_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! Yea, a very beggar!--fasts, unless He dines on alms! How durst he send thee a letter! A fellow cut on this hand, and on that; Bows and is cut again, and bows again! Who pays you fifty smiles for half a one,-- And that given grudgingly! To you a letter! I burst with choler! Thus I treat his letter! [Tears and throws it on the ground.] So! I was wrong to let him ruffle me; He is not worth the spending anger on! I prithee, Master Modus, use despatch, And presently make ready for our ride. You, Helen, to my Julia look--a change Of dresses will suffice. She must have new ones, Matches for her new state! Haste, friends. My Julia! Why stand you poring there upon the ground? Time flies. Your rise astounds you? Never heed-- You'll play my lady countess like a queen! [They go out.] ACT IV. SCENE I.--A Room in the Earl of Rochdale's [Eater HELEN.]