Con. I love it!

To wood and glen, hamlet and town, it is A laughing holiday! Not a hill-top But's then alive! Footmen with horsemen vie, All earth's astir, roused with the revelry Of vigour, health, and joy! Cheer awakes cheer, While Echo's mimic tongue, that never tires, Keeps up the hearty din! Each face is then Its neighbour's glass--where Gladness sees itself, And at the bright reflection grows more glad!

Breaks into tenfold mirth!--laughs like a child!

Would make a gift of its heart, it is so free!

Would scarce accept a kingdom, 'tis so rich!

Shakes hands with all, and vows it never knew That life was life before!

Wild. Nay, every way You do fair justice, lady, to the chase;But fancies change.

Con. Such fancy is not mine.

Wild. I would it were not mine, for your fair sake.

I have quite given o'er the chase.

Con. You say not so!

Wild. Forsworn, indeed, the sportsman's life, and grown, As you may partly see, town-gentleman.

I care not now to mount a steed, unless To amble 'long the street; no paces mind, Except my own, to walk the drawing-room, Or in the ball-room to come off with grace;No leap for me, to match the light coupe;

No music like the violin and harp, To which the huntsman's dog and horn I find Are somewhat coarse and homely minstrelsy:

Then fields of ill-dressed rustics, you'll confess, Are well exchanged for rooms of beaux and belles In short, I've ta'en another thought of life -Become another man!

Con. The cause, I pray?

Wild. The cause of causes, lady.

Con. He's in love! [Aside.]

Wild. To you, of women, I would name it last;Yet your frank bearing merits like return;

I, that did hunt the game, am caught myself In chase I never dreamed of!

[Goes out.]

Con. He is in love!

Wildrake's in love! 'Tis that keeps him in town, Turns him from sportsman to town-gentleman.

I never dreamed that he could be in love!

In love with whom?--I'll find the vixen out!

What right has she to set her cap at him?

I warrant me, a forward, artful minx;

I hate him worse than ever. I'll do all I can to spoil the match. He'll never marry -Sure he will never marry! He will have More sense than that! My back doth ope and shut -My temples throb and shoot--I am cold and hot!

Were he to marry, there would be an end To neighbour Constance--neighbour Wildrake--why, I should not know myself!

[Enter TRUEWORTH.]

Dear Master Trueworth, What think you!--neighbour Wildrake is in love!

In love! Would you believe it, Master Trueworth?

Ne'er heed my dress and looks, but answer me.

Knowest thou of any lady he has seen That's like to cozen him?

True. I am not sure - We talked to-day about the Widow Green!

Con. Her that my father fancies. Let him wed her!

Marry her to-morrow--if he will, to-night.

I can't spare neighbour Wildrake--neighbour Wildrake!

Although I would not marry him myself, I could not hear that other married him!

Go to my father--'tis a proper match!

He has my leave! He's welcome to bring home The Widow Green. I'll give up house and all!

She would be mad to marry neighbour Wildrake;He would wear out her patience--plague her to death, As he does me. She must not marry him!

[They go out.]