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 testam