Miss Hardcastle.

Well then, I'll follow.

Marlow.

(Aside) This pretty smooth dialogue has done for [Exit.

me.

Miss Hardcastle, (alone.)

Ha! ha! ha! Was there ever such a sober sentimental interview? I'm certain he scarce look'd in my face the whole time. Yet the fellow, but for his unaccountable bashfulness, is pretty well too. He has good sense, but then so buried in his fears, that it fatigues one more than ignorance. If I could teach him a little confidence, it would be doing somebody that I know a piece of service. But who is that somebody? That, faith, is a question I can scarce answer. [Exit.

Enter TONY and Miss NEVILLE, followed by Mrs. HARDCASTLE and HASTINGS.

Tony.

What do you follow me for, cousin Con?

der you're not ashamed to be so very engaging.

Miss Neville.

I won

I hope, cousin, one may speak to one's own relations, and not be to blame.

Tony.

Aye, but I know what sort of a relation you want to make me though; but it won't do. I tell you, cousin Con, it won't do; so I beg you'll keep your distance, I want no nearer relationship.

[She follows, coquetting him to the back scene.

Mrs. Hardcastle.

Well! I vow, Mr. Hastings, you are very entertaining. There's nothing in the world I love to taik of so much as London, and the fashions, though I was never there myself.

Hastings.

Never there! You amaze me! From your air and manner, I conclude you had been bred all your life either at Renelagh, St. James's, or Tower Wharf.

Mrs. Hardcastle.

O! Sir, you're only pleased to say so. We country persons can have no manner at all. I'm in love with the town, and that serves to raise me above some of our neighboring rustics; but who can have a manner, that has never seen the Pantheon, the Grotto Gardens, the Borough, and such places where the nobility chiefly resort?

All I can do is, to enjoy London at secondhand. I take care to know every tête-à-tête from the scandalous magazine, and have all the fashions as they come out, in a letter from the two Miss Rickets of Crooked-lane. Pray how do you like this head, Mr. Hastings?

Hastings.

Extremely elegant and degagée, upon my word, madam. Your friseur is a Frenchman, I suppose?

Mrs. Hardcastle.

I protest, I dressed it myself from a print in the lady's memorandum-book for the last year.

Hastings.

Indeed! Such a head in a side-box at the playhouse would draw as many gazersas my Lady May'ress at a City Ball.

Mrs. Hardcastle.

I vow, since inoculation began, there is no such thing to be seen as a plain woman; so one must dress a little particular, or one may escape in the crowd.

Hastings.

But that can never be your case, madam, in any dress, (Bowing.)

Mrs. Hardcastle.

Yet, what signifies my dressing, when I have such a piece of antiquity by my side as Mr. Hardcastle : all I can say will never argue down a single button from his clothes. I have often wanted him to throw off his great flaxen wig, and where he was bald, to plaister it over, like my Lord Pately, with powder.

Hastings.

You are right, madam; for, as among the ladies there are none ugly, so among the men there are none old.

Mrs. Hardcastle.

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.

Hastings.

Intolerable! At your age you may wear what you please, and it must become you.

Mrs. Hardcastle.

Pray, Mr. Hastings, what do you take to be the most fashionable age about town?

Hastings.

Some time ago, forty was all the mode; but I'm told the ladies intend to bring up fifty for the ensuing winter.

Seriously. fashion.

Mrs. Hardcastle.

Then I shall be too young for the

Hastings.

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. Hardcastle.

And yet Mrs. Niece thinks herself as much a woman, and is as fond of jewels as the oldest of us all.

Hastings.

Your niece, is she? And that young gentleman, a brother of yours, I should presume?

Mrs. Hardcastle.

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. Hardcastle.

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

Miss Neville.

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. Hardcastle.

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 Neville.

O lud! he has almost cracked my head.

O the monster!

and behave so!

Mrs. Hardcastle.

For shame, Tony. You a man,

Tony.

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

Mrs. Hardcastle.

Is this, ungrateful boy, all that I'm to get for the pains I have taken in your education? I that have rock'd 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?

Fony.

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 housewife ten times over; and you have thoughts of coursing me through Quincey next spring. But, ecod! I tell you, I'll not be made a fool of no longer.

Mrs. Hardcastle.

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. Hardcastle.

That's false; I never see you when you're in spirits. No, Tony, you then go to the alehouse or ken