The Hunchback Part 2

_Wal_. How know you me for Master Walter? By My hunchback, eh!--my stilts of legs and arms, The fas.h.i.+on more of ape's than man's? Aha!

So you have heard them, too--their savage gibes As I pa.s.s on,--"There goes my lord!" aha!

G.o.d 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 pa.s.s 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 for a rood!"

_Wal_. 'Twas a wise precept.

You've a fair house--you'll get a mistress for it?

_Clif_. In time!

_Wal_. In time! 'Tis time thy choice were made.

Is't not so yet? Or is thy lady love The newest still thou seest?

_Clif_. Nay, not so.

I'd marry, Master Walter, but old use-- For since the age of thirteen I have lived In the world--has made me jealous of the thing That flattered me with hope of profit. Bargains Another would snap up, might be for me: Till I had turned and turned them! Speculations, That promised, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, Ay, cent-per-cent. returns, I would not launch in, When others were afloat, and out at sea; Whereby I made small gains, but missed great losses.

As ever, then, I looked before I leaped, So do I now.

_Wal_. Thou'rt all the better for it!

Let's see! Hand free--heart whole--well-favoured--so!

Rich, t.i.tled! Let that pa.s.s!--kind, valiant, prudent-- Sir Thomas, I can help thee to a wife, Hast thou the luck to win her!

_Clif_. Master Walter!

You jest!

_Wal_. I do not jest. I like you! mark-- I like you, and I like not everyone!

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 G.o.ddess!