y Julia!
Impatient love has foresight! Lo you here
The marriage deeds filled up, except a blank
To write your jointure. What you will, my girl!
Is this a lover? Look! Three thousand pounds
Per annum for your private charges! Ha!
There's pin-money! Is this a lover? Mark
What acres, forests, tenements, are taxed
For your revenue; and so set apart,
That finger cannot touch them, save thine own.
Is this a lover? What good fortune's thine!
Thou dost not speak; but, 'tis the way with joy!
With richest heart, it has the poorest tongue!

_Mod_. What great good fortune's this you speak of, sir?

_Wal_. A coronet, Master Modus! You behold
The wife elect, sir, of no less a man
Than the new Earl of Rochdale--heir of him
That's recently deceased.

_Helen_. My dearest Julia,
Much joy to you!

_Mod_. All good attend you, madam!

_Wal_. This letter brings excuses from his lordship,
Whose absence it accounts for. He repairs
To his estate in Lancashire, and thither
We follow.

_Julia_. When, sir?

_Wal_. Now. This very hour.

_Julia_. This very hour! O cruel, fatal haste!

_Wal_. "O cruel, fatal haste!" What meanest thou?
Have I done wrong to do thy bidding, then?
I have done no more. Thou wast an offcast bride,
And wouldst be an affianced one--thou art so!
Thou'dst have the slight that marked thee out for scorn,
Converted to a means of gracing thee--
It is so! If our wishes come too soon,
What can make sure of welcome? In my zeal
To win thee thine, thou know'st, at any time
I'd play the steed, whose will to serve his lord,
With his last breath gives his last bound for him!
Since only noon have I despatched what well
Had kept a brace of clerks, and more, on foot--
And then, perhaps, had been to do again!--
Not finished sure, complete--the compact firm,
As fate itself had sealed it!

_Julia_. Give you thanks!
Though 'twere my death! my death!

_Wal_. Thy death! indeed,
For happiness like this, one well might die!
Take thy lord's letter! Well?

[Enter THOMAS, with a letter.]

_Thos_. This letter, sir,
The gentleman that served Sir Thomas Clifford--
Or him that was Sir Thomas--gave to me
For Mistress Julia.

_Julia_. Give it me!

[Throwing away the one she holds.]

_Wal_. [Snatching it.] For what?
Wouldst read it? He's a bankrupt! stripped of title,
House, chattels, lands, and all! A naked bankrupt,
With neither purse, nor trust! Wouldst read his letter?
A beggar! Ye