be the last man but I take that garrison without spilling a drop in the world I would apply to for assistance. But of blood. Som Miss Neville's person is all I ask, and that is Mar. What, my good friend, if you give us a mine, both from her deceased father's consent, glass of punch in the mean time? it would help and her own inclination,

us to carry on the siege with vigour. Vol. II.

6 D

the request

a

man.

Hard. Punch, sir! [Aside.] This is the most gene, when he fought the Turks at the battle of unaccountable kind of modesty I ever met with! Belgrade. You shall hear.

Mar. Yes, sir, punch. A glass of warm punch, Mar. Instead of the battle of Belgrade, I after our journey, will be comfortable. This is think it's almost time to talk about supper, Liberty-hall, you know.

What has your philosophy got in the house for Hard. Here's

cup,
sir.

supper? Mar. [Aside.] So this fellow, in his Liberty- Hard. For supper, sir !--[Aside.? Was ever hall, will only let us have just what he pleases. such a request to a man in his own house!

Hard. (Taking the cup.] I hope you'll find it Mar. Yes, sir, supper, sir; I begin to feel an to your mind. I have prepared it with my own appetite. I shall make devilish work to-night in hands, and I believe you'll own the ingredients the larder, I promise you. are tolerable. Will you be so good as to pledge Hard. (Aside.] Such a brazen dog sure never me, sir? Here, Mr Marlow, here is to our better my eyes beheld !--[To him.] Why, really, sir, as acquaintance!

[Drinks. for supper, I can't well tell. My Dorothy and Mar. (Aside.] A very impudent fellow this ! the cook-maid settle these things between them. but he's a character, and I'll humour him a little. I leave these kind of things entirely to them. Sir, my service to you.

Drinks. Mar. You do, do you?
Hast. (Aside.] I see this fellow wants to give
I

Hard. Entirely. By the by, I believe they are us his company, and forgets that he's an inn- in actual consultation upon what's for supper this keeper, before he has learned to be a gentle moment in the kitchen.

Mar. Then I beg they'll admit me as one of Mar. From the excellence of your cup, my their privy council. It's a way I have got. When old friend, I suppose you have a good deal of I travel, I always chuse to regulate my own supbusiness in this part of the country? Warm work, per. Let the cook be called. No offence, I hope, now and then, at elections, I suppose ?

sir ? Hurd. No, sir, I bave long given that work Hard. O no, sir; none in the least; yet I don't over. Since our betters have hit upon the expe- know how, our Bridget, the cook-inaid, is not dient of electing each other, there's no business very communicative upon these occasions. Should for us that sell ale.

we send for her, she might scold us all out of the Hast. So, then, you have no turn for politics, house. I find?

Hast. Let's see the list of the larder, then. I Hard. Not in the least. There was a time, ask it as a favour. I always match my appetite indeed, I fretted myself about the mistakes of to my bill of fare. government, like other people; but finding my- Mar. [To HARDCASTLE, who looks at them self every day grow more angry, and the govern- with surprise.] Sir, he's very right, and it's my ment growing no better, I left it to mend itself. way, too. Since that, I no more trouble my head about Hard. Sir, you have a right to command here. Heyder Alley, or Ally Cawn, than about Ally Here, Roger, bring us the bill of fare for to Croaker. Sir, my service to you. [Drinks. night's supper. I believe it's drawn out. Your

Hast. So that, with eațing above stairs, and manner, Mr Hastings, puts me in mind of my drinking below, with receiving your friends uncle, colonel Wallop. It was a saying of his, within, and amusing them without, you lead a that no inan was sure of his supper till he had good pleasant bustling life of it.

eaten it. Hard. I do stir about a good deal, that's cer- Hast. (Aside.] All upon the high ropes! His tain. Half the differences of the parish are ad-uncle a colonel! we shall soon hear of his mojusted in this very parlour.

ther being a justice of peace. But let's hear the Mar. [After drinking.) And you have an ar

bill of fare. gument in your cup, old gentleman, better than Mar. (Perusing.] What's here? For the first any in Westminster-hall.

course ; for the second course; for the dessert. Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that, and a little The devil, sir! do you think we have brought philosophy

down the whole joiners' company, or the corpoMar. [Aside.) Well, this is the first time I ever ration of Bedford, to eat up such a supper? Two heard of an innkeeper's philosophy.

or three little things, clean and comfortable, will Hast. So then, like an experienced general, do. you attack the!n on every quarter. If you find Hast. But, let's hear it. their reason manageable, you attack it with your Mar. [Reading.] For the first course at the philosophy; if you tind they have no reason, you top, a pig and pruin sauce. attack them with this. llere's your health, my Hast. Damn your pig, I say ! philosopher !

[Drinks Mar. And damın your pruin sauce, say I ! Hard. Good, very good, thank you ; ha, ha! Hard. And yet, gentlemen, to men that are Your generalslip puts me in mind of Prince Eu-hungry, pig, with pruin sauce, is very good eating.

a

men?

yet

GOLDSMITH.]
BRITISH DRAMA.

947
Mar. At the bottom, a calve's tongue and hopeful cousin's tricks, of whom you have heard
brains.

me talk so often; ha, ha, ha, ha!
Hast. Let your brains be knocked out, my Hast. He whom your aunt intends for you?
good sir; I don't like them.

He, of whom I have such just apprehensions ?
Mar. Or you may clap them on a plate by Miss Neo. You have nothing to fear from him,
themselves. I do.

I assure you. You'd adore him, if you knew Hard. (Aside.] Their impudence confounds how heartily he despises me. My aunt knows me !–[To them.] Gentlemen, you are my guests; it too, and has undertaken to court me for him, make what alterations you please. Is there any and actually begins to think she has made a conthing else you wish to retrench or alter, gentle-quest.

Hast. Thou dear dissembler! You must know, Mar. Item, a pork pie, a boiled rabbit and my Constance, I have just seized this happy opsausages, a florentine, a shaking pudding, and a portunity of my friend's visit here, to get admitdish of tiff-taff, taffety cream!

tance into the family. The horses that carried
Hast. Confound your made dishes! I shall be us down are now fatigued with the journey, but
as much at a loss in this house as at a green and they'll soon be refreshed; and then, if my dearest
yellow dinner at the French ambassador's table.girl will trust in her faithful Hastings, we shall
I'm for plain eating.

soon be landed in France, where, even among
Hard. I'm sorry, gentlemen, that I have no- slaves, the laws of marriage are respected.
thing you like; but if there be any thing you have Miss Nev. I have often told you, that, though
a particular fancy to-

ready to obey you,

I should leave my little Mar. Why, really, sir, your bill of fare is so fortune behind with reluctance. The greatest exquisite, that any one part of it is full as good as part of it was left me by my uncle, the India dianother. Send us what you please. So much rector, and chiefly consists in jewels. I have for supper. And now to see that our beds are been for some time persuading my aunt to let aired, and properly taken care of.

me wear them. I fancy I'm very bear succeedHard. I entreat you'll leave all that to me. ing. The instant they are put into my possession You shall not stir a step.

you shall find me ready to make them and myself Mar. Leave that to you! I protest, sir, you yours. must excuse me; I always look to these things Hast. Perish the baubles ! Your person is all myself.

I desire. In the mean time, my friend Marlow Hard. I must insist, sir, you'll make yourself must not be let into his mistake. I know the easy on that head.

strange reserve of his temper is such, that, if Mar. You see I'm resolved on it.-[Aside.) A abruptly informed of it, he would instantly quit very troublesome fellow this, as ever I met with the house before our plan was ripe for execu

Hard. Well, sir, I'm resolved, at least, to at-tion. tend you.—[ Aside. This may be modern mo- Miss Neo. But how shall we keep him in the desty, but I never saw any thing look so like old- deception! Miss Hardcastle is just returned fashioned inipudence.

from walking; what if we still continue to de[Ereunt Marlow and HARDCASTLE. ceive him?

-This, this way,
Hust. So I find this fellow's civilities begin to

[They confer. grow troublesome.

But who can be angry at
those assiduities which are meant to please him?

Enter MARLOW.
Ha! what do I see? Miss Neville, by all that's
happy!

Mar. The assiduities of these good people

tease me beyond bearing! My host seems to Enter Miss NEVILLE.

think it ill manners to leave me alone, and so he Miss Ned. My dear Hastings ! To what unex-claps not only himself, but his oid-fashioned ise pected good fortune, to what accident, am I to on my back. They talk of coming to sup with ascribe this happy meeting?

us, too; and then, I suppose, we are to run the
Hast. Rather let ine ask the same question, as gauntiet through all the rest of the family—What
I could never have hoped to meet my dearest have we got here?
Constance at an inn.

Hast. My dear Charles! Let me congratulate
Miss Neo. An inn! sure you mistake! my vou—The most fortunate accident I-Who do
aunt, my guardian, lives here. What could in- you think is just alighted ?
duce you to think this house an inn?

Mar. Cannot guess. Hast. My friend, Mr Marlow, with whom I Hast. Ourmistresses, boy; Miss Hardcastle, and came down, and I, have been sent here, as to an Miss Neville! Give me leave to introduce Miss inn, I assure you.

A young fellow, whom we Constance Neville to your acquaintance. Iapaccidentally met at a house bard by, directed us pening to dine in the neighbourhood, they called, hither.

on their return, to take fresh horses here.Bliss Neo. Certainly it must be ene of my Miss Hardcastle has just stepped into the next

for ever.

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room, and will be back in an instant. Wasn't | Once more, and you are confirmed in assurance it lucky? eh?

Mar. [Aside.] I have just been mortified e- Mar. (To him.] Ilem! Stand by me, then, and nough of all conscience, and here comes some- when I'm down, throw in a word or two to set thing to complete my embarrassment.

me up again. Hast. Well! but was not it the most fortu- Miss Hard. An observer, like you, upon life, nate thing in the world?

were, I fear, disagreeably employed, since you Mar. Oh! yes. Very fortunate—a most joy- must have had inuch more to censure, than to apful encounter! -But our dresses, George, prove. you know, are in disorder

- What if we Mar. Pardon me, madam! I was always wilshould postpone the happiness till to-morrow - ling to be amused. The folly of most people is To-morrow, at her own house-It will be every rather an object of mirth than uneasiness. bit as convenient and rather more respect- Hast. (To him.] Bravo, Bravo! Never spoke ful- -To-morrow let it be. [Offering to go. so well in your whole life. Well, Miss Hardcase

Miss Nev. By no means, sir! Your ceremo- tle, I see that you and Mr Marlow are going to ny will displease her. The disorder of your be very good company. I believe our being here dress will shew the ardour of your impatience. will but embarrass the interview. Besides, she knows you are in the house, and Mar. Not in the least, Mr llastings. We like will permit you to see her.

your company of all things. (To him. Zounds! Mar. 0! the devil! How shall I support it? | George, sure you won't go! How can you leare Hem! hem! Hastings, you must not go. You us? art to assist me, you know. I shall be confound- Hast. Our presence will but spoil conversaedly ridiculous. Yet, hang it! I'll take courage. tion; so we'll retire to the next room. [To him.) Ilem!

You don't consider, man, that we are to manage Hust. Pshaw, man! it's but the first plunge, a little tete-a-tete of our own. (Eseunt. and all is over. She's but a woman, you know. Miss Hard. (After a puuse.) But you have not

Mar. And of all women, she that I dread been wholly an observer, I presuine, sir? The most to encounter !

ladies, I should bope, have employed some part

of your addresses. Enter Miss HardCASTLE as returning from

Mar. (Relapsing into timidity.] Pardon me, walking, a bonnet, 8c.

madam, I-I-I-as yet have studied-only

to-deserve them. Hast. [Introducing them.] Miss Hardcastle, Miss Hard. And that, some say, is the very Mr Marlow. I am proud of bringing two per- worst way to obtain them. sons of such merit together, that only want to Mar. Perhaps so, madam. But I love to know, to esteem each other.

converse only with the more grave and sensible Miss Hard. [Aside.] Now, for meeting my part of the sex-But I'm afraid I grow tiremodest gentleman with a demure face, and quite some. in his owu manner. (After a pause, in which he Miss Hard. Not at all, sir; there is nothing I appears very uneasy and disconcerted.} I am glad like so much as grave conversation myself; I of your sate arrival, sir- -I am told you had could hear it for ever. Indeed, I hare often some accidents by the way.

been surprised how a man of sentiment could Mar. Only a few, madam. Yes, we had ever admire those light airy pleasures, where nosome. Yes, madam, a good many accidents, but thing reaches the heart. should be sorry-madam—or rather glad of any Mar. It's a diseaze- -of the mind, accidents--that are so agreeably concluded.- madam. In the variety of tastes, there must be Ilem!

some who, wanting a relish-for- um-a Hust. (To him.] You never spoke better in your whole life. Keep it up, and I'll insure you Miss Hard. I understand you, sir. There the victory.

must be some who, wanting a relish for refined Miss Hard. I'm afraid you flatter, sir. You, pleasures, pretend to despise what they are incathat have seen so much of the finest company, pable of tasting, can find little entertainment in an obscure cor- Mar. My meaning, madam; but infinitely betner of the country.

ter expressed. And I can't help observingMar. [Gathering courage.] I have lived, in-adecd, in the world, madam; but I have ke very

Miss Hard. [Aside.] Who could ever suppose I have been but an observer this fellow impudent upon some occasions ? (To upon lite, madam, while others were enjoying him. You were going to observe, sirit.

Mar. I was observing, madamMiss Nev. But that, I am told, is the way to test, inadamn, I forget what I was going to obenjoy it at last.

Hast. (To him.] Cicero never spoke better.- Miss Hard. [Aside.) I vow, and so do I. [To

a

-um.

little company;

I pru

serve.

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