The Love-chase by James Sheridan Knowles
page 26 of 110 (23%)
page 26 of 110 (23%)
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Wild. [Snappishly.] No.
True. No! Why, where have been your eyes? Wild. In my head! But I begin to doubt if open yet. [Aside.] True. Yet that's a trifle to the dance; down which She floats as though she were a form of air; The ground feels not her foot, or tells not on't; Her movements are the painting of the strain, Its swell, its fall, its mirth, its tenderness! Then is she fifty Constances!--each moment Another one, and each, except its fellow, Without a peer! You have danced with her! Wild. I hate To dance! I can't endure to dance!--Of course You have danced with her? True. I have. Wild. You have? True. I have. Wild. I do abominate to dance!--could carve Fiddlers and company! A dancing man To me was ever like a dancing dog! Save less to be endured.--Ne'er saw I one |
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