The Love-Chase | Page 8

it me, I marry now,
to please my vanity, A man that is the fashion. O the delight Of a
sensation, and yourself the cause! To note the stir of eyes, and ears, and
tongues, When they do usher Mistress Waller in, Late Widow Green,
her hand upon the arm Of her young, handsome husband!--How my fan
Will be in requisition--I do feel My heart begin to flutter now--my
blood To mount into my cheek! My honeymoon Will be a month of
triumphs!--"Mistress Waller!" That name, for which a score of damsels
sigh, And but the widow had the wit to win! Why, it will be the talk of
east to west, And north and south!--The children loved the man, And
lost him so--I liked, but there I stopped; For what is it to love, but mind
and heart And soul upon another to depend? Depend upon another?
Nothing be But what another wills? Give up the rights Of mine own
brain and heart? I thank my stars I never came to that extremity.
[Goes out.]
Lydia. She never loved, indeed! She knows not love, Except what's told
of it! She never felt it. To stem a torrent, easy, looking at it; But once
you venture in, you nothing know Except the speed with which you're
borne away, Howe'er you strive to check it. She suspects not Her maid,
not she, brings Master Waller hither. Nor dare I undeceive her. Well
might she say Her young and handsome husband! Yet his face And
person are the least of him, and vanish When shines his soul out
through his open eye! He all but says he loves me! His respect Has
vanquished me! He looks the will to speak His passion, and the fear
that ties his tongue - The fear? He loves not honestly, and yet I'll swear
he loves--I'll swear he honours me! It is but my condition is a bar,
Denies him give me all. But knew he me As I do know myself!
Whate'er his purpose, When next we speak, he shall declare it to me.
[Goes out.]
SCENE III.--Sir William Fondlove's.

[Enter CONSTANCE, dressed for riding, and PHOEBE.]
Con. Well, Phoebe, would you know me? Are those locks That cluster
on my forehead and my cheek, Sufficient mask? Show I what I would
seem, A lady for the chase? My darkened brows And heightened colour,
foreign to my face, Do they my face pass off for stranger too? What
think you?
Phoebe. That he'll ne'er discover you.
Con. Then send him to me. Say a lady wants To speak with him, unless
indeed it be A man in lady's gear; I look so bold And speak so gruff.
Away! [PHOEBE goes out.] That I am glad He stays in town, I own,
but if I am, 'Tis only for the tricks I'll play upon him, And now begin,
persuading him his fame Hath made me fancy him, and brought me
hither On visit to his worship. Soft, his foot! THIS he? Why, what has
metamorphosed him. And changed my sportsman to fine gentleman?
Well he becomes his clothes! But, check my wonder, Lest I forget
myself. Why, what an air The fellow hath. A man to set a cap at!
[Enter WILDRAKE.]
Wild. Kind lady, I attend your fair commands.
Con. My veiled face denies me justice, sir, Else would you see a
maiden's blushing cheek Do penance for her forwardness; too late, I
own, repented of. Yet if 'tis true, By our own hearts of others we may
judge, Mine in no peril lies that's shown to you, Whose heart, I'm sure,
is noble. Worthy sir, Souls attract souls when they're of kindred vein.
The life that you love, I love. Well I know, 'Mongst those who breast
the feats of the bold chase, You stand without a peer; and for myself I
dare avow 'mong such, none follows them With heartier glee than I do.
Wild. Churl were he That would gainsay you, madam.
Con. [Curtseying.] What delight To back the flying steed, that
challenges The wind for speed!--seems native more of air Than
earth!--whose burden only lends him fire! - Whose soul, in his task,

turns labour into sport; Who makes your pastime his! I sit him now! He
takes away my breath! He makes me reel! I touch not earth--I see
not--hear not. All Is ecstasy of motion!
Wild. You are used, I see, to the chase.
Con. I am, sir. Then the leap, To see the saucy barrier, and know The
mettle that can clear it! Then, your time To prove you master of the
manege. Now You keep him well together for a space, Both horse and
rider braced as you were one, Scanning the distance--then you give him
rein, And let