Chapter: Enter HASTINGS and Servant.


HASTINGS.  You saw the old lady and Miss Neville drive off, you say?

SERVANT.  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.

HASTINGS.  Then all my hopes are over.

SERVANT.  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.

HASTINGS.  Then 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.


HARDCASTLE.  Ha! ha! ha!  The peremptory tone in which he sent forth
his sublime commands!

SIR CHARLES.  And the reserve with which I suppose he treated all your
advances.

HARDCASTLE.  And yet he might have seen something in me above a common
innkeeper, too.

SIR CHARLES.  Yes, Dick, but he mistook you for an uncommon innkeeper,
ha! ha! ha!

HARDCASTLE.  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 CHARLES.  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--

HARDCASTLE.  IF, man!  I tell you they DO like each other.  My
daughter as good as told me so.

SIR CHARLES.  But girls are apt to flatter themselves, you know.

HARDCASTLE.  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.


MARLOW.  I come, sir, once more, to ask pardon for my strange conduct.
I can scarce reflect on my insolence without confusion.

HARDCASTLE.  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.

MARLOW.  Sir, I shall be always proud of her approbation.

HARDCASTLE.  Approbation is but a cold word, Mr. Marlow; if I am not
deceived, you have something more than approbation thereabouts.  You
take me?

MARLOW.  Really, sir, I have not that happiness.

HARDCASTLE.  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.

MARLOW.  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.

HARDCASTLE.  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.

MARLOW.  I never gave her the slightest cause.

HARDCASTLE.  Well, well, I like 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.

MARLOW.  May I die, sir, if I ever----

HARDCASTLE.  I tell you, she don't dislike you; and as I'm sure you
like her----

MARLOW.  Dear sir--I protest, sir----

HARDCASTLE.  I see no reason why you should not be joined as fast as
the parson can tie you.

MARLOW.  But hear me, sir--

HARDCASTLE.  Your father approves the match, I admire it; every
moment's delay will be doing mischief.  So--

MARLOW.  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.

HARDCASTLE.  (Aside.)  This fellow's formal modest impudence is beyond
bearing.

SIR CHARLES.  And you never grasped her hand, or made any
protestations?

MARLOW.  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 CHARLES.  I'm astonished at the air of sincerity with which he
parted.

HARDCASTLE.  And I'm astonished at the deliberate intrepidity of his
assurance.

SIR CHARLES.  I dare pledge my life and honour upon his truth.

HARDCASTLE.  Here comes my daughter, and I would stake my happiness
upon her veracity.


Enter MISS HARDCASTLE.


HARDCASTLE.  Kate, come hither, child.  Answer us sincerely and
without reserve: has Mr. Marlow made you any professions of love and
affection?

MISS HARDCASTLE.  The question is very abrupt, sir.  But since you
require unreserved sincerity, I think he has.

HARDCASTLE.  (To SIR CHARLES.)  You see.

SIR CHARLES.  And pray, madam, have you and my son had more than one
interview?

MISS HARDCASTLE.  Yes, sir, several.

HARDCASTLE.  (To SIR CHARLES.)  You see.

SIR CHARLES.  But did be profess any attachment?

MISS HARDCASTLE.  A lasting one.

SIR CHARLES.  Did he talk of love?

MISS HARDCASTLE.  Much, sir.

SIR CHARLES.  Amazing!  And all this formally?

MISS HARDCASTLE.  Formally.

HARDCASTLE.  Now, my friend, I hope you are satisfied.

SIR CHARLES.  And how did he behave, madam?

MISS HARDCASTLE.  As most profest admirers 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 CHARLES.  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 HARDCASTLE.  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 CHARLES.  Agreed.  And if I find him what you describe, all my
happiness in him must have an end.  [Exit.]

MISS HARDCASTLE.  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.


HASTINGS.  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.


HASTINGS.  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.

HASTINGS.  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.

HASTINGS.  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?

HASTINGS.  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?

HASTINGS.  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.

HASTINGS.  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.

HASTINGS.  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.

HASTINGS.  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.

HASTINGS.  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. HARDCASTLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  O lud! O lud!  The most notorious spot in all the
country.  We only want a robbery to make a 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.  Don't be
afraid.--Is that a man that's galloping behind us?  No; it's only a
tree.--Don't be afraid.

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  The fright will certainly kill me.

TONY.  Do you see anything like a black hat moving behind the thicket?

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  Oh, death!

TONY.  No; it's only a cow.  Don't be afraid, mamma; don't be afraid.

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  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.


HARDCASTLE.  I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people in want of
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. HARDCASTLE.  (From behind.)  Ah, death!  I find there's danger.

HARDCASTLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  (From behind.)  Sure he'll do the dear boy no harm.

HARDCASTLE.  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.

HARDCASTLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  (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.]

HARDCASTLE.  I tell you I will not be detained.  I insist on seeing.
It's in vain to expect I'll believe you.

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  (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.

HARDCASTLE.  My wife, as I'm a Christian.  From whence can she come? or
what does she mean?

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  (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.

HARDCASTLE.  I believe the woman's out of her senses.  What, Dorothy,
don't you know ME?

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  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?

HARDCASTLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  Yes, I shall remember the horse-pond as long as I
live; I have caught my death in it.  (To TONY.)  And it is 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. HARDCASTLE.  I'll spoil you, I will.  [Follows him off the stage.
Exit.]

HARDCASTLE.  There's morality, however, in his reply.  [Exit.]


Enter HASTINGS and MISS NEVILLE.


HASTINGS.  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 NEVILLE.  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.

HASTINGS.  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 NEVILLE.  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.

HASTINGS.  But though he had the will, he has not the power to relieve
you.

MISS NEVILLE.  But he has influence, and upon that I am resolved to
rely.

HASTINGS.  I have no hopes.  But since you persist, I must reluctantly
obey you.  [Exeunt.]


SCENE changes.


Enter SIR CHARLES and MISS HARDCASTLE.


SIR CHARLES.  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 HARDCASTLE.  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 CHARLES.  I'll to your father, and keep him to the appointment.
[Exit SIR CHARLES.]


Enter MARLOW.


MARLOW.  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 HARDCASTLE.  (In her own natural manner.)  I believe 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.

MARLOW.  (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 HARDCASTLE.  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 CHARLES.  Here, behind this screen.

HARDCASTLE.  Ay, ay; make no noise.  I'll engage my Kate covers him
with confusion at last.

MARLOW.  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 innocence and conscious virtue.

SIR CHARLES.  What can it mean?  He amazes me!

HARDCASTLE.  I told you how it would be.  Hush!

MARLOW.  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 HARDCASTLE.  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?

MARLOW.  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 HARDCASTLE.  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?

MARLOW.  (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 CHARLES.  I can hold it no longer.  Charles, Charles, how hast thou
deceived me!  Is this your indifference, your uninteresting
conversation?

HARDCASTLE.  Your cold contempt; your formal interview!  What have you
to say now?

MARLOW.  That I'm all amazement!  What can it mean?

HARDCASTLE.  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.

MARLOW.  Daughter!--This lady your daughter?

HARDCASTLE.  Yes, sir, my only daughter; my Kate; whose else should she
be?

MARLOW.  Oh, the devil!

MISS HARDCASTLE.  Yes, sir, that very identical tall squinting lady you
were pleased to take me for (courtseying); 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!

MARLOW.  Zounds! there's no bearing this; it's worse than death!

MISS HARDCASTLE.  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!

MARLOW.  O, curse on my noisy head.  I never attempted to be impudent
yet, that I was not taken down.  I must be gone.

HARDCASTLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  So, so, they're gone off.  Let them go, I care not.

HARDCASTLE.  Who gone?

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  My dutiful niece and her gentleman, Mr. Hastings,
from town.  He who came down with our modest visitor here.

SIR CHARLES.  Who, my honest George Hastings?  As worthy a fellow as
lives, and the girl could not have made a more prudent choice.

HARDCASTLE.  Then, by the hand of my body, I'm proud of the connexion.

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  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.

HARDCASTLE.  Sure, Dorothy, you would not be so mercenary?

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  Ay, that's my affair, not yours.

HARDCASTLE.  But you know if your son, when of age, refuses to marry
his cousin, her whole fortune is then at her own disposal.

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  Ay, but he's not of age, and she has not thought
proper to wait for his refusal.


Enter HASTINGS and MISS NEVILLE.


MRS. HARDCASTLE.  (Aside.)  What, returned so soon!  I begin not to
like it.

HASTINGS.  (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 NEVILLE.  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. HARDCASTLE.  Pshaw, pshaw! this is all but the whining end of a
modern novel.

HARDCASTLE.  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.

HARDCASTLE.  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?

HARDCASTLE.  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 CHARLES.  O brave 'squire!

HASTINGS.  My worthy friend!

MRS. HARDCASTLE.  My undutiful offspring!

MARLOW.  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.

HASTINGS.  (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.

HARDCASTLE.  (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.]

 Act V begins in Hardcastle's house. Hastings enters with a servant, who tells him that Mrs. Hardcastle and Constance left a while before, and must be far away. The servant also tells him that Charles Marlow has arrived, and Hastings, who still wants to avoid detection, heads to the garden even though he has little faith Tony will save him. He exits as Hardcastle and Charles Marlow enter, laughing about young Marlow mistaking Hardcastle for an innkeeper, and Charles Marlow offers that his son will not need much fortune in the way of dowry, since he is already wealthy. Hardcastle shares that Kate believes the two young people like one another, but Charles Marlow waits to see for himself. Marlow enters to apologize again for his impudence, but Hardcastle is able to laugh it off. They discuss his daughter, whom Marlow praises but says he did not share any intimacy with. Hardcastle, who saw Marlow take her hand in Act III, accuses him of lying, while Marlow continues to insist that their meeting was "without emotion." Sir Charles attempts to rectify the situation, but neither man understands why the other believes what he does, and Marlow leaves. Kate enters almost right away, and the two elders interrogate her. When she answers that Marlow did indeed meet her more than once and spoke in effusive tones, Sir Charles is certain she lies, since he knows his son's manner to be "modest." There is an irreconcilable perspective amongst them, so Kate proposes they all meet in a half-hour, and the men can listen behind a screen while she confronts Marlow. All agree. The scene shifts now to the back of the garden. Hastings waits alone, sure Tony will not come, when the latter finally arrives, covered in mud. He assures Hastings he is "the best friend you have in the world" and explains what he's done. He drove the horses around in circles, through difficult areas, until he finally crashed the carriage into a horse-pond nearby. Thinking herself 40 miles from home, Mrs. Hardcastle is in a panic. Tony stresses that his means of conflict resolution has proved superior since no one has been harmed, and Hardcastle agrees. Mrs. Hardcastle enters, terrified and lamenting being so far from home. She wonders whether the night could grow worse through a robbery, and almost right away, Tony points out a hat that can be spied over the bushes. He realizes it must be Mr. Hardcastle out on his nightly walk, and so exaggerates the appearance to convince his mother it must be a highwayman. He instructs her to hide in the thickets, which she does. Hardcastle enters and is surprised to find Tony back so soon. As Mrs. Hardcastle prays to herself that Tony will come to no harm, Tony tries to dissuade Hardcastle from investigation by claiming he was talking to himself and so the latter did not hear any voices. Hardcastle persists in pushing through, which leads Mrs. Hardcastle to throw herself at the mercy of the "bandit" to save her son, at which point it takes a few passages of confusion for all to sort itself out and everyone to be angry with Tony again, although Hardcastle sees "morality" in the way he abuses his mother in pursuit of justice, and forces her to reap the spoiled nature she has sown in him. Hastings and Constance enter, the former begging the latter to join him in eloping. But Constance, having been through so many trials in this night, no longer wants any part of duplicity and wants instead to apply to Hardcastle for leniency and permission to marry. Hastings insists he lacks the power to grant their wish , but she believes his sense of justice might lead him to use his influence on their behalf. The scene shifts back to the house. Here, Sir Charles laments his situation to Kate: either his son is a liar or is an impudent fellow. Kate suggests it might not be so bad, and the man retires so as to observe the meeting between the young people. Once he arrives, Marlow again laments his situation, where his passion is enflamed by the grace and appearance of this girl who lacks the fortune to please his father. He insists he must quit her immediately, and she grants him this, herself sad that "all serious aims are fixed on fortune." He assures her fortune was not what drew him to her but rather her qualities, which he is learning to see as "refined simplicity." Through his speech to himself, he resolves to stay with her despite his father's lack of approval. She refuses him, claiming such a union will surely result in resentment, but he claims otherwise, and gets down on one knee before her. At such a move, Sir Charles and Hardcastle charge from behind the screen and each accuse Marlow of falsehood, though for different reasons. In the attacks they launch at him, the truth of Kate's identity is revealed and Marlow is immediately leveled, saying "Oh, the devil." Having been caught, Kate continues to mock him, asking which of his "characters" he intends to use now. Hardcastle softens and asks Kate to forgive him, at which point the lovers move off to speak privately. Mrs. Hardcastle enters, claiming loudly that her niece has eloped with Hastings and that she will not ever release the girl's fortune. Hardcastle accuses her of being "mercenary" but she tells him to mind his own business, reminding him that if Tony refuses to marry Constance of his own volition once he is of age, then her fortune goes automatically to her. As Hastings and Constance arrive to beg forgiveness, Hardcastle reveals that Tony is actually of age and pretends otherwise, and so the fortune is for Constance after all. They had kept Tony's true age a secret in hopes it might induce him to mature more quickly. As his first act of age, Tony takes Constance's hand and in a wonderful parody of a marriage proposal, swears her off as a mate. Mrs. Hardcastle complains this is all "but the whining end of a modern novel" and shows no sign of having learned anything. Mr. Hardcastle gives a final speech wherein he hopes the "Mistakes of a Night" shall lead all to never mistake in his or her beloved such faulty qualities again.

