ust see him. To show slight to him,
Were slighting him that sent him. Show him in!

[Servant goes out.]

Some errand proper for thy private ear,
Besides the letter he may bring. What mean
This paleness and this trembling? Mark me, Julia!
If, from these nuptials, which thyself invited--
Which at thy seeking came--thou wouldst be freed,
Thou hast gone too far! Receding were disgrace,
Sooner than see thee suffer which, the hearts
That love thee most would wish thee dead! Reflect!
Take thought! collect thyself! With dignity
Receive thy bridegroom's messenger! for sure
As dawns to-morrow's sun, to-morrow night
Sees thee a wedded bride!

[Goes out.]

_Julia_. [Alone.] A wedded bride!
Is it a dream? Is it a phantasm? 'Tis
Too horrible for reality! for aught else
Too palpable! O would it were a dream!
How would I bless the sun that waked me from it!
I perish! Like some desperate mariner
Impatient of a strange and hostile land,
Who rashly hoists his sail and puts to sea,
And being fast on reefs and quicksands borne,
Essays in vain once more to make the land,
Whence wind and current drive him; I'm wrecked
By mine own act! What! no escape? no hope?
None! I must e'en abide these hated nuptials!
Hated!--Ah! own it, and then curse thyself!
That madest the bane thou loathest--for the love
Thou bear'st to one who never can be thine!
Yes--love! Deceive thyself no longer. False
To say 'tis pity for his fall--respect,
Engendered by a hollow world's disdain,
Which hoots whom fickle fortune cheers no more!
'Tis none of these; 'tis love--and if not love,
Why then idolatry! Ay, that's the name
To speak the broadest, deepest, strongest passion,
That ever woman's heart was borne away by!
He comes! Thou'dst play the lady,--play it now!

[Enter a Servant, conducting CLIFFORD, plainly attired as the EARL OF
ROCHDALE'S Secretary.]

Servant. His lordship's secretary.

[Servant goes out.]

_Julia_. Speaks he not? Or does he wait for orders to unfold
His business? Stopped his business till I spoke,
I'd hold my peace for ever!

[CLIFFORD kneels; presenting a letter.]

Does he kneel?
A lady am I to my heart's content!
Could he unmake me that which claims his knee,
I'd kneel to him--I would! I would!--Your will?

_Clif_. This letter from my lord.

_Julia_. O fate! Who speaks?

_Clif_. The secretary of my lord.

_Julia_. I breathe!
I could have sworn 'twas he!

[Makes an effort to look at hi