. I'll give up house and all!
She would be mad to marry neighbour Wildrake;
He would wear out her patience--plague her to death,
As he does me. She must not marry him!

[They go out.]

ACT III.

SCENE I.--A Room in Widow Green's.

[Enter MASTER WALLER, following LYDIA.]

_Wal_. 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!--

_Lydia_. Love
Should seek its match. No match am I for thee.

_Wal_. 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 (that subtle essence, without which
Life were but leaden dulness!--weariness!
A plodding trudger on a heavy road!)
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.

_Lydia_. Wast thou a monarch,
Me wouldst thou make thy queen?

_Wal_. I would.

_Lydia_. What! Pass
A princess by for me?

_Wal_. I would.

_Lydia_. Suppose
Thy subjects would prevent thee?

_Wal_. Then, in spite
Of them!

_Lydia_. Suppose they were too strong for thee?

_Wal_. Why, then I'd give them up my throne--content
With that thou'dst yield me in thy gentle breast.

_Lydia_. Can subjects do what monarchs do?

_Wal_. Far more!
Far less!

_Lydia_. Among those things, where more their power,
Is marriage one?

_Wal_. Yes.

_Lydia_. And no part of love,
You say, is rank or wealth?

_Wal_. No part of love.

_Lydia_. Is marriage part of love?

_Wal_. At times it is,
At times is not. Men love and marry--love
And marry not.

_Lydia_. Then have they not the power;
So must they hapless part with those they love.

_Wal_. Oh, no! not part! How coul