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CATO.
Marc.Thou best of brothers, and thou best of friends!
Pardon a weak distemper'd soul, that swells
With sudden gusts, and sinks as soon in calms,
The sport of passions:———But Sempronius comes:
He must not find this softness hanging on me.[Exit.
Pardon a weak distemper'd soul, that swells
With sudden gusts, and sinks as soon in calms,
The sport of passions:———But Sempronius comes:
He must not find this softness hanging on me.[Exit.
SCENE II.
Enter Sempronius.
Semp.Conspiracies no sooner shou'd be form'd
than executed. What means Portius here?
I like not that cold youth. I must dissemble,
And speak a language foreign to my heart.[Aside.
Semp.Conspiracies no sooner shou'd be form'd
than executed. What means Portius here?
I like not that cold youth. I must dissemble,
And speak a language foreign to my heart.[Aside.
Sempronius, Portius.
Good morrow, Portius! let us once embrace,
Once more embrace; whilst yet we both are free.
To-morrow shou'd we thus express our friendship,
Each might receive a slave into his arms:
This sun, perhaps, this morning sun's the last,
That e'er shall rise on Roman liberty.
Por.My father has this morning call'd together
To this poor hall his little Roman senate,
(The leavings of Pharsalia) to consult
If yet he can oppose the mighty torrent
That bears down Rome, and all her gods before it,
Or must at length give up the world to Cesar.
Semp.Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome
Can raise her senate more than Cato's presence:
His virtues render our assembly awful,
They strike with something like religious fear,
And make ev'n Cesar tremble at the head
Of armies flush'd with conquest. O my Portius,
Could I but call that wond'rous man my father,
Would but thy sister Marcia be propitious
To thy friend's vows, I might be bless'd indeed!
Por.Alas! Sempronius, would'st thou talk of love
To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger?
Thou might'st as well court the pale trembling vestal
When she beholds the holy flame expiring.
Good morrow, Portius! let us once embrace,
Once more embrace; whilst yet we both are free.
To-morrow shou'd we thus express our friendship,
Each might receive a slave into his arms:
This sun, perhaps, this morning sun's the last,
That e'er shall rise on Roman liberty.
Por.My father has this morning call'd together
To this poor hall his little Roman senate,
(The leavings of Pharsalia) to consult
If yet he can oppose the mighty torrent
That bears down Rome, and all her gods before it,
Or must at length give up the world to Cesar.
Semp.Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome
Can raise her senate more than Cato's presence:
His virtues render our assembly awful,
They strike with something like religious fear,
And make ev'n Cesar tremble at the head
Of armies flush'd with conquest. O my Portius,
Could I but call that wond'rous man my father,
Would but thy sister Marcia be propitious
To thy friend's vows, I might be bless'd indeed!
Por.Alas! Sempronius, would'st thou talk of love
To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger?
Thou might'st as well court the pale trembling vestal
When she beholds the holy flame expiring.
Semp.
