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

LUCIUS.

Cato, amidft his flumbers, thinks on Rome,

And in the wild disorder of his foul

Mourns o'er his country.

Heaven guard us all.

-hah! a fecond groan!

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 Cafar!
LUCIU S.

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 fervice?
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 furvived,

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.—

loofe

-I'm fick to death-O when shall I get 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 search

The heart of man, and weigh his inmoft 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 foul that ever warm'd
A Roman breaft; 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 stand
A fence betwixt us and the victor's wrath;
Cato, tho' dead, fhall ftill protect his friends.
From hence, let fierce contending nations know
What dire effects from civil discord flow.
'Tis this that flakes 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.

Vo L. II.

F

EPI

EPILOGUE

By Dr. GARTH.

Spoken by Mrs. PORTER.

HAT odd fantaflie things we women do!

WHAT

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

To give you pain, themfelves they punish most.
Vows of virginity fhould well be weigh'd;
Too oft they're cancell'd, tho' in convents made.
Would you revenge fuch rafh refolves-you may:
Be fpiteful!—and believe the thing we say ;
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 choofe,
Too proud to ask, too humble to refuse :

We give to merit, and to wealth we fell;
He fighs with most fuccefs that fettles well.
The woes of wedlock with the joys we mix;
Tis best 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 breasts 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 show, and be a wretch in flate! At plays you egle, at the ring you bow; Even churches are no fanctuaries now: There, golden idols all your vows receive, She is no goddess 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 foft anguish tell, And eyes fhall utter what the lips conceal : Virtue again to its bright station climb, And beauty fear no enemy but time ; The fair fhall liften to defert alone, And every Lucia find a Cato's fon.