HASTINGS. No, sir: but if you can inform us---- TONY. Why, gentlemen, if you know neither the road you are going, nor where you are, nor the road you came, the first thing I have to inform you is, that--you have lost your way. MARLOW. We wanted no ghost to tell us that. TONY. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold so as to ask the place from whence you came? MARLOW. That’s not necessary towards directing us where we are to go. TONY. No offence; but question for question is all fair, you know. Pray, gentlemen, is not this same Hardcastle a cross-grained, old-fashioned, whimsical fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter, and a pretty son? HASTINGS. We have not seen the gentleman; but he has the family you mention. TONY. The daughter, a tall, trapesing, trolloping, talkative maypole; the son, a pretty, well-bred, agreeable youth, that everybody is fond of. MARLOW. Our information differs in this. The daughter is said to be well-bred and beautiful; the son an awkward booby, reared up and spoiled at his mother’s apron-string. TONY. He-he-hem!--Then, gentlemen, all I have to tell you is, that you won’t reach Mr. Hardcastle’s house this night, I believe. HASTINGS. Unfortunate! TONY. It’s a damn’d long, dark, boggy, dirty, dangerous way. Stingo, tell the gentlemen the way to Mr. Hardcastle’s! (Winking upon the Landlord.) Mr. Hardcastle’s, of Quagmire Marsh, you understand me. LANDLORD. Master Hardcastle’s! Lock-a-daisy, my masters, you’re come a deadly deal wrong! When you came to the bottom of the hill, you should have crossed down Squash Lane. MARLOW. Cross down Squash Lane! LANDLORD. Then you were to keep straight forward, till you came to four roads. MARLOW. Come to where four roads meet? TONY. Ay; but you must be sure to take only one of them. MARLOW. O, sir, you’re facetious. TONY. Then keeping to the right, you are to go sideways till you come upon Crackskull Common: there you must look sharp for the track of the wheel, and go forward till you come to farmer Murrain’s barn. Coming to the farmer’s barn, you are to turn to the right, and then to the left, and then to the right about again, till you find out the old mill-- MARLOW. Zounds, man! we could as soon find out the longitude! HASTINGS. What’s to be done, Marlow? MARLOW. This house promises but a poor reception; though perhaps the landlord can accommodate us. LANDLORD. Alack, master, we have but one spare bed in the whole house. TONY. And to my knowledge, that’s taken up by three lodgers already. (After a pause, in which the rest seem disconcerted.) I have hit it. Don’t you think, Stingo, our landlady could accommodate the gentlemen by the fire-side, with----three chairs and a bolster? HASTINGS. I hate sleeping by the fire-side. MARLOW. And I detest your three chairs and a bolster.