_Or._ He lives, he lives! the god-like Rivers lives! Hear it, ye host of heaven! witness, ye saints! Recording angels, tell it in your songs; Breathe it, celestial spirits, to your lutes, That Rivers lives! _Jul._ Explain this wond'rous happiness? _Riv._ 'Twas Bertrand whom Orlando killed; the traitor Has with his dying breath confess'd the whole. _Or._ Good sword, I thank thee! _Riv._ In the tangled maze Orlando miss'd the path he was to take, And pass'd through that where Bertrand lay conceal'd To watch th' event: Orlando thought 'twas me, And that I play'd him false: the walk was dark. In Bertrand's bloody hand I found this dagger, With which he meant to take my life; but how Were you alarm'd? _Guild._ One of Orlando's men, Whom wealth could never bribe to join in murder---- _Or._ Murder! I bribe to murder? _Riv._ No; 'twas Bertrand Brib'd them to that curs'd deed: he lov'd my sister. _Or._ Exquisite villain! _Guild._ Fly to Emmelina, If any spark of reason yet remain, Tell her the joyful news.--Alas, she's here! Wildly she flies!--Ah, my distracted child! _Enter_ EMMELINA _distracted_. _Em._ Off, off! I will have way! ye shall not hold me: I come to seek my Lord: is he not here? Tell me, ye virgins, have ye seen my love, Or know you where his flocks repose at noon? My love is comely--sure you must have seen him; 'Tis the great promiser! who vows and swears; The perjur'd youth! who deals in oaths and breaks them. In truth he might deceive a wiser maid. I lov'd him once; he then was innocent: He was no murderer then, indeed he was not; He had not kill'd my brother. _Riv._ Nor has now; Thy brother lives. _Em._ I know it--yes, he lives Among the cherubim. Murd'rers too will live: But where? I'll tell you where--down, down, down, down. How deep it is! 'tis fathomless--'tis dark! No--there's a pale blue flame--ah, poor Orlando! _Guild._ My heart will burst. _Or._ Pierce mine, and that will ease it. _Em._ (_comes up to her father._) I knew a maid who lov'd--but she was mad-- Fond, foolish girl! Thank heav'n, I am not mad; Yet the afflicting angel has been with me; But do not tell my father, he would grieve; Sweet, good old man--perhaps he'd weep to hear it: I never saw my father weep but once; I'll tell you when it was--I did not weep; 'Twas when--but soft, my brother must not know it, 'Twas when his poor fond daughter was refus'd. _Guild._ Who can bear this? _Or._ I will not live to bear it.