PR J it \ ii-mpprrnoi-. Pocwir, "-»T^ ." ' ' '\ ,^5^6 H'S STANDARD DRAMA. \870 THE HUNCHBACK. % Diitg, IN FIVE ACTS. BY JAMES SHESIDAN KKOWLSSj WITH THB AUTHOR'S LATES' CORRECTIONS, WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CiIARAO- i TEKS, COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, &c j \ XEJi'- VOR.r: ?.muei "2 Nassau French &. Son. troei , LO.\PONf Samuei French, 8 a ST p?..A.-Mr>. BOOK J EVKRT AMA-TEUR S£IOUjL=Ay HAVi), kHATErtl'S OriDE; or, Honrto Get op Borne Theatrieals and to Actln tbem, wlthBale.' Law-,? cteJSoeuos, riays and other usefolSnforuiatlon for A. natcu'- Societies. Price SO -', ijr DK TO THE STAGE. 15 cents. ;* ART Oil' ACTING. 15 cents. Anything on this cover sent by mail on receipt of vrice. C!ass_ZS4g51 Book . K ^ i-^ ^ d Nu. XV. NCH'S STANDARD DRAMA E H UN C H B A C K. IN FIVE ACTS. JAMES SHERIDAN KNO.WLES. WITH THE AUTHOR'S LATEST CORRECTIONS. HE STAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARACTERS, COS- TUMES. RELATIVE POSITIONS, &c. EIIFOIIMED BY MR. KNOWLKS, MR. AND MISS KEMBLE, MR. AND MRS. CHARLES KEAN : ONLY UNMUTILAXED ED|-riON.^^''' Vito the StagrLIA. — First dress: White muslin, trimmed with iace. — Sec. dress : White satin gown, with silk spencer or boddice according' taste, hat aud ostrich feathers. — Third dress : White sarin robe c demi-traia, trimmed with lace, white satin shoes. HELEN. — First dress : White musliu trimmed with pink or blue ; i and girdle of the same. — second dress of satin. EXITS AND ENTRANCES. R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Do 8. £. Second Entrance; U. E. Upp^r Entrance; M. D. Middle D RELATIVE POSITIONS. B., mean* Right; L., Left; C, Centre; R. C, Right of Cent L C„ Left of Centre. JtJB. Passages marked with Inverted Commas, arc usually omitted in tie revresentation. / '/■Z4'&P CJ EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. 7aE appearance of " The Hunchback" marked au era in the historj kf English dramatic literature. It did much to resKjre a taste for the- atrical entertainments of an elevated character both in England and the United States, and to silence the cry of those critical croakers, the continual burthen of whose lament was " the decline of the drama." A freshness and frankness in the spirit, a heartiness in the tone, and a manly, muscular energy in the language of this admirable play, called to mind the dramatists of the day of Elizabeth. And yet Knowles is no imitator. His style is singularly original. Indeed it is sometimes a little too liberally garnished with absolute Knuwles'isms ; as where he attains conciseness of expression at the price of obscurity, or, by the convolution of his sentences, conceals without invigorating the sentiment. " The Hunchback" was first produced the 5th of April, 1832, at the Covent Garden Theatre. It had been oflfered to the managers uf the rival house of Drury Lane ; but they had been either so obtuse or so impolitic as to slight its claims to their attention. The penalty for their neglect was, that they were obliged to close their doors a month before the usual period, simply because no attraction they could offer could compete with that of the new play. Its success was instant and imposing. In the part of Julia, Miss Fanny Kemble surpassed all her former efforts. " It was," says a contemporary critic, who also writes like a candid one, " a noble and at the same time a most touching performances noble in the sustained energy of its passion in some of the scenes, and touching in the pure depths of its pathos in others. Her exclamation (in the scene v/itb Master Walter) of' Do it .'' with reference to the breaking off the hated match with the Earl, was the most remarkable instance of the first, and her cry — half fond, half froward and impatient— of ' Clifford, is il you?' was an exquisite example of the other. "But the great novelty of the night was the acting of Mr. Knowles himself, in the character of Master Walter \ and we can agree witb all the praise, and but .ittle, if any, of the censure, which have been bestowed upon his performance. It was in many parts the most natu- r«l that we remoaber to have seen on the English stage : it wa« in IV EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. some parts vigorous, and even dignified, and it was intell^yjtual and original in all. We speak of the mellowed performance, not that a< the first night, in which the actor commenced under an erroneous im pression as to the effect and capability of his physical powers, with re ference to the locality on which they were to be employed. ** Finally, Mr. Kemble's Clifford was a delightful specimen of grace ful and gentlemanly propriety ; and Miss Taylor's Helen, though great J.y overdone, was full of sterling comic humor and vivacity." Most of the London critics were less complimentary in their com ments upon the acting of Mr. Knowles. One of them remarked : "Hif voice is without modulation, always in one loud key, pumping out the words ; which are, moreover, enriched with a genuine and classic brogue." Soon after " The Hunchback" had been made familiar to English play-goers, those of this country had an opportunity of witnessing the excellent performances of Mr. Charles Kembleand his daughter in this piece. Subsequently, Mr. Knowles himself made us a visit, and im- personated Master Walter in our principal cities. We knew and loved the man ; but must turn informer to posterity so far as to confess that his brogue, even in acting, was rich and ripe. How could it be otherwise, when he was so thoroughly national as to be well content with the familiar prefix of Paddy to his name? He dicr net attract large audiences at our theatres ; although respect for the dramatist and affection for the man secured him some substantial returns. It was often a subject of regret with us, that our laws for the protection of literary property were not such, that he could derive some benefit from the frequent performance o those sterling productions of hia genius, " The Hunchback," and " The Wife." Here were foreign managers and actors making their thousands in this country out of the fruits of his dramatic toil ; while he was debarred from exacting a penny from these persons for the use of his popular plays ' When shall we have legislators with souls to rectify such rank injustice ? The character of Julia has been a sort of test-part for the display of the abilities of nearly all the accomplished actresses, who have ap- peared upon our boards since the production of " The Hunchback * Miss Vincent, Miss Wheatley, Miss Phillips, Miss Jarman, and Mrs. Charles Kean, have been deservedly praised for their exquisite em- bodyings of Master Walter's wayward daughter. Recently Mrs Mowatt, who is the peer of any one of her predecessors in the respect of talent if not of stage experience, has added this part to her role, and won new laurels by her spirited personation of it in me Southern theatres. The scene of " The Hunchback" is laid about the time of Charles 1. The story is that of a father, who, in consequence of Ihs personal d* EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. ^ formity, imagices that his daughter will be wanting in filial aSectbn, and so brings her up in ignorance of their true relationship. She knows him only as Master Walter, her kind friend and guardian. Ho proves in the end to be therightfal possessor of the peerage of Rochdale; but before this is discovered, he has found in the person of Sir Thomas ClilFord a suitor for his daughter. Julia, while yet a simple country !iiaiden, accepts this suitor ; but on being tried by the gayeties of a city life, she enters into them so heartily as to make her lover question! ths sincerity of her attachment to himself. She takes offence at hia monitions, and, while her pride is stung and her resentment aroused, consents — " only to show him she can wed above him" — to receive the addresses of the supposed Earl of Rochdale. But no sooner is her word passed than she bitterly repents of lier precipitancy. When she ieanis that adversity has overtaken Clifford, the generosity of her na- ture is beautifully betrayed ; and the scenes in which she thencefor- ward appears are wrought up to an intensity of interest. Such are some of the principal incidents, upon which the plot turns. It is not very luminously developed. There are crudities and obscuri- ties in the construction; of which, indeed, no one can be more aware than the author himself It does not clearly appear, for example, whether Clifford and Master Walter are not, after the third act, in col- lusion with each other ; and the precise position of Lord Rochdale ig not very intelligibly defined. An audience, however, will be general- ly too much interested in Julia to pay regard to these subordinate questions of the play. This charming creation presents throughout one of the mo»i; consummate feminine portraits ever depicted by any dramatist. Much cannot be said in praise of the underplot. Some of the cha- racteiis are quite unworthy of the good company, in which they find themselves. Modus is a conception of but little genuine humor ; and, little as that is, it is partially borrowed from Gradus in " Who's the Dupe ?" The scenes between the sheepish student of Ovid and hia cousin Helen, (why need she have been a cousin ?) always seemed to us forced and inharmonious. No young woman of any refinement, natural or acquired, could have played the wooer as she does; and no aian of sense, whether a recluse or a man of the world, could havB been entrapped by the exercise of such unfeminine arts as she stoops Ic employ. We always pity the actress, who is cast in the part of Uden. But, after enumerating all imaginable flaws and defects, there is a large balance of beauties in this play, sufficient to excite our gratitude and admiration, and to justify the unparalleled popularity which it has attained. It will be read acted and admired, while a vestige oi we English drama -^rr.-iinsj. author^s preface This comedy owes its existence to the failure of The Beggar' Daughter of Bethnal Greea," which was produced under the most un fevjurable circumstances, and in the unavoidable absence of the au Ihor. I did not like to be baffled, especially, as I thought, withou good reason ; and cheered by the generous, enthusiastic advocacy o the Atlas (a perfect stranger to me), I set to work upon " The Hunc'' back." My friend, Mr. Macready, who was very angiy with me for again attempting a walk in which I had failed, — and who came to Glasgow, solely, as T believe, for the object cf expostulating with me, — was the first to eicourage me to proceed. I had completed my first act. I read it to him, and he told me to go on. This I thought the happiest of omens, for many a proof had he given me of his admirable judgment in such things. This happened about two years ago. It was not, huwever, until the latter end of the summer of 1831, that [ had leisure to proceed with my work. I recommenced it in the pleasant walks about Birmingham, and completed it on the sands of ^fewhaven — my roomy study ; whare, at the same time, I remodellt<] 'Alfred." I brought both plays up to town v^ith me in April last. " The Hunchback'' was read to Mr. Lee, and instantly accepted by ihat gentleman, who, without hesitation, granted me terms even more advantageous than those which I required for it from Covent Garden and to whose polite and liberal deportment towards me, during hia brief, divided i-eign of management, I joyfully take this opportunity o bearing testimony. The play, however, was defective in the uudci plot, which was perfectly distinct from the main one. This error, Mr Macready pointed out to me, — as did subsequently Mr. Morton, in axi elaborate critique as full of kindness as of discrimination. My avoca lions, however, did not leave me at liberty to revise my work, til about two months ago, when I constructed my under plot anew ; and having done my best to obviate objections, presented " The Hunch hack" to Drury Lane, from which establishment I subsequently with drew it, because it waa uot treated with the attention which I ^hougk U uiented THE HUNCHBACK ACT I. Scene I. — A Tavern. On one side, Sir Thomas Clippord at a tabic with wine before him ; on the other. Master WiLFORD, Gaylove, Holdwell, uud Simpson, likewise talcing wine. Wilf. Your wine, Sirs ; your wine ; you do not justice to mine host of the Three Tuns, nor credit to yourselves. [ swear the beverage is good ! It is as palatable poison as you will purchase within a mile round Ludgate ! Drink, gentlemen ; make free. You know I am a man of expec- tations ; and hold my money as light as the purse in which I carry it. Gay. We drink, Master Wilford ; not a man of us has been chased as yet. Wilf. But you fill not fairly, Sirs ! Look at ray mea- sure ! Wherefore a large glass, if not for a large draught 1 Fill, I pray you, else let us drink out of thimbles. This will never do for the friends of the nearest of kin to the wealthiest peer in Britain. Gay. We give you joy, Master Wilford, of the prospect of advancement which has so unexpectedly opened to you. Wilf. Unexpectedly indeed ! But yesterday arrived the news that the Earl's only son and heir had died; ani] to-day has the earl himself been seized with a mortal illness. His dissolution is looked for hourly : and I, his cousin in only the third degree, known to him but to be unnoticed by him — a decayed gentleman's son — glad of the title and revenues of a sciivener's clerk, — am the undoubted succea* sar to his estates and coronet. 10 THE HUNCHBACK. [Act I Gay. Have you been sent for 1 Wilf. No ; but I have certified to his agent, Master Walter, the Hunchback, my existence and peculiar propin- quity ; and momentarily expect him here. " Gay Lives there any one that may dispute your claim ** — I mean vexatiously ? " Wilf. Not a man. Master Gaylove. I am the sole re- * maining branch of the family tree." Gay. Doubtless you look for much happiness from tnis change of fortune] ^'Vilf. A world ! Three things have I an especial pas- sion for : the finest hound, the finest horse, and the finest wife in the kingdom, Master Gaylove. Gay. The finest wife ! Wilf. Yes, Sir; I marry. Once the Earldom comes :nto my line, I shall take measures to perpetuate its re- maining there. I marry, Sir ! I do not say that I shall love. My heart has changed mistresses too often to settle down in one sei-vitude now, Sir. But fill, I pray you, fiiends. This, if I mistake not, is the day whence I shall date my new fortunes ; " and, for that reason, hither have " I invited you, that having been so long my boon compa- ** nions, you should be the first to congratulate me." Enter Waiter, l. Wait. You are wanted. Master Wilford. Wilf. By whom % Wait. One Master Walter. Wilf. His Lordship's agent ! News, Sirs ! Show him m. \Rises. Exit Waiter y l My heart's a prophet. Sirs. — The Earl is dead. Enter Master Walter, l. Well, Master Walter ; how accost you me % \All come forward^ r. Walt. As your impatience shovs me you would have My lord, the Earl of Rochdale ! [me ? Gay. Give you joy ! ___ Hold. All happiness, my lord ! Simp. .Long life and health unto your lordship ! " Gay. Come ! ' We'll drink to his lordship's health ! 'Tis two o'clock • We'll e'en carouse till midnight ! Hea'di, my lord !" BcMVE I;] THE HUNCHBACK. 1 1 Hold. My lord, much joy to you ! Huzza ! [All go to the table, Jill and drink " Si7)ip. Huzza i" Walt. Give something to the dead ! Gay. Give what % Walt. Respect! fie has made the living ! First to him that's gone, Say " Peace," — and then with decency to revels. Gay What means the knave by revels ] [Advances towards Waltef Walt. Knave ! Gay. Ay, Knave ! Walt. Go to ! Thou'rt flushed with wine. Gay. Thou sayest false ! Tho' didst thou need a proof thou speakest true, I'd give thee one. Thou seest but one lord here, And I see two ! Walt. Reflect'st thou on my shape *? Thou art a villaiji ' Gay. Ha ! Walt. A coward, too! [Walks f ram him, i* Draw ! [Drawiiig his sword. \ Gay. Only mark him, how he struts about ! How laughs his straight sword at his noble back. Walt. Does it 1 It cuffs thee for a liar, then I [Strikes him with his sword Gay. A blow ! Walt. Another, lest you doubt the first ! Gay. His blood on his own head ! I'm for you, Sir ! [Draw^ Clif. Hold, Sir ! This quarrel's mine ! [ Coming forward r. of Walter, and drawiiig Walt. No man shall fight for me, Sir ! Clif. By your leave ! — Your patience, pray ! My lord — for so I learn l^ehoves me to accost you — for your own sake Draw off your friend ! Walt. Not till we have a bout. Sir I " Clif. My lord, your happy fortune ill you greet— •^ 111 greet it those v/ho love you — greeting thus "■ The herald of it ! " Walt. Sir, what's that to you ? Let gc my sleeve I 12 THE HUNCUBAOK. " 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 i l,ook. Sir: if swords you needs must measure, I'm Vour mate, not he. Walt. I'm mate for any man. " Clif. Draw off your friend, my lord, for your owi sake!" Wilf. Come, Gaylove ! let us have another room. Ga7f. With all my heart, sitice 'tis your lordship's will Wilf. That's right ! Put up ! Come, fiiends ! [Exeunt Wilf or d and friends, r. Walt. I'll follow him ! Why do you hold mel 'Tis not courteous of you ! " Think'st thou I fear them 1 Fear ! 1 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 Walt. How know you me for Master Walter 1 Ey 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 I' a.ha !" God made me, Sir, as well as them and you. Sdeath ! I demand of you, unhand me, sir. [Disengaging himself Clif There, Sir, you're free to follow them ! Go fcrtk And I'll go, too : so on your wilfulness Shall fall whate'er of evil may ensue. Is't fit to 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. Walt. You're right, Sir ; right. For twenty crowns ! So there's my rapier up f Vou've done me a good turn against my will • icEFB 1 J THE HUNCHBACK. 13 VVhich, Kne a wayward child, whose pet is off, That made him restive under wholesome check, [ now right humbly own, and thank you for. ^ Cl?f. No thanks, good Master Walter, owe you me! I'm glad to know you. Sir. JVait. I pray you, now, flow did you learn my name 1 Guessed I not right 1 .Vas't not my comely hunch that taught it you ? Clif. I own it. Walt. Right, I know it ; you tell truth. [ 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 Doi^d , 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 bact . Walt. You would not flatter a poor citizei ? Clif. Indeed, 1 flatter not ! Walt. I like your face : A. frank and honest one ' Your frame's well knit. Proportioned, shaped ! C/if Good, Sir ! Walt. Your name is Cliflbrd— Sir Thomas Clifford. Humph ! You're not the fieir Direct, to the fair baronetcy ? He That was, was drowned abroad. Am I not right ? Your cousin, was't not 1 So succeeded you To rank and wealth, your birth ne'er promised you. Clif. T see you know my history. Walt. I do. ^ You're lucky who conjoin the benefits Of penury an I abundance; for I know Your father was a man of slender means. You do not blush, I see. That's right! Why shoul* you? What merit to be dropped on fortune's hill 1 The honour is to mount it. You'd have done it; For, you were trained to knowledge, industry, Frugality and honesty, — the sinews 14 THE HUNCHBACK |^j^^ j That surest hel]) the climber to the top, 4nd keep him there. I have a clerk, Sir Thomas., Once served your father , there's the riddle for y/a. Humph ! I may thank you for my life to-day Clif. I pray you, say not so ! Walt. But 1 will say so ! Because I think so^ know so, feel so. Sir ! oar fortune, I have heard, 1 think, is ample ; :\nd doubtless you live up to't ] Chf. 'Twas ray rule. And is so still, to keep my outlay, Sir, A span within my means. " Walt. A prudent rule. " The turf is a seductive pastime ! *' Qlif. Yes. " Walt. You keep a racing stud % You bet 1 " 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 !' Walt. " 'Twas a wise precept." Vou've a fair house — you'll get a mistress for it 1 Clif. In time. Walt. In time ! 'Tis time thy choice were made. [s't not so yet 1 Or is thy lady-love. The newest still thou see'st '^ Clif. Nay, not so. ['d rnaiTy, 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 lie for me Till I had turned, and turned them ! Speculations, That promised twenty, thirty, forty, hfty, Ay, cent, per cent, returns, I would not launch in When others vvei'e afloat, and out at sea ! Whereby I made small gains, but missed greai ^osses f As ever then I looked before I leaped, So do I now. Wal. Thou'rt all the better for't ! Let's gee ! H=ind free — heart whole — well favoured — so) Rich, — titled ! Let that pass ! — kind, valiant, prudent — gtEWBlI., THE HUNCHBACK. 1 Sir Thomas, I can help thee to a wife, Hast thou the luck to win her ! Clif. Master Walter ! c'ou jest ! Wal. I do not jest. — I like you ! mark— I like you, and I like not every one ! 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 naught 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 1 We'll have a blaze aaon ! Eyitcr Servant, l. Se7'v. The chariot's at the doo". 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 '11 bless the day you served the Hunchback Sir. [Exeunt., l. Scene II. — A Garden hefore a Country Houst Enter Juli.4 and Helen, r. u. e Hel. (r.) I like not, Juja, tl i.s, your country life. ^'m weary O'^'t. 16 HE HUNCHBACK. (AOPL Jul. ("i ; Indeed ] So am not I ! i know no other ; would no other know. Hel. Ycmj v/ould no other know ! Would you not know A.nother rt-rative ? — another friend — clnotlier h«)use — another anything, Because tlie ones you have already please you 1 T hat*s poor content ! " Would you not be more rich. ' More wise, more fairT' The song that last you lea^--^-^ Vou 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 1 You. may, love, and a sweeter one ; and so A sweeter life may find, than this you lead ! Jul. I seek it not. Helen, I'm constancy ! Hel. 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 tlieir quarters. Thou'rt constancy ? I'm 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 conslancy 1 Art proud of that 1 " 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 thro' his castle wall !" And so, in very deed, thou'rt constancy ! Jul. Helen, you know the adage of the tree ; — ['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 towu 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 ! lid. 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 wonien there are queens, and kings their men; Their houses palaces ! f Ot/wct, i BcESE ll.j ''HE IJUNCIIEACK. 17 Jul. And whai of that \ [lave your town palaces a hall like this 1 Couches so fragrant 1 walls so high adorned ? Casements with such festoons, such prospects, Helen, Ap these fair vistas have ] Your kings and queens ! See me a May-day queen, and talk of them ! Hel. Extremes are ever neighbors. 'Tis a step From one to the other ! Were thy constancy A reasonable thing — a little less Of constancy — a woman's constancy — [ 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. Jul. Never ! I'm wedded to a country life . O, did you bear \vhat Master Walter says ! Nine times in ten, the town's a hollow thing. Where what tilings are, is naught to what they show } Where merit's name lauofhs 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. Wliere Folly taketh off his cap and bells, To clap on Wisdom, which must bear the jest ! Where, to pass current, you must seem the thing, The passive thing that others think, and not Your simple, honest, independent sglf ! [Crcw^e*, i Hcl. Ay : so says Master Walter. See I not What you can find in Master Walter, Julia, To be so fond of him ! Jul. He's fond of me. f've known him since I was a child. E'en then ihe week I thought a weary, heavy one, That brought not Master Walter. I had those About me then that made a fool of me. As children oft are fooled ; but more I loved Grood Master Walter's lesson, than the play With which they'd surfeit me. As I grew up^ 18 THE HUNCHBACK. f AcT » More frequenw Master Walter came, and more I ioved to see him. I had tutors then, Men of great skill and learning — but not one That taught like Master Walter. What they'd show me, And I, dull as I was, but doubtful saw, — A V. rd from Master Walter made as clear As day-light ! When my schooling days were o'er — Thrit's now good three years past — three years — I vow I'm twenty, Helen ! — well, as I was saying, Wiien I had done with school, and all were gone, Still Master Walter came ; and still he comes, Summer or winter — fi-ost or rain. I've seen The snovv' upon a level with the hedge, Yet there was Master Walter ! Hel. Who comes here 1 [Crosses > A carriage, and a gay one, — who alights ? Pshaw ! Only Master Walter ! What see you, Which thus repairs the arch of the fair brow, A frown was like to spoil 1 — A gentleman ! One of our town kings ! Mark — how say you now 1 Would'st be a town queen, Julia ? Which of us, I wonder, comes he for 1 Jul. For neither of us ; He's Master Walter's clerk, most like. Bel. Most like ! Mark him as he comes up the avenue ; So looks a clerk ! A clerk has such a gait ! So does a clerk dress, Julia, — mind his hose — They're very like a clerk's ! a diamond loop And button, note you, for his clerkship's hat- O, certai ly a clerk ! " A velvet cloak, "Jerkin of silk, and doublet of the same, — " For all the world a clerk ! See, Julia, see. How Master Walter bows, and yields him place, That he may first go in, — a very clerk ! I'll learn of thee, love, when I'd know a clerk! Jul. I wonder who he is. - Hcl. Would'st like to know ] Would' st, for a fancy, ride to town with him 1 I prophesy he comes to take thee thither. Jul. He ne'er takes me to town. No, Helen, nf\ To to\Vn who will — a country life for me ' H^l We'll see- il.j THE HrJNCHBACK. 19 Enter Fathom, l. Fath. You're wanted, Madam. Jul. [E7?ibarras^ed.] Which of us 1 Fath. You, madam. ' [ ErO€S wp^ L. Hd. Julia ! what's the matter % Nay Mount not the rose so soon. He must not see it A month hence. 'Tis love's flower, which, once she wears, The maid is all his own. Jul. Go to ! Hcl. Be sure \Crosses^'L, He comes to woo thee ! He will bear thee hence ; He'll make thee change the country for the town. Jul. I'm c(mstancy. . Name he the town to me, ['11 tell him what I think on't ! \CrosstSy i Uel. Then you guess He comes a wooing ] Jul. I guess naught. mi. You do! At your grave words, your lips, more honest, smile, And show them to be traitors. Hie to him. Jul. Hie thee to soberness. [Exit, h Hcl. Ay, will I, when Thy bridemaid, I sliall hie to church with thee. Well, Fathom, who is come] Ji Comes dovm,h Fath. I know not. Hd. What! Did'st thou not hear his name ] Fath. I did. Hd. Whatis't? Fath, I noted not. Hd. What hast thou ears for, then ? Fath. What good were it for me to mind his name t [ do but what I must do. To do that ;« labor quite enough I Wal. [ Without, L.] What, Fathom! Fath. Here. Wal. [Entering, \..] Here, sirrah I Wherefore did'st not come to me ] Fath. You did not bi I me come. Wal. I called thee. Fath. Yes, 20 THE HUNCHBACK. [Act I And 1 said, " Here ;" and waited then to know Your worship's will with me. Wed. We go to town — Thy mistress, thou, a.id all the house. Path. Well, sir 1 WaL (c.) Mak'st thou not ready, then, to go to town 1 Fath. You didn't bid me to make ready, Sir. WalT Hence, knave, despatch ! \^Exit Fathom, Hd. Go we to town % WaL We do ; *Tis now her father's will she sees the town. HeL Vm glad on't. Goes she to her father ] Wal, No; With the consent of thine, she for a. term Shares roof with thee. IJel. I'm very glad on't. WaL What! You Hke her, then 1 I thought you would. 'Tis tini« She sees the town. HeL It has been time for that, These six years. WaL By thy wisdom's count. No doubt V^ou've told her what a precious place it is. HeL I have. WaL I even guessed as much. For that } told thee of her ; brought thee here to see her; And prayed thee to sojourn a space with her ; That its fair face, from thy too fair report. Might strike a novice less, — so less deceive her. • I did not put thee under check. HeL 'Twas right — Ellse I had broken loose and run the wilder ! So knows she not her father yet that's strange, [ prithee how does mine 1 WaL Well— very well. News for thee. HeL What? WaL Thy cousin is in town. HeL My cousin Modus 1 WaL Much do I suspect rhat cousin's nearer to thy heart than blood, HeL Pshaw ! Wed me to a musty library ! SCWEIII.] THE HUNCHBACK. 21 Love him who noiiiing loves but Greek and Latin 1 But, Master Walter, you forget the main Surpassing point of all. Who's come with you t Wal. Ay, that's the question ! Hel. Is he soldier or Civilian 1 lord or gentleman 1 He's rich, If that's his chariot ! Where is his estate 1 What brings it in 1 Six thousand pounds a year 1 Twelve thousand, may be ? Is he bachelor, Or husband *? Bachelor, I'm sure he is ! Comes he not hither wooing, Master Walter 1 Nay, prithee, answer me ! tVal. Who says thy sex Are curious ] That they're patient, I'll be sworn ; And reasonable — very reasonable — To look for twenty answers in a breath ! Come, thou shalt be enlightened — but propound Thy questions one by one ! Thou'rt far too apt A scholar ! My ability t'~ teach Will ne'er keep pace, I fear, with thine to learn. [Exeunt (c Scene III. — An Apartment in tJie House, Enter Jvi.i a, JbUowed hy Clifford, r. Jul. No more ! I pray you, Sir, no more ! Glif. I love you. Jw/. You mock me, Sir! Clif. Then is there no such thing On earth as reverence. Honour filial, the fear Of kings, the awe of supreme Heaven itself, Are only shows and sounds that stand for nothing. I love you ! Jul. You have known me scarce a minute. Clif. Say but a moment, still I say I love you. Love's not a flower that grows on the dull earth ; Springs by the calendar ; must wait for sun — For rain ; matures by parts, — must take its time To stem, to leaf, to bud, to blow. It owns A richer soil, and boasts a quicker seed ! You look for it, and see it not ; and lo ! E'en while you look, the peerless flower is up, Conguramate in the birth ! IS - THE HUNCHBACK. [AcT i V. '• Is't fear I feel ? '* \Vliy also should beat my heart 1 It can't be fear ! '• Something I needs must say." You're frc/ra the tovru How comes it, Sir, you seek a country wife ] " ivlethinks 'twill tax his wit to answer that." GUf. In joining contrasts lieth love's delight. Complexion, strature, nature mateth it, Not with their kinds, but with their opposite3. Hence hands of snow in palms of russet lie; The form of Hercules affects the sylph's ; And breasts that case the lion's fear-proof heart, I^'ind their loved lodge in arms where tremors dwell' " Haply for this, on Afric's swaithy neck, " Hath Europe's priceless pearl been seen to hang, " That makes the orient poor ! So with degrees — " Rank passes by the cii'clet-graced brow, *• Upon the forehead bare of notelessness, " To print the nuptial kiss ! As with degrees, " So is't with habits ;" therefore I, indeed, A G^allant of the town, the town forsake, To win a country bride. Jul. " His prompt reply, *'My backward challenge shames ! Must I frive o'a I '* I'll try nis wit again." Wiio mariies me. Must lead a country life. CUf. The life I love ! But fools would fly from it ; for Oh ! 'tis sweet ! Tt finds the heart out, be there one to find ; And corners in't where stores of pleasures lodge, We never dreamed were there ! It is to dwell 'Mid smiles that are not neighbors to deceit ; Music, whose melody is of the heart, '' And gifts that are not made for inteiest, — * Abundantly bestowed, by nature's cheek, •* And voice, and hand !" It is to live on life, And husband it ! It is to constant scan The handy work of heaven ! It is to con Its mercy, bounty, wisdom, power ! It is To nearer see our God ! Jul. How like he talks To Master Walter ! ^* Shall 1 give it o'er % " Not yet" Thou would'st not live one hiM a yeai { ftv « III:] THE HUNCHBACK. 33 A quarter might's/ thou for the novel t} Of fields and trees ; but then it needs must bs In summer time, when thev go dressed. aif. -Not it!" In any time — say winter ! Fiekls and tree* Have charms for me in very winter time. Jul. But snow may clothe them then C/if. I like them full As well in snow ! JuL You do 1 aif. I do ! Jul. But night Will hide both snow and them ; and that sets in Ere afternoon is out. A heavy thing, A. country fireside in a winter's night, To one bred in the town, — " where winter's said, ' For sun of gayety and sportiveness, ' To beggar shining summer." aif. i should like A. country winter's night especially ! Jul You'd sleep bv the fire. Clif. Not I ; I'd talk to thee. Ji/i. You'd tire uf that ! Clif. I'd read to thee. Jul. And that ! Oil/. I'd talk to thee again. Jul. And sooner tire Than first you did, and fall asleep at last. " You'd never do to lead a country life." Cli^f. " You deal too hardly with me !" Matchless ifiaici, " As loved instructor brightens dullest wit," Fear not to undertake the charge of me ! \KneeIt A willing pupil kneels to thee, and lays His title and his fortune at your feet. " Jul. His title and his fortune !" Enter Master Walter and Helen, r. — Jull\, disconcat' edt retires icith the latter, l. — Clifford rises. Wal. So, Sir Thomas ! Aha ! you husband time ! well, was I right 1 Is't not the jewel that I told you 'twas ? Would'st thou not give thine eyes to wear it ? Eh ? 24 THE HUNXHBACK. ^Al - It has an owner, tho , — nay, start not, — one That may be brought to part with't, and with whom I'll stand thy friend — I will — I say, I will ! A strange man, sir, and unaccountable ; But I can humour him — will humour him For thy sake, good Sir Thomas, for I like thee. Well, is't a bargain 1 Come, thy hand upon it. A word or two with thee. [ They retire, r. Julia and Helen come Jbrwr^d, I Jul. (l.) Go up to town ! Hcl. (r.) Have I not said it ten times o'er to theel But if thou lik'st it not, protest against it. Jul. Not if 'tis Master Walter's will. Hcl. What then ] Thou would'st not break thy heart for Master Walter? Jul. That follows not ! Hcl. What follows not 1 Jul. That I Should break my heart that I go up to town. Hcl. Indeed ! Oh, that's anotlier matter. Well. I'd e'en advise thee, then, to do his will ; And ever after, when I prophesy. Believe me, Julia ! [ Thcij retire. Master Walter comes forward Knter Fathom, l., crosses to Walter. Fath. So please you, sir, a letter, — -a post haste letter i The bearer on horseback, the horse in a foam — smoking like a boiler at the heat — be sure a post-haste letter ! Wal. Look to the horse and rider. [Exit FafJioin, l. Opens the letter and readi * What's this ? A testament addressed to me, ** Found in his Lordship's escrutoire, and thence "Directed to be taken by no hand *^Eut mine. My presence instantly required." [Sir Thomas, Julia, and Helen come fo^tearei Come, my mistresses, You dine in town to-day. [Crosses, l.J Your father's wtP It is, my Julia, that you see the world ; And thou shalt see it in its best attire.-— Its gayest looks — its richest finery It shall put on for thee that thou may'st judge CKSl.] THE HU.\CHBACK. Betwixt il, and the rural life you've livert liusiness of moment I'm but just advised o^, roucbing the will of my late noble master, The Earl of Rochdale, recently deceased, vJ.^mmaiids me for a time to leave thee there. Sii Thomas hand her to the chariot. [»SVr Thames crosses to her cmd hands Julia out, l..- thcij pass Walter, wiw then leads Helen out,\..] Nay, i ifW ihee true. We go indeed to'^town ! [Exeunt. END OF ACT I. ACT II. Scene I. — An Apartment in Master HEARTWEr.i.'s House Enter Thomas and Fathom, r. Thorn. WeW, Fatliom, is thy mistress up ? Fath. She is, Master Thomas, and breakfasted. Thoni. She stands it well ! 'Twas five, you say, whei she came home ; and wants it now three qiiyrleri' of an hour often ! Wait till her stock (if country health is out. Fath. 'Twill come to that, Master Thomas, before she lives another month in town ! Three, four, five, six o'clock are now the hours she keeps. 'Twas otherwise with her xn the country. There my mistress used to rise what time she now lies down. Tho?n. Why, yes ; she's changed since she came hither l