Don A. Nay, then my honour you invade anew,
And, by assaulting him, revive in me
My pre-engagements to protect and serve him
Against all others.
Don H. Why, were not you, Antonio, fighting with him?
Were you not doing all you could to kill him?
Don A. Henrique, 'tis true; but finding in my breast
An equal strife 'twixt honour and revenge,
I do, in just compliance with them both,
Preserve him from your sword, to fall by mine.
Don C. Brave man, how nicely he does honour weigh!
Justice herself holds not the scales more even.
Don H. My honour suffers more as yet than yours,
And I must have a share in the revenge.
Don A. My honour, sir, is so sublim'd by love,
'Twill not admit comparison or rival.
Don H. Either he must renounce all claims to Porcia,
Or die immediately.
Don A. Y' are i' the right: that he must do, or die;
But by no other hand than mine.
Don O. Cease your contention, and turn all your swords
Against this breast! whilst Porcia and I have breath,
She must be mine, there's no divorce but death.
Don H. I'll hear no more, protect him if thou canst:
Kill the slave, kill him, I say!