He is retir'd to reft, and feems to cherish
Thoughts full of peace. He has difpatch'd me hence
With orders that befpeak a mind compos'd,
And ftudious for the fafety of his friends.
Marcia, take care that none difturb his flumbers.
[Exit.
Mar. O ye immortal powers that guard the juft,
Watch round his couch, and foften his repofe,
Banish his forrows, and becalm his foul

With caly dreams; remember all his virtues !
And fhew mankind that goodness is your care.
Enter Lucia.

Luc. Where is your father, Marcia, where is

Cato?

Mar, Lucia, fpeak low, he is retir'd to reft. Lucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope Rife in my foul. We shall be happy ftill.

Luc. 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 weaknefs that he never felt.

Mar. Tho' 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 belt,
The kindeft father I have ever found him,
Ealy and good, and bounteous to my withes.
Lue. 'Tis his confent alone can make us blefs'd.
Marcia, we are both equally involv'd
In the fame intricate, perplex'd diftrefs.
The cruel hand of fate that has deftrov'd
Thy brother Marcus, whom we both lament-
Mar. And ever fhall lament, unhappy youth!
Luc. 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 thyfelf?
Mar. Let him but live, commit the reft to heaven.

We ken them from afar; the fetting fun
Plays on their fhining arms and burnith'd helmets,
And covers all the field with gleams of tire.
Luc. Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy fa
ther.

Cæfar is ftill difpos'd to give us terms,
And waits at diftance till he hears from Cato.
Enter Portius.

Portius, thy looks speak fomewhat of importance,
What tidings doft thou bring? Methinks I fee
Unufual gladnefs fparkling in thine eyes.

Por. As I was hafting to the port, where now
My father's friends, impatient for a paffage,
Accufe the ling'ring winds, a fail arriv
From Pompey's fon, who thro' the realms of Spain
Calls out for vengeance on his father's death,
And roufes 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? Ó, give me
way,

And let me fly into my father's prefence. [Exit-
Luc. Cato, amidst his fiumbers, thinks on Rome,
And, in the wild diforder of his foul,
Mourns o'er his country. Hah! a second groan-
Heaven guard us all!-

Mar. Alas! 'tis not the voice
Of one who fleeps; 'tis agonizing pain,
'Tis death is in that found.-

Re-enter Portius.

Por. O fight of woc!

O Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass! Cato is fallen upon his fword.

LKC. O Portius,

Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale,
And let us guefs the reft.

Por. I've rais'd him up,

And plac'd him in his chair, where pale and faint He gaips for breath, and, as his life flows from him,

Demands to fee his friends. His fervants weeping, Obfequious to his order, bear him hither.

Mar. O Heaven! affift me in this dreadful hour, To pay the laft fad dutics to my father. Jub. Thefe are thy triumphs, thy exploits, Ɑ Cæfar!

Luc. Now is Rome fallen indeed!

[Cato brought in on a chair. Cato. Here fet me down

Portius, come near me― -Are my friends embark'd?
Can any thing be thought of for their service?
Whilft I yet live, let me not live in vain.
-O Lucius, art thou here?-thou art too good—
Let this our friendship live between our children,
Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia.
Alas! poor man, he weeps!-Marcia, my daugh

ter

O, bend me forward!-Juba loves thee, Marcia. A fenator of Rome, while Rome furviv'd, Would not have match'd his daughter with a king;

But Cæfar's arms have thrown down all distine

[Dies.

Luc. There fled the greatest foul that ever warm'd

A Roman breaft; O Cato! O my friend!
Thy will fhall be religioufly obferv'd.

But let us bear this awful corpfe to Cæfar,
And lay it in his fight, that it may stand
A fence betwixt us and the victor's wrath;
Cato, though dead, fhall ftill protect his friends.
From hence, let fierce contending nations know
What dire effects from civil difcord flow.
Tis this that thakes our country with alarms,
And gives up Rome a prey to Roman armis,
Produces fraud, and cruelty, and ftrife,
And robs the guilty world of Cato's life.

[Exeunt omnes.

48. PHÆDRA AND HIPPOLITUS.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Enter Cratander and Lycon.

SMITH.

Why did the wed old Thefeus? while his fon,
The brave Hippolitus, with equal youth
And equal beauty might have fill'd her arms,
Lyc. Hippolitus (in diftant Scythia born,
The warlike Amazon, Camilla's fon)
Till ourqueen's marriage, was unknown to Crete:
And fure the queen could with him ftill unknown:
She loaths, detefts him, flies his hated prefence,
And fhrinks and trembles at his very name.

Crat. Well may fhe hate the prince the needs muft fear;

He may difpute the crown with Phædra's fon. He's brave, he's fiery, youthful, and belov`d; His courage charms the men, his form the women; His very fports are war.

Lyc. O he's all hero, fcorns th' inglorious cafe Of lazy Crete, delights to thine in arms, To wield the fword, and launch the pointed fpear; To tame the gen'rous horfe, that nobly wild Neighs on the hills, and dares the angry lion; To join the firuggling courfers to his chariot, To make their itubborn necks the rein obey, To turn, or ftop, or ftretch along the plain. Now the queen's fick, there's danger in his courage

He must be watch'd.

Be ready with your guards.-I fear Hippolitus.
[Exit Crat
Fear him! for what? poor filly virtuous wretch
Affecting glory, and contemning power:
Warm without pride, without ambition brave;
A fenfelefs hero, fit to be a tool

Phædra

Should ftill continue refolute in grief,

And obftinately wretched :

That one fo gay, fo beautiful and young,
Of godlike virtue and imperial power,
Should fly inviting joys, and court deftruction.
Crat. Is there not caufe, when lately join'd in
marriage,

To have the king her husband call'd to war? Then for three tedious moons to mourn his abfence,

Nor know his fate?

Lyc. The king may cause her forrow,
But not by abfence: oft I've feen him hang
With greedy eyes and languifh o'er her beauties;
She from his wide, deceiv'd, defiring arms
Flew taftelefs, loathing; whilft dejected Thefeus
With mournful loving eyes purfued her flight,
And dropt a filent tear.

Crat. Ha! this is hatred,
This is averfion, horror, deteftation:

Why did the queen, who might have cull'd mankind,

Why did the give her perfon and her throne
To one the loathi'd?

Lye. Perhaps the thought it just
That he fhould wear the crown his valour fav'd.
Crat. Could the not glut his hopes with wealth
and honour,

Reward his valour, yet reject his love?
Why, when a happy mother, queen and widow,

pire.

An open
honeft fool, that loves and hates,
And yet more fool to own it. He hates flatterers,
He hates me too; weak boy, to make a foc
Where he might have a flave. I hate him too,
But cringe, and flatter, fawn, adore, yet hate him.
Let the queen live or die, the prince muft fak.
Bater Ifmena.

What, ftill attending on the queen, Ifmena?
O charming virgin! O exalted virtue !
Can fill your goodncfs conquer all your wrongs?
Are you not robb'd of your Athenian crown ?
Was not your royal father Pallas flain,
And all his wretched race, by conqu'ring Thefeus?
And do you still watch o'er his confort Phædra?
And ftill repay fuch cruelty with love?

Ifm. Let them be cruel that delight in mischief: I'm of a fofter mould; poor Phædra's forrows Pierce thro' my yielding heart, and wound my foul.

Lyc. Now thrice the rifing fun has cheer'd the world,

Since the renew'd her ftrength with due refresh

tortures,

Aflict my foul with any thing but guilt,
And yet that guilt is mine.- I'll think no more;
I'll to the woods among the happier brutes.
Come, let's away; hark, the fhill horn refounds,
The jolly huntfmen's cries rend the wide heavens.
Come, o'er the hills purfue the bounding stag;
Come, chafe the lion and the foamy boar;
Come, roufe up all the monfters of the wood;
For there, ev'n there, Hippolitus will guard me.
Lyc. Hippolitus!

Phæd. Who's he that names Hippolitus?
Ah! I'm betray'd, and all my guilt difcover'd.
O give me poifon, fwords; I'll not live, nor
bear it ;

I'll ftop my breath.

Ifm. I'm loft, but what's that lofs?
Hippolitus is loft, or loft to me:

Yet fhould her charms prevail upon his foul,
Should he be falfe, I would not wifh him ill;
With my laft parting breath I'd bless my lord:
Then in fome lonely defert place expire,
Whence my unhappy death fhall never reach him,
Left it should wound his peace, or damp his joys.
[Afide.
Lyc. Think still the fecret in your royal breait,
For by the awful majefty of Jove,
By the all-feeing fun, by righteous Minos,
By all your kindred gods we fwear, O Phædra,
Safe as our lives we'll keep the fatal fecret.

Ijm. &c. We fwear, all swear to keep it ever fecret.

Phad. Keep it! from whom? why it's already

known,

Thefeus

of

My flack hand dropt, and all the idle pomp, Priefts, altars, victims, fwam before my light! The god of love, ev'n the whole god, poffefs'd me. Lyc. At once, at firft poflefs'd you !

Phed. Yes, at first.

That fatal ev'ning we purfued the chace,
When from behind the wood, with rustling
found,

A monftrous boar rush'd forth: his baleful eyes
Shot glaring fire, and his ftiff-pointed bristles
Rofe high upon his back at me he made,
Whetting his tufks, and churning hideous foam :
Then, then Hippolitus flew in to aid me:
Collecting all himfelf, and rifing to the blow,
He launch'd the whistling fpear; the well-aim'd
jav'lin

Pierc'd his tough hide, and quiver'd in his heart;
The moufter fell, and, gnafhing, with huge tusks
Plow'd up the crimson earth. But then Hip-
politus !

Gods! how he mov'd and look'd when he ap. proach'd me!

When hot and panting from the favage conqueft,
Dreadful as Mars, and as his Venus lovely,
His crimson checks with purple beauties glow'd,
His lovely fparkling eyes fhot martial fires,
O godlike form! O ecftafy and tranfport!
My breath grew fhort, my beating heart sprung
upward,

And leap'd and bounded in my heaving bofom.
Alas! I'm pleas'd; the horrid story charms me.-
No more That night with fear and love I
ficken'd.

Oft I receiv'd his fatal charming visits;
Then would he talk with fuch an heavenly grace,
Look with fuch dear compaffion on my pains,
That I could wish to be fo fick for ever.
My ears, my greedy eyes, my thirty foul,
Drank gorging in the dear delicious poifon,
Till I was loft, quite loft in impious love.
And fhall I drag an execrable life?

And fhall I hoard up guilt, and treasure vengeance?

Lyc. No; labour, ftrive, fubdue that guilt, and live.

Phed. Did I not labour, ftrive, all-feeing
pow'rs!

Did I not weep and pray, implore your aid?
Burn clouds of incenfe on your loaded altars?
O! I call'd heaven and earth to my afliftance,
All the ambitious thirft of fame and empire,
And all the honest pride of conscious virtue:
I ftruggled, rav'd; the new-born paífion reign'd
Almighty in its birth.

Lyc. Did you e'er try To gain his love?

Phad. Avert fuch crimes, ye pow'rs!
No; to avoid his love I fought his hatred:
I wrong'd him, fhunn'd him, banish'd him from
Crete:

I fent him, drove him from my longing fight:
In vain I drove him, for his tyrant form
Reign'd in my heart, and dwelt before my eyes.
If to the gods I pray'd, the very vows

I made to Heaven were by my erring tongue
Spoke to Hippolitus. If I tried to fleep,
Straight to my drowfy eyes my reftlefs fancy
Brought back his fatal form, and curft my flumber.

Lyc.

Enter Mejenger.

Mej. Madam, I grieve to tell you

Phæd. But fhould the youth refuse my proffer'd love?

O, fhould he throw me from his loathing arms?
I fear the trial; for I know Hippolitus
Fierce in the right, and obftinately good :
When round befet, his virtue, like a flood,
Breaks with refiftlefs force th' oppofing dams,
And bears the nounds along; they're hurry'd on,
And fwell the torrent they were rais'd to ftop.
I dare not yet refolve; I'll try to live,
And to the awful gods I'll leave the rest.

Lyr. Madam, your fignet, that your flave may

order

Phed. Dead! O ye pow'rs!

Lyc. O fortunate event!

Then earth-born Lycon may ascend the throne,
Leave to his happy fon the crown of Jove,
And be ador'd like him. Be hufh'd, my joys.

Mourn, mourn, ye Cretans!

[Afide.

Since he is dead whofe valour fav'd your ifle,
Whofe prudent care with flowing plenty crown'd
His peaceful fubjects; as your tow'ring Ida,
With fpreading oaks, and with defcending
fircams,

Shades and enriches all the plains below.
Say how he died.

Me. He died as Thefeus ought,
In battle died: Philotas, now a prifoner,
That rushing on fought next his royal perfon,
That faw his thund'ring arin beat fquadrons
down,

Saw the great rival of Alcides fall.
Thefe eyes beheld his well-known fteed, beheld
A proud barbarian glitt ring in his arms,
Encumber'd with the fpoil.

Phed. Is he then dead?

[Exit.

Is my much-injur'd lord, my Thefeus, dead? And don't I fhed one tear upon his urn? What! not a figh, a groan, a soft complaint? Ah! these are tributes due from pious brides, From a chafte matron, and a virtuous wife: But favage Love, the tyrant of my heart, Claims all my forrows, and ufurps my grief.

Lyc. Difinifs that grief, and give a loofe to joy:

He's dead, the bar of all your blifs is dead;
Live, then, my queen, forget the wrinkledThefeus,
And take the youthful hero to your arms.

Phæd. I dare not now admit of fuch a thought, And blefs'd be heaven that steel'd my ftubborn heart;

That made me fhun the bridal bed of Thefeus, And give him empire, but refufe him love.

That owns thy triumphs, and adores thy pow'r:
O fpare thy captives, and fubdue thy foes.
On this cold Scythian let thy pow'r be known,
And in a lover's caufe affert thy own:
Then Crete as Paphos fhall adore thy fhrine;
This nurfe of Jove with grateful fires fhall

fhine,

And with thy father's flames fhall worship thine, [Exit Phad. &c.

Lycon folus.

If the propofes love, why then as furely
His haughty foul refufes it with fcorn.-
Say I confine him!-If the dies, he's fafe;
And if the lives, I'll work her raging mind.
A woman fcorn'd with cafe I'll work to ven-
geance:

With humble, wife, obfequious fawning arts
I'll rule the whirl and tranfport of her foul;
That when her reafon hates, her rage may a&t.
When barks glide flowly thro' the lazy main,
The baffled pilots turn the helms in vain ;
When driv'n by winds they cut the foamy way,
The rudders govern, and the fhips obey.

ACT 11.

[Exit.

Let this infulting victor know his pow'r? Or fhall I ftill confine within this breaft My reftlefs paffions and devouring flames?