HAST. Then, my Constance, all must be completed before he arrives. He knows me; and should he find me here, would discover my name, and perhaps my designs, to the rest of the family. MISS NEV. The jewels, I hope, are safe. HAST. Yes, yes. I have sent them to Marlow, who keeps the keys of our baggage. In the meantime, I'll go to prepare matters for our elopement. I have had the squire's promise of a fresh pair of horses; and, if I should not see him again, will write him further directions. _Exit._ MISS NEV. Well! success attend you. In the meantime, I'll go amuse my aunt with the old pretence of a violent passion for my cousin. _Exit._ _Enter_ MARLOW _followed by a_ SERVANT. MARL. I wonder what Hastings could mean by sending me so valuable a thing as a casket to keep for him, when he knows the only place I have, is the seat of a post-coach at an inn-door.—Have you deposited the casket with the landlady, as I ordered you? Have you put it into her own hands? SERV. Yes, your honour. MARL. She said she'd keep it safe, did she? SERV. Yes, she said she'd keep it safe enough; she asked me how I came by it, and she said she had a great mind to make me give an account of myself. _Exit._ MARL. Ha! ha! ha! They're safe, however. What an unaccountable set of beings have we got amongst! This little bar-maid, though, runs in my head most strangely, and drives out the absurdities of all the rest of the family. She's mine, she must be mine, or I'm greatly mistaken. _Enter_ HASTINGS. HAST. Bless me! I quite forgot to tell her, that I intended to prepare at the bottom of the garden. Marlow here, and in spirits too! MARL. Give me joy, George! Crown me, shadow me with laurels! Well, George, after all, we modest fellows don't want for success among the women. HAST. Some women, you mean. But what success has your honour's modesty been crowned with now, that it grows so insolent upon us? MARL. Didn't you see the tempting, brisk, lovely, little thing, that runs about the house, with a bunch of keys to its girdle? HAST. Well, and what then? MARL. She's mine, you rogue you. Such fire, such motion, such eyes, such lips—but, egad! she would not let me kiss them though. HAST. But are you so sure, so very sure of her? MARL. Why man, she talked of showing me her work above-stairs, and I'm to improve the pattern. HAST. But how can _you_, Charles, go about to rob a woman of her honour? MARL. Pshaw! pshaw! We all know the honour of the bar-maid of an inn. I don't intend to _rob_ her, take my word for it; there's nothing in this house I shan't honestly _pay_ for. HAST. I believe the girl has virtue. MARL. And if she has, I should be the last man in the world that would attempt to corrupt it. HAST. You have taken care, I hope, of the casket I sent you to lock up? Is it in safety?