she had still those Charms
that made him first do so; nor, to his last Moment, could he be brought
to wish, that he had never seen her; but on the contrary, as a Man yet
vainly proud of his Fetters, he said, 'All the Satisfaction this short
Moment of Life could afford him, was, that he died in endeavouring to
serve _Miranda_, his adorable Princess.'

After he had taken Leave of all, who thought it necessary to leave him
to himself for some Time, he retir'd with his Confessor; where they were
about an Hour in Prayer, all the Ceremonies of Devotion that were fit to
be done, being already past. At last the Bell toll'd, and he was to take
Leave of the Princess, as his last Work of Life, and the most hard he
had to accomplish. He threw himself at her Feet, and gazing on her as
she sat more dead than alive, overwhelm'd with silent Grief, they both
remain'd some Moments speechless; and then, as if one rising Tide of
Tears had supply'd both their Eyes, it burst out in Streams at the same
Instant: and when his Sighs gave Way, he utter'd a thousand Farewels, so
soft, so passionate, and moving, that all who were by were extremely
touch'd with it, and said, _That nothing could be seen more deplorable
and melancholy_. A thousand Times they bad Farewel, and still some
tender Look, or Word, would prevent his going; then embrace, and bid
Farewel again. A thousand Times she ask'd his Pardon for being the
Occasion of that fatal Separation; a thousand Times assuring him, she
would follow him, for she could not live without him. And Heaven knows
when their soft and sad Caresses would have ended, had not the Officers
assur'd him 'twas Time to mount the Scaffold. At which Words the
Princess fell fainting in the Arms of her Woman, and they led _Tarquin_
out of Prison.

When he came to the Market-Place, whither he walked on Foot, follow'd by
his own Domesticks, and some bearing a black Velvet Coffin with Silver
Hinges; the Head's-man before him with his fatal Scimiter drawn, his
Confessor by his Side, and many Gentlemen and Church-men, with Father
_Francisco_ attending him, the People showring Millions of Blessings on
him, and beholding him with weeping Eyes, he mounted the Scaffold; which
was strewed with some Saw-dust, about the Place where he was to kneel,
to receive the Blood: For they behead People kneeling, and with the
Back-Stroak of a Scimiter; and not lying on a Block, and with an Axe, as
we in _England_. The Scaffold had a low Rail