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As with a hurricane of zeal transported,
And virtuous ev'n to madnefs-

Trust me, Lucius,

CATO.

Our civil difcords have produce'd fuch crimes,
Such monstrous crimes, I am furpris'd at nothing.
--O Lucius, I am fick of this bad world!
The day-light and the fun grow painful to me.

Enter PORTIU S.

But fee where Portius comes! what means this Why are thy looks thus changed?

PORTIU S.

My heart is griev’d.

I bring fuch news as will afflict my father.

CATO.

Has Cafar fhed more Roman blood?

Not fo.

PORTIU S.

[hafte?

The traitor Syphax, as within the square
He exercife'd his toops, the fignal given,
Flew off at once with his Numidian horfe
To the fouth gate, where Marcus holds the watch;
I faw, and call'd to ftop him, but in vain,
He toft his arm aloft, and proudly told me,
He would not stay and perifh like Sempronius.
CATO.

Perfidious men! but hafte, my fon, and fee Thy brother Marcus acts a Roman's part. [Ex. Por, Lucius, the torrent bears too hard upon me:

Juftice

Justice gives way to force: The conquer'd world Is Cafar's: Cato has no bufinefs in it.

LUCIU S.

While pride, oppreffion, and injustice reign, The world will still demand her Cato's prefence. In pity to mankind, submit to Cæfar,

And reconcile thy mighty foul to life.

CATO.

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Would Lucius have me live to fwell the number Of Cafar's flaves, or by a bafe fubmiffion up the cause of Rome, and own a tyrant?

Give

LUCIU S.

The victor never will impofe on Cato Ungen'rous terms. His enemies confefs The virtues of humanity are Cefar's.

CATO.

Curfe on his virtues! they've undone his country. Such popular humanity is treafon

But fee young Juba! the good youth appears
Full of the guilt of his perfidious fubjects.

LUCIU S.

Alas, poor Prince! his fate deferves compaffion.

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Before thy prefence, Cato.

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Alas, young Prince,

Falfhood and fraud fhoot up in every foil,

The product of all climes-Rome has its Cæfars.

JUBA.

'Tis gen'rous thus to comfort the diftreft.

CATO.

'Tis just to give applause where 'tis deferv'd; Thy virtue, Prince, has stood the test of fortune, Like pureft gold, that, tortur'd in the furnace, Comes out more bright, and brings forth all its weight.

JUBA,

What shall I answer thee? my ravish'd heart O'erflows with fecret joy: I'd rather gain Thy praife, O Cato, than Numidia's empire.

Re-enter PORTIU S.

PORTIU S.

Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief!

My brother Marcus

CATO.

Hah! what has he done!

Has he forfook his post? has he given way?
Did he look tamely on, and let 'em pass?

PORTIU S.

Scarce had I left my father, but I met him Borne on the fhields of his furviving foldiers, Breathlefs 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 hoft of foes; 'Till obftinately brave, and bent on death, Oppreft with multitudes, he greatly fell.

I'm fatisfy'd.

CATO.

PORTIU S.

Nor did he fall before

His fword had pierc'd through the falfe heart of Yonder he lies. I faw the hoary traitor [Syphax. Grin in the pangs of death, and bite the ground. CATO.

Thanks to the gods! my boy has done his duty. Portius, when I am dead, be sure thou place His urn near mine.

PORTIU S.

Long may they keep afunder!

LUCIU S.

O Cato, arm thy foul with all its patience; See where the corps of thy dead fon approaches! The citizens and fenators, alarm❜d,

Have gather'd round it, and attend it weeping.

CATO

CATO meeting the Corps.

Welcome my fon! here lay him down, my friends, Full in my fight, 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 ferve our country! -Why fits this fadnefs on your brows, my friends! I fhould have blush'd if Cato's houfe 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. JUBA.

Was ever man like this!

[Afide.

CATO.

Alas, my friends!

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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 fet the nations free, Rome is no more.
O liberty! O virtue! O my country!

JUBA.

Behold that upright man! Rome fills his eyes With tears, that flow'd not o'er his own dead fon.

CATO.

Whate'er the Roman virtue has fubdu'd,

[Afide.

The

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