MISS HARD. 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 HARD. And are you sure he does not remember my face or person? MAID. Certain of it. MISS HARD. 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 HARD. 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 are you sure you can act your part, and disguise your voice, so that he may mistake that, as he has already mistaken your person? MISS HARD. 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. MARL. 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 curtesy down to the ground. I have at last got a moment to myself, and now for recollection. _Walks and muses._ MISS HARD. Did you call, sir? Did your honour call? MARL. (_Musing_). As for Miss Hardcastle, she's too grave and sentimental for me. MISS HARD. Did your honour call? _She still places herself before him, he turning away._ MARL. No, child. (_Musing._) Besides, from the glimpse I had of her, I think she squints. MISS HARD. I'm sure, sir, I heard the bell ring. MARL. 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 HARD. Perhaps the other gentleman called, sir. MARL. I tell you, no. MISS HARD. I should be glad to know, sir. We have such a parcel of servants. MARL. No, no, I'll 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 HARD. O la, sir, you'll make one ashamed. MARL. 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 HARD. No, sir, we have been out of that these ten days.