HARDCASTLE. Kate, come hither, child. Answer us sincerely and without reserve: has Mr. Marlow made you any professions of love and affection? MISS HARDCASTLE. The question is very abrupt, sir. But since you require unreserved sincerity, I think he has. HARDCASTLE. (To SIR CHARLES.) You see. SIR CHARLES. And pray, madam, have you and my son had more than one interview? MISS HARDCASTLE. Yes, sir, several. HARDCASTLE. (To SIR CHARLES.) You see. SIR CHARLES. But did be profess any attachment? MISS HARDCASTLE. A lasting one. SIR CHARLES. Did he talk of love? MISS HARDCASTLE. Much, sir. SIR CHARLES. Amazing! And all this formally? MISS HARDCASTLE. Formally. HARDCASTLE. Now, my friend, I hope you are satisfied. SIR CHARLES. And how did he behave, madam? MISS HARDCASTLE. As most profest admirers do: said some civil things of my face, talked much of his want of merit, and the greatness of mine; mentioned his heart, gave a short tragedy speech, and ended with pretended rapture. SIR CHARLES. Now I’m perfectly convinced, indeed. I know his conversation among women to be modest and submissive: this forward canting ranting manner by no means describes him; and, I am confident, he never sat for the picture. MISS HARDCASTLE. Then, what, sir, if I should convince you to your face of my sincerity? If you and my papa, in about half an hour, will place yourselves behind that screen, you shall hear him declare his passion to me in person. SIR CHARLES. Agreed. And if I find him what you describe, all my happiness in him must have an end. [Exit.] MISS HARDCASTLE. And if you don’t find him what I describe--I fear my happiness must never have a beginning. [Exeunt.] SCENE changes to the back of the Garden. Enter HASTINGS. HASTINGS. What an idiot am I, to wait here for a fellow who probably takes a delight in mortifying me. He never intended to be punctual, and I’ll wait no longer. What do I see? It is he! and perhaps with news of my Constance. Enter Tony, booted and spattered. HASTINGS. My honest ’squire! I now find you a man of your word. This looks like friendship. TONY. Ay, I’m your friend, and the best friend you have in the world, if you knew but all. This riding by night, by the bye, is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me worse than the basket of a stage-coach. HASTINGS. But how? where did you leave your fellow-travellers? Are they in safety? Are they housed? TONY. Five and twenty miles in two hours and a half is no such bad driving. The poor beasts have smoked for it: rabbit me, but I’d rather ride forty miles after a fox than ten with such varment. HASTINGS. Well, but where have you left the ladies? I die with impatience. TONY. Left them! Why where should I leave them but where I found them? HASTINGS. This is a riddle. TONY. Riddle me this then. What’s that goes round the house, and round the house, and never touches the house? HASTINGS. I’m still astray.