LUCIU S.

Alas, poor prince! his fate deferves compaflion.

Enter JUBA.

JUBA.

I blush, and am confounded to appear

Before thy prefence, Cato.

Falfehood and fraud shoot up in every foil,

The product of all climes.-Rome has its Cæfars.

JUBA.

'Tis generous thus to comfort the distress'd.

• САТО.

'Tis just to give applause where 'tis deferv'd; Thy virtue, prince, has stood the test of fortune, Like pureft gold, that, tortur'd in the furnace,

. Comes out more bright, and brings forth all its weight.

JUBA.

What fhall I answer thee? my ravish'd heart
O'erflows with fecret joy: I'd rather gain
Thy praife, O Cato, than Numidia's empire.

Enter PORTIUS haftily.

PORTIUS.

Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief!

My brother Marcus

С АТО.

Ha! what has he done?

Has he forfook his poft? has he given way?
Did he look tamely on, and let them país?
PORTIUS.

Scarce had I left my father, but I met him
Borne on the fields of his furviving foldiers,
Breathlefs and pale, and cover'd o'er with wounds.
Long, at the head of his few faithful friends,
He ftood the fhock of a whole host of foes,
Till, obftinately brave, and bent on death,
Oppreft with multitudes, he greatly fell.

CATO.

I'm fatisfy'd.

PORTIU S.

Nor did he fall before

His fword had pierc'd through the false heart of Syphax: Yonder he lies. I faw the hoary traitor

Grin in the pangs of death, and bite the ground.

САТО.

Thanks to the gods ! my boy has done his duty.-Portius, when I am dead, be sure thou place

His urn near mine.

PORTIU S.

Long may they keep asunder!

LUCIUS.

O Cato, arm thy foul with all its patience;
See where the corpfe of thy dead fon approaches!
The citizens and fenators, alarm'd,

Have gather'd round it, and attend it weeping.

CATO meeting the corpfe.

САТО.

Welcome, my fon! here lay him down, my friends, Full in my fight,. that I may view at leifure

The bloody corfe, and count thofe glorious wounds.
How beautiful is death, when earn'd by virtue!
Who would not be that youth? what pity is it
That we can die but once to ferve our country!
Why fits this fadness on your brows, my friends?
I should have blufh'd if Cato's houfe 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.

JUBA.

Was ever man like this!

[Afide.

САТО.

Alas, my friends!

Why mour. you thus? let not a private lofs

Y 3

Afflict your hearts. 'Tis Rome requires our tears.
The mistress of the world, the feat of empire,
The nurse of heroes, the delight of gods,
That humbled the proud tyrants of the earth,
And fet the nations free, Rome is no more..
O liberty! O virtue! O my country!

JUBA.

Behold that upright man! Rome fills his eyes With tears, that flow'd not o'er his own dead fon. [Afide," САТО.

Whate'er the Roman virtue has fubdued,

The fun's whole courfe, the day and year, are Cæfar's... ·
For him the felf-devoted Decii dy'd,

The Fabii fell, and the great Scipio's conquer'd :
Ev'n Pompey fought for Cæfar. Oh, my friends!
How is the toil of fate, the work of ages,

The Roman empire fall'n! O curft ambition!
Fall'n into Cæfar's hands! Our great fore-fathers
Had left him nought to conquer but his country.
JUBA.

While Cato lives, Cæfar will blush to fee
Mankind enflav`d, and be asham'd of empire.

САТО.

Cæfar afham'd! has not he feen Pharfalia

LUCIUS.

Cato, 'tis time thou fave thyself and us.

САТО.

Lofe not a thought on me. I'm out of danger. Heaven will not leave me in the victor's hand.

Cæfar

Cæfar fhall never fay, I've conquer'd Cato.
But oh! my friends, your safety fills my heart
With anxious thoughts: a thoufand fecret terrors »
Rife in my foul: how shall I fave my friends?
'Tis now, O Cefar, I begin to fear thee.

LUCIU S.

Cæfar has mercy, if we ask it of him.

САТО.

Then afk 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 pafs unpunish'd.
Juba, my heart is troubled for thy fake.
Should I advise thee to regain Numidia,
Or feek the conqueror?

JUBA

If I forfake thee

Whilft I have life, may heaven abandon Juba!

САТО..

Thy virtues, prince, if I forefee aright, Will one day make thee great; at Rome hereafter, "Twill be no crime to have been Cato's friend.

Portius, draw near! my fon, thou oft haft feen Thy fire engag'd in a corrupted state,

Wrestling with vice and faction: now thou feeft me Spent, overpower'd, defpairing of fuccefs;,

Let me advise thee to retreat betimes..

To thy paternal feat, the Sabine field,

Where the great Cenfor toil'd with his own hands,