By Juba, and thy father's friend Sempronius; But which of these has power to charm like Portius!

MARCIA.

Still must I beg thee not to name Sempronius.
Lucia, I like not that loud boisterous man:
Juba to all the bravery of a hero

Adds softest love, and more than female sweetness;
Juba might make the proudest of our sex,
Any of woman-kind, but Marcia, happy.

LUCIA.

And why not Marcia? Come, you strive in vain To hide your thoughts from one, who knows too The inward glowings of a heart in love. [well

MARCIA.

While Cato lives, his daughter has no right. To love or hate, but as his choice directs.

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 fancy'd tortures?

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.
When love once pleads admission to our hearts,
(In spite of all the virtue we can boast)
The woman that deliberates is lost.

[Exeunt. Enter SEMPRONIUS, dressed like JUBA, with Numidian guards.

SEMPRONIUS.

The deer is lodg'd. I've track'd her to her co

vert.

Be sure you mind the word; and when I give it,
Rush in at once, and seize upon your prey.
Let not her cries or tears have force to move you.
-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,
"Twould be to torture that young gay barbarian.
-But hark, what noise! death to my hopes! 'tis he,
Tis Juba's self! there is but one way left-
He must be murder'd, and a passage cut
Through those his guards.-Ha! dastards, do you
tremble!

Or act like men, or by yon azure Heaven

Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills:
Behold a sight, that strikes all comfort dead.
Enter JUBA listening.

I will indulge my sorrows, and give way
To all the pangs and fury of despair:
That man, that best of men, deserv'd it from me.

JUBA.

What do I hear? and was the false Sempronius That best of men! O, had I fall'n like him, And could have thus been mourn'd, I had been happy!

LUCIA.

Here will I stand, companion in thy woes, And help thee with my tears; when I behold A loss like thine, I half forget my own.

MARCIA,

'Tis not in fate to ease my tortur'd breast.

Why do I think on what he was? He's dead! He's dead, and never knew how much I lov'd him. 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 soal was full of love and Juba! JUBA.

Where am I do I live! or am indeed
What Marcia thinks! All is Elysium round me.
MARCIA.

Ye dear remains of the most lov'd of men!
Nor modesty nor virtue here forbid
A last embrace, while thus

I stand astonish'd! what, the bold Sempronius,

If thou art Juba, who lies there?

JUBA.

A wretch,

Disguis'd like Juba on a curs'd design.
The tale is long, nor have I heard it out.
Thy father knows it all. I could not bear
To leave thee in the neighbourhood of death,
But flew, in all the haste of love, to find thee.
I found thee weeping, and confess this once,
Am wrapt with joy to see my Marcia's tears.

MARCIA,

I've been surpris'd in an unguarded hour, Bat must not now go back: the love, that lay Half-smother'd in iny breast, has broke through all Its weak restraints, and burns in its full lustre; I cannot, if I would, conceal it from thee.

JUBA.

I'm lost in ecstasy! and dost thou love, Thou charming maid?

VOL. IX.

patriots,

As with a hurricane of zeal transported, And virtuous ev'n to madness

САТО.

Trust me, Lucius, Our civil discords have produced such crimes, Such monstrous crimes, I am surpris'd at nothing. -O Lucius, I am sick of this bad world! The day-light and the Sun grow painful to me. Enter PORTIUS.

But see where Portius comes! what means this Why are thy looks thus chang'd? [haste?

PORTIUS.

My heart is griev'd I bring such news as will afilict my father.

CATO.

Has Cæsar shed more Roman blood?

PORTIUS.

Not so.

The traitor Syphax, as within the square He exercis'd his troops, the signal given, Flew off at once with his Numidian horse To the south gate, where Marcus holds the watch. I saw, and call'd to stop him, but in vain; q He toss'd his arm aloft, and proudly told me, He would not stay and perish like Sempronius. Dnomor 297 ton 25.b varitst zm ager! tis mid 2 CATO rede 10 of stif Perfidious men! but haste, my son, and see Thy brother Marcus acts a Roman's part. [Exit FORTIUS, -Lucius, the torrent bears too hard upon me! Justice gives way to force: the conquer'd world Is Cæsar's: Cato has no business in it. L PROF "?Ois@¢ ¥PUT Ao??? ¥!% A! * 07.16 €b mo ibuciusza,es hyun · 19: 1 *ILOT SIM 240

While pride, oppression, and injustice reign, The world will still demand her Cato's presence. In pity to mankind, submit to Cæsar, And reconcile thy mighty, soul to life, and 29 mos brab zal to phod of CATO, bad?? }

WOH ST

these ad Ha! what has he done?/ Has he forsook his post? has be given waya il Did he look tamely on, and let them pass? I PORTIUS.41 buc 1st td62 SET 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, Esl He stood the shock of a whole host of foes, Till, obstinately brave, and bent on death, Opprest with multitudes, be greatly fell, I W Cine to FinsICATOPIE„b97alem bridual? I'm satisfy'd.

Kendi (1992 PORTIUS.d 'b'madze 1680)
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. usat 2501517 2 6763) for lit# 0976sH CATO. 'supac: he Dean linde isem) Thanks to the gods! my boy has done, his duty. bisededt i penduaranteixos di; W Portius, when I am dead, be sure thou place His urn near mine, 63 Liyad 1.78-3′) () ̧von aiT*

Full in my sight, that I may view at leisure
The bloody corse, and count those glorious wounde
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'u 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,'

To thy paternal seat, the Sabine field,

In humble virtues, and a rural life.'ve not out adt
There live retir'd; pray for the peace of Rome;"
Content thyself to be obscurely good."
When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
The post of honour is a private station,
PORTIUS.

་།

I hope, my father does not recommend A life to Portius, that he scorns himself.

99 DEBA02:28 «CATÓ.Jing Lasm 23.9 Farewell, my friends! if there be any of you That dares not trust the victor's clemency, Know there are ships prepar'd by my command, (Their sails already opening to the winds) 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.

T

Once more farewell! If e'er we meet hereafter, we shall meet que In happier climes and on a safer shore, Where Cæsar never shall approach us more. There the brave youth, with love of virtue fir'aμ^ [Pointing to the body of his dead son. Who greatly in his country's cause expir'd, Shall know he conquer'd. The firm patriot there (Who made the welfare of mankind his care) Though still by faction, vice, and fortune, crost, Shall find the generous labour was not lost.

Ir must be so Plato, thou reason'st well!
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?

Or whence this secret dread, and inward horrour,
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us;a yatan hữ
'Tis Heaven itself, that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.

Eternity! thou pleasing dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untry'd being,

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass!

The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me:
But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon ite
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 30
But when! or where! This world was made for

Cæsar.

I'm weary of conjectures This must end them. fionava [Laying his hand upon his scord. 27 Thus am 1 doubly arm'd: my death and life, My bane and antidote, are both before me: This thi 4 moment brings me to an end But never die. The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles At the dawn dagger, and defies its point. (T® The stars shall fade away, the Sun himself

a

me

y

And all our frugal ancestors were bless'd

But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,