Portius.

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 son, and see if aught be wanting
Among thy father's friends; see them embarked;
And tell me if the winds and seas befriend them.

My soul is quite weigh'd down with care, and asks
The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep.

Portius.

My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives.

SCENE III.

PORTIUS and 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 dispatcht me hence
With orders, that bespeak a mind composed,

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 easie dreams; remember all his virtues !
And show mankind that goodness is your care.

75

80

85

90

SCENE IV.

LUCIA and 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 very view, in every thought I tremble!
Cato is stern, and awful as a God,

He knows not how to wink at humane frailty,
Or pardon weakness, that he never felt.

Marcia.

Though stern and awful to the foes of Rome,
He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild,
Compassionate, and gentle to his friends.
Fill'd with domestick tenderness, the best,
The kindest father! I have ever found him
Easie, and good, and bounteous to my wishes.

Lucia.

'Tis his consent alone can make us blest.

Marcia, we both are equally involv'd

In the same intricate, perplext, 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 set my soul at large, and now I stand

Loose of my Vow. But who knows Cato's thoughts?
Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius,

Or how he has determin'd of thy self?

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 stretcht at ease, his fancy lost

In pleasing dreams; as I drew near his couch,

He smiled, and cry'd, Cæsar thou canst not hurt me.

Marcia.

His mind still labours with some dreadful thought.

I 20

125

Lucius.

Lucia, why all this grief, these floods of sorrow?

130

Dry up thy tears, my child, we all are safe
While Cato lives - his presence will protect us.

Enter JUBA.
Juba.

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

135

On the high point of yon bright western tower

We kenn them from afar, the setting Sun

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

Lucius.

Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy father, Cæsar is still disposed to give us terms,

140

And waits at distance 'till he hears from Cato.

Enter PORTIUS.

Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance. What tidings dost thou bring? methinks I see

Unusual gladness sparkling in thy eyes.

Portius.

As I was hasting to the port, where now

145

My father's friends, impatient for a passage,

Accuse the ling'ring winds, a sail arrived

From Pompey's son, who through the realms of Spain

Calls out for vengeance on his father's death,

150

And rouses the whole nation up to arms.

Were Cato at their head, once more might Rome

Assert her rights, and claim her liberty.

But heark! what means that groan! O give me way,

Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome,

And in the wild disorder of his soul

Mourns o'er his country. — hah! a second groan

Heaven guard us all

Marcia.

Alas, 'tis not the voice

Of one who sleeps! 'tis agonizing pain,

'Tis death is in that sound

!

155

160

Re-enter PORTIUS.

Portius.

O sight of woe !

O Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass!

Cato is fallen upon his sword

And placed him in his chair, where pale, and faint,
He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows from him,
Demands to see his friends. His servants weeping,
Obsequious to his orders, bear him hither.

[The back Scene opens, and discovers Cato.

Marcia.

O heaven assist me in this dreadful hour

To pay the last sad duties to my father.

Juba.

These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O Cæsar!

Lucius.

Now is Rome fallen indeed!

Here set me down

Portius come near me

are my friends embark'd? Can any thing be thought of for their service?

Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain.

—O Lucius, art thou here? – thou art too good!

165

170

175

180