A CT V. SCENE I.

CATO folus, fitting in a thoughtful pofture: In his hand Plato's book on the Immortality of the Soul. A drawn fword on the Table by him.

T must be fo.

IT

Plato, thou reafon'ft well!

Elfe whence this pleafing hope, this fond defire,
This longing after immortality?

Or whence this fecret dread, and inward horror,
Of falling into nought? why fhrinks the foul
Back on her felf, and ftartles at deftruction?
'Tis the divinity that ftirs within us;

'Tis heaven it self, that points out an Hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.

Eternity! thou pleafing, dreadful, thought!
Through what variety of untry'd being,

Through what new scenes and changes must we país?
The wide, th' unbounded profpect, lies before me;
But fhadows, clouds, and darkness, reft upon it.
Here will I hold. If there's a pow'r above us,
(And that there is all nature cries aloud
Through all her work:) he must delight in virtue;
And that which he delights in, must be happy.

But

But when! or where! - This world was made for Cæfar. I'm weary of conjectures- This must end 'em.

[Laying his hand on his sword.

Thus am I doubly arm'd: my death and life,
My bane and antidote are both before me:
This in a moment brings me to an end;
But this informs me I fhall never die.
The foul, fecure'd in her existence, fmiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The ftars fhall fade away, the fun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature fink in years;
But thou fhalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,

The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.
What means this heaviness that hangs upon me?
This lethargy that creeps through all my fenfes ?
Nature opprefs'd, and harrafs'd out with care,
Sinks down to reft. This once I'll favour her,
That my awaken'd foul may take her flight,
Renew'd in all her ftrength, and fresh with life,
An offering fit for heaven. Let guilt or fear
Disturb man's reft: Cato knows neither of 'em,
Indifferent in his choice to fleep or die.

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SCENE

SCENE II.

CATO, PORTIUS.

САТО.

But hah! how's this, my fon? why this intrufion? Were not my orders that I would be private ?

Why am I disobey'd?

PORTIUS.

Alas, my father!

What means this fword? this inftrument of death?,

Let me convey it hence!

Rafh youth, forbear!

CATO.

PORTIUS.

O let the prayers, th' entreaties of your friends,

Their tears, their common danger, wreft it from you.

CATO.

Would'st thou betray me? would'st thou give me up

A flave, a captive, into Cafar's hands?

Retire, and learn obedience to a father,

Or know, young man!

PORTIU S.

Look not thus fternly on me;

You know I'd rather die than disobey you.

САТО.

'Tis well! again I'm master of my felf.

Now,

Now, Cafar, let thy troops befet our gates,
And barr each avenue, thy gathering fleets
O'erfpread the fea, and ftop up every port;
Cato fhall open to himself a paffage,
And mock thy hopes-

PORTIUS.

O Sir, forgive your fon,

Whofe grief hangs heavy on him! O my father!
How am I fure it is not the last time

I e'er fhall call you fo! be not difpleafed,
O be not angry with me whilft I weep,
And, in the anguish of my heart, befeech you
To quit the dreadful purpose of your foul!

CATO.

Thou hast been ever good and dutiful. [Embracing him. Weep not, my fon. All will be well again...

The righteous gods, whom I have fought to please,
Will fuccour Cato, and preferve his children.

PORTIU S.

Your words give comfort to my drooping heart."
CATO.

Portius, thou may'ft rely upon my conduct.
Thy father will not act what misbecomes him.
But go, my fon, and fee if aught be wanting
Among thy father's friends; fee them embarked;
And tell me if the winds and feas befriend them.
My foul is quite weigh'd down with care, and asks
The foft refreshment of a moment's fleep.

POR

PORTIUS.

My thoughts are more at cafe, my heart revives.

SCENE III.

PORTIUS and MARCIA.

PORTIU S.

O Marcia, O my fifter, ftill there's hope!

Our father will not caft away a life

So needful to us all, and to his country.

He is retire'd to reft, and feems to cherish

Thoughts full of peace. He has difpatcht me hence
With orders, that befpeak a mind compofed,
And ftudious for the fafety of his friends.
Marcia, take care that none difturb his flumbers.
MARCI A.

O ye immortal powers, that guard the juft,
Watch round his couch, and foften his repose,
Banish his forrows, and becalm his foul

With easy dreams; remember all his virtues!
And fhow mankind that goodness is your care.

SCENE