Cato: A Tragedy, in Five Acts

ACT THE SECOND

SCENE IThe Senate sittingFlourishEnter CatoCato. Fathers, we once again are met in council;Cæsar's approach has summon'd us together,And Rome attends her fate from our resolves.How shall we treat this bold aspiring man?Success still follows him, and backs his crimes;Pharsalia gave him Rome, Egypt has sinceReceived his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæsar's.Why should I mention Juba's overthrow,And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning sandsStill smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should decreeWhat course to take. Our foe advances on us,And envies us even Lybia's sultry deserts.Fathers, pronounce your thoughts: are they still fix'dTo hold it out, and fight it to the last?Or are your hearts subdued at length, and wrought,By time and ill success, to a submission?Sempronius, speak.Sem. Gods! can a Roman senate long debateWhich of the two to chuse, slav'ry or death!No; let us rise at once, gird on our swords,And, at the head of our remaining troops,Attack the foe, break through the thick arrayOf his throng'd legions, and charge home upon him.Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest,May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage.Rise, fathers, rise! 'tis Rome demands your help;Rise, and revenge her slaughter'd citizens,Or share their fate! —To battle!Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow;And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged amongst us.Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zealTransport thee thus beyond the bounds of reason;True fortitude is seen in great exploits,That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides;All else is tow'ring phrensy and distraction.Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion.Luc. My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd on peace.Already have our quarrels fill'd the worldWith widows, and with orphans: Scythia mournsOur guilty wars, and earth's remotest regionsLie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome:'Tis time to sheathe the sword, and spare mankind.Already have we shown our love to Rome,Now let us show submission to the gods.We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves,But free the commonwealth; when this end fails,Arms have no further use. Our country's cause,That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands.And bids us not delight in Roman blood,Unprofitably shed. What men could do,Is done already: Heav'n and earth will witness,If Rome must fall, that we are innocent.Cato. Let us appear nor rash nor diffident;Immod'rate valour swells into a fault;And fear, admitted into public councils,Betrays like treason. Let us shun them both.Fathers, I cannot see that our affairsAre grown thus desp'rate: we have bulwarks round us;Within our walls are troops inured to toilIn Afric's heat, and season'd to the sun;Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us,Ready to rise at its young prince's call.While there is hope, do not distrust the gods;But wait, at least, till Cæsar's near approachForce us to yield. 'Twill never be too lateTo sue for chains, and own a conqueror.Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time?No, let us draw her term of freedom outIn its full length, and spin it to the last,So shall we gain still one day's liberty;And let me perish, but in Cato's judgment,A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty,Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.Enter MarcusMarc. Fathers, this moment, as I watch'd the gate,Lodged on my post, a herald is arrivedFrom Cæsar's camp, and with him comes old Decius,The Roman knight; he carries in his looksImpatience, and demands to speak with Cato.Cato. By your permission, fathers – bid him enter.[Exit Marcus.Decius was once my friend, but other prospectsHave loosed those ties, and bound him fast to Cæsar.His message may determine our resolves.Enter DeciusDec. Cæsar sends health to Cato —Cato. Could he send itTo Cato's slaughter'd friends, it would be welcome.Are not your orders to address the senate?Dec. My business is with Cato. Cæsar seesThe straits to which you're driven; and, as he knowsCato's high worth, is anxious for your life.Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome.Would he save Cato, bid him spare his country.Tell your dictator this; and tell him, CatoDisdains a life which he has power to offer.Dec. Rome and her senators submit to Cæsar;Her gen'rals and her consuls are no more,Who check'd his conquests, and denied his triumphs.Why will not Cato be this Cæsar's friend?Cato. These very reasons thou hast urged forbid it.Dec. Cato, I've orders to expostulateAnd reason with you, as from friend to friend:Think on the storm that gathers o'er your head,And threatens ev'ry hour to burst upon it;Still may you stand high in your country's honours —Do but comply, and make your peace with Cæsar;Rome will rejoice, and cast its eyes on Cato,As on the second of mankind.Cato. No more;I must not think of life on such conditions.Dec. Cæsar is well acquainted with your virtues,And therefore sets this value on your life.Let him but know the price of Cato's friendship,And name your terms.Cato. Bid him disband his legions,Restore the commonwealth to liberty,Submit his actions to the public censure,And stand the judgment of a Roman senate.Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend.Dec. Cato, the world talks loudly of your wisdom —Cato. Nay, more, though Cato's voice was ne'er employ'dTo clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes,Myself will mount the rostrum in his favour,And strive to gain his pardon from the people.Dec. A style like this becomes a conqueror.Cato. Decius, a style like this becomes a Roman.Dec. What is a Roman, that is Cæsar's foe?Cato. Greater than Cæsar: he's a friend to virtue.Dec. Consider, Cato, you're in Utica,And at the head of your own little senate:You do not thunder in the capitol,With all the mouths of Rome to second you.Cato. Let him consider that, who drives us hither.'Tis Cæsar's sword has made Rome's senate little,And thinn'd its ranks. Alas! thy dazzled eyeBeholds this man in a false glaring light,Which conquest and success have thrown upon him;Did'st thou but view him right, thou'dst see him blackWith murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimesThat strike my soul with horror but to name them.I know thou look'st on me as on a wretchBeset with ills, and cover'd with misfortunes;But, by the gods I swear, millions of worldsShould never buy me to be like that Cæsar.Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to Cæsar,For all his gen'rous cares and proffer'd friendship?Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain:Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato.Would Cæsar show the greatness of his soul,Bid him employ his care for these my friends,And make good use of his ill-gotten pow'r,By sheltering men much better than himself.Dec. Your high, unconquer'd heart makes you forgetYou are a man. You rush on your destruction.But I have done. When I relate hereafterThe tale of this unhappy embassy,All Rome will be in tears.[Exit Decius.Sem. Cato, we thank thee.The mighty genius of immortal RomeSpeaks in thy voice; thy soul breathes liberty.Cæsar will shrink to hear the words thou utter'st,And shudder in the midst of all his conquests.Luc. The senate owns its gratitude to Cato,Who with so great a soul consults its safety,And guards our lives, while he neglects his own.Sem. Sempronius gives no thanks on this account.Lucius seems fond of life; but what is life?'Tis not to stalk about, and draw fresh airFrom time to time, or gaze upon the sun;'Tis to be free. When liberty is gone,Life grows insipid.Cato. Come; no more, Sempronius;All here are friends to Rome, and to each other.Let us not weaken still the weaker sideBy our divisions.Sem. Cato, my resentmentsAre sacrificed to Rome – I stand reproved.Cato. Fathers, 'tis time you come to a resolve.Luc. Cato, we all go in to your opinion;Cæsar's behaviour has convinced the senateWe ought to hold it out till terms arrive.Sem. We ought to hold it out till death; but, Cato,My private voice is drown'd amidst the senate's.Cato. Then let us rise, my friends, and strive to fillThis little interval, this pause of life(While yet our liberty and fates are doubtful)With resolution, friendship, Roman bravery,And all the virtues we can crowd into it;That Heav'n may say, it ought to be prolong'd.Fathers, farewell – The young Numidian princeComes forward, and expects to know our counsels.[Exeunt Senators.Enter JubaJuba, the Roman senate has resolved,Till time give better prospects, still to keepThe sword unsheathed, and turn its edge on Cæsar.Jub. The resolution fits a Roman senate.But, Cato, lend me for a while thy patience,And condescend to hear a young man speak.My father, when, some days before his death,He order'd me to march for Utica,(Alas! I thought not then his death so near!)Wept o'er me, press'd me in his aged arms,And, as his griefs gave way, "My son," said he,"Whatever fortune shall befal thy father,Be Cato's friend; he'll train thee up to greatAnd virtuous deeds; do but observe him well,Thou'lt shun misfortunes, or thou'lt learn to bear them."Cato. Juba, thy father was a worthy prince,And merited, alas! a better fate;But Heav'n thought otherwise.Jub. My father's fate,In spite of all the fortitude that shinesBefore my face, in Cato's great example,Subdues my soul, and fills my eyes with tears.Cato. It is an honest sorrow, and becomes thee.Jub. My father drew respect from foreign climes:The kings of Afric sought him for their friend;Kings far remote, that rule, as fame reports,Behind the hidden sources of the Nile,In distant worlds, on t'other side the sun;Oft have their black ambassadors appear'd,Loaden with gifts, and fill'd the courts of Zama.Cato. I am no stranger to thy father's greatness.Jub. I would not boast the greatness of my father,But point out new alliances to Cato.Had we not better leave this Utica,To arm Numidia in our cause, and courtTh' assistance of my father's powerful friends?Did they know Cato, our remotest kingsWould pour embattled multitudes about him:Their swarthy hosts would darken all our plains,Doubling the native horror of the war,And making death more grim.Cato. And canst thou thinkCato will fly before the sword of Cæsar?Reduced, like Hannibal, to seek reliefFrom court to court, and wander up and downA vagabond in Afric?Jub. Cato, perhapsI'm too officious; but my forward caresWould fain preserve a life of so much value.My heart is wounded, when I see such virtueAfflicted by the weight of such misfortunes.Cato. Thy nobleness of soul obliges me.But know, young prince, that valour soars aboveWhat the world calls misfortune and affliction.These are not ills; else would they never fallOn Heav'n's first fav'rites, and the best of men.The gods, in bounty, work up storms about us,That give mankind occasion to exertTheir hidden strength, and throw out into practiceVirtues, which shun the day, and lie conceal'dIn the smooth seasons and the calms of life.Jub. I'm charm'd, whene'er thou talk'st; I pant for virtue,And all my soul endeavours at perfection.Cato. Dost thou love watchings, abstinence, and toil,Laborious virtues all? Learn them from Cato;Success and fortune must thou learn from Cæsar.Jub. The best good fortune that can fall on Juba,The whole success at which my heart aspires,Depends on Cato.Cato. What does Juba say?Thy words confound me.Jub. I would fain retract them.Give them me back again: they aimed at nothing.Cato. Tell me thy wish, young prince; make not my earA stranger to thy thoughts.Jub. Oh! they're extravagant;Still let me hide them.Cato. What can Juba ask,That Cato will refuse?Jub. I fear to name it.Marcia – inherits all her father's virtues.Cato. What wouldst thou say?Jub. Cato, thou hast a daughter.Cato. Adieu, young prince; I would not hear a wordShould lessen thee in my esteem. Remember,The hand of fate is over us, and Heav'nExacts severity from all our thoughts.It is not now a time to talk of aughtBut chains or conquest, liberty or death. [Exit.Enter SyphaxSyph. How's this, my prince? What, cover'd with confusion?You look as if yon stern philosopherHad just now chid you.Jub. Syphax, I'm undone!Syph. I know it well.Jub. Cato thinks meanly of me.Syph. And so will all mankind.Jub. I've open'd to himThe weakness of my soul – my love for Marcia.Syph. Cato's a proper person to intrustA love-tale with!Jub. Oh, I could pierce my heart,My foolish heart!Syph. Alas, my prince, how are you changed of late!I've known young Juba rise before the sun,To beat the thicket where the tiger slept,Or seek the lion in his dreadful haunts.I've seen you,Ev'n in the Lybian dog-days, hunt him down,Then charge him close,And, stooping from your horse,Rivet the panting savage to the ground.Jub. Pr'ythee, no more.Syph. How would the old king smile,To see you weigh the paws, when tipp'd with gold,And throw the shaggy spoils about your shoulders!Jub. Syphax, this old man's talk, though honey flow'dIn ev'ry word, would now lose all its sweetness.Cato's displeased, and Marcia lost for ever.Syph. Young prince, I yet could give you good advice;Marcia might still be yours.Jub. As how, dear Syphax?Syph. Juba commands Numidia's hardy troops,Mounted on steeds unused to the restraintOf curbs or bits, and fleeter than the winds:Give but the word, we snatch this damsel up,And bear her off.Jub. Can such dishonest thoughtsRise up in man? Wouldst thou seduce my youthTo do an act that would destroy mine honour?Syph. Gods, I could tear my hair to hear you talk!Honour's a fine imaginary notion,That draws in raw and inexperienced menTo real mischiefs, while they hunt a shadow.Jub. Wouldst thou degrade thy prince into a ruffian?Syph. The boasted ancestors of these great men,Whose virtues you admire, were all such ruffians.This dread of nations, this almighty Rome,That comprehends in her wide empire's boundsAll under Heav'n, was founded on a rape;Your Scipios, Cæsars, Pompeys, and your Catos(The gods on earth), are all the spurious bloodOf violated maids, of ravish'd Sabines.Jub. Syphax, I fear that hoary head of thineAbounds too much in our Numidian wiles.Syph. Indeed, my prince, you want to know the world.Jub. If knowledge of the world makes men perfidious,May Juba ever live in ignorance!Syph. Go, go; you're young.Jub. Gods, must I tamely bearThis arrogance, unanswer'd! Thou'rt a traitor,A false old traitor.Syph. I've gone too far.[Aside.Jub. Cato shall know the baseness of thy soul.Syph. I must appease this storm, or perish in it. [Aside.Young prince, behold these locks, that are grown whiteBeneath a helmet in your father's battles.Jub. Those locks shall ne'er protect thy insolence.Syph. Must one rash word, the infirmity of age,Throw down the merit of my better years?This the reward of a whole life of service! —Curse on the boy! how steadily he hears me![Aside.Jub. Syphax, no more! I would not hear you talk.Syph. Not hear me talk! what, when my faith to Juba,My royal master's son, is call'd in question?My prince may strike me dead, and I'll be dumb;But whilst I live I must not hold my tongue,And languish out old age in his displeasure.Jub. Thou know'st the way too well into my heart.I do believe thee loyal to thy prince.Syph. What greater instance can I give? I've offer'dTo do an action which my soul abhors,And gain you whom you love, at any price.Jub. Was this thy motive? I have been too hasty.Syph. And 'tis for this my prince has call'd me traitor.Jub. Sure thou mistakest; I did not call thee so.Syph. You did, indeed, my prince, you call'd me traitor.Nay, further, threatened you'd complain to Cato.Of what, my prince, would you complain to Cato?That Syphax loves you, and would sacrificeHis life, nay, more, his honour, in your service?Jub. Syphax, I know thou lovest me; but indeedThy zeal for Juba carried thee too far.Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings,The noble mind's distinguishing perfection,That aids and strengthens Virtue where it meets her,And imitates her actions where she is not;It ought not to be sported with.Syph. Believe me, prince, you make old Syphax weepTo hear you talk – but 'tis with tears of joy.If e'er your father's crown adorn your brows,Numidia will be blest by Cato's lectures.Jub. Syphax, thy hand; we'll mutually forgetThe warmth of youth, and forwardness of age:Thy prince esteems thy worth, and loves thy person.If e'er the sceptre come into my hand,Syphax shall stand the second in my kingdom.Syph. Why will you overwhelm my age with kindness?My joys grow burdensome, I sha'n't support it.Jub. Syphax, farewell. I'll hence, and try to findSome blest occasion, that may set me rightIn Cato's thoughts. I'd rather have that manApprove my deeds, than worlds for my admirers.[Exit.Syph. Young men soon give, and soon forget, affronts;Old age is slow in both – A false old traitor!These words, rash boy, may chance to cost thee dear.My heart had still some foolish fondness for thee;But hence, 'tis gone! I give it to the winds:Cæsar, I'm wholly thine.Enter SemproniusAll hail, Sempronius!Well, Cato's senate is resolved to waitThe fury of a siege, before it yields.Sem. Syphax, we both were on the verge of fate;Lucius declared for peace, and terms were offer'dTo Cato, by a messenger from Cæsar.Should they submit, ere our designs are ripe,We both must perish in the common wreck,Lost in the general, undistinguish'd ruin.Syph. But how stands Cato?Sem. Thou hast seen mount Atlas:Whilst storms and tempests thunder on its brows,And oceans break their billows at its feet,It stands unmoved, and glories in its height;Such is that haughty man; his tow'ring soul,'Midst all the shocks and injuries of fortune,Rises superior, and looks down on Cæsar.Syph. But what's this messenger?Sem. I've practised with him,And found a means to let the victor knowThat Syphax and Sempronius are his friends.But let me now examine in my turn;Is Juba fix'd?Syph. Yes – but it is to Cato.I've tried the force of every reason on him,Soothed and caress'd; been angry, soothed again;Laid safety, life, and interest in his sight;But all are vain, he scorns them all for Cato.Sem. Come, 'tis no matter; we shall do without him.He'll make a pretty figure in a triumph,And serve to trip before the victor's chariot.Syphax, I now may hope thou hast forsookThy Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine.Syph. May she be thine as fast as thou wouldst have her.Sem. Syphax, I love that woman; though I curseHer and myself, yet, spite of me, I love her.Syph. Make Cato sure, and give up Utica,Cæsar will ne'er refuse thee such a trifle.But are thy troops prepared for a revolt?Does the sedition catch from man to man,And run among the ranks?Sem. All, all is ready;The factious leaders are our friends, that spreadMurmurs and discontents among the soldiers;They count their toilsome marches, long fatigues,Unusual fastings, and will hear no moreThis medley of philosophy and war.Within an hour they'll storm the senate house.Syph. Meanwhile I'll draw up my Numidian troopsWithin the square, to exercise their arms,And, as I see occasion, favour thee.I laugh, to see how your unshaken CatoWill look aghast, while unforeseen destructionPours in upon him thus from every side.So, where our wide Numidian wastes extend,Sudden th' impetuous hurricanes descend,Wheel through the air, in circling eddies play,Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains away.The helpless traveller, with wild surprise,Sees the dry desert all around him rise,And, smother'd in the dusty whirlwind, dies. [Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD

SCENE IA ChamberEnter Marcus and PortiusMarc. Thanks to my stars, I have not ranged aboutThe wilds of life, ere I could find a friend;Nature first pointed out my Portius to me,And early taught me, by her secret force,To love thy person, ere I knew thy merit,Till what was instinct, grew up into friendship.Por. Marcus, the friendships of the world are oftConfed'racies in vice, or leagues of pleasure;Ours has severest virtue for its basis,And such a friendship ends not but with life.Marc. Portius, thou know'st my soul in all its weakness;Then, pr'ythee, spare me on its tender side;Indulge me but in love, my other passionsShall rise and fall by virtue's nicest rules.Por. When love's well-timed, 'tis not a fault to love.The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise,Sink in the soft captivity together.Marc. Alas, thou talk'st like one that never feltTh' impatient throbs and longings of a soul,That pants and reaches after distant good!A lover does not live by vulgar time;Believe me, Portius, in my Lucia's absenceLife hangs upon me, and becomes a burden;And yet, when I behold the charming maid,I'm ten times more undone; while hope and fear,And grief and rage, and love, rise up at once,And with variety of pain distract me.Por. What can thy Portius do to give thee help?Marc. Portius, thou oft enjoy'st the fair one's presence;Then undertake my cause, and plead it to herWith all the strength and heat of eloquenceFraternal love and friendship can inspire.Tell her thy brother languishes to death,And fades away, and withers in his bloom;That he forgets his sleep, and loathes his food;That youth, and health, and war, are joyless to him;Describe his anxious days, and restless nights,And all the torments that thou see'st me suffer.Por. Marcus, I beg thee give me not an office,That suits with me so ill. Thou know'st my temper.Marc. Wilt thou behold me sinking in my woes,And wilt thou not reach out a friendly arm,To raise me from amidst this plunge of sorrows?Por. Marcus, thou canst not ask what I'd refuse;But here, believe me, I've a thousand reasons —Marc. I know thou'lt say my passion's out of season,That Cato's great example and misfortunesShould both conspire to drive it from my thoughts.But what's all this to one that loves like me?O Portius, Portius, from my soul I wishThou did'st but know thyself what 'tis to love!Then wouldst thou pity and assist thy brother.Por. What should I do? If I disclose my passion,Our friendship's at an end: if I conceal it,The world will call me false to a friend and brother.[Aside.Marc. But see, where Lucia, at her wonted hour,Amid the cool of yon high marble arch,Enjoys the noon-day breeze! Observe her, Portius;That face, that shape, those eyes, that heav'n of beauty!Observe her well, and blame me if thou canst.Por. She sees us, and advances —Marc. I'll withdraw,And leave you for a while. Remember, Portius,Thy brother's life depends upon thy tongue. [Exit.Enter LuciaLucia. Did not I see your brother Marcus here?Why did he fly the place, and shun my presence?Por. Oh, Lucia, language is too faint to showHis rage of love; it preys upon his life;He pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies!Lucia. How wilt thou guard thy honour, in the shockOf love and friendship! Think betimes, my Portius,Think how the nuptial tie, that might ensureOur mutual bliss, would raise to such a heightThy brother's griefs, as might perhaps destroy him.Por. Alas, poor youth! What dost thou think, my Lucia?His gen'rous, open, undesigning heartHas begg'd his rival to solicit for him!Then do not strike him dead with a denial.Lucia. No, Portius, no; I see thy sister's tears,Thy father's anguish, and thy brother's death,In the pursuit of our ill-fated loves;And, Portius, here I swear, to Heav'n I swear,To Heav'n, and all the powers that judge mankind,Never to mix my plighted hands with thine,While such a cloud of mischief hangs upon us,But to forget our loves, and drive thee outFrom all my thoughts – as far as I am able.Por. What hast thou said? I'm thunderstruck – recallThose hasty words, or I am lost for ever.Lucia. Has not the vow already pass'd my lips?The gods have heard it, and 'tis seal'd in heav'n.May all the vengeance that was ever pour'dOn perjured heads, o'erwhelm me if I break it!Por. Fix'd in astonishment, I gaze upon thee,Like one just blasted by a stroke from heav'n,Who pants for breath and stiffens, yet alive,In dreadful looks, a monument of wrath!Lucia. Think, Portius, think thou see'st thy dying brotherStabb'd at his heart, and all besmear'd with blood,Storming at Heav'n and thee! Thy awful sireSternly demands the cause, the accursed cause,That robs him of his son: poor Marcia trembles,Then tears her hair, and, frantic in her griefs,Calls out on Lucia. What could Lucia answer,Or how stand up in such a scene of sorrow?Por. To my confusion and eternal grief,I must approve the sentence that destroys me.Lucia. Portius, no more; thy words shoot through my heart,Melt my resolves, and turn me all to love.Why are those tears of fondness in thy eyes?Why heaves thy heart? Why swells thy soul with sorrow?It softens me too much – Farewell, my Portius!Farewell, though death is in the word, – for ever!Por. Stay, Lucia, stay! What dost thou say? For ever?Thou must not go; my soul still hovers o'er thee,And can't get loose.Lucia. If the firm Portius shake,To hear of parting, think what Lucia suffers!Por. 'Tis true, unruffled and serene, I've metThe common accidents of life, but hereSuch an unlook'd-for storm of ills falls on me.It beats down all my strength – I cannot bear it.We must not part.Lucia. What dost thou say? Not part!Hast thou forgot the vow that I have made?Are not there heavens, and gods, that thunder o'er us?– But see, thy brother Marcus bends this way;I sicken at the sight. Once more, farewell.Farewell, and know, thou wrong'st me, if thou think'stEver was love or ever grief like mine. [Exit Lucia.Enter MarcusMarc. Portius, what hopes? How stands she? am I doom'dTo life or death?Por. What wouldst thou have me say?Marc. What means this pensive posture? Thou appear'stLike one amazed and terrified.Por. I've reason.Marc. Thy downcast looks, and thy disorder'd thoughts,Tell me my fate. I ask not the successMy cause has found.Por. I'm grieved I undertook it.Marc. What, does the barbarous maid insult my heart,My aching heart, and triumph in my pains?That I could cast her from my thoughts for ever!Por. Away! you're too suspicious in your griefs;Lucia, though sworn never to think of love,Compassionates your pains, and pities you.Marc. Compassionates my pains, and pities me!What is compassion, when 'tis void of love?Fool that I was, to choose so cold a friendTo urge my cause! – Compassionates my pains!Pr'ythee what art, what rhet'ric didst thou useTo gain this mighty boon? – She pities me!To one that asks the warm returns of love,Compassion's cruelty, 'tis scorn, 'tis death —Por. Marcus, no more; have I deserved this treatment?Marc. What have I said? Oh! Portius, Oh, forgive me!A soul exasperated in ills, falls outWith every thing – its friend, itself – but hah![Shout.What means that shout, big with the sounds of war?What new alarm?Por. A second, louder yet,Swells in the wind, and comes more full upon us.Marc. Oh, for some glorious cause to fall in battle!Lucia, thou hast undone me: thy disdainHas broke my heart; 'tis death must give me ease.Por. Quick let us hence. Who knows if Cato's lifeStands sure? Oh, Marcus, I am warm'd; my heartLeaps at the trumpet's voice, and burns for glory. [Exeunt.SCENE IIPart of the Senate HouseEnter Sempronius, with Leaders of the MutinySem. At length the winds are raised, the storm blows high!Be it your care, my friends, to keep it upIn all its fury, and direct it right,Till it has spent itself on Cato's head.Meanwhile, I'll herd among his friends, and seemOne of the number, that, whate'er arrive,My friends and fellow soldiers may be safe. [Exit.1 Lead. We are all safe; Sempronius is our friend.Sempronius is as brave a man as Cato.But, hark, he enters. Bear up boldly to him;Be sure you beat him down, and bind him fast;This day will end our toils.Fear nothing, for Sempronius is our friend.Enter Sempronius, with Cato, Lucius,Portius, and MarcusCato. Where are those bold, intrepid sons of war,That greatly turn their backs upon the foe,And to their general send a brave defiance?Sem. Curse on their dastard souls, they stand astonish'd![Aside.Cato. Perfidious men! And will you thus dishonourYour past exploits, and sully all your wars?Why could not Cato fallWithout your guilt! Behold, ungrateful men,Behold my bosom naked to your swords,And let the man that's injured strike the blow.Which of you all suspects that he is wrong'd,Or thinks he suffers greater ills than Cato?Am I distinguished from you but by toils,Superior toils, and heavier weight of cares?Painful pre-eminence!Sem. Confusion to the villains! all is lost![Aside.Cato. Have you forgotten Lybia's burning waste,Its barren rocks, parch'd earth, and hills of sand,Its tainted air, and all its broods of poison?Who was the first to explore th' untrodden path,When life was hazarded in ev'ry step?Or, fainting in the long laborious march,When, on the banks of an unlook'd-for stream,You sunk the river with repeated draughts,Who was the last of all your host who thirsted?Sem. Did not his temples glowIn the same sultry winds and scorching heats?Cato. Hence, worthless men! hence! and complain to Cæsar,You could not undergo the toil of war,Nor bear the hardships that your leader bore.Lucius. See, Cato, see the unhappy men: they weep!Fear, and remorse, and sorrow for their crime,Appear in ev'ry look, and plead for mercy.Cato. Learn to be honest men; give up yon leaders,And pardon shall descend on all the rest.Sem. Cato, commit these wretches to my care;First let them each be broken on the rack,Then, with what life remains, impaled, and leftTo writhe at leisure round the bloody stake;There let them hang, and taint the southern wind.The partners of their crime will learn obedience.Cato. Forbear, Sempronius! – see they suffer death,But in their deaths remember they are men;Strain not the laws, to make their tortures grievous.Lucius, the base, degen'rate age requiresSeverity.When by just vengeance guilty mortals perish,The gods behold the punishment with pleasure,And lay th' uplifted thunderbolt aside.Sem. Cato, I execute thy will with pleasure.Cato. Meanwhile, we'll sacrifice to liberty.Remember, O my friends! the laws, the rights,The gen'rous plan of power delivered downFrom age to age by your renown'd forefathers,(So dearly bought, the price of so much blood:)Oh, let it never perish in your hands!But piously transmit it to your children.Do thou, great liberty, inspire our souls,And make our lives in thy possession happy,Or our deaths glorious in thy just defence.[Exeunt Cato, etc.1 Lead. Sempronius, you have acted like yourself.One would have thought you had been half in earnest.Sem. Villain, stand off; base, grov'ling, worthless wretches,Mongrels in faction, poor faint-hearted traitors!1 Lead. Nay, now, you carry it too far, Sempronius!Sem. Know, villains, when such paltry slaves presumeTo mix in treason, if the plot succeeds,They're thrown neglected by; but if it fails,They're sure to die like dogs, as you shall do.Here, take these factious monsters, drag them forthTo sudden death.1 Lead. Nay, since it comes to this —Sem. Dispatch them quick, but first pluck out their tongues,Lest with their dying breath they sow sedition.[Exeunt Guards, with their Leaders.Enter SyphaxSyph. Our first design, my friend, has proved abortive;Still there remains an after-game to play;My troops are mounted;Let but Sempronius head us in our flight,We'll force the gate where Marcus keeps his guard,And hew down all that would oppose our passage.A day will bring us into Cæsar's camp.Sem. Confusion! I have fail'd of half my purpose:Marcia, the charming Marcia's left behind!Syph. How! will Sempronius turn a woman's slave?Sem. Think not thy friend can ever feel the softUnmanly warmth and tenderness of love.Syphax, I long to clasp that haughty maid,And bend her stubborn virtue to my passion:When I have gone thus far, I'd cast her off.Syph. Well said! that's spoken like thyself, Sempronius!What hinders, then, but that thou find her out,And hurry her away by manly force?Sem. But how to gain admission? For accessIs given to none but Juba, and her brothers.Syph. Thou shalt have Juba's dress, and Juba's guards;The doors will open, when Numidia's princeSeems to appear before the slaves that watch them.Sem. Heavens, what a thought is there! Marcia's my own!How will my bosom swell with anxious joy,When I behold her struggling in my arms,With glowing beauty, and disorder'd charms,While fear and anger, with alternate grace,Pant in her breast, and vary in her face!So Pluto seized off Proserpine, convey'dTo hell's tremendous gloom th' affrighted maid;There grimly smiled, pleased with the beauteous prize,Nor envied Jove his sunshine and his skies. [Exeunt.