That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets | Should they submit ere our designs are ripe, her, And imitates her actions where she is not: It ought not to be sported with. Spyh. By Heavens, We both must perish in the common wreck, Lost in the general undistinguished ruin. Syph. But how stands Cato? Sem. Thou hast seen mount Atlas: I am ravished when you talk thus, though you Whilst storms and tempests thunder on its brows, chide me! Alas! I have hitherto been used to think Numidia's grown a scorn among the nations, To hear you talk-but 'tis with tears of joy. Juba. Syphax, thy hand; we'll mutually for get The warmth of youth, and frowardness of age; Thy prince esteems thy worth, and loves thy per son. If e'er the sceptre come into my hand, Syphax shall stand the second in my kingdom. Syph. Why will you overwhelm my age with kindness? My joy grows burdensome, I shan't support it. Juba. Syphax, farewell. I'll hence, and try to find Some blest occasion that may set me right man Approve my deeds, than worlds for my admirers. [Erit. Syph. Young men soon give, and soon forget affronts; Old age is slow in both-A false old traitor! These words, rash boy, may chance to cost thee dear. My heart had still some foolish fondness for thee: But hence, 'tis gone! I give it to the winds: Cæsar, I am wholly thine. Enter SEMPRONIUS. All hail, Sempronius! Well, Cato's senate is resolved to wait Sem. Syphax, we both were on the verge of fate: Lucius declared for peace, and terms were offered To Cato, by a messenger from Cæsar. And oceans break their billows at its feet, Syph. Yes-but it is to Cato. I have tried the force of every reason on him, He'll make a pretty figure in a triumph, have her. troops Within the square, to exercise their arms, I laugh to see how your unshaken Cato [Exeunt. SCENE I. Enter MARCUS and PORTIUS. ACT III. Marc. THANKS to my stars I have not ranged The wilds of life, ere I could find a friend; Confederacies in vice, or leagues of pleasure; And such a friendship ends not but with life. Marc. Portius, thou know'st my soul in all its weakness; Then, prithee, spare me on its tender side. Por. When love's well-timed, 'tis not a fault to The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise, Sink in the soft captivity together. I would not urge thee to dismiss thy passion, The impatient throbs and longings of a soul, Por. What can thy Portius do to give thee Marc. Portius, thou oft enjoy'st the fair-one's Then undertake my cause, and plead it to her him; Describe his anxious days, and restless nights, And all the torments that thou see'st me suffer. Por. Marcus, I beg thee give me not an office That suits with me so ill. Thou knowest my temper. Marc. Wilt thou behold me sinking in my Our friendship's at an end; if I conceal it, Amid the cool of yon high marble arch, That face, that shape, those eyes, that heaven of beauty! Observe her, well, and blame me if thou canst, And leave you for a while. Remember, Portius, Enter LUCIA. [Exit. Luc. Did I not see your brother Marcus here? Why did he fly the place, and shun my presence? Por. Oh, Lucia, language is too faint to shew His rage of love; it preys upon his life; He pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies: His passions, and his virtues lie confused, And mixt together in so wild a tumult, That the whole man is quite disfigured in him. Heavens, would one think 'twere possible for love To make such ravage in a noble soul! Oh, Lucia, I'm distressed; my heart bleeds for him: Even now, while thus I stand blest in thy presence, A secret damp of grief comes o'er my thoughts, And I'm unhappy, though thou smilest upon me. Luc. How wilt thou guard thy honour, in the shock Of love and friendship? Think betimes, my Portius, Think how the nuptial tie, that might ensure Our mutual bliss, would raise to such a height Thy brother's grief, as might perhaps destroy him. Por. Alas, poor youth! What dost thou think, my Lucia? His generous, open, undesigning heart But hold him up in life, and cheer his soul us Luc. No, Portius, 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, Portius, here I swear, to Heaven I swear, To Heaven and all the powers that judge mankind, Never to mix my plighted hands with thine, Those hasty words, or I am lost for ever. Luc. Has not the vow already passed my lips? The gods have heard it, and 'tis sealed in Heaven. May all the vengeance, that was ever poured On perjured heads, o'erwhelm me, if I break it! Por. Fixed in astonishment, I gaze upon thee, Like one just blasted by a stroke from Heaven, Who pants for breath, and stiffens, yet alive, In dreadful looks; a monument of wrath! Luc. At length I've acted my severest part; I feel the woman breaking in upon me, And melt about my heart; my tears will flow. But, oh, I'll think no more! the hand of fate Has torn thee from me, and I must forget thee. Por. Hard-hearted, cruel maid! Luc. Oh, stop those sounds, Those killing sounds! Why dost thou frown me? upon My blood runs cold, my heart forgets to heave, Por. Talk not of love, thou never knew'st its force. I've been deluded, led into a dream Of fancied bliss. Oh, Lucia, cruel maid! Destruction stands betwixt us; we must part. Por. Name not the word! my frighted thoughts run back, And startle into madness at the sound. Luc. What wouldst thou have me do? Consider well The train of ills our love would draw behind it. Think, Portius, think thou seest thy dying brother Stabbed at his heart, and all besmeared with blood, Storming at Heaven and thee! Thy awful sire Sternly demands the cause, the accursed cause, That robs him of his son: poor Marcia trembles, Then tears her hair, and, frantic in her griefs, Calls out on Lucia. What could Lucia answer, | Or how stand up in such a scene of sorrow? Por. To my confusion, and eternal grief, I must approve the sentence that destroys me. The mist, that hung upon my mind, clears up; And now, athwart the terrors that thy vow Has planted round thee, thou appear'st more fair, More amiable, and risest in thy charms. Loveliest of women! Heaven is in thy soul; Beauty and virtue shine for ever round thee, Brightening each other: thou art all divine. Luc. Portius, no more; thy words shoot through Melt my resolves, and turn me all to love. It softens me too much-farewell, my Portius; Luc. Have I not sworn? If, Portius, thy suc Hangs quivering on a point, leaps off by fits, And falls again, as loth to quit its hold. Thy dreadful vow, loaden with death, still sounds-Thou must not go, my soul still hovers o'er thee, In my stunned ears. What shall I say or do? But ah! she moves, life wanders up and down That lives upon thy smiles? To call in doubt And can't get loose. Luc. If the firm Portius shake To hear of parting, think what Lucia suffers! Por. 'Tis true, unruffled and serene, I've met The common accidents of life; but here Such an unlooked-for storm of ills falls on me, It beats down all my strength. I cannot bear it. We must not part. Luc. What dost thou say? Not part! Hast thou forgot the vow that I have made? Are there not heavens, and gods, that thunder o'er us? -But see, thy brother Marcus bends this way: I sicken at the sight. Once more, farewell, Farewell! and know thou wrong'st me, if thou think'st Ever was love, or ever grief like mine. [Exit Lucia Marc. Thy down-cast looks, and thy disorder- Tell me my fate. I ask not the success Por. I'm grieved I undertook it. Marc. What? does the barbarous maid insult My aching heart, and triumph in my pains? Cato. Perfidious men! And will you thus dishonour Your past exploits, and sully all your wars? Marc. Compassionates my pains, and pitiesDo you confess 'twas not a zeal for Rome, me! What is compassion, when 'tis void of love? Marc. What have I said! Oh, Portius, oh for- A soul, exasperated in ills, falls out With every thing, its friend, itself-but, hah! What means that shout, big with the sounds of war? What new alarm? Por. A second, louder yet, Swells in the wind, and comes more full upon us. Lucia, thou hast undone me; thy disdain Stands sure? Oh, Marcus, I am warmed, my Leaps at the trumpet's voice, and burns for glory. [Exeunt. Enter SEMPRONIUS, with the Leaders of the mutiny. Sem. At length the winds are raised, the storm Be it your care, my friends, to keep it up Till it has spent itself on Cato's head. Nor love of liberty, nor thirst of honour, Sem. By Heavens they droop! [Aside. Cato. Have you forgotten Lybia's burning waste, Scanty of waters, when you scooped it dry, Mean-while I'll herd amongst his friends, and You could not undergo the toil of war, seem Nor bear the hardships that your leader bore. Luc. See, Cato, see the unhappy men; they | To mix in treason, if the plot succeeds, Fear and remorse, and sorrow for their crime, Cato. Learn to be honest men, give up your And pardon shall descend to all the rest. Sem. Cato, commit these wretches to my care: Luc. Sempronius, why, why wilt thou urge the Of wretched men? Sem. How! wouldst thou clear rebellion? But, in their deaths, remember they are men; vous, Lucius, the base degenerate age requires This awes an impious, bold, offending world, Sem. Cato, I execute thy will with pleasure. [Exeunt Cato, &c. 1 Lead. Sempronius, you have acted like yourself. They're thrown neglected by: but if it fails, To sudden death! 1 Lead. Nay, since it comes to this Sem. Dispatch them quick, but first pluck out Lest, with their dying breath, they sow sedition. Enter SYPHAX. Syph. Our first design, my friend, has proved Still there remains an after-game to play. And hew down all that would oppose our passage. Sem. Confusion! I have failed of half my pur Sem. Think not thy friend can ever feel the Unmanly warmth and tenderness of love. Syph. Well said! that's spoken like thyself, What hinders, then, but that thou find her out, Sem. But how to gain admission? For access The doors will open when Numidia's prince Seems to appear before the slaves that watch them. Sem. Heavens, what a thought is there! Marcia's my own! One would have thought you had been half in How will my bosom swell with anxious joy, When I behold her struggling in my arms, earnest. Sem. Villain, stand off, base, grovelling, worth-With glowing beauty, and disordered charms, Mongrels in faction, poor faint-hearted traitors! 2 Lead. Nay, now you carry it too far, Sem-So Pluto seized of Proserpine, conveyed pronius; Throw off the mask; there are none here but friends. Sem. Know, villains, when such paltry slaves presume To hell's tremendous gloom the affrighted maid; There grimly smiled, pleased with the beauteous prize, Nor envied Jove his sunshine and his skies. [Exeunt, |