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(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 Cæsar.

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
[senses?
This lethargy that creeps through all my
Nature, oppress'd and harass'd out with care,
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,

me?

An offering fit for Heaven. Let guilt or fear Disturb man's rest, Cato knows neither of them,

Indifferent in his choice, to sleep or die.

Enter PORTIUS.

But, ha! who's this? my son! Why this intrusion?

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

Por. Alas, my father!

What means this sword, this instrument of Let me convey it hence. [death? Cato. Rash youth, forbear. Por. Oh, let the prayers, 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,
Or know, young man-

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, Cæsar, let thy troops beset our gates,
And bar each avenue; thy gathering fleets
O'erspread the sea, and stop up every port;
Cato shall open to himself a passage,
And mock thy hopes.-

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

How am I sure it is not the last time

I 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 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 droop-

ing heart.

Cato. Portius, thou may'st rely upon my

conduct:

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Rise in my soul-we shall be happy still.
Lucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope

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 trailty,
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 kindest father; I have ever found him
Easy and good, and bounteous to my wishes.
Lucia. "Tis his consent alone can make us
bless'd.

Who knows how yet he may dispose of Por-
But who knows Cato's thoughts? [tius,
Or how he has determined of thy self?
Marcia. Let him but live, commit the rest to
Heaven.

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loose

The number, strength, and posture, of our foes, | I'm sick to death-
Who now encamp within a short hour's march;
On the high point of yon bright western tower
We ken them from afar; the setting sun
Plays on their shining arms and burnish'd
helmets,

And covers all the field with gleams of fire.
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 impor

tance.

What tidings dost thou bring? Methinks I see
Unusual gladness sparkle in thy eyes.

Por. As I was hasting to the port, where

now

My father's friends, impatient for a passage,
Accuse the lingering wind, a sail arriv'd
From Pompey's son, who, through the realms
of Spain,

Calls out for vengeance on his father's death,
And rouses the whole nation up to arms.
Were Cato at their head, once more might

Rome

Assert her rights, and claim her liberty.
But, hark! what means that groan ?—Oh, give
[A groan is heard.

me way,

And let me fly into my father's presence!

Luc. Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on
[Exit.
Rome,

And, in the wild disorder of his soul,
Mourns o'er his country. Ha! a second
Heaven guard us all!
[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!

Oh, Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass!
Cato has fallen upon his sword-

Luc. Oh, Portius,

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

Por. 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 servants,
[weeping,
Obsequious to his order, bear him hither!-
Mar. Oh, Heaven! assist me in this dread.
ful hour,

To pay the last sad duties to my father!

CATO brought on in a chair.

Juba. These are thy triumphs, thy exploits,
O Cæsar!

Luc. Now is Rome fall'n indeed!
Cato. Here set me down-
Portius, come near me.-Are my friends em-
[bark'd?
Can any thing be thought of for their service?
Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain-
Oh, Lucius, art thou here?-Thou art too
good-
Let this our friendship live between our chil-
[dren-
Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia.
Marcia, my daughter-
Oh, bend me forward!-Juba loves thee,
[Marcia.
A senator of Rome, while Rome surviv'd,
Would not have match'd his daughter with a
king-
But Cæsar's arms have thrown down all dis-
[tinction

-Oh, when shall I get
From this vain world, th' abode of guilt and
[sorrow!
On my departing soul. Alas, I fear [search
And yet, methinks, a beam of light breaks in
I've been too hasty!-Oh, ye powers, that
The heart of man, and weigh his inmost
thoughts,

If I have done amiss, impute it not――
The best may err, but you are good, and—
Oh!-
[Dies.
Luc. There fled the greatest soul that ever
A Roman breast.--Oh, Cato! oh, my friend!
warm'd
Thy will shall be religiously observ'd.
But let us bear this awful corpse to Cæsar,
A fence betwixt us and the victor's wrath:
And lay it in his sight, that it may stand
Cato, though dead, shall still protect his
friends.

From hence, let fierce contending nations
know,

What dire effects from civil discord flow:
Produces fraud, and cruelty, and strife,
'Tis this that shakes our country with alarms,
And gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms;
And robs the guilty world of Cato's life.

EPILOGUE.

WRITTEN BY DR. GARTH.

made.

[Exeunt.

WHAT odd fantastic things we women do!
Who would not listen when young lovers woo?
Ladies are often cruel to their cost:
But die a maid, yet have the choice of two!
To give you pain, themselves they punish most.
Vows of virginity should well be weigh'd;
Too oft they're cancell'd, though in convents
Would you revenge such rash resolves-you
[may
Be spiteful-and believe the thing we say,
We hate you when you're easily said nay.
How needless, if you knew us, were your fears!
Let love have eyes, and beauty will have ears.
Our hearts are form'd as you yourselves would
chuse,

Too proud to ask, too humble to refuse :
He sighs with most success that settles well.
We give to merit, and to wealth we sell :
The woes of wedlock with the joys we mix:
'Tis best repenting in a coach and six.

Blame not our conduct, since we but pursue
Your breasts no more the fire of beauty warms,
Those lively lessons we have learn'd from you.
But wicked wealth usurps the power of charms.
What pains to get the gaudy things you hate,
To swell in show, and be a wretch in state.
E'en churches are no sanctuaries now:
At plays you ogle, at the ring you bow;
There, golden idols all your vows receive,
She is no goddess that has nought to give.
Oh, may once more the happy age appear,
When words were artless, and the thoughts
sincere :
And courts less coveted than groves and
When gold and grandeur were unenvied
[things,
Love then shall only mourn when truth com-
springs:
[plains,
And constancy feel transport it its chains:
And eyes shall utter what the lips conceal:
Sighs with success their own soft anguish tell,
And beauty fear no enemy but time;
Virtue again to its bright station climb,
And every Lucia find a Cato's son.
The fair shall listen to desert alone,

FORTUNE'S FROLIC:

A FARCEЕ,

IN TWO ACTS.

BY JOHN TILL ALLINGHAM, ESQ.

REMARKS.

THIS excellent farce turns on the circumstance of an honest peasant succeeding to the title and estate of a lord, and on the use that he makes of his unexpectedly-acquired wealth; being thus enabled to evince feelings that would confer honour on the noblest hereditary rank. "Proud wealth!" exclaims Frank, "look here for an example!"-The proudest, indeed, need not be ashamed to follow it.

This after-piece continues, as it well deserves to be, a favourite with the theatrical part of the public.

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ACT I.

SCENE 1.-A Hall in the Castle.

Enter Mr. FRANK.

Frank. To what humiliation has my bad for

tune reduced me, when it brings me here an humble suppliant to my base oppressor!

Enter SNACKS, speaking.

Snacks. A letter for me by express! What can it be about? Something of great consequence from my lord, I suppose.-Frank here! What the devil can he want?-Come a begging though, I dare say.

Frank. Good morning to you, Mr. Snacks.
Snacks. Good morning.
[Coldly.
Frank. I'm come, Sir, to-I say, Sir, I'm

come to

Snacks. Well, Sir, I see you are come; and what then? What are you come for, Sir?

Frank. The termination of the lawsuit which you have so long carried on against me, owing to my entire inability to prosecute it any fur ther, has thrown me into difficulties which I cannot surmount without your kind assist

ance.

Snacks. Very pretty, indeed! You are a very modest man, Mr. Frank; you've spent your last shilling in quarrelling with me, and now you want me to help you.

Frank. The farm called Hundred Acres is at present untenanted-I wish to rent it.

Snacks. You wish to rent it, do you? And pray, Sir, where's your money? And what do you know about farming?

Frank. I have studied agriculture; and, with care, have no doubt of being able to pay my rent regularly.

No, no, Sir; do you think I'm so unmindful of Snacks. But I have a great doubt about it.his lordship's interest as to let his land to a poor novice like you? It wont do, Mr. Frank; I can't think of it-Good day, friend; good day. [Showing him the door.

Frank. My necessities, SirSnacks. I have nothing to do with your necessities, Sir; I have other business-Good day-There's the door.

Frank. Unfeeling wretch!
Snacks. What!

Frank. But what could I expect? Think not, thou sordid man, 'tis for myself I sue-my wife, my children-'tis for them I ask your aid, or else my pride had never stooped so low! my honest poverty is no disgrace: your ill-gotten gold gives you no advantage over me; for I had rather feel my heart beat freely, as it does now, than know that I possessed your wealth, and load it with the crimes entailed upon it. [Exit.

Snacks. A mighty fine speech, truly! I think I'll try if I can't lower your tone a little, my fine, blustering fellow: I'll have you laid by the heels before night for this. Proud as you are, you'll have time to reflect in a jail, and bring down your spirit a little. But come, let

me see what my letter says. What a deal of time I've lost with that beggar ! [Reads. Sir,-This is to inform you that my Lord Lackwit died an heir to his estate- -his lordship never acknowledged her as his wife son called Robin Roughead-Robin is the legal heir to the estate- -to put him in immediate possession, according to his lordship's last will and testament. Yours to command,

KIT CODICIL, Attorney at law. Here's a catastrophe! Robin Roughead a lord! My stewardship has done pretty well for me already, but I think I shall make it do better now. Iknow this Robin very well; he's devilish cunning, I'm afraid; but I'll tickle him. He shall marry my daughter-then I can do as I please. To be sure, I have given my promise to Rattle; but what of that? he hasn't got it under my hand. I think I had better tell Robin this news at once; it will make him mad-and then I shall do as I please with him. Ay, ay, I'll go. How unfortunate that I did not make friends with him before! He has no great reason to like me; I never gave him any thing but hard words. [RATTLE sings without.] Confound it, here's that fellow Rattle coming.

Enter RATTLE.

Rat. Ah, my old daddy! how are you? What! have you got the mumps-can't you speak?

Snacks. I wish you had the mumps, and could not speak. What do you old daddy me for?

Rat. Why, father-in-law: curse me but you are most conceitedly crusty to-day; what's the matter with you? why you are as melancholy as a lame duck.

Snacks. The matter is-that I am sick.
Rat. What's your disorder?

Snacks. A surfeit: I've had too much of you.

Rat. Oh! you'll soon get the better of that; for when I've married your daughter, curse me if I shall trouble you much with my company!

Snacks. But you haven't married her yet. Rat. Oh, but I shall soon; I have got your promise, you know.

Snacks. Can't remember any such thing. Rat. No! your memory's very short then. Snacks. A short memory's very convenient, sometimes.

Rat. And so is a short stick; and I've a great mind to try the utility of it now. I tell you what, Snacks, I always thought you was a damned old rascal, but now I'm sure of it: it's no matter, though: I'll marry your daughter notwithstanding.

Snacks. You will-will you?

Rat. Yes, Snacks, I will; for I love her. I wonder how the devil such a pretty girl ever came to have such a queer, little, shrivelled, old mopstick as you for a father. Snacks, your wife most certainly made a cuckold of you; it could not be else.

Snacks. Impudent rascal!

Rat. But it signifies not who her father is; Miss Nancy is lovely, and I'll marry her. Let me see-five thousand pounds you promised; yes, you shall give her that on the wedding-day. You have been a steward a long time; that sum must be a mere dea-bite

to you.

Snacks. I rather think I shall never give her

a farthing if she marries such a paltry fellow as you.

Rat. Why lookye; I'm a lively spark, with a good deal of fire in me, and it is not a little matter that will put me out: where others sink, I rise: and this opposition of yours will only serve to blow me into a blaze that will burn you up to cinder. I'm up to your gossip; I'm not to be had.

Snacks. No, nor my daughter's not to be had, Mr. Banker's Clerk; so I sha'n't waste any more time with you: go, and take in the flats in Lombard-street; it wont do here.

[Exit.

Rat. Oh! what he has mizzled, has he? I fancy you'll find me the most troublesome blade you ever settled an account with, old Raise-rent. I'll astonish you, some how or other. I wonder what has changed him so!

Enter Miss NANCY.

Ah, my sweet, little, rural angel! How fares it with you? You smile like a May morning.

Nan. The pleasure of seeing you always makes me

Rat. Indeed! give me a kiss then. I love you well enough to marry you without a farthing; but I think I may as well have the five thousand pounds, if it's only to tease old Long-purse.

Nan. Oh, you know you have his promise for that.

Rat. Yes, but he says he has forgot all about that, though it was no longer ago you. than yesterday; and he says I sha'n't have

Nan. Does he, indeed?

Rat Yes; but never mind that.

Nan. I thought you said you loved me? Rat. And so I do, better than all the gold in Lombard-street.

Nan. Then why are you not sorry that my father wont give his consent?

Rat. His consent! I have got yours and my own, and I'll soon manage him. Don't you remember how I frightened him one night, when I came to visit you by stealth, dressed castle? Oh! I'll turn that to account. like a ghost, which he thinks haunts the know he's very superstitious, and easily frightened into any thing. Come, let's take a walk, and plot how 1, your knight-errant, shall deliver you from this haunted castle.

I

[Exeunt.

SCENE II-A Corn-field. ROBIN ROUGHEAD discovered, binding up a sheaf.

Rob. Ah! work, work, work, all day long, and no such thing as stopping a moment to rest! for there's old Snacks the steward, always upon the look out; and if he sees one, slap he has it down in his book, and then there's sixpence gone plump. [Comes forward.] I do hate that old chap, and that's the truth on't. Now, if I was lord of this place, I'd make one rule-there should be no such thing as work; it should be one long holiday all the year round. Your great folks have strange whims in their heads, that's for sartin. I don't know what to make of 'un, not I. Now there's all yon great park there, kept for his lordship to look at, and his lordship has not seen it these twelve years-Ah! if it was

mine, I'd let all the villagers turn their cows last will and testament. Yours to command, in there, and it should not cost 'em a farthing; then, as the parson said last Sunday, I should be as rich as any in the land, for I should have the blessings of the poor. Dang it! here comes Snacks. Now I shall get a fine jobation, I

suppose.

Enter SNACKS, bowing very obsequiously; ROBIN takes his Hat off, and stands staring at him.

KIT CODICIL, Attorney at Law. Rob. What!- -What all mine? the houses, the trees, the fields, the hedges, the ditches, the gates, the horses, the dogs, the cats, the cocks and the hens, and the cows and the bulls, and the pigs and the-What! are they all mine? and I, Robin Roughead, am the rightful lord of all this estate!-Don't keep me a minute now, but tell me it is so-Make haste, tell me-quick, quick!

Snacks. I repeat it, the whole estate is

Rob. I be main tired, Master Snacks; so I stopt to rest myself a little; I hope you'll ex-yours. cuse it. I wonder what the dickens he's Rob. Huzza! Huzza! [Catches off SNACKS' grinning at. [Aside. hat and wig.] Set the bells a ringing; set the Snacks. Excuse it! I hope your lordship's ale a running; make every body drunk-if infinite goodness and condescension will ex- there's a sober man to be found any where tocuse your lordship's most obsequious, devot-day, he shall be put in the stocks. Go get my ed, and very humble servant, Timothy Snacks, hat full of guineas to make a scramble with; who is come into the presence of your lord-call all the tenants together. I'll lower the ship, for the purpose of informing your lord-rents-I'llship

Rob. Lordship! he, he, he! Ecod! I never knew as I had a hump before. Why, Master Snacks, you grow funny in your old age. Snacks. No, my lord, I know my duty better; I should never think of being funny with a lord.

Rob. What lord? Oh, you mean the Lord Harry, I suppose. No, no, must not be too funny with him, or he'll be after playing the very devil with you.

Snacks. I say, I should never think of jesting with a person of your lordship's dignified character.

Rob. Did-dig-What! Why, now I look at you, I see how it is: you are mad. I wonder what quarter the moon's in. Lord! how your eyes roll! I never saw you so before.How came they to let you out alone?

Snacks. Your lordship is most graciously pleased to be facetious..

Rob. Why, what gammon are you at? Don't come near me, for you have been bit by a mad dog; I'm sure you have.

Snacks. If your lordship will be so kind as to read this letter, it would convince your lordship- -Will your lordship condescend?

Rob. Why, I would condescend, but for a few reasons, and one of 'em is, that I can't

read.

Snacks. I think your lordship is perfectly right; for these pursuits are too low for one of your lordship's nobility.

Rob. Lordship, and lordship again! I'll tell you what, Master Snacks-let's have no more of your fun, for I wont stand it any longer, for all you be steward here: my name's Robin Roughead, and if you don't choose to call me by that name, I sha'n't answer you, that's flat. [Aside.] I don't like him well enough to stand his jokes.

Snacks. I hope your lordship will do me the favour to

Rob. Why, that may be as it happens; I can't tell. [Carelessly. Snacks. Will your lordship dine at the castle to-day? Rob. Yes.

Snacks. What would your lordship choose for dinner?

Rob. Beef-steaks and onions, and plenty of 'em.

Snacks. Beef-steaks and onions! What a dish for a lord!-He'll be a savoury bit for my daughter, though. [Aside.

Rob. What are you at there, Snacks? Go, get me the guineas-make haste; I'll have the scramble, and then I'll go to Dolly, and tell her the news.

Snacks. Dolly! Pray, my lord, who's Dolly? Rob. Why, Dolly is to be my lady, and your mistress, if I find you honest enough to keep you in my employ.

Snacks. He rather smokes me.- -I have a beauteous daughter, who is allowed to be the very pink of perfection.

Rob. Damn your daughter! I have got something else to think of: don't talk to me of your daughter; stir your stumps, and get the money.

Snacks. I am your lordship's most obsequious-Zounds! what a peer of the realm. [Aside; exit.

Rob. Ha, ha, ha! What work I will make in the village!-Work! no, there shall be no such a thing as work: it shall be all play.Where shall I go? I'll go to-No, I wont go there; I'll go to Farmer Hedgestake's, and tell him-No, I'll not go there;-I'll go toDamn it, I'll go no where; yes, I will; I'll go every where; I'll be neither here, nor there, nor any where else. How pleased Dolly will be when she hears—

Enter VILLAGERS, shouting. Dick, Tom, Jack, how are you, my lads?Here's news for you! Come, stand round, make a ring, and I'll make a bit of a speech to you. [They all get round him.] First of all, suppose Snacks has told you that I'm your landlord?

Snacks. Why then, Master Robin, be so kind as to attend whilst I read this letter. [Reads. Sir,-This is to inform you, that my Lord Lackwit died this morning, after a very short illness ; during which he declared that he had been married, and had an heir to his estate: the woman he married was commonly called, or known, by the name of Roughead: she was poor and illiter-I ate, and, through motives of shume, his lordship never acknowledged her as his wife: she has been dead some time since, and left behind her a son called Robin Roughead: now this said Robin is the legal heir to the estate. I have therefore sent you the necessary writings to put him into immediate possession, according to his lordship's

Vil. We are all glad of it.

Rob. So am I; and I'll make you all happy: I'll lower all your rents.

All. Huzza! Long live Lord Robin!
Rob. You sha'n't pay no rent at all.
All. Huzza! huzza! long live lord Robin!

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