_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. _Or._ Impossible! another day were ruin. _Riv._ Then let me fly to Julia, and conjure her To bless me with her hand this hour--this moment. _Or._ Oh, no, no, no. _Riv._ 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! _Or._ Canst thou bear this, my heart? _Riv._ 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 soothe 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! _Or._ Ah! my brain turns! _Riv._ '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? _Or._ Ha! how? I am betray'd! he reads my heart. _Riv._ Hast thou, with all that tenderness of soul, From love's infection kept thy yielding heart? Say, could'st thou bask in all the blaze of beauty, And never feel its warmth?----Impossible! Oh! I shall probe thy soul till thou confess The conquering fair one's name--but why confess? Come, come, I know full well-- _Or._ 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! _Riv._ Come, no more; Love is a proud, an arbitrary god, And will not choose as rigid fathers bid; I know that thine has destin'd for thy bride A Tuscan maid; but hearts disdain all force. _Or._ How's this? what! dost thou justify my passion? _Riv._ Applaud it--glory in it--will assist it. She is so fair, so worthy to be lov'd, That I should be thy rival, were not she My sister. _Or._ How! _Riv._ She is another Julia. _Or._ 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! _Riv._ Be more explicit.