LUCIUS. Enter LUCIUS. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man! O Marcia, I have seen thy godlike father : 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. LUCIUS. Lucia, why all this grief, these floods of sorrow? 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. On the high point of yon bright western tower, We ken 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, And waits at distance till he hears from Cato. Enter PORTIUS. Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance. PORTIUS. 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, hark! what means that groan! O give me way, And in the wild disorder of his soul Mourns o'er his country.-Hah! a second groan MARCIA. Alas! 'tis not the voice Of one who sleeps! 'tis agonizing pain, 'Tis death is in that sound PORTIUS. Re-enter PORTIUS.. O sight of woe! O Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass! Cato is fallen upon his sword LUCIUS. O Portius, Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale, And let us guess the rest. PORTIUS. I've rais'd him up, And placed him in his chair, where, pale and faint, [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! САТО. [Cato brought forward in his chair. Here set me down Portius come near me-are my friends embark'd? A senator of Rome, while Rome survived, Would not have match'd his daughter with a king, 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 err, but you are good, and—oh! [Dies. LUCIUS. There fled the greatest soul that ever warm'd A Roman breast. O Cato! O my friend! Thy will shall be religiously observ'd. a Alas! I fear I've been too hasty. This sentiment is not in character; but the amiable author, ever attentive to the interests of religion and virtue, chose, for the sake of these, to violate decorum. But let us bear this awful corpse to Cæsar, From hence, let fierce contending nations know EPILOGUE. BY DR. GARTH. SPOKEN BY MRS. PORTER. WHAT odd fantastic things we women do! To give you pain, themselves they punish most. How needless, if you knew us, were your fears! Blame not our conduct, since we but pursue |