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.
TONY. You do, do you? then, let me see – what if you go on a mile further, to the Buck's Head; the old Buck's Head on the hill, one of the best inns in the whole county?
HASTINGS. O ho! so we have escaped an adventure for this night, however.
LANDLORD. (apart to TONY). Sure, you ben't sending them to your father's as an inn, be you?
TONY. Mum, you fool you. Let THEM find that out. (To them.) You have only to keep on straight forward, till you come to a large old house by the road side. You'll see a pair of large horns over the door. That's the sign. Drive up the yard, and call stoutly about you.
HASTINGS. Sir, we are obliged to you. The servants can't miss the way?
TONY. No, no: but I tell you, though, the landlord is rich, and going to leave off business; so he wants to be thought a gentleman, saving your presence, he! he! he! He'll be for giving you his company; and, ecod, if you mind him, he'll persuade you that his mother was an alderman, and his aunt a justice of peace.
LANDLORD. A troublesome old blade, to be sure; but a keeps as good wines and beds as any in the whole country.
MARLOW. Well, if he supplies us with these, we shall want no farther connexion. We are to turn to the right, did you say?
TONY. No, no; straight forward. I'll just step myself, and show you a piece of the way. (To the Landlord.) Mum!
LANDLORD. Ah, bless your heart, for a sweet, pleasant – damn'd mischievous son of a whore. [Exeunt.]
ACT THE SECOND
SCENE – An old-fashioned House.
Enter HARDCASTLE, followed by three or four awkward Servants.
HARDCASTLE. Well, I hope you are perfect in the table exercise I have been teaching you these three days. You all know your posts and your places, and can show that you have been used to good company, without ever stirring from home.
OMNES. Ay, ay.
HARDCASTLE. When company comes you are not to pop out and stare, and then run in again, like frightened rabbits in a warren.
OMNES. No, no.
HARDCASTLE. You, Diggory, whom I have taken from the barn, are to make a show at the side-table; and you, Roger, whom I have advanced from the plough, are to place yourself behind my chair. But you're not to stand so, with your hands in your pockets. Take your hands from your pockets, Roger; and from your head, you blockhead you. See how Diggory carries his hands. They're a little too stiff, indeed, but that's no great matter.
DIGGORY. Ay, mind how I hold them. I learned to hold my hands this way when I was upon drill for the militia. And so being upon drill —
HARDCASTLE. You must not be so talkative, Diggory. You must be all attention to the guests. You must hear us talk, and not think of talking; you must see us drink, and not think of drinking; you must see us eat, and not think of eating.
DIGGORY. By the laws, your worship, that's parfectly unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forward, ecod, he's always wishing for a mouthful himself.
HARDCASTLE. Blockhead! Is not a belly-full in the kitchen as good as a belly-full in the parlour? Stay your stomach with that reflection.
DIGGORY. Ecod, I thank your worship, I'll make a shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry.
HARDCASTLE. Diggory, you are too talkative. – Then, if I happen to say a good thing, or tell a good story at table, you must not all burst out a-laughing, as if you made part of the company.
DIGGORY. Then ecod your worship must not tell the story of Ould Grouse in the gun-room: I can't help laughing at that – he! he! he! – for the soul of me. We have laughed at that these twenty years – ha! ha! ha!
HARDCASTLE. Ha! ha! ha! The story is a good one. Well, honest Diggory, you may laugh at that – but still remember to be attentive. Suppose one of the company should call for a glass of wine, how will you behave? A glass of wine, sir, if you please (to DIGGORY). – Eh, why don't you move?
DIGGORY. Ecod, your worship, I never have courage till I see the eatables and drinkables brought upo' the table, and then I'm as bauld as a lion.
HARDCASTLE. What, will nobody move?
FIRST SERVANT. I'm not to leave this pleace.
SECOND SERVANT. I'm sure it's no pleace of mine.
THIRD SERVANT. Nor mine, for sartain.
DIGGORY. Wauns, and I'm sure it canna be mine.
HARDCASTLE. You numskulls! and so while, like your betters, you are quarrelling for places, the guests must be starved. O you dunces! I find I must begin all over again – But don't I hear a coach drive into the yard? To your posts, you blockheads. I'll go in the mean time and give my old friend's son a hearty reception at the gate. [Exit HARDCASTLE.]
DIGGORY. By the elevens, my pleace is gone quite out of my head.
ROGER. I know that my pleace is to be everywhere.
FIRST SERVANT. Where the devil is mine?
SECOND SERVANT. My pleace is to be nowhere at all; and so I'ze go about my business. [Exeunt Servants, running about as if frightened, different ways.]
Enter Servant with candles, showing in MARLOW and HASTINGS.
SERVANT. Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome! This way.
HASTINGS. After the disappointments of the day, welcome once more, Charles, to the comforts of a clean room and a good fire. Upon my word, a very well-looking house; antique but creditable.
MARLOW. The usual fate of a large mansion. Having first ruined the master by good housekeeping, it at last comes to levy contributions as an inn.
HASTINGS. As you say, we passengers are to be taxed to pay all these fineries. I have often seen a good sideboard, or a marble chimney-piece, though not actually put in the bill, inflame a reckoning confoundedly.
MARLOW. Travellers, George, must pay in all places: the only difference is, that in good inns you pay dearly for luxuries; in bad inns you are fleeced and starved.
HASTINGS. You have lived very much among them. In truth, I have been often surprised, that you who have seen so much of the world, with your natural good sense, and your many opportunities, could never yet acquire a requisite share of assurance.
MARLOW. The Englishman's malady. But tell me, George, where could I have learned that assurance you talk of? My life has been chiefly spent in a college or an inn, in seclusion from that lovely part of the creation that chiefly teach men confidence. I don't know that I was ever familiarly acquainted with a single modest woman – except my mother – But among females of another class, you know —
HASTINGS. Ay, among them you are impudent enough of all conscience.
MARLOW. They are of US, you know.
HASTINGS. But in the company of women of reputation I never saw such an idiot, such a trembler; you look for all the world as if you wanted an opportunity of stealing out of the room.
MARLOW. Why, man, that's because I do want to steal out of the room. Faith, I have often formed a resolution to break the ice, and rattle away at any rate. But I don't know