ΙΟΙ You well at college. With another man Mod. Nay, give it up, nor plague thyself, dear cousin. [Throws the ruff on the ground.] I swear the ruff is good for just As little as its master! There !-'T is spoil'd— [HELEN goes out. I will follow her,- Mod. Went she in anger? Look'd she at me A bold heart, Master Modus! 'T is a saying, I'll woo my cousin, come what will on 't. Yes: [Begins reading again, throws down the book. Hang Ovid's Art of Love! I'll woo my cousin! Enter HELEN. Helen. Why, cousin Modus? What, will you stand by And see me forced to marry? Cousin Modus? Have you not got a tongue? Have you not eyes? Do you not see I'm very-very ill, Mod. My room's at hand. I'll fetch one thence. I'd faint ere you came back! Mod. What shall I do? Helen. Why don't you offer to support me? Well? Give me your arm-be quick! Is that the way To help a lady when she's like to faint? That will do. [MODUS offers his arm. [MODUS supports her. I'm better now- [MODUS offers to leave her] don't leave me! Is one well Because one's better? Hold my hand. Keep so. I'll soon recover, so you move not. Loves he [Aside. Well, cousin Modus ? Mod. Well, sweet cousin! Helen. Well? You heard what Master Walter said? Mod. I did. Helen. And would you have me marry? Can't you speak? Say yes, or no. Mod. No, cousin! Helen. Bravely said! And why, my gallant cousin? Mod. Why? Helen. Ay, why? Women, you know, are fond of reasons- Why Who once her cousin such a question ask'd— A gentle, honest, gallant, loving cousin! Helen. Yes. Mod. I'm sure you're not! Mod. Nay, let me hold you, cousin ! Helen. Do you? I would wager you You could not tell me why you like it. Well? You see how true I know you! How you stare! Helen. At last he'll find his tongue And saw you ne'er a pair of eyes before? Helen. And why? Mod. They are so bright! You have a Grecian nose. Helen. Indeed. Mod. Indeed! Helen. What kind of mouth have I? Mod. A handsome one. I never saw so sweet a pair of lips! I ne'er saw lips at all till now, dear cousin! [Aside. Helen. Cousin, I'm well,-You need not hold me now. Do you not hear? I tell you I am well! I need your arm no longer-take 't away! So tight it locks me, 't is with pain I breathe! Let me go, cousin! Wherefore do you hold Your face so close to mine? What do you mean? Mod. You've question'd me, and now I'll question you. Helen. What would you learn? Mod. The use of lips. Helen. To speak. Mod. Nought else? Helen. How bold my modest cousin grows! Why, other use know you? Mod. I do! Helen. Indeed! You're wondrous wise! And pray what is it? Mod. This! [Attempts to kiss her. Helen. Soft! my hand thanks you, cousin--for my lips I keep them for a husband!—Nay, stand off! I'll not be held in manacles again! Why do you follow me? Mod. I love you, cousin. 'T is out at last. Helen. You love me! O cousin, mean you so? Love me, cousin! That's passing strange! Falls out most crossly-is a dire mishap- And die for! Mod. Die for! Helen. Yes, with laughter, cousin, For, cousin, I love you! Mod. And you'll be mine? Helen. I will. Mod. Your hand upon it. Helen. Hand and heart. Hie to thy dressing-room, and I'll to mine- Whoe'er may claim me, thou'rt the man shall have me. Ne'er brag of reading Ovid's Art of Love! Mod. And cousin! stop-One little word with you. [Aside. [She returns-he snatches a kiss. The Rivals. LYDIA LANGUISH.-From ACT I., SCENE I. Enter MRS. MALAPROP and SIR ANTHONY ABSOLUte. Mrs. Mal. There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliberate simpleton who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling. Lyd. Madam, I thought you once Mrs. Mal. You thought, miss! I don't know any business you have to think at all-thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow-to illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory. Lyd. Ah, madam! our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so easy to forget. Mrs. Mal. But I say it is, miss; there is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much forgot your poor dear uncle as if he had never existed—and I thought it my duty so to do; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman. Sir Anth. Why sure she won't pretend to remember what she's ordered not!-ay, this comes of her reading! Lyd. What crime, madam, have I committed to be treated thus? Mrs. Mal. Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the matter; you know I have proof controvertible of it.— But tell me, will you promise to do as you're bid? Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing? Lyd. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that had I no preference for any one else, the choice you have made would be my aversion. Mrs. Mal. What business have you, miss, with preference and aversion? They don't become a young woman; and you ought to know, that as both always wear off, 'tis safest in matrimony to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor dear uncle before marriage as if he'd been a blackamoor—and yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife I made!—and when it pleased Heaven to release me from him, 'tis unknown what tears I shed!-But suppose we were going to give you another choice, will you promise us to give up this Beverley? Lyd. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that promise, my actions would certainly as far belie my words. Mrs. Mal. Take yourself to your room.-You are fit company for nothing but your own ill-humours. Lyd. Willingly, ma'am-I cannot change for the worse. [Exit. |