_Wild_. Nay, Master Trueworth, I must needs be gone! She treats me worse and worse! I am a stock, That words have none to pay her. For her sake I quit the town to-day. I like a jest, But hers are jests past bearing. I am her butt, She nothing does but practise on! A plague!-- Fly her shafts ever your way? _True_. Would they did! _Wild_. Art mad?--or wishest she should drive thee so? _True_. Thou knowest her not. _Wild_. I know not neighbour Constance? Then know I not myself, or anything Which as myself I know! _True_. Heigh ho! _Wild_. Heigh ho! Why what a burden that for a man's song! Would fit a maiden that was sick for love. Heigh ho! Come ride with me to Lincolnshire, And turn thy "Heigh ho!" into "hilly ho!" _True_. Nay, rather tarry thou in town with me. Men sometimes find a friend's hand of avail, When useless proves their own. Wilt lend me thine? _Wild_. Or may my horse break down in a steeple-chase! _True_. A steeple-chase. What made thee think of that? I'm for the steeple--not to ride a race, Only to get there!--nor alone, in sooth, But in fair company. _Wild_. Thou'rt not in love! _True_. Heigh ho! _Wild_. Thou wouldst not marry! _True_. With your help. _Wild_. And whom, I prithee? _True_. Gentle Mistress Constance! _Wild_. What!--neighbour Constance?--Never did I dream That mortal man would fall in love with her. [Aside.] In love with neighbour Constance!--I feel strange At thought that she should marry!--[Aside.] Go to church With neighbour Constance! That's a steeple-chase I never thought of. I feel very strange! What seest in neighbour Constance? _True_. Lovers' eyes See with a vision proper to themselves; Yet thousand eyes will vouch what mine affirm. 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.]