No More Learning

it's a highwayman, with pistols as
long as my arm. A damn'd 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. O,
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 three 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
horse-pond, my dear?

MRS. HARD. 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. 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.

HAST. 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 NEV. 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 happiness.

HAST. 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 NEV. 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 am resolved to
apply to Mr. Hardcastle's compassion and justice for redress.

HAST. But though he had the will, he has not the power, to relieve you.

MISS NEV. But he has influence, and upon that I am resolved to rely.

HAST. I have no hopes. But since you persist, I must reluctantly obey
you.

_Exeunt. _

_Scene changes. _

_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.

MARL. 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.

MARL. (_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.

MARL. 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!

MARL. 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 with confusion? Do you think I could ever relish
that happiness which was acquired by lessening yours?

MARL. By all that's good, I can have no 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 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?

MARL. (_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?

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

[Illustration:

MARLOW. —"_Does this look like security? _"—_p. _ 374.
]


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

HARD. 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.

MARL. Daughter! —this lady your daughter!

HARD. Yes, sir, my only daughter. My Kate, whose else should she be?

MARL. Oh, the devil!

MISS HARD. Yes, sir, that very identical tall, squinting lady you were
pleased to take me for. (_Curtseying. _) She that you addressed as the
mild, modest, sentimental man of gravity, and the bold, forward,
agreeable rattle of the ladies' club; ha, ha, ha!

MARL. Zounds, there's no bearing this; it's worse than death.

MISS HARD. 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!

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

HARD. 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. HARD. So, so, they're gone off. Let them go, I care not.

HARD. Who gone?

MRS. HARD. My dutiful niece and her gentleman, Mr. Hastings, from town.
He who came down with our modest visitor 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.

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

MRS. HARD. 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.

HARD. Sure, Dorothy, you would not be so mercenary.

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

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

_Enter_ HASTINGS _and_ MISS NEVILLE.

MRS. HARD. (_Aside. _) What, returned so soon? I begin not to like it.

HAST. (_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 on
duty.

MISS NEV. Since his death, I have been obliged to stoop to
dissimulation to avoid oppression. In an hour of levity, I was ready
even to give up my fortune to secure my choice. But I am now recovered
from the delusion, and hope, from your tenderness, what is denied me
from a nearer connexion.

MRS. HARD. Pshaw, pshaw! this is all but the whining end of a modern
novel.

HARD. Be it what it will, I'm glad they are come back to reclaim their
due. Come hither, Tony, boy. Do you refuse this lady's hand whom I now
offer you?

TONY. What signifies my refusing? You know I can't refuse her till I'm
of age, father.

HARD. 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?

HARD. Above three months.

TONY. Then you'll see the first use I'll make of my liberty. (_Taking_
MISS NEVILLE'S _hand_. ) Witness 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
Constantia Neville may marry whom she pleases, and Tony Lumpkin is his
own man again.

SIR CHARLES. O brave 'squire!

HAST. My worthy friend!

MRS. HARD. My undutiful offspring!

MARL. 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.

HAST. (_To_ MISS HARDCASTLE. ) Come, madam, you are now driven to the
very last scene of all your contrivances. I know you like him, I'm sure
he loves you, and you must and shall have him.

HARD. (_Joining their hands. _) And I say so too. And, Mr. Marlow, if
she makes as good a wife as she has a daughter, I don't believe you'll
ever repent your bargain. So now to supper. To-morrow we shall gather
all the poor of the parish about us; and the mistakes of the night
shall be 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.

EPILOGUE,

BY DR. GOLDSMITH.


SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY,

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. "
The first act shows the simple country maid,
Harmless and young, of everything afraid;
Blushes when hired, and, with unmeaning action,
"I hopes as how to give you satisfaction. "
Her second act displays a livelier scene,—
The unblushing bar-maid of a country inn,
Who whisks about the house, at market caters,
Talks loud, coquets the guests, and scolds the waiters.
Next the scene shifts to town, and there she soars,
The chop-house toast of ogling _connoisseurs_:
On 'squires and cuts she there displays her arts,
And on the gridiron broils her lovers' hearts;
And, as she smiles, her triumphs to complete,
E'en common-councilmen forget to eat.
The fourth act 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 Heinelle of Cheapside:
Ogles and leers 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.

[Illustration: Publisher]

WARD, LOCK & CO. 'S STANDARD BOOKS.

_Admirably adapted for Presentation. _


=HAYDN'S DICTIONARY OF DATES. = Relating to all Ages and Nations for
Universal Reference. By BENJAMIN VINCENT, Librarian of the Royal
Institution of Great Britain. SEVENTEENTH EDITION, Enlarged, Corrected,
and Revised. Containing 10,000 distinct Articles, and 90,000 Dates and
Facts. In One thick Volume, 8vo, cloth, 18s. ; half-calf, 24s. ; full or
tree-calf, 31s. 6d.

"The most universal book of reference in a moderate compass that we
know of in the English Language. "—THE TIMES.

_THE CHEAPEST ENCYCLOPÆDIA EVER PUBLISHED. _

=BEETON'S ILLUSTRATED ENCYCLOPÆDIA OF UNIVERSAL INFORMATION. =
Comprising GEOGRAPHY, HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, SCIENCE, ART, and LITERATURE,
and containing nearly 4,000 Pages, 50,000 Distinct Articles, 2,000
Engravings, and Coloured Maps. Complete in Four Vols. , half-roan, price
42s. ; half-calf, 63s.

"We know of no book which in such small compass gives so much
information. "—SCOTSMAN.


_THE BEST COOKERY BOOK IN THE WORLD. —373rd THOUSAND. _

=Mrs. BEETON'S BOOK OF HOUSEHOLD MANAGEMENT. = Containing 1,350 Pages,
4,000 Recipes and Instructions, 1,000 Engravings and Coloured Maps.
With Duties of the Mistress, Housekeeper, and all kinds of Servants;
Directions for Carving, Legal Memoranda, the Rearing and Management of
Children, &c. Crown 8vo, half-roan, 7s. 6d. ; cloth gilt, gilt edges,
8s. 6d.