Clifford, why don’t you speak to me?
[She weeps.]
Clif. I trust
You’re happy.
Julia. Happy! Very, very happy!
You see I weep, I am so happy! Tears
Are signs, you know, of naught but happiness!
When first I saw you, little did I look
To be so happy!—Clifford!
Clif. Madam?
Julia. Madam!
I call thee Clifford, and thou call’st me madam!
Clif. Such the address my duty stints me to.
Thou art the wife elect of a proud Earl,
Whose humble secretary, sole, am I.
Julia. Most right! I had forgot! I thank you, sir,
For so reminding me; and give you joy,
That what, I see, had been a burthen to you,
Is fairly off your hands.
Clif. A burthen to me!
Mean you yourself? Are you that burthen, Julia?
Say that the sun’s a burthen to the earth!
Say that the blood’s a burthen to the heart!
Say health’s a burthen, peace, contentment, joy,
Fame, riches, honours! everything that man
Desires, and gives the name of blessing to
E’en such a burthen, Julia were to me,
Had fortune let me wear her.
Julia. [Aside.] On the brink
Of what a precipice I’m standing! Back,
Back! while the faculty remains to do’t!
A minute longer, not the whirlpool’s self
More sure to suck me down! One effort! There!