The Hunchback | Page 6

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