His generous, open, undesigning heart
Has begg'd his rival to solicit for him:
Then do not strike him dead with a denial;
But bold him up in life, and cheer his soul
With the faint glimmering of a doubtful hope:
Perhaps, when we have pass'd these gloomy hours,
And weather'd out the storm that beats upon us,—
Luc. No, Porcius, no: I see thy sister's tears,
Thy father's anguish, and thy brother's death,
In the pursuit of our ill-fated loves:
And, Porcius, here I swear, to heaven I swear,
To heaven, and all the powers that judge mankind,
Never to join my plighted hand with thine,
While such a cloud of mischief hangs about us ;
But to forget our loves, and drive thee out
From all my thoughts, as far as I am able.
Por. What hast thou said? Recall those hasty
Or I am lost for ever.
[words,
Luc. Think, Porcius; think thou see'st thy dying
brother

Stabb'd at his heart, and all besmear'd with blood,
Storming at heaven and thee. Thy awful sire
Sternly demands the cause, the accursed cause
That robs him of his son. Farewell, my Porcias!
Farewell, though death is in the word, for ever !
Por. Thou must not go; my soul still hovers o'er
And can't get loose.

[thee,

thoughts,

Tell me my fate; I ask not the success

My cause has found.

Por. I'm griev'd I undertook it.

Mar. What does the barbarous maid insult my And triumph in my pains?

[heart, Por. Away! you're too suspicious in your griefs: Lucia, though sworn never to think of love, Compassionates your pains, and pities you. Mar. Compassionates my pains, and pities me! What is compassion, when 'tis void of love? Fool that I was, to choose so cold a friend To urge my cause! Compassionates my pains! To one that asks the warm returns of love, Compassion's cruelty: 'tis scorn-'tis death. Por. Marcus, no more! Have I deserv'd this treatment? [me ! Mar. What have I said? O Porcius! O forgive A soul exasperated in ills, falls out With every thing, its friends, itself.

(Trumpets sound.)

But, ah!
What means that sound, big with the threat of war?
What new alarm?
(Trumpets sound.)

Por. A second, louder yet,
Swells in the wind, and comes more full upon us.
Mar. Oh, for some glorious cause to fall in battle!
Lucia, thou hast undone me: thy disdain
Has broke my heart: 'tis death must give me ease.
Por. Quick, let us hence: who knows if Cato's life
Stands sure? O Marcus, I am on fire! my heart
Leaps at the trumpet's voice, and burns for glory.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.A Square before the palace. Enter SEMPRONIUS, JUNIUS, TITUS, and other

Mutineers.

Sem. At length the winds are rais'd, the storm blows high;

Be it your care, my friends to keep it up
In its full fury, and direct it right,
Till it bas spent itself on Cato's head.
Meanwhile, I'll herd among his friends, and seem
One of the number; that, whate'er arrive,
My friends and fellow-soldiers may be safe. [Exit.
Jun. We are all safe; Sempronius is our friend.
(Trumpets sound.)
Hark! Cato enters. Bear up boldly to him;
This day will end our toils, and give us rest.-
Fear nothing; for Sempronius is our friend.

(Trumpets sound.)

Enter CATO, PORCIUS, MARCUS, LUCIUS, SEMPRONIUS, Senators, &c.

Cato. Where are these bold, intrepid sons of war,
That greatly turn their backs upon the foe,
And to their general send a brave defiance?
Sem. (Aside.) Curse on their dastard souls, they
stand astonish'd!
[honour
Cato. Perfidious men!-and will you thus dis-
Your past exploits, and sully all your wars?
Do you confess, 'twas not a zeal for Rome,
Nor love of liberty,

Drew you thus far, but hopes to share the spoil
Of conquer'd towns, and plunder'd provinces?
Fir'd with such motives, you do well to join
With Cato's foes, and follow Caesar's banners.
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. (Aside.) By heavens they droop :-
Confusion to the villains !-all is lost.

Cato. Hence, worthless men!-hence, and complain to Cæsar,

You could not undergo the toils of war,

Nor bear the hardships that your general bore. Luci. See, Cato, see,-the unhappy men !-they

weep :

Fear, and remorse, and sorrow for their crime
Appear in every look, and plead for mercy.
Cato. Learn to be honest men; give up your
leaders,

And pardon shall descend on all the rest.

Sem. Cato, commit these wretches to my care: First, let them each be broken on the rack,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: The partners of their crime will learn obedience, When they look up, and see their fellow-traitors Stuck on a fork, and blackening in the sun.

Cato. Forbear, Sempronius:-see they suffer death; But, in their deaths, remember they are men.[The Mutineers retire.-The four Senators advance into their places. Lucius, the base, degenerate age requires Severity and justice in its rigour;

This curbs an impious, bold, offending world,
Commands obedience, and gives force to laws.
When by just vengeance guilty mortals perish,
The gods behold their punishment with pleasure,
And lay the uplifted thunderbolt aside.

Sem. Cato, I gladly execute thy will.
Cato. Meanwhile, we'll sacrifice to liberty.
Remember, O my friends, the laws, the rights,
The generous plan of power deliver'd down,
From age to age, by your renown'd forefathers,
So dearly bought, the price of so much blood:
O 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,

Syph. Our first design, my friend, has prov'd abortive;

Still there remains an after-game to play.
My troops are mounted; their Numidian steeds
Sauff up the wind, and long to scour the desert:
Let but Sempronius head us in our flight,
We'll force the gate where Marcus keeps his guard,
And bew down all that would oppose our passage.
A day will bring us into Cæsar'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 that I can ever feel the soft Unmanly warmth and tenderness of love. Sphax, I long to clasp that haughty maid, And bend her stubborn virtue to my passion: When I have gone thus far, I'd cast her off. Syph. What hinders then, but that thou find her And hurry ber away by manly force.

[out, Sem. But how to gain admission? for access Is given to none but Juba and her brothers. Syph. Thou shalt have Juba's dress and Juba's

guards:

The doors will open when Numidia's prince
Seems to appear before the slaves that watch them.
Sem. I thank thy friendly zeal :- Marcia's my

own!

How will my bosom swell with anxious joy,
When I behold her struggling in my arms,
With glowing beauty and disorder'd charms;
While fear and anger, with alternate grace,
Pant in her breast, and vary in her face!
So Pluto, seiz'd of Proserpine, convey'd
To bell's tremendous gloom the affrighted maid;
There grimly smil'd, pleas'd with the beauteous
prize,

Norenvied Jove his sunshine and his skies. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I-A Portico of the palace.

Enter MARCIA and LUCIA.

Luc. Now tell me, Marcia, tell me from thy soul, If thou believ'st 'tis possible for woman To suffer greater ills than Lucia suffers ?

Mar. O Lucia, Lucia, might my big-swoln heart Teat all its griefs, and give a loose to sorrow, Marcia could answer thee in sighs, keep pace With all thy woes, and count out tear for tear. Luc. I know, thou'rt doom'd alike to be belov'd By Juba, and thy father's friend Sempronius :

But which of these has power to charm like Porcius? Mar. 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 sweetness: he, I own,
Might make indeed the proudest woman happy.
Luc. But, should your father give you to Sem-
pronius?—

Mar. I dare not think he will: but, if he should,-
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.

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

covert :

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 the 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 y
tremble?

Or act like men, or, by yon azure heaven,—
Enter JUBA, with Guards.
Juba. What do I see?

usurp

you

Who's this, that dares

The guards and habit of Numidia's prince?
Sem. One that was born to scourge thy arrogance,
Presumptuous youth.

Juba. What can this mean? Sempronius!

Sem. My sword shall answer thee:-have at thy heart.

Juba. Nay, then beware thy own, proud barba

rous man.

By a boy's hand, and for a worthless woman?
This my close of life?—

Oh, for a peal of thunder, that would make
Earth, sea,
and air, and heaven, and Cato tremble!
(Dies.)
Juba. With what a spring his furious soul broke
loose,

And left the limbs still quivering on the ground!
Hence let us carry off those slaves to Cato,
That we may there at length unravel all
This dark design, this mystery of fate.

[Exit, with Guards and Prisoners. Enter MARCIA and LUCIA.

Luc. Sure, 'twas the clash of swords: my troubled heart

Is so cast down and sunk amidst its sorrows,
It throbs with fear, and aches at every sound.
O Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sake-
I die away with horror at the thought.

Mar. See, Lucia, see! here's blood!
What! a Numidian! Heavens preserve the prince!
The face lies muffled up within the garment,-
But hah!-death to my sight!--a diadem ?-
O gods! 'tis he! Juba lies dead before us.

Luc. Now, Marcia, now call up to thy assistance Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind. Mar. Lucia, look there, and wonder at my pa

tience :

Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast,
To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted?
Luc. What can I think or say to give thee comfort?
Enter JUBA, with Guards.

Mar. Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills.
Behold a sight that strikes all comfort dead.
I will indulge my sorrows;

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.
Mar. O Juba! Juba! Juba!

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 soul was full of love and Juba. Juba. Do I live? or am, indeed,

What Marcia thinks? All is Elysium round me. Mar. Ye dear remains of the most lov'd of men Nor modesty, nor virtue, here forbids

A last embrace, while thus

Juba. (Comes forward.) See, Marcia; see, The happy Juba lives! he lives to catch That dear embrace, and to return it, too, With mutual warmth and eagerness of love. Mar. With pleasure and amaze I stand transported.

If thou art Juba, who lies there?

Juba. A wretch,

Disguis'd like Juba, on a curs'd design.

(Signs to his guards, to carry off the body.) 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 rapt with joy, to see my Marcia's tears.

Mar. I've been surpris'd in an unguarded hour, 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?

Mar. Lucia, thy arm: O, let me rest upon it!The vital blood that had forsook my heart, Returns again in such tumultuous tides, It quite o'ercomes me. Lead to my apartment.O 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.

[Exit with Lucia. Juba. I am so bless 'd, 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 Cæsar have the world, if Marcia's mine. [Exit.

SCENE II-A Square before the palace.
Enter LUCIUS, CATO, Freedmen, &c.

Luci. I stand astonish'd. What! the bold Sempronius,

[triots,

That still broke foremost through the crowd of pa-
As with a hurricane of zeal transported!
And, virtuous even to madness.

Cato. Trust me, my friend,

Our civil discords have produc'd such crimes,

Such monstrous crimes, I am surpris'd at nothing.
O Lucius! I am sick of this bad world:
The daylight and the sun grow painful to me.

Enter PORCIUS.

But see where Porcius comes. What means this haste?

Por. My heart is griev'd;

I bring such news as will afflict my father.
Cato. Has Cæsar shed more Roman blood?
Por. 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:
He toss'd 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 Porcius with the Freedmen.
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.
Luci. 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
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.

[number

[country: Cato. Curse on his virtues! they've undone his Such popular humanity is treason. But Juba comes: the ingenuous prince appears Fall of the guilt of his perfidious subjects.

Por. Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief! My brother Marcus

Cato. Ha! what has he done?

Has he forsook his post? Has he given 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 satisfied.

Por. Nor did he fall, before

[Syphax. His sword had pierc'd thro' the false heart of 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.

Porcius, when I am dead, be sure you place His urn near mine.

Por. Long may they keep asunder!

I e'er shall call you so ?-be not displeas'd,
O 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.
(Raises and embraces him.)
Weep not, my son; all will be well again :
The righteous gods, whom I have sought to please,
Will succour Cato, and protect his children.
Por. Your words give comfort to my drooping
[duct:
Cato. Porcius, thou may'st rely upon my con-
Cato will never act what misbecomes him.
But go, my son; take care that nought be wanting
Among thy father's friends; see them embark'd;
And tell me if the winds and seas befriend 'em.
My soul is quite weigh'd down with care, and asks
The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep.

heart.

[Exit Cato. Por. My thoughts are more at ease; my heart

revives.

Enter MARCIA.

O Marcia, O my sister, still there's hope:
Our father will not cast away a life
So needful to us all, and to his country.
He is retir'd to rest, and seems to cherish
Thoughts full of peace. He has despatch'd me hence
With orders that bespeak a mind compos'd,
And studious for the safety of his friends.
Marcia, take care that none disturb his slumbers.
[Exit Porcius.
Mar. O ye immortal powers, that guard the just,
Watch round his couch, and soften his repose!
Banish his sorrows, and becalm his soul
With easy dreams! Remember all his virtues,
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 retir'd to rest. My friend, I feel a gentle dawning hope Rise in my soul: we may 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:
Fill'd 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 happy.
But who knows Cato's thoughts?

Who knows how yet he may dispose of Porcius? Or, how he has determin'd of thyself?

Mar. Let him but live, commit the rest to heaven. Enter LUCIUS.

Luci, Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man. O 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 has fallen upon him: I saw him stretch'd at ease, his fancy lost In pleasing dreams: as I drew near his couch, He smil'd, and cried, Cæsar, thou canst not hurt

[thought.

me." Mar. His mind still labours with some dreadful

Enter JUBA.

Juba. Lucius, the horsemen are return'à from

viewing

The number, strength, and posture of our foes,
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.

Luci. 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 PORCIUS.

Porcius, 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 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.

(Cato's groans are heard.)
But hark! what means that groan? O, give me way,
And let me fly into my father's presence. [Exit.
Luci, Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome,
And in the wild disorder of his soul
Mourns o'er his country.

(Cato groans again.) Ha! a second groan!-Heaven guard us all! Mar. Alas! 'tis not the voice Of one who sleeps: 'tis agonizing pain, 'Tis death is in that sound.

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 orders, bear him hither.

Mar. O heaven, assist me in this dreadful hour
To pay the last sad duties to my father!
Enter CATO, with two Freedmen.
Juba. These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O
Cæsar!

Luci. Now is Rome fallen indeed!

Cato. Here set me down.

Porcius, come near me :-are my friends embark'd?
Can any thing be thought of for their service?
Whilst yet I live, let me not live in vain.
O Lucius, art thou here? Thou art too good!
Let this our friendship live between our children;
Make Porcius happy in thy daughter Lucia,
Alas, poor man he weeps! Marcia, my daughter,
O 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 distinction:
Whoe'er is brave and virtuous, is a Roman.
I'm sick to death. O, when shall I get loose
From this vain world, the abode of guilt and sorrow!
And yet, methinks, a beam of light breaks in
On my departing soul. Alas! I fear,
I've been too hasty. O 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.)