_Jul._ My Lord Orlando, Wherefore that troubled air? No more you dwell On your once darling theme; you speak no more The praises of your Rivers: is he chang'd? Is he not still the gallant friend you lov'd, As virtuous and as valiant? _Or._ Still the same; He must be ever virtuous, ever valiant. _Em._ If Rivers is the same, then must I think Orlando greatly chang'd; you speak not of him, Nor long for his return, as you were wont. How did you use to spend the live-long day In telling some new wonders of your friend, Till night broke in upon the unfinish'd tale; And when 'twas o'er, you would begin again, And we again would listen with delight, With fresh delight, as if we had not heard it! Does Rivers less deserve, or you less love? _Or._ Have I not lov'd him? was my friendship cold? When any prais'd his glories in the field, My raptur'd heart has bounded at the tale. Me though I grew illustrious from his glory, And rich from his renown: to hear him prais'd, More proud than if I had achiev'd his deeds, And reap'd myself the harvest of his fame. How have I trembled for a life so dear, When his too ardent soul, despising caution, Has plung'd him in the foremost ranks of war, As if in love with danger. _Jul._ Valiant Rivers! How does thy greatness justify my love! _Ber._ He's distant far, so I may safely praise him. [_Aside._ I claim some merit in my love of Rivers, Since I admire the virtues that eclipse me: With pleasure I survey those dazzling heights My gay, inactive temper cannot reach. _Em._ Spoke like my honest cousin. Then, Orlando, Since such the love you bear your noble friend, How will your heart sustain the mighty joy The news I tell will give you? Yes, Orlando, Restrain the transports of your grateful friendship, And hear, with moderation, hear me tell you That Rivers will return---- _Or._ How? when? _Em._ This day. _Or._ Impossible! _Ber._ Then all my schemes are air. [_Aside._ _Em._ To-day I shall embrace my valiant brother! _Jul._ You droop, my Lord: did you not hear her right? She told you that your Rivers would return, Would come to crown your friendship and our hopes. _Or._ He is most welcome! Is he not my friend? You say my Rivers comes.--Thy arm, good Bertrand. _Ber._ Joy to us all! joy to the Count Orlando! Weak man, take care. [_Aside to_ ORLANDO. _Em._ My Lord! you are not well. _Ber._ Surprise and joy oppress him: I myself Partake his transports. Rouse, my Lord, for shame. _Em._ How is it with you now? _Or._ Quite well--'tis past. _Ber._ The wonder's past, and nought but joy remains. _Enter_ GUILDFORD _and_ RIVERS. _Guild._ He's come! he's here! I have embrac'd my warrior; Now take me, heaven; I have liv'd long enough. _Jul._ My Lord! my Rivers!