_Por._ Marcus, thou canst not ask what I'd refuse; But here, believe me, I've a thousand reasons---- _Marc._ I know thou'lt say my passion's out of season, That Cato's great example and misfortunes Should both conspire to drive it from my thoughts. But what's all this to one that loves like me? O Portius, Portius, from my soul I wish Thou did'st but know thyself what 'tis to love! Then wouldst thou pity and assist thy brother. _Por._ What should I do? If I disclose my passion, Our friendship's at an end: if I conceal it, The world will call me false to a friend and brother. [_Aside._ _Marc._ But see, where Lucia, at her wonted hour, Amid the cool of yon high marble arch, Enjoys the noon-day breeze! Observe her, Portius; That face, that shape, those eyes, that heav'n of beauty! Observe her well, and blame me if thou canst. _Por._ She sees us, and advances---- _Marc._ I'll withdraw, And leave you for a while. Remember, Portius, Thy brother's life depends upon thy tongue. [_Exit._ _Enter_ LUCIA. _Lucia._ Did not I see your brother Marcus here? Why did he fly the place, and shun my presence? _Por._ Oh, Lucia, language is too faint to show His rage of love; it preys upon his life; He pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies! _Lucia._ How wilt thou guard thy honour, in the shock Of love and friendship! Think betimes, my Portius, Think how the nuptial tie, that might ensure Our mutual bliss, would raise to such a height Thy brother's griefs, as might perhaps destroy him. _Por._ Alas, poor youth! What dost thou think, my Lucia? His gen'rous, open, undesigning heart Has begg'd his rival to solicit for him! Then do not strike him dead with a denial. _Lucia._ No, Portius, no; I see thy sister's tears, Thy father's anguish, and thy brother's death, In the pursuit of our ill-fated loves; And, Portius, here I swear, to Heav'n I swear, To Heav'n, and all the powers that judge mankind, Never to mix my plighted hands with thine, While such a cloud of mischief hangs upon us, But to forget our loves, and drive thee out From all my thoughts--as far as I am able. _Por._ What hast thou said? I'm thunderstruck--recall Those hasty words, or I am lost for ever. _Lucia._ Has not the vow already pass'd my lips? The gods have heard it, and 'tis seal'd in heav'n. May all the vengeance that was ever pour'd On perjured heads, o'erwhelm me if I break it! _Por._ Fix'd in astonishment, I gaze upon thee, Like one just blasted by a stroke from heav'n, Who pants for breath and stiffens, yet alive, In dreadful looks, a monument of wrath! _Lucia._ Think, Portius, think thou see'st thy dying brother Stabb'd at his heart, and all besmear'd with blood, Storming at Heav'n and thee! Thy awful sire Sternly demands the cause, the accursed cause, That robs him of his son: poor Marcia trembles, Then tears her hair, and, frantic in her griefs, Calls out on Lucia. What could Lucia answer, Or how stand up in such a scene of sorrow?