ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.
A Chamber.
Enter Lucia and Marcia.
| Lucia. Now, tell me, Marcia, tell me from thy soul, |
| If thou believest 'tis possible for woman |
| To suffer greater ills than Lucia suffers? |
| Marcia. Oh, Lucia, Lucia, might my big swol'n heart |
| Vent all its griefs, and give a loose to sorrow, |
| Marcia could answer thee in sighs, keep pace |
| With all thy woes, and count out tear for tear. |
| Lucia. I know thou'rt doom'd alike to be beloved |
| By Juba, and thy father's friend, Sempronius: |
| But which of these has power to charm like Portius? |
| Marcia. Still, I must beg thee not to name Sempronius. |
| Lucia, I like not that loud, boist'rous man. |
| Juba, to all the bravery of a hero, |
| Adds softest love, and more than female sweetness; |
| Juba might make the proudest of our sex, |
| Any of womankind, but Marcia, happy. |
| Lucia. And why not Marcia? Come, you strive in vain |
| To hide your thoughts from one who knows too well |
| The inward glowings of a heart in love. |
| Marcia. While Cato lives, his daughter has no right |
| To love or hate, but as his choice directs. |
| Lucia. But should this father give you to Sempronius? |
| Marcia. I dare not think he will: but if he should— |
| Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer, |
| Imaginary ills, and fancied tortures? |
| I hear the sound of feet! They march this way. |
| Let us retire, and try if we can drown |
| Each softer thought in sense of present danger: |
| When love once pleads admission to our hearts, |
| In spite of all the virtues we can boast, |
| The woman that deliberates is lost.[Exeunt. |
| Enter Sempronius, dressed like Juba, with Numidian Guards. |
| Sem. The deer is lodged, I've track'd her to her covert. |
| How will the young Numidian rave to see |
| His mistress lost! If aught could glad my soul, |
| Beyond the enjoyment of so bright a prize, |
| 'Twould be to torture that young, gay barbarian. |
| —But, hark! what noise! Death to my hopes! 'tis he, |
| 'Tis Juba's self! there is but one way left—— |
| Enter Juba. |
| Jub. What do I see? Who's this that dares usurp |
| The guards and habits of Numidia's prince? |
| Sem. One that was born to scourge thy arrogance, |
| Presumptuous youth! |
| Jub. What can this mean? Sempronius! |
| Sem. My sword shall answer thee. Have at thy heart. |
| Jub. Nay then, beware thy own, proud, barbarous man. |
| [Sempronius falls. |
| Sem. Curse on my stars! Am I then doom'd to fall |
| By a boy's hand, disfigured in a vile |
| Numidian dress, and for a worthless woman? |
| Gods, I'm distracted! this my close of life! |
| Oh, for a peal of thunder, that would make |
| Earth, sea, and air, and heav'n, and Cato tremble![Dies. |
| Jub. I'll hence to Cato, |
| That we may there at length unravel all |
| This dark design, this mystery of fate.[Exit Juba. |
| Enter Lucia and Marcia. |
| Lucia. Sure 'twas the clash of swords; my troubled heart |
| Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows, |
| It throbs with fear, and aches at ev'ry sound. |
| Oh, Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sake— |
| I die away with horror at the thought! |
| Marcia. See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's blood and murder! |
| Ha! a Numidian! Heav'n preserve the prince! |
| The face lies muffled up within the garment, |
| But ah! death to my sight! a diadem, |
| And royal robes! O gods! 'tis he, 'tis he! |
| Juba lies dead before us! |
| Lucia. Now, Marcia, now, call up to thy assistance |
| Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind; |
| Thou canst not put it to a greater trial. |
| Marcia. Lucia, look there, and wonder at my patience; |
| Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast, |
| To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted? |
| Lucia. What can I think, or say, to give thee comfort? |
| Marcia. Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills: |
| Behold a sight that strikes all comfort dead. |
| Enter Juba, listening. |
| I will indulge my sorrows, and give way |
| To all the pangs and fury of despair; |
| That man, that best of men, deserved it from me. |
| Jub. What do I hear? and was the false Sempronius |
| That best of men? Oh, had I fall'n like him, |
| And could have been thus mourn'd, I had been happy. |
| Marcia. 'Tis not in fate to ease my tortured breast. |
| Oh, he was all made up of love and charms! |
| Whatever maid could wish, or man admire: |
| Delight of every eye; when he appear'd, |
| A secret pleasure gladden'd all that saw him; |
| But when he talk'd, the proudest Roman blush'd |
| To hear his virtues, and old age grew wise. |
| Oh, Juba! Juba! |
| Jub. What means that voice? Did she not call on Juba? |
| Marcia. Why do I think on what he was? he's dead! |
| He's dead, and never knew how much I loved him! |
| Lucia, who knows but his poor, bleeding heart, |
| Amidst its agonies, remember'd Marcia, |
| And the last words he utter'd call'd me cruel! |
| Alas! he knew not, hapless youth, he knew not |
| Marcia's whole soul was full of love and Juba! |
| Jub. Where am I? Do I live? or am indeed |
| What Marcia thinks? All is Elysium round me! |
| Marcia. Ye dear remains of the most loved of men, |
| Nor modesty nor virtue here forbid |
| A last embrace, while thus—— |
| Jub. See, Marcia, see,[Throwing himself before her. |
| The happy Juba lives! he lives to catch |
| That dear embrace, and to return it too, |
| With mutual warmth, and eagerness of love. |
| Marcia. With pleasure and amaze I stand transported! |
| If thou art Juba, who lies there? |
| Jub. A wretch, |
| Disguised like Juba on a cursed design. |
| I could not bear |
| To leave thee in the neighbourhood of death, |
| But flew, in all the haste of love, to find thee; |
| I found thee weeping, and confess this once, |
| Am rapt with joy, to see my Marcia's tears. |
| Marcia. I've been surprised in an unguarded hour, |
| But must not go back; the love, that lay |
| Half smother'd in my breast, has broke through all |
| Its weak restraints, and burns in its full lustre. |
| I cannot, if I would, conceal it from thee. |
| Jub. My joy, my best beloved, my only wish! |
| How shall I speak the transport of my soul! |
| Marcia. Lucia, thy arm. Lead to my apartment. |
| Oh! prince! I blush to think what I have said, |
| But fate has wrested the confession from me; |
| Go on, and prosper in the paths of honour. |
| Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee, |
| And make the gods propitious to our love. |
| [Exeunt Marcia and Lucia. |
| Jub. I am so blest, I fear 'tis all a dream. |
| Fortune, thou now hast made amends for all |
| Thy past unkindness: I absolve my stars. |
| What though Numidia add her conquer'd towns |
| And provinces to swell the victor's triumph, |
| Juba will never at his fate repine: |
| Let Cæsar have the world, if Marcia's mine.[Exit. |
SCENE II.
The Street.
A March at a distance.
Enter Cato and Lucius.
| Luc. I stand astonish'd! What, the bold Sempronius, |
| That still broke foremost through the crowd of patriots, |
| As with a hurricane of zeal transported, |
| And virtuous even to madness— |
| Cato. Trust me, Lucius, |
| Our civil discords have produced such crimes, |
| Such monstrous crimes, I am surprized at nothing. |
| —Oh Lucius, I am sick of this bad world! |
| The daylight and the sun grow painful to me. |
| Enter Portius. |
| But see, where Portius comes: what means this haste? |
| Why are thy looks thus changed? |
| Por. My heart is grieved, |
| I bring such news as will afflict my father. |
| Cato. Has Cæsar shed more Roman blood? |
| Por. Not so. |
| The traitor Syphax, as within the square |
| He exercised his troops, the signal given, |
| Flew off at once with his Numidian horse |
| To the south gate, where Marcus holds the watch; |
| I saw, and call'd to stop him, but in vain: |
| He toss'd his arm aloft, and proudly told me, |
| He would not stay, and perish, like Sempronius. |
| Cato. Perfidious man! But haste, my son, and see |
| Thy brother Marcus acts a Roman's part.[Exit Portius. |
| —Lucius, the torrent bears too hard upon me: |
| Justice gives way to force: the conquer'd world |
| Is Cæsar's! Cato has no business in it. |
| Luc. While pride, oppression, and injustice reign, |
| The world will still demand her Cato's presence. |
| In pity to mankind submit to Cæsar, |
| And reconcile thy mighty soul to life. |
| Cato. Would Lucius have me live to swell the number |
| Of Cæsar's slaves, or by a base submission |
| Give up the cause of Rome, and own a tyrant? |
| Luc. The victor never will impose on Cato |
| Ungen'rous terms. His enemies confess |
| The virtues of humanity are Cæsar's. |
| Cato. Curse on his virtues! they've undone his country. |
| Such popular humanity is treason—— |
| But see young Juba; the good youth appears, |
| Full of the guilt of his perfidious subjects! |
| Luc. Alas, poor prince! his fate deserves compassion. |
| Enter Juba. |
| Jub. I blush, and am confounded to appear |
| Before thy presence, Cato. |
| Cato. What's thy crime? |
| Jub. I'm a Numidian. |
| Cato. And a brave one, too. Thou hast a Roman soul. |
| Jub. Hast thou not heard of my false countrymen? |
| Cato. Alas, young prince! |
| Falsehood and fraud shoot up in ev'ry soil, |
| The product of all climes—Rome has its Cæsars. |
| Jub. 'Tis generous thus to comfort the distress'd. |
| Cato. 'Tis just to give applause, where 'tis deserved: |
| Thy virtue, prince, has stood the test of fortune, |
| Like purest gold, that, tortured in the furnace, |
| Comes out more bright, and brings forth all its weight. |
| Jub. What shall I answer thee? |
| I'd rather gain |
| Thy praise, O Cato! than Numidia's empire. |
| Enter Portius. |
| Por. Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief! |
| My brother Marcus—— |
| Cato. Ha! what has he done? |
| Has he forsook his post? Has he given way? |
| Did he look tamely on, and let them pass? |
| Por. Scarce had I left my father, but I met him |
| Borne on the shields of his surviving soldiers, |
| Breathless 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 host of foes, |
| Till, obstinately brave, and bent on death, |
| Oppress'd with multitudes, he greatly fell. |
| Cato. I'm satisfied. |
| Por. Nor did he fall, before |
| His sword had pierced thro' the false heart of Syphax. |
| Yonder he lies. I saw the hoary traitor |
| 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 you place |
| His urn near mine. |
| Por. Long may they keep asunder! |
| Luc. Oh, Cato, arm thy soul with all its patience; |
| See where the corpse of thy dead son approaches! |
| The citizens and senators alarm'd, |
| Have gather'd round it, and attend it weeping. |
| Cato meeting the Corpse.—Senators attending. |
| Cato. Welcome, my son! Here lay him down, my friends, |
| Full in my sight, 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 serve our country! |
| —Why sits this sadness on your brows, my friends? |
| I should have blush'd, if Cato's house 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. |
| Jub. Was ever man like this! |
| Cato. Alas, my friends, |
| Why mourn you thus? let not a private loss |
| Afflict your hearts. 'Tis Rome requires our tears, |
| The mistress of the world, the seat of empire, |
| The nurse of heroes, the delight of gods, |
| That humbled the proud tyrants of the earth, |
| And set the nations free; Rome is no more. |
| Oh, liberty! Oh, virtue! Oh, my country! |
| Jub. Behold that upright man! Rome fills his eyes |
| With tears, that flow'd not o'er his own dear son.[Aside. |
| Cato. Whate'er the Roman virtue has subdued, |
| The sun's whole course, the day and year, are Cæsar's: |
| For him the self-devoted Decii died, |
| The Fabii fell, and the great Scipios conquer'd: |
| Ev'n Pompey fought for Cæsar. Oh, my friends, |
| How is the toil of fate, the work of ages, |
| The Roman empire, fall'n! Oh, cursed ambition! |
| Fall'n into Cæsar's hands! Our great forefathers |
| Had left him nought to conquer but his country. |
| Jub. While Cato lives, Cæsar will blush to see |
| Mankind enslaved, and be ashamed of empire. |
| Cato. Cæsar ashamed! Has he not seen Pharsalia? |
| Luc. 'Tis time thou save thyself and us. |
| Cato. Lose not a thought on me; I'm out of danger: |
| Heaven will not leave me in the victor's hand. |
| Cæsar shall never say, he conquer'd Cato. |
| But oh, my friends! your safety fills my heart |
| With anxious thoughts; a thousand secret terrors |
| Rise in my soul. How shall I save my friends? |
| 'Tis now, O Cæsar, I begin to fear thee! |
| Luc. Cæsar has mercy, if we ask it of him. |
| Cato. Then ask it, I conjure you; let him know, |
| Whate'er was done against him, Cato did it. |
| Add, if you please, that I request of him,— |
| That I myself, with tears, request it of him,— |
| The virtue of my friends may pass unpunish'd. |
| Juba, my heart is troubled for thy sake. |
| Should I advise thee to regain Numidia, |
| Or seek the conqueror? |
| Jub. If I forsake thee |
| Whilst I have life, may Heaven abandon Juba! |
| Cato. Thy virtues, prince, if I foresee aright, |
| Will one day make thee great; at Rome, hereafter, |
| 'Twill be no crime to have been Cato's friend. |
| Portius, draw near: my son, thou oft hast seen |
| Thy sire engaged in a corrupted state, |
| Wrestling with vice and faction: now thou see'st me |
| Spent, overpower'd, despairing of success. |
| Let me advise thee to retreat betimes |
| To thy paternal seat, the Sabine field; |
| Where the great Censor toil'd with his own hands, |
| And all our frugal ancestors were bless'd |
| In humble virtues, and a rural life; |
| There live retired, pray for the peace of Rome; |
| Content thyself to be obscurely good. |
| When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, |
| The post of honour is a private station. |
| Por. I hope my father does not recommend |
| A life to Portius that he scorns himself. |
| Cato. Farewell, my friends! If there be any of you |
| Who dare not trust the victor's clemency, |
| Know there are ships prepared, by my command, |
| That shall convey you to the wish'd-for port. |
| Is there aught else, my friends, I can do for you? |
| The conqueror draws near. Once more, farewell! |
| If e'er we meet hereafter, we shall meet |
| In happier climes, and on a safer shore, |
| Where Cæsar never shall approach us more. |
| [Pointing to his dead son. |
| There, the brave youth, with love of virtue fired, |
| Who greatly in his country's cause expired, |
| Shall know he conquer'd. The firm patriot there, |
| Who made the welfare of mankind his care, |
| Though still by faction, vice, and fortune crost, |
| Shall find the gen'rous labour was not lost.[Exeunt. |