The Love-Chase | Page 9

I have quite given o'er the chase.
Con. You say not so!
Wild. Forsworn, indeed, the sportsman's life, and grown, As you may partly see, town-gentleman. I care not now to mount a steed, unless To amble 'long the street; no paces mind, Except my own, to walk the drawing-room, Or in the ball-room to come off with grace; No leap for me, to match the light coupe; No music like the violin and harp, To which the huntsman's dog and horn I find Are somewhat coarse and homely minstrelsy: Then fields of ill-dressed rustics, you'll confess, Are well exchanged for rooms of beaux and belles In short, I've ta'en another thought of life - Become another man!
Con. The cause, I pray?
Wild. The cause of causes, lady.
Con. He's in love! [Aside.]
Wild. To you, of women, I would name it last; Yet your frank bearing merits like return; I, that did hunt the game, am caught myself In chase I never dreamed of!
[Goes out.]
Con. He is in love! Wildrake's in love! 'Tis that keeps him in town, Turns him from sportsman to town-gentleman. I never dreamed that he could be in love! In love with whom?--I'll find the vixen out! What right has she to set her cap at him? I warrant me, a forward, artful minx; I hate him worse than ever. I'll do all I can to spoil the match. He'll never marry - Sure he will never marry! He will have More sense than that! My back doth ope and shut - My temples throb and shoot--I am cold and hot! Were he to marry, there would be an end To neighbour Constance--neighbour Wildrake--why, I should not know myself!
[Enter TRUEWORTH.]
Dear Master Trueworth, What think you!--neighbour Wildrake is in love! In love! Would you believe it, Master Trueworth? Ne'er heed my dress and looks, but answer me. Knowest thou of any lady he has seen That's like to cozen him?
True. I am not sure - We talked to-day about the Widow Green!
Con. Her that my father fancies. Let him wed her! Marry her to-morrow--if he will, to-night. I can't spare neighbour Wildrake--neighbour Wildrake! Although I would not marry him myself, I could not hear that other married him! Go to my father--'tis a proper match! He has my leave! He's welcome to bring home The Widow Green. I'll give up house and all! She would be mad to marry neighbour Wildrake; He would wear out her patience--plague her to death, As he does me. She must not marry him!
[They go out.]

ACT III.

SCENE I.--A Room in Widow Green's.
[Enter MASTER WALLER, following LYDIA.]
Wal. But thou shalt hear me, gentle Lydia. Sweet maiden, thou art frightened at thyself! Thy own perfections 'tis that talk to thee. Thy beauty rich!--thy richer grace!--thy mind, More rich again than that, though richest each! Except for these, I had no tongue for thee, Eyes for thee!--ears!--had never followed thee! - Had never loved thee, Lydia! Hear me! -
Lydia. Love Should seek its match. No match am I for thee.
Wal. Right! Love should seek its match; and that is, love Or nothing! Station--fortune--find their match In things resembling them. They are not love! Comes love (that subtle essence, without which Life were but leaden dulness!--weariness! A plodding trudger on a heavy road!) Comes it of title-deeds which fools may boast? Or coffers vilest hands may hold the keys of? Or that ethereal lamp that lights the eyes To shed the sparkling lustre o'er the face, Gives to the velvet skin its blushing glow, And burns as bright beneath the peasant's roof As roof of palaced prince? Yes, Love should seek Its match--then give my love its match in thine, Its match which in thy gentle breast doth lodge So rich--so earthly, heavenly fair and rich, As monarchs have no thought of on their thrones, Which kingdoms do bear up.
Lydia. Wast thou a monarch, Me wouldst thou make thy queen?
Wal. I would.
Lydia. What! Pass A princess by for me?
Wal. I would.
Lydia. Suppose Thy subjects would prevent thee?
Wal. Then, in spite Of them!
Lydia. Suppose they were too strong for thee?
Wal. Why, then I'd give them up my throne--content With that thou'dst yield me in thy gentle breast.
Lydia. Can subjects do what monarchs do?
Wal. Far more! Far less!
Lydia. Among those things, where more their power, Is marriage one?
Wal. Yes.
Lydia. And no part of love, You say, is rank or wealth?
Wal. No part of love.
Lydia. Is marriage part of love?
Wal. At times it is, At times is not. Men love and marry--love And marry not.
Lydia. Then have they not the power; So must they hapless part with those they love.
Wal. Oh, no! not part! How could they love and part?
Lydia. How could they love not part, not free to wed?
Wal. Alone in marriage doth not union lie!
Lydia. Alone where hands are free! O