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Delight of every eye; when he appear'd,
A secret pleasure gladden'd all that saw him;
But when he talk'd, the proudest Roman blush'd
To hear his virtues, and old age grew wise.
Jub. I shall run mad!-
Mar. O Juba! Juba! Juba!

[Aside.

Jub. What means that voice? did she not call on Juba ?

Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee, And make the gods propitious to our love.

[Exeunt Mar. and Luc.

Jub. I am so blest, I fear 'tis all a dream.
Fortune, thou now hast made amends for all
Thy past unkindness: I absolve my stars.
What tho' Numidia add her conquer'd towns
And provinces to swell the victor's triumph,
Juba will never at his fate repine:
[him. Let Cæsar have the world, if Marcia's mine.
A March at a distance.
Enter Cato and Lucius.

Mar. Why do I think on what he was? he's dead!

He's dead, and never knew how much I lov'd
Lucia, who knows but his poor bleeding heart,
Amidst his agonies, remember'd Marcia,
And the last words he utter'd call'd me cruel!
Alas! he knew not, hapless youth, he knew not
Marcia's whole soul was full of love and Juba!
Jub. Where am I? do I live! for am indeed
What Marcia thinks? All is Elysium round me!
[Aside.
Mar. Ye dear remains of the most lov'd of
or modesty nor virtue here forbids [men,
last embrace, while thus---
Jub. See, Marcia, see

[Throwing himself before her. he happy Juba lives! He lives to catch hat dear embrace, and to return it too With mutual warmth and eagerness of love. Mar. With pleasure and amaze I stand ported!

ure 'tis a dream! dead and alive at once! thou art Juba, who lies there?

Jub. A wretch,

[Exit.

Luc. I stand astonish'd! What, the bold Sempronius, [triots, That still broke foremost thro' the crowd of pa As with a hurricane of zeal transported, And virtuous even to madness

Cuto. Trust me, Lucius,

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!
The day-light and the sun grow painful to me.

Enter Portius.

But see where Portius comes: what means this
haste?

trans-Why are thy looks thus chang'd?
Por. My heart is griev'd,

isguis'd like Juba on a curst design. he tale is long, nor have I heard it out: by father knows it all. I could not bear o leave thee in the neighbourhood of death, at flew, in all the haste of love, to find thee; found thee weeping, and confess this once,

wrapt with joy to see my Marcia's tears. Mar. I've been surpris'd in an unguarded hour, ut must not now go back; the love that lay lalf smother'd in my breast, has broke thro' all 3 weak restraints, and burns in its full lustre. cannot, if I would, conceal it from thee. Jul. I am lost in extacy: and dost thou love, hou charming maid?--

Mar. And dost thou live to ask it?

Jub. This, this is life indeed! life worth preserving,

uch life as Juba never felt till now! Mar. Believe me, prince, before I thought thee dead,

did not know myself how much I lov'd thee. Jub. O fortunate mistake! Mar. O happy Marcia!

I bring such news as will afflict my father.
Cato. Has Cæsar shed more Roinan blood?
Por. Not so.

The traitor Syphax, as within the square
He exercis'd his troops, the signal given,

Flew off at once with his Numidian horse
To the south gate, where Marcus holds the
watch:

I saw, and call'd to stop him, but in vain :
He toss'd his arm aloft, and proudly told me,
He would not stay and perish like Sempronius.
Cato. Perfidious man! But haste, my son, and
[Exit Por.
Thy brother Marcus acts a Roman's part.
-Lucius, the torrent bears too hard upon me :
Justice gives way to force; the conquer'd world

see

Is Cæsar's! Cato has no business in it.

Luc. While pride, oppression, and injustice reign, The world will still demand her Cato's presence. In pity to mankind submit to Cæsar, And reconcile thy mighty soul to life.

Cato. Would Lucius have me live to swell the number

Of Cæsar's slaves, or by a base submission
Give up the cause of Rome, and own a tyrant?
Luc. The victor never will impose on Cato
Ungen'rous terms. His enemies confess
The virtues of humanity are Cæsar's.

Jub. My joy, my best belov'd, my only wish!
How shall I speak the transport of my soul!
Mar. Lucia, thy arm. O, let me rest upon it!
The vital blood that had forsook my heart,
Returns again in such tumultuous tides,
It quite o'ercomes me. Lead to my apart-Such

ment.

prince, I blush to think what I have said, Bat fate has wrested the confession from me ; Go on, and prosper in the paths of honour.

Cato. Curse on his virtues! they've undone his country.

popular humanity is treason-----But see young Juba; the good youth appears, Full of the guilt of his perfidious subjects! Luc. Alas! poor prince! his fate deserves compassion.

Enter

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O'erflows with secret joy: I'd rather gain
Thy praise, O Cato, than Numidia's empire.
Enter Portius.

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?
Did he look tamely on, and let 'em pass? [him
Por. Scarce had I left my father, but I met
Borne on the shields of his surviving soldiers,
Breathless and pale, and cover'd o'er with wounds.
Long, at the head of his few faithful friends,
He stood the shock of a whole host of foes,
Till, obstinately brave, and bent on death,
Opprest with multitudes, he greatly fell.
Cato. I'm satisfied!

Por. Nor did he fall before

His sword had pierc'd thro' the false heart of phax,

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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
Grin in the pangs of death, and bite the ground.
Cato. Thanks to the gods, my boy has done
his duty!

-Portius, when I am dead, be sure you place
His urn near mine.

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, my friends,

Full in my sight, that I may view at leisure
The bloody rse and count those glorio is wounds
-How beautiful is death, when earn'd by virtue!
Who would not be that youth? What pity is it
That we can die but once to serve our country!
Why sits this sadness on your brows, my
friends?

I should have blush'd if Cato's house had stood
Secure, and flourish'd in a civil war.

Luc. Cæsar has mercy, if we ask it of ha

Cato. Then ask it, I conjure you! let him k 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 ar Will one day make thee great; at Rome, be 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 thou se

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There live retir'd, pray for the peace of Rome; Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
Content thyself to be obscurely good.
When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
The post of honour is a private station.
Por. I hope my father does not recommend
A life to Portius, that he scorns himself.

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.
is 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.
here the brave youth, with love of virtue fir'd,
Who greatly in his country's cause expir'd,
hall 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.

ato 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.

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. -
What means this heaviness that hangs upon me?
This lethargy that creeps thro' all my senses?
Nature oppress'd, and harass'd out with care
Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her,
That my awaken'd soul may take her flight,
Renew'd in all her strength, and fresh with life,
An off'ring fit for Heaven: Let guilt or fear
Disturb man's rest, Cato knows neither of 'em,
Indiff'rent in his choice to sleep or die.
Enter Portius.

But ah! how's this, my son? Why this intro

sion?

Were not my orders that I would be private ?
Why am I disobey'd?

Por. Alas, my father!

What means this sword, this instrument of
Let me convey it hence.
[death?

Cato. Rash youth, forbear!

Por. O, let the pray'rs, th' entreaties of your

friends,

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?
Retire, and learn obedience to a father,
Or know, young man!—

Por. Look not thus sternly on me;
You know I'd rather die than disobey you.
Cato 'Tis well! again I'm master of myself.
Now, Cæsar, let thy troops beset our gates,
And bar each avenue; thy gathering fleets

I must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well- O'erspread the sea, and stop up ev'ry port;

Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond de-Cato shall open to himself a passage,

his longing after immortality?

[sire, whence this secret dread, and inward horror f falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul ack on herself, and startles at destruction? is the divinity that stirs within us; is heaven itself that points out an hereafter, nd intimates eternity to man: ternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! brough what variety of untried being, [pass?) hro' what new scenes and changes must we he wide,th'unbounded prospect lies before me, at shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. lere will I hold. If there's a power above Aud that there is all nature cries aloud, hrough all her works) he must delight in vir

tue;

and that which he delights in must be happy.
But when! or where-this world was made for
Cæsar.

'm weary of conjectures-this must end 'em.
[Laying his Hand on his Sword.
Thus am I doubly arm'd: my death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before sne.
This in a moment brings me to an end;
But this informs me I shall never die.
The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years,
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,

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. [Erit. Por. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives.

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He is retir'd to rest, and seems to cherish Thoughts full of peace. He has dispatch'd me hence

With orders that bespeak a mind compos'd,
And studious for the safety of his friends.
Marcia, take care that none disturb his slumbers.
[Ecit.
Mar. O ye immortal powers that guard the
just,

Watch round his couch, and soften his repose,
Banish his sorrows, and becalm his soul
With easy dreams; remember all his virtues !
And shew mankind that goodness is your care.
Enter Lucia.

Luc. Where is your father, Marcia, where is
Cato?

Mar. Lucia, speak low, he is retir'd to rest.
Lucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope
Rise in my soul. We shall be happy still.
Luc. Alas! I tremble when I think on Cato!
In every view, in every thought, I tremble!
Cato is stern and awful as a god;

He knows not how to wink at human frailty,
Or pardon weakness that he never felt.

Mar. Tho' stern and awful to the foes of
Rome,

He is all goodness, Lucie, always mild,
Compassionate and gentle to his friends.
Fill'd with domestic tenderness, the best,
The kindest father I have ever found him,
Easy and good, and bounteous to my wishes.
Luc. 'Tis his consent alone can make us
Marcia, we are both equally involv'd
In the same intricate, perplex'd distress.
The cruel hand of fate, that has destroy'd
Thy brother Marcus, whom we both lament-
Mar. And ever shall lament; unhappy youth!
Luc. Has set my soul at large, and now I stand
Loose of my vow. But who knows Cato's

thoughts?

[bless'd.

Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius, Or how he has determin'd of thyself?

Mar. Let him but live, commit the rest to Heaven.

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What tidings dost thou bring? Methinks I œ Unusual gladness sparkling in thine eyes.

Por. As I was hasting to the port, where tow My father's friends, impatient for a passage, Accuse the ling ring winds, a sail arriv'd From Pompey's son, who thro'the realms of Spa Calls out for vengeance on his father's death, And rouses the whole nation up to arms. Were Cato at their head, once more might Res Assert her rights, and claim her liberty. But, hark! what means that groan? O, give

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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 fr 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!

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O, bend me forward!—Juba loves thee, Marcia, A senator of Rome, while Rome surviv'd, Would not have match'd his daughter with a king;

But Cæsar's arms have thrown down all distinc tion:

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While from the banks full twenty thousand cities
Survey their pride, and see their gilded towers
Float on the waves, and break against the shore.
-Various nations meet

As in a sea, yet not confin'd in space,
But streaming freely thro' the spacious streets,
Which send forth millions at each brazen gate;
Whene'er the trumpet calls, high over head
On the broad walls the chariots bound along.
!

$51. Rural Courtship.
He preferr'd me

DRYDEN.

Above the maidens of my age and rank; Still shunn'd their company, and still sought mine.

I was not won by gifts, yet still he gave;
And all his gifts, tho' small, yet spoke his love.
He pick'd the earliest strawberries in the woods,
The cluster'd filberts, and the purple grapes:
He taught a prating stare to speak my name;
And when he found a nest of nightingales,
Or callow linnets, he would shew 'em me,
And let me take 'em out.

[Exeunt omnes.§

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FORTH from the thicket rush'd another boar, $ 53. The first Feats of a young Eagle. Rows.

So large, he seem'd the tyrant of the woods,
With all his dreadful bristles rais'd up high;
They seem'd a grove of spears upon his back:
Foaming he came at me, where I was posted.
Whetting his huge long tusks, and gaping wide,
As he already had me for his prey;
Till, brandishing my well-pois'd javelin high,
With this bold executing arm I struck
The ugly brindled monster to the heart.

§ 50. Description of a populous City. YoUNG.
THIS ancient city,
[smiles!

How wanton sits she amidst nature's
Nor from her highest turret has to view
But golden landscapes and luxuriant scenes,
A waste of wealth, the store-house of the world;
Here fruitful vales far stretching fly the sight;
There sails unnumber'd whiten all the stream,

So the Eagle,

[Jove,
With joy beholds his hardy youthful offspring
That bears the thunder of our grandsire
Forsake the nest, to try his tender pinions
In the wide untrack'd air; till, bolder grown,
He darts precipitate, and gripes the prey;
Now, like a whirlwind on a shepherd's fold,
Or fixing on some dragon's scaly hide,
Eager of combat, and his future feast,
Bears him aloft, reluctant, and in vain
Wreathing his spiry tail.

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