No More Learning

MISS HARD. Let it be short then. I'm in a hurry, (_Aside. _) I believe
he begins to find out his mistake; but it's too soon quite to undeceive
him.

MARL. Pray, child, answer me one question. —What are you, and what may
your business in this house be?

MISS HARD. A relation of the family, sir.

MARL. What; a poor relation?

MISS HARD. Yes, sir; a poor relation, appointed to keep the keys, and
to see that the guests want nothing in my power to give them.

MARL. That is, you act as the bar-maid of this inn.

MISS HARD. O law! —What brought that in your head? One of the best
families in the county keep an inn! Ha! ha! ha! old Mr. Hardcastle's
house an inn!

MARL. Mr. Hardcastle's house? Is this house Mr. Hardcastle's house,
child?

MISS HARD. Ay, sure. Whose else should it be?

MARL. So then all's out, and I have been damnably imposed on. O,
confound my stupid head, I shall be laughed at over the whole town. I
shall be stuck up in caricatura in all the print-shops: the Dullissimo
Maccaroni. To mistake this house, of all others, for an inn; and my
father's old friend for an inn-keeper! What a swaggering puppy must he
take me for! What a silly puppy do I find myself! There again, may I be
hanged, my dear, but I mistook you for the bar-maid.

MISS HARD. Dear me! dear me! I'm sure there's nothing in my _behaviour_
to put me upon a level with one of that stamp.

MARL. Nothing, my dear, nothing. But I was in for a list of blunders,
and could not help making you a subscriber. My stupidity saw everything
the wrong way. I mistook your assiduity for assurance, and your
simplicity for allurement. But it's over—This house I no more show _my_
face in.

MISS HARD. I hope, sir, I have done nothing to disoblige you. I'm sure
I should be sorry to affront any gentleman who has been so polite, and
said so many civil things to me. I'm sure I should be sorry
(_Pretending to cry. _) if he left the family upon my account. I'm sure
I should be sorry, if people said anything amiss, since I have no
fortune but my character.

MARL. (_Aside. _) By heaven, she weeps. This is the first mark of
tenderness I ever had from a modest woman, and it touches me. (_To
her. _) Excuse me, my lovely girl, you are the only part of the family I
leave with reluctance. But to be plain with you, the difference of our
birth, fortune, and education, make an honourable connexion impossible;
and I can never harbour a thought of bringing ruin upon one, whose only
fault was being too lovely.

MISS HARD. (_Aside. _) Generous man! I now begin to admire him. (_To
him. _) But I'm sure my family is as good as Miss Hardcastle's; and
though I'm poor, that's no great misfortune to a contented mind; and
until this moment, I never thought that it was bad to want fortune.

MARL. And why now, my pretty simplicity?

MISS HARD. Because it puts me a distance from one, that if I had a
thousand pound I would give it all too.

MARL. (_Aside. _) This simplicity bewitches me so that if I stay I'm
undone. I must make one bold effort, and leave her. (_To her. _) Your
partiality in my favour, my dear, touches me most sensibly; and were I
to live for myself alone, I could easily fix my choice. But I owe too
much to the opinion of the world, too much to the authority of a
father, so that—I can scarcely speak it—it affects me. Farewell.

_Exit. _

MISS HARD. I never knew half his merit till now. He shall not go, if I
have power or art to detain him. I'll still preserve the character in
which I stooped to conquer; but will undeceive my papa, who, perhaps,
may laugh him out of his resolution.

_Exit. _

_Enter_ TONY, MISS NEVILLE.

TONY. Ay, you may steal for yourselves the next time. I have done my
duty. She has got the jewels again, that's a sure thing; but she
believes it was all a mistake of the servants.

MISS NEV. But, my dear cousin, sure you won't forsake us in this
distress. If she in the least suspects that I am going off, I shall
certainly be locked up, or sent to my aunt Pedigree's, which is ten
times worse.

TONY. To be sure, aunts of all kinds are damn'd bad things; but what
can I do? I have got you a pair of horses that will fly like
Whistle-jacket, and I'm sure you can't say but I have courted you
nicely before her face. Here she comes, we must court a bit or two
more, for fear she should suspect us.

_They retire and seem to fondle. _

_Enter_ MRS. HARDCASTLE.

MRS. HARD. Well, I was greatly fluttered, to be sure. But my son tells
me it was all a mistake of the servants. I shan't be easy, however,
till they are fairly married, and then let her keep her own fortune.
But what do I see? Fondling together, as I'm alive. I never saw Tony so
sprightly before. Ah! have I caught you, my pretty doves? What!
billing, exchanging stolen glances, and broken murmurs? Ah!

TONY. As for murmurs, mother, we grumble a little now and then, to be
sure. But there's no love lost between us.

MRS. HARD. A mere sprinkling, Tony, upon the flame, only to make it
burn brighter.

MISS NEV. Cousin Tony promises to give us more of his company at home.
Indeed, he shan't leave us any more. It won't leave us, cousin Tony,
will it?

TONY. O! it's a pretty creature. No, I'd sooner leave my horse in a
pound, than leave you, when you smile upon one so. Your laugh makes you
so becoming.

MISS NEV. Agreeable cousin! Who can help admiring that natural humour,
that pleasant, broad, red, thoughtless, (_patting his cheek_) ah! it's
a bold face.

MRS. HARD. Pretty innocence!

TONY. I'm sure I always loved cousin Con's hazel eyes, and her pretty
long fingers, that she twists this way and that, over the haspicholls,
like a parcel of bobbins.

MRS. HARD. Ah, he would charm the bird from the tree. I was never so
happy before. My boy takes after his father, poor Mr. Lumpkin, exactly.
The jewels, my dear Con, shall be yours incontinently. You shall have
them. Isn't he a sweet boy, my dear? You shall be married to-morrow,
and we'll put off the rest of his education, like Mr. Drowsy's sermons,
to a fitter opportunity.

_Enter_ DIGGORY.

DIGG. Where's the 'squire? I have got a letter for your worship.

TONY. Give it to my mamma. She reads all my letters first.

DIGG. I had orders to deliver it into your own hands.

TONY. Who does it come from?

DIGG. Your worship mun ask that o' the letter itself.

TONY. I could wish to know, though (_turning the letter and gazing on
it_).

MISS NEV. (_Aside. _) Undone, undone! A letter to him from Hastings. I
know the hand. If my aunt sees it, we are ruined for ever. I'll keep
her employed a little if I can. (_To_ MRS. HARDCASTLE. ) But I have not
told you, madam, of my cousin's smart answer just now to Mr. Marlow. We
so laughed—You must know, madam—this way a little; for he must not hear
us.

_They confer. _

TONY. (_Still gazing. _) A damn'd cramp piece of penmanship, as ever I
saw in my life. I can read your printhand very well. But here there are
such handles, and shanks, and dashes, that one can scarce tell the head
from the tail. _To Anthony Lumpkin, Esq. _ It's very odd, I can read the
outside of my letters, where my own name is, well enough. But when I
come to open it, it is all—buzz. That's hard, very hard; for the inside
of the letter is always the cream of the correspondence.

MRS. HARD. Ha! ha! ha! Very well, very well. And so my son was too hard
for the philosopher.

MISS NEV. Yes, madam; but you must hear the rest, madam. A little more
this way, or he may hear us. You'll hear how he puzzled him again.

MRS. HARD.
He seems strangely puzzled now himself, methinks.

TONY. (_Still gazing. _) A damned up and down hand, as if it was
disguised in liquor. (_Reading. _) _Dear Sir_, Ay, that's that. Then
there's an _M_, and a _T_, and _S_; but whether the next be an _izzard_
or an _R_, confound me, I cannot tell.

MRS. HARD. What's that, my dear. Can I give you any assistance?

MISS NEV. Pray, aunt, let me read it. Nobody reads a cramp hand better
than I. (_Twitching the letter from her. _) Do you know who it is from?

TONY. Can't tell, except from Dick Ginger, the feeder.

MISS NEV. Ay, so it is. (_Pretending to read. _) Dear 'Squire, Hoping
that you're in health, as I am at this present. The gentlemen of the
Shake-bag club has cut the gentlemen of Goose green quite out of
feather. The odds—um—odd battle—um—long fighting—um—Here, here; it's
all about cocks, and fighting: it's of no consequence; here, put it up,
put it up.

_Thrusting the crumpled letter upon him. _

TONY. But I tell you, miss, it's of all the consequence in the world. I
would not lose the rest of it for a guinea. Here, mother, do you make
it out. Of no consequence!

_Giving_ MRS. HARDCASTLE _the letter_.

MRS. HARD. How's this? (_Reads. _) Dear 'Squire, I'm now waiting for
Miss Neville, with a post-chaise and pair, at the bottom of the garden,
but I find my horses yet unable to perform the journey. I expect you'll
assist us with a pair of fresh horses, as you promised. Dispatch is
necessary, as the _hag_ (ay the hag), your mother, will otherwise
suspect us. Yours, Hastings. Grant me patience. I shall run distracted.
My rage chokes me.

MISS NEV. I hope, madam, you'll suspend your resentment for a few
moments, and not impute to me any impertinence, or sinister design that
belongs to another.

MRS. HARD. (_Curtseying very low. _) Fine-spoken madam, you are most
miraculously polite and engaging, and quite the very pink of courtesy
and circumspection, madam. (_Changing_ _her tone. _ ) And you, you great
ill-fashioned oaf, with scarce sense enough to keep your mouth shut.
Were you too joined against me? But I'll defeat all your plots in a
moment. As for you, madam, since you have got a pair of fresh horses
ready, it would be cruel to disappoint them. So, if you please, instead
of running away with your spark, prepare, this very moment, to run off
with _me_. Your old aunt Pedigree will keep you secure, I'll warrant
me. You too, sir, may mount your horse, and guard us upon the way.
Here, Thomas, Roger, Diggory, I'll show you, that I wish you better
than you do yourselves.

_Exit. _

MISS NEV. So, now I'm completely ruined.

TONY. Ay, that's a sure thing.

MISS NEV. What better could be expected, from being connected with such
a stupid fool, and after all the nods and signs I made him?

TONY. By the laws, miss, it was your own cleverness, and not my
stupidity, that did your business. You were so nice, and so busy, with
your Shake-bags and Goose-greens, that I thought you could never be
making believe.

_Enter_ HASTINGS.

HAST. So, sir, I find by my servant, that you have shown my letter, and
betrayed us. Was this well done, young gentleman?

TONY. Here's another. Ask miss there, who betrayed you. Ecod, it was
her doing, not mine.

_Enter_ MARLOW.

MARL. So, I have been finely used here among you. Rendered
contemptible, driven into ill manners, despised, insulted, laughed at.

TONY. Here's another. We shall, have old Bedlam broke loose presently.

MISS NEV. And there, sir, is the gentleman to whom we all owe every
obligation.

MARL. What can I say to him, a mere boy, an idiot, whose ignorance and
age are a protection?

HAST. A poor contemptible booby, that would but disgrace correction.

MISS NEV. Yet with cunning and malice enough to make himself merry with
all our embarrassments.

HAST. An insensible cub.

MARL. Replete with tricks and mischief.

TONY. Baw! damme, but I'll fight you both, one after the other,——with
baskets.

MARL. As for him, he's below resentment. But your conduct, Mr.
Hastings, requires an explanation. You knew of my mistakes, yet would
not undeceive me.

HAST. Tortured as I am with my own disappointments, is this a time for
explanations? It is not friendly, Mr. Marlow.

MARL. But, sir——

MISS NEV. Mr. Marlow, we never kept on your mistake, till it was too
late to undeceive you. Be pacified.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

SERV. My mistress desires you'll get ready immediately, madam. The
horses are putting to. Your hat and things are in the next room. We are
to go thirty miles before morning.

_Exit_ SERVANT.

MISS NEV. Well, well; I'll come presently.

MARL. (_To_ HASTINGS. ) Was it well done, sir, to assist in rendering me
ridiculous? To hang me out for the scorn of all my acquaintance? Depend
upon it, sir, I shall expect an explanation.

[Illustration:

MISS NEVILLE. —"_Constancy is the word. _"—_p. _ 367.
]


HAST. Was it well done, sir, if you're upon that subject, to deliver
what I intrusted to yourself, to the care of another, sir?

MISS NEV. Mr. Hastings, Mr. Marlow, why will you increase my distress
by this groundless dispute? I implore, I entreat you—

_Enter_ SERVANT.

SERV. Your cloak, madam. My mistress is impatient.

MISS NEV. I come. Pray be pacified. If I leave you thus, I shall die
with apprehension.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

SERV. Your fan, muff, and gloves, madam. The horses are waiting.

MISS NEV. O, Mr. Marlow! if you knew what a scene of constraint and
ill-nature lies before me, I'm sure it would convert your resentment
into pity.

MARL. I'm so distracted with a variety of passions, that I don't know
what I do. Forgive me, madam. George, forgive me. You know my hasty
temper, and should not exasperate it.

HAST. The torture of my situation is my only excuse.

MISS NEV. Well, my dear Hastings, if you have that esteem for me that I
think, that I am sure you have, your constancy for three years will but
increase the happiness of our future connexion. If—

MRS. HARD. (_Within. _) Miss Neville—Constance, why Constance, I say.

MISS NEV. I'm coming. Well, constancy. Remember, constancy is the word.

_Exit. _

HAST. My heart, how can I support this! To be so near happiness, and
such happiness.

MARL. (_To_ TONY. ) You see now, young gentleman, the effects of your
folly. What might be amusement to you, is here disappointment, and even
distress.

TONY. (_From a reverie. _) Ecod, I have hit it. It's here. Your hands.
Yours and yours, my poor sulky. My boots there, ho! Meet me two hours
hence at the bottom of the garden; and if you don't find Tony Lumpkin a
more good-natured fellow than you thought for, I'll give you leave to
take my best horse, and Bet Bouncer into the bargain. Come along. My
boots, ho!

_Exeunt. _




ACT V.


_Scene continues. _

_Enter_ HASTINGS _and_ SERVANT.

HAST. You saw the old lady and Miss Neville drive off, you say?

SERV. Yes, your honour; they went off in a post-coach, and the young
'squire went on horseback. They're thirty miles off by this time.

HAST. Then all my hopes are over.

SERV. Yes, sir. Old Sir Charles is arrived.