The Love-Chase | Page 4

give o'er?
Wild. Nay, let her have her way--I heed her not! Though to more courteous welcome I have right; Although I am neighbour Wildrake! Reason is reason!
Con. And right is right! so welcome, neighbour Wildrake, I am very, very, very glad to see you! Come, for a quarter of an hour we'll e'en Agree together! How do your horses, neighbour?
Wild. Pshaw!
Con. And your dogs?
Wild. Pshaw!
Con. Whipper-in and huntsman?
Sir Wil. Converse of things thou knowest to talk about!
Con. And keep him silent, father, when I know He cannot talk of any other things? How does thy hunter? What a sorry trick He played thee t'other day, to balk his leap And throw thee, neighbour! Did he balk the leap? Confess! You sportsmen never are to blame! Say you are fowlers, 'tis your dog's in fault! Say you are anglers, 'tis your tackle's wrong; Say you are hunters, why the honest horse That bears your weight, must bear your blunders too! Why, whither go you?
Wild. Anywhere from thee.
Con. With me you mean.
Wild. I mean it not.
Con. You do! I'll give you fifty reasons for't--and first, Where you go, neighbour, I'll go!
[They go out--WILDRAKE, pettishly--CONSTANCE laughing.]
Sir Wil. Do you mark? Much love is there!
True. Indeed, a heap, or none! I'd wager on the heap!
Sir Wil. Ay!--Do you think These discords, as in the musicians' art, Are subtle servitors to harmony? That all this war's for peace? This wrangling but A masquerade where love his roguish face Conceals beneath an ugly visor!--Well?
True. Your guess and my conceit are not a mile Apart. Unlike to other common flowers, The flower of love shews various in the bud; 'Twill look a thistle, and 'twill blow a rose! And with your leave I'll put it to the test; Affect myself, for thy fair daughter, love - Make him my confidant--dilate to him Upon the graces of her heart and mind, Feature and form--that well may comment bear - Till--like the practised connoisseur, who finds A gem of heart out in a household picture The unskilled owner held so cheap he grudged Renewal of the chipped and tarnished frame, But values now as priceless--I arouse him Into a quick sense of the worth of that Whose merit hitherto, from lack of skill, Or dulling habit of acquaintanceship, He has not been awake to.
Con. [Without.] Neighbour Wildrake!
Sir Wil. Hither they come. I fancy well thy game! O to be free to marry Widow Green! I'll call her hence anon--then ply him well.
[SIR WILLIAM goes out.]
Wild. [Without.] Nay, neighbour Constance!
True. He is high in storm.
[Enter WILDRAKE and CONSTANCE.]
Wild. To Lincolnshire, I tell thee.
Con. Lincolnshire! What, prithee, takes thee off to Lincolnshire?
Wild. Too great delight in thy fair company.
True. Nay, Master Wildrake, why away so soon? You are scarce a day in town!--Extremes like this, And starts of purpose, are the signs of love. Though immatured as yet. [Aside.]
Con. He's long enough In town! What should he here? He's lost in town: No man is he for concerts, balls, or routs! No game he knows at cards, save rare Pope Joan! He ne'er could master dance beyond a jig; And as for music, nothing to compare To the melodious yelping of a hound, Except the braying of his huntsman's horn! Ask HIM to stay in town!
Sir Wil. [Without.] Hoa, Constance!
Con. Sir! - Neighbour, a pleasant ride to Lincolnshire! Good-bye!
Sir Wil. [Without.] Why, Constance!
Con. Coming, sir. Shake hands! Neighbour, good-bye! Don't look so woe-begone; 'Tis but a two-days' ride, and thou wilt see Rover, and Spot, and Nettle, and the rest Of thy dear country friends!
Sir Wil. [Without.] Constance! I say.
Con. Anon!--Commend me to the gentle souls, And pat them for me!--Will you, neighbour Wildrake?
Sir Wil. [Without.] Why, Constance! Constance!
Con. In a moment, sir! Good-bye!--I'd cry, dear neighbour--if I could! Good-bye!--A pleasant day when next you hunt! And, prithee, mind thy horse don't balk his leap! Good-bye!--and, after dinner, drink my health! "A bumper, sirs, to neighbour Constance!"--Do! - And give it with a speech, wherein unfold My many graces, more accomplishments, And virtues topping either--in a word, How I'm the fairest, kindest, best of neighbours!
[They go out severally.--TRUEWORTH trying to pacify WILDRAKE-- CONSTANCE laughing.]

ACT II.

SCENE I.--A Room in Sir William's House.
[Enter TRUEWORTH and WILDRAKE.]
Wild. Nay, Master Trueworth, I must needs be gone! She treats me worse and worse! I am a stock, That words have none to pay her. For her sake I quit the town to-day. I like a jest, But hers are jests past bearing. I am her butt, She nothing does but practise on! A plague! - Fly her shafts ever your way?
True. Would they did!
Wild. Art mad?--or wishest she should drive thee so?
True. Thou knowest her not.
Wild. I know not neighbour Constance? Then know I not myself, or anything Which as myself I know!
True. Heigh ho!
Wild. Heigh