class="smallcaps">Guildford and Rivers.

Guild. He's come! he's here! I have embrac'd my warrior;
Now take me, heaven; I have liv'd long enough.

Jul. My Lord! my Rivers!

Riv. 'Tis my Julia's self!
My life!

Jul. My hero! Do I then behold thee?

Riv. Oh, my full heart! expect not words, my Julia!

Em. Rivers!

Riv. My sister! what an hour is this!
My own Orlando too!

Or. My noble friend!

Riv. This is such prodigality of bliss,
I scarce can think it real. Honest Bertrand,
Your hand; yours, my Orlando; yours, my father;
And, as a hand, I have a heart for all;
Love has enlarg'd it; from excess of love
I am become more capable of friendship.
My dearest Julia!

Guild. She is thine, my son;
Thou hast deserv'd her nobly; thou hast won her,
Fulfill'd the terms——

Riv. Therefore I dare not ask her;
I would not claim my Julia as a debt,
But take her as a gift, and, oh, I swear
It is the dearest, richest, choicest gift.
The bounty of indulgent heaven could grant.

[Guildford joins their hands.

Jul. Spare me, my Lord.—As yet I scarce have seen you.
Confusion stops my tongue—yet I will own,
If there be truth or faith in woman's vows,
Then you have still been present to this heart,
And not a thought has wandered from its duty.

[Exeunt Julia and Emmelina.

Riv. (looking after Julia.) Oh, generous Julia!

Or. (aside to Bertrand.)
Mark how much she loves him!

Ber. (aside to Orlando.)
Mere words, which the fond sex have always ready.

Riv. Forgive me, good Orlando, best of friends!
How my soul joys to meet thee on this shore!
Thus to embrace thee in my native England!

Guild. England! the land of worth, the soil of heroes,
Where great Elizabeth the sceptre sways,
O'er a free, glorious, rich, and happy people!
Philosophy, not cloister'd up in schools,
The speculative dream of idle monks,
Attir'd in attic robe, here roams at large;
Wisdom is wealth, and science is renown.
Here sacred laws protect the meanest subject;
The bread that toil procures fair freedom sweetens;
And every peasant eats his homely meal,
Content and free, lord of his small domain.

Riv. Past are those Gothic days, and, thanks to heaven,
They are for ever pass'd, when English subjects
Were born the vassals of some tyrant lord!
When free-soul'd men were basely handed down
To the next heir, transmitted with their lands,
The shameful legacy from sire to son!

Guild. But while thy generous soul, my noble boy,
Justly abhors oppression, yet revere
The plain stern virtues of our rough forefathers:
O never may the gallant sons of England
Lose their plain, manly, generous character;
Forego the glorious charter nature gave them,—
Beyond what kings can give, or laws bestow,—
Their candour, courage, constancy, and truth!

[Exeunt Guildford and Rivers.

Or. Stay, Bertrand, stay—Oh, pity my distraction!
This heart was never made to hide its feelings;
I had near betray'd myself.

Ber. I trembled for you:
Remember that the eye of love is piercing,
And Emmelina mark'd you.

Or. 'Tis too much!
My artless nature cannot bear disguise.
Think what I felt when unsuspecting Rivers
Press'd me with gen'rous rapture to his bosom,
Profess'd an honest joy, and call'd me friend!
I felt myself a traitor: yet I swear,
Yes, by that Power who sees the thoughts of men,
I swear, I love the gallant Rivers more
Than light or life! I love, but yet I fear, him:
I shrunk before the lustre of his virtue——
I felt as I had wrong'd him—felt abash'd.
I cannot bear this conflict in my soul,
And therefore have resolv'd——

Ber. On what?

Or. To fly.

Ber. To fly from Julia?

Or. Yes, to fly from all,
From every thing I love; to fly from Rivers,
From Emmelina, from myself, from thee:
From Julia? no—that were impossible,
For I shall bear her image in my soul;
It is a part of me, the dearest part;
So closely interwoven with my being,
That I can never lose the dear remembrance,
'Till I am robb'd of life and her together.

Ber. 'Tis cowardice to fly.

Or. 'Tis death to stay.

Ber. Where would you go?—How lost in thought
he stands! [Aside.
A vulgar villain now would use persuasion,
And by his very earnestness betray
The thing he meant to hide: I'll coolly wait,
Till the occasion shows me how to act;
Then turn it to my purpose.—Ho! Orlando!
Where would you go?

Or. To solitude, to hopeless banishment!
Yes, I will shroud my youth in those dark cells
Where Disappointment steals Devotion's name,
To cheat the wretched votary into ruin;
There will I live in love with misery:
Ne'er shall the sight of mirth profane my grief;
The sound of joy shall never charm my ear,
Nor music reach it, save when the slow bell
Wakes the dull brotherhood to lifeless prayer.
Then, when the slow-retreating world recedes,
When warm desires are cold, and passion dead,
And all things but my Julia are forgotten,
One thought of her shall fire my languid soul,
Chase the faint orison, and feed despair.

Ber. What! with monastic, lazy drones retire,
And chant cold hymns with holy hypocrites?
First perish all the sex! Forbid it, manhood!
Where is your nobler self? For shame, Orlando;
Renounce this superstitious, whining weakness,
Or I shall blush to think I call'd you friend.

Or. What can I do?

Ber. (after a pause.) Beg she'll defer the marriage
But for one single day; do this, and leave
The rest to me: