A brave man struggling in the storms of fate,
And greatly falling with a falling state.
While Cato gives his little senate laws,
What bosom beats not in his country's cause?
Who sees him act, but envies ev'ry deed?
Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
Ev'n when proud Cæsar 'midst triumphal cars,
The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars,
Ignobly vain, and impotently great,
Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state;
As her dead Father's rev'rend image past,
The pomp was darken'd, and the day o'ercast ;
The triumph ceas'd, tears gush'd from ev'ry eye;
The world's great Victor pass'd unheeded by ;
Her last good man dejected Rome ador'd,
And honour'd Cæsar's less than Cato's sword.
Britons, attend: be worth like this approv'd,
And show, you have the virtue to be mov'd.
VER. 21. A brave man, &c.] A passage of Seneca, which Addison adopted as a Motto, and to which Pope in this passage finely alludes.
"Ecce spectaculum dignum ad quod respiciat, intentus operi suo, DEUS! Ecce par Deo dignum, vir fortis cum malâ fortunâ compositus! non video, inquam, quid habeat in terris Jupiter pulcrius, si convertere animum velit, quàm ut spectet CATONEM, jam partibus non semel fractis, nihilhominùs inter ruinas publicas erectum.'
VER. 27. Ev'n when] The twenty-seventh, thirtieth, thirtyfourth, thirty-ninth, and forty-fifth lines, are artful allusions to the character and history of Cato himself.
VER. 37. Britons, attend:] Pope had written it—" Britons, arise;" but Addison, frightened at so strong an expression, as promoting insurrection, lowered and weakened it by the word, attend.
With honest scorn the first fam'd Cato view'd
Rome learning arts from Greece, whom she subdu'd; Your scene precariously subsists too long
On French translation, and Italian song.
Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage,
Be justly warm'd with your own native rage:
Such plays alone should win a British ear,
As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear.
VER. 42. On French translation,] He glances obliquely at the Distrest Mother of his old antagonist Philips, taken, evidently, from Racine. It is a little remarkable, that the last line of Cato is Pope's; and the last of Eloisa is Addison's.
VER. 46. As Cato's self, &c.] This alludes to that famous story of his coming into the Theatre, and going out again, related by Martial.
DESIGNED FOR MRS. OLDFIELD.
PRODIGIOUS this! the Frail-one of our Play
From her own sex should mercy find to-day!
You might have held the pretty head aside,
Peep'd in your fans, been serious, thus, and cry'd,
The Play may pass but that strange creature, Shore,
I can't-indeed now-I so hate a whore-
Just as a blockhead rubs his thoughtless skull,
And thanks his stars he was not born a fool;
So from a sister sinner you shall hear,
"How strangely you expose yourself, my dear?"
But let me die, all raillery apart,
Our sex are still forgiving at their heart;
And, did not wicked custom so contrive,
We'd be the best, good-natur'd things alive.
There are, 'tis true, who tell another tale,
That virtuous ladies envy while they rail;
Such rage without betrays the fire within ;
In some close corner of the soul they sin ;
Still hoarding up, most scandalously nice,
Amidst their virtues a reserve of vice.
The godly dame, who fleshly failings damns,
Scolds with her maid, or with her chaplain crams.
Would
you enjoy soft nights and solid dinners ?
Faith, gallants, board with saints, and bed with sinners.
Well, if our Author in the wife offends,
He has a husband that will make amends:
He draws him gentle, tender, and forgiving,
And sure such kind good creatures may be living.
In days of old, they pardon'd breach of vows,
Stern Cato's self was no relentless spouse:
Plu-Plutarch, what's his name, that writes his life?
Tells us, that Cato dearly lov'd his wife:
Yet if a friend, a night or so, should need her,
He'd recommend her as a special breeder.
To lend a wife few here would scruple make,
But, pray, which of you all would take her back?
Tho' with the Stoic Chief our stage may ring,
The Stoic Husband was the glorious thing.
The man had courage, was a sage, 'tis true,
And lov'd his country-but what's that to you?
Those strange examples ne'er were made to fit ye,
But the kind cuckold might instruct the city:
There, many an honest man may copy Cato,
Who ne'er saw naked sword, or look'd in Plato.
If, after all, you think it a disgrace,
That Edward's Miss thus perks it in your
VER. 44. Who ne'er saw] A sly and oblique stroke on the suicide of Cato; which was one of the reasons why this Epilogue
To see a piece of failing flesh and blood,
In all the rest so impudently good;
Faith, let the modest matrons of the town
Come here in crouds, and stare the strumpet down.
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