The Fatal Falsehood Part 7

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

_Or._ Tell _him_? Tell Rivers?

Is he not yours? Does not the priest now wait To make you one? Then do not mock me thus: What leisure can a happy bridegroom find To think upon so lost a wretch as I am?

You hate me, Julia.

_Jul._ Hate you? how you wrong me!

Live to partake our joy.

_Or._ Hope you for joy?

_Jul._ Have I not cause? Am I not lov'd by Rivers?

Rivers, the best, the bravest of his s.e.x!

Whose valour fabled heroes ne'er surpa.s.s'd, Whose virtues teach the young and charm the old; Whose graces are the wonder of our s.e.x, And envy of his own!

_Or._ Enough! enough!

O spare this prodigality of praise.

But, Julia, if you would not here behold me Stretch'd at your feet a lifeless b.l.o.o.d.y corpse, Promise what I shall now request.

_Jul._ What is it?

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

_Jul._ Ah! defer it?

Impossible; what would my Rivers think?

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

_Jul._ His life? the life of Rivers?

Some dreadful thought seems lab'ring in your breast; Explain this horrid mystery.

_Or._ 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.

_Jul._ 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 b.l.o.o.d.y foe.

_Or._ 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.

_Jul._ Oh, save him! save him!

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

[_He draws the dagger, she still kneeling._

_Jul._ 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. .h.i.ther.

_Or._ 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 a.s.saults me.--Yet you are not gone.

_Jul._ Be more compos'd; I leave you with regret.

(_As she goes out._) His n.o.ble 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_.)

_Ber._ 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._

_Or._ (_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.

_Ber._ '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.

_Or._ For me? what say'st thou? Julia weep for me!

Yet she is gentle, and she would have wept For thee; for any who but seem'd unhappy.

_Ber._ Ungrateful!

_Or._ How?

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

_Or._ What did she say? What didst thou hear, good Bertrand?

Speak--I'm on fire.

_Ber._ It is not safe to tell you.

Farewell! I would not injure Rivers.

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

_Ber._ 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, Would have recall'd her words, blush'd, and retir'd.

_Or._ No more; thou shalt not tempt me to my ruin; Deny what thou hast said, deny it quickly, Ere 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.

_Ber._ Then my point's gain'd; that will make Rivers jealous. [_Aside._ She loves you.

_Or._ No; and even if she did, I have no hope.

_Ber._ You are too scrupulous.

Be bold and be successful; sure of this, There is no crime a woman sooner pardons Than that of which her beauty is the cause.

_Or._ 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?