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SULPICIUS.

So it should seem; one of the days of old.

PORTIA.

And why of olden days? There liveth now

The very man—a man—I mean to say,
There may be found amongst our Roman youth,
One, who in form and feelings may compare
With him whose lofty virtues these few lines
So well describe.

ORCERES.

Thou meanest the lofty Gorbus.

PORTIA.

Out on the noisy braggart! Arms without

He hath, indeed, well burnish'd and well plumed,
But the poor soul, within, is pluck'd and bare,
Like any homely thing,

ORCERES.

Sertorius Galba then?

PORTIA.

O, stranger still!

For if he hath no lack of courage, certes,
He hath much lack of grace. Sertorius Galba!

ORCERES.

Perhaps thou mean'st Cordenius Maro, lady.

Thy cheeks grow scarlet at the very name,
Indignant that I still should err so strangely.

PORTIA.

No, not indignant, for thou errest not;

Nor do I blush, albeit thou think'st I do,
To say, there is not of our Romans one,