dreadful Decree, and join our Hands, though our Hearts never can meet. All this to try me! It’s too much, _Ardelia_--(said _Antonio_:) And then turning to Don _Henrique_, he went on, Speak thou! if yet thou art not Apostate to our Friendship! Yet speak, however! Speak, though the Devil has been tampering with thee too! Thou art a Man, a Man of Honour once. And when I forfeit my just Title to that (interrupted Don _Henrique_) may I be made most miserable!--May I lose the Blessings of thy Friendship!--May I lose thee!--Say on then, _Henrique_! (cry’d _Antonio_:) And I charge thee, by all the sacred Ties of Friendship, say, Is this a Trial of me? Is’t Illusion, Sport, or shameful murderous Truth?--Oh, my Soul burns within me, and I can bear no longer!--Tell! Speak! Say on!--[Here, with folded Arms, and Eyes fixed stedfastly on _Henrique_, he stood like a Statue, without Motion; unless sometimes, when his swelling Heart raised his over-charged Breast.] After a little Pause, and a hearty Sigh or two, _Henrique_ began;--Oh, _Antonio_! Oh my Friend! prepare thy self to hear yet more dreadful Accents!--I am (pursu’d he) unhappily the greatest and most innocent Criminal that e’er till now offended:--I love her, _Antonio_,--I love _Ardelia_ with a Passion strong and violent as thine!--Oh! summon all that us’d to be more than Man about thee, to suffer to the End of my Discourse, which nothing but a Resolution like thine can bear! I know it by myself.--Tho’ there be Wounds, Horror, and Death in each Syllable (interrupted _Antonio_) yet prithee now go on, but with all Haste. I will, (returned Don _Henrique_) tho’ I feel my own Words have the same cruel Effects on me. I say, again, my Soul loves _Ardelia_: And how can it be otherwise? Have we not both the self-same Appetites, the same Disgusts? How then could I avoid my Destiny, that has decreed that I should love and hate just as you do? Oh, hard Necessity! that obliged you to use me in the Recovery of this Lady! Alas, can you think that any Man of Sense or Passion could have seen, and not have lov’d her! Then how should I, whose Thoughts are Unisons to yours, evade those Charms that had prevail’d on you?--And now, to let you know, ’tis no Illusion, no Sport, but serious and amazing woeful Truth, _Ardelia_ best can tell you whom she loves. What I have already said, is true, by Heaven (cry’d she) ’tis you, Don _Henrique_, whom I only love, and who alone can give me Happiness: Ah, would you would!--With you, _Antonio_, I must remain unhappy, wretched, cursed: Thou art my Hell; Don _Henrique_ is my Heaven. And thou art mine, (returned he) which here I part with to my dearest Friend. Then taking her Hand, Pardon me, _Antonio_, (pursued he) that I thus take my last Farewel of all the Tastes of Bliss from your _Ardelia_, at this Moment. [At which Words he kiss’d her Hand, and gave it to Don _Antonio_; who received it, and gently pressed it close to his