True. So much for person. Now for her complexion.
What shall we liken to her dainty skin?
Her arm, for instance?—
Wild. Snow will match it.
True. Snow!
It is her arm without the smoothness on’t;
Then is not snow transparent. ’Twill not do.
Wild. A pearl’s transparent!
True. So it is, but yet
Yields not elastic to the thrilléd touch!
I know not what to liken to her arm
Except her beauteous fellow! Oh! to be
The chosen friend of two such neighbours!
Wild. Would
His tongue would make a halt. He makes too free
With neighbour Constance! Can’t he let her arms
Alone! I trust their chosen friend
Will ne’er be he! I’m vexed. [Aside.]
True. But graceful things
Grow doubly graceful in the graceful use!
Hast marked her ever walk the drawing-room?
Wild. [Snappishly.] No.
True. No! Why, where have been your eyes?
Wild. In my head!
But I begin to doubt if open yet. [Aside.]