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ADDISON. JOSEPH ADDIsox was born May 21, 1673, at Milston, of which his father was then Rector, near Ambrosebary in Wiltshire. He was early sent to school, there, under the care of the Rev. Nr. Naish; from whence lie was reBored to Salisbury school, and then to the Charterhouse, ander the taition of the learned Dr. Ellis, Here he first contracted an intimacy with Mr. Siecle, which continued host to his death. Al fifteen he was entered of Queen's College, Oxford, and in about two years admitted to the degrees of bachelor and master of aris in that college; ut which time he was celebrated for his latin poemh, to be found in a second volume of the Musae Britanicae, collected by Addison. Being at the university, he was upon the point of ceding to the desires of his father and several of his friends, to enler isto holy erders; but having, through Mr. Congreve's means, become a favourite of Lord Halifax, le was prevailed apon by that nobleza, to give np the design. He successively filled the public stations, in 1702, of Commissioner of thio Appeals in the Excise; 1707, Under-Secretary of Slale ; 1709, Secretary of Ireland, and Keeper of the Records in Ireland; 1713 (the grand climacterie of Addison's reputation, Cato appeared) Secretary to the Lords' Justices; 1714 one sf the Lords Coonissigners of Trade; and at last, 1717, one of the first Secretaries of Stale. Dr. Jobuson says, "Far this cæploymeet he might jastly be supposed qualified by long practice of business, and by his regular ascent through other offices; but expectation is often disappointed; it is universally confessed, that he was unequal to the duties of Lis place. In the House of Commons he could not speak, and therrlore was useless to the defence of the Government, In the oflice, says Pope, he could not issue an order without losing his time in quest of fine expressionis." He solicited his disaissel with = pension of 1500 pounds year. He married the Countess Dowager of Warwick, 1716; eed is said to bave first known her by becoming tutor to her son. Johnson says, “The Lady was at last prevailed upon to marry him, on terms much like those, on which a Tarkish princess is espoused, to whom the sulaa is reparied to pronounce, Daughter, I give thee this man for thy slave. The marriage made no addition to his happi2ess; it seither made them uor found them equal." Iu 1718 — 19, he had a severe dispale on The Poerage Bill with Steele, who, inveterate in his political opinions, supported them in a pamphlet called The Plebeian, which Addisa answered by another, under the title of The Old I hig. Some epithets, let drop by Addison, answered ly a cutsing quotation from Cato, by Sleele, wero the cause of tbeir friendship’s being dissolved; and every person acquainted with the friendly terms on which these two great mon had lived so long, must regret, that they should finally part in #rimsaious opposition. Addison died of an asthma aud dropsy, on the 17th June, 1719, aged 45, Jeaving only one danghter bebied him. The general esleem ia which his productions, holh serious and bamorous in The Sportator, The Tatler, so The G

are held, "pleads (as Spakspeare says), ike engels, trumpel-longuod, in their behalf.” As poet, his Cate, in the dramulic, and his Campaign, in the heroic way, will ever maintain a place among the first-ralo wals of either kind.- And a good man's death displays the character of bis life. At his last bour, be sent for a relaws of bts, young Lord Warwick, whose youth he supposed might be inflaenced by an awlul lesson, when, laking bald ef the young man's hand, he said "see in what peace a Christian can die!” and immediately expired.


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CATO, ACTED at Drury Lane, 1715. It is one of the first of our dramatic poems, and was performed 18 nights successirely; this very successful run for a tragedy, is attributed by Dennis, who wrote a very biller critique upon Calo, to proceed from Addison's having raised prejndices in his own favour, by false positions of preparalory criticism ; and with his having poisoned the town by contradicting, in The Spectator, the established rule of poetical justice, because bis own hero, with all his virtues, was to fall before a tyrant. Johnson says, "the fact is certain ; the motives we Dastgeess. Stecle packed an audience. The danger wes

The whole nation was, at that time, on fire vih faction. The Whigs applauded every line, in which liberly was mentioned, as a salire on the Tories; and the Teries echoed every d'ap, to stew, that the satire was unfell.” It was ushered into notice by cight compliinentary «opies of verses to the author, among which, one by Steele, leads the van; besides a prologne by Pose, and an epilozae by Dr. Garth: Dr. Johnson, with the abovementioned persous, nay, even Dennis's gall, las marked this tragedy

a British classic, and a succession of audiences for above a century has proved, that it has deserved “Golden opina ians from all sorts of pecple." Johnson observes, "of a work so much read, it is disheall !o say any thing new. About things on which the public thinks kng, it commonly allains to think right; and of Calo it lias been not unjustly determined, that it is rather a poem in dialogue than a drama; rather a suceession of just sentiments in clegant lanpage, tban a represenlation of natural aflections, or of any, state probable or possible in human life. Nothing here exda or assuages emotion; here is no magical power of raising phantastic Lerror or exciting wild anxiely. The evenis ve expected without solicitade, and remembered withont joy or sorrow. Of the agents we have no care. Cato is a being above our solicitude, a man of whom "the gods take care," and whom we leave to their care will lieedless confidence. To the rest, neither gods nor men can have much attention; for there is not onc aniongst them, That sreegly attracts cither affection or esteem. But they are made the vehicles of such sentiments and such expressions lihat there is scarcely a scene in the play, which the reader does not wish to impress upon his memory.








MUTINEERS. GUARDS. ctc. SCENE.- The Governor's Palace in Ulica.


And heavily in clouds brings on the day, SCENE 1.-A Hall.

The great, th' important day, big with the sale Enter Portius and MARCUS. Of Cato and of Rome-our father's death Por, The dawn is overcast, the morning Would fill up all the guilt of civil war, Tow'ss,

And close the scene of blood. Already Caesar


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Has ravag'd more than half the globe, and sees Love is not to be reason'd down, or lost
Mankind grown thin by biş destructive sword: In high ambition and a thirst' of greatness;
Should be go further, numbers would be wanting) "Tis second life, that grows into the soul,
To form new ballles, and support his crines. Warms every vein, and beals in every pulse: s
Ye gods, what havoc does ambition make I feel it here: my resolution melts-
Among your works!

Por. Behold young juba, the Numidian Marc. Thy steady temper, Portius,

prince, Cant look ou guilt, rebellion, fraud, aud Caesar, With how much care he forms himself to glory, In the calm lights of mild philosophy; And breaks the fierceness of his native temper, I'mn tortur'd, een to madness, when I think To copy out our father's bright example. On the proud victor: ev'ry time he's nam’d - He loves our sister Marcia, greally loves ber; Pharsalia rises lo my view!-I see

llis eyes, bis looks, his actions, all betray it; Th’ insulting iyrant, prancing o'er the field, But still the smother'd fondness burns within Strew'd with "Rome's citizens, and drench'd

him: in slaughter;

When most it swells, and labours for a vent, His horses hoofs wet with patrician blood! The sense of honour, and desire of fame, Oh, Portius! is not there some chosen curse, Drive the big passion back into his heart

. Some hidden thunder in the stores of hear'n, Whal, shall an African, shall Juba's heir Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man Reproach great Cato's son, and show the world Who owes bis greatness to his country's ruin? A viriue wanting in a Roman soul? Por. Believe me, Marcus, 'tis an impious Marc. Portius, no more! your words leave greatness,

stings behind them. And mix'd with too much horror to he envied: Whene'er did Juba, or dj' "ortius, show How does the lustre of our father's actions, A virtue ibat bas cast me at a distance, Through the dark cloud, of ills that cover him, And thrown me out in the pursuits of honour? Break out, and burn with more triumphant Por. Oh, Marcus! did I know the way to

brightness! His sufferings shine, and spread a glory round Thy troubled heart, and mitigate thy pains,

Marcus, believe me,

I could die to do it. Greatly unfortunate, he fights the cause Marc. Thou best of brothers, and thou best Of honour, virtue, liberty, and Rome.

of friends! Marc. Who knows not this? But what can Pardon a weak, distemper'd soul, ihat swells Calo do

With sudden gusts, and sinks as soon in calms, Against a world, a base, degen’rate world, The sport of passions. But Sempronius comes: That courts the yoke, and bows the neck to He mus. not find this softness hanging on me. Caesar?

[Erit. Pent up in Utica, be vainly forms

Enter SEMPRONIUS. A poor epitome of Roman greatness,

Sem. Conspiracies no

sooner should be And, cover'd with Numidian guards, directs

form'd A feeble-army, and an empty senate,

Than executed. What means Portius here? Remnants of mighty battles fought in vain. I like not that cold youth. I must dissemble, By heav'n; such virtues, join'd with such success, And speak a language forcign to my heart. Distracts my very soul! our father's fortune

Aside. Would almost tempt us to renounce his precepts. Good morrow, Portius; let us once embrace, Por. Remember what our father oft bas Once more embrace, while yet we both are free. lold us:

To-morrow, should we thus express our The ways of heav'n are dark and intricate;

friendship, Puzzled in mazes, and perplex'd with errors, Each might receive a slave into his arms. Our understanding traces them in vain, This sun, perhaps, this morning sun's the last, Lost and bewilder'd in the fruitless search; That e'er shall rise on Roman liberty. Nor sees with how much ar! the windings run, Por. My father has this morning call'd toNor where the regular confusion ends.

gether Marc. These are suggestions of a mind at To this poor hall, his little Roman senate

(The leavings of Pharsalia), to consult Oh, Portius, didst thou taste but balf the griefs If he can yet oppose the mighty torrent That wring my soul, thou couldst not talk That bears down Rome and all her gods before it, thus coldly.

Or must at length give up the world to Caesan Passion unpitied, and successless love,

Sem. Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome Plant daggers in my heart, and aggravate

Can raise her senate more than Cato's presence My other griefs.-Were but my Lucia kind- His virtues render our assembly awful, Por. Thou seest not that thy brother is tby They strike with something like religious fear rival;

And make ev'n Caesar tremble at the head But I must hide it, for I know thy temper.

Of armies flush'd with conquest. Oh, my [Aside.

Portius! Now, Marcus, now thy virtue's on the proof, Could I but call that wondrous man my father Put forth thy utmost strength, work ev'ry nerse, Would but thy sister Marcia be propitious And call up all thy father in thy soul: To thy friend's vows, I might be blesi indeed To quell the tyrant love, and guard thy heart Por. Alas, Sempronius! wouldst thou tall On this wcak side, where most our nature fails,

of love Would be a conquest worthy Cato's son. To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger Mare. Alas, the counsel which I cannot take, Tbou might'st as well court the pale, trem tead of healing, but upbraids my weakness.

bling vestal,


pass between


When she beholds the holy flame expiring. Syph. But is it true, Scinpronius, that your Sem. The more I see the wonders of thy race,

senate The more I'm charm'd. Tbců must take heed, Is call together? Gods! thou must be cautious; my Portius;

Cato has piercing 'eyes, and will discern The world has all its eyes on Calo's son; Our frauds, unless they're cover'd thick with art. Thy father's merit sets thee up to view, Sem. Let me alove, good Syphax, I'll conceal and shows thee in the fairest point of light, My thoughts in passion ('tis the surest way); To make thy virtues or thy faulis conspicuous. lIl bellow out for Rome, and for my country, Por. Well dost thou seem to check my And mouth at Caesar, till I shake the senale. ling'ring here

Your cold hypocrisy's a stale device; On this important bour-l'll straight away, A worn-out trick: wouldst thou be thought And while the fathers of the senale meet

in earnest, In close debate, to weigh th' events of war, Clothe thy feign’d zeal in rage, in fire, in fury? I'll animate the soldiers' drooping courage Syph. In troth, thou’rt able to instruct grey With love of freedom, and contempt of life;

hairs, 11 thunder in their ears their country's cause, i And teach the wily African deceit. And try to rouse up all that's Roman in them. Sem. Once more be sure to try thy skill Tis not in mortals to command success,

on Juba. But we'll do more, Sempronius; we'll deserve Meanwhile I'll hasten to my Roman soldiers, it.

[Exit. Inflame the mutiny, and, underhand, Sem. Curse on the stripling! how be apes Blow.up their discontents, till they breakout Ambitiously sententious-But I wonder Remember, Syphax, we must work in haste; Old Syphax comes not, bis Numidian genius Oh, think what anxious moments Is well dispos’d to mischief, were hc prompt The birth of plots, and their last fåtal periods! And eager on it; but he must be spurr’d, Oh, 'tis a dreadful interval of time, And ev'ry moment quicken'd to the course. Filld up with horror all, and big with death! Cato has us'd me ill; he has refus'd

Destruction bangs on ev'ry word' we speak, His daughter Marcia to my ardent vows. On every thought, till the concluding siroke Besides, his bafiled arıns and ruin'd cause, Determines all, and closes our desigri. [Exit. Are bars to my ambition. Caesar's favour, Syph. I'll try if yet I can reduce to reason Tbat show'ss down greatness on bis friends, This headstroug youth, and makc him spurn will raise me

at Cato. To Rome's first honours.. If I give up Cato, The time is short; Caesar comes rushing on I daim, in iny reward, his captive daughter. But Syphas comes

But hold! young Juba sees me, and approaches!: Enter SYPHAX.

Enter Juba.

Juba. Syphax," I joy to meet thee thus alove: Syph. Sempronius, all is ready;

I have observ'd of late tby looks are fallin, I've sounded my Numidians, man by man, O'ercast with gloomy cares and discontent; And find them ripe for a revolt: they all

Then tell me, Syphax, I conjure thee, tell me, Complain aloud of Cato's discipline,

What are the thoughts that knit thy brow in And wait but the command to change their

frowns, master.

And turn thine' eye thus coldly on thy prince? Sem. Believe me, Sypbar, there's no time

Syph. "Tis not my talent to coliceat my

thoughts, Er'n while we speak, our conqueror comes on, Or carry smiles and sunshine in my face, And gathers ground upon us ev'ry moment. When discontent sits heavy at my heart; Alas! tbou know'st noi Caesar's active soul,

I have not yet so much the Roman in me. With what a dreadful course he rushes on

Juba. Wby dost thou cast out such unFrom war to war. In vain has nature form'd

gen'rous terms Mountains and oceans to oppose his passage; Against the lords and sov'reigns of the world? He bounds o'er all;

Dost thou not see mankind fall down before One day more

them, Will set the victor thund'ring at our gates. And own the force of their superior virlue ? But, tell me, hast thou yet drawn o'er young Syph. Gods! where's the worth that sels Juba?

these people up That still would recommend thee more to Caesar, Above your own Numidia's tawny sors? ind challenge belter terms.

Do they with tougher sinews bend the bow? Syph. Alas! be's lost!

Or flies the jav'lin swifter to its mark, He's lost, Sempronius; all his thoughts are full Launch'd from the vigour of a Roman arm? Of Cato's virtues-But I'll try once more VVho like our active African instructs (For ev'ry jostant I expect bim here), The fiery steed, and trains him to his hand ? If yet I can subdue those stubborn principles Or guides in troops th’embattled elephant Of faith and honour, and I know not what, Laden with war? 'These, these are arts, my That have corrupted bis Numidian temper,

prince, And struck th' infection into all his soul. In which your Zama does not stoop to Rome. Sem. Be sure to press upon him ev'ry motive.

Juba. These all are virtues of a meaner rank: Juba's surrender, since bis father's death, Perfections that are plac'd in bones and nerves. Would give up Afric into Caesar's hands, A Roman soul is benl on higher vicws. and make him lord of half the burning zone. To make man mild, and sociable to man;

lo waste:

7. upon him!

To cultivate the wild, licentious savage, Juba. Alas! thy slory nichts away, my soul! And break our fierce barbarians into men. That best of fathers! how shall I discharge Turn up thy eyes to Cato.;

The gratitude and duty that I owe him? There inay'st thou see to what a godlike height Syph. By laying up his counsels in your The Roman virtues lift up mortal man.

is, heart, While good, and just, and anxious for his friends, Juba. His counsels bademe yield to thy IIr's siill severely bent against himself;

direction. And when bis fortune sets before him all Syph. Alas! my prince, I'd guide you to The pomps. and pleasures that his soul can wish,

your safety. His rigid virtue will accept of none.

Juba. I do believe thou wouldst; but tell S;ph. Believe, me, prince, there's not an

me how. African

Syph. Fly from the fate that follows CaeThat traverses our vast Numidian deserts

sar's foes. In quest of prey,

and lives upon
his bow,

Juba. My father scorn'd to do it.
But better practises those boasted virtues. Syph. And therefore died.
Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chase; Juba. Better lo die ten thousand thousand
Amidst the running stream he slakes his thirst;

deaths, Toils 'all the day, and at th' approach of night, Than wound my honour: On the first friendly bank he throws him down, Syph. Rather say your love. Or rests his head upon a rock till morn; Juba. Syphax, I're promisd to preserve my Then rises fresh, pursues his wonted game;

temper. And if the following day he chance to find Why wilt thou urgeme to confess a flame A ncr repast, or an untasted. spring, I long have stiiled, and would fain conceal ? Blesses his stars, and thinks it luxury.

Syph. Beliere me, prince, though hard to Juba. Thy prejudices, Syphax, won't discern

conquer love, What virtues grow from ignorance and choice, 'Tis easy to divert and break its forcc. Nor how the hero difiers from the brute. Absence might cure it, or a second mistress Where shall we find the man that bears af- Light up another flame, and put out this. fliction,

The.glowing dames of Zama's royal court Great and majestic in his griels, like Cato? Have faces flush'd with more exalted charms ; Jlow does he rise against a load of woes, Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon And thank the gods that threw the weight


The pale, unripen'd beauties of the north. Syph. 'Tis pridis

, rank pride, and haughti- Juba. 'Tis not a set of features, or complexion, ness of soul;

The tincture of a skin, that I admire: I think the Romans call it stoicism.

Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Ilad not your royal father thought so highly Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. Of Roman virtue, and of Cato's cause, The virtuous Marcia tow'rs above her sex: Ile had not fall'n by a slave's hand inglorious; True, she is fair, (oh, how divinely fair!) Nor would his slaughter'd armies now, have lain But still the lovely maid improves her charms On Afric's sands, disfigur'd with their wounds, With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom, To gorge the wolves and vultures of Numidia. And sanctity of manners; Cato's soul Juba. Why dost thou call my sorrows up Shines out in ev'ry thing she acts or speaks, afresh?

Wbile winning mildness and attractive smiles My father's name brings tears into my cyes. Dwell in her looks, and with becoming grace, Syph. Oh, that you'd profit by your father's Soften the rigour of her father's virtue. ills!

Syph. How does your tongue grow wanton Juba. What wouldst thou have me do?

in her praise! Syph. Abandon Cato.

But, on my knees, I beg you would considerJuba. Syphax, I should be more than twice Juba. Ha! Syphax, is't not she?-She moves

an orphan, By such a loss.

And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter. Syph. Ay, there's the tie that binds you! My heart beats thick-1 pr’ythee, Syphax, leave Yon long to call him father. Marcia's charms Work in your heart unseen, and plead for Calo. Syph. Ten thousand curses fasten on them No wonder you are deaf to all'I say.

both! Juba. Syphax, your zeal becomes impor- Now will the woman, with a single glance, tunate;

Undo what I've been lab'ring all this while. I've hitherto permitted it to rave,

[Exit. And talk at large; but learn to keep it in,

Enter MARCIA and LUCIA. Lest it should take more freedom than I'll give it. Juba. Hail, charming maid! how does thy Syph. Sir, your great father never us'd

beauty smooth

The face of war, and make ev'n horror smile! Alas, he's dead! but can you e'er forget At sight of thee my heart shakes off its sorrows; The tender sorrows,

I feel a dawn of joy break in upon me, And repeated blessings,

And for awhile forget th' approach of Caesar. Which you drew from him in your last fare- Marcia. I should be griev'd, young prince, well ?

to think my presence The good old king, at parting, wrung my hand Unbent your thoughts, and slackend them (His eyes brimful of tears), then, sighing, cry'd,

to arms, Pr'ythee be careful of my son-Mis grief While, warm with slaughter, our victorious foe Swell’d up so high, he could not utter more. Threatens aloud, and calls you to the field.

this way;


me thus.

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