She Stoops to Conquer

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 professed 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 II. 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 by, is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me worse than the basket of a stagecoach.
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 Featherbed 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 horsepond 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.
Tony	Never fear me. Here she comes. Vanish! Exit Hastings. 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