TONY. Why, gentlemen, if you know neither the road you are going, nor
where you are, nor the road you came, the first thing I have to inform
you is, that--you have lost your way.

MARLOW. We wanted no ghost to tell us that.

TONY. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold so as to ask the place from
whence you came?

MARLOW. That's not necessary towards directing us where we are to go.

TONY. No offence; but question for question is all fair, you know.
Pray, gentlemen, is not this same Hardcastle a cross-grained,
old-fashioned, whimsical fellow, with an ugly face, a daughter, and a
pretty son?

HASTINGS. We have not seen the gentleman; but he has the family you
mention.

TONY. The daughter, a tall, trapesing, trolloping, talkative maypole;
the son, a pretty, well-bred, agreeable youth, that everybody is fond
of.

MARLOW. Our information differs in this. The daughter is said to be
well-bred and beautiful; the son an awkward booby, reared up and
spoiled at his mother's apron-string.

TONY. He-he-hem!--Then, gentlemen, all I have to tell you is, that you
won't reach Mr. Hardcastle's house this night, I believe.