_Or._ Thou know"st I left my native Italy, Directed hither by the n.o.ble Rivers, To ease his father"s fears, who thought he fell In that engagement where we both were wounded: His was a glorious wound, gain"d in the cause Of gen"rous friendship; for an hostile spear, Aim"d at my breast, Rivers in his receiv"d, Saved my devoted life, and won my soul.
_Ber._ So far I knew; but what of Emmelina?
_Or._ Whether her gentle beauties first allur"d me, Or whether peaceful scenes and rural shades, Or leisure, or the want of other objects, Or solitude, apt to engender love, Engag"d my soul, I know not; but I lov"d her.
We were together always, till the habit Grew into something like necessity.
When Emmelina left me I was sad, Nor knew a joy till Emmelina came; Her soft society amus"d my mind, Fill"d up my vacant heart, and touch"d my soul: "Twas grat.i.tude, "twas friendship, "twas esteem, "Twas reason, "twas persuasion,--nay, "twas love.
_Ber._ But where was Julia?
_Or._ Oh, too soon she came: For when I saw that wondrous form of beauty, I stood entranc"d, like some astronomer, Who, as he views the bright expanse of heaven, Finds a new star. I gaz"d and was undone; Gaz"d, and forgot the tender Emmelina; Gaz"d, and forgot the gen"rous, trusting Rivers; Forgot my faith, my friendship, and my honour.
_Ber._ Does Julia know your love?
_Or._ Forbid it, heaven!
What! think"st thou I am so far gone in guilt As boldly to avow it? Bertrand, no; For all the kingdoms of the s.p.a.cious earth I would not wrong my friend, or d.a.m.n my honour.
_Ber._ Trust me, you judge too hardly of yourself.
_Or._ Think I have lodg"d a secret in thy breast On which my peace, my fame, my all depends: Long have I struggled with the fatal truth, And scarce have dared to breathe it to myself; For, oh, too surely the first downward step, The treacherous path that leads to guilty deeds, Is to make sin familiar to the thoughts. [_Exit._
_Ber._ Am I awake?--No: "tis delusion all!
My wildest wishes never soar"d to this; Fortune antic.i.p.ates my plot: he loves her, Loves just whom I would have him love--loves Julia!
Orlando, yes, I"ll play thee at my will: Poor puppet! thou hast trusted to my hand The strings by which I"ll move thee to thy ruin, And make thee, too, the instrument of vengeance, Of glorious vengeance, on the man I hate. [_Exit._
ACT II.
_Enter_ JULIA _and_ EMMELINA.
_Jul._ How many cares perplex the maid who loves!
Cares which the vacant heart can never know.
You fondly tremble for a brother"s life; Orlando mourns the absence of a friend, Guildford is anxious for a son"s renown.
In my poor heart your various terrors meet, With added fears and fonder apprehensions: They all unite in me, I feel for all,-- His life, his fame, his absence, and his love: For he may live to see his native home, And he may live to bless a sister"s hopes, May live to gratify impatient friendship, May live to crown a father"s house with honour, May live to glory, yet be dead to love.
_Em._ Forbear these fears; they wound my brother"s honour: Julia, a brave man must be ever faithful; Cowards alone dare venture to be false; Cowards alone dare injure trusting virtue, And with bold perjuries affront high heaven.
_Jul._ I know his faith, and venerate his virtues; I know his heart is tender as "tis brave: That all his father"s worth, his sister"s softness, Meet in his generous breast--and yet I fear---- Who ever lov"d like me, and did not fear?
_Enter_ GUILDFORD.
_Guild._ Where are my friends, my daughter where is Julia?
How shall I speak the fulness of my heart?
My son, my Rivers, will this day return.
_Em._ My dearest brother!
_Jul._ Ha! my Rivers comes!
Propitious heaven!
_Em._ And yet my Julia trembles.
_Jul._ Have I not cause? my Rivers comes! but how?
I dread to ask, and yet I die to hear.
My lord--you know the terms----
_Guild._ He comes a conqueror!
He comes as Guildford"s son should ever come!
The battle"s o"er, the English arms successful; And Rivers, like an English warrior, hastes To lay his laurels at the feet of beauty. [_Exit._
_Jul._ My joy oppresses me!
_Em._ And see, Orlando!
How will the welcome news transport his soul, And raise his drooping heart! With caution tell him, Lest the o"erwhelming rapture be too much For his dejected mind.
_Enter_ ORLANDO _and_ BERTRAND.
_Jul._ My Lord Orlando, Wherefore that troubled air? No more you dwell On your once darling theme; you speak no more The praises of your Rivers: is he chang"d?
Is he not still the gallant friend you lov"d, As virtuous and as valiant?
_Or._ Still the same; He must be ever virtuous, ever valiant.
_Em._ If Rivers is the same, then must I think Orlando greatly chang"d; you speak not of him, Nor long for his return, as you were wont.
How did you use to spend the live-long day In telling some new wonders of your friend, Till night broke in upon the unfinish"d tale; And when "twas o"er, you would begin again, And we again would listen with delight, With fresh delight, as if we had not heard it!
Does Rivers less deserve, or you less love?
_Or._ Have I not lov"d him? was my friendship cold?
When any prais"d his glories in the field, My raptur"d heart has bounded at the tale.
Me though I grew ill.u.s.trious from his glory, And rich from his renown: to hear him prais"d, More proud than if I had achiev"d his deeds, And reap"d myself the harvest of his fame.
How have I trembled for a life so dear, When his too ardent soul, despising caution, Has plung"d him in the foremost ranks of war, As if in love with danger.
_Jul._ Valiant Rivers!
How does thy greatness justify my love!
_Ber._ He"s distant far, so I may safely praise him. [_Aside._ I claim some merit in my love of Rivers, Since I admire the virtues that eclipse me: With pleasure I survey those dazzling heights My gay, inactive temper cannot reach.
_Em._ Spoke like my honest cousin. Then, Orlando, Since such the love you bear your n.o.ble friend, How will your heart sustain the mighty joy The news I tell will give you? Yes, Orlando, Restrain the transports of your grateful friendship, And hear, with moderation, hear me tell you That Rivers will return----
_Or._ How? when?
_Em._ This day.
_Or._ Impossible!
_Ber._ Then all my schemes are air. [_Aside._