gentleman. You may be open. Your father and I will like you the better for it.

Marlow. May I die, sir, if I ever—

Miss Hardcastle. As most professed admirers do: said some civil things of my face; talked mucb of his want of merit, and the greatness of mine;

Hardcastle. I tell you, she don't dislike you; and mentioned his heart, gave a short tragedy speech, as I'm sure you like her—

Marlow. Dear sir-I protest, sir———— Hardcastle. I see no reason why you should not be joined as fast as the parson can tie you. Marlow. But hear me, sir―

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

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 ranting manner by no means describe him; and I am confident, he never sat for the picture.

Miss Hardcastle. Then, what, sir, if I should convince you to your face of my sincerity? if you

Marlow. But why won't you hear me? By all and my papa, in about half an hour, will place that's just and true, I never gave Miss Hardcastle yourselves behind that screen, you shall hear him the slightest mark of my attachment, or even the declare his passion to me in person. most distant hint to suspect me of affection. We

Sir Charles. Agreed. And if I find him what

had but one interview, and that was formal, mod-you describe, all my happiness in him must have est, and uninteresting.

Hardcastle [aside]. This fellow's formal modest impudence is beyond bearing.

an end.
[Exit.
Miss Hardcastle. And if you don't find him
what I describe-I fear my happiness must never
[Exeunt.

Sir Charles. And you never grasped her hand, have a beginning. 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.

SCENE CHANGES TO THE BACK OF THE GARDEN.

Enter HASTINGS.

Hastings. What an idiot am I, to wait here [Exit. for a fellow who probably takes a delight in mortiSir Charles. I'm astonished at the air of sin-fying me. He never intended to be punctual, and cerity with which he parted. I'll wait no longer. What do I see? It is he!

Hardcastle. And I'm astonished at the delibe- and perhaps with news of my Constance.

rate intrepidity of his assurance.

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

Enter TONY, booted and spattered.

Hastings. My honest 'Squire! I now find Hardcastle. Here comes my daughter, and I you a man of your word. This looks like friendwould stake my happiness upon her veracity.

Enter MISS HARDCASTLE.

ship.

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

Hardcastle. Kate, come hither, child. Answer riding by night, by the by, is cursedly tiresome. It us sincerely and without reserve: has Mr. Marlow has shook me worse than the basket of a stagemade you any professions of love and affection? coach.

Miss Hardcastle. The question is very abrupt,| Hastings. But how? where did you leave your sir! But since you require unreserved sincerity, I fellow-travellers? Are they in safety? Are they

think he has.

Hardcastle [to Sir Charles]. You see.

housed?

Tony. Five and twenty miles in two hours and

Sir Charles. And pray, madam, have you and a half is no such bad driving. The poor beasts my son had more than one interview?

Miss Hardcastle. Yes, sir, several.
Hardcastle [to Sir Charles]. You see.

Sir Charles. But did he profess any attach

ment?

Miss Hardcastle. A lasting one.

Sir Charles. Did he talk of love?
Miss Hardcastle. Much, sir.

Sir Charles. Amazing! and all this formally.
Miss Hardcastle. Formally.

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

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

Sir Charles. And how did he behave, madam? astray. By jingo, there's not a pond or a slough

within five miles of the place but they can tell the afraid.-Is that a man that's galloping behind us? taste of. No; it's only a tree.-Don't be afraid.

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, 1 fairly lodged them in the horse-pond at the bottom of the garden. Hastings. But no accident, I hope?

Mrs. Hardcastle. Good Heaven defend us! He approaches.

Tony. No, no, only mother is confoundedly her]. Ah! it's a highwayman with pistols as long frightened. She thinks herself forty miles off. as my arm. A damn'd ill-looking fellow. 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 a foot 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 hangman.

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.

Tony. Never fear me. Here she comes. Vanish! [Exit Hastings.] She's got from the pond, and draggled up to the waist like a mermaid.

Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE.

Mrs. Hardcastle. Oh, Tony, I'm killed! Shook! Battered to death. I shall never survive it. That last jolt, that laid us against the quickset hedge, bas done my business.

Tony. Alack, mamma, it was all your own faalt. You would be for running away by night, without knowing one inch of the way.

Mrs. Hardcastle. 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 come upon Crackskull Common, about forty miles from home. Mrs. Hardcastle. O lud! O lud! The most

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.

Hardcastle. 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. Hardcastle [from behind]. Ah, death! I find there's danger.

Hardcastle. 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. Hardcastle [from behind]. Sure he'll do the dear boy no harm.

Hardcastle. 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.

Hardcasile. But if you talked to yourself you did not answer yourself. I'm certain I heard two voices, and am resolved [raising his voice] to find the other out.

Mrs. Hardcastle [from behind]. Oh! he's Oh! coming to find me out. Tony. What need you go, sir, if I tell you? Hem. I'll lay down my life for the truth-hemI'll tell you all, sir. [Detaining him. Hardcastle. I tell you I will not be detained. I insist on seeing. It's in vain to expect I'll believe Don't be you.

notorious spot in all the country. We only want a robbery to make a complete night on't.

Tony. Don't be afrai, mamina, don't be afraid. Two of the five that kept here are hanged, and the other three may not find us.

Mrs. Hardcastle [running forward from be-| hind]. Olud! 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. Hardcastle. My wife, as I'm a Christian. From sist, I must reluctantly obey you. whence can she come? or what does she mean? Mrs. Hardcastle [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.

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 per[Exeunt.

Hardcastle. I believe the woman's out of her senses. What, Dorothy, don't you know me. Mrs. Hardcastle. 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?

Hardcastle. 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. Hardcastle. Yes, I shall remember the horse-pond 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. Hardcastle. I'll spoil you, I will.

[Follows him off the Stage. Erit. Hardcastle. 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 1 am unable to face any new danger. Two or three years' patience will at last crown us with happiness. 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. vail.

Let me pre

SCENE CHANGES.

Enter SIR CHARLES MARLOW and MISS HARD-
CASTLE.

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 Hardcastle. I am proud of your approbation; and to show I merit it, if you place yourselves as I directed, you shall hear his explicit declarations. 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 Hardcastle [in her own natural manner]. I believe these sufferings can not 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 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 Hardcastle. 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, without equal affluence? I must remain contented I hope, not inferior, what are these advantages 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 MARLOW from behind.

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

Miss Neville. No, Mr. Hastings, no. Prudence Marlow. By Heavens! madam, fortune was once more comes to my relief, and I will obey its ever my smallest consideration. Your beauty at dictates. In the moment of passion, fortune may first caught my eye, for who could see that without be despised, but it ever produces a lasting repent-emotion? But every moment that I converse with I'm resolved to apply to Mr. Hardcastle's you, steals in some new grace, heightens the piccompassion and justice for redress. Iture, and gives it stronger expression. What at

ance.

Marlow. Zounds, there's no bearing this; it's

first seemed rustic plainness, now appears refined
simplicity. What seemed forward assurance, now worse than death!
strikes me as the result of courageous innocence
and conscious virtue.

Sir Charles. What can it mean? He amazes me! Hardcastle. 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 Hardcastle. No, Mr. Marlow, I will not, can not 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 with 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 no happiness but what's in your power to grant me! Nor shall 1 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 Hardcastle. Sir, I must entreat you'll desist. As our acquaintance began, so let it end, in indifference. I might have given an hour or two to levity; but seriously, Mr. Marlow, do you think I could ever submit to a connexion 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 uninteresting conversation?

Hardcastle. Your cold contempt; your formal interview! What have you to say now?

Marlow. That I'm all amazement! What can it mean?

Hardcastle. It means that you can say and unsay things at pleasure: that you can address a lady in private, and deny it in public: that you have one story for us, and another for my daughter.

Marlow. Daughter!-This lady your daughter? Hardcastle. Yes, sir, my only daughter: my Kate; whose else should she be ?

Miss Hardcastle. In which of your characters, sir, will you give us leave to address you? As the faltering gentleman, with looks on the ground, that speaks just to be heard, and hates hypocrisy; or the loud confident creature, that keeps it up with Mrs. Mantrap, and old Miss Biddy Buckskin, till three in the morning ?-Ha! ha! ha!

Marlow. O, curse on my noisy head! I never attempted to be impudent yet that I was not taken down! I must be gone.

Hardcastle. By the hand of my body, but you shall not. I see it was all a mistake, and I am rejoiced to find it. You shall not, sir, I tell you. I know she'll forgive you. Won't you forgive him, Kate? We'll all forgive you. Take courage, man. [They retire, she tormenting him to the back scene.

Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE, TONY.
Mrs. Hardcastle. So, so, they're gone off. Let
them go,
I care not.

Hardcastle. Who gone?

Mrs. Hardcastle. My dutiful niece and her gentleman, Mr. Hastings, from town. He who came

down with our modest visiter here.

Sir Charles. Who, my honest George Hastings? As worthy a fellow as lives, and the girl could not have made a more prudent choice.

Hardcastle. Then, by the hand of my body, I'm proud of the connexion.

Mrs. Hardcastle. Well, if he has taken away the lady, he has not taken her fortune; that remains in this family to console us for her loss.

Hardcastle. Sure, Dorothy, you would not be so mercenary?

Mrs. Hardcastle. Ay, that's my affair, not yours. Hardcastle. But you know if your son, when of then at her own disposal. age, refuses to marry his cousin, her whole fortune

is

Mrs. Hardcastle. Ay, but he's not of age, and she has not thought proper to wait for his refusal.

Enter HASTINGS and MISS NEVILLE.

Mrs. Hardcastle [aside]. What, returned so soon! I begin not to like it.

Hastings [to Hardcastle]. For my late attempt to fly off with your niece, let my present confusion be my punishment. We are now come back, to appeal from your justice to your humanity. By her father's consent I first paid her my addresses, and our passions were first founded in duty.

Marlow. Oh, the devil! Miss Neville. Since his death, I have been Miss Hardcastle. Yes, sir, that very identical obliged to stoop to dissimulation to avoid opprestall squinting lady you were pleased to take me sion. In an hour of levity, I was ready even to for; [courtesying] she that you addressed as the give up my fortune to secure my choice: but I'm mild, modest, sentimental man of gravity, and the now recovered from the delusion, and hope from bold, forward, agreeable Rattle of the ladies' club. your tenderness what is denied me from a neare Ha! ha! ha! connexion.

Mrs. Hardcastle. Pshaw, pshaw; this is all but | The first act shows the simple country maid, the whining end of a modern novel. Harmless and young, of every thing afraid; Hardcastle. Be it what it will, I'm glad they're Blushes when hired, and with unmeaning action come back to reclaim their due. Come hither," I hopes as how to give you satisfaction." Tony, boy. Do you refuse this lady's hand whom | Her second act displays a livelier sceneI now offer you. The unblushing bar-maid of a country inn, Tony. What signifies my refusing? You know Who whisks about the house, at market caters, I can't refuse her till I'm of age, father. Talks loud, coquets the guests, and scolds the

Hardcastle. While I thought concealing your age, boy, was likely to conduce to your improvement, I concurred with your mother's desire to keep it secret. But since I find she turns it to a wrong use, I must now declare you have been of age these three months.

Tony. Of age! Am I of age, father?
Hardcastle. Above three months.
Tony. Then you'll see the first use I'll make of
my liberty. [Taking Miss Neville's hand.] Wit-
ness all men by these presents, that I, Anthony
Lumpkin, esquire, of BLANK place, refuse you,
Constantia Neville, spinster, of no place at all, for
my true and lawful wife. So Constance Neville
may marry whom she pleases, and Tony Lumpkin
is his own man again.

Sir Charles. O brave 'Squire!
Hastings. My worthy friend.

Mrs. Hardcastle. My undutiful offspring! Marlow. Joy, my dear George, I give you joy sincerely. And could I prevail upon my little tyrant here to be less arbitrary, I should be the happiest man alive, if you would return me the favour.

waiters.

Next the scene shifts to town, and there she soars,
The chop-house toast of ogling connoisseurs.
On 'squires and cits she there displays her arts,
And on the gridiron broils her lovers' hearts—
And as she smiles, her triumphs to complete,
E'en common-council men forget to eat.
The fourth acts shows her wedded to the 'squire,
And madam now begins to hold it higher;
Pretends to taste, at operas cries caro!
And quits her Nancy Dawson for Che Faro:
Doats upon dancing, and in all her pride
Swims round the room, the Heinel of Cheapside:
Ogles and lears with artificial skill,
Till, having lost in age the power to kill,
She sits all night at cards, and ogles at spadille.
Such, through our lives the eventful history—
The fifth and last act still remains for me.
The bar-maid now for your protection prays,
Turns female Barrister, and pleads for Bays.

EPILOGUE,

Hastings [to Miss Hardcastle]. Come, madam, you are now driven to the very last scene of all To be spoken in the character of Tony Lumpkin. your contrivances. I know you like him, I'm sure he loves you, and you must and shall have him.

BY J. CRADOCK, ESQ.

Hardcastle [joining their hands]. And I say WELL-now all's ended-and my comrades gone, so too. And, Mr. Marlow, if she makes as good Pray what becomes of mother's nonly son? a wife as she has a daughter, I don't believe you'll A hopeful blade! in town I'll fix my station, ever repent your bargain. So now to supper. To- And try to make a bluster in the nation: morrow we shall gather all the poor of the parish As for my cousin Neville, I renounce her, about us, and the mistakes of the night shall be Off-in a crack—I'll carry big Bet Bouncer. crowned with a merry morning: so, boy, take her; and as you have been mistaken in the mistress, my wish is, that you may never be mistaken in the wife. [Exeunt omnes.

EPILOGUE, BY DR. GOLDSMITH, SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY, IN THE CHARACTER Or

MISS HARDCASTLE.

WELL, having stoop'd to conquer with success,
And gain'd a husband without aid from dress,
Still, as a bar-maid, I could wish it too,

As I have conquer'd him to conquer you:
And let me say, for all your resolution,
That pretty bar-maids have done execution.
Our life is all a play, composed to please,
"We have our exits and our entrances."

Why should not I in the great world appear?
I soon shall have a thousand pounds a-year!
No matter what a man may here inherit,
In London-'gad, they've some regard to spirit.
I see the horses prancing up the streets,
And big Bet Bouncer bobs to all she meets;
Then hoiks to jigs and pastimes, every night—
Not to the plays-they say it a'n't polite;
To Sadler's Wells, perhaps, or operas go,
And once, by chance, to the roratorio.
Thus here and there, for ever up and down,
We'll set the fashions too to half the town;
And then at auctions-money ne'er regard,
Buy pictures like the great, ten pounds a-yard:
Zounds! we shall make these London gentry say
We know what's damn'd genteel as well as they

This came too late to be spoken.