Cato: A Tragedy, in Five Acts

Por. Oh, let the pray'rs, th' entreaties of your friends,
Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from you!

Cato. Wouldst thou betray me? Wouldst 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.

Cato. 'Tis well! again I'm master of myself.
Now, Cæsar, let thy troops beset our gates,
And bar each avenue; thy gath'ring fleets
O'erspread the sea, and stop up ev'ry port;
Cato shall open to himself a passage,
And mock thy hopes. —

Por. Oh, sir! forgive your son,
Whose grief hangs heavy on him. Oh, my father!
How am I sure it is not the last time
I e'er shall call you so? Be not displeased,
Oh, 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 again;
The righteous gods, whom I have sought to please,
Will succour Cato, and preserve his children.

Por. 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.
My soul is quite weigh'd down with care, and asks
The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep.

Por. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives —

    [Exit Cato.

Enter Marcia

Oh, Marcia! Oh, 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 retired to rest, and seems to cherish
Thoughts full of peace. – He has dispatch'd me hence
With orders that bespeak a mind composed,
And studious for the safety of his friends.
Marcia, take care, that none disturb his slumbers. [Exit.

Marcia. Oh, 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 retired to rest.
Lucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope
Rise in my soul – We shall be happy still.

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 blest.
Marcia, we both are equally involved
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 determined of himself?