[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 ******ton 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 ******* 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!
