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. [Ex. With easy dreams; remember all his virtues, Enter LUCIA. Luc. Where is your father, Marcia, where is Cato? Mar. Lucia, speak low, he is retir'd to rest. Lucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope Rise in my soul. We shall be happy still. Luc. 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 bless'd, Marcia, we both are equally involv'd In the same intricate, perplex'd distress. Mar. Let him but live, commit the rest to Heav'n. Enter LUCIUS. Lucius. 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 smil'd, and cry'd, Cæsar, thou can'st not hurt me. Mar. His mind still labours with some dreadful thought. "Lucius. Lucia, why all this grief, these floods of sorrow? "Dry up thy tears, my child, we all are safe Enter JUBA. Jub. Lucius, the horsemen are return'd from view ing The number, strength, and posture of our foes, Who now encamp within a short hour's march; Plays on their shining arms and burnish'd helmets, Lucius. 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 PORTIUS. Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance. Por. As I was hasting to the port, where now 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 But, hark! what means that groan! Oh, give me way, [Exit. Lucius. Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome, And in the wild disorder of his soul Mourns o'er his country. Hah! a second groan- Mar. Alas! 'tis not the voice Of one who sleeps; 'tis agonizing pain, 'Tis death is in that sound.— Re-enter PORTIUS. Por. Oh, sight of woe! Oh, Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass! Lucius. Oh, Portius, 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, Demands to see his friends. His servants weeping, Obsequious to his order, bear him hither. Mar. Oh, Heav'n! assist me in this dreadful hour, To pay the last sad duties to my father. "Jub. These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O Cæsar! "Lucius. Now is. Rome fall'n indeed!" [Cato brought on in a chair. Calo. Here set me down Portius, come near me-Are my friends embark'd ? -Oh, Lucius, art thou here?—Thou art too good- But Cæsar's arms have thrown down all distinction; -I'm sick to death-Oh, when shall I get loose I've been too hasty. Oh, ye Powers, that search The best may err, but you are good, and—Oh! [Dies. Thy will shall be religiously observ'd. 'Tis this that shakes our country with alarms, [Exeunt omnes. |