She Stoops to Conquer

a concatenation accordingly. Third Fellow I likes the maxum of it, Master Muggins. What, though I am obligated to dance a bear, a man may be a gentleman for all that. May this be my poison, if my bear ever dances but to the very genteelest of tunes; “Water Parted,” or “The Minuet in Ariadne.” Second Fellow What a pity it is the Squire is not come to his own. It would be well for all the publicans within ten miles round of him. Tony Ecod, and so it would, Master Slang. I’d then show what it was to keep choice of company. Second Fellow Oh, he takes after his own father for that. To be sure old Squire Lumpkin was the finest gentleman I ever set my eyes on. For winding the straight horn, or beating a thicket for a hare, or a wench, he never had his fellow. It was a saying in the place, that he kept the best horses, dogs, and girls, in the whole county. Tony Ecod, and when I’m of age, I’ll be no bastard, I promise you. I have been thinking of Bet Bouncer and the miller’s grey mare to begin with. But come, my boys, drink about and be merry, for you pay no reckoning. Well, Stingo, what’s the matter? Enter Landlord. Landlord There be two gentlemen in a post-chaise at the door. They have lost their way upo’ the forest; and they are talking something about Mr. Hardcastle. Tony As sure as can be, one of them must be the gentleman that’s coming down to court my sister. Do they seem to be Londoners? Landlord I believe they may. They look woundily like Frenchmen. Tony Then desire them to step this way, and I’ll set them right in a twinkling. Exit Landlord. Gentlemen, as they mayn’t be good enough company for you, step down for a moment, and I’ll be with you in the squeezing of a lemon. Exeunt mob. Tony Alone. Father-in-law has been calling me whelp and hound this half year. Now, if I pleased, I could be so revenged upon the old grumbletonian. But then I’m afraid⁠—afraid of what? I shall soon be worth fifteen hundred a year, and let him frighten me out of that if he can. Enter Landlord, conducting Marlow and Hastings. Marlow What a tedious uncomfortable day have we had of it! We were told it was but forty miles across the country, and we have come above threescore. Hastings And all, Marlow, from that unaccountable reserve of yours, that would not let us inquire more frequently on the way. Marlow I own, Hastings, I am unwilling to lay myself under an obligation to everyone I meet, and often stand the chance of an unmannerly answer. Hastings At present, however, we are not likely to receive any answer. Tony No offence, gentlemen. But I’m told you have been inquiring for one Mr. Hardcastle in these parts. Do you know what part of the country you are in? Hastings Not in the least, sir, but should thank you for information. Tony Nor the way you came? Hastings No, sir: but if you can inform us⁠— Tony Why, gentlemen, if you know neither the road you are going, nor where you are, nor the road you came, the first thing I have to inform you is, that⁠—you have lost your way. Marlow We wanted no ghost to tell us that. Tony Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold so as to ask the place from whence you came? Marlow That’s not necessary towards directing us where we are to go. Tony No offence; but question for question is all fair, you know. Pray, gentlemen, is not this same Hardcastle a cross-grained, old-fashioned, whimsical fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter, and a pretty son? Hastings We have not seen the gentleman; but he has the family you mention. Tony The daughter, a tall, traipsing, trolloping, talkative Maypole; the son, a pretty, well-bred, agreeable youth, that everybody is fond of? Marlow Our information differs in this. The daughter is said to be well-bred and beautiful; the son an awkward booby, reared up and spoiled at his mother’s apron-string. Tony He-he-hem!⁠—Then, gentlemen, all I have to tell you is, that you won’t reach Mr. Hardcastle’s house this night, I believe. Hastings Unfortunate! Tony It’s a damned long, dark, boggy, dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentlemen the way to Mr. Hardcastle’s! Winking upon the Landlord. Mr. Hardcastle’s of Quagmire Marsh, you understand me. Landlord Master Hardcastle’s! Lack-a-daisy, my masters, you’re come a deadly deal wrong! When you came to the bottom of the hill, you should have crossed down Squash Lane. Marlow Cross down Squash Lane! Landlord Then you were to keep straight forward, till you came to four roads. Marlow Come to where four roads meet? Tony Ay; but you must be sure to take only one of them. Marlow Oh, sir, you’re facetious. Tony Then keeping to the right, you are to go sideways till you come upon Crackskull Common: there you must look sharp for the track of the wheel, and go forward till you come to farmer Murrain’s barn. Coming to the farmer’s barn, you are to turn to the right, and then to the left, and then to the right about again, till you find out the old mill⁠— Marlow Zounds, man! we could as soon find out the longitude! Hastings What’s to be done, Marlow? Marlow This house promises but a poor reception; though perhaps the landlord can accommodate us. Landlord Alack, master, we have but one spare bed in the whole house. Tony And to my knowledge, that’s taken up by three lodgers already. After a pause, in which the rest seem disconcerted. I have hit it. Don’t you think, Stingo, our landlady could accommodate the gentlemen by the fireside, with⁠—three chairs and a bolster? Hastings I hate sleeping by the fireside. Marlow And I detest your three chairs and a bolster. Tony You do, do you? then, let me see⁠—what if you go on a mile further, to the Buck’s Head; the old Buck’s Head on the hill, one of the best inns in