Hard. 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.

Dig. Ay, mind how I hold them: I learned to hold my hand this way when I was upon drill for the militia. And so being upon drill

Hard. 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.

Dig. By the laws, your worship, that's parfectly

unpossible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forwards, ecod he's always wishing for a mouthful himself.

Hard. Blockhead! is not a bellyful in the kitchen as good as a bellyful in the parlour! Stay your stomach with that reflection.

Dig. Ecod I thank your worship, I'll make a shift to stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry."

Hard. 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.

Dig. Then ecod your worship must not tell the story of Ould Grouse in the gun-room: 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!

Hard. 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?

Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never have courage till I see the eatables and drinkables brought upon the table and then I'm as bauld as a lion.

Hard. What, will nobody move?

1 Serv. I'm not to leave this place.
2 Serv. I'm sure it's no pleace of mine.
3 Serv. Nor mine, for sartain.

Dig. Wauns, and I'm sure it canna be mine.

Hard. 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 welcome at the gate. [Exit. Dig. By the elevens, my place is gone quite out of my head.

Roger. I know that my place is to be every where. 1 Serv. Where the devil is mine?

Hard. Gentlemen, you are heartily welcome. Which is Mr. Marlow? Sir, you're 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 sec their horses and trunks taken care of.

Mar. [Aside. He has got our names from the servants already. [To Hard.] We approve your caution and hospitality, sir. [To Hast.] I have been thinking, George, of changing our travelling dresses in the morning; I am grown confoundedly ashamed of

mine.

Hast. I fancy, George, you're right: the first blow is half the battle.

Hard. Mr. Marlow-Mr. Hastings-gentlemenpray be under no restraint in this house. This is Liberty-hall, gentlemen; you may do just as you please here.

Mar. Yet, George, if we open the campaign too fiercely at first, we may want ammunition before it is over. We must show our generalship, by securing, if necessary, a retreat.

Hard. Your talking of a retreat, Mr. Marlow, puts me in mind of the duke of Marlborough, when he went to besiege Denain. He first summoned the garrison.

Mar. Ay, and we'll summon your garrison, old boy.

Hard. He first summoned the garrison, which might consist of about five thousand men

Hast. Marlow, what's o'clock ?

Hard, I say, gentlemen, as I was telling you, he summoned the garrison, which might consist of about five thousand men.

Mar. Five minutes to seven.

Hard. Which might consist of about five thousand men, well appointed with stores, ammunition, and other implements of war. Now says the duke of Marlborough, to George Brooks that stood next to him, you must have heard of George Brooks-I'll pawn my dukedom, says he, but I take that garrison with out spilling a drop of blood. So-

Mar. What, my good friend, if you give us a glass of punch in the mean time, it would help us to carry on the siege with vigour.

Hard. Punch, sir!This is the most unaccountable kind of modesty I ever met with. [Aside Mar. Yes, sir, punch. A glass of warm punch after our journey, will be comfortable.

Enter servant, with a tankard.
This is Liberty-hall, you know.
Hard. Here's a cup, sir.

Mar. So this fellow, in his Liberty-halt, will only let us have just what he pleases.

[Aside

Hard. [Taking the cup] I hope you'll find it to your mind. I have prepar'd it with my own hands, and I believe you'll own the ingredients are tolerable. Will you be so good as to pledge me, sir? Here, Mr. Marlow, here is to our better acquaintance.

[Drinks, and gives the cup to Marlow. Mar. A very impudent fellow this! but he's a character, and I'll humour him a little. [Aside.] Sir, my service to you. [Drinks, and gives the cup to Hastings. Hast. I see this fellow wants to give us his company, and forgets that he's an innkeeper, before he has learned to be a gentleman. [Aside. Mar. From the excellence of your cup, my friend, I suppose you have a good deal of business in this part of the country. Warm work, now and then at elections I suppose. [Gives the tankard to Hardcastle. Hard. No, sir, I have long given that work over. Since our betters have hit upon the expedient of electing each other, there's no business for us that sell ale. [Gives the tankard to Hastings. Hast. So then you have no turn for politics, I find. Hard. Not in the least. There was a time, indeed,

I fretted myself about the mistakes of government, like other people; but finding myself every day grow more angry, and the government growing no better, I left it to mend itself. Since that, I no more trouble my head about who's in or who's out, than I do about John Nokes or Tom Stiles. So my service to you. Hast. So that with eating above stairs and drinking below, with receiving your friends within and amusing them without, you lead a good, pleasant, bustling life of it.

Hard. I do stir about a good deal, that's certain. Half the differences of the parish are adjusted in this very parlour.

Mar. [After drinking] And you have an argument in your cup, old gentleman, better than any in Westminster-hall.

Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that, and a little philosophy.

Mar. Well, this is the first time I ever heard of an innkeeper's philosophy. [Aside. Hast. So then, like an experienced general, you attack them on every quarter. If you find their reason manageable, you attack them with your philosophy; if you find they have no reason, you attack them with this. Here's your health, my philosopher. [Drinks. Hard. Good, very good, thank you; ha! ha! Your generalship puts me in mind of prince Eugene when he fought the Turks at the battle of Belgrade. You shall hear.

Mar. Instead of the battle of Belgrade, I think it's almost time to talk about supper. What has your philosophy got in the house for supper?

Hard. For supper, sir!--Was ever such a request to a man in his own house!

[Aside. Mar. Yes, sir, supper, sir; I begin to feel an appetite. I shall make devilish work to-night in the farder, I promise you.

Hard. Such a brazen dog sure never my eyes beheld. [Aside.] Why really, sir, as for supper, I can't well tell. My Dorothy and the cookmaid settle these things between them. I leave these kind of things entirely to them.

Mar. You do, do you?

Hard. Entirely. By-the-by, I believe they are in actual consultation upon what's for supper this moment in the kitchen.

Mar. Then I beg they'll admit me as one of their privy council. It's a way I have got. When I travel, I always choose to regulate my own supper. Let the cook be called. No offence, I hope, sir.

Hard. O no, sir, none in the least: yet I don't know, our Bridget, the cookmaid, is not very communicative upon these occasions. Should we send for her, she might scold us all out of the house.

Hast. Let's see the list of the larder then. I ask it as a favour. I always match my appetite to my bill of fare.

Mar. [To Hardcastle, who looks at them with surprise] Sir, he's very right, and it's my way too.

Hard. Sir, you have a right to command here, Here, Roger, bring us the bill of fare for to-night's supper. I believe it's drawn out. Your manner, Mr. Hastings, puts me in mind of my uncle, colonel Wallop. It was a saying of his, that no man was sure of his supper till he had eaten it.

[Servant brings on the bill of fare, and exit. Hast. All upon the high ropes! Ilis uncle a colonel! we shall soon hear of his mother being a justice of peace. [Aside.] But let's hear the bill of fare.

Mar. [Perusing] What's here? For the first course; for the second course; for the dessert. The devil, sir, do you think we have brought down the whole joiners' company, or the corporation of Bedford, to eat up such a supper? two or three little things, clean and comfortable, will do.