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, 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 that; but 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 upon table, and then I'm as bauld as a lion. Hard. A glass of wine, if you please. nobody move? What, will 1st Serv. I'm not to leave this place. Dig. Wauns! and I'm sure it canna be mine. Roger. I know that my place is to be everywhere. 1st Serv. Where the devil is mine? 2nd Serv. My place is no where at all; and so I'ze go about my business. Exeunt Servants. Enter MARLOW and HASTINGS. 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 house-keeping, it has at last come to levy contributions as an inn. Mar. Why, man, that's because I do want to steal out of the room. Faith! I have often formed a resolution to break the ice, and rattle away at any rate. But I don't know how, a single glance from a pair of fine eyes has totally overset my resolution. An impudent fellow may counterfeit modesty, but I'll be hanged if a modest man can ever counterfeit impudence. Hast. If you could say but half the fine things to them that I have heard you lavish upon the barmaid of an inn, or even a college bed-maker 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. Hast. Ha, ha, ha! As this rate, man, how can you ever expect to marry? Mar. Never; unless, as among kings and princes, my bride were to be courted by proxy. If, 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, grandmothers, cousins, and at last to blurt out the broad start-question, of "Madam, 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 to come down was to be instrumental in loves you; the family don't know you; as my friend, forwarding your happiness not my own. Miss Neville you are sure of a reception, and let honour do the rest. Enter HARDCASTLE. Hard. Gentlemen, once more you are heartily welcome. Which is Mr Marlow? [MAR. advances.] Sir, you're heartily we.come. It's not my way, you see, to receive my friends with my back to the fire! I like to give them a hearty reception, in the old style, at my gate; I like to see their horses and trunks taken care of. 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, inflame the bill confoundedly. Mar. Travellers 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 servants already. [To HARD.] We approve your Mar. [Aside. He has got our names from the natural good sense, and your many opportunities, caution and hospitality, sir. To HAST.] I have could never yet acquire a requisite share of as-been thinking, George, of changing our travelling dresses in the morning; I am grown confoundedly ashamed of mine. surance. 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, except my mother; but among females of another class, you know Hast. Ay, among them you are impudent enough of all conscience. Mar. They are of us, you know. Hust. But in the company of women of reputation I never saw such an idiot, such a trembler; you look for all the world as if you wanted an opportunity of stealing out of the room. Hard. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you'll use no ceremony in this house. the battle. We must, however, open the campaign. Hast. I fancy, you're right: the first blow is half Hard. Mr. Marlow-Mr. Hastings-gentlemenpray be under no restraint in this house. This is please here. Liberty-hall, gentlemen; you may do just as you Mar. Yet, George, if we open the campaign too is over. fiercely at first, we may want ammunition before it if necessary, a retreat. We must shew our generalship by securing, 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. Ay, and we'll summon your garrison, old DOV. Hard. He first summoned the garrison, which might consist of about five thousand men Hast. Marlow, what's o'clock ? Hard. I say, gentlemen, as I was telling you, he summoned the garrison, which might consist of about five thousand men Mar. Five minutes to seven. 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 us a glass of punch in the meantime, it would help us to carry on the siege with vigour. Hard. Punch, sir!-This is the most unaccountable kind of modesty I ever met with. [Aside.] Mar. Yes, sir, punch. A glass of warm punch after our journey will be comfortable. Enter Servant with a tankard. This is Liberty-hall, you know. Hard. Here's a cup, sir. Mar. So this fellow, in his Liberty-hall, will only let us have just what he pleases. [Asude to HAST.] 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, and gives the cup to Marlow.] Mar. A very impudent fellow this; but he's a character, and I'll humour him a little [Aside.] Sir, my service to you. Hast. I see this fellow wants to give us his company, and forgets that he's an innkeeper, before he has learned to be a gentleman. [Aside.] 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. [Gives the tankard to HARDCASTLE.] 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 [Gires the tankard to HASTINGS.] Hast. So, 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 lett it to mend itself. Since that, I no more trouble my head about who's in or who's out, than I do about John Nokes or Tom Stiles. So my service to you. Hust. So that, with eating above stairs and drinking below, with receiving your friends within, and anusing them without, you lead a good, pleasant, bustling life of it. Hard. I do stir about a good deal, that's certain. Hall the differences of the parish are adjusted in this very parlour. Mar. Well, this is the first time I ever heard of an innkeeper's philosophy. [Aside.] Hast. So, then, like an experienced general, you attack them on every quarter. If you find their reason manageable, you attack them with your philosophy; if you find that they have no reason, you attack them with this. Here's your health, my philosopher. [Drinks.] Hard. Good, very good; thank you, ha! ha! Your generalship puts me in mind of Prince Eugene, when he fought the Turks at the battle of 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? Was ever such a request to a man in his own house? [Aside.] 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. Such a brazen dog sure never my eyes beheld. [Aside.] Why, really, sir, as for supper, I can't well tell. My Dorothy and the cookinaid settle these things between them I leave these kind of things entirely to them, Mar. You do, do you? Hard. Entirely. By-the-py, 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've got. When I travel, I always choose to regulate my own supper. Let the cook be called. No offence, I hope, sir. Hard. Oh! no, sir, none in the least: yet, I don't know how, our Bridget, the cookmaid, 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 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 to-night'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. [Servant brings in the bill of fare, and exit.] Hast. All upon the high ropes! His uncle a colonel. We shall soon hear of his mother being a justice of peace. [Aside.] 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's 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 prune sauce. Hast. D- your pig, say I. Mar. And d-your prune sauce, say I. Hard. And yet, gentlemen, to men that are hungry, pig with prune sauce, is very good eating. Their impudence confounds me. Aside.] Gentlemen, you are my guests, make what alterations Mar [After drinking.] And you have an argu-you please. Is there anything else you wish to ment in your cup, old gentleman, better than any in Westminster-hall. Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that, and a little philosophy. retrench or alter, gentlemen? Mar. Item: a pork pie, a boiled rabbit and sansages, a florentine, a shaking pudding, and a dish of till-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 anything you have a particular fancy te 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 intreat 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. A very troublesome fellow, as ever I met with. [Aside.] Hard. Well, sir, I'm resolved, at least, to attend you. This may be modern modesty, but I never. saw anything look so like old-fashioned impudence. Aside, and exit with MAR. Hast. So, I find this fellow's civilities begin to grow troublesome. But who can be angry with those assiduities which are meant to please him? Ah! what do I see? Miss Neville, by all that's happy. Enter Miss NEville. Miss N. My dear Hastings! To what unexpected good fortune, to what accident, am I to ascribe this happy meeting? Hist. Rather, let me ask the same question, as I could never have hoped to meet my dearest Con stance at an inn. Miss N. An inn! 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 N. Certainly it must be one of my hopeful cousin's tricks, of whom you have heard me talk so often. Ha, ha, ha! Hast. He whom your aunt intends for you? He of whom I have such just apprehensions? Miss N. You have nothing to fear from him, I assure you. You'd adore him, if you knew how heartily he despises me. My aunt knows it too, and has undertaken to court me for him, and actually begins to think she has made a conquest. desire. In the meantime, my friend Marlow must not be let into his mistake. I know the strange reserve of his temper is such, that, if abrubtly informed of it, he would instantly quit the house, before our plan was ripe for execution. Miss N. But how shall we keep him in the deception? Miss Hardcastle is just returned from walking; what if we persuade him she is come to this house as to an inn? Come this way. [They confer.] 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 claps, not only himself, but his old-fashioned wife upon my back. They talk of coming to sup with us, too; and then, I suppose, we are to run the gauntlet 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 has 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 stept into the next room, and will be back in an instant. Wasn't it lucky? eh! Mar. I have just been mortiñed enough of all conscience, and here comes something to complete my embarrassment. [Aside.] Hast. Well, but wasn't it the most fortunate thing in the world? Mar. Oh! yes;-very fortunate ;-a most joyful encounter. But our dresses, George, you know, are in disorder. What if we postpone the happiness till to-morrow? To-morrow, at her own house: it will be every bit as convenient, and rather more respectful. To-morrow let it be. [Offering to go.] Miss N. By no means, sir. Your ceremony will displease her. The disorder of your dress will shew the ardour of your impatience. Besides, she knows you are in the house, and will permit you to see her. Mar. Oh! 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! [Aside to HAST.] Hast. Psha, man! 'tis put the first plunge, and all's over. She's but a woman, you know. [Aside to MAR.] Mar. And of all women, she that I dread most to encounter! Hast. Thou dear dissembler! You must know, my Constance, I have just seized this happy opportunity Enter Miss HARDCASTLE, as returned from walking. of my friend's visit here, to get admittance into the Hast. [Introducing them.] Miss Hardcastle, Mr. family. The horses that carried us down are now Marlow. I'm proud of bringing two persons togefatigued with the journey, but they'll soon be re-ther, who only want to know, to esteem each other. freshed; and then, if my dearest girl will trust in her Miss H. [Aside. Now, for meeting my modest faithful Hastings, we shall soon be landed in France, where, even among slaves, the laws of marriage are respected. Miss N. 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 in my possession, you shall find me ready to make them and myself your's. Hast. Perish the baubles! Your person is all I gentleman with a demure face, and quite in his own manner. [After a pause, in which he appears very uneasy and disconcerted.] I'm glad of your safe arrival, sir, I'm 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. [Aside to MAR.] You never spoke better in your whole life. Keep it up, and I'll insure you the victory. Miss H. I'm afraid you flatter sir. You that have seen so much of the finest company, can find little entertainment in an obscure corner of the country. Mar. [Gathering courage.] I have lived, indeed, in the world, madam; but I have kept very little company. I have been but an observer upon life, madam, while others were enjoying it. Miss H. An observer, like you, upon life, was, I fear, disagreeably employed, since you must have had much more to censure than to approve. Mar. Pardon me, madam: I was always willing to be amused. The folly of most people is rather an object of my mirth than uneasiness. Hast. [Aside to MAR.] 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. Aside to HAST.] 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. [Aside to MAR.] You don't consider, man, that we are to manage a little tête-à-tête of our own [Exit with Miss N. Miss H. [After a pause.] But you have not been wholly an observer, I presume, sir. The ladies, I hope, have employed some part of your addresses. Mar. Relapsing into timidity.] Pardon me, madam, 1—I—I—as yet have studied-only--to-deserve them. Miss H. 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 H. 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. Mar. It's a disease of the mind, madam. In variety of tastes, there must be some who wanting a relish for-um-a-um. Miss H. I understand you, sir. There must be some who, wanting a relish for refined pleasures, pretend to despise what they are incapable of tasting Mar. My meaning, madam; but infinitely better expressed. And I can't help observing, that in this age of hypocrisy-a Miss H. Who could ever suppose this fellow impudent on some occasions? [Aside.] You were going to observe, sir Mar. I was observing, madam-I protest, madam, I forget what I was going to observe. Miss H. I vow, and so do I. [Aside.] You were observing, sir, that in this age of hypocrisy,-something about hypocrisy, sir. Mar. Yes, madam; in this age of hypocrisy, there are few who, upon strict inquiry, do not-a-a— Miss H. I understand you perfectly, sir. Mar. [Aside.] Egad! and that's more than I do myself. Miss H. You mean that, in this hypocritical age, there are few that do not condemn in public, what they practise in private, and think they pay every debt to virtue when they praise it. Mar. True, madam; those who have most virtue in their mouths, have least of it in their bosoms. But I see Miss Neville expecting us in the next room. I would not intrude for the world. Miss H. I protest, sir, I never was more agreeably entertained in all my life. Pray, go on. Mar. Yes, madam. I was-but she beckons us to join her. Madam, shall I do myself the honour to attend you. Miss H. Well, then, I'll follow. Mar. [Aside.] This pretty smooth dialogue has done for me. [Exit. Miss H. Ha, ha, ha! Was there ever such a sober, Enter TONY and Miss NEVILLE, followed by Mrs. Tony. What do you follow me for, cousin Con? I wonder you're not ashamed to be so very engaging. Miss N. I hope, cousin, one may speak to one's own relations, and not be to blame. Tony. Ay, but I know what sort of a relation you want to make me, though; but it won't do. I tell you, cousin Con, it won't do; so I beg you'll keep your distance; I want no nearer relationship. [She follows, coquetting him to the back scene.] Mrs. H. Well, I vow, Mr. Hastings, you are very entertaining. There's nothing in the world I love to talk of so much as London, and the fashions, though I was never there myself. Hast. Never there! you amaze me! froin your air and manner, I concluded you had been bred all your life either at Ranelagh, St. James's, or Towerwharf. Mrs. H. Oh! sir, you're only pleased to say so. We country persons can have no manner at all. I'm in love with the town, and that serves to raise me above some of our neighbouring rustics; but who can have a manner that has never seen the Pantheon, the Grotto Gardens, the Borough, and such places where the nobility chiefly resort; all I can do, is to enjoy London at second-hand. I take care to know every tête-à-tête from the Scandalous Magazine, and have all the fashions as they come out, in a letter from the two Miss Rickets, of Crooked-lane. Pray, how do you like this head? Hast. Extremely elegant and degagée, upon my word. Your friseur is a Frenchman, I suppose. Mrs. H. I protest I dressed it myself from a print in the Ladies' Memorandum-book for the last year. Hast. Indeed! such a head in a side-box at the play-house, would draw as many gazers as my lady mayoress at a city-ball. Mrs. H. One must dress a little particular, or one may escape in the crowd. Hast. But that can never be your case, madam, in any dress. [Bouring.] Mrs. H. Yet, what signifies my dressing, when I have such a piece of antiquity by my side as Mr. Hardcastle? All I can say will not argue down a single button from his clothes. I have often wanted him to throw off his great flaxen wig, and where he was bald, to plaster it over, like my Lord Pately, with powder. Hast. You are right, madam; for, as among the ladies there are none ugly, so among the men there are none old. Mrs. H. But what do you think his answer was? Why, with his usual gothic vivacity, he said, I only wanted him to throw off his wig, to convert it into a tête for my own wearing. Hast. Intolerable! at your age you may wear what you please, and it must become you. Mrs. H. Pray, Mr. Hastings, what do you take to be the most fashionable age about town? Hast. Some time ago, forty was all the mode; but I'm told, the ladies intend to bring up fifty for the ensuing winter. Mrs. H. Seriously? Then I shall be too young for the fashion. Hast. No lady begins now to put on jewels till she's past forty. For instance, miss there, in a polite circle, would be considered as a child, a mere maker of samplers. Mrs. H. And yet, Mrs. Niece thinks herself as much a woman, and is as fond of jewels, as the oldest of us all. Hast. Your niece, is she? And that young gentleman, a brother of your's, I should presume? Mrs. H. My son, sir. They are contracted to each other. Observe their little sports. They fall in and out ten times a day, as if they were man and wife already. [To them.] Well, Tony, child, what soft things are you saying to your cousin Constance, this evening? Tony. I have been saying no soft things; but, that it's very hard to be followed about so. Ecod! I've not a place in the house that's left to myself but the stable Mrs. H. Never mind him, Con., my dear. in another story behind your back. He's Miss N. There's something generous in my cousin's manner. He falls out before faces, to be forgiven in private. Tony. That's a d-d confounded-crack. Mrs. H. Ah! he's a sly one. Don't you think they're like each other about the mouth, Mr. Hastings? The Blenkinsop mouth to a T. They're of a size, too. Back to back, my pretties, that Mr. Hastings may see you. Tony. You had as good not make me, I tell you. Miss N. Oh, lud! he has almost cracked my head. Mrs. H. Oh! the monster! for shame, Tony! You a man, and behave so! Tony. If I'm a man, let me have my fortin. Ecod! I'll not be made a fool of any longer. Mrs. H. Is this, ungrateful boy! all that I'm to get for the pains I have taken in your education? I, that have rocked you in your cradle, and fed that pretty mouth with a spoon! Did not I work that waistcoat to make you look genteel? Tony. But, ecod! I tell you I'll not be made a fool of no longer. Mrs. H. Wasn't it all for your good, viper? Wasn't it ail for your good? Tony. I wish you'd let me and my good alone, then. Snubbing this way, when I'm in spirits. If I'm to have any good, let it come of itself; not to keep dinging it, dinging it into one so. Mrs. H. That's false; I never see you when you're in spirits. No, Tony, you then go to the alehouse or kennel, I'm never to be delighted with your agreeable wild notes, unfeeling monster! Tony. Ecod? mamma, your own notes are the wildest of the two. Mrs. H. Was ever the like? But I see he wants to break my heart, I see he does. Hast. Dear madam, permit me to lecture the young gentleman a little. I'm certain I can per suade him to his duty my love. You see, Mr. Hastings, the wretchedness of my situation: was ever poor woman so plagued with a dear, sweet, pretty, provoking, undutiful boy! [Exit with Miss N. Tony. [Singing.] And fain would have his will. Rang do dillo dee." Don't mind her. Let her cry. It's the comfort of her heart. I have seen her and sister cry over a book for an hour together, and they said they liked the book the better, the more it made them cry. Hast. Then you're no friend to the ladies, I find, my pretty young gentleman? Tony. That's as I find 'em. Hast. Not to her of your mother's choosing, I dare answer. And yet, she appears to me a pretty, well-tempered girl. Tony. That's because you don't know her as well as I. Ecod! I know every inch about her; and there's not a more bitter, cantankerous toad in all Christendom. Hast. Pretty encouragement for a lover! [Aside.] Tony. I have seen her since the height of that. She has as many tricks as a hare in a thicket, or a colt the first day's breaking. Hast. To me she appears sensible and silent. Tony. Ay, before company. But when she's with her playmates, she's as loud as a hog in a gate. Hast. But there is a meek modesty about her that charms me. Tony. Yes, but curb her never so little, she kicks up, and you're flung in the ditch. Hast. Well, but you must allow her a little beauty-yes, you must allow her some beauty, Tony. Bandbox! she's all a made-up thing, mun. Ah! could you but see Bet Bouncer of these parts, you might then talk of beauty. Ecod! she has two eyes as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad and red as a pulpit cushion. She'd make two of she. Hast. Well, what say you to a friend that would take this bitter bargain off your hands? Tony. Anan? Hast. Would you thank him that would take Miss Neville, and leave you to happiness and your dear Betsy? Tony. Ay; but where is there such a friend? for who would take her? Hast. I am he. If you but assist me, I'll engage to whip her off to France, and you shall never hear more of her. Tony. Assist you! Ecod! I will to the last drop of my blood. I'll clap a pair of horses to your chaise, that shall trundle you off in a twinkling; and, may be, get you a part of her fortin beside, in jewels, that you little dream of. Hust. My dear squire, this looks like a lad of spirit Tony. Come along, then, and you shall see more "We are the boys that fear no noise," &c. [Exeunt. of my spirit before you have done with me. [Singing.] ACT III. SCENE I-The same. Enter HARDCASTLE. Hard. What could my old friend, Sir Charles, mean by recommending his son as the modestest Mrs. H. Well, I must retire. Come, Constance young man in town. To me he appears the most |