Part 12 (1/2)

_Por._ My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives-- [_Exit_ CATO.

_Enter_ MARCIA.

Oh, Marcia! Oh, my sister, still there's hope Our father will not cast away a life So needful to us all, and to his country.

He is retired to rest, and seems to cherish Thoughts full of peace.--He has dispatch'd me hence With orders that bespeak a mind composed, And studious for the safety of his friends.

Marcia, take care, that none disturb his slumbers. [_Exit._

_Marcia._ Oh, ye immortal powers, that guard the just, Watch round his couch, and soften his repose, Banish his sorrows, and becalm his soul With easy dreams; remember all his virtues, And show mankind that goodness is your care!

_Enter_ LUCIA.

_Lucia._ Where is your father, Marcia; where is Cato?

_Marcia._ Lucia, speak low, he is retired to rest.

Lucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope Rise in my soul--We shall be happy still.

_Lucia._ Alas, I tremble when I think on Cato!

In every view, in every thought, I tremble!

Cato is stern and awful as a G.o.d; He knows not how to wink at human frailty, Or pardon weakness, that he never felt.

_Marcia._ Though stern and awful to the foes of Rome, He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild; Compa.s.sionate and gentle to his friends; Fill'd with domestic tenderness, the best, The kindest father; I have ever found him Easy and good, and bounteous to my wishes.

_Lucia._ 'Tis his consent alone can make us blest.

Marcia, we both are equally involved In the same intricate, perplex'd distress.

The cruel hand of fate, that has destroy'd Thy brother Marcus, whom we both lament----

_Marcia._ And ever shall lament; unhappy youth!

_Lucia._ Has set my soul at large, and now I stand Loose of my vow. But who knows Cato's thoughts?

Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius, Or how he has determined of himself?

_Marcia._ Let him but live, commit the rest to Heav'n.

_Enter_ LUCIUS.

_Luc._ Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man!

Oh, Marcia, I have seen thy G.o.dlike father!

Some power invisible supports his soul, And bears it up in all its wonted greatness.

A kind, refres.h.i.+ng sleep is fall'n upon him: I saw him stretch'd at ease; his fancy lost In pleasing dreams; as I drew near his couch, He smiled, and cried, ”Caesar, thou canst not hurt me.”