Con. [Without.] Neighbour Wildrake!
Sir Wil. Hither they come. I fancy well thy game!
O to be free to marry Widow Green!
I'll call her hence anon--then ply him well.
[SIR WILLIAM goes out.]
Wild. [Without.] Nay, neighbour Constance!
True. He is high in storm.
[Enter WILDRAKE and CONSTANCE.]
Wild. To Lincolnshire, I tell thee.
Con. Lincolnshire!
What, prithee, takes thee off to Lincolnshire?
Wild. Too great delight in thy fair company.
True. Nay, Master Wildrake, why away so soon?
You are scarce a day in town!--Extremes like this,
And starts of purpose, are the signs of love.
Though immatured as yet. [Aside.]
Con. He's long enough
In town! What should he here? He's lost in town:
No man is he for concerts, balls, or routs!
No game he knows at cards, save rare Pope Joan!
He ne'er could master dance beyond a jig;
And as for music, nothing to compare
To the melodious yelping of a hound,
Except the braying of his huntsman's horn!
Ask HIM to stay in town!
Sir Wil. [Without.] Hoa, Constance!
Con. Sir! -
Neighbour, a pleasant ride to Lincolnshire!
Good-bye!
Sir Wil. [Without.] Why, Constance!
Con. Coming, sir. Shake hands!
Neighbour, good-bye! Don't look so woe-begone;
'Tis but a two-days' ride, and thou wilt see
Rover, and Spot, and Nettle, and the rest
Of thy dear country friends!
Sir Wil.
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