Theod. Can I doubt it?

 Aust. Think what my bosom suffers, when I tell thee,

  It must not, cannot be.

 Theod. My love for Adelaide!

 Aust. Deem it delicious poison; dash it from thee:

  Thy bane is in the cup.

 Theod. O bid me rather

  Tear out my throbbing heart; I'd think it mercy,

  To this unjust, this cruel interdiction.

  That proud, unfeeling Narbonne, from his lips

  Well might such words have fallen;—but thou, my father——

[pg 39]

[pg 39]

 Aust. And fond, as ever own'd that tender name.

   Not I, my son, not I prevent this union,

   To me 'tis bitterness to cross thy wish,

   But nature, fate, and Heaven, all, all forbid it.

   We must withdraw, where Heaven alone can hear us:

   Then must thou stretch thy soul's best faculties;

   Call every manly principle to steel thee;

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