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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/3480-h.zip b/3480-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b73250 --- /dev/null +++ b/3480-h.zip diff --git a/3480-h/3480-h.htm b/3480-h/3480-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ffa4f78 --- /dev/null +++ b/3480-h/3480-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3764 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Hunchback</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Hunchback, by James Sheridan Knowles</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Hunchback, by James Sheridan Knowles, +Edited by Henry Morley + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Hunchback + + +Author: James Sheridan Knowles + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: October 8, 2007 [eBook #3480] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNCHBACK*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>THE HUNCHBACK.</h1> +<h1>THE LOVE-CHASE.</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES</p> +<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL & COMPANY, <span +class="smcap">Limited</span>:<br /> +<i><span class="smcap">london</span></i>, <i><span +class="smcap">paris</span></i>, <i><span class="smcap">new york & +melbourne</span></i>.<br /> +1887.</p> +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> +<p>James Sheridan Knowles was born at Cork in 1784, and died at Torquay in +December, 1862, at the age of 78. His father was a teacher of +elocution, who compiled a dictionary, and who was related to the +Sheridans. He moved to London when his son was eight years old, and +there became acquainted with William Hazlitt and Charles Lamb. The +son, after his school education, obtained a commission in the army, but +gave up everything for the stage, and made his first appearance at the Crow +Street Theatre, in Dublin. He did not become a great actor, and when +he took to writing plays he did not prove himself a great poet, but his +skill in contriving situations through which a good actor can make his +powers tell upon the public, won the heart of the great actor of his day, +and as Macready’s own poet he rose to fame.</p> +<p>Before Macready had discovered him, Sheridan Knowles lived partly by +teaching elocution at Belfast and Glasgow, partly by practice of elocution +as an actor. In 1815 he produced at the Belfast Theatre his first +play, <i>Caius Gracchus</i>. His next play, <i>Virginius</i> was +produced at Glasgow with great success. Macready, who had, at the age +of seventeen, begun his career as an actor at his father’s theatre in +Birmingham, had, on Monday, October 5th, 1819, at the age of twenty-six, +taken the Londoners by storm in the character of Richard III Covent Garden +reopened its closed treasury. It was promptly followed by a success +in <i>Coriolanus</i>, and Macready’s place was made. He was at +once offered fifty pounds a night for appearing on one evening a week at +Brighton. It was just after that turn in Macready’s fortunes +that a friend at Glasgow recommended to him the part of Virginius in +Sheridan Knowles’s play lately produced there. He agreed +unwillingly to look at it, and says that in April, 1820, the parcel +containing the MS. came as he was going out. He hesitated, then sat +down to read it that he might get a wearisome job over. As he read, +he says, “The freshness and simplicity of the dialogue fixed my +attention; I read on and on, and was soon absorbed in the interest of the +story and the passion of its scenes, till at its close I found myself in +such a state of excitement that for a time I was undecided what step to +take. Impulse was in the ascendant, and snatching up my pen I +hurriedly wrote, as my agitated feelings prompted, a letter to the author, +to me then a perfect stranger.” Bryan Procter (Barry Cornwall) +read the play next day with Macready, and confirmed him in his admiration +of it.</p> +<p>Macready at once got it accepted at the theatre, where nothing was spent +on scenery, but there was a good cast, and the enthusiasm of Macready as +stage manager for the occasion half affronted some of his seniors. On +the 17th of May, 1820, about a month after it came into Macready’s +hands, <i>Virginius</i> was produced at Covent Garden, where, says the +actor in his “Reminiscences,” “the curtain fell amidst +the most deafening applause of a highly-excited auditory.” +Sheridan Knowles’s fame, therefore, was made, like that of his friend +Macready, and the friendship between author and actor continued. +Sheridan Knowles had a kindly simplicity of character, and the two +qualities for which an actor most prizes a dramatist, skill in providing +opportunities for acting that will tell, and readiness to make any changes +that the actor asks for. The postscript to his first letter to +Macready was, “Make any alterations you like in any part of the play, +and I shall be obliged to you.” When he brought to the great +actor his play of <i>William Tell</i>—<i>Caius Gracchus</i> had been +produced in November, 1823—there were passages of writing in it that +stopped the course of action, and, says Macready, “Knowles had less +of the tenacity of authorship than most writers,” so that there was +no difficulty about alterations, Macready having in a very high degree the +tenacity of actorship. And so, in 1825, <i>Tell</i> became another of +Macready’s best successes.</p> +<p>Sheridan Knowles continued to write for the stage until 1845, when he +was drawn wholly from the theatre by a religious enthusiasm that caused +him, in 1851, to essay the breaking of a lance with Cardinal Wiseman on the +subject of Transubstantiation. Sir Robert Peel gave ease to his +latter days by a pension of £200 a year from the Civil List, which he +had honourably earned by a career as dramatist, in which he sought to +appeal only to the higher sense of literature, and to draw enjoyment from +the purest source. Of his plays time two comedies <a +name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1" class="citation">[1]</a> here +given are all that have kept their place upon the stage. As one of +the most earnest dramatic writers of the present century he is entitled to +a little corner in our memory. Worse work of the past has lasted +longer than the plays of Sheridan Knowles are likely to last through the +future.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">H. M.</p> +<h3>THE HUNCHBACK.</h3> +<h3>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.</h3> +<p>(AS ORIGINALLY PERFORMED AT COVENT GARDEN IN 1832.)</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Julia</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Miss F. <span class="smcap">Kemble</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Helen</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Miss <span class="smcap">Taylor</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Master Walter</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. J. S. <span class="smcap">Knowles</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Sir Thomas Clifford</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. C. <span class="smcap">Kemble</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Lord Tinsel</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Wrench</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Master Wilford</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. J. <span class="smcap">Mason</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Modus</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Abbott</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Master Heartwell</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Evans</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Gaylove</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Henry</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Fathom</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Meadows</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Thomas</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Barnes</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Stephen</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Payne</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Williams</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Irwin</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Simpson</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Brady</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Waiter</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Heath</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Holdwell</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Bender</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><i>Servants</i></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Mr. J. <span class="smcap">Cooper</span>.<br /> +Mr. <span class="smcap">Lollett</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h3>ACT I.</h3> +<h4>SCENE I.—A Tavern.</h4> +<p>On one side <span class="smcap">Sir Thomas Clifford</span>, at a table, +with wine before him; on the other, <span class="smcap">Master +Wilford</span>, <span class="smcap">Gaylove</span>, <span +class="smcap">Holdwell</span>, and <span class="smcap">Simpson</span>, +likewise taking wine.</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. Your wine, sirs! your wine! You do not justice +to mine host of the Three Tuns, nor credit to yourselves; I swear the +beverage is good! It is as palatable poison as you will purchase +within a mile round Ludgate! Drink, gentlemen; make free. You +know I am a man of expectations; and hold my money as light as the purse in +which I carry it.</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. We drink, Master Wilford. Not a man of us has +been chased as yet.</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. But you fill not fairly, sirs! Look at my +measure! Wherefore a large glass, if not for a large draught? +Fill, I pray you, else let us drink out of thimbles! This will never +do for the friends of the nearest of kin to the wealthiest peer in +Britain.</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. We give you joy, Master Wilford, of the prospect of +advancement which has so unexpectedly opened to you.</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. Unexpectedly indeed! But yesterday arrived the +news that the Earl’s only son and heir had died; and to-day has the +Earl himself been seized with a mortal illness. His dissolution is +looked for hourly; and I, his cousin in only the third degree, known to him +but to be unnoticed by him—a decayed gentleman’s son—glad +of the title and revenues of a scrivener’s clerk—am the +undoubted successor to his estates and coronet.</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. Have you been sent for?</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. No; but I have certified to his agent, Master Walter, +the Hunchback, my existence, and peculiar propinquity; and momentarily +expect him here.</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. Lives there anyone that may dispute your claim—I +mean vexatiously?</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. Not a man, Master Gaylove. I am the sole +remaining branch of the family tree.</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. Doubtless you look for much happiness from this change +of fortune?</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. A world! Three things have I an especial +passion for. The finest hound, the finest horse, and the finest wife +in the kingdom, Master Gaylove!</p> +<p>Gay. The finest wife?</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. Yes, sir; I marry. Once the earldom comes into +my line, I shall take measures to perpetuate its remaining there. I +marry, sir! I do not say that I shall love. My heart has +changed mistresses too often to settle down in one servitude now, +sir. But fill, I pray you, friends. This, if I mistake not, is +the day whence I shall date my new fortunes; and, for that reason, hither +have I invited you, that, having been so long my boon companions, you shall +be the first to congratulate me.</p> +<p>[Enter Waiter]</p> +<p><i>Waiter</i>. You are wanted, Master Wilford.</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. By whom?</p> +<p><i>Waiter</i>. One Master Walter.</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. His lordship’s agent! News, sirs! +Show him in!</p> +<p>[Waiter goes out]</p> +<p>My heart’s a prophet, sirs—The Earl is dead.</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Walter</span>]</p> +<p>Well, Master Walter. How accost you me?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. As your impatience shows me you would have me.<br /> +My Lord, the Earl of Rochdale!</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. Give you joy!</p> +<p><i>Hold</i>. All happiness, my lord!</p> +<p><i>Simp</i>. Long life and health unto your lordship!</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. Come!<br /> +We’ll drink to his lordship’s health! ’Tis two +o’clock,<br /> +We’ll e’en carouse till midnight! Health, my lord!</p> +<p><i>Hold</i>. My lord, much joy to you!</p> +<p><i>Simp</i>. All good to your lordship!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Give something to the dead!</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. Give what?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Respect!<br /> +He has made the living! First to him that’s gone,<br /> +Say “Peace!”—and then with decency to revels!</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. What means the knave by revels?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Knave?</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. Ay, knave!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Go to! Thou’rt flushed with wine!</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. Thou sayest false!<br /> +Though didst thou need a proof thou speakest true,<br /> +I’d give thee one. Thou seest but one lord here,<br /> +And I see two!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Reflect’st thou on my shape?<br /> +Thou art a villain!</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. [Starting up.] Ha!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. A coward, too!<br /> +Draw!</p> +<p>[Drawing his sword.]</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. Only mark him! how he struts about!<br /> +How laughs his straight sword at his noble back.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Does it? It cuffs thee for a liar then!</p> +<p>[Strikes <span class="smcap">Gaylove</span> with his sword.]</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. A blow!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Another, lest you doubt the first!</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. His blood on his own head! I’m for you, +sir!</p> +<p>[Draws.]</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Hold, sir! This quarrel’s mine!</p> +<p>[Coming forward and drawing.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. No man shall fight for me, sir!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. By your leave,<br /> +Your patience, pray! My lord, for so I learn<br /> +Behoves me to accost you—for your own sake<br /> +Draw off your friend!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Not till we have a bout, sir!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. My lord, your happy fortune ill you greet!<br /> +Ill greet it those who love you—greeting thus<br /> +The herald of it!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Sir, what’s that to you?<br /> +Let go my sleeve!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. My lord, if blood be shed<br /> +On the fair dawn of your prosperity,<br /> +Look not to see the brightness of its day.<br /> +’Twill be o’ercast throughout!</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. My lord, I’m struck!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. You gave the first blow, and the hardest one!<br /> +Look, sir; if swords you needs must measure, I’m<br /> +Your mate, not he!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I’m mate for any man!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Draw off your friend, my lord, for your own sake!</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. Come, Gaylove! let’s have another room.</p> +<p><i>Gay</i>. With all my heart, since ’tis your +lordship’s will.</p> +<p><i>Wilf</i>. That’s right! Put up! Come, +friends!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Wilford</span> and Friends go out.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I’ll follow him!<br /> +Why do you hold me? ’Tis not courteous of you!<br /> +Think’st thou I fear them? Fear! I rate them but<br /> +As dust! dross! offals! Let me at them!—Nay,<br /> +Call you this kind? then kindness know I not;<br /> +Nor do I thank you for’t! Let go, I say!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Nay, Master Walter, they’re not worth your +wrath.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. How know you me for Master Walter? By<br /> +My hunchback, eh!—my stilts of legs and arms,<br /> +The fashion more of ape’s than man’s? Aha!<br /> +So you have heard them, too—their savage gibes<br /> +As I pass on,—“There goes my lord!” aha!<br /> +God made me, sir, as well as them and you.<br /> +’Sdeath! I demand of you, unhand me, sir!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. There, sir, you’re free to follow them! +Go forth,<br /> +And I’ll go too: so on your wilfulness<br /> +Shall fall whate’er of evil may ensue.<br /> +Is’t fit you waste your choler on a burr?<br /> +The nothings of the town; whose sport it is<br /> +To break their villain jests on worthy men,<br /> +The graver still the fitter! Fie for shame!<br /> +Regard what such would say? So would not I,<br /> +No more than heed a cur.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You’re right, sir; right,<br /> +For twenty crowns! So there’s my rapier up!<br /> +You’ve done me a good turn against my will;<br /> +Which, like a wayward child, whose pet is off,<br /> +That made him restive under wholesome check,<br /> +I now right humbly own, and thank you for.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. No thanks, good Master Walter, owe you me!<br /> +I’m glad to know you, sir.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I pray you, now,<br /> +How did you learn my name? Guessed I not right?<br /> +Was’t not my comely hunch that taught it you?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I own it.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Right, I know it; you tell truth. I like you +for’t.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. But when I heard it said<br /> +That Master Walter was a worthy man,<br /> +Whose word would pass on ’change soon as his bond;<br /> +A liberal man—for schemes of public good<br /> +That sets down tens, where others units write;<br /> +A charitable man—the good he does,<br /> +That’s told of, not the half; I never more<br /> +Could see the hunch on Master Walter’s back!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You would not flatter a poor citizen?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Indeed, I flatter not!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I like your face—<br /> +A frank and honest one! Your frame’s well knit,<br /> +Proportioned, shaped!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Good sir!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Your name is Clifford—<br /> +Sir Thomas Clifford. Humph! You’re not the heir<br /> +Direct to the fair baronetcy? He<br /> +That was, was drowned abroad. Am I not right?<br /> +Your cousin, was’t not?—so succeeded you<br /> +To rank and wealth, your birth ne’er promised you.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I see you know my history.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I do.<br /> +You’re lucky who conjoin the benefits<br /> +Of penury and abundance; for I know<br /> +Your father was a man of slender means.<br /> +You do not blush, I see. That’s right! Why should you?<br +/> +What merit to be dropped on fortune’s hill?<br /> +The honour is to mount it. You’d have done it;<br /> +For you were trained to knowledge, industry,<br /> +Frugality, and honesty,—the sinews<br /> +That surest help the climber to the top,<br /> +And keep him there. I have a clerk, Sir Thomas,<br /> +Once served your father; there’s the riddle for you.<br /> +Humph! I may thank you for my life to-day.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I pray you say not so.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. But I will say so!<br /> +Because I think so, know so, feel so, sir!<br /> +Your fortune, I have heard, I think, is ample!<br /> +And doubtless you live up to’t?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. ’Twas my rule,<br /> +And is so still, to keep my outlay, sir,<br /> +A span within my means.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. A prudent rule!<br /> +The turf is a seductive pastime!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You keep a racing stud? You bet?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. No, neither.<br /> +’Twas still my father’s precept—“Better owe<br /> +A yard of land to labour, than to chance<br /> +Be debtor for a rood!”</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. ’Twas a wise precept.<br /> +You’ve a fair house—you’ll get a mistress for it?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. In time!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. In time! ’Tis time thy choice were +made.<br /> +Is’t not so yet? Or is thy lady love<br /> +The newest still thou seest?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Nay, not so.<br /> +I’d marry, Master Walter, but old use—<br /> +For since the age of thirteen I have lived<br /> +In the world—has made me jealous of the thing<br /> +That flattered me with hope of profit. Bargains<br /> +Another would snap up, might be for me:<br /> +Till I had turned and turned them! Speculations,<br /> +That promised, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty,<br /> +Ay, cent-per-cent. returns, I would not launch in,<br /> +When others were afloat, and out at sea;<br /> +Whereby I made small gains, but missed great losses.<br /> +As ever, then, I looked before I leaped,<br /> +So do I now.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thou’rt all the better for it!<br /> +Let’s see! Hand free—heart +whole—well-favoured—so!<br /> +Rich, titled! Let that pass!—kind, valiant, prudent—<br +/> +Sir Thomas, I can help thee to a wife,<br /> +Hast thou the luck to win her!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Master Walter!<br /> +You jest!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I do not jest. I like you! mark—<br /> +I like you, and I like not everyone!<br /> +I say a wife, sir, can I help you to,<br /> +The pearly texture of whose dainty skin<br /> +Alone were worth thy baronetcy! Form<br /> +And feature has she, wherein move and glow<br /> +The charms, that in the marble, cold and still,<br /> +Culled by the sculptor’s jealous skill and joinèd there,<br /> +Inspire us! Sir, a maid, before whose feet,<br /> +A duke—a duke might lay his coronet,<br /> +To lift her to his state, and partner her!<br /> +A fresh heart too!—a young fresh heart, sir; one<br /> +That Cupid has not toyed with, and a warm one—<br /> +Fresh, young, and warm! mark that! a mind to boot;<br /> +Wit, sir; sense, taste;—a garden strictly tended—<br /> +Where nought but what is costly flourishes!<br /> +A consort for a king, sir! Thou shalt see her!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I thank you, Master Walter! As you speak,<br /> +Methinks I see me at the altar-foot!<br /> +Her hand fast locked in mine!—the ring put on!<br /> +My wedding-bell rings merry in my ear;<br /> +And round me throng glad tongues that give me joy<br /> +To be the bridegroom of so fair a bride!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. What! sparks so thick? We’ll have a blaze +anon!</p> +<p><i>Servant</i>. [Entering.] The chariot’s at the +door.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. It waits in time!<br /> +Sir Thomas, it shall bear thee to the bower<br /> +Where dwells this fair—for she’s no city belle,<br /> +But e’en a sylvan goddess!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Have with you!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You’ll bless the day you served the Hunchback, +sir!</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h4>SCENE II.—A Garden before a Country House.</h4> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Julia</span> and <span +class="smcap">Helen</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I like not, Julia, this your country life.<br /> +I’m weary on’t!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Indeed? So am not I!<br /> +I know no other; would no other know!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. You would no other know! Would you not know<br +/> +Another relative?—another friend—<br /> +Another house—another anything,<br /> +Because the ones you have already please you?<br /> +That’s poor content! Would you not be more rich,<br /> +More wise, more fair? The song that last you learned<br /> +You fancy well; and therefore shall you learn<br /> +No other song? Your virginal, ’tis true,<br /> +Hath a sweet tone; but does it follow thence,<br /> +You shall not have another virginal?<br /> +You may, love, and a sweeter one; and so<br /> +A sweeter life may find than this you lead!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I seek it not. Helen, I’m constancy!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. So is a cat, a dog, a silly hen,<br /> +An owl, a bat,—where they are wont to lodge<br /> +That still sojourn, nor care to shift their quarters.<br /> +Thou’rt constancy? I am glad I know thy name!<br /> +The spider comes of the same family,<br /> +That in his meshy fortress spends his life,<br /> +Unless you pull it down and scare him from it.<br /> +And so thou’rt constancy? Ar’t proud of that?<br /> +I’ll warrant thee I’ll match thee with a snail<br /> +From year to year that never leaves his house!<br /> +Such constancy forsooth!—a constant grub<br /> +That houses ever in the self-same nut<br /> +Where he was born, till hunger drives him out,<br /> +Or plunder breaketh through his castle wall!<br /> +And so, in very deed, thou’rt constancy!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Helen, you know the adage of the tree;—<br /> +I’ve ta’en the bend. This rural life of mine,<br /> +Enjoined me by an unknown father’s will,<br /> +I’ve led from infancy. Debarred from hope<br /> +Of change, I ne’er have sighed for change. The town<br /> +To me was like the moon, for any thought<br /> +I e’er should visit it—nor was I schooled<br /> +To think it half so fair!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Not half so fair!<br /> +The town’s the sun, and thou hast dwelt in night<br /> +E’er since thy birth, not to have seen the town!<br /> +Their women there are queens, and kings their men;<br /> +Their houses palaces!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. And what of that?<br /> +Have your town-palaces a hall like this?<br /> +Couches so fragrant? walls so high-adorned?<br /> +Casements with such festoons, such prospects, Helen,<br /> +As these fair vistas have? Your kings and queens!<br /> +See me a May-day queen, and talk of them!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Extremes are ever neighbours. ’Tis a +step<br /> +From one to the other! Were thy constancy<br /> +A reasonable thing—a little less<br /> +Of constancy—a woman’s constancy—<br /> +I should not wonder wert thou ten years hence<br /> +The maid I know thee now; but, as it is,<br /> +The odds are ten to one, that this day year<br /> +Will see our May-day queen a city one!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Never! I’m wedded to a country life:<br +/> +O, did you hear what Master Walter says!<br /> +Nine times in ten the town’s a hollow thing,<br /> +Where what things are is nought to what they show;<br /> +Where merit’s name laughs merit’s self to scorn!<br /> +Where friendship and esteem that ought to be<br /> +The tenants of men’s hearts, lodge in their looks<br /> +And tongues alone. Where little virtue, with<br /> +A costly keeper, passes for a heap;<br /> +A heap for none that has a homely one!<br /> +Where fashion makes the law—your umpire which<br /> +You bow to, whether it has brains or not!<br /> +Where Folly taketh off his cap and bells,<br /> +To clap on Wisdom, which must bear the jest!<br /> +Where to pass current you must seem the thing,<br /> +The passive thing, that others think; and not<br /> +Your simple, honest, independent self!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Ay: so says Master Walter. See I not<br /> +What can you find in Master Walter, Julia,<br /> +To be so fond of him!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. He’s fond of me!<br /> +I’ve known him since I was a child. E’en then,<br /> +The week I thought a weary, heavy one,<br /> +That brought not Master Walter. I had those<br /> +About me then that made a fool of me,<br /> +As children oft are fooled; but more I loved<br /> +Good Master Walter’s lesson than the play<br /> +With which they’d surfeit me. As I grew up,<br /> +More frequent Master Walter came, and more<br /> +I loved to see him! I had tutors then,<br /> +Men of great skill and learning—but not one<br /> +That taught like Master Walter. What they’d show me,<br /> +And I, dull as I was, but doubtful saw,—<br /> +A word from Master Walter made as clear<br /> +As daylight! When my schooling days were o’er—<br /> +That’s now good three years past—three years—I vow<br /> +I’m twenty, Helen!—well, as I was saying,<br /> +When I had done with school, and all were gone,<br /> +Still Master Walter came! and still he comes,<br /> +Summer or winter—frost or rain! I’ve seen<br /> +The snow upon a level with the hedge,<br /> +Yet there was Master Walter!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Who comes here?<br /> +A carriage, and a gay one—who alights?<br /> +Pshaw! Only Master Walter! What see you,<br /> +Which thus repairs the arch of the fair brow,<br /> +A frown was like to spoil?—A gentleman!<br /> +One of our town kings! Mark!—How say you now?<br /> +Wouldst be a town queen, Julia? Which of us,<br /> +I wonder, comes he for?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. For neither of us;<br /> +He’s Master Walter’s clerk, most like.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Most like!<br /> +Mark him as he comes up the avenue;<br /> +So looks a clerk! A clerk has such a gait!<br /> +So does a clerk dress, Julia!—mind his hose—<br /> +They’re very like a clerk’s! a diamond loop<br /> +And button, note you, for his clerkship’s hat,—<br /> +O, certainly a clerk! A velvet cloak,<br /> +Jerkin of silk, and doublet of the same,—<br /> +For all the world a clerk! See, Julia, see,<br /> +How Master Walter bows, and yields him place,<br /> +That he may first go in—a very clerk!<br /> +I’ll learn of thee, love, when I’d know a clerk!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I wonder who he is!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Wouldst like to know?<br /> +Wouldst for a fancy ride to town with him?<br /> +I prophesy he comes to take thee thither!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. He ne’er takes me to town! No, Helen, +no!<br /> +To town who will, a country life for me!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. We’ll see!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Fathom</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. You’re wanted, madam.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Embarrassed.] Which of us?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. You, madam.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Julia! what’s the matter? Nay,<br /> +Mount not the rose so soon! He must not see it<br /> +A month hence. ’Tis loves flower, which once she wears,<br /> +The maid is all his own.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Go to!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Be sure<br /> +He comes to woo thee! He will bear thee hence;<br /> +He’ll make thee change the country for the town.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I’m constancy. Name he the town to +me,<br /> +I’ll tell what I think on’t!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Then you guess<br /> +He comes a wooing?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I guess nought.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. You do!<br /> +At your grave words, your lips, more honest, smile,<br /> +And show them to be traitors. Hie to him.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Hie thee to soberness.</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Ay, will I, when,<br /> +Thy bridemaid, I shall hie to church with thee.<br /> +Well, Fathom, who is come?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. I know not.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What! Didst thou not hear his name?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. I did.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What is’t?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. I noted not.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What hast thou ears for, then?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. What good were it for me to mind his name?<br /> +I do but what I must do. To do that<br /> +Is labour quite enough!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Without.] What, Fathom!</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Here.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Entering.] Here, sirrah! Wherefore didst +not come to me?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. You did not bid me come.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I called thee.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Yes.<br /> +And I said “Here;” and waited then to know<br /> +Your worship’s will with me.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. We go to town.<br /> +Thy mistress, thou, and all the house.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Well, sir?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Mak’st thou not ready then to go to town?<br /> +Hence, knave, despatch!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Fathom</span> goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Go we to town?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. We do;<br /> +’Tis now her father’s will she sees the town.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’m glad on’t. Goes she to her +father?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. No:<br /> +At the desire of thine she for a term shares roof with thee.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’m very glad on’t.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. What!<br /> +You like her, then? I thought you would. ’Tis time<br /> +She sees the town.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. It has been time for that<br /> +These six years.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. By thy wisdom’s count. No doubt<br /> +You’ve told her what a precious place it is.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I have.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I even guessed as much. For that<br /> +I told thee of her; brought thee here to see her;<br /> +And prayed thee to sojourn a space with her;<br /> +That its fair space, from thy too fair report,<br /> +Might strike a novice less—so less deceive her.<br /> +I did not put thee under check.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. ’Twas right,—<br /> +Else had I broken loose, and run the wilder!<br /> +So knows she not her father yet: that’s strange.<br /> +I prithee how does mine?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Well—very well.<br /> +News for thee.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thy cousin is in town.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. My cousin Modus?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Much do I suspect<br /> +That cousin’s nearer to thy heart than blood.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Pshaw! Wed me to a musty library!<br /> +Love him who nothing loves but Greek and Latin!<br /> +But, Master Walter, you forget the main<br /> +Surpassing point of all! Who’s come with you?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Ay, that’s the question!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Is he soldier or<br /> +Civilian? lord or gentleman? He’s rich,<br /> +If that’s his chariot! Where is his estate?<br /> +What brings it in? Six thousand pounds a year?<br /> +Twelve thousand, may be! Is he bachelor,<br /> +Or husband? Bachelor I’m sure he is<br /> +Comes he not hither wooing, Master Walter?<br /> +Nay, prithee, answer me!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Who says thy sex<br /> +Are curious? That they’re patient, I’ll be sworn;<br /> +And reasonable—very reasonable—<br /> +To look for twenty answers in a breath!<br /> +Come, thou shalt be enlightened—but propound<br /> +Thy questions one by one! Thou’rt far too apt<br /> +A scholar! My ability to teach<br /> +Will ne’er keep pace, I fear, with thine to learn.</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h4>SCENE III.—An Apartment in the House.</h4> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Julia</span>, followed by <span +class="smcap">Clifford</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. No more! I pray you, sir, no more!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I love you!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. You mock me, sir!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Then is there no such thing<br /> +On earth as reverence; honour filial, the fear<br /> +Of kings, the awe of supreme heaven itself,<br /> +Are only shows and sounds that stand for nothing.<br /> +I love you!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. You have known me scarce a minute!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Say but a moment, still I say I love you!<br /> +Love’s not a flower that grows on the dull earth;<br /> +Springs by the calendar; must wait for the sun—<br /> +For rain;—matures by parts;—must take its time<br /> +To stem, to leaf, to bud, to blow. It owns<br /> +A richer soil, and boasts a quicker seed!<br /> +You look for it, and see it not; and lo!<br /> +E’en while you look, the peerless flower is up.<br /> +Consummate in the birth!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Is’t fear I feel?<br /> +Why else should beat my heart? It can’t be fear!<br /> +Something I needs must say. You’re from the town;<br /> +How comes it, sir, you seek a country wife?<br /> +Methinks ’twill tax his wit to answer that.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. In joining contrasts lieth love’s delight.<br +/> +Complexion, stature, nature, mateth it,<br /> +Not with their kinds, but with their opposites.<br /> +Hence hands of snow in palms of russet lie;<br /> +The form of Hercules affects the sylph’s;<br /> +And breasts, that case the lion’s fear-proof heart,<br /> +Find their meet lodge in arms where tremors dwell!<br /> +Haply for this, on Afric’s swarthy neck,<br /> +Hath Europe’s priceless pearl been seen to hang,<br /> +That makes the orient poor! So with degrees,<br /> +Rank passes by the circlet-graced brow,<br /> +Upon the forehead, bare, of notelessness<br /> +To print the nuptial kiss. As with degrees<br /> +So is’t with habits; therefore I, indeed<br /> +A gallant of the town, the town forsake,<br /> +To win a country wife.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. His prompt reply<br /> +My backward challenge shames! Must I give o’er?<br /> +I’ll try his wit again. Who marries me<br /> +Must lead a country life.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. The life I’d lead!<br /> +But fools would fly from it; for O! ’tis sweet!<br /> +It finds the heart out, be there one to find;<br /> +And corners in’t where store of pleasures lodge,<br /> +We never dreamed were there! It is to dwell<br /> +’Mid smiles that are not neighbours to deceit;<br /> +Music, whose melody is of the heart;<br /> +And gifts, that are not made for interest,—<br /> +Abundantly bestowed by Nature’s cheek,<br /> +And voice, and hand! It is to live on life,<br /> +And husband it! It is to constant scan<br /> +The handiwork of Heaven. It is to con<br /> +Its mercy, bounty, wisdom, power! It is<br /> +To nearer see our God!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. How like he talks<br /> +To Master Walter! Shall I give it o’er?<br /> +Not yet. Thou wouldst not live one half a year!<br /> +A quarter mightst thou for the novelty<br /> +Of fields and trees; but then it needs must be<br /> +In summer time, when they go dressed.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Not it!<br /> +In any time—say winter! Fields and trees<br /> +Have charms for me in very winter time.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. But snow may clothe them then.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I like them full<br /> +As well in snow!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. You do?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I do.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. But night<br /> +Will hide both snow and them, and that sets in<br /> +Ere afternoon is out. A heavy thing,<br /> +A country fireside in a winter’s night,<br /> +To one bred in the town,—where winter’s said,<br /> +For sun of gaiety and sportiveness,<br /> +To beggar shining summer.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I should like<br /> +A country winter’s night especially!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. You’d sleep by the fire.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Not I; I’d talk to thee.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. You’d tire of that!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I’d read to thee.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. And that!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I’d talk to thee again.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. And sooner tire<br /> +Than first you did, and fall asleep at last.<br /> +You’d never do to lead a country life.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. You deal too harshly with me! Matchless +maid,<br /> +As loved instructor brightens dullest wit,<br /> +Fear not to undertake the charge of me!<br /> +A willing pupil kneels to thee, and lays<br /> +His title and his fortune at your feet.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. His title and his fortune!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Walter</span> and <span +class="smcap">Helen</span>.—<span class="smcap">Julia</span>, +disconcerted, retires with the latter.—<span +class="smcap">Clifford</span> rises.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. So, Sir Thomas!<br /> +Aha! you husband time! Well, was I right?<br /> +Is’t not the jewel that I told you ’twas?<br /> +Wouldst thou not give thine eyes to wear it? Eh?<br /> +It has an owner, though,—nay, start not,—one<br /> +That may be bought to part with’t, and with whom<br /> +I’ll stand thy friend—I will—I say, I will!<br /> +A strange man, sir, and unaccountable:<br /> +But I can humour him—will humour him<br /> +For thy sake, good Sir Thomas; for I like thee.<br /> +Well, is’t a bargain? Come, thy hand upon it.<br /> +A word or two with thee.</p> +<p>[They retire. <span class="smcap">Julia</span> and <span +class="smcap">Helen</span> come forward.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Go up to town!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Have I not said it ten times o’er to thee?<br +/> +But if thou likest it not, protest against it.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Not if ’tis Master Walter’s will.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What then?<br /> +Thou wouldst not break thy heart for Master Walter?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. That follows not!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What follows not?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. That I<br /> +Should break my heart, because we go to town.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Indeed?—Oh, that’s another matter. +Well,<br /> +I’d e’en advise thee then to do his will;<br /> +And, ever after, when I prophesy,<br /> +Believe me, Julia!</p> +<p>[They retire. <span class="smcap">Master Walter</span> comes +forward.]</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Fathom</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. So please you, sir, a letter,—a post-haste +letter! The bearer on horseback, the horse in a foam—smoking +like a boiler at the heat—be sure a posthaste letter!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Look to the horse and rider.</p> +<p>[Opens the letter and reads.]</p> +<p>What’s this? A testament addressed to me,<br /> +Found in his lordship’s escritoire, and thence<br /> +Directed to be taken by no hand<br /> +But mine. My presence instantly required.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Thomas</span>, <span +class="smcap">Julia</span>, and <span class="smcap">Helen</span> come +forward.]</p> +<p>Come, my mistresses,<br /> +You dine in town to-day. Your father’s will,<br /> +It is, my Julia, that you see the world;<br /> +And thou shalt see it in its best attire.<br /> +Its gayest looks—its richest finery<br /> +It shall put on for thee, that thou may’st judge<br /> +Betwixt it, and this rural life you’ve lived.<br /> +Business of moment I’m but thus advised of,<br /> +Touching the will of my late noble master,<br /> +The Earl of Rochdale, recently deceased,<br /> +Commands me for a time to leave thee there.<br /> +Sir Thomas, hand her to the chariot. Nay,<br /> +I tell thee true. We go indeed to town!</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h3>ACT II.</h3> +<h4>SCENE I.—An Apartment in Master Heartwell’s House.</h4> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Fathom</span> and <span +class="smcap">Thomas</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. Well, Fathom, is thy mistress up?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. She is, Master Thomas, and breakfasted.</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. She stands it well! ’Twas five, you say, +when she came home; and wants it now three-quarters of an hour of +ten? Wait till her stock of country health is out.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. ’Twill come to that, Master Thomas, before she +lives another month in town! three, four, five six o’clock are now +the hours she keeps. ’Twas otherwise with her in the +country. There, my mistress used to rise what time she now lies +down.</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. Why, yes; she’s changed since she came +hither.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Changed, do you say, Master Thomas? Changed, +forsooth! I know not the thing in which she is not changed, saving +that she is still a woman. I tell thee there is no keeping pace with +her moods. In the country she had none of them. When I brought +what she asked for, it was “Thank you, Fathom,” and no more to +do; but now, nothing contents her. Hark ye! were you a gentleman, +Master Thomas,—for then you know you would be a different kind of +man,—how many times would you have your coat altered?</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. Why, Master Fathom, as many times as it would take to +make it fit me.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Good! But, supposing it fitted thee at the +first?</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. Then would I have it altered not at all.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Good! Thou wouldst be a reasonable +gentleman. Thou wouldst have a conscience. Now hark to a tale +about my lady’s last gown. How many times, think you, took I it +back to the sempstress?</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. Thrice, may be.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Thrice, may be! Twenty times, may be; and not a +turn too many, for the truth on’t. Twenty times, on the oath of +the sempstress. Now mark me—can you count?</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. After a fashion.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. You have much to be thankful for, Master +Thomas. You London serving-men have a world of things, which we in +the country never dream of. Now mark:—Four times took I it back +for the flounce; twice for the sleeves; three for the tucker—How many +times in all is that?</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. Eight times to a fraction, Master Fathom.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. What a master of figures you are! Eight +times—now recollect that! And then found she fault with the +trimmings. Now tell me, how many times took I back the gown for the +trimmings?</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. Eight times more, perhaps!</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Ten times to a certainty. How many times makes +that?</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. Eighteen, Master Fathom, by the rule of addition.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. And how many times more will make twenty?</p> +<p>Thee. Twice, by the same rule.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Thou hast worked with thy pencil and slate, Master +Thomas! Well, ten times, as I said, took I back the gown for the +trimmings; and was she content after all? I warrant you no, or my +ears did not pay for it. She wished, she said, that the slattern +sempstress had not touched the gown, for nought had she done but botched +it. Now what think you had the sempstress done to the gown?</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. To surmise that, I must be learned in the +sempstress’s art.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. The sempstress’s art! Thou hast hit +it! Oh, the sweet sempstress! the excellent sempstress! +Mistress of her scissors and needles, which are pointless and edgeless to +her art! The sempstress had done nothing to the gown; yet raves and +storms my mistress at her for having botched it in the making and mending; +and orders her straight to make another one, which home the sempstress +brings on Tuesday last.</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. And found thy fair mistress as many faults with +that?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Not one! She finds it a very pattern of a +gown! A well-sitting flounce! The sleeves a fit—the +tucker a fit—the trimmings her fancy to a T—ha! ha! ha! and she +praised the sempstress—ha! ha! ha! and she smiles at me, and I +smile—ha! ha! ha! and the sempstress smiles—ha! ha! ha! +Now, why did the sempstress smile?</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. That she had succeeded so well in her art.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Thou hast hit it again! The jade must have been +born a sempstress! If ever I marry, she shall work for my wife. +The gown was the same gown, and there was my mistress’s twentieth +mood!</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. What think you will Master Walter say when he comes +back? I fear he’ll hardly know his country maid again. +Has she yet fixed her wedding-day?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. She has, Master Thomas. I coaxed it from her +maid. She marries, Monday week.</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. Comes not Master Walter back to-day?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Your master expects him. [A ringing.] +Perhaps that’s he. I prithee go and open the door; do, Master +Thomas, do; for proves it my master, he’ll surely question me.</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. And what should I do?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Answer him, Master Thomas, and make him none the +wiser. He’ll go mad, when he learns how my lady flaunts +it! Go! open the door, I prithee. Fifty things, Master Thomas, +know you, for one thing that I know! You can turn and twist a matter +into any other kind of matter; and then twist and turn it back again, if +needs be; so much you servants of the town beat us of the country, Master +Thomas. Open the door, now; do, Master Thomas, do!</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h4>SCENE II.—A Garden with two Arbours.</h4> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Heartwell</span> and <span +class="smcap">Master Walter</span> meeting.]</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. Good Master Walter, welcome back again!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I’m glad to see you, Master Heartwell!</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. How,<br /> +I pray you, sped the mighty business which<br /> +So sudden called you hence?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Weighty, indeed!<br /> +What thou wouldst ne’er expect—wilt scarce believe!<br /> +Long-hidden wrong, wondrously come to light,<br /> +And great right done! But more of this anon.<br /> +Now of my ward discourse! Likes she the town?<br /> +How does she? Is she well? Canst match me her<br /> +Among your city maids?</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. Nor court ones neither!<br /> +She far outstrips them all!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I knew she would.<br /> +What else could follow in a maid so bred?<br /> +A pure mind, Master Heartwell!—not a taint<br /> +From intercourse with the distempered town;<br /> +With which all contact was walled out, until,<br /> +Matured in soundness, I could trust her to it,<br /> +And sleep amidst infection!</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. Master Walter!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Well?</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. Tell me, prithee, which is likelier<br /> +To plough a sea in safety?—he that’s wont<br /> +To sail in it,—or he that by the chart<br /> +Is master of its soundings, bearings,—knows<br /> +Is headlands, havens, currents—where ’tis bold,<br /> +And where behoves to keep a good look-out.<br /> +The one will swim, where sinks the other one?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. The drift of this?</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. Do you not guess it?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Humph!</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. If you would train a maid to live in town,<br /> +Breed her not in the country!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Say you so?<br /> +And stands she not the test?</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. As snow stands fire!<br /> +Your country maid has melted all away,<br /> +And plays the city lady to the height;<br /> +Her mornings gives to mercers, milliners,<br /> +Shoemakers, jewellers, and haberdashers;<br /> +Her noons, to calls; her afternoons, to dressing;<br /> +Evenings, to plays and drums; and nights, to routs,<br /> +Balls, masquerades! Sleep only ends the riot,<br /> +Which waking still begins!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. I’m all amaze!<br /> +How bears Sir Thomas this?</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. Why, patiently;<br /> +Though one can see with pain.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. She loves him? Ha!<br /> +That shrug is doubt! She’d ne’er consent to wed him<br /> +Unless she loved him!—never! Her young fancy<br /> +The pleasures of the town—new things—have caught,<br /> +Anon their hold will slacken; she’ll become<br /> +Her former self again; to its old train<br /> +Of sober feelings will her heart return;<br /> +And then she’ll give it wholly to the man<br /> +Her virgin wishes chose!</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. Here comes Sir Thomas;<br /> +And with him Master Modus.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Let them pass:<br /> +I would not see him till I speak with her.</p> +<p>[They retire into one of the Arbours.]</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Clifford</span> and <span +class="smcap">Modus</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. A dreadful question is it, when we love,<br /> +To ask if love’s returned! I did believe<br /> +Fair Julia’s heart was mine—I doubt it now!<br /> +But once last night she danced with me, her hand,<br /> +To this gallant and that engaged, as soon<br /> +As asked for? Maid that loved would scarce do this?<br /> +Nor visit we together as we used,<br /> +When first she came to town. She loves me less<br /> +Than once she did—or loves me not at all.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. I’m little skilled, Sir Thomas, in the world:<br +/> +What mean you now to do?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Remonstrate with her;<br /> +Come to an understanding, and, at once,<br /> +If she repents her promise to be mine,<br /> +Absolve her from it—and say farewell to her.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Lo, then, your opportunity—she comes—<br +/> +My cousin also:—her will I engage,<br /> +Whilst you converse together.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Nay, not yet!<br /> +My heart turns coward at the sight of her.<br /> +Stay till it finds new courage! Let them pass.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clifford</span> and <span +class="smcap">Modus</span> retire into the other Arbour.]</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Julia</span> and <span +class="smcap">Helen</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. So, Monday week will say good morn to thee<br /> +A maid, and bid good night a sober wife!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. That Monday week, I trust, will never come,<br /> +That brags to make a sober wife of me!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. How changed you are, my Julia!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Change makes change.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Why wedd’st thou, then?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Because I promised him!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Thou lovest him?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Do I?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. He’s a man to love!<br /> +A right well-favoured man!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Your point’s well favoured.<br /> +Where did you purchase it? In Gracechurch Street?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Pshaw! never mind my point, but talk of him.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I’d rather talk with thee about the lace.<br +/> +Where bought you it? In Gracechurch Street, Cheapside,<br /> +Whitechapel, Little Britain? Can’t you say<br /> +Where ’twas you bought the lace?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. In Cheapside, then.<br /> +And now, then, to Sir Thomas! He is just<br /> +The height I like a man.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Thy feather’s just<br /> +The height I like a feather! Mine’s too short!<br /> +What shall I give thee in exchange for it?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What shall I give thee for a minute’s talk<br +/> +About Sir Thomas?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Why, thy feather.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Take it!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. [Aside to <span class="smcap">Modus</span>.] +What, likes she not to speak of me?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. And now<br /> +Let’s talk about Sir Thomas—much I’m sure<br /> +He loves you.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Much I’m sure, he has a right!<br /> +Those know I who would give their eyes to be<br /> +Sir Thomas, for my sake!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Such too, know I.<br /> +But ’mong them none that can compare with him,<br /> +Not one so graceful.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. What a graceful set<br /> +Your feather has!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Nay, give it back to me,<br /> +Unless you pay me for’t.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. What was’t to get?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. A minute’s talk with thee about Sir +Thomas.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Talk of his title, and his fortune then.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. [Aside.] Indeed! I would not listen, yet +I must!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. An ample fortune, Helen—I shall be<br /> +A happy wife! What routs, what balls, what masques,<br /> +What gala-days!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. [Aside.] For these she marries me!<br /> +She’ll talk of these!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Think not, when I am wed,<br /> +I’ll keep the house as owlet does her tower,<br /> +Alone,—when every other bird’s on wing.<br /> +I’ll use my palfrey, Helen; and my coach;<br /> +My barge, too, for excursion on the Thames:<br /> +What drives to Barnet, Hackney, Islington!<br /> +What rides to Epping, Hounslow, and Blackheath!<br /> +What sails to Greenwich, Woolwich, Fulham, Kew!<br /> +I’ll set a pattern to your lady wives!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. [Aside.] Ay, lady? Trust me, not at my +expense.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. And what a wardrobe! I’ll have change of +suits<br /> +For every day in the year! and sets for days!<br /> +My morning dress, my noon dress, dinner dress,<br /> +And evening dress! Then will I show you lace<br /> +A foot deep, can I purchase; if not,<br /> +I’ll specially bespeak it. Diamonds too!<br /> +Not buckles, rings, and earrings only—but<br /> +Whole necklaces and stomachers of gems!<br /> +I’ll shine! be sure I will.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. [Aside.] Then shine away;<br /> +Who covets thee may wear thee;—I’m not he!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. And then my title! Soon as I put on<br /> +The ring, I’m Lady Clifford. So I take<br /> +Precedence of plain mistress, were she e’en<br /> +The richest heiress in the land! At town<br /> +Or country ball, you’ll see me take the lead,<br /> +While wives that carry on their backs the wealth<br /> +To dower a princess, shall give place to me;—<br /> +Will I not profit, think you, by my right?<br /> +Be sure I will! marriage shall prove to me<br /> +A never-ending pageant. Every day<br /> +Shall show how I am spoused! I will be known<br /> +For Lady Clifford all the city through,<br /> +And fifty miles the country round about.<br /> +Wife of Sir Thomas Clifford, baronet—<br /> +Not perishable knight—who, when he makes<br /> +A lady of me, doubtless must expect<br /> +To see me play the part of one.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. [Coming forward.] Most true;<br /> +But not the part which you design to play.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. A listener, sir!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. By chance, and not intent,<br /> +Your speech was forced upon mine ear, that ne’er<br /> +More thankless duty to my heart discharged!<br /> +Would for that heart it ne’er had known the sense<br /> +Which tells it ’tis a bankrupt, there, where most<br /> +It coveted to be rich, and thought it was so!<br /> +O Julia, is it you? Could I have set<br /> +A coronet upon that stately brow,<br /> +Where partial nature hath already bound<br /> +A brighter circlet—radiant beauty’s own—<br /> +I had been proud to see thee proud of it,<br /> +So for the donor thou hadst ta’en the gift,<br /> +Not for the gift ta’en him. Could I have poured<br /> +The wealth of richest Croesus in thy lap,<br /> +I had been blest to see thee scatter it,<br /> +So I was still thy riches paramount!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Know you me, sir!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I do. On Monday week<br /> +We were to wed—and are—so you’re content;<br /> +The day that weds, wives you to be widowed. Take<br /> +The privilege of my wife; be Lady Clifford!<br /> +Outshine the title in the wearing on’t!<br /> +My coffers, lands, all are at thy command;<br /> +Wear all! but, for myself, she wears not me,<br /> +Although the coveted of every eye,<br /> +Who would not wear me for myself alone.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. And do you carry it so proudly, sir?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Proudly, but still more sorrowfully, lady!<br /> +I’ll lead thee to the church on Monday week.<br /> +Till then, farewell and then, farewell for ever!<br /> +O Julia, I have ventured for thy love,<br /> +As the bold merchant, who, for only hope<br /> +Of some rich gain, all former gains will risk.<br /> +Before I asked a portion of thy heart,<br /> +I perilled all my own; and now, all’s lost!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clifford</span> and <span +class="smcap">Modus</span> go out.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Helen!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What ails you, sweet?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I cannot breathe—quick, loose my girdle, +oh!</p> +<p>[Faints.]</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Master Walter</span> and <span class="smcap">Master +Heartwell</span> come forward.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Good Master Heartwell, help to take her in,<br /> +Whilst I make after him! and look to her!<br /> +Unlucky chance that took me out of town!</p> +<p>[They go out severally.]</p> +<h4>SCENE III.—The Street.</h4> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Clifford</span> and <span +class="smcap">Stephen</span>, meeting.]</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. Letters, Sir Thomas.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Take them home again,<br /> +I shall not read them now.</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. Your pardon, sir,<br /> +But here is one directed strangely.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. How?</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. “To Master Clifford, gentleman, now styled<br /> +Sir Thomas Clifford, baronet.”</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Indeed!<br /> +Whence comes that letter?</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. From abroad.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Which is it?</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. So please you, this, Sir Thomas.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Give it me.</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. That letter brings not news to wish him joy +upon. If he was disturbed before, which I guessed by his looks he +was, he is not more at ease now. His hand to his head! A most +unwelcome letter! If it brings him news of disaster, fortune does not +give him his deserts; for never waited servant upon a kinder master.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Stephen!</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. Sir Thomas!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. From my door remove<br /> +The plate that bears my name.</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. The plate, Sir Thomas!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. The plate—collect my servants and instruct +them<br /> +To make out each their claims, unto the end<br /> +Of their respective terms, and give them in<br /> +To my steward. Him and them apprise, good fellow,<br /> +That I keep house no more. As you go home,<br /> +Call at my coachmaker’s and bid him stop<br /> +The carriage I bespoke. The one I have<br /> +Send with my horses to the mart whereat<br /> +Such things are sold by auction. They’re for sale;<br /> +Pack up my wardrobe, have my trunks conveyed<br /> +To the inn in the next street; and when that’s done,<br /> +Go round my tradesmen and collect their bills,<br /> +And bring them to me at the inn.</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. The inn!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Yes; I go home no more. Why, what’s the +matter?<br /> +What has fallen out to make your eyes fill up?<br /> +You’ll get another place. I’ll certify<br /> +You’re honest and industrious, and all<br /> +That a servant ought to be.</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. I see, Sir Thomas,<br /> +Some great misfortune has befallen you?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. No!<br /> +I have health; I have strength; my reason, Stephen, and<br /> +A heart that’s clear in truth, with trust in God.<br /> +No great disaster can befall the man<br /> +Who’s still possessed of these! Good fellow, leave me.<br /> +What you would learn, and have a right to know,<br /> +I would not tell you now. Good Stephen, hence!<br /> +Mischance has fallen on me—but what of that?<br /> +Mischance has fallen on many a better man.<br /> +I prithee leave me. I grow sadder while<br /> +I see the eye with which you view my grief.<br /> +’Sdeath, they will out! I would have been a man,<br /> +Had you been less a kind and gentle one.<br /> +Now, as you love me, leave me.</p> +<p><i>Ste</i>. Never master<br /> +So well deserved the love of him that served him.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Stephen</span> goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Misfortune liketh company; it seldom<br /> +Visits its friends alone. Ha! Master Walter,<br /> +And ruffled too. I’m in no mood for him.</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Walter</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. So, Sir—Sir Thomas Clifford! what with speed<br +/> +And choler—I do gasp for want of breath.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Well, Master Walter?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You’re a rash young man, sir;<br /> +Strong-headed and wrong-headed, and I fear, sir,<br /> +Not over delicate in that fine sense<br /> +Which men of honour pride themselves upon!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Well, Master Walter?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. A young woman’s heart, sir,<br /> +Is not a stone to carve a posy on!<br /> +Which knows not what is writ on’t; which you may buy,<br /> +Exchange, or sell, sir, keep or give away, sir:<br /> +It is a richer—yet a poorer thing;<br /> +Priceless to him that owns and prizes it;<br /> +Worthless, when owned, not prized; which makes the man<br /> +That covets it, obtains it, and discards it—<br /> +A fool, if not a villain, sir.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Well, sir?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You never loved my ward, sir!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. The bright Heavens<br /> +Bear witness that I did!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. The bright Heavens, sir,<br /> +Bear not false witness. That you loved her not<br /> +Is clear—for had you loved her, you’d have plucked<br /> +Your heart from out your breast, ere cast her from your heart!<br /> +Old as I am, I know what passion is.<br /> +It is the summer’s heat, sir, which in vain<br /> +We look for frost in. Ice, like you, sir, knows<br /> +But little of such heat! We are wronged, sir, wronged!<br /> +You wear a sword, and so do I.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Well, sir!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You know the use, sir, of a sword?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I do.<br /> +To whip a knave, sir, or an honest man!<br /> +A wise man or a fool—atone for wrong,<br /> +Or double the amount on’t! Master Walter,<br /> +Touching your ward, if wrong is done, I think<br /> +On my side lies the grievance. I would not say so<br /> +Did I not think so. As for love—look, sir,<br /> +That hand’s a widower’s, to its first mate sworn<br /> +To clasp no second one. As for amends, sir,<br /> +You’re free to get them from a man in whom<br /> +You’ve been forestalled by fortune, for the spite<br /> +Which she has vented on him, if you still<br /> +Esteem him worth your anger. Please you read<br /> +That letter. Now, sir, judge if life is dear<br /> +To one so much a loser.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. What, all gone!<br /> +Thy cousin living they reported dead!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Title and land, sir, unto which add love!<br /> +All gone, save life and honour, which, ere I’ll lose,<br /> +I’ll let the other go.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. We’re public here,<br /> +And may be interrupted. Let us seek<br /> +Some spot of privacy. Your letter, sir.</p> +<p>[Gives it back.]</p> +<p>Though fortune slights you, I’ll not slight you; not<br /> +Your title or the lack of it I heed.<br /> +Whether upon the score of love or hate,<br /> +With you and you alone I settle, sir.<br /> +We’ve gone too far. ’Twere folly now to part<br /> +Without a reckoning.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Just as you please.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You’ve done<br /> +A noble lady wrong.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. That lady, sir,<br /> +Has done me wrong.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Go to, thou art a boy<br /> +Fit to be trusted with a plaything, not<br /> +A woman’s heart. Thou knowest not what it is!<br /> +And that I’ll prove to thee, soon as we find<br /> +Convenient place. Come on, sir! you shall get<br /> +A lesson that shall serve you for the rest<br /> +Of your life. I’ll make you own her, sir, a piece<br /> +Of Nature’s handiwork, as costly, free<br /> +From bias, flaw, and fair, as ever yet<br /> +Her cunning hand turned out. Come on, sir! come!</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h3>ACT III.</h3> +<h4>SCENE I.—A Drawing-room.</h4> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Lord Tinsel</span> and the <span +class="smcap">Earl of Rochdale</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Refuse a lord! A saucy lady this.<br /> +I scarce can credit it.</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. She’ll change her mind.<br /> +My agent, Master Walter, is her guardian.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. How can you keep that Hunchback in his office?<br /> +He mocks you.</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. He is useful. Never heed him.<br /> +My offer now do I present through him.<br /> +He has the title-deeds of my estates,<br /> +She’ll listen to their wooing. I must have her.<br /> +Not that I love her, but that all allow<br /> +She’s fairest of the fair.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Distinguished well!<br /> +’Twere most unseemly for a lord to love!—<br /> +Leave that to commoners! ’Tis vulgar—she’s<br /> +Betrothed, you tell me, to Sir Thomas Clifford?</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. That a commoner should thwart a lord!<br /> +Yet not a commoner. A baronet<br /> +Is fish and flesh. Nine parts plebeian, and<br /> +Patrician in the tenth. Sir Thomas Clifford!<br /> +A man, they say, of brains! I abhor brains<br /> +As I do tools: they’re things mechanical.<br /> +So far are we above our forefathers<br /> +They to their brains did owe their titles, as<br /> +Do lawyers, doctors. We to nothing owe them,<br /> +Which makes us far the nobler.</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Is it so?</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Believe me. You shall profit by my training;<br +/> +You grow a lord apace. I saw you meet<br /> +A bevy of your former friends, who fain<br /> +Had shaken hands with you. You gave them fingers!<br /> +You’re now another man. Your house is changed—<br /> +Your table changed—your retinue—your horse—<br /> +Where once you rode a hack, you now back blood;—<br /> +Befits it, then, you also change your friends!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Williams</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Will</i>. A gentleman would see your lordship.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Sir!<br /> +What’s that?</p> +<p><i>Will</i>. A gentleman would see his lordship.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. How know you, sir, his lordship is at home?<br /> +Is he at home because he goes not out?<br /> +He’s not at home, though there you see him, sir;<br /> +Unless he certify that he’s at home!<br /> +Bring up the name of the gentleman, and then<br /> +Your lord will know if he’s at home or not.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Williams</span> goes out.]</p> +<p>Your man was porter to some merchant’s door,<br /> +Who never taught him better breeding<br /> +Than to speak the vulgar truth! Well, sir?</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Williams</span> having re-entered.]</p> +<p><i>Will</i>. His name,<br /> +So please your lordship, Markham.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Do you know<br /> +The thing?</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Right well! I’faith a hearty fellow,<br +/> +Son to a worthy tradesman, who would do<br /> +Great things with little means; so entered him<br /> +In the Temple. A good fellow, on my life.<br /> +Nought smacking of his stock!</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. You’ve said enough!<br /> +His lordship’s not at home.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Williams</span> goes out.]</p> +<p>We do not go<br /> +By hearts, but orders! Had he family—<br /> +Blood—though it only were a drop—his heart<br /> +Would pass for something; lacking such desert,<br /> +Were it ten times the heart it is, ’tis nought!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Williams</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Will</i>. One Master Jones hath asked to see you lordship.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. And what was your reply to Master Jones?</p> +<p><i>Will</i>. I knew not if his lordship was at home.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. You’ll do. Who’s Master Jones?</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. A curate’s son.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. A curate’s! Better be a yeoman’s +son!<br /> +Was it the rector’s son, he might be known,<br /> +Because the rector is a rising man,<br /> +And may become a bishop. He goes light,<br /> +The curate ever hath a loaded back!<br /> +He may be called the yeoman of the church,<br /> +That sweating does his work, and drudges on,<br /> +While lives the hopeful rector at his ease.<br /> +How made you his acquaintance, pray?</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. We read<br /> +Latin and Greek together.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Dropping them—<br /> +As, now that you’re a lord, of course you’ve done—<br /> +Drop him—You’ll say his lordship’s not at home.</p> +<p><i>Will</i>. So please your lordship, I forgot to say,<br /> +One Richard Cricket likewise is below.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Who?—Richard Cricket! You must see him, +Rochdale!<br /> +A noble little fellow! A great man, sir!<br /> +Not knowing whom, you would be nobody!<br /> +I won five thousand pounds by him!</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Who is he?<br /> +I never heard of him.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. What! never heard<br /> +Of Richard Cricket!—never heard of him!<br /> +Why, he’s the jockey of Newmarket; you<br /> +May win a cup by him, or else a sweepstakes.<br /> +I bade him call upon you. You must see him.<br /> +His lordship is at home to Richard Cricket.</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Bid him wait in the ante-room.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Williams</span> goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. The ante-room!<br /> +The best room in your house! You do not know<br /> +The use of Richard Cricket! Show him, sir,<br /> +Into the drawing-room. Your lordship needs<br /> +Must keep a racing stud, and you’ll do well<br /> +To make a friend of Richard Cricket. Well, sir:<br /> +What’s that?</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Williams</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Will</i>. So please your lordship, a petition.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Hadst not a service ’mongst the Hottentots<br /> +Ere thou camest hither, friend? Present thy lord<br /> +With a petition! At mechanics’ doors,<br /> +At tradesmen’s, shopkeepers’, and merchants’ only,<br /> +Have such things leave to knock! Make thy lord’s gate<br /> +A wicket to a workhouse! Let us see it—<br /> +Subscriptions to a book of poetry!<br /> +Cornelius Tense, M.A.<br /> +Which means he construes Greek and Latin, works<br /> +Problems in mathematics, can chop logic,<br /> +And is a conjurer in philosophy,<br /> +Both natural and moral.—Pshaw! a man<br /> +Whom nobody, that is anybody, knows!<br /> +Who, think you, follows him? Why, an M.D.,<br /> +An F.R.S., an F.AS., and then<br /> +A D.D., Doctor of Divinity,<br /> +Ushering in an LL.D., which means<br /> +Doctor of Laws—their harmony, no doubt,<br /> +The difference of their trades! There’s nothing here<br /> +But languages, and sciences, and arts.<br /> +Not an iota of nobility!<br /> +We cannot give our names. Take back the paper,<br /> +And tell the bearer there’s no answer for him:—<br /> +That is the lordly way of saying “No.”<br /> +But, talking of subscriptions, here is one<br /> +To which your lordship may affix your name.</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Pray, who’s the object?</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. A most worthy man!<br /> +A man of singular deserts; a man<br /> +In serving whom your lordship will serve me,—<br /> +Signor Cantata.</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. He’s a friend of yours?</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Oh, no, I know him not! I’ve not that +pleasure.<br /> +But Lady Dangle knows him; she’s his friend,<br /> +He will oblige us with a set of concerts,<br /> +Six concerts to the set.—The set, three guineas.<br /> +Your lordship will subscribe?</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Oh, by all means.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. How many sets of tickets? Two at least.<br /> +You’ll like to take a friend? I’ll set you down<br /> +Six guineas to Signor Cantata’s concerts,<br /> +And now, my Lord, we’ll to him; then we’ll walk.</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Nay, I would wait the lady’s answer.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Wait! take an excursion to the country; let<br /> +Her answer wait for you!</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Indeed!</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Indeed!<br /> +Befits a lord nought like indifference.<br /> +Say an estate should fall to you, you’d take it<br /> +As it concerned more a stander by<br /> +Than you. As you’re a lord, be sure you ever<br /> +Of that make little other men make much of;<br /> +Nor do the thing they do, but the right contrary.<br /> +Where the distinction else ’twixt them and you?</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h4>SCENE II.—An Apartment in Master Heartwell’s House.</h4> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Master Walter</span> discovered looking through +title-deeds and papers.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. So falls out everything, as I would have it,<br /> +Exact in place and time. This lord’s advances<br /> +Receives she,—as, I augur, in the spleen<br /> +Of wounded pride she will,—my course is clear.<br /> +She comes—all’s well—the tempest rages still.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Julia</span> enters, and paces the room in a state +of high excitement.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. What have my eyes to do with water? Fire<br /> +Becomes them better!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. True!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Yet, must I weep<br /> +To be so monitored, and by a man!<br /> +A man that was my slave! whom I have seen<br /> +Kneel at my feet from morn till noon, content<br /> +With leave to only gaze upon my face,<br /> +And tell me what he read there,—till the page<br /> +I knew by heart, I ’gan to doubt I knew,<br /> +Emblazoned by the comment of his tongue!<br /> +And he to lesson me! Let him come here<br /> +On Monday week! He ne’er leads me to church!<br /> +I would not profit by his rank, or wealth,<br /> +Though kings might call him cousin, for their sake!<br /> +I’ll show him I have pride!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You’re very right!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. He would have had to-day our wedding-day!<br /> +I fixed a month from this. He prayed and prayed;<br /> +I dropped a week. He prayed and prayed the more!<br /> +I dropped a second one. Still more he prayed!<br /> +And I took off another week,—and now<br /> +I have his leave to wed, or not to wed!<br /> +He’ll see that I have pride!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. And so he ought.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. O! for some way to bring him to my foot!<br /> +But he should lie there! Why, ’twill go abroad<br /> +That he has cast me off. That there should live<br /> +The man could say so! Or that I should live<br /> +To be the leavings of a man!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thy case<br /> +I own a hard one!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Hard? ’Twill drive me mad!<br /> +His wealth and title! I refused a lord—<br /> +I did!—that privily implored my hand,<br /> +And never cared to tell him on’t! So much<br /> +I hate him now, that lord should not in vain<br /> +Implore my hand again!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You’d give it him?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I would.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You’d wed that lord?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. That lord I’d wed;—<br /> +Or any other lord,—only to show him<br /> +That I could wed above him!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Give me your hand<br /> +And word to that.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. There! Take my hand and word!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. That lord hath offered you his hand again.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. He has?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Your father knows it: he approves of him.<br /> +There are the title-deeds of the estates,<br /> +Sent for my jealous scrutiny. All sound,—<br /> +No flaw, or speck, that e’en the lynx-eyed law<br /> +Itself could find. A lord of many lands!<br /> +In Berkshire half a county; and the same<br /> +In Wiltshire, and in Lancashire! Across<br /> +The Irish Sea a principality!<br /> +And not a rood with bond or lien on it!<br /> +Wilt give that lord a wife? Wilt make thyself<br /> +A countess? Here’s the proffer of his hand.<br /> +Write thou content, and wear a coronet!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Eagerly.] Give me the paper.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. There! Here’s pen and ink.<br /> +Sit down. Why do you pause? A flourish of<br /> +The pen, and you’re a countess.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. My poor brain<br /> +Whirls round and round! I would not wed him now,<br /> +Were he more lowly at my feet to sue<br /> +Than e’er he did!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Wed whom?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Sir Thomas Clifford.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You’re right.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. His rank and wealth are roots to doubt;<br /> +And while they lasted, still the weed would grow,<br /> +Howe’er you plucked it. No! That’s +o’er—that’s done.<br /> +Was never lady wronged so foul as I! [Weeps.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thou’rt to be pitied.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Aroused.] Pitied! Not so bad<br /> +As that.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Indeed thou art, to love the man<br /> +That spurns thee!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Love him! Love! If hate could find<br /> +A word more harsh than its own name, I’d take it,<br /> +To speak the love I bear him! [Weeps.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Write thy own name,<br /> +And show him how near akin thy hate’s to hate.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Writes.] ’Tis done!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. ’Tis well! I’ll come to you +anon! [Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Alone.] I’m glad ’tis done! +I’m very glad ’tis done!<br /> +I’ve done the thing I ought. From my disgrace<br /> +This lord shall lift me ’bove the reach of scorn—<br /> +That idly wags its tongue, where wealth and state<br /> +Need only beckon to have crowds to laud!<br /> +Then how the tables change! The hand he spurned<br /> +His betters take! Let me remember that!<br /> +I’ll grace my rank! I will! I’ll carry it<br /> +As I was born to it! I warrant none<br /> +Shall say it fits me not:—but, one and all<br /> +Confess I wear it bravely, as I ought!<br /> +And he shall hear it! Ay, and he shall see it!<br /> +I will roll by him in an equipage<br /> +Would mortgage his estate—but he shall own<br /> +His slight of me was my advancement! Love me!<br /> +He never loved me! if he had, he ne’er<br /> +Had given me up! Love’s not a spider’s web<br /> +But fit to mesh a fly—that you can break<br /> +By only blowing on’t! He never loved me!<br /> +He knows not what love is!—or, if he does,<br /> +He has not been o’erchary of his peace!<br /> +And that he’ll find when I’m another’s wife,<br /> +Lost!—lost to him for ever! Tears again!<br /> +Why should I weep for him? Who make their woes.<br /> +Deserve them! What have I to do with tears?</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Helen</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. News, Julia, news!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. What! is’t about Sir Thomas?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Sir Thomas, say you? He’s no more Sir +Thomas!<br /> +That cousin lives, as heir to whom, his wealth<br /> +And title came to him.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Was he not dead?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. No more than I am dead.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I would ’twere not so.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What say you, Julia?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Nothing!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I could kiss<br /> +That cousin! couldn’t you, Julia?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Wherefore?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Why<br /> +For coming back to life again, as ’twere<br /> +Upon his cousin to revenge you.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Helen!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Indeed ’tis true. With what a sorry +grace<br /> +The gentleman will bear himself without<br /> +His title! Master Clifford! Have you not<br /> +Some token to return him? Some love-letter?<br /> +Some brooch? Some pin? Some anything? I’ll be<br /> +Your messenger, for nothing but the pleasure<br /> +Of calling him plain “Master Clifford.”</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Helen!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Or has he aught of thine? Write to him, +Julia,<br /> +Demanding it! Do, Julia, if you love me;<br /> +And I’ll direct it in a schoolboy’s hand,<br /> +As round as I can write, “To Master Clifford.”</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Helen!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’ll think of fifty thousand ways<br /> +To mortify him! I’ve a twentieth cousin,<br /> +A care-for-nought, at mischief. Him I’ll set,<br /> +With twenty other madcaps like himself,<br /> +To walk the streets the traitor most frequents<br /> +And give him salutation as he passes—<br /> +“How do you, Master Clifford?”</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Highly incensed.] Helen!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Bless me!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I hate you, Helen!</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Modus</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Joy for you, fair lady!<br /> +Our baronet is now plain gentleman—<br /> +And hardly that, not master of the means<br /> +To bear himself as such. The kinsman lives<br /> +Whose only rumoured death gave wealth to him,<br /> +And title. A hard creditor he proves,<br /> +Who keeps strict reckoning—will have interest.<br /> +As well as principal. A ruined man<br /> +Is now Sir Thomas Clifford!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’m glad on’t.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. And so am I,<br /> +A scurvy trick it was<br /> +He served you, madam. Use a lady so!<br /> +I merely bore with him. I never liked him.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. No more did I. No, never could I think<br /> +He looked his title.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. No, nor acted it.<br /> +If rightly they report, he ne’er disbursed<br /> +To entertain his friends, ’tis broadly said,<br /> +A hundred pounds in the year! He was most poor<br /> +In the appointments of a man of rank,<br /> +Possessing wealth like his. His horses, hacks!<br /> +His gentleman, a footman! and his footman,<br /> +A groom! The sports that men of quality<br /> +And spirit countenance, he kept aloof from,<br /> +From scruple of economy, not taste,—<br /> +As racing and the like. In brief, he lacked<br /> +Those shining points that, more than name, denote<br /> +High breeding; and, moreover, was a man<br /> +Of very shallow learning.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Silence, sir!<br /> +For shame!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Why, Julia!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Speak not to me! Poor!<br /> +Most poor! I tell you, sir, he was the making<br /> +Of fifty gentlemen—each one of whom<br /> +Were more than peer for thee! His title, sir,<br /> +Lent him no grace he did not pay it back!<br /> +Though it had been the highest of the high,<br /> +He would have looked it, felt it, acted it,<br /> +As thou couldst ne’er have done! When found you out<br /> +You liked him not? It was not ere to-day!<br /> +Or that base spirit I must reckon yours<br /> +Which smiles where it would scowl—can stoop to hate<br /> +And fear to show it! He was your better, sir,<br /> +And is!—Ay, is! though stripped of rank and wealth,<br /> +His nature’s ’bove or fortune’s love or spite,<br /> +To blazon or to blurr it! [Retires.]</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. [To <span class="smcap">Helen</span>.] I was +told<br /> +Much to disparage him—I know not wherefore.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. And so was I, and know as much the cause.</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Walter</span>, with parchments.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Joy, my Julia!<br /> +Impatient love has foresight! Lo you here<br /> +The marriage deeds filled up, except a blank<br /> +To write your jointure. What you will, my girl!<br /> +Is this a lover? Look! Three thousand pounds<br /> +Per annum for your private charges! Ha!<br /> +There’s pin-money! Is this a lover? Mark<br /> +What acres, forests, tenements, are taxed<br /> +For your revenue; and so set apart,<br /> +That finger cannot touch them, save thine own.<br /> +Is this a lover? What good fortune’s thine!<br /> +Thou dost not speak; but, ’tis the way with joy!<br /> +With richest heart, it has the poorest tongue!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. What great good fortune’s this you speak of, +sir?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. A coronet, Master Modus! You behold<br /> +The wife elect, sir, of no less a man<br /> +Than the new Earl of Rochdale—heir of him<br /> +That’s recently deceased.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. My dearest Julia,<br /> +Much joy to you!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. All good attend you, madam!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. This letter brings excuses from his lordship,<br /> +Whose absence it accounts for. He repairs<br /> +To his estate in Lancashire, and thither<br /> +We follow.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. When, sir?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Now. This very hour.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. This very hour! O cruel, fatal haste!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. “O cruel, fatal haste!” What meanest +thou?<br /> +Have I done wrong to do thy bidding, then?<br /> +I have done no more. Thou wast an offcast bride,<br /> +And wouldst be an affianced one—thou art so!<br /> +Thou’dst have the slight that marked thee out for scorn,<br /> +Converted to a means of gracing thee—<br /> +It is so! If our wishes come too soon,<br /> +What can make sure of welcome? In my zeal<br /> +To win thee thine, thou know’st, at any time<br /> +I’d play the steed, whose will to serve his lord,<br /> +With his last breath gives his last bound for him!<br /> +Since only noon have I despatched what well<br /> +Had kept a brace of clerks, and more, on foot—<br /> +And then, perhaps, had been to do again!—<br /> +Not finished sure, complete—the compact firm,<br /> +As fate itself had sealed it!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Give you thanks!<br /> +Though ’twere my death! my death!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thy death! indeed,<br /> +For happiness like this, one well might die!<br /> +Take thy lord’s letter! Well?</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Thomas</span>, with a letter.]</p> +<p><i>Thos</i>. This letter, sir,<br /> +The gentleman that served Sir Thomas Clifford—<br /> +Or him that was Sir Thomas—gave to me<br /> +For Mistress Julia.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Give it me!</p> +<p>[Throwing away the one she holds.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Snatching it.] For what?<br /> +Wouldst read it? He’s a bankrupt! stripped of title,<br /> +House, chattels, lands, and all! A naked bankrupt,<br /> +With neither purse, nor trust! Wouldst read his letter?<br /> +A beggar! Yea, a very beggar!—fasts, unless<br /> +He dines on alms! How durst he send thee a letter!<br /> +A fellow cut on this hand, and on that;<br /> +Bows and is cut again, and bows again!<br /> +Who pays you fifty smiles for half a one,—<br /> +And that given grudgingly! To you a letter!<br /> +I burst with choler! Thus I treat his letter!</p> +<p>[Tears and throws it on the ground.]</p> +<p>So! I was wrong to let him ruffle me;<br /> +He is not worth the spending anger on!<br /> +I prithee, Master Modus, use despatch,<br /> +And presently make ready for our ride.<br /> +You, Helen, to my Julia look—a change<br /> +Of dresses will suffice. She must have new ones,<br /> +Matches for her new state! Haste, friends. My Julia!<br /> +Why stand you poring there upon the ground?<br /> +Time flies. Your rise astounds you? Never heed—<br /> +You’ll play my lady countess like a queen!</p> +<p>[They go out.]</p> +<h3>ACT IV.</h3> +<h4>SCENE I.—A Room in the Earl of Rochdale’s</h4> +<p>[Eater <span class="smcap">Helen</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’m weary wandering from room to room;<br /> +A castle after all is but a house—<br /> +The dullest one when lacking company.<br /> +Were I at home, I could be company<br /> +Unto myself. I see not Master Walter,<br /> +He’s ever with his ward. I see not her.<br /> +By Master Walter’s will she bides alone.<br /> +My father stops in town. I can’t see him.<br /> +My cousin makes his books his company.<br /> +I’ll go to bed and sleep. No—I’ll stay up<br /> +And plague my cousin into making love!<br /> +For, that he loves me, shrewdly I suspect.<br /> +How dull he is that hath not sense to see<br /> +What lies before him, and he’d like to find!<br /> +I’ll change my treatment of him. Cross him, where<br /> +Before I used to humour him. He comes,<br /> +Poring upon a book. What’s that you read?</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Modus</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Latin, sweet cousin.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. ’Tis a naughty tongue,<br /> +I fear, and teaches men to lie.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. To lie!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. You study it. You call your cousin sweet,<br +/> +And treat her as you would a crab. As sour<br /> +’Twould seem you think her, as you covet her!<br /> +Why how the monster stares, and looks about!<br /> +You construe Latin, and can’t construe that!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. I never studied women.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. No; nor men.<br /> +Else would you better know their ways: nor read<br /> +In presence of a lady. [Strikes the book from his hand.]</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Right you say,<br /> +And well you served me, cousin, so to strike<br /> +The volume from my hand. I own my fault;<br /> +So please you—may I pick it up again?<br /> +I’ll put it in my pocket!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Pick it up.<br /> +He fears me as I were his grandmother!<br /> +What is the book?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. ’Tis Ovid’s Art of Love.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. That Ovid was a fool!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. In what?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. In that:<br /> +To call that thing an art, which art is none.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. And is not love an art?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Are you a fool,<br /> +As well as Ovid? Love an art! No art<br /> +But taketh time and pains to learn. Love comes<br /> +With neither! Is’t to hoard such grain as that,<br /> +You went to college? Better stay at home,<br /> +And study homely English.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Nay, you know not<br /> +The argument.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I don’t? I know it better<br /> +Than ever Ovid did! The face—the form—<br /> +The heart—the mind we fancy, cousin; that’s<br /> +The argument! Why, cousin, you know nothing.<br /> +Suppose a lady were in love with thee:<br /> +Couldst thou by Ovid, cousin, find it out?<br /> +Couldst find it out, wast thou in love thyself?<br /> +Could Ovid, cousin, teach thee to make love?<br /> +I could, that never read him! You begin<br /> +With melancholy; then to sadness; then<br /> +To sickness; then to dying—but not die!<br /> +She would not let thee, were she of my mind!<br /> +She’d take compassion on thee. Then for hope;<br /> +From hope to confidence; from confidence<br /> +To boldness;—then you’d speak; at first entreat;<br /> +Then urge; then flout; then argue; then enforce;<br /> +Make prisoner of her hand; besiege her waist;<br /> +Threaten her lips with storming; keep thy word<br /> +And carry her! My sampler ’gainst thy Ovid!<br /> +Why cousin, are you frightened, that you stand<br /> +As you were stricken dumb? The case is clear,<br /> +You are no soldier. You’ll ne’er win a battle.<br /> +You care too much for blows!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. You wrong me there,<br /> +At school I was the champion of my form;<br /> +And since I went to college—</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. That for college!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Nay, hear me!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Well? What, since you went to college?<br /> +You know what men are set down for, who boast<br /> +Of their own bravery! Go on, brave cousin:<br /> +What, since you went to college? Was there not<br /> +One Quentin Halworth there? You know there was,<br /> +And that he was your master!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. He my master!<br /> +Thrice was he worsted by me.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Still was he<br /> +Your master.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. He allowed I had the best!<br /> +Allowed it, mark me! nor to me alone,<br /> +But twenty I could name.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. And mastered you<br /> +At last! Confess it, cousin, ’tis the truth!<br /> +A proctor’s daughter you did both affect—<br /> +Look at me and deny it! Of the twain<br /> +She more affected you;—I’ve caught you now,<br /> +Bold cousin! Mark you? opportunity<br /> +On opportunity she gave you, sir—<br /> +Deny it if you can!—but though to others,<br /> +When you discoursed of her, you were a flame;<br /> +To her you were a wick that would not light,<br /> +Though held in the very fire! And so he won her—<br /> +Won her, because he wooed her like a man.<br /> +For all your cuffings, cuffing you again<br /> +With most usurious interest. Now, sir,<br /> +Protest that you are valiant!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Cousin Helen!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Well, sir?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. The tale is all a forgery!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. A forgery!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. From first to last; ne’er spoke I<br /> +To a proctor’s daughter while I was at college.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. ’Twas a scrivener’s then—or +somebody’s.<br /> +But what concerns it whose?<br /> +Enough, you loved her!<br /> +And, shame upon you, let another take her!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Cousin, I’ll tell you, if you’ll only hear +me,<br /> +I loved no woman while I was at college—<br /> +Save one, and her I fancied ere I went there.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Indeed! Now I’ll retreat, if he’s +advancing.<br /> +Comes he not on! O what a stock’s the man!<br /> +Well, cousin?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Well! What more wouldst have me say?<br /> +I think I’ve said enough.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. And so think I.<br /> +I did but jest with you. You are not angry?<br /> +Shake hands! Why, cousin, do you squeeze me so?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. [Letting her go.] I swear I squeezed you +not.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. You did not?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. No. I’ll die if I did!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Why then you did not, cousin,<br /> +So let’s shake hands again—<br /> +[He takes her hand as before.] O go and now<br /> +Read Ovid! Cousin, will you tell me one thing:<br /> +Wore lovers ruffs in Master Ovid’s time?<br /> +Behoved him teach them, then, to put them on;—<br /> +And that you have to learn. Hold up your head!<br /> +Why, cousin, how you blush! Plague on the ruff!<br /> +I cannot give’t a set. You’re blushing still!<br /> +Why do you blush, dear cousin? So!—’twill beat me!<br /> +I’ll give it up.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Nay, prithee, don’t—try on!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. And if I do, I fear you’ll think me bold.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. For what?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. To trust my face so near to thine.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. I know not what you mean.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’m glad you don’t!<br /> +Cousin, I own right well behaved you are,<br /> +Most marvellously well behaved! They’ve bred<br /> +You well at college. With another man<br /> +My lips would be in danger! Hang the ruff!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Nay, give it up, nor plague thyself, dear cousin.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Dear fool! [Throws the ruff on the ground.]<br +/> +I swear the ruff is good for just<br /> +As little as its master! There!—’Tis spoiled—<br /> +You’ll have to get another! Hie for it,<br /> +And wear it in the fashion of a wisp,<br /> +Ere I adjust it for thee! Farewell, cousin!<br /> +You’d need to study Ovid’s Art of Love.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Helen</span> goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. [Solus.] Went she in anger! I will follow +her,—<br /> +No, I will not! Heigho! I love my cousin!<br /> +O would that she loved me! Why did she taunt me<br /> +With backwardness in love? What could she mean?<br /> +Sees she I love her, and so laughs at me,<br /> +Because I lack the front to woo her? Nay,<br /> +I’ll woo her then! Her lips shall be in danger,<br /> +When next she trusts them near me! Looked she at me<br /> +To-day as never did she look before!<br /> +A bold heart, Master Modus! ’Tis a saying<br /> +A faint one never won fair lady yet!<br /> +I’ll woo my cousin, come what will on’t. Yes:</p> +<p>[Begins reading again, throws down the book.]</p> +<p>Hang Ovid’s Art of Love! I’ll woo my cousin!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<h4>SCENE II.—The Banqueting-room in the Earl of Rochdale’s +Mansion.</h4> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Walter</span> and <span +class="smcap">Julia</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. This is the banqueting-room. Thou seest as +far<br /> +It leaves the last behind, as that excels<br /> +The former ones. All is proportion here<br /> +And harmony! Observe! The massy pillars<br /> +May well look proud to bear the gilded dome.<br /> +You mark those full-length portraits? They’re the heads,<br /> +The stately heads, of his ancestral line.<br /> +Here o’er the feast they haply still preside!<br /> +Mark those medallions! Stand they forth or not<br /> +In bold and fair relief? Is not this brave?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Abstractedly.] It is.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. It should be so. To cheer the blood<br /> +That flows in noble veins is made the feast<br /> +That gladdens here! You see this drapery?<br /> +’Tis richest velvet! Fringe and tassels, gold!<br /> +Is not this costly?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. And chaste, the while?<br /> +Both chaste and costly?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Come hither! There’s a mirror for +you. See!<br /> +One sheet from floor to ceiling! Look into it,<br /> +Salute its mistress! Dost not know her?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Sighing deeply.] Yes.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. And sighest thou to know her? Wait until<br /> +To-morrow, when the banquet shall be spread<br /> +In the fair hall; the guests—already bid,<br /> +Around it; here, her lord; and there, herself;<br /> +Presiding o’er the cheer that hails him bridegroom,<br /> +And her the happy bride! Dost hear me?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Sighing still more deeply.] Yes.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. These are the day-rooms only, we have seen.<br /> +For public and domestic uses kept.<br /> +I’ll show you now the lodging-rooms.</p> +<p>[Goes, then turns and observes <span class="smcap">Julia</span> standing +perfectly abstracted.]</p> +<p>You’re tired.<br /> +Let it be till after dinner, then. Yet one<br /> +I’d like thee much to see—the bridal chamber.</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Julia</span> starts, crosses her hands upon her +breast, and looks upwards.]</p> +<p>I see you’re tired: yet it is worth the viewing,<br /> +If only for the tapestry which shows<br /> +The needle like the pencil glows with life;</p> +<p>[Brings down chairs—they sit.]</p> +<p>The story’s of a page who loved the dame<br /> +He served—a princess!—Love’s a heedless thing!<br /> +That never takes account of obstacles;<br /> +Makes plains of mountains, rivulets of seas,<br /> +That part it from its wish. So proved the page,<br /> +Who from a state so lowly, looked so high,—<br /> +But love’s a greater lackwit still than this.<br /> +Say it aspires—that’s gain! Love +stoops—that’s loss!<br /> +You know what comes. The princess loved the page.<br /> +Shall I go on, or here leave off?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Go on.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Each side of the chamber shows a different stage<br /> +Of this fond page, and fonder lady’s love. <a name="citation2"></a><a +href="#footnote2" class="citation">[2]</a><br /> +First—no, it is not that.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Oh, recollect!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. And yet it is.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. No doubt it is. What is ’t?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. He holds to her a salver, with a cup;<br /> +His cheeks more mantling with his passion than<br /> +The cup with the ruby wine. She heeds him not,<br /> +For too great heed of him:—but seems to hold<br /> +Debate betwixt her passion and her pride—<br /> +That’s like to lose the day. You read it in<br /> +Her vacant eye, knit brow, and parted lips,<br /> +Which speak a heart too busy all within<br /> +To note what’s done without. Like you the tale?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I list to every word.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. The next side paints<br /> +The page upon his knee. He has told his tale;<br /> +And found that when he lost his heart, he played<br /> +No losing game: but won a richer one!<br /> +There may you read in him, how love would seem<br /> +Most humble when most bold,—you question which<br /> +Appears to kiss her hand—his breath, or lips!<br /> +In her you read how wholly lost is she<br /> +Who trusts her heart to love. Shall I give o’er?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Nay, tell it to the end. Is’t +melancholy?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. To answer that, would mar the story.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Right.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. The third side now we come to.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. What shows that?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. The page and princess still. But stands her +sire<br /> +Between them. Stern he grasps his daughter’s arm,<br /> +Whose eyes like fountains play; while through her tears<br /> +Her passion shines, as through the fountain drops<br /> +The sun! His minions crowd around the page!<br /> +They drag him to a dungeon.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Hapless youth!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Hapless indeed, that’s twice a captive! heart<br +/> +And body both in bonds. But that’s the chain,<br /> +Which balance cannot weigh, rule measure, touch<br /> +Define the texture of, or eye detect,<br /> +That’s forgèd by the subtle craft of love!<br /> +No need to tell you that he wears it. Such<br /> +The cunning of the hand that plied the loom,<br /> +You’ve but to mark the straining of his eye,<br /> +To feel the coil yourself!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I feel’t without!<br /> +You’ve finished with the third side; now the fourth!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. It brings us to a dungeon, then.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. The page,<br /> +The thrall of love, more than the dungeon’s thrall,<br /> +Is there?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. He is. He lies in fetters.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Hard!<br /> +Hard as the steel, the hands that put them on.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Some one unrivets them!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. The princess? ’Tis!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. It is another page.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. It is herself!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Her skin is fair; and his is berry-brown.<br /> +His locks are raven black; and hers are gold.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Love’s cunning of disguises! spite of +locks,<br /> +Skin, vesture,—it is she, and only she<br /> +What will not constant woman do for love<br /> +That’s loved with constancy! Set her the task,<br /> +Virtue approving, that will baffle her!<br /> +O’ertax her stooping, patience, courage, wit!<br /> +My life upon it, ’tis the princess’ self,<br /> +Transformed into a page!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. The dungeon door<br /> +Stands open, and you see beyond—</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Her father!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. No; a steed.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Starting up.] O, welcome steed,<br /> +My heart bounds at the thought of thee! Thou comest<br /> +To bear the page from bonds to liberty.<br /> +What else?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Rising.] The story’s told.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Too briefly told;<br /> +O happy princess, that had wealth and state<br /> +To lay them down for love! Whose constant love<br /> +Appearances approved, not falsified!<br /> +A winner in thy loss, as well as gain.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Weighs love so much?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. What would you weigh ’gainst love<br /> +That’s true? Tell me with what you’d turn the scale?<br +/> +Yea, make the index waver? Wealth? A feather!<br /> +Rank? Tinsel against bullion in the balance!<br /> +The love of kindred? That to set ’gainst love!<br /> +Friendship comes nearest to’t; but put it in,<br /> +Friendship will kick the beam!—weigh nothing ’gainst it!<br /> +Weigh love against the world!<br /> +Yet are they happy that have naught to say to it.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. And such a one art thou. Who wisely wed,<br /> +Wed happily. The love thou speak’st of,<br /> +A flower is only, that its season has,<br /> +Which they must look to see the withering of,<br /> +Who pleasure in its budding and its bloom!<br /> +But wisdom is the constant evergreen<br /> +Which lives the whole year through! Be that, your flower!</p> +<p>[Enter a Servant.]</p> +<p>Well?</p> +<p><i>Serv</i>. My lord’s secretary is without.<br /> +He brings a letter for her ladyship,<br /> +And craves admittance to her.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Show him in.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. No.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thou must see him. To show slight to him,<br /> +Were slighting him that sent him. Show him in!</p> +<p>[Servant goes out.]</p> +<p>Some errand proper for thy private ear,<br /> +Besides the letter he may bring. What mean<br /> +This paleness and this trembling? Mark me, Julia!<br /> +If, from these nuptials, which thyself invited—<br /> +Which at thy seeking came—thou wouldst be freed,<br /> +Thou hast gone too far! Receding were disgrace,<br /> +Sooner than see thee suffer which, the hearts<br /> +That love thee most would wish thee dead! Reflect!<br /> +Take thought! collect thyself! With dignity<br /> +Receive thy bridegroom’s messenger! for sure<br /> +As dawns to-morrow’s sun, to-morrow night<br /> +Sees thee a wedded bride!</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Alone.] A wedded bride!<br /> +Is it a dream? Is it a phantasm? ’Tis<br /> +Too horrible for reality! for aught else<br /> +Too palpable! O would it were a dream!<br /> +How would I bless the sun that waked me from it!<br /> +I perish! Like some desperate mariner<br /> +Impatient of a strange and hostile land,<br /> +Who rashly hoists his sail and puts to sea,<br /> +And being fast on reefs and quicksands borne,<br /> +Essays in vain once more to make the land,<br /> +Whence wind and current drive him; I’m wrecked<br /> +By mine own act! What! no escape? no hope?<br /> +None! I must e’en abide these hated nuptials!<br /> +Hated!—Ah! own it, and then curse thyself!<br /> +That madest the bane thou loathest—for the love<br /> +Thou bear’st to one who never can be thine!<br /> +Yes—love! Deceive thyself no longer. False<br /> +To say ’tis pity for his fall—respect,<br /> +Engendered by a hollow world’s disdain,<br /> +Which hoots whom fickle fortune cheers no more!<br /> +’Tis none of these; ’tis love—and if not love,<br /> +Why then idolatry! Ay, that’s the name<br /> +To speak the broadest, deepest, strongest passion,<br /> +That ever woman’s heart was borne away by!<br /> +He comes! Thou’dst play the lady,—play it now!</p> +<p>[Enter a Servant, conducting <span class="smcap">Clifford</span>, +plainly attired as the <span class="smcap">Earl of Rochdale’s</span> +Secretary.]</p> +<p>Servant. His lordship’s secretary.</p> +<p>[Servant goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Speaks he not? Or does he wait for orders to +unfold<br /> +His business? Stopped his business till I spoke,<br /> +I’d hold my peace for ever!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clifford</span> kneels; presenting a letter.]</p> +<p>Does he kneel?<br /> +A lady am I to my heart’s content!<br /> +Could he unmake me that which claims his knee,<br /> +I’d kneel to him—I would! I would!—Your will?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. This letter from my lord.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. O fate! Who speaks?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. The secretary of my lord.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I breathe!<br /> +I could have sworn ’twas he!</p> +<p>[Makes an effort to look at him, but is unable.]</p> +<p>So like the voice—<br /> +I dare not look, lest there the form should stand!<br /> +How came he by that voice? ’Tis Clifford’s voice,<br /> +If ever Clifford spoke! My fears come back—<br /> +Clifford the secretary of my lord!<br /> +Fortune hath freaks, but none so mad as that!<br /> +It cannot be!—It should not be!—A look,<br /> +And all were set at rest.</p> +<p>[Tries to look at him again, but cannot.]</p> +<p>So strong my fears,<br /> +Dread to confirm them takes away the power<br /> +To try and end them! Come the worst, I’ll look.</p> +<p>[She tries again; and again is unequal to the task.]</p> +<p>I’d sink before him if I met his eye!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Will’t please your ladyship to take the +letter?<br /> +Julia. There Clifford speaks again! Not Clifford’s +heart<br /> +Could more make Clifford’s voice! Not Clifford’s +tongue<br /> +And lips more frame it into Clifford’s speech!<br /> +A question, and ’tis over! Know I you?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Reverse of fortune, lady, changes friends;<br /> +It turns them into strangers. What I am<br /> +I have not always been!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Could I not name you?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. If your disdain for one, perhaps too bold<br /> +When hollow fortune called him favourite,—<br /> +Now by her fickleness perforce reduced<br /> +To take an humble tone, would suffer you—</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I might?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. You might!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Oh, Clifford! is it you?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Your answer to my lord.</p> +<p>[Gives the letter.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Your lord!</p> +<p>[Mechanically taking it.]</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Wilt write it?<br /> +Or, will it please you send a verbal one?<br /> +I’ll bear it faithfully.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. You’ll bear it?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Madam,<br /> +Your pardon, but my haste is somewhat urgent.<br /> +My lord’s impatient, and to use despatch<br /> +Were his repeated orders.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Orders? Well,<br /> +I’ll read the letter, sir. ’Tis right you mind<br /> +His lordship’s orders. They are paramount!<br /> +Nothing should supersede them!—stand beside them!<br /> +They merit all your care, and have it! Fit,<br /> +Most fit, they should! Give me the letter, sir.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. You have it, madam.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. So! How poor a thing<br /> +I look! so lost, while he is all himself!<br /> +Have I no pride?</p> +<p>[She rings, the Servant enters.]</p> +<p>Paper, and pen, and ink!<br /> +If he can freeze, ’tis time that I grow cold!<br /> +I’ll read the letter.</p> +<p>[Opens it, and holds it as about to read it.]</p> +<p>Mind his orders! So!<br /> +Quickly he fits his habits to his fortunes!<br /> +He serves my lord with all his will! His heart’s<br /> +In his vocation. So! Is this the letter?<br /> +’Tis upside down—and here I’m poring on’t!<br /> +Most fit I let him see me play the fool!<br /> +Shame! Let me be myself!</p> +<p>[A Servant enters with materials for writing.]</p> +<p>A table, sir,<br /> +And chair.</p> +<p>[The Servant brings a table and chair, and goes out. She sits a +while, vacantly gazing on the letter—then looks at <span +class="smcap">Clifford</span>.]</p> +<p>How plainly shows his humble suit!<br /> +It fits not him that wears it! I have wronged him!<br /> +He can’t be happy—does not look it!—is not.<br /> +That eye which reads the ground is argument<br /> +Enough! He loves me. There I let him stand,<br /> +And I am sitting!</p> +<p>[Rises, takes a chair, and approaches <span +class="smcap">Clifford</span>.]</p> +<p>Pray you take a chair.</p> +<p>[He bows, as acknowledging and declining the honour. She looks at +him a while.]</p> +<p>Clifford, why don’t you speak to me?</p> +<p>[She weeps.]</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I trust<br /> +You’re happy.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Happy! Very, very happy!<br /> +You see I weep, I am so happy! Tears<br /> +Are signs, you know, of naught but happiness!<br /> +When first I saw you, little did I look<br /> +To be so happy!—Clifford!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Madam?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Madam!<br /> +I call thee Clifford, and thou call’st me madam!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Such the address my duty stints me to.<br /> +Thou art the wife elect of a proud Earl,<br /> +Whose humble secretary, sole, am I.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Most right! I had forgot! I thank you, +sir,<br /> +For so reminding me; and give you joy,<br /> +That what, I see, had been a burthen to you,<br /> +Is fairly off your hands.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. A burthen to me!<br /> +Mean you yourself? Are you that burthen, Julia?<br /> +Say that the sun’s a burthen to the earth!<br /> +Say that the blood’s a burthen to the heart!<br /> +Say health’s a burthen, peace, contentment, joy,<br /> +Fame, riches, honours! everything that man<br /> +Desires, and gives the name of blessing to<br /> +E’en such a burthen, Julia were to me,<br /> +Had fortune let me wear her.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Aside.] On the brink<br /> +Of what a precipice I’m standing! Back,<br /> +Back! while the faculty remains to do’t!<br /> +A minute longer, not the whirlpool’s self<br /> +More sure to suck me down! One effort! There!</p> +<p>[She returns to her seat, recovers her self-possession, takes up the +letter, and reads.]</p> +<p>To wed to-morrow night! Wed whom? A man<br /> +Whom I can never love! I should before<br /> +Have thought of that. To-morrow night! This hour<br /> +To-morrow! How I tremble! Happy bands<br /> +To which my heart such freezing welcome gives,<br /> +As sends an ague through me! At what means<br /> +Will not the desperate snatch! What’s honour’s price?<br +/> +Nor friends, nor lovers,—no, nor life itself!<br /> +Clifford! This moment leave me!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Clifford</span> retires up the stage out of <span +class="smcap">Julia’s</span> sight.]</p> +<p>Is he gone?<br /> +O docile lover! Do his mistress’ wish<br /> +That went against his own! Do it so soon<br /> +Ere well ’twas uttered! No good-bye to her!<br /> +No word! no look! ’Twas best that he so went!<br /> +Alas, the strait of her, who owns that best,<br /> +Which last she’d wish were done? What’s left me now?<br +/> +To weep! To weep!</p> +<p>[Leans her head upon her arm, which rests upon the desk,—her other +arm hanging listlessly at her side. <span +class="smcap">Clifford</span> comes down the stage, looks a moment at her, +approaches her, and kneeling, takes her hand.]</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. My Julia!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Here again!<br /> +Up! up! By all thy hopes of Heaven, go hence!<br /> +To stay’s perdition to me! Look you, Clifford!<br /> +Were there a grave where thou art kneeling now,<br /> +I’d walk into ’t, and be inearthed alive,<br /> +Ere taint should touch my name! Should some one come<br /> +And see thee kneeling thus! Let go my hand!<br /> +Remember, Clifford, I’m a promised bride—<br /> +And take thy arm away! It has no right<br /> +To clasp my waist! Judge you so poorly of me,<br /> +As think I’ll suffer this? My honour, sir!</p> +<p>[She breaks from him, quitting her seat.]</p> +<p>I’m glad you’ve forced me to respect myself—<br /> +You’ll find that I can do so!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I was bold—<br /> +Forgetful of your station and my own;<br /> +There was a time I held your hand unchid!<br /> +There was a time I might have clasped your waist—<br /> +I had forgot that time was past and gone!<br /> +I pray you, pardon me!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Softened.] I do so, Clifford.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I shall no more offend.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Make sure of that.<br /> +No longer is it fit thou keep’st thy post<br /> +In’s lordship’s household. Give it up! A +day—<br /> +An hour remain not in it!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Wherefore?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Live<br /> +In the same house with me, and I another’s?<br /> +Put miles, put leagues between us! The same land<br /> +Should not contain us. Oceans should divide us—<br /> +With barriers of constant tempests—such<br /> +As mariners durst not tempt! O Clifford!<br /> +Rash was the act so light that gave me up,<br /> +That stung a woman’s pride, and drove her mad—<br /> +Till in her frenzy she destroyed her peace!<br /> +Oh, it was rashly done! Had you reproved—<br /> +Expostulated,—had you reasoned with me—<br /> +Tried to find out what was indeed my heart,—<br /> +I would have shown it—you’d have seen it. All<br /> +Had been as naught can ever be again!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Lovest thou me, Julia?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Dost thou ask me, Clifford?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. These nuptials may be shunned!—</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. With honour?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Yes!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Then take me!—Stop—hear me, and take me +then!<br /> +Let not thy passion be my counsellor!<br /> +Deal with me, Clifford, as my brother. Be<br /> +The jealous guardian of my spotless name!<br /> +Scan thou my cause as ’twere thy sister’s. Let<br /> +Thy scrutiny o’erlook no point of it,—<br /> +Nor turn it over once, but many a time:—<br /> +That flaw, speck—yea,—the shade of one,—a soil<br /> +So slight, not one out of a thousand eyes<br /> +Could find it out, may not escape thee; then<br /> +Say if these nuptials can be shunned with honour!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. They can.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Then take me, Clifford! [They embrace.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Entering.] Ha! What’s this?<br /> +Ha! treason! What! my baronet that was,<br /> +My secretary now? Your servant, sir!<br /> +Is’t thus you do the pleasure of your lord,—<br /> +That for your service feeds you, clothes you, pays you!<br /> +Or takest thou but the name of his dependent?<br /> +What’s here?—a letter. Fifty crowns to one<br /> +A forgery! I’m wrong. It is his hand.<br /> +This proves thee double traitor!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Traitor!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Nay,<br /> +Control thy wrath, good Master Walter! Do—<br /> +And I’ll persuade him to go hence—</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Master Walter</span> retires up the stage.] I +see<br /> +For me thou bearest this, and thank thee, Clifford!<br /> +As thou hast truly shown thy heart to me,<br /> +So truly I to thee have opened mine!<br /> +Time flies! To-morrow! If thy love can find<br /> +A way, such as thou saidst, for my enlargement<br /> +By any means thou canst, apprise me of it;<br /> +And, soon as shown, I’ll take it.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Is he gone?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. He is this moment. If thou covetest me,<br /> +Win me, and wear me! May I trust thee? Oh!<br /> +If that’s thy soul, that’s looking through thine eyes,<br /> +Thou lovest me, and I may!—I sicken, lest<br /> +I never see thee more!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. As life is mine,<br /> +The ring that on thy wedding-finger goes<br /> +No hand but mine shall place there!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Lingers he?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. For my sake, now away! And yet a word.<br /> +By all thy hopes most dear, be true to me!<br /> +Go now!—yet stay! Clifford, while you are here,<br /> +I’m like a bark distressed and compassless,<br /> +That by a beacon steers; when you’re away,<br /> +That bark alone and tossing miles at sea!<br /> +Now go! Farewell! My compass—beacon—land!<br /> +When shall my eyes be blessed with thee again!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Farewell! [Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Art gone? All’s chance—all’s +care—all’s darkness.</p> +<p>[Is led off by <span class="smcap">Master Walter</span>.]</p> +<h3>ACT V.</h3> +<h4>SCENE I.—An Apartment in the Earl of Rochdale’s.</h4> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Helen</span> and <span +class="smcap">Fathom</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. The long and short of it is this—if she marries +this lord, she’ll break her heart! I wish you could see her, +madam. Poor lady!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. How looks she, prithee?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Marry, for all the world like a dripping-wet cambric +handkerchief! She has no colour nor strength in her; and does nothing +but weep—poor lady!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Tell me again what said she to thee?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. She offered me all she was mistress of to take the +letter to Master Clifford. She drew her purse from her +pocket—the ring from her finger—she took her very earrings out +of her ears—but I was forbidden, and refused. And now I’m +sorry for it! Poor lady!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Thou shouldst be sorry. Thou hast a hard +heart, Fathom.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. I, madam! My heart is as soft as a +woman’s. You should have seen me when I came out of her +chamber—poor lady!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Did you cry?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. No; but I was as near it as possible. I a hard +heart! I would do anything to serve her, poor sweet lady!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Will you take her letter, asks she you again?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. No—I am forbid.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Will you help Master Clifford to an interview with +her?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. No—Master Walter would find it out.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Will you contrive to get me into her chamber?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. No—you would be sure to bring me into +mischief.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Go to! You would do nothing to serve +her. You a soft heart! You have no heart at all! You feel +not for her!</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. But I tell you I do—and good right I have to +feel for her. I have been in love myself.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. With your dinner!</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. I would it had been! My pain would soon have +been over, and at little cost. A fortune I squandered upon +her!—trinkets—trimmings—treatings—what swallowed up +the revenue of a whole year! Wasn’t I in love? Six months +I courted her, and a dozen crowns all but one did I disburse for her in +that time! Wasn’t I in love? An hostler—a +tapster—and a constable, courted her at the same time, and I offered +to cudgel the whole three of them for her! Wasn’t I in +love?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. You are a valiant man, Fathom.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Am not I? Walks not the earth the man I am +afraid of.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Fear you not Master Walter?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. No.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. You do!</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. I don’t!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’ll prove it to you. You see him +breaking your young mistress’s heart, and have not the manhood to +stand by her.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. What could I do for her?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Let her out of prison. It were the act of a +man.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. That man am I!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Well said, brave Fathom!</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. But my place!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’ll provide thee with a better one.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. ’Tis a capital place! So little to do, +and so much to get for’t. Six pounds in the year; two suits of +livery; shoes and stockings, and a famous larder. He’d be a +bold man that would put such a place in jeopardy. My place, madam, my +place!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I tell thee I’ll provide thee with a better +place. Thou shalt have less to do, and more to get. Now, +Fathom, hast thou courage to stand by thy mistress?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. I have!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. That’s right.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. I’ll let my lady out.</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Walter</span> unperceived.]</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. That’s right. When, Fathom?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. To-night.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. She is to be married to-night.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. This evening, then. Master Walter is now in the +library, the key is on the outside, and I’ll lock him in.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Excellent! You’ll do it?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Rely upon it. How he’ll stare when he +finds himself a prisoner, and my young lady at liberty!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Most excellent! You’ll be sure to do +it?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Depend upon me! When Fathom undertakes a thing, +he defies fire and water—</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Coming forward.] Fathom!</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Sir!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Assemble straight the servants.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Yes, sir!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Mind,<br /> +And have them in the hall when I come down.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Yes, sir!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. And see you do not stir a step,<br /> +But where I order you.</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Not an inch, sir!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. See that you don’t—away! So, my fair +mistress,</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Fathom</span> goes out.]</p> +<p>What’s this you have been plotting? An escape<br /> +For mistress Julia?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I avow it.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Do you?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Yes; and moreover to your face I tell you,<br /> +Most hardly do you use her!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Verily!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I wonder where’s her spirit! Had she +mine<br /> +She would not take ’t so easily. Do you mean<br /> +To force this marriage on her?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. With your leave.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. You laugh.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Without it, then. I don’t laugh now.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. If I were she, I’d find a way to escape.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. What would you do?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’d leap out of the window!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Your window should be barred.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’d cheat you still!—<br /> +I’d hang myself ere I’d be forced to marry!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Well said! You shall be married, then, +to-night.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Married to-night!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. As sure as I have said it.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Two words to that. Pray who’s to be my +bridegroom?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. A daughter’s husband is her father’s +choice.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. My father’s daughter ne’er shall wed +such husband!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Indeed!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’ll pick a husband for myself.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Indeed!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Indeed, sir; and indeed again!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Go dress you for the marriage ceremony.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. But, Master Walter, what is it you mean?</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Modus</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Here comes your cousin;—he shall be your +bridesman!<br /> +The thought’s a sudden one,—that will excuse<br /> +Defect in your appointments. A plain dress,—<br /> +So ’tis of white,—will do.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’ll dress in black.<br /> +I’ll quit the castle.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. That you shall not do.<br /> +Its doors are guarded by my lord’s domestics,<br /> +Its avenues—its grounds. What you must do,<br /> +Do with a good grace! In an hour, or less,<br /> +Your father will be here. Make up your mind<br /> +To take with thankfulness the man he gives you.<br /> +Now, [Aside] if they find not out how beat their hearts,<br /> +I have no skill, not I, in feeling pulses.</p> +<p>[Goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Why, cousin Modus! What! will you stand by<br +/> +And see me forced to marry? Cousin Modus!<br /> +Have you not got a tongue? Have you not eyes?<br /> +Do you not see I’m very—very ill,<br /> +And not a chair in all the corridor?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. I’ll find one in the study.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Hang the study!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. My room’s at hand. I’ll fetch one +thence.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. You shan’t<br /> +I’d faint ere you came back!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. What shall I do?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Why don’t you offer to support me? +Well?<br /> +Give me your arm—be quick! [<span class="smcap">Modus</span> +offers his arm.]<br /> +Is that the way<br /> +To help a lady when she’s like to faint?<br /> +I’ll drop unless you catch me! [<span +class="smcap">Modus</span> supports her.]<br /> +That will do.<br /> +I’m better now—[<span class="smcap">Modus</span> offers to +leave her] don’t leave me! Is one well<br /> +Because one’s better? Hold my hand. Keep so.<br /> +I’ll soon recover so you move not. Loves he—</p> +<p>[Aside.]</p> +<p>Which I’ll be sworn he does, he’ll own it now.<br /> +Well, cousin Modus?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Well, sweet cousin!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Well?<br /> +You heard what Master Walter said?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. I did.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. And would you have me marry? Can’t you +speak?<br /> +Say yes or no.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. No, cousin!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Bravely said!<br /> +And why, my gallant cousin?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Why?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Ay, why?—<br /> +Women, you know, are fond of reasons—why<br /> +Would you not have me marry? How you blush!<br /> +Is it because you do not know the reason?<br /> +You mind me of a story of a cousin<br /> +Who once her cousin such a question asked.<br /> +He had not been to college, though—for books,<br /> +Had passed his time in reading ladies’ eyes.<br /> +Which he could construe marvellously well,<br /> +Though writ in language all symbolical.<br /> +Thus stood they once together, on a day—<br /> +As we stand now—discoursed as we discourse,—<br /> +But with this difference,—fifty gentle words<br /> +He spoke to her, for one she spoke to him!—<br /> +What a dear cousin! Well, as I did say,<br /> +As now I questioned thee, she questioned him.<br /> +And what was his reply? To think of it<br /> +Sets my heart beating—’twas so kind a one!<br /> +So like a cousin’s answer—a dear cousin!<br /> +A gentle, honest, gallant, loving cousin!<br /> +What did he say?—A man might find it out,<br /> +Though never read he Ovid’s Art of Love—<br /> +What did he say? He’d marry her himself!<br /> +How stupid are you, cousin! Let me go!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. You are not well yet?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Yes.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. I’m sure you’re not.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’m sure I am.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Nay, let me hold you, cousin! I like it.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Do you? I would wager you<br /> +You could not tell me why you like it. Well?<br /> +You see how true I know you! How you stare!<br /> +What see you in my face to wonder at?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. A pair of eyes!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. At last he’ll find his +tongue—[Aside.]<br /> +And saw you ne’er a pair of eyes before?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Not such a pair.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. And why?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. They are so bright!<br /> +You have a Grecian nose.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Indeed.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Indeed!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What kind of mouth have I?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. A handsome one. I never saw so sweet a pair of +lips!<br /> +I ne’er saw lips at all till now, dear cousin!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Cousin, I’m well,—you need not hold me +now.<br /> +Do you not hear? I tell you I am well!<br /> +I need your arm no longer—take ’t away!<br /> +So tight it locks me, ’tis with pain I breathe!<br /> +Let me go, cousin! Wherefore do you hold<br /> +Your face so close to mine? What do you mean?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. You’ve questioned me, and now I’ll +question you.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. What would you learn?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. The use of lips.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. To speak.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Naught else?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. How bold my modest cousin grows!<br /> +Why, other use know you?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. I do!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Indeed!<br /> +You’re wondrous wise? And pray what is it?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. This! [Attempts to kiss her.]</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Soft! my hand thanks you, cousin—for my +lips<br /> +I keep them for a husband!—Nay, stand off!<br /> +I’ll not be held in manacles again!<br /> +Why do you follow me?</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. I love you, cousin!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. O cousin, say you so! That’s passing +strange!<br /> +Falls out most crossly—is a dire mishap—<br /> +A thing to sigh for, weep for, languish for,<br /> +And die for!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Die for!</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>, Yes, with laughter, cousin,<br /> +For, cousin, I love you!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. And you’ll be mine?</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I will.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Your hand upon it.</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. Hand and heart.<br /> +Hie to thy dressing-room, and I’ll to mine—<br /> +Attire thee for the altar—so will I.<br /> +Whoe’er may claim me, thou’rt the man shall have me.<br /> +Away! Despatch! But hark you, ere you go,<br /> +Ne’er brag of reading Ovid’s Art of Love!</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. And cousin! stop—one little word with you!</p> +<p>[She returns, he snatches a kiss—They go out severally.]</p> +<h4>SCENE II.—Julia’s Chamber.</h4> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Julia</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. No word from him, and evening now set in!<br /> +He cannot play me false! His messenger<br /> +Is dogged—or letter intercepted. I’m<br /> +Beset with spies!—No rescue!—No escape!—<br /> +The hour at hand that brings my bridegroom home!<br /> +No relative to aid me! friend to counsel me.</p> +<p>[A knock at the door.]</p> +<p>Come in.</p> +<p>[Enter two Female Attendants.]</p> +<p>Your will?</p> +<p><i>First Attendant</i>. Your toilet waits, my lady;<br /> +’Tis time you dress.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. ’Tis time I die! [A peal of +bells.] What’s that?</p> +<p><i>First Attendant</i>. Your wedding bells, my lady.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Merrily<br /> +They ring my knell!<br /> +[Second Attendant presents an open case.]<br /> +And pray you what are these?</p> +<p><i>Second Attendant</i>. Your wedding jewels.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Set them by.</p> +<p><i>Second Attendant</i>. Indeed.<br /> +Was ne’er a braver set! A necklace, brooch,<br /> +And earrings all of brilliants, with a hoop<br /> +To guard your wedding ring.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. ’Twould need a guard<br /> +That lacks a heart to keep it!</p> +<p><i>Second Attendant</i>. Here’s a heart<br /> +Suspended from the necklace—one huge diamond<br /> +Imbedded in a host of smaller ones!<br /> +Oh! how it sparkles!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Show it me! Bright heart,<br /> +Thy lustre, should I wear thee, will be false,—<br /> +For thou the emblem art of love and truth,—<br /> +From her that wears thee unto him that gives thee.<br /> +Back to thy case! Better thou ne’er shouldst leave it—<br +/> +Better thy gems a thousand fathoms deep<br /> +In their native mine again, than grace my neck,<br /> +And lend thy fair face to palm off a lie!</p> +<p><i>First Attendant</i>. Will’t please you dress?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Ah! in infected clothes<br /> +New from a pest-house! Leave me! If I dress,<br /> +I dress alone! O for a friend! Time gallops!</p> +<p>[Attendants go out.]</p> +<p>He that should guard me is mine enemy!<br /> +Constrains me to abide the fatal die,<br /> +My rashness, not my reason cast! He comes,<br /> +That will exact the forfeit!—Must I pay it?—<br /> +E’en at the cost of utter bankruptcy!<br /> +What’s to be done? Pronounce the vow that parts<br /> +My body from my soul! To what it loathes<br /> +Links that, while this is linked to what it loves!<br /> +Condemned to such perdition! What’s to be done?<br /> +Stand at the altar in an hour from this!<br /> +An hour thence seated at his board—a wife<br /> +Thence!—frenzy’s in the thought! What’s to be +done?</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Walter</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. What! run the waves so high? Not ready yet!<br +/> +Your lord will soon be here! The guests collect.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Show me some way to ’scape these +nuptials! Do it!<br /> +Some opening for avoidance or escape,—<br /> +Or to thy charge I’ll lay a broken heart!<br /> +It may be, broken vows, and blasted honour,<br /> +Or else a mind distraught!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. What’s this?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. The strait<br /> +I’m fallen into my patience cannot bear.<br /> +It frights my reason—warps my sense of virtue!<br /> +Religion!—changes me into a thing<br /> +I look at with abhorring!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Listen to me.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Listen to me! If this contract<br /> +Thou holdest me to—abide thou the result!<br /> +Answer to heaven for what I suffer!—act!<br /> +Prepare thyself for such calamity<br /> +To fall on me, and those whose evil stars<br /> +Have linked them with me, as no past mishap,<br /> +However rare, and marvellously sad<br /> +Can parallel! lay thy account to live<br /> +A smileless life, die an unpitied death—<br /> +Abhorred, abandoned of thy kind,—as one<br /> +Who had the guarding of a young maid’s peace,—<br /> +Looked on and saw her rashly peril it;<br /> +And when she saw her danger, and confessed<br /> +Her fault, compelled her to complete her ruin!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Hast done?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Another moment, and I have.<br /> +Be warned! Beware how you abandon me<br /> +To myself! I’m young, rash, inexperienced! tempted<br /> +By most insufferable misery!<br /> +Bold, desperate, and reckless! Thou hast age<br /> +Experience, wisdom, and collectedness,—<br /> +Power, freedom,—everything that I have not,<br /> +Yet want, as none e’er wanted! Thou canst save me,<br /> +Thou oughtst! thou must! I tell thee at his feet<br /> +I’ll fall a corse—ere mount his bridal bed!<br /> +So choose betwixt my rescue and my grave;—<br /> +And quickly too! The hour of sacrifice<br /> +Is near! Anon the immolating priest<br /> +Will summon me! Devise some speedy means<br /> +To cheat the altar of its victim. Do it!<br /> +Nor leave the task to me!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Hast done?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I have.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Then list to me—and silently, if not<br /> +With patience.—[Brings chairs for himself and her.]<br /> +How I watched thee from thy childhood<br /> +I’ll not recall to thee. Thy father’s wisdom—<br /> +Whose humble instrument I was—directed<br /> +Your nonage should be passed in privacy,<br /> +From your apt mind that far outstripped your years,<br /> +Fearing the taint of an infected world;—<br /> +For, in the rich grounds, weeds once taking root,<br /> +Grow strong as flowers. He might be right or wrong!<br /> +I thought him right; and therefore did his bidding.<br /> +Most certainly he loved you—so did I;<br /> +Ay! well as I had been myself your father!</p> +<p>[His hand is resting upon his knee, <span class="smcap">Julia</span> +attempts to take it—he withdraws it—looks at her—she +hangs her head.]</p> +<p>Well; you may take my hand! I need not say<br /> +How fast you grew in knowledge, and in goodness,—<br /> +That hope could scarce enjoy its golden dreams<br /> +So soon fulfilment realised them all!<br /> +Enough. You came to womanhood. Your heart,<br /> +Pure as the leaf of the consummate bud,<br /> +That’s new unfolded by the smiling sun,<br /> +And ne’er knew blight nor canker!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Julia</span> attempts to place her other hand on +his shoulder—he leans from her—looks at her—she hangs her +head again.]</p> +<p>Put it there!<br /> +Where left I off? I know! When a good woman<br /> +Is fitly mated, she grows doubly good,<br /> +How good soe’er before! I found the man<br /> +I thought a match for thee; and, soon as found,<br /> +Proposed him to thee. ’Twas your father’s will,<br /> +Occasion offering, you should be married<br /> +Soon as you reached to womanhood.—You liked<br /> +My choice, accepted him.—We came to town;<br /> +Where, by important matter summoned thence,<br /> +I left you an affianced bride!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. You did!<br /> +You did! [Leans her head upon her hand and weeps.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Nay, check thy tears! Let judgment now,<br /> +Not passion, be awake. On my return,<br /> +I found thee—what? I’ll not describe the thing<br /> +I found thee then! I’ll not describe my pangs<br /> +To see thee such a thing! The engineer<br /> +Who lays the last stone of his sea-built tower,<br /> +It cost him years and years of toil to raise—<br /> +And, smiling at it, tells the winds and waves<br /> +To roar and whistle now—but, in a night,<br /> +Beholds the tempest sporting in its place—<br /> +May look aghast, as I did!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. [Falling on her knees.] Pardon me!<br /> +Forgive me! pity me!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Resume thy seat. [Raises her.]<br /> +I pity thee; perhaps not thee alone<br /> +It fits to sue for pardon.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Me alone!<br /> +None other!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. But to vindicate myself,<br /> +I name thy lover’s stern desertion of thee.<br /> +What wast thou then with wounded pride? A thing<br /> +To leap into a torrent! throw itself<br /> +From a precipice! rush into a fire! I saw<br /> +Thy madness—knew to thwart it were to chafe it—<br /> +And humoured it to take that course, I thought,<br /> +Adopted, least ’twould rue!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. ’Twas wisely done.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. At least ’twas for the best.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. To blame thee for it<br /> +Was adding shame to shame! But Master Walter,<br /> +These nuptials!—must they needs go on?</p> +<p>Servant. [Entering.] More guests<br /> +Arrive.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Attend to them. [Servant goes out.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Dear Master Walter!<br /> +Is there no way to escape these nuptials?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Know’st not<br /> +What with these nuptials comes? Hast thou forgot?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. What?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Nothing!—I did tell thee of a thing.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. What was it?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. To forget it was a fault!<br /> +Look back and think.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I can’t remember it.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Fathers, make straws your children! +Nature’s nothing,<br /> +Blood nothing! Once in other veins it runs,<br /> +It no more yearneth for the parent flood,<br /> +Than doth the stream that from the source disparts.<br /> +Talk not of love instinctive—what you call so<br /> +Is but the brat of custom! Your own flesh<br /> +By habit cleaves to you—without,<br /> +Hath no adhesion. [Aside.] So; you have forgot<br /> +You have a father, and are here to meet him!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I’ll not deny it.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You should blush for’t.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. No!<br /> +No! no: hear, Master Walter! what’s a father<br /> +That you’ve not been to me? Nay, turn not from me,<br /> +For at the name a holy awe I own,<br /> +That now almost inclines my knee to earth!<br /> +But thou to me, except a father’s name,<br /> +Hast all the father been: the care—the love—<br /> +The guidance—the protection of a father.<br /> +Canst wonder, then, if like thy child I feel,—<br /> +And feeling so, that father’s claim forget<br /> +Whom ne’er I knew save by the name of one?<br /> +Oh, turn to me, and do not chide me! or<br /> +If thou wilt chide, chide on! but turn to me!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [Struggling with emotion.] My Julia!<br /> +[Embraces her.]</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Now, dear Master Walter, hear me!<br /> +Is there no way to ’scape these nuptials?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Julia,<br /> +A promise made admits not of release,<br /> +Save by consent or forfeiture of those<br /> +Who hold it—so it should be pondered well<br /> +Before we let it go. Ere man should say<br /> +I broke the word I had the power to keep,<br /> +I’d lose the life I had the power to part with!<br /> +Remember, Julia, thou and I to-day<br /> +Must, to thy father, of thy training render<br /> +A strict account. While honour’s left to us,<br /> +We have something—nothing, having all but that.<br /> +Now for thy last act of obedience, Julia!<br /> +Present thyself before thy bridegroom! [She assents.] Good!<br +/> +My Julia’s now herself! Show him thy heart,<br /> +And to his honour leave’t to set thee free<br /> +Or hold thee bound. Thy father will be by!</p> +<h4>SCENE III.—The Banqueting’ Room.</h4> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Master Walter</span> and <span +class="smcap">Master Heartwell</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Heart</i>. Thanks, Master Walter! Ne’er was child +more bent<br /> +To do her father’s will, you’ll own, than mine:<br /> +Yet never one more froward.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. All runs fair—<br /> +Fair may all end! To-day you’ll learn the cause<br /> +That took me out of town. But soft a while,—<br /> +Here comes the bridegroom, with his friends, and here<br /> +The all-obedient bride.</p> +<p>[Enter on one hand <span class="smcap">Julia</span>, and on the other +hand <span class="smcap">Lord Rochdale</span> with <span class="smcap">Lord +Tinsel</span> and friends—afterwards <span +class="smcap">Clifford</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Is she not fair?</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. She’ll do. Your servant, lady! +Master Walter,<br /> +We’re glad to see you. Sirs, you’re welcome all.<br /> +What wait they for? Are we to wed or not?<br /> +We’re ready—why don’t they present the bride?<br /> +I hope they know she is to wed an earl.</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. Should I speak first?</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Not for your coronet!<br /> +I, as your friend, may make the first advance.<br /> +We’ve come here to be married. Where’s the bride?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. There stands she, lord; if ’tis her will to +wed,<br /> +His lordship’s free to take her.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Not a step!<br /> +I, as your friend, may lead her to your lordship.<br /> +Fair lady, by your leave.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. No! not to you.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. I ask your hand to give it to his lordship.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Nor to his lordship—save he will accept<br /> +My hand without my heart! but I’ll present<br /> +My knee to him, and, by his lofty rank,<br /> +Implore him now to do a lofty deed<br /> +Will lift its stately head above his rank,—<br /> +Assert him nobler yet in worth than name,—<br /> +And, in the place of an unwilling bride,<br /> +Unto a willing debt or make him lord,—<br /> +Whose thanks shall be his vassals, night and day<br /> +That still shall wait upon him!</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. What means this?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. What is’t behoves a wife to bring her +lord?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. A whole heart, and a true one.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. I have none!<br /> +Not half a heart—the fraction of a heart!<br /> +Am I a woman it befits to wed?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Why, where’s thy heart?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Gone—out of my keeping!<br /> +Lost, past recovery: right and title to it—<br /> +And all given up! and he that’s owner on’t,<br /> +So fit to wear it, were it fifty hearts,<br /> +I’d give it to him all!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thou dost not mean<br /> +His lordship’s secretary?</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Yes. Away<br /> +Disguises! in that secretary know<br /> +The master of the heart, of which the poor,<br /> +Unvalued, empty casket, at your feet—<br /> +Its jewel gone—I now despairing throw!</p> +<p>[Kneels.]</p> +<p>Of his lord’s bride he’s lord! lord paramount!<br /> +To whom her virgin homage first she paid,—<br /> +’Gainst whom rebelled in frowardness alone,<br /> +Nor knew herself how loyal to him, till<br /> +Another claimed her duty—then awoke<br /> +To sense of all she owed him—all his worth—<br /> +And all her undeservings!</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Lady, we came not here to treat of hearts,—<br +/> +But marriage; which, so please you, is with us<br /> +A simple joining, by the priest, of hands.<br /> +A ring’s put on, a prayer or two is said;<br /> +You’re man and wife,—and nothing more! For hearts,<br /> +We oftener do without, than with them, lady!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. So does not wed this lady!</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Who are you?</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. I’m secretary to the Earl of Rochdale.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. My lord!</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. I know him not—</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. I know him now—<br /> +Your lordship’s rival! Once Sir Thomas Clifford.</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Yes, and the bridegroom of that lady then,<br /> +Then loved her—loves her still!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Was loved by her—<br /> +Though then she knew it not!—is loved by her,<br /> +As now she knows, and all the world may know!</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. We can’t be laughed at. We are here to +wed,<br /> +And shall fulfil our contract.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Clifford!</p> +<p><i>Clif</i>. Julia!<br /> +You will not give your hand?</p> +<p>[A pause. <span class="smcap">Julia</span> seems utterly +lost.]</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. You have forgot<br /> +Again. You have a father!</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Bring him now,—<br /> +To see thy Julia justify thy training,<br /> +And lay her life down to redeem her word!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. And so redeems her all! Is it your will,<br /> +My lord, these nuptials should go on?</p> +<p><i>Roch</i>. It is.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Then is it mine they stop!</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. I told your lordship<br /> +You should not keep a Hunchback for your agent.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Thought like my father, my good lord, who said<br /> +He would not have a Hunchback for his son—<br /> +So do I pardon you the savage slight.<br /> +My lord, that I am not as straight as you,<br /> +Was blemish neither of my thought nor will,<br /> +My head nor heart. It was no act of mine.—<br /> +Yet did it curdle Nature’s kindly milk<br /> +E’en where ’tis richest—in a parent’s +breast—<br /> +To cast me out to heartless fosterage,<br /> +Nor heartless always, as it proved—and give<br /> +My portion to another! the same blood—<br /> +But I’ll be sworn, in vein, my lord, and soul—<br /> +Although his trunk did swerve no more than yours—<br /> +Not half so straight as I.</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. Upon my life<br /> +You’ve got a modest agent, Rochdale! Now<br /> +He’ll prove himself descended—mark my words—<br /> +From some small gentleman</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. And so you thought,<br /> +Where Nature played the churl, it would be fit<br /> +That fortune played it too. You would have had<br /> +My lord absolve me of my agency!<br /> +Fair lord, the flaw did cost me fifty times—<br /> +A hundred times my agency:—but all’s<br /> +Recovered. Look, my lord, a testament<br /> +To make a pension of his lordship’s rent-roll!<br /> +It is my father’s, and was left by him,<br /> +In case his heir should die without a son,<br /> +Then to be opened. Heaven did send a son<br /> +To bless the heir. Heaven took its gift away,<br /> +He died—his father died. And Master Walter—<br /> +The unsightly agent of his lordship there—<br /> +The Hunchback whom your lordship would have stripped<br /> +Of his agency—is now the Earl of Rochdale!</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. We’ve made a small mistake here. Never +mind,<br /> +’Tis nothing in a lord.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. The Earl of Rochdale!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. And what of that? Thou know’st not half my +greatness!<br /> +A prouder title, Julia, have I yet,<br /> +Sooner than part with which I’d give that up,<br /> +And be again plain Master Walter. What!<br /> +Dost thou not apprehend me? Yes, thou dost!<br /> +Command thyself; don’t gasp. My pupil—daughter!<br /> +Come to thy father’s heart!</p> +<p>[<span class="smcap">Julia</span> rushes into his arms.]</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Fathom</span>.]</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Thievery! +Elopement—escape—arrest!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. What’s the matter?</p> +<p><i>Fath</i>. Mistress Helen is running away with Master +Modus—Master Modus is running away with Mistress Helen—but we +have caught them, secured them, and here they come, to receive the reward +of their merits.</p> +<p>[Enter <span class="smcap">Helen</span> and <span +class="smcap">Modus</span>, followed by Servants.]</p> +<p><i>Helen</i>. I’ll ne’er wed man, if not my cousin +Modus.</p> +<p><i>Mod</i>. Nor woman I, save cousin Helen’s she.</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. [To <span class="smcap">Master +Heartwell</span>.] A daughter, have you, and a nephew, too,<br /> +Without their match in duty! Let them marry.<br /> +For you, sir, who to-day have lost an earldom,<br /> +Yet would have shared that earldom with my child—<br /> +My only one—content yourself with prospect<br /> +Of the succession; it must fall to you,<br /> +And fit yourself to grace it. Ape not those<br /> +Who rank by pride. The man of simplest bearing<br /> +Is yet a lord, when he’s a lord indeed!</p> +<p><i>Tin</i>. The paradox is obsolete. Ne’er heed!<br /> +Learn from his book, and practise out of mine!</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. Sir Thomas Clifford, take my daughter’s hand!<br +/> +If now you know the master of her heart!<br /> +Give it, my Julia! You suspect, I see,<br /> +And rightly, there has been some masking here.<br /> +Content thee, daughter, thou shalt know anon,<br /> +How jealousy of my mis-shapen back<br /> +Made me mistrustful of a child’s affections—<br /> +Who doubted e’en a wife’s—so that I dropped<br /> +The title of thy father, lest thy duty<br /> +Should pay the debt thy love could solve alone.<br /> +All this and more, that to thy friends and thee<br /> +Pertains, at fitting time thou shalt be told.<br /> +But now thy nuptials wait—the happy close<br /> +Of thy hard trial—wholesome, though severe!<br /> +The world won’t cheat thee now—thy heart is proved;—<br +/> +Thou know’st thy peace by finding out its bane,<br /> +And ne’er will act from reckless impulse more!</p> +<h2>Footnotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> The other play, The Love-Chase, is released +in a separated eText with Project Gutenberg and not included +here.—DP.</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2" +class="footnote">[2]</a> In representation, the passages following +this are curtailed and the scene runs as follows:—</p> +<p>Master Walter continues—<br /> +The first side shows their passion in the dawn—<br /> +In the next side ’tis shining open day—<br /> +In the third there’s clouding—I but touch on these<br /> +To make a long tale brief, and bring thee to<br /> +The last side.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. What shows that?</p> +<p><i>Wal</i>. The fate of love<br /> +That will not be advised.—The scene’s a dungeon,<br /> +Its tenant is the page—he lies in fetters.</p> +<p><i>Julia</i>. Hard!<br /> +Hard as the steel, the hands that put them on! &c.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNCHBACK***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 3480-h.htm or 3480-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/8/3480 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Hunchback + + +Author: James Sheridan Knowles + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: October 8, 2007 [eBook #3480] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNCHBACK*** + + + +Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + +THE HUNCHBACK. +THE LOVE-CHASE. + + + BY + JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES + + CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED: + _LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_. + 1887. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +James Sheridan Knowles was born at Cork in 1784, and died at Torquay in +December, 1862, at the age of 78. His father was a teacher of elocution, +who compiled a dictionary, and who was related to the Sheridans. He +moved to London when his son was eight years old, and there became +acquainted with William Hazlitt and Charles Lamb. The son, after his +school education, obtained a commission in the army, but gave up +everything for the stage, and made his first appearance at the Crow +Street Theatre, in Dublin. He did not become a great actor, and when he +took to writing plays he did not prove himself a great poet, but his +skill in contriving situations through which a good actor can make his +powers tell upon the public, won the heart of the great actor of his day, +and as Macready's own poet he rose to fame. + +Before Macready had discovered him, Sheridan Knowles lived partly by +teaching elocution at Belfast and Glasgow, partly by practice of +elocution as an actor. In 1815 he produced at the Belfast Theatre his +first play, _Caius Gracchus_. His next play, _Virginius_ was produced at +Glasgow with great success. Macready, who had, at the age of seventeen, +begun his career as an actor at his father's theatre in Birmingham, had, +on Monday, October 5th, 1819, at the age of twenty-six, taken the +Londoners by storm in the character of Richard III Covent Garden reopened +its closed treasury. It was promptly followed by a success in +_Coriolanus_, and Macready's place was made. He was at once offered +fifty pounds a night for appearing on one evening a week at Brighton. It +was just after that turn in Macready's fortunes that a friend at Glasgow +recommended to him the part of Virginius in Sheridan Knowles's play +lately produced there. He agreed unwillingly to look at it, and says +that in April, 1820, the parcel containing the MS. came as he was going +out. He hesitated, then sat down to read it that he might get a +wearisome job over. As he read, he says, "The freshness and simplicity +of the dialogue fixed my attention; I read on and on, and was soon +absorbed in the interest of the story and the passion of its scenes, till +at its close I found myself in such a state of excitement that for a time +I was undecided what step to take. Impulse was in the ascendant, and +snatching up my pen I hurriedly wrote, as my agitated feelings prompted, +a letter to the author, to me then a perfect stranger." Bryan Procter +(Barry Cornwall) read the play next day with Macready, and confirmed him +in his admiration of it. + +Macready at once got it accepted at the theatre, where nothing was spent +on scenery, but there was a good cast, and the enthusiasm of Macready as +stage manager for the occasion half affronted some of his seniors. On +the 17th of May, 1820, about a month after it came into Macready's hands, +_Virginius_ was produced at Covent Garden, where, says the actor in his +"Reminiscences," "the curtain fell amidst the most deafening applause of +a highly-excited auditory." Sheridan Knowles's fame, therefore, was +made, like that of his friend Macready, and the friendship between author +and actor continued. Sheridan Knowles had a kindly simplicity of +character, and the two qualities for which an actor most prizes a +dramatist, skill in providing opportunities for acting that will tell, +and readiness to make any changes that the actor asks for. The +postscript to his first letter to Macready was, "Make any alterations you +like in any part of the play, and I shall be obliged to you." When he +brought to the great actor his play of _William Tell_--_Caius Gracchus_ +had been produced in November, 1823--there were passages of writing in it +that stopped the course of action, and, says Macready, "Knowles had less +of the tenacity of authorship than most writers," so that there was no +difficulty about alterations, Macready having in a very high degree the +tenacity of actorship. And so, in 1825, _Tell_ became another of +Macready's best successes. + +Sheridan Knowles continued to write for the stage until 1845, when he was +drawn wholly from the theatre by a religious enthusiasm that caused him, +in 1851, to essay the breaking of a lance with Cardinal Wiseman on the +subject of Transubstantiation. Sir Robert Peel gave ease to his latter +days by a pension of 200 pounds a year from the Civil List, which he had +honourably earned by a career as dramatist, in which he sought to appeal +only to the higher sense of literature, and to draw enjoyment from the +purest source. Of his plays time two comedies {1} here given are all +that have kept their place upon the stage. As one of the most earnest +dramatic writers of the present century he is entitled to a little corner +in our memory. Worse work of the past has lasted longer than the plays +of Sheridan Knowles are likely to last through the future. + + H. M. + + + +THE HUNCHBACK. + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + + +(AS ORIGINALLY PERFORMED AT COVENT GARDEN IN 1832.) +_Julia_ Miss F. KEMBLE. +_Helen_ Miss TAYLOR. +_Master Walter_ Mr. J. S. KNOWLES. +_Sir Thomas Clifford_ Mr. C. KEMBLE. +_Lord Tinsel_ Mr. WRENCH. +_Master Wilford_ Mr. J. MASON. +_Modus_ Mr. ABBOTT. +_Master Heartwell_ Mr. EVANS. +_Gaylove_ Mr. HENRY. +_Fathom_ Mr. MEADOWS. +_Thomas_ Mr. BARNES. +_Stephen_ Mr. PAYNE. +_Williams_ Mr. IRWIN. +_Simpson_ Mr. BRADY. +_Waiter_ Mr. HEATH. +_Holdwell_ Mr. BENDER. +_Servants_ Mr. J. COOPER. + Mr. LOLLETT. + + +ACT I. + + +SCENE I.--A Tavern. + + +On one side SIR THOMAS CLIFFORD, at a table, with wine before him; on the +other, MASTER WILFORD, GAYLOVE, HOLDWELL, and SIMPSON, likewise taking +wine. + +_Wilf_. Your wine, sirs! your wine! You do not justice to mine host of +the Three Tuns, nor credit to yourselves; I swear the beverage is good! +It is as palatable poison as you will purchase within a mile round +Ludgate! Drink, gentlemen; make free. You know I am a man of +expectations; and hold my money as light as the purse in which I carry +it. + +_Gay_. We drink, Master Wilford. Not a man of us has been chased as +yet. + +_Wilf_. But you fill not fairly, sirs! Look at my measure! Wherefore a +large glass, if not for a large draught? Fill, I pray you, else let us +drink out of thimbles! This will never do for the friends of the nearest +of kin to the wealthiest peer in Britain. + +_Gay_. We give you joy, Master Wilford, of the prospect of advancement +which has so unexpectedly opened to you. + +_Wilf_. Unexpectedly indeed! But yesterday arrived the news that the +Earl's only son and heir had died; and to-day has the Earl himself been +seized with a mortal illness. His dissolution is looked for hourly; and +I, his cousin in only the third degree, known to him but to be unnoticed +by him--a decayed gentleman's son--glad of the title and revenues of a +scrivener's clerk--am the undoubted successor to his estates and coronet. + +_Gay_. Have you been sent for? + +_Wilf_. No; but I have certified to his agent, Master Walter, the +Hunchback, my existence, and peculiar propinquity; and momentarily expect +him here. + +_Gay_. Lives there anyone that may dispute your claim--I mean +vexatiously? + +_Wilf_. Not a man, Master Gaylove. I am the sole remaining branch of +the family tree. + +_Gay_. Doubtless you look for much happiness from this change of +fortune? + +_Wilf_. A world! Three things have I an especial passion for. The +finest hound, the finest horse, and the finest wife in the kingdom, +Master Gaylove! + +Gay. The finest wife? + +_Wilf_. Yes, sir; I marry. Once the earldom comes into my line, I shall +take measures to perpetuate its remaining there. I marry, sir! I do not +say that I shall love. My heart has changed mistresses too often to +settle down in one servitude now, sir. But fill, I pray you, friends. +This, if I mistake not, is the day whence I shall date my new fortunes; +and, for that reason, hither have I invited you, that, having been so +long my boon companions, you shall be the first to congratulate me. + +[Enter Waiter] + +_Waiter_. You are wanted, Master Wilford. + +_Wilf_. By whom? + +_Waiter_. One Master Walter. + +_Wilf_. His lordship's agent! News, sirs! Show him in! + +[Waiter goes out] + +My heart's a prophet, sirs--The Earl is dead. + +[Enter MASTER WALTER] + +Well, Master Walter. How accost you me? + +_Wal_. As your impatience shows me you would have me. +My Lord, the Earl of Rochdale! + +_Gay_. Give you joy! + +_Hold_. All happiness, my lord! + +_Simp_. Long life and health unto your lordship! + +_Gay_. Come! +We'll drink to his lordship's health! 'Tis two o'clock, +We'll e'en carouse till midnight! Health, my lord! + +_Hold_. My lord, much joy to you! + +_Simp_. All good to your lordship! + +_Wal_. Give something to the dead! + +_Gay_. Give what? + +_Wal_. Respect! +He has made the living! First to him that's gone, +Say "Peace!"--and then with decency to revels! + +_Gay_. What means the knave by revels? + +_Wal_. Knave? + +_Gay_. Ay, knave! + +_Wal_. Go to! Thou'rt flushed with wine! + +_Gay_. Thou sayest false! +Though didst thou need a proof thou speakest true, +I'd give thee one. Thou seest but one lord here, +And I see two! + +_Wal_. Reflect'st thou on my shape? +Thou art a villain! + +_Gay_. [Starting up.] Ha! + +_Wal_. A coward, too! +Draw! + +[Drawing his sword.] + +_Gay_. Only mark him! how he struts about! +How laughs his straight sword at his noble back. + +_Wal_. Does it? It cuffs thee for a liar then! + +[Strikes GAYLOVE with his sword.] + +_Gay_. A blow! + +_Wal_. Another, lest you doubt the first! + +_Gay_. His blood on his own head! I'm for you, sir! + +[Draws.] + +_Clif_. Hold, sir! This quarrel's mine! + +[Coming forward and drawing.] + +_Wal_. No man shall fight for me, sir! + +_Clif_. By your leave, +Your patience, pray! My lord, for so I learn +Behoves me to accost you--for your own sake +Draw off your friend! + +_Wal_. Not till we have a bout, sir! + +_Clif_. My lord, your happy fortune ill you greet! +Ill greet it those who love you--greeting thus +The herald of it! + +_Wal_. Sir, what's that to you? +Let go my sleeve! + +_Clif_. My lord, if blood be shed +On the fair dawn of your prosperity, +Look not to see the brightness of its day. +'Twill be o'ercast throughout! + +_Gay_. My lord, I'm struck! + +_Clif_. You gave the first blow, and the hardest one! +Look, sir; if swords you needs must measure, I'm +Your mate, not he! + +_Wal_. I'm mate for any man! + +_Clif_. Draw off your friend, my lord, for your own sake! + +_Wilf_. Come, Gaylove! let's have another room. + +_Gay_. With all my heart, since 'tis your lordship's will. + +_Wilf_. That's right! Put up! Come, friends! + +[WILFORD and Friends go out.] + +_Wal_. I'll follow him! +Why do you hold me? 'Tis not courteous of you! +Think'st thou I fear them? Fear! I rate them but +As dust! dross! offals! Let me at them!--Nay, +Call you this kind? then kindness know I not; +Nor do I thank you for't! Let go, I say! + +_Clif_. Nay, Master Walter, they're not worth your wrath. + +_Wal_. How know you me for Master Walter? By +My hunchback, eh!--my stilts of legs and arms, +The fashion more of ape's than man's? Aha! +So you have heard them, too--their savage gibes +As I pass on,--"There goes my lord!" aha! +God made me, sir, as well as them and you. +'Sdeath! I demand of you, unhand me, sir! + +_Clif_. There, sir, you're free to follow them! Go forth, +And I'll go too: so on your wilfulness +Shall fall whate'er of evil may ensue. +Is't fit you waste your choler on a burr? +The nothings of the town; whose sport it is +To break their villain jests on worthy men, +The graver still the fitter! Fie for shame! +Regard what such would say? So would not I, +No more than heed a cur. + +_Wal_. You're right, sir; right, +For twenty crowns! So there's my rapier up! +You've done me a good turn against my will; +Which, like a wayward child, whose pet is off, +That made him restive under wholesome check, +I now right humbly own, and thank you for. + +_Clif_. No thanks, good Master Walter, owe you me! +I'm glad to know you, sir. + +_Wal_. I pray you, now, +How did you learn my name? Guessed I not right? +Was't not my comely hunch that taught it you? + +_Clif_. I own it. + +_Wal_. Right, I know it; you tell truth. I like you for't. + +_Clif_. But when I heard it said +That Master Walter was a worthy man, +Whose word would pass on 'change soon as his bond; +A liberal man--for schemes of public good +That sets down tens, where others units write; +A charitable man--the good he does, +That's told of, not the half; I never more +Could see the hunch on Master Walter's back! + +_Wal_. You would not flatter a poor citizen? + +_Clif_. Indeed, I flatter not! + +_Wal_. I like your face-- +A frank and honest one! Your frame's well knit, +Proportioned, shaped! + +_Clif_. Good sir! + +_Wal_. Your name is Clifford-- +Sir Thomas Clifford. Humph! You're not the heir +Direct to the fair baronetcy? He +That was, was drowned abroad. Am I not right? +Your cousin, was't not?--so succeeded you +To rank and wealth, your birth ne'er promised you. + +_Clif_. I see you know my history. + +_Wal_. I do. +You're lucky who conjoin the benefits +Of penury and abundance; for I know +Your father was a man of slender means. +You do not blush, I see. That's right! Why should you? +What merit to be dropped on fortune's hill? +The honour is to mount it. You'd have done it; +For you were trained to knowledge, industry, +Frugality, and honesty,--the sinews +That surest help the climber to the top, +And keep him there. I have a clerk, Sir Thomas, +Once served your father; there's the riddle for you. +Humph! I may thank you for my life to-day. + +_Clif_. I pray you say not so. + +_Wal_. But I will say so! +Because I think so, know so, feel so, sir! +Your fortune, I have heard, I think, is ample! +And doubtless you live up to't? + +_Clif_. 'Twas my rule, +And is so still, to keep my outlay, sir, +A span within my means. + +_Wal_. A prudent rule! +The turf is a seductive pastime! + +_Clif_. Yes. + +_Wal_. You keep a racing stud? You bet? + +_Clif_. No, neither. +'Twas still my father's precept--"Better owe +A yard of land to labour, than to chance +Be debtor for a rood!" + +_Wal_. 'Twas a wise precept. +You've a fair house--you'll get a mistress for it? + +_Clif_. In time! + +_Wal_. In time! 'Tis time thy choice were made. +Is't not so yet? Or is thy lady love +The newest still thou seest? + +_Clif_. Nay, not so. +I'd marry, Master Walter, but old use-- +For since the age of thirteen I have lived +In the world--has made me jealous of the thing +That flattered me with hope of profit. Bargains +Another would snap up, might be for me: +Till I had turned and turned them! Speculations, +That promised, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, +Ay, cent-per-cent. returns, I would not launch in, +When others were afloat, and out at sea; +Whereby I made small gains, but missed great losses. +As ever, then, I looked before I leaped, +So do I now. + +_Wal_. Thou'rt all the better for it! +Let's see! Hand free--heart whole--well-favoured--so! +Rich, titled! Let that pass!--kind, valiant, prudent-- +Sir Thomas, I can help thee to a wife, +Hast thou the luck to win her! + +_Clif_. Master Walter! +You jest! + +_Wal_. I do not jest. I like you! mark-- +I like you, and I like not everyone! +I say a wife, sir, can I help you to, +The pearly texture of whose dainty skin +Alone were worth thy baronetcy! Form +And feature has she, wherein move and glow +The charms, that in the marble, cold and still, +Culled by the sculptor's jealous skill and joined there, +Inspire us! Sir, a maid, before whose feet, +A duke--a duke might lay his coronet, +To lift her to his state, and partner her! +A fresh heart too!--a young fresh heart, sir; one +That Cupid has not toyed with, and a warm one-- +Fresh, young, and warm! mark that! a mind to boot; +Wit, sir; sense, taste;--a garden strictly tended-- +Where nought but what is costly flourishes! +A consort for a king, sir! Thou shalt see her! + +_Clif_. I thank you, Master Walter! As you speak, +Methinks I see me at the altar-foot! +Her hand fast locked in mine!--the ring put on! +My wedding-bell rings merry in my ear; +And round me throng glad tongues that give me joy +To be the bridegroom of so fair a bride! + +_Wal_. What! sparks so thick? We'll have a blaze anon! + +_Servant_. [Entering.] The chariot's at the door. + +_Wal_. It waits in time! +Sir Thomas, it shall bear thee to the bower +Where dwells this fair--for she's no city belle, +But e'en a sylvan goddess! + +_Clif_. Have with you! + +_Wal_. You'll bless the day you served the Hunchback, sir! + +[They go out.] + + +SCENE II.--A Garden before a Country House. + + +[Enter JULIA and HELEN.] + +_Helen_. I like not, Julia, this your country life. +I'm weary on't! + +_Julia_. Indeed? So am not I! +I know no other; would no other know! + +_Helen_. You would no other know! Would you not know +Another relative?--another friend-- +Another house--another anything, +Because the ones you have already please you? +That's poor content! Would you not be more rich, +More wise, more fair? The song that last you learned +You fancy well; and therefore shall you learn +No other song? Your virginal, 'tis true, +Hath a sweet tone; but does it follow thence, +You shall not have another virginal? +You may, love, and a sweeter one; and so +A sweeter life may find than this you lead! + +_Julia_. I seek it not. Helen, I'm constancy! + +_Helen_. So is a cat, a dog, a silly hen, +An owl, a bat,--where they are wont to lodge +That still sojourn, nor care to shift their quarters. +Thou'rt constancy? I am glad I know thy name! +The spider comes of the same family, +That in his meshy fortress spends his life, +Unless you pull it down and scare him from it. +And so thou'rt constancy? Ar't proud of that? +I'll warrant thee I'll match thee with a snail +From year to year that never leaves his house! +Such constancy forsooth!--a constant grub +That houses ever in the self-same nut +Where he was born, till hunger drives him out, +Or plunder breaketh through his castle wall! +And so, in very deed, thou'rt constancy! + +_Julia_. Helen, you know the adage of the tree;-- +I've ta'en the bend. This rural life of mine, +Enjoined me by an unknown father's will, +I've led from infancy. Debarred from hope +Of change, I ne'er have sighed for change. The town +To me was like the moon, for any thought +I e'er should visit it--nor was I schooled +To think it half so fair! + +_Helen_. Not half so fair! +The town's the sun, and thou hast dwelt in night +E'er since thy birth, not to have seen the town! +Their women there are queens, and kings their men; +Their houses palaces! + +_Julia_. And what of that? +Have your town-palaces a hall like this? +Couches so fragrant? walls so high-adorned? +Casements with such festoons, such prospects, Helen, +As these fair vistas have? Your kings and queens! +See me a May-day queen, and talk of them! + +_Helen_. Extremes are ever neighbours. 'Tis a step +From one to the other! Were thy constancy +A reasonable thing--a little less +Of constancy--a woman's constancy-- +I should not wonder wert thou ten years hence +The maid I know thee now; but, as it is, +The odds are ten to one, that this day year +Will see our May-day queen a city one! + +_Julia_. Never! I'm wedded to a country life: +O, did you hear what Master Walter says! +Nine times in ten the town's a hollow thing, +Where what things are is nought to what they show; +Where merit's name laughs merit's self to scorn! +Where friendship and esteem that ought to be +The tenants of men's hearts, lodge in their looks +And tongues alone. Where little virtue, with +A costly keeper, passes for a heap; +A heap for none that has a homely one! +Where fashion makes the law--your umpire which +You bow to, whether it has brains or not! +Where Folly taketh off his cap and bells, +To clap on Wisdom, which must bear the jest! +Where to pass current you must seem the thing, +The passive thing, that others think; and not +Your simple, honest, independent self! + +_Helen_. Ay: so says Master Walter. See I not +What can you find in Master Walter, Julia, +To be so fond of him! + +_Julia_. He's fond of me! +I've known him since I was a child. E'en then, +The week I thought a weary, heavy one, +That brought not Master Walter. I had those +About me then that made a fool of me, +As children oft are fooled; but more I loved +Good Master Walter's lesson than the play +With which they'd surfeit me. As I grew up, +More frequent Master Walter came, and more +I loved to see him! I had tutors then, +Men of great skill and learning--but not one +That taught like Master Walter. What they'd show me, +And I, dull as I was, but doubtful saw,-- +A word from Master Walter made as clear +As daylight! When my schooling days were o'er-- +That's now good three years past--three years--I vow +I'm twenty, Helen!--well, as I was saying, +When I had done with school, and all were gone, +Still Master Walter came! and still he comes, +Summer or winter--frost or rain! I've seen +The snow upon a level with the hedge, +Yet there was Master Walter! + +_Helen_. Who comes here? +A carriage, and a gay one--who alights? +Pshaw! Only Master Walter! What see you, +Which thus repairs the arch of the fair brow, +A frown was like to spoil?--A gentleman! +One of our town kings! Mark!--How say you now? +Wouldst be a town queen, Julia? Which of us, +I wonder, comes he for? + +_Julia_. For neither of us; +He's Master Walter's clerk, most like. + +_Helen_. Most like! +Mark him as he comes up the avenue; +So looks a clerk! A clerk has such a gait! +So does a clerk dress, Julia!--mind his hose-- +They're very like a clerk's! a diamond loop +And button, note you, for his clerkship's hat,-- +O, certainly a clerk! A velvet cloak, +Jerkin of silk, and doublet of the same,-- +For all the world a clerk! See, Julia, see, +How Master Walter bows, and yields him place, +That he may first go in--a very clerk! +I'll learn of thee, love, when I'd know a clerk! + +_Julia_. I wonder who he is! + +_Helen_. Wouldst like to know? +Wouldst for a fancy ride to town with him? +I prophesy he comes to take thee thither! + +_Julia_. He ne'er takes me to town! No, Helen, no! +To town who will, a country life for me! + +_Helen_. We'll see! + +[Enter FATHOM.] + +_Fath_. You're wanted, madam. + +_Julia_. [Embarrassed.] Which of us? + +_Fath_. You, madam. + +_Helen_. Julia! what's the matter? Nay, +Mount not the rose so soon! He must not see it +A month hence. 'Tis loves flower, which once she wears, +The maid is all his own. + +_Julia_. Go to! + +_Helen_. Be sure +He comes to woo thee! He will bear thee hence; +He'll make thee change the country for the town. + +_Julia_. I'm constancy. Name he the town to me, +I'll tell what I think on't! + +_Helen_. Then you guess +He comes a wooing? + +_Julia_. I guess nought. + +_Helen_. You do! +At your grave words, your lips, more honest, smile, +And show them to be traitors. Hie to him. + +_Julia_. Hie thee to soberness. + +[Goes out.] + +_Helen_. Ay, will I, when, +Thy bridemaid, I shall hie to church with thee. +Well, Fathom, who is come? + +_Fath_. I know not. + +_Helen_. What! Didst thou not hear his name? + +_Fath_. I did. + +_Helen_. What is't? + +_Fath_. I noted not. + +_Helen_. What hast thou ears for, then? + +_Fath_. What good were it for me to mind his name? +I do but what I must do. To do that +Is labour quite enough! + +_Wal_. [Without.] What, Fathom! + +_Fath_. Here. + +_Wal_. [Entering.] Here, sirrah! Wherefore didst not come to me? + +_Fath_. You did not bid me come. + +_Wal_. I called thee. + +_Fath_. Yes. +And I said "Here;" and waited then to know +Your worship's will with me. + +_Wal_. We go to town. +Thy mistress, thou, and all the house. + +_Fath_. Well, sir? + +_Wal_. Mak'st thou not ready then to go to town? +Hence, knave, despatch! + +[FATHOM goes out.] + +_Helen_. Go we to town? + +_Wal_. We do; +'Tis now her father's will she sees the town. + +_Helen_. I'm glad on't. Goes she to her father? + +_Wal_. No: +At the desire of thine she for a term shares roof with thee. + +_Helen_. I'm very glad on't. + +_Wal_. What! +You like her, then? I thought you would. 'Tis time +She sees the town. + +_Helen_. It has been time for that +These six years. + +_Wal_. By thy wisdom's count. No doubt +You've told her what a precious place it is. + +_Helen_. I have. + +_Wal_. I even guessed as much. For that +I told thee of her; brought thee here to see her; +And prayed thee to sojourn a space with her; +That its fair space, from thy too fair report, +Might strike a novice less--so less deceive her. +I did not put thee under check. + +_Helen_. 'Twas right,-- +Else had I broken loose, and run the wilder! +So knows she not her father yet: that's strange. +I prithee how does mine? + +_Wal_. Well--very well. +News for thee. + +_Helen_. What? + +_Wal_. Thy cousin is in town. + +_Helen_. My cousin Modus? + +_Wal_. Much do I suspect +That cousin's nearer to thy heart than blood. + +_Helen_. Pshaw! Wed me to a musty library! +Love him who nothing loves but Greek and Latin! +But, Master Walter, you forget the main +Surpassing point of all! Who's come with you? + +_Wal_. Ay, that's the question! + +_Helen_. Is he soldier or +Civilian? lord or gentleman? He's rich, +If that's his chariot! Where is his estate? +What brings it in? Six thousand pounds a year? +Twelve thousand, may be! Is he bachelor, +Or husband? Bachelor I'm sure he is +Comes he not hither wooing, Master Walter? +Nay, prithee, answer me! + +_Wal_. Who says thy sex +Are curious? That they're patient, I'll be sworn; +And reasonable--very reasonable-- +To look for twenty answers in a breath! +Come, thou shalt be enlightened--but propound +Thy questions one by one! Thou'rt far too apt +A scholar! My ability to teach +Will ne'er keep pace, I fear, with thine to learn. + +[They go out.] + + +SCENE III.--An Apartment in the House. + + +[Enter JULIA, followed by CLIFFORD.] + +_Julia_. No more! I pray you, sir, no more! + +_Clif_. I love you! + +_Julia_. You mock me, sir! + +_Clif_. Then is there no such thing +On earth as reverence; honour filial, the fear +Of kings, the awe of supreme heaven itself, +Are only shows and sounds that stand for nothing. +I love you! + +_Julia_. You have known me scarce a minute! + +_Clif_. Say but a moment, still I say I love you! +Love's not a flower that grows on the dull earth; +Springs by the calendar; must wait for the sun-- +For rain;--matures by parts;--must take its time +To stem, to leaf, to bud, to blow. It owns +A richer soil, and boasts a quicker seed! +You look for it, and see it not; and lo! +E'en while you look, the peerless flower is up. +Consummate in the birth! + +_Julia_. Is't fear I feel? +Why else should beat my heart? It can't be fear! +Something I needs must say. You're from the town; +How comes it, sir, you seek a country wife? +Methinks 'twill tax his wit to answer that. + +_Clif_. In joining contrasts lieth love's delight. +Complexion, stature, nature, mateth it, +Not with their kinds, but with their opposites. +Hence hands of snow in palms of russet lie; +The form of Hercules affects the sylph's; +And breasts, that case the lion's fear-proof heart, +Find their meet lodge in arms where tremors dwell! +Haply for this, on Afric's swarthy neck, +Hath Europe's priceless pearl been seen to hang, +That makes the orient poor! So with degrees, +Rank passes by the circlet-graced brow, +Upon the forehead, bare, of notelessness +To print the nuptial kiss. As with degrees +So is't with habits; therefore I, indeed +A gallant of the town, the town forsake, +To win a country wife. + +_Julia_. His prompt reply +My backward challenge shames! Must I give o'er? +I'll try his wit again. Who marries me +Must lead a country life. + +_Clif_. The life I'd lead! +But fools would fly from it; for O! 'tis sweet! +It finds the heart out, be there one to find; +And corners in't where store of pleasures lodge, +We never dreamed were there! It is to dwell +'Mid smiles that are not neighbours to deceit; +Music, whose melody is of the heart; +And gifts, that are not made for interest,-- +Abundantly bestowed by Nature's cheek, +And voice, and hand! It is to live on life, +And husband it! It is to constant scan +The handiwork of Heaven. It is to con +Its mercy, bounty, wisdom, power! It is +To nearer see our God! + +_Julia_. How like he talks +To Master Walter! Shall I give it o'er? +Not yet. Thou wouldst not live one half a year! +A quarter mightst thou for the novelty +Of fields and trees; but then it needs must be +In summer time, when they go dressed. + +_Clif_. Not it! +In any time--say winter! Fields and trees +Have charms for me in very winter time. + +_Julia_. But snow may clothe them then. + +_Clif_. I like them full +As well in snow! + +_Julia_. You do? + +_Clif_. I do. + +_Julia_. But night +Will hide both snow and them, and that sets in +Ere afternoon is out. A heavy thing, +A country fireside in a winter's night, +To one bred in the town,--where winter's said, +For sun of gaiety and sportiveness, +To beggar shining summer. + +_Clif_. I should like +A country winter's night especially! + +_Julia_. You'd sleep by the fire. + +_Clif_. Not I; I'd talk to thee. + +_Julia_. You'd tire of that! + +_Clif_. I'd read to thee. + +_Julia_. And that! + +_Clif_. I'd talk to thee again. + +_Julia_. And sooner tire +Than first you did, and fall asleep at last. +You'd never do to lead a country life. + +_Clif_. You deal too harshly with me! Matchless maid, +As loved instructor brightens dullest wit, +Fear not to undertake the charge of me! +A willing pupil kneels to thee, and lays +His title and his fortune at your feet. + +_Julia_. His title and his fortune! + +[Enter MASTER WALTER and HELEN.--JULIA, disconcerted, retires with the +latter.--CLIFFORD rises.] + +_Wal_. So, Sir Thomas! +Aha! you husband time! Well, was I right? +Is't not the jewel that I told you 'twas? +Wouldst thou not give thine eyes to wear it? Eh? +It has an owner, though,--nay, start not,--one +That may be bought to part with't, and with whom +I'll stand thy friend--I will--I say, I will! +A strange man, sir, and unaccountable: +But I can humour him--will humour him +For thy sake, good Sir Thomas; for I like thee. +Well, is't a bargain? Come, thy hand upon it. +A word or two with thee. + +[They retire. JULIA and HELEN come forward.] + +_Julia_. Go up to town! + +_Helen_. Have I not said it ten times o'er to thee? +But if thou likest it not, protest against it. + +_Julia_. Not if 'tis Master Walter's will. + +_Helen_. What then? +Thou wouldst not break thy heart for Master Walter? + +_Julia_. That follows not! + +_Helen_. What follows not? + +_Julia_. That I +Should break my heart, because we go to town. + +_Helen_. Indeed?--Oh, that's another matter. Well, +I'd e'en advise thee then to do his will; +And, ever after, when I prophesy, +Believe me, Julia! + +[They retire. MASTER WALTER comes forward.] + +[Enter FATHOM.] + +_Fath_. So please you, sir, a letter,--a post-haste letter! The bearer +on horseback, the horse in a foam--smoking like a boiler at the heat--be +sure a posthaste letter! + +_Wal_. Look to the horse and rider. + +[Opens the letter and reads.] + +What's this? A testament addressed to me, +Found in his lordship's escritoire, and thence +Directed to be taken by no hand +But mine. My presence instantly required. + +[SIR THOMAS, JULIA, and HELEN come forward.] + +Come, my mistresses, +You dine in town to-day. Your father's will, +It is, my Julia, that you see the world; +And thou shalt see it in its best attire. +Its gayest looks--its richest finery +It shall put on for thee, that thou may'st judge +Betwixt it, and this rural life you've lived. +Business of moment I'm but thus advised of, +Touching the will of my late noble master, +The Earl of Rochdale, recently deceased, +Commands me for a time to leave thee there. +Sir Thomas, hand her to the chariot. Nay, +I tell thee true. We go indeed to town! + +[They go out.] + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE I.--An Apartment in Master Heartwell's House. + + +[Enter FATHOM and THOMAS.] + +_Thos_. Well, Fathom, is thy mistress up? + +_Fath_. She is, Master Thomas, and breakfasted. + +_Thos_. She stands it well! 'Twas five, you say, when she came home; +and wants it now three-quarters of an hour of ten? Wait till her stock +of country health is out. + +_Fath_. 'Twill come to that, Master Thomas, before she lives another +month in town! three, four, five six o'clock are now the hours she keeps. +'Twas otherwise with her in the country. There, my mistress used to rise +what time she now lies down. + +_Thos_. Why, yes; she's changed since she came hither. + +_Fath_. Changed, do you say, Master Thomas? Changed, forsooth! I know +not the thing in which she is not changed, saving that she is still a +woman. I tell thee there is no keeping pace with her moods. In the +country she had none of them. When I brought what she asked for, it was +"Thank you, Fathom," and no more to do; but now, nothing contents her. +Hark ye! were you a gentleman, Master Thomas,--for then you know you +would be a different kind of man,--how many times would you have your +coat altered? + +_Thos_. Why, Master Fathom, as many times as it would take to make it +fit me. + +_Fath_. Good! But, supposing it fitted thee at the first? + +_Thos_. Then would I have it altered not at all. + +_Fath_. Good! Thou wouldst be a reasonable gentleman. Thou wouldst +have a conscience. Now hark to a tale about my lady's last gown. How +many times, think you, took I it back to the sempstress? + +_Thos_. Thrice, may be. + +_Fath_. Thrice, may be! Twenty times, may be; and not a turn too many, +for the truth on't. Twenty times, on the oath of the sempstress. Now +mark me--can you count? + +_Thos_. After a fashion. + +_Fath_. You have much to be thankful for, Master Thomas. You London +serving-men have a world of things, which we in the country never dream +of. Now mark:--Four times took I it back for the flounce; twice for the +sleeves; three for the tucker--How many times in all is that? + +_Thos_. Eight times to a fraction, Master Fathom. + +_Fath_. What a master of figures you are! Eight times--now recollect +that! And then found she fault with the trimmings. Now tell me, how +many times took I back the gown for the trimmings? + +_Thos_. Eight times more, perhaps! + +_Fath_. Ten times to a certainty. How many times makes that? + +_Thos_. Eighteen, Master Fathom, by the rule of addition. + +_Fath_. And how many times more will make twenty? + +Thee. Twice, by the same rule. + +_Fath_. Thou hast worked with thy pencil and slate, Master Thomas! +Well, ten times, as I said, took I back the gown for the trimmings; and +was she content after all? I warrant you no, or my ears did not pay for +it. She wished, she said, that the slattern sempstress had not touched +the gown, for nought had she done but botched it. Now what think you had +the sempstress done to the gown? + +_Thos_. To surmise that, I must be learned in the sempstress's art. + +_Fath_. The sempstress's art! Thou hast hit it! Oh, the sweet +sempstress! the excellent sempstress! Mistress of her scissors and +needles, which are pointless and edgeless to her art! The sempstress had +done nothing to the gown; yet raves and storms my mistress at her for +having botched it in the making and mending; and orders her straight to +make another one, which home the sempstress brings on Tuesday last. + +_Thos_. And found thy fair mistress as many faults with that? + +_Fath_. Not one! She finds it a very pattern of a gown! A well-sitting +flounce! The sleeves a fit--the tucker a fit--the trimmings her fancy to +a T--ha! ha! ha! and she praised the sempstress--ha! ha! ha! and she +smiles at me, and I smile--ha! ha! ha! and the sempstress smiles--ha! ha! +ha! Now, why did the sempstress smile? + +_Thos_. That she had succeeded so well in her art. + +_Fath_. Thou hast hit it again! The jade must have been born a +sempstress! If ever I marry, she shall work for my wife. The gown was +the same gown, and there was my mistress's twentieth mood! + +_Thos_. What think you will Master Walter say when he comes back? I +fear he'll hardly know his country maid again. Has she yet fixed her +wedding-day? + +_Fath_. She has, Master Thomas. I coaxed it from her maid. She +marries, Monday week. + +_Thos_. Comes not Master Walter back to-day? + +_Fath_. Your master expects him. [A ringing.] Perhaps that's he. I +prithee go and open the door; do, Master Thomas, do; for proves it my +master, he'll surely question me. + +_Thos_. And what should I do? + +_Fath_. Answer him, Master Thomas, and make him none the wiser. He'll +go mad, when he learns how my lady flaunts it! Go! open the door, I +prithee. Fifty things, Master Thomas, know you, for one thing that I +know! You can turn and twist a matter into any other kind of matter; and +then twist and turn it back again, if needs be; so much you servants of +the town beat us of the country, Master Thomas. Open the door, now; do, +Master Thomas, do! + +[They go out.] + + +SCENE II.--A Garden with two Arbours. + + +[Enter MASTER HEARTWELL and MASTER WALTER meeting.] + +_Heart_. Good Master Walter, welcome back again! + +_Wal_. I'm glad to see you, Master Heartwell! + +_Heart_. How, +I pray you, sped the mighty business which +So sudden called you hence? + +_Wal_. Weighty, indeed! +What thou wouldst ne'er expect--wilt scarce believe! +Long-hidden wrong, wondrously come to light, +And great right done! But more of this anon. +Now of my ward discourse! Likes she the town? +How does she? Is she well? Canst match me her +Among your city maids? + +_Heart_. Nor court ones neither! +She far outstrips them all! + +_Wal_. I knew she would. +What else could follow in a maid so bred? +A pure mind, Master Heartwell!--not a taint +From intercourse with the distempered town; +With which all contact was walled out, until, +Matured in soundness, I could trust her to it, +And sleep amidst infection! + +_Heart_. Master Walter! + +_Wal_. Well? + +_Heart_. Tell me, prithee, which is likelier +To plough a sea in safety?--he that's wont +To sail in it,--or he that by the chart +Is master of its soundings, bearings,--knows +Is headlands, havens, currents--where 'tis bold, +And where behoves to keep a good look-out. +The one will swim, where sinks the other one? + +_Wal_. The drift of this? + +_Heart_. Do you not guess it? + +_Wal_. Humph! + +_Heart_. If you would train a maid to live in town, +Breed her not in the country! + +_Wal_. Say you so? +And stands she not the test? + +_Heart_. As snow stands fire! +Your country maid has melted all away, +And plays the city lady to the height; +Her mornings gives to mercers, milliners, +Shoemakers, jewellers, and haberdashers; +Her noons, to calls; her afternoons, to dressing; +Evenings, to plays and drums; and nights, to routs, +Balls, masquerades! Sleep only ends the riot, +Which waking still begins! + +_Wal_. I'm all amaze! +How bears Sir Thomas this? + +_Heart_. Why, patiently; +Though one can see with pain. + +_Wal_. She loves him? Ha! +That shrug is doubt! She'd ne'er consent to wed him +Unless she loved him!--never! Her young fancy +The pleasures of the town--new things--have caught, +Anon their hold will slacken; she'll become +Her former self again; to its old train +Of sober feelings will her heart return; +And then she'll give it wholly to the man +Her virgin wishes chose! + +_Heart_. Here comes Sir Thomas; +And with him Master Modus. + +_Wal_. Let them pass: +I would not see him till I speak with her. + +[They retire into one of the Arbours.] + +[Enter CLIFFORD and MODUS.] + +_Clif_. A dreadful question is it, when we love, +To ask if love's returned! I did believe +Fair Julia's heart was mine--I doubt it now! +But once last night she danced with me, her hand, +To this gallant and that engaged, as soon +As asked for? Maid that loved would scarce do this? +Nor visit we together as we used, +When first she came to town. She loves me less +Than once she did--or loves me not at all. + +_Mod_. I'm little skilled, Sir Thomas, in the world: +What mean you now to do? + +_Clif_. Remonstrate with her; +Come to an understanding, and, at once, +If she repents her promise to be mine, +Absolve her from it--and say farewell to her. + +_Mod_. Lo, then, your opportunity--she comes-- +My cousin also:--her will I engage, +Whilst you converse together. + +_Clif_. Nay, not yet! +My heart turns coward at the sight of her. +Stay till it finds new courage! Let them pass. + +[CLIFFORD and MODUS retire into the other Arbour.] + +[Enter JULIA and HELEN.] + +_Helen_. So, Monday week will say good morn to thee +A maid, and bid good night a sober wife! + +_Julia_. That Monday week, I trust, will never come, +That brags to make a sober wife of me! + +_Helen_. How changed you are, my Julia! + +_Julia_. Change makes change. + +_Helen_. Why wedd'st thou, then? + +_Julia_. Because I promised him! + +_Helen_. Thou lovest him? + +_Julia_. Do I? + +_Helen_. He's a man to love! +A right well-favoured man! + +_Julia_. Your point's well favoured. +Where did you purchase it? In Gracechurch Street? + +_Helen_. Pshaw! never mind my point, but talk of him. + +_Julia_. I'd rather talk with thee about the lace. +Where bought you it? In Gracechurch Street, Cheapside, +Whitechapel, Little Britain? Can't you say +Where 'twas you bought the lace? + +_Helen_. In Cheapside, then. +And now, then, to Sir Thomas! He is just +The height I like a man. + +_Julia_. Thy feather's just +The height I like a feather! Mine's too short! +What shall I give thee in exchange for it? + +_Helen_. What shall I give thee for a minute's talk +About Sir Thomas? + +_Julia_. Why, thy feather. + +_Helen_. Take it! + +_Clif_. [Aside to MODUS.] What, likes she not to speak of me? + +_Helen_. And now +Let's talk about Sir Thomas--much I'm sure +He loves you. + +_Julia_. Much I'm sure, he has a right! +Those know I who would give their eyes to be +Sir Thomas, for my sake! + +_Helen_. Such too, know I. +But 'mong them none that can compare with him, +Not one so graceful. + +_Julia_. What a graceful set +Your feather has! + +_Helen_. Nay, give it back to me, +Unless you pay me for't. + +_Julia_. What was't to get? + +_Helen_. A minute's talk with thee about Sir Thomas. + +_Julia_. Talk of his title, and his fortune then. + +_Clif_. [Aside.] Indeed! I would not listen, yet I must! + +_Julia_. An ample fortune, Helen--I shall be +A happy wife! What routs, what balls, what masques, +What gala-days! + +_Clif_. [Aside.] For these she marries me! +She'll talk of these! + +_Julia_. Think not, when I am wed, +I'll keep the house as owlet does her tower, +Alone,--when every other bird's on wing. +I'll use my palfrey, Helen; and my coach; +My barge, too, for excursion on the Thames: +What drives to Barnet, Hackney, Islington! +What rides to Epping, Hounslow, and Blackheath! +What sails to Greenwich, Woolwich, Fulham, Kew! +I'll set a pattern to your lady wives! + +_Clif_. [Aside.] Ay, lady? Trust me, not at my expense. + +_Julia_. And what a wardrobe! I'll have change of suits +For every day in the year! and sets for days! +My morning dress, my noon dress, dinner dress, +And evening dress! Then will I show you lace +A foot deep, can I purchase; if not, +I'll specially bespeak it. Diamonds too! +Not buckles, rings, and earrings only--but +Whole necklaces and stomachers of gems! +I'll shine! be sure I will. + +_Clif_. [Aside.] Then shine away; +Who covets thee may wear thee;--I'm not he! + +_Julia_. And then my title! Soon as I put on +The ring, I'm Lady Clifford. So I take +Precedence of plain mistress, were she e'en +The richest heiress in the land! At town +Or country ball, you'll see me take the lead, +While wives that carry on their backs the wealth +To dower a princess, shall give place to me;-- +Will I not profit, think you, by my right? +Be sure I will! marriage shall prove to me +A never-ending pageant. Every day +Shall show how I am spoused! I will be known +For Lady Clifford all the city through, +And fifty miles the country round about. +Wife of Sir Thomas Clifford, baronet-- +Not perishable knight--who, when he makes +A lady of me, doubtless must expect +To see me play the part of one. + +_Clif_. [Coming forward.] Most true; +But not the part which you design to play. + +_Julia_. A listener, sir! + +_Clif_. By chance, and not intent, +Your speech was forced upon mine ear, that ne'er +More thankless duty to my heart discharged! +Would for that heart it ne'er had known the sense +Which tells it 'tis a bankrupt, there, where most +It coveted to be rich, and thought it was so! +O Julia, is it you? Could I have set +A coronet upon that stately brow, +Where partial nature hath already bound +A brighter circlet--radiant beauty's own-- +I had been proud to see thee proud of it, +So for the donor thou hadst ta'en the gift, +Not for the gift ta'en him. Could I have poured +The wealth of richest Croesus in thy lap, +I had been blest to see thee scatter it, +So I was still thy riches paramount! + +_Julia_. Know you me, sir! + +_Clif_. I do. On Monday week +We were to wed--and are--so you're content; +The day that weds, wives you to be widowed. Take +The privilege of my wife; be Lady Clifford! +Outshine the title in the wearing on't! +My coffers, lands, all are at thy command; +Wear all! but, for myself, she wears not me, +Although the coveted of every eye, +Who would not wear me for myself alone. + +_Julia_. And do you carry it so proudly, sir? + +_Clif_. Proudly, but still more sorrowfully, lady! +I'll lead thee to the church on Monday week. +Till then, farewell and then, farewell for ever! +O Julia, I have ventured for thy love, +As the bold merchant, who, for only hope +Of some rich gain, all former gains will risk. +Before I asked a portion of thy heart, +I perilled all my own; and now, all's lost! + +[CLIFFORD and MODUS go out.] + +_Julia_. Helen! + +_Helen_. What ails you, sweet? + +_Julia_. I cannot breathe--quick, loose my girdle, oh! + +[Faints.] + +[MASTER WALTER and MASTER HEARTWELL come forward.] + +_Wal_. Good Master Heartwell, help to take her in, +Whilst I make after him! and look to her! +Unlucky chance that took me out of town! + +[They go out severally.] + + +SCENE III.--The Street. + + +[Enter CLIFFORD and STEPHEN, meeting.] + +_Ste_. Letters, Sir Thomas. + +_Clif_. Take them home again, +I shall not read them now. + +_Ste_. Your pardon, sir, +But here is one directed strangely. + +_Clif_. How? + +_Ste_. "To Master Clifford, gentleman, now styled +Sir Thomas Clifford, baronet." + +_Clif_. Indeed! +Whence comes that letter? + +_Ste_. From abroad. + +_Clif_. Which is it? + +_Ste_. So please you, this, Sir Thomas. + +_Clif_. Give it me. + +_Ste_. That letter brings not news to wish him joy upon. If he was +disturbed before, which I guessed by his looks he was, he is not more at +ease now. His hand to his head! A most unwelcome letter! If it brings +him news of disaster, fortune does not give him his deserts; for never +waited servant upon a kinder master. + +_Clif_. Stephen! + +_Ste_. Sir Thomas! + +_Clif_. From my door remove +The plate that bears my name. + +_Ste_. The plate, Sir Thomas! + +_Clif_. The plate--collect my servants and instruct them +To make out each their claims, unto the end +Of their respective terms, and give them in +To my steward. Him and them apprise, good fellow, +That I keep house no more. As you go home, +Call at my coachmaker's and bid him stop +The carriage I bespoke. The one I have +Send with my horses to the mart whereat +Such things are sold by auction. They're for sale; +Pack up my wardrobe, have my trunks conveyed +To the inn in the next street; and when that's done, +Go round my tradesmen and collect their bills, +And bring them to me at the inn. + +_Ste_. The inn! + +_Clif_. Yes; I go home no more. Why, what's the matter? +What has fallen out to make your eyes fill up? +You'll get another place. I'll certify +You're honest and industrious, and all +That a servant ought to be. + +_Ste_. I see, Sir Thomas, +Some great misfortune has befallen you? + +_Clif_. No! +I have health; I have strength; my reason, Stephen, and +A heart that's clear in truth, with trust in God. +No great disaster can befall the man +Who's still possessed of these! Good fellow, leave me. +What you would learn, and have a right to know, +I would not tell you now. Good Stephen, hence! +Mischance has fallen on me--but what of that? +Mischance has fallen on many a better man. +I prithee leave me. I grow sadder while +I see the eye with which you view my grief. +'Sdeath, they will out! I would have been a man, +Had you been less a kind and gentle one. +Now, as you love me, leave me. + +_Ste_. Never master +So well deserved the love of him that served him. + +[STEPHEN goes out.] + +_Clif_. Misfortune liketh company; it seldom +Visits its friends alone. Ha! Master Walter, +And ruffled too. I'm in no mood for him. + +[Enter MASTER WALTER.] + +_Wal_. So, Sir--Sir Thomas Clifford! what with speed +And choler--I do gasp for want of breath. + +_Clif_. Well, Master Walter? + +_Wal_. You're a rash young man, sir; +Strong-headed and wrong-headed, and I fear, sir, +Not over delicate in that fine sense +Which men of honour pride themselves upon! + +_Clif_. Well, Master Walter? + +_Wal_. A young woman's heart, sir, +Is not a stone to carve a posy on! +Which knows not what is writ on't; which you may buy, +Exchange, or sell, sir, keep or give away, sir: +It is a richer--yet a poorer thing; +Priceless to him that owns and prizes it; +Worthless, when owned, not prized; which makes the man +That covets it, obtains it, and discards it-- +A fool, if not a villain, sir. + +_Clif_. Well, sir? + +_Wal_. You never loved my ward, sir! + +_Clif_. The bright Heavens +Bear witness that I did! + +_Wal_. The bright Heavens, sir, +Bear not false witness. That you loved her not +Is clear--for had you loved her, you'd have plucked +Your heart from out your breast, ere cast her from your heart! +Old as I am, I know what passion is. +It is the summer's heat, sir, which in vain +We look for frost in. Ice, like you, sir, knows +But little of such heat! We are wronged, sir, wronged! +You wear a sword, and so do I. + +_Clif_. Well, sir! + +_Wal_. You know the use, sir, of a sword? + +_Clif_. I do. +To whip a knave, sir, or an honest man! +A wise man or a fool--atone for wrong, +Or double the amount on't! Master Walter, +Touching your ward, if wrong is done, I think +On my side lies the grievance. I would not say so +Did I not think so. As for love--look, sir, +That hand's a widower's, to its first mate sworn +To clasp no second one. As for amends, sir, +You're free to get them from a man in whom +You've been forestalled by fortune, for the spite +Which she has vented on him, if you still +Esteem him worth your anger. Please you read +That letter. Now, sir, judge if life is dear +To one so much a loser. + +_Wal_. What, all gone! +Thy cousin living they reported dead! + +_Clif_. Title and land, sir, unto which add love! +All gone, save life and honour, which, ere I'll lose, +I'll let the other go. + +_Wal_. We're public here, +And may be interrupted. Let us seek +Some spot of privacy. Your letter, sir. + +[Gives it back.] + +Though fortune slights you, I'll not slight you; not +Your title or the lack of it I heed. +Whether upon the score of love or hate, +With you and you alone I settle, sir. +We've gone too far. 'Twere folly now to part +Without a reckoning. + +_Clif_. Just as you please. + +_Wal_. You've done +A noble lady wrong. + +_Clif_. That lady, sir, +Has done me wrong. + +_Wal_. Go to, thou art a boy +Fit to be trusted with a plaything, not +A woman's heart. Thou knowest not what it is! +And that I'll prove to thee, soon as we find +Convenient place. Come on, sir! you shall get +A lesson that shall serve you for the rest +Of your life. I'll make you own her, sir, a piece +Of Nature's handiwork, as costly, free +From bias, flaw, and fair, as ever yet +Her cunning hand turned out. Come on, sir! come! + +[They go out.] + + + +ACT III. + + +SCENE I.--A Drawing-room. + + +[Enter LORD TINSEL and the EARL OF ROCHDALE.] + +_Tin_. Refuse a lord! A saucy lady this. +I scarce can credit it. + +_Roch_. She'll change her mind. +My agent, Master Walter, is her guardian. + +_Tin_. How can you keep that Hunchback in his office? +He mocks you. + +_Roch_. He is useful. Never heed him. +My offer now do I present through him. +He has the title-deeds of my estates, +She'll listen to their wooing. I must have her. +Not that I love her, but that all allow +She's fairest of the fair. + +_Tin_. Distinguished well! +'Twere most unseemly for a lord to love!-- +Leave that to commoners! 'Tis vulgar--she's +Betrothed, you tell me, to Sir Thomas Clifford? + +_Roch_. Yes. + +_Tin_. That a commoner should thwart a lord! +Yet not a commoner. A baronet +Is fish and flesh. Nine parts plebeian, and +Patrician in the tenth. Sir Thomas Clifford! +A man, they say, of brains! I abhor brains +As I do tools: they're things mechanical. +So far are we above our forefathers +They to their brains did owe their titles, as +Do lawyers, doctors. We to nothing owe them, +Which makes us far the nobler. + +_Roch_. Is it so? + +_Tin_. Believe me. You shall profit by my training; +You grow a lord apace. I saw you meet +A bevy of your former friends, who fain +Had shaken hands with you. You gave them fingers! +You're now another man. Your house is changed-- +Your table changed--your retinue--your horse-- +Where once you rode a hack, you now back blood;-- +Befits it, then, you also change your friends! + +[Enter WILLIAMS.] + +_Will_. A gentleman would see your lordship. + +_Tin_. Sir! +What's that? + +_Will_. A gentleman would see his lordship. + +_Tin_. How know you, sir, his lordship is at home? +Is he at home because he goes not out? +He's not at home, though there you see him, sir; +Unless he certify that he's at home! +Bring up the name of the gentleman, and then +Your lord will know if he's at home or not. + +[WILLIAMS goes out.] + +Your man was porter to some merchant's door, +Who never taught him better breeding +Than to speak the vulgar truth! Well, sir? + +[WILLIAMS having re-entered.] + +_Will_. His name, +So please your lordship, Markham. + +_Tin_. Do you know +The thing? + +_Roch_. Right well! I'faith a hearty fellow, +Son to a worthy tradesman, who would do +Great things with little means; so entered him +In the Temple. A good fellow, on my life. +Nought smacking of his stock! + +_Tin_. You've said enough! +His lordship's not at home. + +[WILLIAMS goes out.] + +We do not go +By hearts, but orders! Had he family-- +Blood--though it only were a drop--his heart +Would pass for something; lacking such desert, +Were it ten times the heart it is, 'tis nought! + +[Enter WILLIAMS.] + +_Will_. One Master Jones hath asked to see you lordship. + +_Tin_. And what was your reply to Master Jones? + +_Will_. I knew not if his lordship was at home. + +_Tin_. You'll do. Who's Master Jones? + +_Roch_. A curate's son. + +_Tin_. A curate's! Better be a yeoman's son! +Was it the rector's son, he might be known, +Because the rector is a rising man, +And may become a bishop. He goes light, +The curate ever hath a loaded back! +He may be called the yeoman of the church, +That sweating does his work, and drudges on, +While lives the hopeful rector at his ease. +How made you his acquaintance, pray? + +_Roch_. We read +Latin and Greek together. + +_Tin_. Dropping them-- +As, now that you're a lord, of course you've done-- +Drop him--You'll say his lordship's not at home. + +_Will_. So please your lordship, I forgot to say, +One Richard Cricket likewise is below. + +_Tin_. Who?--Richard Cricket! You must see him, Rochdale! +A noble little fellow! A great man, sir! +Not knowing whom, you would be nobody! +I won five thousand pounds by him! + +_Roch_. Who is he? +I never heard of him. + +_Tin_. What! never heard +Of Richard Cricket!--never heard of him! +Why, he's the jockey of Newmarket; you +May win a cup by him, or else a sweepstakes. +I bade him call upon you. You must see him. +His lordship is at home to Richard Cricket. + +_Roch_. Bid him wait in the ante-room. + +[WILLIAMS goes out.] + +_Tin_. The ante-room! +The best room in your house! You do not know +The use of Richard Cricket! Show him, sir, +Into the drawing-room. Your lordship needs +Must keep a racing stud, and you'll do well +To make a friend of Richard Cricket. Well, sir: +What's that? + +[Enter WILLIAMS.] + +_Will_. So please your lordship, a petition. + +_Tin_. Hadst not a service 'mongst the Hottentots +Ere thou camest hither, friend? Present thy lord +With a petition! At mechanics' doors, +At tradesmen's, shopkeepers', and merchants' only, +Have such things leave to knock! Make thy lord's gate +A wicket to a workhouse! Let us see it-- +Subscriptions to a book of poetry! +Cornelius Tense, M.A. +Which means he construes Greek and Latin, works +Problems in mathematics, can chop logic, +And is a conjurer in philosophy, +Both natural and moral.--Pshaw! a man +Whom nobody, that is anybody, knows! +Who, think you, follows him? Why, an M.D., +An F.R.S., an F.AS., and then +A D.D., Doctor of Divinity, +Ushering in an LL.D., which means +Doctor of Laws--their harmony, no doubt, +The difference of their trades! There's nothing here +But languages, and sciences, and arts. +Not an iota of nobility! +We cannot give our names. Take back the paper, +And tell the bearer there's no answer for him:-- +That is the lordly way of saying "No." +But, talking of subscriptions, here is one +To which your lordship may affix your name. + +_Roch_. Pray, who's the object? + +_Tin_. A most worthy man! +A man of singular deserts; a man +In serving whom your lordship will serve me,-- +Signor Cantata. + +_Roch_. He's a friend of yours? + +_Tin_. Oh, no, I know him not! I've not that pleasure. +But Lady Dangle knows him; she's his friend, +He will oblige us with a set of concerts, +Six concerts to the set.--The set, three guineas. +Your lordship will subscribe? + +_Roch_. Oh, by all means. + +_Tin_. How many sets of tickets? Two at least. +You'll like to take a friend? I'll set you down +Six guineas to Signor Cantata's concerts, +And now, my Lord, we'll to him; then we'll walk. + +_Roch_. Nay, I would wait the lady's answer. + +_Tin_. Wait! take an excursion to the country; let +Her answer wait for you! + +_Roch_. Indeed! + +_Tin_. Indeed! +Befits a lord nought like indifference. +Say an estate should fall to you, you'd take it +As it concerned more a stander by +Than you. As you're a lord, be sure you ever +Of that make little other men make much of; +Nor do the thing they do, but the right contrary. +Where the distinction else 'twixt them and you? + +[They go out.] + + +SCENE II.--An Apartment in Master Heartwell's House. + + +[MASTER WALTER discovered looking through title-deeds and papers.] + +_Wal_. So falls out everything, as I would have it, +Exact in place and time. This lord's advances +Receives she,--as, I augur, in the spleen +Of wounded pride she will,--my course is clear. +She comes--all's well--the tempest rages still. + +[JULIA enters, and paces the room in a state of high excitement.] + +_Julia_. What have my eyes to do with water? Fire +Becomes them better! + +_Wal_. True! + +_Julia_. Yet, must I weep +To be so monitored, and by a man! +A man that was my slave! whom I have seen +Kneel at my feet from morn till noon, content +With leave to only gaze upon my face, +And tell me what he read there,--till the page +I knew by heart, I 'gan to doubt I knew, +Emblazoned by the comment of his tongue! +And he to lesson me! Let him come here +On Monday week! He ne'er leads me to church! +I would not profit by his rank, or wealth, +Though kings might call him cousin, for their sake! +I'll show him I have pride! + +_Wal_. You're very right! + +_Julia_. He would have had to-day our wedding-day! +I fixed a month from this. He prayed and prayed; +I dropped a week. He prayed and prayed the more! +I dropped a second one. Still more he prayed! +And I took off another week,--and now +I have his leave to wed, or not to wed! +He'll see that I have pride! + +_Wal_. And so he ought. + +_Julia_. O! for some way to bring him to my foot! +But he should lie there! Why, 'twill go abroad +That he has cast me off. That there should live +The man could say so! Or that I should live +To be the leavings of a man! + +_Wal_. Thy case +I own a hard one! + +_Julia_. Hard? 'Twill drive me mad! +His wealth and title! I refused a lord-- +I did!--that privily implored my hand, +And never cared to tell him on't! So much +I hate him now, that lord should not in vain +Implore my hand again! + +_Wal_. You'd give it him? + +_Julia_. I would. + +_Wal_. You'd wed that lord? + +_Julia_. That lord I'd wed;-- +Or any other lord,--only to show him +That I could wed above him! + +_Wal_. Give me your hand +And word to that. + +_Julia_. There! Take my hand and word! + +_Wal_. That lord hath offered you his hand again. + +_Julia_. He has? + +_Wal_. Your father knows it: he approves of him. +There are the title-deeds of the estates, +Sent for my jealous scrutiny. All sound,-- +No flaw, or speck, that e'en the lynx-eyed law +Itself could find. A lord of many lands! +In Berkshire half a county; and the same +In Wiltshire, and in Lancashire! Across +The Irish Sea a principality! +And not a rood with bond or lien on it! +Wilt give that lord a wife? Wilt make thyself +A countess? Here's the proffer of his hand. +Write thou content, and wear a coronet! + +_Julia_. [Eagerly.] Give me the paper. + +_Wal_. There! Here's pen and ink. +Sit down. Why do you pause? A flourish of +The pen, and you're a countess. + +_Julia_. My poor brain +Whirls round and round! I would not wed him now, +Were he more lowly at my feet to sue +Than e'er he did! + +_Wal_. Wed whom? + +_Julia_. Sir Thomas Clifford. + +_Wal_. You're right. + +_Julia_. His rank and wealth are roots to doubt; +And while they lasted, still the weed would grow, +Howe'er you plucked it. No! That's o'er--that's done. +Was never lady wronged so foul as I! [Weeps.] + +_Wal_. Thou'rt to be pitied. + +_Julia_. [Aroused.] Pitied! Not so bad +As that. + +_Wal_. Indeed thou art, to love the man +That spurns thee! + +_Julia_. Love him! Love! If hate could find +A word more harsh than its own name, I'd take it, +To speak the love I bear him! [Weeps.] + +_Wal_. Write thy own name, +And show him how near akin thy hate's to hate. + +_Julia_. [Writes.] 'Tis done! + +_Wal_. 'Tis well! I'll come to you anon! [Goes out.] + +_Julia_. [Alone.] I'm glad 'tis done! I'm very glad 'tis done! +I've done the thing I ought. From my disgrace +This lord shall lift me 'bove the reach of scorn-- +That idly wags its tongue, where wealth and state +Need only beckon to have crowds to laud! +Then how the tables change! The hand he spurned +His betters take! Let me remember that! +I'll grace my rank! I will! I'll carry it +As I was born to it! I warrant none +Shall say it fits me not:--but, one and all +Confess I wear it bravely, as I ought! +And he shall hear it! Ay, and he shall see it! +I will roll by him in an equipage +Would mortgage his estate--but he shall own +His slight of me was my advancement! Love me! +He never loved me! if he had, he ne'er +Had given me up! Love's not a spider's web +But fit to mesh a fly--that you can break +By only blowing on't! He never loved me! +He knows not what love is!--or, if he does, +He has not been o'erchary of his peace! +And that he'll find when I'm another's wife, +Lost!--lost to him for ever! Tears again! +Why should I weep for him? Who make their woes. +Deserve them! What have I to do with tears? + +[Enter HELEN.] + +_Helen_. News, Julia, news! + +_Julia_. What! is't about Sir Thomas? + +_Helen_. Sir Thomas, say you? He's no more Sir Thomas! +That cousin lives, as heir to whom, his wealth +And title came to him. + +_Julia_. Was he not dead? + +_Helen_. No more than I am dead. + +_Julia_. I would 'twere not so. + +_Helen_. What say you, Julia? + +_Julia_. Nothing! + +_Helen_. I could kiss +That cousin! couldn't you, Julia? + +_Julia_. Wherefore? + +_Helen_. Why +For coming back to life again, as 'twere +Upon his cousin to revenge you. + +_Julia_. Helen! + +_Helen_. Indeed 'tis true. With what a sorry grace +The gentleman will bear himself without +His title! Master Clifford! Have you not +Some token to return him? Some love-letter? +Some brooch? Some pin? Some anything? I'll be +Your messenger, for nothing but the pleasure +Of calling him plain "Master Clifford." + +_Julia_. Helen! + +_Helen_. Or has he aught of thine? Write to him, Julia, +Demanding it! Do, Julia, if you love me; +And I'll direct it in a schoolboy's hand, +As round as I can write, "To Master Clifford." + +_Julia_. Helen! + +_Helen_. I'll think of fifty thousand ways +To mortify him! I've a twentieth cousin, +A care-for-nought, at mischief. Him I'll set, +With twenty other madcaps like himself, +To walk the streets the traitor most frequents +And give him salutation as he passes-- +"How do you, Master Clifford?" + +_Julia_. [Highly incensed.] Helen! + +_Helen_. Bless me! + +_Julia_. I hate you, Helen! + +[Enter MODUS.] + +_Mod_. Joy for you, fair lady! +Our baronet is now plain gentleman-- +And hardly that, not master of the means +To bear himself as such. The kinsman lives +Whose only rumoured death gave wealth to him, +And title. A hard creditor he proves, +Who keeps strict reckoning--will have interest. +As well as principal. A ruined man +Is now Sir Thomas Clifford! + +_Helen_. I'm glad on't. + +_Mod_. And so am I, +A scurvy trick it was +He served you, madam. Use a lady so! +I merely bore with him. I never liked him. + +_Helen_. No more did I. No, never could I think +He looked his title. + +_Mod_. No, nor acted it. +If rightly they report, he ne'er disbursed +To entertain his friends, 'tis broadly said, +A hundred pounds in the year! He was most poor +In the appointments of a man of rank, +Possessing wealth like his. His horses, hacks! +His gentleman, a footman! and his footman, +A groom! The sports that men of quality +And spirit countenance, he kept aloof from, +From scruple of economy, not taste,-- +As racing and the like. In brief, he lacked +Those shining points that, more than name, denote +High breeding; and, moreover, was a man +Of very shallow learning. + +_Julia_. Silence, sir! +For shame! + +_Helen_. Why, Julia! + +_Julia_. Speak not to me! Poor! +Most poor! I tell you, sir, he was the making +Of fifty gentlemen--each one of whom +Were more than peer for thee! His title, sir, +Lent him no grace he did not pay it back! +Though it had been the highest of the high, +He would have looked it, felt it, acted it, +As thou couldst ne'er have done! When found you out +You liked him not? It was not ere to-day! +Or that base spirit I must reckon yours +Which smiles where it would scowl--can stoop to hate +And fear to show it! He was your better, sir, +And is!--Ay, is! though stripped of rank and wealth, +His nature's 'bove or fortune's love or spite, +To blazon or to blurr it! [Retires.] + +_Mod_. [To HELEN.] I was told +Much to disparage him--I know not wherefore. + +_Helen_. And so was I, and know as much the cause. + +[Enter MASTER WALTER, with parchments.] + +_Wal_. Joy, my Julia! +Impatient love has foresight! Lo you here +The marriage deeds filled up, except a blank +To write your jointure. What you will, my girl! +Is this a lover? Look! Three thousand pounds +Per annum for your private charges! Ha! +There's pin-money! Is this a lover? Mark +What acres, forests, tenements, are taxed +For your revenue; and so set apart, +That finger cannot touch them, save thine own. +Is this a lover? What good fortune's thine! +Thou dost not speak; but, 'tis the way with joy! +With richest heart, it has the poorest tongue! + +_Mod_. What great good fortune's this you speak of, sir? + +_Wal_. A coronet, Master Modus! You behold +The wife elect, sir, of no less a man +Than the new Earl of Rochdale--heir of him +That's recently deceased. + +_Helen_. My dearest Julia, +Much joy to you! + +_Mod_. All good attend you, madam! + +_Wal_. This letter brings excuses from his lordship, +Whose absence it accounts for. He repairs +To his estate in Lancashire, and thither +We follow. + +_Julia_. When, sir? + +_Wal_. Now. This very hour. + +_Julia_. This very hour! O cruel, fatal haste! + +_Wal_. "O cruel, fatal haste!" What meanest thou? +Have I done wrong to do thy bidding, then? +I have done no more. Thou wast an offcast bride, +And wouldst be an affianced one--thou art so! +Thou'dst have the slight that marked thee out for scorn, +Converted to a means of gracing thee-- +It is so! If our wishes come too soon, +What can make sure of welcome? In my zeal +To win thee thine, thou know'st, at any time +I'd play the steed, whose will to serve his lord, +With his last breath gives his last bound for him! +Since only noon have I despatched what well +Had kept a brace of clerks, and more, on foot-- +And then, perhaps, had been to do again!-- +Not finished sure, complete--the compact firm, +As fate itself had sealed it! + +_Julia_. Give you thanks! +Though 'twere my death! my death! + +_Wal_. Thy death! indeed, +For happiness like this, one well might die! +Take thy lord's letter! Well? + +[Enter THOMAS, with a letter.] + +_Thos_. This letter, sir, +The gentleman that served Sir Thomas Clifford-- +Or him that was Sir Thomas--gave to me +For Mistress Julia. + +_Julia_. Give it me! + +[Throwing away the one she holds.] + +_Wal_. [Snatching it.] For what? +Wouldst read it? He's a bankrupt! stripped of title, +House, chattels, lands, and all! A naked bankrupt, +With neither purse, nor trust! Wouldst read his letter? +A beggar! Yea, a very beggar!--fasts, unless +He dines on alms! How durst he send thee a letter! +A fellow cut on this hand, and on that; +Bows and is cut again, and bows again! +Who pays you fifty smiles for half a one,-- +And that given grudgingly! To you a letter! +I burst with choler! Thus I treat his letter! + +[Tears and throws it on the ground.] + +So! I was wrong to let him ruffle me; +He is not worth the spending anger on! +I prithee, Master Modus, use despatch, +And presently make ready for our ride. +You, Helen, to my Julia look--a change +Of dresses will suffice. She must have new ones, +Matches for her new state! Haste, friends. My Julia! +Why stand you poring there upon the ground? +Time flies. Your rise astounds you? Never heed-- +You'll play my lady countess like a queen! + +[They go out.] + + + +ACT IV. + + +SCENE I.--A Room in the Earl of Rochdale's + + +[Eater HELEN.] + +_Helen_. I'm weary wandering from room to room; +A castle after all is but a house-- +The dullest one when lacking company. +Were I at home, I could be company +Unto myself. I see not Master Walter, +He's ever with his ward. I see not her. +By Master Walter's will she bides alone. +My father stops in town. I can't see him. +My cousin makes his books his company. +I'll go to bed and sleep. No--I'll stay up +And plague my cousin into making love! +For, that he loves me, shrewdly I suspect. +How dull he is that hath not sense to see +What lies before him, and he'd like to find! +I'll change my treatment of him. Cross him, where +Before I used to humour him. He comes, +Poring upon a book. What's that you read? + +[Enter MODUS.] + +_Mod_. Latin, sweet cousin. + +_Helen_. 'Tis a naughty tongue, +I fear, and teaches men to lie. + +_Mod_. To lie! + +_Helen_. You study it. You call your cousin sweet, +And treat her as you would a crab. As sour +'Twould seem you think her, as you covet her! +Why how the monster stares, and looks about! +You construe Latin, and can't construe that! + +_Mod_. I never studied women. + +_Helen_. No; nor men. +Else would you better know their ways: nor read +In presence of a lady. [Strikes the book from his hand.] + +_Mod_. Right you say, +And well you served me, cousin, so to strike +The volume from my hand. I own my fault; +So please you--may I pick it up again? +I'll put it in my pocket! + +_Helen_. Pick it up. +He fears me as I were his grandmother! +What is the book? + +_Mod_. 'Tis Ovid's Art of Love. + +_Helen_. That Ovid was a fool! + +_Mod_. In what? + +_Helen_. In that: +To call that thing an art, which art is none. + +_Mod_. And is not love an art? + +_Helen_. Are you a fool, +As well as Ovid? Love an art! No art +But taketh time and pains to learn. Love comes +With neither! Is't to hoard such grain as that, +You went to college? Better stay at home, +And study homely English. + +_Mod_. Nay, you know not +The argument. + +_Helen_. I don't? I know it better +Than ever Ovid did! The face--the form-- +The heart--the mind we fancy, cousin; that's +The argument! Why, cousin, you know nothing. +Suppose a lady were in love with thee: +Couldst thou by Ovid, cousin, find it out? +Couldst find it out, wast thou in love thyself? +Could Ovid, cousin, teach thee to make love? +I could, that never read him! You begin +With melancholy; then to sadness; then +To sickness; then to dying--but not die! +She would not let thee, were she of my mind! +She'd take compassion on thee. Then for hope; +From hope to confidence; from confidence +To boldness;--then you'd speak; at first entreat; +Then urge; then flout; then argue; then enforce; +Make prisoner of her hand; besiege her waist; +Threaten her lips with storming; keep thy word +And carry her! My sampler 'gainst thy Ovid! +Why cousin, are you frightened, that you stand +As you were stricken dumb? The case is clear, +You are no soldier. You'll ne'er win a battle. +You care too much for blows! + +_Mod_. You wrong me there, +At school I was the champion of my form; +And since I went to college-- + +_Helen_. That for college! + +_Mod_. Nay, hear me! + +_Helen_. Well? What, since you went to college? +You know what men are set down for, who boast +Of their own bravery! Go on, brave cousin: +What, since you went to college? Was there not +One Quentin Halworth there? You know there was, +And that he was your master! + +_Mod_. He my master! +Thrice was he worsted by me. + +_Helen_. Still was he +Your master. + +_Mod_. He allowed I had the best! +Allowed it, mark me! nor to me alone, +But twenty I could name. + +_Helen_. And mastered you +At last! Confess it, cousin, 'tis the truth! +A proctor's daughter you did both affect-- +Look at me and deny it! Of the twain +She more affected you;--I've caught you now, +Bold cousin! Mark you? opportunity +On opportunity she gave you, sir-- +Deny it if you can!--but though to others, +When you discoursed of her, you were a flame; +To her you were a wick that would not light, +Though held in the very fire! And so he won her-- +Won her, because he wooed her like a man. +For all your cuffings, cuffing you again +With most usurious interest. Now, sir, +Protest that you are valiant! + +_Mod_. Cousin Helen! + +_Helen_. Well, sir? + +_Mod_. The tale is all a forgery! + +_Helen_. A forgery! + +_Mod_. From first to last; ne'er spoke I +To a proctor's daughter while I was at college. + +_Helen_. 'Twas a scrivener's then--or somebody's. +But what concerns it whose? +Enough, you loved her! +And, shame upon you, let another take her! + +_Mod_. Cousin, I'll tell you, if you'll only hear me, +I loved no woman while I was at college-- +Save one, and her I fancied ere I went there. + +_Helen_. Indeed! Now I'll retreat, if he's advancing. +Comes he not on! O what a stock's the man! +Well, cousin? + +_Mod_. Well! What more wouldst have me say? +I think I've said enough. + +_Helen_. And so think I. +I did but jest with you. You are not angry? +Shake hands! Why, cousin, do you squeeze me so? + +_Mod_. [Letting her go.] I swear I squeezed you not. + +_Helen_. You did not? + +_Mod_. No. I'll die if I did! + +_Helen_. Why then you did not, cousin, +So let's shake hands again-- +[He takes her hand as before.] O go and now +Read Ovid! Cousin, will you tell me one thing: +Wore lovers ruffs in Master Ovid's time? +Behoved him teach them, then, to put them on;-- +And that you have to learn. Hold up your head! +Why, cousin, how you blush! Plague on the ruff! +I cannot give't a set. You're blushing still! +Why do you blush, dear cousin? So!--'twill beat me! +I'll give it up. + +_Mod_. Nay, prithee, don't--try on! + +_Helen_. And if I do, I fear you'll think me bold. + +_Mod_. For what? + +_Helen_. To trust my face so near to thine. + +_Mod_. I know not what you mean. + +_Helen_. I'm glad you don't! +Cousin, I own right well behaved you are, +Most marvellously well behaved! They've bred +You well at college. With another man +My lips would be in danger! Hang the ruff! + +_Mod_. Nay, give it up, nor plague thyself, dear cousin. + +_Helen_. Dear fool! [Throws the ruff on the ground.] +I swear the ruff is good for just +As little as its master! There!--'Tis spoiled-- +You'll have to get another! Hie for it, +And wear it in the fashion of a wisp, +Ere I adjust it for thee! Farewell, cousin! +You'd need to study Ovid's Art of Love. + +[HELEN goes out.] + +_Mod_. [Solus.] Went she in anger! I will follow her,-- +No, I will not! Heigho! I love my cousin! +O would that she loved me! Why did she taunt me +With backwardness in love? What could she mean? +Sees she I love her, and so laughs at me, +Because I lack the front to woo her? Nay, +I'll woo her then! Her lips shall be in danger, +When next she trusts them near me! Looked she at me +To-day as never did she look before! +A bold heart, Master Modus! 'Tis a saying +A faint one never won fair lady yet! +I'll woo my cousin, come what will on't. Yes: + +[Begins reading again, throws down the book.] + +Hang Ovid's Art of Love! I'll woo my cousin! + +[Goes out.] + + +SCENE II.--The Banqueting-room in the Earl of Rochdale's Mansion. + + +[Enter MASTER WALTER and JULIA.] + +_Wal_. This is the banqueting-room. Thou seest as far +It leaves the last behind, as that excels +The former ones. All is proportion here +And harmony! Observe! The massy pillars +May well look proud to bear the gilded dome. +You mark those full-length portraits? They're the heads, +The stately heads, of his ancestral line. +Here o'er the feast they haply still preside! +Mark those medallions! Stand they forth or not +In bold and fair relief? Is not this brave? + +_Julia_. [Abstractedly.] It is. + +_Wal_. It should be so. To cheer the blood +That flows in noble veins is made the feast +That gladdens here! You see this drapery? +'Tis richest velvet! Fringe and tassels, gold! +Is not this costly? + +_Julia_. Yes. + +_Wal_. And chaste, the while? +Both chaste and costly? + +_Julia_. Yes. + +_Wal_. Come hither! There's a mirror for you. See! +One sheet from floor to ceiling! Look into it, +Salute its mistress! Dost not know her? + +_Julia_. [Sighing deeply.] Yes. + +_Wal_. And sighest thou to know her? Wait until +To-morrow, when the banquet shall be spread +In the fair hall; the guests--already bid, +Around it; here, her lord; and there, herself; +Presiding o'er the cheer that hails him bridegroom, +And her the happy bride! Dost hear me? + +_Julia_. [Sighing still more deeply.] Yes. + +_Wal_. These are the day-rooms only, we have seen. +For public and domestic uses kept. +I'll show you now the lodging-rooms. + +[Goes, then turns and observes JULIA standing perfectly abstracted.] + +You're tired. +Let it be till after dinner, then. Yet one +I'd like thee much to see--the bridal chamber. + +[JULIA starts, crosses her hands upon her breast, and looks upwards.] + +I see you're tired: yet it is worth the viewing, +If only for the tapestry which shows +The needle like the pencil glows with life; + +[Brings down chairs--they sit.] + +The story's of a page who loved the dame +He served--a princess!--Love's a heedless thing! +That never takes account of obstacles; +Makes plains of mountains, rivulets of seas, +That part it from its wish. So proved the page, +Who from a state so lowly, looked so high,-- +But love's a greater lackwit still than this. +Say it aspires--that's gain! Love stoops--that's loss! +You know what comes. The princess loved the page. +Shall I go on, or here leave off? + +_Julia_. Go on. + +_Wal_. Each side of the chamber shows a different stage +Of this fond page, and fonder lady's love. {2} +First--no, it is not that. + +_Julia_. Oh, recollect! + +_Wal_. And yet it is. + +_Julia_. No doubt it is. What is 't? + +_Wal_. He holds to her a salver, with a cup; +His cheeks more mantling with his passion than +The cup with the ruby wine. She heeds him not, +For too great heed of him:--but seems to hold +Debate betwixt her passion and her pride-- +That's like to lose the day. You read it in +Her vacant eye, knit brow, and parted lips, +Which speak a heart too busy all within +To note what's done without. Like you the tale? + +_Julia_. I list to every word. + +_Wal_. The next side paints +The page upon his knee. He has told his tale; +And found that when he lost his heart, he played +No losing game: but won a richer one! +There may you read in him, how love would seem +Most humble when most bold,--you question which +Appears to kiss her hand--his breath, or lips! +In her you read how wholly lost is she +Who trusts her heart to love. Shall I give o'er? + +_Julia_. Nay, tell it to the end. Is't melancholy? + +_Wal_. To answer that, would mar the story. + +_Julia_. Right. + +_Wal_. The third side now we come to. + +_Julia_. What shows that? + +_Wal_. The page and princess still. But stands her sire +Between them. Stern he grasps his daughter's arm, +Whose eyes like fountains play; while through her tears +Her passion shines, as through the fountain drops +The sun! His minions crowd around the page! +They drag him to a dungeon. + +_Julia_. Hapless youth! + +_Wal_. Hapless indeed, that's twice a captive! heart +And body both in bonds. But that's the chain, +Which balance cannot weigh, rule measure, touch +Define the texture of, or eye detect, +That's forged by the subtle craft of love! +No need to tell you that he wears it. Such +The cunning of the hand that plied the loom, +You've but to mark the straining of his eye, +To feel the coil yourself! + +_Julia_. I feel't without! +You've finished with the third side; now the fourth! + +_Wal_. It brings us to a dungeon, then. + +_Julia_. The page, +The thrall of love, more than the dungeon's thrall, +Is there? + +_Wal_. He is. He lies in fetters. + +_Julia_. Hard! +Hard as the steel, the hands that put them on. + +_Wal_. Some one unrivets them! + +_Julia_. The princess? 'Tis! + +_Wal_. It is another page. + +_Julia_. It is herself! + +_Wal_. Her skin is fair; and his is berry-brown. +His locks are raven black; and hers are gold. + +_Julia_. Love's cunning of disguises! spite of locks, +Skin, vesture,--it is she, and only she +What will not constant woman do for love +That's loved with constancy! Set her the task, +Virtue approving, that will baffle her! +O'ertax her stooping, patience, courage, wit! +My life upon it, 'tis the princess' self, +Transformed into a page! + +_Wal_. The dungeon door +Stands open, and you see beyond-- + +_Julia_. Her father! + +_Wal_. No; a steed. + +_Julia_. [Starting up.] O, welcome steed, +My heart bounds at the thought of thee! Thou comest +To bear the page from bonds to liberty. +What else? + +_Wal_. [Rising.] The story's told. + +_Julia_. Too briefly told; +O happy princess, that had wealth and state +To lay them down for love! Whose constant love +Appearances approved, not falsified! +A winner in thy loss, as well as gain. + +_Wal_. Weighs love so much? + +_Julia_. What would you weigh 'gainst love +That's true? Tell me with what you'd turn the scale? +Yea, make the index waver? Wealth? A feather! +Rank? Tinsel against bullion in the balance! +The love of kindred? That to set 'gainst love! +Friendship comes nearest to't; but put it in, +Friendship will kick the beam!--weigh nothing 'gainst it! +Weigh love against the world! +Yet are they happy that have naught to say to it. + +_Wal_. And such a one art thou. Who wisely wed, +Wed happily. The love thou speak'st of, +A flower is only, that its season has, +Which they must look to see the withering of, +Who pleasure in its budding and its bloom! +But wisdom is the constant evergreen +Which lives the whole year through! Be that, your flower! + +[Enter a Servant.] + +Well? + +_Serv_. My lord's secretary is without. +He brings a letter for her ladyship, +And craves admittance to her. + +_Wal_. Show him in. + +_Julia_. No. + +_Wal_. Thou must see him. To show slight to him, +Were slighting him that sent him. Show him in! + +[Servant goes out.] + +Some errand proper for thy private ear, +Besides the letter he may bring. What mean +This paleness and this trembling? Mark me, Julia! +If, from these nuptials, which thyself invited-- +Which at thy seeking came--thou wouldst be freed, +Thou hast gone too far! Receding were disgrace, +Sooner than see thee suffer which, the hearts +That love thee most would wish thee dead! Reflect! +Take thought! collect thyself! With dignity +Receive thy bridegroom's messenger! for sure +As dawns to-morrow's sun, to-morrow night +Sees thee a wedded bride! + +[Goes out.] + +_Julia_. [Alone.] A wedded bride! +Is it a dream? Is it a phantasm? 'Tis +Too horrible for reality! for aught else +Too palpable! O would it were a dream! +How would I bless the sun that waked me from it! +I perish! Like some desperate mariner +Impatient of a strange and hostile land, +Who rashly hoists his sail and puts to sea, +And being fast on reefs and quicksands borne, +Essays in vain once more to make the land, +Whence wind and current drive him; I'm wrecked +By mine own act! What! no escape? no hope? +None! I must e'en abide these hated nuptials! +Hated!--Ah! own it, and then curse thyself! +That madest the bane thou loathest--for the love +Thou bear'st to one who never can be thine! +Yes--love! Deceive thyself no longer. False +To say 'tis pity for his fall--respect, +Engendered by a hollow world's disdain, +Which hoots whom fickle fortune cheers no more! +'Tis none of these; 'tis love--and if not love, +Why then idolatry! Ay, that's the name +To speak the broadest, deepest, strongest passion, +That ever woman's heart was borne away by! +He comes! Thou'dst play the lady,--play it now! + +[Enter a Servant, conducting CLIFFORD, plainly attired as the EARL OF +ROCHDALE'S Secretary.] + +Servant. His lordship's secretary. + +[Servant goes out.] + +_Julia_. Speaks he not? Or does he wait for orders to unfold +His business? Stopped his business till I spoke, +I'd hold my peace for ever! + +[CLIFFORD kneels; presenting a letter.] + +Does he kneel? +A lady am I to my heart's content! +Could he unmake me that which claims his knee, +I'd kneel to him--I would! I would!--Your will? + +_Clif_. This letter from my lord. + +_Julia_. O fate! Who speaks? + +_Clif_. The secretary of my lord. + +_Julia_. I breathe! +I could have sworn 'twas he! + +[Makes an effort to look at him, but is unable.] + +So like the voice-- +I dare not look, lest there the form should stand! +How came he by that voice? 'Tis Clifford's voice, +If ever Clifford spoke! My fears come back-- +Clifford the secretary of my lord! +Fortune hath freaks, but none so mad as that! +It cannot be!--It should not be!--A look, +And all were set at rest. + +[Tries to look at him again, but cannot.] + +So strong my fears, +Dread to confirm them takes away the power +To try and end them! Come the worst, I'll look. + +[She tries again; and again is unequal to the task.] + +I'd sink before him if I met his eye! + +_Clif_. Will't please your ladyship to take the letter? +Julia. There Clifford speaks again! Not Clifford's heart +Could more make Clifford's voice! Not Clifford's tongue +And lips more frame it into Clifford's speech! +A question, and 'tis over! Know I you? + +_Clif_. Reverse of fortune, lady, changes friends; +It turns them into strangers. What I am +I have not always been! + +_Julia_. Could I not name you? + +_Clif_. If your disdain for one, perhaps too bold +When hollow fortune called him favourite,-- +Now by her fickleness perforce reduced +To take an humble tone, would suffer you-- + +_Julia_. I might? + +_Clif_. You might! + +_Julia_. Oh, Clifford! is it you? + +_Clif_. Your answer to my lord. + +[Gives the letter.] + +_Julia_. Your lord! + +[Mechanically taking it.] + +_Clif_. Wilt write it? +Or, will it please you send a verbal one? +I'll bear it faithfully. + +_Julia_. You'll bear it? + +_Clif_. Madam, +Your pardon, but my haste is somewhat urgent. +My lord's impatient, and to use despatch +Were his repeated orders. + +_Julia_. Orders? Well, +I'll read the letter, sir. 'Tis right you mind +His lordship's orders. They are paramount! +Nothing should supersede them!--stand beside them! +They merit all your care, and have it! Fit, +Most fit, they should! Give me the letter, sir. + +_Clif_. You have it, madam. + +_Julia_. So! How poor a thing +I look! so lost, while he is all himself! +Have I no pride? + +[She rings, the Servant enters.] + +Paper, and pen, and ink! +If he can freeze, 'tis time that I grow cold! +I'll read the letter. + +[Opens it, and holds it as about to read it.] + +Mind his orders! So! +Quickly he fits his habits to his fortunes! +He serves my lord with all his will! His heart's +In his vocation. So! Is this the letter? +'Tis upside down--and here I'm poring on't! +Most fit I let him see me play the fool! +Shame! Let me be myself! + +[A Servant enters with materials for writing.] + +A table, sir, +And chair. + +[The Servant brings a table and chair, and goes out. She sits a while, +vacantly gazing on the letter--then looks at CLIFFORD.] + +How plainly shows his humble suit! +It fits not him that wears it! I have wronged him! +He can't be happy--does not look it!--is not. +That eye which reads the ground is argument +Enough! He loves me. There I let him stand, +And I am sitting! + +[Rises, takes a chair, and approaches CLIFFORD.] + +Pray you take a chair. + +[He bows, as acknowledging and declining the honour. She looks at him a +while.] + +Clifford, why don't you speak to me? + +[She weeps.] + +_Clif_. I trust +You're happy. + +_Julia_. Happy! Very, very happy! +You see I weep, I am so happy! Tears +Are signs, you know, of naught but happiness! +When first I saw you, little did I look +To be so happy!--Clifford! + +_Clif_. Madam? + +_Julia_. Madam! +I call thee Clifford, and thou call'st me madam! + +_Clif_. Such the address my duty stints me to. +Thou art the wife elect of a proud Earl, +Whose humble secretary, sole, am I. + +_Julia_. Most right! I had forgot! I thank you, sir, +For so reminding me; and give you joy, +That what, I see, had been a burthen to you, +Is fairly off your hands. + +_Clif_. A burthen to me! +Mean you yourself? Are you that burthen, Julia? +Say that the sun's a burthen to the earth! +Say that the blood's a burthen to the heart! +Say health's a burthen, peace, contentment, joy, +Fame, riches, honours! everything that man +Desires, and gives the name of blessing to +E'en such a burthen, Julia were to me, +Had fortune let me wear her. + +_Julia_. [Aside.] On the brink +Of what a precipice I'm standing! Back, +Back! while the faculty remains to do't! +A minute longer, not the whirlpool's self +More sure to suck me down! One effort! There! + +[She returns to her seat, recovers her self-possession, takes up the +letter, and reads.] + +To wed to-morrow night! Wed whom? A man +Whom I can never love! I should before +Have thought of that. To-morrow night! This hour +To-morrow! How I tremble! Happy bands +To which my heart such freezing welcome gives, +As sends an ague through me! At what means +Will not the desperate snatch! What's honour's price? +Nor friends, nor lovers,--no, nor life itself! +Clifford! This moment leave me! + +[CLIFFORD retires up the stage out of JULIA'S sight.] + +Is he gone? +O docile lover! Do his mistress' wish +That went against his own! Do it so soon +Ere well 'twas uttered! No good-bye to her! +No word! no look! 'Twas best that he so went! +Alas, the strait of her, who owns that best, +Which last she'd wish were done? What's left me now? +To weep! To weep! + +[Leans her head upon her arm, which rests upon the desk,--her other arm +hanging listlessly at her side. CLIFFORD comes down the stage, looks a +moment at her, approaches her, and kneeling, takes her hand.] + +_Clif_. My Julia! + +_Julia_. Here again! +Up! up! By all thy hopes of Heaven, go hence! +To stay's perdition to me! Look you, Clifford! +Were there a grave where thou art kneeling now, +I'd walk into 't, and be inearthed alive, +Ere taint should touch my name! Should some one come +And see thee kneeling thus! Let go my hand! +Remember, Clifford, I'm a promised bride-- +And take thy arm away! It has no right +To clasp my waist! Judge you so poorly of me, +As think I'll suffer this? My honour, sir! + +[She breaks from him, quitting her seat.] + +I'm glad you've forced me to respect myself-- +You'll find that I can do so! + +_Clif_. I was bold-- +Forgetful of your station and my own; +There was a time I held your hand unchid! +There was a time I might have clasped your waist-- +I had forgot that time was past and gone! +I pray you, pardon me! + +_Julia_. [Softened.] I do so, Clifford. + +_Clif_. I shall no more offend. + +_Julia_. Make sure of that. +No longer is it fit thou keep'st thy post +In's lordship's household. Give it up! A day-- +An hour remain not in it! + +_Clif_. Wherefore? + +_Julia_. Live +In the same house with me, and I another's? +Put miles, put leagues between us! The same land +Should not contain us. Oceans should divide us-- +With barriers of constant tempests--such +As mariners durst not tempt! O Clifford! +Rash was the act so light that gave me up, +That stung a woman's pride, and drove her mad-- +Till in her frenzy she destroyed her peace! +Oh, it was rashly done! Had you reproved-- +Expostulated,--had you reasoned with me-- +Tried to find out what was indeed my heart,-- +I would have shown it--you'd have seen it. All +Had been as naught can ever be again! + +_Clif_. Lovest thou me, Julia? + +_Julia_. Dost thou ask me, Clifford? + +_Clif_. These nuptials may be shunned!-- + +_Julia_. With honour? + +_Clif_. Yes! + +_Julia_. Then take me!--Stop--hear me, and take me then! +Let not thy passion be my counsellor! +Deal with me, Clifford, as my brother. Be +The jealous guardian of my spotless name! +Scan thou my cause as 'twere thy sister's. Let +Thy scrutiny o'erlook no point of it,-- +Nor turn it over once, but many a time:-- +That flaw, speck--yea,--the shade of one,--a soil +So slight, not one out of a thousand eyes +Could find it out, may not escape thee; then +Say if these nuptials can be shunned with honour! + +_Clif_. They can. + +_Julia_. Then take me, Clifford! [They embrace.] + +_Wal_. [Entering.] Ha! What's this? +Ha! treason! What! my baronet that was, +My secretary now? Your servant, sir! +Is't thus you do the pleasure of your lord,-- +That for your service feeds you, clothes you, pays you! +Or takest thou but the name of his dependent? +What's here?--a letter. Fifty crowns to one +A forgery! I'm wrong. It is his hand. +This proves thee double traitor! + +_Clif_. Traitor! + +_Julia_. Nay, +Control thy wrath, good Master Walter! Do-- +And I'll persuade him to go hence-- + +[MASTER WALTER retires up the stage.] I see +For me thou bearest this, and thank thee, Clifford! +As thou hast truly shown thy heart to me, +So truly I to thee have opened mine! +Time flies! To-morrow! If thy love can find +A way, such as thou saidst, for my enlargement +By any means thou canst, apprise me of it; +And, soon as shown, I'll take it. + +_Wal_. Is he gone? + +_Julia_. He is this moment. If thou covetest me, +Win me, and wear me! May I trust thee? Oh! +If that's thy soul, that's looking through thine eyes, +Thou lovest me, and I may!--I sicken, lest +I never see thee more! + +_Clif_. As life is mine, +The ring that on thy wedding-finger goes +No hand but mine shall place there! + +_Wal_. Lingers he? + +_Julia_. For my sake, now away! And yet a word. +By all thy hopes most dear, be true to me! +Go now!--yet stay! Clifford, while you are here, +I'm like a bark distressed and compassless, +That by a beacon steers; when you're away, +That bark alone and tossing miles at sea! +Now go! Farewell! My compass--beacon--land! +When shall my eyes be blessed with thee again! + +_Clif_. Farewell! [Goes out.] + +_Julia_. Art gone? All's chance--all's care--all's darkness. + +[Is led off by MASTER WALTER.] + + + +ACT V. + + +SCENE I.--An Apartment in the Earl of Rochdale's. + + +[Enter HELEN and FATHOM.] + +_Fath_. The long and short of it is this--if she marries this lord, +she'll break her heart! I wish you could see her, madam. Poor lady! + +_Helen_. How looks she, prithee? + +_Fath_. Marry, for all the world like a dripping-wet cambric +handkerchief! She has no colour nor strength in her; and does nothing +but weep--poor lady! + +_Helen_. Tell me again what said she to thee? + +_Fath_. She offered me all she was mistress of to take the letter to +Master Clifford. She drew her purse from her pocket--the ring from her +finger--she took her very earrings out of her ears--but I was forbidden, +and refused. And now I'm sorry for it! Poor lady! + +_Helen_. Thou shouldst be sorry. Thou hast a hard heart, Fathom. + +_Fath_. I, madam! My heart is as soft as a woman's. You should have +seen me when I came out of her chamber--poor lady! + +_Helen_. Did you cry? + +_Fath_. No; but I was as near it as possible. I a hard heart! I would +do anything to serve her, poor sweet lady! + +_Helen_. Will you take her letter, asks she you again? + +_Fath_. No--I am forbid. + +_Helen_. Will you help Master Clifford to an interview with her? + +_Fath_. No--Master Walter would find it out. + +_Helen_. Will you contrive to get me into her chamber? + +_Fath_. No--you would be sure to bring me into mischief. + +_Helen_. Go to! You would do nothing to serve her. You a soft heart! +You have no heart at all! You feel not for her! + +_Fath_. But I tell you I do--and good right I have to feel for her. I +have been in love myself. + +_Helen_. With your dinner! + +_Fath_. I would it had been! My pain would soon have been over, and at +little cost. A fortune I squandered upon +her!--trinkets--trimmings--treatings--what swallowed up the revenue of a +whole year! Wasn't I in love? Six months I courted her, and a dozen +crowns all but one did I disburse for her in that time! Wasn't I in +love? An hostler--a tapster--and a constable, courted her at the same +time, and I offered to cudgel the whole three of them for her! Wasn't I +in love? + +_Helen_. You are a valiant man, Fathom. + +_Fath_. Am not I? Walks not the earth the man I am afraid of. + +_Helen_. Fear you not Master Walter? + +_Fath_. No. + +_Helen_. You do! + +_Fath_. I don't! + +_Helen_. I'll prove it to you. You see him breaking your young +mistress's heart, and have not the manhood to stand by her. + +_Fath_. What could I do for her? + +_Helen_. Let her out of prison. It were the act of a man. + +_Fath_. That man am I! + +_Helen_. Well said, brave Fathom! + +_Fath_. But my place! + +_Helen_. I'll provide thee with a better one. + +_Fath_. 'Tis a capital place! So little to do, and so much to get +for't. Six pounds in the year; two suits of livery; shoes and stockings, +and a famous larder. He'd be a bold man that would put such a place in +jeopardy. My place, madam, my place! + +_Helen_. I tell thee I'll provide thee with a better place. Thou shalt +have less to do, and more to get. Now, Fathom, hast thou courage to +stand by thy mistress? + +_Fath_. I have! + +_Helen_. That's right. + +_Fath_. I'll let my lady out. + +[Enter MASTER WALTER unperceived.] + +_Helen_. That's right. When, Fathom? + +_Fath_. To-night. + +_Helen_. She is to be married to-night. + +_Fath_. This evening, then. Master Walter is now in the library, the +key is on the outside, and I'll lock him in. + +_Helen_. Excellent! You'll do it? + +_Fath_. Rely upon it. How he'll stare when he finds himself a prisoner, +and my young lady at liberty! + +_Helen_. Most excellent! You'll be sure to do it? + +_Fath_. Depend upon me! When Fathom undertakes a thing, he defies fire +and water-- + +_Wal_. [Coming forward.] Fathom! + +_Fath_. Sir! + +_Wal_. Assemble straight the servants. + +_Fath_. Yes, sir! + +_Wal_. Mind, +And have them in the hall when I come down. + +_Fath_. Yes, sir! + +_Wal_. And see you do not stir a step, +But where I order you. + +_Fath_. Not an inch, sir! + +_Wal_. See that you don't--away! So, my fair mistress, + +[FATHOM goes out.] + +What's this you have been plotting? An escape +For mistress Julia? + +_Helen_. I avow it. + +_Wal_. Do you? + +_Helen_. Yes; and moreover to your face I tell you, +Most hardly do you use her! + +_Wal_. Verily! + +_Helen_. I wonder where's her spirit! Had she mine +She would not take 't so easily. Do you mean +To force this marriage on her? + +_Wal_. With your leave. + +_Helen_. You laugh. + +_Wal_. Without it, then. I don't laugh now. + +_Helen_. If I were she, I'd find a way to escape. + +_Wal_. What would you do? + +_Helen_. I'd leap out of the window! + +_Wal_. Your window should be barred. + +_Helen_. I'd cheat you still!-- +I'd hang myself ere I'd be forced to marry! + +_Wal_. Well said! You shall be married, then, to-night. + +_Helen_. Married to-night! + +_Wal_. As sure as I have said it. + +_Helen_. Two words to that. Pray who's to be my bridegroom? + +_Wal_. A daughter's husband is her father's choice. + +_Helen_. My father's daughter ne'er shall wed such husband! + +_Wal_. Indeed! + +_Helen_. I'll pick a husband for myself. + +_Wal_. Indeed! + +_Helen_. Indeed, sir; and indeed again! + +_Wal_. Go dress you for the marriage ceremony. + +_Helen_. But, Master Walter, what is it you mean? + +[Enter MODUS.] + +_Wal_. Here comes your cousin;--he shall be your bridesman! +The thought's a sudden one,--that will excuse +Defect in your appointments. A plain dress,-- +So 'tis of white,--will do. + +_Helen_. I'll dress in black. +I'll quit the castle. + +_Wal_. That you shall not do. +Its doors are guarded by my lord's domestics, +Its avenues--its grounds. What you must do, +Do with a good grace! In an hour, or less, +Your father will be here. Make up your mind +To take with thankfulness the man he gives you. +Now, [Aside] if they find not out how beat their hearts, +I have no skill, not I, in feeling pulses. + +[Goes out.] + +_Helen_. Why, cousin Modus! What! will you stand by +And see me forced to marry? Cousin Modus! +Have you not got a tongue? Have you not eyes? +Do you not see I'm very--very ill, +And not a chair in all the corridor? + +_Mod_. I'll find one in the study. + +_Helen_. Hang the study! + +_Mod_. My room's at hand. I'll fetch one thence. + +_Helen_. You shan't +I'd faint ere you came back! + +_Mod_. What shall I do? + +_Helen_. Why don't you offer to support me? Well? +Give me your arm--be quick! [MODUS offers his arm.] +Is that the way +To help a lady when she's like to faint? +I'll drop unless you catch me! [MODUS supports her.] +That will do. +I'm better now--[MODUS offers to leave her] don't leave me! Is one well +Because one's better? Hold my hand. Keep so. +I'll soon recover so you move not. Loves he-- + +[Aside.] + +Which I'll be sworn he does, he'll own it now. +Well, cousin Modus? + +_Mod_. Well, sweet cousin! + +_Helen_. Well? +You heard what Master Walter said? + +_Mod_. I did. + +_Helen_. And would you have me marry? Can't you speak? +Say yes or no. + +_Mod_. No, cousin! + +_Helen_. Bravely said! +And why, my gallant cousin? + +_Mod_. Why? + +_Helen_. Ay, why?-- +Women, you know, are fond of reasons--why +Would you not have me marry? How you blush! +Is it because you do not know the reason? +You mind me of a story of a cousin +Who once her cousin such a question asked. +He had not been to college, though--for books, +Had passed his time in reading ladies' eyes. +Which he could construe marvellously well, +Though writ in language all symbolical. +Thus stood they once together, on a day-- +As we stand now--discoursed as we discourse,-- +But with this difference,--fifty gentle words +He spoke to her, for one she spoke to him!-- +What a dear cousin! Well, as I did say, +As now I questioned thee, she questioned him. +And what was his reply? To think of it +Sets my heart beating--'twas so kind a one! +So like a cousin's answer--a dear cousin! +A gentle, honest, gallant, loving cousin! +What did he say?--A man might find it out, +Though never read he Ovid's Art of Love-- +What did he say? He'd marry her himself! +How stupid are you, cousin! Let me go! + +_Mod_. You are not well yet? + +_Helen_. Yes. + +_Mod_. I'm sure you're not. + +_Helen_. I'm sure I am. + +_Mod_. Nay, let me hold you, cousin! I like it. + +_Helen_. Do you? I would wager you +You could not tell me why you like it. Well? +You see how true I know you! How you stare! +What see you in my face to wonder at? + +_Mod_. A pair of eyes! + +_Helen_. At last he'll find his tongue--[Aside.] +And saw you ne'er a pair of eyes before? + +_Mod_. Not such a pair. + +_Helen_. And why? + +_Mod_. They are so bright! +You have a Grecian nose. + +_Helen_. Indeed. + +_Mod_. Indeed! + +_Helen_. What kind of mouth have I? + +_Mod_. A handsome one. I never saw so sweet a pair of lips! +I ne'er saw lips at all till now, dear cousin! + +_Helen_. Cousin, I'm well,--you need not hold me now. +Do you not hear? I tell you I am well! +I need your arm no longer--take 't away! +So tight it locks me, 'tis with pain I breathe! +Let me go, cousin! Wherefore do you hold +Your face so close to mine? What do you mean? + +_Mod_. You've questioned me, and now I'll question you. + +_Helen_. What would you learn? + +_Mod_. The use of lips. + +_Helen_. To speak. + +_Mod_. Naught else? + +_Helen_. How bold my modest cousin grows! +Why, other use know you? + +_Mod_. I do! + +_Helen_. Indeed! +You're wondrous wise? And pray what is it? + +_Mod_. This! [Attempts to kiss her.] + +_Helen_. Soft! my hand thanks you, cousin--for my lips +I keep them for a husband!--Nay, stand off! +I'll not be held in manacles again! +Why do you follow me? + +_Mod_. I love you, cousin! + +_Helen_. O cousin, say you so! That's passing strange! +Falls out most crossly--is a dire mishap-- +A thing to sigh for, weep for, languish for, +And die for! + +_Mod_. Die for! + +_Helen_, Yes, with laughter, cousin, +For, cousin, I love you! + +_Mod_. And you'll be mine? + +_Helen_. I will. + +_Mod_. Your hand upon it. + +_Helen_. Hand and heart. +Hie to thy dressing-room, and I'll to mine-- +Attire thee for the altar--so will I. +Whoe'er may claim me, thou'rt the man shall have me. +Away! Despatch! But hark you, ere you go, +Ne'er brag of reading Ovid's Art of Love! + +_Mod_. And cousin! stop--one little word with you! + +[She returns, he snatches a kiss--They go out severally.] + + +SCENE II.--Julia's Chamber. + + +[Enter JULIA.] + +_Julia_. No word from him, and evening now set in! +He cannot play me false! His messenger +Is dogged--or letter intercepted. I'm +Beset with spies!--No rescue!--No escape!-- +The hour at hand that brings my bridegroom home! +No relative to aid me! friend to counsel me. + +[A knock at the door.] + +Come in. + +[Enter two Female Attendants.] + +Your will? + +_First Attendant_. Your toilet waits, my lady; +'Tis time you dress. + +_Julia_. 'Tis time I die! [A peal of bells.] What's that? + +_First Attendant_. Your wedding bells, my lady. + +_Julia_. Merrily +They ring my knell! +[Second Attendant presents an open case.] +And pray you what are these? + +_Second Attendant_. Your wedding jewels. + +_Julia_. Set them by. + +_Second Attendant_. Indeed. +Was ne'er a braver set! A necklace, brooch, +And earrings all of brilliants, with a hoop +To guard your wedding ring. + +_Julia_. 'Twould need a guard +That lacks a heart to keep it! + +_Second Attendant_. Here's a heart +Suspended from the necklace--one huge diamond +Imbedded in a host of smaller ones! +Oh! how it sparkles! + +_Julia_. Show it me! Bright heart, +Thy lustre, should I wear thee, will be false,-- +For thou the emblem art of love and truth,-- +From her that wears thee unto him that gives thee. +Back to thy case! Better thou ne'er shouldst leave it-- +Better thy gems a thousand fathoms deep +In their native mine again, than grace my neck, +And lend thy fair face to palm off a lie! + +_First Attendant_. Will't please you dress? + +_Julia_. Ah! in infected clothes +New from a pest-house! Leave me! If I dress, +I dress alone! O for a friend! Time gallops! + +[Attendants go out.] + +He that should guard me is mine enemy! +Constrains me to abide the fatal die, +My rashness, not my reason cast! He comes, +That will exact the forfeit!--Must I pay it?-- +E'en at the cost of utter bankruptcy! +What's to be done? Pronounce the vow that parts +My body from my soul! To what it loathes +Links that, while this is linked to what it loves! +Condemned to such perdition! What's to be done? +Stand at the altar in an hour from this! +An hour thence seated at his board--a wife +Thence!--frenzy's in the thought! What's to be done? + +[Enter MASTER WALTER.] + +_Wal_. What! run the waves so high? Not ready yet! +Your lord will soon be here! The guests collect. + +_Julia_. Show me some way to 'scape these nuptials! Do it! +Some opening for avoidance or escape,-- +Or to thy charge I'll lay a broken heart! +It may be, broken vows, and blasted honour, +Or else a mind distraught! + +_Wal_. What's this? + +_Julia_. The strait +I'm fallen into my patience cannot bear. +It frights my reason--warps my sense of virtue! +Religion!--changes me into a thing +I look at with abhorring! + +_Wal_. Listen to me. + +_Julia_. Listen to me! If this contract +Thou holdest me to--abide thou the result! +Answer to heaven for what I suffer!--act! +Prepare thyself for such calamity +To fall on me, and those whose evil stars +Have linked them with me, as no past mishap, +However rare, and marvellously sad +Can parallel! lay thy account to live +A smileless life, die an unpitied death-- +Abhorred, abandoned of thy kind,--as one +Who had the guarding of a young maid's peace,-- +Looked on and saw her rashly peril it; +And when she saw her danger, and confessed +Her fault, compelled her to complete her ruin! + +_Wal_. Hast done? + +_Julia_. Another moment, and I have. +Be warned! Beware how you abandon me +To myself! I'm young, rash, inexperienced! tempted +By most insufferable misery! +Bold, desperate, and reckless! Thou hast age +Experience, wisdom, and collectedness,-- +Power, freedom,--everything that I have not, +Yet want, as none e'er wanted! Thou canst save me, +Thou oughtst! thou must! I tell thee at his feet +I'll fall a corse--ere mount his bridal bed! +So choose betwixt my rescue and my grave;-- +And quickly too! The hour of sacrifice +Is near! Anon the immolating priest +Will summon me! Devise some speedy means +To cheat the altar of its victim. Do it! +Nor leave the task to me! + +_Wal_. Hast done? + +_Julia_. I have. + +_Wal_. Then list to me--and silently, if not +With patience.--[Brings chairs for himself and her.] +How I watched thee from thy childhood +I'll not recall to thee. Thy father's wisdom-- +Whose humble instrument I was--directed +Your nonage should be passed in privacy, +From your apt mind that far outstripped your years, +Fearing the taint of an infected world;-- +For, in the rich grounds, weeds once taking root, +Grow strong as flowers. He might be right or wrong! +I thought him right; and therefore did his bidding. +Most certainly he loved you--so did I; +Ay! well as I had been myself your father! + +[His hand is resting upon his knee, JULIA attempts to take it--he +withdraws it--looks at her--she hangs her head.] + +Well; you may take my hand! I need not say +How fast you grew in knowledge, and in goodness,-- +That hope could scarce enjoy its golden dreams +So soon fulfilment realised them all! +Enough. You came to womanhood. Your heart, +Pure as the leaf of the consummate bud, +That's new unfolded by the smiling sun, +And ne'er knew blight nor canker! + +[JULIA attempts to place her other hand on his shoulder--he leans from +her--looks at her--she hangs her head again.] + +Put it there! +Where left I off? I know! When a good woman +Is fitly mated, she grows doubly good, +How good soe'er before! I found the man +I thought a match for thee; and, soon as found, +Proposed him to thee. 'Twas your father's will, +Occasion offering, you should be married +Soon as you reached to womanhood.--You liked +My choice, accepted him.--We came to town; +Where, by important matter summoned thence, +I left you an affianced bride! + +_Julia_. You did! +You did! [Leans her head upon her hand and weeps.] + +_Wal_. Nay, check thy tears! Let judgment now, +Not passion, be awake. On my return, +I found thee--what? I'll not describe the thing +I found thee then! I'll not describe my pangs +To see thee such a thing! The engineer +Who lays the last stone of his sea-built tower, +It cost him years and years of toil to raise-- +And, smiling at it, tells the winds and waves +To roar and whistle now--but, in a night, +Beholds the tempest sporting in its place-- +May look aghast, as I did! + +_Julia_. [Falling on her knees.] Pardon me! +Forgive me! pity me! + +_Wal_. Resume thy seat. [Raises her.] +I pity thee; perhaps not thee alone +It fits to sue for pardon. + +_Julia_. Me alone! +None other! + +_Wal_. But to vindicate myself, +I name thy lover's stern desertion of thee. +What wast thou then with wounded pride? A thing +To leap into a torrent! throw itself +From a precipice! rush into a fire! I saw +Thy madness--knew to thwart it were to chafe it-- +And humoured it to take that course, I thought, +Adopted, least 'twould rue! + +_Julia_. 'Twas wisely done. + +_Wal_. At least 'twas for the best. + +_Julia_. To blame thee for it +Was adding shame to shame! But Master Walter, +These nuptials!--must they needs go on? + +Servant. [Entering.] More guests +Arrive. + +_Wal_. Attend to them. [Servant goes out.] + +_Julia_. Dear Master Walter! +Is there no way to escape these nuptials? + +_Wal_. Know'st not +What with these nuptials comes? Hast thou forgot? + +_Julia_. What? + +_Wal_. Nothing!--I did tell thee of a thing. + +_Julia_. What was it? + +_Wal_. To forget it was a fault! +Look back and think. + +_Julia_. I can't remember it. + +_Wal_. Fathers, make straws your children! Nature's nothing, +Blood nothing! Once in other veins it runs, +It no more yearneth for the parent flood, +Than doth the stream that from the source disparts. +Talk not of love instinctive--what you call so +Is but the brat of custom! Your own flesh +By habit cleaves to you--without, +Hath no adhesion. [Aside.] So; you have forgot +You have a father, and are here to meet him! + +_Julia_. I'll not deny it. + +_Wal_. You should blush for't. + +_Julia_. No! +No! no: hear, Master Walter! what's a father +That you've not been to me? Nay, turn not from me, +For at the name a holy awe I own, +That now almost inclines my knee to earth! +But thou to me, except a father's name, +Hast all the father been: the care--the love-- +The guidance--the protection of a father. +Canst wonder, then, if like thy child I feel,-- +And feeling so, that father's claim forget +Whom ne'er I knew save by the name of one? +Oh, turn to me, and do not chide me! or +If thou wilt chide, chide on! but turn to me! + +_Wal_. [Struggling with emotion.] My Julia! +[Embraces her.] + +_Julia_. Now, dear Master Walter, hear me! +Is there no way to 'scape these nuptials? + +_Wal_. Julia, +A promise made admits not of release, +Save by consent or forfeiture of those +Who hold it--so it should be pondered well +Before we let it go. Ere man should say +I broke the word I had the power to keep, +I'd lose the life I had the power to part with! +Remember, Julia, thou and I to-day +Must, to thy father, of thy training render +A strict account. While honour's left to us, +We have something--nothing, having all but that. +Now for thy last act of obedience, Julia! +Present thyself before thy bridegroom! [She assents.] Good! +My Julia's now herself! Show him thy heart, +And to his honour leave't to set thee free +Or hold thee bound. Thy father will be by! + + +SCENE III.--The Banqueting' Room. + + +[Enter MASTER WALTER and MASTER HEARTWELL.] + +_Heart_. Thanks, Master Walter! Ne'er was child more bent +To do her father's will, you'll own, than mine: +Yet never one more froward. + +_Wal_. All runs fair-- +Fair may all end! To-day you'll learn the cause +That took me out of town. But soft a while,-- +Here comes the bridegroom, with his friends, and here +The all-obedient bride. + +[Enter on one hand JULIA, and on the other hand LORD ROCHDALE with LORD +TINSEL and friends--afterwards CLIFFORD.] + +_Roch_. Is she not fair? + +_Tin_. She'll do. Your servant, lady! Master Walter, +We're glad to see you. Sirs, you're welcome all. +What wait they for? Are we to wed or not? +We're ready--why don't they present the bride? +I hope they know she is to wed an earl. + +_Roch_. Should I speak first? + +_Tin_. Not for your coronet! +I, as your friend, may make the first advance. +We've come here to be married. Where's the bride? + +_Wal_. There stands she, lord; if 'tis her will to wed, +His lordship's free to take her. + +_Tin_. Not a step! +I, as your friend, may lead her to your lordship. +Fair lady, by your leave. + +_Julia_. No! not to you. + +_Tin_. I ask your hand to give it to his lordship. + +_Julia_. Nor to his lordship--save he will accept +My hand without my heart! but I'll present +My knee to him, and, by his lofty rank, +Implore him now to do a lofty deed +Will lift its stately head above his rank,-- +Assert him nobler yet in worth than name,-- +And, in the place of an unwilling bride, +Unto a willing debt or make him lord,-- +Whose thanks shall be his vassals, night and day +That still shall wait upon him! + +_Tin_. What means this? + +_Julia_. What is't behoves a wife to bring her lord? + +_Wal_. A whole heart, and a true one. + +_Julia_. I have none! +Not half a heart--the fraction of a heart! +Am I a woman it befits to wed? + +_Wal_. Why, where's thy heart? + +_Julia_. Gone--out of my keeping! +Lost, past recovery: right and title to it-- +And all given up! and he that's owner on't, +So fit to wear it, were it fifty hearts, +I'd give it to him all! + +_Wal_. Thou dost not mean +His lordship's secretary? + +_Julia_. Yes. Away +Disguises! in that secretary know +The master of the heart, of which the poor, +Unvalued, empty casket, at your feet-- +Its jewel gone--I now despairing throw! + +[Kneels.] + +Of his lord's bride he's lord! lord paramount! +To whom her virgin homage first she paid,-- +'Gainst whom rebelled in frowardness alone, +Nor knew herself how loyal to him, till +Another claimed her duty--then awoke +To sense of all she owed him--all his worth-- +And all her undeservings! + +_Tin_. Lady, we came not here to treat of hearts,-- +But marriage; which, so please you, is with us +A simple joining, by the priest, of hands. +A ring's put on, a prayer or two is said; +You're man and wife,--and nothing more! For hearts, +We oftener do without, than with them, lady! + +_Clif_. So does not wed this lady! + +_Tin_. Who are you? + +_Clif_. I'm secretary to the Earl of Rochdale. + +_Tin_. My lord! + +_Roch_. I know him not-- + +_Tin_. I know him now-- +Your lordship's rival! Once Sir Thomas Clifford. + +_Clif_. Yes, and the bridegroom of that lady then, +Then loved her--loves her still! + +_Julia_. Was loved by her-- +Though then she knew it not!--is loved by her, +As now she knows, and all the world may know! + +_Tin_. We can't be laughed at. We are here to wed, +And shall fulfil our contract. + +_Julia_. Clifford! + +_Clif_. Julia! +You will not give your hand? + +[A pause. JULIA seems utterly lost.] + +_Wal_. You have forgot +Again. You have a father! + +_Julia_. Bring him now,-- +To see thy Julia justify thy training, +And lay her life down to redeem her word! + +_Wal_. And so redeems her all! Is it your will, +My lord, these nuptials should go on? + +_Roch_. It is. + +_Wal_. Then is it mine they stop! + +_Tin_. I told your lordship +You should not keep a Hunchback for your agent. + +_Wal_. Thought like my father, my good lord, who said +He would not have a Hunchback for his son-- +So do I pardon you the savage slight. +My lord, that I am not as straight as you, +Was blemish neither of my thought nor will, +My head nor heart. It was no act of mine.-- +Yet did it curdle Nature's kindly milk +E'en where 'tis richest--in a parent's breast-- +To cast me out to heartless fosterage, +Nor heartless always, as it proved--and give +My portion to another! the same blood-- +But I'll be sworn, in vein, my lord, and soul-- +Although his trunk did swerve no more than yours-- +Not half so straight as I. + +_Tin_. Upon my life +You've got a modest agent, Rochdale! Now +He'll prove himself descended--mark my words-- +From some small gentleman + +_Wal_. And so you thought, +Where Nature played the churl, it would be fit +That fortune played it too. You would have had +My lord absolve me of my agency! +Fair lord, the flaw did cost me fifty times-- +A hundred times my agency:--but all's +Recovered. Look, my lord, a testament +To make a pension of his lordship's rent-roll! +It is my father's, and was left by him, +In case his heir should die without a son, +Then to be opened. Heaven did send a son +To bless the heir. Heaven took its gift away, +He died--his father died. And Master Walter-- +The unsightly agent of his lordship there-- +The Hunchback whom your lordship would have stripped +Of his agency--is now the Earl of Rochdale! + +_Tin_. We've made a small mistake here. Never mind, +'Tis nothing in a lord. + +_Julia_. The Earl of Rochdale! + +_Wal_. And what of that? Thou know'st not half my greatness! +A prouder title, Julia, have I yet, +Sooner than part with which I'd give that up, +And be again plain Master Walter. What! +Dost thou not apprehend me? Yes, thou dost! +Command thyself; don't gasp. My pupil--daughter! +Come to thy father's heart! + +[JULIA rushes into his arms.] + +[Enter FATHOM.] + +_Fath_. Thievery! Elopement--escape--arrest! + +_Wal_. What's the matter? + +_Fath_. Mistress Helen is running away with Master Modus--Master Modus +is running away with Mistress Helen--but we have caught them, secured +them, and here they come, to receive the reward of their merits. + +[Enter HELEN and MODUS, followed by Servants.] + +_Helen_. I'll ne'er wed man, if not my cousin Modus. + +_Mod_. Nor woman I, save cousin Helen's she. + +_Wal_. [To MASTER HEARTWELL.] A daughter, have you, and a nephew, too, +Without their match in duty! Let them marry. +For you, sir, who to-day have lost an earldom, +Yet would have shared that earldom with my child-- +My only one--content yourself with prospect +Of the succession; it must fall to you, +And fit yourself to grace it. Ape not those +Who rank by pride. The man of simplest bearing +Is yet a lord, when he's a lord indeed! + +_Tin_. The paradox is obsolete. Ne'er heed! +Learn from his book, and practise out of mine! + +_Wal_. Sir Thomas Clifford, take my daughter's hand! +If now you know the master of her heart! +Give it, my Julia! You suspect, I see, +And rightly, there has been some masking here. +Content thee, daughter, thou shalt know anon, +How jealousy of my mis-shapen back +Made me mistrustful of a child's affections-- +Who doubted e'en a wife's--so that I dropped +The title of thy father, lest thy duty +Should pay the debt thy love could solve alone. +All this and more, that to thy friends and thee +Pertains, at fitting time thou shalt be told. +But now thy nuptials wait--the happy close +Of thy hard trial--wholesome, though severe! +The world won't cheat thee now--thy heart is proved;-- +Thou know'st thy peace by finding out its bane, +And ne'er will act from reckless impulse more! + + + + +Footnotes: + + +{1} The other play, The Love-Chase, is released in a separated eText +with Project Gutenberg and not included here.--DP. + +{2} In representation, the passages following this are curtailed and the +scene runs as follows:-- + +Master Walter continues-- +The first side shows their passion in the dawn-- +In the next side 'tis shining open day-- +In the third there's clouding--I but touch on these +To make a long tale brief, and bring thee to +The last side. + +_Julia_. What shows that? + +_Wal_. The fate of love +That will not be advised.--The scene's a dungeon, +Its tenant is the page--he lies in fetters. + +_Julia_. Hard! +Hard as the steel, the hands that put them on! &c. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNCHBACK*** + + +******* This file should be named 3480.txt or 3480.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/8/3480 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.08.01*END** +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was produced by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk, +from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition. + + + + + +THE HUNCHBACK + +by James Sheridan Knowles + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + + +James Sheridan Knowles was born at Cork in 1784, and died at Torquay +in December, 1862, at the age of 78. His father was a teacher of +elocution, who compiled a dictionary, and who was related to the +Sheridans. He moved to London when his son was eight years old, and +there became acquainted with William Hazlitt and Charles Lamb. The +son, after his school education, obtained a commission in the army, +but gave up everything for the stage, and made his first appearance +at the Crow Street Theatre, in Dublin. He did not become a great +actor, and when he took to writing plays he did not prove himself a +great poet, but his skill in contriving situations through which a +good actor can make his powers tell upon the public, won the heart +of the great actor of his day, and as Macready's own poet he rose to +fame. + +Before Macready had discovered him, Sheridan Knowles lived partly by +teaching elocution at Belfast and Glasgow, partly by practice of +elocution as an actor. In 1815 he produced at the Belfast Theatre +his first play, Caius Gracchus. His next play, Virginius was +produced at Glasgow with great success. Macready, who had, at the +age of seventeen, begun his career as an actor at his father's +theatre in Birmingham, had, on Monday, October 5th, 1819, at the age +of twenty-six, taken the Londoners by storm in the character of +Richard III Covent Garden reopened its closed treasury. It was +promptly followed by a success in Coriolanus, and Macready's place +was made. He was at once offered fifty pounds a night for appearing +on one evening a week at Brighton. It was just after that turn in +Macready's fortunes that a friend at Glasgow recommended to him the +part of Virginius in Sheridan Knowles's play lately produced there. +He agreed unwillingly to look at it, and says that in April, 1820, +the parcel containing the MS. came as he was going out. He +hesitated, then sat down to read it that he might get a wearisome +job over. As he read, he says, "The freshness and simplicity of the +dialogue fixed my attention; I read on and on, and was soon absorbed +in the interest of the story and the passion of its scenes, till at +its close I found myself in such a state of excitement that for a +time I was undecided what step to take. Impulse was in the +ascendant, and snatching up my pen I hurriedly wrote, as my agitated +feelings prompted, a letter to the author, to me then a perfect +stranger." Bryan Procter (Barry Cornwall) read the play next day +with Macready, and confirmed him in his admiration of it. + +Macready at once got it accepted at the theatre, where nothing was +spent on scenery, but there was a good cast, and the enthusiasm of +Macready as stage manager for the occasion half affronted some of +his seniors. On the 17th of May, 1820, about a month after it came +into Macready's hands, Virginius was produced at Covent Garden, +where, says the actor in his "Reminiscences," "the curtain fell +amidst the most deafening applause of a highly-excited auditory." +Sheridan Knowles's fame, therefore, was made, like that of his +friend Macready, and the friendship between author and actor +continued. Sheridan Knowles had a kindly simplicity of character, +and the two qualities for which an actor most prizes a dramatist, +skill in providing opportunities for acting that will tell, and +readiness to make any changes that the actor asks for. The +postscript to his first letter to Macready was, "Make any +alterations you like in any part of the play, and I shall be obliged +to you." When he brought to the great actor his play of William +Tell--Caius Gracchus had been produced in November, 1823--there were +passages of writing in it that stopped the course of action, and, +says Macready, "Knowles had less of the tenacity of authorship than +most writers," so that there was no difficulty about alterations, +Macready having in a very high degree the tenacity of actorship. +And so, in 1825, Tell became another of Macready's best successes. + +Sheridan Knowles continued to write for the stage until 1845, when +he was drawn wholly from the theatre by a religious enthusiasm that +caused him, in 1851, to essay the breaking of a lance with Cardinal +Wiseman on the subject of Transubstantiation. Sir Robert Peel gave +ease to his latter days by a pension of 200 pounds a year from the +Civil List, which he had honourably earned by a career as dramatist, +in which he sought to appeal only to the higher sense of literature, +and to draw enjoyment from the purest source. Of his plays time two +comedies {1} here given are all that have kept their place upon the +stage. As one of the most earnest dramatic writers of the present +century he is entitled to a little corner in our memory. Worse work +of the past has lasted longer than the plays of Sheridan Knowles are +likely to last through the future. + +H. M. + + + +THE HUNCHBACK. + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. +(AS ORIGINALLY PERFORMED AT COVENT GARDEN IN 1832.) + + + +Julia Miss F. KEMBLE. +Helen Miss TAYLOR. +Master Walter Mr. J. S. KNOWLES. +Sir Thomas Clifford Mr. C. KEMBLE. +Lord Tinsel Mr. WRENCH. +Master Wilford Mr. J. MASON. +Modus Mr. ABBOTT. +Master Heartwell Mr. EVANS. +Gaylove Mr. HENRY. +Fathom Mr. MEADOWS. +Thomas Mr. BARNES. +Stephen Mr. PAYNE. +Williams Mr. IRWIN. +Simpson Mr. BRADY. +Waiter Mr. HEATH. +Holdwell Mr. BENDER. + { Mr. J. COOPER. +Servants { Mr. LOLLETT. + + + +ACT I. + + + +SCENE I.--A Tavern. + + +On one side SIR THOMAS CLIFFORD, at a table, with wine before him; +on the other, MASTER WILFORD, GAYLOVE, HOLDWELL, and SIMPSON, +likewise taking wine. + +Wilf. Your wine, sirs! your wine! You do not justice to mine host +of the Three Tuns, nor credit to yourselves; I swear the beverage is +good! It is as palatable poison as you will purchase within a mile +round Ludgate! Drink, gentlemen; make free. You know I am a man of +expectations; and hold my money as light as the purse in which I +carry it. + +Gay. We drink, Master Wilford. Not a man of us has been chased as +yet. + +Wilf. But you fill not fairly, sirs! Look at my measure! +Wherefore a large glass, if not for a large draught? Fill, I pray +you, else let us drink out of thimbles! This will never do for the +friends of the nearest of kin to the wealthiest peer in Britain. + +Gay. We give you joy, Master Wilford, of the prospect of +advancement which has so unexpectedly opened to you. + +Wilf. Unexpectedly indeed! But yesterday arrived the news that the +Earl's only son and heir had died; and to-day has the Earl himself +been seized with a mortal illness. His dissolution is looked for +hourly; and I, his cousin in only the third degree, known to him but +to be unnoticed by him--a decayed gentleman's son--glad of the title +and revenues of a scrivener's clerk--am the undoubted successor to +his estates and coronet. + +Gay. Have you been sent for? + +Wilf. No; but I have certified to his agent, Master Walter, the +Hunchback, my existence, and peculiar propinquity; and momentarily +expect him here. + +Gay. Lives there anyone that may dispute your claim--I mean +vexatiously? + +Wilf. Not a man, Master Gaylove. I am the sole remaining branch of +the family tree. + +Gay. Doubtless you look for much happiness from this change of +fortune? + +Wilf. A world! Three things have I an especial passion for. The +finest hound, the finest horse, and the finest wife in the kingdom, +Master Gaylove! + +Gay. The finest wife? + +Wilf. Yes, sir; I marry. Once the earldom comes into my line, I +shall take measures to perpetuate its remaining there. I marry, +sir! I do not say that I shall love. My heart has changed +mistresses too often to settle down in one servitude now, sir. But +fill, I pray you, friends. This, if I mistake not, is the day +whence I shall date my new fortunes; and, for that reason, hither +have I invited you, that, having been so long my boon companions, +you shall be the first to congratulate me. + +[Enter Waiter] + +Waiter. You are wanted, Master Wilford. + +Wilf. By whom? + +Waiter. One Master Walter. + +Wilf. His lordship's agent! News, sirs! Show him in! + +[Waiter goes out] + +My heart's a prophet, sirs--The Earl is dead. + +[Enter MASTER WALTER] + +Well, Master Walter. How accost you me? + +Wal. As your impatience shows me you would have me. +My Lord, the Earl of Rochdale! + +Gay. Give you joy! + +Hold. All happiness, my lord! + +Simp. Long life and health unto your lordship! + +Gay. Come! +We'll drink to his lordship's health! 'Tis two o'clock, +We'll e'en carouse till midnight! Health, my lord! + +Hold. My lord, much joy to you! + +Simp. All good to your lordship! + +Wal. Give something to the dead! + +Gay. Give what? + +Wal. Respect! +He has made the living! First to him that's gone, +Say "Peace!"--and then with decency to revels! + +Gay. What means the knave by revels? + +Wal. Knave? + +Gay. Ay, knave! + +Wal. Go to! Thou'rt flushed with wine! + +Gay. Thou sayest false! +Though didst thou need a proof thou speakest true, +I'd give thee one. Thou seest but one lord here, +And I see two! + +Wal. Reflect'st thou on my shape? +Thou art a villain! + +Gay. [Starting up.] Ha! + +Wal. A coward, too! +Draw! + +[Drawing his sword.] + +Gay. Only mark him! how he struts about! +How laughs his straight sword at his noble back. + +Wal. Does it? It cuffs thee for a liar then! + +[Strikes GAYLOVE with his sword.] + +Gay. A blow! + +Wal. Another, lest you doubt the first! + +Gay. His blood on his own head! I'm for you, sir! + +[Draws.] + +Clif. Hold, sir! This quarrel's mine! + +[Coming forward and drawing.] + +Wal. No man shall fight for me, sir! + +Clif. By your leave, +Your patience, pray! My lord, for so I learn +Behoves me to accost you--for your own sake +Draw off your friend! + +Wal. Not till we have a bout, sir! + +Clif. My lord, your happy fortune ill you greet! +Ill greet it those who love you--greeting thus +The herald of it! + +Wal. Sir, what's that to you? +Let go my sleeve! + +Clif. My lord, if blood be shed +On the fair dawn of your prosperity, +Look not to see the brightness of its day. +'Twill be o'ercast throughout! + +Gay. My lord, I'm struck! + +Clif. You gave the first blow, and the hardest one! +Look, sir; if swords you needs must measure, I'm +Your mate, not he! + +Wal. I'm mate for any man! + +Clif. Draw off your friend, my lord, for your own sake! + +Wilf. Come, Gaylove! let's have another room. + +Gay. With all my heart, since 'tis your lordship's will. + +Wilf. That's right! Put up! Come, friends! + +[WILFORD and Friends go out.] + +Wal. I'll follow him! +Why do you hold me? 'Tis not courteous of you! +Think'st thou I fear them? Fear! I rate them but +As dust! dross! offals! Let me at them!--Nay, +Call you this kind? then kindness know I not; +Nor do I thank you for't! Let go, I say! + +Clif. Nay, Master Walter, they're not worth your wrath. + +Wal. How know you me for Master Walter? By +My hunchback, eh!--my stilts of legs and arms, +The fashion more of ape's than man's? Aha! +So you have heard them, too--their savage gibes +As I pass on,--"There goes my lord!" aha! +God made me, sir, as well as them and you. +'Sdeath! I demand of you, unhand me, sir! + +Clif. There, sir, you're free to follow them! Go forth, +And I'll go too: so on your wilfulness +Shall fall whate'er of evil may ensue. +Is't fit you waste your choler on a burr? +The nothings of the town; whose sport it is +To break their villain jests on worthy men, +The graver still the fitter! Fie for shame! +Regard what such would say? So would not I, +No more than heed a cur. + +Wal. You're right, sir; right, +For twenty crowns! So there's my rapier up! +You've done me a good turn against my will; +Which, like a wayward child, whose pet is off, +That made him restive under wholesome check, +I now right humbly own, and thank you for. + +Clif. No thanks, good Master Walter, owe you me! +I'm glad to know you, sir. + +Wal. I pray you, now, +How did you learn my name? Guessed I not right? +Was't not my comely hunch that taught it you? + +Clif. I own it. + +Wal. Right, I know it; you tell truth. I like you for't. + +Clif. But when I heard it said +That Master Walter was a worthy man, +Whose word would pass on 'change soon as his bond; +A liberal man--for schemes of public good +That sets down tens, where others units write; +A charitable man--the good he does, +That's told of, not the half; I never more +Could see the hunch on Master Walter's back! + +Wal. You would not flatter a poor citizen? + +Clif. Indeed, I flatter not! + +Wal. I like your face - +A frank and honest one! Your frame's well knit, +Proportioned, shaped! + +Clif. Good sir! + +Wal. Your name is Clifford - +Sir Thomas Clifford. Humph! You're not the heir +Direct to the fair baronetcy? He +That was, was drowned abroad. Am I not right? +Your cousin, was't not?--so succeeded you +To rank and wealth, your birth ne'er promised you. + +Clif. I see you know my history. + +Wal. I do. +You're lucky who conjoin the benefits +Of penury and abundance; for I know +Your father was a man of slender means. +You do not blush, I see. That's right! Why should you? +What merit to be dropped on fortune's hill? +The honour is to mount it. You'd have done it; +For you were trained to knowledge, industry, +Frugality, and honesty,--the sinews +That surest help the climber to the top, +And keep him there. I have a clerk, Sir Thomas, +Once served your father; there's the riddle for you. +Humph! I may thank you for my life to-day. + +Clif. I pray you say not so. + +Wal. But I will say so! +Because I think so, know so, feel so, sir! +Your fortune, I have heard, I think, is ample! +And doubtless you live up to't? + +Clif. 'Twas my rule, +And is so still, to keep my outlay, sir, +A span within my means. + +Wal. A prudent rule! +The turf is a seductive pastime! + +Clif. Yes. + +Wal. You keep a racing stud? You bet? + +Clif. No, neither. +'Twas still my father's precept--"Better owe +A yard of land to labour, than to chance +Be debtor for a rood!" + +Wal. 'Twas a wise precept. +You've a fair house--you'll get a mistress for it? + +Clif. In time! + +Wal. In time! 'Tis time thy choice were made. +Is't not so yet? Or is thy lady love +The newest still thou seest? + +Clif. Nay, not so. +I'd marry, Master Walter, but old use - +For since the age of thirteen I have lived +In the world--has made me jealous of the thing +That flattered me with hope of profit. Bargains +Another would snap up, might be for me: +Till I had turned and turned them! Speculations, +That promised, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, +Ay, cent-per-cent. returns, I would not launch in, +When others were afloat, and out at sea; +Whereby I made small gains, but missed great losses. +As ever, then, I looked before I leaped, +So do I now. + +Wal. Thou'rt all the better for it! +Let's see! Hand free--heart whole--well-favoured--so! +Rich, titled! Let that pass!--kind, valiant, prudent - +Sir Thomas, I can help thee to a wife, +Hast thou the luck to win her! + +Clif. Master Walter! +You jest! + +Wal. I do not jest. I like you! mark - +I like you, and I like not everyone! +I say a wife, sir, can I help you to, +The pearly texture of whose dainty skin +Alone were worth thy baronetcy! Form +And feature has she, wherein move and glow +The charms, that in the marble, cold and still, +Culled by the sculptor's jealous skill and joined there, +Inspire us! Sir, a maid, before whose feet, +A duke--a duke might lay his coronet, +To lift her to his state, and partner her! +A fresh heart too!--a young fresh heart, sir; one +That Cupid has not toyed with, and a warm one - +Fresh, young, and warm! mark that! a mind to boot; +Wit, sir; sense, taste;--a garden strictly tended - +Where nought but what is costly flourishes! +A consort for a king, sir! Thou shalt see her! + +Clif. I thank you, Master Walter! As you speak, +Methinks I see me at the altar-foot! +Her hand fast locked in mine!--the ring put on! +My wedding-bell rings merry in my ear; +And round me throng glad tongues that give me joy +To be the bridegroom of so fair a bride! + +Wal. What! sparks so thick? We'll have a blaze anon! + +Servant. [Entering.] The chariot's at the door. + +Wal. It waits in time! +Sir Thomas, it shall bear thee to the bower +Where dwells this fair--for she's no city belle, +But e'en a sylvan goddess! + +Clif. Have with you! + +Wal. You'll bless the day you served the Hunchback, sir! + +[They go out.] + + +SCENE II.--A Garden before a Country House. + + +[Enter JULIA and HELEN.] + +Helen. I like not, Julia, this your country life. +I'm weary on't! + +Julia. Indeed? So am not I! +I know no other; would no other know! + +Helen. You would no other know! Would you not know +Another relative?--another friend - +Another house--another anything, +Because the ones you have already please you? +That's poor content! Would you not be more rich, +More wise, more fair? The song that last you learned +You fancy well; and therefore shall you learn +No other song? Your virginal, 'tis true, +Hath a sweet tone; but does it follow thence, +You shall not have another virginal? +You may, love, and a sweeter one; and so +A sweeter life may find than this you lead! + +Julia. I seek it not. Helen, I'm constancy! + +Helen. So is a cat, a dog, a silly hen, +An owl, a bat,--where they are wont to lodge +That still sojourn, nor care to shift their quarters. +Thou'rt constancy? I am glad I know thy name! +The spider comes of the same family, +That in his meshy fortress spends his life, +Unless you pull it down and scare him from it. +And so thou'rt constancy? Ar't proud of that? +I'll warrant thee I'll match thee with a snail +From year to year that never leaves his house! +Such constancy forsooth!--a constant grub +That houses ever in the self-same nut +Where he was born, till hunger drives him out, +Or plunder breaketh through his castle wall! +And so, in very deed, thou'rt constancy! + +Julia. Helen, you know the adage of the tree; - +I've ta'en the bend. This rural life of mine, +Enjoined me by an unknown father's will, +I've led from infancy. Debarred from hope +Of change, I ne'er have sighed for change. The town +To me was like the moon, for any thought +I e'er should visit it--nor was I schooled +To think it half so fair! + +Helen. Not half so fair! +The town's the sun, and thou hast dwelt in night +E'er since thy birth, not to have seen the town! +Their women there are queens, and kings their men; +Their houses palaces! + +Julia. And what of that? +Have your town-palaces a hall like this? +Couches so fragrant? walls so high-adorned? +Casements with such festoons, such prospects, Helen, +As these fair vistas have? Your kings and queens! +See me a May-day queen, and talk of them! + +Helen. Extremes are ever neighbours. 'Tis a step +From one to the other! Were thy constancy +A reasonable thing--a little less +Of constancy--a woman's constancy - +I should not wonder wert thou ten years hence +The maid I know thee now; but, as it is, +The odds are ten to one, that this day year +Will see our May-day queen a city one! + +Julia. Never! I'm wedded to a country life: +O, did you hear what Master Walter says! +Nine times in ten the town's a hollow thing, +Where what things are is nought to what they show; +Where merit's name laughs merit's self to scorn! +Where friendship and esteem that ought to be +The tenants of men's hearts, lodge in their looks +And tongues alone. Where little virtue, with +A costly keeper, passes for a heap; +A heap for none that has a homely one! +Where fashion makes the law--your umpire which +You bow to, whether it has brains or not! +Where Folly taketh off his cap and bells, +To clap on Wisdom, which must bear the jest! +Where to pass current you must seem the thing, +The passive thing, that others think; and not +Your simple, honest, independent self! + +Helen. Ay: so says Master Walter. See I not +What can you find in Master Walter, Julia, +To be so fond of him! + +Julia. He's fond of me! +I've known him since I was a child. E'en then, +The week I thought a weary, heavy one, +That brought not Master Walter. I had those +About me then that made a fool of me, +As children oft are fooled; but more I loved +Good Master Walter's lesson than the play +With which they'd surfeit me. As I grew up, +More frequent Master Walter came, and more +I loved to see him! I had tutors then, +Men of great skill and learning--but not one +That taught like Master Walter. What they'd show me, +And I, dull as I was, but doubtful saw, - +A word from Master Walter made as clear +As daylight! When my schooling days were o'er - +That's now good three years past--three years--I vow +I'm twenty, Helen!--well, as I was saying, +When I had done with school, and all were gone, +Still Master Walter came! and still he comes, +Summer or winter--frost or rain! I've seen +The snow upon a level with the hedge, +Yet there was Master Walter! + +Helen. Who comes here? +A carriage, and a gay one--who alights? +Pshaw! Only Master Walter! What see you, +Which thus repairs the arch of the fair brow, +A frown was like to spoil?--A gentleman! +One of our town kings! Mark!--How say you now? +Wouldst be a town queen, Julia? Which of us, +I wonder, comes he for? + +Julia. For neither of us; +He's Master Walter's clerk, most like. + +Helen. Most like! +Mark him as he comes up the avenue; +So looks a clerk! A clerk has such a gait! +So does a clerk dress, Julia!--mind his hose - +They're very like a clerk's! a diamond loop +And button, note you, for his clerkship's hat, - +O, certainly a clerk! A velvet cloak, +Jerkin of silk, and doublet of the same, - +For all the world a clerk! See, Julia, see, +How Master Walter bows, and yields him place, +That he may first go in--a very clerk! +I'll learn of thee, love, when I'd know a clerk! + +Julia. I wonder who he is! + +Helen. Wouldst like to know? +Wouldst for a fancy ride to town with him? +I prophesy he comes to take thee thither! + +Julia. He ne'er takes me to town! No, Helen, no! +To town who will, a country life for me! + +Helen. We'll see! + +[Enter FATHOM.] + +Fath. You're wanted, madam. + +Julia. [Embarrassed.] Which of us? + +Fath. You, madam. + +Helen. Julia! what's the matter? Nay, +Mount not the rose so soon! He must not see it +A month hence. 'Tis loves flower, which once she wears, +The maid is all his own. + +Julia. Go to! + +Helen. Be sure +He comes to woo thee! He will bear thee hence; +He'll make thee change the country for the town. + +Julia. I'm constancy. Name he the town to me, +I'll tell what I think on't! + +Helen. Then you guess +He comes a wooing? + +Julia. I guess nought. + +Helen. You do! +At your grave words, your lips, more honest, smile, +And show them to be traitors. Hie to him. + +Julia. Hie thee to soberness. + +[Goes out.] + +Helen. Ay, will I, when, +Thy bridemaid, I shall hie to church with thee. +Well, Fathom, who is come? + +Fath. I know not. + +Helen. What! Didst thou not hear his name? + +Fath. I did. + +Helen. What is't? + +Fath. I noted not. + +Helen. What hast thou ears for, then? + +Fath. What good were it for me to mind his name? +I do but what I must do. To do that +Is labour quite enough! + +Wal. [Without.] What, Fathom! + +Fath. Here. + +Wal. [Entering.] Here, sirrah! Wherefore didst not come to me? + +Fath. You did not bid me come. + +Wal. I called thee. + +Fath. Yes. +And I said "Here;" and waited then to know +Your worship's will with me. + +Wal. We go to town. +Thy mistress, thou, and all the house. + +Fath. Well, sir? + +Wal. Mak'st thou not ready then to go to town? +Hence, knave, despatch! + +[FATHOM goes out.] + +Helen. Go we to town? + +Wal. We do; +'Tis now her father's will she sees the town. + +Helen. I'm glad on't. Goes she to her father? + +Wal. No: +At the desire of thine she for a term shares roof with thee. + +Helen. I'm very glad on't. + +Wal. What! +You like her, then? I thought you would. 'Tis time +She sees the town. + +Helen. It has been time for that +These six years. + +Wal. By thy wisdom's count. No doubt +You've told her what a precious place it is. + +Helen. I have. + +Wal. I even guessed as much. For that +I told thee of her; brought thee here to see her; +And prayed thee to sojourn a space with her; +That its fair space, from thy too fair report, +Might strike a novice less--so less deceive her. +I did not put thee under check. + +Helen. 'Twas right, - +Else had I broken loose, and run the wilder! +So knows she not her father yet: that's strange. +I prithee how does mine? + +Wal. Well--very well. +News for thee. + +Helen. What? + +Wal. Thy cousin is in town. + +Helen. My cousin Modus? + +Wal. Much do I suspect +That cousin's nearer to thy heart than blood. + +Helen. Pshaw! Wed me to a musty library! +Love him who nothing loves but Greek and Latin! +But, Master Walter, you forget the main +Surpassing point of all! Who's come with you? + +Wal. Ay, that's the question! + +Helen. Is he soldier or +Civilian? lord or gentleman? He's rich, +If that's his chariot! Where is his estate? +What brings it in? Six thousand pounds a year? +Twelve thousand, may be! Is he bachelor, +Or husband? Bachelor I'm sure he is +Comes he not hither wooing, Master Walter? +Nay, prithee, answer me! + +Wal. Who says thy sex +Are curious? That they're patient, I'll be sworn; +And reasonable--very reasonable - +To look for twenty answers in a breath! +Come, thou shalt be enlightened--but propound +Thy questions one by one! Thou'rt far too apt +A scholar! My ability to teach +Will ne'er keep pace, I fear, with thine to learn. + +[They go out.] + + +SCENE III.--An Apartment in the House. + + +[Enter JULIA, followed by CLIFFORD.] + +Julia. No more! I pray you, sir, no more! + +Clif. I love you! + +Julia. You mock me, sir! + +Clif. Then is there no such thing +On earth as reverence; honour filial, the fear +Of kings, the awe of supreme heaven itself, +Are only shows and sounds that stand for nothing. +I love you! + +Julia. You have known me scarce a minute! + +Clif. Say but a moment, still I say I love you! +Love's not a flower that grows on the dull earth; +Springs by the calendar; must wait for the sun - +For rain;--matures by parts;--must take its time +To stem, to leaf, to bud, to blow. It owns +A richer soil, and boasts a quicker seed! +You look for it, and see it not; and lo! +E'en while you look, the peerless flower is up. +Consummate in the birth! + +Julia. Is't fear I feel? +Why else should beat my heart? It can't be fear! +Something I needs must say. You're from the town; +How comes it, sir, you seek a country wife? +Methinks 'twill tax his wit to answer that. + +Clif. In joining contrasts lieth love's delight. +Complexion, stature, nature, mateth it, +Not with their kinds, but with their opposites. +Hence hands of snow in palms of russet lie; +The form of Hercules affects the sylph's; +And breasts, that case the lion's fear-proof heart, +Find their meet lodge in arms where tremors dwell! +Haply for this, on Afric's swarthy neck, +Hath Europe's priceless pearl been seen to hang, +That makes the orient poor! So with degrees, +Rank passes by the circlet-graced brow, +Upon the forehead, bare, of notelessness +To print the nuptial kiss. As with degrees +So is't with habits; therefore I, indeed +A gallant of the town, the town forsake, +To win a country wife. + +Julia. His prompt reply +My backward challenge shames! Must I give o'er? +I'll try his wit again. Who marries me +Must lead a country life. + +Clif. The life I'd lead! +But fools would fly from it; for O! 'tis sweet! +It finds the heart out, be there one to find; +And corners in't where store of pleasures lodge, +We never dreamed were there! It is to dwell +'Mid smiles that are not neighbours to deceit; +Music, whose melody is of the heart; +And gifts, that are not made for interest, - +Abundantly bestowed by Nature's cheek, +And voice, and hand! It is to live on life, +And husband it! It is to constant scan +The handiwork of Heaven. It is to con +Its mercy, bounty, wisdom, power! It is +To nearer see our God! + +Julia. How like he talks +To Master Walter! Shall I give it o'er? +Not yet. Thou wouldst not live one half a year! +A quarter mightst thou for the novelty +Of fields and trees; but then it needs must be +In summer time, when they go dressed. + +Clif. Not it! +In any time--say winter! Fields and trees +Have charms for me in very winter time. + +Julia. But snow may clothe them then. + +Clif. I like them full +As well in snow! + +Julia. You do? + +Clif. I do. + +Julia. But night +Will hide both snow and them, and that sets in +Ere afternoon is out. A heavy thing, +A country fireside in a winter's night, +To one bred in the town,--where winter's said, +For sun of gaiety and sportiveness, +To beggar shining summer. + +Clif. I should like +A country winter's night especially! + +Julia. You'd sleep by the fire. + +Clif. Not I; I'd talk to thee. + +Julia. You'd tire of that! + +Clif. I'd read to thee. + +Julia. And that! + +Clif. I'd talk to thee again. + +Julia. And sooner tire +Than first you did, and fall asleep at last. +You'd never do to lead a country life. + +Clif. You deal too harshly with me! Matchless maid, +As loved instructor brightens dullest wit, +Fear not to undertake the charge of me! +A willing pupil kneels to thee, and lays +His title and his fortune at your feet. + +Julia. His title and his fortune! + +[Enter MASTER WALTER and HELEN.--JULIA, disconcerted, retires with +the latter.--CLIFFORD rises.] + +Wal. So, Sir Thomas! +Aha! you husband time! Well, was I right? +Is't not the jewel that I told you 'twas? +Wouldst thou not give thine eyes to wear it? Eh? +It has an owner, though,--nay, start not,--one +That may be bought to part with't, and with whom +I'll stand thy friend--I will--I say, I will! +A strange man, sir, and unaccountable: +But I can humour him--will humour him +For thy sake, good Sir Thomas; for I like thee. +Well, is't a bargain? Come, thy hand upon it. +A word or two with thee. + +[They retire. JULIA and HELEN come forward.] + +Julia. Go up to town! + +Helen. Have I not said it ten times o'er to thee? +But if thou likest it not, protest against it. + +Julia. Not if 'tis Master Walter's will. + +Helen. What then? +Thou wouldst not break thy heart for Master Walter? + +Julia. That follows not! + +Helen. What follows not? + +Julia. That I +Should break my heart, because we go to town. + +Helen. Indeed?--Oh, that's another matter. Well, +I'd e'en advise thee then to do his will; +And, ever after, when I prophesy, +Believe me, Julia! + +[They retire. MASTER WALTER comes forward.] + +[Enter FATHOM.] + +Fath. So please you, sir, a letter,--a post-haste letter! The +bearer on horseback, the horse in a foam--smoking like a boiler at +the heat--be sure a posthaste letter! + +Wal. Look to the horse and rider. + +[Opens the letter and reads.] + +What's this? A testament addressed to me, +Found in his lordship's escritoire, and thence +Directed to be taken by no hand +But mine. My presence instantly required. + +[SIR THOMAS, JULIA, and HELEN come forward.] + +Come, my mistresses, +You dine in town to-day. Your father's will, +It is, my Julia, that you see the world; +And thou shalt see it in its best attire. +Its gayest looks--its richest finery +It shall put on for thee, that thou may'st judge +Betwixt it, and this rural life you've lived. +Business of moment I'm but thus advised of, +Touching the will of my late noble master, +The Earl of Rochdale, recently deceased, +Commands me for a time to leave thee there. +Sir Thomas, hand her to the chariot. Nay, +I tell thee true. We go indeed to town! + +[They go out.] + + + +ACT II. + + + +SCENE I.--An Apartment in Master Heartwell's House. + + +[Enter FATHOM and THOMAS.] + +Thos. Well, Fathom, is thy mistress up? + +Fath. She is, Master Thomas, and breakfasted. + +Thos. She stands it well! 'Twas five, you say, when she came home; +and wants it now three-quarters of an hour of ten? Wait till her +stock of country health is out. + +Fath. 'Twill come to that, Master Thomas, before she lives another +month in town! three, four, five six o'clock are now the hours she +keeps. 'Twas otherwise with her in the country. There, my mistress +used to rise what time she now lies down. + +Thos. Why, yes; she's changed since she came hither. + +Fath. Changed, do you say, Master Thomas? Changed, forsooth! I +know not the thing in which she is not changed, saving that she is +still a woman. I tell thee there is no keeping pace with her moods. +In the country she had none of them. When I brought what she asked +for, it was "Thank you, Fathom," and no more to do; but now, nothing +contents her. Hark ye! were you a gentleman, Master Thomas,--for +then you know you would be a different kind of man,--how many times +would you have your coat altered? + +Thos. Why, Master Fathom, as many times as it would take to make it +fit me. + +Fath. Good! But, supposing it fitted thee at the first? + +Thos. Then would I have it altered not at all. + +Fath. Good! Thou wouldst be a reasonable gentleman. Thou wouldst +have a conscience. Now hark to a tale about my lady's last gown. +How many times, think you, took I it back to the sempstress? + +Thos. Thrice, may be. + +Fath. Thrice, may be! Twenty times, may be; and not a turn too +many, for the truth on't. Twenty times, on the oath of the +sempstress. Now mark me--can you count? + +Thos. After a fashion. + +Fath. You have much to be thankful for, Master Thomas. You London +serving-men have a world of things, which we in the country never +dream of. Now mark:- Four times took I it back for the flounce; +twice for the sleeves; three for the tucker--How many times in all +is that? + +Thos. Eight times to a fraction, Master Fathom. + +Fath. What a master of figures you are! Eight times--now recollect +that! And then found she fault with the trimmings. Now tell me, +how many times took I back the gown for the trimmings? + +Thos. Eight times more, perhaps! + +Fath. Ten times to a certainty. How many times makes that? + +Thos. Eighteen, Master Fathom, by the rule of addition. + +Fath. And how many times more will make twenty? + +Thee. Twice, by the same rule. + +Fath. Thou hast worked with thy pencil and slate, Master Thomas! +Well, ten times, as I said, took I back the gown for the trimmings; +and was she content after all? I warrant you no, or my ears did not +pay for it. She wished, she said, that the slattern sempstress had +not touched the gown, for nought had she done but botched it. Now +what think you had the sempstress done to the gown? + +Thos. To surmise that, I must be learned in the sempstress's art. + +Fath. The sempstress's art! Thou hast hit it! Oh, the sweet +sempstress! the excellent sempstress! Mistress of her scissors and +needles, which are pointless and edgeless to her art! The +sempstress had done nothing to the gown; yet raves and storms my +mistress at her for having botched it in the making and mending; and +orders her straight to make another one, which home the sempstress +brings on Tuesday last. + +Thos. And found thy fair mistress as many faults with that? + +Fath. Not one! She finds it a very pattern of a gown! A well- +sitting flounce! The sleeves a fit--the tucker a fit--the trimmings +her fancy to a T--ha! ha! ha! and she praised the sempstress--ha! +ha! ha! and she smiles at me, and I smile--ha! ha! ha! and the +sempstress smiles--ha! ha! ha! Now, why did the sempstress smile? + +Thos. That she had succeeded so well in her art. + +Fath. Thou hast hit it again! The jade must have been born a +sempstress! If ever I marry, she shall work for my wife. The gown +was the same gown, and there was my mistress's twentieth mood! + +Thos. What think you will Master Walter say when he comes back? I +fear he'll hardly know his country maid again. Has she yet fixed +her wedding-day? + +Fath. She has, Master Thomas. I coaxed it from her maid. She +marries, Monday week. + +Thos. Comes not Master Walter back to-day? + +Fath. Your master expects him. [A ringing.] Perhaps that's he. I +prithee go and open the door; do, Master Thomas, do; for proves it +my master, he'll surely question me. + +Thos. And what should I do? + +Fath. Answer him, Master Thomas, and make him none the wiser. +He'll go mad, when he learns how my lady flaunts it! Go! open the +door, I prithee. Fifty things, Master Thomas, know you, for one +thing that I know! You can turn and twist a matter into any other +kind of matter; and then twist and turn it back again, if needs be; +so much you servants of the town beat us of the country, Master +Thomas. Open the door, now; do, Master Thomas, do! + +[They go out.] + + +SCENE II.--A Garden with two Arbours. + + +[Enter MASTER HEARTWELL and MASTER WALTER meeting.] + +Heart. Good Master Walter, welcome back again! + +Wal. I'm glad to see you, Master Heartwell! + +Heart. How, +I pray you, sped the mighty business which +So sudden called you hence? + +Wal. Weighty, indeed! +What thou wouldst ne'er expect--wilt scarce believe! +Long-hidden wrong, wondrously come to light, +And great right done! But more of this anon. +Now of my ward discourse! Likes she the town? +How does she? Is she well? Canst match me her +Among your city maids? + +Heart. Nor court ones neither! +She far outstrips them all! + +Wal. I knew she would. +What else could follow in a maid so bred? +A pure mind, Master Heartwell!--not a taint +From intercourse with the distempered town; +With which all contact was walled out, until, +Matured in soundness, I could trust her to it, +And sleep amidst infection! + +Heart. Master Walter! + +Wal. Well? + +Heart. Tell me, prithee, which is likelier +To plough a sea in safety?--he that's wont +To sail in it,--or he that by the chart +Is master of its soundings, bearings,--knows +Is headlands, havens, currents--where 'tis bold, +And where behoves to keep a good look-out. +The one will swim, where sinks the other one? + +Wal. The drift of this? + +Heart. Do you not guess it? + +Wal. Humph! + +Heart. If you would train a maid to live in town, +Breed her not in the country! + +Wal. Say you so? +And stands she not the test? + +Heart. As snow stands fire! +Your country maid has melted all away, +And plays the city lady to the height; +Her mornings gives to mercers, milliners, +Shoemakers, jewellers, and haberdashers; +Her noons, to calls; her afternoons, to dressing; +Evenings, to plays and drums; and nights, to routs, +Balls, masquerades! Sleep only ends the riot, +Which waking still begins! + +Wal. I'm all amaze! +How bears Sir Thomas this? + +Heart. Why, patiently; +Though one can see with pain. + +Wal. She loves him? Ha! +That shrug is doubt! She'd ne'er consent to wed him +Unless she loved him!--never! Her young fancy +The pleasures of the town--new things--have caught, +Anon their hold will slacken; she'll become +Her former self again; to its old train +Of sober feelings will her heart return; +And then she'll give it wholly to the man +Her virgin wishes chose! + +Heart. Here comes Sir Thomas; +And with him Master Modus. + +Wal. Let them pass: +I would not see him till I speak with her. + +[They retire into one of the Arbours.] + +[Enter CLIFFORD and MODUS.] + +Clif. A dreadful question is it, when we love, +To ask if love's returned! I did believe +Fair Julia's heart was mine--I doubt it now! +But once last night she danced with me, her hand, +To this gallant and that engaged, as soon +As asked for? Maid that loved would scarce do this? +Nor visit we together as we used, +When first she came to town. She loves me less +Than once she did--or loves me not at all. + +Mod. I'm little skilled, Sir Thomas, in the world: +What mean you now to do? + +Clif. Remonstrate with her; +Come to an understanding, and, at once, +If she repents her promise to be mine, +Absolve her from it--and say farewell to her. + +Mod. Lo, then, your opportunity--she comes - +My cousin also: --her will I engage, +Whilst you converse together. + +Clif. Nay, not yet! +My heart turns coward at the sight of her. +Stay till it finds new courage! Let them pass. + +[CLIFFORD and MODUS retire into the other Arbour.] + +[Enter JULIA and HELEN.] + +Helen. So, Monday week will say good morn to thee +A maid, and bid good night a sober wife! + +Julia. That Monday week, I trust, will never come, +That brags to make a sober wife of me! + +Helen. How changed you are, my Julia! + +Julia. Change makes change. + +Helen. Why wedd'st thou, then? + +Julia. Because I promised him! + +Helen. Thou lovest him? + +Julia. Do I? + +Helen. He's a man to love! +A right well-favoured man! + +Julia. Your point's well favoured. +Where did you purchase it? In Gracechurch Street? + +Helen. Pshaw! never mind my point, but talk of him. + +Julia. I'd rather talk with thee about the lace. +Where bought you it? In Gracechurch Street, Cheapside, +Whitechapel, Little Britain? Can't you say +Where 'twas you bought the lace? + +Helen. In Cheapside, then. +And now, then, to Sir Thomas! He is just +The height I like a man. + +Julia. Thy feather's just +The height I like a feather! Mine's too short! +What shall I give thee in exchange for it? + +Helen. What shall I give thee for a minute's talk +About Sir Thomas? + +Julia. Why, thy feather. + +Helen. Take it! + +Clif. [Aside to Modus.] What, likes she not to speak of me? + +Helen. And now +Let's talk about Sir Thomas--much I'm sure +He loves you. + +Julia. Much I'm sure, he has a right! +Those know I who would give their eyes to be +Sir Thomas, for my sake! + +Helen. Such too, know I. +But 'mong them none that can compare with him, +Not one so graceful. + +Julia. What a graceful set +Your feather has! + +Helen. Nay, give it back to me, +Unless you pay me for't. + +Julia. What was't to get? + +Helen. A minute's talk with thee about Sir Thomas. + +Julia. Talk of his title, and his fortune then. + +Clif. [Aside.] Indeed! I would not listen, yet I must! + +Julia. An ample fortune, Helen--I shall be +A happy wife! What routs, what balls, what masques, +What gala-days! + +Clif. [Aside.] For these she marries me! +She'll talk of these! + +Julia. Think not, when I am wed, +I'll keep the house as owlet does her tower, +Alone,--when every other bird's on wing. +I'll use my palfrey, Helen; and my coach; +My barge, too, for excursion on the Thames: +What drives to Barnet, Hackney, Islington! +What rides to Epping, Hounslow, and Blackheath! +What sails to Greenwich, Woolwich, Fulham, Kew! +I'll set a pattern to your lady wives! + +Clif. [Aside.] Ay, lady? Trust me, not at my expense. + +Julia. And what a wardrobe! I'll have change of suits +For every day in the year! and sets for days! +My morning dress, my noon dress, dinner dress, +And evening dress! Then will I show you lace +A foot deep, can I purchase; if not, +I'll specially bespeak it. Diamonds too! +Not buckles, rings, and earrings only--but +Whole necklaces and stomachers of gems! +I'll shine! be sure I will. + +Clif. [Aside.] Then shine away; +Who covets thee may wear thee;--I'm not he! + +Julia. And then my title! Soon as I put on +The ring, I'm Lady Clifford. So I take +Precedence of plain mistress, were she e'en +The richest heiress in the land! At town +Or country ball, you'll see me take the lead, +While wives that carry on their backs the wealth +To dower a princess, shall give place to me; - +Will I not profit, think you, by my right? +Be sure I will! marriage shall prove to me +A never-ending pageant. Every day +Shall show how I am spoused! I will be known +For Lady Clifford all the city through, +And fifty miles the country round about. +Wife of Sir Thomas Clifford, baronet - +Not perishable knight--who, when he makes +A lady of me, doubtless must expect +To see me play the part of one. + +Clif. [Coming forward.] Most true; +But not the part which you design to play. + +Julia. A listener, sir! + +Clif. By chance, and not intent, +Your speech was forced upon mine ear, that ne'er +More thankless duty to my heart discharged! +Would for that heart it ne'er had known the sense +Which tells it 'tis a bankrupt, there, where most +It coveted to be rich, and thought it was so! +O Julia, is it you? Could I have set +A coronet upon that stately brow, +Where partial nature hath already bound +A brighter circlet--radiant beauty's own - +I had been proud to see thee proud of it, +So for the donor thou hadst ta'en the gift, +Not for the gift ta'en him. Could I have poured +The wealth of richest Croesus in thy lap, +I had been blest to see thee scatter it, +So I was still thy riches paramount! + +Julia. Know you me, sir! + +Clif. I do. On Monday week +We were to wed--and are--so you're content; +The day that weds, wives you to be widowed. Take +The privilege of my wife; be Lady Clifford! +Outshine the title in the wearing on't! +My coffers, lands, all are at thy command; +Wear all! but, for myself, she wears not me, +Although the coveted of every eye, +Who would not wear me for myself alone. + +Julia. And do you carry it so proudly, sir? + +Clif. Proudly, but still more sorrowfully, lady! +I'll lead thee to the church on Monday week. +Till then, farewell and then, farewell for ever! +O Julia, I have ventured for thy love, +As the bold merchant, who, for only hope +Of some rich gain, all former gains will risk. +Before I asked a portion of thy heart, +I perilled all my own; and now, all's lost! + +[CLIFFORD and MODUS go out.] + +Julia. Helen! + +Helen. What ails you, sweet? + +Julia. I cannot breathe--quick, loose my girdle, oh! + +[Faints.] + +[MASTER WALTER and MASTER HEARTWELL come forward.] + +Wal. Good Master Heartwell, help to take her in, +Whilst I make after him! and look to her! +Unlucky chance that took me out of town! + +[They go out severally.] + + +SCENE III.--The Street. + + +[Enter CLIFFORD and STEPHEN, meeting.] + +Ste. Letters, Sir Thomas. + +Clif. Take them home again, +I shall not read them now. + +Ste. Your pardon, sir, +But here is one directed strangely. + +Clif. How? + +Ste. "To Master Clifford, gentleman, now styled +Sir Thomas Clifford, baronet." + +Clif. Indeed! +Whence comes that letter? + +Ste. From abroad. + +Clif. Which is it? + +Ste. So please you, this, Sir Thomas. + +Clif. Give it me. + +Ste. That letter brings not news to wish him joy upon. If he was +disturbed before, which I guessed by his looks he was, he is not +more at ease now. His hand to his head! A most unwelcome letter! +If it brings him news of disaster, fortune does not give him his +deserts; for never waited servant upon a kinder master. + +Clif. Stephen! + +Ste. Sir Thomas! + +Clif. From my door remove +The plate that bears my name. + +Ste. The plate, Sir Thomas! + +Clif. The plate--collect my servants and instruct them +To make out each their claims, unto the end +Of their respective terms, and give them in +To my steward. Him and them apprise, good fellow, +That I keep house no more. As you go home, +Call at my coachmaker's and bid him stop +The carriage I bespoke. The one I have +Send with my horses to the mart whereat +Such things are sold by auction. They're for sale; +Pack up my wardrobe, have my trunks conveyed +To the inn in the next street; and when that's done, +Go round my tradesmen and collect their bills, +And bring them to me at the inn. + +Ste. The inn! + +Clif. Yes; I go home no more. Why, what's the matter? +What has fallen out to make your eyes fill up? +You'll get another place. I'll certify +You're honest and industrious, and all +That a servant ought to be. + +Ste. I see, Sir Thomas, +Some great misfortune has befallen you? + +Clif. No! +I have health; I have strength; my reason, Stephen, and +A heart that's clear in truth, with trust in God. +No great disaster can befall the man +Who's still possessed of these! Good fellow, leave me. +What you would learn, and have a right to know, +I would not tell you now. Good Stephen, hence! +Mischance has fallen on me--but what of that? +Mischance has fallen on many a better man. +I prithee leave me. I grow sadder while +I see the eye with which you view my grief. +'Sdeath, they will out! I would have been a man, +Had you been less a kind and gentle one. +Now, as you love me, leave me. + +Ste. Never master +So well deserved the love of him that served him. + +[STEPHEN goes out.] + +Clif. Misfortune liketh company; it seldom +Visits its friends alone. Ha! Master Walter, +And ruffled too. I'm in no mood for him. + +[Enter MASTER WALTER.] + +Wal. So, Sir--Sir Thomas Clifford! what with speed +And choler--I do gasp for want of breath. + +Clif. Well, Master Walter? + +Wal. You're a rash young man, sir; +Strong-headed and wrong-headed, and I fear, sir, +Not over delicate in that fine sense +Which men of honour pride themselves upon! + +Clif. Well, Master Walter? + +Wal. A young woman's heart, sir, +Is not a stone to carve a posy on! +Which knows not what is writ on't; which you may buy, +Exchange, or sell, sir, keep or give away, sir: +It is a richer--yet a poorer thing; +Priceless to him that owns and prizes it; +Worthless, when owned, not prized; which makes the man +That covets it, obtains it, and discards it - +A fool, if not a villain, sir. + +Clif. Well, sir? + +Wal. You never loved my ward, sir! + +Clif. The bright Heavens +Bear witness that I did! + +Wal. The bright Heavens, sir, +Bear not false witness. That you loved her not +Is clear--for had you loved her, you'd have plucked +Your heart from out your breast, ere cast her from your heart! +Old as I am, I know what passion is. +It is the summer's heat, sir, which in vain +We look for frost in. Ice, like you, sir, knows +But little of such heat! We are wronged, sir, wronged! +You wear a sword, and so do I. + +Clif. Well, sir! + +Wal. You know the use, sir, of a sword? + +Clif. I do. +To whip a knave, sir, or an honest man! +A wise man or a fool--atone for wrong, +Or double the amount on't! Master Walter, +Touching your ward, if wrong is done, I think +On my side lies the grievance. I would not say so +Did I not think so. As for love--look, sir, +That hand's a widower's, to its first mate sworn +To clasp no second one. As for amends, sir, +You're free to get them from a man in whom +You've been forestalled by fortune, for the spite +Which she has vented on him, if you still +Esteem him worth your anger. Please you read +That letter. Now, sir, judge if life is dear +To one so much a loser. + +Wal. What, all gone! +Thy cousin living they reported dead! + +Clif. Title and land, sir, unto which add love! +All gone, save life and honour, which, ere I'll lose, +I'll let the other go. + +Wal. We're public here, +And may be interrupted. Let us seek +Some spot of privacy. Your letter, sir. + +[Gives it back.] + +Though fortune slights you, I'll not slight you; not +Your title or the lack of it I heed. +Whether upon the score of love or hate, +With you and you alone I settle, sir. +We've gone too far. 'Twere folly now to part +Without a reckoning. + +Clif. Just as you please. + +Wal. You've done +A noble lady wrong. + +Clif. That lady, sir, +Has done me wrong. + +Wal. Go to, thou art a boy +Fit to be trusted with a plaything, not +A woman's heart. Thou knowest not what it is! +And that I'll prove to thee, soon as we find +Convenient place. Come on, sir! you shall get +A lesson that shall serve you for the rest +Of your life. I'll make you own her, sir, a piece +Of Nature's handiwork, as costly, free +From bias, flaw, and fair, as ever yet +Her cunning hand turned out. Come on, sir! come! + +[They go out.] + + + +ACT III. + + + +SCENE I.--A Drawing-room. + + +[ENTER LORD TINSEL and the EARL OF ROCHDALE.] + +Tin. Refuse a lord! A saucy lady this. +I scarce can credit it. + +Roch. She'll change her mind. +My agent, Master Walter, is her guardian. + +Tin. How can you keep that Hunchback in his office? +He mocks you. + +Roch. He is useful. Never heed him. +My offer now do I present through him. +He has the title-deeds of my estates, +She'll listen to their wooing. I must have her. +Not that I love her, but that all allow +She's fairest of the fair. + +Tin. Distinguished well! +'Twere most unseemly for a lord to love! - +Leave that to commoners! 'Tis vulgar--she's +Betrothed, you tell me, to Sir Thomas Clifford? + +Roch. Yes. + +Tin. That a commoner should thwart a lord! +Yet not a commoner. A baronet +Is fish and flesh. Nine parts plebeian, and +Patrician in the tenth. Sir Thomas Clifford! +A man, they say, of brains! I abhor brains +As I do tools: they're things mechanical. +So far are we above our forefathers +They to their brains did owe their titles, as +Do lawyers, doctors. We to nothing owe them, +Which makes us far the nobler. + +Roch. Is it so? + +Tin. Believe me. You shall profit by my training; +You grow a lord apace. I saw you meet +A bevy of your former friends, who fain +Had shaken hands with you. You gave them fingers! +You're now another man. Your house is changed - +Your table changed--your retinue--your horse - +Where once you rode a hack, you now back blood; - +Befits it, then, you also change your friends! + +[Enter WILLIAMS.] + +Will. A gentleman would see your lordship. + +Tin. Sir! +What's that? + +Will. A gentleman would see his lordship. + +Tin. How know you, sir, his lordship is at home? +Is he at home because he goes not out? +He's not at home, though there you see him, sir; +Unless he certify that he's at home! +Bring up the name of the gentleman, and then +Your lord will know if he's at home or not. + +[WILLIAMS goes out.] + +Your man was porter to some merchant's door, +Who never taught him better breeding +Than to speak the vulgar truth! Well, sir? + +[WILLIAMS having re-entered.] + +Will. His name, +So please your lordship, Markham. + +Tin. Do you know +The thing? + +Roch. Right well! I'faith a hearty fellow, +Son to a worthy tradesman, who would do +Great things with little means; so entered him +In the Temple. A good fellow, on my life. +Nought smacking of his stock! + +Tin. You've said enough! +His lordship's not at home. + +[WILLIAMS goes out.] + +We do not go +By hearts, but orders! Had he family - +Blood--though it only were a drop--his heart +Would pass for something; lacking such desert, +Were it ten times the heart it is, 'tis nought! + +[Enter WILLIAMS.] + +Will. One Master Jones hath asked to see you lordship. + +Tin. And what was your reply to Master Jones? + +Will. I knew not if his lordship was at home. + +Tin. You'll do. Who's Master Jones? + +Roch. A curate's son. + +Tin. A curate's! Better be a yeoman's son! +Was it the rector's son, he might be known, +Because the rector is a rising man, +And may become a bishop. He goes light, +The curate ever hath a loaded back! +He may be called the yeoman of the church, +That sweating does his work, and drudges on, +While lives the hopeful rector at his ease. +How made you his acquaintance, pray? + +Roch. We read +Latin and Greek together. + +Tin. Dropping them - +As, now that you're a lord, of course you've done - +Drop him--You'll say his lordship's not at home. + +Will. So please your lordship, I forgot to say, +One Richard Cricket likewise is below. + +Tin. Who?--Richard Cricket! You must see him, Rochdale! +A noble little fellow! A great man, sir! +Not knowing whom, you would be nobody! +I won five thousand pounds by him! + +Roch. Who is he? +I never heard of him. + +Tin. What! never heard +Of Richard Cricket!--never heard of him! +Why, he's the jockey of Newmarket; you +May win a cup by him, or else a sweepstakes. +I bade him call upon you. You must see him. +His lordship is at home to Richard Cricket. + +Roch. Bid him wait in the ante-room. + +[WILLIAMS goes out.] + +Tin. The ante-room! +The best room in your house! You do not know +The use of Richard Cricket! Show him, sir, +Into the drawing-room. Your lordship needs +Must keep a racing stud, and you'll do well +To make a friend of Richard Cricket. Well, sir: +What's that? + +[Enter WILLIAMS.] + +Will. So please your lordship, a petition. + +Tin. Hadst not a service 'mongst the Hottentots +Ere thou camest hither, friend? Present thy lord +With a petition! At mechanics' doors, +At tradesmen's, shopkeepers', and merchants' only, +Have such things leave to knock! Make thy lord's gate +A wicket to a workhouse! Let us see it - +Subscriptions to a book of poetry! +Cornelius Tense, M.A. +Which means he construes Greek and Latin, works +Problems in mathematics, can chop logic, +And is a conjurer in philosophy, +Both natural and moral.--Pshaw! a man +Whom nobody, that is anybody, knows! +Who, think you, follows him? Why, an M.D., +An F.R.S., an F.AS., and then +A D.D., Doctor of Divinity, +Ushering in an LL.D., which means +Doctor of Laws--their harmony, no doubt, +The difference of their trades! There's nothing here +But languages, and sciences, and arts. +Not an iota of nobility! +We cannot give our names. Take back the paper, +And tell the bearer there's no answer for him:- +That is the lordly way of saying "No." +But, talking of subscriptions, here is one +To which your lordship may affix your name. + +Roch. Pray, who's the object? + +Tin. A most worthy man! +A man of singular deserts; a man +In serving whom your lordship will serve me, - +Signor Cantata. + +Roch. He's a friend of yours? + +Tin. Oh, no, I know him not! I've not that pleasure. +But Lady Dangle knows him; she's his friend, +He will oblige us with a set of concerts, +Six concerts to the set.--The set, three guineas. +Your lordship will subscribe? + +Roch. Oh, by all means. + +Tin. How many sets of tickets? Two at least. +You'll like to take a friend? I'll set you down +Six guineas to Signor Cantata's concerts, +And now, my Lord, we'll to him; then we'll walk. + +Roch. Nay, I would wait the lady's answer. + +Tin. Wait! take an excursion to the country; let +Her answer wait for you! + +Roch. Indeed! + +Tin. Indeed! +Befits a lord nought like indifference. +Say an estate should fall to you, you'd take it +As it concerned more a stander by +Than you. As you're a lord, be sure you ever +Of that make little other men make much of; +Nor do the thing they do, but the right contrary. +Where the distinction else 'twixt them and you? + +[They go out.] + + +SCENE II.--An Apartment in Master Heartwell's House. + + +[MASTER WALTER discovered looking through title-deeds and papers.] + +Wal. So falls out everything, as I would have it, +Exact in place and time. This lord's advances +Receives she,--as, I augur, in the spleen +Of wounded pride she will,--my course is clear. +She comes--all's well--the tempest rages still. + +[JULIA enters, and paces the room in a state of high excitement.] + +Julia. What have my eyes to do with water? Fire +Becomes them better! + +Wal. True! + +Julia. Yet, must I weep +To be so monitored, and by a man! +A man that was my slave! whom I have seen +Kneel at my feet from morn till noon, content +With leave to only gaze upon my face, +And tell me what he read there,--till the page +I knew by heart, I 'gan to doubt I knew, +Emblazoned by the comment of his tongue! +And he to lesson me! Let him come here +On Monday week! He ne'er leads me to church! +I would not profit by his rank, or wealth, +Though kings might call him cousin, for their sake! +I'll show him I have pride! + +Wal. You're very right! + +Julia. He would have had to-day our wedding-day! +I fixed a month from this. He prayed and prayed; +I dropped a week. He prayed and prayed the more! +I dropped a second one. Still more he prayed! +And I took off another week,--and now +I have his leave to wed, or not to wed! +He'll see that I have pride! + +Wal. And so he ought. + +Julia. O! for some way to bring him to my foot! +But he should lie there! Why, 'twill go abroad +That he has cast me off. That there should live +The man could say so! Or that I should live +To be the leavings of a man! + +Wal. Thy case +I own a hard one! + +Julia. Hard? 'Twill drive me mad! +His wealth and title! I refused a lord - +I did!--that privily implored my hand, +And never cared to tell him on't! So much +I hate him now, that lord should not in vain +Implore my hand again! + +Wal. You'd give it him? + +Julia. I would. + +Wal. You'd wed that lord? + +Julia. That lord I'd wed; - +Or any other lord,--only to show him +That I could wed above him! + +Wal. Give me your hand +And word to that. + +Julia. There! Take my hand and word! + +Wal. That lord hath offered you his hand again. + +Julia. He has? + +Wal. Your father knows it: he approves of him. +There are the title-deeds of the estates, +Sent for my jealous scrutiny. All sound, - +No flaw, or speck, that e'en the lynx-eyed law +Itself could find. A lord of many lands! +In Berkshire half a county; and the same +In Wiltshire, and in Lancashire! Across +The Irish Sea a principality! +And not a rood with bond or lien on it! +Wilt give that lord a wife? Wilt make thyself +A countess? Here's the proffer of his hand. +Write thou content, and wear a coronet! + +Julia. [Eagerly.] Give me the paper. + +Wal. There! Here's pen and ink. +Sit down. Why do you pause? A flourish of +The pen, and you're a countess. + +Julia. My poor brain +Whirls round and round! I would not wed him now, +Were he more lowly at my feet to sue +Than e'er he did! + +Wal. Wed whom? + +Julia. Sir Thomas Clifford. + +Wal. You're right. + +Julia. His rank and wealth are roots to doubt; +And while they lasted, still the weed would grow, +Howe'er you plucked it. No! That's o'er--that's done. +Was never lady wronged so foul as I! [Weeps.] + +Wal. Thou'rt to be pitied. + +Julia. [Aroused.] Pitied! Not so bad +As that. + +Wal. Indeed thou art, to love the man +That spurns thee! + +Julia. Love him! Love! If hate could find +A word more harsh than its own name, I'd take it, +To speak the love I bear him! [Weeps.] + +Wal. Write thy own name, +And show him how near akin thy hate's to hate. + +Julia. [Writes.] 'Tis done! + +Wal. 'Tis well! I'll come to you anon! [Goes out.] + +Julia. [Alone.] I'm glad 'tis done! I'm very glad 'tis done! +I've done the thing I ought. From my disgrace +This lord shall lift me 'bove the reach of scorn - +That idly wags its tongue, where wealth and state +Need only beckon to have crowds to laud! +Then how the tables change! The hand he spurned +His betters take! Let me remember that! +I'll grace my rank! I will! I'll carry it +As I was born to it! I warrant none +Shall say it fits me not:- but, one and all +Confess I wear it bravely, as I ought! +And he shall hear it! Ay, and he shall see it! +I will roll by him in an equipage +Would mortgage his estate--but he shall own +His slight of me was my advancement! Love me! +He never loved me! if he had, he ne'er +Had given me up! Love's not a spider's web +But fit to mesh a fly--that you can break +By only blowing on't! He never loved me! +He knows not what love is!--or, if he does, +He has not been o'erchary of his peace! +And that he'll find when I'm another's wife, +Lost!--lost to him for ever! Tears again! +Why should I weep for him? Who make their woes. +Deserve them! What have I to do with tears? + +[Enter HELEN.] + +Helen. News, Julia, news! + +Julia. What! is't about Sir Thomas? + +Helen. Sir Thomas, say you? He's no more Sir Thomas! +That cousin lives, as heir to whom, his wealth +And title came to him. + +Julia. Was he not dead? + +Helen. No more than I am dead. + +Julia. I would 'twere not so. + +Helen. What say you, Julia? + +Julia. Nothing! + +Helen. I could kiss +That cousin! couldn't you, Julia? + +Julia. Wherefore? + +Helen. Why +For coming back to life again, as 'twere +Upon his cousin to revenge you. + +Julia. Helen! + +Helen. Indeed 'tis true. With what a sorry grace +The gentleman will bear himself without +His title! Master Clifford! Have you not +Some token to return him? Some love-letter? +Some brooch? Some pin? Some anything? I'll be +Your messenger, for nothing but the pleasure +Of calling him plain "Master Clifford." + +Julia. Helen! + +Helen. Or has he aught of thine? Write to him, Julia, +Demanding it! Do, Julia, if you love me; +And I'll direct it in a schoolboy's hand, +As round as I can write, "To Master Clifford." + +Julia. Helen! + +Helen. I'll think of fifty thousand ways +To mortify him! I've a twentieth cousin, +A care-for-nought, at mischief. Him I'll set, +With twenty other madcaps like himself, +To walk the streets the traitor most frequents +And give him salutation as he passes - +"How do you, Master Clifford?" + +Julia. [Highly incensed.] Helen! + +Helen. Bless me! + +Julia. I hate you, Helen! + +[Enter MODUS.] + +Mod. Joy for you, fair lady! +Our baronet is now plain gentleman - +And hardly that, not master of the means +To bear himself as such. The kinsman lives +Whose only rumoured death gave wealth to him, +And title. A hard creditor he proves, +Who keeps strict reckoning--will have interest. +As well as principal. A ruined man +Is now Sir Thomas Clifford! + +Helen. I'm glad on't. + +Mod. And so am I, +A scurvy trick it was +He served you, madam. Use a lady so! +I merely bore with him. I never liked him. + +Helen. No more did I. No, never could I think +He looked his title. + +Mod. No, nor acted it. +If rightly they report, he ne'er disbursed +To entertain his friends, 'tis broadly said, +A hundred pounds in the year! He was most poor +In the appointments of a man of rank, +Possessing wealth like his. His horses, hacks! +His gentleman, a footman! and his footman, +A groom! The sports that men of quality +And spirit countenance, he kept aloof from, +From scruple of economy, not taste, - +As racing and the like. In brief, he lacked +Those shining points that, more than name, denote +High breeding; and, moreover, was a man +Of very shallow learning. + +Julia. Silence, sir! +For shame! + +Helen. Why, Julia! + +Julia. Speak not to me! Poor! +Most poor! I tell you, sir, he was the making +Of fifty gentlemen--each one of whom +Were more than peer for thee! His title, sir, +Lent him no grace he did not pay it back! +Though it had been the highest of the high, +He would have looked it, felt it, acted it, +As thou couldst ne'er have done! When found you out +You liked him not? It was not ere to-day! +Or that base spirit I must reckon yours +Which smiles where it would scowl--can stoop to hate +And fear to show it! He was your better, sir, +And is!--Ay, is! though stripped of rank and wealth, +His nature's 'bove or fortune's love or spite, +To blazon or to blurr it! [Retires.] + +Mod. [To HELEN.] I was told +Much to disparage him--I know not wherefore. + +Helen. And so was I, and know as much the cause. + +[Enter MASTER WALTER, with parchments.] + +Wal. Joy, my Julia! +Impatient love has foresight! Lo you here +The marriage deeds filled up, except a blank +To write your jointure. What you will, my girl! +Is this a lover? Look! Three thousand pounds +Per annum for your private charges! Ha! +There's pin-money! Is this a lover? Mark +What acres, forests, tenements, are taxed +For your revenue; and so set apart, +That finger cannot touch them, save thine own. +Is this a lover? What good fortune's thine! +Thou dost not speak; but, 'tis the way with joy! +With richest heart, it has the poorest tongue! + +Mod. What great good fortune's this you speak of, sir? + +Wal. A coronet, Master Modus! You behold +The wife elect, sir, of no less a man +Than the new Earl of Rochdale--heir of him +That's recently deceased. + +Helen. My dearest Julia, +Much joy to you! + +Mod. All good attend you, madam! + +Wal. This letter brings excuses from his lordship, +Whose absence it accounts for. He repairs +To his estate in Lancashire, and thither +We follow. + +Julia. When, sir? + +Wal. Now. This very hour. + +Julia. This very hour! O cruel, fatal haste! + +Wal. "O cruel, fatal haste!" What meanest thou? +Have I done wrong to do thy bidding, then? +I have done no more. Thou wast an offcast bride, +And wouldst be an affianced one--thou art so! +Thou'dst have the slight that marked thee out for scorn, +Converted to a means of gracing thee - +It is so! If our wishes come too soon, +What can make sure of welcome? In my zeal +To win thee thine, thou know'st, at any time +I'd play the steed, whose will to serve his lord, +With his last breath gives his last bound for him! +Since only noon have I despatched what well +Had kept a brace of clerks, and more, on foot - +And then, perhaps, had been to do again! - +Not finished sure, complete--the compact firm, +As fate itself had sealed it! + +Julia. Give you thanks! +Though 'twere my death! my death! + +Wal. Thy death! indeed, +For happiness like this, one well might die! +Take thy lord's letter! Well? + +[Enter THOMAS, with a letter.] + +Thos. This letter, sir, +The gentleman that served Sir Thomas Clifford - +Or him that was Sir Thomas--gave to me +For Mistress Julia. + +Julia. Give it me! + +[Throwing away the one she holds.] + +Wal. [Snatching it.] For what? +Wouldst read it? He's a bankrupt! stripped of title, +House, chattels, lands, and all! A naked bankrupt, +With neither purse, nor trust! Wouldst read his letter? +A beggar! Yea, a very beggar!--fasts, unless +He dines on alms! How durst he send thee a letter! +A fellow cut on this hand, and on that; +Bows and is cut again, and bows again! +Who pays you fifty smiles for half a one, - +And that given grudgingly! To you a letter! +I burst with choler! Thus I treat his letter! + +[Tears and throws it on the ground.] + +So! I was wrong to let him ruffle me; +He is not worth the spending anger on! +I prithee, Master Modus, use despatch, +And presently make ready for our ride. +You, Helen, to my Julia look--a change +Of dresses will suffice. She must have new ones, +Matches for her new state! Haste, friends. My Julia! +Why stand you poring there upon the ground? +Time flies. Your rise astounds you? Never heed - +You'll play my lady countess like a queen! + +[They go out.] + + + +ACT IV. + + + +SCENE I.--A Room in the Earl of Rochdale's + + +[Eater HELEN.] + +Helen. I'm weary wandering from room to room; +A castle after all is but a house - +The dullest one when lacking company. +Were I at home, I could be company +Unto myself. I see not Master Walter, +He's ever with his ward. I see not her. +By Master Walter's will she bides alone. +My father stops in town. I can't see him. +My cousin makes his books his company. +I'll go to bed and sleep. No--I'll stay up +And plague my cousin into making love! +For, that he loves me, shrewdly I suspect. +How dull he is that hath not sense to see +What lies before him, and he'd like to find! +I'll change my treatment of him. Cross him, where +Before I used to humour him. He comes, +Poring upon a book. What's that you read? + +[Enter MODUS.] + +Mod. Latin, sweet cousin. + +Helen. 'Tis a naughty tongue, +I fear, and teaches men to lie. + +Mod. To lie! + +Helen. You study it. You call your cousin sweet, +And treat her as you would a crab. As sour +'Twould seem you think her, as you covet her! +Why how the monster stares, and looks about! +You construe Latin, and can't construe that! + +Mod. I never studied women. + +Helen. No; nor men. +Else would you better know their ways: nor read +In presence of a lady. [Strikes the book from his hand.] + +Mod. Right you say, +And well you served me, cousin, so to strike +The volume from my hand. I own my fault; +So please you--may I pick it up again? +I'll put it in my pocket! + +Helen. Pick it up. +He fears me as I were his grandmother! +What is the book? + +Mod. 'Tis Ovid's Art of Love. + +Helen. That Ovid was a fool! + +Mod. In what? + +Helen. In that: +To call that thing an art, which art is none. + +Mod. And is not love an art? + +Helen. Are you a fool, +As well as Ovid? Love an art! No art +But taketh time and pains to learn. Love comes +With neither! Is't to hoard such grain as that, +You went to college? Better stay at home, +And study homely English. + +Mod. Nay, you know not +The argument. + +Helen. I don't? I know it better +Than ever Ovid did! The face--the form - +The heart--the mind we fancy, cousin; that's +The argument! Why, cousin, you know nothing. +Suppose a lady were in love with thee: +Couldst thou by Ovid, cousin, find it out? +Couldst find it out, wast thou in love thyself? +Could Ovid, cousin, teach thee to make love? +I could, that never read him! You begin +With melancholy; then to sadness; then +To sickness; then to dying--but not die! +She would not let thee, were she of my mind! +She'd take compassion on thee. Then for hope; +From hope to confidence; from confidence +To boldness;--then you'd speak; at first entreat; +Then urge; then flout; then argue; then enforce; +Make prisoner of her hand; besiege her waist; +Threaten her lips with storming; keep thy word +And carry her! My sampler 'gainst thy Ovid! +Why cousin, are you frightened, that you stand +As you were stricken dumb? The case is clear, +You are no soldier. You'll ne'er win a battle. +You care too much for blows! + +Mod. You wrong me there, +At school I was the champion of my form; +And since I went to college - + +Helen. That for college! + +Mod. Nay, hear me! + +Helen. Well? What, since you went to college? +You know what men are set down for, who boast +Of their own bravery! Go on, brave cousin: +What, since you went to college? Was there not +One Quentin Halworth there? You know there was, +And that he was your master! + +Mod. He my master! +Thrice was he worsted by me. + +Helen. Still was he +Your master. + +Mod. He allowed I had the best! +Allowed it, mark me! nor to me alone, +But twenty I could name. + +Helen. And mastered you +At last! Confess it, cousin, 'tis the truth! +A proctor's daughter you did both affect - +Look at me and deny it! Of the twain +She more affected you;--I've caught you now, +Bold cousin! Mark you? opportunity +On opportunity she gave you, sir - +Deny it if you can!--but though to others, +When you discoursed of her, you were a flame; +To her you were a wick that would not light, +Though held in the very fire! And so he won her - +Won her, because he wooed her like a man. +For all your cuffings, cuffing you again +With most usurious interest. Now, sir, +Protest that you are valiant! + +Mod. Cousin Helen! + +Helen. Well, sir? + +Mod. The tale is all a forgery! + +Helen. A forgery! + +Mod. From first to last; ne'er spoke I +To a proctor's daughter while I was at college. + +Helen. 'Twas a scrivener's then--or somebody's. +But what concerns it whose? +Enough, you loved her! +And, shame upon you, let another take her! + +Mod. Cousin, I'll tell you, if you'll only hear me, +I loved no woman while I was at college - +Save one, and her I fancied ere I went there. + +Helen. Indeed! Now I'll retreat, if he's advancing. +Comes he not on! O what a stock's the man! +Well, cousin? + +Mod. Well! What more wouldst have me say? +I think I've said enough. + +Helen. And so think I. +I did but jest with you. You are not angry? +Shake hands! Why, cousin, do you squeeze me so? + +Mod. [Letting her go.] I swear I squeezed you not. + +Helen. You did not? + +Mod. No. I'll die if I did! + +Helen. Why then you did not, cousin, +So let's shake hands again - +[He takes her hand as before.] O go and now +Read Ovid! Cousin, will you tell me one thing: +Wore lovers ruffs in Master Ovid's time? +Behoved him teach them, then, to put them on; - +And that you have to learn. Hold up your head! +Why, cousin, how you blush! Plague on the ruff! +I cannot give't a set. You're blushing still! +Why do you blush, dear cousin? So!--'twill beat me! +I'll give it up. + +Mod. Nay, prithee, don't--try on! + +Helen. And if I do, I fear you'll think me bold. + +Mod. For what? + +Helen. To trust my face so near to thine. + +Mod. I know not what you mean. + +Helen. I'm glad you don't! +Cousin, I own right well behaved you are, +Most marvellously well behaved! They've bred +You well at college. With another man +My lips would be in danger! Hang the ruff! + +Mod. Nay, give it up, nor plague thyself, dear cousin. + +Helen. Dear fool! [Throws the ruff on the ground.] +I swear the ruff is good for just +As little as its master! There!--'Tis spoiled - +You'll have to get another! Hie for it, +And wear it in the fashion of a wisp, +Ere I adjust it for thee! Farewell, cousin! +You'd need to study Ovid's Art of Love. + +[HELEN goes out.] + +Mod. [Solus.] Went she in anger! I will follow her, - +No, I will not! Heigho! I love my cousin! +O would that she loved me! Why did she taunt me +With backwardness in love? What could she mean? +Sees she I love her, and so laughs at me, +Because I lack the front to woo her? Nay, +I'll woo her then! Her lips shall be in danger, +When next she trusts them near me! Looked she at me +To-day as never did she look before! +A bold heart, Master Modus! 'Tis a saying +A faint one never won fair lady yet! +I'll woo my cousin, come what will on't. Yes: + +[Begins reading again, throws down the book.] + +Hang Ovid's Art of Love! I'll woo my cousin! + +[Goes out.] + + +SCENE II.--The Banqueting-room in the Earl of Rochdale's Mansion. + + +[Enter MASTER WALTER and JULIA.] + +Wal. This is the banqueting-room. Thou seest as far +It leaves the last behind, as that excels +The former ones. All is proportion here +And harmony! Observe! The massy pillars +May well look proud to bear the gilded dome. +You mark those full-length portraits? They're the heads, +The stately heads, of his ancestral line. +Here o'er the feast they haply still preside! +Mark those medallions! Stand they forth or not +In bold and fair relief? Is not this brave? + +Julia. [Abstractedly.] It is. + +Wal. It should be so. To cheer the blood +That flows in noble veins is made the feast +That gladdens here! You see this drapery? +'Tis richest velvet! Fringe and tassels, gold! +Is not this costly? + +Julia. Yes. + +Wal. And chaste, the while? +Both chaste and costly? + +Julia. Yes. + +Wal. Come hither! There's a mirror for you. See! +One sheet from floor to ceiling! Look into it, +Salute its mistress! Dost not know her? + +Julia. [Sighing deeply.] Yes. + +Wal. And sighest thou to know her? Wait until +To-morrow, when the banquet shall be spread +In the fair hall; the guests--already bid, +Around it; here, her lord; and there, herself; +Presiding o'er the cheer that hails him bridegroom, +And her the happy bride! Dost hear me? + +Julia. [Sighing still more deeply.] Yes. + +Wal. These are the day-rooms only, we have seen. +For public and domestic uses kept. +I'll show you now the lodging-rooms. + +[Goes, then turns and observes JULIA standing perfectly abstracted.] + +You're tired. +Let it be till after dinner, then. Yet one +I'd like thee much to see--the bridal chamber. + +[JULIA starts, crosses her hands upon her breast, and looks +upwards.] + +I see you're tired: yet it is worth the viewing, +If only for the tapestry which shows +The needle like the pencil glows with life; + +[Brings down chairs--they sit.] + +The story's of a page who loved the dame +He served--a princess!--Love's a heedless thing! +That never takes account of obstacles; +Makes plains of mountains, rivulets of seas, +That part it from its wish. So proved the page, +Who from a state so lowly, looked so high, - +But love's a greater lackwit still than this. +Say it aspires--that's gain! Love stoops--that's loss! +You know what comes. The princess loved the page. +Shall I go on, or here leave off? + +Julia. Go on. + +Wal. Each side of the chamber shows a different stage +Of this fond page, and fonder lady's love. {2} +First--no, it is not that. + +Julia. Oh, recollect! + +Wal. And yet it is. + +Julia. No doubt it is. What is 't? + +Wal. He holds to her a salver, with a cup; +His cheeks more mantling with his passion than +The cup with the ruby wine. She heeds him not, +For too great heed of him:- but seems to hold +Debate betwixt her passion and her pride - +That's like to lose the day. You read it in +Her vacant eye, knit brow, and parted lips, +Which speak a heart too busy all within +To note what's done without. Like you the tale? + +Julia. I list to every word. + +Wal. The next side paints +The page upon his knee. He has told his tale; +And found that when he lost his heart, he played +No losing game: but won a richer one! +There may you read in him, how love would seem +Most humble when most bold,--you question which +Appears to kiss her hand--his breath, or lips! +In her you read how wholly lost is she +Who trusts her heart to love. Shall I give o'er? + +Julia. Nay, tell it to the end. Is't melancholy? + +Wal. To answer that, would mar the story. + +Julia. Right. + +Wal. The third side now we come to. + +Julia. What shows that? + +Wal. The page and princess still. But stands her sire +Between them. Stern he grasps his daughter's arm, +Whose eyes like fountains play; while through her tears +Her passion shines, as through the fountain drops +The sun! His minions crowd around the page! +They drag him to a dungeon. + +Julia. Hapless youth! + +Wal. Hapless indeed, that's twice a captive! heart +And body both in bonds. But that's the chain, +Which balance cannot weigh, rule measure, touch +Define the texture of, or eye detect, +That's forged by the subtle craft of love! +No need to tell you that he wears it. Such +The cunning of the hand that plied the loom, +You've but to mark the straining of his eye, +To feel the coil yourself! + +Julia. I feel't without! +You've finished with the third side; now the fourth! + +Wal. It brings us to a dungeon, then. + +Julia. The page, +The thrall of love, more than the dungeon's thrall, +Is there? + +Wal. He is. He lies in fetters. + +Julia. Hard! +Hard as the steel, the hands that put them on. + +Wal. Some one unrivets them! + +Julia. The princess? 'Tis! + +Wal. It is another page. + +Julia. It is herself! + +Wal. Her skin is fair; and his is berry-brown. +His locks are raven black; and hers are gold. + +Julia. Love's cunning of disguises! spite of locks, +Skin, vesture,--it is she, and only she +What will not constant woman do for love +That's loved with constancy! Set her the task, +Virtue approving, that will baffle her! +O'ertax her stooping, patience, courage, wit! +My life upon it, 'tis the princess' self, +Transformed into a page! + +Wal. The dungeon door +Stands open, and you see beyond - + +Julia. Her father! + +Wal. No; a steed. + +Julia. [Starting up.] O, welcome steed, +My heart bounds at the thought of thee! Thou comest +To bear the page from bonds to liberty. +What else? + +Wal. [Rising.] The story's told. + +Julia. Too briefly told; +O happy princess, that had wealth and state +To lay them down for love! Whose constant love +Appearances approved, not falsified! +A winner in thy loss, as well as gain. + +Wal. Weighs love so much? + +Julia. What would you weigh 'gainst love +That's true? Tell me with what you'd turn the scale? +Yea, make the index waver? Wealth? A feather! +Rank? Tinsel against bullion in the balance! +The love of kindred? That to set 'gainst love! +Friendship comes nearest to't; but put it in, +Friendship will kick the beam!--weigh nothing 'gainst it! +Weigh love against the world! +Yet are they happy that have naught to say to it. + +Wal. And such a one art thou. Who wisely wed, +Wed happily. The love thou speak'st of, +A flower is only, that its season has, +Which they must look to see the withering of, +Who pleasure in its budding and its bloom! +But wisdom is the constant evergreen +Which lives the whole year through! Be that, your flower! + +[Enter a Servant.] + +Well? + +Serv. My lord's secretary is without. +He brings a letter for her ladyship, +And craves admittance to her. + +Wal. Show him in. + +Julia. No. + +Wal. Thou must see him. To show slight to him, +Were slighting him that sent him. Show him in! + +[Servant goes out.] + +Some errand proper for thy private ear, +Besides the letter he may bring. What mean +This paleness and this trembling? Mark me, Julia! +If, from these nuptials, which thyself invited - +Which at thy seeking came--thou wouldst be freed, +Thou hast gone too far! Receding were disgrace, +Sooner than see thee suffer which, the hearts +That love thee most would wish thee dead! Reflect! +Take thought! collect thyself! With dignity +Receive thy bridegroom's messenger! for sure +As dawns to-morrow's sun, to-morrow night +Sees thee a wedded bride! + +[Goes out.] + +Julia. [Alone.] A wedded bride! +Is it a dream? Is it a phantasm? 'Tis +Too horrible for reality! for aught else +Too palpable! O would it were a dream! +How would I bless the sun that waked me from it! +I perish! Like some desperate mariner +Impatient of a strange and hostile land, +Who rashly hoists his sail and puts to sea, +And being fast on reefs and quicksands borne, +Essays in vain once more to make the land, +Whence wind and current drive him; I'm wrecked +By mine own act! What! no escape? no hope? +None! I must e'en abide these hated nuptials! +Hated!--Ah! own it, and then curse thyself! +That madest the bane thou loathest--for the love +Thou bear'st to one who never can be thine! +Yes--love! Deceive thyself no longer. False +To say 'tis pity for his fall--respect, +Engendered by a hollow world's disdain, +Which hoots whom fickle fortune cheers no more! +'Tis none of these; 'tis love--and if not love, +Why then idolatry! Ay, that's the name +To speak the broadest, deepest, strongest passion, +That ever woman's heart was borne away by! +He comes! Thou'dst play the lady,--play it now! + +[Enter a Servant, conducting CLIFFORD, plainly attired as the EARL +OF ROCHDALE'S Secretary.] + +Servant. His lordship's secretary. + +[Servant goes out.] + +Julia. Speaks he not? Or does he wait for orders to unfold +His business? Stopped his business till I spoke, +I'd hold my peace for ever! + +[CLIFFORD kneels; presenting a letter.] + +Does he kneel? +A lady am I to my heart's content! +Could he unmake me that which claims his knee, +I'd kneel to him--I would! I would!--Your will? + +Clif. This letter from my lord. + +Julia. O fate! Who speaks? + +Clif. The secretary of my lord. + +Julia. I breathe! +I could have sworn 'twas he! + +[Makes an effort to look at him, but is unable.] + +So like the voice - +I dare not look, lest there the form should stand! +How came he by that voice? 'Tis Clifford's voice, +If ever Clifford spoke! My fears come back - +Clifford the secretary of my lord! +Fortune hath freaks, but none so mad as that! +It cannot be!--It should not be!--A look, +And all were set at rest. + +[Tries to look at him again, but cannot.] + +So strong my fears, +Dread to confirm them takes away the power +To try and end them! Come the worst, I'll look. + +[She tries again; and again is unequal to the task.] + +I'd sink before him if I met his eye! + +Clif. Will't please your ladyship to take the letter? +Julia. There Clifford speaks again! Not Clifford's heart +Could more make Clifford's voice! Not Clifford's tongue +And lips more frame it into Clifford's speech! +A question, and 'tis over! Know I you? + +Clif. Reverse of fortune, lady, changes friends; +It turns them into strangers. What I am +I have not always been! + +Julia. Could I not name you? + +Clif. If your disdain for one, perhaps too bold +When hollow fortune called him favourite, - +Now by her fickleness perforce reduced +To take an humble tone, would suffer you - + +Julia. I might? + +Clif. You might! + +Julia. Oh, Clifford! is it you? + +Clif. Your answer to my lord. + +[Gives the letter.] + +Julia. Your lord! + +[Mechanically taking it.] + +Clif. Wilt write it? +Or, will it please you send a verbal one? +I'll bear it faithfully. + +Julia. You'll bear it? + +Clif. Madam, +Your pardon, but my haste is somewhat urgent. +My lord's impatient, and to use despatch +Were his repeated orders. + +Julia. Orders? Well, +I'll read the letter, sir. 'Tis right you mind +His lordship's orders. They are paramount! +Nothing should supersede them!--stand beside them! +They merit all your care, and have it! Fit, +Most fit, they should! Give me the letter, sir. + +Clif. You have it, madam. + +Julia. So! How poor a thing +I look! so lost, while he is all himself! +Have I no pride? + +[She rings, the Servant enters.] + +Paper, and pen, and ink! +If he can freeze, 'tis time that I grow cold! +I'll read the letter. + +[Opens it, and holds it as about to read it.] + +Mind his orders! So! +Quickly he fits his habits to his fortunes! +He serves my lord with all his will! His heart's +In his vocation. So! Is this the letter? +'Tis upside down--and here I'm poring on't! +Most fit I let him see me play the fool! +Shame! Let me be myself! + +[A Servant enters with materials for writing.] + +A table, sir, +And chair. + +[The Servant brings a table and chair, and goes out. She sits a +while, vacantly gazing on the letter--then looks at CLIFFORD.] + +How plainly shows his humble suit! +It fits not him that wears it! I have wronged him! +He can't be happy--does not look it!--is not. +That eye which reads the ground is argument +Enough! He loves me. There I let him stand, +And I am sitting! + +[Rises, takes a chair, and approaches CLIFFORD.] + +Pray you take a chair. + +[He bows, as acknowledging and declining the honour. She looks at +him a while.] + +Clifford, why don't you speak to me? + +[She weeps.] + +Clif. I trust +You're happy. + +Julia. Happy! Very, very happy! +You see I weep, I am so happy! Tears +Are signs, you know, of naught but happiness! +When first I saw you, little did I look +To be so happy!--Clifford! + +Clif. Madam? + +Julia. Madam! +I call thee Clifford, and thou call'st me madam! + +Clif. Such the address my duty stints me to. +Thou art the wife elect of a proud Earl, +Whose humble secretary, sole, am I. + +Julia. Most right! I had forgot! I thank you, sir, +For so reminding me; and give you joy, +That what, I see, had been a burthen to you, +Is fairly off your hands. + +Clif. A burthen to me! +Mean you yourself? Are you that burthen, Julia? +Say that the sun's a burthen to the earth! +Say that the blood's a burthen to the heart! +Say health's a burthen, peace, contentment, joy, +Fame, riches, honours! everything that man +Desires, and gives the name of blessing to +E'en such a burthen, Julia were to me, +Had fortune let me wear her. + +Julia. [Aside.] On the brink +Of what a precipice I'm standing! Back, +Back! while the faculty remains to do't! +A minute longer, not the whirlpool's self +More sure to suck me down! One effort! There! + +[She returns to her seat, recovers her self-possession, takes up the +letter, and reads.] + +To wed to-morrow night! Wed whom? A man +Whom I can never love! I should before +Have thought of that. To-morrow night! This hour +To-morrow! How I tremble! Happy bands +To which my heart such freezing welcome gives, +As sends an ague through me! At what means +Will not the desperate snatch! What's honour's price? +Nor friends, nor lovers,--no, nor life itself! +Clifford! This moment leave me! + +[CLIFFORD retires up the stage out of JULIA'S sight.] + +Is he gone? +O docile lover! Do his mistress' wish +That went against his own! Do it so soon +Ere well 'twas uttered! No good-bye to her! +No word! no look! 'Twas best that he so went! +Alas, the strait of her, who owns that best, +Which last she'd wish were done? What's left me now? +To weep! To weep! + +[Leans her head upon her arm, which rests upon the desk,--her other +arm hanging listlessly at her side. CLIFFORD comes down the stage, +looks a moment at her, approaches her, and kneeling, takes her +hand.] + +Clif. My Julia! + +Julia. Here again! +Up! up! By all thy hopes of Heaven, go hence! +To stay's perdition to me! Look you, Clifford! +Were there a grave where thou art kneeling now, +I'd walk into 't, and be inearthed alive, +Ere taint should touch my name! Should some one come +And see thee kneeling thus! Let go my hand! +Remember, Clifford, I'm a promised bride - +And take thy arm away! It has no right +To clasp my waist! Judge you so poorly of me, +As think I'll suffer this? My honour, sir! + +[She breaks from him, quitting her seat.] + +I'm glad you've forced me to respect myself - +You'll find that I can do so! + +Clif. I was bold - +Forgetful of your station and my own; +There was a time I held your hand unchid! +There was a time I might have clasped your waist - +I had forgot that time was past and gone! +I pray you, pardon me! + +Julia. [Softened.] I do so, Clifford. + +Clif. I shall no more offend. + +Julia. Make sure of that. +No longer is it fit thou keep'st thy post +In's lordship's household. Give it up! A day - +An hour remain not in it! + +Clif. Wherefore? + +Julia. Live +In the same house with me, and I another's? +Put miles, put leagues between us! The same land +Should not contain us. Oceans should divide us - +With barriers of constant tempests--such +As mariners durst not tempt! O Clifford! +Rash was the act so light that gave me up, +That stung a woman's pride, and drove her mad - +Till in her frenzy she destroyed her peace! +Oh, it was rashly done! Had you reproved - +Expostulated,--had you reasoned with me - +Tried to find out what was indeed my heart, - +I would have shown it--you'd have seen it. All +Had been as naught can ever be again! + +Clif. Lovest thou me, Julia? + +Julia. Dost thou ask me, Clifford? + +Clif. These nuptials may be shunned! - + +Julia. With honour? + +Clif. Yes! + +Julia. Then take me!--Stop--hear me, and take me then! +Let not thy passion be my counsellor! +Deal with me, Clifford, as my brother. Be +The jealous guardian of my spotless name! +Scan thou my cause as 'twere thy sister's. Let +Thy scrutiny o'erlook no point of it, - +Nor turn it over once, but many a time:- +That flaw, speck--yea,--the shade of one,--a soil +So slight, not one out of a thousand eyes +Could find it out, may not escape thee; then +Say if these nuptials can be shunned with honour! + +Clif. They can. + +Julia. Then take me, Clifford! [They embrace.] + +Wal. [Entering.] Ha! What's this? +Ha! treason! What! my baronet that was, +My secretary now? Your servant, sir! +Is't thus you do the pleasure of your lord, - +That for your service feeds you, clothes you, pays you! +Or takest thou but the name of his dependent? +What's here?--a letter. Fifty crowns to one +A forgery! I'm wrong. It is his hand. +This proves thee double traitor! + +Clif. Traitor! + +Julia. Nay, +Control thy wrath, good Master Walter! Do - +And I'll persuade him to go hence - + +[MASTER WALTER retires up the stage.] I see +For me thou bearest this, and thank thee, Clifford! +As thou hast truly shown thy heart to me, +So truly I to thee have opened mine! +Time flies! To-morrow! If thy love can find +A way, such as thou saidst, for my enlargement +By any means thou canst, apprise me of it; +And, soon as shown, I'll take it. + +Wal. Is he gone? + +Julia. He is this moment. If thou covetest me, +Win me, and wear me! May I trust thee? Oh! +If that's thy soul, that's looking through thine eyes, +Thou lovest me, and I may!--I sicken, lest +I never see thee more + +Clif. As life is mine, +The ring that on thy wedding-finger goes +No hand but mine shall place there! + +Wal. Lingers he? + +Julia. For my sake, now away! And yet a word. +By all thy hopes most dear, be true to me! +Go now!--yet stay! Clifford, while you are here, +I'm like a bark distressed and compassless, +That by a beacon steers; when you're away, +That bark alone and tossing miles at sea! +Now go! Farewell! My compass--beacon--land! +When shall my eyes be blessed with thee again! + +Clif. Farewell! [Goes out.] + +Julia. Art gone? All's chance--all's care--all's darkness. + +[Is led off by MASTER WALTER.] + + + +ACT V. + + + +SCENE I.--An Apartment in the Earl of Rochdale's. + + +[Enter HELEN and FATHOM.] + +Fath. The long and short of it is this--if she marries this lord, +she'll break her heart! I wish you could see her, madam. Poor +lady! + +Helen. How looks she, prithee? + +Fath. Marry, for all the world like a dripping-wet cambric +handkerchief! She has no colour nor strength in her; and does +nothing but weep--poor lady! + +Helen. Tell me again what said she to thee? + +Fath. She offered me all she was mistress of to take the letter to +Master Clifford. She drew her purse from her pocket--the ring from +her finger--she took her very earrings out of her ears--but I was +forbidden, and refused. And now I'm sorry for it! Poor lady! + +Helen. Thou shouldst be sorry. Thou hast a hard heart, Fathom. + +Fath. I, madam! My heart is as soft as a woman's. You should have +seen me when I came out of her chamber--poor lady! + +Helen. Did you cry? + +Fath. No; but I was as near it as possible. I a hard heart! I +would do anything to serve her, poor sweet lady! + +Helen. Will you take her letter, asks she you again? + +Fath. No--I am forbid. + +Helen. Will you help Master Clifford to an interview with her? + +Fath. No--Master Walter would find it out. + +Helen. Will you contrive to get me into her chamber? + +Fath. No--you would be sure to bring me into mischief. + +Helen. Go to! You would do nothing to serve her. You a soft +heart! You have no heart at all! You feel not for her! + +Fath. But I tell you I do--and good right I have to feel for her. +I have been in love myself. + +Helen. With your dinner! + +Fath. I would it had been! My pain would soon have been over, and +at little cost. A fortune I squandered upon her!--trinkets-- +trimmings--treatings--what swallowed up the revenue of a whole year! +Wasn't I in love? Six months I courted her, and a dozen crowns all +but one did I disburse for her in that time! Wasn't I in love? An +hostler--a tapster--and a constable, courted her at the same time, +and I offered to cudgel the whole three of them for her! Wasn't I +in love? + +Helen. You are a valiant man, Fathom. + +Fath. Am not I? Walks not the earth the man I am afraid of. + +Helen. Fear you not Master Walter? + +Fath. No. + +Helen. You do! + +Fath. I don't! + +Helen. I'll prove it to you. You see him breaking your young +mistress's heart, and have not the manhood to stand by her. + +Fath. What could I do for her? + +Helen. Let her out of prison. It were the act of a man. + +Fath. That man am I! + +Helen. Well said, brave Fathom! + +Fath. But my place! + +Helen. I'll provide thee with a better one. + +Fath. 'Tis a capital place! So little to do, and so much to get +for't. Six pounds in the year; two suits of livery; shoes and +stockings, and a famous larder. He'd be a bold man that would put +such a place in jeopardy. My place, madam, my place! + +Helen. I tell thee I'll provide thee with a better place. Thou +shalt have less to do, and more to get. Now, Fathom, hast thou +courage to stand by thy mistress? + +Fath. I have! + +Helen. That's right. + +Fath. I'll let my lady out. + +[Enter MASTER WALTER unperceived.] + +Helen. That's right. When, Fathom? + +Fath. To-night. + +Helen. She is to be married to-night. + +Fath. This evening, then. Master Walter is now in the library, the +key is on the outside, and I'll lock him in. + +Helen. Excellent! You'll do it? + +Fath. Rely upon it. How he'll stare when he finds himself a +prisoner, and my young lady at liberty! + +Helen. Most excellent! You'll be sure to do it? + +Fath. Depend upon me! When Fathom undertakes a thing, he defies +fire and water - + +Wal. [Coming forward.] Fathom! + +Fath. Sir! + +Wal. Assemble straight the servants. + +Fath. Yes, sir! + +Wal. Mind, +And have them in the hall when I come down. + +Fath. Yes, sir! + +Wal. And see you do not stir a step, +But where I order you. + +Fath. Not an inch, sir! + +Wal. See that you don't--away! So, my fair mistress, + +[FATHOM goes out.] + +What's this you have been plotting? An escape +For mistress Julia? + +Helen. I avow it. + +Wal. Do you? + +Helen. Yes; and moreover to your face I tell you, +Most hardly do you use her! + +Wal. Verily! + +Helen. I wonder where's her spirit! Had she mine +She would not take 't so easily. Do you mean +To force this marriage on her? + +Wal. With your leave. + +Helen. You laugh. + +Wal. Without it, then. I don't laugh now. + +Helen. If I were she, I'd find a way to escape. + +Wal. What would you do? + +Helen. I'd leap out of the window! + +Wal. Your window should be barred. + +Helen. I'd cheat you still! - +I'd hang myself ere I'd be forced to marry! + +Wal. Well said! You shall be married, then, tonight. + +Helen. Married to-night! + +Wal. As sure as I have said it. + +Helen. Two words to that. Pray who's to be my bridegroom? + +Wal. A daughter's husband is her father's choice. + +Helen. My father's daughter ne'er shall wed such husband! + +Wal. Indeed! + +Helen. I'll pick a husband for myself. + +Wal. Indeed! + +Helen. Indeed, sir; and indeed again! + +Wal. Go dress you for the marriage ceremony. + +Helen. But, Master Walter, what is it you mean? + +[Enter MODUS.] + +Wal. Here comes your cousin;--he shall be your bridesman! +The thought's a sudden one,--that will excuse +Defect in your appointments. A plain dress, - +So 'tis of white,--will do. + +Helen. I'll dress in black. +I'll quit the castle. + +Wal. That you shall not do. +Its doors are guarded by my lord's domestics, +Its avenues--its grounds. What you must do, +Do with a good grace! In an hour, or less, +Your father will be here. Make up your mind +To take with thankfulness the man he gives you. +Now, [Aside] if they find not out how beat their hearts, +I have no skill, not I, in feeling pulses. + +[Goes out.] + +Helen. Why, cousin Modus! What! will you stand by +And see me forced to marry? Cousin Modus! +Have you not got a tongue? Have you not eyes? +Do you not see I'm very--very ill, +And not a chair in all the corridor? + +Mod. I'll find one in the study. + +Helen. Hang the study! + +Mod. My room's at hand. I'll fetch one thence. + +Helen. You shan't +I'd faint ere you came back! + +Mod. What shall I do? + +Helen. Why don't you offer to support me? Well? +Give me your arm--be quick! [MODUS offers his arm.] +Is that the way +To help a lady when she's like to faint? +I'll drop unless you catch me! [MODUS supports her.] +That will do. +I'm better now--[MODUS offers to leave her] don't leave me! Is one +well +Because one's better? Hold my hand. Keep so. +I'll soon recover so you move not. Loves he - + +[Aside.] + +Which I'll be sworn he does, he'll own it now. +Well, cousin Modus? + +Mod. Well, sweet cousin! + +Helen. Well? +You heard what Master Walter said? + +Mod. I did. + +Helen. And would you have me marry? Can't you speak? +Say yes or no. + +Mod. No, cousin! + +Helen. Bravely said! +And why, my gallant cousin? + +Mod. Why? + +Helen. Ay, why? - +Women, you know, are fond of reasons--why +Would you not have me marry? How you blush! +Is it because you do not know the reason? +You mind me of a story of a cousin +Who once her cousin such a question asked. +He had not been to college, though--for books, +Had passed his time in reading ladies' eyes. +Which he could construe marvellously well, +Though writ in language all symbolical. +Thus stood they once together, on a day - +As we stand now--discoursed as we discourse, - +But with this difference,--fifty gentle words +He spoke to her, for one she spoke to him! - +What a dear cousin! Well, as I did say, +As now I questioned thee, she questioned him. +And what was his reply? To think of it +Sets my heart beating--'twas so kind a one! +So like a cousin's answer--a dear cousin! +A gentle, honest, gallant, loving cousin! +What did he say?--A man might find it out, +Though never read he Ovid's Art of Love - +What did he say? He'd marry her himself! +How stupid are you, cousin! Let me go! + +Mod. You are not well yet? + +Helen. Yes. + +Mod. I'm sure you're not. + +Helen. I'm sure I am. + +Mod. Nay, let me hold you, cousin! I like it. + +Helen. Do you? I would wager you +You could not tell me why you like it. Well? +You see how true I know you! How you stare! +What see you in my face to wonder at? + +Mod. A pair of eyes! + +Helen. At last he'll find his tongue--[Aside.] +And saw you ne'er a pair of eyes before? + +Mod. Not such a pair. + +Helen. And why? + +Mod. They are so bright! +You have a Grecian nose. + +Helen. Indeed. + +Mod. Indeed! + +Helen. What kind of mouth have I? + +Mod. A handsome one. I never saw so sweet a pair of lips! +I ne'er saw lips at all till now, dear cousin! + +Helen. Cousin, I'm well,--you need not hold me now. +Do you not hear? I tell you I am well! +I need your arm no longer--take 't away! +So tight it locks me, 'tis with pain I breathe! +Let me go, cousin! Wherefore do you hold +Your face so close to mine? What do you mean? + +Mod. You've questioned me, and now I'll question you. + +Helen. What would you learn? + +Mod. The use of lips. + +Helen. To speak. + +Mod. Naught else? + +Helen. How bold my modest cousin grows! +Why, other use know you? + +Mod. I do! + +Helen. Indeed! +You're wondrous wise? And pray what is it? + +Mod. This! [Attempts to kiss her.] + +Helen. Soft! my hand thanks you, cousin--for my lips +I keep them for a husband!--Nay, stand off! +I'll not be held in manacles again! +Why do you follow me? + +Mod. I love you, cousin! + +Helen. O cousin, say you so! That's passing strange! +Falls out most crossly--is a dire mishap - +A thing to sigh for, weep for, languish for, +And die for! + +Mod. Die for! + +Helen, Yes, with laughter, cousin, +For, cousin, I love you! + +Mod. And you'll be mine? + +Helen. I will. + +Mod. Your hand upon it. + +Helen. Hand and heart. +Hie to thy dressing-room, and I'll to mine - +Attire thee for the altar--so will I. +Whoe'er may claim me, thou'rt the man shall have me. +Away! Despatch! But hark you, ere you go, +Ne'er brag of reading Ovid's Art of Love! + +Mod. And cousin! stop--one little word with you! + +[She returns, he snatches a kiss--They go out severally.] + + +SCENE II.--Julia's Chamber. + + +[Enter JULIA.] + +Julia. No word from him, and evening now set in! +He cannot play me false! His messenger +Is dogged--or letter intercepted. I'm +Beset with spies!--No rescue!--No escape! - +The hour at hand that brings my bridegroom home! +No relative to aid me! friend to counsel me. + +[A knock at the door.] + +Come in. + +[Enter two Female Attendants.] + +Your will? + +First Attendant. Your toilet waits, my lady; +'Tis time you dress. + +Julia. 'Tis time I die! [A peal of bells.] What's that? + +First Attendant. Your wedding bells, my lady. + +Julia. Merrily +They ring my knell! +[Second Attendant presents an open case.] +And pray you what are these? + +Second Attendant. Your wedding jewels. + +Julia. Set them by. + +Second Attendant. Indeed. +Was ne'er a braver set! A necklace, brooch, +And earrings all of brilliants, with a hoop +To guard your wedding ring. + +Julia. 'Twould need a guard +That lacks a heart to keep it! + +Second Attendant. Here's a heart +Suspended from the necklace--one huge diamond +Imbedded in a host of smaller ones! +Oh! how it sparkles! + +Julia. Show it me! Bright heart, +Thy lustre, should I wear thee, will be false, - +For thou the emblem art of love and truth, - +From her that wears thee unto him that gives thee. +Back to thy case! Better thou ne'er shouldst leave it - +Better thy gems a thousand fathoms deep +In their native mine again, than grace my neck, +And lend thy fair face to palm off a lie! + +First Attendant. Will't please you dress? + +Julia. Ah! in infected clothes +New from a pest-house! Leave me! If I dress, +I dress alone! O for a friend! Time gallops! + +[Attendants go out.] + +He that should guard me is mine enemy! +Constrains me to abide the fatal die, +My rashness, not my reason cast! He comes, +That will exact the forfeit!--Must I pay it? - +E'en at the cost of utter bankruptcy! +What's to be done? Pronounce the vow that parts +My body from my soul! To what it loathes +Links that, while this is linked to what it loves! +Condemned to such perdition! What's to be done? +Stand at the altar in an hour from this! +An hour thence seated at his board--a wife +Thence!--frenzy's in the thought! What's to be done? + +[Enter MASTER WALTER.] + +Wal. What! run the waves so high? Not ready yet! +Your lord will soon be here! The guests collect. + +Julia. Show me some way to 'scape these nuptials! Do it! +Some opening for avoidance or escape, - +Or to thy charge I'll lay a broken heart! +It may be, broken vows, and blasted honour, +Or else a mind distraught! + +Wal. What's this? + +Julia. The strait +I'm fallen into my patience cannot bear. +It frights my reason--warps my sense of virtue! +Religion!--changes me into a thing +I look at with abhorring! + +Wal. Listen to me. + +Julia. Listen to me! If this contract +Thou holdest me to--abide thou the result! +Answer to heaven for what I suffer!--act! +Prepare thyself for such calamity +To fall on me, and those whose evil stars +Have linked them with me, as no past mishap, +However rare, and marvellously sad +Can parallel! lay thy account to live +A smileless life, die an unpitied death - +Abhorred, abandoned of thy kind,--as one +Who had the guarding of a young maid's peace, - +Looked on and saw her rashly peril it; +And when she saw her danger, and confessed +Her fault, compelled her to complete her ruin! + +Wal. Hast done? + +Julia. Another moment, and I have. +Be warned! Beware how you abandon me +To myself! I'm young, rash, inexperienced! tempted +By most insufferable misery! +Bold, desperate, and reckless! Thou hast age +Experience, wisdom, and collectedness, - +Power, freedom,--everything that I have not, +Yet want, as none e'er wanted! Thou canst save me, +Thou oughtst! thou must! I tell thee at his feet +I'll fall a corse--ere mount his bridal bed! +So choose betwixt my rescue and my grave; - +And quickly too! The hour of sacrifice +Is near! Anon the immolating priest +Will summon me! Devise some speedy means +To cheat the altar of its victim. Do it! +Nor leave the task to me! + +Wal. Hast done? + +Julia. I have. + +Wal. Then list to me--and silently, if not +With patience.--[Brings chairs for himself and her.] +How I watched thee from thy childhood +I'll not recall to thee. Thy father's wisdom - +Whose humble instrument I was--directed +Your nonage should be passed in privacy, +From your apt mind that far outstripped your years, +Fearing the taint of an infected world; - +For, in the rich grounds, weeds once taking root, +Grow strong as flowers. He might be right or wrong! +I thought him right; and therefore did his bidding. +Most certainly he loved you--so did I; +Ay! well as I had been myself your father! + +[His hand is resting upon his knee, JULIA attempts to take it--he +withdraws it--looks at her--she hangs her head.] + +Well; you may take my hand! I need not say +How fast you grew in knowledge, and in goodness, - +That hope could scarce enjoy its golden dreams +So soon fulfilment realised them all! +Enough. You came to womanhood. Your heart, +Pure as the leaf of the consummate bud, +That's new unfolded by the smiling sun, +And ne'er knew blight nor canker! + +[JULIA attempts to place her other hand on his shoulder--he leans +from her--looks at her--she hangs her head again.] + +Put it there! +Where left I off? I know! When a good woman +Is fitly mated, she grows doubly good, +How good soe'er before! I found the man +I thought a match for thee; and, soon as found, +Proposed him to thee. 'Twas your father's will, +Occasion offering, you should be married +Soon as you reached to womanhood.--You liked +My choice, accepted him.--We came to town; +Where, by important matter summoned thence, +I left you an affianced bride! + +Julia. You did! +You did! [Leans her head upon her hand and weeps.] + +Wal. Nay, check thy tears! Let judgment now, +Not passion, be awake. On my return, +I found thee--what? I'll not describe the thing +I found thee then! I'll not describe my pangs +To see thee such a thing! The engineer +Who lays the last stone of his sea-built tower, +It cost him years and years of toil to raise - +And, smiling at it, tells the winds and waves +To roar and whistle now--but, in a night, +Beholds the tempest sporting in its place - +May look aghast, as I did! + +Julia. [Falling on her knees.] Pardon me! +Forgive me! pity me! + +Wal. Resume thy seat. [Raises her.] +I pity thee; perhaps not thee alone +It fits to sue for pardon. + +Julia. Me alone! +None other! + +Wal. But to vindicate myself, +I name thy lover's stern desertion of thee. +What wast thou then with wounded pride? A thing +To leap into a torrent! throw itself +From a precipice! rush into a fire! I saw +Thy madness--knew to thwart it were to chafe it - +And humoured it to take that course, I thought, +Adopted, least 'twould rue! + +Julia. 'Twas wisely done. + +Wal. At least 'twas for the best. + +Julia. To blame thee for it +Was adding shame to shame! But Master Walter, +These nuptials!--must they needs go on? + +Servant. [Entering.] More guests +Arrive. + +Wal. Attend to them. [Servant goes out.] + +Julia. Dear Master Walter! +Is there no way to escape these nuptials? + +Wal. Know'st not +What with these nuptials comes? Hast thou forgot? + +Julia. What? + +Wal. Nothing!--I did tell thee of a thing. + +Julia. What was it? + +Wal. To forget it was a fault! +Look back and think. + +Julia. I can't remember it. + +Wal. Fathers, make straws your children! Nature's nothing, +Blood nothing! Once in other veins it runs, +It no more yearneth for the parent flood, +Than doth the stream that from the source disparts. +Talk not of love instinctive--what you call so +Is but the brat of custom! Your own flesh +By habit cleaves to you--without, +Hath no adhesion. [Aside.] So; you have forgot +You have a father, and are here to meet him! + +Julia. I'll not deny it. + +Wal. You should blush for't. + +Julia. No! +No! no: hear, Master Walter! what's a father +That you've not been to me? Nay, turn not from me, +For at the name a holy awe I own, +That now almost inclines my knee to earth! +But thou to me, except a father's name, +Hast all the father been: the care--the love - +The guidance--the protection of a father. +Canst wonder, then, if like thy child I feel, - +And feeling so, that father's claim forget +Whom ne'er I knew save by the name of one? +Oh, turn to me, and do not chide me! or +If thou wilt chide, chide on! but turn to me! + +Wal. [Struggling with emotion.] My Julia! +[Embraces her.] + +Julia. Now, dear Master Walter, hear me! +Is there no way to 'scape these nuptials? + +Wal. Julia, +A promise made admits not of release, +Save by consent or forfeiture of those +Who hold it--so it should be pondered well +Before we let it go. Ere man should say +I broke the word I had the power to keep, +I'd lose the life I had the power to part with! +Remember, Julia, thou and I to-day +Must, to thy father, of thy training render +A strict account. While honour's left to us, +We have something--nothing, having all but that. +Now for thy last act of obedience, Julia! +Present thyself before thy bridegroom! [She assents.] Good! +My Julia's now herself! Show him thy heart, +And to his honour leave't to set thee free +Or hold thee bound. Thy father will be by! + + +SCENE III.--The Banqueting' Room. + + +[Enter MASTER WALTER and MASTER HEARTWELL.] + +Heart. Thanks, Master Walter! Ne'er was child more bent +To do her father's will, you'll own, than mine: +Yet never one more froward. + +Wal. All runs fair - +Fair may all end! To-day you'll learn the cause +That took me out of town. But soft a while, - +Here comes the bridegroom, with his friends, and here +The all-obedient bride. + +[Enter on one hand JULIA, and on the other hand LORD ROCHDALE with +LORD TINSEL and friends--afterwards CLIFFORD.] + +Roch. Is she not fair? + +Tin. She'll do. Your servant, lady! Master Walter, +We're glad to see you. Sirs, you're welcome all. +What wait they for? Are we to wed or not? +We're ready--why don't they present the bride? +I hope they know she is to wed an earl. + +Roch. Should I speak first? + +Tin. Not for your coronet! +I, as your friend, may make the first advance. +We've come here to be married. Where's the bride? + +Wal. There stands she, lord; if 'tis her will to wed, +His lordship's free to take her. + +Tin. Not a step! +I, as your friend, may lead her to your lordship. +Fair lady, by your leave. + +Julia. No! not to you. + +Tin. I ask your hand to give it to his lordship. + +Julia. Nor to his lordship--save he will accept +My hand without my heart! but I'll present +My knee to him, and, by his lofty rank, +Implore him now to do a lofty deed +Will lift its stately head above his rank, - +Assert him nobler yet in worth than name, - +And, in the place of an unwilling bride, +Unto a willing debt or make him lord, - +Whose thanks shall be his vassals, night and day +That still shall wait upon him! + +Tin. What means this? + +Julia. What is't behoves a wife to bring her lord? + +Wal. A whole heart, and a true one. + +Julia. I have none! +Not half a heart--the fraction of a heart! +Am I a woman it befits to wed? + +Wal. Why, where's thy heart? + +Julia. Gone--out of my keeping! +Lost, past recovery: right and title to it - +And all given up! and he that's owner on't, +So fit to wear it, were it fifty hearts, +I'd give it to him all! + +Wal. Thou dost not mean +His lordship's secretary? + +Julia. Yes. Away +Disguises! in that secretary know +The master of the heart, of which the poor, +Unvalued, empty casket, at your feet - +Its jewel gone--I now despairing throw! + +[Kneels.] + +Of his lord's bride he's lord! lord paramount! +To whom her virgin homage first she paid, - +'Gainst whom rebelled in frowardness alone, +Nor knew herself how loyal to him, till +Another claimed her duty--then awoke +To sense of all she owed him--all his worth - +And all her undeservings! + +Tin. Lady, we came not here to treat of hearts, - +But marriage; which, so please you, is with us +A simple joining, by the priest, of hands. +A ring's put on, a prayer or two is said; +You're man and wife,--and nothing more! For hearts, +We oftener do without, than with them, lady! + +Clif. So does not wed this lady! + +Tin. Who are you? + +Clif. I'm secretary to the Earl of Rochdale. + +Tin. My lord! + +Roch. I know him not - + +Tin. I know him now - +Your lordship's rival! Once Sir Thomas Clifford. + +Clif. Yes, and the bridegroom of that lady then, +Then loved her--loves her still! + +Julia. Was loved by her - +Though then she knew it not!--is loved by her, +As now she knows, and all the world may know! + +Tin. We can't be laughed at. We are here to wed, +And shall fulfil our contract. + +Julia. Clifford! + +Clif. Julia! +You will not give your hand? + +[A pause. JULIA seems utterly lost.] + +Wal. You have forgot +Again. You have a father! + +Julia. Bring him now, - +To see thy Julia justify thy training, +And lay her life down to redeem her word! + +Wal. And so redeems her all! Is it your will, +My lord, these nuptials should go on? + +Roch. It is. + +Wal. Then is it mine they stop! + +Tin. I told your lordship +You should not keep a Hunchback for your agent. + +Wal. Thought like my father, my good lord, who said +He would not have a Hunchback for his son - +So do I pardon you the savage slight. +My lord, that I am not as straight as you, +Was blemish neither of my thought nor will, +My head nor heart. It was no act of mine. - +Yet did it curdle Nature's kindly milk +E'en where 'tis richest--in a parent's breast - +To cast me out to heartless fosterage, +Nor heartless always, as it proved--and give +My portion to another! the same blood - +But I'll be sworn, in vein, my lord, and soul - +Although his trunk did swerve no more than yours - +Not half so straight as I. + +Tin. Upon my life +You've got a modest agent, Rochdale! Now +He'll prove himself descended--mark my words - +From some small gentleman + +Wal. And so you thought, +Where Nature played the churl, it would be fit +That fortune played it too. You would have had +My lord absolve me of my agency! +Fair lord, the flaw did cost me fifty times - +A hundred times my agency:- but all's +Recovered. Look, my lord, a testament +To make a pension of his lordship's rent-roll! +It is my father's, and was left by him, +In case his heir should die without a son, +Then to be opened. Heaven did send a son +To bless the heir. Heaven took its gift away, +He died--his father died. And Master Walter - +The unsightly agent of his lordship there - +The Hunchback whom your lordship would have stripped +Of his agency--is now the Earl of Rochdale! + +Tin. We've made a small mistake here. Never mind, +'Tis nothing in a lord. + +Julia. The Earl of Rochdale! + +Wal. And what of that? Thou know'st not half my greatness! +A prouder title, Julia, have I yet, +Sooner than part with which I'd give that up, +And be again plain Master Walter. What! +Dost thou not apprehend me? Yes, thou dost! +Command thyself; don't gasp. My pupil--daughter! +Come to thy father's heart! + +[JULIA rushes into his arms.] + +[Enter FATHOM.] + +Fath. Thievery! Elopement--escape--arrest! + +Wal. What's the matter? + +Fath. Mistress Helen is running away with Master Modus--Master +Modus is running away with Mistress Helen--but we have caught them, +secured them, and here they come, to receive the reward of their +merits. + +[Enter HELEN and MODUS, followed by Servants.] + +Helen. I'll ne'er wed man, if not my cousin Modus. + +Mod. Nor woman I, save cousin Helen's she. + +Wal. [To MASTER HEARTWELL.] A daughter, have you, and a nephew, +too, +Without their match in duty! Let them marry. +For you, sir, who to-day have lost an earldom, +Yet would have shared that earldom with my child - +My only one--content yourself with prospect +Of the succession; it must fall to you, +And fit yourself to grace it. Ape not those +Who rank by pride. The man of simplest bearing +Is yet a lord, when he's a lord indeed! + +Tin. The paradox is obsolete. Ne'er heed! +Learn from his book, and practise out of mine! + +Wal. Sir Thomas Clifford, take my daughter's hand! +If now you know the master of her heart! +Give it, my Julia! You suspect, I see, +And rightly, there has been some masking here. +Content thee, daughter, thou shalt know anon, +How jealousy of my mis-shapen back +Made me mistrustful of a child's affections - +Who doubted e'en a wife's--so that I dropped +The title of thy father, lest thy duty +Should pay the debt thy love could solve alone. +All this and more, that to thy friends and thee +Pertains, at fitting time thou shalt be told. +But now thy nuptials wait--the happy close +Of thy hard trial--wholesome, though severe! +The world won't cheat thee now--thy heart is proved; - +Thou know'st thy peace by finding out its bane, +And ne'er will act from reckless impulse more! + + + +Footnotes: + + + +{1} The other play, The Love-Chase, is released in a separated +eText with Project Gutenberg and not included here.--DP. + +{2} In representation, the passages following this are curtailed +and the scene runs as follows:- + +Master Walter continues - +The first side shows their passion in the dawn - +In the next side 'tis shining open day - +In the third there's clouding--I but touch on these +To make a long tale brief, and bring thee to +The last side. + +Julia. What shows that? + +Wal. The fate of love +That will not be advised.--The scene's a dungeon, +Its tenant is the page--he lies in fetters. + +Julia. Hard! +Hard as the steel, the hands that put them on! &c. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Hunchback, by J. S. Knowles + diff --git a/old/hnchb10.zip b/old/hnchb10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5c6a75e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/hnchb10.zip |