Con. And you’re grown
An amateur in music!—What fine air
Was that you praised last night?—“The Widow Jones!”
A country jig they turned into a song.
You asked “If it had come from Italy?”
The lady blushed and held her peace, and then
You blushed and said, “Perhaps it came from France!”
And then when blushed the lady more, nor spoke,
You said, “At least it came from Germany!”
The air was English!—a true English air;
A downright English air!—a common air;
Old as “When Good King Arthur.” Not a square,
Court, alley, street, or lane about the town,
In which it is not whistled, played, or sung!
But you must have it come from Italy,
Or Germany, or France. Go home! Go home!
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! The air
Well as the huntsman’s triple mort I know,
But knew not then indeed, ’twas so disguised
With shakes and flourishes, outlandish things,
That mar, not grace, an honest English song!
Howe’er, the mischief’s done! and as for her,
She is either into hate or madness fallen.
If madness, would she had her wits again,
Or I my heart! If hate, my love’s undone;
I’ll give her up. I’ll e’en to Master Trueworth,
Confess my treason—own my punishment—
Take horse, and back again to Lincolnshire!
[Goes out.]
Con. [Returning.] Not here! I trust I have not gone too far!
If he should quit the house! Go out of town!
Poor neighbour Wildrake! Little does he owe me!
From childhood I’ve been used to plague him thus.
Why would he fall in love, and spoil it all!
I feel as I could cry! He has no right
To marry any one! What wants he with
A wife? Has he not plague enough in me?
Would he be plagued with anybody else?
Ever since I have lived in town I have felt
The want of neighbour Wildrake! Not a soul
Besides I care to quarrel with; and now
He goes and gives himself to another! What!
Am I in love with neighbour Wildrake? No.
I only would not have him marry—marry?
Sooner I’d have him dead than have him marry!
ACT IV.
SCENE I.—A Room in Master Waller’s House.
[Enter Alice, hastily.]
Alice. [Speaking to the outside.] Fly, Stephen, to the door! your rapier! quick!—
Our master is beset, because of one
Whose part he takes, a maid, whom lawless men
Would lawlessly entreat! In what a world
We live!—How do I shake!—with what address
[Looking out of window.]
He lays about him, and his other arm
Engaged, in charge of her whom he defends!
A damsel worth a broil!—Now, Stephen, now!
Take off the odds, brave lad, and turn the scale!
I would I were a swordsman! How he makes
His rapier fly!—Well done!—O Heaven, there’s blood.
But on the side that’s wrong!—Well done, good Stephen!
Pray Heaven no life be ta’en!—Lay on, brave lad!
He has marked his man again. Good lad—Well done,
I pray no mischief come!—Press on him, Stephen!
Now gives he ground.—Follow thy advantage up!
Allow no pause for breaths!—Hit him again!
Forbid it end in death!—Lounge home, good Stephen!
How fast he now retreats!—That spring, I’ll swear,
Was answer to thy point!—Well fenced!—Well fenced!
Now Heaven forefend it end in death!—He flies!
And from his comrade, the same moment, hath
Our master jerked his sword—The day is ours!
Quick may they get a surgeon for their wounds,
And I, a cordial for my fluttered spirits:
I vow, I’m nigh to swoon!
Wal. [Without.] Hoa! Alice! Hoa!
Open the door! Quick, Alice! Quick!