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Weep not, my son. All will be well again.
The righteous gods, whom I have fought to please,
Will succour Cato, and preserve his children.

PORTIUS,
Your words give comfort to my drooping heart,

САто.
Portius, thou may'st rely upon my conduct.
Thy father will uot 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 feas befriend them.
My soul is quite weigh'd down with care, and aks
The soft refreshment of a moment's Neep.

PORTIUS.
My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives.

[Exit.

Enter MARCIA.

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O Marcia, O my sister, still there 's hope !
Our father will not cast away a life
So needful to us all, and to his country.
He is retir'd to rest, and feems 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 flumbers. [Exit.

MARCIA.
O

ye immortal powers, that guard the just,
Watch round his couch, and soften his repose,
Banish his forrows, and becalm his soul
With easy dreams; remember all his virtues !
And thow mankind that goodness is your care.

Enter

Enter LUCIA.

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

MARCIA.
Lucia, speak low ; he is retir'd to rest.
Lucia, I feel a gently-dawning hope
Rise in my soul. We shall be happy ftill.

LUCIA.
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.

MARCIA.
Though stern and awful to the foes of Rome,
He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild,
Compassionate, and gentle to his friends.
Fill'd with domestic tenderness, the best,
The kindelt father! I have ever found him
Easy and good, and bounteous to my wishes.

LUCIA.
'Tis his consent alone can make us bless'd.
Marcia, we both are 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-

MARCIA.
And ever shall lament, unhappy youth !

LUCIA.
Has set my soul at large, and now I stand
Loose of my vow. But who knows Cato's thoughts?
Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius,
Or how he has deterinin d of thyself?

MARCIA,
Let him but live ! commit the rest to heaven.

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Enter LUCIUS.

LUCIUS.
Sweet are the numbers of the virtuous man!
O Marcia, I have seen thy godlike father :
Some power invisible supports his soul,
And bears it up in all its wonted greatness.
A kind refreshing sleep is fall’n upon him :
I saw him stretch'd at ease, his fancy loft
In pleasing dreams; as I drew near his couch,
He smil'd, and cry'd, Cæsar, thou canst not hurt me!

MARCIA.
His mind still labours with fome dreadful thought.

LUCIUS.
Lucia, why all this grief, these floods of sorrow?
Dry up thy tears, my child; we all are fafe
While Cato lives--his presence will protect us.

Enter JUBA.

JUBA.
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.

On

On the high point of yon bright western tower
We ken them from afar; the fetting fun
Plays on their shining arnıs and burnish d helmets,
And covers all the field with gleams of fire.

LUCIUS.
Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy father.
Cæsar is still dispos’d to give us terms,
And waits at distance 'till he hears from Cato.

Enter PORTIUS.

Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance.
What tidings doft thou bring? Methinks I fee
Unusual gladness sparkling in thy eyes.

PORT HUS.
As I was hasting to the port, where now
My father's friends, impatient for a passage,
Accuse the lingering winds, a fail arriv'd
From Pompey's son, who through the realms of Spain
Calls out for vengeance on his father's death,
And rouzes the whole nation up to arms.
Were Cato at their head, once more might Rome
Aflert her rights, and claim her liberty.
But hark! what means that groan ? O give me way,
And let me fly into my father's presence.

LUCIUS.
Cato, amidit his flumbers, thinks on Rome,
And in the wild disorder of his soul
Mourns o'er his country; ha! a second groan
Heaven guard us all !

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MARCIA.

Alas! 'tis not the voice Of one who sleeps ! 'tis agonizing pain, 'Tis death is in that sound

Re-enter PORTIUS.

PORTIUS.

O fight of woe! O Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass ! Cato is fall’n upon his sword

LUCIUS.

o Portius, Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale, And let us guess the rest.

PORTIUS.

I've rais'd him up,
And plac'd him in his chair, where, pale and faint,
He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows from him, !
Demands to see his friends. His weeping servants,
Obsequious to his orders, bear him hither.
[The back Scene opens, and discovers CATO.

MARCIA.
O heaven, aslift me in this dreadful hour
To pay the last fad duties to my father !

JUBA.
These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O Cæfar!

LUCIUS.
Now is Rome fall'n indeed !
(CATO brought forward in bis cbair.

SATO.

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