Tony.

He-he-hem!-Then, gentlemen, all I have to tell you is, that you won't reach Mr. Hardcastle's house this night, I believe.

Unfortunate!

Hastings.

Tony.

It's a damn'd long, dark, boggy, dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentlemen the way to Mr. Hardcastle's! (Winking upon the Landlord.) Mr. Hardcastle's, of Quagmire Marsh, you understand me?

Landlord.

Master Hardcastle's! Lock-a-daisy, my masters, you're come a deadly deal wrong! When you came to the bottom of the hill, you should have cross'd down Squash-Lane.

Marlow.

Cross down Squash-lane.

Landlord.

Then you were to keep straight forward, 'till you came to four roads.

Marlow.

Come to where four roads meet!

Tony.

Aye; but you must be sure to take only one of them.

Marlow.

O Sir, you're facetious.

Tony.

for

Then keeping to the right, you are to go side-ways till you come upon Crack-skull common: there you must look sharp for the track of the wheel, and ward, 'till you come to farmer Murrain's barn. Coming to the farmer's barn you are to turn to the right,

go

and then to the left, and then to the right about again, till you find out the old mill.

Marlow.

Zounds, man! we could as soon find out the longitude!

Hastings.

What's to be done, Marlow?

Marlow.

This house promises but a poor reception; though perhaps the landlord can accommodate us.

Landlord.

Alack, master, we have but one spare bed in the whole house.

Tony.

And to my knowledge, that's taken up by three lodgers already. (After a pause, in which the rest seem disconcerted. I have hit it. Don't you think, Stingo, our landlady could accommodate the gentlemen by the fireside, with three chairs and a bolster ?

Hastings.

I hate sleeping by the fire-side.

Marlow.

And I detest your three chairs and a bolster.

Tony.

You do, do you!-then let me see-what-if you go on a mile further, to the Buck's Head; the old Buck's Head on the hill, one of the best inns in the whole country?

Hastings.

Oho! so we have escaped an adventure for this night, however.

Landlord.

(Apart to Tony.) Sure, you ben't sending them to your father's as an inn, be you?

Tony.

Mum, you fool you. Let them find that out. (Te them.) You have only to keep on straight forward, till you come to a large old house by the road side. You'll see a pair of large horns over the door. That's the sign. Drive up the yard, and call stoutly about

Hastings.

you.

Sir, we are obliged to you. The servants can't miss the way?

Tony.

No, no but I tell you though, the landlord is rich and going to leave off business; so he wants to be thought a gentleman, saving your presence, he! he! he! He'll be for giving you his company, and ecod if you mind him, he'll persuade you that his mother was an alderman, and his aunt a justice of peace.

Landlord.

A troublesome old blade to be sure; but a keeps as good wines and beds as any in the whole country.

Marlow.

Well, if he supplies us with these, we shall want no farther connection We are to turn to the right did

you say?

Tony.

No, no; straight forward. I'll just step myself, and shew you a piece of the way. (To the landlord.) Mum.

Landlord.

Ah, bless your heart, for a sweet, pleasant

damn'd mischievous son of a whore.

[Exeunt.

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE, an old-fashioned House.

Enter HARDCASTLE, followed by three or four aukward servants.

Hardcastle.

WELL, I hope you are perfect in the table exer

cise I have been teaching you these three days. You all know your posts and your places, and can shew that you have been used to good company, without ever stirring from home.

When company comes you are not to pop out, and stare, and then run in again, like frighted rabbits in a

You, Diggory, whom I have taken from the barn, are to make a shew at the side-table; and you, Roger, whom I have advanced from the plough, are to place yourself behind my chair. But you're not to stand sø, with your hands in your pockets. Take your hands from your pockets, Roger; and from your head, you blockhead you. See how Diggory carries his hands. They're a little too stiff, indeed, but that's no great matter.

Diggory.

Aye, mind how I hold them. I learned to hold my hands this way, when I was upon drill for the militia. And so being upon drill

Hardcastle.

You must not be so talkative, Diggory. You must be all attention to the guests. You must hear us talk, and not think of talking; you must see us drink, and not think of drinking; you must see us eat, and not think of eating.

Diggory.

By the laws, your worship, that's parfectly unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forward, ecod he's always wishing for a mouthful himself.

- Hardcastle.

Blockhead! Is not a belly-full in the kitchen as good as a belly-full in the parlor? Stay your stomach with that reflection.

Diggory.

Ecod I thank your worship, I'll make a shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry. Hardcastle.

Diggory, you are too talkative. Then if I happen to say a good thing, or tell a good story at table, you must not all burst out a-laughing as if you made part of the company.

Diggory.

Then ecod your worship must not tell the story of ould grouse in the gun room: I can't help laughing at that he he! he! for the soul of me. We have laughed at that these twenty years-ha! ha! ha!

Hardcastle.

Ha! ha ha! The story is a good one. Well, honest Diggory, you may laugh at that—but still remem