Miss Hard. I hope, sir, a conversation begun with a compliment to my good sense, won't end with a sneer at my understanding.
Hard. Pardon me, Kate. But if young Mr. Brazen can find the art of reconciling contradictions, he may please us both, perhaps.
Miss Hard. And as one of us must be mistaken, what if we go to make further discoveries?
Hard. But depend on't I'm in the right.
Miss Hard. And depend on't I'm not much in the wrong.
Exeunt.
Enter Tony running in with a casket.
Tony. Ecod! I have got them. Here they are. My cousin Con's necklaces, bobs, and all. My mother shan't cheat the poor souls out of their fortin neither. O! my genius, is that you?
Enter Hastings.
Hast. My dear friend, how have you managed with your mother? I hope you have amused her with pretending love for your cousin; and that you are willing to be reconciled at last. Our horses will be refreshed in a short time, and we shall soon be ready to set off.