Sure 'tis a Dream! Dead and Alive at once!
If thou art Juba, who lies there?
Fub. A Wretch,

Difguifed like Juba on a curs'd Defign.
The Tale is long, nor have I heard it out,
Thy Father know's it all. I cou'd not bear
To leave thee in the Neighbourhood of Death,
But flew, in all the hafte of Love, to find thee.
I found thee weeping, and confefs this once,
Am wrap'd with Joy to fee my Marcia's Tears.

Marc. I've been furprized in an unguarded Hour,
But muft not now go back: The Love, that lay
Half fmóther'd in my Breaft, has broke through all
Its weak Restraints, and burn's in its full Luftre,
I cannot, if I wou'd, conceal it from thee.

Jub. I'm loft in Extafie! and do'st thou love,
Thou charming Maid?

Marc. And do'ft thou live to ask it?

Jub. This, this is Life indeed! Life worth preferving! Such Life as Juba never felt till now!

Marc. Believe me, Prince, before I thought thee dead, I did not know my felf how much I lov'd thee.

Jub. O fortunate Mistake!

Marc. O happy Marcia!

Jub. My Joy! my beft Beloved! my only Wish!

How fhall I fpeak the Transport of my Soul!

Marc. Lucia, thy Arm! Oh let me rest upon it !-----~
The Vital Blood, that had forfook my Heart,
Return's again in fuch tumultuous Tides,

It quite o'ercomes me. Lead to my Apartment.
O Prince! I blush to think what I have faid,
But Fate has wrefted the Confeffion from me,
Go on, and profper in the Paths of Honour,
Thy Virtue will excufe my Paffion for thee,

And make the Gods propitious to our Love. [Ex. Marc. and Luc.
Jub. I am fo blefs'd, I fear 'tis all a Dream.

Fortune, thou now haft made amends for all
H

Thy

Thy paft Unkindness. I abfolve my Stars.
What tho' Numidia add her conquer'd Towns
And Provinces to fwell the Victor's Triumph?
Juba will never at his Fate repine,

Let Cafar have the World, if Marcia's mine.

A March at a Distance.

Enter Cato and Lucius.

Luc. I ftand aftonifh't! What, the bold Sempronius! That still broke foremost through the Croud of Patriots, As with a Hurricane of Zeal transported,

And virtuous ev'n to Madness

Cato. Trust me, Lucius,

Our civil Discords have produced fuch Crimes,
Such monftrous Crimes, I am furprized at nothing.
O Lucius, I am fick of this bad World!
The Day-light and the Sun grow painful to me.

Enter Portius.

But fee where Portius come's! What mean's this Hafte?
Why are thy Looks thus changed?

Port. My Heart is griev'd.

I bring fuch News as will afflict my Father.
Cato. Has Cafar fhed more Roman Blood
Port. Not fo.

The Traytor Syphax, as within the Square
He exercised his Troops, the Signal giv'n,
Flew off at once with his Numidian Horfe
To the South Gate, where Marcus holds the Watch.
I faw, and call'd to ftop him, but in vain,
He tofs'd his Arm aloft, and proudly told me,
He wou'd not stay and perifh like Sempronius.
Cato. Perfidious Men! But hafte my Son, and fee

[Exit,

Thy

Thy Brother Marcus a&t's a Roman's Part.

Lucius, the Torrent bears too hard upon me:

Juftice give's Way to Force: the conquer'd World

Is Cafar's: Cato has no Bufinefs in it.

[Exit Portius.

Luc. While Pride, Oppreffion, and Injustice reign,” »
The World will still demand her Cato's Prefence:
In Pity to Mankind, fubmit to Cafar,

And reconcile thy Mighty Soul to Life.

Cato. Wou'd Lucius have me live to fwell the Number Of Cafar's Slaves, or by a base Submiffion

Give up

the Cause of Rome, and own a Tyrant? Luc. The Victor never will impofe on Cato Ungen'rous Terms. His Enemies confess

The Virtues of Humanity are Cafar'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 Subjects.

Luc. Alas, poor Prince! his Fate deferves Compaffion.

Enter Juba.

Fub. I blush, and am confounded to appear

Before thy Prefence, Cato.

Cato. What's thy Crime?

Jub. I'm a Numidian.

Cato. And a brave one too,

Thou haft a Roman Soul.
Jub. Haft thou not heard

Of my falfe Countrymen?
Cato. Alas, young Prince,

Falfhood and Fraud fhoot up in ev'ry Soil,
The Product of all Climes

Rome has its Cæfars.

Jub. 'Tis gen'rous thus to comfort the Distress'd.
Cato. "Tis juft to give Applaufe where 'tis deferv'd;
Thy Virtue, Prince, has ftood the Teft of Fortune,
Like pureft Gold, that, tortur'd in the Furnace,
H 2

Comes

Comes out more bright, and brings forth all its Weight.
Juba. What fhall I answer thee? my ravish'd Heart
O'erflows with fecret Joy: I'd rather gain

Thy Praife, O Cato, than Numidia's Empire.

Enter Portius baftily.

Port. Misfortune on Misfortune! Grief on Grief! My Brother Marcus

Cato. Hah! what has he done?

Has he forfook his Poft? has he giv'n way?
Did he look tamely on, and let 'em pafs?

Port. Scarce had I left my Father, but I met him
Born on the Shields of his furviving Soldiers,
Breathlefs and pale, and cover'd o'er with Wounds.
Long, at the Head of his few faithful Friends,
He flood the Shock of a whole Hoft of Foes,
Till obftinately Brave, and bent on Death,
Oppreft with Multitudes, he greatly fell.
Cato. I'm fatisfy'd.

Port. Nor did he fall before

His Sword had pierc'd through the falfe Heart of Syphax :
Yonder he lie's. I faw the hoary Traytor

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,befure thou place

His-Urne near mine.

Port. Long may they keep afunder!

Luc. O Cato, arm thy Soul with all its Patience; See where the Corps of thy dead Son approaches! The Citizens and Senators, alarm'd,

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

Cato meeting the Corps.

Cato. Welcome my Son! Here lay him down, my Friends,

Full in my Sight, that I may view at leisure

The

The bloody Coarfe, and count thofe glorious Wounds.
How beautiful is Death, when earn'd by Virtue!
Who wou'd not be that Youth? what Pity is it
That we can die but once to ferve our Country!
Why fit's this Sadnefs on your Brows, my Friends?
I fhou'd have blufh'd if Cata's Houfe had ftood
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!

Cato. Alas my Friends!

Why mourn you thus? Let not a private Loss

Afflict your Hearts. 'Tis Rome requires our Tea rs.
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 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 Son.

Cato. Whate'er the Roman Virtue has fubdu'd,
The Sun's whole Course, the Day and Year,are Cafar's.
For him the self-devoted Decii dy'd,

The Fabii fell, and the great Scipio's conquer'd:
Ev'n Pompey fought for Cafar. Oh my Friends!
How is the Toil of Fate, the Work of Ages,
The Roman Empire fall'n! O curft Ambition!
Fall'n into Cafar's Hands! Our great Fore-Fathers
Had left him nought to Conquer but his Country. :
Juba. While Cato lives, Cafar will blufh to fee
Mankind enslaved, and be ashamed of Empire.

Cato. Cafar alhamed! Has not he seen Pharfalia!
Luc. Cato, 'tis Time thou fave thy felf and us.
Cato. Lofe not a Thought on me. I'm out of Danger.
Heav'n will not leave me in the Victor's Hand.

Cafar fhall never fay I've conquer'd Cato.

But oh! my Friends, your Safety fills my Heart

[Afide.

[Afide.

With