_Or._ That devil! _Jul._ I'm betray'd. Why art thou here? _Or._ Thou canst make ruin lovely, Or I would ask, why dost thou bring me here? _Jul._ I bring thee here? _Or._ Yes, thou, bright falsehood! thou. _Jul._ No, by my hopes of heaven! where is my Rivers? Some crime is meant. _Or._ (_catches her hand._) Julia! the crime is done. Dost thou not shudder? art thou not amaz'd? Art thou not cold and blasted with my touch? Is not thy blood congeal'd? does no black horror Fill thy presaging soul? look at these hands; Julia! they're stain'd with blood; blood, Julia, blood! Nay, look upon them. _Jul._ Ah! I dare not.--Blood! _Or._ Yes, thou dear false one, with the noblest blood That ever stain'd a dark assassin's hand. Had not thy letter, with the guilty message To meet thee here this hour, blinded my honour, And wrought my passion into burning frenzy, Whole worlds should not have bribed me. _Jul._ Letter and message? I sent thee none. _Or._ Then Bertrand has betray'd me! And I have done a deed beyond all reach, All hope of mercy--I have murder'd Rivers. _Jul._ Oh! [_She falls into her maid's arms._ _Or._ O rich reward which Love prepares for Murder! Thus hell repays its instruments! _Enter_ GUILDFORD _with servants_. _Guild._ Where is he? Where is this midnight murderer? this assassin? This is the place Orlando's servant nam'd. _Or._ The storm comes on. 'Tis Guildford, good old man! Behold the wretch accurst of heaven and thee. _Guild._ Accurst of both, indeed. How, Julia fainting! _Or._ She's pure as holy truth; she was deceiv'd, And so was I. _Guild._ Who tempted thee to this? _Or._ Love, hell, and Bertrand. _Jul._ (_recovering._) Give me back my Rivers; I will not live without him.--Oh, my father! _Guild._ Father! I am none; I am no more a father; I have no child; my son is basely murder'd, And my sweet daughter, at the fatal news, Is quite bereft of reason. _Or._ Seize me, bind me: If death's too great a mercy, let me live: Drag me to some damp dungeon's horrid gloom, Deep as the centre, dark as my offences; Come, do your office, take my sword: oh, Bertrand, Yet, ere I perish, could it reach thy heart! [_They seize_ ORLANDO. _Jul._ I will not long survive thee, oh, my Rivers! _Enter_ RIVERS _with the dagger_. _Riv._ Who calls on Rivers with a voice so sad, So full of sweetness? _Guild._ Ah, my son! _Jul._ 'Tis he, 'tis he! JULIA _and_ RIVERS _run into each other's arms_. ORLANDO _breaks from the guards and falls on his knees_.