SCENE II.--An Apartment in Master Heartwell's House.

[MASTER WALTER discovered looking through t.i.tle-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 t.i.tle! 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 t.i.tle-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 princ.i.p.ality!

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!