ACT IV. SCENE I. Enter LUCIA and MARCIA. He must be murdered, and a passage cut Through those his guards-Ha! dastards, do you tremble; Luc. Now tell me, Marcia, tell me from thy Or act like men, or by yon azure heaven soul, If thou believest 'tis possible for woman Mar. Oh, Lucia, Lucia, might my big swoln Vent 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 art doomed alike to be beloved By Juba, and thy father's friend, Sempronius: But which of these has power to charin like Portius! Mar. Still I must beg thee not to name Sem- Lucia, I like not that loud boisterous man; Adds softest love, and more than female sweetness; Juba might make the proudest of our sex, Luc. And why not Marcia? Come, you strive To hide your thoughts from one who knows too well The inward glowings of a heart in love. Mar. While Cato lives, his daughter has no right To love or hate, but as his choice directs. Luc. But should this father give you to Sempronius? Mar. I dare not think he will: but if he shouldWhy wilt thou add, to all the griefs I suffer, Imaginary ills, and fancied tortures? I hear the sound of feet! They march this way: [Exeunt. Enter SEMPRONIUS, dressed like JUBA, with Numidian guards.. Sem. The deer is lodged, I've tracked her to her covert. Be sure you mind the word, and, when I give it, -How will the young Numidian rave to see 'tis he, 'Tis Juba's self! there is but one way left [Sem. falls. His guards surrender. Sem. Curse on my stars! Am I then doomed to fall By a boy's hand, disfigured in a vile 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 Juba, with prisoners, &c. Enter LUCIA and MARCIA. Luc. Sure 'twas the clash of swords: my troubled heart Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows, Mar. See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's blood and murder! Ha! a Numidian! Heaven preserve the prince! Luc. Now, Marcia, now call up to thy assist ance Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind! Mar. Lucia, look there, and wonder at my patience; 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? Lucia, who knows but his poor bleeding heart, Nor modesty nor virtue here forbid Juba. See, Marcia, see, I found thee weeping, and confess this once, Mar. I've been surprised in an unguarded hour, Its weak restraints, and burns in its full lustre. Mar. And dost thou live to ask it? Such life as Juba never felt 'till now! Mar. Believe me, prince, before I thought I did not know myself how much I loved thee. Mar. O happy Marcia! Juba. My joy, my best beloved, my only wish! The vital blood, that had forsook my heart, [Exeunt Mar. and Luc. Juba. I am so blest, I fear 'tis all a dream. [Erti. A march at a distance.-Enter CATO and Luc. I stand astonished! What, the bold That still broke foremost through the crowd of As with a hurricane of zeal transported, [Throwing himself before her. And virtuous even to madness The happy Juba lives! He lives to catch Sure 'tis a dream! dead and alive at once! Juba. A wretch, Disguised like Juba on a cursed design, Cato. Trust me, Lucius, Our civil discords have produced such crimes, thing. -Oh, Lucius, I am sick of this bad world! Enter PORTIUS. But see where Portius comes: what means this haste? Why are thy looks thus changed? Por. My heart is grieved, I bring such news as will affect my father. Cato. Has Cæsar shed more Roman blood? The traitor Syphax, as within the square I saw, and called to stop him, but in vain: 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. 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. Enter PORTIUS. Por. Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief! My brother Marcus Cato. Ha! what has he done? Por. Scarce had I left my father, but I met him Borne on the shields of his surviving soldiers, 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! Cato. Curse on his virtues! they have undone Have gathered round it, and attend it weeping. 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 compassion. Enter JUBA. Juba. I blush, and am confounded to appear Before thy presence, Cato. Cato. What's thy crime? Juba. I am a Numidian. Cato. And a brave one too. Thou hast a Roman soul. Juba. Hast thou not heard of my false countrymen ? Cato. Alas, young prince! falsehood and fraud shoot up in every soil, The product of all climes-Rome has its Cæsars. Juba. 'Tis generous thus to comfort the distressed. Cato. 'Tis just to give applause where 'tis deserved; Thy virtue, prince, has stood the test of fortune, Like purest gold, that, tortured in the furnace, Comes out more bright, and brings forth all its weight. Juba. What shall I answer thee? My ravished heart O'erflows with sacred joy: I would rather gain Thy praise, O Cato! than Numidia's empire. Cato. Whate'er the Roman virtue has sub- f Twill be no crime to have been Cato's friend. dued, The sun's whole course, the day and year are For him the self-devoted Decii died, Portius, draw near: my son, thou oft hast seen me Spent, overpowered, despairing of success; Let me advise thee to retreat betimes To thy paternal seat, the Sabine field, ambi-Where the great Censor toiled with his own hands, Fallen into Cæsar's hand: Our great forefathers Luc. Cato, 'tis time thou save thyself and us. Heaven will not leave me in the victor's hand. rors Rise in my soul. How shall I save my friends? Luc. Cæsar has mercy if we ask it of him. Juba. If I forsake thee Whilst I have life, may Heaven abandon Juba! And all our frugal ancestors were blessed There live retired, pray for the peace of Rome; Por. I hope my father does not recommend Cato. Farewell, my friends! If there be any Who dare not trust the victor's clemency, The conqueror draws near. Once more fare- If e'er we meet hereafter, we shall meet [Pointing to his dead son. Who made the welfare of mankind his care, [Exeunt. SCENEI. ACT V. CATO solus, sitting in a thoughtful posture: in Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me; I'm weary of conjectures-this must end them. But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Oh, Marcia! Oh, my sister, still there is hope! With orders that bespeak a mind composed, Watch round his couch, and soften his repose; Banish his sorrows, and becalm his soul What means this sword, this instrument of death? With easy dreams; remember all his virtues, 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 A slave, a captive into Cæsar's hands? Por. Look not thus sternly on me; Cato. 'Tis well! again I'm master of myself. 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 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 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 He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild, Luc. 'Tis his consent alone can make us blessed: 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! |