_Wal_. 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! _Nev_. The same things Please us or pain, according to the thought We take of them. Some smile at their own death, Which most do shrink from, as beast of prey It kills to look upon. But you, who take Such pity of the deer, whence follows it You hunt more costly game?--the comely maid, To wit, that waits on buxom Widow Green? _Hum_. The comely maid! Such term not half the sum Of her rich beauty gives! Were rule to go By loveliness, I knew not in the court, Or city, lady might not fitly serve That lady serving-maid! _True_. Come! your defence? Why show you ruth where there's least argument, Deny it where there's most? You will not plead? Oh, Master Waller, where we use to hunt We think the sport no crime! _Hum_. I give you joy, You prosper in your chase. _Wal_. Not so! The maid In simple honesty I must pronounce A miracle of virtue, well as beauty. _Nev_. And well do I believe you, Master Waller; Those know I who have ventured gift and promise But for a minute of her ear--the boon Of a poor dozen words spoke through a chink-- And come off bootless, save the haughty scorn That cast their bounties back to them again. _True_. That warrants her what Master Waller speaks her. Is she so very fair? _Nev_. Yes, Master Trueworth; And I believe indeed an honest maid: But Love's the coin to market with for love, And that knows Master Waller. On pretence Of sneaking kindness for gay Widow Green, He visits her, for sake of her fair maid! To whom a glance or word avails to hint His proper errand; and--as glimpses only Do only serve to whet the wish to see-- Awakens interest to hear the tale So stintingly that's told. I know his practice-- Luck to you, Master Waller! If you win, You merit it, who take the way to win! _Wal_. Good Master Neville! _True_. I should laugh to see The poacher snared!--the maid, for mistress sought, Turn out a wife. _Nev_. How say you, Master Waller? Things quite as strange have fallen! _Wal_. Impossible!