The Hunchback | Page 7

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