I swear!

CARLOS.
And when round my unguarded heart
The serpent flattery winds its subtle coil,
Should e'er these eyes of mine forget the tears
They once were wont to shed; or should these ears
Be closed to mercy's plea,--say, wilt thou, then,
The fearless guardian of my virtue, throw
Thine iron grasp upon me, and call up
My genius by its mighty name?

MARQUIS.
I will.

CARLOS.
And now one other favor let me beg.
Do call me thou! Long have I envied this
Dear privilege of friendship to thine equals.
The brother's thou beguiles my ear, my heart,
With sweet suggestions of equality.
Nay, no reply:--I guess what thou wouldst say--
To thee this seems a trifle--but to me,
A monarch's son, 'tis much. Say, wilt thou be
A brother to me?

MARQUIS.
Yes; thy brother, yes!

CARLOS.