MARCIA.

Lucia, difburthen all thy cares on me, And let me share thy moft retir'd distress; Tell me who raises up this conflict in thee.

LUCIA.

I need not blush to name them, when I tell thee They 're Marcia's brothers, and the fons of Cato.

MARCI A.

They both behold thee with their fifter's eyes:
And often have reveal'd their passion to me.
But tell me, whose address thou favour'st most ?
I long to know, and yet I dread to hear it.

LUCIA.

Which is it Marcia wishes for?

MARCI A.

For neither

And yet for both-The youths have equal fhare
In Marcia's wifhes, and divide their fifter:
But tell me which of them is Lucia's choice?

LUCIA.

Marcia, they both are high in my esteem,

But in my love-Why wilt thou make me name him? Thou know'st, it is a blind and foolish paffion, Pleas'd and disgusted with it knows not what.

MARCIA:

O Lucia, I'm perplex'd: O tell me which I must hereafter call my happy brother?

LUCIA.

Suppose 'twere Portius, could you blame my choice?

O Portius, thou haft ftol'n away my foul!

With what a graceful tenderness he loves!
And breathes the fofteft, the fincereft vows !
Complacency, and truth, and manly fweetness,
Dwell ever on his tongue, and fimooth his thoughts.
Marcus is over-warm, his fond complaints
Have fo much earnestness and passion in them,
I hear him with a fecret kind of dread,
And tremble at his vehemence of temper.

MARCIA.

Alas, poor youth! how can't thou throw him from thee?
Lucia, thou know'ft not half the love he bears thee;
Whene'er he speaks of thee, his heart 's in flames,
He fends out all his foul in every word,

And thinks, and talks, and looks like one transported.
Unhappy youth! how will thy coldness raise
Tempefts and ftorms in his afflicted bofom!
I dread the consequence—

LUCIA.

You feem to plead

Against your brother Portius

MARCIA.

Heaven forbid !

Had Portius been the unsuccessful lover,

The fame compaffion would have fall'n on him.

LUCIA.

Was ever virgin love diftreft like mine! Portius himself oft falls in tears before me, As if he mourn'd his rival's ill fuccefs, Then bids me hide the motions of my heart,

Nor

Nor fhow which way it turns. So much he fears
The fad effects that it would have on Marcus.

MARCIA.

He knows too well how eafily he's fir'd, And would not plunge his brother in despair,

But waits for happier times, and kinder moments.

LUCIA.

Alas! too late I find myself involv'd
In endless griefs and labyrinths of woe,
Born to afflict my Marcia's family,

And fow diffention in the hearts of brothers.
Tormenting thought! it cuts into my foul.

MARCIA.

Let us not, Lucia, aggravate our forrows, But to the gods permit th' event of things. Our lives, difcolour'd with our prefent woes, May ftill grow bright, and fmile with happier hours. So the pure limpid ftream, when foul with ftains Of rushing torrents, and descending rains, Work's itself clear, and, as it runs, refines; Till by degrees the floating mirrour fhines, Reflects each flower that on the border grows, And a new heaven in its fair bofom fhows.

[Exeunt.

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

ACT II. SCENE I.

R

The SENATE.

SEMPRONIUS.

OME ftill furvives in this affembled fenate!

Let us remember we are Cato's friends,
And act like men who claim that glorious title.
LUCIUS.

Cato will foon be here, and open to us
Th' occafion of our meeting. Hark! he comes!

[A found of trumpets. May all the guardian gods of Rome direct him!

Enter CATO.

CATO.

Fathers, we once again are met in council. Cæfar's approach has fummon'd us together, And Rome attends her fate from our refolves: How fhall we treat this bold aspiring man? Succefs ftill follows him, and backs his crimes : Pharfalia gave him Rome; Egypt has fince Receiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæfar's. Why should I mention Juba's overthrow, And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning fands Still fmoak with blood. 'Tis time we fhould decree What course to take. Our foe advances on us, And envies us ev'n Libya's fultry defarts.

Fathers, pronounce your thoughts, are they still fixt

To hold it out, and fight it to the last ?

>Or are your hearts subdued at length, and wrough By time and ill fuccefs to a submission?

Sempronius, fpeak.

SEMPRONIUS.

My voice is still for war.

Gods, can a Roman fenate long debate
Which of the two to chufe, flavery or death!
No, let us rife at once, gird on our swords,
And, at the head of our remaining troops,
Attack the foe, break through the thick array
Of his throng'd legions, and charge home upon him ;
Perhaps fome arm, more lucky than the rest,
May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage.
Rife, fathers, rife; 'tis Rome demands your help;
Rife, and revenge her flaughter'd citizens,
Or fhare their fate: the corps of half her senate
Manure the fields of Theffaly, while we
Sit here, deliberating in cold debates,
If we should facrifice our lives to honour,
Or wear them out in fervitude and chains.
Roufe up for fhame! our brothers of Pharfalia
Point at their wounds, and cry aloud—to battle!
Great Pompey's fhade complains that we are flow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unreveng'd amongst us.

САТО.

Let not torrent of impetuous zeal
Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reafon :
True fortitude is feen in great exploits,

That juftice warrants, and that wisdom guides,