ACT IV.SCENE I.
Lucia and Marcia.
Lucia.
NOW tell me, Marcia, tell me from thy soul.
If thou believ'st 'tis possible for woman
To suffer greater ills than Lucia suffers?
Mar.O Lucia, Lucia, might my big swoln heart
Vent all its griefs, and give a loose to sorrow;
Marcia cou'd answer thee in sighs, keep pace
With all thy woes, and count out tear for tear.
Luc.I know thou'rt doom'd alike, to be belov'd
By Juba, and thy father's friend Sempronius.
But which of these has power to charm like Portius!
Marc.Still I must beg thee not to name Semproniius!
Lucia, I like not that loud boist'rous man;
Juba to all the brav'ry of a hero
Adds softest love, and more than female sweetness;
Juba might make the proudest o£ our sex.
Any of woman-kind, but Marcia, happy.
Luc.And why not Marcia? Come, you strive in vain
To hide your thoughts from one, who knows too well
The inward glowings of a heart in love.
Marc.While Cato lives, bis daughter has no right
To love or hate, but as his choice directs.
Luc.But shou'd this father give you to Sempronius!
Marc.I dare not think he will: but if he should—
Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer
Imaginary ills, and fancy'd tortures?
I hear the sound of feet! they march this way
Let us retire, and try if we can drown
Each softer thought in sense of present danger.
When love once pleads admission to our hearts
(In spite of all the virtues we can boast)
The woman that deliberates is lost.[Exeunt.
Enter Sempronius, dress'd like Juba, with Numidian guards.
Semp.The deer is lodg'd, I have trac'd her to her cover.
Be sure you mind the word, and when I give it,
Rush in at once, and seize upon your prey.
Let not her cries or tears have force to move you.
———How will the young Numidian rave to see
His mistress lost? If ought could glad my soul,
Beyond th'enjoyment of so bright a prize,
'Twould be to torture that young gay barbarian.
———But hark, what noise! Death to my hopes! 'tis he
'Tis Juba's self! there is but one way left———
He must be murder'd, and a passage cut
Thro' those his guards———Hah, daftards, do you tremble
Or act like men, or by yon azure heav'n—
Enter Juba.
Jub.What do I see? who's this that dares usurp
The guards and habit of Numidia's Prince?
Semp.One that was born to scourge thy arrogance,
Presumptuous youth!
Juba.What can this mean! Sempronius!
Semp.My sword shall answer thee. Have at thy heart.
Jub.Nay, then beware thy own, proud barb'rous man.
[Semp falls. His guards surrender.
Semp.Curse on my stars! am I then doom'd to fall
By a boy's hand, disfigur'd in a vile
Numidian dress, and for a worthless woman?
Gods, I'm distracted! this my close of life!
O for a peal of thunder that would make
Earth, sea, and air, and heav'n and Cato tremble!
Jub.With what a spring his furious soul broke loose.[Dies.
And left the limbs still quiv'ring on the ground!
Hence let us carry off those slaves to Cato,
That we may there at length unravel all
This dark design, this mystery of fate.
[Exit Juba with Prisoners, &c.
Enter Lucia and Marcia.
Luc.Sure 'twas the clash of swords; my troubled heart
Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows,
It throbs with fear, and akes at every sound.
O Marcia, should thy brothers for my sake!———
I die away with horror at the thought.
Marc.See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's blood! and murder!
Hah! a Numidian! Heav'ns preserve the Prince:
The face lies muffled up within the garment.
But hah! death to my sight! a diadem,
And purple robes! O gods! 'tis he, 'tis he!
Juba the lovliest youth that ever warm'd
A virgin's heart, Juba lies dead before us!
Luc.Now, Marcia, now call up to thy assistance
Thy wonted strength, and constancy of mind;
Thou can'st not put it to a greater trial.
Marc.Lucia, look there and wonder at my patience.
Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast,
To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted!
Luc.What can I think or say to give thee comfort?
Marc.Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills:
Behold a sight that strikes all comfort dead.
Enter Juba, listening.
I will indulge my sorrows, and give way
To all the pangs and fury of despair;
That man, that best of men, deserv'd it from me.
Jub.What do I hear? and was the false Sempronius
That best of men? Oh, had I fall'n like him,
And could have thus been mourn'd, I had been happy.
Luc.Here will I stand, companion in thy woes,
And help the with my tears, when I behold
A loss like thine, I half forgot my own.
Marc.'Tis not in fate to ease my tortur'd breast,
This empty world, to me a joyless desart,
Has nothing left to make poor Marcia happy.
Jub.I'm on the rack! was he so near her heart!
Marc.O he was all made up of love and charms!
Whatever maid cou'd wish, or man admire:
Delight of ev'ry eye: when he appear'd,
A secret pleasure gladen'd all that saw him:
But, when he talk'd, the proudest Roman blush'd,
To hear his virtue, and old age grew wise.
Jub.I shall run mad ———
Mar.O Juba! Juba! Juba!
Jub.What means that voice? did she not call on Juba?
Mar.Why do I think on what he was? he's dead!
He's dead, and never knew how much I lov'd him.
Lucia, who knows but his poor bleeding heart,
Amid'st its agonies, remember'd Marcia!
And the last words he utter'd call'd me cruel!
Alas, he knew not, hapless youth, he knew not
Marcia's whole soul was full of love and Juba!
Juba.Where am I! do I live! or am indeed
What Marcia thinks! all Elysium round me!
Marc.Ye dear remains of the most lov'd of men!
Nor modesty nor virtue here forbid
A last embrace, while thus ———
Jub. See Marcia, see [Throwing himself before her.
The happy Juba lives! he lives to catch
That dear embrace, and to return it too
With mutual warmth and eagerness of love.
Marc.With pleasure and amaze I stand transported!
Sure 'tis a dream! dead and alive at once!
If thou art Juba, who lies there?
Jub. A wretch,
Disguis'd like Juba on a curs'd design.
The tale is long, nor have I heard it out,
Thy father knows it all. I could not bear
To leave thee in the neighbourhood of death,
But flew, in all the haste of love to find thee;
I found thee weeping, and confess this once,
Am wrap'd with joy to fee my Marcia's tears.
Marc. I've been surpris'd in an unguarded hour,
But must not now go back: the love that lay
Half-smother'd in my breast, has broke through all
Its weak restraints, and burns in its full lustre;
I cannot, if I wou'd, conceal it from thee.
Jub.I'm lost in ecstasy! and dost thou love,
Thou charming maid?
Marc. And dost thou live to ask it?
Jub. This, this is life indeed! life worth preserving,
Such life as Juba never felt till now.
Marc. Believe me, prince, before I thought thee dead,
I did not know myself how much I lov'd thee.
Jub.O fortunate mistake!
Marc.O happy Marcia!
Jub.My joy! my best belov'd! my only wish!
How shall speak the transport of my soul!
Marc.Lucia, thy arm! Oh let me rest upon it!
The vital blood, that had forsook my heart,
Returns again in such tumultuous tides,
It quite o'ercomes me. Lead to my apartment. ———
O Prince, I blush to think what I have said,
But fate has wrested the confession from me;
Go on and prosper in the paths of honour.
Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee,
And make the gods propitious to our love.
[Ex. Marc. and Luc.
Jub.I am so blest, I fear 'tis all a dream.
Fortune, thou now hast made amends for all
Thy past unkindness. I absolve my stars.
What tho' Numidia add her conquer'd towns
And provinces to swell the victor's triumph!
Juba will never at his fate repine;
Let Cesar have the world, if Marcia's mine. [Exit.
SCENE IV.
A March at a distance.
Enter Cato and Lucius.
Luc.I stand astonish'd! what, the bold Sempronius!
That still broke foremost through the croud of patriots,
As with a hurricane of zeal transported,
And virtuous ev'n to madness ———
Cato.Trust me, Lucius,
Our civil discords have produc'd such crimes,
Such monstrous crimes, I am surpris'd at nothing.
———O Lucius, I am sick of this bad world!
The day-light and the fun grow painful to me.
Enter Portius.
But see where Portius comes! what means this haste?
Why are thy looks thus chang'd?
Por.My heart is griev'd',
I bring such news as will afflict my father.
Cato.Has Cesar shed more Roman blood?
Por.Not so.
The traitor Syphax, as within the square
He exercis'd his troops, the signal given,
Flew off at once with his Numidian horse
To the south gate, where Marcus holds the watch.
I saw, and call'd to stop him, but in vain;
He tost his arm aloft, and proudly told me.
He would not stay and perish like Sempronius,
Cato.Perfidious men! but haste my son, and see
Thy brother Marcus acts a Roman''s part[Exit Portius.
———Lucius, the torrent bears too hard upon me:
Justice gives way to force: the conquer'd world
Is Cesar's: Cato has no business in it.
Luc.While pride, oppression, and injustice reign,
The world will still demand her Cato's presence.
In pity to mankind, submit to Cesar,
And reconcile thy mighty soul to life.
Cato.Would Lucius have me live to swell the number
Of Cesar's slaves, or by a base submission
Give up the cause of Rome, and own a tyrant?
Luc.The victor never will impose on Cato
Ungen'rous terms. His enemies confess,
The virtues of humanity are Cesar's.
Cato.Curse on his virtues! they've undone his country.
Such popular humanity is treason———
But see young Juba! the good youth appears
Full of the guilt of his perfidious subjects.
Luc.Alas poor prince! his fate deserves compassion.
Enter Juba.
Jub.I blush, and am confounded to appear
Before thy presence, Cato.
Cato. What's thy crime?
Jub. I'm a Numidian.
Cato.And a brave one too.
Thou hast a Roman soul.
Jub. Hast thou not heard
Of my false country-men?
Cato. Alas, young Prince,
Falshood and fraud shoot up in ev'ry soil,
The product of all climes———Rome has its Cesars.
Jub. 'Tis generous thus to comfort the distrest.
Cato. 'Tis just to give applause where 'tis deserv'd.
Thy virtue, Prince, has stood the test of fortune,
Like purest gold, that, tortur'd in the furnace,
Comes out more bright, and brings forth all its weight.
Jub. What shall I answer thee? my ravish'd heart
O'erflows with secret joy: I'd rather gain
Thy praise, O Cato, than Numidia's. empire
Re-enter Portius.
Por. Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief!
My brother Marcus———
Cato. Hah! what has he done?
Has he forsook his post? hath he giv'n way?
Did he look tamely on, and let 'em pass?
Por. Scarce had I left my father, but I met him
Borne on the shields of his surviving soldiers,
Breathless and pale, and cover'd o'er with wounds.
Long, at the head of his few faithful friends,
He stood the shock of a whole host of foes,
'Till obstinately brave, and bent on death,
Oppress with multitudes he greatly fell.
Cato. I'm satisfied.
Por. Not did he fall before.
His sword had pierc'd through the false heart of Syphax.
Yonder he lies. I saw the hoary traitor
Grin in the pangs of death, and bite the ground.
Cato. Thanks to thy gods! my boy has done his duty.
———Portius, when I am dead, be sure thou place
His urn near mine.
Por. Long may they keep asunder!
Luc. O Cato, arm thy soul with all its patience:
See where the corpse of thy dead son approaches:
The citizens and senators, alarm'd,
Have gather'd round it, and attend it weeping.
[Cato meeting the Corpse.
Cato. Welcome, my son! here lay him down, my friends,
Full in my sight, that I may view at leisure
The bloody corse, and count those glorious wounds.
———How beautiful is death, when earn'd by virtue!
Who would not be that youth! what pity is it
That we can die but once to serve our country!
———Why sits this sadness on your brows, my friends?
I should have blush'd if Cato's house had stood
Secure, and flourish'd in a civil war.
———Portius, behold thy brother, and remember
Thy life is not thy own, when Rome demands it.
Jub. Was ever man like this! [Aside.
Cato. Alas, my friends!
Why mourn you thus? let not a private loss
Afflict your hearts. 'Tis Rome requires our tears.
The mistress of the world, the feat of empire,
The nurse of heroes, the delight of gods,
That humbled the proud tyrants of the earth,
And set the nations free, Rome is no more.
O liberty! O virtue! O my country!
Jub. Behold that upright man! Rome fills his eyes
With tears that flow'd not o'er his own dead son. [Aside.
Cato. Whate'er the Roman virtue has subdu'd,
The sun's whole course, the day and year are Cesar's.
For him the self-devoted Decii dy'd,
The Fabii fell, and the great Scipios conquer'd:
Ev'n Pompey fought for Cesar. Oh my friends!
How is the toil of fate, the work of ages,
The Roman empire fall'n! O curst ambition!
Fall'n into Cesar's hands! our great fore-fathers
Had left him nought to conquer but his country.
Jub. While Cato lives, Cesar will blush to fee
Mankind enslav'd, and be asham'd of empire.
Cato. Cesar asham'd! has not he seen Pharsalia!
Luc. Cato, 'tis time thou save thyself and us.
Cato. Lose not a thought on me, I'm out of danger.
Heav'n will not leave me in the victor's hand.
Cesar shall never say, "I conquer'd Cato."
But, Oh my friends, your safety fills my heart
With anxious thoughts: a thousand secret terrors
Rise in my soul: how shall I save my friends!
'Tis now, O Cesar, I begin to fear thee.
Luc. Cesar has mercy, if we ask it of him.
Cato. Then ask it, I conjure you! let him know
Whatever was done against him, Cato did it.
Add, if you please, that I request it of him,
That I myself, with tears request it of him,
The virtue of my friends may pass unpunish'd.
Juba, my heart is troubled for thy sake.
Shou'd I advise thee to regain Numidia,
Or seek the conqueror? ———
Jub. If I forsake thee,
Whilst I have life, may heav'n abandon Juba!
Cato. Thy virtues, Prince, if I foresee aright,
Will one day make thee great; at Rome hereafter,
'Twill be no crime to have been Cato's friend.
Portius draw near! my son! thou oft hast seen
Thy fire engag'd in a corrupted state,
Wrestling with vice and faction: now thou see'st me
Spent, ov'rpowr'd, despairing of success;
Let me advise thee to retreat betimes
To thy paternal seat, the Sabine field,
Where the great Censor toil'd with his own hands,
And all our frugal ancestors were bless'd
In humble virtues, and a rural life.
There live retir'd: pray for the peace of Rome.
Content thyself to be obscurely good.
When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
The post of honour is a private station.
Por. I hope, my father does not recommend
A life to Portius that he scorns himself.
Cato. Farewel, my friends! if there be any of you
Who dare not trust the victor's clemency,
Know there are ships prepar'd by my command,
(Their sails already op'ning to the winds)
That shall convey you to the wish'd for port.
Is there aught else, my friends, I can do for you?
The conqueror draws near. Once more farewel!
If e'er we meet hereafter, we shall meet
In happier climes, and on a safer shore,
Where Cesar never shall approach us more.
[Pointing to his dead son.
There the brave youth, with love of virtue fir'd,
Who greatly in his country's cause expir'd,
Shall know he conquer'd. The firm patriot there
(Who made the welfare of mankind his care)
Tho' still by faction, vice, and fortune crost),
Shall find the gen'rous labour was not lost.