First, then, I see in her the mould express
Of woman--stature, feature, body, limb -
Breathing the gentle sex we value most,
When most 'tis at antipodes with ours!
Wild. You mean that neighbour Constance is a woman.
Why, yes; she is a woman, certainly.
True. So much for person. Now for her complexion.
What shall we liken to her dainty skin?
Her arm, for instance? -
Wild. Snow will match it.
True. Snow!
It is her arm without the smoothness on't;
Then is not snow transparent. 'Twill not do.
Wild. A pearl's transparent!
True. So it is, but yet
Yields not elastic to the thrilled touch!
I know not what to liken to her arm
Except her beauteous fellow! Oh! to be
The chosen friend of two such neighbours!
Wild. Would
His tongue would make a halt. He makes too free
With neighbour Constance! Can't he let her arms
Alone! I trust their chosen friend
Will ne'er be he! I'm vexed. [Aside.]
True. But graceful things
Grow doubly graceful in the graceful use!
Hast marked her ever walk the drawing-room?
Wild. [Snappishly.] No.
True. No! Why, where have been your eyes?
Wild. In my head!
But I begin to doubt if open yet. [Aside.]
True. Yet that's a trifle to the dance; down which
She floats as though she were a form of air;
The ground feels not her foot, or tells not on't;
Her movements are the painting of the strain,
Its swell, its fall, its mirth, its tenderness!
Then is she fifty Constances!--each moment
Another one, and each, except its fellow,
Without a peer! You have danced with her!
Wild.
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