arcus 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.

_Marc._ Thy downcast looks, and thy disorder'd thoughts,
Tell me my fate. I ask not the success
My cause has found.

_Por._ I'm grieved I undertook it.

_Marc._ What, does the barbarous maid insult my heart,
My aching heart, and triumph in my pains?
That I could cast her from my thoughts for ever!

_Por._ Away! you're too suspicious in your griefs;
Lucia, though sworn never to think of love,
Compassionates your pains, and pities you.

_Marc._ Compassionates my pains, and pities me!
What is compassion, when 'tis void of love?
Fool that I was, to choose so cold a friend
To urge my cause!--Compassionates my pains!
Pr'ythee what art, what rhet'ric didst thou use
To gain this mighty boon?--She pities me!
To one that asks the warm returns of love,
Compassion's cruelty, 'tis scorn, 'tis death--

_Por._ Marcus, no more; have I deserved this treatment?

_Marc._ What have I said? Oh! Portius, Oh, forgive me!
A soul exasperated in ills, falls out
With every thing--its friend, itself--but hah! [_Shout._
What means that shout, big with the sounds of war?
What new alarm?

_Por._ A second, louder yet,
Swells in the wind, and comes more full upon us.

_Marc._ Oh, for some glorious cause to fall in battle!
Lucia, thou hast undone me: thy disdain
Has broke my heart; 'tis death must give me ease.

_Por._ Quick let us hence. Who knows if Cato's life
Stands sure? Oh, Marcus, I am warm'd; my heart
Leaps at the trumpet's voice, and burns for glory. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Part of the Senate House._

_Enter_ SEMPRONIUS, _with_ LEADERS _of the Mutiny_.

_Sem._ At length the winds are raised, the storm blows high!
Be it your care, my friends, to keep it up
In all its fury, and direct it right,
Till it has spent itself on Cato's head.
Meanwhile, I'll herd among his friends, and seem
One of the number, that, whate'er arrive,
My friends and fellow soldiers may be safe. [_Exit._

_1 Lead._ We are all safe; Sempronius is our friend.
Sempronius is as brave a man as Cato.
But, hark, h