's old friend for an innkeeper! What a swaggering puppy must he
take me for! What a silly puppy do I find myself! There again, may I
be hanged, my dear, but I mistook you for the bar-maid.

MISS HARDCASTLE. Dear me! dear me! I'm sure there's nothing in my
BEHAVIOUR to put me on a level with one of that stamp.

MARLOW. Nothing, my dear, nothing. But I was in for a list of
blunders, and could not help making you a subscriber. My stupidity saw
everything the wrong way. I mistook your assiduity for assurance, and
your simplicity for allurement. But it's over. This house I no more
show MY face in.

MISS HARDCASTLE. I hope, sir, I have done nothing to disoblige you.
I'm sure I should be sorry to affront any gentleman who has been so
polite, and said so many civil things to me. I'm sure I should be
sorry (pretending to cry) if he left the family upon my account. I'm
sure I should be sorry if people said anything amiss, since I have no
fortune but my character.

MARLOW. (Aside.) By Heaven! she weeps. This is the first mark of
tenderness I ever had from a modest woman, and it touches me. (To
her.) Excuse me, my lovely girl; you are the only part of the family I
leave with reluctance. But to be plain with you, the difference of our
birth, fortune, and education, makes an honourable connexion
impossible; and I can never harbour a thought of seducing simplicity
that trusted in my honour, of bringing ruin upon one whose only fault
was being too lovely.

MISS HARDCASTLE. (Aside.) Generous man! I now begin to admire him.
(To him.) But I am sure my family is as good as Miss Hardcastle's; and
though I'm poor, that's no great misfortune to a contented mind; and,
until this moment, I never thought that it was bad to want fortune.

MARLOW. And why now, my pretty simplicity?

MISS HARDCASTLE. Because it puts me at a distance from one that, if I
had a thousand pounds, I would give it all to.

MARLOW. (Aside.) This simplicity bewitches me, so that if I stay, I'm
undone. I must make one bold effort, and leave her. (To her.) Your
partiality in my favour, my dear, touches me most sensibly: and were I
to live for myself alone, I could easily fix my choice. But I owe too
much to the opinion of the world, too much to the authority of a
father; so that--I can scarcely speak it--it affects me. Farewell.
[Exit.]

MISS HARDCASTLE. I never knew half his merit till now. He shall not
go, if I have power or art