Chapter: 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.

TONY.  I can bear witness to that.  [He runs off, she follows him.]


Enter Miss HARDCASTLE and Maid.


MISS HARDCASTLE.  What an unaccountable creature is that brother of
mine, to send them to the house as an inn! ha! ha!  I don't wonder at
his impudence.

MAID.  But what is more, madam, the young gentleman, as you passed by
in your present dress, asked me if you were the bar-maid.  He mistook
you for the bar-maid, madam.

MISS HARDCASTLE.  Did he?  Then as I live, I'm resolved to keep up the
delusion.  Tell me, Pimple, how do you like my present dress?  Don't
you think I look something like Cherry in the Beaux Stratagem?

MAID.  It's the dress, madam, that every lady wears in the country, but
when she visits or receives company.

MISS HARDCASTLE.  And are you sure he does not remember my face or
person?

MAID.  Certain of it.

MISS HARDCASTLE.  I vow, I thought so; for, though we spoke for some
time together, yet his fears were such, that he never once looked up
during the interview.  Indeed, if he had, my bonnet would have kept him
from seeing me.

MAID.  But what do you hope from keeping him in his mistake?

MISS HARDCASTLE.  In the first place I shall be seen, and that is no
small advantage to a girl who brings her face to market.  Then I shall
perhaps make an acquaintance, and that's no small victory gained over
one who never addresses any but the wildest of her sex.  But my chief
aim is, to take my gentleman off his guard, and, like an invisible
champion of romance, examine the giant's force before I offer to
combat.

MAID.  But you are sure you can act your part, and disguise your voice
so that he may mistake that, as he has already mistaken your person?

MISS HARDCASTLE.  Never fear me.  I think I have got the true bar
cant--Did your honour call?--Attend the Lion there--Pipes and tobacco
for the Angel.--The Lamb has been outrageous this half-hour.

MAID.  It will do, madam.  But he's here.  [Exit MAID.]


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.]

 Act III is set solely in Hardcastle's home. Hardcastle enters alone, confused over what his friend Charles Marlow meant by describing the young Marlow as modest, considering the young man's behavior thus far. Hardcastle is particularly worried that the behavior will put off his daughter. Kate enters, in a plain dress per her father's wishes, and both express their shock at how different Marlow is from his or her expectations. Of course, Kate is confused over his modesty , and Hardcastle over his impudence . They realize the contradiction but Hardcastle does see they both know enough to "reject him," a decision Kate approves unless she can reveal him to be more pleasing to each of them than they yet realize. Hardcastle finds such an outcome unlikely, but grants her license to attempt to correct his first impression, assuming her desire to do so is only because she thinks he is good-looking, and so wants to find something to like in his character. They leave, and Tony rushes on, holding the casket containing Constance's jewels. Hastings joins him, and Tony reveals he has stolen the jewels, which concerns Hastings since he knows Constance is slowly finding success at convincing the old woman to turn over the jewels willfully. Tony calms him, assuring Hastings that he himself will take care of any resentment that might arise in Mrs. Hardcastle. They hear the women approaching, so Hastings exits quickly with the casket. Mrs. Hardcastle attempts to convince Constance that a young woman does not need jewels, which should be reserved to disguise her faded beauty when she gets older. Constance does not accept the argument, so Mrs. Hardcastle attempts to have Tony praise her beauty to dissuade her from pursuing the jewels. Tony pulls his mother aside, and suggests she lie to Constance, claiming the jewels have been stolen so as to put an end to the matter. Mrs. Hardcastle, who admits to him that she merely wants to save the jewels for him , gladly accepts the plan. Mrs. Hardcastle makes a mock confession of the missing jewels, which Constance refuses to believe until Tony stands as witness to the lie, claiming he too has seen them missing. Constance is upset, and Mrs. Hardcastle's offer to lend the girl her garnets does nothing to comfort her, but Mrs. Hardcastle nevertheless leaves to fetch them. While she is gone, Tony confesses his plan to Constance, who is happy. However, Mrs. Hardcastle returns quickly, having discovered the jewels have actually been stolen. She laments their loss dramatically, and Tony plays along, as though this is still their play-acting for Constance's benefits. Her attempts to convince him the jewels are actually stolen only lead him to play-act harder, which makes her angrier until she charges offstage. All exit, and Kate enters with a maid, laughing about the joke Tony played on the men. The maid tells Kate that, as they passed Marlow moments before, he asked the maid about Kate, believing her to be a barmaid because of her simple dress, and because he was so shy with her before that he had never seen her face. Kate sees in this mistake an opportunity to deceive him, and decides to continue playing the barmaid so that she can glimpse his true character and so that she "shall be seen." The maid wonders whether Kate can pull off such a ruse, but Kate promises she has the required acting skills. Marlow enters, remarking to himself how terrible is his situation and how he will leave soon. Kate, acting the barmaid, approaches him and asks if she can help, offers he refuses until he notices her beauty. He grows immediately flirty and open, remarking on the "nectar" of her lips. They speak with great wit, and he confesses to his ability with ladies in town, speaking in lively tones of his life there. Kate asks whether he was so free when he spoke with Miss Hardcastle , and he insists he is not in awe of her. Kate also says, in character, that she has lived in the house for 18 years. Overcome with passion, he pulls her close right as Mr. Hardcastle enters. Marlow quickly exits, and Hardcastle confronts Kate, accusing her of lying about Marlow's modesty before since he just saw such an aggressive move. Kate asks for more time to reveal his true character--his "virtues that will improve with age." Hardcastle denies her until she promises to prove her point by the end of the evening, a limit to which he agrees.

