The Love-chase Part 9

_W. Green_. What! Master Waller, and contemplative Presumptive proof of love! Of me he thinks!

Revolves the point "to be or not to be!"

"To be!" by all the triumphs of my s.e.x!

There was a sigh! My life upon't, that sigh, If construed, would translate "Dear Widow Green!"

_Wal_. Enchanting woman!

_W. Green_. That is I!--most deep Abstraction, sure concomitant of love.

Now, could I see his busy fancy's painting, How should I blush to gaze upon myself.

_Wal_. The matchless form of woman! The choice calling Of the aspiring artist, whose ambition Robs Nature to outdo her--the perfections Of her rare various workmans.h.i.+p combines To aggrandise his art at Nature's cost, And make a paragon!

_W. Green_. G.o.ds! how he draws me!

Soon as he sees me, at my feet he falls!-- Good Master Waller!

_Wal_. Ha! The Widow Green!

_W. Green_. He is confounded! So am I. O dear!

How catching is emotion. He can't speak!

O beautiful confusion! Amiable Excess of modesty with pa.s.sion struggling!

Now comes he to declare himself, but wants The courage. I must help him.--Master Waller!

[Enter SIR WILLIAM FONDLOVE.]

_Sir Wil_. Dear Widow Green!

_W. Green_. Sir William Fondlove!

_Wal_. Thank My lucky stars! [Aside.]

_W. Green_. I would he had the gout, And kept his room! [Aside.]--You're welcome, dear Sir William!

'Tis very, very kind of you to call.

Sir William Fondlove--Master Waller. Pray Be seated, gentlemen.--He shall requite me For his untimely visit. Though the nail Be driven home, it may want clinching yet To make the hold complete! For that, I'll use him.--[Aside.]

You're looking monstrous well, Sir William! and No wonder. You're a mine of happy spirits!

Some women talk of such and such a style Of features in a man. Give me good humour; That lights the homeliest visage up with beauty, And makes the face, where beauty is already, Quite irresistible!

_Sir Wil_. That's. .h.i.tting hard. [Aside.]

Dear Widow Green, don't say so! On my life You flatter me. You almost make me blush.

_W. Green_. I durst not turn to Master Waller now, Nor need I. I can fancy how he looks!

I warrant me he scowls on poor Sir William, As he could eat him up. I must improve His discontent, and so make sure of him.--[Aside.]

I flatter you, Sir William! O, you men!

You men, that talk so meek, and all the while Do know so well your power! Who would think You had a marriageable daughter! You Did marry very young.

_Sir Wil_. A boy!--a boy!

Who knew not his own mind.

_W. Green_. Your daughter's twenty.

Come, you at least were twenty when you married; That makes you forty.

_Sir Wil_. O dear! Widow Green.

_W. Green_. Not forty?

_Sir Wil_. You do quite embarra.s.s me!

I own I have the feelings of a boy, The freshness and the glow of spring-time, yet,-- The relish yet for my young schooldays' sports; Could whip a top--could shoot at taw--could play At prison-bars and leapfrog--so I might-- Not with a limb, perhaps, as supple, but With quite as supple will. Yet I confess To more than forty!

_W. Green_. Do you say so? Well, I'll never guess a man's age by his looks Again.--Poor Master Waller! He must writhe To hear I think Sir William is so young.

I'll turn his visit yet to more account.--[Aside.]

A handsome ring, Sir William, that you wear!

_Sir Wil_. Pray look at it.

_W. Green_. The mention of a ring Will take away his breath.

_Wal_. She must be mine Whate'er her terms! [Aside.]

_W. Green_. I'll steal a look at him!

_Wal_. What! though it be the ring?--the marriage ring?

If that she sticks at, she deserves to wear it Oh, the debate which love and prudence hold! [Aside.]

_W. Green_. How highly he is wrought upon! His hands Are clenched!--I warrant me his frame doth shake!

Poor Master Waller! I have filled his heart Brimful with pa.s.sion for me. The delight Of proving thus my power!

_Sir Wil_. Dear Widow Green!-- She hears not! How the ring hath set her thinking!

I'll try and make her jealous. [Aside.]--Widow Green!

_W. Green_. Sir William Fondlove!

_Sir Wil_. Would you think that ring Could tell a story?

_W. Green_. Could it? Ah, Sir William, I fear you are a rogue.

_Sir Wil_. O no!

_W. Green_. You are!

_Sir Wil_. No, on my honour! Would you like to hear The story of the ring?

_W. Green_. Much--very much.

_Sir Wil_. Think'st we may venture draw our chairs apart A little more from Master Waller?

_W. Green_. Yes.

He'll bring it to a scene! Dear--dear Sir William, How much I am obliged to him! A scene!

G.o.ds, we shall have a scene!--Good Master Waller, Your leave I pray you for a minute, while Sir William says a word or two to me.-- He durst not trust his tongue for jealousy!--[Aside.]

Now, dear Sir William!

_Sir Wil_. You must promise me You will not think me vain.