Rashleigh falls, and is caught by Dougal.) Die, traitor. we may not share in it. If, in such moments, you Bailie. My conscience! what's here to do? I fear I've lost my way. Francis. Mr. Jarvie! I thought you were on the road to Glasgow. Bailie. I thought sae too; but, troth, the brandy has deceived me. My conscience! to think o' a magistrate losing his head, and losing his horse too! A little man, ca'd Jobson, dismounted me just now in a trice and gallop'd aff, as though my cousin Helen hersel' was at his-(sees Helen.)-My conscience! Sir F. Brave Highlander! you have saved more than my life-you have preserved my honour. You, young man, (to Francis) have proved yourself worthy of my child, and to you I give her. But whence this unexpected aid? I surely saw the boats depart. (To Rob.) Rob. With half my band, no more. Dougal overheard, and fortunately apprised me of Rashleigh's intentions, and I kept up the appearance which decoyed the villain to his own snare. Helen. By Sir Frederick Vernon's means, your father's house has been preserved; that consideration must induce his honourable mind to confirm the gift you prize, and endeavour to obtain from the government a remission of the law in favour of a noble enemy. Woo.' FINALE.-Air,-"Duncan Gray cam' here to Chorus. Francis. Chorus. Diana. Rob. We shall rejoice in your happiness, though Chorus. Rob Roy MacGregor, O! Rob Roy MacGregor, O! ́ Rob Roy MacGregor, O! Long the State has doom'd his fa' Scots can for their country die, Rob Roy MacGregor, O! Let your hands, &c. Scotland's fear, and Scotland's pride, Bob Roy MacGregor, O! Rob Roy MacGregor, O Long your favonrs hae been mine, Let your hands, &c. A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY JOSEPH ADDISON. АСТ І. Persons Represented. MARCUS. DECIUS. JUBA. SEMPRONIUS. SYPHAX. JUNIUS. TITUS. MARCIA. LUCIA. Ye gods, what havock does ambition make Mar. Thy steady temper, Porcius. The insulting tyrant prancing o'er the field O Porcius, is there not some chosen curse, ness! And mix'd with too much borror to be envied. ness! His suff'rings shine, and spread a glory round him: Greatly unfortunate, he fights the cause Of honour, virtue, liberty, and Rome. Mar. Who knows not this? But what can Cato do Against a world, a base, degenerate world, That courts the yoke, and bows the neck to Cæsar? Pent up in Utica, he vainly forms A poor epitome of Roman greatness, And cover'd with Numidian guards, directs A feeble army and an empty senate, By heavens! such virtues, joined with such suc cess, Distract my very soul: our father's fortuné Would almost tempt us to renounce his precepts. . Par. Remember what our father oft has told us; The ways of heaven are dark and intricate; Mar. These are suggestions of a mind at ease: Passion unpitied and successless love I like not that cold youth. I must dissemble, Once more embrace, whilst yet we both are free: To-morrow, should we thus express our friendship, Each might receive a slave into his arms. This sun, perhaps, this morning's sun's the last That e'er shall rise on Roman liberty. Por. My father has this morning call'd together His little Roman senate, The leavings of Pharsalia-to consult If yet he can oppose the mighty torrent That bears down Rome and all her gods before Por. (Aside.) Thou seest not that thy brother is They strike with something like religious fear, thy rival: But I must hide it; for I know thy temper.- Put forth thy utmost strength, work every nerve, And call up all thy father in thy soul: fails, Would be a conquest worthy Cato's son. nature Mar. Alas! the counsel which I cannot take, Instead of healing, but upbraids my weak ness. Love is not to be reason'd down, or lost The sense of honour and desire of fame Mar. No more, no more! your words leave stings behind 'em. Whene'er did Juba, or did Porcius, shew ease Thy troubled heart, and n it'gate thy pains And make even Cæsar tremble at the head cius! Could I but call that wondrous man my father, Por. Alas! Sempronius, wouldst thou talk of love To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger? Thou might'st as well court the pale trembling vestal, When she beholds the holy flame expiring. Sem. The more I see the wonders of thy race, The more I'm charm'd. Thou must take heed, my Porcius; The world has all its eyes on Cato's son: Is call'd together? Gods, thou must be cautious: Our frauds, unless they're covered thick with art. This headstrong youth, and make him spurn as Cato. The time is short; Cæsar comes rushing on us;But hold!-young Juba sees me, and approaches. Enter JUBA. Juba. Syphax, I joy to meet thee thus alone. And turn thine eye thus coldly on thy prince? I have not yet so much the Roman in me. Juba. Why dost thou cast out such ungenerous terms Against these wondrous sovereigns of the world? Dost thou not see mankind fall down before 'em, And own the force of their superior virtue ? Syph. Gods! where's the worth that sets this people up Above your own Numidia's tawny sons? The fiery steed, and trains him to his hand? prince, In which your Zama does not stoop to Rome. Juba. These all are virtues of a meaner What are these wondrous civilizing arts, A worn-out trick: would'st thou be thought in To set our looks at variance with our thoughts? earnest, Clothe thy feign'd zeal in rage, in fire, in fury. Syph. In troth, thou'rt able to instruct grey hairs, And teach the wily African deceit. Sem. Once more, be sure to try thy skill on Meanwhile, I'll hasten to my Roman soldiers, Blow up their discontents, till they break out, Fill'd up with horrer all, and big with death; Syph. I'll try if yet I can reduce to reason [Exi. Amidst the running stream he slakes his thirst, Toils all the day, and, at the approach of him night, Or rests his head upon a rock till morn; Juba. Thy prejudice, Syphax, won't discern sense, Where shall we find the man that bears affliction, Great and majestic in his griefs, like Cato? And thank the gods that throw the weight upon him? Syph. 'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul; I think, the Romans call it stoicism. Had not your royal father thought so highly lain I've hitherto permitted it to rave, And talk at large: but learn to keep it in, Lest it should take more freedom than I'll give it. Syph. Yet hear me, prince, tho' hard to conquer love, 'Tis easy to divert and break its force: The pale, unripen'd beauties of the north. Juba. 'Tis not a set of features, nor complexion, The tincture of a skin, that I admire: Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex: True, she is fair,-O how divinely fair! But still the lovely maid improves her charms With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom, And sanctity of manners. Cato's soul Shines out in every thing she acts or speaks. The friends of Rome, the glorious cause of virtue, And men approv'd of by the gods and Cato. Juba. That Juba may deserve thy pious cares, I'll gaze for ever on thy godlike father; Transplanting, one by one, into my life His bright perfections, till I shine like him. Mar. My father never at a time like this Would lay out his great soul in words, and waste Such precious moments. Juba. Thy reproofs are just, Thou virtuous maid! I'll hasten to my troops, [Exit. |