(Arranged for this piece.)
Julia, Stella.
Sir Thomas Clifford, Festus.
Jul. (Alone.) A wedded bride? Is it a dream? Oh, would it were a dream! How would I bless the sun that waked me from it! I am wrecked By mine own act! What! no escape? no hope? None! I must e’en abide these hated nuptials! Hated!—ay, own it, and then curse thyself That mad’st the bane thou loathest for the love Thou bear’st to one who never can be thine! Yes, love! Deceive thyself no longer. False To say ’tis pity for his fall,—respect Engendered by a hollow world’s disdain, Which hoots whom fickle fortune cheers no more! ’Tis none of these: ’tis love, and, if not love, Why, then, idolatry! Ay, that’s the name To speak the broadest, deepest, strongest passion That ever woman’s heart was borne away by! He comes! Thoud’st play the lady,—play it now! (Enter Clifford, l.) Speaks he not? Or does he wait for orders to unfold His business? Stopped his business till I spoke, I’d hold my peace forever! (Clifford kneels, presenting a letter.) Does he kneel? A lady am I to my heart’s content! Could he unmake me that which claims his knee, I’d kneel to him,—I would, I would! Your will?
Clif. This letter from my lord.
Jul. Oh, fate! who speaks?
Clif. The secretary of my lord. (Rises.)
Jul. I breathe! I could have sworn ’twas he! (Makes an effort to look at him, but is unable.) So like the voice!— I dare not look lest there the form should stand. How came he by that voice? ’Tis Clifford’s voice If ever Clifford spoke! My fears come back. Clifford, the secretary of my lord! Fortune hath freaks, but none so mad as that. It cannot be!—it should not be! A look, And all were set at rest. (Tries to look at him again, but cannot.) So strong my fears, Dread to confirm them takes away the power To try and end them. Come the worst, I’ll look. (She tries again, and is again unequal to the task.) I’d sink before him if I met his eye!
Clif. Wilt please your ladyship to take the letter?
Jul. There, Clifford speaks again! Not Clifford’s breath Could more make Clifford’s voice: not Clifford’s tongue And lips more frame it into Clifford’s speech. A question, and ’tis over! Know I you?
Clif. Reverse of fortune, lady, changes friends: It turns them into strangers. What I am I have not always been.