+Don A.+ To kill thee now myself:--having perform'd What my engagement did exact from me In your defence 'gainst others, my love now Requires its dues, as honour has had his. There's no protection for you from my sword But in your own, or in your frank renouncing All claim to Porcia; she is so much mine, That none must breathe and have the vanity Of a pretension to her whilst I live. +Don O.+ I never will renounce my claims to Porcia, But still assert them by all noble ways: Yet, sir, this hand shall never use a sword (Without the last compulsion) 'gainst that man Who has so much oblig'd me. No, Antonio, You are securely guarded by the favours Which you so frankly have conferr'd upon me. +Don A.+ Pray, sir, let not your pretended gratitude Enervate your defence: 'tis not my custom To serve my friends with prospects of return. +Don O.+ And, sir, 'tis not my custom to receive An obligation, but with a purpose, And within the power of my return. Friendship, Antonio, is reciprocal. He that will only give, and not receive, Enslaves the person whom he would relieve. +Don A.+ Your rule is right; but you apply it wrong. It was Octavio, my camerade in arms And ancient friend, whom I design'd to serve; Not that disloyal man who has invaded My honour and my love. 'Tis the intent Which forms the obligation, not th' event. +Don O.+ I call those pow'rs, which both discern and punish, To witness for me that I never knew You e'er pretended to Don Henrique's sister, Before I came within these fatal walls: This I declare only to clear myself From th' imputation of disloyalty, And to prevent the progress of your error. +Don A.+ How can I think you should speak truth to me Who am a witness y' have been false to her, To whom you now profess so high devotion? +Don O.+ I false to Porcia! take heed, Antonio, So foul an injury provokes too much. But, sir, I must confess I owe you more Than the forgiveness of one gross mistake. +Don A.+ Rare impudence! I must not trust my senses. +Don O.+ If we cannot adjust this competition, Let's charge our envious fortunes, not our passions, With this fatal breach of friendship. +Don A.+ Leave your discourses, and defend yourself; Either immediately renounce all claims To Porcia, or this must speak the rest. [_Shaking his sword._ +Don O.+ Nay, then I must reply. [_They fight. A noise, as if the door were broken open._ _Enter +Don Henrique+, +Don Carlos+, +Leonido+, and +Geraldo+, with their swords drawn._ +Don H.+ What's this! Antonio fighting with Octavio? This bravery is excessive, gallant friend, Not to allow a share in your revenge To him who's most concern'd: he must not fall Without some marks of mine.