Every thing looks like an inn. The servants cry, coming! The attendance is awkward; the bar-maid too to attend us. But she's here, and will further inform me. Whither so fast, child? a word with you.

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE.

Miss H. Let it be short then; I'm in a hurry.believe he begins to find out his mistake, but it's too soon quite to undeceive him. [Aside. Mar. Pray, child, answer me one question. What are you, and what may your business in this house be? Miss H. A relation of the family, sir.

Mar. What, a poor relation?

Miss H. 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 H. Inn! O law-What brought that in your head? One of the best families in the county to 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 H. Ay, sir, whose else should it be?

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 print-shops. The Dullissimo Maccaroni. To mistake this house of all others for an inn, and my father's old friend for an innkeeper. What a swaggering puppy must he take me for. What a silly puppy do I find myself. There again, may I be hang'd, my dear, but I mistook you for the bar-maid.

Miss H. 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 it's over-This house I no more show my face in.

Miss H. 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 should be sorry people said any thing amiss, since I have no fortune but my character.

Mar. By heaven, she weeps. This is the first mark of tenderness I ever had from a modest woman, and it touches me.

[Aside. Miss H. 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 H. Because it puts me at a distance from one, that if I had a thousand pounds I would give it all to. Mar. This simplicity bewitches me, so that if I stay I'm undone. I must make one bold effort, and leave her. [Aside] Excuse me, my lovely girl, you are the only part of the family I leave with reluctance. But to be plain with you, the difference of our birth, fortune, 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.

[Exit.

He

Miss H. I never knew half his merit till now. shall not go, if I have power or art to detain him. I'll still preserve the character in which I stoop'd to conquer, but will undeceive my papa, who perhaps may laugh him out of his resolution. [Exit.

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 N. 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 damn'd 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 H. 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 am 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. H. A mere sprinkling, Tony, upon the flame, only to make it burn brighter.

Miss N. 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?

Tony. O! it's a pretty creature. No, I'd sooner leave my horse in a pound, than leave you when you smile upon one so. Your laugh makes you so becoming.

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

Mrs. H. Pretty innocence!

Tony. I'm sure I always lov'd cousin Con's hazel eyes, and her pretty long fingers, that she twists this way and that over the harpsicholls, like a parcel of bobbius.

Mrs. H. 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. Isn't he a sweet boy, my dear? You shall be married to-morrow, and we'll put off the rest of his education, like Dr. Drowsy's sermons, to a fitter opportunity. Enter DIGGORY.

Digg. Where's the squire? I have got a letter for your worship.

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

Digg. I had orders to deliver it into your own hands.
Tony. Who does it come from?

Digg. Your worship mun ask that o'the letter itself.
Tony. I could wish to know, though.

[Turning the Letter, and gazing on it. Miss N. [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 laugh'd-You must know, madamthis way a little, for he must not hear us. [They confer. Tony. [Still guzing] A damn'd cramp 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. To Anthony Lumpkin, Esq. It's very odd, I can read the outside of iny letters, where my own name is, well enough. But when I come to open it, it is all-buz. That's hard, very hard: for the inside of the letter is always the cream of the correspondence. Mrs. H. Ha! ha! ha! Very well, very well. And so my son was too hard for the philosopher.

Miss N. 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 again.

Mrs. H. He seems strangely puzzled now himself, methinks.

Tony. [Still gazing] A damnn'd up and down hand, as if it was disguised in liquor. [Reading] Dear sir. Ay, that's that. Then there's an M, and a T, and an S, but whether the next be an izzard or an R, confound me, I cannot tell.

Mrs. H. What's that, my dear? Can I give you any assistance?

Miss N. Pray, aunt, let me read it. Nobody reads a cramp hand better than I. [Twitching the Letter from her] Do you know who it is from?

Tony. Can't tell, except from Dick Ginger, the feeder. Miss N. Ay, so it is. [Pretending to read] Dear squire, hoping that you're in health, as I am at this present. The gentlemen of the Shake-bag club has cut the gentlemen of the Goose-green quite out of feather. The odds-um-old battle-um-long fighting-umhere, here, it's all about cocks, and fighting; it's of no consequence, here, put it up, put it up.

[Thrusting the crumpled Letter upon him. Tony. But I tell you, miss, it's of all the consequence in the world. I would not lose the rest of it for a guinea. Here, mother, do you make it out. Of no consequence. [Giving Mrs. Hardcastle the Letter. Mrs. H. How's this?

[Reads.

Dear Squire,-I'm now waiting for Miss Neville, with a post chaise and pair, at the bottom of the garden; but I find my horses yet unable to perform the journey. I expect you'll assist us with a pair of fresh horses, as you promised. Dispatch is necessary, as the hug (ay, the hag), your mother, will otherwise suspect us. Yours, HASTINGS.

Grant me patience. I shall run distracted. My rage chokes me.

Miss N. I hope, madam, you'll suspend your resentment for a few moments, and not impute to me any impertinence, or sinister design that belongs to another.

Mrs. H. [Courtseying very low] Fine spoken, madam, you are most miraculously polite and engaging, and quite the very pink of courtesy and circumspection, Dadam. [Changing her Tone] Aud you, you great ill