Sem. Cato, commit these wretches to my care; [Shouts and Trumpels repeated. First let them each be broken on the rack, Por. A second, louder yet, Then, with what life remains, impal'd, and left Swells in the wind, and comes more full upon To writhe at leisure, round the bloody stake; There let them hang, and taint the southern wind.

But in their deaths remember they are men ; if Lucius, the base, degen'rate age requires Severity.

my When by just vengeance guilty mortals perish, The gods behold the punishment with pleasure, And lay th' uplifted thunderbolt aside.

'tis he,

Syphax, I long to clasp that haughty maid, Twould be to torture that young, gay barbarian.
And bend her stubborn virtue to my passion:-But hark! what noise! Death to my hopes!
When I have gone thus far, I'd cast her off.
Syph. What hinders, then, but that thou Tis Juba's self! there is but one way left-
He must be murder'd, and a passage cut
Through those his guards.

find her out,

And hurry her away by manly force?

Sem. But how to gain admission? For access Is giv'n to none but Juba and her brothers. Syph. Thou shalt have Juba's dress and Ju

ba's guards;

Enter JUBA, with Guards.

Juba. What do I see? Who's this that dares usurp

The doors will open, when Numidia's prince The guards and habits of Numidia's prince? Seems to appear before the slaves that watch Sem. One that was born to scourge thy ar

them.
Sem. Heav'ns, what a thought is there! Mar-
cia's my own!

How will my bosom swell with anxious joy,
When I behold her struggling in my arms,
With glowing beauty, and disorder'd charms,
While fear and anger, with alternate grace,
Pant in her breast, and vary in her face!
So Pluto seiz'd off Proserpine, convey'd
To hell's tremendous gloom th' affrighted maid;
There grimly smil'd, pleas'd with the beauteous
prize,

[Exeunt.

Juba. What can this mean? Sempronius! Sem. My sword shall answer thee. Ilave at thy heart.

Juba. Nay, then, beware thy own, proud, barbarous man.

[They fight; Sempronius falls. Sem. Curse on my stars! Am I then doom'd to fall

By a boy's hand, disfigur'd in a yile Numidian dress, and for a worthless woman? Nor envy'd Jove his sunshine and his skies. Gods, I'm distracted! this my close of life! Oh, for a peal of thunder, that would make Earth, sea, and air, and heav'n, and Cato tremble! [Dies. Juba. With what a spring his furious soul broke loose,

ACT IV.

SCENE I-A Chamber.
Enter LUCIA and MARCIA.
Lucia. Now tell me, Marcia, tell me from
thy soul,

If thou believ'st 'tis possible for woman
To suffer greater ills than Lucia suffers?
Marcia. Oh, Lucia, Lucia, might my big
swoln heart

Vent all its griefs, and give a loose to sorrow,
Marcia could answer thee in sighs, keep pace
With all thy woes, and count out tear for tear.
Lucia. I know thou'rt doom'd alike to bel

belov'd

Portius?

And left the limbs still quiv'ring on the ground!
Hence let us carry off those slaves to Cato,
That we may there at length unravel all
This dark design, this mystery of fate.

[Exit Juba; his Guards taking
those of Sempronius as Pri-

soners.

Enter LUCIA and MARCIA. Lucia. Sure 'was the clash of swords; my troubled heart

By Juba, and thy father's friend, Sempronius: Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows, But which of these has pow'r to charm like it throbs with fear, and aches at ev'ry sound. Oh, Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sakeMarcia. Still I must beg thee not to name I die away with horror at the thought! Marcia. See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's blood and murder!

Sempronius.

Lucia, I like not that loud, boist'rous man.
Juba, to all the brav'ry of a hero,
Adds softest love and sweetness: he, I own,
Might make indeed the proudest woman happy.
Lucia. But should this father give you to
Sempronius?

Marcia. I dare not think he will: but if he
should-

Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer,
Imaginary ills, and fancied tortures?

Ha! a Numidian! Heav'n preserve the prince!
The face lies muffled up within the garment,
But, ah! death to my sight! a diadem,
And royal robes! O gods! 'tis he, 'tis he!

Juba lies dead before us!

Lucia. Now, Marcia, now call up to thy
assistance

Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind;
Thou canst not put it to a greater trial.

Marcia. Lucia, look there, and wonder at
my patience;

I hear the sound of feet! They march this way!
Let us retire, and try if we can drown
Each softer thought in sense of present danger: Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast,
When love once pleads admission to our hearts, To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted?

In spite of all the virtues we can boast,
The woman that deliberates is lost. [Exeunt.
Enter SEMPRONIUS, dressed like JUBA, with
Numidian Guards.

Sem. The deer is lodg'd, I've track'd her to
her covert.

Be sure you mind the word, and, when I give it,
Rush in at once, and seize upon your prey.
How will the young Numidian rave to see
His mistress lost! If aught could glad my soul,
Beyond th' enjoyment of so bright a prize,

That best of men? Oh, had I fall'a like him, 'That still broke foremost through the crowd And could have been thus mourn'd, I had of patriots, [Aside. As with a hurricane of zeal transported, Marcia. Tis not in fate to ease my tortur'd And virtuous ev'n to madness

Oh, he was all made up of love and charms! Our civil discords have produc'd such crimes, Whatever maid could wish, or man admire: Such monstrous crimes, I am surpris'd at nothing. Delight of ev'ry eye; when he appear'd, -Oh, Lucius, I am sick of this bad world! A secret pleasure gladden'd all that saw him. The daylight and the sun grow painful to me. Oh, Juba, Juba!

[Aside. But see where Portius comes: what means

Lucia, who knows but his poor, bleeding heart,
Amidst its 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! The traitor Syphax, as within the square
Juba. Where am I? Do I live? or am indeed He exercis'd his troops, the signal giv'n,
What Marcia thinks? All is Elysium round me! Flew off at once with his Numidian horse
[Aside. To the south gate, where Marcus holds the

Luc. I stand astonish'd! What, the bold Thy virtue, prince, has stood the test of fortune, Like purest gold, that, tortur'd in the furnace,

My brother Marcus

Cato. Ha! what has he done?
Has he forsook his post? Has he giv'n way?
Did he look tamely on, and let them pass?
Por. Scarce had I left my father, but I met
him

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,
Oppress'd with multitudes, he greatly fell.
"Cato. I'm satisfy'd.

Por. Nor did he fall, before
His sword had pierc'd through the false heart
of Syphax.

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!
Luc. Oh, Cato, arm thy soul with all its
patience;

See where the corpse of thy dead son approaches!
The citizens and senators, alarm'd,
Have gather'd round it, and attend it weeping.
Dead March. CATO meets the Corpse. Lu-
CIUS, Senators, Guards, etc. attending.
Cato. Welcome, my son! Here lay him
down, my friends,
Full in my sight, that I may view at leisure
The bloody corse, and count those glorious
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.
Portius, behold thy brother, and remember
Thy life is not thy own when Rome demands it.
When Rome demands; but Rome is now no

more.

Cato. Caesar asham'd! Has he not seen
Pharsalia!

Luc. 'Tis time thou save thyself and us.
Cato. Lose not a thought on me; I'm out
of danger:

Heav'n will not leave me in the victor's hand.
Caesar shall never say, he conquer'd Cato.
But oh, my friends! your safety fills my heart
With anxious thoughts; a thousand secret

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, That shall convey you to the wish'd-for port. Is there aught else, my friends, I can do for you? The conqueror draws near. Once more, farewell! If c'er we meet hereafter, we shall meet Where Caesar never shall approach us more. In happier climes, and on a safer shore, Pointing to his dead Son. There the brave youth, with love of virtue fir'd, [Aside. Who greatly in his country's cause expir'd, Cato. Whate'er the Roman virtue has subdu'd, Shall know he conquer'd. The firm patriot The sun's whole course, the day and year, are Caesar's:

Oh, liberty! oh, virtue! oh, my country!
Juba. Behold that upright man! Rome fills

his eyes

With tears, that flow'd not o'er his own dear

son.

there,

Who made the welfare of mankind his care,
Though still by faction, vice, and fortune crost,
Shall find the gen'rous labour was not lost.

[Dead March. Exeunt in fu

neral Procession.

ACT V.

SCENE I-A Chamber.

CATO solus, sitting in a thoughtful Posture ; in his Hand, Plato's Book on the Immor

tality of the Soul. A drawn Sword on And bar each avenue; thy gath'ring fleets the Table, by him. O'erspread the sea, and stop up ev'ry port; Cato. It must be so-Plato thou reason'st Cato shall open to himself a passage, And mock thy hopes.

well-
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?

Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
Tis heav'n itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.
Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untried being,
Through what new scenes and changes must
we pass?

The wide, the unbounded prospect lies be

fore me:

But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it.
Here will I hold. If there's a power above us
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud
Through all her works), he must delight in

virtue;

And that which he delights in must be happy. But when, or where?-this world was made for Caesar:

Por. [Kneeling] Oh, sir! forgive your son, Whose grief hangs heavy on him. Oh, my father!

How am I sure it is not the last time

e'er shall call you so? Be not displeas'd, Oh, be not angry with me whilst I weep, And, in the anguish of my heart, beseech you To quit the dreadful purpose soul! of your 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.

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
Our father will not cast away a life
He is retir'd to rest, and seems to cherish
So needful to us all, and to his country.
Thoughts full of peace.-He has dispatch'd
me hence

I'm weary of conjectures--this must end them.
[Laying his Hand on his Sword.
Thus am I doubly arm'd: my death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me.
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,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.
What means this heaviness that hangs upon me? With orders that bespeak a mind compos'd,
This lethargy that creeps through all my senses? And studious for the safety of his friends.
Nature, oppress'd and harrass'd out with care, Marcia, take care that none disturb his slum-
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 heav'n. Let guilt or fear
Disturb man's rest, Cato knows neither of them,
Indiff'rent in his choice to sleep or die.

Enter PORTIUS.

But, ha! who's this? my son! Why this in-
trusion?

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

Por. Alas, my father!

bers.

[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.

What means this sword, this instrument of 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!
In every view, in every thought I tremble!
of 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,

wrest it

Cato. Wouldst thou betray me? Wouldst
thou give me up
A slave, a captive, into Caesar's hands?
Retire, and learn obedience to a father,
Or know, young man-

He is all goodness, Lucia, 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.
Lucia. "Tis his consent alone can make us
blest.

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, Caesar, let thy troops beset our gates, But who knows Cato's thoughts?