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POR

"ee with what Glorious Scorn the CheifeDifdains A Roman must not be a Romans Lord

o Save his life and link his Country's Chaines 'ent up in Utica and Remote from home ato's a Roman tho' Excluded Rome his Soul all Servile Acts Abhor'd

He's mafter of himself whilst mafter of his Swo His Sword was allways Drawn for Liberty Nor must be Sheath'd Untill Its Mafters free He Conquers Falling and Triumphing Dyes And Cesar Views his End with Envious Enter

A

TRAGEDY.

As it is Acted at the

THEATRE-ROYAL in Drury-Lane,

BY

Her MAJESTY's Servants.

By Mr. ADDISON.

Esce Spectaculum dignum, ad quod refpiciat, intentus operi fuo,
Deus! Ecce par Deo dignum, vir fortis cum mala fortunâ
compofitus! Non video, inquam, quid habeat in terris Jupi-
ter pulchrius, fi convertere animum velit, quàm ut spectet
Catonem, jam partibus non femel fractis, nihilominus inter ru-
inas publicas erectum.

Sen. de Divin. Prov.

LONDON:

Printed for J. TONSON, at Shakespear's Head over-
against Catherine-Street in the Strand. MDCCXIII.

1

PROLOGUE

T

By Mr. P O P E.

Spoken by Mr. Wilks.

wake the Soul by tender Strokes of Art,

To raife the Genius, and to mend the Heart,
To make Mankind in confcious Virtue bold,
Live o'er each Scene, and Be what they behold:

For this the Tragic-Mufe first trod the Stage,
Commanding Tears to ftream thro' every Age;
Tyrants no more their Savage Nature kept,
And Foes to Virtue wonder'd how they wept.
Our Author fhuns by vulgar Springs to move
The Hero's Glory, or the Virgin's Love ;
In pitying Love we but our Weakness show,
And wild Ambition well deferves its Woe.
Here Tears fhall flow from a more gen'rous Cause,
Such Tears as Patriots fhed for dying Laws:

He

He bids your Breasts with Ancient Ardor rife,
And calls forth Roman Drops from British Eyes.
Virtue confefs'd in human Shape he draws,

What Plato Thought, and God-like Cato Was:
No common Object to your Sight difplays,
But what with Pleafure Heav'n it felf furveys;
A brave Man ftruggling in the Storms of Fate,
And greatly falling with a falling State!
While Cato gives his little Senate Laws,
What Bofom beats not in his Country's Cause ?
Who fees him act, but envies ev'ry Deed?
Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
Ev'n when proud Cæfar 'midft triumphal Cars,
The Spoils of Nations, and the Pomp of Wars,
Ignobly Vain, and impotently Great,
Show'd Rome her Cato's Figure drawn in State;
As her dead Father's rev'rend Image past,
The Pomp was darken'd, and the Day o'ercaft,
The Triumph ceas'd-Tears gush'd from ev'ry Eye;
The World's great Victor past unheeded by ;
Her Laft good Man dejected Rome ador'd,
And honour'd Cæfar's less than Cato's Sword.

Britains attend: Be Worth like this approv'd,

And show you have the Virtue to be mov’d.
With honeft Scorn the first fam'd Cato view'd
Rome learning Arts from Greece, whom she subdu'd;

Our

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