Alas! think what I suffered, at being obliged to keep up an ineffectual
chase after my Columbine through whole pantomimes; to see her carried
off in the vigorous arms of the happy Harlequin; and to be obliged,
instead of snatching her from him, to tumble sprawling with Pantaloon
and the clown; and bear the infernal and degrading thwacks of my
rival's weapon of lath; which, may heaven confound him! (excuse my
passion) the villain laid on with a malicious good-will; nay, I could
absolutely hear him chuckle and laugh beneath his accursed mask--I beg
pardon for growing a little warm in my narration. I wish to be cool,
but these recollections will sometimes agitate me. I have heard and
read of many desperate and deplorable situations of lovers; but none, I
think, in which true love was ever exposed to so severe and peculiar a
trial.
This could not last long. Flesh and blood, at least such flesh and
blood as mine, could not bear it. I had repeated heartburnings and
quarrels with my rival, in which he treated me with the mortifying
forbearance of a man towards a child. Had he quarrelled outright with
me, I could have stomached it; at least I should have known what part
to take; but to be humored and treated as a child in the presence of my
mistress, when I felt all the bantam spirit of a little man swelling
within me--gods, it was insufferable!
At length we were exhibiting one day at West End fair, which was at
that time a very fashionable resort, and often beleaguered by gay
equipages from town.
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