Part 10 (1/2)

_The Street._

_A March at a distance._

_Enter_ CATO _and_ LUCIUS.

_Luc._ I stand astonish'd! What, the bold Semp.r.o.nius, 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 Caesar 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 Semp.r.o.nius.

_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 Caesar'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 Caesar, And reconcile thy mighty soul to life.

_Cato._ Would Lucius have me live to swell the number Of Caesar'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 Caesar'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 compa.s.sion.

_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 Caesars.