Disdains a life which he has power to offer. Dec. Rome and her senators submit to Caesar; Her gen'rals and her consuls are no more, Who check'd his conquests, and deny'd his triumphs. Why will not Cato be this Caesar's friend? Cato. These very reasons thou hast urg'd forbid it. Dec. Caesar is well acquainted with your virtues, And therefore sets this value on your life. Cato. Bid him disband his legions, That drew our swords, now wrests them And stand the judgment of a Roman senate. from our hands, And bids us not delight in Roman blood, ness, If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. Within our walls are troops inur'd to toil No, let us draw her term of freedom out Jun. Fathers, e'en now a herald is arriv'd From Caesar's camp, and with him comes old Decius, hither. 'Tis Caesar's sword has made Rome's senate little, And thinn'd its ranks. Alas! thy dazzled eye Beholds this man in a false, glaring light, Which conquest and success have thrown upon him; Didst thou but view him right, thou'dst sce him black With murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimes, That strike my soul with horror but to name them. I know thou look'st on me as on a wretch Beset with ills, and cover'd with misfortunes; But, by the gods I swear, millions of worlds Should never buy me to be like that Caesar. Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to Caesar, The Roman knight: he carries in his looks enter. [Exit Junius. Decius was once my friend, but other prospects Have loos'd those ties, and bound him fast to Caesar. His message may determine our resolves. Dec. Caesar sends health to Cato- To Cato's slaughter'd friends, it would be wel come. Are not your orders to address the senate? Dec. My business is with Cato; Caesar sees The straits to which you're driv'n; and, as he knows Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life. Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome. Would he save Cato, bid him spare his country. Tell your dictator this; and tell him, Cato ship? Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain: Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato. Would Caesar show the greatness of his soul, Bid him employ his care for these my friends, And make good use of his ill-gotten pow'r, By shelt'ring men much better than himself. Dec. Your high, unconquer'd heart makes you forget You are a man. You rush on your destruction. The mighty genius of immortal Rome Luc. The senate owns its gratitude to Cato, Kings far remote, that rule, as fame reports account. Lucius seems fond of life; but what is life? Luc. Others perhaps May serve their country with as warm a zeal, Cato. Come, no more, Sempronius; All here are friends to Rome, and to each other. Sem. Cato, my resentments My private voice is drown'd amidst the senate's. This little interval, this pause of life Juba, the Roman senate has resolv'd, Juba. The resolution fits a Roman senate. Cato. Juba, thy father was a worthy prince, But heav'n thought otherwise. In Juba. My father's fate, spite of all the fortitude that shines Before my face in Cato's great example, Subdues my soul, and fills my eyes with tears. Cato. It is an honest sorrow, and becomes thee. Juba. His virtues drew respect from foreign climes : Loaden with gifts, and fill'd the courts of Zama. ness. Juba. I do not mean to boast his power But point out new alliances to Cato. Cato. And canst thou think Cato will fly before the sword of Caesar! Juba. Cato, perhaps I'm too officious; but my forward cares Cato. Thy nobleness of soul obliges me. Virtues which shun the day, and lie conceal'd And all my soul endeavours at perfection. Laborious virtues all? Learn them from Cato: Juba. The best good fortune that can fall The whole success at which my heart aspires, Cato. What does Juba say? Juba. I would fain retract them. Give them me back again: they aim'd at nothing. Calo. What can Juba ask, Juba. I fear to name it. Marcia-inherits all her father's virtues. Should lessen thee in my esteem. Remember My foolish heart! Syph. Alas, my prince, how are you chang'd I've known young Juba rise before the sun, Ev'n in the Libyan dog-days, hunt him down, And, stooping from your horse, Rivet the panting savage to the ground. Syph. How would the old king smile, To see you weigh the paws, when tipp'd with gold, Throw down the merit of my better years? This the reward of a whole life of service! Curse on the boy! how steadily he hears me! [Aside. Juba. Is it because the throne of my fore fathers Syph. Why will you rive my heart with such expressions? Does not old Syphax follow you to war! And throw the shaggy spoils about your shoul-What are his ains? to shed the slow remains, ders! Juba. Syphax, this old man's talk, though honey flow'd In ev'ry word, would now lose all its sweetness. Cato's displeas'd, and Marcia lost for ever. Syph. Young prince, I yet could give you good advice; Marcia might still be yours. Juba. As how, dear Syphax? Mounted on steeds unus'd to the restraint Juba. Can such dishonest thoughts Honour's a fine imaginary notion, into a ruffian? Syph. The boasted ancestors of these great men, Whose virtues you admire, were all such ruffians. This dread of nations, this almighty Rome, That comprehends in her wide empire's bounds All under heav'n, was founded on a rape; Your Scipios, Caesars, Pompeys, and your Catos (The gods on earth), are all the spurious blood Of violated maids, of ravish'd Sabines. Juba. Syphax, I fear that hoary head of thine Abounds too much in our Numidian wiles. Syph. Indeed, my prince, you want to know the world. His last poor ebb of blood in your defence? Juba. Syphax, no more! I would not hear you talk. Syph. Not hear me talk! what, when my faith to Juba, My royal master's son, is call'd in question? I do believe thee loyal to thy prince. To do an action which my soul abhors, Syph. And 'tis for this my prince has call'd me traitor. Juba. Sure thou mistak'st; I did not call thee so. Syph. You did indeed, my prince, you call'd me traitor. Nay, further, threaten'd you'd complain to Cato. Of what, my prince, would you complain to Cato? That Syphax loves you, and would sacrifice His life, nay more, his honour, in your service? Juba. Syphax, I know thou lov'st me; but indeed Thy zeal for Juba carried thee too far. And imitates her actions where she is not: phax weep Syph. Believe me, prince, you make old Sy-Unusual fastings, and will bear no more To hear you talk-but 'tis with tears of joy. person. If e'er the sceptre come into my hand, with kindness? So, where our wide Numidian wastes extend, Sudden th' impetuous hurricanes descend, My joys grow burdensome, I shan't support it.Wheel through th' air, in circling eddies play, Juba. Syphax, farewell. I'll hence, and try Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains to find away. Some blest occasion, that may set me right The helpless traveller, with wild surprise, In Cato's thoughts. I'd rather have that man Sees the dry desert all around him rise, Approve my deeds, than worlds for my admir-And, smother'd in the dusty whirlwind, dies. ers. [Exit. 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 dest thee dear. My heart had still some foolish fondness for thee, But hence, 'tis gone! I give it to the winds: Caesar, I'm wholly thine. Enter SEMPRONICS. All hail, Sempronius! Well, Cato's senate is resolv'd to wait Lucius declar'd for peace, and terms were of fer'd To Cato, by a messenger from Caesar. Sein. Thou hast seen mount Atlas: And found a means to let the victor know, Syph. Yes-but it is to Cato. Syphax, I now may hope, thou hast forsook But are thy troops prepar'd for a revolt? Sem. All, all is ready; ACT III. SCENE 1.-The Palace. [Exeunt. its weakness; Then, pr'ythee, spare me on its tender side; Indulge me but in love, my other passions Shall rise and fall by virtue's nicest rules. Por. When love's well tim'd, 'tis not a fault to love. The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise Sink in the soft captivity together. Marc. Alas, thou talk'st like one that never felt Th' impatient throbs and longings of a soul, And grief, and rage, and love, rise up at once, Por. What can thy Portius do to give thee help? Marc. Portius, thou oft enjoy'st the fair one's presence; Then undertake my cause, and plead it to her The factious leaders are our friends, that spread tigues, Por. Marcus, I beg thee give me not an office That suits with me so ill. Thou know'st my temper. Marc. Wilt thou behold me sinking in my woes, And wilt thou not reach out a friendly arm, To raise me from amidst this plunge of sorrows? Por. Marcus, thou canst not ask what I'd refuse; But here, believe me, I've a thousand reasons Marc. I know thou'lt say my passion's out of season, That Cato's great example and misfortunes Should both conspire to drive it from my thoughts. But what's all this to one that loves like me? O Portius, Portius, from my soul I wish Thou didst but know thyself what 'tis to love! Then wouldst thou pity and assist thy brother. Por. What should I do? If I disclose my passion, brother. Lucia. Has not the vow already pass'd my lips? The gods have heard it, and 'tis seal'd in heav'n. May all the vengeance that was ever pour'd On perjur'd heads o'erwhelm me if I break it! Por. Fix'd in astonishment, I gaze upon thee, Like one just blasted by a stroke from heav'n, Who pants for breath, and stiffens, yet alive, In dreadful looks; a monument of wrath! Lucia. Think, Portius, think thou see'st thy dying brother Stabb'd at his heart, and all besmear'd with blood, Storming at heav'n and thee! Thy awful sire Sternly demands the cause, th' accursed cause That robs him of his son:-farewell, my Portius! Farewell, though death is in the word-for ever! Por. Thou must not go; my soul still hovers o'er thee, And can't get loose. Lucia. If the firm Portius shake To hear of parting, think what Lucia suffers! Por. 'Tis true, unruffled and serene, I've met Our friendship's at an end; if I conceal it, hour, Amid the cool of yon high marble arch, Enjoys the noon-day breeze! Observe her, Portius; That face, that shape, those eyes, that heav'n of beauty! Observe her well, and blame me if thou canst. And leave you for awhile. Remember, Portius, Enter LUCIA. Por. Alas, poor youth! What dost thou think, my Lucia? His gen'rous, open, undesigning heart Thy father's anguish, and thy brother's death, Never to mix my plighted hands with thine, Those hasty words, or I am lost for ever. Lucia. What dost thou say? Not part! Hast thou forgot the vow that I have made? Are not there 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. Enter MARCUS. [Exit. Marc. Portius, what hopes? How stands she? am I doom'd To life or death? Por. What wouldst thou have me say? Marc. Thy downcast looks, and thy disorder'd thoughts, Tell me my fate. I ask not the success Por. I'm griev'd I undertook it. My aching heart, and triumph in my pains? Por. Away, you're too suspicious in your griefs; Lucia, though sworn never to think of love, Compassionates your pains, and pities you. Marc. Compassionates my pains, and pities me! What is compassion when 'tis void of love? Fool that I was to choose so cold a friend To urge my cause!-Compassionates my pains! Pr'ythee what art, what rhet'ric didst thou use To gain this mighty boon?-She pities me! To one that asks the warm returns of love, Compassion's cruelty, 'tis scorn, 'tis deathPor. Marcus, no more; have I deserv'd this treatment? Marc. What have I said? Oh, Portius, ob forgive me! A soul, exasperate in ills, falls out of war? |