Enter Juba. Jub. I blush, and am confounded to appear Before thy presence, Cato. Cato. What's thy crime? Jub. I'm a Numidian. [Roman soul. Cato. And a brave one too. Thou hast a Jub. Hast thou not heard of my false countrymen ? Cato. Alas, young prince! Falsehood and fraud shoot up in ev'ry soil, The product of all climes-Rome has its Cæsars. Jub. 'Tis gen'rous thus to comfort the distress'd. [deserv'd: Cato. 'Tis just to give applause where 'tis Thy virtue, prince, has stood the test of fortune, Like purest gold that, tortur'd in the furnace, Comes out more bright, and brings forth all its weight. [heart Jub. What shall I answer thee? My ravish'd O'erflows with secret joy: I'd rather gain Thy praise, O Cato, than Numidia's empire. Enter Portius. Por. Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief! My brother Marcus- Cato. Hah! what has he done? Has he forsook his post? Has he given way? Did he look tamely on, and let 'em 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, Por. Nor did he fall before 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. O liberty! O virtue! O my country! Jub. Behold that upright man! Rome fills his eyes Cato. Whate'er the Roman virtue has sub du'd, With tears that flow'd not o'er his own dead son. [Aside. [Caesar's; The sun's whole course, the day and year are For him the self-devoted Decii died, The Fabii fell, and the great Scipios conquer'd; Even Pompey fought for Cæsar. O my friends! How is the toil of fate, the work of ages, The Roman empire, fallen! O curst ambition! Fallen into Cæsar's hands? Our great forefathers Had left him nought to conquer but his country. Jub. While Cato lives, Cæsar will blush to His sword had pierc'd through the false heart of Rise in my soul-How shall I save my friends? Syphax. Yonder he lies. I saw the hoary traitor -Portius, when I am dead, be sure you place Por. Long may they keep asunder! See where the corpse of thy dead son approaches! Calo. 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 earn'd byvirtue! 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'd 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. '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. Jub. 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, here after, 'Twill be no crime to have been Cato's friend. Portius, draw near: my son, thou oft has seen Thy sire engag'd in a corrupted state, Wrestling with vice and faction: now thou seest me Spent, overpower'd, despairing of success. And all our frugal ancestors were bless'd There live retir'd, pray for the peace of Rome, | Who dare not trust the vietor's clemency, ACT V. [Exeunt. Cato solus, sitting in a thoughtful Posture; in his Hand Plato's Book on the Immortality of the Soul. Why am I disobey'd? Por. Alas, my father! What means this sword, this instrument of death! Let me convey it hence. Cato. Rash youth, forbear! Por. O, let the pray'rs, th' entreaties of your Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from friends, you! Cato. Wouldst thou betray me? Wouldst A slave, a captive into Caesar's hands? Por. Look not thus sternly on me; Cato. 'Tis well! again I'm master of myself. A drawn Sword on the Table by him. Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror And that which he delights in must be happy. I'm weary of conjectures-this must end 'em. Por. O Sir! forgive your son, Cato. Thou hast been ever good and dutiful. Will succour Cato, and preserve his children. ing heart. Cato. Portius, thou mayst rely upon my con- Thy father will not act what misbecomes him. The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep. [Exit. Por. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives. Enter Marcia. He is retir'd to rest, and seems to cherish With orders that bespeak a mind compos'd, [Exit. Mar. O ye immortal powers that guard the just, Watch round his couch, and soften his repose, Luc. Where is your father, Marcia, where is Mar. Lucia, speak low, he is retir'd to rest. Mar. Tho' stern and awful to the foes of He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild, Marcia, we are both equally involv'd Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius, Mar. Let him but live, commit the rest to Enter Lucius. Luc. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man! O Marcia, I have seen thy godlike father; On the high point of yon bright western tower And covers all the field with gleams of fire. Cæsar is still dispos'd to give us terms, Portius,thylooks speak somewhat of importance, Por. As I was hasting to the port, where now Calls out for vengeance on his father's death, Luc. O, Portius, Hide ail the horrors of thy mournful tale, Por. I've rais'd him up, Demands to see his friends. His servantsweeping, Mar.O Heaven assist me in this dreadful hour, Luc. Now is Rome fallen indeed! Cato brought in on a Chair. Cato. Here set me down [bark'd? Portius, come near me-Are my friends emCan any thing be thought of for their service? Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain. Mar. His mind still labors with some dread--O Lucius, art thou here?-thou art too good Let this our friendship live between our children, O, bend me forward! Juba loves thee, Marcia: But Cæsar's arms have thrown down all distinc- 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 pow'rs, 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-O! [Dies. Luc. There fled the greatest soul that ever warm'd A Roman breast; O Cato! O my friend! 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. LILLO. $48. FATAL CURIOSITY. same, From age to age his influence sustains [tion Dependent worlds, bestows both life and moOn the dull mass that forms their dusky orbs, Cheers them with heat, and gilds them with his brightness. Yet man, of jarring elements composed, Of his frail being to his dissolution, To think, and to be wretched! What is life Or, what the wisdom, whose perfection ends In knowing, we know nothing? Mere contradiction all! A tragic farce, Tedious, though short, elab'rate without art, Ridiculously sad Enter Randal. Where hast been, Randal? Rand. Not out of Penryn, sir; but to the strand, To hear what news from Falmouth, since the Rand. Some found it so. A noble ship from India. Ent'ring the harbour, run upon a rock, [her? O. Wilm. What 'came of those on board Rand. Some few are saved, but much the greater part, 'Tis thought, are perish'd. 9. Wilm. They are past the fear Of future tempests, or a wreck on shore : Those who escaped, are still exposed to both. Where's your mistress? Rand. I saw her pass the High-street, t'wards the Minster. O. Wilm. She's gone to visit Charlotte. In the soft bosom of that gentle maid [race And blast her youth with our contagious woe! Who, that had reason, soul, or sense, would bear it A moment longer? Then this honest wretch!— I was a very child when first ye took me, O. Wilm. That cannot be revived Rand. The whole of my intent O. Wilm. No more of that: Thou'st served Without reward; so that account is balanced, Rand. Nay, I beseech you, sir!-O. Wilm. With my distress, In perfect contradiction to the world, Thy love, respect, and diligence, increased. Now, all the recompence within my power, Is to discharge thee, Randal, from my hard, Unprofitable service. Rand. Heaven forbid ! Shall I forsake you in your worst necessity? O. Wilm. What! canst thou feed on air? I have not left wherewith to purchase food For one meal more! Rand. Rather than leave you thus, I'll beg my bread, and live on others' bounty, While I serve you. O. Wilm. Down, down, my swelling heart, Or burst in silence! 'Tis thy cruel fate Insults thee by his kindness-He is innocent Of all the pain it gives thee.-Go thy ways: I will no more suppress thy youthful hopes Of rising in the world. Rand. 'Tis true, I'm young, And never tried my fortune, or my genius, Which may, perhaps, find out some happy means, As yet unthought of, to supply your wants. Ŏ. Wilm. Thou tortur'st me: I hate all obligations Which I can ne'er return: and who art thou, That I should stoop to take 'em from thy hand? Care for thyself, but take no thought for me! I will not want thee-trouble me no more. Rand. Be not offended, sir, and I will go. I ne'er repined at your commands before; But Heaven's my witness, I obey you now, With strong reluctance, and a heavy heart! Farewell, my worthy master! [Going. O. Wilm. Farewell!-Stay; As thou art yet a stranger to the world, Of which, alas! I've had too much experience, I should, methinks, before we part, bestow A little counsel on thee.-Dry thy eyes ; If thou weep'st thus, I shall proceed no farther. Dost thou aspire to greatness, or to wealth? ever Thy own advantage, at that man's expence Who shall be weak enough to think thee Rand. You mock me, sure! [honest. O. Wilm. I never was more serious. Rand. Why should you counsel, what you scorn'd to practise? O. Wilm. Because that foolish scorn has been my ruin. I've been an idiot, but would have thee wiser, And treat mankind, as they would treat thee, Randal, Is his own bubble, and undoes himself. Is this the man I thought so wise and just? SCENE II. Charlotte's House. Enter Charlotte and Maria. Char. What terror and amazement must Who die by shipwreck! Mar. 'Tis a dreadful thought! [they feel Char. Ay; is it not, Maria ?-To descend, Harmonious sounds are still delightful to me. SONG-Maria. Cease, cease, heart-easing tears! |