Mar. O Lucia, Lucia! might my big-swoln Vent all its griefs, and give a loose to sorrow, Mar. Still I must beg thee not to name Sem- Lucia, I like not that loud boist'rous man ; in vain To hide your thoughts from one who knows too well The inward glowings of a heart in love. Mur. While Cato lives, his daughter has no right To love or hate, but as his choice directs. Luc. But should this father give you to pronius? And left the limbs still quivering on the ground! [Exit Juba, with Prisoners, &c. Enter Lucia and Marcia. Luc. Sure 'twas the clash of swords; my troabled heart Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows, It throbs with fear, and aches at ev'ry sound. Sem-O Marcia, should thy brothers for my sake!— I die away with horror at the thought. Mar.I dare not think he will: butifhe shouldWhy wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer Imaginary ills, and fancied tortures? Mar. See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's I hear the sound of feet! They march this way! Ha! a Numidian! heaven preserve the prince! midian Guards. [Exeunt. Be sure you mind the word, and when I give it 'Tis Juba's self! there is but one way left Or act like men, or by yon azure heaven— Luc. Now, Marcia, call up to thy assistan Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind, Mar. Lucia, look there, and wonder at patience: Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast, Mar. Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter i Enter Juba listening. I will indulge my sorrows, and give way pronius That best of inen? O, had I fall'n like him, And could have thus been mourn'd, I had beca happy. Luc. Here will I stand companion in thy wors, Mar. 'Tis not in fate to ease my tortur'd breast, ht of every eye; when he appear'd, [Aside. ar. O Juba! Juba! Juba! b. What means that voice? did she not call on Juba? r. Why do I think on what he was? he's dead! Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee, [Exit. dead, and never knew how much I lov'd he knew not, hapless youth, he knew not ia's whole soul was full of love and Juba! Where am I? do I live! for am indeed Marcia thinks? All is Elysium round me! [Aside. r. Ye dear remains of the most lov'd of odesty nor virtue here forbids [men, embrace, while thus--. See, Marcia, see is'd like Juba on a curst design. de is long, nor have I heard it out : ther knows it all. I could not bear Our civil discords have produc'd such crimes, Such monstrous crimes, I am surpris'd at nothing. -O Lucius, I am sick of this bad world! [Throwing himself before her. The day-light and the sun grow painful to me. appy Juba lives! He lives to catch lear embrace, and to return it too mutual warmth and eagerness of love. 7. With pleasure and amaze I stand transported! Enter Portius. But see where Portius comes: what means this haste? Why are thy looks thus chang'd? Por. My heart is griev'd, tis a dream! dead and alive at once! u art Juba, who lies there? I bring such news as will afflict my father. Cato. Has Cæsar shed more Roinan blood? Por. Not so. A wretch, ve thee in the neighbourhood of death, r. And dost thou live to ask it? . This, this is life indeed! life worth pre- life as Juba never felt till now! not know myself how much I lov'd thee. My joy, my best belov'd, my only wish! ment. nce, I blush to think what I have said, te has wrested the confession from me; =, and prosper in the paths of honour. A March at a distance. Luc. I stand astonish'd! What, the bold Sem- O'erflows with secret joy: I'd rather gain Por. Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief! My brother Marcus- Cato. Hah! what has he done? Has he forsook his post? Has he given way? Por. Nor did he fall before His sword had pierc'd thro' the false heart of phax, son. Cato. Whate'er the Roman virtue has subdo The sun's whole course, the day and year an Cæsar's; For him the self-devoted Decii died, Had left him nought to conquer but his co Jub. While Cato lives, Cæsar will blush to e Mankind enslav'd, and be asham'd of empire Cato.Cæsar asham'd! has he not seen Pharsa Luc. Cato, 'tis time thou save thyself and Cato. Lose not a thought on me, I'm out danger, Heaven will not leave me in the victor's hand. Cæsar shall never say he conquer'd Cato. But, O my friends, your safety fills my heart With anxious thoughts; a thousand secret rors Rise in my soul-How shall I save my friend Sy-"Tis now, O Cæsar, I begin to fear thee. Yonder he lies. I saw the hoary traitor -Portius, when I am dead, be sure you place Por. Long may they keep asunder! [ence; Luc. O Cato, arm thy soul with all its patiSee where the corpse of thy dead son approaches! The citizens and senators, alarm'd, Have gather'd round it, and attend it weeping. Cato, meeting the Corpse. Cato. Welcome, my son here lay him down, Full in my sight, that I may view at leisure friends? I should have blush'd if Cato's house had stood Secure, and flourish'd in a civil war. Luc. Caesar has mercy, if we ask it of hi Cato. Then ask it, I conjure you! let him kn Whate'er was done against him, Cato did it. And, if you please, that I request it of him, That I myself, with tears, request it of him, The virtue of my friends may pass unpunish Juba, my heart is troubled for thy sake. Should I advise thee to regain Numidia, Or seek the conqueror? Jub. If I forsake thee Whilst I have life, may Heaven abandon Jeba Cato. Thy virtues, prince, if I foresee a Will one day make thee great; at Rome, b after, Twill be no crime to have been Cato's friend. Portius, draw near: my son, thou oft hast s Thy sire engag'd in a corrupted state, Wrestling with vice and faction: now thouse There live retir'd, pray for the peace of Rome ; Unburt amidst the war of elements, Cato. Farewell, my friends! if there be any of you Who dare not trust the victor's clemency, Know there are ships prepar'd by my command, Their sails already op'ning to the winds) That shall convey you to the wish'd-for port. s there aught else, my friends, Ican do for you? The conqueror draws near. Once more farewell! if e'er we meet hereafter, we shall meet n happier climes, and on a safer shore, Where Cæsar never shall approach us more. [Pointing to his dead Son. There the brave youth, with love of virtue fir'd, Who greatly in his country's cause expir'd, all know he conquer'd. The firm patriot there, Tho made the welfare of mankind his care, ho' still by faction, vice, and fortune crost, all find the gen'rous labour was not lost. ACT V. [Exeunt. 'o solus, sitting in a thoughtful Posture; in his Hand Plato's Book on the Immortality of the Soul. A drawn Sword on the Table by him. must be so-Plato, thou reason'st wellse whence this pleasing hope, this fond delonging after immortality? [sire, whence this secret dread, and inward horror filling into nought? Why shrinks the soul Kon herself, and startles at destruction? the divinity that stirs within us; heaven itself that points out an hereafter, dintimates eternity to man: rnity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! rough what variety of untried being, [pass?) o what new scenes and changes must we ewide,th'unbounded prospect lies before me, shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. will I hold. If there's a power above d that there is all nature cries aloud, ugh all her works) he must delight in virtue; that which he delights in must be happy. when! or where-this world was made for Cæsar. weary of conjectures-this must end 'em. Laying his Hand on his Sword. s am I doubly arm'd: my death and life, bane and antidote, are both before me. = in a moment brings me to an end; this informs me I shall never die. soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles he drawn dagger, and defies its point. stars shall fade away, the sun himself w dim with age, and nature sink in years, thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. - But ah! how's this, my son? Why this intru sion? Were not my orders that I would be private? Why am I disobey'd? Por. Alas, my father! Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from you! Cato, Wouldst thou betray me? Wouldst thou give me up, A slave, a captive into Cesar's hands? Por. Look not thus sternly on me; Cato 'Tis well! again I'm master of myself. Now, Cæsar, let thy troops beset our gates, And bar each avenue; thy gathering fleets O'erspread the sea, and stop up ev'ry port; Cato shall open to himself a passage, And mock thy hopes Por. O Sir! forgive your son, Whose grief hangs heavy on him. O my father! How am I sure it is not the last time I e'er shall call you so? Be not displeas'd, O, be not angry with me whilst I weep, And, in the anguish of my heart, beseech you To quit the dreadful purpose of your soul! Cato. Thou hast been ever good and dutiful. [Embracing him. Weep not, my son, all will be well again; The righteous gods, whom I have sought to please, Will succour Cato, and preserve his children. Por. Your words give comfort to my drooping heart. [duct; Cato. Portius, thou mayst rely upon my conThy father will not act what misbecomes him. But go, my son, and see if aught be wanting Among thy father's friends; see them embark'd, And tell me if the winds and seas befriend them. My soul is quite weigh'd down with care, and asks The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep. [Exit. Por. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives. He is retir'd to rest, and seems to cherish With orders that bespeak a mind compos'd, Luc. Where is your father, Marcia, where is Cato ? Mar. Lucia, speak low, he is retir'd to rest. He knows not how to wink at human frailty, Mar. Tho' stern and awful to the foes What tidings dost thou bring? Methinks I Por. As I was hasting to the port, where now way, And let me fly into my father's presence. [E of Luc. Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks And, in the wild disorder of his soul, [Re Mourns o'er his country. Hah! a second groanHeaven guard us all! [bless'd. He is all goodness, Lucie, always mild, Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius, Mar. Let him but live, commit the rest to Heaven. Enter Lucius. Luc. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man! Q Marcia, I have seen thy godlike father; me. Mar. His mind still labours with some dreadful thought. [sorrow? Luc. Lucia, why all this grief, these floods of Dry up thy tears, my child, we all are safe While Cato lives-his presence will protect us. Enter Juba. Jub. Lucius, the horsemen are return'd from viewing The number, strength, and posture of our foes, Who now encamp within a short hour's march; Mar. Alas! 'tis not the voice Of one who sleeps; 'tis agonizing pain, 'Tis death is in that sound. Re-enter Portius. Por. O sight of woe! O Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass ! Cato is fallen upon his sword. Luc. O, Portius, Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale, And let us guess the rest. Por. I've rais'd him up, And plac'd him in his chair, where, pale and fi He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows f him, Demands to see his friends. His servants, w Obsequious to his order, bear him hither. Mar. O Heaven! assist me in this dread To pay the last sad duties to my father. [he Jub. These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, Cæsar! Luc. Now is Rome fallen indeed! Cato brought in on a Chair. Cuto. Here set me down[bark Portius, come near me-Are my friends e Can any thing be thought of for their service? Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain. -O Lucius, art thou here?-thou art too goodLet this our friendship live between our childr Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia. Alas! poor man, he weeps!-Marcia, my daugh ter O, bend me forward!-Juba loves thee, Marca But Cæsar's arms have thrown down all distine |
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