Well , Master Wildrake , speak you of the chase ! To hear you one doth feel the bounding steed ; You bring the hounds and game , and all to view — All scudding to the jovial huntsman 's cheer ! And yet I pity the poor crowned deer , And always fancy ‘ tis by fortune 's spite , That lordly head of his , he bears so high — Like Virtue , stately in calamity , And hunted by the human , worldly hound — Is made to fly before the pack , that straight Burst into song at prospect of his death . You say their cry is harmony ; and yet The chorus scarce is music to my ear , When I bethink me what it sounds to his ; Nor deem I sweet the note that rings the knell Of the once merry forester ! Not so ! The maid In simple honesty I must pronounce A miracle of virtue , well as beauty . Good Master Neville ! Sir ! My sword is sheathed ? Wilt let me take thy hand ? Be it so — Your hand again , good Master Trueworth ! I am sorry I did pain you . But thou shalt hear me , gentle Lydia . Sweet maiden , thou art frightened at thyself ! Thy own perfections ‘ tis that talk to thee . Thy beauty rich !— thy richer grace !— thy mind , More rich again than that , though richest each ! Except for these , I had no tongue for thee , Eyes for thee !— ears !— had never followed thee !— Had never loved thee , Lydia ! Hear me !— Right ! Love should seek its match ; and that is , love Or nothing ! Station — fortune — find their match In things resembling them . They are not love ! Comes love Comes it of title-deeds which fools may boast ? Or coffers vilest hands may hold the keys of ? Or that ethereal lamp that lights the eyes To shed the sparkling lustre o'er the face , Gives to the velvet skin its blushing glow , And burns as bright beneath the peasant 's roof As roof of palaced prince ? Yes , Love should seek Its match — then give my love its match in thine , Its match which in thy gentle breast doth lodge So rich — so earthly , heavenly fair and rich , As monarchs have no thought of on their thrones , Which kingdoms do bear up . I would . I would . Then , in spite Of them ! Why , then I 'd give them up my throne — content With that thou'dst yield me in thy gentle breast . Far more ! Far less ! Yes . No part of love . At times it is , At times is not . Men love and marry — love And marry not . Oh , no ! not part ! How could they love and part ? Alone in marriage doth not union lie ! If there is truth in man , I love thee ! Hear me ! In wedlock , families claim property . Old notions , which we needs must humour often , Bar us to wed where we are forced to love ! Thou hear'st ? My family is proud ; Our ancestor , whose arms we bear , did win An earldom by his deeds . ‘ Tis not enough I please myself ! I must please others , who Desert in wealth and station only see . Thou hear'st ? I cannot marry thee , And must I lose thee ? Do not turn away ! Without the altar I can honour thee ! Can cherish thee , nor swear it to the priest ; For more than life I love thee ! Stay , Lydia !— No ! ‘ Tis vain ! She is in virtue resolute , As she is bland and tender in affection . She is a miracle , beholding which Wonder doth grow on wonder ! What a maid ! No mood but doth become her — yea , adorn her . She turns unsightly anger into beauty ! Sour scorn grows sweetness , touching her sweet lips ! And indignation , lighting on her brow , Transforms to brightness as the cloud to gold That overhangs the sun ! I love her ! Ay ! And all the throes of serious passion feel At thought of losing her !— so my light love , Which but her person did at first affect , Her soul has metamorphosed — made a thing Of solid thoughts and wishes — I must have her ! Enchanting woman ! The matchless form of woman ! The choice calling Of the aspiring artist , whose ambition Robs Nature to outdo her — the perfections Of her rare various workmanship combines To aggrandise his art at Nature 's cost , And make a paragon ! Ha ! The Widow Green ! Thank My lucky stars ! She must be mine Whate'er her terms ! What ! though it be the ring ?— the marriage ring ? If that she sticks at , she deserves to wear it Oh , the debate which love and prudence hold ! They to each other company enough ! I , company for no one but myself . I 'll take my leave , nor trouble them to pay The compliments of parting . Lydia ! Lydia ! Hoa ! Alice ! Hoa ! Open the door ! Quick , Alice ! Quick ! Alice ! No , she but faints .— A chair !— Quick , Alice , quick ! Water to bathe her temples . Such a turn Kind fortune never do me . Shall I kiss To life these frozen lips ?— No !— of her plight ‘ Twere base to take advantage . All is well , The blood returns . Thou think'st her so ?— No wonder then should I . How say you ?— Wondrous fair ? You think her fair ? Who taught thee thus ? Why , how thou talk'st ! She 's quite restored , Leave us !— Why cast'st thou that uneasy look ? Why linger'st thou ? I 'm not alone with her . My honour 's with her too . I would not wrong her . You are better ? Know you him who durst Attempt this violence in open day ? It seemed as he would force thee to his coach , I saw attending . I read no letter ! Tell me , what of him I saw offend thee ? Oh , speak not o n't ! I pray you to forget it . Sweet Lydia , I beseech you spare me . Lydia ! Thou saidst thou lovedst me ? I cannot lose thee ! No ! Wouldst have me lose the hand that holds my life ? Yet , for awhile , I cannot let thee go . Propound for me an oath that I 'll not wrong thee ! An oath , which , if I break it , will entail Forfeit of earth and heaven . I 'll take it — so Thou stay'st one hour with me . Lo ! Thou art free to go ! I swear as thou propound'st to me . Lydia ! by all — Yet hear me , Lydia !— Wouldst ensure the thing Thou wishest ?Stop !Oh , sternly resolute !I mean thee honour !Thou dost meditate — I know it — flight . Give me some pause for thought , But to confirm a mind almost made up . If in an hour thou hearest not from me , then Think me a friend far better lost than won ! Wilt thou do this ? An hour decides . Master Trueworth ! Good Master Trueworth , thank you . Finding you From home , I e'en made bold to follow you , For I esteem you as a man , and fain Would benefit by your kind offices . But let me tell you first , to your reproof , I am indebted more than e'er I was To praise of any other ! I am come , sir , To give you evidence I am not one Who owns advice is right , and acts not o n't . Will you the bearer be Of this to one has cause to thank you , too , Though I the larger debtor ?— Read it , sir . How say you , sir ? If she consents — which affectation ‘ twere To say I doubt — bid her prepare for church , And you shall act the father , sir , to her You did the brother by . May I implore you , haste ! A time is set !— How light an act of duty makes the heart ! Where is she ? What ! All that bespeaks the day , except the fair That 's queen of it ? Most kind of you to grace My nuptials so ! But that I render you My thanks in full , make full my happiness , And tell me where 's my bride ? Where ? Lady , do not mock me . Lady , no widow is the bride I seek , But one the church has never given yet The nuptial blessing to ! It is , addressed to your fair waiting-maid . Is Trueworth false ? He must be false . What madness tempted me To trust him with such audience as I knew Must sense , and mind , and soul of man entrance , And leave him but the power to feel its spell ! Of his own lesson he would profit take , And plead at once an honourable love , Supplanting mine , less pure , reformed too late ! And if he did , what merit I , except To lose the maid I would have wrongly won ; And , had I rightly prized her , now had worn ! I get but my deservings !Master Trueworth , Though for thy treachery thou hast excuse , Thou must account for it ; so much I lose ! Sir , you have wronged me to amount beyond Acres , and gold , and life , which makes them rich . And compensation I demand of you , Such as a man expects , and none but one That 's less than man refuses ! Where 's the maid You falsely did abstract ? Show me another sun , another earth I can inherit , as this Sun and Earth ; As thou didst take the maid , the maid herself Give back ! herself , her sole equivalent ! Lydia ! Thy sister , Trueworth ! Art thou fit brother to this virtuous maid ?