What new alarm? 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 To writhe at leisure, round the bloody stake; There let them hang, and taint the southern wind. Swells in the wind, and comes more full upon us. Marc. Oh, for some glorious cause to fall in battle! Lucia, thou hast undone me: thy disdain ease. Por. Quick, let us hence. Cato's life heart Who knows The partners of their crime will learn obedience. Cato. Forbear, Sempronius!-see they suffer death, me Stands sure? Oh, Marcus, I am warm'd; my When by just vengeance guilty mortals perish, Leaps at the trumpet's voice, and burns for glory. [Exeunt. Trumpets and shouting. SCENE II.-Before the Senate-house. Enter SEMPRONIUS, with the Leaders of the Mutiny. Sem. At length the winds are rais'd, the storm blows high! Be it your care, my friends, to keep it up seem One of the number, that, whate'er arrive, My friends and fellow-soldiers may be safe. [Exit. 1 Lead. We are all safe; Sempronius is our friend. [Trumpets. But, hark, Cato enters. Bear up boldly to him; Be sure you beat him down, and bind him fast; This day will end our toils. Fear nothing, for Sempronius is our friend. Trumpets. Re-enter SEMPRONIUS, with CATO, LUCIUS, PORTIUS, MARCUS, and Guards. Cato. Where are those bold, intrepid sons of war, That greatly turn their backs upon the foe, And to their general send a brave defiance? Sem. Curse on their dastard souls, they stand astonish'd! [Aside. Cato. Perfidious men! And will you thus dishonour Your past exploits, and sully all your wars? Why could not Cato fall Without your guilt? Behold, ungrateful men, Behold my bosom naked to your swords, And let the man that's injur'd strike the blow. Which of you all suspects that he is wrong'd, Or thinks he suffers greater ills than Cato? Am I distinguish'd from you but by toils, Superior toils, and heavier weight of cares? Painful pre-eminence! Sem. Confusion to the villains! all is lost! [Aside. Cato. Hence, worthless men! hence! and complain to Caesar, You could not undergo the toil of war, Fear and remorse, and sorrow for their crime, And pardon shall descend on all the rest. Sem. Cato, I execute thy will with pleasure. Cato. Mean while, we'll sacrifice to liberty. Remember, O my friends! the laws, the rights, The gen'rous plan of power deliver'd down From age to age by your renown'd forefathers (So dearly bought, the price of so much blood): Oh, let it never perish in your hands! But piously transmit it to your children. Do thou, great liberty, inspire our souls, And make our lives in thy possession happy, Or our deaths glorious in thy just defence. [Exeunt Cato, etc. 1 Lead. Sempronius, you have acted like yourself, One would have thought you had been half in earnest. Sem. Villain, stand off; base, grov'ling, worthless wretches, Mongrels in faction, poor faint-hearted traitors! 2 Lead. Nay, now you carry it too far, Sempronius! Throw off the mask, there are none here but friends. Syph. Our first design, my friend, has prov'd abortive; Still there remains an after-game to play; Let but Sempronius head us in our flight, A day will bring us into Caesar's camp. Sem. Confusion! I have fail'd of half my purpose: Marcia, the charming Marcia's left behind! Syph. How! will Sempronius turn a woman's slave? Sem. Think not thy friend can ever feel the soft Unmanly warmth and tenderness of love. 'tis he, barbarian. Syphax, I long to clasp that haughty maid, 'Twould be to torture that young, gay 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, How will my bosom swell with anxious joy, [Exeunt. By a boy's hand, disfigur'd in a șile 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 L-A Chamber. Enter LUCIA and Marcia. Lucia. Now tell me, Marcia, tell me from And left the limbs still quiv'ring on the ground! thy soul, If thou believ'st 'tis possible for woman swoln heart Vent all its griefs, and give a loose to sorrow, belov'd Hence let us carry off those slaves to Cato, [Exit Juba; his Guards taking 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. Portius? Oh, Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sakedie away with horror at the thought! Marcia. See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's blood and murder! Marcia. Still I must beg thee not to name Marcia. I dare not think he will: but if he Sem. The deer is lodg'd, I've track'd her to Ha! a Numidian! Heav'n preserve the prince! Lucia. Now, Marcia, now call up to thy Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind; Marcia. Lucia, look there, and wonder at Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast, thee comfort? Marcia. Talk not of comfort; 'tis for lighter ills: Behold a sight that strikes all comfort dead. Enter JUBA, unperceived. Be sure you mind the word, and, when I give it, I will indulge my sorrows, and give way Sempronius That best of men? Oh, had I fall'u like him, That still broke foremost through the crowd And could have been thus mourn'd, I had of patriots, been happy. [Aside. As with a hurricane of zeal transported, Marcia. Tis not in fate to ease my tortur'd And virtuous ev'n to madness breast. Oh, he was all made up of love and charms! Juba. What means that voice? Did she not call on Juba? Cato. Trust me, Lucius, Our civil discords have produc'd such crimes, Such monstrous crimes, I am surpris'd at nothing. -Oh, Lucius, I am sick of this bad world! The daylight and the sun grow painful to me. [Aside. But see Marcia. He's dead, and never knew how much I lov'd him; Enter PORTIUS. where Portius comes: what means this haste? Why are thy looks thus chang'd? Por. My heart is griev'd: bring such news as will afflict I father. my Cato. Has Caesar shed more Roman blood? Por. Not so. Lucia, who knows but his poor, bleeding heart, Marcia. Ye dear remains of the most lov'd of men, Nor modesty nor virtue here forbid [Throwing himself before her. The happy Juba lives! he lives to catch That dear embrace, and to return it too With mutual warmth and eagerness of love. Marcia. With pleasure and amaze I stand transported! If thou art Juba, who lies there? Disguis'd like Juba on a curs'd design. To leave thee in the neighbourhood of death, But must not now go back; the love, that lay Half-smother'd in my breast, has broke through all Its weak restraints, and burns in its full lustre. I cannot, if I would, conceal it from thee. Juba. My joy, my best belov'd, my only wish! How shall I speak the transport of my soul? Marcia. Lucia, thy arm. Lead to my apart ment. Oh, prince! I blush to think what I have said, But fate has wrested the confession from me; Go on, and prosper in the paths of honour. Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee, And make the gods propitious to our love. [Exeunt Marcia and Lucia. Juba. I am so blest, I fear 'tis all a dream. Fortune, thou now hast made amends for all Thy past unkindness: I absolve my stars. What though Numidia add her conquer'd towns And provinces to swell the victor's triumph, Juba will never at his fate repine: Let Caesar have the world, if Marcia's mine. [Exit. SCENE II.-Before the Palace. A March at a Distance. Enter CATO and LUCIUS. Sempronius, watch; I saw, and call'd to stop him, but in vain: Thy brother Marcus acts a Roman's part. Luc. While pride, oppression, and injustice reign, The world will still demand her Cato's presence. In pity to mankind submit to Caesar, And reconcile thy mighty soul to life. Cato. Would Lucius have me live to swell the number Of Caesar's slaves, or by a base submission Such popular humanity is treason- 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 Por. Long may they keep asunder! See where the corpse of thy dead son approaches! wounds. Cato. Caesar asham'd! Has he not seen Luc. 'Tis time thou save thyself and us. Heav'n will not leave me in the victor's hand. With tears, that flow'd not o'er his own dear For him the self-devoted Decii died, to see Juba. If I forsake thee sway, The post of honour is a private station. Por. I hope my father does not recommend A life to Portius that he scorns himself. 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 In happier climes, and on a safer shore, Where Caesar never shall approach us more. Pointing to his dead Son. There the brave youth, with love of virtue fir'd, Shall know he conquer'd. Who greatly in his country's cause expir'd, The firm patriot 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 4 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, well- Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, The wide, the unbounded prospect lies be- 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: And mock thy hopes.— 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 of your soul! Cato. Thou hast been ever good and duti[Embracing him. Weep not, my son, all will be well-again; The righteous gods, whom I have sought to please, ful. 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. and asks Enter MARCIA. Oh, Marcia! Oh, my sister, still there's hope I'm weary of conjectures--this must end them. Enter PORTIUS. But, ha! who's this? my son! Why this in trusion? Were not my orders that I would be private? Por. Alas, my father! bers. [Exit. Marcia. Oh, ye immortal powers, that guard Watch round his couch and soften his repose, the just, 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 death? Rise in my soul-We shall be happy still. He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild; Cato. Tis well! again I'm master of myself. |