Cam. Cousin, I cannot blame your apprehensions,
Nor your suspicion of Antonio's friendship;
But I am so possess'd with the opinion
Of his virtue, I shall as soon believe
Impossibilities as his apostasy
From honour.
Don O. What's her concernment in Antonio, Porcia?
Por. O, that's the strangest part of our sad story,
And which requires most time to let you know it
[A blaze of light appears at the window, and a noise without.
See, Flora, at the window, what's that light
And noise we hear. [Flora goes to the window.
Flo. O madam, we are all undone! I see
Henrique, Carlos, and their servants, with torches
All coming hither; and, which is wonderful,
Antonio leading them with his sword drawn.
Cam. Thou dream'st, distracted wench? Antonio false?
It is impossible——
[Camilla runs to the window, and turning back, says—
All she has said is in appearance true.
There is some hidden mystery, which thus
Abuses us; for I shall ne'er believe
Antonio can transgress the rules of friendship.
Don O. Friendship's a specious name, made to deceive
Those whose good-nature tempts them to believe:
The traffic of good offices 'mongst friends
Moves from ourselves, and in ourselves it ends:
When competition brings us to the test,
Then we find friendship is self-interest.