You knew of my mistakes, yet would not undeceive

me.

Hast, Tortured as I am with my own disappointments, is this a time for explanations? It is not friendly, Mr. Marlow.

Mar, But, sir

Miss Nev. Mr. Marlow, we never kept on your mistake, till it was too late to undeceive you. Be pacified.

Enter DIGGORY.

Your

Digg. My mistress desires you'll get ready immediately, madam. The horses are putting to. hat and things are in the next room. We are to go thirty miles before morning.

[Exit. Miss Nev. Well, well; I'll come presently. O, Mr. Marlow! if you knew what a scene of constraint and illnature lies before me, I'm sure it would convert your resentment into pity.

Mar. I'm so distracted with a variety of passions, that I don't know what I do. Forgive me, madam, George, forgive me. You know my hasty temper, and should not exasperate it.

Hast. The torture of my situation is my only ex

cuse.

Miss Nev. Well, my dear Hastings, if you have that esteem for me that I think, that I am sure, you have, your constancy for three years will but increase the happiness of our future connexion. If

Mrs. Hard. [Within.] Miss Neville, Constance, why Constance, I say.

Miss Nev. I'm coming. Well, constancy. Remember, constancy is the word. [Exit. Mar. [To TONY.] You see now, young gentleman, the effects of your folly. What might be amusement to you, is here disappointment, and even distress.

Tony. [From a Reverie.] Ecod, I have hit it. It's here. Your hands. Yours, and yours, my poor

Sulky. My boots there, ho. Meet me two hours hence at the bottom of the garden; and if you don't find Tony Lumpkin a more goodnatur'd fellow than you thought for, I'll give you leave to take my best horse, and Bet Bouncer into the bargain. [Exeunt.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

A Room in HARDCASTLE's House.

Enter SIR CHARLES MARLOW and HARDCASTLE,

Hard. Ha! ha! ha! The peremptory tone in which he sent forth his sublime commands !

Sir Char. 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 Char. Yes, Dick, but he mistook you for an uncommon inn-keeper, ha! ha! ha!

Hard. Well, I'm in too good spirits to think of any thing 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 Char. Why, Dick, will you talk of fortune to me? My son is possessed of more than a competence

If

already, and can want nothing but a good and virtuous girl to share his happiness and increase it. 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 Char. 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.

Mar. 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.

Mar. 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?

Mar. 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.

Mar. 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 that-Not quite impudence-Though girls like to be play'd with, and rumpled too sometimes. But she has told no tales, I assure you.

Mar. May I die, sir, if I ever

Hard. I tell you, she don't dislike you; and as I'm sure you like her

Mar. 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 Char. And you never grasp'd her hand, or made any protestations?

Mar. 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 sutter so many mortifications. [Exit.

Sir Char. I'm astonish'd at the air of sincerity with which he parted.

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

Sir Char. I dare pledge my life and honour 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 uş 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 Char. And pray, madam, have you and my son had more than one interview?

Miss Hard. Yes, sir, several.

Hard. [To SIR CHARLES.] You see.

Sir Char. But did he profess any attachment ?
Miss Hard. A lasting one.

Sir Char. Did he talk of love?

Miss Hard. Much, sir.

Sir Char. Amazing! And all this formally?
Miss Hard. Formally.

Hard. Now, my friend, I hope you are satisfied.
Sir Char. And how did he behave, madam?

Miss Hard. As most profess'd 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 Char. Now I'm perfectly convinc'd, indeed. I know his conversation among women to be modest and submissive. This forward, canting, ranting manner by no means describes him, and I'm 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 half an hour, will follow my directions, you shall hear him declare his passion to me in person.

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

[Exit. Miss Hard. And if you don't find him what I describe-I fear my happiness must never have a begin

ning.

[Exeunt.