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Mrs. Hard. I'm actually afraid of his lungs.
Hard. And truly so am I ; for he sometimes whoops like a speaking trumpet-[Tony hallooing behind the Scenes]—0 there he goes—A very consumptive figure, truly.
Enter TONY, crossing the Stage. Mrs. Hard. Tony, where are you going, my charmer? Won't you give papa and I a little of your company, lovee?
Tony. I'ın in haste, mother, I cannot stay.
Mrs. Hard. You shan't venture out this raw even. ing, nay dear: You look most shockingly.
Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The Three Pigeons expects me down every moment. There's some fun going forward.
Hard. Ay; the ale-house, the old place : I thought
Mrs. Hard. A low, paltry set of fellows.
Tony. Not so low neither. There's Dick Muggins the exciseman, Jack Slang the horse doctor, Little Aminadab that grinds the music box, and Tom Twist that spins the pewter platter.
Mrs. Hard. Pray, my dear, disappoint them for one might at least.
Tony. As for disappointing them, I should not so much mind; but I can't abide to disappoint myself.
Mrs. Hard. [Detaining him.] You shan't go.
Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you or I.
[Exit hawling her out. Hard. Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil each other. But is not the whole age in a combination to drive sense and discretion out of doors? There's my pretty darling Kate; the fashions of the times have almost infected her too. By living a year or two in town, she is as fond of gauze, and French frippery, as the best of them.
Enter Miss HARDCASTLE.
Hard. Blessings on my pretty innocence! Drest out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! What a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou got about thee, girl! I could never teach the fools of this age, that the indigent world could be cloathed out of the trimmings of the vain.
Miss Hard. You know our agreement, Sir. You allow me the morning to receive and pay visits, and to dress in my own manner; and in the evening, I put on my housewife's dress to please you.
Hard. Well, remember Iinsist on the terms of our agreement; and, by the bye, I believe I shall have occasion to try your obedience this very evening.
Miss Hard. I protest, Sir, I don't comprehend your meaning.
Hard. Then, to be plain with you, Kate, I expect the young gentleman I have chosen to be your husband from town this very day. I have his father's
Mrs. Hard. Ay, your times were fine times, indeed: you have been telling us of them for many a long year. Here we live in an old rumbling mansion, that looks for all the world like an inn, but that we never sce company. O
Our best visiters are old Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's wife, and little Cripplegate, the lame dancing-master; and all our entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene and the duke of Marlborough. I hate such old-fashioned trumpery.
Hard. And I love it. I love every thing that's old: old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wine; and, I believe, Dorothy, [Taking her hand) you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old wife.
Mrs. Hard. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're for ever at your Dorothy's, and your old wife's. You may be a Darby, but I'll be no. Joan, I promise you. I'm not so old as you'd make me by more than one good year. Add twenty to twenty, and make money of that.
Hard. Let me see; twenty added to twenty, makes just fifty and seven.
Mrs. Hard. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle: I was but twenty when I was brought to bed of Tony, that I had by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband ; and he's not come to years of discretion yet.
Hard. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. Ay, you have taught him finely.
Mrs. Hard. No matter, Tony Lumpkin has a good
fortune. My son is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy wants much learning to spend fifteen hundred a year.
Hard. Learning, quotha! a mere composition of tricks and mischief. Mrs. Hard. Humour, my dear : nothing but hu
Come, Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humour.
Hard. I'd sooner allow him an horse-pond. If burning the footmen's shoes, frigliting the maids, worrying the kittens, be humour, he has it.
It was but yesterday he faste ned my wig to the back of my chair, and when I went to make a bow, I popt my bald head in Mrs. Frizzle's face.
Mrs. Hard. And am I to blame? The poor boy was always too sickly to do any good. A school would be his death. When he comes to be a little stronger, who knows what a year or two's Latin may do for him?
Hard. Latin for him! A cat and a fiddle. No, no, the ale-house and the stable are the only schools he'll ever go to.
Mrs. Hard. Well, we must not snub the poor boy now, for I believe we shan't have him long among us. Any body that looks in his face may see he's consumptive.
Hard. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the symptoms.
Mrs. Hard. He coughs sometimes.
letter, in which he informs me his son is set out, and that he intends to follow himself shortly after.
Miss Hard. Indeed! I wish I had known something of this before. Bless me, how shall I behave: It's a thousand to one I shan't like him; our meeting will be so formal, and so like a thing of business, that I shall find no room for friendship or esteem.
Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never controul your choice ; but Mr. Marlow, whom I have pitched upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Charles Marlow, of whom you have heard me talk so often. The young gentleman has been bred a scholar, and is designed for an employment in the service of his country. I am told he's a man of an excellent understanding,
Miss Hand. Is he ?
Miss Hard. My dear papa, say no more [kissing his hand] he's mine, I'll have him.
Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most bashful and reserved young fellows in all the world.
Miss Hard. Eh! you have frozen me to death again. That word reserved, has undone all the rest of his accomplishments. A reserved lover, it is said, always makes a suspicious husband.