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Act The Fifth
Act The Fifth
(Scene continued)
Enter Hastings and Servant
Hast. You saw the old lady and Miss Neville drive off, you say?
Ser. Yes, your honour. They went off in a post - coach, and the young
`squire went on horseback. They`re thirty miles off by this time.
Hast. Then all my hopes are over.
Ser. Yes, sir. Old Sir Charles has arrived. He and the old gentleman of
the house have been laughing at Mr. Marlow`s mistake this half hour. They are
coming this way.
Hast. Them I must not be seen. So now to my fruitless appointment at the
bottom of the garden. This is about the time. [Exit.
Enter Sir Charles and Hardcastle
Hard. Ha! ha! ha! The peremptory tone in which he sent forth his sublime
commands!
Sir Cha. And the reserve with which I suppose he treated all your
advances.
Hard. And yet he might have seen something in me above a common
innkeeper, too.
Sir Cha. Yes, Dick, but he mistook you for an uncommon innkeeper, ha! ha!
ha!
Hard. Well, I`m in too good spirits to think of anything but joy.
Yes, my dear friend, this union of our families will make our personal
friendships hereditary; and though my daughter`s fortune is but small -
Sir Cha. Why, Dick, will you talk of fortune to me? My son is possessed
of more than a competence already, and can want nothing but a good and
virtuous girl to share his happiness and increase it. If they like each other,
as you say they do -
Hard. If, man! I tell you they do like each other. My daughter as good as
told me so.
Sir Cha. But girls are apt to flatter themselves, you know.
Hard. I saw him grasp her hand in the warmest manner myself; and here he
comes to put you out of your ifs, I warrant him.
Enter Marlow
Mar. I come, sir, once more, to ask pardon for my strange conduct. I can
scarce reflect on my insolence without confusion.
Hard. Tut, boy, a trifle! You take it too gravely. An hour or two`s
laughing with my daughter will set all to rights again. She`ll never like you
the worse for it.
Mar. Sir, I shall be always proud of her approbation.
Hard. Approbation is but a cold word, Mr. Marlow; if I am not deceived,
you have something more than approbation thereabouts. You take me?
Mar. Really, sir, I have not that happiness.
Hard. Come, boy, I`m an old fellow and know what`s what as well as you
that are younger. I know what has passed between you; but mum.
Mar. Sure, sir, nothing has passed between us but the most profound
respect on my side, and the most distant reserve on hers. You don`t think,
sir, that my impudence has been passed upon all the rest of the family.
Hard. Impudence! No, I don`t say that - not quite impudence - though
girls like to be played with, and rumpled a little too, sometimes. But she has
told no tales, I assure you.
Mar. I never gave her the slightest cause.
Hard. Well, well, I likely modesty in its place well enough. But this is
over - acting, young gentleman. You may be open. Your father and I will like
you all the better for it.
Mar. May I die, sir, if I ever -
Hard. I tell you, she don`t dislike you; and as I`m sure you like her -
Mar. Dear sir - I protest, sir -
Hard. I see no reason why you should not be joined as fast as the parson
can tie you.
Mar. But hear me, sir -
Hard. Your father approves the match, I admire it; every moment`s delay
will be doing mischief. So -
Mar. But why won`t you hear me? By all that`s just and true, I never gave
Miss Hardcastle the slightest mark of my attachment, or even the most distant
hint to suspect me of affection. We had but one interview, and that was
formal, modest, and uninteresting.
Hard. (Aside.) This fellow`s formal modest impudence is beyond bearing.
Sir Cha. And you never grasped her hand, or made any protestations?
Mar. As Heaven is my witness, I came down in obedience to your commands.
I saw the lady without emotion, and parted without reluctance. I hope you`ll
exact no farther proofs of my duty, nor prevent me from leaving a house in
which I suffer so many mortifications. [Exit.
Sir Cha. I`m astonished at the air of sincerity with which he parted.
Hard. And I`m astonished at the deliberate intrepidity of his assurance.
Sir Cha. I dare pledge my life and honour upon his truth.
Hard. Here comes my daughter, and I would stake my happiness upon her
veracity.
Enter Miss Hardcastle
Hard. Kate, come hither, child. Answer us sincerely and without reserve:
has Mr. Marlow made you any professions of love and affection?
Miss Hard. The question is very abrupt, sir. But since you require
unreserved sincerity, I think he has.
Hard. (To Sir Charles.) You see.
Sir Cha. And pray, madam, have you and my son had more than one
interview?
Miss. Hard. Yes, sir, several.
Hard. (To Sir Charles.) You see.
Sir Cha. But did he profess any attachment?
Miss Hard. A lasting one.
Sir Cha. Did he talk of love?
Miss Hard. Much, sir.
Sir Cha. Amazing! And all this formally?
Miss Hard. Formally.
Hard. Now, my friend, I hope you are satisfied.
Sir Cha. And how did he behave, madam?
Miss Hard. As most profest admires do: said some civil things of my face,
talked much of his want of merit, and the greatness of mine; mentioned his
heart, gave a short tragedy speech, and ended with pretended rapture.
Sir Cha. Now I`m perfectly convinced, indeed. I know his conversation
among women to be modest and submissive: this forward canting ranting manner
by no means describes him; and, I am confident, he never sat for the picture.
Miss Hard. Then, what, sir, if I should convince you to your face of my
sincerity? If you and my papa in about half an hour, will place yourselves
behind that screen, you shall hear him declare his passion to me in person.
Sir Cha. Agreed. And if I find him what you describe, all my happiness in
him must have an end. [Exit.
Miss Hard. And if you don`t find him what I describe - I fear my
happiness must never have a beginning. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to the back of the Garden
Enter Hastings
Hast. What an idiot am I, to wait here for a fellow who probably takes a
delight in mortifying me. He never intended to be punctual, and I`ll wait no
longer. What do I see? It is he! and perhaps with news of my Constance.
Enter Tony, booted and spattered
Hast. My honest `squire! I now find you a man of your word. This looks
like friendship.
Tony. Ay, I`m your friend, and the best friend you have in the world, if
you knew but all. This riding by night, by the bye, is cursedly tiresome. It
has shook me worse than the basket of a stage - coach.
Hast. But how? where did you leave your fellow - travellers? Are they in
safety? Are they housed?
Tony. Five and twenty miles in two hours and a half is no such bad
driving. The poor beasts have smoked for it: rabbit me, but I`d rather ride
forty miles after a fox than ten with such varment.
Hast. Well, but where have you left the ladies? I die with impatience.
Tony. Left them! Why where should I leave them but where I found them?
Hast. This is a riddle.
Tony. Riddle me this, then. What`s that goes round the house, and round
the house, and never touches the house?
Hast. I`m still astray.
Tony. Why, that`s it, mon. I have led them astray. By jingo, there`s not
a pond or a slough within five miles of the place but they can tell the taste
of.
Hast. Ha! ha! ha! I understand: you took them in a round, while they
supposed themselves going forward, and so you have at last brought them home
again.
Tony. You shall hear. I first took them down Feather - bed Lane, where we
stuck fast in the mud. I then rattled them crack over the stones of Up - and -
down Hill. I then introduced them to the gibbet on Heavy - tree Heath; and
from that, with a circumbendibus, I fairly lodged them in the horse - pond at
the bottom of the garden.
Hast. But no accident, I hope?
Tony. No, no. Only mother is confoundedly frightened. She thinks herself
forty miles off. She`s sick of the journey; and the cattle can scarce crawl.
So if your own horses be ready, you may whip off with cousin, and I`ll be
bound that no soul here can budge a foot to follow you.
Hast. My dear friend, how can I be grateful?
Tony. Ay, now it`s dear friend, noble `squire. Just now, it was all
idiot, cub, and run me through the guts. Damn your way of fighting, I say.
After we take a knock in this part of the country, we kiss and be friends. But
if you had run me through the guts, then I should be dead, and you might go
kiss the hangman.
Hast. The rebuke is just. But I must hasten to relieve Miss Neville: if
you keep the old lady employed, I promise to take care of the young one. [Exit
Hastings.
Tony. Never fear me. Here she comes. Vanish. She`s got from the pond, and
draggled up to the waist like a mermaid.
Enter Mrs. Hardcastle
Mrs. Hard. Oh, Tony, I`m killed! Shook! Battered to death. I shall never
survive it. That last jolt, that laid us against the quickset hedge, has done
my business.
Tony. Alack, mamma it was all your own fault. You would be for running
away by night, without knowing one inch of the way.
Mrs. Hard. I wish we were at home again. I never met so many accidents in
so short a journey. Drenched in the mud, overturned in a ditch, stuck fast in
a slough, jolted to a jelly, and at last to lose our way. Whereabouts do you
think we are, Tony?
Tony. By my guess we should come upon Crackskull common, about forty
miles from home.
Mrs. Hard. O lud! O lud! The most notorious spot in all the country. We
only want a robbery to make complete night on`t.
Tony. Don`t be afraid, mamma, don`t be afraid. Two of the five that kept
here are hanged, and the other three may not find us. Dont` be afraid. - Is
that a man that`s galloping behind us? No; it`s only a tree. - Don`t be
afraid.
Mrs. Hard. The fright will certainly kill me.
Tony. Do you see anything like a black hat moving behind the thicket?
Mrs. Hard. Oh, death!
Tony. No; it`s only a cow. Don`t be afraid, mamma; don`t be afraid.
Mrs. Hard. As I`m alive, Tony, I see a man coming towards us. Ah! I`m
sure on`t. If he perceives us, we are undone.
Tony. (Aside.) Father - in - law, by all that`s unlucky, come to take one
of his night walks. (To her.) Ah, it`s a highwayman with pistols as long as my
arm. A damned ill - looking fellow.
Mrs. Hard. Good Heaven defend us! He approaches.
Tony. Do you hide yourself in that thicket, and leave me to manage him.
If there be any danger, I`ll cough, and cry hem. When I cough, be sure to keep
close. (Mrs. Hardcastle hides behind a tree in the back scene.)
Enter Hardcastle
Hard. I`m mistaken, or I heard voices of people in want to help. Oh,
Tony! is that you? I did not expect you so soon back. Are your mother and her
charge in safety?
Tony. Very safe, sir, at my aunt Pedigree`s. Hem.
Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Ah, death! I find there`s danger.
Hard. Forty miles in three hours; sure that`s too much, my youngster.
Tony. Stout horses and willing minds make short journeys, as they say.
Hem.
Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Sure he`ll do the dear boy no harm.
Hard. But I heard a voice here; I should be glad to know from whence it
came.
Tony. It was I, sir, talking to myself, sir. I was saying that forty
miles in four hours was very good going. Hem. As to be sure it was. Hem. I
have got a sort of cold by being out in the air. We`ll go in, if you please.
Hem.
Hard. But if you talked to yourself you did not answer yourself. I`m
certain I heard two voices, and am resolved (raising his voice) to find the
other out.
Mrs. Hard. (From behind.) Oh! he`s coming to find me out. Oh!
Tony. What need you go, sir, if I tell you? Hem. I`ll lay down my life
for the truth - hem - I`ll tell you all, sir. [Detaining him.
Hard. I tell you I will not be detained. I insist on seeing. It`s in vain
to expect I`ll believe you.
Mrs. Hard. (Running forward from behind.) O lud! he`ll murder my poor
boy, my darling! Here, good gentleman, whet your rage upon me. Take my money,
my life, but spare that young gentleman; spare my child, if you have any
mercy.
Hard. My wife, as I`m a Christian. From whence can she come? or what does
she mean?
Mrs. Hard. (Kneeling.) Take compassion on us, good Mr. Highwayman. Take
our money, our watches, all we have, but spare our lives. We will never bring
you to justice; indeed we won`t, good Mr. Highwayman.
Hard. I believe the woman`s out of her senses. What, Dorothy, don`t you
know me?
Mrs. Hard. Mr Hardcastle, as I`m alive! My fears blinded me. But who, my
dear, could have expected to meet you here, in this frightful place, so far
from home? What has brought you to follow us?
Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your wits? So far from home, when
you are within forty yards of your own door! (To him.) This is one of your old
tricks, you graceless rogue, you. (To her.) Don`t you know the gate, and the
mulberry - tree; and don`t you remember the horse - pond, my dear?
Mrs. Hard. Yes, I shall remember the horse - pond as long as I live; I
have caught my death in it. (To Tony.) And is it to you, you graceless varlet,
I owe all this? I`ll teach you to abuse your mother, I will.
Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have spoiled me, and so you
may take the fruits on`t.
Mrs. Hard. I`ll spoil you, I will. [Follows him off the stage. Exit.
Hard. There`s morality, however, in his reply. [Exit.
Enter Hastings and Miss Neville
Hast. My dear Constance, why will you deliberate thus? If we delay a
moment, all is lost for ever. Pluck up a little resolution, and we shall soon
be out of the reach of her malignity.
Miss Nev. I find it impossible. My spirits are so sunk with the
agitations I have suffered, that I am unable to face any new danger. Two or
three years` patience will at last crown us with happiness.
Hast. Such a tedious delay is worse than inconstancy. Let us fly, my
charmer. Let us date our happiness from this very moment. Perish fortune! Love
and content will increase what we possess beyond a monarch`s revenue. Let me
prevail!
Miss Nev. No, Mr. Hastings, no. Prudence once more comes to my relief,
and I will obey its dictates. In the moment of passion fortune may be
despised, but it ever produces a lasting repentance. I`m resolved to apply to
Mr. Hardcastle`s compassion and justice for redress.
Hast. But though he had the will, he has not the power to relieve you.
Miss Nev. But he has influence, and upon that I am resolved to rely.
Hast. I have no hopes. But since you persist, I must reluctantly obey
you. [Exeunt.
Scene changes to the house
Enter Sir Charles and Miss Hardcastle
Sir Cha. What a situation am I in! If what you say appears, I shall then
find a guilty son. If what he says be true, I shall then lose one that, of all
others, I most wished for a daughter.
Miss Hard. I am proud of your approbation, and to show I merit it, if you
place yourselves as I directed, you shall hear his explicit declaration. But
he comes.
Sir Cha. I`ll to your father, and keep him to the appointment.
[Exit Sir Charles.
Enter Marlow
Mar. Though prepared for setting out, I come once more to take leave; nor
did I, till this moment, know the pain I feel in the separation.
Miss Hard. (In her own natural manner.) I believe these sufferings cannot
be very great, sir, which you can so easily remove. A day or two longer,
perhaps, might lessen your uneasiness, by showing the little value of what you
now think proper to regret.
Mar. (Aside.) This girl every moment improves upon me. (To her.) It must
not be, madam. I have already trifled too long with my heart. My very pride
begins to submit to my passion. The disparity of education and fortune, the
anger of a parent, and the contempt of my equals, begin to lose their weight;
and nothing can restore me to myself but this painful effort of resolution.
Miss Hard. Then go, sir: I`ll urge nothing more to detain you. Though my
family be as good as hers you came down to visit, and my education, I hope,
not inferior, what are these advantages without equal affluence? I must remain
contented with the slight approbation of imputed merit; I must have only the
mockery of your addresses, while all your serious aims are fixed on fortune.
Enter Hardcastle and Sir Charles from behind
Sir Cha. Here, behind this screen.
Hard. Ay, ay; make no noise. I`ll engage my Kate covers him with
confusion at last.
Mar. By heavens, madam! fortune was ever my smallest consideration. Your
beauty at first caught my eye; for who could see that without emotion? But
every moment that I converse with you steals in some new grace, heightens the
picture, and gives it stronger expression. What at first seemed rustic
plainness, now appears refined simplicity. What seemed forward assurance, now
strikes me as the result of courageous innocense and conscious virtue.
Sir Cha. What can it mean? He amazes me!
Hard. I told you how it would be. Hush!
Mar. I am now determined to stay, madam; and I have too good an opinion
of my father`s discernment, when he sees you, to doubt his approbation.
Miss Hard. No, Mr. Marlow, I will not, cannot detain you. Do you think I
could suffer a connexion in which there is the smallest room for repentance?
Do you think I would take the mean advantage of a transient passion, to load
you with confusion? Do you think I could ever relish that happiness which was
acquired by lessening yours?
Mar. By all that`s good, I can have no happiness but what`s in your power
to grant me! Nor shall I ever feel repentance but in not having seen your
merits before. I will stay even contrary to your wishes; and though you should
persist to shun me, I will make my respectful assiduities atone for the levity
of my past conduct.
Miss Hard. Sir, I must entreat you`ll desist. As our acquaintance began,
so let it end, in indifference. I might have given an hour or two to levity;
but seriously, Mr. Marlow, do you think I could ever submit to a connexion
where I must appear mercenary, and you imprudent? Do you think I could ever
catch at the confident addresses of a secure admirer?
Mar. (Kneeling.) Does this look like security? Does this look like
confidence? No, madam, every moment that shows me your merit, only serves to
increase my diffidence and confusion. Here let me continue -
Sir Cha. I can hold it no longer. Charles, Charles, how hast thou
deceived me! Is this your indifference, your uninteresting conversation?
Hard. Your cold contempt; your formal interview! What have you to say
now?
Mar. That I`m all amazement! What can it mean?
Hard. It means that you can say and unsay things at pleasure: that you
can address a lady in private, and deny it in public: that you have one story
for us, and another for my daughter.
Mar. Daughter! - This lady your daughter?
Hard. Yes, sir, my only daughter; my Kate; whose else should she be?
Mar. Oh, the devil!
Miss Hard. Yes, sir, that very identical tall squinting lady you were
pleased to take me for (courtesying); she that you addressed as the mild,
modest, sentimental man of gravity, and the bold, forward, agreeable Rattle of
the Ladies` Club. Ha! ha! ha!
Mar. Zounds! there`s no bearing this; it`s worse than death!
Miss Hard. In which of your characters, sir, will you give us leave to
address you? As the faltering gentleman, with looks on the ground, that speaks
just to be heard, and hates hypocrisy; or the loud confident creature, that
keeps it up with Mrs. Mantrap, and old Miss Biddy Buckskin, till three in the
morning? Ha! ha! ha!
Mar. O, curse on my noisy head. I never attempted to be impudent yet,
that I was not taken down. I must be gone.
Hard. By the hand of my body, but you shall not. I see it was all a
mistake, and I am rejoiced to find it. You shall not, sir, I tell you. I know
she`ll forgive you. Won`t you forgive him, Kate? We`ll all forgive you. Take
courage, man. (They retire, she tormenting him, to the back scene.)
Enter Mrs. Hardcastle and Tony
Mrs. Hard. So, so, they`re gone off. Let them go, I care not.
Hard. Who gone?
Mrs. Hard. My dutiful niece and her gentleman, Mr. Hastings from town. He
who came down with our modest visitor here.
Sir Cha. Who, my honest George Hastings? As worthy a fellow as lives, and
the girl could not have made a more prudent choice.
Hard. Then, by the hand of my body, I`m proud of the connexion.
Mrs. Hard. Well, if he has taken away the lady, he has not taken her
fortune; that remains in this family to console us for her loss.
Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you would not be so mercenary?
Mrs. Hard. Ay, that`s my affair, not yours.
Hard. But you know if your son, when of age, refuses to marry his cousin,
her whole fortune is then at her own disposal.
Mrs. Hard. Ay, but he`s not of age, and she has not thought proper to
wait for his refusal.
Enter Hastings and Miss Neville
Mrs. Hard. (Aside.) What, returned so soon! I begin not to like it.
Hast. (To Hardcastle.) For my late attempt to fly off with your niece let
my present confusion be my punishment. We are now come back, to appeal from
your justice to your humanity. By her father`s consent, I first paid her my
addresses, and our passions were first founded in duty.
Miss Nev. Since his death, I have been obliged to stoop to dissimulation
to avoid oppression. In an hour of levity, I was ready to give up my fortune
to secure my choice. But I am now recovered from the delusion, and hope from
your tenderness what is denied me from a nearer connexion.
Mrs. Hard. Pshaw, pshaw! this is all but the whining end of a modern
novel.
Hard. Be it what it will, I`m glad they`re come back to reclaim their
due. Come hither, Tony, boy. Do you refuse this lady`s hand whom I now offer
you?
Tony. What signifies my refusing? You know I can`t refuse her till I`m of
age, father.
Hard. While I thought concealing your age, boy, was likely to conduce to
your improvement, I concurred with your mother`s desire to keep it secret. But
since I find she turns it to a wrong use, I must now declare you have been of
age these three months.
Tony. Of age! Am I of age, father?
Hard. Above three months.
Tony. Then you`ll see the first use I`ll make of my liberty. (Taking Miss
Neville`s hand.) Witness all men by these presents, that I, Anthony Lumpkin,
Esquire, of Blank place, refuse you, Constantia Neville, spinster, of no place
at all, for my true and lawful wife. So Constance Neville may marry whom she
pleases, and Tony Lumpkin is his own man again.
Sir Cha. O brave `squire!
Hast. My worthy friend!
Mrs. Hard. My undutiful offspring!
Mar. Joy, my dear George! I give you joy sincerely. And could I prevail
upon my little tyrant here to be less arbitrary, I should be the happiest man
alive, if you would return me the favour.
Hast (To Miss Hardcastle.) Come, madam, you are now driven to the very
last scene of all your contrivances. I know you like him, I`m sure he loves
you, and you must and shall have him.
Hard. (Joining their hands.) And I say so too. And, Mr. Marlow, if she
makes as good a wife as she has a daughter, I don`t believe you`ll ever repent
your bargain. So now to supper. To - morrow we shall gather all the poor of
the parish about us, and the mistakes of the night shall be crowned with a
merry morning. So, boy, take her; and as you have been mistaken in the
mistress, my wish is, that you may never be mistaken in the wife. [Exeunt
Omnes.
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