_Or._ Letter! what letter? Julia write to me? I will not see it.--What would Rivers say? Bertrand! he sav'd my life:--I will not see it. _Ber._ I do not mean you should; nay, I refus'd To bring it you. _Or._ Refus'd to bring the letter? _Ber._ Yes, I refus'd at first. _Or._ Then thou _hast_ brought it? My faithful Bertrand!--come. _Ber._ 'Twere best not see it. _Or._ Not see it! how! not read my Julia's letter! An empire should not bribe me to forbear. Come, come. _Ber._ Alas, how frail is human virtue! My resolution melts, and though I mean not To trust you with the letter, I must tell you With what a thousand, thousand charms she gave it. "Take this," said she, "and as Orlando reads it, Attend to every accent of his voice; Watch every little motion of his eye; Mark if it sparkles when he talks of Julia; If when he speaks, poor Julia be the theme; If when he sighs, his bosom heave for Julia: Note every trifling act, each little look, For, oh! of what importance is the least To those who love like me!" _Or._ Delicious poison! O how it taints my soul! give me the letter. [BERTRAND _offers it_, ORLANDO _refuses_. Ha! where's the virtue which but now I boasted? 'Tis lost, 'tis gone--conflicting passions tear me. I am again a villain.--Give it--no; A spark of honour strikes upon my soul. Take back the letter; take it back, good Bertrand! Spite of myself compel me to be just: I will not read it. _Ber._ How your friend will thank you! Another day makes Julia his for ever. Even now the great pavilion is prepar'd; There will the nuptial rites be solemnis'd. Julia already dress'd in bridal robes Like some fair victim---- _Or._ O, no more, no more. What can she write to me? _Ber._ Some prudent counsel. Or. Then wherefore fear to read it? come, I'll venture: What wondrous harm can one poor letter do? The letter--quick the letter. _Ber._ Since you force me. [_Gives it._ _Or._ Be firm, ye shivering nerves! It is her hand. (_Reads._) "To spare my blushes Bertrand brings you this. How have you wrong'd me! you believ'd me false; 'Twas my compassion for your friend deceiv'd you. Meet me at midnight in the great pavilion; But shun till then my presence; from that hour My future life is yours; your once-lov'd friend I pity and esteem; but you alone Possess the heart of Julia." This to me! I dream, I rave, 'tis all Elysium round me, And thou, my better angel! this to me! _Ber._ I'm dumb: oh, Julia! what a fall is thine!