Bertrand! he sav'd my life:--I will not see it.

_Ber._ I do not mean you should; nay, I refus'd To bring it you.

_Or._ Refus'd to bring the letter?

_Ber._ Yes, I refus'd at first.

_Or._ Then thou _hast_ brought it?

My faithful Bertrand!--come.

_Ber._ 'Twere best not see it.

_Or._ Not see it! how! not read my Julia's letter!

An empire should not bribe me to forbear.

Come, come.

_Ber._ Alas, how frail is human virtue!

My resolution melts, and though I mean not To trust you with the letter, I must tell you With what a thousand, thousand charms she gave it.

"Take this," said she, "and as Orlando reads it, Attend to every accent of his voice; Watch every little motion of his eye; Mark if it sparkles when he talks of Julia; If when he speaks, poor Julia be the theme; If when he sighs, his bosom heave for Julia: Note every trifling act, each little look, For, oh! of what importance is the least To those who love like me!"

_Or._ Delicious poison!

O how it taints my soul! give me the letter.

[BERTRAND _offers it_, ORLANDO _refuses_.

Ha! where's the virtue which but now I boasted?

'Tis lost, 'tis gone--conflicting pa.s.sions tear me.

I am again a villain.--Give it--no; A spark of honour strikes upon my soul.

Take back the letter; take it back, good Bertrand!

Spite of myself compel me to be just: I will not read it.

_Ber._ How your friend will thank you!

Another day makes Julia his for ever.

Even now the great pavilion is prepar'd; There will the nuptial rites be solemnis'd.

Julia already dress'd in bridal robes Like some fair victim----

_Or._ O, no more, no more.

What can she write to me?

_Ber._ Some prudent counsel.

Or. Then wherefore fear to read it? come, I'll venture: What wondrous harm can one poor letter do?

The letter--quick the letter.

_Ber._ Since you force me. [_Gives it._

_Or._ Be firm, ye shivering nerves! It is her hand.

(_Reads._) "To spare my blushes Bertrand brings you this.

How have you wrong'd me! you believ'd me false; 'Twas my compa.s.sion for your friend deceiv'd you.

Meet me at midnight in the great pavilion; But shun till then my presence; from that hour My future life is yours; your once-lov'd friend I pity and esteem; but you alone Possess the heart of Julia."

This to me!

I dream, I rave, 'tis all Elysium round me, And thou, my better angel! this to me!

_Ber._ I'm dumb: oh, Julia! what a fall is thine!

_Or._ What! is it such a crime to love? away---- Thy moral comes too late; thou shouldst have urg'd Thy scruple sooner, or not urg'd at all: Thou shouldst--alas! I know not what I say-- But this I know, the charming Julia loves me, Appoints a meeting at the dead of night!

She loves! The rest is all beneath my care.

_Ber._ Be circ.u.mspect; the hour is just at hand; Since all is ready for your purpos'd parting, See your attendants be dispos'd aright, Near the pavilion gate.

_Or._ Why so?

_Ber._ 'Tis plain Julia must be the partner of your flight: 'Tis what she means, you must not mind her struggles; A little gentle violence perhaps, To make her yield to what she had resolv'd, And save her pride; she'll thank you for it after.

_Or._ Take her by force? I like not that: O Bertrand, There is a mutinous spirit in my blood, That wars against my conscience.--Tell my Julia I will not fail to meet her.

_Ber._ I obey.

Be near the garden: I shall soon return.

[_Exit_ BERTRAND.

_Or._ This giant sin, whose bulk so lately scar'd me, Shrinks to a common size; I now embrace What I but lately fear'd to look upon.

Why, what a progress have I made in guilt!

Where is the hideous form it lately wore?

It grows familiar to me; I can think, Contrive, and calmly meditate on mischief; Talk temp'rately of sin, and cherish crimes I lately so abhorr'd, that had they once But glanc'd upon the surface of my fancy, I had been terrified. Oh, wayward conscience!

Too tender for repose, to sear'd for penitence!

[_Exit_ ORLANDO.

_Scene changes to another part of the garden--A grand pavilion--The moon shining._

_Enter_ RIVERS _in a melancholy att.i.tude_.

_Riv._ Ye lovely scenes of long remember'd bliss!

Scenes which I hop'd were fated to bestow Still dearer blessings in a beauteous bride!

Thou gay pavilion, which art dress'd so fair To witness my espousals, why, ah! why Art thou adorn'd in vain? Yet still I haunt thee, For Julia lov'd thee once:--dear faithless Julia!

Yet is she false? Orlando swore she was not: It may be so; yet she avoids my presence, Keeps close from every eye, but most from mine.

_Enter_ ORLANDO.

_Or._ Ha! Rivers here! would I had shunn'd his walks!

How shall I meet the man I mean to wrong?

_Riv._ Why does Orlando thus expose his health To this cold air?

_Or._ I ask the same of Rivers?

_Riv._ Because this solitude, this silent hour, Feeds melancholy thoughts, and soothes my soul.

My Julia will not see me.