swear (a dearer oath than heaven and earth can furnish me with) I did resolve to die; but oh, how soon my soft, my silent passion turned to loud rage, rage easier to be borne, to dire despair, to fury and revenge; for there I saw, _Foscario_, my young, my fair, my rich and powerful rival, he hasted through the grove, all warm and glowing from the fair false one’s arms; the blushes which thy eyes had kindled were fresh upon his cheeks, his looks were sparkling with the new-blown fire, his heart so briskly burnt with a glad, peaceful smile dressed all his face, tricked like a bridegroom, while he perfum’d the air as he passed through it----none but the man that loves and dotes like me is able to express my sense of rage: I quickly turned the sword from my own heart to send it to his elevated one, giving him only time to----draw--that was the word, and I confess your spark was wondrous ready, brisk with success, vain with your new-given favours, he only cried--’If _Sylvia_ be the quarrel--I am prepared----’ And he maintained your cause with admirable courage I confess, though chance or fortune luckily gave me his sword, which I would fain have rendered back, and that way would have died; but he refused to arm his hand anew against the man that had not took advantage of him, and thus we parted: then it was that malice supported me with life, and told me I should scorn to die for so perfidious and so ruinous a creature; but charming and bewitching still, it was then I borrowed so much calmness of my lessening anger to read the billet over, your page had brought me, which melted all the rough remaining part of rage away into tame languishment: ah, _Sylvia_! This heart of mine was never formed by nature to hold out long in stubborn sullenness; I am already on the excusing part, and fain would think thee innocent and just; deceive me prettily, I know thou canst soothe my fond heart, and ask how it could harbour a faithless thought of _Sylvia_--do--flatter me, protest a little, swear my rival saw thee not, say he was there by chance----say any thing; or if thou sawest him, say with how cold a look he was received----Oh, _Sylvia_, calm my soul, deceive it flatter it, and I shall still believe and love thee on----yet shouldest thou tell me truth, that thou art false, by heaven I do adore thee so, I still should love thee on; should I have seen thee clasp him in thy arms, print kisses on his cheeks and lips, and more----so fondly and so dotingly I love, I think I should forgive thee; for I swear by all the powers that pity frail mortality, there is no joy, no life, no heaven without thee! Be false! Be cruel, perjured, infamous, yet still I must adore thee; my soul was formed of nothing but of love, and all that love, and all that soul is _Sylvia_’.; but yet, since thou hast framed me an excuse, be kind and carry it on;----to be deluded well, as thou canst do it, will be the same to innocence, as loving: I shall not