To stem a torrent, easy, looking at it;
But once you venture in, you nothing know
Except the speed with which you're borne away,
Howe'er you strive to check it. She suspects not
Her maid, not she, brings Master Waller hither.
Nor dare I undeceive her. Well might she say
Her young and handsome husband! Yet his face
And person are the least of him, and vanish
When shines his soul out through his open eye!
He all but says he loves me! His respect
Has vanquished me! He looks the will to speak
His passion, and the fear that ties his tongue -
The fear? He loves not honestly, and yet
I'll swear he loves--I'll swear he honours me!
It is but my condition is a bar,
Denies him give me all. But knew he me
As I do know myself! Whate'er his purpose,
When next we speak, he shall declare it to me.
[Goes out.]
SCENE III.--Sir William Fondlove's.
[Enter CONSTANCE, dressed for riding, and PHOEBE.]
Con. Well, Phoebe, would you know me? Are those locks
That cluster on my forehead and my cheek,
Sufficient mask? Show I what I would seem,
A lady for the chase? My darkened brows
And heightened colour, foreign to my face,
Do they my face pass off for stranger too?
What think you?
Phoebe. That he'll ne'er discover you.
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