MARLOW. Only a few, madam. Yes, we had some. Yes, madam, a good many accidents, but should be sorry--madam--or rather glad of any accidents--that are so agreeably concluded. Hem! HASTINGS. (To him.) You never spoke better in your whole life. Keep it up, and I’ll insure you the victory. MISS HARDCASTLE. I’m afraid you flatter, sir. You that have seen so much of the finest company, can find little entertainment in an obscure corner of the country. MARLOW. (Gathering courage.) I have lived, indeed, in the world, madam; but I have kept very little company. I have been but an observer upon life, madam, while others were enjoying it. MISS NEVILLE. But that, I am told, is the way to enjoy it at last. HASTINGS. (To him.) Cicero never spoke better. Once more, and you are confirmed in assurance for ever. MARLOW. (To him.) Hem! Stand by me, then, and when I’m down, throw in a word or two, to set me up again. MISS HARDCASTLE. An observer, like you, upon life were, I fear, disagreeably employed, since you must have had much more to censure than to approve. MARLOW. Pardon me, madam. I was always willing to be amused. The folly of most people is rather an object of mirth than uneasiness. HASTINGS. (To him.) Bravo, bravo. Never spoke so well in your whole life. Well, Miss Hardcastle, I see that you and Mr. Marlow are going to be very good company. I believe our being here will but embarrass the interview. MARLOW. Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. We like your company of all things. (To him.) Zounds! George, sure you won’t go? how can you leave us? HASTINGS. Our presence will but spoil conversation, so we’ll retire to the next room. (To him.) You don’t consider, man, that we are to manage a little tete-a-tete of our own. [Exeunt.] MISS HARDCASTLE. (after a pause). But you have not been wholly an observer, I presume, sir: the ladies, I should hope, have employed some part of your addresses. MARLOW. (Relapsing into timidity.) Pardon me, madam, I--I--I--as yet have studied--only--to--deserve them. MISS HARDCASTLE. And that, some say, is the very worst way to obtain them. MARLOW. Perhaps so, madam. But I love to converse only with the more grave and sensible part of the sex. But I’m afraid I grow tiresome. MISS HARDCASTLE. Not at all, sir; there is nothing I like so much as grave conversation myself; I could hear it for ever. Indeed, I have often been surprised how a man of sentiment could ever admire those light airy pleasures, where nothing reaches the heart. MARLOW. It’s----a disease----of the mind, madam. In the variety of tastes there must be some who, wanting a relish----for----um--a--um. MISS HARDCASTLE. I understand you, sir. There must be some, who, wanting a relish for refined pleasures, pretend to despise what they are incapable of tasting. MARLOW. My meaning, madam, but infinitely better expressed. And I can’t help observing----a----