Cato: A Tragedy, in Five Acts

Marcia. Let him but live, commit the rest to Heav'n.

Enter Lucius

Luc. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man!
Oh, 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 is fall'n upon him:
I saw him stretch'd at ease; his fancy lost
In pleasing dreams; as I drew near his couch,
He smiled, and cried, "Cæsar, thou canst not hurt me."

Marcia. His mind still labours with some dreadful thought.

Enter Juba

Jub. 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.

Luc. Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy father.
Cæsar is still disposed to give us terms,
And waits at distance, till he hears from Cato.

Enter Portius

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

Por. As I was hasting to the port, where now
My father's friends, impatient for a passage,
Accuse the ling'ring winds, a sail arrived
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.
But, hark! what means that groan? – Oh, give me way,
And let me fly into my father's presence![Exit.

Luc. Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome,
And, in the wild disorder of his soul,
Mourns o'er his country. – Ha! a second groan —
Heav'n guard us all!

Marcia. Alas, 'tis not the voice
Of one who sleeps; 'tis agonizing pain —
'Tis death is in that sound —

Enter Portius

Por. Oh, sight of woe!
Oh, Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass —
Cato has fall'n upon his sword —

Luc. Oh, Portius,
Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale,
And let me guess the rest.

Por. I've raised him up,
And placed him in his chair; where pale and faint,
He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows from him,
Demands to see his friends. His servants weeping,
Obsequious to his order, bear him hither! —

Marcia. Oh, Heav'n! assist me in this dreadful hour,
To pay the last sad duties to my father!

Cato brought on, in a Chair

Cato. Here set me down —
Portius, come near me – Are my friends embark'd?
Can any thing be thought of for their service?
Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain —
Oh, Lucius, art thou here? – Thou art too good —
Let this our friendship live between our children;
Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia —
Marcia, my daughter —
Oh, bend me forward! – Juba loves thee, Marcia —
A senator of Rome, while Rome survived,
Would not have match'd his daughter with a king —
But Cæsar's arms have thrown down all distinction —
I'm sick to death – Oh, when shall I get loose
From this vain world, th' abode of guilt and sorrow!
And yet, methinks, a beam of light breaks in
On my departing soul – Alas, I fear
I've been too hasty! – Oh, ye powers, that search
The heart of man, and weigh his inmost thoughts,
If I have done amiss, impute it not —
The best may err, but you are good, and – Oh! – [Dies.

Por. There fled the greatest soul that ever warm'd
A Roman breast: —
From hence, let fierce contending nations know,