uneasy and disconcerted.] I'm glad of your safe arrival, sir-I'm told you had some accidents by the way.

Mar. Only a few, madam. Yes, we had some. Yes, adam, a good many accidents, but should be sorrymadam-or rather glad of any accidents-that are so agreeably concluded. Hem!

Hast. [To MARLOW.] 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, 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.

Hast. [To MARLOW.] Cicero never spoke better. more, and you are confirm'd in assurance for

ever.

Mar. [TO HASTINGS.] 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.

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

Hast. [To MARLOW.] 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.

Mar. Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. We like your company of all things. [To HASTINGS.] 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 MARLOW.] You don't

of our own.

consider, man, that we are to manage a little tete-a-tete [Exeunt. Mar. What the devil shall I do? will you please to be seated, madam? I say, ma'am

Miss Hard. Sir!

Mar. I am afraid, ma'am, I am not so happy as to make myself agreeable to the ladies

Miss Hard. The ladies, I should hope, have employed some part of your addresses.

Mar. [Relapsing into timidity.] Pardon me, madam, I-I-I-as yet have studied-only-to-deserve them. Miss Hard. And that, some say, is the very worst way to obtain them.

Mar. 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 Hard. Not at all, sir; there is nothing I liké 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.

Mar. 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 Hard. I understand you, sir. There must be some who wanting a relish for refined pleasures, pretend to despise what they are incapable of tasting.

Mar. My meaning, madam; but infinitely better expressed. And I can't help observing

Miss Hard. [Aside.] Who could ever suppose this gentleman impudent upon some occasions! [To MARLow.] 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 MARLOW.] 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 Miss Hard. I understand you perfectly, sir.

Mar. [Aside.] Egad! and that's more than I do my. self.

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 saying-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.

Mar. But she beckons us to join her. Madam, shall I do myself the honour to attend you.

Miss Hard. Well then, I'll follow. [Exit MARLOW.]

-Ha! ha! ha! Was there ever such a sober sentimental interview? I'm certain he scarce look'd 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 [Exit.

answer.

Enter TONY and MISS NEVille.

Tony. What do you follow me for, cousin Con? I wonder you're not asham'd to be so very engaging.

Miss Nev. 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 coqueting him to the back scene.

Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE and HASTINGS.

Mrs. Hard. 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.

Hast. 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. Hard. O, 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 second-hand. I take care to know every tete-a-tete 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?

Hast. Extremely elegant and degagée, upon my word, madam. Your friseur is a Frenchman, I suppose?

Mrs. Hard. I protest I dressed it myself from a print in the ladies' memorandum book for the last year.

Hast. 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. Hard. 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.

Hast. But that can never be your case, madam, in any dress.

[Bowing. Mrs. Hard. Yet, what signifies my dressing, when I have such a piece of antiquity by my side as Mr. Hardcastle? all I can say will not 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 Captain Pately, with powder.

Hast. You are right, madam; for, as among the ladies, there are none ugly, so among the men, there are none old.

Mrs. Hard. 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 tete for my own wearing.

Hast. Intolerable! At your age you may wear what you please, and it must become you.

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

Hast. Some time ago, forty was all the mode; but I'm told the ladies intend to bring up fifty for the ensuing winter.

Mrs. Hard. Seriously. Then I shall be too young for the fashion.

Hast. 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, a mere maker of samplers.

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

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