Enter Joan and Bertha.
Joan. Forbear!
Ber. Hear me. Where native worth exists,
Esteem will surely kindle into love,
And gently ripen into purest bliss!
Joan. Beware that fallacy. The solemn vow,
Before the altar pledged, but sanctifies
The love which first was gendered in the heart,
But ne'er creates; a golden link to bind
The fonder heart—a chain that galls the cold!
Ber. But thou wert born to bless! ay, to be blessed!
A heart like thine must find—
Joan. I do believe
That nought on earth may hold fond thought from me.
The love which in another would have nourished
What most it prized, has but in me proved fatal,
And wrought its ruin.
Ber. Thou dost chase a shade,
To wither ev'ry flower within thy path.
No bliss can rise through him, while Valancour—
Joan. I cannot love, and therefore will not wed him.
What noise was that?
Val. Cursed be the ear that heard,
The tongue that uttered such determination.
I'll hear no more! Now, hate, revenge befriend me.
[Exit.