What's to be done?
Stand at the altar in an hour from this!
An hour thence seated at his board--a wife
Thence!--frenzy's in the thought! What's to be done?

[Enter MASTER WALTER.]

_Wal_. What! run the waves so high? Not ready yet!
Your lord will soon be here! The guests collect.

_Julia_. Show me some way to 'scape these nuptials! Do it!
Some opening for avoidance or escape,--
Or to thy charge I'll lay a broken heart!
It may be, broken vows, and blasted honour,
Or else a mind distraught!

_Wal_. What's this?

_Julia_. The strait
I'm fallen into my patience cannot bear.
It frights my reason--warps my sense of virtue!
Religion!--changes me into a thing
I look at with abhorring!

_Wal_. Listen to me.

_Julia_. Listen to me! If this contract
Thou holdest me to--abide thou the result!
Answer to heaven for what I suffer!--act!
Prepare thyself for such calamity
To fall on me, and those whose evil stars
Have linked them with me, as no past mishap,
However rare, and marvellously sad
Can parallel! lay thy account to live
A smileless life, die an unpitied death--
Abhorred, abandoned of thy kind,--as one
Who had the guarding of a young maid's peace,--
Looked on and saw her rashly peril it;
And when she saw her danger, and confessed
Her fault, compelled her to complete her ruin!

_Wal_. Hast done?

_Julia_. Another moment, and I have.
Be warned! Beware how you abandon me
To myself! I'm young, rash, inexperienced! tempted
By most insufferable misery!
Bold, desperate, and reckless! Thou hast age
Experience, wisdom, and collectedness,--
Power, freedom,--everything that I have not,
Yet want, as none e'er wanted! Thou canst save me,
Thou oughtst! thou must! I tell thee at his feet
I'll fall a corse--ere mount his bridal bed!
So choose betwixt my rescue and my grave;--
And quickly too! The hour of sacrifice
Is near! Anon the immolating priest
Will summon me! Devise some speedy means
To cheat the altar of its victim. Do it!
Nor leave the task to me!

_Wal_. Hast done?

_Julia_. I have.

_Wal_. Then list to me--and silently, if not
With patience.--[Brings chairs for himself and her.]
How I watched thee from thy childhood
I'll not recall to thee. Thy father's wisdom--
Whose humble instrument I was--directed
Your nonage should be passed in privacy,
From your apt mind that far outstripped your years,
Fearing the taint of an infected world;--
For, in the rich grounds, weeds once ta