Por. To my confusion and eternal grief, Lucia. Portius, no more; thy words shoot through my heart, Por. Stay, Lucia, stay! What dost thou say? For ever? Lucia. If the firm Portius shake, Por. 'Tis true, unruffled and serene, I've met Lucia. What dost thou say? Not part! [Exit Lucia Marcus Marc. Portius, what hopes? How stands she? am I doom'd Por. What wouldst thou have me say? Marc. What means this pensive posture? Thou appear'st Por. I've reason. Marc. Thy downcast looks, and thy disorder'd thoughts, Por. I'm grieved I undertook it. Marc. What, does the barbarous maid insult my heart, Por. Away! you're too suspicious in your griefs; Marc. Compassionates my pains, and pities me! Por. Marcus, no more; have I deserved this treatment? Marc. What have I said? Oh! Portius, Oh, forgive me!
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