No More Learning

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 tête 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.

MISS 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, as a mere maker of samplers.

MRS. HARD. And yet Mrs. 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?

MRS. HARD. My son, sir. They are contracted to each other. Observe
their little sports. They fall in and out ten times a day, as if they
were man and wife already. (_To them. _) Well, Tony, child, what soft
things are you saying to your cousin Constance this evening.

TONY. I have been saying no soft things; but that it's very hard to be
followed about so. Ecod! I've not a place in the house now, that's left
to myself, but the stable.

MRS. HARD. Never mind him, Con my dear. He's in another story behind
your back.

MISS NEV. There's something generous in my cousin's manner. He falls
out before faces to be forgiven in private.

TONY. That's a damned confounded—crack.

MRS. HARD. Ah! he's a sly one. Don't you think they're like each other
about the mouth, Mr. Hastings? The Blenkinsop mouth to a T. They're of
a size too. Back to back, my pretties, that Mr. Hastings may see you.
Come, Tony.

TONY. You had as good not make me, I tell you.

_Measuring. _

MISS NEV. O lud! he has almost cracked my head.

MRS. HARD. O, the monster! For shame, Tony. You a man, and behave so!

TONY. If I'm a man, let me have my fortin. Ecod, I'll not be made a
fool of no longer.

MRS. HARD. Is this, ungrateful boy, all that I'm to get for the pains I
have taken in your education? I that have rocked you in your cradle,
and fed that pretty mouth with a spoon! Did not I work that waistcoat,
to make you genteel? Did not I prescribe for you every day, and weep
while the receipt was operating?

TONY. Ecod! you had reason to weep, for you have been dosing me ever
since I was born. I have gone through every receipt in the Complete
Huswife ten times over; and you have thoughts of coursing me through
_Quincy_ next spring. But, ecod! I tell you, I'll not be made a fool of
no longer.

MRS. HARD. Wasn't it all for your good, viper? Wasn't it all for your
good?

TONY. I wish you'd let me and my good alone then. Snubbing this way,
when I'm in spirits. If I'm to have any good, let it come of itself;
not to keep dinging it, dinging it into one so.

MRS. HARD. That's false; I never see you when you're in spirits. No,
Tony, you then go to the alehouse, or kennel. I'm never to be delighted
with your agreeable wild notes, unfeeling monster!

TONY. Ecod! mamma, your own notes are the wildest of the two.

MRS. HARD. Was ever the like! But I see he wants to break my heart, I
see he does.

HAST. Dear madam, permit me to lecture the young gentleman a little.
I'm certain I can persuade him to his duty.

MRS. HARD. Well! I must retire. Come, Constance, my love. You see, Mr.
Hastings, the wretchedness of my situation. Was ever poor woman so
plagued with a dear, sweet, pretty, provoking, undutiful boy?

_Exeunt_ MRS. HARD. _and_ MISS NEVILLE.

HASTINGS. TONY.

TONY. (_Singing_)

There was a young man riding by,
And fain would have his will.
Rang do didlo dee.

Don't mind her. Let her cry. It's the comfort of her heart. I have seen
her and sister cry over a book for an hour together; and they said,
they liked the book the better the more it made them cry.

HAST. Then you're no friend to the ladies, I find, my pretty young
gentleman?

TONY. That's as I find 'um.

HAST. Not to her of your mother's choosing, I dare answer: and yet she
appears to me a pretty, well-tempered girl.

TONY. That's because you don't know her as well as I. Ecod! I know
every inch about her; and there's not a more bitter cantankerous toad
in all Christendom.

HAST. (_Aside. _) Pretty encouragement this for a lover!

TONY. I have seen her since the height of that. She has as many tricks
as a hare in a thicket, or a colt the first day's breaking.

HAST. To me she appears sensible and silent.

TONY. Ay, before company. But when she's with her playmates, she's as
loud as a hog in a gate.

HAST. But there is a meek modesty about her that charms me.

TONY. Yes; but curb her never so little, she kicks up, and you're flung
in a ditch.

HAST. Well; but you must allow her a little beauty. —Yes, you must allow
her some beauty.

TONY. Bandbox! She's all a made up thing, mun. Ah! could you but see
Bet Bouncer, of these parts, you might then talk of beauty. Ecod, she
has two eyes as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad and red as a pulpit
cushion. She'd make two of she.

HAST. Well, what say you to a friend that would take this bitter
bargain off your hands?

TONY. Anon.

HAST. Would you thank him that would take Miss Neville, and leave you
to happiness and your dear Betsy?

TONY. Ay; but where is there such a friend? for who would take _her_?

HAST. I am he. If you but assist me, I'll engage to whip her off to
France, and you shall never hear more of her.

TONY. Assist you! Ecod, I will, to the last drop of my blood. I'll clap
a pair of horses to your chaise, that shall trundle you off in a
twinkling; and may be, get you a part of her fortin beside, in jewels,
that you little dream of.

HAST. My dear 'squire, this looks like a lad of spirit.

TONY. Come along then, and you shall see more of my spirit before you
have done with me. _Singing. _

We are the boys,
That fears no noise,
Where the thundering cannons roar.

_Exeunt. _

ACT III.


_Enter_ HARDCASTLE, _solus_.

HARD. What could my old friend Sir Charles mean, by recommending his
son as the modestest young man in town? To me he appears the most
impudent piece of brass that ever spoke with a tongue. He has taken
possession of the easy chair by the fireside already. He took off his
boots in the parlour, and desired me to see them taken care of. I'm
desirous to know how his impudence affects my daughter. —She will
certainly be shocked at it.

_Enter_ MISS HARDCASTLE, _plainly dressed_.

HARD. Well, my Kate, I see you have changed your dress, as I bid you;
and yet, I believe, there was no great occasion.

MISS HARD.
I find such a pleasure, sir, in obeying your commands, that
I take care to obey them without ever debating their propriety.

HARD. And yet, Kate, I sometimes give you some cause, particularly when
I recommended my _modest_ gentleman to you as a lover to-day.

MISS HARD. You taught me to expect something extraordinary, and I find
the original exceeds the description.

HARD. I was never so surprised in my life! He has quite confounded all
my faculties!

MISS HARD. I never saw anything like it: and a man of the world too!

HARD. Ay, he learned it all abroad,—what a fool was I, to think a young
man could learn modesty by travelling! He might as soon learn wit at a
masquerade.

MISS HARD. It seems all natural to him.

HARD. A good deal assisted by bad company, and a French dancing-master.

MISS HARD. Sure you mistake, papa! A French dancing-master could never
have taught him that timid look,—that awkward address,—that bashful
manner—

HARD. Whose look? whose manner, child?

MISS HARD. Mr. Marlow's: his mauvaise honte, his timidity struck me at
the first sight.

HARD. Then your first sight deceived you; for I think him one of the
most brazen first-sights that ever astonished my senses.

MISS HARD. Sure, sir, you rally! I never saw any one so modest.

HARD. And can you be serious! I never saw such a bouncing, swaggering
puppy, since I was born. Bully Dawson was but a fool to him.

[Illustration:

MISS HARDCASTLE. —"_Yes. But upon conditions. _"—_p. _ 350.
]


MISS HARD. Surprising! he met me with a respectful bow, a stammering
voice, and a look fixed on the ground.

HARD. He met me with a loud voice, a lordly air, and a familiarity that
made my blood freeze again.

MISS HARD. He treated me with diffidence and respect; censured the
manners of the age; admired the prudence of girls that never laughed;
tired me with apologies for being tiresome; then left the room with a
bow, and, "Madam, I would not for the world detain you. "

HARD. He spoke to me, as if he knew me all his life before; asked
twenty questions, and never waited for an answer; interrupted my best
remarks with some silly pun; and when I was in my best story of the
Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, he asked if I had not a good
hand at making punch. Yes, Kate, he asked your father if he was a maker
of punch!

MISS HARD. One of us must certainly be mistaken.

HARD. If he be what he has shown himself, I'm determined he shall never
have my consent.

MISS HARD. And if he be the sullen thing I take him, he shall never
have mine.

HARD. In one thing then we are agreed—to reject him.

MISS HARD. Yes. But upon conditions. For if you should find him less
impudent, and I more presuming; if you find him more respectful, and I
more importunate—I don't know—the fellow is good enough for a
man—Certainly we don't meet many such at a horse-race in the country.

HARD. If we should find him so—but that's impossible. The first
appearance has done my business. I'm seldom deceived in that.

MISS HARD. And yet there may be many good qualities under that first
appearance.

HARD. Ay, when a girl finds a fellow's outside to her taste, she then
sets about guessing the rest of his furniture. With her, a smooth face
stands for good sense, and a genteel figure, for every virtue.

MISS HARD. I hope, sir, a conversation begun with a compliment to my
good sense, won't end with a sneer at my understanding.

HARD. Pardon me, Kate. But if young Mr. Brazen can find the art of
reconciling contradictions, he may please us both, perhaps.

MISS HARD. And as one of us must be mistaken, what if we go to make
further discoveries?

HARD. But depend on't I'm in the right.

MISS HARD. And depend on't I'm not much in the wrong.

_Exeunt. _

_Enter_ TONY _running in with a casket_.

TONY. Ecod! I have got them. Here they are. My cousin Con's necklaces,
bobs, and all. My mother shan't cheat the poor souls out of their
fortin neither. O! my genius, is that you?

_Enter_ HASTINGS.

HAST. My dear friend, how have you managed with your mother? I hope you
have amused her with pretending love for your cousin; and that you are
willing to be reconciled at last. Our horses will be refreshed in a
short time, and we shall soon be ready to set off.

TONY. And here's something to bear your charges by the way. (_Giving
the casket. _) Your sweetheart's jewels. Keep them; and hang those, I
say, that would rob you of one of them.

HAST. But how have you procured them from your mother?

TONY. Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no fibs. I procured them
by the rule of thumb. If I had not a key to every drawer in mother's
bureau, how could I go to the alehouse so often as I do? An honest man
may rob of himself his own at any time.

HAST. Thousands do it every day. But to be plain with you; Miss Neville
is endeavouring to procure them from her aunt this very instant. If she
succeeds, it will be the most delicate way at least of obtaining them.

TONY. Well, keep them, till you know how it will be. I know how it will
be well enough; she'd as soon part with the only sound tooth in her
head.

HAST. But I dread the effects of her resentment, when she finds she has
lost them.

TONY. Never you mind her resentment, leave _me_ to manage that. I don't
value her resentment the bounce of a cracker. Zounds! here they are.
Morrice. Prance.

_Exit_ HASTINGS.

TONY, MRS. HARDCASTLE, MISS NEVILLE.

MRS. HARD. Indeed, Constance, you amaze me. Such a girl as you want
jewels! It will be time enough for jewels, my dear, twenty years hence;
when your beauty begins to want repairs.

MISS NEV. But what will repair beauty at forty, will certainly improve
it at twenty, madam.

MRS. HARD. Yours, my dear, can admit of none. That natural blush is
beyond a thousand ornaments. Besides, child, jewels are quite out at
present. Don't you see half the ladies of our acquaintance, my Lady
Kill-day-light, and Mr. Crump, and the rest of them, carry their jewels
to town, and bring nothing but paste and marcasites back?

MISS NEV. But who knows, madam, but somebody that shall be nameless
would like me best with all my little finery about me?

MRS. HARD. Consult your glass, my dear, and then see, if, with such a
pair of eyes, you want any better sparklers. What do you think, Tony,
my dear, does your cousin Con want jewels, in your eyes to set off her
beauty?

TONY. That's as thereafter may be.

MISS NEV. My dear aunt, if you knew how it would oblige me.

MRS. HARD. A parcel of old fashioned rose and table-cut things. They
would make you look like the court of king Solomon at a puppet-show.
Besides, I believe I can't readily come at them. They may be missing
for aught I know to the contrary.

TONY. (_Apart to_ MRS. HARDCASTLE. ) Then why don't you tell her so at
once, as she's so longing for them? Tell her they're lost. It's the
only way to quiet her. Say they're lost, and call me to bear witness.

MRS. HARD. (_Apart to_ TONY. ) You know, my dear, I'm only keeping them
for you. So, if I say they're gone, you'll bear me witness, will you?
He! he! he!

TONY. Never fear me. Ecod! I'll say I saw them taken out with mine own
eyes.

MISS NEV. I desire them but for a day, madam. Just to be permitted to
show them as relics, and then they may be locked up again.

MRS. HARD. To be plain with you, my dear Constance; if I could find
them, you should have them. They're missing, I assure you. Lost, for
aught I know; but we must have patience wherever they are.

MISS NEV. I'll not believe it; this is but a shallow pretence to deny
me. I know they're too valuable to be so slightly kept, and as you are
to answer for the loss.

MRS. HARD. Don't be alarmed, Constance; if they be lost, I must restore
an equivalent. But my son knows they are missing, and not to be found.

TONY. That I can bear witness to. They are missing, and not to be
found, I'll take my oath on't.

MRS. HARD. You must learn resignation, my dear; for though we lose our
fortune, yet we should not lose our patience. See me, how calm I am.

MISS NEV. Ay, people are generally calm at the misfortunes of others.