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ACT V.

SCENE I.-A Chamber in the Palace.-CATO dis-
covered, sitting as in deep meditation, holding in
his hand Plato's book on the Immortality of the
Soul:-a drawn sword lying by him on the table.
Cato. It must be so ;-Plato, thou reasonest well;
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?

Or whence this secret dread and inward horror
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself and startles at destruction?
'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us;

"Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.

Eternity!-[Rises and comes forward.]-Thou pleasing, dreadful, thought!—

Through what variety of untried being,

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass!
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me,
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.-
Here will I hold: If there's a Power above us-
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud

Through all her works-he must delight in virtue;
And that which he delights in must be happy.)

But when? or where?-This world was made for
Cæsar.-

I'm weary of conjectures: This must end 'em.

[Goes back to the table, laying his hand on his sword.

Thus am I doubly arm'd: my death and life,

My bane and antidote, are both before me:
This in a moment brings me to an end;

But this informs me, I shall never die.

[Comes forward with a roll of paper and a sword. The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles

At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.-
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.-
What means this heaviness that hangs upon me?

Nature oppress'd, and harass'd out with care,
Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her,
That my awaken'd soul may take her flight,
Renew'd in all her strength, and fresh with life,
An offering fit for heaven. Let guilt or fear
Disturb man's rest: Cato knows neither of 'em,
Indifferent in his choice to sleep or die.-

[Returns and sits.

Enter PORCIUS, R.

But hah! how's this?-My son! Why this intrusion? Were not my orders that I would be private?

Why am I disobey'd?

Por. Alas, my father!

What means this sword? this instrument of death?
Let me convey it hence.

Cato. Rash youth, forbear!

[Takes it up.

Por. O let the prayers, the entreaties of your friends, Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from you. Cato. Would's thou betray me? would'st thou give

me up,

A slave, a captive, into Cæsar's hands?

:

Retire and learn obedience to a father;
Or know, young man-

Por. Look not thus sternly on me:
You know I'd rather die than disobey you.

[Rises.

[Lays it down.

Cato. "Tis well: again I'm master of myself.

[CATO takes the sword.

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.

[Comes forward, R. Por. [Kneels, R. c.] O, sir, forgive your son, Whose grief hangs heavy on him!-O, my fatherHow 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.

[Lays his hand on his head.
Weep not, my son; all will be well again:
The righteous gods, whom I have sought to please,
Will succour Cato, and protect his children.

Por. Your words give comfort to my drooping heart. [Rises. Cato. Porcius, thou may'st rely upon my conduct: Cato will never act what misbecomes him.But go, my son; take care that nought be wanting Among thy father's friends; see them embark'd; And tell me if the winds and seas befriend 'em.My soul is quite weigh'd down with care, and asks The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep.

[CATO goes up the Stage.-PORCIUS follows him and kneels at his feet.-CATo looks kindly upon him, and then exit, L.

Por. My thoughts are more at ease; my heart revives.—
Enter MARCIA, L.

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 retir'd to rest, and seems to cherish

Thoughts full of peace. He has dispatch'd me hence
With orders that bespeak a mind compos'd,
And studious for the safety of his friends.

Marcia, take care that none disturb his slumbers.

[Exit PORCIUS, R. D.

Mar. (c.) 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 shew mankind that goodness is your care!

Enter LUCIA, L.

Luc. (L.) Where is your father, Marcia? Where is Cato? Mar. Lucia, speak low:-he is retir'd to rest. My friend, I feel a gentle dawning hope

Rise in my soul: we may be happy still.

Luc. (L. c.) 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.

Mar. 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.

Luc. 'Tis his consent alone can make us happy.
But who knows Cato's thoughts?

Who knows how yet he may dispose of Porcius?
Or how he has determin'd of thyself?

Mar. Let him but live, commit the rest to heaven.

Enter LUCIUS, L.

Luci. (c.) 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 has fallen upon him:
I saw him stretch'd at ease, his fancy lost

In pleasing dreams: as I drew near his couch,

He smil'd, and cried, Cæsar, thou canst not hurt me. Mar. (R. c.) His mind still labours with some dreadful thought.

Enter JUBA, R.

Juba. (R.) 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.

Luci. Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy father,

Cæsar is still dispos'd to give us terms;

And waits at distance, till he hears from Cato.

Enter PORCIUS, R.

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

Por. 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

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.

[Groans are heard, L.

E

But hark! what means that groan ?—O give me way,
And let me fly into my father's presence.

[Exit PORCIUS, L.

Luci. Cato amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome, And in the wild disorder of his soul

Mourns o'er his country.

[Groans again, L.

Hah! a second groan!-Heaven guard us all!
Mar. Alas! 'tis not the voice

Of one who sleeps: 'tis agonizing pain,

'Tis death is in that sound.

Enter PORCIUS, L. advances between MARCIA and

JUBA.

Por. (L.) O sight of woe!

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

Luci. (L. c.) O Porcius,

Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale,

And let us guess the rest.

Por. I've rais'd him up,

And plac'd him in his chair; where, pale and faint,
He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows from him-
[JUBA and PORCIUS, R. MARCIA, LUCIUS, and
LUCIA, L.

Demands to see his friends. His servants weeping,
Obsequious to his orders, bear him hither.

Mar. O Heaven, assist me in this dreadful hour
To pay the last sad duties to my father!

Enter two Freedmen leading CATO, L. supported by his two Freedmen.-Two first Freedmen remove the table, R. and remain by it.-MARCIA runs to assist CATO. Takes his right arm and helps to bring him to his chair, c.

Juba. (R. C.) These are thy triumphs, thy exploits,
O, Cæsar!

Luci. (L. c.) Now is Rome fallen indeed!
Cato. (c.) Here set me down.-

Porcius, come near me ;-are my friends embark'd?
Can any thing be thought of for their service?
Whilst yet I 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 Porcius happy in thy daughter Lucia.—
Alas, poor man, he weeps!-Marcia, my daughter-
O bend me forward!-Juba loves thee, Marcia.

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