University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Marcus and Portius.
Marc.
Thanks to my Stars, I have not ranged about
The Wilds of Life, 'ere I cou'd find a Friend;
Nature first pointed out my Portius to me,
And early taught me, by her secret Force,
To love thy Person, 'ere I knew thy Merit;
Till, what was Instinct, grew up into Friendship.

Port.
Marcus, the Friendships of the World are oft
Confed'racies in Vice, or Leagues of Pleasure;
Ours has severest Virtue for its Basis,
And such a Friendship end's not but with Life.

Marc.
Portius, thou know'st my Soul in all its Weakness;
Then prithee spare me on its tender Side,
Indulge me but in Love, my other Passions
Shall rise and fall by Virtue's nicest Rules.

Port.
When Love's well timed, 'tis not a Fault to love.
The Strong, the Brave, the Virtuous, and the Wise,
Sink in the soft Captivity together.
I wou'd not urge thee to dismiss thy Passion,
(I know 'twere vain) but to suppress its Force,
Till better Times may make it look more graceful.

Marc.
Alas! thou talk'st like one who never felt
Th'impatient Throbbs and Longings of a Soul,
That pant's, and reache's after distant Good.
A Lover do's not live by vulgar Time:
Believe me, Portius, in my Lucia's Absence
Life hang's upon me, and become's a Burden;
And yet when I behold the charming Maid
I'm ten-times more undone; while Hope, and Fear,
And Grief, and Rage, and Love, rise up at once,
And with Variety of Pain distract me.

Port.
What can thy Portius do to give thee Help?

Marc.
Portius, thou oft enjoy'st the Fair One's Presence:
Then undertake my Cause, and plead it to her
With all the Strength and Heats of Eloquence
Fraternal Love and Friendship can inspire.
Tell her thy Brother languishe's to Death,
And fade's away, and wither's in his Bloom;
That he forgets his Sleep, and loath's his Food,
That Youth, and Health, and War are joyless to him:
Describe his anxious Days, and restless Nights,
And all the Torments that thou see'st me suffer.

Port.
Marcus, I beg thee give me not an Office
That suits with me so ill. Thou know'st my Temper.

Marc.
Wilt thou behold me sinking in my Woes?
And wilt thou not reach out a friendly Arm,
To raise me from amidst this Plunge of Sorrows?

Port.
Marcus, thou can'st not ask what I'd refuse.
But here believe me I've a thousand Reasons—

Marc.
I know thou'lt fay my Passion's out of Season,
That Cato's great Example and Misfortunes
Should both conspire to drive it from my Thoughts.
But what's all this to one who loves like me!
Oh Portius, Portius, from my Soul I wish
Thou didst but know thy self what 'tis to love!
Then wou'dst thou pity and assist thy Brother.

Port.
What shou'd I do! If I disclose my Passion
Our Friendship's at an end: If I conceal it,
The World will call me false to a Friend and Brother.

[Aside.
Marc.
But see where Lucia at her wonted Hour,
Amid the cool of yon high Marble Arch,
Enjoys the Noon-day Breeze! Observe her, Portius!
That Face, that Shape, those Eyes, that Heav'n of Beauty!
Observe her well, and blame me if thou can'st.

Port.
She sees us, and advances—

Marc.
I'll withdraw,
And leave you for a while. Remember, Portius,
Thy Brother's Life depends upon thy Tongue.

[Exit.
Enter Lucia.
Luc.
Did not I see your Brother Marcus here?
Why did he fly the Place, and shun my Presence?

Port.
Oh, Lucia, Language is too faint to show
His Rage of Love; it prey's upon his Life;
He pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies:
His Passions and his Virtues lie confused,
And mixt together in so wild a Tumult,
That the whole Man is quite disfigur'd in him.
Heav'ns! wou'd one think 'twere possible for Love
To make such Ravage in a noble Soul!
Oh, Lucia, I'm distress'd! my Heart bleeds for him;
Ev'n now, while thus I stand blest in thy Presence,
A secret Damp of Grief comes o'er my Thoughts,
And I'm unhappy, tho' thou smilest upon me.

Luc.
How wilt thou guard thy Honour, in the Shock
Of Love and Friendship! think betimes, my Portius,
Think how the Nuptial Tie, that might ensure
Our mutual Bliss, wou'd raise to such a Height
Thy Brother's Griefs, as might perhaps destroy him.

Port.
Alas, poor Youth! what dost thou think, my Lucia?
His gen'rous, open, undesigning Heart
Has beg'd his Rival to sollicit for him.
Then do not strike him dead with a Denial,
But hold him up in Life, and cheer his Soul
With the faint glimm'ring of a doubtful Hope:
Perhaps, when we have pass'd these gloomy Hours,
And weather'd out the Storm that beats upon us—

Luc.
No, Portius, no! I see thy Sister's Tears,
Thy Father's Anguish, and thy Brother's Death,
In the Pursuit of our ill-fated Loves.
And, Portius, here I swear, to Heav'n I swear,
To Heav'n, and all the Pow'rs that judge Mankind,
Never to mix my plighted Hands with thine,
While such a Cloud of Mischiefs hang's about us.
But to forget our Loves, and drive thee out
From all my Thoughts, as far—as I am able

Port.
What hast thou said! I'm thunder-struck!—Recall
Those hasty Words, or I am lost for ever.

Luc.
Has not the Vow already pass'd my Lips?
The Gods have heard it, and 'tis seal'd in Heav'n.
May all the Vengeance, that was ever pour'd
On perjur'd Heads, o'erwhelm me, if I break it!

[After a Pause,
Port.
Fixt in Astonishment, I gaze upon thee;
Like one just blasted by a Stroak from Heav'n,
Who pant's for Breath, aud stiffen's, yet alive,
In dreadful Looks: A Monument of Wrath!

Luc.
At length I've acted my severest Part,
I feel the Woman breaking in upon me,
And melt about my Heart! my Tears will flow.
But oh I'll think no more! the Hand of Fate
Has torn thee from me, and I must forget thee.

Port.
Hard-hearted, cruel Maid!

Luc.
Oh stop those Sounds,
Those killing Sounds! Why dost thou frown upon me?
My Blood run's cold, my Heart forget's to heave,
And Life its self goe's out at thy Displeasure.
The Gods forbid us to indulge our Loves,
But oh! I cannot bear thy Hate and live!

Port.
Talk not of Love, thou never knew'st its Force.
I've been deluded, led into a Dream
Of fancied Bliss. O Lucia, cruel Maid!
Thy dreadful Vow, loaden with Death, still sound's
In my stunn'd Ears. What shall I say or do?
Quick, let us part! Perdition's in thy Presence,
And Horror dwells about thee!—Hah, she faints!
Wretch that I am! what has my Rashness done!
Lucia, thou injur'd Innocence! thou best
And lovely'st of thy Sex! awake, my Lucia,
Or Portius rushe's on his Sword to join thee.
—Her Imprecations reach not to the Tomb,
They shut not out Society in Death.—
But Hah! She moves! Life wander's up and down
Through all her Face, and light's up ev'ry Charm.

Luc.
O Portius, was this well!—to frown on her
That lives upon thy Smiles! to call in Doubt
The Faith of one expiring at thy Feet,
That love's thee more than ever Woman lov'd!
—What do I say? My half-recover'd Sense
Forget's the Vow in which my Soul is bound.
Destruction stand's betwixt us! We must part.

Port.
Name not the Word, my frighted Thoughts run back,
And startle into Madness at the Sound.

Luc.
What wou'dst thou have me do? Consider well
The Train of Ills our Love wou'd draw behind it.
Think, Portius, think, thou see'st thy dying Brother
Stabb'd at his Heart, and all besmear'd with Blood,
Storming at Heav'n and thee! Thy awful Sire
Sternly demand's the Cause, th' accursed Cause,
That robb's him of his Son! poor Marcia tremble's,
Then teares her Hair, and frantick in her Griefs
Call's out on Lucia! What cou'd Lucia answer?
Or how stand up in such a Scene of Sorrow!

Port.
To my Confusion, and Eternal Grief,
I must approve the Sentence that destroys me.
The Mist that hung about my Mind clear's up;
And now, athwart the Terrors that thy Vow
Has planted round thee, thou appear'st more fair,
More amiable, and risest in thy Charms.
Lovly'st of Women! Heav'n is in thy Soul,
Beauty and Virtue shine for ever round thee,
Bright'ning each other! Thou art all Divine!

Luc.
Portius, no more! thy Words shoot thro' my Heart,
Melt my Resolves, and turn me all to Love.
Why are those Tears of Fondness in thy Eyes?
Why heaves thy Heart? Why swells thy Soul with Sorrow?
It softens me too much—Farewell, my Portius,
Farewell, tho' Death is in the Word, For-ever!

Port.
Stay, Lucia, stay! What do'st thou say? For-ever!

Luc.
Have I not sworn? If, Portius, thy Success
Must throw thy Brother on his Fate, Farewell,
Oh, how shall I repeat the Word! For-ever!

Port.
Thus o'er the dying Lamp th'unsteady Flame
Hang's quiv'ring on a Point, leap's off by Fits,
And fall's again, as loath to quit its Hold
—Thou must not go, my Soul still hover's o'er thee
And can't get loose.

Luc.
If the firm Portius shake
To hear of Parting, think what Lucia suffer's!

Port.
'Tis true; unruffled and serene I've met
The common Accidents of Life, but here
Such an unlook'd for Storm of Ills fall's on me,
It beat's down all my Strength. I cannot bear it.
We must not part.

Luc.
What do'st thou say? Not part?
Hast thou forgot the Vow that I have made?
Are there not Heav'ns and Gods and Thunder o'er us!
—But see thy Brother Marcus bend's this way!
I sicken at the Sight. Once more, Farewell,
Farewell, and know thou wrong'st me, if thou think'st
Ever was Love, or ever Grief, like mine.

[Exit.
Enter Marcus.
Marc.
Portius, what Hopes? how stands She? Am I doom'd
To Life or Death?

Port.
What wou'dst thou have me say?

Marc.
What mean's this pensive Posture? thou appear'st
Like one amazed and terrified.

Port.
I've Reason.

Marc.
Thy down-cast Looks, and thy disorder'd Thoughts
Tell me my Fate. I ask not the Success
My Cause has found.

Port.
I'm griev'd I undertook it.

Mar.
What? do's the barb'rous Maid insult my Heart,
My akeing Heart! and triumph in my Pains?
That I cou'd cast her from my Thoughts for ever!

Port.
Away! you're too suspicious in your Griefs;
Lucia, though sworn never to think of Love,
Compassionate's your Pains, and pitie's you.

Marc.
Compassionate's my Pains, and pitie's me!
What is Compassion when 'tis void of Love!
Fool that I was to chuse so cold a Friend
To urge my Cause! Compassionate's my Pains!
Prithee what Art, what Rhet'rick did'st thou use
To gain this mighty Boon? She pitie's me!
To one that ask's the warm Returns of Love,
Compassion's Cruelty, 'tis Scorn, 'tis Death—

Port.
Marcus, no more! have I deserv'd this Treatment?

Marc.
What have I said! O Portius, O forgive me!
A Soul exasp'rated in Ills falls out
With ev'ry thing, its Friend, its self—But hah!
What means that Shout, big with the Sounds of War?
What new Alarm?

Port.
A second, louder yet,
Swells in the Winds, and comes more full upon us.

Marc.
Oh, for some glorious Cause to fall in Battel!
Lucia, thou hast undone me! thy Disdain
Has broke my Heart: 'tis Death must give me Ease.

Port.
Quick, let us hence, who knows if Cato's Life
Stand sure? O Marcus, I am warm'd, my Heart
Leaps at the Trumpet's Voice, and burns for Glory.

[Exeunt.
Enter Sempronius with the Leaders of the Mutiny.
Semp.
At length the Winds are rais'd, the Storm blow's high,
Be it your Care, my Friends, to keep it up
In it's full Fury, and direct it right,
'Till it has spent it self on Cato's Head.
Mean while I'll herd among his Friends, and seem
One of the Number, that whate'er arrive,
My Friends and Fellow Soldiers may be safe.

1 Lead.
We all are safe, Sempronius is our Friend,
Sempronius is as brave a Man as Cato.
But heark he Enters. Bear up boldly to him;
Be sure you beat him down, and bind him fast:
This Day will end our Toils, and give us Rest;
Fear nothing, for Sempronius is our Friend.

Enter Cato, Sempronius, Lucius, Portius, and Marcus.
Cato.
Where are these bold intrepid Sons of War,
That greatly turn their Backs upon the Foe,
And to their General send a brave Defiance?

Semp.
Curse on their Dastard Souls, they stand astonish'd!

[Aside.
Cato.
Perfidious Men! and will you thus dishonour
Your past Exploits, and sully all your Wars?
Do you confess 'twas not a Zeal for Rome,
Nor Love of Liberty, nor Thirst of Honour,
Drew you thus far; but hopes to share the Spoil
Of conquer'd Towns, and plunder'd Provinces?
Fired with such Motives you do well to join
With Cato's Foes, and follow Cæsar's Banners.
Why did I 'scape the invenom'd Aspic's Rage,
And all the fiery Monsters of the Desart,
To see this Day? Why cou'd not Cato fall
Without your Guilt? Behold, ungrateful Men,
Behold my Bosom naked to your Swords,
And let the Man that's injured strike the Blow.
Which of you all suspects that he is wrong'd,
Or think's he suffer's greater Ills than Cato?
Am I distinguish'd from you but by Toils,
Superior Toils, and heavier Weight of Cares!
Painful Pre-eminence!

Semp.
By Heav'ns they droop!
Confusion to the Villains! All is lost.

[Aside.
Cato.
Have you forgotten Lybia's burning Wast,
Its barren Rocks, parch'd Earth, and Hills of Sand,
Its tainted Air, and all its Broods of Poison?
Who was the first to explore th'untrodden Path,
When Life was hazarded in ev'ry Step?
Or, fainting in the long laborious March,
When on the Banks of an unlook'd-for Stream
You sunk the River with repeated Draughts,
Who was the last in all your Host that thirsted?

Semp.
If some penurious Source by chance appear'd,
Scanty of Waters, when you scoop'd it dry,
And offer'd the full Helmet up to Cato,
Did not he dash th'untasted Moisture from him?
Did not he lead you through the Mid-day Sun,
And Clouds of Dust? Did not his Temples glow
In the same sultry Winds, and scorching Heats?

Cato.
Hence worthless Men! Hence! and complain to Cæsar
You could not undergo the Toils of War,
Nor bear the Hardships that your Leader bore.

Luc.
See, Cato, see th'unhappy Men! they weep!
Fear, and Remorse, and Sorrow for their Crime,
Appear in ev'ry Look, and plead for Mercy.

Cato.
Learn to be honest Men, give up your Leaders,
And Pardon shall descend on all the rest.

Semp.
Cato, commit these Wretches to my Care.
First let 'em each be broken on the Rack,
Then, with what Life remain's, impaled, and left
To writhe at leisure round the bloody Stake.
There let 'em hang, and taint the Southern Wind.
The Partners of their Crime will learn Obedience,
When they look up and see their Fellow-Traitors
Stuck on a Fork, and black'ning in the Sun.

Luc.
Sempronius, why, why wilt thou urge the Fate
Of wretched Men?

Semp.
How! wou'dst thou clear Rebellion!
Lucius, (good Man) pitie's the poor Offenders
That wou'd imbrue their Hands in Cato's Blood.

Cato.
Forbear, Sempronius!—See they suffer Death,
But in their Deaths remember they are Men.
Strain not the Laws to make their Tortures grievous.
Lucius, the base degenerate Age requires
Severity and Justice in its Rigour;
This awes an impious, bold, offending World,
Command's Obedience, and give's Force to Laws.
When by just Vengeance guilty Mortals perish,
The Gods behold their Punishment with Pleasure,
And lay th'uplifted Thunder-Bolt aside.

Semp.
Cato, I execute thy Will with Pleasure.

Cato.
Mean-while we'll sacrifice to Liberty.
Remember, O my Friends, the Laws, the Rights,
The gen'rous Plan of Power deliver'd down,
From Age to Age, by your renown'd Forefathers,
(So dearly bought, the Price of so much Blood)
O let it never perish in your Hands!
But piously transmit it to your Children.
Do thou, great Liberty, inspire our Souls,
And make our Lives in thy Possession happy,
Or our Deaths glorious in thy just Defence.

[Exe. Cato, &c.
Sempronius and the Leaders of the Mutiny.
1 Lead.
Sempronius, you have acted like your Self,
One wou'd have thought you had been half in Earnest.

Semp.
Villain, stand off! base grov'ling worthless Wretches,
Mongrils in Faction, poor faint-hearted Traitors!

2 Lead.
Nay, now you carry it too far, Sempronius:
Throw off the Mask, there are none here but Friends.

Semp.
Know, Villains, when such paltry Slaves presume
To mix in Treason, if the Plot succeed's,
They're thrown neglected by: But if it fail's,
They're sure to die like Dogs, as you shall do.
Here, take these factious Monsters, dragg 'em forth
To sudden Death.

Enter Guards.
1 Lead.
Nay, since it comes to this—

Semp.
Dispatch 'em quick, but first pluck out their Tongues,
Least with their dying Breath they sow Sedition.

[Exeunt Guards with the Leaders.
Enter Syphax.
Syph.
Our first Design, my Friend, has proved abortive,
Still there remains an After-game to play:
My Troops are mounted; their Numidian Steeds
Snuff up the Wind, and long to scow'r the Desart:
Let but Sempronius head us in our Flight,
We'll force the Gate where Marcus keeps his Guard,
And hew down all that would oppose our Passage.
A Day will bring us into Cæsar's Camp.

Semp.
Confusion! I have fail'd of half my Purpose.
Marcia, the charming Marcia's left behind!

Syph.
How? will Sempronius turn a Woman's Slave!

Semp.
Think not thy Friend can ever feel the soft
Unmanly Warmth, and Tenderness of Love.
Syphax, I long to clasp that haughty Maid,
And bend her stubborn Virtue to my Passion:
When I have gone thus far, I'd cast her off.

Syph.
Well said! that's spoken like thy self, Sempronius.
What hinder's then, but that thou find her out,
And hurry her away by manly Force?

Semp.
But how to gain Admission? for Access
Is giv'n to none but Juba, and her Brothers.

Syph.
Thou shal't have Juba's Dress, and Juba's Guards:
The Doors will open, when Numidia's Prince
Seem's to appear before the Slaves, that watch them.

Semp.
Heav'ns, what a Thought is there! Marcia's my own!
How will my Bosom swell with anxious Joy,
When I behold her strugling in my Arms,
With glowing Beauty, and disorder'd Charms,
While Fear and Anger, with alternate Grace,
Pant in her Breast, and vary in her Face!
So Pluto, seiz'd of Proserpine, convey'd
To Hell's tremendous Gloom th'affrighted Maid,
There grimly smil'd, pleas'd with the beauteous Prize,
Nor envy'd Jove his Sun-shine and his Skies.