HARD. Young man, young man, from your father's letter to me, I was taught to expect a well-bred, modest man, as a visitor here; but now I find him no better than a coxcomb, and a bully. But he will be down here presently, and shall hear more of it. _Exit._ [Illustration: MISS HARDCASTLE.—"_Let it be short, then._"—_p._ 361. ] MARL. How's this? Sure I have not mistaken the house! Everything looks like an inn. The servants cry, _Coming._ The attendance is awkward; the bar-maid too to attend us. But she's here, and will further inform me. Whither so fast, child! A word with you. _Enter_ MISS HARDCASTLE. MISS HARD. Let it be short then. I'm in a hurry, (_Aside._) I believe he begins to find out his mistake; but it's too soon quite to undeceive him. MARL. Pray, child, answer me one question.—What are you, and what may your business in this house be? MISS HARD. A relation of the family, sir. MARL. What; a poor relation? MISS HARD. Yes, sir; a poor relation, appointed to keep the keys, and to see that the guests want nothing in my power to give them. MARL. That is, you act as the bar-maid of this inn. MISS HARD. O law!—What brought that in your head? One of the best families in the county keep an inn! Ha! ha! ha! old Mr. Hardcastle's house an inn! MARL. Mr. Hardcastle's house? Is this house Mr. Hardcastle's house, child? MISS HARD. Ay, sure. Whose else should it be? MARL. So then all's out, and I have been damnably imposed on. O, confound my stupid head, I shall be laughed at over the whole town. I shall be stuck up in caricatura in all the print-shops: the Dullissimo Maccaroni. To mistake this house, of all others, for an inn; and my father's old friend for an inn-keeper! What a swaggering puppy must he take me for! What a silly puppy do I find myself! There again, may I be hanged, my dear, but I mistook you for the bar-maid. MISS HARD. Dear me! dear me! I'm sure there's nothing in my _behaviour_ to put me upon a level with one of that stamp. MARL. Nothing, my dear, nothing. But I was in for a list of blunders, and could not help making you a subscriber. My stupidity saw everything the wrong way. I mistook your assiduity for assurance, and your simplicity for allurement. But it's over—This house I no more show _my_ face in. MISS HARD. I hope, sir, I have done nothing to disoblige you. I'm sure I should be sorry to affront any gentleman who has been so polite, and said so many civil things to me. I'm sure I should be sorry (_Pretending to cry._) if he left the family upon my account. I'm sure I should be sorry, if people said anything amiss, since I have no fortune but my character.