TONY. What do you follow me for, cousin Con? I wonder you're not
ashamed to be so very engaging.
MISS NEVILLE. I hope, cousin, one may speak to one's own relations,
and not be to blame.
TONY. Ay, but I know what sort of a relation you want to make me,
though; but it won't do. I tell you, cousin Con, it won't do; so I beg
you'll keep your distance, I want no nearer
relationship. [She
follows, coquetting him to the back scene.]
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Well! I vow, Mr. Hastings, you are very
entertaining. There's nothing in the world I love to talk of so much
as London, and the fashions, though I was never there myself.
HASTINGS. Never there! You amaze me! From your air and manner, I
concluded you had been bred all your life either at Ranelagh, St.
James's, or Tower Wharf.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. O! sir, you're only pleased to say so. We country
persons can have no manner at all. I'm in love with the town, and that
serves to raise me above some of our neighbouring rustics; but who can
have a manner, that has never seen the Pantheon, the Grotto Gardens,
the Borough, and such places where the
nobilitychieflyresort? All I
can do is to enjoy London at
second-hand. I take care to know every
tete-a-tete from the Scandalous Magazine, and have all the fashions, as
they come out, in a letter from the two Miss Rickets of Crooked Lane.
Pray how do you like this head, Mr. Hastings?
HASTINGS. Extremely
elegant and degagee, upon my word, madam. Your
friseur is a Frenchman, I suppose?
MRS. HARDCASTLE. I protest, I dressed it myself from a print in the
Ladies' Memorandum-book for the last year.
HASTINGS. Indeed! Such a head in a side-box at the play-house would
draw as many gazers as my Lady Mayoress at a City Ball.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. I vow, since inoculation began, there is no such
thing to be seen as a plain woman; so one must dress a little
particular, or one may escape in the crowd.
HASTINGS. But that can never be your case, madam, in any dress.
(Bowing.)
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Yet, what signifies my dressing when I have such a
piece of
antiquity by my side as Mr. Hardcastle: all I can say will
never argue down a single
button from his clothes. I have often wanted
him to throw off his great flaxen wig, and where he was bald, to
plaster it over, like my Lord Pately, with powder.
HASTINGS. You are right, madam; for, as among the ladies there are
none ugly, so among the men there are none old.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. But what do you think his answer was? Why, with his
usual Gothic vivacity, he said I only wanted him to throw off his wig,
to
convert it into a tete for my own wearing.
HASTINGS. Intolerable! At your age you may wear what you please, and
it must become you.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Pray, Mr. Hastings, what do you take to be the most
fashionable age about town?
HASTINGS. Some time ago, forty was all the mode; but I'm told the
ladies intend to bring up fifty for the ensuing winter.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Seriously. Then I shall be too young for the
fashion.
HASTINGS. No lady begins now to put on jewels till she's past forty.
For
instance, Miss there, in a
politecircle, would be considered as a
child, as a mere maker of samplers.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. And yet Mrs. Niece thinks herself as much a woman,
and is as fond of jewels, as the oldest of us all.
HASTINGS. Your niece, is she? And that young gentleman, a brother of
yours, I should
presume?
MRS. HARDCASTLE. My son, sir. They are
contracted to each other.
Observe their little sports. They fall in and out ten times a day, as
if they were man and wife already. (To them.) Well, Tony, child, what
soft things are you
saying to your cousin Constance this evening?
TONY. I have been
saying no soft things; but that it's very hard to be
followed about so. Ecod! I've not a place in the house now that's left
to myself, but the stable.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Never mind him, Con, my dear. He's in another story
behind your back.
MISS NEVILLE. There's something
generous in my cousin's manner. He
falls out before faces to be
forgiven in private.
TONY. That's a
damned confounded--crack.
MRS. HARDCASTLE. Ah! he's a sly one. Don't you think they are like
each other about the mouth, Mr. Hastings? The Blenkinsop mouth to a T.
They're of a size too. Back to back, my pretties, that Mr. Hastings
may see you. Come, Tony.