University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Senate.
Sem.
Rome still survives in this assembled Senate!
Let us remember we are Cato's Friends,
And act like Men who claim that glorious Title.

Luc.
Cato will soon be here, and open to us
Th'Occasion of our Meeting. Heark! he comes!
[A Sound of Trumpets.
May all the Guardian Gods of Rome direct him!

Enter Cato.
Cato.
Fathers, we once again are met in Council.
Cæsar's Approach has summon'd us together,
And Rome attends her Fate from our Resolves:
How shall we treat this bold aspiring Man?
Success still follows him, and backs his Crimes:
Pharsalia gave him Rome; Egypt has since
Receiv'd his Yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæsar's.
Why should I mention Juba's Overthrow,
And Scipio's Death? Numidia's burning Sands
Still smoak with Blood. 'Tis time we should decree
What Course to take. Our Foe advances on us,
And envies us ev'n Libya's sultry Desarts.
Fathers, pronounce your Thoughts, are they still fixt
To hold it out, and fight it to the last?
Or are your Hearts subdu'd at length, and wrought
By Time and ill Success to a Submission?
Sempronius speak.

Semp.
My Voice is still for War.
Gods, can a Roman Senate long debate
Which of the two to chuse, Slav'ry or Death!
No, let us rise at once, gird on our Swords,
And, at the Head of our remaining Troops,
Attack the Foe, break through the thick Array
Of his throng'd Legions, and charge home upon him.
Perhaps some Arm, more lucky than the rest,
May reach his Heart, and free the World from Bondage.
Rise, Fathers, rise; 'tis Rome demands your Help;
Rise, and revenge her slaughter'd Citizens,
Or share their Fate: The Corps of half her Senate
Manure the Fields of Thessaly, while we
Sit here, delib'rating in cold Debates,
If we should sacrifice our Lives to Honour,
Or wear them out in Servitude and Chains.
Rouse up for Shame! our Brothers of Pharsalia
Point at their Wounds, and cry aloud—To Battel!
Great Pompey's Shade complain's that we are slow,
And Scipio's Ghost walk's unrevenged amongst us.

Cato.
Let not a Torrent of impetuous Zeal
Transport thee thus beyond the Bounds of Reason:
True Fortitude is seen in great Exploits
That Justice warrant's, and that Wisdom guide's,
All else is tow'ring Frenzy and Distraction.
Are not the Lives of those, who draw the Sword
In Rome's Defence, entrusted to our Care?
Should we thus lead them to a Field of Slaughter,
Might not th'impartial World with Reason say
We lavisht at our Deaths the Blood of Thousands
To grace our Fall, and make our Ruin glorious?
Lucius, we next would know what's your Opinion.

Luc.
My Thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd on Peace.
Already have our Quarrels fill'd the World
With Widows and with Orphans: Scythia mourn's
Our guilty Wars, and Earth's remotest Regions
Lie half unpeopled by the Feuds of Rome:
'Tis time to sheath the Sword, and spare Mankind.
It is not Cæsar, but the Gods, my Fathers,
The Gods declare against us, and repell
Our vain Attempts. To urge the Foe to Battel,
(Prompted by blind Revenge and wild Despair)
Were to refuse th'Awards of Providence,
And not to rest in Heav'ns Determination.
Already have we shown our Love to Rome,
Now let us show Submission to the Gods.
We took up Arms, not to revenge our selves,
But free the Common-wealth; when this End fail's,
Arms have no further Use: Our Country's Cause,
That drew our Swords, now wrests 'em from our Hands,
And bid's us not delight in Roman Blood,
Unprofitably shed; what Men could do
Is done already: Heav'n and Earth will witness,
If Rome must fall, that we are innocent.

Semp.
This smooth Discourse and mild Behaviour oft
Conceal a Traytor—Something whispers me
All is not right—Cato, beware of Lucius.

[Aside to Cato.
Cato.
Let us appear nor Rash nor Diffident:
Immod'rate Valour swell's into a Fault,
And Fear, admitted into publick Councils,
Betray's like Treason. Let us shun 'em both.
Fathers, I cannot see that our Affairs,
Are grown thus desp'rate. We have Bulwarks round us;
Within our Walls are Troops enur'd to Toil
In Africk's Heats, and season'd to the Sun;
Numidia's spacious Kingdom lie's behind us,
Ready to rise at its young Prince's Call.
While there is Hope, do not distrust the Gods;
But wait at least till Cæsar's near Approach
Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late
To sue for Chains, and own a Conqueror.
Why should Rome fall a Moment ere her time?
No, let us draw her Term of Freedom out
In its full Length, and spin it to the last.
So shall we gain still one Day's Liberty;
And let me perish, but, in Cato's Judgment,
A Day, an Hour of virtuous Liberty,
Is worth a whole Eternity in Bondage.

Enter Marcus.
Marc.
Fathers, this Moment as I watch'd the Gates,
Lodg'd on my Post, a Herald is arrived
From Cæsar's Camp, and with him comes old Decius,
The Roman Knight; he carry's in his Looks
Impatience, and demands to speak with Cato.

Cato.
By your Permission, Fathers, bid him enter.
[Exit Marcus.
Decius was once my Friend, but other Prospects
Have loosed those Ties, and bound him fast to Cæsar.
His Message may determine our Resolves.

Enter Decius.
Dec.
Cæsar sends Health to Cato—

Cato.
Could he send it
To Cato's slaughter'd Friends, it would be welcome.
Are not your Orders to address the Senate?

Dec.
My Business is with Cato: Cæsar see's
The Streights to which you're driv'n; and as he know's
Cato's high Worth, is anxious for his Life.

Cato.
My Life is grafted on the Fate of Rome:
Would he save Cato? Bid him spare his Country.
Tell your Dictator this, and tell him Cato
Disdain's a Life, which he has Pow'r to offer.

Dec.
Rome and Her Senators submit to Cæsar;
Her Gen'rals and her Consuls are no more,
Who check'd his Conquests, and denied his Triumphs.
Why will not Cato be this Cæsar's Friend?

Cato.
Those very Reasons, thou hast urged, forbid it.

Dec.
Cato, I've Orders to expostulate,
And reason with you as from Friend to Friend:
Think on the Storm that gather's o'er your Head,
And threaten's ev'ry Hour to burst upon it,
Still may you stand high in your Country's Honours,
Do but comply, and make your Peace with Cæsar,
Rome will rejoice, and cast its Eyes on Cato,
As on the Second of Mankind.

Cato.
No more!
I must not think of Life on such Conditions.

Dec.
Cæsar is well acquainted with your Virtues,
And therefore sets this Value on your Life:
Let him but know the Price of Cato's Friendship,
And name your Terms.

Cato.
Bid him disband his Legions,
Restore the Common-wealth to Liberty,
Submit his Actions to the Public Censure,
And stand the Judgment of a Roman Senate.
Bid him do this, and Cato is his Friend.

Dec.
Cato, the World talk's loudly of your Wisdom—

Cato.
Nay more, tho' Cato's Voice was ne'er employ'd
To clear the Guilty, and to varnish Crimes,
My self will mount the Rostrum in his Favour,
And strive to gain his Pardon from the People.

Dec.
A Stile like this become's a Conqueror.

Cato.
Decius, a Stile like this become's a Roman.

Dec.
What is a Roman, that is Cæsar's Foe?

Cato.
Greater than Cæsar, he's a Friend to Virtue.

Dec.
Consider, Cato, you're in Utica;
And at the Head of your own little Senate,
You don't now thunder in the Capitol,
With all the Mouths of Rome to second you.

Cato.
Let him consider That who drives us hither:
'Tis Cæsar's Sword has made Rome's Senate little,
And thinn'd its Ranks. Alas, thy dazzled Eye
Behold's this Man in a false glaring Light,
Which Conquest and Success have thrown upon him;
Didst thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black
With Murder, Treason, Sacrilege, and Crimes,
That strike my Soul with Horror but to name 'em.
I know thou look'st on me, as on a Wretch
Beset with Ills, and cover'd with Misfortunes;
But, by the Gods I swear, Millions of Worlds
Shou'd never buy me to be like that Cæsar.

Dec.
Do's Cato send this Answer back to Cæsar,
For all his gen'rous Cares, and proffer'd Friendship?

Cato.
His Cares for me are insolent and vain:
Presumptuous Man! The Gods take Care of Cato.
Wou'd Cæsar show the Greatness of his Soul,
Bid him employ his Care for these my Friends,
And make good use of his ill-gotten Pow'r,
By sheltring Men much better than himself.

Dec.
Your high unconquer'd Heart make's you forget
That you're a Man. You rush on your Destruction.
But I have done. When I relate hereafter
The Tale of this unhappy Embassie
All Rome will be in Tears.
[Exit Decius.

Semp.
Cato, we thank thee.
The mighty Genius of Immortal Rome
Speak's in thy Voice, thy Soul breath's Liberty:
Cæsar will shrink to hear the Words thou utter'st,
And shudder in the midst of all his Conquests.

Luc.
The Senate own's its Gratitude to Cato,
Who with so great a Soul consult's its Safety,
And guard's our Lives, while he neglect's his own.

Semp.
Sempronius give's no Thanks on this Account.
Lucius seem's fond of Life; but what is Life?
'Tis not to stalk about, and draw fresh Air
From time to time, or gaze upon the Sun;
'Tis to be free. When Liberty is gone,
Life grow's insipid, and has lost its Relish.
O cou'd my dying Hand but lodge a Sword
In Cæsar's Bosom, and revenge my Country,
By Heav'ns I cou'd enjoy the Pangs of Death,
And Smile in Agony.

Luc.
Others perhaps
May serve their Country with as warm a Zeal,
Tho' 'tis not kindled into so much Rage.

Semp.
This sober Conduct is a mighty Virtue
In luke-warm Patriots.

Cato.
Come! no more, Sempronius,
All here are Friends to Rome, and to each other.
Let us not weaken still the weaker Side,
By our Divisions.

Semp.
Cato, my Resentments
Are sacrificed to Rome—I stand reproved.

Cato.
Fathers, 'tis time you come to a Resolve.

Luc.
Cato, we all go into your Opinion.
Cæsar's Behaviour has convinced the Senate
We ought to hold it out till Terms arrive.

Semp.
We ought to hold it out till Death; but, Cato,
My private Voice is drown'd amid the Senate's.

Cato.
Then let us rise, my Friends, and strive to fill
This little Interval, this Pause of Life,
(While yet our Liberty and Fates are doubtful)
With Resolution, Friendship, Roman Brav'ry,
And all the Virtues we can crowd into it,
That Heav'n may say, it ought to be prolong'd.
Fathers, farewell—The young Numidian Prince
Comes forward, and expects to know our Councils.

[Ex. Senators.
Enter Juba.
Cato.
Juba, the Roman Senate has resolv'd,
Till Time give better Prospects, still to keep
The Sword unsheath'd, and turn its Edge on Cæsar.

Jub.

Cato.
Juba, thy Father was a worthy Prince,
And merited, alas! a better Fate;
But Heav'n thought otherwise.

Juba.
My Father's Fate,
In spight of all the Fortitude, that shine's
Before my Face, in Cato's great Example,
Subdue's my Soul, and fill's my Eyes with Tears.

Cato.
It is an honest Sorrow, and becomes thee.

Juba.
My Father drew Respect from foreign Climes:
The Kings of Africk sought him for their Friend;
Kings far remote, that rule, as Fame report's,
Behind the hidden Sources of the Nile,
In distant Worlds, on t'other side the Sun:
Oft have their black Ambassadors appear'd,
Loaden with Gifts, and fill'd the Courts of Zama.

Cato.
I am no Stranger to thy Father's Greatness.

Juba.
I would not boast the Greatness of my Father,
But point out new Alliances to Cato.
Had we not better leave this Utica,
To arm Numidia in our Cause, and court
Th' Assistance of my Father's pow'rful Friends?
Did they know Cato, our remotest Kings
Wou'd pour embattled Multitudes about him;
Their swarthy Hosts would darken all our Plains,
Doubling the native Horrour of the War,
And making Death more grim.

Cato.
And canst thou think
Cato will fly before the Sword of Cæsar?
Reduced, like Hannibal, to seek Relief
From Court to Court, and wander up and down,
A Vagabond in Africk!

Jub.
Cato, perhaps
I'm too officious, but my forward Cares
Wou'd fain preserve a Life of so much Value.
My Heart is wounded, when I see such Virtue
Afflicted by the Weight of such Misfortunes.

Cato.
Thy Nobleness of Soul obliges me.
But know, young Prince, that Valour soar's above
What the World calls Misfortune and Affliction.
These are not Ills; else wou'd they never fall
On Heav'ns first Fav'rites, and the best of Men:
The Gods, in Bounty, work up Storms about us,
That give Mankind Occasion to exert
Their hidden Strength, and throw out into Practice
Virtues, that shun the Day, and lie conceal'd
In the smooth Seasons, and the Calms of Life.

Jub.
I'm charm'd when e'er thou talk'st! I pant for Virtue!
And all my Soul endeavours at Perfection.

Cato.
Dost thou love Watchings, Abstinence, and Toil,
Laborious Virtues all? Learn them from Cato:
Success and Fortune must thou learn from Cæsar.

Jub.
The best good Fortune that can fall on Juba,
The whole Success, at which my Heart aspires,
Depends on Cato.

Cato.
What does Juba say?
Thy Words confound me.

Jub.
I would fain retract them.
Give 'em me back again. They aim'd at nothing.

Cato.
Tell me thy Wish, young Prince; make not my Ear
A Stranger to thy Thoughts.

Jub.
Oh, they're extravagant;
Still let me hide them.

Cato.
What can Juba ask
That Cato will refuse!

Jub.
I fear to name it.
Marcia—inherits all her Father's Virtues.

Cato.
What wou'dst thou say?

Jub.
Cato, thou hast a Daughter.

Cato.
Adieu, young Prince: I wou'd not hear a Word
Shou'd lessen thee in my Esteem: Remember
The Hand of Fate is over us, and Heav'n
Exact's Severity from all our Thoughts:
It is not now a Time to talk of aught
But Chains, or Conquest; Liberty, or Death.

[Exit.
Enter Syphax.
Syph.
How's this, my Prince! What, cover'd with Confusion?
You look as if yon stern Philosopher
Had just now chid you.

Jub.
Syphax, I'm undone!

Syph.
I know it well.

Jub.
Cato thinks meanly of me.

Syph.
And so will all Mankind.

Jub.
I've open'd to him
The Weakness of my Soul, my Love for Marcia.

Syph.
Cato's a proper Person to entrust
A Love-Tale with.

Jub.
Oh, I could pierce my Heart,
My foolish Heart! Was ever Wretch like Juba?

Syph.
Alas, my Prince how are you changed of late!
I've known young Juba rise, before the Sun,
To beat the Thicket where the Tyger slept,
Or seek the Lion in his dreadful Haunts:
How did the Colour mount into your Cheeks,
When first you rous'd him to the Chace! I've seen you
Ev'n in the Lybian Dog-days hunt him down,
Then charge him close, provoke him to the Rage
Of Fangs and Claws, and stooping from your Horse
Rivet the panting Savage to the Ground.

Jub.
Prithee, no more!

Syph.
How wou'd the old King smile
To see you weigh the Paws, when tipp'd with Gold,
And throw the shaggy Spoils about your Shoulders!

Jub.
Syphax, this old Man's Talk (tho' Honey flow'd
In ev'ry Word) wou'd now lose all its Sweetness.
Cato's displeas'd, and Marcia lost for ever!

Syph.
Young Prince, I yet cou'd give you good Advice.
Marcia might still be yours.

Jub.
What say'st thou, Syphax?
By Heav'ns, thou turn'st me all into Attention.

Syph.
Marcia might still be yours.

Jub.
As how, Dear Syphax?

Syph.
Juba command's Numidia's hardy Troops,
Mounted on Steeds, unused to the Restraint
Of Curbs or Bits, and fleeter than the Winds:
Give but the Word, we'll snatch this Damsel up,
And bear her off.

Jub.
Can such dishonest Thoughts
Rise up in Man! wou'dst thou seduce my Youth
To do an Act that wou'd destroy my Honour?

Syph.
Gods, I cou'd tear my Beard to hear you talk!
Honour's a fine imaginary Notion,
That draws in raw and unexperienced Men
To real Mischiefs, while they hunt a Shadow.

Jub.
Wou'dst thou degrade thy Prince into a Ruffian?

Syph.
The boasted Ancestors of these great Men,
Whose Virtues you admire, were all such Ruffians.
This Dread of Nations, this Almighty Rome,
That comprehends in her wide Empire's Bounds
All under Heav'n, was founded on a Rape.
Your Scipios', Cæsar's, Pompey's, and your Cato's,
(These Gods on Earth) are all the spurious Brood
Of violated Maids, of ravish'd Sabines.

Jub.
Syphax, I fear that hoary Head of thine
Abound's too much in our Numidian Wiles.

Syph.
Indeed my Prince, you want to know the World,
You have not read Mankind, your Youth admire's
The Throws and Swellings of a Roman Soul,
Cato's bold Flights, th'Extravagance of Virtue.

Jub.
If Knowledge of the World makes Man perfidious,
May Juba ever live in Ignorance!

Syph.
Go, go, you're young.

Jub.
Gods, must I tamely bear
This Arrogance unanswer'd! Thou'rt a Traitor,
A false old Traitor.

Syph.
I have gone too far.

[Aside.
Jub.
Cato shall know the Baseness of thy Soul.

Syph.
I must appease this Storm, or perish in it.
[Aside.
Young Prince, behold these Locks, that are grown white
Beneath a Helmet in your Father's Battels.

Jub.
Those Locks shall ne'er protect thy Insolence.

Syph.
Must one rash Word, th'Infirmity of Age,
Throw down the Merit of my better Years?
This the Reward of a whole Life of Service!
Curse on the Boy! How steadily he hears me!

[Aside.
Jub.
Is it because the Throne of my Fore-fathers
Still stands unfill'd, and that Numidia's Crown
Hangs doubtful yet, whose Head it shall enclose,
Thou thus presumest to treat thy Prince with Scorn?

Syph.
Why will you rive my Heart with such Expressions?
Do's not old Syphax follow you to War?
What are his Aims? Why do's he load with Darts
His trembling Hand, and crush beneath a Cask
His wrinkled Brows? What is it he aspires to?
Is it not this? to shed the slow Remains,
His last poor Ebb of Blood in your Defence?

Jub.
Syphax, no more! I wou'd not hear you talk.

Syph.
Not hear me talk! What, when my Faith to Juba,
My royal Master's Son, is call'd in question?
My Prince may strike me dead, and I'll be dumb:
But whilst I live I must not hold my Tongue,
And languish out old Age in his Displeasure.

Jub.
Thou know'st the Way too well into my Heart,
I do believe thee loyal to thy Prince.

Syph.
What greater Instance can I give? I've offer'd
To do an Action which my Soul abhor's,
And gain you whom you love at any Price.

Jub.
Was this thy Motive? I have been too hasty.

Syph.
And 'tis for this my Prince has call'd me Traytor.

Jub.
Sure thou mistakest; I did not call thee so.

Syph.
You did indeed, my Prince, you call'd me Traytor:
Nay, further, threaten'd you'd complain to Cato.
Of what, my Prince, wou'd you complain to Cato?
That Syphax loves you, and wou'd sacrifice
His Life, nay more, his Honour in your Service.

Jub.
Syphax, I know thou lov'st me, but indeed
Thy Zeal for Juba carried thee too far.
Honour's a sacred Tie, the Law of Kings,
The noble Mind's distinguishing Perfection,
That aid's and strengthens Virtue, where it meets her,
And imitates her Actions, where she is not:
It ought not to be sported with.

Syph.
By Heav'ns
I'm ravisht when you talk thus, tho' you chide me.
Alas, I've hitherto been used to think
A blind officious Zeal to serve my King
The ruling Principle, that ought to burn
And quench all others in a Subject's Heart.
Happy the People who preserve their Honour
By the same Duties that oblige their Prince!

Jub.
Syphax, thou now begin'st to speak thy self.
Numidia's grown a Scorn among the Nations
For Breach of publick Vows. Our Punick Faith
Is infamous, and branded to a Proverb.
Syphax, we'll join our Cares, to purge away
Our Country's Crimes, and clear her Reputation.

Syph.
Believe me, Prince, you make old Syphax weep
To hear you talk—but 'tis with Tears of Joy.
If e're your Father's Crown adorn your Brows,
Numidia will be blest by Cato's Lectures.

Jub.
Syphax, thy Hand! we'll mutually forget
The Warmth of Youth, and Frowardness of Age:
Thy Prince esteems thy Worth, and loves thy Person.
If e're the Scepter comes into my Hand,
Syphax shall stand the second in my Kingdom.

Syph.
Why will you overwhelm my Age with Kindness?
My Joy grows burdensome, I sha'n't support it.

Jub.
Syphax, farewell. I'll hence, and try to find
Some blest Occasion that may set me right
In Cato's Thoughts. I'd rather have that Man
Approve my Deeds, than Worlds for my Admirers.

[Exit.
Syphax
solus.
Young Men soon give, and soon forget Affronts;
Old Age is slow in both—A false old Traytor!
Those Words, rash Boy, may chance to cost thee dear:
My Heart had still some foolish Fondness for thee:
But hence! 'tis gone: I give it to the Winds:—
Cæsar, I'm wholly thine—

Enter Sempronius.
Syph.
All hail, Sempronius!
Well, Cato's Senate is resolv'd to wait
The Fury of a Siege, before it yields.

Semp.
Syphax, we both were on the Verge of Fate:
Lucius declared for Peace, and Terms were offer'd
To Cato by a Messenger from Cæsar.
Shou'd they submit, ere our Designs are ripe,
We both must perish in the common Wreck,
Lost in a gen'ral undistinguisht Ruin.

Syph.
But how stands Cato?

Semp.
Thou hast seen Mount Atlas:
While Storms and Tempests thunder on its Brows,
And Oceans break their Billows at its Feet,
It stands unmoved, and glorie's in its Height.
Such is that haughty Man, his tow'ring Soul,
'Midst all the Shocks and Injuries of Fortune,
Rises superior, and looks down on Cæsar.

Syph.
But what's this Messenger?

Semp.
I've practis'd with him,
And found a Means to let the Victor know
That Syphax and Sempronius are his Friends.
But let me now examine in my Turn:
Is Juba fixt?

Syph.
Yes, but it is to Cato.
I've try'd the Force of ev'ry Reason on him,
Sooth'd and carress'd, been angry, sooth'd again,
Lay'd Safety, Life, and Int'rest in his Sight,
But all are vain, he scorns them all for Cato.

Semp.
Come, 'tis no Matter, we shall do without him.
He'll make a pretty Figure in a Triumph,
And serve to trip before the Victor's Chariot.
Syphax, I now may hope thou hast forsook
Thy Juba's Cause, and wishest Marcia mine.

Syph.
May she be thine as fast as thou wou'dst have her!

Semp.
Syphax, I love that Woman; tho' I curse
Her and my self, yet spight of me, I love her.

Syph.
Make Cato sure, and give up Utica,
Cæsar will ne'er refuse thee such a Trifle.
But are thy Troops prepared for a Revolt?
Do's the Sedition catch from Man to Man,
And run among their Ranks?

Semp.
All, all is ready.
The factious Leaders are our Friends, that spread
Murmurs and Discontents among the Soldiers.
They count their toilsome Marches, long Fatigues,
Unusual Fastings, and will bear no more
This Medly of Philosophy and War.
Within an Hour they'll storm the Senate-House.

Syph.
Mean while I'll draw up my Numidian Troops
Within the Square, to exercise their Arms,
And, as I see Occasion, favour thee.
I laugh to think how your unshaken Cato
Will look aghast, while unforeseen Destruction
Pou'rs in upon him thus from every Side.
So, where our wide Numidian Wasts extend,
Sudden, th'impetuous Hurricanes descend,
Wheel through the Air, in circling Eddies play,
Tear up the Sands, and sweep whole Plains away.
The helpless Traveller, with wild Surprize,
Sees the dry Desart all around him rise,
And, smother'd in the dusty Whirlwind Dies.

[Exeunt.