Enter HARDCASTLE, alone.
HARDCASTLE. 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 fire-side 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.
HARDCASTLE. Well, my Kate, I see you have changed your dress, as I
bade you; and yet, I believe, there was no great occasion.
MISS HARDCASTLE. I find such a pleasure, sir, in obeying your
commands, that I take care to observe them without ever debating their
propriety.
HARDCASTLE. And yet, Kate, I sometimes give you some cause,
particularly when I recommended my modest gentleman to you as a lover
to-day.
MISS HARDCASTLE. You taught me to expect something extraordinary, and
I find the original exceeds the description.
HARDCASTLE. I was never so surprised in my life! He has quite
confounded all my faculties!
MISS HARDCASTLE. I never saw anything like it: and a man of the world
too!
HARDCASTLE. 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 HARDCASTLE. It seems all natural to him.
HARDCASTLE. A good deal assisted by bad company and a French
dancing-master.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Sure you mistake, papa! A French dancing-master
could never have taught him that timid look--that awkward address--that
bashful manner--
HARDCASTLE. Whose look? whose manner, child?
MISS HARDCASTLE. Mr. Marlow’s: his mauvaise honte, his timidity,
struck me at the first sight.
HARDCASTLE. Then your first sight deceived you; for I think him one of
the most brazen first sights that ever astonished my senses.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Sure, sir, you rally! I never saw any one so
modest.
HARDCASTLE. 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.
MISS HARDCASTLE. Surprising! He met me with a respectful bow, a
stammering voice, and a look fixed on the ground.
HARDCASTLE. He met me with a loud voice, a lordly air, and a
familiarity that made my blood freeze again.
MISS HARDCASTLE. 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.”
HARDCASTLE. 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 HARDCASTLE. One of us must certainly be mistaken.
HARDCASTLE. If he be what he has shown himself, I’m determined he
shall never have my consent.
MISS HARDCASTLE. And if he be the sullen thing I take him, he shall
never have mine.
HARDCASTLE. In one thing then we are agreed--to reject him.
MISS HARDCASTLE. 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 well enough for a
man--Certainly, we don’t meet many such at a horse-race in the country.
HARDCASTLE. If we should find him so----But that’s impossible. The
first appearance has done my business. I’m seldom deceived in that.
MISS HARDCASTLE. And yet there may be many good qualities under that
first appearance.
HARDCASTLE. 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 HARDCASTLE. I hope, sir, a conversation begun with a compliment
to my good sense, won’t end with a sneer at my understanding?
HARDCASTLE. Pardon me, Kate. But if young Mr. Brazen can find the art
of reconciling contradictions, he may please us both, perhaps.
MISS HARDCASTLE. And as one of us must be mistaken, what if we go to
make further discoveries?
HARDCASTLE. Agreed. But depend on’t I’m in the right.
MISS HARDCASTLE. 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 genus, is that you?
Enter HASTINGS.
HASTINGS. 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.
HASTINGS. 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 himself of his own at any time.
HASTINGS. 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. But I know how
it will be well enough; she’d as soon part with the only sound tooth in
her head.
HASTINGS. 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.]
Enter MRS. HARDCASTLE and MISS NEVILLE.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. 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 NEVILLE. But what will repair beauty at forty, will certainly
improve it at twenty, madam.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. 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.