Thanks to the gods! my boy has done his duty. Alas, poor prince! his fate deserves compassion. Portius, when I am dead, be sure thou place His urn near mine. PORTIUS. Long may they keep asunder! LUCIUS. O Cato, arm thy soul with all its patience; See where the corse of thy dead son approaches! The citizens and senators, alarm'd, Have gather'd round it, and attend it weeping. CATO meeting the corpse. CATO. Welcome, my sou! here lay him down, my friends, Full in my sight, that I may view at leisure Thy virtues, prince, if I foresee aright, In humble virtues, and a rural life. PORTIUS. I hope, my father does not recommend САТО. Farewell, my friends! if there be any of you ACT V. SCENE I. Sitting in a thoughtful posture: in his hand Plato's IT must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well!- Or whence this secret dread, and inward horrour, 'Tis Heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, Eternity! thou pleasing dreadful thought! Through what new scenes and changes must we pass! The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me: Will one day make thee great; at Rome hereafter, I'm weary of conjectures-This must end them. "Twill be no crime to have been Cato's friend. Portius, draw near! my son, thou oft hast seen me Spent, overpower'd, despairing of success; [Laying his hand upon his sword. Where the great censor toil'd with his own hands, Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years; And all our frugal ancestors were bless'd But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the war of elements, Enter PORTIUS. But ha! how's this, my son? why this intrusion? Were not my orders that I would be private ? Why am I disobey'd? PORTIUS. Alas, my father! What means this sword? this instrument of death? Let me convey it hence! CATO. Rash youth, forbear! PORTIUS. O let the prayers, th' entreaties of your friends, Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from you. CATO. My soul is quite weigh'd down with care, and asks The soft refreshineut of a moment's sleep. [Exi, PORTIUS. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives. O Marcia, O my sister, still there's hope So needful to us all, and to his country. 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. Enter LUCIA. LUCIA. Where is your father, Marcia, where is Cato? MARCIA. Lucia, speak low; he is retir'd to rest. Lucia, I feel a gently-dawning hope [up Rise in my soul. We shall be happy still. Wouldst thou betray me? wouldst thou give me A slave, a captive, into Cæsar's hands? Retire, and learn obedience to a father, Or know, young man! PORTIUS. Look not thus sternly on me; You know I'd rather die than disobey you. CATO. 'Tis well! again I'm master of myself. Now, Cæsar, let thy troops beset our gates, And bar each avenue, thy gathering fleets O'erspread the sea, and stop up every port; Cato shall open to himself a passage, And mock thy hopes. PORTIUS. O sir, forgive your son, Whose grief hangs heavy on him! O my father! How am I sure it is not the last time I e'er shall call you so! Be not displeas'd, O be not angry with me whilst I weep, And, in the anguish of my heart, beseech you To quit the dreadful purpose of your soul. CATO. Thou hast been ever good and dutiful. [Embracing him. Weep not, my son. All will be well agaiu. The righteous gods, whom I have sought to please Will succour Cato, and preserve his children. 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 embark'd; And tell me if the winds and seas befriend them. LUCIA. Alas, I tremble when I think on Cato. In every view, in every thought I tremble! Cato is stern, and awful as a god; 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, He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild, Compassionate, and gentle, to his friends. Fill'd with domestic tenderness, the best, The kindest father! I have ever found him Easy and good, and bounteous to my wishes. LUCIA. 'Tis his consent alone can make us bless'd. Marcia, we both are equally involv'd In the same intricate, perplex'd, 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 thyself? 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, MARCIA, His mind still labours with some dreadful thought. LUCIUS. Lucia, why all this grief, these floods of sorrow? Enter JUBA. JUBA. Lucius, the horsemen are return'd from viewing LUCIUS. Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy father. 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 lingering winds, a sail arriv'd -O bend me forward!-Juba loves thee, Marcia, From Pompey's son, who through the realms of I'm sick to death-O when shall I get loose Spain Calls out for vengeance on his father's death, LUCIUS. Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome, Mourns o'er his country; ha! a second groan!- MARCIA. Alas! 'tis not the voice Of one who sleeps! 'tis agonizing pain, 'Tis death is in that sound Re-enter PORTIUS. PORTIUS. O sight of woe! There fled the greatest soul that ever warm'd |