MARL. So, I have been finely used here among you. Rendered contemptible, driven into ill manners, despised, insulted, laughed at. TONY. Here's another. We shall, have old Bedlam broke loose presently. MISS NEV. And there, sir, is the gentleman to whom we all owe every obligation. MARL. What can I say to him, a mere boy, an idiot, whose ignorance and age are a protection? HAST. A poor contemptible booby, that would but disgrace correction. MISS NEV. Yet with cunning and malice enough to make himself merry with all our embarrassments. HAST. An insensible cub. MARL. Replete with tricks and mischief. TONY. Baw! damme, but I'll fight you both, one after the other,——with baskets. MARL. As for him, he's below resentment. But your conduct, Mr. Hastings, requires an explanation. You knew of my mistakes, yet would not undeceive me. HAST. Tortured as I am with my own disappointments, is this a time for explanations? It is not friendly, Mr. Marlow. MARL. But, sir—— MISS NEV. Mr. Marlow, we never kept on your mistake, till it was too late to undeceive you. Be pacified. _Enter_ SERVANT. SERV. My mistress desires you'll get ready immediately, madam. The horses are putting to. Your hat and things are in the next room. We are to go thirty miles before morning. _Exit_ SERVANT. MISS NEV. Well, well; I'll come presently. MARL. (_To_ HASTINGS.) Was it well done, sir, to assist in rendering me ridiculous? To hang me out for the scorn of all my acquaintance? Depend upon it, sir, I shall expect an explanation. [Illustration: MISS NEVILLE.—"_Constancy is the word._"—_p._ 367. ] HAST. Was it well done, sir, if you're upon that subject, to deliver what I intrusted to yourself, to the care of another, sir? MISS NEV. Mr. Hastings, Mr. Marlow, why will you increase my distress by this groundless dispute? I implore, I entreat you— _Enter_ SERVANT. SERV. Your cloak, madam. My mistress is impatient. MISS NEV. I come. Pray be pacified. If I leave you thus, I shall die with apprehension. _Enter_ SERVANT. SERV. Your fan, muff, and gloves, madam. The horses are waiting. MISS NEV. O, Mr. Marlow! if you knew what a scene of constraint and ill-nature lies before me, I'm sure it would convert your resentment into pity. MARL. I'm so distracted with a variety of passions, that I don't know what I do. Forgive me, madam. George, forgive me. You know my hasty temper, and should not exasperate it. HAST. The torture of my situation is my only excuse. MISS NEV. Well, my dear Hastings, if you have that esteem for me that I think, that I am sure you have, your constancy for three years will but increase the happiness of our future connexion. If— MRS. HARD. (_Within._) Miss Neville—Constance, why Constance, I say. MISS NEV. I'm coming. Well, constancy. Remember, constancy is the word. _Exit._