Cato. Has Cæsar shed more Roman blood?
Por. Not so.

The traitor Syphax, as within the square
He exercised 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 called to stop him, but in vain :
He tossed his arm aloft, and proudly told me,
He would not stay and perish like Sempronius.
Cato. Perfidious man! But haste, my son, and

see

Thy brother Marcus acts a Roman's part.

[Exit Por. -Lucius, the torrent bears too hard upon me : Justice gives way to force: the conquered world Is Cæsar's! Cato has no business in it.

Luc. 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!

Cato. Would Lucius have me live to swell the
number

Of Cæsar's slaves, or, by a base submission, Give up the cause of Rome, and own a tyrant?

Luc. The victor never will impose on Cato
Ungenerous terms. His enemies confess
The virtues of humanity are Cæsar's.

Cato. Curse on his virtues! they have undone
his country.

Such popular humanity is treason-
But see young Juba; the good youth appears,
Full of the guilt of his perfidious subjects!

Luc. Alas, poor prince! his fate deserves com-
passion.

Borne on the shields of his surviving soldiers,
Breathless and pale, and covered 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,
Oppressed with multitudes, he greatly fell.
Cato. I am satisfied.

Por. Nor did he fall before

His sword had pierced 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 pa

tience;

See where the corpse of thy dead son approaches!
The citizens and senators, alarmed,
Have gathered round it, and attend it weeping.
CATO, meeting the corpse.

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 earned 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 blushed if Cato's house had stood
Secure, and flourished in a civil war.
-Portius, behold thy brother, and remember
Thy life is not thy own, when Rome demands it.
Juba. Was ever man like this!
Cuto. Alas, my friends,

Why mourn you thus ! let not a private loss Afflict your hearts. 'Tis Rome requires our tears,

The mistress of the world, the seat of empire,
The nurse of heroes, the delight of gods,
That humbled the proud tyrants of the earth,
And set the nations free, Rome is no more!
Oh, liberty! Oh, virtue! Oh, my country!

Juba. Behold that upright man! Rome fills his

eves

With tears, that flowed not o'er his own dead son. [Aside.

dued,

The sun's whole course, the day and year are
Cæsar's:

For him the self-devoted Decii died,
The Fabii fell, and the great Scipios conquered;
Even Pompey fought for Cæsar. Oh, my friends,
How is the toil of fate, the work of ages,

The Roman empire, fallen! Oh, cursed ambition!

Fallen into Cæsar's hand: Our great forefathers Had left him nought to conquer but his country. Juba. While Cato lives, Cæsar will blush to see Mankind enslaved, and be ashamed of empire. Cato. Cæsar ashamed! has he not seen Pharsalia!

Luc. Cato, 'tis time thou save thyself and us. Cato. Lose not a thought on me; I am out of danger;

Heaven will not leave me in the victor's hand.
Cæsar shall never say he conquered Cato.
But, oh, my friends! your safety fills my heart
With anxious thoughts; a thousand secret ter-

rors

Rise in my soul. How shall I save my friends? 'Tis now, O Cæsar, I begin to fear thee!

Luc. Cæsar has mercy if we ask it of him. Cato. Then ask it, I conjure you! let him know Whate'er was done against him, Cato did it. And, if you please, that I request it of him, That I myself, with tears, request it of him, The virtue of my friends may pass unpunished. Juba, my heart is troubled for thy sake. Should I advise thee to regain Numidia, Or seek the conqueror?—

Juba. If I forsake thee

Whilst I have life, may Heaven abandon Juba! Cato. Thy virtues, prince, if I foresee aright, Will one day make thee great; at Rome hereafter,

Portius, draw near: my son, thou oft hast seen
Thy sire engaged in a corrupted state,
Wrestling with vice and faction: now thou see'st

me

Spent, overpowered, despairing of success;
Let me advise thee to retreat betimes
To thy paternal seat, the Sabine field,
Where the great Censor toiled with his own
hands,

And all our frugal ancestors were blessed
In humble virtues, and a rural life;
There live retired, 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.

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 prepared by my command (Their sails already opening to the winds), That shall convey you to the wished-for port. Is there aught else, my friends, I can do for you?

The conqueror draws near. Once more farewell!

If e'er we meet hereafter, we shall meet
In happier climes, and on a safer shore,
Where Cæsar never shall approach us more.

[Pointing to his dead son.
There, the brave youth, with love of virtue fired,
Who greatly in his country's cause expired,
Shall know he conquered. The firm patriot

CATO solus, sitting in a thoughtful posture: in
his hand Plato's book on the Immortality of the
Soul. A drawn sword on the table by him.
Ir must be so--Plato, thou reasonest 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 Heaven 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 before me;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.
Here will I hold. If there's a Power above,
(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 I am doubly armed: 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, secured 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?
This lethargy that creeps through all my senses?
Nature oppressed, and harrassed out with care,
Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her,
That my awakened soul may take her flight,
Renewed in all her strength, and fresh with life,
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.

Oh, Marcia! Oh, my sister, still there is hope!
Our father will not cast away a life,
So needful to us all and to his country.
He is retired to rest, and seems to cherish
Thoughts full of peace. He has dispatched mé
hence,

With orders that bespeak a mind composed,
And studious for the safety of his friends.
Marcia, take care that none disturb his slum-
bers.
[Exit.
Mar. Oh, ye immortal powers! that guard the
just,

Watch round his couch, and soften his repose; Banish his sorrows, and becalm his soul

Let me convey it hence.

Cato. Rash youth, forbear!

Por. Oh, let the prayers, the intreaties 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. Oh, sir! forgive your son, Whose grief hangs heavy on him. Oh, my father!

How am I sure it is not the last time
I e'er shall call you so! Be not displeased,
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!

Cuto. 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 embarked, And tell me if the winds and seas befriend them. My soul is quite weighed down with care, and asks

The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep.

And shew mankind that goodness is your care!

Enter LUCIA.

Luc. Where is your father, Marcia, where is Cato?

Mar. Lucia, speak low, he is retired to rest. Lucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope Rise in my soul. We shall be happy still.

Luc. 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 frailty, Or pardon weakness that he never felt.

Mar. Though stern and awful to the foes of
Rome,

He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild,
Compassionate and gentle to his friends.
Filled with domestic tenderness, the best,
The kindest father I have ever found him,
Easy and good, and bounteous to my wishes.

Luc. 'Tis his consent alone can make us blessed:
Marcia, we both are equally involved
In the same intricate, perplexed distress.
The cruel hand of fate, that has destroyed
Thy brother Marcus, whom we both lament-
Mar. And ever shall lament; unhappy youth!
Luc. Has set my soul at large, and now I
stand

Loose of my vow. But who knows Cato's thoughts?

Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius, Or how he has determined of thyself?

Mar. Let him but live, commit the rest to Heaven.

Enter LUCIUS.

Lucius. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man!

Oh, Marcia, I have seen thy godlike father!
Some power invisible supports his soul,
And bears it up in all its wonted greatness.
A kind refreshing sleep is fallen upon him:
I saw him stretched at ease, his fancy lost

Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance. What tidings dost thou bring? Methinks I see Unusual gladness sparkling in thy eyes.

Por. As I was hasting to the port, where now
My father's friends, impatient for a passage,
Accuse the lingering winds, a sail arrived
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! Õh, give me

And placed 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 dreadful hour,

To pay the last sad duties to my father!
Juba. These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O
Cæsar!

Lucius. Now is Rome fallen indeed!

CATO brought in on a chair.

Cato. Here set me down

Portius, come near me-Are my friends embarked?

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 children;
Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia.
Alas! poor man, he weeps! Marcia, my daugh-

ter

Oh, bend me forward! Juba loves thee, Marcia. A senator of Rome, while Rome survived, Would not have matched his daughter with a king,

But Cæsar's arms have thrown down all distinction;

Whoe'er is brave and virtuous is a Roman-
I'm sick to death-Oh, when shall I get loose
From this vain world, the abode of guilt and sor-
row!

And yet, methinks, a beam of light breaks in
On my departing soul. Alas, I fear
I've been too hasty. Oh, ye powers, that search
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.

Lucius. There fled the greatest soul that ever

warmed

A Roman breast; oh, Cato! oh, my friend!
Thy will shall be religiously observed.
But let us bear this awful corpse to Cæsar,
And lay it in his sight, that it may stand

A fence betwixt us and the victor's wrath;
Cato, though dead, shall still protect his friends.
From hence, let fierce contending nations know
What dire effects from civil discord flow:
'Tis this that shakes our country with alarms,
And gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms,
Produces fraud, and cruelty, and strife,
And robs the guilty world of Cato's life.

[Exeunt omnes

SCENE 1.-The Palace of Pyrrhus. Enter ORESTES, PYLADES, and Attendants. Orest. O PYLADES! what's life without a friend? At sight of thee my gloomy soul cheers up; My hopes revive, and gladness dawns within me. After an absence of six tedious moons, How could I hope to find my Pylades, My joy, my comfort, on this fatal shore? Even in the court of Pyrrhus! in these realms, These hated realms, so cross to all my wishes. Oh, my brave friend! may no blind stroke of fate Divide us more, and tear me from myself.

Pyl. O prince! O my Orestes! O my friend! Thus let me speak the welcome of my heart.

[Embracing.

Since I have gained this unexpected meeting, Blest be the powers who barred my way to Greece, And kept me here, e'er since the unhappy day, When warring winds (Epirus full in view) Sundered our barks on the loud, stormy main,

VOL. I.

Orest. It was, indeed, a morning full of horror! Pyl. A thousand boding cares have racked my soul

In your behalf. Often, with tears, I mourned
The fatal ills, in which your life's involved,
And grudged you dangers which I could not
share.

I feared to what extremities the black despair, That preyed upon your mind, might have betray ed you,

And lest the gods, in pity to your woes, Should hear your prayers, and take the life you loathed.

But now with joy I see you!The retinue, And numerous followers, that surround you here, Speak better fortunes, and a mind disposed

To relish life.

Orest. Alas, my friend, who knows The destiny to which I stand reserved! I come in search of an inhuman fair, And live or die, as she decrees my fate..

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