ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. CATO solus, sitting in a thoughtful posture: in his hand Plato's Book on the Immortality of the Soul. A drawn sword on the table by him. It must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well! Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful, thought! Through what new scenes and changes must we pass? Through all her works), he must delight in virtue; But when! or where!-This world was made for Cæsar. I'm weary of conjectures-This must end them. [Laying his hand on his sword. Thus am I doubly arm'd: my death and life, The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds. SCENE II. CATO, PORTIUS. CATO. But, hah! how's this, my son? why this intrusion? Were not my orders that I would be private? What means this sword? this instrument of death? PORTIUS. O let the prayers, th' entreaties of your friends, Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from you. CATO. Wouldst thou betray me? wouldst thou give me up A slave, a captive, into Cæsar's hands? Retire, and learn obedience to a father, PORTIUS. -Look not thus sternly on me : You know I'd rather die than disobey you. And mock thy hopes PORTIUS. -O, sir! forgive your son, Whose grief hangs heavy on him! O, my father! I e'er shall call you so? be not displeased, [Embracing him. Weep not, my son. All will be well again. Will succour Cato, and preserve his children. PORTIUS. Your words give comfort to my drooping heart. CATO. Portius, thou mayst rely upon my conduct. Thy father will not act what misbecomes him. But go, my son, and see if aught be wanting Among thy father's friends; see them embarked; PORTIUS. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives. SCENE III. PORTIUS, MARCIA. PORTIUS. O Marcia, O my sister, still there's hope! Our father will not cast away a life So needful to us all, and to his country. He is retired to rest, and seems to cherish Thoughts full of peace. He has despatch'd me hence And studious for the safety of his friends. Marcia, take care that none disturb his slumbers. MARCIA. O ye immortal powers, that guard the just, Watch round his couch, and soften his repose, Banish his sorrows, and becalm his soul With easy dreams; remember all his virtues ! And show mankind that goodness is your care. SCENE IV. LUCIA, MARCIA. LUCIA. Where is your father, Marcia, where is Cato? MARCIA. Lucia, speak low, he is retired to rest. Lucia, I feel a gently-dawning hope Rise in my soul. We shall be happy still. LUCIA. Alas! I tremble when I think on Cato, In every view, in every thought I tremble! He knows not how to wink at human frailty, Or pardon weakness that he never felt. MARCIA. Though stern and awful to the foes of Rome, In the same intricate, perplext distress, MARCIA. Let him but live! commit the rest to heaven. Enter LUCIUS. LUCIUS. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man! O Marcia, I have seen thy godlike father: Some power invisible supports his soul, And bears it up in all its wonted greatness. A kind refreshing sleep is fallen upon him: I saw him stretch'd at ease, his fancy lost In pleasing dreams; as I drew near his couch, He smiled, and cried, Cæsar thou canst not hurt me. VOL. II. N |