_Or._ Oh, my fair monitress! I have deserv'd Your gentle censure. Henceforth I'll be gay.

_Em._ Julia complains, too, of you.

_Or._ Ah! does Julia?

If Julia chides me, I have err'd indeed; For harshness is a stranger to her nature.

But why does she complain? O tell me wherefore?

That I may soon repair the unwilling crime, And prove my heart at least ne'er meant to wrong her.

_Em._ Why so alarm'd?

_Or._ Alarm'd!

_Em._ Indeed you seem'd so.

_Or._ Sure you mistake. Alarm'd! oh, no, I was not; There was no cause--I could not be alarm'd Upon so slight a ground. Something you said, But what I know not, of your friend.

_Em._ Of Julia?

_Or._ That Julia was displeas'd----was it not so?

'Twas that, or something like it.

_Em._ She complains That you avoid her.

_Or._ How! that I avoid her?

Did Julia say so? ah! you have forgot-- It could not be.

_Em._ Why are you terrified?

_Or._ No, Not terrified--I am not--but were those Her very words? you might mistake her meaning; Did Julia say Orlando shunn'd her presence?

Oh! did she, could she say so?

_Em._ If she did, Why this disorder? there's no cause.

_Or._ No cause?

O there's a cause of dearer worth than empire!

Quick let me fly, and find the fair upbraider; Tell her she wrongs me, tell her I would die Rather than meet her anger. [EMMELINA _faints_.

Ah, she faints!

What have I said? curse my imprudent tongue!

Look up, sweet innocence! my Emmelina---- My gentle friend, awake! look up, fair creature!

'Tis your Orlando calls.

_Em._ Orlando's voice!

Methought he talk'd of love--nay, do not mock me; My heart is but a weak, a very weak one!

I am not well--perhaps I've been to blame.

Spare my distress: the error has been mine.

[_Exit_ EMMELINA.

_Or._ So then, all's over; I've betray'd my secret, And stuck a poison'd dagger in her heart, Her innocent heart. Why, what a wretch am I!

Ruin approaches;--shall I tamely meet it, And dally with destruction till it blast me?

No, I will fly thee, Julia, fly for ever.

Ah, fly! what then becomes of Emmelina?

Shall I abandon _her_? it must be so; Better escape with this poor wreck of honour, Than hazard all by staying--Rivers here?

_Enter_ RIVERS.

_Riv._ The same. My other self! My own Orlando!

I came to seek thee; 'twas in thy kind bosom My suffering soul repos'd its secret cares, When doubts and difficulties stood before me; And now, now, when my prosperous fortune shines, And gilds the smiling hour with her bright beams, Shall I become a n.i.g.g.ard of my bliss, Defraud thee of thy portion of my joys, And rob thee of thy well-earn'd claim to share them?

_Or._ That I have ever lov'd thee, witness Heaven!

That I have thought thy friendship the best blessing That mark'd the fortune of my happier days, I here attest the sovereign Judge of hearts!

Then think, O think, what anguish I endure, When I declare, in bitterness of spirit, That we must part----

_Riv._ What does Orlando mean?

_Or._ That I must leave thee, Rivers; must renounce Thy lov'd society.

_Riv._ Thou hast been injur'd; Thy merit has been slighted; sure my father, Who knew how dear I held thee, would not wrong thee.

_Or._ He is all goodness; no--there is a cause---- Seek not to know it.

_Riv._ Now, by holy friendship!

I swear thou shalt not leave me; what! just now, When I have safely pa.s.s'd so many perils, Escap'd so many deaths, return'd once more To the kind arms of long-desiring friendship; Just now, when I expected such a welcome, As happy souls in Paradise bestow Upon a new inhabitant, who comes To taste their blessedness, you coldly tell me You will depart; it must not be, Orlando.

_Or._ It must, it must.

_Riv._ Ah, must! then tell me wherefore?

_Or._ I would not dim thy dawn of happiness, Nor shade the brighter beams of thy good fortune, With the dark sullen cloud that hangs o'er mine.

_Riv._ Is this the heart of him I call'd my friend, Full of the graceful weakness of affection?

How have I known it bend at my request!

How lose the power of obstinate resistance, Because his friend entreated! This Orlando!

How is he chang'd!

_Or._ Alas, how chang'd indeed!

How dead to every relish of delight!

How chang'd in all but in his love for thee!

Yet think not that my nature is grown harder, That I have lost that ductile, yielding heart; Rivers, I have not--oh! 'tis still too soft; E'en now it melts, it bleeds in tenderness-- Farewell!--I dare not trust myself--farewell!

_Riv._ Then thou resolv'st to go?

_Or._ This very day.

_Riv._ What do I hear? To-day! It must not be: This is the day that makes my Julia mine.

_Or._ Wed her to-day?

_Riv._ This day unites me to her; Then stay at least till thou behold'st her mine.