Part 26 (1/2)

_Roch_. I know him not--

_Tin_. I know him now-- Your lords.h.i.+p'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 lords.h.i.+p 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 lords.h.i.+p'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 lords.h.i.+p there-- The Hunchback whom your lords.h.i.+p 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 t.i.tle, 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!