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 n.o.ble. 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 s.p.a.ce, 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 turned you, madam.

_Con_. [Curtseying.] Sir, you're good!

And then the hounds, sir! Nothing I admire Beyond the running of the well-trained 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 cautions, 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 hors.e.m.e.n vie, All earth's astir, roused with the revelry 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 gla.s.s--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 coupe; No music like the violin and harp, To which the huntsman's dog and horn I find Are somewhat coa.r.s.e 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.