HARD. I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people in want of help. O, Tony, is that you? I did not expect you so soon back. Are your mother and her charge in safety? TONY. Very safe, sir, at my aunt Pedigree's. Hem! MRS. HARD. (_From behind._). Ah, death! I find there's danger. HARD. Forty miles in three hours; sure that's too much, my youngster. TONY. Stout horses and willing minds make short journeys, as they say. Hem! MRS. HARD. (_From behind._) Sure he'll do the dear boy no harm. HARD. But I heard a voice here; I should be glad to know from whence it came. TONY. It was I, sir; talking to myself, sir. I was saying, that forty miles in three hours, was very good going—hem! As, to be sure, it was—hem! I have got a sort of cold by being out in the air. We'll go in, if you please—hem! HARD. But if you talked to yourself, you did not answer yourself. I am certain I heard two voices, and am resolved (_Raising his voice_) to find the other out. MRS. HARD. (_From behind._) Oh! he's coming to find me out. Oh! TONY. What need you go, sir, if I tell you—hem! I'll lay down my life for the truth—hem! I'll tell you all, sir. _Detaining him._ HARD. I tell you, I will not be detained. I insist on seeing. It's in vain to expect I'll believe you. MRS. HARD. (_Running forward from behind._) O lud, he'll murder my poor boy, my darling. Here, good gentleman, whet your rage upon me. Take my money, my life; but spare that young gentleman, spare my child, if you have any mercy. HARD. My wife! as I'm a Christian. From whence can she come, or what does she mean? MRS. HARD. (_Kneeling._) Take compassion on us, good Mr. Highwayman. Take our money, our watches, all we have; but spare our lives. We will never bring you to justice; indeed we won't, good Mr. Highwayman. HARD. I believe the woman's out of her senses. What, Dorothy, don't you know _me_? MRS. HARD. Mr. Hardcastle, as I'm alive! My fears blinded me. But who, my dear, could have expected to meet you here, in this frightful place, so far from home? What has brought you to follow us? HARD. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your wits? So far from home, when you are within forty yards of your own door? (_To him._) This is one of your old tricks, you graceless rogue you. (_To her._) Don't you know the gate, and the mulberry-tree? and don't you remember the horse-pond, my dear? MRS. HARD. Yes, I shall remember the horse-pond as long as I live: I have caught my death in it. (_To_ TONY.) And is it to you, you graceless varlet, I owe all this? I'll teach you to abuse your mother, I will. TONY. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have spoiled me, and so you may take the fruits on't. MRS. HARD. I'll spoil you, I will. _Follows him off the stage._ _Exit._ HARD. There's morality, however, in his reply. _Exit._ _Enter_ HASTINGS _and_ MISS NEVILLE.