_Wal_. Then is it mine they stop! _Tin_. I told your lordship You should not keep a Hunchback for your agent. _Wal_. Thought like my father, my good lord, who said He would not have a Hunchback for his son-- So do I pardon you the savage slight. My lord, that I am not as straight as you, Was blemish neither of my thought nor will, My head nor heart. It was no act of mine.-- Yet did it curdle Nature's kindly milk E'en where 'tis richest--in a parent's breast-- To cast me out to heartless fosterage, Nor heartless always, as it proved--and give My portion to another! the same blood-- But I'll be sworn, in vein, my lord, and soul-- Although his trunk did swerve no more than yours-- Not half so straight as I. _Tin_. Upon my life You've got a modest agent, Rochdale! Now He'll prove himself descended--mark my words-- From some small gentleman _Wal_. And so you thought, Where Nature played the churl, it would be fit That fortune played it too. You would have had My lord absolve me of my agency! Fair lord, the flaw did cost me fifty times-- A hundred times my agency:--but all's Recovered. Look, my lord, a testament To make a pension of his lordship's rent-roll! It is my father's, and was left by him, In case his heir should die without a son, Then to be opened. Heaven did send a son To bless the heir. Heaven took its gift away, He died--his father died. And Master Walter-- The unsightly agent of his lordship there-- The Hunchback whom your lordship would have stripped Of his agency--is now the Earl of Rochdale! _Tin_. We've made a small mistake here. Never mind, 'Tis nothing in a lord. _Julia_. The Earl of Rochdale! _Wal_. And what of that? Thou know'st not half my greatness! A prouder title, Julia, have I yet, Sooner than part with which I'd give that up, And be again plain Master Walter. What! Dost thou not apprehend me? Yes, thou dost! Command thyself; don't gasp. My pupil--daughter! Come to thy father's heart! [JULIA rushes into his arms.] [Enter FATHOM.] _Fath_. Thievery! Elopement--escape--arrest! _Wal_. What's the matter? _Fath_. Mistress Helen is running away with Master Modus--Master Modus is running away with Mistress Helen--but we have caught them, secured them, and here they come, to receive the reward of their merits. [Enter HELEN and MODUS, followed by Servants.] _Helen_. I'll ne'er wed man, if not my cousin Modus. _Mod_. Nor woman I, save cousin Helen's she. _Wal_. [To MASTER HEARTWELL.] A daughter, have you, and a nephew, too, Without their match in duty! Let them marry. For you, sir, who to-day have lost an earldom, Yet would have shared that earldom with my child-- My only one--content yourself with prospect Of the succession; it must fall to you, And fit yourself to grace it. Ape not those Who rank by pride. The man of simplest bearing Is yet a lord, when he's a lord indeed! _Tin_. The paradox is obsolete. Ne'er heed! Learn from his book, and practise out of mine!