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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.



Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy father,
Cæsar is still disposed to give us terms,
And waits at distance 'till he hears from Cato.



Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance.
What tidings dost thou bring? methinks I see
Unusual gladness sparkling in thy eyes.

As I was hasting to the port, where now
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,
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,
And let me fly into my





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

Alas, 'tis not the voice
Of one who sleeps ! 'tis agonizing pain,
'Tis death is in that sound -


Re-enter PORTIUS.

O sight of woe!
O Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass !
Cato is fallen upon his sword


O Portius,
Hide all the horrours of thy mournful tale,
And let us guess the rest.


I've raised him up,
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.


O heaven assist me in this dreadful hour To pay the last sad duties to my father.


These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O Cæsar!

Lucius. Now is Rome fallen indeed !

[Cato brought forward in his chair.

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 !




Let this our friendship live between our children;
Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia.
Alas poor man, he weeps ! - Marcia, my daughter —

-O bend me forward ! — Juba loves thee, Marcia.
A Senator of Rome, while Rome survived,
Would not have match'd his Daughter with a King,
But Cæsar's arms have thrown down all distinction;
Whoe'er is Brave and Virtuous, is a Roman.

-I'm sick to death - O when shall I get loose
From this vain world, th' abode of guilt and sorrow !

And yet methinks a beam of light breaks in
On my departing soul. Alas, I fear
I've been too hasty. O ye powers, that search
The heart of man, and weigh his inmost thoughts,
If I have done amiss, impute it not ! —
The best may erre, but you are good, and -oh! [Dies.




There fled the greatest soul that ever warm'd
A Roman breast; O Cato! O my friend !
Thy will shall be religiously observ'd.
But let us bear this awful corps to Cæsar,
And lay it in his sight, that it may stand
A fence betwixt us and the victor's wrath ;
Cato, tho' dead, shall still protect his friends.

From hence, let fierce contending nations know
What dire effects from civil discord flow.
'Tis this that shakes our country with alarms,
And gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms,
Produces fraud, and cruelty, and strife,
And robs the Guilty world of Cato's life.




N° 155. Thursday, April 6.


Aliena negotia curat
Excussus propriis. Hor.

From my own Apartment, April 5.


There lived some years since within my neighbourhood a very grave person, an Upholsterer, who seemed a man of more than ordinary application to business. He was a very early

riser, and was often abroad two or three hours before any of 5 his neighbours. He had a particular carefulness in the knit

ting of his brows, and a kind of impatience in all his motions, that plainly discovered he was always intent on matters of importance. Upon my enquiry into his life and conversation, I found him to be the greatest Newsmonger in our quarter ; that he rose before day to read the Post-man; and that he would take two or three turns to the other end of the town before his neighbours were up, to see if there were any Dutch Mails come in. He had a wife and several children ; but was

much more inquisitive to know what passed in Poland than in 15 his own family, and was in greater pain and anxiety of mind

for King Augustus's welfare than that of his nearest relations. He looked extremely thin in a dearth of news, and never enjoyed himself in a Westerly wind. This indefatigable kind of life was the ruine of his shop; for about the time that his favourite Prince left the Crown of Poland, he broke and disappeared.


This man and his affairs had been long out of my mind, till about three days ago, as I was walking in St. James's Park, I heard some body at a distance hemming after me: And who should it be but my old neighbour the Upholsterer? I saw he was reduced to extreme poverty, by certain shabby superflu 5 ities in his dress : For notwithstanding that it was a very sultry day for the time of the year, he wore a loose great Coat and a Muff, with a long Campaign-whig out of curl; to which he had added the ornament of a pair of black Garters buckled under the knee. Upon his coming up to me, I was going to enquire 10 into his present circumstances; but was prevented by his asking me, with a whisper, Whether the last Letters brought any accounts that one might rely upon from Bender? I told him, None that I heard of; and asked him, Whether he had yet married his eldest daughter? He told me, No. But pray, says 15 he, tell me sincerely, What are your thoughts of the King of Sweden ? (for though his wife and children were starving, I found his chief concern at present was for this great Monarch.) I told him, that I looked upon him as one of the first Heroes of the Age. But pray, says he, do you

think there is any thing in the story of his wound? and finding me surprized at the question, Nay, says he, I only propose it to you. I answered, that I thought there was no reason to doubt of it. But why in the Heel, says he, more than in any other part of the body? Because, says I, the bullet chanced to light there.

25 This extraordinary dialogue was no sooner ended, but he began to launch out into a long dissertation upon the affairs of the North; and after having spent some time on them, he told me, he was in a great perplexity how to reconcile the Supplement with the English-post, and had been just now 30 examining what the other papers say upon the same subject. The Daily-courant, says he, has these words, We have advices from very good hands, that a certain Prince has some matters of great importance under consideration. This is very


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