Hast. I pity you. But how do you intend behaving to the lady you are come down to visit at the request of your father?
Marl. As I behave to all other ladies: bow very low; answer yes, or no, to all her demands—But for the rest, I don' think I shall venture to look in her face till I see my father's again.
Hast. I am surprised that one who is so warm a friend can be so cool a lover.
Marl. To be explicit, my dear Hastings, my chief inducement down, was to be instrumental in forwarding your happiness, not my own. Miss Neville loves you, the family don't know you, as my friend you are a sure of a reception, and let honour do the rest.
Hast. My dear Marlow!—But I'll suppress the emotion. Were I a wretch, meanly seeking to carry off a fortune, you should be the last man in the world I would apply to for assistance. But Miss Neville's person is all I ask; and that is mine, both from her deceased father's consent, and her own inclination.
Marl. Happy man! You have talents and art to captivate any woman. I am doomed to adore the sex, and yet to converse with the only part of it I despise. This stammer in my address, and this awkward prepossessing visage of mine, can never permit me to soar above the reach of a milliner's prentice, or one of the duchesses of Drury-lane.—Pshaw! this fellow here to interrupt us.
Enter Hardcastle.
Hard. Gentlemen, once more you are heartily welcome. Which is Mr. Marlow? Sir, you are heartily welcome. It's not my way, you see, to receive my friends with my back to the fire. I like to give them a hearty reception, in the old style, at my gate. I like to see their horses and trunks taken care of.
Marl. (Aside.) He has got our names from the servants already. (To him.) We approve your caution and hospitality, sir. (To Hastings.) I have been thinking, George, of changing our travelling dresses in the morning. I am grown confoundedly ashamed of mine.
Hard. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you'll use no ceremony in this house.