concerns

And gentle wishes follow me to battle!

sword,

The friends of Rome, the glorious cause of virtue,
And men approv'd of by the gods and Cato.
Juba. That Juba may deserve thy pious cares,
I'll gaze for ever on thy godlike father,
Transplanting, one by one, into my life,
His bright perfections, till I shine like him.
Marcia. My father never, at a time like this,
Would lay out his great soul in words, and waste
Such precious moments.

Juba. Thy reproofs are just,

Marcia. Let us not, Lucia, aggravate our

sorrows,

But to the gods submit th'event of things. Our lives, discolour'd with our present woes, May still grow bright, and smile with happier hours.

So the pure, limpid stream, when foul with

stains

Of rushing torrents, and descending rains,
Works itself clear, and, as it runs, refines,
Till, by degrees, the floating mirror shines,
Reflects each flow'r that on the border grows,
Aud a new heav'n in its fair bosom shows.
[Exeunt.

ACT II.

who hopes

[Exit.

For Marcia's love.
Lucia. Marcia, you're too severe :
How could you chide the young, good-natur'd
prince,

And drive him from you with so stern an air;
A prince that loves, and dotes on you to death?
Marcia. How, Lucia! wouldst thou have me
sink away

In pleasing dreams, and lose myself in love,
When ev'ry moment Cato's life's at stake?
Lucia. Why have I not this constancy of
mind,

Who have so many griefs to try its force?
Sure, nature form'd me of her softest mould,
Enfeebled all my soul with tender passions,
And sunk me ev'n below my own weak sex:
Pity and love, by turns, oppress my heart.
Marcia. Lucia, disburden all thy cares on me,
And let me share thy most retir'd distress.
Tell me, who raises up this conflict in thee?
Lucia. I need not blush to name them,
when I tell thee

They're Marcia's brothers, and the sons of Cato. Marcia. But tell me whose address thou favour'st most?

I long to know, and yet I dread to hear it.
Lucia. Suppose 'twere Portius, could you
blame my choice?
Ob, Portius, thou hast stol'n away my soul!
Marcus is over warm; his fond complaints
Have so much earnestness and passion in them,
I hear him with a secret kind of horror,
And tremble at his vehemence of temper.
Marcia. Alas, poor youth!

flow will thy coldness raise

Sem. Rome still survives in this assembled senate.

Luc. Hark! he comes.

Caesar's approach has summon'd us together, And Rome attends her fate from our resolves. How shall we treat this bold, aspiring man? Success still follows him, and backs his crimes; Pharsalia gave him Rome, Egypt has since Receiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is Caesar's.

Why should I mention Juba's overthrow, And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning sands Still smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should decree:

What course to take. Our foe advances on us, And envies us ev'n Libya's sultry deserts. Fathers, pronounce your thoughts: are they still fix'd

To hold it out, and fight it to the last?
Or are your hearts subdu'd at length, and
wrought,

By time and ill success, to a submission?
Sempronius, speak.

Sem. My voice is still for war.
Gods! can a Roman senate long debate
Which of the two to choose, slav'ry or death?
No; let us rise at once, gird on our swords,
And, at the head of our remaining troops,
Attack the foe, break through the thick array
Of his throng'd legions, and charge home
upon him.

Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest,

I dread the consequence.

Lucia. You seem to plead

Against your brother Portius.

Marcia. Lucia, no;

Had Portius been the unsuccessful lover,
The same compassion would have fall'n on him.
Lucia. Portius himself oft falls in tears be-

fore me,

Cato, Let not a lorrent. of impetuous zeal Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of

reason;

True fortitude is seen in great exploits,
That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides;
All else is tow'ring frenzy and distraction.
Lucius, we next would know what's your opin-
、ion.

Luc. My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd on peace. Already have, we shown our love to Rome, Now let us show submission to the gods. We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves, But free the commonwealth; when this end fails, Arms have no further use. Our country's cause,

That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands,

And bids us not delight in Roman blood,
Unprofitably shed. What men could do,
Is done already: heav'n and earth will wit-

ness,

If Rome must fall, that we are innocent.
Cato. Let us appear nor rash nor diffident;
Immod❜rate valour swells into a fault;
And fear, admitted into public councils,
Betrays like treason, Let us shun them both..
Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs
Are grown thus desp'rate: we have bulwarks
round us;

us,

Within our walls are troops inur'd to toil
In Afric's heat, and season'd to the sun;
Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind
Ready to rise at its young prince's call.
While there is hope, do not distrust the gods;
But wait at least till Caesar's near approach
Force us to yield. Twill never be too late
To sue for chains, and own a conqueror.
Why should Rome fall a moment ere her
time?

No, let us draw her term of freedom out
In its full length, and spin it to the last,
So shall we gain still one day's liberty:
Ant let me perish, but, in Cato's judgment,
A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty,
Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.
Enter JUNIUS.

Jun. Fathers, e'en now a herald is arriv'd
From Caesar's camp, and with him comes
old Decius,
The Roman knight: he carries in his looks
Impatience, and demands to speak with Cato.
Cato. By your permission, fathers-bid him
[Exit Junius.
Decius was once my friend, but other prospects
Have loos'd those ties, and bound him fast to
Caesar.

enter.

His message may determine our resolves.

Enter DECIUS.

Dec. Caesar sends health to CatoCato. Could he send it To Cato's slaughter'd friends, it would be wel

come.

Are not your orders to address the senate? Dec. My business is with Cato; Caesar sees The straits to which you're driv'n; and, as he knows

Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life. Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome. Would he save Cato, bid him spare his country. Tell your dictator this; and tell him, Cato

Disdains a life which he has power to offer. Dec. Rome and her senators submit to Caesar; Her gen'rals and her consuls are no more, Who check'd his conquests, and deny'd his triumphs.

Why will not Cato be this Caesar's friend? Cato. These very reasons thou hast urg'd forbid it.

Dec. Caesar is well acquainted with your virtues,

And therefore sets this value on your life.
Let him but know the price of Cato's friendship,
And name your terms.

Cato. Bid him disband his legions,
Restore the commonwealth to liberty,
Submit his actions to the public censure,
And stand the judgment of a Roman senate.
Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend.
Dec. Cato, the world talks loudly of your
wisdom-

Cato. Nay, more; though Cato's voice was ne'er employ'd

To clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes, Myself will mount the rostrum in his favour, And strive to gain his pardon from the people. Dec. A style like this becomes a conqueror. Cato. Decius, a style like this becomes a Roman.

Dec. What is a Roman, that is Caesar's foe? Cato. Greater than Caesar: he's a friend to virtue.

Dec. Consider, 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 second you. Cato. Let him consider that, who drives us

hither.

'Tis Caesar's sword has made Rome's senate little, And thinn'd its ranks. Alas! thy dazzled eye Beholds this man in a false, glaring light, Which conquest and success have thrown upon him;

Didst thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black

With murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimes, That strike my soul with horror but to name them.

I know thou look'st on me as on a wretch

Beset with ills, and cover'd with misfortunes; But, by the gods I swear, millions of worlds Should never buy me to be like that Caesar. Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to Caesar,

For all his gen'rous cares and proffer'd friendship?

Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain: Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato. Would Caesar show the greatness of his soul, Bid him employ his care for these my friends, And make good use of his ill-gotten pow'r, By shelt'ring men much better than himself. Dec. Your high, unconquer'd heart makes you forget

You are a man. You rush on your destruction.
But I have done. When I relate hereafter
The tale of this unhappy embassy,
All Rome will be in tears. [Exit, attended.
Sem. Cato, we thank thee.
The mighty genius of immortal Rome
Speaks in thy voice; thy soul breathes liberty.
Caesar will shrink to hear the words thou utter'st,
And shudder in the midst of all his conquests.

account.

Lucius seems fond of life; but what is life?
Tis not to stalk about, and draw fresh air
From time to time, or gaze upon the sun;
Tis to be free. When liberty is gone,
Life grows insipid, and has lost its relish.
Oh, could my dying hand but lodge a sword
In Caesar's bosom, and revenge my country,
By heav'n, I could enjoy the pangs of death,
And smile in agony!

Luc. Others perhaps

May serve their country with as warm a zeal, Though 'tis not kindled into so much rage. Sem. This sober conduct is a mighty virtue In lukewarm patriots.

Cato. Come, no more, Sempronius; All here are friends to Rome, and to each other. Let us not weaken still the weaker side By our divisions.

Sem. Cato, my resentments Are sacrific'd to Rome-I stand reprov'd. Cato. Fathers, 'tis time you come to a resolve. Luc. Cato, we all go into your opinion: Caesar's behaviour has convinc'd the senate, We ought to hold it out till terms arrive. Sem. We ought to hold it out till death; but, Cato,

My private voice is drown'd amidst the senate's. Cato. Then let us rise, my friends, and strive to fill

This little interval, this pause of life
(While yet our liberty and fates are doubtful)
With resolution, friendship, Roman bravery,
And all the virtues we can crowd into it;
That heav'n may say, it ought to be prolong'd.
Fathers, farewell-The young Numidian prince
Comes forward, and expects to know our coun-
sels. [Exeunt Senators.
Enter JUBA.

Juba, the Roman senate has resolv'd,
Till time give better prospects, still to keep
The sword unsheath'd, and turn its edge on
Caesar.

Juba. The resolution fits a Roman senate. But, Cato, lend me for awhile thy patience, And condescend to hear a young man speak. My father, when, some 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, press'd me in his aged arms;
And, as his griefs gave way, My son, said he,
Whatever fortune shall befall thy father,
Be Cato's friend; he'll train thee up to great
And virtuous deeds; do but observe him well,
Thou'lt shun misfortunes, or thou'lt learn to
bear them.

Cato. Juba, thy father was a worthy prince,
And merited, alas! a better fate;
But heav'n thought otherwise.

Juba. My father's fate,

In spite of all the fortitude that shines
Before my face in Cato's great example,
Subdues my soul, and fills my eyes with tears.
Cato. It is an honest sorrow, and becomes thee.
Juba. His virtues drew respect from foreign
climes:

Loaden with gifts, and fill'd the courts of Zama. Cato. I am no stranger to thy father's great

ness.

Juba. I do not mean to boast his power and greatness,

But point out new alliances to Cato.
Had we not better leave this Utica,'
To arm Numidia in our cause, and court
Th'assistance of my father's powerful friends?
Did they know Cato, our remotest kings
Would pour embattled multitudes about him;
Their swarthy hosts would darken all our plains,
Doubling the native horror of the war,
And making death more grim.

Cato. And canst thou think

Cato will fly before the sword of Caesar!"
Reduc'd, like Hannibal, to seek relief
From court to court, and wander up and down
A vagabond in Afric?

Juba. Cato, perhaps.

I'm too officious; but my forward cares Would fain preserve a life of so much value. My heart is wounded, when I see such virtue Afflicted by the weight of such misfortunes.

Cato. Thy nobleness of soul obliges me. But know, young prince, that valour soars above What the world calls misfortune and affliction. These are not ills; else would they never fall On heav'n's first fav'rites, and the best of me. The gods, in bounty, work up storms about That give mankind occasion to exert Their hidden strength, and throw out into practice

us,

Virtues which shun the day, and lie conceal'd In the smooth seasons and the calms of life. Juba. I'm charm'd whene'er thou talk'st; I pant for virtue;'

And all my soul endeavours at perfection. Cato. Dost thou ove watchings, abstinence, and toil,

Laborious virtueş áll? Learn them from Cato: Success and fortune must thou learn from Caesar.

Juba. The best good fortune that can fall on Juba,

The whole success at which my heart aspires, Depends on Cato.

Cato. What does Juba say? Thy words confound me.

Juba. I would fain retract them. Give them me back again: they aim'd at nothing. Cato. Tell me thy wish, young prince; make

not my ear

A stranger to thy thoughts.
Juba. Oh! they're extravagant;
Still let me hide them.

Cato. What can Juba ask,
That Cato will refuse?

Juba. I fear to name it.

Marcia-inherits all her father's virtues.
Cato. What wouldst thou say?
Juba. Gato, thou hast a daughter.
Cato. Adieu, young prince; I would not
hear a word