Act II

Scene. An old-fashioned house.

Enter Hardcastle, followed by three or four awkward Servants.
Hardcastle Well, I hope you are perfect in the table exercise I have been teaching you these three days. You all know your posts and your places, and can show that you have been used to good company, without ever stirring from home.
Omnes Ay, ay.
Hardcastle When company comes you are not to pop out and stare, and then run in again, like frightened rabbits in a warren.
Omnes No, no.
Hardcastle You, Diggory, whom I have taken from the barn, are to make a show at the side-table; and you, Roger, whom I have advanced from the plough, are to place yourself behind my chair. But you’re not to stand so, with your hands in your pockets. Take your hands from your pockets, Roger; and from your head, you blockhead you. See how Diggory carries his hands. They’re a little too stiff, indeed, but that’s no great matter.
Diggory Ay, mind how I hold them. I learned to hold my hands this way when I was upon drill for the militia. And so being upon drill⁠—
Hardcastle You must not be so talkative, Diggory. You must be all attention to the guests. You must hear us talk, and not think of talking; you must see us drink, and not think of drinking; you must see us eat, and not think of eating.
Diggory By the laws, your worship, that’s parfectly unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forward, ecod, he’s always wishing for a mouthful himself.
Hardcastle Blockhead! Is not a bellyful in the kitchen as good as a bellyful in the parlour? Stay your stomach with that reflection.
Diggory Ecod, I thank your worship, I’ll make a shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry.
Hardcastle Diggory, you are too talkative.⁠—Then, if I 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.
Diggory 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!⁠—for the soul of me. We have laughed at that these twenty years⁠—ha! ha! ha!
Hardcastle 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?
Diggory Ecod, your worship, I never have courage till I see the eatables and drinkables brought upo’ the table, and then I’m as bauld as a lion.
Hardcastle What, will nobody move?
First Servant I’m not to leave this pleace.
Second Servant I’m sure it’s no pleace of mine.
Third Servant Nor mine, for sartain.
Diggory Wauns, and I’m sure it canna be mine.
Hardcastle You numskulls! and so while, like your betters, you are quarrelling for places, the guests must be starved. Oh, you dunces! I find I must begin all over again⁠—But don’t I hear a coach drive into the yard? To your posts, you blockheads. I’ll go in the meantime and give my old friend’s son a hearty reception at the gate.
Exit Hardcastle.
Diggory By the elevens, my pleace is gone quite out of my head.
Roger I know that my pleace is to be everywhere.
First Servant Where the devil is mine?
Second Servant My pleace is to be nowhere at all; and so I’ze go about my business.
Exeunt Servants, running about as if frightened, different ways.
Enter Servant with candles, showing in Marlow and Hastings.
Servant Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome! This way.
Hastings 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.
Marlow The usual fate of a large mansion. Having first ruined the master by good housekeeping, it at last comes to levy contributions as an inn.
Hastings 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 a reckoning confoundedly.
Marlow Travellers, George, 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.
Hastings You have lived very much among them. In truth, I have been often surprised, that you who have seen so much of the world, with your natural good sense, and your many opportunities, could never yet acquire a requisite share of assurance.
Marlow 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—
Hastings Ay, among them you are impudent enough of all conscience.
Marlow They are of us, you know.
Hastings 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.
Marlow 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.
Hastings If you could but say half the fine things to them that I have heard you lavish upon the barmaid of an inn, or even a college bed-maker⁠—
Marlow 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, dressed out in all her finery, is the most tremendous object of the whole creation.
Hastings Ha! ha! ha! At this rate, man, how can you ever expect to marry?
Marlow 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, and cousins, and at last to blurt out the broad staring question of “Madam, will you marry me?” No, no, that’s a strain much above me, I assure you.
Hastings I pity you. But how do you intend behaving to the lady you are come down to visit at the request of your father?
Marlow 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.
Hastings I’m surprised that one who is so warm a friend can be so cool a lover.
Marlow To be explicit, my dear Hastings, my chief inducement down was to be instrumental in forwarding your happiness, not my own. Miss Neville loves you, the family don’t know you; as my friend you are sure of a reception, and let honour do the rest.
Hastings My dear Marlow! But I’ll suppress the emotion. Were I a wretch, meanly seeking to carry off a fortune, you should be the last man in the world I would apply to for assistance. But Miss Neville’s person is all I ask, and that is mine, both from her deceased father’s consent, and her own inclination.
Marlow Happy man! you have talents and art to captivate any woman. I’m doomed to adore the sex, and yet to converse with the only part of it I despise. This stammer in my address, and this awkward prepossessing visage of mine, can never permit me to soar above the reach of a milliner’s ’prentice, or one of the Duchesses of Drury Lane. Pshaw! this fellow here to interrupt us.
Enter Hardcastle.
Hardcastle Gentlemen, once more you are heartily welcome. Which is Mr. Marlow? Sir, you are heartily welcome. It’s not my way, you see, to receive my friends with my back to the fire. I like give them a hearty reception in the old style at my gate. I like to see their horses and trunks taken care of.
Marlow Aside. He has got our names from the servants already. To him. We approve your caution and hospitality, sir. To Hastings. I have been thinking, George, of changing our travelling dresses in the morning. I am grown confoundedly ashamed of mine.
Hardcastle I beg, Mr. Marlow, you’ll use no ceremony in this house.
Hastings I fancy, Charles, you’re right: the first blow is half the battle. I intend opening the campaign with the white and gold.
Hardcastle Mr. Marlow⁠—Mr. Hastings⁠—gentlemen⁠—pray be under no constraint in this house. This is Liberty Hall, gentlemen. You may do just as you please here.
Marlow Yet, George, if we open the campaign too fiercely at first, we may want ammunition before it is over. I think to reserve the embroidery to secure a retreat.
Hardcastle Your talking of a retreat, Mr. Marlow, puts me in mind of the Duke of Marlborough, when we went to besiege Denain. He first summoned the garrison⁠—
Marlow Don’t you think the ventre d’or waistcoat will do with the plain brown?
Hardcastle He first summoned the garrison, which might consist of about five thousand men⁠—
Hastings I think not: brown and yellow mix but very poorly.
Hardcastle I say, gentlemen, as I was telling you, be summoned the garrison, which might consist of about five thousand men⁠—
Marlow The girls like finery.
Hardcastle 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—
Marlow What, my good friend, if you gave us a glass of punch in the meantime; it would help us to carry on the siege with vigour.
Hardcastle Punch, sir! Aside. This is the most unaccountable kind of modesty I ever met with.
Marlow Yes, sir, punch! A glass of warm punch, after our journey, will be comfortable. This is Liberty Hall, you know.
Hardcastle Here’s a cup, sir.
Marlow Aside. So this fellow, in his Liberty Hall, will only let us have just what he pleases.
Hardcastle 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.
Marlow Aside. A very impudent fellow this! but he’s a character, and I’ll humour him a little. Sir, my service to you. Drinks.
Hastings Aside. 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.
Marlow 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.
Hardcastle No, sir, I have long given that work over. Since our betters have hit upon the expedient of electing each other, there is no business “for us that sell ale.”
Hastings So, then, you have no turn for politics, I find.
Hardcastle 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 left it to mend itself. Since that, I no more trouble my head about Hyder Ally, or Ally Cawn, than about Ally Croker. Sir, my service to you.
Hastings So that with eating above stairs, and drinking below, with receiving your friends within, and amusing them without, you lead a good pleasant bustling life of it.
Hardcastle I do stir about a great deal, that’s certain. Half the differences of the parish are adjusted in this very parlour.
Marlow After drinking. And you have an argument in your cup, old gentleman, better than any in Westminster Hall.
Hardcastle Ay, young gentleman, that, and a little philosophy.
Marlow Aside. Well, this is the first time I ever heard of an innkeeper’s philosophy.
Hastings So then, like an experienced general, you attack them on every quarter. If you find their reason manageable, you attack it with your philosophy; if you find they have no reason, you attack them with this. Here’s your health, my philosopher. Drinks.
Hardcastle 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.
Marlow Instead of the battle of Belgrade, I believe it’s almost time to talk about supper. What has your philosophy got in the house for supper?
Hardcastle For supper, sir! Aside. Was ever such a request to a man in his own house?
Marlow Yes, sir, supper, sir; I begin to feel an appetite. I shall make devilish work tonight in the larder, I promise you.
Hardcastle Aside. Such a brazen dog sure never my eyes beheld. To him. Why, really, sir, as for supper I can’t well tell. My Dorothy and the cook-maid settle these things between them. I leave these kind of things entirely to them.
Marlow You do, do you?
Hardcastle Entirely. By the by, I believe they are in actual consultation upon what’s for supper this moment in the kitchen.
Marlow Then I beg they’ll admit me as one of their privy council. It’s a way I have got. When I travel, I always choose to regulate my own supper. Let the cook be called. No offence I hope, sir.
Hardcastle O no, sir, none in the least; yet I don’t know how; our Bridget, the cook-maid, is not very communicative upon these occasions. Should we send for her, she might scold us all out of the house.
Hastings Let’s see your list of the larder then. I ask it as a favour. I always match my appetite to my bill of fare.
Marlow To Hardcastle, who looks at them with surprise. Sir, he’s very right, and it’s my way too.
Hardcastle Sir, you have a right to command here. Here, Roger, bring us the bill of fare for tonight’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.
Hastings Aside. All upon the high rope! His uncle a colonel! we shall soon hear of his mother being a justice of the peace. But let’s hear the bill of fare.
Marlow 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 a whole Joiners’ Company, or the corporation of Bedford, to eat up such a supper? Two or three little things, clean and comfortable, will do.
Hastings But let’s hear it.
Marlow Reading. “For the first course, at the top, a pig, and prune sauce.”
Hastings Damn your pig, I say.
Marlow And damn your prune sauce, say I.
Hardcastle And yet, gentlemen, to men that are hungry, pig with prune sauce is very good eating.
Marlow “At the bottom, a calf’s tongue and brains.”
Hastings Let your brains be knocked out, my good sir, I don’t like them.
Marlow Or you may clap them on a plate by themselves. I do.
Hardcastle Aside. Their impudence confounds me. To them. Gentlemen, you are my guests, make what alterations you please. Is there anything else you wish to retrench or alter, gentlemen?
Marlow “Item: a pork pie, a boiled rabbit and sausages, a Florentine, a shaking pudding, and a dish of tiff⁠—taff⁠—taffety cream!”
Hastings 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.
Hardcastle I’m sorry, gentlemen, that I have nothing you like, but if there be anything you have a particular fancy to⁠—
Marlow 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.
Hardcastle I entreat you’ll leave that to me. You shall not stir a step.
Marlow Leave that to you! I protest, sir, you must excuse me, I always look to these things myself.
Hardcastle I must insist, sir, you’ll make yourself easy on that head.
Marlow You see I’m resolved on it. Aside. A very troublesome fellow this, as I ever met with.
Hardcastle Well, sir, I’m resolved at least to attend you. Aside. This may be modern modesty, but I never saw anything look so like old-fashioned impudence.
Exeunt Marlow and Hardcastle.
Hastings Alone. So I find this fellow’s civilities begin to grow troublesome. But who can be angry at those assiduities which are meant to please him? Ha! what do I see? Miss Neville, by all that’s happy!
Enter Miss Neville.
Miss Neville My dear Hastings! To what unexpected good fortune, to what accident, am I to ascribe this happy meeting?
Hastings Rather let me ask the same question, as I could never have hoped to meet my dearest Constance at an inn.
Miss Neville An inn! sure you mistake: my aunt, my guardian, lives here. What could induce you to think this house an inn?
Hastings 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 Neville Certainly it must be one of my hopeful cousin’s tricks, of whom you have heard me talk so often; ha! ha! ha!
Hastings He whom your aunt intends for you? he of whom I have such just apprehensions?
Miss Neville 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.
Hastings Thou dear dissembler! You must know, my Constance, I have just seized this happy opportunity of my friend’s visit here to get admittance into the family. The horses that carried us down are now fatigued with their journey, but they’ll soon be refreshed; and then, if my dearest girl will trust in her faithful Hastings, we shall soon be landed in France, where even among slaves the laws of marriage are respected.
Miss Neville 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 into my possession, you shall find me ready to make them and myself yours.
Hastings Perish the baubles! Your person is all I 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 abruptly informed of it, he would instantly quit the house before our plan was ripe for execution.
Miss Neville But how shall we keep him in the deception? Miss Hardcastle is just returned from walking; what if we still continue to deceive him?⁠—This, this way⁠—They confer.
Enter Marlow.
Marlow 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, on 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?
Hastings My dear Charles! Let me congratulate you!⁠—The most fortunate accident!⁠—Who do you think is just alighted?
Marlow Cannot guess.
Hastings 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 stepped into the next room, and will be back in an instant. Wasn’t it lucky? eh!
Marlow Aside. I have been mortified enough of all conscience, and here comes something to complete my embarrassment.
Hastings Well, but wasn’t it the most fortunate thing in the world?
Marlow Oh! yes. Very fortunate⁠—a most joyful encounter⁠—But our dresses, George, you know are in disorder⁠—What if we should postpone the happiness till tomorrow?⁠—Tomorrow at her own house⁠—It will be every bit as convenient⁠—and rather more respectful⁠—Tomorrow let it be. Offering to go.
Miss Neville By no means, sir. Your ceremony will displease her. The disorder of your dress will show the ardour of your impatience. Besides, she knows you are in the house, and will permit you to see her.
Marlow 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!
Hastings Pshaw, man! it’s but the first plunge, and all’s over. She’s but a woman, you know.
Marlow And, of all women, she that I dread most to encounter.
Enter Miss Hardcastle, as returned from walking, a bonnet, etc.
Hastings Introducing them. Miss Hardcastle, Mr. Marlow. I’m proud of bringing two persons of such merit together, that only want to know, to esteem each other.
Miss Hardcastle Aside. Now for meeting my modest 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.
Marlow 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!
Hastings To him. You never spoke better in your whole life. Keep it up, and I’ll insure you the victory.
Miss Hardcastle 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.
Marlow 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 Neville But that, I am told, is the way to enjoy it at last.
Hastings To him. Cicero never spoke better. Once more, and you are confirmed in assurance forever.
Marlow To him. Hem! Stand by me, then, and when I’m down, throw in a word or two, to set me up again.
Miss Hardcastle An observer, like you, upon life were, I fear, disagreeably employed, since you must have had much more to censure than to approve.
Marlow Pardon me, madam. I was always willing to be amused. The folly of most people is rather an object of mirth than uneasiness.
Hastings To him. 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.
Marlow Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. We like your company of all things. To him. Zounds, George, sure you won’t go? How can you leave us?
Hastings Our presence will but spoil conversation, so we’ll retire to the next room. To him. You don’t consider, man, that we are to manage a little tête-à-tête of our own.
Exeunt Hastings with Miss Neville.
Miss Hardcastle After a pause. But you have not been wholly an observer, I presume, sir: the ladies, I should hope, have employed some part of your addresses.
Marlow Relapsing into timidity. Pardon me, madam, I⁠—I⁠—I⁠—as yet have studied⁠—only⁠—to⁠—deserve them.
Miss Hardcastle And that, some say, is the very worst way to obtain them.
Marlow 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 Hardcastle Not at all, sir; there is nothing I like so much as grave conversation myself; I could hear it forever. Indeed, I have often been surprised how a man of sentiment could ever admire those light airy pleasures, where nothing reaches the heart.
Marlow It’s⁠—a disease⁠—of the mind, madam. In the variety of tastes there must be some who, wanting a relish⁠—for⁠—um⁠—a⁠—um⁠—
Miss Hardcastle I understand you, sir. There must be some, who, wanting a relish for refined pleasures, pretend to despise what they are incapable of tasting.
Marlow My meaning, madam, but infinitely better expressed. And I can’t help observing⁠—a⁠—
Miss Hardcastle Aside. Who could ever suppose this fellow impudent upon some occasions? To him. You were going to observe, sir⁠—
Marlow I was observing, madam⁠—I protest, madam, I forget what I was going to observe.
Miss Hardcastle Aside. I vow and so do I. To him. You were observing, sir, that in this age of hypocrisy⁠—something about hypocrisy, sir.
Marlow Yes, madam. In this age of hypocrisy there are few who upon strict inquiry do not⁠—a⁠—a⁠—a⁠—
Miss Hardcastle I understand you perfectly, sir.
Marlow Aside. Egad! and that’s more than I do myself.
Miss Hardcastle 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.
Marlow True, madam; those who have most virtue in their mouths, have least of it in their bosoms. But I’m sure I tire you, madam.
Miss Hardcastle Not in the least, sir; there’s something so agreeable and spirited in your manner, such life and force⁠—pray, sir, go on.
Marlow Yes, madam. I was saying⁠—that there are some occasions⁠—when a total want of courage, madam, destroys all the⁠—and puts us⁠—upon a⁠—a⁠—a⁠—
Miss Hardcastle I agree with you entirely; a want of courage upon some occasions assumes the appearance of ignorance, and betrays us when we most want to excel. I beg you’ll proceed.
Marlow Yes, madam. Morally speaking, madam⁠—But I see Miss Neville expecting us in the next room. I would not intrude for the world.
Miss Hardcastle I protest, sir, I never was more agreeably entertained in all my life. Pray go on.
Marlow Yes, madam, I was⁠—But she beckons us to join her. Madam, shall I do myself the honour to attend you?
Miss Hardcastle Well, then, I’ll follow.
Marlow Aside. This pretty smooth dialogue has done for me.
Exit.
Miss Hardcastle Alone. Ha! ha! ha! Was there ever such a sober, sentimental interview? I’m certain he scarce looked in my face the whole time. Yet the fellow, but for his unaccountable bashfulness, is pretty well too. He has good sense, but then so buried in his fears, that it fatigues one more than ignorance. If I could teach him a little confidence, it would be doing somebody that I know of a piece of service. But who is that somebody?⁠—That, faith, is a question I can scarce answer.
Exit.
Enter Tony and Miss Neville, followed by Mrs. Hardcastle and Hastings.
Tony What do you follow me for, cousin Con? I wonder you’re not ashamed to be so very engaging.
Miss Neville 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. Hardcastle 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.
Hastings Never there! You amaze me! From your air and manner, I concluded you had been bred all your life either at Ranelagh, St. James’s, or Tower Wharf.
Mrs. Hardcastle 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 secondhand. 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, Mr. Hastings?
Hastings Extremely elegant and dégagé, upon my word, madam. Your friseur is a Frenchman, I suppose?
Mrs. Hardcastle I protest, I dressed it myself from a print in the Ladies’ Memorandum Book for the last year.
Hastings Indeed! Such a head in a side box at the playhouse would draw as many gazers as my Lady Mayoress at a city ball.
Mrs. Hardcastle I vow, since inoculation began, there is no such thing to be seen as a plain woman; so one must dress a little particular, or one may escape in the crowd.
Hastings But that can never be your case, madam, in any dress. Bowing.
Mrs. Hardcastle Yet, what signifies my dressing when I have such a piece of antiquity by my side as Mr. Hardcastle: all I can say will never 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.
Hastings You are right, madam; for, as among the ladies there are none ugly, so among the men there are none old.
Mrs. Hardcastle 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.
Hastings Intolerable! At your age you may wear what you please, and it must become you.
Mrs. Hardcastle Pray, Mr. Hastings, what do you take to be the most fashionable age about town?
Hastings Some time ago, forty was all the mode; but I’m told the ladies intend to bring up fifty for the ensuing winter.
Mrs. Hardcastle Seriously. Then I shall be too young for the fashion.
Hastings 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, as a mere maker of samplers.
Mrs. Hardcastle And yet Mistress Niece thinks herself as much a woman, and is as fond of jewels, as the oldest of us all.
Hastings Your niece, is she? And that young gentleman, a brother of yours, I should presume?
Mrs. Hardcastle 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 now that’s left to myself, but the stable.
Mrs. Hardcastle Never mind him, Con, my dear. He’s in another story behind your back.
Miss Neville There’s something generous in my cousin’s manner. He falls out before faces to be forgiven in private.
Tony That’s a damned confounded⁠—crack.
Mrs. Hardcastle Ah! he’s a sly one. Don’t you think they are 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. Come, Tony.
Tony You had as good not make me, I tell you. Measuring.
Miss Neville O lud! he has almost cracked my head.
Mrs. Hardcastle O, 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 no longer.
Mrs. Hardcastle 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 genteel? Did not I prescribe for you every day, and weep while the receipt was operating?
Tony Ecod! you had reason to weep, for you have been dosing me ever since I was born. I have gone through every receipt in the Complete Huswife ten times over; and you have thoughts of coursing me through Quincy next spring. But, ecod! I tell you, I’ll not be made a fool of no longer.
Mrs. Hardcastle Wasn’t it all for your good, viper? Wasn’t it all 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. Hardcastle 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. Hardcastle Was ever the like? But I see he wants to break my heart, I see he does.
Hastings Dear madam, permit me to lecture the young gentleman a little. I’m certain I can persuade him to his duty.
Mrs. Hardcastle Well, I must retire. Come, Constance, 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?
Exeunt Mrs. Hardcastle and Miss Neville.
Tony Singing. “There was a young man riding by, and fain would have his will. Rang do didlo 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.
Hastings Then you’re no friend to the ladies, I find, my pretty young gentleman?
Tony That’s as I find ’um.
Hastings 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.
Hastings Aside. Pretty encouragement this for a lover!
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.
Hastings To me she appears sensible and silent.
Tony Ay, before company. But when she’s with her playmate, she’s as loud as a hog in a gate.
Hastings 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 a ditch.
Hastings 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.
Hastings Well, what say you to a friend that would take this bitter bargain off your hands?
Tony Anon!
Hastings 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?
Hastings 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 he get you a part of her fortin beside, in jewels, that you little dream of.
Hastings My dear Squire, this looks like a lad of spirit.
Tony Come along then and you shall see more of my spirit before you have done with me. Singing.

We are the boys
That fears no noise
Where the thundering cannons roar.

Exeunt.