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diff --git a/3539-h/3539-h.htm b/3539-h/3539-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d70aac9 --- /dev/null +++ b/3539-h/3539-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3203 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Love-Chase, by James Sheridan Knowles</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Love-Chase, by James Sheridan Knowles</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Love-Chase</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: James Sheridan Knowles</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Henry Morley</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 1, 2001 [eBook #3539]<br /> +[Most recently updated: September 26, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOVE-CHASE ***</div> + +<h1>THE LOVE-CHASE.</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES</p> +<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL & COMPANY, <span +class="smcap">Limited</span>:<br /> +<i><span class="smcap">london</span></i>, <i><span +class="smcap">paris</span></i>, <i><span class="smcap">new york & +melbourne</span></i>.<br /> +1887.</p> +<h2>THE LOVE-CHASE.</h2> +<h3>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</h3> +<p>(AS ORIGINALLY PERFORMED AT THE HAYMARKET, IN l837.)</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Sir William Fondlove</i>, an old Baronet</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Strickland</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Waller</i>, in love with Lydia</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Elton</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Wildrake</i>, a Sportsman</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Webster</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Trueworth</i>, a Friend of Sir William</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr <span class="smcap">Hemmings</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Neville</i>, Friend to Waller</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Worrell</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Humphreys</i>, Friend to Waller</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Hutchings</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Lash</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Ross</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Chargewell</i>, a Landlord</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Edwards</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>George</i>, a Waiter</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Bishop</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>First Lawyer</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Ray</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Widow Green</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mrs. <span class="smcap">Glover</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Constance</i>, Daughter to Sir William Fondlove</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mrs. <span class="smcap">Nisbett</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Lydia</i>, lady’s Maid to Widow Green</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Miss <span class="smcap">Vandenhoff</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Alice</i>, Housekeeper to Master Waller</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mrs. <span class="smcap">Tayleure</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Phœbe</i>, Maid to Constance</p> +</td> +<td> +<p> Miss <span class="smcap">Wrighten</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Amelia</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Miss <span class="smcap">Gallot</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>First Lady</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mrs. <span class="smcap">Gallot</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>SCENE—LONDON.</p> +<h2>ACT I.</h2> +<h3>SCENE I.—The Lobby of an Inn.</h3> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Chargewell</span>, hurriedly.]</p> +<p><i>Charg</i>. What, hoa there! Hoa, sirrahs! More +wine! Are the knaves asleep? Let not our guests cool, or we +shall starve the till! Good waiting, more than viands and wine, doth +help to make the inn!—George!—Richard!—Ralph!—Where +are you?</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">George</span>.]</p> +<p><i>George</i>. Here am I, sir!</p> +<p><i>Charg</i>. Have you taken in more wine to that company?</p> +<p><i>George</i>. Yes, sir.</p> +<p><i>Charg</i>. That’s right. Serve them as quick as +they order! A fair company! I have seen them here before. +Take care they come again. A choice company! That Master +Waller, I hear, is a fine spirit—leads the town. Pay him much +duty. A deep purse, and easy strings.</p> +<p><i>George</i>. And there is another, sir;—a capital +gentleman, though from the country. A gentleman most learned in dogs +and horses! He doth talk wondrous edification:—one Master +Wildrake. I wish you could hear him, sir.</p> +<p><i>Charg</i>. Well, well!—attend to them. Let them not +cool o’er the liquor, or their calls will grow slack. Keep +feeding the fire while it blazes, and the blaze will continue. Look +to it well!</p> +<p><i>George</i>. I will, sir.</p> +<p><i>Charg</i>. And be careful, above all, that you please Master +Waller. He is a guest worth pleasing. He is a gentleman. +Free order, quick pay!</p> +<p><i>George</i>. And such, I’ll dare be sworn, is the +other. A man of mighty stores of knowledge—most learned in dogs +and horses! Never was I so edified by the discourse of mortal +man.</p> +<p>[They go out severally.]</p> +<h3>SCENE II.—A Room.</h3> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Master Waller</span>, <span class="smcap">Master +Wildrake</span>, <span class="smcap">Master Trueworth</span>, <span +class="smcap">Master Neville</span>, and <span class="smcap">Master +Humphreys</span>, sitting round a table.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Well, Master Wildrake, speak you of the chase!<br /> +To hear you one doth feel the bounding steed;<br /> +You bring the hounds and game, and all to view—<br /> +All scudding to the jovial huntsman’s cheer!<br /> +And yet I pity the poor crownéd deer,<br /> +And always fancy ’tis by fortune’s spite,<br /> +That lordly head of his, he bears so high—<br /> +Like Virtue, stately in calamity,<br /> +And hunted by the human, worldly hound—<br /> +Is made to fly before the pack, that straight<br /> +Burst into song at prospect of his death.<br /> +You say their cry is harmony; and yet<br /> +The chorus scarce is music to my ear,<br /> +When I bethink me what it sounds to his;<br /> +Nor deem I sweet the note that rings the knell<br /> +Of the once merry forester!</p> +<p><i>Nev</i>. The same things<br /> +Please us or pain, according to the thought<br /> +We take of them. Some smile at their own death,<br /> +Which most do shrink from, as beast of prey<br /> +It kills to look upon. But you, who take<br /> +Such pity of the deer, whence follows it<br /> +You hunt more costly game?—the comely maid,<br /> +To wit, that waits on buxom Widow Green?</p> +<p><i>Hum</i>. The comely maid! Such term not half the sum<br /> +Of her rich beauty gives! Were rule to go<br /> +By loveliness, I knew not in the court,<br /> +Or city, lady might not fitly serve<br /> +That lady serving-maid!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Come! your defence?<br /> +Why show you ruth where there’s least argument,<br /> +Deny it where there’s most? You will not plead?<br /> +Oh, Master Waller, where we use to hunt<br /> +We think the sport no crime!</p> +<p><i>Hum</i>. I give you joy,<br /> +You prosper in your chase.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Not so! The maid<br /> +In simple honesty I must pronounce<br /> +A miracle of virtue, well as beauty.</p> +<p><i>Nev</i>. And well do I believe you, Master Waller;<br /> +Those know I who have ventured gift and promise<br /> +But for a minute of her ear—the boon<br /> +Of a poor dozen words spoke through a chink—<br /> +And come off bootless, save the haughty scorn<br /> +That cast their bounties back to them again.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. That warrants her what Master Waller speaks her.<br /> +Is she so very fair?</p> +<p><i>Nev</i>. Yes, Master Trueworth;<br /> +And I believe indeed an honest maid:<br /> +But Love’s the coin to market with for love,<br /> +And that knows Master Waller. On pretence<br /> +Of sneaking kindness for gay Widow Green,<br /> +He visits her, for sake of her fair maid!<br /> +To whom a glance or word avails to hint<br /> +His proper errand; and—as glimpses only<br /> +Do only serve to whet the wish to see—<br /> +Awakens interest to hear the tale<br /> +So stintingly that’s told. I know his practice—<br /> +Luck to you, Master Waller! If you win,<br /> +You merit it, who take the way to win!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Good Master Neville!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I should laugh to see<br /> +The poacher snared!—the maid, for mistress sought,<br /> +Turn out a wife.</p> +<p><i>Nev</i>. How say you, Master Waller?<br /> +Things quite as strange have fallen!</p> + +<p><i>Wal</i>. Impossible!</p> + +<p><i>True</i>. Impossible! Most possible of things—<br /> +If thou’rt in love! Where merit lies itself,<br /> +What matters it to want the name, which weighed,<br /> +Is not the worth of so much breath as it takes<br /> +To utter it! If, but from Nature’s hand,<br /> +She is all you could expect of gentle blood,<br /> +Face, form, mien, speech; with these, what to belong<br /> +To lady more behoves—thoughts delicate,<br /> +Affections generous, and modesty—<br /> +Perfectionating, brightening crown of all!—<br /> +If she hath these—true titles to thy heart—<br /> +What does she lack that’s title to thy hand?<br /> +The name of lady, which is none of these,<br /> +But may belong without? Thou mightst do worse<br /> +Than marry her. Thou wouldst, undoing her,<br /> +Yea, by my mother’s name, a shameful act<br /> +Most shamefully performed!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Starting up and drawing.] Sir!</p> +<p><i>Nev</i>. [And the others, interposing.] Gentlemen!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. All’s right! Sit down!—I will not +draw again.<br /> +A word with you: If—as a man—thou sayest,<br /> +Upon thy honour, I have spoken wrong,<br /> +I’ll ask thy pardon!—though I never hold<br /> +Communion with thee more!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [After a pause, putting up his sword.]<br /> +My sword is sheathed!<br /> +Wilt let me take thy hand?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. ’Tis thine, good sir,<br /> +And faster than before—A fault confessed<br /> +Is a new virtue added to a man!<br /> +Yet let me own some blame was mine. A truth<br /> +May be too harshly told—but ’tis a theme<br /> +I am tender on—I had a sister, sir,<br /> +You understand me!—’Twas my happiness<br /> +To own her once—I would forget her now!—<br /> +I have forgotten!—I know not if she lives!—<br /> +Things of such strain as we were speaking of,<br /> +Spite of myself, remind me of her!—So!—</p> +<p><i>Nev</i>. Sit down! Let’s have more wine.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Not so, good sirs.<br /> +Partaking of your hospitality,<br /> +I have overlooked good friends I came to visit,<br /> +And who have late become sojourners here—<br /> +Old country friends and neighbours, and with whom<br /> +I e’en take up my quarters. Master Trueworth,<br /> +Bear witness for me.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. It is even so.<br /> +Sir William Fondlove and his charming daughter.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Ay, neighbour Constance. Charming, does he +say?<br /> +Yes, neighbour Constance is a charming girl<br /> +To those that do not know her. If she plies me<br /> +As hard as was her custom in the country,<br /> +I should not wonder though, this very day,<br /> +I seek the home I quitted for a month! [Aside.]</p> +<p>Good even, gentlemen.</p> +<p><i>Hum</i>. Nay, if you go,<br /> +We all break up, and sally forth together.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Be it so—Your hand again, good Master +Trueworth!<br /> +I am sorry I did pain you.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. It is thine, sir.</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h3>SCENE III.—Sir William Fondlove’s House.—A Room.</h3> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Sir William Fondlove</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. At sixty-two, to be in leading-strings,<br /> +Is an old child—and with a daughter, too!<br /> +Her mother held me ne’er in check so strait<br /> +As she. I must not go but where she likes,<br /> +Nor see but whom she likes, do anything<br /> +But what she likes!—A slut bare twenty-one!<br /> +Nor minces she commands! A brigadier<br /> +More coolly doth not give his orders out<br /> +Than she! Her waiting-maid is aide-de-camp;<br /> +My steward adjutant; my lacqueys serjeants;<br /> +That bring me her high pleasure how I march<br /> +And counter-march—when I’m on duty—when<br /> +I’m off—when suits it not to tell it me<br /> +Herself—“Sir William, thus my mistress says!”<br /> +As saying it were enough—no will of mine<br /> +Consulted! I will marry. Must I serve,<br /> +Better a wife, my mistress, than a daughter!<br /> +And yet the vixen says, if I do marry,<br /> +I’ll find she’ll rule my wife, as well as me!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Trueworth</span>.]</p> +<p>Ah, Master Trueworth! Welcome, Master Trueworth!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Thanks, sir; I am glad to see you look so well!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Ah, Master Trueworth, when one turns the hill,<br /> +’Tis rapid going down! We climb by steps;<br /> +By strides we reach the bottom. Look at me,<br /> +And guess my age.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Turned fifty.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Ten years more!<br /> +How marvellously well I wear! I think<br /> +You would not flatter me!—But scan me close,<br /> +And pryingly, as one who seeks a thing<br /> +He means to find—What signs of age dost see?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. None!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. None about the corners of the eyes?<br /> +Lines that diverge like to the spider’s joists,<br /> +Whereon he builds his airy fortalice?<br /> +They call them crow’s feet—has the ugly bird<br /> +Been perching there?—Eh?—Well?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. There’s something like,<br /> +But not what one must see, unless he’s blind<br /> +Like steeple on a hill!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. [After a pause.] Your eyes are good!<br /> +I am certainly a wonder for my age;<br /> +I walk as well as ever! Do I stoop?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. A plummet from your head would find your heel.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. It is my make—my make, good Master +Trueworth;<br /> +I do not study it. Do you observe<br /> +The hollow in my back? That’s natural.<br /> +As now I stand, so stood I when a child,<br /> +A rosy, chubby boy!—I am youthful to<br /> +A miracle! My arm is firm as ’twas<br /> +At twenty. Feel it!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. [Feeling <span class="smcap">Sir +William’s</span> arm.] It is deal!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Oak—oak,<br /> +Isn’t it, Master Trueworth? Thou hast known me<br /> +Ten years and upwards. Thinkest my leg is shrunk?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. No.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. No! not in the calf?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. As big a calf<br /> +As ever!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Thank you, thank you—I believe it!<br /> +When others waste, ’tis growing-time with me!<br /> +I feel it, Master Trueworth! Vigour, sir,<br /> +In every joint of me—could run!—could leap!<br /> +Why shouldn’t I marry? Knife and fork I play<br /> +Better than many a boy of twenty-five—<br /> +Why shouldn’t I marry? If they come to wine,<br /> +My brace of bottles can I carry home,<br /> +And ne’er a headache. Death! why shouldn’t I marry?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I see in nature no impediment.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Impediment? She’s all +appliances!—<br /> +And fortune’s with me, too! The Widow Green<br /> +Gives hints to me. The pleasant Widow Green<br /> +Whose fortieth year, instead of autumn, brings,<br /> +A second summer in. Odds bodikins,<br /> +How young she looks! What life is in her eyes!<br /> +What ease is in her gait!—while, as she walks,<br /> +Her waist, still tapering, takes it pliantly!<br /> +How lollingly she bears her head withal:<br /> +On this side now—now that! When enters she<br /> +A drawing-room, what worlds of gracious things<br /> +Her curtsey says!—she sinks with such a sway,<br /> +Greeting on either hand the company,<br /> +Then slowly rises to her state again!<br /> +She is the empress of the card-table!<br /> +Her hand and arm!—Gods, did you see her deal—<br /> +With curved and pliant wrist dispense the pack,<br /> +Which, at the touch of her fair fingers fly!<br /> +How soft she speaks—how very soft! Her voice<br /> +Comes melting from her round and swelling throat,<br /> +Reminding you of sweetest, mellowest things—<br /> +Plums, peaches, apricots, and nectarines—<br /> +Whose bloom is poor to paint her cheeks and lips.<br /> +By Jove, I’ll marry!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. You forget, Sir William,<br /> +I do not know the lady.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Great your loss.<br /> +By all the gods I’ll marry!—but my daughter<br /> +Must needs be married first. She rules my house;<br /> +Would rule it still, and will not have me wed.<br /> +A clever, handsome, darling, forward minx!<br /> +When I became a widower, the reins<br /> +Her mother dropped she caught,—a hoyden girl;<br /> +Nor, since, would e’er give up; howe’er I strove<br /> +To coax or catch them from her. One way still<br /> +Or t’other she would keep them—laugh, pout, plead;<br /> +Now vanquish me with water, now with fire;<br /> +Would box my face, and, ere I well could ope<br /> +My mouth to chide her, stop it with a kiss!<br /> +The monkey! What a plague she’s to me! How<br /> +I love her! how I love the Widow Green!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Then marry her!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. I tell thee, first of all<br /> +Must needs my daughter marry. See I not<br /> +A hope of that; she nought affects the sex:<br /> +Comes suitor after suitor—all in vain.<br /> +Fast as they bow she curtsies, and says, “Nay!”<br /> +Or she, a woman, lacks a woman’s heart,<br /> +Or hath a special taste which none can hit.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Or taste, perhaps, which is already hit.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Eh!—how?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Remember you no country friend,<br /> +Companion of her walks—her squire to church,<br /> +Her beau whenever she went visiting—<br /> +Before she came to town?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. No!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. None?—art sure?<br /> +No playmate when she was a girl?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. O! ay!<br /> +That Master Wildrake, I did pray thee go<br /> +And wait for at the inn; but had forgotten.<br /> +Is he come?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. And in the house. Some friends that met him,<br /> +As he alighted, laid strong hands upon Him,<br /> +And made him stop for dinner. We had else<br /> +Been earlier with you.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Ha! I am glad he is come.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. She may be smit with him.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. As cat with dog!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. He heard her voice as we did mount the stairs,<br /> +And darted straight to join her.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. You shall see<br /> +What wondrous calm and harmony take place,<br /> +When fire meets gunpowder!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. [Without.] Who sent for you?<br /> +What made you come?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. [Without.] To see the town, not you! A +kiss!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. I vow I’ll not.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I swear you shall.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. A saucy cub! I vow, I had as lief<br /> +Your whipper-in had kissed me.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Do you hear?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I do. Most pleasing discords!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Constance</span> and <span +class="smcap">Wildrake</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Father, speak<br /> +To neighbour Wildrake!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Very glad to see him!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I thank you, good Sir William! Give you joy<br /> +Of your good looks!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. What, +Phœbe!—Phœbe!—Phœbe!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. What wantest thou with thy lap-dog?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Only, sir,<br /> +To welcome neighbour Wildrake! What a figure<br /> +To show himself in town!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Wilt hold thy peace?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Yes; if you’ll lesson me to hold my laughter!<br /> +Wildrake.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Well?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Let me walk thee in the Park—<br /> +How they would stare at thee!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Wilt ne’er give o’er?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Nay, let her have her way—I heed her not!<br /> +Though to more courteous welcome I have right;<br /> +Although I am neighbour Wildrake! Reason is reason!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. And right is right! so welcome, neighbour Wildrake,<br /> +I am very, very, very glad to see you!<br /> +Come, for a quarter of an hour we’ll e’en<br /> +Agree together! How do your horses, neighbour?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Pshaw!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. And your dogs?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Pshaw!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Whipper-in and huntsman?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Converse of things thou knowest to talk about!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. And keep him silent, father, when I know<br /> +He cannot talk of any other things?<br /> +How does thy hunter? What a sorry trick<br /> +He played thee t’other day, to balk his leap<br /> +And throw thee, neighbour! Did he balk the leap?<br /> +Confess! You sportsmen never are to blame!<br /> +Say you are fowlers, ’tis your dog’s in fault!<br /> +Say you are anglers, ’tis your tackle’s wrong;<br /> +Say you are hunters, why the honest horse<br /> +That bears your weight, must bear your blunders too!<br /> +Why, whither go you?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Anywhere from thee.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. With me you mean.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I mean it not.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. You do!<br /> +I’ll give you fifty reasons for’t—and first,<br /> +Where you go, neighbour, I’ll go!</p> +<p>[They go out—<span class="smcap">Wildrake</span>, +pettishly—<span class="smcap">Constance</span> laughing.]</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Do you mark?<br /> +Much love is there!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Indeed, a heap, or none!<br /> +I’d wager on the heap!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Ay!—Do you think<br /> +These discords, as in the musicians’ art,<br /> +Are subtle servitors to harmony?<br /> +That all this war’s for peace? This wrangling but<br /> +A masquerade where love his roguish face<br /> +Conceals beneath an ugly visor!—Well?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Your guess and my conceit are not a mile<br /> +Apart. Unlike to other common flowers,<br /> +The flower of love shews various in the bud;<br /> +’Twill look a thistle, and ’twill blow a rose!<br /> +And with your leave I’ll put it to the test;<br /> +Affect myself, for thy fair daughter, love—<br /> +Make him my confidant—dilate to him<br /> +Upon the graces of her heart and mind,<br /> +Feature and form—that well may comment bear—<br /> +Till—like the practised connoisseur, who finds<br /> +A gem of heart out in a household picture<br /> +The unskilled owner held so cheap he grudged<br /> +Renewal of the chipped and tarnished frame,<br /> +But values now as priceless—I arouse him<br /> +Into a quick sense of the worth of that<br /> +Whose merit hitherto, from lack of skill,<br /> +Or dulling habit of acquaintanceship,<br /> +He has not been awake to.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. [Without.] Neighbour Wildrake!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Hither they come. I fancy well thy game!<br /> +O to be free to marry Widow Green!<br /> +I’ll call her hence anon—then ply him well.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir William</span> goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. [Without.] Nay, neighbour Constance!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. He is high in storm.</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Wildrake</span> and <span +class="smcap">Constance</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. To Lincolnshire, I tell thee.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Lincolnshire!<br /> +What, prithee, takes thee off to Lincolnshire?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Too great delight in thy fair company.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Nay, Master Wildrake, why away so soon?<br /> +You are scarce a day in town!—Extremes like this,<br /> +And starts of purpose, are the signs of love.<br /> +Though immatured as yet. [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. He’s long enough<br /> +In town! What should he here? He’s lost in town:<br /> +No man is he for concerts, balls, or routs!<br /> +No game he knows at cards, save rare Pope Joan!<br /> +He ne’er could master dance beyond a jig;<br /> +And as for music, nothing to compare<br /> +To the melodious yelping of a hound,<br /> +Except the braying of his huntsman’s horn!<br /> +Ask <i>him</i> to stay in town!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. [Without.] Hoa, Constance!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Sir!—<br /> +Neighbour, a pleasant ride to Lincolnshire!<br /> +Good-bye!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. [Without.] Why, Constance!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Coming, sir. Shake hands!<br /> +Neighbour, good-bye! Don’t look so woe-begone;<br /> +’Tis but a two-days’ ride, and thou wilt see<br /> +Rover, and Spot, and Nettle, and the rest<br /> +Of thy dear country friends!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. [Without.] Constance! I say.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Anon!—Commend me to the gentle souls,<br /> +And pat them for me!—Will you, neighbour Wildrake?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. [Without.] Why, Constance! +Constance!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. In a moment, sir!<br /> +Good-bye!—I’d cry, dear neighbour—if I could!<br /> +Good-bye!—A pleasant day when next you hunt!<br /> +And, prithee, mind thy horse don’t balk his leap!<br /> +Good-bye!—and, after dinner, drink my health!<br /> +“A bumper, sirs, to neighbour Constance!”—Do!—<br /> +And give it with a speech, wherein unfold<br /> +My many graces, more accomplishments,<br /> +And virtues topping either—in a word,<br /> +How I’m the fairest, kindest, best of neighbours!</p> +<p>[They go out severally.—<span class="smcap">Trueworth</span> +trying to pacify <span class="smcap">Wildrake</span>—<span +class="smcap">Constance</span> laughing.]</p> +<h2>ACT II.</h2> +<h3>SCENE I.—A Room in Sir William’s House.</h3> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Trueworth</span> and <span +class="smcap">Wildrake</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Nay, Master Trueworth, I must needs be gone!<br /> +She treats me worse and worse! I am a stock,<br /> +That words have none to pay her. For her sake<br /> +I quit the town to-day. I like a jest,<br /> +But hers are jests past bearing. I am her butt,<br /> +She nothing does but practise on! A plague!—<br /> +Fly her shafts ever your way?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Would they did!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Art mad?—or wishest she should drive thee +so?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Thou knowest her not.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I know not neighbour Constance?<br /> +Then know I not myself, or anything<br /> +Which as myself I know!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Heigh ho!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Heigh ho!<br /> +Why what a burden that for a man’s song!<br /> +Would fit a maiden that was sick for love.<br /> +Heigh ho! Come ride with me to Lincolnshire,<br /> +And turn thy “Heigh ho!” into “hilly ho!”</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Nay, rather tarry thou in town with me.<br /> +Men sometimes find a friend’s hand of avail,<br /> +When useless proves their own. Wilt lend me thine?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Or may my horse break down in a steeple-chase!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. A steeple-chase. What made thee think of +that?<br /> +I’m for the steeple—not to ride a race,<br /> +Only to get there!—nor alone, in sooth,<br /> +But in fair company.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Thou’rt not in love!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Heigh ho!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Thou wouldst not marry!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. With your help.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. And whom, I prithee?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Gentle Mistress Constance!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. What!—neighbour Constance?—Never did I +dream<br /> +That mortal man would fall in love with her. [Aside.]<br /> +In love with neighbour Constance!—I feel strange<br /> +At thought that she should marry!—[Aside.] Go to church<br /> +With neighbour Constance! That’s a steeple-chase<br /> +I never thought of. I feel very strange!<br /> +What seest in neighbour Constance?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Lovers’ eyes<br /> +See with a vision proper to themselves;<br /> +Yet thousand eyes will vouch what mine affirm.<br /> +First, then, I see in her the mould express<br /> +Of woman—stature, feature, body, limb—<br /> +Breathing the gentle sex we value most,<br /> +When most ’tis at antipodes with ours!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. You mean that neighbour Constance is a woman.<br /> +Why, yes; she is a woman, certainly.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. So much for person. Now for her complexion.<br /> +What shall we liken to her dainty skin?<br /> +Her arm, for instance?—</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Snow will match it.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Snow!<br /> +It is her arm without the smoothness on’t;<br /> +Then is not snow transparent. ’Twill not do.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. A pearl’s transparent!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. So it is, but yet<br /> +Yields not elastic to the thrilléd touch!<br /> +I know not what to liken to her arm<br /> +Except her beauteous fellow! Oh! to be<br /> +The chosen friend of two such neighbours!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Would<br /> +His tongue would make a halt. He makes too free<br /> +With neighbour Constance! Can’t he let her arms<br /> +Alone! I trust their chosen friend<br /> +Will ne’er be he! I’m vexed. [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>True</i>. But graceful things<br /> +Grow doubly graceful in the graceful use!<br /> +Hast marked her ever walk the drawing-room?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. [Snappishly.] No.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. No! Why, where have been your eyes?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. In my head!<br /> +But I begin to doubt if open yet. [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Yet that’s a trifle to the dance; down which<br /> +She floats as though she were a form of air;<br /> +The ground feels not her foot, or tells not on’t;<br /> +Her movements are the painting of the strain,<br /> +Its swell, its fall, its mirth, its tenderness!<br /> +Then is she fifty Constances!—each moment<br /> +Another one, and each, except its fellow,<br /> +Without a peer! You have danced with her!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I hate<br /> +To dance! I can’t endure to dance!—Of course<br /> +You have danced with her?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I have.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. You have?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I have.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I do abominate to dance!—could carve<br /> +Fiddlers and company! A dancing man<br /> +To me was ever like a dancing dog!<br /> +Save less to be endured.—Ne’er saw I one<br /> +But I bethought me of the master’s whip.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. A man might bear the whip to dance with her!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Not if I had the laying of it on!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Well; let that pass. The lady is the theme.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Yes; make an end of it!—I’m sick of +it. [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>True</i>. How well she plays the harpsichord and harp!<br /> +How well she sings to them! Whoe’er would prove<br /> +The power of song, should hear thy neighbour sing,<br /> +Especially a love-song!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Does she sing<br /> +Such songs to thee?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Oh, yes, and constantly.<br /> +For such I ever ask her.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Forward minx! [Aside.]<br /> +Maids should not sing love-songs to gentlemen!<br /> +Think’st neighbour Constance is a girl to love?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. A girl to love?—Ay, and with all her soul!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. How know you that?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I have studied close the sex.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. You town-rakes are the devil for the sex! +[Aside.]</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Not your most sensitive and serious maid<br /> +I’d always take for deep impressions. Mind<br /> +The adage of the bow. The pensive brow<br /> +I have oft seen bright in wedlock, and anon<br /> +O’ercast in widowhood; then, bright again,<br /> +Ere half the season of the weeds was out;<br /> +While, in the airy one, I have known one cloud<br /> +Forerunner of a gloom that ne’er cleared up—<br /> +So would it prove with neighbour Constance. Not<br /> +On superficial grounds she’ll ever love;<br /> +But once she does, the odds are ten to one<br /> +Her first love is her last!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I wish I ne’er<br /> +Had come to town! I was a happy man<br /> +Among my dogs and horses. [Aside.] Hast thou broke<br /> +Thy passion to her?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Never.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Never?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. No.<br /> +I hoped you’d act my proxy there.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I thank you.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I knew ’twould be a pleasure to you.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Yes;<br /> +A pleasure!—an unutterable pleasure!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Thank you! You make my happiness your own.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I do.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I see you do. Dear Master Wildrake!<br /> +Oh, what a blessing is a friend in need!<br /> +You’ll go and court your neighbour for me?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. And says she “nay” at first, you’ll +press again?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Ay, and again!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. There’s one thing I mistrust—yea, most +mistrust,<br /> +That of my poor deserts you’ll make too much.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Fear anything but that.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. ’Twere better far<br /> +You slightly spoke of them.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. You think so?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Yes.<br /> +Or rather did not speak of them at all.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. You think so?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Then I’ll not say a word<br /> +About them.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Thank you! A judicious friend<br /> +Is better than a zealous: you are both!<br /> +I see you’ll plead my cause as ’twere your own;<br /> +Then stay in town, and win your neighbour for me;<br /> +Make me the envy of a score of men<br /> +That die for her as I do. Make her mine,<br /> +And when the last “Amen!” declares complete<br /> +The mystic tying of the holy knot,<br /> +And ’fore the priest a blushing wife she stands,<br /> +Be thine the right to claim the second kiss<br /> +She pays for change from maidenhood to wifehood.</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Take that thyself! The first be mine, or +none!<br /> +A man in love with neighbour Constance! Never<br /> +Dreamed I that such a thing could come to pass!<br /> +Such person, such endowments, such a soul!<br /> +I never thought to ask myself before<br /> +If she were man or woman! Suitors, too,<br /> +Dying for her! I’ll e’en make one among ’em!<br /> +Woo her to go to church along with him,<br /> +And for my pains the privilege to take<br /> +The second kiss? I’ll take the second kiss,<br /> +And first one too—and last! No man shall touch<br /> +Her lips but me. I’ll massacre the man<br /> +That looks upon her! Yet what chance have I<br /> +With lovers of the town, whose study ’tis<br /> +To please your lady belles!—who dress, walk, talk,<br /> +To hit their tastes—what chance, a country squire<br /> +Like me? Yet your true fair, I have heard, prefers<br /> +The man before his coat at any time;<br /> +And such a one may neighbour Constance be.<br /> +I’ll show a limb with any of them! Silks<br /> +I’ll wear, nor keep my legs in cases more.<br /> +I’ll learn to dance town-dances, and frequent<br /> +Their concerts! Die away at melting strains,<br /> +Or seem to do so—far the easier thing,<br /> +And as effective quite; leave naught undone<br /> +To conquer neighbour Constance.</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Lash</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Lash</i>. Sir.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Well, sir?</p> +<p><i>Lash</i>. So please you, sir, your horse is at the door.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Unsaddle him again and put him up.<br /> +And, hark you, get a tailor for me, sir—<br /> +The rarest can be found.</p> +<p><i>Lash</i>. The man’s below, sir,<br /> +That owns the mare your worship thought to buy.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Tell him I do not want her, sir.</p> +<p><i>Lash</i>. I vow<br /> +You will not find her like in Lincolnshire.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Go to! She’s spavined.</p> +<p><i>Lash</i>. Sir!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Touched in the wind.</p> +<p><i>Lash</i>. I trust my master be not touched in the head!<br /> +I vow, a faultless beast! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I want her not,<br /> +And that’s your answer. Go to the hosier’s, sir,<br /> +And bid him send me samples of his gear,<br /> +Of twenty different kinds.</p> +<p><i>Lash</i>. I will, sir.—Sir!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Well, sir.</p> +<p><i>Lash</i>. Squire Brush’s huntsman’s here, and +says<br /> +His master’s kennel is for sale.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. The dogs<br /> +Are only fit for hanging!—</p> +<p><i>Lash</i>. Finer bred—</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Sirrah, if more to me thou talkest of dogs,<br /> +Horses, or aught that to thy craft belongs,<br /> +Thou mayst go hang for me!—A cordwainer<br /> +Go fetch me straight—the choicest in the town.<br /> +Away, sir! Do thy errands smart and well<br /> +As thou canst crack thy whip! [<span class="smcap">Lash</span> goes +out.]<br /> +Dear neighbour Constance,<br /> +I’ll give up horses, dogs, and all for thee!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<h3>SCENE II.</h3> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Widow Green</span> and <span +class="smcap">Lydia</span>.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Lydia, my gloves. If Master Waller +calls,<br /> +I shall be in at three; and say the same<br /> +To old Sir William Fondlove. Tarry yet!—<br /> +What progress, think you, make I in the heart<br /> +Of fair young Master Waller? Gods, my girl,<br /> +It is a heart to win and man as well!<br /> +How speed I, think you? Didst, as I desired,<br /> +Detain him in my absence when he called,<br /> +And, without seeming, sound him touching me?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. And effects he me, or not? How guess +you?<br /> +What said he of me? Looked he balked, or not,<br /> +To find me not at home? Inquired he when<br /> +I would be back, as much he longed to see me?<br /> +What did he—said he? Come!—Is he in love,<br /> +Or like to fall into it? Goes well my game,<br /> +Or shall I have my labour for my pains?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. I think he is in love.—O poor evasion!<br /> +O to love truth, and yet not dare to speak it! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. You think he is in love—I’m sure of +it.<br /> +As well have asked you has he eyes and ears,<br /> +And brain and heart to use them? Maids do throw<br /> +Trick after trick away, but widows know<br /> +To play their cards! How am I looking, Lydia?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. E’en as you ever look.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Handsome, my girl?<br /> +Eh? Clear in my complexion? Eh?—brimful<br /> +Of spirits? not too much of me, nor yet<br /> +Too little?—Eh?—A woman worth a man?<br /> +Look at me, Lydia! Would you credit, girl,<br /> +I was a scarecrow before marriage?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Nay!—</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Girl, but I tell thee “yea.” +That gown of thine—<br /> +And thou art slender—would have hung about me!<br /> +There’s something of me now! good sooth, enough!<br /> +Lydia, I’m quite contented with myself;<br /> +I’m just the thing, methinks, a widow should be.<br /> +So, Master Waller, you believe, affects me?<br /> +But, Lydia, not enough to hook the fish;<br /> +To prove the angler’s skill, it must be caught;<br /> +And lovers, Lydia, like the angler’s prey—<br /> +Which, when he draws it near the landing-place,<br /> +Takes warning and runs out the slender line,<br /> +And with a spring perchance jerks off the hold—<br /> +When we do fish for them, and hook, and think<br /> +They are all but in the creel, will make the dart<br /> +That sets them free to roam the flood again!</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Is’t so?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Thou’lt find it so, or better luck<br /> +Than many another maid! Now mark me, Lydia:<br /> +Sir William Fondlove fancies me. ’Tis well!<br /> +I do not fancy him! What should I do<br /> +With an old man?—Attend upon the gout,<br /> +Or the rheumatics! Wrap me in the cloud<br /> +Of a darkened chamber—’stead of shining out,<br /> +The sun of balls, and routs, and gala-days!<br /> +But he affects me, Lydia; so he may!<br /> +Now take a lesson from me—Jealousy<br /> +Had better go with open, naked breast,<br /> +Than pin or button with a gem. Less plague,<br /> +The plague-spot; that doth speedy make an end<br /> +One way or t’other, girl. Yet, never love<br /> +Was warm without a spice of jealousy.<br /> +Thy lesson now—Sir William Fondlove’s rich,<br /> +And riches, though they’re paste, yet being many,<br /> +The jewel love we often cast away for.<br /> +I use him but for Master Waller’s sake.<br /> +Dost like my policy?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. You will not chide me?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Nay, Lydia, I do like to hear thy thoughts,<br /> +They are such novel things—plants that do thrive<br /> +With country air! I marvel still they flower,<br /> +And thou so long in town! Speak freely, girl!</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. I cannot think love thrives by artifice,<br /> +Or can disguise its mood, and show its face.<br /> +I would not hide one portion of my heart<br /> +Where I did give it and did feel ’twas right,<br /> +Nor feign a wish, to mask a wish that was,<br /> +Howe’er to keep it. For no cause except<br /> +Myself would I be loved. What were’t to me,<br /> +My lover valued me the more, the more<br /> +He saw me comely in another’s eyes,<br /> +When his alone the vision I would show<br /> +Becoming to? I have sought the reason oft,<br /> +They paint Love as a child, and still have thought,<br /> +It was because true love, like infancy,<br /> +Frank, trusting, unobservant of its mood,<br /> +Doth show its wish at once, and means no more!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Thou’lt find out better when thy time doth +come.<br /> +Now wouldst believe I love not Master Waller?<br /> +I never knew what love was, Lydia;<br /> +That is, as your romances have it. First,<br /> +I married for a fortune. Having that,<br /> +And being freed from him that brought it me,<br /> +I marry now, to please my vanity,<br /> +A man that is the fashion. O the delight<br /> +Of a sensation, and yourself the cause!<br /> +To note the stir of eyes, and ears, and tongues,<br /> +When they do usher Mistress Waller in,<br /> +Late Widow Green, her hand upon the arm<br /> +Of her young, handsome husband!—How my fan<br /> +Will be in requisition—I do feel<br /> +My heart begin to flutter now—my blood<br /> +To mount into my cheek! My honeymoon<br /> +Will be a month of triumphs!—“Mistress Waller!”<br /> +That name, for which a score of damsels sigh,<br /> +And but the widow had the wit to win!<br /> +Why, it will be the talk of east to west,<br /> +And north and south!—The children loved the man,<br /> +And lost him so—I liked, but there I stopped;<br /> +For what is it to love, but mind and heart<br /> +And soul upon another to depend?<br /> +Depend upon another? Nothing be<br /> +But what another wills? Give up the rights<br /> +Of mine own brain and heart? I thank my stars<br /> +I never came to that extremity.</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. She never loved, indeed! She knows not +love,<br /> +Except what’s told of it! She never felt it.<br /> +To stem a torrent, easy, looking at it;<br /> +But once you venture in, you nothing know<br /> +Except the speed with which you’re borne away,<br /> +Howe’er you strive to check it. She suspects not<br /> +Her maid, not she, brings Master Waller hither.<br /> +Nor dare I undeceive her. Well might she say<br /> +Her young and handsome husband! Yet his face<br /> +And person are the least of him, and vanish<br /> +When shines his soul out through his open eye!<br /> +He all but says he loves me! His respect<br /> +Has vanquished me! He looks the will to speak<br /> +His passion, and the fear that ties his tongue—<br /> +The fear? He loves not honestly, and yet<br /> +I’ll swear he loves—I’ll swear he honours me!<br /> +It is but my condition is a bar,<br /> +Denies him give me all. But knew he me<br /> +As I do know myself! Whate’er his purpose,<br /> +When next we speak, he shall declare it to me.</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<h3>SCENE III.—Sir William Fondlove’s.</h3> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Constance</span>, dressed for riding, and +<span class="smcap">Phœbe</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Well, Phœbe, would you know me? Are those +locks<br /> +That cluster on my forehead and my cheek,<br /> +Sufficient mask? Show I what I would seem,<br /> +A lady for the chase? My darkened brows<br /> +And heightened colour, foreign to my face,<br /> +Do they my face pass off for stranger too?<br /> +What think you?</p> +<p><i>Phœbe</i>. That he’ll ne’er discover you.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Then send him to me. Say a lady wants<br /> +To speak with him, unless indeed it be<br /> +A man in lady’s gear; I look so bold<br /> +And speak so gruff. Away! [<span +class="smcap">Phœbe</span> goes out.] That I am glad<br /> +He stays in town, I own, but if I am,<br /> +’Tis only for the tricks I’ll play upon him,<br /> +And now begin, persuading him his fame<br /> +Hath made me fancy him, and brought me hither<br /> +On visit to his worship. Soft, his foot!<br /> +<i>This</i> he? Why, what has metamorphosed him,<br /> +And changed my sportsman to fine gentleman?<br /> +Well he becomes his clothes! But, check my wonder,<br /> +Lest I forget myself. Why, what an air<br /> +The fellow hath. A man to set a cap at!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Wildrake</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Kind lady, I attend your fair commands.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. My veiléd face denies me justice, sir,<br /> +Else would you see a maiden’s blushing cheek<br /> +Do penance for her forwardness; too late,<br /> +I own, repented of. Yet if ’tis true,<br /> +By our own hearts of others we may judge,<br /> +Mine in no peril lies that’s shown to you,<br /> +Whose heart, I’m sure, is noble. Worthy sir,<br /> +Souls attract souls when they’re of kindred vein.<br /> +The life that you love, I love. Well I know,<br /> +’Mongst those who breast the feats of the bold chase,<br /> +You stand without a peer; and for myself<br /> +I dare avow ’mong such, none follows them<br /> +With heartier glee than I do.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Churl were he<br /> +That would gainsay you, madam.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. [Curtseying.] What delight<br /> +To back the flying steed, that challenges<br /> +The wind for speed!—seems native more of air<br /> +Than earth!—whose burden only lends him fire!—<br /> +Whose soul, in his task, turns labour into sport;<br /> +Who makes your pastime his! I sit him now!<br /> +He takes away my breath! He makes me reel!<br /> +I touch not earth—I see not—hear not. All<br /> +Is ecstasy of motion!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. You are used,<br /> +I see, to the chase.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. I am, sir. Then the leap,<br /> +To see the saucy barrier, and know<br /> +The mettle that can clear it! Then, your time<br /> +To prove you master of the manège. Now<br /> +You keep him well together for a space,<br /> +Both horse and rider braced as you were one,<br /> +Scanning the distance—then you give him rein,<br /> +And let him fly at it, and o’er he goes<br /> +Light as a bird on wing.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. ’Twere a bold leap,<br /> +I see, that turned you, madam.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. [Curtseying.] Sir, you’re good!<br /> +And then the hounds, sir! Nothing I admire<br /> +Beyond the running of the well-trained pack.<br /> +The training’s everything! Keen on the scent!<br /> +At fault none losing heart!—but all at work!<br /> +None leaving his task to another!—answering<br /> +The watchful huntsman’s cautions, check, or cheer.<br /> +As steed his rider’s rein! Away they go!<br /> +How close they keep together! What a pack!<br /> +Nor turn, nor ditch, nor stream divides them—as<br /> +They moved with one intelligence, act, will!<br /> +And then the concert they keep up!—enough<br /> +To make one tenant of the merry wood,<br /> +To list their jocund music!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. You describe<br /> +The huntsman’s pastime to the life.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. I love it!<br /> +To wood and glen, hamlet and town, it is<br /> +A laughing holiday! Not a hill-top<br /> +But’s then alive! Footmen with horsemen vie,<br /> +All earth’s astir, roused with the revelry<br /> +Of vigour, health, and joy! Cheer awakes cheer,<br /> +While Echo’s mimic tongue, that never tires,<br /> +Keeps up the hearty din! Each face is then<br /> +Its neighbour’s glass—where Gladness sees itself,<br /> +And at the bright reflection grows more glad!<br /> +Breaks into tenfold mirth!—laughs like a child!<br /> +Would make a gift of its heart, it is so free!<br /> +Would scarce accept a kingdom, ’tis so rich!<br /> +Shakes hands with all, and vows it never knew<br /> +That life was life before!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Nay, every way<br /> +You do fair justice, lady, to the chase;<br /> +But fancies change.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Such fancy is not mine.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I would it were not mine, for your fair sake.<br /> +I have quite given o’er the chase.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. You say not so!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Forsworn, indeed, the sportsman’s life, and +grown,<br /> +As you may partly see, town-gentleman.<br /> +I care not now to mount a steed, unless<br /> +To amble ’long the street; no paces mind,<br /> +Except my own, to walk the drawing-room,<br /> +Or in the ball-room to come off with grace;<br /> +No leap for me, to match the light coupé;<br /> +No music like the violin and harp,<br /> +To which the huntsman’s dog and horn I find<br /> +Are somewhat coarse and homely minstrelsy:<br /> +Then fields of ill-dressed rustics, you’ll confess,<br /> +Are well exchanged for rooms of beaux and belles;<br /> +In short, I’ve ta’en another thought of life—<br /> +Become another man!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. The cause, I pray?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. The cause of causes, lady.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. He’s in love! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. To you, of women, I would name it last;<br /> +Yet your frank bearing merits like return;<br /> +I, that did hunt the game, am caught myself<br /> +In chase I never dreamed of!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. He is in love!<br /> +Wildrake’s in love! ’Tis that keeps him in town,<br /> +Turns him from sportsman to town-gentleman.<br /> +I never dreamed that he could be in love!<br /> +In love with whom?—I’ll find the vixen out!<br /> +What right has she to set her cap at him?<br /> +I warrant me, a forward, artful minx;<br /> +I hate him worse than ever. I’ll do all<br /> +I can to spoil the match. He’ll never marry—<br /> +Sure he will never marry! He will have<br /> +More sense than that! My back doth ope and shut—<br /> +My temples throb and shoot—I am cold and hot!<br /> +Were he to marry, there would be an end<br /> +To neighbour Constance—neighbour Wildrake—why,<br /> +I should not know myself!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Trueworth</span>.]</p> +<p>Dear Master Trueworth,<br /> +What think you!—neighbour Wildrake is in love!<br /> +In love! Would you believe it, Master Trueworth?<br /> +Ne’er heed my dress and looks, but answer me.<br /> +Knowest thou of any lady he has seen<br /> +That’s like to cozen him?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I am not sure—<br /> +We talked to-day about the Widow Green!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Her that my father fancies. Let him wed her!<br /> +Marry her to-morrow—if he will, to-night.<br /> +I can’t spare neighbour Wildrake—neighbour Wildrake!<br /> +Although I would not marry him myself,<br /> +I could not hear that other married him!<br /> +Go to my father—’tis a proper match!<br /> +He has my leave! He’s welcome to bring home<br /> +The Widow Green. I’ll give up house and all!<br /> +She would be mad to marry neighbour Wildrake;<br /> +He would wear out her patience—plague her to death,<br /> +As he does me. She must not marry him!</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h2>ACT III.</h2> +<h3>SCENE I.—A Room in Widow Green’s.</h3> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Waller</span>, following <span +class="smcap">Lydia</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. But thou shalt hear me, gentle Lydia.<br /> +Sweet maiden, thou art frightened at thyself!<br /> +Thy own perfections ’tis that talk to thee.<br /> +Thy beauty rich!—thy richer grace!—thy mind,<br /> +More rich again than that, though richest each!<br /> +Except for these, I had no tongue for thee,<br /> +Eyes for thee!—ears!—had never followed thee!—<br /> +Had never loved thee, Lydia! Hear me!—</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Love<br /> +Should seek its match. No match am I for thee.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Right! Love should seek its match; and that is, +love<br /> +Or nothing! Station—fortune—find their match<br /> +In things resembling them. They are not love!<br /> +Comes love (that subtle essence, without which<br /> +Life were but leaden dulness!—weariness!<br /> +A plodding trudger on a heavy road!)<br /> +Comes it of title-deeds which fools may boast?<br /> +Or coffers vilest hands may hold the keys of?<br /> +Or that ethereal lamp that lights the eyes<br /> +To shed the sparkling lustre o’er the face,<br /> +Gives to the velvet skin its blushing glow,<br /> +And burns as bright beneath the peasant’s roof<br /> +As roof of palaced prince? Yes, Love should seek<br /> +Its match—then give my love its match in thine,<br /> +Its match which in thy gentle breast doth lodge<br /> +So rich—so earthly, heavenly fair and rich,<br /> +As monarchs have no thought of on their thrones,<br /> +Which kingdoms do bear up.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Wast thou a monarch,<br /> +Me wouldst thou make thy queen?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I would.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. What! Pass<br /> +A princess by for me?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I would.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Suppose<br /> +Thy subjects would prevent thee?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Then, in spite<br /> +Of them!</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Suppose they were too strong for thee?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Why, then I’d give them up my +throne—content<br /> +With that thou’dst yield me in thy gentle breast.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Can subjects do what monarchs do?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Far more!<br /> +Far less!</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Among those things, where more their power,<br /> +Is marriage one?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. And no part of love,<br /> +You say, is rank or wealth?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. No part of love.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Is marriage part of love?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. At times it is,<br /> +At times is not. Men love and marry—love<br /> +And marry not.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Then have they not the power;<br /> +So must they hapless part with those they love.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Oh, no! not part! How could they love and +part?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. How could they love not part, not free to wed?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Alone in marriage doth not union lie!</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Alone where hands are free! O +yes—alone!<br /> +Love that is love, bestoweth all it can!<br /> +It is protection, if ’tis anything,<br /> +Which nothing in its object leaves exposed<br /> +Its care can shelter. Love that’s free to wed,<br /> +Not wedding, but profanes the name of love;<br /> +Which is, on high authority to Earth’s,<br /> +For Heaven did sit approving at its feast,<br /> +A holy thing! Why make you love to me?<br /> +Women whose hearts are free, by nature tender,<br /> +Their fancies hit by those they are besought by,<br /> +Do first impressions quickly—deeply take;<br /> +And, balked in their election, have been known<br /> +To droop a whole life through! Gain for a maid,<br /> +A broken heart!—to barter her young love,<br /> +And find she changed it for a counterfeit!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. If there is truth in man, I love thee! Hear +me!<br /> +In wedlock, families claim property.<br /> +Old notions, which we needs must humour often,<br /> +Bar us to wed where we are forced to love!<br /> +Thou hear’st?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. I do.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. My family is proud;<br /> +Our ancestor, whose arms we bear, did win<br /> +An earldom by his deeds. ’Tis not enough<br /> +I please myself! I must please others, who<br /> +Desert in wealth and station only see.<br /> +Thou hear’st?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. I do.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I cannot marry thee,<br /> +And must I lose thee? Do not turn away!<br /> +Without the altar I can honour thee!<br /> +Can cherish thee, nor swear it to the priest;<br /> +For more than life I love thee!</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Say thou hatest me,<br /> +And I’ll believe thee! Wherein differs love<br /> +From hate, to do the work of hate—destroy?<br /> +Thy ancestor won title to his deeds!<br /> +Was one of them, to teach an honest maid<br /> +The deed of sin—first steal her love, and then<br /> +Her virtue? If thy family is proud,<br /> +Mine, sir, is worthy! if we are poor, the lack<br /> +Of riches, sir, is not the lack of shame,<br /> +That I should act a part, would raise a blush,<br /> +Nor fear to burn an honest brother’s cheek!<br /> +Thou wouldst share a throne with me! Thou wouldst rob me of<br /> +A throne!—reduce me from dominion to<br /> +Base vassalage!—pull off my crown for me,<br /> +And give my forehead in its place a brand!<br /> +You have insulted me. To shew you, sir,<br /> +The heart you make so light of, you are beloved—<br /> +But she that tells you so, tells you beside<br /> +She ne’er beholds you more!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Stay, Lydia!—No!<br /> +’Tis vain! She is in virtue resolute,<br /> +As she is bland and tender in affection.<br /> +She is a miracle, beholding which<br /> +Wonder doth grow on wonder! What a maid!<br /> +No mood but doth become her—yea, adorn her.<br /> +She turns unsightly anger into beauty!<br /> +Sour scorn grows sweetness, touching her sweet lips!<br /> +And indignation, lighting on her brow,<br /> +Transforms to brightness as the cloud to gold<br /> +That overhangs the sun! I love her! Ay!<br /> +And all the throes of serious passion feel<br /> +At thought of losing her!—so my light love,<br /> +Which but her person did at first affect,<br /> +Her soul has metamorphosed—made a thing<br /> +Of solid thoughts and wishes—I must have her!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Widow Green</span>, unnoticed by <span +class="smcap">Sir Waller</span>, who continues abstracted.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. What! Master Waller, and contemplative!<br /> +Presumptive proof of love! Of me he thinks!<br /> +Revolves the point “to be or not to be!”<br /> +“To be!” by all the triumphs of my sex!<br /> +There was a sigh! My life upon’t, that sigh,<br /> +If construed, would translate “Dear Widow Green!”</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Enchanting woman!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. That is I!—most deep<br /> +Abstraction, sure concomitant of love.<br /> +Now, could I see his busy fancy’s painting,<br /> +How should I blush to gaze upon myself.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. The matchless form of woman! The choice +calling<br /> +Of the aspiring artist, whose ambition<br /> +Robs Nature to outdo her—the perfections<br /> +Of her rare various workmanship combines<br /> +To aggrandise his art at Nature’s cost,<br /> +And make a paragon!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Gods! how he draws me!<br /> +Soon as he sees me, at my feet he falls!—<br /> +Good Master Waller!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Ha! The Widow Green!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. He is confounded! So am I. O dear!<br /> +How catching is emotion. He can’t speak!<br /> +O beautiful confusion! Amiable<br /> +Excess of modesty with passion struggling!<br /> +Now comes he to declare himself, but wants<br /> +The courage. I must help him.—Master Waller!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Sir William Fondlove</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Dear Widow Green!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Sir William Fondlove!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thank<br /> +My lucky stars! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. I would he had the gout,<br /> +And kept his room! [Aside.]—You’re welcome, dear Sir +William!<br /> +’Tis very, very kind of you to call.<br /> +Sir William Fondlove—Master Waller. Pray<br /> +Be seated, gentlemen.—He shall requite me<br /> +For his untimely visit. Though the nail<br /> +Be driven home, it may want clinching yet<br /> +To make the hold complete! For that, I’ll use +him.—[Aside.]<br /> +You’re looking monstrous well, Sir William! and<br /> +No wonder. You’re a mine of happy spirits!<br /> +Some women talk of such and such a style<br /> +Of features in a man. Give me good humour;<br /> +That lights the homeliest visage up with beauty,<br /> +And makes the face, where beauty is already,<br /> +Quite irresistible!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. That’s hitting hard. [Aside.]<br /> +Dear Widow Green, don’t say so! On my life<br /> +You flatter me. You almost make me blush.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. I durst not turn to Master Waller now,<br /> +Nor need I. I can fancy how he looks!<br /> +I warrant me he scowls on poor Sir William,<br /> +As he could eat him up. I must improve<br /> +His discontent, and so make sure of him.—[Aside.]<br /> +I flatter you, Sir William! O, you men!<br /> +You men, that talk so meek, and all the while<br /> +Do know so well your power! Who would think<br /> +You had a marriageable daughter! You<br /> +Did marry very young.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. A boy!—a boy!<br /> +Who knew not his own mind.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Your daughter’s twenty.<br /> +Come, you at least were twenty when you married;<br /> +That makes you forty.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. O dear! Widow Green.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Not forty?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. You do quite embarrass me!<br /> +I own I have the feelings of a boy,<br /> +The freshness and the glow of spring-time, yet,—<br /> +The relish yet for my young schooldays’ sports;<br /> +Could whip a top—could shoot at taw—could play<br /> +At prison-bars and leapfrog—so I might—<br /> +Not with a limb, perhaps, as supple, but<br /> +With quite as supple will. Yet I confess<br /> +To more than forty!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Do you say so? Well,<br /> +I’ll never guess a man’s age by his looks<br /> +Again.—Poor Master Waller! He must writhe<br /> +To hear I think Sir William is so young.<br /> +I’ll turn his visit yet to more account.—[Aside.]<br /> +A handsome ring, Sir William, that you wear!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Pray look at it.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. The mention of a ring<br /> +Will take away his breath.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. She must be mine<br /> +Whate’er her terms! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. I’ll steal a look at him!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. What! though it be the ring?—the marriage +ring?<br /> +If that she sticks at, she deserves to wear it!<br /> +Oh, the debate which love and prudence hold! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. How highly he is wrought upon! His hands<br /> +Are clenched!—I warrant me his frame doth shake!<br /> +Poor Master Waller! I have filled his heart<br /> +Brimful with passion for me. The delight<br /> +Of proving thus my power!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Dear Widow Green!—<br /> +She hears not! How the ring hath set her thinking!<br /> +I’ll try and make her jealous. [Aside.]—Widow Green!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Sir William Fondlove!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Would you think that ring<br /> +Could tell a story?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Could it? Ah, Sir William,<br /> +I fear you are a rogue.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. O no!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. You are!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. No, on my honour! Would you like to hear<br /> +The story of the ring?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Much—very much.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Think’st we may venture draw our chairs +apart<br /> +A little more from Master Waller?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Yes.<br /> +He’ll bring it to a scene! Dear—dear Sir William,<br /> +How much I am obliged to him! A scene!<br /> +Gods, we shall have a scene!—Good Master Waller,<br /> +Your leave I pray you for a minute, while<br /> +Sir William says a word or two to me.—<br /> +He durst not trust his tongue for jealousy!—[Aside.]<br /> +Now, dear Sir William!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. You must promise me<br /> +You will not think me vain.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. No fear of that.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Nor given to boast.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. O! dear Sir William!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Nor<br /> +A flirt!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. O! who would take you for a flirt?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. How very kind you are!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Go on, Sir William.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Upon my life, I fear you’ll think me +vain!<br /> +I’m covered with confusion at the thought<br /> +Of what I’ve done. ’Twas very, very wrong<br /> +To promise you the story of the ring;<br /> +Men should not talk of such things.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Such as what?<br /> +As ladies’ favours?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. ’Pon my life, I feel<br /> +As I were like to sink into the earth.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. A lady then it was gave you the ring?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Don’t ask me to say yes, but only scan<br /> +The inside of the ring.—How much she’s moved. +[Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. They to each other company enough!<br /> +I, company for no one but myself.<br /> +I’ll take my leave, nor trouble them to pay<br /> +The compliments of parting. Lydia! Lydia!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. What’s here? +“Eliza!” So it was a lady!—<br /> +How wondrously does Master Waller bear it!<br /> +He surely will not hold much longer out.—[Aside.]<br /> +Sir William! Nay, look up! What cause to cast<br /> +Your eyes upon the ground? What an it were<br /> +A lady?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. You’re not angry?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. No!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. She is.<br /> +I’ll take the tone she speaks in ’gainst the word,<br /> +For fifty crowns.—I have not told you all<br /> +About the ring; though I would sooner die<br /> +Than play the braggart!—yet, as truth is truth,<br /> +And told by halves, may from a simple thing,<br /> +By misconstruction, to a monster grow,<br /> +I’ll tell the whole truth!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Dear Sir William, do!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. The lady was a maid, and very young;<br /> +Nor there in justice to her must I stop,<br /> +But say that she was beautiful as young;<br /> +And add to that that she was learned too,<br /> +Almost enough to win for her that title,<br /> +Our sex, in poor conceit of their own merits,<br /> +And narrow spirit of monopoly,<br /> +And jealousy, which gallantry eschews,<br /> +Do give to women who assert their right<br /> +To minds as well as we.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. What! a blue-stocking?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. I see—she’ll come to calling names at +last.—[Aside.]<br /> +I should offend myself to quote the term.<br /> +But, to return, for yet I have not done;<br /> +And further yet may go, then progress on<br /> +That she was young, that she was beautiful.<br /> +A wit and learned are naught to what’s to come—<br /> +She had a heart!—</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. [Who during <span class="smcap">Sir +William’s</span> speech has turned gradually.]<br /> +What, Master Waller gone! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. I say she had a heart—</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. [Starting up—<span class="smcap">Sir +William</span> also.] A plague upon her!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. I knew she would break out! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Here, take the ring. It has ruined me!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. I vow thou hast no cause<br /> +For anger!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Have I not? I am undone,<br /> +And all about that bauble of a ring.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. You’re right, it is a bauble.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. And the minx<br /> +That gave it thee!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. You’re right, she was a minx.<br /> +I knew she’d come to calling names at last. [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Sir William Fondlove, leave me.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Widow Green!—</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. You have undone me, sir!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Don’t say so! Don’t!<br /> +It was a girl—a child gave me the ring!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Do you hear me, sir? I bade you leave +me.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. If<br /> +I thought you were so jealous—</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Jealous, sir!<br /> +Sir William! quit my house.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. A little girl<br /> +To make you jealous!</p> +<p>W. Green. Sir, you’ll drive me mad!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. A child, a perfect child, not ten years old!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Sir, I would be alone, sir!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Young enough<br /> +To dandle still her doll!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Sir William Fondlove!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Dear Widow Green!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. I hate you, sir! Detest you! Never +wish<br /> +To see you more! You have ruined me! Undone me!<br /> +A blighted life I wear, and all through you!<br /> +The fairest hopes that ever woman nourished,<br /> +You’ve cankered in the very blowing! bloom<br /> +And sweet destroyed, and nothing left me, but<br /> +The melancholy stem.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. And all about<br /> +A little slut I gave a rattle to!—<br /> +Would pester me for gingerbread and comfits!—<br /> +A little roguish feigning! A love-trick<br /> +I played to prove your love!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Sir William Fondlove!<br /> +If of my own house you’ll not suffer me<br /> +To be the mistress, I will leave it to you!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Dear Widow Green! The ring—</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Confound the ring,<br /> +The donor of it, thee, and everything!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. She is over head and ears in love with me!<br /> +She’s mad with love! There’s love and all its signs!<br /> +She’s jealous of me unto very death!<br /> +Poor Widow Green! I warrant she is now<br /> +In tears! I think I hear her sob! Poor thing!<br /> +Sir William! Oh, Sir William! You have raised<br /> +A furious tempest! Set your wits to work<br /> +To turn it to a calm. No question that<br /> +She loves me! None then that she’ll take me! So<br /> +I’ll have the marriage settlements made out<br /> +To-morrow, and a special licence got,<br /> +And marry her the next day! I will make<br /> +Quick work of it, and take her by surprise!<br /> +Who but a widower a widow’s match?<br /> +What could she see with else but partial eyes<br /> +To guess me only forty? I’m a wonder!<br /> +What shall I pass for in my wedding suit?<br /> +I vow I am a puzzle to myself,<br /> +As well as all the world besides. Odd’s life!<br /> +To win the heart of buxom Widow Green!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Widow Green</span> re-enters with <span +class="smcap">Lydia</span>.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. At last the dotard’s gone! Fly, +Lydia, fly,<br /> +This letter bear to Master Waller straight;<br /> +Quick, quick, or I’m undone! He is abused,<br /> +And I must undeceive him—own my love,<br /> +And heart and hand at his disposal lay.<br /> +Answer me not, my girl—obey me! Fly.</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Untowardly it falls!—I had resolved<br /> +This hour to tell her I must quit her service!<br /> +Go to his house! I will not disobey<br /> +Her last commands!—I’ll leave it at the door,<br /> +And as it closes on me think I take<br /> +One more adieu of him! Hard destiny!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<h3>SCENE II.—A Room in Sir William’s.</h3> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Constance</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. The booby! He must fall in love, indeed!<br /> +And now he’s naught but sentimental looks<br /> +And sentences, pronounced ’twixt breath and voice!<br /> +And attitudes of tender languishment!<br /> +Nor can I get from him the name of her<br /> +Hath turned him from a stock into a fool.<br /> +He hems and haws, now titters, now looks grave!<br /> +Begins to speak and halts! takes off his eyes<br /> +To fall in contemplation on a chair,<br /> +A table, or the ceiling, wall, or floor!<br /> +I’ll plague him worse and worse! O, here he comes!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Wildrake</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Despite her spiteful usage I’m resolved<br /> +To tell her now. Dear neighbour Constance!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Fool!<br /> +Accost me like a lady, sir! I hate<br /> +The name of neighbour!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Mistress Constance, then—<br /> +I’ll call thee that.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Don’t call me anything!<br /> +I hate to hear thee speak—to look at thee,<br /> +To dwell in the same house with thee!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. In what<br /> +Have I offended?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. What!—I hate an ape!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. An ape!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Who bade thee ape the gentleman?<br /> +And put on dress that don’t belong to thee?<br /> +Go! change thee with thy whipper-in or huntsman,<br /> +And none will doubt thou wearest thy own clothes.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. A pretty pass! Mocked for the very dress<br /> +I bought to pleasure her! Untoward things<br /> +Are women! [Aside. Walks backwards and forwards.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Do you call that walking? Pray<br /> +What makes you twist your body so, and take<br /> +Such pains to turn your toes out? If you’d walk,<br /> +Walk thus! Walk like a man, as I do now!</p> +<p>[Walking]</p> +<p>Is yours the way a gentleman should walk?<br /> +You neither walk like man nor gentleman!<br /> +I’ll show you how you walk. [Mimicking him.]<br /> +Do you call that walking?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. My thanks, for a drill-sergeant twice a day<br /> +For her sake! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Now, of all things in the world,<br /> +What made you dance last night?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. What made me dance?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Right! It was anything but dancing! +Steps<br /> +That never came from dancing-school—nor English,<br /> +Nor Scotch, nor Irish! You must try to cut,<br /> +And how you did it! [Cuts.] That’s the way to cut!<br /> +And then your chassé! Thus you went, and thus.</p> +<p>[Mimicking him.]</p> +<p>As though you had been playing at hop, step,<br /> +And jump!—and yet you looked so monstrous pleased,<br /> +And played the simpleton with such a grace,<br /> +Taking their tittering for compliment!<br /> +I could have boxed you soundly for’t. Ten times<br /> +Denied I that I knew you.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Twenty guineas<br /> +Were better in the gutter thrown than gone<br /> +To fee a dancing-master! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. And you’re grown<br /> +An amateur in music!—What fine air<br /> +Was that you praised last night?—“The Widow Jones!”<br /> +A country jig they turned into a song.<br /> +You asked “If it had come from Italy?”<br /> +The lady blushed and held her peace, and then<br /> +You blushed and said, “Perhaps it came from France!”<br /> +And then when blushed the lady more, nor spoke,<br /> +You said, “At least it came from Germany!”<br /> +The air was English!—a true English air;<br /> +A downright English air!—a common air;<br /> +Old as “When Good King Arthur.” Not a square,<br /> +Court, alley, street, or lane about the town,<br /> +In which it is not whistled, played, or sung!<br /> +But you must have it come from Italy,<br /> +Or Germany, or France. Go home! Go home!<br /> +To Lincolnshire, and mind thy dog and horn!<br /> +You’ll never do for town! “The Widow Jones”<br /> +To come from Italy! Stay not in town,<br /> +Or you’ll be married to the Widow Jones,<br /> +Since you’ve forsworn, you say, the Widow Green!<br /> +And morn and night they’ll din your ears with her!<br /> +“Well met, dear Master Wildrake. A fine day!<br /> +Pray, can you tell whence came the Widow Jones?”<br /> +They love a jest in town! To Lincolnshire!<br /> +You’ll never do for town! To Lincolnshire;<br /> +“The Widow Jones” to come from Italy!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Confound the Widow Jones! ’Tis +true! The air<br /> +Well as the huntsman’s triple mort I know,<br /> +But knew not then indeed, ’twas so disguised<br /> +With shakes and flourishes, outlandish things,<br /> +That mar, not grace, an honest English song!<br /> +Howe’er, the mischief’s done! and as for her,<br /> +She is either into hate or madness fallen.<br /> +If madness, would she had her wits again,<br /> +Or I my heart! If hate, my love’s undone;<br /> +I’ll give her up. I’ll e’en to Master Trueworth,<br /> +Confess my treason—own my punishment—<br /> +Take horse, and back again to Lincolnshire!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. [Returning.] Not here! I trust I have not +gone too far!<br /> +If he should quit the house! Go out of town!<br /> +Poor neighbour Wildrake! Little does he owe me!<br /> +From childhood I’ve been used to plague him thus.<br /> +Why would he fall in love, and spoil it all!<br /> +I feel as I could cry! He has no right<br /> +To marry any one! What wants he with<br /> +A wife? Has he not plague enough in me?<br /> +Would he be plagued with anybody else?<br /> +Ever since I have lived in town I have felt<br /> +The want of neighbour Wildrake! Not a soul<br /> +Besides I care to quarrel with; and now<br /> +He goes and gives himself to another! What!<br /> +Am I in love with neighbour Wildrake? No.<br /> +I only would not have him marry—marry?<br /> +Sooner I’d have him dead than have him marry!</p> +<h2>ACT IV.</h2> +<h3>SCENE I.—A Room in Master Waller’s House.</h3> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Alice</span>, hastily.]</p> +<p><i>Alice</i>. [Speaking to the outside.] Fly, Stephen, to +the door! your rapier! quick!—<br /> +Our master is beset, because of one<br /> +Whose part he takes, a maid, whom lawless men<br /> +Would lawlessly entreat! In what a world<br /> +We live!—How do I shake!—with what address<br /> +[Looking out of window.]<br /> +He lays about him, and his other arm<br /> +Engaged, in charge of her whom he defends!<br /> +A damsel worth a broil!—Now, Stephen, now!<br /> +Take off the odds, brave lad, and turn the scale!<br /> +I would I were a swordsman! How he makes<br /> +His rapier fly!—Well done!—O Heaven, there’s blood.<br /> +But on the side that’s wrong!—Well done, good Stephen!<br /> +Pray Heaven no life be ta’en!—Lay on, brave lad!<br /> +He has marked his man again. Good lad—Well done,<br /> +I pray no mischief come!—Press on him, Stephen!<br /> +Now gives he ground.—Follow thy advantage up!<br /> +Allow no pause for breaths!—Hit him again!<br /> +Forbid it end in death!—Lounge home, good Stephen!<br /> +How fast he now retreats!—That spring, I’ll swear,<br /> +Was answer to thy point!—Well fenced!—Well fenced!<br /> +Now Heaven forefend it end in death!—He flies!<br /> +And from his comrade, the same moment, hath<br /> +Our master jerked his sword—The day is ours!<br /> +Quick may they get a surgeon for their wounds,<br /> +And I, a cordial for my fluttered spirits:<br /> +I vow, I’m nigh to swoon!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Without.] Hoa! Alice! Hoa!<br /> +Open the door! Quick, Alice! Quick!</p> +<p><i>Alice</i>. Anon!<br /> +Young joints take no thought of agéd ones,<br /> +But ever think them as supple as themselves.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Alice!</p> +<p><i>Alice</i>. [Opening the door.] I’m here!—A +mercy!—<br /> +Is she dead?</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Waller</span>, bearing <span +class="smcap">Lydia</span>, fainting.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. No, she but faints.—A chair!—Quick, Alice, +quick!<br /> +Water to bathe her temples.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Alice</span> goes out.]</p> +<p>Such a turn<br /> +Kind fortune never do me. Shall I kiss<br /> +To life these frozen lips?—No!—of her plight<br /> +’Twere base to take advantage.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Alice</span> returns, &c.]</p> +<p>All is well,<br /> +The blood returns.</p> +<p><i>Alice</i>. How wondrous fair she is!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thou think’st her so? [Aside.] No wonder then +should I.<br /> +[Aloud.] How say you?—Wondrous fair?</p> +<p><i>Alice</i>. Yes; wondrous fair!<br /> +Harm never come to her! So sweet a thing<br /> +’Twere pity were abused!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You think her fair?</p> +<p><i>Alice</i>. Ay, marry! Half so fair were more than +match<br /> +For fairest she e’er saw mine eyes before!<br /> +And what a form! A foot and instep there!<br /> +Vouchers of symmetry! A little foot<br /> +And rising instep, from an ankle arching,<br /> +A palm, and that a little one, might span.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Who taught thee thus?</p> +<p><i>Alice</i>. Why who, but her, taught thee?<br /> +Thy mother!—Heaven rest her!—Thy good mother!<br /> +She could read men and women by their hands<br /> +And feet!—And here’s a hand!—A fairy palm!<br /> +Fingers that taper to the pinky tips,<br /> +With nails of rose, like shells of such a hue,<br /> +Berimmed with pearl, you pick up on the shore!<br /> +Save these the gloss and tint do wear without.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Why, how thou talk’st!</p> +<p><i>Alice</i>. Did I not tell thee thus<br /> +Thy mother used to talk? Such hand and foot,<br /> +She would say, in man or woman vouched for nature<br /> +High tempered!—Still for sentiment refined;<br /> +Affection tender; apprehension quick—<br /> +Degrees beyond the generality!<br /> +There is a marriage finger! Curse the hand<br /> +Would balk it of a ring!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. She’s quite restored,<br /> +Leave us!—Why cast’st thou that uneasy look?<br /> +Why linger’st thou? I’m not alone with her.<br /> +My honour’s with her too. I would not wrong her.</p> +<p><i>Alice</i>. And if thou wouldst, thou’rt not thy +mother’s son.</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You are better?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Much!—much!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Know you him who durst<br /> +Attempt this violence in open day?<br /> +It seemed as he would force thee to his coach,<br /> +I saw attending.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Take this letter, sir,<br /> +And send the answer—I must needs be gone.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Throwing the letter away.] I read no letter!<br /> +Tell me, what of him<br /> +I saw offend thee?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. He hath often met me,<br /> +And by design I think, upon the street,<br /> +And tried to win mine ear, which ne’er he got<br /> +Save only by enforcement. Presents—gifts—<br /> +Of jewels and of gold to wild amount,<br /> +To win an audience, hath he proffered me;<br /> +Until, methought, my silence—for my lips<br /> +Disdained reply where question was a wrong—<br /> +Had wearied him. Oh, sir, whate’er of life<br /> +Remains to me I had foregone, ere proved<br /> +The horror of this hour!—and you it is<br /> +That have protected me?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Oh, speak not on’t!</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. You that have saved me from mine enemy—</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I pray you to forget it.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. From a foe<br /> +More dire than he that putteth life in peril—</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Sweet Lydia, I beseech you spare me.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. No!<br /> +I will not spare you.—You have brought me to safety,<br /> +You whom I fear worse than that baleful foe.</p> +<p>[Rises to go.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Kneeling and snatching her hand.] Lydia!</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Now, make thy bounty perfect. Drop<br /> +My hand. That posture which dishonours thee,<br /> +Quit!—for ’tis shame on shame to show respect<br /> +Where we do feel disdain. Throw ope thy gate<br /> +And let me pass, and never seek with me,<br /> +By look, or speech, or aught, communion more!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thou saidst thou lovedst me?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Yes! when I believed<br /> +My tongue did take of thee its last adieu,<br /> +And now that I do know it—for be sure<br /> +It never bids adieu to thee again—<br /> +Again, I tell it thee! Release me, sir!<br /> +Rise!—and no hindrance to my will oppose,<br /> +That would be free to go.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I cannot lose thee!</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Thou canst not have me!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. No!</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Thou canst not. I<br /> +Repeat it.—Yet I’m thine—thine every way,<br /> +Except where honour fences!—Honour, sir,<br /> +Not property of gentle blood alone;<br /> +Of gentle blood not always property!<br /> +Thou’lt not obey me. Still enforcest me!<br /> +Oh, what a contradiction is a man!<br /> +What in another he one moment spurns,<br /> +The next—he does himself complacently!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Wouldst have me lose the hand that holds my life?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Hear me and keep it, if thou art a man!<br /> +I love thee—for thy benefit would give<br /> +The labour of that hand!—wear out my feet!<br /> +Rack the invention of my mind!—the powers<br /> +Of my heart in one volition gather up!<br /> +My life expend, and think no more I gave<br /> +Than he who wins a priceless gem for thanks!<br /> +For such goodwill canst thou return me wrong?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Yet, for awhile, I cannot let thee go.<br /> +Propound for me an oath that I’ll not wrong thee!<br /> +An oath, which, if I break it, will entail<br /> +Forfeit of earth and heaven. I’ll take it—so<br /> +Thou stay’st one hour with me.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. No!—Not one moment!<br /> +Unhand me, or I shriek!—I know the summons<br /> +Will pierce into the street, and set me free!<br /> +I stand in peril while I’m near thee! She<br /> +Who knows her danger, and delays escape,<br /> +Hath but herself to thank, whate’er befalls!<br /> +Sir, I may have a woman’s weakness, but<br /> +I have a woman’s resolution, too,<br /> +And that’s a woman’s strength!<br /> +One moment more!—</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Lo! Thou art free to go!</p> +<p>[Rises and throws himself distractedly into a chair.]</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Lydia</span> approaches the door—her pace +slackens—she pauses with her hand upon the lock—turns, and +looks earnestly on <span class="smcap">Waller</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. I have a word<br /> +To say to thee; if by thy mother’s honour,<br /> +Thou swear’st to me thou wilt not quit thy seat.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I swear as thou propound’st to me.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. [After a pause, bursting into tears.] Oh, +why—<br /> +Why have you used me thus? See what you’ve done!<br /> +Essayed to light a guilty passion up,<br /> +And kindled in its stead a holy one!<br /> +For I do love thee! Know’st thou not the wish<br /> +To find desert doth bring it oft to sight<br /> +Where yet it is not? so, for substance, passes<br /> +What only is a phantasm of our minds!<br /> +I feared thy love was guilty—yet my wish<br /> +To find it honest, stronger than my fear,<br /> +My fear with fatal triumph overthrew!<br /> +Now hope and fear give up to certainty,<br /> +And I must fly thee—yet must love thee still!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Lydia! by all—</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. I pray you hear me out!<br /> +Was ’t right? was ’t generous? was ’t pitiful?<br /> +One way or other I might be undone:<br /> +To love with sin—or love without a hope!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Yet hear me, Lydia!—</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. Stop! I’m undone!<br /> +A maid without a heart—robbed of the soil,<br /> +Wherein life’s hopes and wishes root and spring,<br /> +And thou the foe that did me so much hate,<br /> +And vowed me so much love!—but I forgive thee!<br /> +Yea, I do bless thee!</p> +<p>[Rushing up and sinking at his feet.]</p> +<p>Recollect thy oath!—<br /> +Or in thy heart lodged never germ of honour,<br /> +But ’tis a desert all!</p> +<p>[She kisses his hand—presses it to her heart, and kisses it +again.]</p> +<p>Farewell then to thee!</p> +<p>[Rises.]</p> +<p>Mayst thou be happy. [Going.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Wouldst ensure the thing<br /> +Thou wishest?</p> +<p>[She moves towards the door with a gesture that prohibits further +converse.]</p> +<p>Stop! [She continues to move on.]<br /> +Oh, sternly resolute! [She still moves.]<br /> +I mean thee honour!</p> +<p>[She stops and turns towards him.]</p> +<p>Thou dost meditate—<br /> +I know it—flight. Give me some pause for thought,<br /> +But to confirm a mind almost made up.<br /> +If in an hour thou hearest not from me, then<br /> +Think me a friend far better lost than won!<br /> +Wilt thou do this?</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. I will.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. An hour decides.</p> +<p>[They go out severally.]</p> +<h3>SCENE II.—A Room in Sir William Fondlove’s House.</h3> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Wildrake</span> and <span +class="smcap">Trueworth</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. You are not angry?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. No; I knew the service<br /> +I sent you on was one of danger.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Thank you.<br /> +Most kind you are—And you believe she loves me:<br /> +And your own hopes give up to favour mine.<br /> +Was ever known such kindness! Much I fear<br /> +’Twill cost you.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Never mind! I’ll try and bear it.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. That’s right. No use in yielding to a +thing.<br /> +Resolve does wonders! Shun the sight of her—<br /> +See other women!—Fifty to be found<br /> +As fair as she.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I doubt it.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Doubt it not.<br /> +Doubt nothing that gives promise of a care.<br /> +Right handsome dames there are in Lancashire,<br /> +Whence called their women, witches!—witching things!<br /> +I know a dozen families in which<br /> +You’d meet a courtesy worthy of a bow.<br /> +I’ll give you letters to them.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Will you?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. The worth of a disinterested friend!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. O Master Trueworth, deeply I’m your debtor!<br /> +I own I die for love of neighbour Constance!<br /> +And thou to give her up for me! Kind friend!<br /> +What won’t I do for thee?—Don’t pine to death;<br /> +I’ll find thee fifty ways to cure thy passion,<br /> +And make thee heart-whole, if thou’rt so resolved.<br /> +Thou shalt be master of my sporting stud,<br /> +And go a hunting. If that likes thee not,<br /> +Take up thy quarters at my shooting-lodge;<br /> +There is a cellar to ’t—make free with it.<br /> +I’ll thank thee if thou emptiest it. The song<br /> +Gives out that wine feeds love—It drowns it, man!<br /> +If thou wilt neither hunt nor shoot, try games;<br /> +Play at loggats, bowls, fives, dominoes, draughts, cribbage,<br /> +Backgammon—special recipes for love!<br /> +And you believe, for all the hate she shows,<br /> +That neighbour Constance loves me?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. ’Tis my thought.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. How shall I find it out?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Affect to love<br /> +Another. Say your passion thrives; the day<br /> +Is fixed; and pray her undertake the part<br /> +Of bridemaid to your bride. ’Twill bring her out.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. You think she’ll own her passion?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. If she loves.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I thank thee! I will try it! Master +Trueworth,<br /> +What shall I say to thee, to give her up,<br /> +And love her so?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Say nothing.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Noble friend!<br /> +Kind friend! Instruct another man the way<br /> +To win thy mistress! Thou’lt not break my heart?<br /> +Take my advice, thou shalt not be in love<br /> +A month! Frequent the playhouse!—walk the Park!<br /> +I’ll think of fifty ladies that I know,<br /> +Yet can’t remember now—enchanting ones!<br /> +And then there’s Lancashire!—and I have friends<br /> +In Berkshire and in Wiltshire, that have swarms<br /> +Of daughters! Then my shooting-lodge and stud!<br /> +I’ll cure thee in a fortnight of thy love!<br /> +And now to neighbour Constance—yet almost<br /> +I fear accosting her—a hundred times<br /> +Have I essayed to break my mind to her,<br /> +But still she stops my mouth with restless scorn!<br /> +Howe’er, thy scheme I’ll try, and may it thrive!<br /> +For I am sick for love of neighbour Constance.<br /> +Farewell, dear Master Trueworth! Take my counsel—<br /> +Conquer thy passion! Do so! Be a man!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Feat easy done that does not tax ourselves!</p> +<p>[Enter Phœbe.]</p> +<p><i>Phœbe</i>. A letter, sir.</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Good sooth, a roaming one,<br /> +And yet slow traveller. This should have reached me<br /> +In Lombardy.—The hand! Give way, weak seal,<br /> +Thy feeble let too strong for my impatience!<br /> +Ha! Wronged!—Let me contain myself!—Compelled<br /> +To fly the roof that gave her birth!—My sister!<br /> +No partner in her flight but her pure honour!<br /> +I am again a brother. Pillow, board,<br /> +I know not till I find her.</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Waller</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Master Trueworth!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Ha! Master Waller! Welcome, Master +Waller.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Good Master Trueworth, thank you. Finding you<br /> +From home, I e’en made bold to follow you,<br /> +For I esteem you as a man, and fain<br /> +Would benefit by your kind offices.<br /> +But let me tell you first, to your reproof,<br /> +I am indebted more than e’er I was<br /> +To praise of any other! I am come, sir,<br /> +To give you evidence I am not one<br /> +Who owns advice is right, and acts not on’t.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Pray you explain.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Will you the bearer be<br /> +Of this to one has cause to thank you, too,<br /> +Though I the larger debtor?—Read it, sir.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. [Reading the letter.] “At morn to-morrow +I will make you mine;<br /> +Will you accept from me the name of wife—<br /> +The name of husband give me in exchange?”</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. How say you, sir?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. ’Tis boldly—nobly done!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. If she consents—which affectation +’twere<br /> +To say I doubt—bid her prepare for church,<br /> +And you shall act the father, sir, to her<br /> +You did the brother by.</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Right willingly,<br /> +Though matter of high moment I defer,<br /> +Mind, heart, and soul, are all enlisted in!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. May I implore you, haste! A time is +set!—<br /> +How light an act of duty makes the heart!</p> +<p>[They go out together.]</p> +<h3>SCENE III.—Another Chamber in Sir William’s house.</h3> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Constance</span> discovered.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. I’ll pine to death for no man! Wise it +were,<br /> +Indeed, to die for neighbour Wildrake—No!—<br /> +I know the duty of a woman, better—<br /> +What fits a maid of spirit! I am out<br /> +Of patience with myself, to cast a thought<br /> +Away upon him. Hang him! Lovers cost<br /> +Nought but the pains of luring. I’ll get fifty,<br /> +And break the heart of every one of them!<br /> +I will! I’ll be the champion of my sex,<br /> +And take revenge on shallow, fickle man,<br /> +Who gives his heart to fools, and slights the worth<br /> +Of proper women! I suppose she’s handsome!<br /> +My face ’gainst hers, at hazard of mine eyes!<br /> +A maid of mind! I’ll talk her to a stand,<br /> +Or tie my tongue for life! A maid of soul!<br /> +An artful, managing, dissembling one!<br /> +Or she had never caught. Him!—he’s no man<br /> +To fall in love himself, or long ago<br /> +I warrant he had fall’n in love with me!<br /> +I hate the fool—I do! Ha, here he comes.<br /> +What brings him hither? Let me dry my eyes;<br /> +He must not see I have been crying. Hang him,<br /> +I have much to do, indeed, to cry for him!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Wildrake</span>]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Your servant, neighbour Constance.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Servant, sir!<br /> +Now what, I wonder, comes the fool to say,<br /> +Makes him look so important?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Neighbour Constance,<br /> +I am a happy man.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. What makes you so?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. A thriving suit.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. In Chancery?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Oh, no!<br /> +In love.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Oh, true! You are in love! Go on!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Well, as I said, my suit’s a thriving one.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. You mean you are beloved again!—I don’t<br /> +Believe it.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I can give you proof.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. What proof?<br /> +Love letters? She’s a shameless maid<br /> +To write them! Can she spell? Ay, I suppose<br /> +With prompting of a dictionary!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Nay,<br /> +Without one.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. I will lay you ten to one<br /> +She cannot spell! How know you she can spell?<br /> +You cannot spell yourself! You write command<br /> +With a single M—C-O-M-A-N-D:<br /> +Yours to Co-mand.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I did not say she wrote<br /> +Love letters to me.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Then she suffers you to press<br /> +Her hand, perhaps?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. She does.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Does she press yours?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. She does.—It goes on swimmingly! +[Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. She does!<br /> +She is no modest woman! I’ll be bound,<br /> +Your arm the madam suffers round her waist?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. She does!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. She does! Outrageous forwardness!<br /> +Does she let you kiss her?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. She should be—</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. What?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. What you got thrice your share of when at school,<br /> +And yet not half your due! A brazen face!<br /> +More could not grant a maid about to wed.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. She is so.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. What?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. How swimmingly it goes! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. [With suppressed impatience.] Are you about to +marry, neighbour Wildrake?<br /> +Are you about to marry?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Excellent. [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. [Breaking out.] Why don’t you answer +me?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I am.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. You are—<br /> +I tell you what, sir—You’re a fool!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. For what?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. You are not fit to marry. Do not know<br /> +Enough of the world, sir! Have no more experience,<br /> +Thought, judgment, than a schoolboy! Have no mind<br /> +Of your own!—your wife will make a fool of you,<br /> +Will jilt you, break your heart! I wish she may,<br /> +I do! You have no more business with a wife<br /> +Than I have! Do you mean to say, indeed,<br /> +You are about to marry?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Yes, indeed.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. And when?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I’ll say to-morrow! [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. When, I say?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. To-morrow.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Thank you: much beholden to you!<br /> +You’ve told me on’t in time! I’m very much<br /> +Beholden to you, neighbour Wildrake!<br /> +And, I pray you, at what hour?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. That we have left<br /> +For you to name.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. For me!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. For you.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Indeed.<br /> +You’re very bountiful! I should not wonder<br /> +Meant you I should be bridemaid to the lady?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. ’Tis just the thing I mean!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. [Furiously.] The thing you mean!<br /> +Now pray you, neighbour, tell me that again,<br /> +And think before you speak; for much I doubt<br /> +You know what you are saying. Do you mean<br /> +To ask me to be bridemaid?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Even so.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Bridemaid?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Ay, bridemaid!—It is coming fast<br /> +Unto a head. [Aside.]</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. And ’tis for me you wait<br /> +To fix the day? It shall be doomsday, then!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Be doomsday?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Doomsday!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Wherefore doomsday?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Wherefore!—[Boxes him.]<br /> +Go ask your bride, and give her that from me.<br /> +Look, neighbour Wildrake! you may think this strange,<br /> +But don’t misconstrue it! For you are vain, sir!<br /> +And may put down for love what comes from hate.<br /> +I should not wonder, thought you I was jealous;<br /> +But I’m not jealous, sir!—would scorn to be so<br /> +Where it was worth my while—I pray henceforth<br /> +We may be strangers, sir—you will oblige me<br /> +By going out of town. I should not like<br /> +To meet you on the street, sir. Marry, sir!<br /> +Marry to-day! The sooner, sir, the better!<br /> +And may you find you have made a bargain, sir.<br /> +As for the lady!—much I wish her joy.<br /> +I pray you send me no bridecake, sir!<br /> +Nor gloves—If you do, I’ll give them to my maid!<br /> +Or throw them into the kennel—or the fire.<br /> +I am your most obedient servant, sir!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. She is a riddle, solve her he who can!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<h2>ACT V.</h2> +<h3>SCENE I.—A Room in Sir William Fondlove’s.</h3> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir William</span> seated with two Lawyers.]</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. How many words you take to tell few things<br /> +Again, again say over what, said once,<br /> +Methinks were told enough!</p> +<p><i>First Lawyer</i>. It is the law,<br /> +Which labours at precision.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Yes; and thrives<br /> +Upon uncertainty—and makes it, too,<br /> +With all its pains to shun it. I could bind<br /> +Myself, methinks, with but the twentieth part<br /> +Of all this cordage, sirs.—But every man,<br /> +As they say, to his own business. You think<br /> +The settlement is handsome?</p> +<p><i>First Lawyer</i>. Very, sir.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Then now, sirs, we have done, and take my +thanks,<br /> +Which, with your charges, I will render you<br /> +Again to-morrow.</p> +<p><i>First Lawyer</i>. Happy nuptials, sir.</p> +<p>[Lawyers go out.]</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Who passes there? Hoa! send my daughter to +me,<br /> +And Master Wildrake too! I wait for them.<br /> +Bold work!—Without her leave to wait upon her,<br /> +And ask her go to church!—’Tis taking her<br /> +By storm! What else could move her yesterday<br /> +But jealousy? What causeth jealousy<br /> +But love? She’s mine the moment she receives<br /> +Conclusive proof, like this, that heart and soul,<br /> +And mind and person, I am all her own!<br /> +Heigh ho! These soft alarms are very sweet,<br /> +And yet tormenting too! Ha! Master Wildrake,</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Wildrake</span>.]</p> +<p>I am glad you’re ready, for I’m all in arms<br /> +To bear the widow off. Come! Don’t be sad;<br /> +All must go merrily, you know, to-day!—<br /> +She still doth bear him hard, I see! The girl<br /> +Affects him not, and Trueworth is at fault,<br /> +Though clear it is that he doth die for her. [Aside.]<br /> +Well, daughter?—So I see you’re ready too.</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Constance</span>.]</p> +<p>Why, what’s amiss with thee?</p> +<p><i>Phœbe</i>. [Entering.] The coach is here.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Come, Wildrake, offer her your arm.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. [To <span class="smcap">Wildrake</span>.] I +thank you!<br /> +I am not an invalid!—can use my limbs!<br /> +He knows not how to make an arm, befits<br /> +A lady lean upon.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Why, teach him, then.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Teach him! Teach Master Wildrake! Teach, +indeed!<br /> +I taught my dog to beg, because I knew<br /> +That he could learn it.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Peace, thou little shrew!<br /> +I’ll have no wrangling on my wedding-day!<br /> +Here, take my arm.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. I’ll not!—I’ll walk alone!<br /> +Live, die alone! I do abominate<br /> +The fool and all his sex!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Again!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. I have done.<br /> +When do you marry, Master Wildrake? She<br /> +Will want a husband goes to church with thee!</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h3>SCENE II.—Widow Green’s Dressing-room.</h3> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Widow Green</span> discovered at her Toilet, +attended by <span class="smcap">Amelia</span>, <span +class="smcap">Waller’s</span> Letter to <span +class="smcap">Lydia</span> in her hand.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Oh, bond of destiny!—Fair bond, that +seal’st<br /> +My fate in happiness! I’ll read thee yet<br /> +Again—although thou’rt written on my heart.<br /> +But here his hand, indicting thee, did lie!<br /> +And this the tracing of his fingers! So<br /> +I read thee that could rhyme thee, as my prayers!<br /> +“At morn to-morrow I will make you mine.<br /> +Will you accept from me the name of wife—<br /> +The name of husband give me in exchange?”<br /> +The traitress! to break ope my billet-doux,<br /> +And take the envelope!—But I forgive her,<br /> +Since she did leave the rich contents behind.<br /> +Amelia, give this feather more a slope,<br /> +That it sit droopingly. I would look all<br /> +Dissolvement, nought about me to bespeak<br /> +Boldness! I would appear a timid bride,<br /> +Trembling upon the verge of wifehood, as<br /> +I ne’er before had stood there! That will do.<br /> +Oh dear!—How I am agitated—don’t<br /> +I look so? I have found a secret out,—<br /> +Nothing in woman strikes a man so much<br /> +As to look interesting! Hang this cheek<br /> +Of mine! It is too saucy; what a pity<br /> +To have a colour of one’s own!—Amelia!<br /> +Could you contrive, dear girl, to bleach my cheek,<br /> +How I would thank you! I could give it then<br /> +What tint I chose, and that should be the hectic<br /> +Bespeaks a heart in delicate commotion.<br /> +I am much too florid! Stick a rose in my hair,<br /> +The brightest you can find, ’twill help, my girl,<br /> +Subdue my rebel colour—Nay, the rose<br /> +Doth lose complexion, not my cheek! Exchange it<br /> +For a carnation. That’s the flower, Amelia!<br /> +You see how it doth triumph o’er my cheek.<br /> +Are you content with me?</p> +<p><i>Amelia</i>. I am, my lady.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. And whither think you has the hussy gone,<br /> +Whose place you fill so well?—Into the country?<br /> +Or fancy you she stops in town?</p> +<p><i>Amelia</i>. I can’t<br /> +Conjecture.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Shame upon her!—Leave her place<br /> +Without a moment’s warning!—with a man, too!<br /> +Seemed he a gentleman that took her hence?</p> +<p><i>Amelia</i>. He did.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. You never saw him here before?</p> +<p><i>Amelia</i>. Never.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Not lounging on the other side<br /> +Of the street, and reconnoitring the windows?</p> +<p><i>Amelia</i>. Never.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. ’Twas planned by letter. Notes, you +know,<br /> +Have often come to her—But I forgive her,<br /> +Since this advice she chanced to leave behind<br /> +Of gentle Master Waller’s wishes, which<br /> +I bless myself in blessing!—Gods, a knock!<br /> +’Tis he! Show in those ladies are so kind<br /> +To act my bridemaids for me on this brief<br /> +And agitating notice.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Amelia</span> goes out.]</p> +<p>Yes, I look<br /> +A bride sufficiently! And this the hand<br /> +That gives away my liberty again.<br /> +Upon my life it is a pretty hand,<br /> +A delicate and sentimental hand!<br /> +No lotion equals gloves; no woman knows<br /> +The use of them that does not sleep in them!<br /> +My neck hath kept its colour wondrously!<br /> +Well; after all it is no miracle<br /> +That I should win the heart of a young man.<br /> +My bridemaids come!—Oh dear!</p> +<p>[Enter two Ladies.]</p> +<p><i>First Lady</i>. How do you, love? A good morning to +you—Poor dear,<br /> +How much you are affected! Why we thought<br /> +You ne’er would summon us.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. One takes, you know,<br /> +When one is flurried, twice the time to dress.<br /> +My dears, has either of you salts? I thank you!<br /> +They are excellent; the virtue’s gone from mine,<br /> +Nor thought I of renewing them—Indeed,<br /> +I’m unprovided, quite, for this affair.</p> +<p><i>First Lady</i>. I think the bridegroom’s come!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Don’t say so! How<br /> +You’ve made my heart jump!</p> +<p><i>First Lady</i>. As you sent for us,<br /> +A new-launched carriage drove up to the door;<br /> +The servants all in favours.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. ’Pon my life,<br /> +I never shall get through it; lend me your hand.</p> +<p>[Half rises, and throws herself back on her chair again.]</p> +<p>I must sit down again! There came just now<br /> +A feeling like to swooning over me.<br /> +I am sure before ’tis over I shall make<br /> +A fool of myself! I vow I thought not half<br /> +So much of my first wedding-day! I’ll make<br /> +An effort. Let me lean upon your arm,<br /> +And give me yours, my dear. Amelia, mind<br /> +Keep near me with the smelling-bottle.</p> +<p><i>Servant</i>. [Entering.] Madam,<br /> +The bridegroom’s come.</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. The brute has knocked me down!<br /> +To bolt it out so! I had started less<br /> +If he had fired a cannon at my ear.<br /> +How shall I ever manage to hold up<br /> +Till all is done! I’m tremor head to foot.<br /> +You can excuse me, can’t you?—Pity me!<br /> +One may feel queer upon one’s wedding-day.</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h3>SCENE THE LAST.—A Drawing-room.</h3> +<p>[Enter Servants, showing in <span class="smcap">Sir William +Fondlove</span>, <span class="smcap">Constance</span>, and <span +class="smcap">Master Wildrake</span>—Servants go out again.]</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. [Aside to <span +class="smcap">Wildrake</span>.] Good Master Wildrake, look more +cheerfully!—Come,<br /> +You do not honour to my wedding-day.<br /> +How brisk am I! My body moves on springs!<br /> +My stature gives no inch I throw away;<br /> +My supple joints play free and sportfully;<br /> +I’m every atom what a man should be.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I pray you pardon me, Sir William!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Smile, then,<br /> +And talk and rally me! I did expect,<br /> +Ere half an hour had passed, you would have put me<br /> +A dozen times to the blush. Without such things,<br /> +A bridegroom knows not his own wedding-day.<br /> +I see! Her looks are glossary to thine,<br /> +She flouts thee still, I marvel not at thee;<br /> +There’s thunder in that cloud! I would to-day<br /> +It would disperse, and gather in the morning.<br /> +I fear me much thou know’st not how to woo.<br /> +I’ll give thee a lesson. Ever there’s a way,<br /> +But knows one how to take it? Twenty men<br /> +Have courted Widow Green. Who has her now?<br /> +I sent to advertise her that to-day<br /> +I meant to marry her. She wouldn’t open<br /> +My note. And gave I up? I took the way<br /> +To make her love me! I did send, again<br /> +To pray her leave my daughter should be bridemaid.<br /> +That letter too came back. Did I give up?<br /> +I took the way to make her love me! Yet,<br /> +Again I sent to ask what church she chose<br /> +To marry at; my note came back again;<br /> +And did I yet give up? I took the way<br /> +To make her love me! All the while I found<br /> +She was preparing for the wedding. Take<br /> +A hint from me! She comes! My fluttering heart<br /> +Gives note the empress of its realms is near.<br /> +Now, Master Wildrake, mark and learn from me<br /> +How it behoves a bridegroom play his part.</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Widow Green</span>, supported by her +Bridemaids, and followed by <span class="smcap">Amelia</span>.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. I cannot raise my eyes—they cannot bear<br /> +The beams of his, which, like the sun’s, I feel<br /> +Are on me, though I see them not enlightening<br /> +The heaven of his young face; nor dare I scan<br /> +The brightness of his form, which symmetry<br /> +And youth and beauty in enriching vie.<br /> +He kneels to me! Now grows my breathing thick,<br /> +As though I did await a seraph’s voice,<br /> +Too rich for mortal ear.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. My gentle bride!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Who’s that! who speaks to me?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. These transports check.<br /> +Lo, an example to mankind I set<br /> +Of amorous emprise; and who should thrive<br /> +In love, if not Love’s soldier, who doth press<br /> +The doubtful siege, and will not own repulse.<br /> +Lo, here I tender thee my fealty,<br /> +To live thy duteous slave. My queen thou art,<br /> +In frowns or smiles, to give me life or death.<br /> +Oh, deign look down upon me! In thy face<br /> +Alone I look on day; it is my sun<br /> +Most bright; the which denied, no sun doth rise.<br /> +Shine out upon me, my divinity!<br /> +My gentle Widow Green! My wife to be;<br /> +My love, my life, my drooping, blushing bride!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Sir William Fondlove, you’re a fool!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. A fool!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Why come you hither, sir, in trim like this?<br /> +Or rather why at all?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Why come I hither?<br /> +To marry thee!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. The man will drive me mad!<br /> +Sir William Fondlove, I’m but forty, sir,<br /> +And you are sixty, seventy, if a day;<br /> +At least you look it, sir. I marry you!<br /> +When did a woman wed her grandfather?</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Her brain is turned!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. You’re in your dotage, sir,<br /> +And yet a boy in vanity! But know<br /> +Yourself from me; you are old and ugly, sir.</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Do you deny you are in love with me?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. In love with thee!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. That you are jealous of me?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Jealous!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. To very lunacy.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. To hear him!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Do you forget what happened yesterday?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Sir William Fondlove!—</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Widow Green, fair play!—<br /> +Are you not laughing? Is it not a jest?<br /> +Do you believe me seventy to a day?<br /> +Do I look it? Am I old and ugly? Why,<br /> +Why do I see those favours in the hall,<br /> +These ladies dressed as bridemaids, thee as bride,<br /> +Unless to marry me?</p> +<p>[Knock.]</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. He is coming, sir,<br /> +Shall answer you for me!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Waller</span>, with Gentlemen as +Bridemen.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Where is she? What!<br /> +All that bespeaks the day, except the fair<br /> +That’s queen of it? Most kind of you to grace<br /> +My nuptials so! But that I render you<br /> +My thanks in full, make full my happiness,<br /> +And tell me where’s my bride?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. She’s here.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Where?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Here,<br /> +Fair Master Waller!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Lady, do not mock me.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Mock thee! My heart is stranger to such +mood,<br /> +’Tis serious tenderness and duty all.<br /> +I pray you mock not me, for I do strive<br /> +With fears and soft emotions that require<br /> +Support. Take not away my little strength,<br /> +And leave me at the mercy of a feather.<br /> +I am thy bride! If ’tis thy happiness<br /> +To think me so, believe it, and be rich<br /> +To thy most boundless wishes! Master Waller,<br /> +I am thy waiting bride, the Widow Green!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Lady, no widow is the bride I seek,<br /> +But one the church has never given yet<br /> +The nuptial blessing to!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. What mean you, sir?<br /> +Why come a bridegroom here, if not to me<br /> +You sued to be your bride? Is this your hand, sir? [Showing +letter.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. It is, addressed to your fair waiting-maid.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. My waiting-maid! The laugh is passing +round,<br /> +And now the turn is yours, sir. She is gone!<br /> +Eloped! run off! and with the gentleman<br /> +That brought your billet-doux.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Is Trueworth false?<br /> +He must be false. What madness tempted me<br /> +To trust him with such audience as I knew<br /> +Must sense, and mind, and soul of man entrance,<br /> +And leave him but the power to feel its spell!<br /> +Of his own lesson he would profit take,<br /> +And plead at once an honourable love,<br /> +Supplanting mine, less pure, reformed too late!<br /> +And if he did, what merit I, except<br /> +To lose the maid I would have wrongly won;<br /> +And, had I rightly prized her, now had worn!<br /> +I get but my deservings!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Trueworth</span>, leading in <span +class="smcap">Lydia</span>, richly dressed, and veiled front head to +foot.]</p> +<p>Master Trueworth,<br /> +Though for thy treachery thou hast excuse,<br /> +Thou must account for it; so much I lose!<br /> +Sir, you have wronged me to amount beyond<br /> +Acres, and gold, and life, which makes them rich.<br /> +And compensation I demand of you,<br /> +Such as a man expects, and none but one<br /> +That’s less than man refuses! Where’s the maid<br /> +You falsely did abstract?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. I took her hence,<br /> +But not by guile, nor yet enforcement, sir;<br /> +But of her free will, knowing what she did.<br /> +That, as I found, I cannot give her back,<br /> +I own her state is changed, but in her place<br /> +This maid I offer you, her image far<br /> +As feature, form, complexion, nature go!<br /> +Resemblance halting, only there, where thou<br /> +Thyself didst pause, condition, for this maid<br /> +Is gently born and generously bred.<br /> +Lo! for your fair loss, fair equivalent!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Show me another sun, another earth<br /> +I can inherit, as this Sun and Earth;<br /> +As thou didst take the maid, the maid herself<br /> +Give back! herself, her sole equivalent!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Her sole equivalent I offer you!<br /> +My sister, sir, long counted lost, now found,<br /> +Who fled her home unwelcome bands to ’scape,<br /> +Which a half-father would have forced upon her,<br /> +Taking advantage of her brother’s absence<br /> +Away on travel in a distant land!<br /> +Returned, I missed her; of the cause received<br /> +Invention, coward, false and criminating!<br /> +And gave her up for lost; but happily<br /> +Did find her yesterday—Behold her, sir!</p> +<p>[Removes veil.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Lydia!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. My waiting-maid!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thy sister, Trueworth!<br /> +Art thou fit brother to this virtuous maid?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. [Giving <span class="smcap">Lydia</span> to <span +class="smcap">Waller</span>.] Let this assure thee.</p> +<p><i>Lydia</i>. [To <span class="smcap">Widow Green</span>.] +Madam, pardon me<br /> +My double character, for honesty,<br /> +No other end assumed—and my concealment<br /> +Of Master Waller’s love. In all things else<br /> +I trust I may believe you hold me blameless;<br /> +At least, I’ll say for you, I should be so,<br /> +For it was pastime, madam, not a task,<br /> +To wait upon you! Little you exacted,<br /> +And ever made the most of what I did<br /> +In mere obedience to you!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Give me your hand;<br /> +No love without a little roguery.<br /> +If you do play the mistress well as maid,<br /> +You will bear off the bell! There never was<br /> +A better girl!—I have made myself a fool.<br /> +I am undone, if goes the news abroad.<br /> +My wedding dress I donned for no effect<br /> +Except to put it off! I must be married.<br /> +I’m a lost woman, if another day<br /> +I go without a husband!—What a sight<br /> +He looks by Master Waller!—Yet he is physic<br /> +I die without, so needs must gulp it down.<br /> +I’ll swallow him with what good grace I can.<br /> +Sir William Fondlove!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. Widow Green!</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. I own<br /> +I have been rude to you. Thou dost not look<br /> +So old by thirty, forty, years as I<br /> +Did say. Thou’rt far from ugly—very far!<br /> +And as I said, Sir William, once before,<br /> +Thou art a kind and right good-humoured man:<br /> +I was but angry with you! Why, I’ll tell you<br /> +At more convenient season—and you know<br /> +An angry woman heeds not what she says,<br /> +And will say anything!</p> +<p><i>Sir Wil</i>. I were unworthy<br /> +The name of man, if an apology<br /> +So gracious came off profitless, and from<br /> +A lady! Will you take me, Widow Green?</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. Hem! [Curtsies.]</p> +<p><i>True</i>. [To <span class="smcap">Wildrake</span>.] +Master Wildrake dressed to go to church!<br /> +She has acknowledged, then, she loves thee?—No?<br /> +Give me thy hand, I’ll lead thee up to her.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. ’Sdeath! what are you about? You know her +not.<br /> +She’ll brain thee!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Fear not: come along with me.<br /> +Fair Mistress Constance!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Well, sir!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. [To <span class="smcap">Trueworth</span>.] +Mind!</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Don’t fear.<br /> +Love you not neighbour Wildrake?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Love, sir?</p> +<p><i>True</i>. Yes,<br /> +You do.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. He loves another, sir, he does!<br /> +I hate him. We were children, sir, together<br /> +For fifteen years and more; there never came<br /> +The day we did not quarrel, make it up,<br /> +Quarrel again, and make it up again:<br /> +Were never neighbours more like neighbours, sir.<br /> +Since he became a man, and I a woman,<br /> +It still has been the same; nor cared I ever<br /> +To give a frown to any other, sir.<br /> +And now to come and tell me he’s in love,<br /> +And ask me to be bridemaid to his bride!<br /> +How durst he do it, sir!—To fall in love!<br /> +Methinks at least he might have asked my leave,<br /> +Nor had I wondered had he asked myself, sir!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Then give thyself to me!</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. How! what!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Be mine,<br /> +Thou art the only maid thy neighbour loves.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. Art serious, neighbour Wildrake?</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. In the church<br /> +I’ll answer thee, if thou wilt take me; though<br /> +I neither dress, nor walk, nor dance, nor know<br /> +“The Widow Jones” from an Italian, French,<br /> +Or German air.</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. No more of that.—My hand.</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. Givest it as free as thou didst yesterday?</p> +<p><i>Con</i>. [Affecting to strike him.] Nay!</p> +<p><i>Wild</i>. I will thank it, give it how thou wilt.</p> +<p><i>W. Green</i>. A triple wedding! May the Widow Green<br /> +Obtain brief hearing e’er she quits the scene,<br /> +The Love-Chase to your kindness to commend<br /> +In favour of an old, now absent, friend!</p> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOVE-CHASE ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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