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. But I’ll have no trifling
with your father. All fair and open, do you mind me.
MISS HARDCASTLE. I hope, sir, you have ever found that I considered
your commands as my pride; for your kindness is such, that my duty as
yet has been inclination. [Exeunt.]