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Confider, 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 fecond you.


Let him confider that, who drives us hither: 'Tis Cæfar's fword has made Rome's fenate little, And thinn'd its ranks. Alas, thy dazzled eye Beholds this man in a falfe glaring light,

Which conqueft and fuccefs have thrown upon him;
Did❜ft thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black
With murder, treafon, facrilege, and crimes,

That ftrike my foul with horror but to name 'em.
I know thou look'ft on me, as on a wretch
Befet with ills, and cover'd with misfortunes;
But, by the gods I fwear, millions of worlds
Shou'd never buy me to be like that Cæfar.

Does Cato fend this anfwer back to Cæfar,
For all his gen'rous cares, and proffer'd friendship?


His cares for me are infolent and vain :

Prefumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato,
Wou'd Cæfar fhew the greatness of his foul?
Bid him employ his care for these my friends,

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And make good ufe of his ill-gotten pow'r,
By fhelt'ring men much better than himself.

Your high unconquer'd heart makes you forget

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You are a man. You rush on your destruction.

But I have done. When I relate hereafter

The tale of this unhappy embaffy,
All Rome will be in tears."

[Exit Decius.






Cato, we thank thec.

The mighty genius of immortal Romé

Speaks in thy voice, thy foul breathes liberty.
Cafar will fhrink to hear the words thou utt
And fhudder in the midft of all his conqueft

The fenate owns its gratitude to Cato,
Who with fo great a foul confults its fafety,
And guards our lives, while he neglects his own.

Sempronius gives no thanks on this account.

Lucius feems fond of life; but what is life? 'Tis not to ftalk about, and draw fresh air

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From time to time, or gaze upon the fun;
'Tis to be free. When liberty is gone,
Life grows infipid, and has loft its relish.
O could my dying hand but lodge a fword
In Cafar's bofom, and revenge my country,
By heav'ns I could enjoy the pangs of death,
And fmile in agony.

Others perhaps


May serve their country with as warm a zeal,
Though 'tis not kindled into fo much rage.

Semp. This fober conduct is a mighty virtue
In lukewarm patriots.


Come! no more, Sempronius.

All here are friends to Rome, and to each other.

Let us not weaken ftill the weaker fide,

By our divifions.


Cato, my refentments

Are facrificed to Rome-I ftand reproved.


Cato. Fathers, 'tis time you come to a refolve.

Cato, we all go into your opinion.

Cafar's behaviour has convinced the fenate
We ought to hold it out 'till terms arrive.



We ought to hold it out 'till death; but, Cato, My private voice is drown'd amid the fenate's.


Then let us rife, my friends, and strive to fill
This little interval, this pause of life,
(While yet our liberty and fates are doubtful)
With refolution, friendship, Roman bravery,
And all the virtues we can crowd into it;
That heav'n may fay it ought to be prolong'd.
Fathers, farewel the young Numidian prince
Comes forward, and expects to know our counfels,

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Juba, the Roman fenate has refolv'd,

'Till time give better profpects, ftill to keep
The fword unfheath'd, and turn its edge on Cafar

The refolution fits a Roman fenate.

But, Cato, lend me for a while thy patience,
And condescend to hear a young man speak.

My father, when fome days before his death

He order'd me to march for Utica

(Alas, I thought not then his death so near!)
Wept o'er me, prefs'd me in his aged arms,
And, as his griefs gave way, my son, said he,
Whatever fortune shall befal thy father,
Be Cato's friend; he'll train thee up to great
And virtuous deeds: do but observe him well,

Thou'lt fhun misfortunes, or thou'lt learn to bear 'em.

Juba, thy father was a worthy Prince,

And merited, alas! a better fate ;

But heaven thought otherwife.

My father's fate,


In fpite of all the fortitude, that shines
Before my face, in Cato's great example,

Subdues my foul; and fills my eyes with tears.


It is an honeft forrow, and becomes thee.

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My father drew refpect from foreign climes
The kings of Afric fought him for their friend
Kings far remote, that rule as fame reports,
Behind the hidden fources of the Nile,
In diftant worlds, on th' other fide the fun :
Oft have their black ambassadors appeared,
Loaden with gifts, and fill'd the courts of Zama


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