Cato: A Tragedy, in Five Acts

It throbs with fear, and aches at ev'ry sound.
Oh, Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sake —
I die away with horror at the thought!

Marcia. See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's blood and murder!
Ha! a Numidian! Heav'n preserve the prince!
The face lies muffled up within the garment,
But ah! death to my sight! a diadem,
And royal robes! O gods! 'tis he, 'tis he!
Juba lies dead before us!

Lucia. Now, Marcia, now, call up to thy assistance
Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind;
Thou canst not put it to a greater trial.

Marcia. Lucia, look there, and wonder at my patience;
Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast,
To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted?

Lucia. What can I think, or say, to give thee comfort?

Marcia. Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills:
Behold a sight that strikes all comfort dead.

Enter Juba, listening

I will indulge my sorrows, and give way
To all the pangs and fury of despair;
That man, that best of men, deserved it from me.

Jub. What do I hear? and was the false Sempronius
That best of men? Oh, had I fall'n like him,
And could have been thus mourn'd, I had been happy.

Marcia. 'Tis not in fate to ease my tortured breast.
Oh, he was all made up of love and charms!
Whatever maid could wish, or man admire:
Delight of every eye; when he appear'd,
A secret pleasure gladden'd all that saw him;
But when he talk'd, the proudest Roman blush'd
To hear his virtues, and old age grew wise.
Oh, Juba! Juba!

Jub. What means that voice? Did she not call on Juba?

Marcia. Why do I think on what he was? he's dead!
He's dead, and never knew how much I loved him!
Lucia, who knows but his poor, bleeding heart,
Amidst its agonies, remember'd Marcia,
And the last words he utter'd call'd me cruel!
Alas! he knew not, hapless youth, he knew not
Marcia's whole soul was full of love and Juba!

Jub. Where am I? Do I live? or am indeed
What Marcia thinks? All is Elysium round me!

Marcia. Ye dear remains of the most loved of men,
Nor modesty nor virtue here forbid
A last embrace, while thus —

Jub. See, Marcia, see, [Throwing himself before her.
The happy Juba lives! he lives to catch
That dear embrace, and to return it too,
With mutual warmth, and eagerness of love.

Marcia. With pleasure and amaze I stand transported!
If thou art Juba, who lies there?

Jub. A wretch,
Disguised like Juba on a cursed design.
I could not bear
To leave thee in the neighbourhood of death,
But flew, in all the haste of love, to find thee;
I found thee weeping, and confess this once,
Am rapt with joy, to see my Marcia's tears.

Marcia. I've been surprised in an unguarded hour,
But must not go back; the love, that lay
Half smother'd in my breast, has broke through all
Its weak restraints, and burns in its full lustre.
I cannot, if I would, conceal it from thee.

Jub. My joy, my best beloved, my only wish!
How shall I speak the transport of my soul!

Marcia. Lucia, thy arm. Lead to my apartment.
Oh! prince! I blush to think what I have said,
But fate has wrested the confession from me;
Go on, and prosper in the paths of honour.
Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee,
And make the gods propitious to our love.

    [Exeunt Marcia and Lucia.

Jub. I am so blest, I fear 'tis all a dream.
Fortune, thou now hast made amends for all
Thy past unkindness: I absolve my stars.
What though Numidia add her conquer'd towns
And provinces to swell the victor's triumph,
Juba will never at his fate repine: