Some smile at their own death,
Which most do shrink from, as beast of prey
It kills to look upon. But you, who take
Such pity of the deer, whence follows it
You hunt more costly game?--the comely maid,
To wit, that waits on buxom Widow Green?
Hum. The comely maid! Such term not half the sum
Of her rich beauty gives! Were rule to go
By loveliness, I knew not in the court,
Or city, lady might not fitly serve
That lady serving-maid!
True. Come! your defence?
Why show you ruth where there's least argument,
Deny it where there's most? You will not plead?
Oh, Master Waller, where we use to hunt
We think the sport no crime!
Hum. I give you joy,
You prosper in your chase.
Wal. Not so! The maid
In simple honesty I must pronounce
A miracle of virtue, well as beauty.
Nev. And well do I believe you, Master Waller;
Those know I who have ventured gift and promise
But for a minute of her ear--the boon
Of a poor dozen words spoke through a chink -
And come off bootless, save the haughty scorn
That cast their bounties back to them again.
True. That warrants her what Master Waller speaks her.
Is she so very fair?
Nev. Yes, Master Trueworth;
And I believe indeed an honest maid:
But Love's the coin to market with for love,
And that knows Master Waller.
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