But hark! what means that grone! O give me way,
And let me fly into my father's prefence.

LUCIU S.

Cato, amidst his flumbers, thinks on Rome,

And in the wild diforder of his foul

Mourns o'er his country.

-hah! a fecond

groan!

Heaven guard us all

MARCIA.

Alas, 'tis not the voice

Of one who fleeps! 'tis agonizing pain,

'Tis death is in that found

Enter PORTIUS.

O fight of woe!

PORTIU S.

O Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pafs!
Cato is fallen upon his fword

O Portius,

LUCIUS.

Hide all the horrours of thy mournful tale,

And let us guess the rest.

PORTIU S.

I've rais'd him up,

And place'd him in his chair, where pale, and faint,
He gafps for breath, and, as his life flows from him,
Demands to fee his friends. His fervants weeping,
Obfequious to his orders, bear him hither.

[The back Scene opens, and discovers Cato.

MAR

MARCI A.

O heav'n affift me in this dreadful hour

To pay

the laft fad duties to my father.

JUBA.

These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O Cæfar!

LUCIUS.

Now is Rome fallen indeed!

[Cato brought forward in his Chair. CATO.

Here fet me down

Portius come near me

are my friends embark'd ? Can any thing be thought of for their service? Whilft I yet live, let me not live in vain.

-O Lucius, art thou here? thou art too good!·
Let this our friendship live between our children;
Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia.
Alas poor man, he weeps!-Marcia, my daughter-
-O 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 Cæfar's arms have thrown down all distinction
Whoe'er is Brave and Virtuous, is a Roman.-

--I'm fick to death

O when fhall I get

loofe

;

From this vain world, th' abode of guilt and sorrow!

And yet methinks a beam of light breaks in

On my departing foul. Alas, I fear

I've been too hafty. O ye powers, that fearch

The heart of man, and weigh his inmost thoughts,

If

If I have done amifs, impute it not!

The best may err, but you are good, and-oh! [Dies.
LUCIU S.

There fled the greatest soul that ever warm'd
A Roman breast; O Cato! O my friend!
Thy will shall be religiously observ'd.
But let us bear this awful corps to Cæfar,
And lay it in his fight, that it may ftand
A fence betwixt us and the victor's wrath;
Cato, tho' dead, fhall still protect his friends.
From hence, let fierce contending nations know
What dire effects from civil difcord flow.
'Tis this that shakes our country with alarms,
And gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms,
Produces fraud, and cruelty, and ftrife,
And robs the Guilty world of Cato's life.

iVo L. II.

F

EPI.

EPILOGUE

By Dr. GARTH.

Spoken by Mrs. PORTER.

7 HAT odd fantastic things we women do !

WHAT

Who wou'd not liften when young lovers woo?
But die a maid, yet have the choice of two!
Ladies are often cruel to their coft;

To give you pain, themselves they punish most.
Vows of virginity should well be weigh'd;
Too oft they're cancell'd, tho' in convents made.
Would you revenge such rash resolves—you may:
Be fpiteful!- -and believe the thing we fay;
We hate you when you're eafily faid nay.
How needlefs, if you knew us, were your fears?
Let Love have eyes, and Beauty will have ears.
Our hearts are form'd as you yourselves would choose,
Too proud to ask, too bumble to refuse:
We give to merit, and to wealth we fell;
He fighs with moft fuccefs that fettles well.
The woes of wedlock with the joys we mix ;
Tis beft repenting in a coach and fix.

}

}

Blame

Blame not our conduct, fince we but pursue Thofe lively leffons we have learn'd from you : Your breafts no more the fire of beauty warms, But wicked wealth ufurps the power of charms; What pains to get the gaudy thing you hate ! To fwell in fhow, and be a wretch in ftate! At plays you ogle, at the ring you bow; Even churches are no fanctuaries now : There, golden idols all your vows receive, She is no goddefs that has nought to give. Oh, may once more the happy age appear, When words were artless, and the thoughts fincere ; When gold and grandeur were unenvy'd things, And courts lefs coveted than groves and springs. Love then fhall only mourn when truth complains, And conftancy feel transport in its chains; Sighs with fuccefs their own soft anguish tell, And eyes fall utter what the lips conceal : Virtue again to its bright flation climb, And beauty fear no enemy but time ; The fair fhall liften to defert alone, And every Lucia find a Cato's fon.