W. Green. Oh, bond of destiny!—Fair bond, that seal’st
My fate in happiness! I’ll read thee yet
Again—although thou’rt written on my heart.
But here his hand, indicting thee, did lie!
And this the tracing of his fingers! So
I read thee that could rhyme thee, as my prayers!
“At morn to-morrow I will make you mine.
Will you accept from me the name of wife—
The name of husband give me in exchange?”
The traitress! to break ope my billet-doux,
And take the envelope!—But I forgive her,
Since she did leave the rich contents behind.
Amelia, give this feather more a slope,
That it sit droopingly. I would look all
Dissolvement, nought about me to bespeak
Boldness! I would appear a timid bride,
Trembling upon the verge of wifehood, as
I ne’er before had stood there! That will do.
Oh dear!—How I am agitated—don’t
I look so? I have found a secret out,—
Nothing in woman strikes a man so much
As to look interesting! Hang this cheek
Of mine! It is too saucy; what a pity
To have a colour of one’s own!—Amelia!
Could you contrive, dear girl, to bleach my cheek,
How I would thank you! I could give it then
What tint I chose, and that should be the hectic
Bespeaks a heart in delicate commotion.
I am much too florid! Stick a rose in my hair,
The brightest you can find, ’twill help, my girl,
Subdue my rebel colour—Nay, the rose
Doth lose complexion, not my cheek! Exchange it
For a carnation. That’s the flower, Amelia!
You see how it doth triumph o’er my cheek.
Are you content with me?
Amelia. I am, my lady.
W. Green. And whither think you has the hussy gone,
Whose place you fill so well?—Into the country?
Or fancy you she stops in town?
Amelia. I can’t
Conjecture.
W. Green. Shame upon her!—Leave her place
Without a moment’s warning!—with a man, too!
Seemed he a gentleman that took her hence?
Amelia. He did.
W. Green. You never saw him here before?
Amelia. Never.
W. Green. Not lounging on the other side
Of the street, and reconnoitring the windows?
Amelia. Never.