Exit.
Miss Hard. And if you don't find him what I describe—I fear my happiness must never have a beginning.
Exeunt.
Scene changes to the back of the garden.
Enter Hastings.
Hast. What an idiot am I, to wait here for a fellow who probably takes a delight in mortifying me. He never intended to be punctual, and I'll wait no longer. What do I see? It is he, and perhaps with news of my Constance.
Enter Tony, booted and spattered.
Hast. My honest 'squire! I now find you a man of your word. This looks like friendship.
Tony. Ay, I'm your friend, and the best friend you have in the world, if you knew but all. This riding by night, by-the-by, is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me worse than the basket of a stage-coach.
Hast. But how? Where did you leave your fellow travellers? Are they in safety! Are they housed?