Part 3 (1/2)

_Con_. Whipper-in and huntsman?

_Sir Wil_. Converse of things thou knowest to talk about!

_Con_. And keep him silent, father, when I know He cannot talk of any other things?

How does thy hunter? What a sorry trick He played thee t'other day, to balk his leap And throw thee, neighbour! Did he balk the leap?

Confess! You sportsmen never are to blame!

Say you are fowlers, 'tis your dog's in fault!

Say you are anglers, 'tis your tackle's wrong; Say you are hunters, why the honest horse That bears your weight, must bear your blunders too!

Why, whither go you?

_Wild_. Anywhere from thee.

_Con_. With me you mean.

_Wild_. I mean it not.

_Con_. You do!

I'll give you fifty reasons for't--and first, Where you go, neighbour, I'll go!

[They go out--WILDRAKE, pettishly--CONSTANCE laughing.]

_Sir Wil_. Do you mark?

Much love is there!

_True_. Indeed, a heap, or none!

I'd wager on the heap!

_Sir Wil_. Ay!--Do you think These discords, as in the musicians' art, Are subtle servitors to harmony?

That all this war's for peace? This wrangling but A masquerade where love his roguish face Conceals beneath an ugly visor!--Well?

_True_. Your guess and my conceit are not a mile Apart. Unlike to other common flowers, The flower of love shews various in the bud; 'Twill look a thistle, and 'twill blow a rose!

And with your leave I'll put it to the test; Affect myself, for thy fair daughter, love-- Make him my confidant--dilate to him Upon the graces of her heart and mind, Feature and form--that well may comment bear-- Till--like the practised connoisseur, who finds A gem of heart out in a household picture The unskilled owner held so cheap he grudged Renewal of the chipped and tarnished frame, But values now as priceless--I arouse him Into a quick sense of the worth of that Whose merit hitherto, from lack of skill, Or dulling habit of acquaintances.h.i.+p, He has not been awake to.

_Con_. [Without.] Neighbour Wildrake!

_Sir Wil_. Hither they come. I fancy well thy game!

O to be free to marry Widow Green!

I'll call her hence anon--then ply him well.

[SIR WILLIAM goes out.]

_Wild_. [Without.] Nay, neighbour Constance!

_True_. He is high in storm.

[Enter WILDRAKE and CONSTANCE.]

_Wild_. To Lincolns.h.i.+re, I tell thee.