HASTINGS. But how can you, Charles, go about to rob a woman of her honour? MARLOW. 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. HASTINGS. I believe the girl has virtue. MARLOW. And if she has, I should be the last man in the world that would attempt to corrupt it. HASTINGS. You have taken care, I hope, of the casket I sent you to lock up? Is it in safety? MARLOW. Yes, yes. It’s safe enough. I have taken care of it. But how could you think the seat of a post-coach at an inn-door a place of safety? Ah! numskull! I have taken better precautions for you than you did for yourself----I have---- HASTINGS. What? MARLOW. I have sent it to the landlady to keep for you. HASTINGS. To the landlady! MARLOW. The landlady. HASTINGS. You did? MARLOW. I did. She’s to be answerable for its forthcoming, you know. HASTINGS. Yes, she’ll bring it forth with a witness. MARLOW. Wasn’t I right? I believe you’ll allow that I acted prudently upon this occasion. HASTINGS. (Aside.) He must not see my uneasiness. MARLOW. You seem a little disconcerted though, methinks. Sure nothing has happened? HASTINGS. No, nothing. Never was in better spirits in all my life. And so you left it with the landlady, who, no doubt, very readily undertook the charge. MARLOW. Rather too readily. For she not only kept the casket, but, through her great precaution, was going to keep the messenger too. Ha! ha! ha! HASTINGS. He! he! he! They’re safe, however. MARLOW. As a guinea in a miser’s purse. HASTINGS. (Aside.) So now all hopes of fortune are at an end, and we must set off without it. (To him.) Well, Charles, I’ll leave you to your meditations on the pretty bar-maid, and, he! he! he! may you be as successful for yourself, as you have been for me! [Exit.] MARLOW. Thank ye, George: I ask no more. Ha! ha! ha! Enter HARDCASTLE. HARDCASTLE. I no longer know my own house. It’s turned all topsy-turvy. His servants have got drunk already. I’ll bear it no longer; and yet, from my respect for his father, I’ll be calm. (To him.) Mr. Marlow, your servant. I’m your very humble servant. (Bowing low.) MARLOW. Sir, your humble servant. (Aside.) What’s to be the wonder now? HARDCASTLE. I believe, sir, you must be sensible, sir, that no man alive ought to be more welcome than your father’s son, sir. I hope you think so? MARLOW. I do from my soul, sir. I don’t want much entreaty. I generally make my father’s son welcome wherever he goes. HARDCASTLE. I believe you do, from my soul, sir. But though I say nothing to your own conduct, that of your servants is insufferable. Their manner of drinking is setting a very bad example in this house, I assure you.