Mar. You see I'm resolved on it. (Aside.) A very troublesome fellow this, as I ever met with.

Hard. 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.

Hast. (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 Nev. My dear Hastings! To what unexpected good fortune, to what accident, am I to ascribe this happy meeting? Hast. Rather let me ask the same question, as I could never have hoped to meet my dearest Constance at an inn.

What

Miss Nev. An inn! sure you mistake: my aunt, my guardian, lives here. 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 Nev. 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 Nev. 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.

Hast. 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 Nev. I have often told you, that

though ready to obey you, I yet shot leave my little fortune behind with rel

ance.

The greatest part of it was left by my uncle, the India director, and chis consists in jewels. I have been for s time persuading my aunt to let me them. I fancy I'm very near succeea The instant they are put into my p sion, you shall find me ready to them and myself yours.

Hast. Perish the baubles! Your pe is all I desire. In the mean time, my! Marlow must not be let into his miss I know the strange reserve of his ter is such, that if abruptly informed he would instantly quit the house our plan was ripe for execution.

Miss Nev. But how shall we keep 3 in the deception? Miss Hardcast just returned from walking; what still continue to deceive him?this way[Thy

Enter MARLOW.

Mar. The assiduities of these people teaze me beyond bearing. host seems to think it ill manners to i me alone, and so he claps not only i self, but his old-fashioned wife, back. They talk of coming to sup us too; and then, I suppose, we run the gauntlet through all the r the family.-What have we got her

Hast. My dear Charles! Let me * gratulate you!-The most fortunate dent! Who do you think is just alig

Mar. Cannot guess.

Hast. Our mistresses, boy, Miss H castle and Miss Neville. Give me to introduce Miss Constance Nevi your acquaintance. Happening to in the neighbourhood, they called return to take fresh horses here. Hardcastle has just stept into the** room, and will be back in an insie Wasn't it lucky? eh!

Mar. (Aside.) I have been more, enough of all conscience, and here or something to complete my embarrassi

Hast. Well, but wasn't it the fortunate thing in the world?

Mar. Oh yes. Very fortunate most joyful encounter-But our dress George, you know are in disorder-W

if we should 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 Nev. 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. Mar. O 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! Hast. Pshaw, man! it's but the first plunge, and all's over. She's but a woman, you know.

Mar. And, of all women, she that I

dread most to encounter.

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE, as returned from walking, a bonnet, &c.

Hast. (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 Hard. (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, I'm told you had some accidents by the way.

sir.

Hast. (To him.) Cicero never spoke better. Once more, and you are confirmed in assurance for ever.

Mar. (To him.) Hem! Stand by me, then, and when I'm down, throw in a word or two, to set me up again.

Miss Hard. An observer, like you, upon life were, I fear, disagreeably employed, since you must have had much more to censure than to approve.

I was The folly

Mar. Pardon me, madam. always willing to be amused. of most people is rather an object of mirth than uneasiness.

Hast. (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.

We like your company of all things. (To Mar. Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. him.) 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. (To him.) You don't consider, man, that we are to manage a little tête-à-tête of our own. [Exeunt.

Miss Hard. (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.

Hast. (To him.) You never spoke better in your whole life. Keep it up, and I'll insure you the victory.

Miss Hard. 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, ndeed, 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 Nev. But that, I am told, is the way to enjoy it at last.

Miss Hard. And that, some say, is the very worst way to obtain them.

Mar. Perhaps so, madam. to converse only with the and sensible part of the sex. afraid I grow tiresome.

But I love more grave But I'm

Miss Hard. 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.

of the mind,

Mar. It's- -a diseasemadam. In the variety of tastes there must be some who, wanting a relishfor- -um-a-um.

Miss Hard. I understand you, sir.

Miss Hard. (Aside.) Who could ever suppose this fellow impudent upon some occasions? (To him.) You were going to observe, sir

Mar. I was observing, madam-I protest, madam, I forget what I was going to observe.

Miss Hard. (Aside.) I vow and so do I. (To him.) 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—a—

sir.

Miss Hard. I understand you perfectly,

Mar. (Aside.) Egad! and that's more than I do myself.

Miss Hard. 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'm sure I tire you, madam.

Miss Hard. Not in the least, sir; there's something so agreeable and spirited in your manner, such life and force-pray, sir, go on.

Mar. Yes, madam. I was sayingthat there are some occasions, when a total want of courage, madam, destroys all the- and puts us-— upon a-a-aMiss Hard. 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.

Mar. Yes, madam. Morally speaking, madam-But I see Miss Neville expecting us in the next room. I would not intrude for the world.

Miss Hard. 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 Hard. Well, then, I'll follow. Mar. (Aside.) This pretty smooth d logue has done for me. [Ex Miss Hard. (Alone.) Ha! ha! ha! Wa there ever such a sober, sentimental inte view? I'm certain he scarce looked in face the whole time. Yet the fellow, for his unaccountable bashfulness, is pr well too. He has good sense, but so buried in his fears, that it fatigues ont more than ignorance. If I could text him a little confidence, it would be diş somebody that I know of a piece of se But who is that somebody?—That, is a question I can scarce answer. [ Enter TONY and MISS NEVILLE, by MRS. HARDCASTLE and HASTING

Tony. What do you follow me % cousin Con? I wonder you're not asha to be so very engaging.

Miss Nev. I hope, cousin, one speak to one's own relations, and not to blame.

Tony. Ay, but I know what sort da relation you want to make me, th but it won't do. I tell you, cousin a it won't do; so I beg you'll keep y. distance, I want no nearer relationship [She follows, coquetting him to the sa

scene.

Mrs. Hard. Well! I vow, Mr. H* ings, you are very entertaining. Th nothing in the world I love to talk much as London, and the fashions, th I was never there myself.

Hast. Never there! You amaze From your air and manner, I con you had been bred all your life either a Ranelagh, St. James's, or Tower W

Mrs. Hard. O! sir, you're only pl to say so. We country persons can b

no manner at all. I'm in love with town, and that serves to raise me sh some of our neighbouring rustics; who can have a manner, that has seen the Pantheon, the Grotto Garde the Borough, and such places where the nobility chiefly resort? All I can d to enjoy London at second-hand. It care to know every tête-à-tête from Scandalous Magazine, and have all

shions, as they come out, in a letter from e two Miss Rickets of Crooked Lane. ray how do you like this head, Mr. Hastings?

Hast. Extremely elegant and dégagée, Don my word, madam. Your friseur is Frenchman, I suppose?

Mrs. Hard. I protest, I dressed it my-If from a print in the Ladies' Memoranm-book for the last year.

Hast. Indeed! Such a head in a side-box the play-house would draw as many zers as my Lady Mayoress at a City Ball. Mrs. Hard. I vow, since inoculation egan, there is no such thing to be seen as plain woman; so one must dress a little articular, or one may escape in the crowd. Hast. But that can never be your case, adam, in any dress. (Bowing.) Mrs. Hard. Yet, what signifies my essing when I have such a piece of anquity by my side as Mr. Hardcastle: all can say will never argue down a single tton from his clothes. I have often inted him to throw off his great flaxen g, and where he was bald, to plaster it er, like my Lord Pately, with powder. Hast. You are right, madam; for, as ong the ladies there are none ugly, so ong the men there are none old. Mrs. Hard. But what do you think answer was? Why, with his usual othic vivacity, he said I only wanted him throw off his wig, to convert it into a for my own wearing.

Hast. Intolerable! At your age you y wear what you please, and it must come you.

Mrs. Hard. Pray, Mr. Hastings, what you take to be the most fashionable e about town?

Hast. Some time ago, forty was all the le; but I'm told the ladies intend to ng up fifty for the ensuing winter. Mrs. Hard. Seriously. Then I shall too young for the fashion.

Hast. No lady begins now to put on 'els till she's past forty. For instance, ss there, in a polite circle, would be sidered as a child, as a mere maker of aplers.

Mrs. Hard. And yet Mrs. Niece thinks self as much a woman, and is as fond jewels, as the oldest of us all.

Hast. Your niece, is she? And that young gentleman, a brother of yours, I should presume?

Mrs. Hard. 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. Hard. Never mind him, Con, my dear. He's in another story behind your back.

Miss Nev. There's something generous in my cousin's manner. He falls out before faces to be forgiven in private. Tony. That's a damned confoundedcrack.

Mrs. Hard. Ah! he's a sly one. Don't you think they are like each other about the mouth, Mr. Hastings? The Blenkin sop 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, tell you. (Measuring.)

I Miss. Nev. O lud! he has almost cracked my head.

Mrs. Hard. O, the monster! For shame, Tony. You a man, and behave so!

Tony. If I'm a man, let me have my i fortin.' Ecod! I'll not be made a fool of no longer.

Mrs. Hard. 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.

UU

Mrs. Hard. 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. Hard. 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. Hard 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 persuade him to his duty.

Mrs. Hard. 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.

Hast. Then you're no friend to the ladies, I find, my pretty young gentleman? Tony. That's as I find 'um.

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. (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.

Hast. To me she appears sensible and

silent

Tony. Ay, before company. But wh she's with her playmate, she's as loud a a hog in a gate.

Hast. But there is a meek moder about her that charms me.

Tony. Yes, but curb her never so re she kicks up, and you're flung in a dias Hast. Well, but you must allow t little beauty.-Yes, you must allow some beauty.

Tony. Bandbox! She's all a mar thing, mun. Ah! could you but se Bouncer of these parts, you might talk of beauty. Ecod, she has two co black as sloes, and cheeks as bro red as a pulpit cushion. She'd mak

of she.

Hast. Well, what say you to a that would take this bitter barga your hands?

Tony. Anon.

Hast. Would you thank him that i take Miss Neville, and leave you wo piness and your dear Betsy?

Tony. Ay; but where is there 51 friend, for who would take her?

Hast. I am he. If you but assis I'll engage to whip her off to Frant you shall never hear more of her.

Tony. Assist you! Ecod I will, last drop of my blood. I'll clap a of horses to your chaise that shall tra you off in a twinkling, and may be a part of her fortin beside, in jewe you little dream of.

Hast. My dear 'squire, this look i a lad of spirit.

Tony. Come along, then, and yet s see more of my spirit before you done with me. (Singing.)

"We are the boys

That fears no noise Where the thundering cannons m

ACT THE THIRD. Enter HARDCASTLE, alont Hard. What could my old fri Charles mean by recommending as the modestest young man in town! me he appears the most impudent p of brass that ever spoke with a to