Por. Ye pow'rs above! what pleasure can ye take
To persecute submitting innocence?
Don O. Retire, dear Porcia, to that inner room:
For should thy cruel brother find thee here,
He's so revolted from humanity,
He'll mingle thine with my impurer blood.
Por. That were a kind of contract. Let him come,
We'll meet at once marriage and martyrdom.
Don O. Soul of my life, retire.
Por. I will not leave you.
Don O. Thou preserv'st me by saving of thyself:
For they can murder only half of me,
Whilst that my better part survives in thee.
Por. I will die too, Octavio, to maintain
That different causes form the same effects:
'Tis courage in you men, love in our sex.
Don O. Though souls no sexes have, when w' are above,
If we can know each other, we may love.
Por. I'll meet you there above: here take my word.
[Don Octavio takes her hand and kisses it.