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He must be murdered, and a passage cut
Through those his guards “Ha! dastards, do
you tremble; Luc. Now tell me, Marcia, tell me from thy Or act like men, or by yon azure heaven,
soul, If thou believest 'tis possible for woman
Enter JUBA. To suffer greater ills than Lucia suffers?
Juba. What do I see? Who's this, that dares Mar. Oh, Lucia, Lucia, might my big swoln usurp heart,
The guards and habit of Numidia's prince? Vent all its griefs, and give a loose to sorrow,
Sem. One that was born to scourge thy arroMarcia could answer thee in sighs, keep pace
gance, With all thy woes, and count out tear for tear. Presumptuous youth ! Luc. I know thou art doomed alike to be be- Juba. What can this mean? Sempronius! loved
Sem. My sword shall answer thee. Have at By Juba, and thy father's friend, Sempronius :
thy heart! But which of these has power to charm like Por- Juba. Nay, then, beware thy own, proud, bartius !
barous man. Mar. Still I must beg thee not to name Sem
[Sem. falls. His guards surrender. pronius;
Sem. Curse on my stars ! Ain I then doomed Lucia, I like not that loud boisterous man;
to fall Juba, to all the bravery of a hero,
By a boy's hand, disfigured in a vile Adds softest love, and more than female sweet- Numidian dress, and for a worthless woman? ness;
Gods, I'm distracted! This my close of life! Juba might make the proudest of our sex, Oh! for a peal of thunder, that would make Any of woman kind, but Marcia, happy. Earth, sea, and air, and heaven, and Cato, tremble! Luc. And why not Marcia? Come, you strive
Dies. in vain
Juba. With what a spring his furious soul To hide your thoughts from one who knows too broke loose, well
And left the limbs still quivering on the ground! The inward glowings of a heart in love.
Hence let us carry off those slaves to Cato, Mar. While Cato lives, his daughter has no That we may there at length unravel all right
This dark design, this mystery of fate. To love or hate, but as his choice directs.
[Exit Juba, with prisoners, &c. Luc. But should this father give you to Sem
Enter Lucia and MARCIA. pronius ? Mar. I dare not think he will: but if he should Luc. Sure 'twas the clash of swords: my trouWhy wilt thou add, to all the griefs I suffer,
bled heart Imaginary ills, and fancied tortures ?
Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows, I hear the sound of feet! They march this way: It throbs with fear, and aches at every sound. Let us retire, and try if we can drown
Oh, Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sake! Each softer thought in sense of present danger : I die away with horror at the thought. When love once pleads adınission to our hearts, Mar. See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's In spite of all the virtues we can boast,
blood and inurder! The woman, that deliberates, is lost. [E.reunt.' Ha! a Numidian ! Heaven preserve the prince!
The face ljes muffled up within the garment, Enter SEMPRONICS, dressed like Juba, with
But, ha! death to my sight! a diadem,
And royal robes ! O gods ! 'tis he, 'tis he! Sem. The deer is lodged, I've tracked her to Juba, the loveliest youth that ever warmed her covert.
A virgin's heart, Juba lies dead before us! Be sure you mind the word, and, when I give it, Luc. Now, Marcia, now call up to thy assiste Rush in at once, and seize upon your prey." Let not her cries or tears have force to move you. Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind!
-Ilow will the young Nuinidian rave to see Thon can'st not put it to a greater trial. His mistress lost! If ought could glad my soul, Mar. Lucia, look there, and wonder at my Beyond the enjoyment of so bright a prize,
patience; 'Twould be to torture that young, gay barbarian. Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast, – But hark! what noise ! Death to my hopes! To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted ! 'tis he,
Luc. What can I think or say to give thee 'Tis Juba's self! there is but one way left
Mar. Talk not of comfort ! 'tis for lighter ills: | I found thee weeping, and confess this once, Behold a sight that strikes all comfort dead! Am rapt with joy to see my
Mar. I've been surprised in an unguarded hour,
But inust not now go back; the love, that lay I will indulge my sorrows, and give way [Ialf sinothered in my breast, has broke through To all the pangs and fury of despair;
all That man, that best of men, deserved it from me. Its weak restraints, and burns in its full lustre. Juba. What do I hear? And was the false I cannot, If I would, conceal it from thee. Sempronius
Juba. I'ın lost in ecstacy! and dost thou love, That best of men? Oh, had I fallen like him, Thou charming maid ?And could have been thus mourned, I had been Mar. And dost thou live to ask it? happy.
Juba. This, this is life indeed! life worth pre- Luc. Here will I stand, companion in thy woes, serving, And help thee with my tears; when I behold Such life as Juba never felt 'till now! A loss like thine, I half forget my own.
Mar. Believe me, prince, before I thought Mur. 'Tis not in fate to ease my tortured breast; thee dead, This empty world, to me a joyless desert, I did not know myself how much I loved thee. Has nothing left to make poor Marcia happy. Juba. Oh, fortunate mistake! Juba. I'on on the rack! Was he so near her Mar. U happy Marcia! heart?
Juba. My joy, my best beloved, my only wish! Mar. Oh, he was all made up of love and How shall I speak the transport of my soul ! charms!
Mar. Lucia, thy arm. · Oh, let me rest upon Whatever maid could wish, or man admire:
it! Delight of every eye; when he appeared, The vital blood, that had forsook my heart, A secret pleasure gladdened all that saw him ; Returns again in such tumultuous tides, But when he talked, the proudest Roman blush- It quite o'ercomes me. Lead to my apartmented
Oh, prince! I blush to think what I have said, To hear his virtues, and old age grew worse. But fate has wrested the confession from me; Juba. I shall run mad
Go on, and prosper in the paths of honour. Miar. Oh, Juba ! Juba ! Juba !
Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee, Juba. What means that voice? Did she not And make the gods propitious to our love. call on Juba ?
[Ereunt Mar. and Luc. Mar. Why do I think on what he was ! he's Juba. I am so blest, I fear 'tis all a dream. dead!
Fortune, thou now hast made amends for all He's dead, and never knew how much I loved | Thy past unkindness: I absolve my stars. him.
What though Numidia add her conquered towns Lucia, who knows but his poor bleeding heart, And provinces to swell the victor's triumph, Amidst its agonies, remembered Marcia, Juba will never at his fate repine : And the last words he uttered, called me cruel ! Let Cæsar have the world, if Marcia's mine Alas! he knew not, hapless youth, he knew not
[Erti. Marcia's whole soul was full of love and Juba ! Juba. Where am I? Do I live? or am indeed
A march at a distance,-Enter Cato and What Marcia thinks? All is Elvsium round me !
LICIUS. Mar. Ye dear remains of the most loved of Luc. I stand astonished ! What, the bold men,
Sempronius, Nor modesty nor virtue here forbid
That still broke foremost through the crowd of A last embrace, while thus
patriots, Juba. See, Marcia, see,
As with a hurricane of zeal transported, [Throwing himself before her.' And virtuous even to madnessThe happy Juba lives! He lives to catch
Cato. Trust me, Lucius, That dear embrace, and to return it too
Our civil discords have produced such crimes, With mutual warmth and eagerness of love. Such monstrous crimes! I am surprised at noMar. With pleasure and amaze I stand tran- thing. sported!
-Oh, Lucius, I am sick of this bad world! Sure 'tis a dream! dead and alive at once! The day-light and the sun grow painful to me. If thou art Juba, who lies there? Juba. A wretch,
Enter PortIUS. Disguised like Juba on a cursed design.
But see where Portius comes : what means this The tale is long, nor have I heard it out:
Cato. Has Cæsar shed more Roman blood?
Por. Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief!
Cato. Ha! what has he done? To the south gate, where Marcus holds the Has he forsook his post? Has he given way? watch;
Did he look tamely on, and let them pass? I saw, and called to stop him, but in vain :
Por. Scarce bad I left my father, but I met He tossed his arm aloft, and proudly told me,
hin He would not stay and perish like Sempronius. Borne on the shields of his surviving soldiers, Cato. Perfidious man! But haste, my son, and Breathless and pale, and covered o'er with wounds.
Long, at the head of his few faithful friends, Thy brother Marcus acts a Roman's part. He stood the shock of a whole host of foes;
[Exit Por. Till, abstinately brave, and bent on death,
Por. Nor did he fall before Luc. While pride, oppression, and injustice His sword had pierced through the false heart of reign,
Grin in the pangs of death, and bite the ground, And reconcile thy mighty soul to life!
Cato. Thanks to the gods, my boy has done his Cato. Would Lucius have me live to swell the duty ! number
-Portius, when I am dead, be sure you place Of Cæsar's slaves, or, by a base submission, His urn near mine. Give up the cause of Rome, and own a ty- Por. Long may they keep asunder! rant?
Luc. Oh, Cato, arm thy soul with all its paLuc. The victor never will impose on Cato
tience; Ungenerous terms. · His enemies confess
See where the corpse of thy dead son approaches! The virtues of humanity are Cæsar's.
The citizens and senators, alarmed, Cato. Curse on his virtues! they have undone Have gathered round it, and attend it weeping.
his country. Such popular humanity is treason
Caro, meeting the corpse. But see young Juba; the good youth appears, Cato. Welcome, my son! Here lay him down, Full of the guilt of his pertidious subjects !
my friends, Luc. Alas, poor prince ! his fate deserves com- Full in my sight, that I may view at leisure passion.
The bloody corse, and count those glorious
wounds. Enter JUBA.
-How beautiful is death, when earned by virJuba. I blush, and am confounded to appear
tue ! Betore thy presence, Cato.
Who would not be that youth? What pity is it Cato. What's thy crime?
That we can die but once to serve our country! Juba. I am a Numidian.
-Why sits this sadness on your brows, my Cato. Anda brave one too. Thou hast a Ro
friends? man soul.
I should have blushed if Cato's house had stood Juba. Hast thou not heard of my false coun- Secure, and flourished in a civil war. trymen ?
- Portius, behold thy brother, and remember Cato. Alas, young prince ! falsehood and fraud Thy life is not thy own, when Rome demands it. shoot up in every soil,
Juba. Was ever man like this! The product of all climes-Rome has its Cæsars. Cuto. Alas, my friends, Juba. 'Tis generous thus to comfort the dis- Why mourn you thus ! let not a private loss tressed.
Afflict your hearts. 'Tis Roine requires our Cato. 'Tis just to give applause where 'tis de
tears, served ;
The mistress of the world, the seat of empire, Thy virtue, prince, has stood the test of fortune, The nurse of heroes, the delight of gods, Like purest gold, that, tortured in the furnace, That humbled the proud tyrants of the earth, Comes out more bright, and brings forth all its And set the nations free, Rome is no more! weight.
Oh, liberty! Oh, virtue! Oh, my country! Juba. What shall I answer thee? My ravished Juba. Behold that upright man! Rome fills his
heart O'erflows with sacred joy : I would rather gain With tears, that flowed not o'er his own dead son. Thy praise, O Cato! than Numidia's empire.
Cato. Whate'er the Roman virtue has sub- [ 'Twill be no crime to have been Cato's friend. dued,
Portius, draw near: my son, thou oft hast seen The sun's whole course, the day and year are Thy sire engaged in a corrupted state, Cæsar's :
Wrestling with vice and faction: now thou see'st For him the self-devoted Decii died, The Fabii fell, and the great Scipios conquered; Spent, overpowered, despairing of success; Even Pompey fought for Cæsar. Oh, my friends, Let me advise thee to retreat betimes How is the toil of fate, the work of ages,
To thy paternal seat, the Sabine field, The Roman empire, fallen! Oh, cursed ambi- Where the great Censor toiled with his own tion !
hands, Fallen into Cæsar's hand : Our great forefathers and all our frugal ancestors were blessed Had left him nought to conquer but his country. In humble virtues, and a rural life ;
Juba. While Cato lives, Cæsar will blush to see There live retired, pray for the peace of Rome; Mankind enslaved, and be ashamed of empire. Content thyself to be obscurely good. Cato. Cæsar ashamed ! has he not seen Phar- When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, salia !
The post of honour is a private station. Luc. Cato, 'tis time thou save thyself and us. Por. I hope my father does not recommend Cato. Lose not a thought on me; I am out of A life to Portius, that he scorns himself? danger;
Cato. Farewell, my friends! If there be any
Who dare not trust the victor's clemency,
my heart Know there are ships prepared by my command With anxious thoughts; a thousand secret ter- (Their sails already opening to the winds),
That shall convey you to the wished-for port. Rise in my soul. How shall I save my friends? Is there aught else, my friends, I can do for Tis now, 0 Cæsar, I begin to fear thee!
[Pointing to his dead son. Juba, my heart is troubled for thy sake. There, the brave youth, with love of virtue firecha Should I advise thee to regain Numidia,
Who greatly in his country's cause expired, Or seek the conqueror ?
Shall know he conquered. The firm patriot Juba. If I forsake thee
there, Whilst I have life, may Heaven abandon Juba ! Who made the welfare of mankind his care,
Cato. Thy virtues, prince, if I foresee aright, Though still by faction, vice, and fortune crost, Will one day make thee great; at Rome here- Shall find the generous labour was not lost. after,
But, oh, my
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me; Cato solus, sitting in a thoughtful posture : in Here will I hold. If there's a Power above,
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. his hand Plato's book on the Immortality of the (And that there is all Nature cries aloud, Soul. A drawn suord on the table by him.
Through all her works) he must delight in virtue; It must be so—Plato, thou reasonest well. And that which he delights in must be happy. Else whence this pleasing bope, this fond desire, But when! or where—this world was made for This longing after immortality?
Cæsar. Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, I'm weary of conjectures—this must end them. Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
(Laying his hand on his sword. Back on herself, and startles at destruction? Thus I am doubly armed: my death and life, Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
My bane and antidote, are both before me. 'Tis Heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, This in a moment brings me to an end; And intimates eternity to man.
But this inforins me I shall never die. Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! The soul, secured in her existence, smiles Through what variety of untried being,
At the drawn dagver, and defies its point. Through what new scenes and changes must we The stars shall fade away, the sun himself pass?
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years,
But thou shalt Aourish in immortal youth, Por. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
[Erit Cato. The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. What means this heaviness that hangs upon me?
Enter MARCIA, This lethargy that creeps through all my senses? Oh, Marcia! Oh, my sister, still there is hope ! Nature oppressed, and harrassed out with care,
Our father will not cast away a life, Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her, So needful to us all and to his country. That my awakened soul may take her flight, He is retired to rest, and seems to cherish Renewed in all her strength, and fresh with life, Thoughts full of peace. He has dispatched me An offering fit for Heaven. Let guilt or fear
hence, Disturb man's rest; Cato knows neither of them; With orders that bespeak a mind composed, Indifferent in his choice to sleep or die.
And studious for the safety of his friends.
Marcia, take care that none disturb his slumEnter PORTIUS.
[Erit. But, ha! who's this? my son! Why this intrusion? Mar. Oh, ye immortal powers ! that guard the Were not my orders that I would be private ?
just, Why am I disobeyed ?
Watch 'round his couch, and soften his repose; Por. Alas, my father!
Banish his sorrows, and becalm his soul What means this sword, this instrument of death? With easy dreams; remember all his virtues, Let me convey it hence.
And shew mankind that goodness is your care! Cato. Rash youth, forbear!
Enter Lucia. Por. Oh, let the prayers, the intreaties of your friends,
Luc. Where is your father, Marcia, where is Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from Cato? you!
Mar. Lucia, speak low, he
retired to rest. Cato. Wouldst thou betray me? Wouldst thou Lucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope give me up
Rise in my soul. We shall be happy still. A slave, a captive into Cæsar's hands?
Luc. Alas! I tremble when I think on Cato! Retire, and learn obedience to a father,
In every view, in every thought, I tremble! Or know, young man !
Cato is stern and awful as a god; Por. Look not thus sternly on me;
He knows not how to wink at human frailty, You know I'd rather die than disobey you. Or pardon weakness that he never felt.
Cato. 'Tis well! again I'm master of myself. Mar. Though stern and awful to the foes of Now, Cæsar, let thy troops beset our gates,
Filled with domestic tenderness, the best,
The kindest father I have ever found him, Por. Oh, sir ! forgive your son,
Easy and good, and bounteous to my wishes. Whose grief hangs heavy on him. Oh, my fa- Luc. 'Tis his consent alone can make us blessed: ther!
Marcia, we both are equally involved How am I sure it is not the last time
In the same intricate, perplexed distress.
Luc. Has set my soul at large, and now I Cato. Thou hast been ever good and dutiful.
[Embracing him. Loose of my vow. But who knows Cato's Weep not, my son, all will be well again;
thoughts? The righteous gods, whom I have sought to please, Who knows how yet he inay dispose of Portius, Will succour Cato, and preserve his children. Or how he has deterniined of thyself? Por. Your words give comfort to my drooping Mar. Let him but live, commit the rest to heart.
Heaven. Cato. Portius, thou may'st rely upon my conduct:
Enter Lucius. Thy father will not act what misbecomes him. Lucius. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuBut go, my son, and see if aught be wanting
ous man! Among thy father's friends ; see them embarked, Oh, Marcia, I have seen thy godlike father! And tell me if the winds and seas befriend them. Some power invisible supports his soul, My soul is quite weighed down with care, and And bears it up in all its wonted greatness. asks
A kind refreshing sleep is fallen upon him : The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep. I saw him stretched at case, his fancy lost