АСТ III.

SCENE I.

MARCUS and PORTIUS.

MARCUS.

Twilds of life, ere

HANKS to my ftars, I have not range'd about

The wilds of life, ere I could find a friend;

Nature firft pointed out my Portius to me,
And early taught me, by her secret force,
To love thy perfon, ere I knew thy merit;
Till, what was instinct, grew up into friendship.
PORTIU S.

Marcus, the friendships of the world are oft
Confederacies in vice, or leagues of pleasure;
Ours has fevereft virtue for its bafis,

And fuch a friendship ends not but with life.

MARCU S.

Portius, thou know'ft my foul in all its weakness,

Then pr'ythee fpare me on its tender fide,
Indulge me but in love, my other paffions

Shall rise and fall by virtue's niceft rules.

PORTIU S.

When love's well-tim'd, 'tis not a fault to love.

The

The ftrong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wife,

Sink in the foft captivity together.

I would not urge

(I know 'twere vain) but to fupprefs its force,

'Till better times may make it look more

Alas; thou talk'ft like one who never fel
Th'impatient throbs and longings of a foul,
That pants, and reaches after diftant good.
A lover does not live by vulgar time:
Believe me, Portius, in my Lucia's abfence
Life hangs upon me, and becomes a burden;
And yet, when I behold the charming maid, i
I'm ten times more undone; while hope and fear,
And grief, and rage, and love, rife up at once,
And with variety of pain distract me.

Portius, thou oft enjoy'ft the fair one's prefence:
Then undertake my caufe, and plead it to her
With all the strength and heats of eloquence
Fraternal love and friendship can infpire.
Tell her thy brother languishes to death,
And fades away, and withers in his bloom;
That he forgets his fleep, and loaths his food,
That youth, and health, and war are joylefs to him:
Defcribe his anxious days, and reftlefs nights,

And all the torments that thou feeft me fuffer.

PORTIU S.

Marcus, I beg thee give me not an office,

That fuits with me fo ill. Thou know'ft my temper.
MARCU S.

Wilt thou behold me finking in my woes ?
And wilt thou not reach out a friendly arm,

To raise me from amidst this plunge of sorrows?
PORTI U S.

Marcus, thou canst not ask what I'd refufe.
But here believe me I've a thousand reafons

MARCU S.

I know thou'lt fay my paffion's out of season, That Cato's great example and misfortunes

Should both confpire to drive it from my thoughts.

But what's all this to one that loves like me!
Oh Portius, Portius, from my foul I wish

Thou didst but know thyfelf what 'tis to love!
Then wouldst thou pity and affift thy brother.
PORTIU S.

What should I do! if I disclose my paffion,

Our friendship's at an end: if I conceal it,

The world will call me false to a friend and brother.[ Afide. MARCU S.

But fee where Lucia, at her wonted hour,

Amid the cool of yon high marble arch,

Enjoys the noon day breeze! obferve her, Portius ! That face, that shape, thofe eyes, that Heaven of beauty

Obferv

Observe her well, and blame me if thou canst.

And leave you for a while. Remember, Portius,
Thy brother's life depends upon thy tongue.

SCENE II.

LUCIA, PORTIUS.

LUCIA.

Did I not fee your brother Marcus here?
Why did he fly the place, and shun my presence ?
PORTIUS.

Oh, Lucia, language is too faint to fhow

His rage of love; it preys upon his life;

He pines, he fickens, he defpairs, he dies:
His paffions and his virtues lie confused,
And mixt together in fo wild a tumult,
That the whole man is quite disfigur'd in him.
Heav'ns! would one think 'twere poffible for love
To make fuch ravage in a noble foul !

Oh, Lucia, I'm diftreft ! my heart bleeds for him,
Even now, while thus I ftand bleft in thy prefence,
A fecret damp of grief comes o'er my thoughts,

And I'm unhappy, tho' thou smil'ft upon me.

LUCIA.

How wilt thou guard thy honour, in the fhock
Of love and friendship ! think betimes, my Portius,
Think how the nuptial tie, that might infure
Our mutual blifs, would raffe to fuch a height

Thy brother's griefs, as might perhaps deftroy him.
PORTI U S.

Alas, poor youth! what doft thou think, my Lucia? His generous, open, undefigning heart

Has begg'd his rival to folicit for him.

Then do not ftrike him dead with a denial,

But hold him up in life, and chear his foul
With the faint glimmering of a doubtful hope :
Perhaps, when we have pafs'd these gloomy hours,
And weather'd out the storm that beats upon us
LUCIA.

No, Portius, no! I fee thy fifter'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 fwear,

To Heav'n, and all the pow'rs that judge mankind,

Never to mix my plighted hands with thine,
While fuch a cloud of mischiefs hangs about us,
But to forget our loves, and drive thee out
From all my thoughts, as far as I am able.

PORTIUS.

What haft thou faid! I'm thunder-ftruck!recall

Those