 | The Love-Chase |  |
SCENE III.
—Sir William Fondlove's.Enter Constance, dressed for riding, and Phœbe.
Con.
Well, Phœbe, 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 darken'd brows
And heighten'd colour, foreign to my face,
Do they my face pass off for stranger too?
What think you?
Phœbe.
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 [Phœbe 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 veiléd 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,
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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.
[Curtsying.]
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 manége. 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 him fly at it, and o'er he goes
Light as a bird on wing.
Wild.
'Twere a bold leap,
I see, that turn'd you, madam.
Con.
[Curtsying.]
Sir you're good!
And then the hounds, sir! Nothing I admire
Beyond the running of the well-train'd pack.
The training 's everything! Keen on the scent!
At fault, none losing heart!—but all at work!
None leaving his task to another!—answering
The watchful huntsman's caution, check, or cheer,
As steed his rider's rein! Away they go!
How close they keep together!—What a pack!
Nor turn, nor ditch, nor stream divides them—as
They moved with one intelligence, act, will!
And then the concert they keep up!—enough
To make one tenant of the merry wood,
To list their jocund music!
Wild.
You describe
The huntsman's pastime to the life!
Con.
I love it!
To wood and glen, hamlet and town, it is
A laughing holiday!—Not a hill-top
But's then alive! Footmen with horsemen vie,
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Of vigour, health, and joy!—Cheer awakes cheer,
While Echo's mimic tongue, that never tires,
Keeps up the hearty din! Each face is then
Its neighbour's glass—where gladness sees itself,
And at the bright reflection, grows more glad!
Breaks into tenfold mirth!—laughs like a child!
Would make a gift of its heart, it is so free!
Would scarce accept a kingdom; 'tis so rich!
Shakes hands with all, and vows it never knew
That life was life before!
Wild.
Nay, every way
You do fair justice, lady, to the chase;
But fancies change.
Con.
Such fancy is not mine.
Wild.
I would it were not mine, for your fair sake.
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 coupé;
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-dress'd 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.
[Sighs deeply.
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 pursued the game, am caught myself
In chase I never dreaméd of!
[Goes out.
Con.
He is in love!
Wildrake 's in love! That keeps the youth in town,
Turns him from sportsman to town-gentleman.
I never dream'd that he would fall in love!
In love with whom?—I'll find the vixen out!
What right has she to set her cap at him?
I warrant her, 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
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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.
Know'st thou of any lady he has seen
That's like to cozen him?
True.
I am not sure—
We talk'd 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 bear 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.
| The Love-Chase | |