SCENE FROM "THE LOVE CHASE."

BY JAMES SHEridan Knowle3.

CONSTANCE. WILDRAKE.

Constance. 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

Lovers cost

Of patience with myself, to cast a thought
Away upon him. Hang him!
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. O no!

In love.

Con. O, true! You are in love! Go on! Wild. Well, as I said, my suit's a thriving one. Con. You mean you are beloved again!-I don't Believe it.

Wild. I can give you proof.

Con. What proof?

Love-letters? She's a shameless maid

To write them! Can she spell? Ay, I suppose, With prompting of a dictionary!

Wild. Nay,

Without one.

Con. I will lay you ten to one

She cannot spell! How know you she can spell? You cannot spell yourself! You write command With a single M-C-O-M-A-N-D: Yours to Co-mand.

Wild. I did not say she wrote Love-letters to me.

Con. Then she suffers you to press Her hand, perhaps?

Wild. She does.

Con. Does she press yours?

Wild. She does.-It goes on swimmingly! [Aside.

Con. She does!

She is no modest woman! I'll be bound,

Your arm the madam suffers round her waist ?

Wild. She does!

Con. She does! Outrageous forwardness! Does she let you kiss her?

Wild. Yes.

Con. She should be

Wild. What?

Con. What you got thrice your share of when at school,

And yet not half your due! A brazen face!

More could not grant a maid about to wed.

Wild. She is so.

Con. What.

Wild. How swimmingly it goes!

[Aside.

Con. [With suppressed impatience.] Are you about

to marry, neighbour Wildrake?

Are you about to marry?

Wild. Excellent.

[Aside.

Con. [Breaking out.] Why don't you answer me?

Wild. I am.

Con. You are—

I tell you what, sir-You're a fool!

Wild. For what?

Con. You are not fit to marry. Do not know Enough of the world, sir! Have no more experience, Thought, judgment, than a schoolboy! Have no mind Of your own!-Your wife will make a fool of you,

Will jilt you, break your heart! I wish she may,
I do! You have no more business with a wife
Than I have! Do you mean to say, indeed,
You are about to marry?

Wild. Yes, indeed.

Con. And when?

Wild. I'll say to-morrow!

Con. When, I say?

Wild. To-morrow.

Con. Thank you! much beholden to you! You've told me on 't in time! I'm very much Beholden to you, neighbour Wildrake! And, pray you, at what hour?

I

Wild. That we have left

For you to name.

Con. For me!

Wild. For you.

Con. Indeed!

You're very bountiful! I should not wonder
Meant you I should be bridemaid to the lady!
Wiid. 'T is just the thing I mean!

[Aside.

Con. [Furiously.] The thing you mean!
Now pray you, neighbour, tell me that again,
And think before you speak; for much I doubt
You know what you are saying. Do you mean
To ask me to be bridemaid?

Wild. Even so.

Con. Bridemaid?

Wild. Ay, Bridemaid!—It is coming fast Unto a head.

Con. And 't is for me you wait

To fix the day? It shall be doomsday, then!

[Aside.

Wild. Be doomsday?

Con. Doomsday!

Wild. Wherefore doomsday?

Con. Wherefore!

[Boxes him.

Go ask your bride, and give her that for me.

Look, neighbour Wildrake! you may think this

strange,

But don't misconstrue it! For you are vain, sir!
And may put down, for love, what comes from hate.
I should not wonder, thought you I was jealous;
But I'm not jealous, sir !—would scorn to be so
Where it was worth my while-I pray henceforth
We may be strangers, sir!—you will oblige me
By going out of town. I should not like
To meet you on the street, sir. Marry, sir!
Marry to-day! The sooner, sir, the better!
And may you find you have made a bargain, sir.
As for the lady !-much I wish her joy.

I pray you send no bride-cake, sir, to me!

Nor gloves-If you do, I'll give them to my maid! Or throw them into the kennel-or the fire.

I am your most obedient servant, sir!

Wild. She is a riddle, solve her he who can!

Con. He loves another; he does;

I hate him! We were children, together,

For fifteen years and more; there never came
The day we did not quarrel, make it up,

Quarrel again, and make it up again:

Were never neighbours more like neighbours.
Since he became a man, and I a woman,