He must be false. What madness tempted me To trust him with such audience as I knew Must sense, and mind, and soul of man entrance, And leave him but the power to feel its spell!
Of his own lesson he would profit take, And plead at once an honourable love, Supplanting mine, less pure, reformed too late!
And if he did, what merit I, except To lose the maid I would have wrongly won;And, had I rightly prized her, now had worn!
I get but my deservings!
[Enter TRUEWORTH, leading in LYDIA, richly dressed, and veiled front head to foot.]
Master Trueworth, Though for thy treachery thou hast excuse, Thou must account for it; so much I lose!
Sir, you have wronged me to amount beyond Acres, and gold, and life, which makes them rich.
And compensation I demand of you, Such as a man expects, and none but one That's less than man refuses! Where's the maid You falsely did abstract?
True. I took her hence, But not by guile, nor yet enforcement, sir;But of her free will, knowing what she did.
That, as I found, I cannot give her back, I own her state is changed, but in her place This maid I offer you, her image far As feature, form, complexion, nature go!
Resemblance halting, only there, where thou Thyself didst pause, condition, for this maid Is gently born and generously bred.
Lo! for your fair loss, fair equivalent!
Wal. Show me another sun, another earth I can inherit, as this Sun and Earth;As thou didst take the maid, the maid herself Give back! herself, her sole equivalent!
True. Her sole equivalent I offer you!
My sister, sir, long counted lost, now found, Who fled her home unwelcome bands to 'scape, Which a half-father would have forced upon her, Taking advantage of her brother's absence Away on travel in a distant land!
Returned, I missed her; of the cause received Invention, coward, false and criminating!
And gave her up for lost; but happily Did find her yesterday--Behold her, sir!
[Removes veil.]
Wal. Lydia!
W. Green. My waiting-maid!
Wal. Thy sister, Trueworth!
Art thou fit brother to this virtuous maid?
True. [Giving LYDIA to WALLER.] Let this assure thee.
Lydia. [To WIDOW GREEN.] Madam, pardon me My double character, for honesty, No other end assumed--and my concealment Of Master Waller's love. In all things else I trust I may believe you hold me blameless;At least, I'll say for you, I should be so, For it was pastime, madam, not a task, To wait upon you! Little you exacted, And ever made the most of what I did In mere obedience to you!
W. Green. Give me your hand, No love without a little roguery.
If you do play the mistress well as maid, You will hear off the bell! There never was A better girl!--I have made myself a fool.
I am undone, if goes the news abroad.
My wedding dress I donned for no effect Except to put it off! I must be married.
I'm a lost woman, if another day I go without a husband!--What a sight He looks by Master Waller!--Yet he is physic I die without, so needs must gulp it down.
I'll swallow him with what good grace I can, Sir William Fondlove!
Sir Wil. Widow Green!
W. Green. I own I have been rude to you. Thou dost not look So old by thirty, forty, years as IDid say. Thou'rt far from ugly--very far!
And as I said, Sir William, once before, Thou art a kind and right good-humoured man:
I was but angry with you! Why, I'll tell you At more convenient season--and you know An angry woman heeds not what she says, And will say anything!
Sir Wil. I were unworthy The name of man, if an apology So gracious came off profitless, and from A lady! Will you take me, Widow Green?
W. Green. Hem! [Curtsies.]
True. [To WILDRAKE.] Master Wildrake dressed to go to church!
She has acknowledged, then, she loves thee?--No?
Give me thy hand, I'll lead thee up to her.
Wild. 'Sdeath! what are you about? You know her not.
She'll brain thee!
True. Fear not: come along with me.
Fair Mistress Constance!
Con. Well, sir!
Wild. [To TRUEWORTH.] Mind!
True. Don't fear.
Love you not neighbour Wildrake?
Con. Love, sir?
True. Yes, You do.
Con. He loves another, sir, he does!
I hate him. We were children, sir, 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, sir.
Since he became a man, and I a woman, It still has been the same; nor eared I ever To give a frown to any other, sir.
And now to come and tell me he's in love, And ask me to be bridemaid to his bride!
How durst he do it, sir!--To fall in love!
Methinks at least he might have asked my leave, Nor had I wondered had he asked myself, sir!
Wild. Then give thyself to me!
Con. How! what!
Wild. Be mine, Thou art the only maid thy neighbour loves.
Con. Art serious, neighbour Wildrake?
Wild. In the church I'll answer thee, if thou wilt take me; though I neither dress, nor walk, nor dance, nor know "The Widow Jones" from an Italian, French, Or German air.
Con. No more of that.--My hand.
Wild. Givest it as free as thou didst yesterday?
Con. [Affecting to strike him.] Nay!
Wild. I will thank it, give it how thou wilt.
W. Green. A triple wedding! May the Widow Green Obtain brief hearing e'er she quits the scene, The Love-Chase to your kindness to commend In favour of an old, now absent, friend!
