(Enter Hastings and Servant.) Hastings. You saw the old lady and Miss Neville drive off, you say?

Servant. Yes, your honor. They went off in a post-coach, and the young 'Squire went on horseback. They're thirty miles off by this time.

Hastings. Then all my hopes are over. Servant. Yes, sir. Old Sir Charles is arrived. He and the old gentleman of the house have been laughing at Mr. Marlow's mistake this half-hour. They are coming this way.

Hastings. Then I must not be seen. So

now to my fruitless appointment at the bottom of the garden. This is about the time.

(Exit.)

(Enter Sir Charles and Hardcastle.) Hard. Ha! ha! ha! The peremptory tone in which he sent forth his sublime commands!

Sir Charles. And the reserve with which I suppose he treated all your advances. Hard. And yet he might have seen something in me above a common innkeeper, too.

Sir Charles. Yes, Dick, but he mistook

you for an uncommon innkeeper, ha! ha! ha!

Hard. Well, I'm in too good spirits to think of anything but joy. Yes, my dear friend, this union of our families will make our personal friendships hereditary: and though my daughter's fortune is but small

Sir Charles. Why, Dick, will you talk of fortune to me? My son is possessed of more than a competence already, and can want nothing but a good and virtuous girl to share his happiness and increase it. If they like each other, as you say they do

Hard. If, man! I tell you they do like each other. My daughter as good as told

me so.

Sir Charles. But girls are apt to flatter themselves, you know.

Hard. I saw him grasp her hand in the warmest manner myself; and here he comes to put you out of your ifs, I warrant him.

(Enter Marlow.)

Marlow. I come, sir, once more, to ask pardon for my strange conduct. I can scarce reflect on my insolence without confusion.

Hard. Tut, boy, a trifle. You take it too gravely. An hour or two's laughing with my daughter will set all to rights again. She'll never like you the worse for it. Marlow. Sir, I shall be always proud of her approbation.

Hard. Approbation is but a cold word, Mr. Marlow; if I am not deceived, you have something more than approbation thereabouts. You take me.

Marlow. Really, sir, I have not that happiness.

Hard. Come, boy, I'm an old fellow, and know what's what, as well as you that are younger. I know what has passed between you; but mum.

Marlow. Sure, sir, nothing has passed between us but the most profound respect on my side, and the most distant reserve on hers. You don't think, sir, that my impudence has been passed upon all the rest of the family.

Hard. Impudence! No, I don't say thatNot quite impudence-Though girls like to be played with, and rumpled a little too, sometimes. But she has told no tales, I assure you.

Marlow. I never gave her the slightest

cause.

Hard. Well, well, I like modesty in its place well enough. But this is over-acting, young gentleman. You may be open. Your father and I will like you the better for it.

Marlow. May I die, sir, if I ever Hard. I tell you, she don't dislike you; and as I'm sure you like herMarlow. Dear sir-I protest, sirHard. I see no reason why you should not be joined as fast as the parson can tie you.

Marlow. But hear me, sir

Hard. Your father approves the match, I admire it, every moment's delay will be doing mischief, so

Marlow. But why won't you hear me?

By all that's just and true, I never gave Miss Hardcastle the slightest mark of my attachment, or even the most distant hint to suspect me of affection. We had but one interview, and that was formal, modest, and uninteresting. Hard. (Aside.) This

fellow's formal, modest impudence is beyond bearing. Sir Charles. And you never grasped her hand, or made any protestations! Marlow. As heaven is my witness, I came down in obedience to your commands, I saw the lady without emotion, and parted without reluctance. I hope you'll exact no further proofs of my duty, nor prevent me from leaving a house in which I suffer so many mortifications.

(Exit.)

Sir Charles. I'm astonished at the air of sincerity with which he parted.

Hard. And I'm astonished at the deliberate intrepidity of his assurance.

Sir Charles. I dare pledge my life and honor upon his truth.

Hard. Here comes my daughter, and I would stake my happiness upon her veracity.

(Enter Miss Hardcastle.)

Hard. Kate, come hither, child. Answer us sincerely, and without reserve; has Mr. Marlow made you any professions of love and affection?

Miss Hard. The question is very abrupt, sir! But since you require unreserved sincerity, I think he has. Hard. (To Sir Charles.)

You see.

Sir Charles. And pray, madam, have you
and my son had more than one interview?
Miss Hard. Yes, sir, several.
Hard. (To Sir Charles.)

You see.

Miss Hard. Formally.

Hard. Now, my friend, I hope you are satisfied.

Sir Charles. And how did he behave, madam?

Miss Hard. As most professed admirers do. Said some civil things of my face, talked much of his want of merit, and the greatness of mine; mentioned his heart, gave a short tragedy speech, and ended with pretended rapture.

Sir Charles. Now I'm perfectly convinced, indeed. I know his conversation among women to be modest and submissive. This forward, canting,37 ranting manner by no means describes him, and I am confident he never sat for the picture. Miss Hard. Then what, sir, if I should convince you to your face of my sincerity? If you and my papa, in about halfan-hour, will place yourselves behind that screen, you shall hear him declare his passion to me in person.

Sir Charles. Agreed. And if I find him what you describe, all my happiness in him must have an end.

Hastings. What an idiot am I, to wait here for a fellow, who probably takes a delight in mortifying me! He never intended to be punctual, and I'll wait no longer. What do I see? It is he, and perhaps with news of my Constance.

(Enter Tony, booted and spattered.) Hastings. My honest 'Squire! I now find you a man of your word. This looks like friendship.

Tony. Ay, I'm your friend, and the best friend you have in the world, if you knew but all. This riding by night, byaffected.

the-bye, is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me worse than the basket of a stage-coach.

Hastings. But how? Where did you leave fellow-travellers? Are they in

your

safety? Are they housed? Tony. Five and twenty miles in two hours and a half is no such bad driving. The poor beasts have smoked for it: rabbit me, but I'd rather ride forty miles after a fox, than ten with such varment. Hastings. Well, but where have you left the ladies? I die with impatience. Tony. Left them? Why, where should I leave them, but where I found them? Hastings. This is a riddle.

Tony. Riddle me this, then. What's that goes round the house, and round the house, and never touches the house? Hastings. I'm still astray. Tony. Why, that's it, mon. I have led them astray. By jingo, there's not a pond or slough within five miles of the place but they can tell the taste of. Hastings. Ha, ha, ha, I understand; you took them in a round, while they supposed themselves going forward. And so you have at last brought them home again?

Tony. You shall hear. I first took them down Feather-Bed Lane, where we stuck fast in the mud. I then rattled them crack over the stones of Up-and-down Hill-I then introduced them to the gibbet on Heavy-Tree Heath, and from that, with a circumbendibus, I fairly lodged them in the horse-pond at the bottom of the garden.

Hastings. But no accident, I hope.
Tony. No, no. Only mother is confound-

edly frightened. She thinks herself forty miles off. She's sick of the journey, and the cattle can scarce crawl. So, if your own horses be ready, you may whip off with cousin, and I'll be bound that no soul here can budge afoot to follow you. Hastings. My dear friend, how can I be grateful?

Tony. Ay, now it's dear friend, noble

'Squire. Just now, it was all idiot, cub, and run me through the guts. Damn your way of fighting, I say. After we take a knock in this part of the country, we kiss and be friends. But if you had run me through the guts, then I should be dead, and you might go kiss the hang

man.

Hastings. The rebuke is just. But I must hasten to relieve Miss Neville; if you keep

the old lady employed, I promise to take care of the young one.

(Exit Hastings.)

Tony. Never fear me.

Here she comes. Vanish. She's got from the pond, and draggled up to the waist like a mermaid.

(Enter Mrs. Hardcastle.)

Shook.

Mrs. Hard. Oh, Tony, I'm killed. Battered to death. I shall never survive it. That last jolt that laid us against the quick-set hedge has done my business. Tony. Alack, mamma, it was all your own fault. You would be for running away by night, without knowing one inch of the way.

Mrs. Hard. I wish we were at home again. I never met so many accidents in so short a journey. Drenched in the mud, overturned in a ditch, stuck fast in a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to lose our way! Whereabouts do you think we are, Tony?

Tony. By my guess we should be upon Crack-skull Common, about forty miles from home.

Mrs. Hard. O lud! O lud! the most notorious spot in all the country. We only want a robbery to make a complete night on 't.

Tony. Don't be afraid, mamma, don't be afraid. Two of the five that kept here are hanged, and the other three may not find us. Don't be afraid. Is that a man that's galloping behind us? No; it's only a tree. Don't be afraid.

Mrs. Hard. The fright will certainly kill

me.

Tony. Do you see any thing like a black hat moving behind the thicket?

Mrs. Hard. O death!

on 't.

Don't be

Tony. No, it's only a Cow. afraid, mamma, don't be afraid. Mrs. Hard. As I'm alive, Tony, I see a man coming towards us. Ah! I'm sure If he perceives us, we are undone. Tony. (Aside.) Father-in-law, by all that's unlucky, come to take one of his night walks. (To her.) Ah, it's a highwayman, with pistols as long as my arm. A damned ill-looking fellow.

Mrs. Hard. Good heaven defend us! He approaches.

Tony. Do you hide yourself in that thicket,

and leave me to manage him. If there be any danger I'll cough and cry hem. When I cough be sure to keep close. (Mrs. Hardcastle hides behind a tree in the back scene.)

(Enter Hardcastle.)

Hard. I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people in want of help. Oh, Tony, is that you? I did not expect you so soon back. Are your mother and her charge in safety?

Tony. Very safe, sir, at my aunt Pedigree's. Hem.

Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Ah death! I find there's danger.

Hard. Forty miles in three hours; sure, that's too much, my youngster. Tony. Stout horses and willing minds make short journeys, as they say. Hem. Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Sure he'll do the dear boy no harm. Hard. But I heard a voice here; I should be glad to know from whence it came? Tony. It was I, sir, talking to myself, sir. I was saying that forty miles in four hours was very good going. Hem. As to be sure it was. Hem. I have got a sort of cold by being out in the air. We'll go in if you please. Hem. Hard. But if you talked to yourself, you did not answer yourself. I am certain I heard two voices, and am resolved (Raising his voice.) to find the other out. Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Oh! he's coming to find me out. Oh! Tony. What need you go, sir, if I tell you? Hem. I'll lay down my life for the truth-hem-I'll tell you all, sir.

(Detaining him..)

Hard. I tell you I will not be detained. I insist on seeing. It's in vain to expect I'll believe you.

Mrs. Hard. (Running forward from_behind.) O lud, he 'll murder my poor boy, my darling. Here, good gentleman, whet your rage upon me. Take my money, my life, but spare that young gentleman, spare my child, if you have any mercy. Hard. My wife! as I'm a Christian.

From whence can she come, or what does she mean?

Mrs. Hard. (Kneeling.) Take compassion on us, good Mr. Highwayman. Take our money, our watches, all we have, but spare our lives. We will never bring you to justice, indeed we won't, good Mr. Highwayman.

Hard. I believe the woman's out of her senses. What, Dorothy, don't you know me? Mrs. Hard. Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm alive! My fears blinded me. But who, my dear, could have expected to meet you here, in

this frightful place, so far from home? What has brought you to follow us? Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your wits! So far from home, when you are within forty yards of your own door! (To him.) This is one of your old tricks, you graceless rogue, you! (To her.) Don't you know the gate, and the mulberry-tree; and don't you remember the horsepond, my dear?

Mrs. Hard. Yes, I shall remember the horsepond as long as I live; I have caught my death in it. (To Tony.) And is it to you, you graceless varlet, I owe all this? I'll teach you to abuse your mother, I will.

Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have spoiled me, and so you may take the fruits on 't.

Mrs. Hard. I'll spoil you, I will.

(Follows him off the stage. Exit.) Hard. There's morality, however, in his reply.

(Exit.)

(Enter Hastings and Miss Neville.)

Hastings. My dear Constance, why will you deliberate thus? If we delay a moment, all is lost for ever. Pluck up a little resolution, and we shall soon be out of the reach of her malignity.

Miss Neville. I find it impossible. My spirits are so sunk with the agitations I have suffered, that I am unable to face any new danger. Two or three years' patience will at last crown us with happi

ness.

Hastings. Such a tedious delay is worse than inconstancy. Let us fly, my charmer. Let us date our happiness from this very moment. Perish fortune. Love and content will increase what we possess beyond a monarch's revenue. Let me prevail. Miss Neville. No, Mr. Hastings, no. Prudence once more comes to my relief, and I will obey its dictates. In the moment of passion, fortune may be despised, but it ever produces a lasting repentance. I'm resolved to apply to Mr. Hardcastle's compassion and justice for redress. Hastings. But though he had the will, he has not the power to relieve you. Miss Neville. But he has influence, and upon that I am resolved to rely. Hastings. I have no hopes. But since you persist, I must reluctantly obey you. (Exeunt.)

SCENE 3. Scene changes [to a Room at Mr. Hardcastle's.]

(Enter Sir Charles and Miss Hardcastle.) Sir Charles. What a situation am I in! If what you say appears, I shall then find a guilty son. If what he says be true, I shall then lose one that, of all others, I most wished for a daughter. Miss Hard. I am proud of your approbation; and, to show I merit it, if you place yourselves as I directed, you shall hear his explicit declaration. But he comes. Sir Charles. I'll to your father, and keep him to the appointment.

(Exit Sir Charles.)

(Enter Marlow.)

Marlow. Though prepared for setting out, I come once more to take leave, nor did I, till this moment, know the pain I feel in the separation.

Miss Hard. (In her own natural manner.) I believe these sufferings cannot be very great, sir, which you can so easily remove. A day or two longer, perhaps, might lessen your uneasiness, by showing the little value of what you now think proper to regret.

Marlow. (Aside.) This girl every moment improves upon me. (To her.) It must not be, madam. I have already trifled too long with my heart. My very pride begins to submit to my passion. The disparity of education and fortune, the anger of a parent, and the contempt of my equals, begin to lose their weight; and nothing can restore me to myself but this painful effort of resolution. Miss Hard. Then go, sir. I'll urge nothing more to detain you. Though my family be as good as hers you came down to visit, and my education, I hope, not inferior, what are these advantages without equal affluence? I must remain contented with the slight approbation of imputed merit; I must have only the mockery of your addresses, while all your serious aims are fixed on fortune.

(Enter Hardcastle and Sir Charles from behind.)

Sir Charles. Here, behind this screen. Hard. Ay, ay, make no noise. I'll engage my Kate covers him with confusion at last.

Marlow. By heavens, madam, fortune was

ever my smallest consideration. Your

beauty at first caught my eye; for who could see that without emotion? But every moment that I converse with you steals in some new grace, heightens the picture, and gives it stronger expression What at first seemed rustic plainness, now appears refined simplicity. What seemed forward assurance, now strikes me as the result of courageous innocence, and conscious virtue.

Sir Charles. What can it mean? He

amazes me!

Hard. I told you how it would be. Hush! Marlow. I am now determined to stay. madam, and I have too good an opinion of my father's discernment, when he sees you, to doubt his approbation. Miss Hard. No, Mr. Marlow, I will not, cannot detain you. Do you think I could suffer a connexion, in which there is the smallest room for repentance? Do you think I would take the mean advantage of a transient passion, to load you wit confusion? Do you think I could ever relish that happiness, which was acquired by lessening yours?

Marlow. By all that's good, I can have n happiness but what's in your power to grant me. Nor shall I ever feel repentance, but in not having seen your merits before. I will stay, even contrary to your wishes; and though you should persist to shun me, I will make my respectful assiduities atone for the levity of my past conduct.

Miss Hard. Sir, I must entreat you'll desist. As our acquaintance began, so let it end, in indifference. I might have give an hour or two to levity; but, seriously. Mr. Marlow, do you think I could ever submit to a connection where I must appear mercenary, and you imprudent? Do you think I could ever catch at the confident addresses of a secure admirer! Marlow. (Kneeling.) Does this look like security? Does this look like confidence! No, madam, every moment that shows me your merit, only serves to increase my diffidence and confusion. Here let me continue

Sir Charles. I can hold it no longer. Charles, Charles, how hast thou deceived me! Is this your indifference, your unirteresting conversation!

Hard. Your cold contempt! your forma! interview! What have you to say now? Marlow. That I'm all amazement! What can it mean?

Hard. It means that you can say and un