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James Sheridan Knowles >> The Love Chase
W. Green. Such as what?
As ladies' favours?
Sir Wil. 'Pon my life, I feel
As I were like to sink into the earth.
W. Green. A lady then it was gave you the ring?
Sir Wil. Don't ask me to say yes, but only scan
The inside of the ring.--How much she's moved. [Aside.]
Wal. They to each other company enough!
I, company for no one but myself.
I'll take my leave, nor trouble them to pay
The compliments of parting. Lydia! Lydia!
[Goes out.]
W. Green. What's here? "Eliza!" So it was a lady! -
How wondrously does Master Waller bear it!
He surely will not hold much longer out.--[Aside.]
Sir William! Nay, look up! What cause to cast
Your eyes upon the ground? What an it were
A lady?
Sir Wil. You're not angry?
W. Green. No!
Sir Wil. She is.
I'll take the tone she speaks in 'gainst the word,
For fifty crowns.--I have not told you all
About the ring; though I would sooner die
Than play the braggart!--yet, as truth is truth,
And told by halves, may from a simple thing,
By misconstruction, to a monster grow,
I'll tell the whole truth!
W. Green. Dear Sir William, do!
Sir Wil. The lady was a maid, and very young;
Nor there in justice to her must I stop,
But say that she was beautiful as young;
And add to that that she was learned too,
Almost enough to win for her that title,
Our sex, in poor conceit of their own merits,
And narrow spirit of monopoly,
And jealousy, which gallantry eschews,
Do give to women who assert their right
To minds as well as we.
W. Green. What! a blue-stocking?
Sir Wil. I see--she'll come to calling names at last.--[Aside.]
I should offend myself to quote the term.
But, to return, for yet I have not done;
And further yet may go, then progress on
That she was young, that she was beautiful.
A wit and learned are naught to what's to come -
She had a heart! -
W. Green. [Who during SIR WILLIAM'S speech has turned gradually.]
What, Master Waller gone! [Aside.]
Sir Wil. I say she had a heart -
W. Green. [Starting up--SIR WILLIAM also.] A plague upon her!
Sir Wil. I knew she would break out! [Aside.]
W. Green. Here, take the ring. It has ruined me!
Sir Wil. I vow thou hast no cause
For anger!
W. Green. Have I not? I am undone,
And all about that bauble of a ring.
Sir Wil. You're right, it is a bauble.
W. Green. And the minx
That gave it thee!
Sir Wil. You're right, she was a minx.
I knew she'd come to calling names at last. [Aside.]
W. Green. Sir William Fondlove, leave me.
Sir Wil. Widow Green! -
W. Green. You have undone me, sir!
Sir Wil. Don't say so! Don't!
It was a girl--a child gave me the ring!
W. Green. Do you hear me, sir? I bade you leave me.
Sir Wil. If
I thought you were so jealous -
W. Green. Jealous, sir!
Sir William! quit my house.
Sir Wil. A little girl
To make you jealous!
W. Green. Sir, you'll drive me mad!
Sir Wil. A child, a perfect child, not ten years old!
W. Green. Sir, I would be alone, sir!
Sir Wil. Young enough
To dandle still her doll!
W. Green. Sir William Fondlove!
Sir Wil. Dear Widow Green!
W. Green. I hate you, sir! Detest you! Never wish
To see you more! You have ruined me! Undone me!
A blighted life I wear, and all through you!
The fairest hopes that ever woman nourished,
You've cankered in the very blowing! bloom
And sweet destroyed, and nothing left me, but
The melancholy stem.
Sir Wil. And all about
A little slut I gave a rattle to! -
Would pester me for gingerbread and comfits! -
A little roguish feigning! A love-trick
I played to prove your love!
W. Green. Sir William Fondlove!
If of my own house you'll not suffer me
To be the mistress, I will leave it to you!
Sir Wil. Dear Widow Green! The ring -
W. Green. Confound the ring,
The donor of it, thee, and everything!
[Goes out.]
Sir Wil. She is over head and ears in love with me!
She's mad with love! There's love and all its signs!
She's jealous of me unto very death!
Poor Widow Green! I warrant she is now
In tears! I think I hear her sob! Poor thing!
Sir William! Oh, Sir William! You have raised
A furious tempest! Set your wits to work
To turn it to a calm. No question that
She loves me! None then that she'll take me! So
I'll have the marriage settlements made out
To-morrow, and a special licence got,
And marry her the next day! I will make
Quick work of it, and take her by surprise!
Who but a widower a widow's match?
What could she see with else but partial eyes
To guess me only forty? I'm a wonder!
What shall I pass for in my wedding suit?
I vow I am a puzzle to myself,
As well as all the world besides. Odd's life!
To win the heart of buxom Widow Green!
[Goes out.]
[WIDOW GREEN re-enters with LYDIA.]
W. Green. At last the dotard's gone! Fly, Lydia, fly,
This letter bear to Master Waller straight;
Quick, quick, or I'm undone! He is abused,
And I must undeceive him--own my love,
And heart and hand at his disposal lay.
Answer me not, my girl--obey me! Fly.
[Goes out.]
Lydia. Untowardly it falls!--I had resolved
This hour to tell her I must quit her service!
Go to his house! I will not disobey
Her last commands!--I'll leave it at the door,
And as it closes on me think I take
One more adieu of him! Hard destiny!
[Goes out.]
SCENE II.--A Room in Sir William's.
[Enter CONSTANCE.]
Con. The booby! He must fall in love, indeed!
And now he's naught but sentimental looks
And sentences, pronounced 'twixt breath and voice!
And attitudes of tender languishment!
Nor can I get from him the name of her
Hath turned him from a stock into a fool.
He hems and haws, now titters, now looks grave!
Begins to speak and halts! takes off his eyes
To fall in contemplation on a chair,
A table, or the ceiling, wall, or floor!
I'll plague him worse and worse! O, here he comes!
[Enter WILDRAKE.]
Wild. Despite her spiteful usage I'm resolved
To tell her now. Dear neighbour Constance!
Con. Fool!
Accost me like a lady, sir! I hate
The name of neighbour!
Wild. Mistress Constance, then -
I'll call thee that.
Con. Don't call me anything!
I hate to hear thee speak--to look at thee,
To dwell in the same house with thee!
Wild. In what
Have I offended?
Con. What!--I hate an ape!
Wild. An ape!
Con. Who bade thee ape the gentleman?
And put on dress that don't belong to thee?
Go! change thee with thy whipper-in or huntsman,
And none will doubt thou wearest thy own clothes.
Wild. A pretty pass! Mocked for the very dress
I bought to pleasure her! Untoward things
Are women! [Aside. Walks backwards and forwards.]
Con. Do you call that walking? Pray
What makes you twist your body so, and take
Such pains to turn your toes out? If you'd walk,
Walk thus! Walk like a man, as I do now!
[Walking]
Is yours the way a gentleman should walk?
You neither walk like man nor gentleman!
I'll show you how you walk. [Mimicking him.]
Do you call that walking?
Wild. My thanks, for a drill-sergeant twice a day
For her sake! [Aside.]
Con. Now, of all things in the world,
What made you dance last night?
Wild. What made me dance?
Con. Right! It was anything but dancing! Steps
That never came from dancing-school--nor English,
Nor Scotch, nor Irish! You must try to cut,
And how you did it! [Cuts.] That's the way to cut!
And then your chasse! Thus you went, and thus.
[Mimicking him.]
As though you had been playing at hop, step,
And jump!--and yet you looked so monstrous pleased,
And played the simpleton with such a grace,
Taking their tittering for compliment!
I could have boxed you soundly for't. Ten times
Denied I that I knew you.
Wild. Twenty guineas
Were better in the gutter thrown than gone
To fee a dancing-master! [Aside.]
Con. And you're grown
An amateur in music!--What fine air
Was that you praised last night?--"The Widow Jones!"
A country jig they turned into a song.
You asked "If it had come from Italy?"
The lady blushed and held her peace, and then
You blushed and said, "Perhaps it came from France!"
And then when blushed the lady more, nor spoke,
You said, "At least it came from Germany!"
The air was English!--a true English air;
A downright English air!--a common air;
Old as "When Good King Arthur." Not a square,
Court, alley, street, or lane about the town,
In which it is not whistled, played, or sung!
But you must have it come from Italy,
Or Germany, or France. Go home! Go home!
To Lincolnshire, and mind thy dog and horn!
You'll never do for town! "The Widow Jones"
To come from Italy! Stay not in town,
Or you'll be married to the Widow Jones,
Since you've forsworn, you say, the Widow Green!
And morn and night they'll din your ears with her!
"Well met, dear Master Wildrake. A fine day!
Pray, can you tell whence came the Widow Jones?"
They love a jest in town! To Lincolnshire!
You'll never do for town! To Lincolnshire;
"The Widow Jones" to come from Italy!
[Goes out.]
Wild. Confound the Widow Jones! 'Tis true! The air
Well as the huntsman's triple mort I know,
But knew not then indeed, 'twas so disguised
With shakes and flourishes, outlandish things,
That mar, not grace, an honest English song!
Howe'er, the mischief's done! and as for her,
She is either into hate or madness fallen.
If madness, would she had her wits again,
Or I my heart! If hate, my love's undone;
I'll give her up. I'll e'en to Master Trueworth,
Confess my treason--own my punishment -
Take horse, and back again to Lincolnshire!
[Goes out.]
Con. [Returning.] Not here! I trust I have not gone too far!
If he should quit the house! Go out of town!
Poor neighbour Wildrake! Little does he owe me!
From childhood I've been used to plague him thus.
Why would he fall in love, and spoil it all!
I feel as I could cry! He has no right
To marry any one! What wants he with
A wife? Has he not plague enough in me?
Would he be plagued with anybody else?
Ever since I have lived in town I have felt
The want of neighbour Wildrake! Not a soul
Besides I care to quarrel with; and now
He goes and gives himself to another! What!
Am I in love with neighbour Wildrake? No.
I only would not have him marry--marry?
Sooner I'd have him dead than have him marry!
ACT IV.
SCENE I.--A Room in Master Waller's House.
[Enter ALICE, hastily.]
Alice. [Speaking to the outside.] Fly, Stephen, to the door! your
rapier! quick! -
Our master is beset, because of one
Whose part he takes, a maid, whom lawless men
Would lawlessly entreat! In what a world
We live!--How do I shake!--with what address
[Looking out of window.]
He lays about him, and his other arm
Engaged, in charge of her whom he defends!
A damsel worth a broil!--Now, Stephen, now!
Take off the odds, brave lad, and turn the scale!
I would I were a swordsman! How he makes
His rapier fly!--Well done!--O Heaven, there's blood.
But on the side that's wrong!--Well done, good Stephen!
Pray Heaven no life be ta'en!--Lay on, brave lad!
He has marked his man again. Good lad--Well done,
I pray no mischief come!--Press on him, Stephen!
Now gives he ground.--Follow thy advantage up!
Allow no pause for breaths!--Hit him again!
Forbid it end in death!--Lounge home, good Stephen!
How fast he now retreats!--That spring, I'll swear,
Was answer to thy point!--Well fenced!--Well fenced!
Now Heaven forefend it end in death!--He flies!
And from his comrade, the same moment, hath
Our master jerked his sword--The day is ours!
Quick may they get a surgeon for their wounds,
And I, a cordial for my fluttered spirits:
I vow, I'm nigh to swoon!
Wal. [Without.] Hoa! Alice! Hoa!
Open the door! Quick, Alice! Quick!
Alice. Anon!
Young joints take no thought of aged ones,
But ever think them as supple as themselves.
Wal. Alice!
Alice. [Opening the door.] I'm here!--A mercy! -
Is she dead?
[Enter MASTER WALLER, bearing LYDIA, fainting.]
Wal. No, she but faints.--A chair!--Quick, Alice, quick!
Water to bathe her temples.
[ALICE goes out.]
Such a turn
Kind fortune never do me. Shall I kiss
To life these frozen lips?--No!--of her plight
'Twere base to take advantage.
[ALICE returns, &c.]
All is well,
The blood returns.
Alice. How wondrous fair she is!
Wal. Thou think'st her so?--No wonder then should I.
How say you?--Wondrous fair? [Aside.]
Alice. Yes; wondrous fair!
Harm never come to her! So sweet a thing
'Twere pity were abused!
Wal. You think her fair?
Alice. Ay, marry! Half so fair were more than match
For fairest she e'er saw mine eyes before!
And what a form! A foot and instep there!
Vouchers of symmetry! A little foot
And rising instep, from an ankle arching,
A palm, and that a little one, might span.
Wal. Who taught thee thus?
Alice. Why who, but her, taught thee?
Thy mother!--Heaven rest her!--Thy good mother!
She could read men and women by their hands
And feet!--And here's a hand!--A fairy palm!
Fingers that taper to the pinky tips,
With nails of rose, like shells of such a hue,
Berimmed with pearl, you pick up on the shore!
Save these the gloss and tint do wear without.
Wal. Why, how thou talk'st!
Alice. Did I not tell thee thus
Thy mother used to talk? Such hand and foot,
She would say, in man or woman vouched for nature
High tempered!--Still for sentiment refined;
Affection tender; apprehension quick -
Degrees beyond the generality!
There is a marriage finger! Curse the hand
Would balk it of a ring!
Wal. She's quite restored,
Leave us!--Why cast'st thou that uneasy look?
Why linger'st thou? I'm not alone with her.
My honour's with her too. I would not wrong her.
Alice. And if thou wouldst, thou'rt not thy mother's son.
[Goes out.]
Wal. You are better?
Lydia. Much!--much!
Wal. Know you him who durst
Attempt this violence in open day?
It seemed as he would force thee to his coach,
I saw attending.
Lydia. Take this letter, sir,
And send the answer--I must needs be gone.
Wal. [Throwing the letter away.] I read no letter!
Tell me, what of him
I saw offend thee?
Lydia. He hath often met me,
And by design I think, upon the street,
And tried to win mine ear, which ne'er he got
Save only by enforcement. Presents--gifts -
Of jewels and of gold to wild amount,
To win an audience, hath he proffered me;
Until, methought, my silence--for my lips
Disdained reply were question was a wrong -
Had wearied him. Oh, sir, whate'er of life
Remains to me I had foregone, ere proved
The horror of this hour!--and you it is
That have protected me?
Wal. Oh, speak not on't!
Lydia. You that have saved me from mine enemy -
Wal. I pray you to forget it.
Lydia. From a foe
More dire than he that putteth life in peril -
Wal. Sweet Lydia, I beseech you spare me.
Lydia. No!
I will not spare you.--You have brought me to safety,
You whom I fear worse than that baleful foe.
[Rises to go.]
Wal. [Kneeling and snatching her hand.] Lydia!
Lydia. Now, make thy bounty perfect. Drop
My hand. That posture which dishonours thee,
Quit!--for 'tis shame on shame to show respect
Where we do feel disdain. Throw ope thy gate
And let me pass, and never seek with me,
By look, or speech, or aught, communion more!
Wal. Thou saidst thou lovedst me?
Lydia. Yes! when I believed
My tongue did take of thee its last adieu,
And now that I do know it--for be sure
It never bids adieu to thee again -
Again, I tell it thee! Release me, sir!
Rise!--and no hindrance to my will oppose.
That would be free to go.
Wal. I cannot lose thee!
Lydia. Thou canst not have me!
Wal. No!
Lydia. Thou canst not. I
Repeat it.--Yet I'm thine--thine every way,
Except where honour fences!--Honour, sir,
Not property of gentle blood alone;
Of gentle blood not always property!
Thou'lt not obey me. Still enforcest me!
Oh, what a contradiction is a man!
What in another he one moment spurns,
The next--he does himself complacently!
Wal. Wouldst have me lose the hand that holds my life?
Lydia. Hear me and keep it, if thou art a man!
I love thee--for thy benefit would give
The labour of that hand!--wear out my feet
Rack the invention of my mind!--the powers
Of my heart in one volition gather up!
My life expend, and think no more I gave
Than he who wins a priceless gem for thanks!
For such goodwill canst thou return me wrong?
Wal. Yet, for awhile, I cannot let thee go.
Propound for me an oath that I'll not wrong thee!
An oath, which, if I break it, will entail
Forfeit of earth and heaven. I'll take it--so
Thou stay'st one hour with me.
Lydia. No!--Not one moment!
Unhand me, or I shriek!--I know the summons
Will pierce into the street, and set me free!
I stand in peril while I'm near thee! She
Who knows her danger, and delays escape,
Hath but herself to thank, whate'er befalls!
Sir, I may have a woman's weakness, but
I have a woman's resolution, too,
And that's a woman's strength!
One moment more! -
Wal. Lo! Thou art free to go!
[Rises and throws himself distractedly into a chair.]
[LYDIA approaches the door--her pace slackens--she pauses with her
hand upon the lock--turns, and looks earnestly on WALLER.]
Lydia. I have a word
To say to thee; if by thy mother's honour,
Thou swear'st to me thou wilt not quit thy seat.
Wal. I swear as thou propound'st to me.
Lydia. [After a pause, bursting into tears.] Oh, why -
Why have you used me thus? See what you've done!
Essayed to light a guilty passion up,
And kindled in its stead a holy one!
For I do love thee! Know'st thou not the wish
To find desert doth bring it oft to sight
Where yet it is not? so, for substance, passes
What only is a phantasm of our minds!
I feared thy love was guilty--yet my wish
To find it honest, stronger than my fear,
My fear with fatal triumph overthrew!
Now hope and fear give up to certainty,
And I must fly thee--yet must love thee still!
Wal. Lydia! by all -
Lydia. I pray you hear me out!
Was 't right? was 't generous? was 't pitiful?
One way or other I might be undone:
To love with sin--or love without a hope!
Wal. Yet hear me, Lydia! -
Lydia. Stop! I'm undone!
A maid without a heart--robbed of the soil,
Wherein life's hopes and wishes root and spring,
And thou the foe that did me so much hate,
And vowed me so much love!--but I forgive thee!
Yea, I do bless thee!
[Rushing up and sinking at his feet.]
Recollect thy oath! -
Or in thy heart lodged never germ of honour,
But 'tis a desert all!
[She kisses his hand--presses it to her heart, and kisses it again.]
Farewell then to thee!
[Rises.]
Mayst thou be happy. [Going.]
Wal. Wouldst ensure the thing
Thou wishest?
[She moves towards the door with a gesture that prohibits further
converse.]
Stop! [She continues to move on.]
Oh, sternly resolute! [She still moves.]
I mean thee honour!
[She stops and turns towards him.]
Thou dost meditate -
I know it--flight. Give me some pause for thought,
But to confirm a mind almost made up.
If in an hour thou hearest not from me, then
Think me a friend far better lost than won!
Wilt thou do this?
Lydia. I will.
Wal. An hour decides.
[They go out severalty.]
SCENE II.--A Room in Sir William Fondlove's House.
[Enter WILDRAKE and TRUEWORTH.]
Wild. You are not angry?
True. No; I knew the service
I sent you on was one of danger.
Wild. Thank you.
Most kind you are--And you believe she loves me:
And your own hopes give up to favour mine.
Was ever known such kindness! Much I fear
'Twill cost you.
True. Never mind! I'll try and bear it.
Wild. That's right. No use in yielding to a thing.
Resolve does wonders! Shun the sight of her -
See other women!--Fifty to be found
As fair as she.
True. I doubt it.
Wild. Doubt it not.
Doubt nothing that gives promise of a care.
Right handsome dames there are in Lancashire,
Whence called their women, witches!--witching things!
I know a dozen families in which
You'd meet a courtesy worthy of a bow.
I'll give you letters to them.
True. Will you?
Wild. Yes.
True. The worth of a disinterested friend!
Wild. O Master Trueworth, deeply I'm your debtor
I own I die for love of neighbour Constance!
And thou to give her up for me! Kind friend!
What won't I do for thee?--Don't pine to death;
I'll find thee fifty ways to cure thy passion,
And make thee heart-whole, if thou'rt so resolved.
Thou shalt be master of my sporting stud,
And go a hunting. If that likes thee not,
Take up thy quarters at my shooting-lodge;
There is a cellar to 't--make free with it.
I'll thank thee if thou emptiest it. The song
Gives out that wine feeds love--It drowns it, man!
If thou wilt neither hunt nor shoot, try games;
Play at loggats, bowls, fives, dominoes, draughts, cribbage,
Backgammon--special recipes for love!
And you believe, for all the hate she shows,
That neighbour Constance loves me?
True. 'Tis my thought.
Wild. How shall I find it out?
True. Affect to love
Another. Say your passion thrives; the day
Is fixed; and pray her undertake the part
Of bridemaid to your bride. 'Twill bring her out.
Wild. You think she'll own her passion?
True. If she loves.
Wild. I thank thee! I will try it! Master Trueworth,
What shall I say to thee, to give her up,
And love her so?
True. Say nothing.
Wild. Noble friend!
Kind friend! Instruct another man the way
To win thy mistress! Thou'lt not break my heart?
Take my advice, thou shalt not be in love
A month! Frequent the playhouse!--walk the Park!
I'll think of fifty ladies that I know,
Yet can't remember now--enchanting ones!
And then there's Lancashire!--and I have friends
In Berkshire and in Wiltshire, that have swarms
Of daughters! Then my shooting-lodge and stud!
I'll cure thee in a fortnight of thy love!
And now to neighbour Constance--yet almost
I fear accosting her--a hundred times
Have I essayed to break my mind to her,
But still she stops my mouth with restless scorn!
Howe'er, thy scheme I'll try, and may it thrive!
For I am sick for love of neighbour Constance.
Farewell, dear Master Trueworth! Take my counsel -
Conquer thy passion! Do so! Be a man!
[Goes out.]
True. Feat easy done that does not tax ourselves!
[Enter Phoebe.]
Phoebe. A letter, sir.
[Goes out.]
True. Good sooth, a roaming one,
And yet slow traveller. This should have reached me
In Lombardy.--The hand! Give way, weak seal,
Thy feeble let too strong for my impatience!
Ha! Wronged!--Let me contain myself!--Compelled
To fly the roof that gave her birth!--My sister!
No partner in her flight but her pure honour!
I am again a brother. Pillow, board,
I know not till I find her.
[Enter WALLER.]
Wal. Master Trueworth!
True. Ha! Master Waller! Welcome, Master Waller.
Wal. Good Master Trueworth, thank you. Finding you
From home, I e'en made bold to follow you,
For I esteem you as a man, and fain
Would benefit by your kind offices.
But let me tell you first, to your reproof,
I am indebted more than e'er I was
To praise of any other! I am come, sir,
To give you evidence I am not one
Who owns advice is right, and acts not on't.
True. Pray you explain.
Wal. Will you the bearer be
Of this to one has cause to thank you, too,
Though I the larger debtor?--Read it, sir.
True. [Reading the letter.] "At morn to-morrow I will make you
mine;
Will you accept from me the name of wife -
The name of husband give me in exchange?"
Wal. How say you, sir?
True. 'Tis boldly--nobly done!
Wal. If she consents--which affectation 'twere
To say I doubt--bid her prepare for church,
And you shall act the father, sir, to her
You did the brother by.
True. Right willingly,
Though matter of high moment I defer,
Mind, heart, and soul, are all enlisted in!
Wal. May I implore you, haste! A time is set! -
How light an act of duty makes the heart!
[They go out together.]
SCENE III.--Another Chamber in Sir William's house.
[CONSTANCE discovered.]
Con. I'll pine to death for no man! Wise it were,
Indeed, to die for neighbour Wildrake--No! -
I know the duty of a woman, better -
What fits a maid of spirit! I am out
Of patience with myself, to cast a thought
Away upon him. Hang him! Lovers cost
Nought but the pains of luring. I'll get fifty,
And break the heart of every one of them!
I will! I'll be the champion of my sex,
And take revenge on shallow, fickle man,
Who gives his heart to fools, and slights the worth
Of proper women! I suppose she's handsome!
My face 'gainst hers, at hazard of mine eyes!
A maid of mind! I'll talk her to a stand,
Or tie my tongue for life! A maid of soul!
An artful, managing, dissembling one!
Or she had never caught. Him!--he's no man
To fall in love himself, or long ago
I warrant he had fall'n in love with me!
I hate the fool--I do! Ha, here he comes.
What brings him hither? Let me dry my eyes;
He must not see I have been crying. Hang him,
I have much to do, indeed, to cry for him!
[Enter WILDRAKE]
Wild. Your servant, neighbour Constance.
Con. Servant, sir!
Now what, I wonder, comes the fool to say,
Makes him look so important?
Wild. Neighbour Constance,
I am a happy man.
Con. What makes you so?
Wild. A thriving suit.
Con. In Chancery?
Wild. Oh, no!
In love.
Con. Oh, true! You are in love! Go on!