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 ho!
Why what a burden that for a man’s song!
Would fit a maiden that was sick for love.
Heigh ho!  Come ride with me to Lincolnshire,
And turn thy “Heigh ho!” into “hilly ho!”

True.  Nay, rather tarry thou in town with me.
Men sometimes find a friend’s hand of avail,
When useless proves their own.  Wilt lend me thine?

Wild.  Or may my horse break down in a steeple-chase!

True.  A steeple-chase.  What made thee think of that?
I’m for the steeple—not to ride a race,
Only to get there!—nor alone, in sooth,
But in fair company.

Wild.  Thou’rt not in love!

True.  Heigh ho!

Wild.  Thou wouldst not marry!

True.  With your help.

Wild.  And whom, I prithee?

True.  Gentle Mistress Constance!

Wild.  What!—neighbour Constance?—Never did I dream
That mortal man would fall in love with her.  [Aside.]
In love with neighbour Constance!—I feel strange
At thought that she should marry!—[Aside.]  Go to church
With neighbour Constance!  That’s a steeple-chase
I never thought of.  I feel very strange!
What seest in neighbour Constance?

True.  Lovers’ eyes
See with a vision proper to themselves;
Yet thousand eyes will vouch what mine affirm.
First, then, I see in her the mould express
Of woman—stature, feature, body, limb—
Breathing the gentle sex we value most,
When most ’tis at antipodes with ours!

Wild.  You mean that neighbour Constance is a woman.
Why, yes; she is a woman, certainly.

True.  So much for person.  Now for her complexion.
What shall we liken to her dainty skin?
Her arm, for instance?—

Wild.  Snow will match it.

True.  Snow!
It is her arm without the smoothness on’t;
Then is not snow transparent.  ’Twill not do.

Wild.  A pearl’s transparent!

True.  So it is, but yet
Yields not elastic to the thrilléd touch!
I know not what to liken to her arm
Except her beauteous fellow!  Oh! to be
The chosen friend of two such neighbours!

Wild.  Would
His tongue would make a halt.  He makes too free
With neighbour Constance!  Can’t he let her arms
Alone!  I trust their chosen friend
Will ne’er be he!  I’m vexed.  [Aside.]

True.  But graceful things
Grow doubly graceful in the graceful use!
Hast marked her ever walk the drawing-room?

Wild.  [Snappishly.]  No.

True.  No!  Why, where have been your eyes?

Wild.  In my head!
But I begin to doubt if open yet.  [Aside.]

True.  Yet that’s a trifle to the dance; down which
She floats as though she were a form of air;
The ground feels not her foot, or tells not on’t;
Her movements are the painting of the strain,
Its swell, its fall, its mirth, its tenderness!
Then is she fifty Constances!—each moment
Another one, and each, except its fellow,
Without a peer!  You have danced with her!

Wild.  I hate
To dance!  I can’t endure to dance!—Of course
You have danced with her?

True.  I have.

Wild.  You have?

True.  I have.

Wild.  I do abominate to dance!—could carve
Fiddlers and company!  A dancing man
To me was ever like a dancing dog!
Save less to be endured.—Ne’er saw I one
But I bethought me of the master’s whip.

True.  A man might bear the whip to dance with her!

Wild.  Not if I had the laying of it on!

True.  Well; let that pass.  The lady is the theme.

Wild.  Yes; make an end of it!—I’m sick of it.  [Aside.]

True.  How well she plays the harpsichord and harp!
How well she sings to them!  Whoe’er would prove
The power of song, should hear thy neighbour sing,
Especially a love-song!

Wild.  Does she sing
Such songs to thee?

True.  Oh, yes, and constantly.
For such I ever ask her.

Wild.  Forward minx!  [Aside.]
Maids should not sing love-songs to gentlemen!
Think’st neighbour Constance is a girl to love?

True.  A girl to love?—Ay, and with all her soul!

Wild.  How know you that?

True.  I have studied close the sex.

Wild.  You town-rakes are the devil for the sex!  [Aside.]

True.  Not your most sensitive and serious maid
I’d always take for deep impressions.  Mind
The adage of the bow.  The pensive brow
I have oft seen bright in wedlock, and anon
O’ercast in widowhood; then, bright again.
Ere half the season of the weeds was out;
While, in the airy one, I have known one cloud
Forerunner of a gloom that ne’er cleared up—
So would it prove with neighbour Constance.  Not
On superficial grounds she’ll ever love;
But once she does, the odds are ten to one
Her first love is her last!

Wild.  I wish I ne’er
Had come to town!  I was a happy man
Among my dogs and horses.  [Aside.]  Hast thou broke
Thy passion to her?

True.  Never.

Wild.  Never?

True.  No.
I hoped you’d act my proxy there.

Wild.  I thank you.

True.  I knew ’twould be a pleasure to you.

Wild.  Yes;
A pleasure!—an unutterable pleasure!

True.  Thank you!  You make my happiness your own.

Wild.  I do.

True.  I see you do.  Dear Master Wildrake!
Oh, what a blessing is a friend in need!
You’ll go and court your neighbour for me?

Wild.  Yes.

True.  And says she “nay” at first, you’ll press again?

Wild.  Ay, and again!

True.  There’s one thing I mistrust—yea, most mistrust,
That of my poor deserts you’ll make too much.

Wild.  Fear anything but that.

True.  ’Twere better far
You slightly spoke of them.

Wild.  You think so?

True.  Yes.
Or rather did not speak of them at all.

Wild.  You think so?

True.  Yes.

Wild.  Then I’ll not say a word
About them.

True.  Thank