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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 Hard. Never fear me. I think I have got the true bar-cant-Did your honour 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.

Enter MARlow.

[Exit Maid.

Mar. What a bawling in every part of the house; I have scarce a moment's repose. If I go to the best room, there I find my host and his story. If I fly to the gallery, there we have my hostess, with her curtesy down to the ground. I have, at last, got a moment to myself, and now for recollection. [Walks, and muses. Miss Hard. Did you call, sir? did your honour call?

Mar. [Musing.] As for Miss Hardcastle, she's too grave and sentimental for me.

Miss Hard. Did your honour 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 Hard. I'm sure, sir, I heard the bell ring.

Mar. No, no.— [Musing.] I have pleased my father, however, by coming down, and I'll tomorrow please myself, by returning.

[Taking out his tablets, and perusing. Miss Hard. Perhaps the other gentleinau called, sir?

Mar. I tell you, no.

Miss Hard. I should be glad to know, sir. We have such a parcel of servants!

Mar. Of true English growth, I assure you. Miss Hard. 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 Hard. O! 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 co ming close to some women, they look younger still; but when we come very close indeed—[Attempting to kiss her.]

Miss Hard. 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 Hard. And who wants to be acquainted with you? I want no such acquaintance, not I. I'm sure you did not treat Miss Hardcastle, that was here a while ago, in this obstropalous manI'll warrant me, before her, you looked dashed, and kept bowing to the ground, and talked, for all the world, as if you was before a justice of the peace.

ner.

Mar. [Aside.] Egad! she has hit, sure enough! [To her.] 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 Hard. O! then, sir, you are a favourite, I find, among the ladies?

Mar. Yes, my dear, a great favourite. And yet, hang me, I don't see what they find in me to follow. At the Ladies club in town, I'm called their agreeable Rattle. Rattle, child, is not my real name, but one I'm known by. My name is Solomons. Mr Solomons, my dear, at your ser

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

some.

Miss Hard. O la, sir, you'll make one ashamed!

Mar. 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 Hard. 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.

[Offering to salute her.

Miss Hard. Hold, sir! you were introducing me to your club, not to yourself. And you're so great a favourite there, you say?

Mar. Yes, my dear. There's Mrs Mantrap, lady Betty Blackleg, the countess of Sligo, Mrs Longhorns, old miss Biddy Buckskin, and your humble servant, keep up the spirit of the place.

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

Mar. Yes, as merry as cards, suppers, wine, and old women, can make us.

Miss Hard. And their agreeable Rattle, ha, ha, ha!

Mar. [Aside.] Egad! I don't quite like this chit. She looks knowing, methinks. You laugh,

Miss Hard. Nectar! nectar! that's a liquor there's no call for in these parts. French, I sup-child! pose? We keep no French wines here, sir.

Miss Hard. 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 her.] Do you ever work, child?

Miss Hard. 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 shew 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. Miss Hard. Ay, but the colours don't look well by candle-light. You shall see all in the morning. [Struggling. Mar. 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 times following. [Exit MARLOW.

Enter HARDCASTLE, 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 Hard. 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

SCENE I.

impudence is infectious! Didn't I see him seize your hand? Did'nt I see him bawl you about like a milkmaid? and now you talk of his respect and his modesty, forsooth!

Miss Hard. 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. The girl would actually make one run mad; 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. You may like his impudence, and call it modesty. But my son-in-law, madam, must have very different qualifications. Miss Hard. Sir, I ask but this night to convince you.

I

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

hour.

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

Hurd. 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 Hard. 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.

ACT IV.

Enter HASTINGS and MISS NEVILLE. Hast. You surprise me! Sir Charles Marlow expected here this night? Where have you had your information ?

Miss Nev. You may depend upon it. I just saw his letter to Mr Hardcastle, in which he tells him he intends setting out a few hours after his

son.

Hast. 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 Neo. The jewels, I hope, are safe? Hast. 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.

[Erit. Miss Nev. Well ! success attend you! In the mean time, I'll go amuse my aunt with the old pretence of a violent passion for my cousin. [Erit.

Enter MARLOW, followed by a Servant. 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 1 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 honour.

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. [Exit Servant.

Mar. 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.

Hast. 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!

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

dow me with laurels! Well, George, after all, | ditations on the pretty bar-maid, and, he, he, be! we modest fellows don't want for success among may you be as successful for yourself as you have the women. been for me!

Hast. Some women, you mean. But what success has your honour's modesty been crowned with now, that it grows so insolent upon us?

Mar. Did not you see the tempting, brisk, lovely, little thing, that runs about the house with a bunch of keys to its girdle?

Hast. Well! and what then?

Mar. She's mine, you rogue you! Such fire, such motion, such eyes, such lips!- -but, egad! she would not let me kiss them though. Hast. But are you so sure, so very sure of her?

Mar. Why, man, she talked of shewing me her work above stairs, and I'm to improve the pattern.

Hast. But how can you, Charles, go about to rob a woman of her honour?

Mar. 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.

Hast. I believe the girl has virtue. Mur. And if she has, I should be the last man in the world that would attempt to corrupt it. Hast. You have taken care, I hope, of the casket I sent you to lock up? It's in safety?

Mar. Yes, yes. It's safe enough. I have taken care of it. But how could you think the seat of a post-coach at an inn-door a place of safety? Ah, numbskull! I have taken better precautions for you, than you did for yourself. I have Hast. What?

Mar. I have sent it to the landlady to keep for you.

Hast. To the landlady?

Mar. The landlady,

Hast. You did?

Mar. I did. She's to be answerable for its forthcoming, you know.

Hast, Yes; she'll bring it forth, with a witness!

Mar. Was not I right? I believe you'll allow that I acted prudently upon this occasion?

Hast. [Aside.] He must not see my uneasiness. Mar. You seem a little disconcerted though, methinks. Sure nothing has happened?

Hast. No; nothing! Never was in better spirits in all my life! And so you left it with the landlady, who, no doubt, very readily undertook the charge?

Mar. 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!

Hast. He, he, he! They're safe, however. Mar. As a guinea in a iniser's purse. Hast. [Aside.] So now, all hopes of fortune are at an end, and we must set off without it. [To him.] Well, Charles, I'll leave you to your me

[Erit HAST. Mar. Thank ye, George! I ask no more, ha, ha, ha!

Enter HARDCASTLE.

Hard. I no longer know my own house. It is turned all topsy-turvy. His servants have got drunk already. I'll bear it no longer; and yet, from my respect for his father, I'll be calm. [To him.] Mr Marlow, your servant. I'm your very humble servant. [Bowing low.

Mar. Sir, your humble servant. [ Äside.] What's to be the wonder now?

Hard. 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?

Mar. I do from my soul, sir. I don't want much entreaty. I generally make my father's son welcome wherever he goes.

Hard. I believe you do, from my soul, sir. But, though I say nothing to your own conduct, that of your servants is insufferable. Their manner of drinking is setting a very bad example in this house, I assure you,

Mar. I protest, my very good sir, that's no fault of mine. If they don't drink as they ought, they are to blame. I ordered them not to spare the cellar. I did, I assure you. [To the side scene.] Here, let one of my servants come up. [To him.] My positive directions were, that as I did not drink myself, they should make up for my deficiencies below.

Hard. Then, they had your orders for what they do? I'm satisfied.

Mar. They had, I assure you, You shall hear from one of themselves.

Enter Servant drunk.

Mar. 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?

Hard. [Aside.] I begin to lose my patience.

Jer. Please your honour, liberty and Fleetstreet for ever! Though I'm but a servant, I'm as good as another man. I'll drink for no man before supper, sir, dammy! Good liquor will sit upon a good supper, but a good supper will not sit upon- -hiccup -upon my conscience, [Staggers out. Mar. You see, 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.

sir!

Hard. Zounds! He'll drive me distracted, if I contain myself any longer! Mr Marlow. Sir; I have submitted to your insolence for more than four hours, and I see no likelihood of its coming to an end, I'm now resolved to be master here,

sir, and I desire that you and your drunken pack | his mistake, but it is too soon quite to undeceive may leave my house directly! him. Mar. Leave your house!- -Sure you jest, my good friend? What, when I'm doing what I can to please you?

Hard. I tell you, sir, you don't please me; so I desire you'll leave my house!

Mar. Sure you cannot be serious? At this time o'night, and such a night! You only mean to banter me?

Hard. 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.

Mar. 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 you to bid me leave this house, sir? I never met with such impudence, curse me, never in my whole life before!

Hard. Nor I; confound me if ever I did! To come to my house, to call for what he likes, to turn me out of my own chair, to insult the family, to order his servants to get drunk, and then to tell me, This house is mine, sir! By all that's impudent, it makes me laugh! Ha, ha, ha! Pray, sir, [Bantering.] as you take the house, what think you of taking the rest of the furniture? There's a pair of silver candlesticks, and there's a fire-screen, and here's a pair of brazen-nosed bellows, perhaps you may take a fancy to them? Mar. Bring me your bill, sir, bring me your bill, and let's make no more words about it.

Hard. There are a set of prints, too. What think you of the rake's progress for your own apartment?

Mar. Bring me your bill, I say: and I'll leave you and your infernal house directly!

Hard. Then, there's a mahogany table, that you may see your face in!

Mar. My bill, I say!

Hard. I had forgot the great chair, for your own particular slumbers, after a hearty meal! Mar. Zounds! bring me my bill, I say, and let's hear no more on't!

Mar. Pray, child, answer me one question, What are you, and what may your business in this house be?

Miss Hard. A relation of the family, sir.
Mar. What! A poor relation?

Miss Hard. Yes, sir! A poor relation, appointed to keep the keys, and to see that the guests want nothing in my power to give them. Mar. That is, you act as the bar-maid of this inn?

Miss Hard. Inn! O law-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!

Mar. Mr Hardcastle's house! Is this house Mr Hardcastle's house, child? Miss Hard. Ay, sure.

be!

Whose else should it

Mar. So, then, all's out, and I have been damnably imposed on! O! confound my stupid head! I shall be laughed at over the whole town! I shall be stuck up in caricatura in all the printshops! The Dullissimo Maccaroni. To mistake this house of all others for an inn; and my father's old friend for an inn-keeper! What a swaggering puppy must he take me for! What a silly puppy do I find myself! There, again, may I be hanged, my dear, but I mistook you for the bar-maid!

Miss Hard. Dear me! Dear me! I'm sure there's nothing in my behaviour to put me upon a level with one of that stamp.

Mar. Nothing, my dear, nothing. But I 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 its over-This house I no more shew my face in!

Miss Hard. 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, and said so many civil things to me. I'm sure I should be sorry [Pretending to cry.] if he left the family upon my account. I'm sure I should

Hard. Young man, young man, from your father's letter to me, I was taught to expect a well-be sorry people said any thing amiss, since I bred, modest man, as a visitor here; but now, I have no fortune but my character. find him no better than a coxcomb and a bully; Mar. [Aside.] By Heaven, she weeps! This but he will be down here presently, and shali is the first mark of tenderness I ever had from a hear more of it. [Exit. modest woman, and it touches me. [To her.] Mar. How's this! Sure I have not mistaken Excuse me, my lovely girl; you are the only part the house! Every thing looks like an inn. The of the family I leave with reluctance! But, to be servants cry, Coming. The attendance is auk-plain with you, the difference of our birth, forward; the bar-maid, too, to attend us. But she's here, and will further inform me. Whither so fast, child? A word with you.

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tune, and education, make an honourable connexion impossible; and I can never harbour a thought of bringing ruin upon one, whose only fault was being too lovely.

Miss Hard. [Aside.] Generous man! I now begin to admire him! [To him.] But I'm 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 thought that it was bad to want fortune.

Mar. And why now, my pretty simplicity? Miss Hard. Because it puts me at a distance from one, that if I had a thousand pound, I would give it all to.

er leave my horse in a pound, than leave you when you smile upon one so. Your laugh makes you so becoming.

Miss Nev. Agreeable cousin! who can help admiring that natural humour, that pleasant, broad, red, thoughtless, [Patting his cheek.] Ah! it's a bold face!

Mrs Hard. Pretty innocence!

Tony. I'm sure I always loved cousin Con's

Mar. [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-hazel eyes, and her pretty long fingers, that she tiality in my favour, my dear, touches me most twists this way and that, over the haspicholls, like sensibly, and were I to live for myself alone, I a parcel of bobbins. could easily fix my choice. But I owe too much to the opinion of the world, too much to the authority of a father, so that I can scarcely speak it-it affects me. Farewell! [Exit MAR. Miss Hard. I never knew half his merit till now. He shall not go, if I have power or art to detain him. I'll still preserve the character in which I stooped to conquer, but will undeceive my papa, who, perhaps, may laugh him out of [Exit MISS HARDCASTLE.

his resolution.

Enter TONY, and MISS NEVILLE. Tony. Ay, you may steal for yourselves the next time; I have done my duty. She has got the jewels again, that's a sure thing; but she believes it was all a mistake of the servants.

Miss Nev. But, my dear cousin, sure you won't forsake us in this distress. If she in the least suspects that I am going off, I shall certainly be locked up, or sent to my aunt Pedigree's, which is ten times worse.

Tony. To be sure, aunts of all kinds are damned bad things. But what can I do? I have got you a pair of horses that will fly like Whistlejacket, and I'm sure you can't say but I have courted you nicely before her face. Here she comes; we must court a bit or two more, for fear she should suspect us.

[They retire, and seem to fondle. Enter MRS HARDCASTLE. Mrs Hard. Well, I was greatly fluttered, to be sure. But my son tells me it was all a mistake of the servants. I shan't be easy, however, till they are fairly married; and then, let her keep her own fortune. But, what do I see? Fondling together, as I'm alive! I never saw Tony so sprightly before! Ah! have I caught you, my pretty doves! What, billing, exchanging stolen glances, and broken murmurs? Ah!

Tony. As for murmurs, mother, we grumble a little now and then, to be sure. But there's no love lost between us.

Mrs Hard. A mere sprinkling, Tony, upon the flame, only to make it burn brighter.

Miss Nev. Cousin Tony promises to give us more of his company at home. Indeed, he shan't leave us any more. It won't leave us, cousin Tony, will it?

Mrs Hard. Ah, he would charm the bird from the tree! I was never so happy before! My boy takes after his father, poor Mr Lumpkin, exactly! The jewels, my dear Con, shall be yours incontinently. You shall have them. Is not he a sweet boy, my dear? You shall be married tomorrow, and we'll put off the rest of his education, like Dr Drowsey's sermons, to a fitter op portunity,

Enter DIGGORY.

Dig. Where's the 'Squire? I have got a letter for your worship.

Tony. Give it to my mamma. She reads all my letters first.

Dig. I had orders to deliver it into your own hands.

Tony. Who does it come from?

Dig. Your worship mun ask that o' the letter itself.

Tony. I could wish to know, though.

[Turning the letter, and gazing on it. Miss Nev. [Aside.] Undone, undone. A letter to him from Hastings. I know the hand. If my aunt sees it, we are ruined for ever. I'll keep her employed a little if I can. [To MRS HARDCASTLE.] But I have not told you, madam, of my cousin's smart answer just now to Mr Marlow. We so laughed-You must know, madam -this way a little, for he must not hear us.

[They confer.

To

Tony. [Still gazing.] A damned cramped piece of penmanship, as ever I saw in my life! I can read your print-hand very well. But here there are such handles, and shanks, and dashes, that one can scarce tell the head from the tail. Anthony Lumpkin, Esq.' It's very odd, I can read the outside of my letters, where my own name is, well enough. But, when I come to open it, it's all-buzz. That's hard, very hard: for the inside of the letter is always the cream of the correspondence.

Mrs Hard. Ha, ha, ha! Very well, very well. And so my son was too hard for the philosopher?

Miss Nev. Yes, madam; but you must hear the rest, madam. A little more this way, or he may hear us. You'll hear how he puzzled him

Tomy. O! it's a pretty creature. No, I'd soon- again.

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