Enter Miss HARDCASTLE, plainly dressed.

Hard. Well, my Kate, I see you have changed your dress as I bid you; and yet, I believe, there was no great occasion.

Miss Hard. I find such a pleasure, sir, in obeying your commands, that I take care to observe them without ever debating their propriety.

Hard. And yet, Kate, I sometimes give you some cause, particularly when I recommended my modest gentleman to you as a lover to-day.

Miss Hard. You taught me to expect something extraordinary, and I find the original exceeds the description.

Hard. I was never so surprised in my life! He has quite confounded all my faculties!

Miss Hard. I never saw any thing like it: And a man of the world too!

Hard. Ay, he learned it all abroad—What a fool was I, to think a young man could learn mo desty by travelling. He might as soon learn wit at a masquerade.

Miss Hard. It seems all natural to him. Hard. A good deal assisted by bad company and a French dancing-master.

Miss Hard. Sure you mistake, papa! A French dancing-master could never have taught him that timid look-that awkward address-that bashful

ج manner

Hard. Whose look ? whose manner, child? Miss Hard. Mr Marlow's : his mauvaise honte, his timidity, struck me at the first sight.

Hard. Then your first sight deceived you; for I think him one of the most brazen first-sights that ever astonished my senses.

Miss Hard. Sure, sir, you rally? I never saw any one so modest.

Hard. And can you be serious? I never saw such a bouncing, swaggering puppy since I was born. Bully Dawson was but a fool to him.

Miss Hard. Surprising ! He met me with a respectful bow, a stammering voice, and a look fixed on the ground.

Hard. He met me with a loud voice, a lordly air, and a familiarity that made my blood freeze again.

Miss Hard. He treated me with diffidence and respect; censured the manners of the age; admired the prudence of girls that never laughed; tired me with apologies for being tiresome; then left the room with a bow, and, Madam, I would not for the world detain you.

Hard. He spoke to me as if he knew me all his life before. Asked twenty questions, and never waited for an answer. Interrupted my best remarks with some silly pun, and when I was in my best story, of the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, he asked if I had not a good hand at making punch? Yes, Kate, he ask'd your father if he was a maker of punch!

Miss Hard. One of us must certainly be mis

taken.

Hard. If he be what he has shewn himself, I'm determined he shall never have my consent. Miss Hard. And if he be the sullen thing I take him, he shall never have mine.

Hard. In one thing, then, we are agreed-to reject him.

Miss Hard. Yes; but upon conditions. For, if you should find him less impudent, and I more presuming; if you find him more respectful, and I more importunate I don't know the fellow is well enough for a man-Certainly we don't meet many such at a horse-race in the country.

Hard. If we should find him so-But that's impossible. The first appearance has done my business. I'm seldom deceived in that.

Miss Hard. And yet there may be many good qualities under that first appearance.

Hard. Aye, when a girl finds a fellow's outside to her taste, she then sets about guessing the test of his furniture. With her a smooth face stands for good sense, and agenteel figure for every virtue.

Miss Hard. I hope, sir, a conversation begun with a compliment to my good sense, won't end with a sneer at my understanding.

Hard. Pardon me, Kate. But if young Mr Brazen can find the art of reconciling contradictions, he may please us both, perhaps.

Miss Hard. And, as one of us must be mistaken, what if we go to make further discoveries? Hard. Agreed. But depend on't I'm in the right. Miss Hard. And depend on't I'm not much in the wrong. [Exeunt.

Enter TONY, running in with a casket. my cousin Con.'s necklaces, bobs and all. My moTony. Ecod! I have got them. Here they are, ther sha'n't cheat the poor souls out of their fortune neither. O! my genius, is that you?

Enter HASTINGS.

Hast. My dear friend, how have you managed with your mother? I hope you have amused her with pretending love for your cousin, and that you are willing to be reconciled at last? Our horses will be refreshed in a short time, and we shall soon be ready to set off.

Tony. And here's something to bear your charges by the way, (Giving the casket. your sweetheart's jewels. Keep them, and hang those, I say, that would rob you of one of them.

Hust. But how have you procured them from your mother?

Tony. Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no fibs. I procured them by the rule of thumb. If I had not a key to every drawer in mother's bureau, how could I go to the alehouse so often as I do? An honest man may rob himself of his own at any time.

Hast. Thousands do it every day. But to be plain with you; Miss Neville is endeavouring to procure them from her aunt this very instant. If she succeeds, it will be the most delicate way at least of obtaining them.

Tony. Well, keep them, till you know how it will be. But I know how it will be well enough; she'd as soon part with the only sound tooth in her head.

Hast. But I dread the effects of her resentment, when she finds she has lost them.

Tony. Never you mind her resentment, leave me to manage that. I don't value her resentment the bounce of a cracker. Zounds! here they are. Morrice. Prance. [Exit HASTINGS

Enter Mrs HARDCASTLE and Miss NEVILLE.

Mrs Hard. Indeed, Constance, you amaze me. Such a girl as you want jewels! It will be time enough for jewels, my dear, twenty years hence, when your beauty begins to want repairs. Miss Nev. But what will repair beauty at forty, will certainly improve it at twenty, madam.

Mrs Hard. Yours, my dear, can admit of none. That natural blush is beyond a thousand ornaments. Besides, child, jewels are quite out at present. Don't you see half the ladies of our acquaintance, my Lady Kill-day-light, and Mrs Crump, and the rest of them, carry their jewels to town, and bring nothing but paste and marcasites back?

Miss Nev. But who knows, madam, but somebody that shall be nameless would like me best with all my little finery about me?

Mrs Hard. Consult your glass, my dear, and then see if, with such a pair of eyes, you want any better sparklers. What do you think, Tony, my dear, does your cousin Con. want any jewels, in your eyes, to set off her beauty?

Tony. That's as thereafter may be.

Miss Nev. My dear aunt, if you knew how it would oblige me

Mrs Hard. A parcel of old-fashioned rose and table-cut things. They would make you look like the court of King Solomon at a puppet-shew. Besides, I believe I cann't readily come at them. They may be missing, for aught I know to the contrary.

Tony. [Apart to Mrs HARD.] Then, why don't you tell her so at once, as she's so longing for them? Tell her they're lost. It's the only way to quiet her. Say they're lost, and call me to bear witness.

Mrs Hard. [Apart to TONY.] You know, my dear, I'm only keeping them for you. So, if I say they're gone, you'll bear me witness, will you? He! he! be!

Tony. Never fear me. Ecod! I'll say I saw them taken out with my own eyes.

Miss Nen. I desire them but for a day, madam. Just to be permitted to shew them as relics, and then they may be lock'd up again.

Mrs Hurd. To be plain with you, my dear Constance, if I could find them, you should have them. They're missing, I assure you. Lost, for aught I know; but we must have patience whereever they are.

low

Miss Nev. I'll not believe it; this is but a shalpretence to deny me. I know they're too

valuable to be so slightly kept, and as you are to answer for the loss.

Mrs Hard. Don't be alarmed, Constance. If they be lost, I must restore an equivalent. But my son knows they are missing, and not to be found.

Tony. That I can bear witness to. They are missing, and not to be found, I'll take my oath on't.

Mrs Hard. You must learn resignation, my dear; for tho' we lose our fortune, yet we should not lose our patience. See me, how calm I am. Miss Nev. Ay, people are generally calm at the misfortunes of others.

Mrs Hard. Now, I wonder a girl of your good sense should waste a thought upon such trumpery. We shall soon find them; and in the mean time, you shall make use of my garnets till your jewels be found.

Miss Nev. I detest garnets.

Mrs Hard. The most becoming things in the world to set off a clear complexion. You have often seen how well they look upon me. You shall have them. [Exit.

Miss Nev. I dislike them of all things. You sha'n't stir.-Was ever any thing so provoking, to mislay my own jewels, and force me to wear trumpery!

Tony, Don't be a fool. If she gives you the garnets, take what you can get. The jewels are your own already. I have stolen them out of her bureau, and she does not know it. Fly to your spark, he'll tell you more of the matter. Leave me to manage her.

Miss Nev. My dear cousin―

Tony. Vanish. She's here, and has missed them already. Zounds! how she fidgets and spits about like a catharine wheel!

Enter Mrs HARDCASTLE.

Mrs Hard. Confusion! thieves! robbers! We are cheated, plundered, broke open, undone ! Tony. What's the matter, what's the matter, mamma? I hope nothing has happened to any of the good family?

Mrs Hard. We are robbed. My bureau has been broke open, the jewels taken out, and I'm undone.

Tony. By the laws, mamma, you make me for to laugh, ha! ha! I know who took them well enough, ha! ha! ha!

Mrs Hard. Was there ever such a blockhead, that cann't tell the difference between jest and earnest! I tell you I'm not in jest, booby.

Tony. That's right, that's right: You must be in a bitter passion, and then nobody will suspect either of us. I'll bear witness that they are gone.

Mrs Hard. Was there ever such a cross-grained brute, that won't hear me! Can you bear witness that you're no better than a fool? Was ever poor woman so beset with fools on one hand, and thieves on the other!

Tony, I can bear witness to that.

Mrs Hard. Bear witness again, you blockhead you, and I'll turn you out of the room directly. My poor niece, what will become of her! Do you laugh, you unfeeling brute, as if you enjoyed my distress?

Tony. I can bear witness to that.

Mrs Hard. Do you insult me, monster? I'll teach you to vex your mother, I will! Tony. I can bear witness to that.

[He runs off, she follows him.

Enter Miss HARDCASTLE and Maid. Miss Hard. What an unaccountable creature is that brother of mine, to send them to the house as an inn, ha! ha! I don't wonder at his impudence.

Maid. But what is more, madam, the young gentleman, as you passed by in your present dress, asked me, if you were the bar-maid? He mistook you for the bar-maid, madam,

Miss Hard. Did he? Then as I live I'm resolved to keep up the delusion. Tell me, Pimple, how do you like my present dress? Don't you think I look something like Cherry in the Beaux Stratagem?

Maid. It's the dress, madam, that every lady wears in the country, but when she visits or receives company.

Miss Hard. And are you sure he does not remember my face or person? Maid. Certain of it.

Miss Hard. I vow I thought so; for though we spoke for some time together, yet his fears were such, that he never once looked up during the interview. Indeed, if he had, my bonnet would have kept him from seeing me.

Maid. But what do you hope from keeping him in his mistake?

Miss Hard. In the first place, I shall be seen, and that is no small advantage to a girl who brings her face to market. Then I shall perhaps make an acquaintance, and that's no small victory gained over one who never addresses any but the wildest of her sex. But my chief aim is to take my gentleman off his guard, and, like an 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 tabacco for the Angel-The Lamb has been outrageous this half-hour.

Maid. It will do, madam. But he's here. [Exit Maid.

Enter MARLOW.

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 lost and his story. If I fly to the gallery, there we have my hostess with her curtsey 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. Mur. No, no. [Musing.] I have pleased my fat r, however, by coming down, and I'll to-morrow please myself by returning.

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

Mar. I tell you, no!

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

Mar. No, no, I tell you. [Looks fulls in her face.] Yes, child, I think I did call. I wanted— I vow, child, you're vastly handsome.

Miss Hard. Ola, 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 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.

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

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.

Mur. To guess at this distance, you cann't be much above forty. [Approaching.] Yet, nearer, I don't think so much. [Approaching.] By coming

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 accquainted 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 manner. I'll warrant me, before her you look'd dash'd, and kept bowing to the ground, and talk'd, for all the world, as if you was before a justice of the peace.

Mar. [Aside.] Egad! she has hit it, 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 laugh'd 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 call'd 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 service. [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, child!

Miss Hard. I cann'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.

Mor. And why not now, my angel? Such beauty fires beyond the power of resistancePshaw! 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 рара, 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 impudence is infectious! Didn't I see him seize your hand? Didn't I see him haul you about like a milk-maid? 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.

Hard. You shall not have half the time, for I have thoughts of turning him out this very hour. Miss Hard. Give me that hour then, and I hope to satisfy you.

Hard. 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.

SCENE I.

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 af ter his son.

Hust. 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, Hust. 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.

[Exit.

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 I 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?

Sero. Yes, your honour.

Mar. She said she'd keep it safe, did she? Serv. 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 mîne, 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!

Hast. I believe the girl has virtue. Mar. 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 cas ket 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 haveHast. 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. Wasn't 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 precau tion, was going to keep the messenger too. Ha! ha! ha!

Hast. He! he! he! They're safe, however. Mar. As a guinea in a miser'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 ditations on the pretty bar-maid, and, "he! be! he! may you be as successful for yourself as you have been for me.

[Exit.

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

women.

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. Didn't you see the tempting, brisk, love ly 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 sha'n't honestly pay for.

Enter HARDCASTLE.

Hard. I no longer know my own house. It's 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. [dside.] What's to be the wonder now?

Hurd. 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