ACIC אוד 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 furnage, Comes out more bright, and brings forth all its weight. RTIC Jub. What shall I answer thee? I'd rather gain rld Thy praise, O Cato! than Numidia's empire. Enter PORTIUS. 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? Por. Scarce had I left my father, but I met him Por. Nor did he fall, before His sword had pierced thro' the false heart of Syphax. Grin in the pangs of death, and bite the ground. Por. Long may they keep asunder! Luc. Oh, Cato, arm thy soul with all its patience; See where the corpse of thy dead son approaches! The citizens and senators, alarm'd, Have gather'd round it, and attend it weeping. CATO meeting the Corpse.-SENATORS attending. Cato. Welcome, my son! Here lay him down, my friends, Full in my sight, that I may view at leisure Portius, behold thy brother, and remember, Cato. Alas, my friends, Why mourn you thus ? let not a private loss eyes Cato. Whate'er the Roman virtue has subdued, 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 conquer'd: The Roman empire, fall'n! Oh, cursed ambition! Cato. Lose not a thought on me; I'm out of danger: C heart But oh, my friends! your safety fills my With anxious thoughts; a thousand secret terrors 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. Add, 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 unpunish'd. Juba, my heart is troubled for thy sake. Should I advise thee to regain Numidia, Or seek the conqueror? Jub. If I forsake thee Whilst I have life, may Heaven abandon Juba! Wrestling with vice and faction: now thou see'st me Where the great Censor toil'd with his own hands, In humble virtues, and a rural life; There live retired, pray for the peace of Rome; When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, Por. I hope my father does not recommend Cato. Farewell, my friends! If there be any of you, The conqueror [Pointing to his dead Son. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. A Chamber. 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. Cato. It must be so-Plato, thou reason'st wellElse whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, 'Tis Heav'n itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man. Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! Through what new scenes and changes must we pass? Through all her works) he must delight in virtue; [Laying his Hand on his Sword. 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, oppress'd and harass'd out with care, Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her, That my awaken'd soul may take her flight, Renew'd in all her strength, and fresh with life, An offering fit for Heav'n. Let guilt or fear Disturb man's rest, Cato knows neither of them, Indiff'rent in his choice to sleep or die. Enter PORTIUS. But, hah! who's this? my son! Why this intrusion? |