Cato: A Tragedy. As it is Acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, by His Majesty's Servants

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J. Tonson: and sold, 1733 - 83 pages
 

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Page 77 - I'm weary of conjectures :—this must end them. [Laying his hand on his sword.] Thus am I doubly armed : my death and life, My bane and antidote, are both before me. This in a moment brings me to an end; But this informs me I shall never die.
Page 63 - Remember, O my friends, the laws, the rights, The generous plan of power deliver'd down, From age to age, by your renown'd forefathers, (So dearly bought, the price of so much blood) O let it never perish in your hands ! But piously transmit it to your children.
Page 39 - Rome fall a moment ere her time? No, let us draw her term of freedom out In its full length, and spin it to the last, So shall we gain still one day's liberty; And let me perish, but in Cato's judgment, A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty, Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.
Page 41 - Your high, unconquer?d heart makes you forget You are a man. You rush on your destruction. But I have done. When I relate hereafter The tale of this unhappy embassy, All Rome will be in tears.
Page 41 - Cato, you're in Utica, And at the head of your own little senate; You don't now thunder in the Capitol, With all the mouths of Rome to second you. CATO. Let him consider that who drives us 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...
Page 29 - What virtues grow from ignorance and choice, Nor how the hero differs from the brute. But grant that others could with equal glory Look down on pleasures, and the baits of sense...
Page 62 - Severity, and justice in its rigour; This awes an impious, bold, offending world, Commands obedience and gives force to laws. When by just vengeance guilty mortals perish, The gods behold their punishment with pleasure.
Page 22 - Pardon a weak, distemper'd soul, that swells With sudden gusts, and sinks as soon in calms, The sport of passions — but Sempronius comes: He must not find this softness hanging on me.
Page 67 - Rush in at once, and seize upon your prey. Let not her cries or tears have force to move you. How will the young Numidian rave, to see His mistress lost! If aught could glad my soul, Beyond th' enjoyment of so bright a prize, 'Twould be to torture that young gay barbarian.
Page 56 - Oh stop those sounds, Those killing sounds ! why dost thou frown upon me ? My blood runs cold, my heart forgets to heave, And life itself goes out at thy displeasure. The...

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