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18
CATO.
Marcus is over-warm, his fond complaints
Have so much earnestness and passion in them,
I hear him with a secret kind of horror,
And tremble at his vehemence of temper.
Mar.Alas, poor youth! how can'st thou throw him from thee?
Lucia, thou know'st not half the love he bears thee?
Whene'er he speaks of thee, his heart's in flames,
He sends out all his soul in ev'ry word,
And thinks, and talks, and looks like one transported.
Unhappy youth! How will thy coldness raise
Tempests and storms in his afflicted bosom!
I dread the consequence.
Luc.You seem to plead
Against your brother Portius.
Mar.Heav'n forbid!
Had Portius been the unsuccessful lover,
The same compassion would have fall'n on him.
Luc.Was ever virgin-love distress'd like mine!
Portius himself oft falls in tears before me,
As if he mourn'd his rival's ill success,
Then bids me hide the motions of my heart,
Nor shew which way it turns. So much he fears
The sad effects that it will have on Marcus.
Mar.He knows too well how easily he's fir'd,
And wou'd not plunge his brother in despair,
But waits for happier times, and kinder moments.
Luc.Alas, too late I find myself involv'd
In endless griefs, and labyrinths of woe,
Born to afflict my Marcia's family
And sow dissension in the hearts of brothers,
Tormenting thought! it cuts into my soul.
Mar.Let us not, Lucia, aggravate our sorrows,
But to the gods submit th' event of things.
Our lives, discolour'd with our present woes,
May still grow bright, and smile with happier hours:
So the pure limpid stream, when foul with stains
Of rushing torrents, and descending rains,
Works itself clear, and as it runs, refines;
'Till by degrees the floating mirror shines,
Reflects each flow'r that on the border grows,
And a new heav'n in its fair bosom shows.[Exeunt.
Have so much earnestness and passion in them,
I hear him with a secret kind of horror,
And tremble at his vehemence of temper.
Mar.Alas, poor youth! how can'st thou throw him from thee?
Lucia, thou know'st not half the love he bears thee?
Whene'er he speaks of thee, his heart's in flames,
He sends out all his soul in ev'ry word,
And thinks, and talks, and looks like one transported.
Unhappy youth! How will thy coldness raise
Tempests and storms in his afflicted bosom!
I dread the consequence.
Luc.You seem to plead
Against your brother Portius.
Mar.Heav'n forbid!
Had Portius been the unsuccessful lover,
The same compassion would have fall'n on him.
Luc.Was ever virgin-love distress'd like mine!
Portius himself oft falls in tears before me,
As if he mourn'd his rival's ill success,
Then bids me hide the motions of my heart,
Nor shew which way it turns. So much he fears
The sad effects that it will have on Marcus.
Mar.He knows too well how easily he's fir'd,
And wou'd not plunge his brother in despair,
But waits for happier times, and kinder moments.
Luc.Alas, too late I find myself involv'd
In endless griefs, and labyrinths of woe,
Born to afflict my Marcia's family
And sow dissension in the hearts of brothers,
Tormenting thought! it cuts into my soul.
Mar.Let us not, Lucia, aggravate our sorrows,
But to the gods submit th' event of things.
Our lives, discolour'd with our present woes,
May still grow bright, and smile with happier hours:
So the pure limpid stream, when foul with stains
Of rushing torrents, and descending rains,
Works itself clear, and as it runs, refines;
'Till by degrees the floating mirror shines,
Reflects each flow'r that on the border grows,
And a new heav'n in its fair bosom shows.[Exeunt.
ACT
