CATO 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. Cato. It must be so-Plato thou reason'st well- Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! Through what new scenes and changes must we pass? Through all her works), he must delight in virtue; [Laying his Hand on his Sword. The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. Enter PORTIUS. But, ha! who's this? my son! Why this intrusion? Por. Alas, my father! What means this sword, this instrument of death? Cato. Rash youth, forbear! Por. Oh, 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 Cæsar's hands? Retire, and learn obedience to a father, Por. Look not thus sternly on me; Por. [Kneeling] Oh, sir! forgive your son, [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. Cato. Portius, thou may'st rely upon my conduct: Thy 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. Por. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives[Exit Cato. Enter MARCIA. Oh, Marcia! Oh, my sister, still there's hope So needful to us all, and to his country. Thoughts full of peace.-He has dispatch'd me hence And studious for the safety of his friends. [Exit. Marcia. Oh, 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 show mankind that goodness is your care! Enter LUCIA. Lucia. Where is your father, Marcia, where is Cato? Marcia. 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. Lucia. Alas, I tremble when I think on Cato! He knows not how to wink at human frailty, Marcia. Though stern and awful to the foes of Ronie, Lucia. "Tis his consent alone can make us blest. Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius, Marcia. Let him but live, commit the rest to heav'n. Enter LUCIUS. Luc. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man! Oh, 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 lost In pleasing dreams; as I drew near his couch, He smil'd, and cried, Cæsar, thou canst not hurt me. Marcia. His mind still labours with some dreadful thought. Enter JUBA. Juba. Lucius, the horsemen are return'd from viewing Plays on their shining arms and burnish'd helmets, Luc. 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. Por. As I was hasting to the port, where now From Pompey's son, who, through the realms of Spain, Were Cato at their head, once more might Rome [A groan is heard. But, hark! what means that groan? Oh, give me way, And let me fly into my father's presence! [Exit. Luc. Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome, And, in the wild disorder of his soul, Mourns o'er his country.-Ha! a second groan- Mar. Alas, 'tis not the voice Of one who sleeps; 'tis agonizing pain "Tis death is in that sound Re-enter PORTIUS.` Por. Oh, sight of woe! |