James Sheridan Knowles

“ In love with neighbour Constance!—I feel strange
At thought that she should marry!— [Aside.] Go to church
With neighbour Constance! That’s a steeple-chase
I never thought of. I feel very strange!
What seest in neighbour Constance?
True. Lovers’ eyes
See with a vision proper to themselves;
Yet thousand eyes will vouch what mine affirm.
First, then, I see in her the mould express
Of woman—stature, feature, body, limb—
Breathing the gentle sex we value most,
When most ’tis at antipodes with ours!
Wild. You mean that neighbour Constance is a woman.
Why, yes; she is a woman, certainly. ”

“ Casements with such festoons, such prospects, Helen,
As these fair vistas have? Your kings and queens!
See me a May-day queen, and talk of them!
Helen. Extremes are ever neighbours. ’Tis a step
From one to the other! Were thy constancy
A reasonable thing—a little less
Of constancy—a woman’s constancy—
I should not wonder wert thou ten years hence
The maid I know thee now; but, as it is,
The odds are ten to one, that this day year
Will see our May-day queen a city one!
Julia. Never! I’m wedded to a country life:
O, did you hear what Master Walter says! ”

“ From end to end, from cliff to lake 'twas free-
Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,
And plough our valleys, without asking leave:
Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snow,
In very presence of the regal sun,
How happy was it then! I loved
Its very storms. ”

“ Lydia. Is marriage part of love?
Wal. At times it is,
At times is not. Men love and marry—love
And marry not.
Lydia. Then have they not the power;
So must they hapless part with those they love.
Wal. Oh, no! not part! How could they love and part?
Lydia. How could they love not part, not free to wed?
Wal. Alone in marriage doth not union lie!
Lydia. Alone where hands are free! O yes—alone!
Love that is love, bestoweth all it can!
It is protection, if ’tis anything,
Which nothing in its object leaves exposed
Its care can shelter. ”

“ Thy lesson now—Sir William Fondlove’s rich,
And riches, though they’re paste, yet being many,
The jewel love we often cast away for.
I use him but for Master Waller’s sake.
Dost like my policy?
Lydia. You will not chide me?
W. Green. Nay, Lydia, I do like to hear thy thoughts,
They are such novel things—plants that do thrive
With country air! I marvel still they flower,
And thou so long in town! Speak freely, girl!
Lydia. I cannot think love thrives by artifice,
Or can disguise its mood, and show its face. ”

“ Who covets thee may wear thee;—I’m not he!
Julia. And then my title! Soon as I put on
The ring, I’m Lady Clifford. So I take
Precedence of plain mistress, were she e’en
The richest heiress in the land! At town
Or country ball, you’ll see me take the lead,
While wives that carry on their backs the wealth
To dower a princess, shall give place to me;—
Will I not profit, think you, by my right?
Be sure I will! marriage shall prove to me
A never-ending pageant. Every day
Shall show how I am spoused! ”

“ O Master Trueworth, deeply I’m your debtor!
I own I die for love of neighbour Constance!
And thou to give her up for me! Kind friend!
What won’t I do for thee?—Don’t pine to death;
I’ll find thee fifty ways to cure thy passion,
And make thee heart-whole, if thou’rt so resolved.
Thou shalt be master of my sporting stud,
And go a hunting. If that likes thee not,
Take up thy quarters at my shooting-lodge;
There is a cellar to ’t—make free with it.
I’ll thank thee if thou emptiest it. The song
Gives out that wine feeds love—It drowns it, man! ”

“ It brings us to a dungeon, then.
Julia. The page,
The thrall of love, more than the dungeon’s thrall,
Is there?
Wal. He is. He lies in fetters.
Julia. Hard!
Hard as the steel, the hands that put them on.
Wal. Some one unrivets them!
Julia. The princess? ’Tis!
Wal. It is another page.
Julia. It is herself!
Wal. Her skin is fair; and his is berry-brown.
His locks are raven black; and hers are gold.
Julia. Love’s cunning of disguises! spite of locks,
Skin, vesture,—it is she, and only she
What will not constant woman do for love
That’s loved with constancy! ”

“ Helen. I’ll ne’er wed man, if not my cousin Modus.
Mod. Nor woman I, save cousin Helen’s she.
Wal. [To Master Heartwell.] A daughter, have you, and a nephew, too,
Without their match in duty! Let them marry.
For you, sir, who to-day have lost an earldom,
Yet would have shared that earldom with my child—
My only one—content yourself with prospect
Of the succession; it must fall to you,
And fit yourself to grace it. Ape not those
Who rank by pride. The man of simplest bearing
Is yet a lord, when he’s a lord indeed!
Tin. The paradox is obsolete. Ne’er heed! ”

“ ACT II. SCENE I.—A Room in Sir William’s House.
[Enter Trueworth and Wildrake.]
Wild. Nay, Master Trueworth, I must needs be gone!
She treats me worse and worse! I am a stock,
That words have none to pay her. For her sake
I quit the town to-day. I like a jest,
But hers are jests past bearing. I am her butt,
She nothing does but practise on! A plague!—
Fly her shafts ever your way?
True. Would they did!
Wild. Art mad?—or wishest she should drive thee so?
True. Thou knowest her not.
Wild. I know not neighbour Constance? ”

“ I’d talk to thee.
Julia. You’d tire of that!
Clif. I’d read to thee.
Julia. And that!
Clif. I’d talk to thee again.
Julia. And sooner tire
Than first you did, and fall asleep at last.
You’d never do to lead a country life.
Clif. You deal too harshly with me! Matchless maid,
As loved instructor brightens dullest wit,
Fear not to undertake the charge of me!
A willing pupil kneels to thee, and lays
His title and his fortune at your feet.
Julia. His title and his fortune!
[Enter Master Walter and Helen.—Julia, disconcerted, retires with the latter.—Clifford rises.]
Wal. So, Sir Thomas! ”

“ Gain for a maid,
A broken heart!—to barter her young love,
And find she changed it for a counterfeit!
Wal. If there is truth in man, I love thee! Hear me!
In wedlock, families claim property.
Old notions, which we needs must humour often,
Bar us to wed where we are forced to love!
Thou hear’st?
Lydia. I do.
Wal. My family is proud;
Our ancestor, whose arms we bear, did win
An earldom by his deeds. ’Tis not enough
I please myself! I must please others, who
Desert in wealth and station only see.
Thou hear’st?
Lydia. I do.
Wal. I cannot marry thee,
And must I lose thee? ”

“ Helen. And so was I, and know as much the cause.
[Enter Master Walter, with parchments.]
Wal. Joy, my Julia!
Impatient love has foresight! Lo you here
The marriage deeds filled up, except a blank
To write your jointure. What you will, my girl!
Is this a lover? Look! Three thousand pounds
Per annum for your private charges! Ha!
There’s pin-money! Is this a lover? Mark
What acres, forests, tenements, are taxed
For your revenue; and so set apart,
That finger cannot touch them, save thine own.
Is this a lover? What good fortune’s thine!
Thou dost not speak; but, ’tis the way with joy! ”

“ Play at loggats, bowls, fives, dominoes, draughts, cribbage,
Backgammon—special recipes for love!
And you believe, for all the hate she shows,
That neighbour Constance loves me?
True. ’Tis my thought.
Wild. How shall I find it out?
True. Affect to love
Another. Say your passion thrives; the day
Is fixed; and pray her undertake the part
Of bridemaid to your bride. ’Twill bring her out.
Wild. You think she’ll own her passion?
True. If she loves.
Wild. I thank thee! I will try it! Master Trueworth,
What shall I say to thee, to give her up,
And love her so? ”

“ Helen. You are a valiant man, Fathom.
Fath. Am not I? Walks not the earth the man I am afraid of.
Helen. Fear you not Master Walter?
Fath. No.
Helen. You do!
Fath. I don’t!
Helen. I’ll prove it to you. You see him breaking your young mistress’s heart, and have not the manhood to stand by her.
Fath. What could I do for her?
Helen. Let her out of prison. It were the act of a man.
Fath. That man am I!
Helen. Well said, brave Fathom!
Fath. But my place!
Helen. I’ll provide thee with a better one.
Fath. ’Tis a capital place! So little to do, and so much to get for’t. Six pounds in the year ”

“ SCENE III.—Another Chamber in Sir William’s house.
[Constance discovered.]
Con. 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
Of patience with myself, to cast a thought
Away upon him. Hang him! Lovers cost
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! ”

“ Nay, neighbour Constance!
True. He is high in storm.
[Enter Wildrake and Constance.]
Wild. To Lincolnshire, I tell thee.
Con. Lincolnshire!
What, prithee, takes thee off to Lincolnshire?
Wild. Too great delight in thy fair company.
True. Nay, Master Wildrake, why away so soon?
You are scarce a day in town!—Extremes like this,
And starts of purpose, are the signs of love.
Though immatured as yet. [Aside.]
Con. He’s long enough
In town! What should he here? He’s lost in town:
No man is he for concerts, balls, or routs!
No game he knows at cards, save rare Pope Joan! ”

“ Hark ye! were you a gentleman, Master Thomas,—for then you know you would be a different kind of man,—how many times would you have your coat altered?
Thos. Why, Master Fathom, as many times as it would take to make it fit me.
Fath. Good! But, supposing it fitted thee at the first?
Thos. Then would I have it altered not at all.
Fath. Good! Thou wouldst be a reasonable gentleman. Thou wouldst have a conscience. Now hark to a tale about my lady’s last gown. How many times, think you, took I it back to the sempstress? ”

“ ACT III. SCENE I.—A Room in Widow Green’s.
[Enter Master Waller, following Lydia.]
Wal. But thou shalt hear me, gentle Lydia.
Sweet maiden, thou art frightened at thyself!
Thy own perfections ’tis that talk to thee.
Thy beauty rich!—thy richer grace!—thy mind,
More rich again than that, though richest each!
Except for these, I had no tongue for thee,
Eyes for thee!—ears!—had never followed thee!—
Had never loved thee, Lydia! Hear me!—
Lydia. Love
Should seek its match. No match am I for thee.
Wal. Right! Love should seek its match ”

“ Julia. Sir Thomas Clifford.
Wal. You’re right.
Julia. His rank and wealth are roots to doubt;
And while they lasted, still the weed would grow,
Howe’er you plucked it. No! That’s o’er—that’s done.
Was never lady wronged so foul as I! [Weeps.]
Wal. Thou’rt to be pitied.
Julia. [Aroused.] Pitied! Not so bad
As that.
Wal. Indeed thou art, to love the man
That spurns thee!
Julia. Love him! Love! If hate could find
A word more harsh than its own name, I’d take it,
To speak the love I bear him! [Weeps.]
Wal. Write thy own name,
And show him how near akin thy hate’s to hate.
Julia. ”

“ Who doubted e’en a wife’s—so that I dropped
The title of thy father, lest thy duty
Should pay the debt thy love could solve alone.
All this and more, that to thy friends and thee
Pertains, at fitting time thou shalt be told.
But now thy nuptials wait—the happy close
Of thy hard trial—wholesome, though severe!
The world won’t cheat thee now—thy heart is proved;—
Thou know’st thy peace by finding out its bane,
And ne’er will act from reckless impulse more! ”

“ Luck to you, Master Waller! If you win,
You merit it, who take the way to win!
Wal. Good Master Neville!
True. I should laugh to see
The poacher snared!—the maid, for mistress sought,
Turn out a wife.
Nev. How say you, Master Waller?
Things quite as strange have fallen!
Wal. Impossible!
True. Impossible! Most possible of things—
If thou’rt in love! Where merit lies itself,
What matters it to want the name, which weighed,
Is not the worth of so much breath as it takes
To utter it! ”

“ Fath. Ten times to a certainty. How many times makes that?
Thos. Eighteen, Master Fathom, by the rule of addition.
Fath. And how many times more will make twenty?
Thee. Twice, by the same rule.
Fath. Thou hast worked with thy pencil and slate, Master Thomas! Well, ten times, as I said, took I back the gown for the trimmings; and was she content after all? I warrant you no, or my ears did not pay for it. She wished, she said, that the slattern sempstress had not touched the gown, for nought had she done but botched it. Now what think you had the sempstress done to the gown? ”

“ In Berkshire and in Wiltshire, that have swarms
Of daughters! Then my shooting-lodge and stud!
I’ll cure thee in a fortnight of thy love!
And now to neighbour Constance—yet almost
I fear accosting her—a hundred times
Have I essayed to break my mind to her,
But still she stops my mouth with restless scorn!
Howe’er, thy scheme I’ll try, and may it thrive!
For I am sick for love of neighbour Constance.
Farewell, dear Master Trueworth! Take my counsel—
Conquer thy passion! Do so! Be a man!
[Goes out.]
True. Feat easy done that does not tax ourselves!
[Enter Phœbe.]
Phœbe. ”

“ Helen. In Cheapside, then.
And now, then, to Sir Thomas! He is just
The height I like a man.
Julia. Thy feather’s just
The height I like a feather! Mine’s too short!
What shall I give thee in exchange for it?
Helen. What shall I give thee for a minute’s talk
About Sir Thomas?
Julia. Why, thy feather.
Helen. Take it!
Clif. [Aside to Modus.] What, likes she not to speak of me?
Helen. And now
Let’s talk about Sir Thomas—much I’m sure
He loves you.
Julia. Much I’m sure, he has a right! ”

“ 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! ”

“ I’ll lead thee to the church on Monday week.
Till then, farewell and then, farewell for ever!
O Julia, I have ventured for thy love,
As the bold merchant, who, for only hope
Of some rich gain, all former gains will risk.
Before I asked a portion of thy heart,
I perilled all my own; and now, all’s lost!
[Clifford and Modus go out.]
Julia. Helen!
Helen. What ails you, sweet?
Julia. I cannot breathe—quick, loose my girdle, oh!
[Faints.]
[Master Walter and Master Heartwell come forward.]
Wal. Good Master Heartwell, help to take her in,
Whilst I make after him! and look to her! ”

“ And first one too—and last! No man shall touch
Her lips but me. I’ll massacre the man
That looks upon her! Yet what chance have I
With lovers of the town, whose study ’tis
To please your lady belles!—who dress, walk, talk,
To hit their tastes—what chance, a country squire
Like me? Yet your true fair, I have heard, prefers
The man before his coat at any time;
And such a one may neighbour Constance be. ”