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Weep not, my fon. All will be well again."
The righteous gods, whom I have fought to please,
Will fuccour Cato, and preserve his children.

PORTIU S.

Your words give comfort to my drooping heart.

CATO.

Portius, thou may'st rely upon my conduct.
Thy father will not act what misbecomes him.
But go, my fon, and fee if aught be wanting
Among thy father's friends: fee them embark'd;
And tell me if the winds and feas befriend them.
My foul is quite weigh'd down with care, and asks
The foft refreshment of a moment's fleep.

PORTIU S.

[Exit.

My thoughts are more at eafe, my heart revives.

Enter MARCIA.

O Marcia, O my fifter, ftill there's hope!
Our father will not caft away a life

So needful to us all, and to his country.

He is retir'd to reft, and seems to cherish

Thoughts full of peace. He has difpatch'd me hence
With orders, that bespeak a mind compos'd,
And studious for the safety of his friends.

Marcia, take care that none disturb his flumbers. [Exit.
MARCI A.

O ye immortal powers, that guard the juft,
Watch round his couch, and foften his repofe,
Banish his forrows, and becalm his foul
With eafy dreams; remember all his virtues!
And thow mankind that goodness is your care.

Enter

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Enter LUCIA.

LUCIA.

Where is your father, Marcia, where is Cato?
MARCIA.

Lucia, fpeak low; he is retir'd to rest.
Lucia, I feel a gently-dawning hope

Rife in my foul. We fhall be happy still.

LUCIA.

Alas, I tremble when I think on Cato.
In every view, in every thought, I tremble!
Cato is ftern, and awful as a god;

He knows not how to wink at human frailty,

Or pardon weakness, that he never felt.

MARCI A.

Though ftern and awful to the foes of Rome,
He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild,
Compaffionate, and gentle to his friends.
Fill'd with domeftic tenderness, the best,
The kindeft father! I have ever found him
Eafy and good, and bounteous to my wishes.

LUCIA.

'Tis his confent alone can make us blefs'd.
Marcia, we both are equally involv'd
In the fame intricate, perplex'd, distress.
The cruel hand of fate, that has destroy'd

Thy brother Marcus, whom we both lament

MARCIA.

And ever shall lament, unhappy youth!

LUCIA.

Has fet my foul at large, and now I stand Loofe of my vow. But who knows Cato's thoughts? Who knows how yet he may difpofe of Portius, Or how he has determin'd of thyself?

MARCIA.

Let him but live! commit the reft to heaven.

Enter LUCIUS.

LUCIUS.

Sweet are the flumbers of the virtuous man! O Marcia, I have feen thy godlike father: Some power invifible fupports his foul, And bears it up in all its wonted greatness. A kind refreshing fleep is fall'n upon him : I faw him ftretch'd at ease, his fancy loft In pleafing dreams; as I drew near his couch, He fmil'd, and cry'd, Cæfar, thou canst not hurt me!

MARCI A.

His mind still labours with fome dreadful thought,

LUCIUS.

Lucia, why all this grief, thefe floods of forrow?

Dry up thy tears, my child; we all are fafe
While Cato lives-his prefence will protect us.

Enter JUBA.
JUBA..

Lucius, the horsemen are return'd from viewing The number, ftrength, and posture of our foes, Who now encamp within a fhort hour's march.

On

On the high point of yon bright western tower
We ken them from afar; the fetting fun

Plays on their fhining arms and burnifh'd helmets,
And covers all the field with gleams of fire.

LUCIUS.

Marcia, 'tis time we fhould awake thy father. Cæfar is ftill difpos'd to give us terms,

And waits at diftance 'till he hears from Cato.

Enter PORTIUS.

Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance.
What tidings doft thou bring? Methinks I fee
Unusual gladness fparkling in thy eyes.

PORTIU S.

As I was hafting to the port, where now My father's friends, impatient for a paffage, Accuse the lingering winds, a fail arriv’d

From Pompey's fon, who through the realms of Spain Calls out for vengeance on his father's death,

And rouzes the whole nation up to arms.

Were Cato at their head, once more might Rome

Affert her rights, and claim her liberty.

But hark! what means that groan? O give me way, And let me fly into my father's prefence.

LUCIUS.

Cato, amidst his flumbers, thinks on Rome,
And in the wild disorder of his foul

Mourns o'er his country; ha! a fecond groan !-
Heaven guard us all !—

MARCIA.

MARCIA.

Alas! 'tis not the voice

Of one who fleeps! 'tis agonizing pain,

"Tis death is in that found

Re-enter PORTIUS.

PORTI U S.

O fight of woe!

O Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pafs!
Cato is fall'n upon his fword-

LUCIUS.

O Portius,

Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale,

And let us guess the reft.

PORTIUS.

I've rais'd him up,

And plac'd him in his chair, where, pale and faint, He gafps for breath, and, as his life flows from him, Demands to fee his friends. His weeping fervants, Obfequious to his orders, bear him hither.

[The back Scene opens, and discovers CATO.

MARCI A.

O heaven, affift me in this dreadful hour To pay the last fad duties to my father!

JUBA.

These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O Cæfar!

LUCIU S.

Now is Rome fall'n indeed !—

[CATO brought forward in his chair.

CATO.

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