SCENE II.
Lucius.Portius.
Luc.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 shew
His rage of love; it preys upon his life;
He pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies;
His passions and his virtues lie confus'd,
And mixt together in so wild a tumult,
That the whole man is quite disfigured in him.
Heav'ns! would one think 'twere possible for love
To make such ravage in a noble soul!
Oh, Lucia, I'm distress'd! my heart bleeds for him;
Ev'n now, while thus I stand bled in thy presence,
A secret damp of grief comes o'er my thoughts,
And I'm unhappy, though thou smil'st upon me.
Luc.How wilt thou guard thy honour, in the shock
Of love and friendship! Think betimes, my Portius,
Think how the nuptial ties, 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.
But hold him up in life, and cheer his soul
With the faint glimm'ring of a doubtful hope;
Perhaps when we have pass'd these gloomy hours,
And weather' out the storm that beats upon us———
Luc.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 pow'rs 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.
