Know, there are ships prepared by my command, In happier climes, and on a safer shore, [Pointing to his dead son ACT V. SCENE I 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. Ir must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ! Through all her works) he must delight in virtue; But when! or where !-This world was made for Cæsar. I'm weary of conjectures—This must end 'em. [Laying his hand on his sword. Thus am I doubly arm'd: my death and life, My bane and antidote are both before me: The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds What means this heaviness that hangs upon me? SCENE II. CATO, PORTIUSs. CATO. But, hah! how's this, my son? why this intrusion? Were not my orders that I would be private? Why am I disobey'd? PORTIUS. Alas! my father! What means this sword? this instrument of death? Let me convey it hence! САТО. Rash youth, forbear! PORTIUS. O let the prayers, th' entreaties of your friends, Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from you. CATO. Wouldst thou betray me? wouldst thou give me up A slave, a captive, into Cæsar's hands? Retire, and learn obedience to a father PORTIUS. Look not thus sternly on me ; You know I'd rather die than disobey you. CATO. "Tis well! again I'm master of myself. And mock thy hopes PORTIUS. O, sir! forgive your son, Whose grief hangs heavy on him! O my father! How am I sure it is not the last time I e'er shall call you so! be not displeased, O be not angry with me whilst I weep, CATO. Thou hast been ever good and dutiful. [Embracing him. Weep not, my son. All will be well again. The righteous gods, whom I have sought to please, Will succour Cato, and preserve his children. PORTIUS. Your words give comfort to my drooping heart. CATO. Portius, thou mayst rely upon my conduct. Thy father will not act what misbecomes him. But go, my son, and see if aught be wanting Among thy father's friends; see them embarked; And tell me if the winds and seas befriend them. My soul is quite weighed down with care, and asks The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep. PORTIUS. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives. SCENE III. PORTIUS, MARCIA. PORTIUS. O Marcia, O my sister, still there's hope! Our father will not cast away a life So needful to us all, and to his country. He is retired to rest, and seems to cherish Thoughts full of peace. He has dispatch'd me hence And studious for the safety of his friends. Marcia, take care that none disturb his slumbers. MAR CIA. O ye immortal powers, that guard the just, And show mankind that goodness is your care. SCENE IV. LUCIA, MARCIA. LUCIA. Where is your father, Marcia, where is Cato? MARCIA. Lucia, speak low, he is retired to rest. Lucia, I feel a gently-dawning hope Rise in my soul. We shall be happy still. LUCIA. Alas! I tremble when I think on Cato, In every view, in every thought I tremble! Cato is stern, and awful as a god, He knows not how to wink at human frailty, Or pardon weakness that he never felt. MARCIA. Though stern and awful to the foes of Rome, Easy, and good, and bounteous to my wishes. Marcia, we both are equally involv'd In the same intricate, perplext distress. Thy brother Marcus, whom we both lament- Or how he has determin'd of thyself? MARCIA. Let him but live! commit the rest to heaven. VOL. I.-20 |