If there is truth in man, I love thee! Hear me!
In wedlock, families claim property.
Old notions, which we needs must humour often,
Bar us to wed where we are forced to love!
Thou hear'st?
Lydia. I do.
Wal. My family is proud;
Our ancestor, whose arms we bear, did win
An earldom by his deeds. 'Tis not enough
I please myself! I must please others, who
Desert in wealth and station only see.
Thou hear'st?
Lydia. I do.
Wal. I cannot marry thee,
And must I lose thee? Do not turn away!
Without the altar I can honour thee!
Can cherish thee, nor swear it to the priest;
For more than life I love thee!
Lydia. Say thou hatest me,
And I'll believe thee! Wherein differs love
From hate, to do the work of hate--destroy?
Thy ancestor won title to his deeds!
Was one of them, to teach an honest maid
The deed of sin--first steal her love, and then
Her virtue? If thy family is proud,
Mine, sir, is worthy! if we are poor, the lack
Of riches, sir, is not the lack of shame,
That I should act a part, would raise a blush,
Nor fear to burn an honest brother's cheek!
Thou wouldest share a throne with me! Thou wouldst rob me of
A throne!--reduce me from dominion to
Base vassalage!--pull off my crown for me,
And give my forehead in its place a brand!
You have insulted me.
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