Nor can I longer answer for myself. [Goes off.]

ANDREWS. [After remaining for some time deep in thought.]
Guilty! O guilty! every thing confirms it.
Had my sworn enemy distress'd me thus,
Time might have sooth'd the anguish of my soul;
But oh! what mode of patience can endure
To find the traitor in my bosom friend!

GOODWIN. Rather think him innocent.

ANDREWS. Yet how?
Did not the blush of conscience mark his visage?
The thought, the very thought, inflames to madness.

GOODWIN. He seem'd surpriz'd, but shew'd no sign of guilt.
'Twere better sure, to sift this matter calmly;
Passion but mars the purpose it pursues.

ANDREWS. O! cou'd I hope for doubt!

GOODWIN. You've known him long?

ANDREWS. These thirty years; no brothers e'er lov'd better:
And so exalted was, so pure the friendship,
Which 'twixt our souls in harmony subsisted,
Each knew no joy the other did not feel,
And all our evils were by sharing lighten'd:
He was my second self, as I was his,
Like streams whose currents mix and flow together.