Ye Gods, what havock does Ambition make Among your works! MARCUS. Thy fteddy temper, Portius, Can look on guilt, rebellion, fraud, and Cæfar, I'm tortur'd, even to madness, when I think Th' infulting tyrant, prancing o'er the field Oh Portius, is there not some chosen curse, Believe me, Marcus, 'tis an impious greatness, Of honour, virtue, liberty, and Rome. His fword ne'er fell but on the guilty head; Oppreffion, tyranny, and power ufurp'd, f Draw all the vengeance of his arm upon 'em. MAR knows not this? but what can Cato do nft a world, a bafe degenerate world, courts the yoke, and bows the neck to Cæsar? up in Utica he vainly forms or epitome of Roman greatness, cover'd with Numidian guards, directs ble army, and an empty senate nants of mighty battles fought in vain. leavens, fuch virtues, join'd with fuch fuccefs, foul: Our father's fortune act my very Id almost tempt us to renounce his precepts. emember what our father oft has told us : and bewilder'd in the fruitless search : MARCU S. efe are fuggeftions of a mind at eafe; Tortius, didft thou taste but half the griefs wring my foul, thou couldft not talk thus coldly. n unpity'd, and fucceflefs love, daggers in my heart, and aggravate ther griefs. Were but my Lucia kind ! L. II. B POR PORTIUS. Thou fee'ft not that thy Brother is thy Rival: But I must hide it, for I know thy temper. Now, Marcus, now, thy virtue's on the proof: Put forth thy utmost strength, work every nerve, And call up all thy father in thy foul: To quell the tyrant Love, and guard thy heart MARCU S. - Portius, the counsel which I cannot take, Inftead of healing, but upbraids my weakness. Bid me for honour plunge into a war Of thickest foes, and rush on certain death, PORTIUS. Behold young Juba, the Numidian Prince! [Afide. But H till the fmother'd fondness burns within him. n moft it fwells, and labours for a vent, , fense of honour, and defire of fame e the big paffion back into his heart. roach great Cato's.fon, and fhow the world MARCU S. 3 ortius, no more! your words leave ftings behind 'em. en-e'er did Juba, or did Portius, show rtue that has caft me at a distance, thrown me out in the pursuits of honour ? PORTIUS, Marcus, I know thy gen'rous temper well Brother's fufferings claim a Brother's pity. Heaven knows I pity thee: behold my eyes n whilst I speak- -Do they not swim in tears? e but my heart as naked to thy view, cus would fee it bleed in his behalf. MARCU S. Why then doft treat me with rebukes, instead kind condoling cares, and friendly forrow? PORTIU S. O Marcus, did I know the way to cafe Thy troubled heart, and mitigate thy pains, MARCU S. Thou beft of brothers, and thou beft of Friends! Pardon a weak diftemper'd foul, that fwells With fudden gufts, and finks as foon in calms, The sport of paffions: but Sempronius comes: [Exit. II. SCENE SEMPRONIUS, PORTIUS. SEMPRONIUS. Confpiracies no fooner fhould 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. [Afide. Good-morrow Portius! let us once embrace, PORTIU S. My father has this morning call'd together To this poor hall his little Roman Senate, (The leavings of Pharfalia) to confult If |