University of Virginia Library

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE, a Garden.
Emmelina.
Why do my feet unbidden seek this grove?
Why do I trace his steps? I thought him here;
This is his hour of walking, and these shades
His daily haunt; oft have they heard his vows:
Ah! fatal vows which stole my peace away!
But now he shun's my presence; yet who knows,
He may not be ungrateful, but unhappy;
Yes, he will come to clear his past offences,
With such prevailing eloquence will plead,
So mourn his former coldness and neglect,
And by ten thousand graceful ways repair them,
That I shall think I never was offended.
He comes, and every doubt's at once dispell'd;
'Twas fancy all, he never meant to wrong me.

Enter Orlando.
Orlando.
Why at this hour of universal joy,
When every heart beats high with grateful rapture,
And pleasure dances her enchanting round,
O tell me why, at this auspicious hour,
You quit the joyful circle of your friends?
“Rob social pleasures of its sweetest charm,
“And leave a void ev'n in the happiest hearts,
“An aching void which only you can fill?”
Why seek alone these unfrequented shades,
These gloomy haunts unfit for blooming beauty,
But made for meditation and misfortune?

Emmelina.
I might retort the charge, my lord Orlando,
And ask you how the bosom-friend of Rivers,
Whom he has held deep-rooted in his heart,
Beyond a brother's dearness, sav'd his life,
And cherish'd it when sav'd beyond his own,
I might enquire, why when this Rivers comes,
After long tedious months of expectation,
Alive, victorious, and as firm in friendship
As fondness cou'd have wish'd, or fancy feign'd;
I might enquire why thus Orlando shuns him,
Why thus he courts this melancholy gloom,
As if he were at variance with delight,
And scorn'd to mingle in the general joy?

Orlando.
Oh, my fair monitress! I have deserv'd
Your gentle censure.

Emmelina.
You will then grow chearful,
Nor give your friends, who love you, room for blame.
Julia complains too of you.

Orlando.
Ah! does Julia?
If Julia chides me I have erred indeed,
For harshness is a stranger to her nature.
But why does she complain? O tell me wherefore?
That I may soon repair th'unwilling crime,
And prove my heart was guiltless of the offence.

Emmelina.
Why so alarm'd?

Orlando.
Alarm'd!

Emmelina.
Indeed you seem'd so.

Orlando.
Sure you mistake. Alarm'd? oh no I was not;
There was no cause—I cou'd not be alarm'd
Upon so slight a ground. Something you said,
But what I know not of your friend.

Emmelina.
Did I?

Orlando.
That Julia was displeas'd—was it not so?
'Twas that, or something like it.

Emmelina.
She complains
That you avoid her.

Orlando.
How! that I avoid her?
Did Julia say so? ah! you have forgot—
It cou'd not be.

Emmelina.
Why are you terrified?

Orlando.
No.
Not terrified—I am not—but were those
Her very words? you might mistake her meaning;
Did Julia say Orlando shun'd her presence?
Oh, did she, cou'd she say so?

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

Orlando.
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 wou'd die
Rather than meet her anger.
[Emmelina faints.
Ah, you faint!
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.

Emmelina.
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 confusion.

[Exit Emmelina.
Orlando.
So! I've betray'd my secret,
And struck a poison'd dagger to 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.
Ha, 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.
Rivers.
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 niggard of my bliss,
Defraud thee of thy portion of my joys,
And rob thee of thy well-earn'd claim to share them?

Orlando.
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—

Rivers.
What does Orlando mean?

Orlando.
That I must leave thee, Rivers, must renounce
Thy lov'd society.

Rivers.
Thou hast been wrong'd,
Thy merit has been slighted; sure, my father,
Who knew how dear I held thee—but he cou'd not—

Orlando.
He is all goodness; no—there is a cause—
Seek not to know it.

Rivers.
Now, by holy friendship!
I swear thou shalt not leave me; what, just now?
When I have safely pass'd so many perils,
Escap'd so many threat'ning deaths? return'd
To the kind arms of long desiring friendship;
And 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.

Orlando.
It must, it must.

Rivers.
Ah, must! then tell me wherefore?

Orlando.
I wou'd 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.

Rivers.
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 intreated! This, Orlando?
How is he chang'd!

Orlando.
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;
Ev'n now it melts, it bleeds in tenderness—
Farewel!—I dare not trust myself—farewel!

Rivers.
Then thou resolv'st to go?

Orlando.
This very day.

Rivers.
What do I hear? To-day? It must not be;
This is the day that makes my Julia mine.

Orlando.
Wed her to-day?

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

Orlando.
Impossible! another day were ruin.

Rivers.
Then let me fly to Julia, and conjure her
To bless me with her hand this very hour.

Orlando.
Oh! no, no, no.

Rivers.
I will: in such a cause
Surely she will forego the rigid forms
Of cold decorum; then, my best Orlando,
I shall receive my Julia from thy hand;
The blessing will be doubled! I shall owe
The precious gift of love to sacred friendship!

Orlando.
Can'st thou bear this, my heart?

Rivers.
Then, my Orlando,
Since thy unkind reserve denies my heart
Its partnership in this thy hoard of sorrows,
I will not press to know it; thou shalt go,
Soon as the holy priest has made us one:
For oh! 'twill sooth thee in the hour of parting,
To know I'm in possession of my love,
To think I'm blest with Julia, to reflect
Thou gav'st her to my arms, my bride! my wife!

Orlando.
Ah! my brain turns!

Rivers.
'Tis as I thought; I'll try him.
[Aside.
Now answer me, Orlando, and with truth;
Hide nothing from thy friend—dost thou not love?

Orlando.
Ha! how! I am betray'd! he reads my soul.

Rivers.
Hast thou with all that tenderness of nature,
Preserv'd thy bosom from love's soft infection?
Has conquering beauty never touch'd thy soul?
Come, come, I know full well—

Orlando.
Ha! dost thou know?
And knowing, dost thou suffer me to live?
And dost thou know my guilt, and call me friend?
He mocks but to destroy me!

Rivers.
Come, no more;
Love is a proud, an arbitrary God,
And will not chuse as rigid fathers bid;
I know that thine has destin'd for thy bride
A Tuscan maid, but hearts disdain all force.

Orlando.
How's this? what, dost thou justify my passion?

Rivers.
Applaud it—glory in it—will assist it.
She is so fair, so worthy to be lov'd,
That I shou'd be thy rival, were not she
My sister.

Orlando.
How?

Rivers.
She is another Julia.

Orlando.
I stood upon a fearful precipice—
I'm giddy still—oh, yes! I understand thee—
Thy beauteous sister! what a wretch I've been!
Oh, Rivers! too much softness has undone me.
Yet I will never wrong the maid I love,
Nor injure thee; first let Orlando perish!

Rivers.
Be more explicit.

Orlando.
For the present spare me.
Think not too hardly of me, noble Rivers!
I am a man, and full of human frailties.
When I am ready to depart, I'll see thee,
Clear all my long accounts of love and honour,
Remove thy doubts, embrace thee, and expire.

[Exit Orlando.
Manet Rivers.
It must be so—to what excess he loves her!
Yet wherefore not demand her? for his birth
May claim alliance with the proudest fortune.
Sure there's some hidden cause—perhaps—ah, no!
Turn from that thought, my soul! 'twas vile suspicion.
'Tis true their faiths are different—then his father,
Austere and rigid, dooms him to another.
That must not be—these bars shall be remov'd;
I'll serve him with my life, nor taste of bliss,
'Till I have sought to make Orlando happy.

[Exit.
Re-enter Orlando.
Orlando.
Wed her to-day? wed her perhaps this hour?
Hasten the rites for me? I give her to him?
I stand a tame spectator of their bliss?
I live a patient witness of their joy?
First let this dagger drink my heart's warm blood.
[Takes a dagger from his bosom, then sees Julia.
The sorceress comes! oh, there's a charm about her,
Which holds my hand, and makes me wish to live.
I shudder at her sight! open thou earth,
And save me from the peril of her charms!

[Puts up the dagger.
Enter Julia.
Julia.
Methought I heard the cry of one in pain,
From hence it came; ah, me! my lord, Orlando!
What means that sad, that agonizing voice?
Those sighs which rend your heart? those frantic looks?
Indeed, I'm terrified. What wou'd you do?

Orlando.
Die.

Julia.
Talk you of death? renounce the fatal thought;
Live for my sake, Orlando.

Orlando.
Yes, whole ages,
Wou'd nature but extend the narrow limits
Of human life so far.

Julia.
And for the sake
Of Rivers; live for both; he sends me here
To beg you wou'd delay your purpos'd parting;
His happiness, he swears, if you are absent
Will be but half compleat.

Orlando.
Is it to night?
This marriage, Julia, did you say to-night?

Julia.
It is, and yet you leave us.

Orlando.
No—I'll stay,
Since you command, stay and expire before you.

Julia.
What mean you?

Orlando.
That I'll perish at the feet
Of—Rivers.

Julia.
Tell your sorrows to my lord;
Upon his faithful breast, repose the weight
That presses you to earth.

Orlando.
Tell him? Tell Rivers?
Is he not your's? Does not the priest now wait
To make you one? take care, take care, my heart:
What leisure can a happy bridegroom find,
To think upon so lost a wretch as I am?
You hate me, Julia.

Julia.
Hate you? how you wrong me!
Live to partake our joy.

Orlando.
Hope you for joy?

Julia.
Have I not cause? am I not lov'd by Rivers?
Rivers, the best, the bravest of his sex!
Whose valour fabled heroes ne'er surpass'd,
Whose virtues teach the young, and charm the old;
Whose graces are the wonder of our sex,
And envy of his own.

Orlando.
Enough! enough!
But, Julia, if you wou'd not here behold me,
Stretch'd at your feet a lifeless bloody corse,
Promise what I shall now request.

Julia.
What is it?

Orlando.
That till to-morrow's sun, I ask no longer,
You will defer this marriage.

Julia.
Ha! defer it?
Impossible; what wou'd my Rivers think?

Orlando.
No matter what; 'tis for his sake I ask it;
His peace, his happiness, perhaps his life
Depends on what I ask.

Julia.
His life! his life!
Some dreadful thought seems lab'ring in your breast;
Explain this horrid mystery.

Orlando.
I dare not.
If you comply, before to-morrow's dawn,
All will be well, the danger past, then finish
These—happy nuptials; but if you refuse
Tremble for him you love, the altar's self
Will be no safeguard from a madman's rage.

Julia.
What rage? what madman? what remorseless villain?
Orlando—will not you protect your friend?
Think how he loves you—he would die for you—
Then save him, on my knees, I beg you save him—
[Kneels.
Oh! guard my Rivers from this bloody foe.

Orlando.
Dearer than life I love him—ask no more,
But promise in the awful face of heaven,
To do what I request—and promise further,
Not to disclose the cause.

Julia.
Oh save him! save him!

Orlando.
'Tis to preserve him that I ask it: promise
Or see me fall before you

[He draws the dagger, she still kneeling.
Julia.
I do promise.
Hide, hide that deadly weapon—I do promise.
[Rises.
How wild you look! you tremble more than I.
I'll call my Rivers hither.

Orlando.
Not for worlds.
If you have mercy in your nature, Julia,
Retire. Oh leave me quickly to myself;
Do not expose me to the strong temptation
Which now assaults me;—Yet you are not gone.

Julia.
Be more compos'd; I leave you with regret.
[As she goes out.
His noble mind is shaken from its seat!
What may these transports mean? heav'n guard my Rivers!

As Julia goes out, enter Bertrand, he speaks behind.
Bertrand.
Why, this is well; this has a face; she weeps,
He seems disordered.—Now to learn the cause,
And then make use of what I hear by chance,
As of a thing I knew.

[He listens.
Orlando.
[After a pause.
And is she gone?
Her parting words shot fire into my soul,
Did she not say she left me with regret?
Her look was tender, and the starting tear,
Fill'd her bright eye; she left me with regret—
She own'd it too.

Bertrand.
'Twill do.
[Comes forward.
What have you done?
The charming Julia is dissolv'd in woe,
Her radiant eyes are quench'd in floods of tears,
For you they fall; her blushes have confess'd it.

Orlando.
For me? what say'st thou? Julia weep for me!
Yet she is gentle, and she wou'd have wept
For thee, for any who but seem'd unhappy.

Bertrand.
Ungrateful!

Orlando.
How?

Bertrand.
Not by her tears, I judge,
But by her words not meant for me to hear.

Orlando.
What did she say? What didst thou hear, good Bertrand?
Speak—I'm on fire.

Bertrand.
It is not safe to tell you.
Farewel! I wou'd not injure Rivers.

Orlando.
Stay,
Or tell me all, or I renounce thy friendship.

Bertrand.
That threat unlocks my tongue, I must not lose thee.
Sweet Julia wept, clasp'd her fair hands, and cried
Why was I left a legacy to Rivers,
Robb'd of the power of choice? seeing me she started,
Wou'd have recal'd her words, blush'd, and retir'd.

Orlando.
No more; thou shalt not tempt me to my ruin;
Deny what thou hast said, deny it quickly,
E'er I am quite undone; for oh! I feel
Retreating virtue touches its last post,
And my lost soul now verges on destruction.
—Bertrand! she promis'd to defer the marriage.

Bertrand.
Then my point's gain'd, that will make Rivers jealous.
[Aside.
She loves you.

Orlando.
No, and even if she did
I have no hope.

Bertrand.
You are too scrupulous.
Be bold and be successful, sure of this,
There is no fault a woman sooner pardons
Than that of which her beauty is the cause.

Orlando.
Shall I defraud my friend? he bled to gain her?
What! rob the dear preserver of my life
Of all that makes the happiness of his?
And yet her wondrous beauty might excuse,
Nay almost sanctify a perjury.
My soul is up in arms, my reason's lost,
And love and rage, and jealousy and honour,
Pull my divided heart, and tear my soul.

[Exit.
Manet Bertrand.
Rave on, and beat thy wings; poor bird! thou'rt lim'd,
And vain will be thy struggles to get loose.
—How much your very honest men lack prudence!
Tho' all the nobler virtues fill one scale,
Yet place but indiscretion in the other,
In worldly business, and the ways of men,
That single folly shall weigh down the balance,
While the ascending virtues kick the beam.
Here's this Orlando now, of rarest parts,
Honest, heroic, frank and generous,
As inexperience of mankind can make him:
Yet shall this single weakness, this imprudence
Pull down the heaviest plagues upon his head,
And snare his heedless soul beyond redemption:
While dull unfeeling hearts, and frozen spirits,
Sordidly safe, secure, because untempted,
Look up, and wonder at the generous vice,
They wanted wit to form, and souls to dare.