MISS HARD. You mean that, in this hypocritical age, there are few that do not condemn in public what they practise in private, and think they pay every debt to virtue when they praise it. [Illustration: MARLOW.—"_I was observing, madam._"—_p._ 342. ] MARL. True, madam; those who have most virtue in their mouths, have least of it in their bosoms. But I'm sure I tire you, madam. MISS HARD. Not in the least, sir; there's something so agreeable, and spirited, in your manner; such life and force—pray, sir, go on. MARL. Yes, madam; I was saying—that there are some occasions—when a total want of courage, madam, destroys all the—and puts us—upon a—a—a— MISS HARD. I agree with you entirely; a want of courage upon some occasions, assumes the appearance of ignorance, and betrays us when we most want to excel. I beg you'll proceed. MARL. Yes, madam; morally speaking, madam—But I see Miss Neville, expecting us in the next room. I would not intrude for the world. MISS HARD. I protest, sir, I never was more agreeably entertained in all my life. Pray go on. MARL. Yes, madam; I was—But she beckons us to join her. Madam, shall I do myself the honour to attend you? MISS HARD. Well then, I'll follow. MARL. (_Aside._) This pretty smooth dialogue has done for me. _Exit._ MISS HARDCASTLE, _sola_. MISS HARD. Ha! ha! ha! Was there ever such a sober sentimental interview? I'm certain he scarce looked in my face the whole time. Yet the fellow, but for his unaccountable bashfulness, is pretty well too. He has good sense; but then, so buried in his fears, that it fatigues one more than ignorance. If I could teach him a little confidence, it would be doing somebody, that I know of, a piece of service. But who is that somebody?—that, faith, is a question I can scarce answer. _Exit._ _Enter_ TONY _and_ MISS NEVILLE, _followed by_ MRS. HARDCASTLE _and_ HASTINGS. TONY. What do you follow me for, cousin Con? I wonder you're not ashamed, to be so very engaging. MISS NEV. I hope, cousin, one may speak to one's own relations, and not be to blame? TONY. Ay, but I know what sort of a relation you want to make me though; but it won't do. I tell you, cousin Con, it won't do, so I beg you'll keep your distance; I want no nearer relationship. _She follows, coquetting him to the back-scene._ MRS. HARD. Well! I vow, Mr. Hastings, you are very entertaining. There's nothing in the world I love to talk of so much as London, and the fashions, though I was never there myself. HAST. Never there! You amaze me! From your air and manner, I concluded you had been bred all your life either at Ranelagh, St. James's, or Tower Wharf.