Cato: A Tragedy, in Five Acts

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?

Por. To my confusion and eternal grief,
I must approve the sentence that destroys me.
Lucia. Portius, no more; thy words shoot through my heart,
Melt my resolves, and turn me all to love.
Why are those tears of fondness in thy eyes?
Why heaves thy heart? Why swells thy soul with sorrow?
It softens me too much – Farewell, my Portius!
Farewell, though death is in the word, – for ever!

Por. Stay, Lucia, stay! What dost thou say? For ever?
Thou must not go; my soul still hovers o'er thee,
And can't get loose.

Lucia. If the firm Portius shake,
To hear of parting, think what Lucia suffers!

Por. 'Tis true, unruffled and serene, I've met
The common accidents of life, but here
Such an unlook'd-for storm of ills falls on me.
It beats down all my strength – I cannot bear it.
We must not part.

Lucia. What dost thou say? Not part!
Hast thou forgot the vow that I have made?
Are not there heavens, and gods, that thunder o'er us?
– But see, thy brother Marcus bends this way;
I sicken at the sight. Once more, farewell.
Farewell, and know, thou wrong'st me, if thou think'st
Ever was love or ever grief like mine. [Exit Lucia.

Enter Marcus

Marc. Portius, what hopes? How stands she? am I doom'd
To life or death?

Por. What wouldst thou have me say?

Marc. What means this pensive posture? Thou appear'st
Like one amazed and terrified.

Por. I've reason.