But what do you hope from keeping him in his
mistake?
Oliver Goldsmith
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-daylight, and Mrs. Crump, and the rest of them, carry their
jewels to town, and bring nothing but paste and marcasites back.
MISS NEVILLE. But who knows, madam, but somebody that shall be
nameless would like me best with all my little finery about me?
MRS. HARDCASTLE. 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 any jewels in your eyes to
set off her beauty?
TONY. That's as thereafter may be.
MISS NEVILLE. My dear aunt, if you knew how it would oblige me.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. 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. HARDCASTLE. (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 my own
eyes.
MISS NEVILLE. 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. HARDCASTLE. 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 NEVILLE. I'll not believe it! this is but a shallow pretence to
deny me. I know they are too valuable to be so slightly kept, and as
you are to answer for the loss--
MRS. HARDCASTLE. 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. HARDCASTLE. 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 NEVILLE. Ay, people are generally calm at the misfortunes of
others.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Now I wonder a girl of your good sense should waste a
thought upon such trumpery. We shall soon find them; and in the mean
time you shall make use of my garnets till your jewels be found.
MISS NEVILLE. I detest garnets.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. The most becoming things in the world to set off a
clear complexion. You have often seen how well they look upon me. You
SHALL have them. [Exit. ]
MISS NEVILLE. I dislike them of all things. You shan't stir. --Was
ever anything so provoking, to mislay my own jewels, and force me to
wear her trumpery?
TONY. Don't be a fool. If she gives you the garnets, take what you
can get. The jewels are your own already. I have stolen them out of
her bureau, and she does not know it. Fly to your spark, he'll tell
you more of the matter. Leave me to manage her.
MISS NEVILLE. My dear cousin!
TONY. Vanish. She's here, and has missed them already. [Exit MISS
NEVILLE. ] Zounds! how she fidgets and spits about like a Catherine
wheel.
Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Confusion! thieves! robbers! we are cheated,
plundered, broke open, undone.
TONY. What's the matter, what's the matter, mamma? I hope nothing has
happened to any of the good family!
MRS. HARDCASTLE. We are robbed. My bureau has been broken open, the
jewels taken out, and I'm undone.
TONY. Oh! is that all? Ha! ha! ha! By the laws, I never saw it
acted better in my life. Ecod, I thought you was ruined in earnest,
ha! ha! ha!
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Why, boy, I AM ruined in earnest. My bureau has been
broken open, and all taken away.
TONY. Stick to that: ha! ha! ha! stick to that. I'll bear witness,
you know; call me to bear witness.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. I tell you, Tony, by all that's precious, the jewels
are gone, and I shall be ruined for ever.
TONY. Sure I know they're gone, and I'm to say so.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. My dearest Tony, but hear me. They're gone, I say.
TONY. By the laws, mamma, you make me for to laugh, ha! ha! I know
who took them well enough, ha! ha! ha!
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Was there ever such a blockhead, that can't tell the
difference between jest and earnest? I tell you I'm not in jest,
booby.
TONY. That's right, that's right; you must be in a bitter passion, and
then nobody will suspect either of us. I'll bear witness that they are
gone.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Was there ever such a cross-grained brute, that
won't hear me? Can you bear witness that you're no better than a
fool? Was ever poor woman so beset with fools on one hand, and
thieves on the other?
TONY. I can bear witness to that.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Bear witness again, you blockhead you, and I'll turn
you out of the room directly. My poor niece, what will become of her?
Do you laugh, you unfeeling brute, as if you enjoyed my distress?
TONY. I can bear witness to that.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Do you insult me, monster? I'll teach you to vex
your mother, I will.
TONY. I can bear witness to that. [He runs off, she follows him. ]
Enter Miss HARDCASTLE and Maid.
MISS HARDCASTLE. What an unaccountable creature is that brother of
mine, to send them to the house as an inn! ha! ha! I don't wonder at
his impudence.
MAID. But what is more, madam, the young gentleman, as you passed by
in your present dress, asked me if you were the bar-maid. He mistook
you for the bar-maid, madam.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Did he? Then as I live, I'm resolved to keep up the
delusion. Tell me, Pimple, how do you like my present dress? Don't
you think I look something like Cherry in the Beaux Stratagem?
MAID. It's the dress, madam, that every lady wears in the country, but
when she visits or receives company.
MISS HARDCASTLE. And are you sure he does not remember my face or
person?
MAID. Certain of it.
MISS HARDCASTLE. I vow, I thought so; for, though we spoke for some
time together, yet his fears were such, that he never once looked up
during the interview. Indeed, if he had, my bonnet would have kept him
from seeing me.
MAID.
But what do you hope from keeping him in his mistake?
MISS HARDCASTLE. In the first place I shall be seen, and that is no
small advantage to a girl who brings her face to market. Then I shall
perhaps make an acquaintance, and that's no small victory gained over
one who never addresses any but the wildest of her sex. But my chief
aim is, to take my gentleman off his guard, and, like an invisible
champion of romance, examine the giant's force before I offer to
combat.
MAID. But you are sure you can act your part, and disguise your voice
so that he may mistake that, as he has already mistaken your person?
MISS HARDCASTLE. Never fear me. I think I have got the true bar
cant--Did your honour call? --Attend the Lion there--Pipes and tobacco
for the Angel. --The Lamb has been outrageous this half-hour.
MAID. It will do, madam. But he's here. [Exit MAID. ]
Enter MARLOW.
MARLOW. What a bawling in every part of the house! I have scarce a
moment's repose. If I go to the best room, there I find my host and
his story: if I fly to the gallery, there we have my hostess with her
curtsey down to the ground. I have at last got a moment to myself, and
now for recollection. [Walks and muses. ]
MISS HARDCASTLE. Did you call, sir? Did your honour call?
MARLOW. (Musing. ) As for Miss Hardcastle, she's too grave and
sentimental for me.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Did your honour call? (She still places herself
before him, he turning away. )
MARLOW. No, child. (Musing. ) Besides, from the glimpse I had of her,
I think she squints.
MISS HARDCASTLE. I'm sure, sir, I heard the bell ring.
MARLOW. No, no. (Musing. ) I have pleased my father, however, by
coming down, and I'll to-morrow please myself by returning. [Taking
out his tablets, and perusing. ]
MISS HARDCASTLE. Perhaps the other gentleman called, sir?
MARLOW. I tell you, no.
MISS HARDCASTLE. I should be glad to know, sir. We have such a
parcel of servants!
MARLOW. No, no, I tell you. (Looks full in her face. ) Yes, child, I
think I did call. I wanted--I wanted--I vow, child, you are vastly
handsome.
MISS HARDCASTLE. O la, sir, you'll make one ashamed.
MARLOW. Never saw a more sprightly malicious eye. Yes, yes, my dear,
I did call. Have you got any of your--a--what d'ye call it in the
house?
MISS HARDCASTLE. No, sir, we have been out of that these ten days.
MARLOW. One may call in this house, I find, to very little purpose.
Suppose I should call for a taste, just by way of a trial, of the
nectar of your lips; perhaps I might be disappointed in that too.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Nectar! nectar! That's a liquor there's no call for
in these parts. French, I suppose. We sell no French wines here, sir.
MARLOW. Of true English growth, I assure you.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Then it's odd I should not know it. We brew all
sorts of wines in this house, and I have lived here these eighteen
years.
MARLOW. Eighteen years! Why, one would think, child, you kept the bar
before you were born. How old are you?
MISS HARDCASTLE. O! sir, I must not tell my age. They say women and
music should never be dated.
MARLOW. To guess at this distance, you can't be much above forty
(approaching). Yet, nearer, I don't think so much (approaching). By
coming close to some women they look younger still; but when we come
very close indeed--(attempting to kiss her).
MISS HARDCASTLE. Pray, sir, keep your distance. One would think you
wanted to know one's age, as they do horses, by mark of mouth.
MARLOW. I protest, child, you use me extremely ill. If you keep me at
this distance, how is it possible you and I can ever be acquainted?
MISS HARDCASTLE. And who wants to be acquainted with you? I want no
such acquaintance, not I. I'm sure you did not treat Miss Hardcastle,
that was here awhile ago, in this obstropalous manner. I'll warrant
me, before her you looked dashed, and kept bowing to the ground, and
talked, for all the world, as if you was before a justice of peace.
MARLOW. (Aside. ) Egad, she has hit it, sure enough! (To her. ) In
awe of her, child? Ha! ha! ha! A mere awkward squinting thing; no,
no. I find you don't know me. I laughed and rallied her a little; but
I was unwilling to be too severe. No, I could not be too severe, curse
me!
MISS HARDCASTLE. O! then, sir, you are a favourite, I find, among the
ladies?
MARLOW. Yes, my dear, a great favourite. And yet hang me, I don't see
what they find in me to follow. At the Ladies' Club in town I'm called
their agreeable Rattle. Rattle, child, is not my real name, but one
I'm known by. My name is Solomons; Mr. Solomons, my dear, at your
service. (Offering to salute her. )
MISS HARDCASTLE. Hold, sir; you are introducing me to your club, not
to yourself. And you're so great a favourite there, you say?
MARLOW. Yes, my dear. There's Mrs. Mantrap, Lady Betty Blackleg, the
Countess of Sligo, Mrs. Langhorns, old Miss Biddy Buckskin, and your
humble servant, keep up the spirit of the place.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Then it's a very merry place, I suppose?
MARLOW. Yes, as merry as cards, supper, wine, and old women can make
us.
MISS HARDCASTLE. And their agreeable Rattle, ha! ha! ha!
MARLOW. (Aside. ) Egad! I don't quite like this chit. She looks
knowing, methinks. You laugh, child?
MISS HARDCASTLE. I can't but laugh, to think what time they all have
for minding their work or their family.
MARLOW. (Aside. ) All's well; she don't laugh at me. (To her. ) Do
you ever work, child?
MISS HARDCASTLE. Ay, sure. There's not a screen or quilt in the
whole house but what can bear witness to that.
MARLOW. Odso! then you must show me your embroidery. I embroider and
draw patterns myself a little. If you want a judge of your work, you
must apply to me. (Seizing her hand. )
MISS HARDCASTLE. Ay, but the colours do not look well by candlelight.
You shall see all in the morning. (Struggling. )
MARLOW. And why not now, my angel? Such beauty fires beyond the
power of resistance. --Pshaw! the father here! My old luck: I never
nicked seven that I did not throw ames ace three times following.
[Exit MARLOW. ]
Enter HARDCASTLE, who stands in surprise.
HARDCASTLE. So, madam. So, I find THIS is your MODEST lover. This is
your humble admirer, that kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and only
adored at humble distance. Kate, Kate, art thou not ashamed to deceive
your father so?
MISS HARDCASTLE. Never trust me, dear papa, but he's still the modest
man I first took him for; you'll be convinced of it as well as I.
HARDCASTLE. By the hand of my body, I believe his impudence is
infectious! Didn't I see him seize your hand? Didn't I see him haul
you about like a milkmaid? And now you talk of his respect and his
modesty, forsooth!
MISS HARDCASTLE. But if I shortly convince you of his modesty, that he
has only the faults that will pass off with time, and the virtues that
will improve with age, I hope you'll forgive him.
HARDCASTLE. The girl would actually make one run mad! I tell you,
I'll not be convinced. I am convinced. He has scarce been three hours
in the house, and he has already encroached on all my prerogatives.
You may like his impudence, and call it modesty; but my son-in-law,
madam, must have very different qualifications.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Sir, I ask but this night to convince you.
HARDCASTLE. You shall not have half the time, for I have thoughts of
turning him out this very hour.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Give me that hour then, and I hope to satisfy you.
HARDCASTLE. Well, an hour let it be then.
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-daylight, and Mrs. Crump, and the rest of them, carry their
jewels to town, and bring nothing but paste and marcasites back.
MISS NEVILLE. But who knows, madam, but somebody that shall be
nameless would like me best with all my little finery about me?
MRS. HARDCASTLE. 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 any jewels in your eyes to
set off her beauty?
TONY. That's as thereafter may be.
MISS NEVILLE. My dear aunt, if you knew how it would oblige me.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. 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. HARDCASTLE. (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 my own
eyes.
MISS NEVILLE. 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. HARDCASTLE. 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 NEVILLE. I'll not believe it! this is but a shallow pretence to
deny me. I know they are too valuable to be so slightly kept, and as
you are to answer for the loss--
MRS. HARDCASTLE. 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. HARDCASTLE. 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 NEVILLE. Ay, people are generally calm at the misfortunes of
others.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Now I wonder a girl of your good sense should waste a
thought upon such trumpery. We shall soon find them; and in the mean
time you shall make use of my garnets till your jewels be found.
MISS NEVILLE. I detest garnets.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. The most becoming things in the world to set off a
clear complexion. You have often seen how well they look upon me. You
SHALL have them. [Exit. ]
MISS NEVILLE. I dislike them of all things. You shan't stir. --Was
ever anything so provoking, to mislay my own jewels, and force me to
wear her trumpery?
TONY. Don't be a fool. If she gives you the garnets, take what you
can get. The jewels are your own already. I have stolen them out of
her bureau, and she does not know it. Fly to your spark, he'll tell
you more of the matter. Leave me to manage her.
MISS NEVILLE. My dear cousin!
TONY. Vanish. She's here, and has missed them already. [Exit MISS
NEVILLE. ] Zounds! how she fidgets and spits about like a Catherine
wheel.
Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Confusion! thieves! robbers! we are cheated,
plundered, broke open, undone.
TONY. What's the matter, what's the matter, mamma? I hope nothing has
happened to any of the good family!
MRS. HARDCASTLE. We are robbed. My bureau has been broken open, the
jewels taken out, and I'm undone.
TONY. Oh! is that all? Ha! ha! ha! By the laws, I never saw it
acted better in my life. Ecod, I thought you was ruined in earnest,
ha! ha! ha!
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Why, boy, I AM ruined in earnest. My bureau has been
broken open, and all taken away.
TONY. Stick to that: ha! ha! ha! stick to that. I'll bear witness,
you know; call me to bear witness.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. I tell you, Tony, by all that's precious, the jewels
are gone, and I shall be ruined for ever.
TONY. Sure I know they're gone, and I'm to say so.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. My dearest Tony, but hear me. They're gone, I say.
TONY. By the laws, mamma, you make me for to laugh, ha! ha! I know
who took them well enough, ha! ha! ha!
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Was there ever such a blockhead, that can't tell the
difference between jest and earnest? I tell you I'm not in jest,
booby.
TONY. That's right, that's right; you must be in a bitter passion, and
then nobody will suspect either of us. I'll bear witness that they are
gone.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Was there ever such a cross-grained brute, that
won't hear me? Can you bear witness that you're no better than a
fool? Was ever poor woman so beset with fools on one hand, and
thieves on the other?
TONY. I can bear witness to that.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Bear witness again, you blockhead you, and I'll turn
you out of the room directly. My poor niece, what will become of her?
Do you laugh, you unfeeling brute, as if you enjoyed my distress?
TONY. I can bear witness to that.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Do you insult me, monster? I'll teach you to vex
your mother, I will.
TONY. I can bear witness to that. [He runs off, she follows him. ]
Enter Miss HARDCASTLE and Maid.
MISS HARDCASTLE. What an unaccountable creature is that brother of
mine, to send them to the house as an inn! ha! ha! I don't wonder at
his impudence.
MAID. But what is more, madam, the young gentleman, as you passed by
in your present dress, asked me if you were the bar-maid. He mistook
you for the bar-maid, madam.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Did he? Then as I live, I'm resolved to keep up the
delusion. Tell me, Pimple, how do you like my present dress? Don't
you think I look something like Cherry in the Beaux Stratagem?
MAID. It's the dress, madam, that every lady wears in the country, but
when she visits or receives company.
MISS HARDCASTLE. And are you sure he does not remember my face or
person?
MAID. Certain of it.
MISS HARDCASTLE. I vow, I thought so; for, though we spoke for some
time together, yet his fears were such, that he never once looked up
during the interview. Indeed, if he had, my bonnet would have kept him
from seeing me.
MAID.
But what do you hope from keeping him in his mistake?
MISS HARDCASTLE. In the first place I shall be seen, and that is no
small advantage to a girl who brings her face to market. Then I shall
perhaps make an acquaintance, and that's no small victory gained over
one who never addresses any but the wildest of her sex. But my chief
aim is, to take my gentleman off his guard, and, like an invisible
champion of romance, examine the giant's force before I offer to
combat.
MAID. But you are sure you can act your part, and disguise your voice
so that he may mistake that, as he has already mistaken your person?
MISS HARDCASTLE. Never fear me. I think I have got the true bar
cant--Did your honour call? --Attend the Lion there--Pipes and tobacco
for the Angel. --The Lamb has been outrageous this half-hour.
MAID. It will do, madam. But he's here. [Exit MAID. ]
Enter MARLOW.
MARLOW. What a bawling in every part of the house! I have scarce a
moment's repose. If I go to the best room, there I find my host and
his story: if I fly to the gallery, there we have my hostess with her
curtsey down to the ground. I have at last got a moment to myself, and
now for recollection. [Walks and muses. ]
MISS HARDCASTLE. Did you call, sir? Did your honour call?
MARLOW. (Musing. ) As for Miss Hardcastle, she's too grave and
sentimental for me.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Did your honour call? (She still places herself
before him, he turning away. )
MARLOW. No, child. (Musing. ) Besides, from the glimpse I had of her,
I think she squints.
MISS HARDCASTLE. I'm sure, sir, I heard the bell ring.
MARLOW. No, no. (Musing. ) I have pleased my father, however, by
coming down, and I'll to-morrow please myself by returning. [Taking
out his tablets, and perusing. ]
MISS HARDCASTLE. Perhaps the other gentleman called, sir?
MARLOW. I tell you, no.
MISS HARDCASTLE. I should be glad to know, sir. We have such a
parcel of servants!
MARLOW. No, no, I tell you. (Looks full in her face. ) Yes, child, I
think I did call. I wanted--I wanted--I vow, child, you are vastly
handsome.
MISS HARDCASTLE. O la, sir, you'll make one ashamed.
MARLOW. Never saw a more sprightly malicious eye. Yes, yes, my dear,
I did call. Have you got any of your--a--what d'ye call it in the
house?
MISS HARDCASTLE. No, sir, we have been out of that these ten days.
MARLOW. One may call in this house, I find, to very little purpose.
Suppose I should call for a taste, just by way of a trial, of the
nectar of your lips; perhaps I might be disappointed in that too.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Nectar! nectar! That's a liquor there's no call for
in these parts. French, I suppose. We sell no French wines here, sir.
MARLOW. Of true English growth, I assure you.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Then it's odd I should not know it. We brew all
sorts of wines in this house, and I have lived here these eighteen
years.
MARLOW. Eighteen years! Why, one would think, child, you kept the bar
before you were born. How old are you?
MISS HARDCASTLE. O! sir, I must not tell my age. They say women and
music should never be dated.
MARLOW. To guess at this distance, you can't be much above forty
(approaching). Yet, nearer, I don't think so much (approaching). By
coming close to some women they look younger still; but when we come
very close indeed--(attempting to kiss her).
MISS HARDCASTLE. Pray, sir, keep your distance. One would think you
wanted to know one's age, as they do horses, by mark of mouth.
MARLOW. I protest, child, you use me extremely ill. If you keep me at
this distance, how is it possible you and I can ever be acquainted?
MISS HARDCASTLE. And who wants to be acquainted with you? I want no
such acquaintance, not I. I'm sure you did not treat Miss Hardcastle,
that was here awhile ago, in this obstropalous manner. I'll warrant
me, before her you looked dashed, and kept bowing to the ground, and
talked, for all the world, as if you was before a justice of peace.
MARLOW. (Aside. ) Egad, she has hit it, sure enough! (To her. ) In
awe of her, child? Ha! ha! ha! A mere awkward squinting thing; no,
no. I find you don't know me. I laughed and rallied her a little; but
I was unwilling to be too severe. No, I could not be too severe, curse
me!
MISS HARDCASTLE. O! then, sir, you are a favourite, I find, among the
ladies?
MARLOW. Yes, my dear, a great favourite. And yet hang me, I don't see
what they find in me to follow. At the Ladies' Club in town I'm called
their agreeable Rattle. Rattle, child, is not my real name, but one
I'm known by. My name is Solomons; Mr. Solomons, my dear, at your
service. (Offering to salute her. )
MISS HARDCASTLE. Hold, sir; you are introducing me to your club, not
to yourself. And you're so great a favourite there, you say?
MARLOW. Yes, my dear. There's Mrs. Mantrap, Lady Betty Blackleg, the
Countess of Sligo, Mrs. Langhorns, old Miss Biddy Buckskin, and your
humble servant, keep up the spirit of the place.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Then it's a very merry place, I suppose?
MARLOW. Yes, as merry as cards, supper, wine, and old women can make
us.
MISS HARDCASTLE. And their agreeable Rattle, ha! ha! ha!
MARLOW. (Aside. ) Egad! I don't quite like this chit. She looks
knowing, methinks. You laugh, child?
MISS HARDCASTLE. I can't but laugh, to think what time they all have
for minding their work or their family.
MARLOW. (Aside. ) All's well; she don't laugh at me. (To her. ) Do
you ever work, child?
MISS HARDCASTLE. Ay, sure. There's not a screen or quilt in the
whole house but what can bear witness to that.
MARLOW. Odso! then you must show me your embroidery. I embroider and
draw patterns myself a little. If you want a judge of your work, you
must apply to me. (Seizing her hand. )
MISS HARDCASTLE. Ay, but the colours do not look well by candlelight.
You shall see all in the morning. (Struggling. )
MARLOW. And why not now, my angel? Such beauty fires beyond the
power of resistance. --Pshaw! the father here! My old luck: I never
nicked seven that I did not throw ames ace three times following.
[Exit MARLOW. ]
Enter HARDCASTLE, who stands in surprise.
HARDCASTLE. So, madam. So, I find THIS is your MODEST lover. This is
your humble admirer, that kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and only
adored at humble distance. Kate, Kate, art thou not ashamed to deceive
your father so?
MISS HARDCASTLE. Never trust me, dear papa, but he's still the modest
man I first took him for; you'll be convinced of it as well as I.
HARDCASTLE. By the hand of my body, I believe his impudence is
infectious! Didn't I see him seize your hand? Didn't I see him haul
you about like a milkmaid? And now you talk of his respect and his
modesty, forsooth!
MISS HARDCASTLE. But if I shortly convince you of his modesty, that he
has only the faults that will pass off with time, and the virtues that
will improve with age, I hope you'll forgive him.
HARDCASTLE. The girl would actually make one run mad! I tell you,
I'll not be convinced. I am convinced. He has scarce been three hours
in the house, and he has already encroached on all my prerogatives.
You may like his impudence, and call it modesty; but my son-in-law,
madam, must have very different qualifications.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Sir, I ask but this night to convince you.
HARDCASTLE. You shall not have half the time, for I have thoughts of
turning him out this very hour.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Give me that hour then, and I hope to satisfy you.
HARDCASTLE. Well, an hour let it be then.
