Cato by Addison as slightly modernized for performance.

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GEORGE WASHINGTON: (intro by George Washington marionette) I'm general Washington, commander-in-chief of the colonial armies. Welcome to the staging of Cato my favorite play I had it staged at valley forge during the darkest days of the American revolution because Cato is an inspiration to all who know it. Cato tells the story of the last day of Roman democracy when their 500-year republic ended and became an empire. Before the events of this play Caesar crushed the pro-democracy army in Greece in the decisive Battle of Pharsalis. An epic poem called Pharselia details how he triumphed against democracy this drama comes after those events - as the remnant of pro-democracy forces which escaped under the leadership of senator Cato. gather for a last stand. As dawn rises Cato's two sons talk of Caesar's advancing army which threatens to end all their lives and democracy that very day. As you listen to the story, you might notice lines made famous during the American revolution. That's because the founding fathers knew this play intimately the sacrifice of the patriots who lived the ideals of this drama to win us the freedoms we enjoy today is why Cato is called 'America's founding drama'. PORTIUS: The dawn is overcast and morning lowers and heavily in clouds brings on the day, the great the important day big with the fate of Cato and of Rome. MARCUS: Our father's death would fill up all the guilt of civil war and close the scene of blood. Already Caesar has ravaged more than half the globe and sees mankind grow thin by his destructive sword. Should he go further, numbers would be wanting to form new battalions and support his crimes. Ye gods! What havoc does ambition make among your works. Your steady temper Portius can look on guilt, rebellion, fraud, and Caesar in the calm light of mild philosophy. I'm tortured even to madness when I think of the proud victor. Every time he's named Pharselia rises up into my view. I see the insulting tyrant prancing over the field strewn with Roman citizens and drenched in slaughter - his horse's hooves wet with patrician blood. Oh Portius, is there not some chosen curse some hidden thunder, in the stores of heaven, red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man who owes his greatness to his country's ruin? PORTIUS: Believe me Marcus it is an impious greatness and mixed too much with horror to be envied. How does the luster of our father's actions, through the dark clouds of ills that cover him, break out and burn with more triumphant brightness. His suffering shine and spread a glory around him. Greatly unfortunate, he fights the cause of honor, virtue, liberty, and Rome. MARCUS: His sword never fell but on the guilty head. Oppression, tyranny, and power-usurped draw all the vengeance of his arm upon them. Who knows not this but what can Cato do against a world - a base degenerate world - that courts the yoke and bows the neck to Caesar? Pent up here in Utica he vainly forms a poor epitome of Roman greatness and covered with Numidian guards directs a feeble army, and an empty senate, remnants of mighty battles fought in vain. By heaven, such virtues joined with such success burn my soul. Our father's fortune would almost tempt us to renounce his precepts. PORTIUS: Remember our father often told us that the ways of heaven are dark and intricate puzzled with mazes and perplexed with errors. Our understanding traces them in vain - lost and bewildered in the fruitless search. Nor, sees how much art the windings run or where the regular confusion ends. MARCUS: These are suggestions of a mind at ease. Oh, Portius if you tasted half the griefs that ring my soul you could not talk so coldly. Passion unpitied and successless love plant daggers in my heart and aggravate my other griefs. Were but my Lucia kind. PORTIUS: (Aside) Ugh you do not see that your brother is your rival - but I must hide it for I know your temper. (To Marcus) Now Marcus now your virtue must be proven. Put forward all your strength work every nerve and call all your father into your soul to quell the tyrant love and guard your heart from weakness. That would be a conquest worthy of Cato's son. MARCUS: Love is not to be reasoned down or lost in high ambition and a thirst for greatness. It is second life. It grows into the soul, warms every vein and beats in every pulse. I feel it here - I'm resolved. PORTIUS: You should emulate young Juba - the Nubians prince - with how much care he forms himself to glory and breaks the fierceness of his native temper to copy out our father's bright example. He loves our sister Marcia, greatly loves her. His eyes, his looks, his actions, all betray it but still the smothering fondness burns within him when most it swells and labors for a vent. The sense of honor and desire of fame drive the big passion back into his heart. MARCUS: What? Shall an African, shall Juba's heir, reproach great Cato son and show the world a virtue lacking in a Roman soul? Portius no more. Your words leave stings behind. Whenever did Juba or did Porteus show a virtue, that cast me at a distance and throw me out of the pursuits of honor? PORTIUS: Marcus, I know your generous temper well. Fling but the appearance of dishonor at it and its straight takes fire and mounts into a blaze. A brother's suffering claims a brother's pity. Heaven knows I pity you. Look into my eyes. Even while I speak - do they not swim in tears? Would but my heart be naked to your view, Marcus would see it bleeds for you. MARCUS: Then why do you treat me with rebukes instead of kind condoling cares and friendly sorrows? PORTIUS: Oh Marcus, if I knew the way to ease your troubled heart and mitigate your pain, Marcus believe me, I could die to do it. MARCUS: You ... you best of brothers. You best of friends, pardon my weak distempered soul that swells with sudden gusts and sinks as soon to calms. It is the sport of passions. oh but Sempronius comes. He must not find this softness hanging on me. (exits) SEMPRONIUS: Conspiracies should no sooner be formed then executed. What means this Portius here? I like not this cold youth. I must dissemble and speak a language foreign to my heart. Good morrow Portius Let us once embrace - once more embrace - while we are both free. Tomorrow should we thus express our friendship, each might receive a slave in his arms. This Sun perhaps, this morning Sun, the last that ever shall rise on Roman liberty. PORTIUS: My father has this morning called together to this poor hall his little senate the - leavings of Pharsalia to consult, if yet he can oppose the mighty torrent that bears down Rome, and all her gods, before it, or must at length give up the world to Caesar. SEMPRONIUS: Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome can raise her senate more than Cato's presence. His virtues render our assembly awesome. They strike with something like religious fear and even make Caesar tremble at the head of his armies flushed with conquest oh my Portius could I but call that wondrous man my father would but thy sister Marcia be propitious to thy friend's vows I might be blessed indeed PORTIUS: oh Sempronius would you talk love to Marcia while her father's life is in danger you might as well court the pale trembling vestal virgin while she beholds the holy flame expiring SEMPRONIUS: the more I see of the wonders of your family the more I am charmed you must be careful my Portius the world has its eyes on Cato's son your father's merit sets you up in view and shows you in the fairest point of light to make your virtues, or your faults, conspicuous. PORTIUS: Well do you reprimand my lingering here in this important hour. I'll go straight away and while the fathers of the senate meet in close debate to weigh the events of war, I'll animate the soldiers drooping courage with love of freedom and contempt of life I'll thunder in their ears their country's cause and try to rouse up all that's Roman in them. It is not in mortals to command success but we'll do more Sempronius, will deserve it. SEMPRONIUS: Curse on this stripping, how he apes his father - pompus moralizing. But I wonder why old Syphax comes not. His Numidian genius is well disposed to mischief where he but prompt and eager on it, but he must be spurred at every moment, quickened to the course Cato has used me ill. He has refused his daughter Marcia to my ardent vows besides his baffled arms and ruinous cause are bars to my ambition. Caesar's favor that showers down greatness on his friends, will raise me to Rome's first honors. If I give up Cato I will claim as my reward his captive daughter - ah but Syphax comes SYPHAX: Sempronius all is ready i've sounded minor midian's man by man and found them ripe for revolt they all complain aloud of Cato's discipline and wait but the command to change their master SEMPRONIUS: believe me Syphax there is no time to waste even while we speak our conqueror comes and gathers ground upon us every moment at last you know not Caesar's active soul with what a dreadful course he rushes on from war to war in vain has nature made mountains and oceans to stop his passage he bounds over all of them one day more will set the victor thundering at our gates but tell me have you won over the young Juba that would recommend you even more to Caesar and challenge better terms. SYPHAX: Alas he's lost, he's lost Sempronius. All his thoughts are full of Cato's virtues, SEMPRONIUS: but I'll try once more, for every instance I expect him here. If yet I can subdue those stubborn principles of faith and honor. I know not what has corrupted his Numidian temper and struck the infection into his soul. Be sure to press upon him every motive Juba surrender since his father's death would give up Africa into Caesar's hands, and make him lord of half of the mediterranean. SYPHAX: But it is true Sempronius that the Senate is called together-gods you must be cautious. Cato has piercing eyes and will discern your frauds unless you cover them thick with art. SEMPRONIUS: Just watch me good Syphax. I'll hide my thoughts in passion it is the surest way. I'll bellow out for Rome and for my country and attack Caesar till I shake the senate. Your approach, cold hypocrisy, is a stale device, a worn trick, to be thought earnest clothe thy feigning zeal in rage, in fire, in fury! SYPHAX: In truth, you are able to instruct gray hairs and teach the wily African deceit. SEMPRONIUS: Once more, be sure to try your skill on Juba. Remember Syphax, we must work quickly. Oh think what anxious moments pass between the birth of plot and their last fatal periods? Tis a dreadful period of time, filled up with horror all, and big with death. Destruction hangs on every word we speak, on every thought, till the concluding stroke determines all, and closes our design. I'll try and bring around this headstrong youth to reason and make him spurn Cato the time is short Caesar comes rushing on behold young Juba sees me and approaches JUBA: Syphax it's a joy to meet you alone I have observed of late your downcast looks overcast with gloomy cares and discontent so tell me Syphax I conjure they tell me what are the thoughts that knit your brow in frowns and turn your eyes thus coldly to your prince SYPHAX: it is not my talent to conceal my thoughts or carry smiles and sunshine in my face when discontent sits heavy in my heart I am not yet so much a Roman JUBA: why do you cast such ungenerous terms against the lords and sovereigns of the world do you not see mankind fall down before them and acknowledge their superior virtue is there a nation in the wilds of afrique amidst all the barren rocks and burning sands that does not tremble at the name of Rome SYPHAX: guts where's the worth that sets these people up above our brown sons of new media do they with tougher sinew bend the bow or fly the javelin swifter to its mark launched from the rigor of a Roman arm who like the active Africa instructs the fiery steed and trains him to his hand or guides in troops the battle elephant laden with war these are the arts my prince in which your Zama does not stoop to Rome. JUBA: These are all lower orders - perfections that are placed in bones and nerves. A Roman soul is bent on higher views - to civilize the rude unpolished world and lay it under the restraints of laws. Turn up thine eyes to Cato. There will you see to what a godlike height the Roman Virtues lift up mortal man. While good, and just, and anxious for his friends, he still severely bends against himself, renouncing sleep and rest and food and ease, he strives with thirst and hunger toil and heat; And when his fortune sets before him all the pomp and pleasures that his soul could wish, his rigid virtue will accept of none. SYPHAX: Believe me Prince, there is not an African that traverses our vast and Numidian deserts in quest of prey and lives upon his bow, but better practices these boosted virtues. Course are his meals, the fortune of the chase. Amidst the running stream he slacks his thirst, toils all day and at the approach of night on the first friendly bank he throws himself down or rests his head upon a rock, till morning then rises fresh pursues his wanted game and if the following day he chance to find a new meal or an untasted stream blesses his stars and thinks it's luxury. JUBA: Your prejudices Syphax won't discern what virtues grow from ignorance and which from choice. Nor how the hero differs from the brute. Where shall we find the man that bears afflictions great and majestic in his griefs like Cato? Heavens, with what strength, steadiness of mind, he triumphs in the midst of all his sufferings. How does he rise against a load of woes and thank the gods that threw the weight upon him? SYPHAX: Tis pride, ranked pride and haughtiness of soul. I think the Romans called it stoicism. Had not your royal father thought so highly of Roman virtue and of Cato's cause, he would not have fallen by a slave's hand inglorious. Nor would his slaughtered army now have lane in Africa's sands disfigured with their wounds to gorge the wolves and vultures of Numidia. JUBA: Why do you call my sorrows up afresh? My father's name brings tears into my eyes. SYPHAX: Oh that you would profit by your father's ills. JUBA: What? Would you have me do abandon Cato? Syphax, I should be more than twice an orphan, by such a loss. SYPHAX: Ahh there's the tie that binds you. You want to call him father. Marcia's charms work in your heart unseen and plead for Cato. No wonder you are deaf to all I say. JUBA: Syphax your zeal becomes importunate; I've hitherto permitted it to rave, to talk at large, but learn to keep it in, lest it should take more freedom than I give it. SYPHAX: Sir your great father never used me thus - alas he's dead but can you ever forget the tender sorrows and the pangs of nature, the fond embraces, and repeated blessings which you drew from him in his last farewell? The good old king at parting wrung my hand - his eyes brimmed full of tears - then sighing cried 'pray thee be careful of my son' his grief swelled up so high he could not utter more. JUBA: Alas your story melts my soul - the best of fathers. How shall I discharge the gratitude and duty which I owe him? SYPHAX: By laying up his councils in your heart. JUBA: His councils bade me yield to your direction then Syphax, chide me in the severest terms, vent all thy passions, and I'll stand its shock - calm and unruffled as a summer sea - when not a breath of air flies o're its surface. SYPHAX: Oh, my prince I'll guide you to your safety. JUBA: I do believe you would, but tell me how? SYPHAX: Fly from the fate that follows Caesar's foes. JUBA: My father scorned to do that. SYPHAX: And, therefore died. JUBA: Better to die ten thousand deaths than wound my honor. SYPHAX: Rather say you love. JUBA: Syphax! I've promised to preserve my temper - why do you urge me to confess a flame I have long stifled and would gladly conceal? SYPHAX: Believe me prince, tis hard to conquer love - but easy to divert and break its force - absence might cure it or a second mistress. Light up another flame and put this out. The glowing dames of Zama's royal court have faces flushed with more exalted charms. The sun - that rolls his chariot over their heads - works up more fire and color in their cheeks. Were you with these my Prince, you'd soon forget the pale and unripened beauties of the North. JUBA: It's not a set of features or complexion - the tincture of skin - that I admire. Beauty grows familiar to the lover, fades in his eye. It pulls upon the sense. The virtuous Marcia towers over her sex. True she is fair, Oh how divinely fair, but still the lovely maid improves her charms with inward greatness, unaffected wisdom, and sanctity of manners. Cato's soul shines out of everything she acts or speaks, while winning mildness and attractive smiles dwell in her looks and with becoming grace softens the rigor of her father's virtues. SYPHAX: How does your tongue grow wanton in her praise! But on my knees I beg you would consider... JUBA: Oh Syphax is it not she she moves this way, and with Lucia Lucius's fair daughter, my heart beats thick. I pray thee - leave me. SYPHAX: Ten thousand curses fasten on them both now will this woman with a single glance undo what I've been laboring all this while. JUBA: Hail charming maids, how does thy beauty smooth the face of war, and make even horror smile. At sight of you my heart shakes off its sorrows. I feel the dawn of joy break in upon me and for a while I forget the approach of Caesar. MARCIA: I should be grieved, young prince, to think my presence unbent your thoughts and slacken them from arms, while warm with slaughter our victorious foe threatens aloud and calls you to the field. JUBA: Oh Marcia let me hope your kind concerns and gentle wishes follow me to battle. The thought will give new vigor to my arm and strength and weight to my descending sword, and drive it in a tempest on the foe. MARCIA: My prayers and wishes always shall attend the friends of Rome, the glorious cause of virtue, and men approved of by the gods and Cato. JUBA: That Juba shall deserve your pious cares, I shall gaze upon your godlike father - transplanting one by one into my life his great perfections - until I shine like him. MARCIA: My father never at a time like this would lay out his great soul in words and waste such precious moments. JUBA: Your reproofs are just, virtuous maid, I'll hasten to the troops and fire their languid souls with Cato's virtue. If ever I lead them in the field - when all the war stands lined up before the dreadful onslaught - then will I think of you. Oh lovely maid, then will I think of you, and in the shock of charging horses, remember what glorious deeds should grace the man who hopes for Marcia's love. LUCIA: Marcia you're too severe. How could you chide the good young natured prince and drive him from you is so stern in air a prince that loves and dotes on you to death? MARCIA: That's why Lucia that I drive him from me. His heir his voice, his looks, and on his soul speak also movingly in his behalf. I dare not trust myself to hear him talk. LUCIA: Why will you fight against so sweet a passion and deny your heart such a world of charms? MARCIA: How Lucia? Would you have me sink away in pleasing dreams and lose myself in love when every moment Cato's life's at stake? Caesar comes armed with terror and revenge and aims his thunder at my father's head. Should not the sad occasion swallow up my other cares? LUCIA: Why have I not your constancy of mind? Surely nature formed me of her softest mold - enfeebled all my soul with tender passions and sunk me even below my own weak sex. Pity and love by turns oppress my heart. MARCIA: Lucia disbirth all thy cares on me and let me share thy most hidden distress. Tell me who raises up this conflict in you? LUCIA: I need not blush to name them - when I tell you it's your brothers - the sons of Cato. They both behold you with my fond eyes and I've also revealed their passion to me. MARCIA: But tell me, who's address you favor most? I long to know and yet I dread to hear. Which is it Marcia wishes for? LUCIA: For neither yet for both - the youths have equal share in my wishes and divide me. But tell me, which of them is Lucia's choice? Marcia they both are high in my esteem but in my love why will you make me name him? Love is a blind and foolish passion pleased and disgusted with it knows not what. Oh Lucia, I'm perplexed, oh tell me which I must hereafter call my 'happy brother'? MARCIA: Suppose it were Portius, could you blame my choice? Oh Portius you have stolen away my soul. With what a graceful tenderness he loves and breaths the softest the sincerest vows. Calmness and truth and manly kindness dwell ever on his tongue and smooth his thoughts. Marcus is overwarm his fond complaints have so much earnestness and passion in them, I hear them with a secret kind of dread, and tremble at his vehemence of temper. LUCIA: Alas poor youth how can you throw him from you Lucia? You know not half the love he bears you. Whenever he speaks of you his heart is in flames. He sends out all his soul in every word and thinks and talks and looks like one transported. Unhappy youth how will your coldness raise tempests and storms in his afflicted soul. I dread the consequence. You seem to plead against your brother Portius. MARCIA: Heaven forbid. If Portius had been the unsuccessful lover, the same compassion would have fallen on him. Was ever virgin distress like mine? Portius himself often falls in tears before me as if he mourned his rival's ill success. Then bids me hide the motions of my heart so much he fears the sad effects that it would have on Marcus. He would not plunge his brother into despair but waits for happier times and kinder moments. All too late I find myself involved in endless griefs and labyrinths of woe that will affect Marcia's family and sew dissension into the hearts of her brothers - tormenting thought. It cuts into my soul. LUCIA: Let us not Lucia aggravate our sorrows but to the gods permit the events of things. Our lives discolored with our present woes may still grow bright and smile with happier hours so pure limpid stream when foul with stains of rushing torrents and descending rains works itself clear and as it runs refines till by degrees the floating mirror shines reflects each flower that on the border grows at a new heaven in its fair bosom shows. CATO: Fathers we are once again met in council Caesars approach has summoned us together and Rome attends her fate on our resolves. How should we treat this bold aspiring man? Success follows him and backs his crimes. Pharsalia chronicles how he took Rome. Egypt has since received his yoke, and the whole Nile is Caesar's. Why should I mention Juba's overthrow or Scipio's death? Numidia's burning sands still smoke with blood. It is time we should decree what caused to take. Our foe advances and envies us even Libya's sultry desert. Fathers pronounce your thoughts are they fixed to hold it out and fight to the last, or are your hearts subdued at length and wrought by time and ill success to a submission? Sempronius speak. SEMPRONIUS: Gods can a Roman senate long debate which of the two to choose - slavery or death? No let us rise at once gurd on our swords and at the head of our remaining troops attack the foe break through the thick array of his thronged legions and charge home at him. Perhaps some blade 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 his slaughtered citizens or share their fate. To battle great Pompy's shade complains that we are slow and Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged among us. CATO: Let not a torrent of excessive zeel transport you beyond the bounce of reason. True fortitude is seen in great exploits that justice warrants and that wisdom guides. All else is towering frenzy and distraction. Lucius we next would know what's your opinion. LUCIUS: My thoughts I must confess are turned on peace. Already have our quarrels filled the world with widows and with orphans. Scythia mourns our guilty wars and earth's remotest regions lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome. It is time to sheath the sword and spare mankind. It is not Caesar but the gods my fathers - the gods declare against us - and repel our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle prompted by blind revenge or wild despair, were to refuse the awards of providence and not to rest in heaven's determination. Already have we shown our love to Rome. Now let us show submission to the gods. We took up arms not to revenge ourselves but to free the commonwealth. When this end fails, arms have no further use. Our country's cause that drew our swords, now rests them from our hands and bits us not to delight in Roman blood unprofitably shed what men could do is done already, heaven and earth will witness if Rome must fall that we are innocent. SEMPRONIUS: This mild discourse and mild behavior often conceals a traitor. Something whispers me all is not right. Cato beware of Lucius. CATO: Let us not appear rash or different. Immoderate valor swells into a fault and fear, admitted into public counsel, betrays like treason. Let us shun them both. Fathers I cannot see that our affairs have grown that desperate. We have bulwarks around us and within our walls our troops inured to toil in Africa's heat and seasoned to the sun. Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us ready to rise at its young prince's call. While there is hope do not distrust the gods but wait at least until Caesar's near approach force us to yield. It will never be too late to sue for chains and own a conqueror. Why should Rome fall a moment before her time. No let us draw her terms of freedom out in its full length and spin it to the last so shall we gain 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. MARCUS: Fathers this moment as I watched at the gates lodged in my post a harold arrived from Caesar's camp and with him comes old Deseus the Roman knight. He carries in his looks impatience and demands to speak with Cato. CATO: By your permission fathers, bid him enter. Decius was once my friend but other prospects have loosed his ties and bound him fast Caesar. His message may determine our resolve. DECIUS: Caesar sends health to Cato. CATO: Could he send it to Cato's slaughtered friends, it would be welcome. Are your orders to address the senate? DECIUS: My business is with Cato - Caesar sees the strains to which you're driven and as he knows your high worth, is anxious for your life. CATO: My life is grafted to the fate of Rome, would he save Cato, bid him spare his country. Tell your dictator this and tell him Cato disdains a life which he has power to offer. DECIUS: Rome and her senators submit to Caesar, her generals and her counsels are no more, who can check his conquest or deny his triumphs? Why will not Cato be this Caesar's friend? CATO: These very reasons thou just urged - forbid it. DECIUS: Cato, I have orders to expostulate and reason with you as from friend to friend. Think on the storm that gathers over your head and threatens every hour to burst upon it. Still may you stand high in your country's honor. Do but comply, make your peace with Caesar, Rome will rejoice and cast its eye on Cato as on the second of mankind. CATO: No more. I must not think of life on such conditions. DECIUS: Caesar 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 commonwealth to liberty, submit his actions to public censure, and stand the judgment of a Roman senate, but do this, and Cato is his friend. DECIUS: Cato the world talks loudly of your wisdom but... CATO: Never before has Cato's voice been employed to clear the guilty, or to varnish crimes, yet myself will mount the rostrum in his favor and strive to gain his pardon from the people. DECIUS: A style like this becomes a conqueror. CATO: Deceius, a style like this becomes a Roman. DECIUS: What is Roman that is Caesar's foe? CATO: Greater than Caesar, a friend to virtue. DECIUS: Consider Cato you're in Utica and at the head of your own 'little senate'. You do not thunder in the capital with all the mouths of Rome to second you. CATO: Let him consider that, who drives us hither. Tis Caesar's sword that has made Rome's senate little. And thinned its ranks, alas your dazzled be holds this man in a false glaring light, which conquest and success have thrown upon him. Didst thou but view him right, thou see him black with murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimes that strike my soul with horror but to name them. I know thou looked on me as a wretch beset with ills and covered with misfortunes. But by the gods, I swear millions of worlds should not buy me to be like that Caesar. DECIUS: Does Cato send this answer to Caesar for all his generous cares and proffered friendship? CATO: His cares for me are insolent and vain - presumptuous man - the gods take care of Cato. Would Caesar show the greatness of his soul bid him employ his cares for these my friends and make good use of his ill-gotten power by sheltering men much better than himself. DECIUS: Your high unconquered heart makes you forget you are a man - you rush on to your destruction. But I am done, when I relate thereafter the tale of this unhappy embassy, all Rome will be in tears. SEMPRONIUS: Cato we thank thee. The mighty genius of immortal Rome speaks in thy voice, thy soul breathes liberty. Caesar will shrink to hear the words thou utterest and shudder in the midst of all his conquests. The senate owes its gratitude to Cato who with so great a soul consults its safety and guards our lives will he neglects his own. LUCIUS: Sempronius gives no thanks on this account. Lucius seems 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 grows insipid. CATO: Come no more Sempronius. All here are friends to Rome and to each other. Let us not weaken the weaker side by our divisions. LUCIUS: Cato my sentiments are sacrificed to Rome. I stand reproved Cato. We all go into your opinion. Caesar's behavior has convinced the senate we ought to hold it out till terms arrive. SEMPRONIUS: We ought to hold it out till death, but Cato my private voice is drowned amidst the senates. 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 bravery, and all the virtues we can crowd into it, that heaven may say it ought to be prolonged. Father's farewell, the young Numidian prince comes forward and expects to know our councils. CATO: Juba the Roman senate has resolved till time give better prospects, still to keep the sword unsheathed and turn its edge on Caesar. JUBA: The resolution fits a Roman senate, but Cato lend me for a while your patience and condescend to hear a young man speak. My father when some days before his death he ordered me to march on Utica alas I thought not his death so near, wept over me pressed me in his aged arms and as grief gave way my son he said, whatever misfortune befalls your father be Cato's friend he'll train you up to great and virtuous deeds but do observe him well you will shun misfortune or you'll learn to bear them. CATO: Joba thy father was a worthy prince and merited alas a better fate but heaven thought otherwise. JUBA: My father's fate in spite of the fortitude that shines before my face in Cato's example subdues my soul and fills my eyes with tears. CATO: It is an honest sorrow and becomes you. My father drew respect from foreign regions. The kings of Africa sought him for their friend; king's far remote, that rulers, as fame reports beyond the hidden source of the Nile in distant worlds on the other side of the Sun. often their black ambassadors appeared loaded with gifts and filled the courts of Zama. I am no stranger to thy father's greatness. JUBA: I would not boast of the greatness of my father but point out new alliances to Cato. Had we better not leave this utica? To arm Numidia to our cause, and court the assistance of my father's powerful friends? Did they but no Cato, our remotest kings would pour embattled multitudes about him. Their swarthy hosts would darken all the plane doubling the native horror of war, and making death more grim. CATO: And can you think that Cato would fly before the sword of Caesar - reduced like Hannibal and seek relief from court to court and wander up and down a vagabond of Africa. JUBA: Cato perhaps I am too enthusiastic but my forward cares would gladly 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 valor saw above what the world calls misfortune and afflictions. These are not ills else they would never fall on heaven's first favorites - 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 which shun the day and lie concealed in the smooth seasons and calms of life. JUBA: I'm charmed when you talk - I pant for virtue and all my soul endeavors at perfection. CATO: Do you love watching abstinence and toil - laborous virtues all - learn them from Cato, success and fortune you must learn from Caesar. JUBA: The best good fortune that could fall on Juba, the whole success on which my heart aspires, depends on Cato. CATO: What does Juba say? JUBA: Your words confound me. I would gladly retract them, give them back me again. They aimed at nothing. CATO: Tell me your wish young prince, make not my ear a stranger to your thoughts. JUBA: Oh they're extravagant, still let me hide them. What can Juba ask that Cato will refuse? I fear to name it-Marcia inherits all her father's virtues. CATO: What would you say? JUBA: Cato you have a daughter. CATO: 'Adieu' young prince - I would not hear another word that would lessen you and my esteem. Remember the hand of fate is over us and heaven exact severity from all our thoughts. Now is not the time to talk of anything but chains or conquest, liberty or death. SYPHAX: How's this my prince - what's covered with confusion? You look as if a stern philosopher had just chide you. JUBA: Syphax, I'm undone. SYPHAX: I know it well. Cato thinks meanly of me. JUBA: And so will all mankind. I've opened to him the weakness of my soul - my love for Marcia. SYPHAX: Cate's a proper person to entrust a love tale with. JUBA: Oh I could pierce my heart - my foolish heart. Was there ever such a wretch as Juba? SYPHAX: Oh my prince, how you have changed of late. I've known young Juba rise before the sun to beat the thicket where the tiger slept or seek the lion in his dreadful haunts. How did the color rise in your cheeks when first you roused him in the chase. I have seen you even in the Libyan long days hunt him down then chase him close - provoke him to the rage of fangs and claws - and swoop from your horse and rivet the panting savage to the ground. JUBA: Please no more. SYPHAX: How would the old king smile to see you weigh the paws then tipped with gold and throw the shaggy spoils about your shoulders. JUBA: Syphax, this old man talk, though honey flowed in every word, now loses all its sweetness. Cato's displeased and Marcia lost forever. SYPHAX: Young prince I yet could give you good advice. Marcia might still be yours. JUBA: What are you saying Syphax - bye heavens you have all my attention. SYPHAX: Marcia might still be yours. JUBA: But how dear Syphax? SYPHAX: Juba commands Numidia's hardy troops, mounted on steeds, unused to the restraints of curbs or bits and fleeter than the winds. Give me the word, we'll snatch this damsel up and bear her off. JUBA: Can such dishonest thoughts rise up in a man. Would you seduce my youth to do an act that would destroy my honor. Gods I could tear my beard to hear you talk. SYPHAX: Honor's a fine imaginary notion - that draws in raw and unexperienced men - to real mischief, while they hunt a shadow. Would you degrade your prince into a ruffian? 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 bounce - all under heaven - was founded on a rape. Your Scipios, Caesars, Pompis and your Catos - these gods on earth - are all the spurious brood of violated maidens - of ravaged Sabians. JUBA: Syphax, I fear that hoary head of yours abounds too much in our Numidian wiles. SYPHAX: Indeed my prince. You need to know the world. You have not read mankind. Uour youth admires the throes and swellings of a Roman soul - Cato's bold flights and extravagance of virtue. JUBA: If knowledge of the world makes men perfidious may Juba ever live in ignorance. Go, go, you're young, SYPHAX: Gods must I bear this arrogance unanswered? You are a traitor! A false old traitor! (Aside) Ah I've gone too far JUBA: Cato shall know the baseness of your soul SYPHAX: (Aside) I must appease this storm or perish in it. Young prince behold these locks that have grown white beneath a helmet in your father's battles. JUBA: Lock shall never protect your insolence. SYPHAX: Must one rash word - the infirmity of age - throw down the merit of all my better years. This is the reward of a whole life of service? (Aside) Curse the boy, how unchanged he hears me. Is it because the throne of my forefathers still stands unfilled and that Numidia's crown still hangs doubtful yet whose head it shall enclose, that you presume to treat your prince with such scorn? Why do you tear my heart out with such expressions? Does not Syphax follow you to war? What are his aims? Why does he load with darts his trembling hands and crush beneath a helmet his wrinkled brow? Is it not this, to shed the slow remains of his last poor ebb of blood in your defense? JUBA: Syphax no more - I would not hear you talk. SYPHAX: Not hear me talk? What then my faith in Juba - my loyal master's son - is called into 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. JUBA: You know too well the way to my heart. I do believe you are loyal to your prince. SYPHAX: What greater instance can I give? I've offered to do an action which my soul abhors and gain you whom you love at any price. JUBA: Was that your motive? I have been too hasty. And it was for this my princess called me 'traitor'. SYPHAX: Surely you're mistaken, I did not call you so. JUBA: You did indeed my prince you called me traitor - no further threatened you'd complain to Cato. SYPHAX: Of what my prince? Would you complain to Cato that Syphax loves you. And would sacrifice his life - no more his honor - in your service. JUBA: Syphax, I know you love me but indeed your zeal for Juba carried you too far. Honor is a sacred tie, the law of kings, the noble mind's distinguishing perfection, that aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her and imitates her actions where she is not. It ought not to be messed with. SYPHAX: By heavens I ravished when you talk thus - though you chide me. Unfortunately, until now, I've been used to thinking a blind eager zeal to serve my king, the ruling principle that ought to burn and quell all others in a subjects heart. Happy the people who preserve their honor by the same duties that oblige their prince. JUBA: Syphax you now begin to speak yourself. Numidia has grown a scorn among the nations - for breach of public vows. Our 'punic faith' is infamous and branded to a proverb. Syphax we'll join our causes to purge away our country's crimes and clear her reputation. SYPHAX: Believe me Prince you make old Syphax weep to hear you talk. But it is with tears of joy. If ever your father's crown adorns your brow Numidia will be blessed by Cato's lectures. JUBA: Syphax your hand, will mutually forget the warmth of youth and forwardness of age. Your prince esteems your worth and loves your person. If ever the scepter comes into my hand, Syphax shall stand the second in my kingdom. SYPHAX: Why you will overwhelm my age with kindness - my joy grows burdensome. I shalln't support it. JUBA: Syphax farewell - I'll later seek to find some blessed occasion that may set me right in Cato's thoughts. I'd rather have that man approve my deeds - than worlds for my admirers. SYPHAX: (Aside) Young men soon forgive and soon forget afronts - old ages slow in both. 'A false trator' those words rash boy may chance to cost you dear. My heart still had some foolish fondness for you - but hence tis gone. I give it to the winds. Caesar, I am wholly yours! SEMPRONIUS: All hail Sempronius. Well, Cato's senate's resolved to wait the fury of a siege, before it yields. SYPHAX: Syphax, we are both on the verge of fate. Lucius declared for peace and terms were offered to Cato by a messenger from Caesar. Should they submit before our designs are ripe, we both must perish in the common wreck - lost in the general undistinguished ruin. But how stands Cato? SEMPRONIUS: Thou has seen Mount Atlas whilst storms and tempest thunder on its brows and oceans break their billows at its feet. It stands unmoved and glories is in its height. Such is that haughty man, his towering soul midst all the shocks and injuries of fortune, rises superior, and looks down on Caesar. SYPHAX: But what's this messenger? I've conspired with him and found a means to tell the victor that Syphax and Sempronius are his friends. But let me now examine in my turn, is Juba fixed? SEMPRONIUS: Yes, but it is to Cato. I've tried the force of every reason on him, soothed and caressed, being angry, soothed again, laid safety, life, and interest, in his sight, but all are in vain. He scorns them all for Cato. SYPHAX: Come it is no matter. We shall do without him. He'll make a pretty figure in the triumph - humiliated - and running before the victor's chariot. Syphax I now may hope that thou has given up Juba's cause and wishes Marcia mine? SEMPRONIUS: May she be yours as fast as you would have her. Syphax I love that woman though I curse her and myself, yet in spite of me, I love her. Make Cato secure and then give up Utica. Caesar will never refuse such a trifle. SYPHAX: All is ready - the factious leaders are our friends, that spread rumors and discontent among the soldiers, they count their toilsome marches, long fatigues, unusual fastings, and will bear no more this medley of philosophy and war. Within the hour they will storm the senate house. SEMPRONIUS: Meanwhile, I will draw up my Numidia's troops within the square - to exercise their arms - and as I see occasion favor you. I love to think how your unshaken Cato will look aghast while unforeseen destruction pulls on him from every side. So where the white Numidian wastes extend suddenly the impetuous hurricane descends wheeling through the air, encircling eddies play, tear up the sands, and sweep whole planes away, so the helpless traveler with the wild surprise, sees the dry desert all around him rise, and smothered in the dusty whirlwind dies. PORTIUS: Thank my stars, I have not ranged the wilds of life without a friend. Nature gave me Portius my brother and early taught me by her secret force to love you before I even knew your merit. MARCUS: Marcus the friendships of the world are often confederacies in vice or leagues of pleasure, ours has severest virtue for its basis and such a friendship lasts a lifetime. Porteus you know my soul and its weakness so I pray you spare me where I am most tender, indulge me when it comes to love, my other passions can rise and fall with the dictates of virtue. 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 do not urge you to dismiss your passion as if that were possible but suppress its force till better times may make it look more graceful. PORTIUS: You talk like one who never felt the impatient throbbing and longing of a soul that pants and reaches after distant good. A lover does not live by crude time believe me Portius in my Lucius absence life hangs about me and becomes 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 all rise up at once and torture me. MARCUS: What can I do to help Porteus? You often enjoy your presence then undertake my cause and plead it to her with all the strength and heat and eloquence for eternal love and friendship can inspire. Tell her your brother languishes to death and fades away and withers in his prime that he forgets his sleep and loaths his food, that youth and health and love are all joyless to him. Describe his anxious days and restless nights and all the torments that you see me suffer. PORTIUS: Marcus I beg you give me not an office that suits me so ill. You know my temper. MARCUS: Will you behold me sinking in despair and will you not reach out a friendly arm to raise me from amidst this plunge of sorrows? PORTIUS: Marcus you can't ask what I've refused but now believe me I have a thousand reasons to... MARCUS: I know you'll say my passion's out of season that Cato's great example and misfortune should both conspire to drive it from my thoughts. But what's all that to one who loves like me? Oh Portius Portius for my soul I wish you knew for yourself what it is to love. Then you'd pity and assist your brother. PORTIUS: (Aside)What should I do? if I disclose my passion our friendship is at an end, if I conceal it the world will call me false to a friend and a brother. Oh but see where Lucia at her regular time admits the cool of that high marbled arch enjoys the noonday breeze. Observe her Portius, that face, that shape, those eyes, that heavenly beauty, observe her well and blame me if you can. She sees us and advances. I'll withdraw and leave you for a while - remember Portius your brother's life depends on your tongue. LUCIA: Did not I see your brother Marcus here? Why did he fly the place and shun my presence? PORTIUS: Oh Lucia language is too faint to show his rage of love. It preys upon his life, he pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies. Oh Lucia, I'm distressed my heart bleeds for him even now while I stand blessed in your presence a secret damp of grief comes over my thoughts and I'm unhappy though you smile upon me. LUCIA: How will you guard your honor in the shock of love and friendship? Think ahead my Portius think how our marriage that might ensure our mutual bliss would raise to such a height your brother's grief as might perhaps destroy him. PORTIUS: Oh, the poor youth, what do you think my Lucia? His generous open undesigning heart has begged his rival to solicit for him. Then do not strike him dead with a denial but hold him up in life and cheer his soul with a faint glimmer of a doubtful hope perhaps when we have passed these gloomy hours and weathered out the storm that beats upon us... LUCIA: No Portius! No! I see your sister's tears your father's anguish and your brother's death in the pursuit of our ill-fated loves. Portius here I swear to heaven I swear to heaven and all the powers that judge mankind never to mix my unfortunate hands with yours while such a cloud of mischief hangs about us but to forget our loves and drive you out from all my thoughts as far as I am able. PORTIUS: What have you said? I'm thunderstruck. Recall those hasty words or I am lost forever. LUCIA: Has not the vow already past my lips? The gods have heard it and it is sealed in heaven. May all the vengeance that was ever poured on perjured hands, overwhelm me if I break it. PORTIUS: Fixed in astonishment I gaze on you like one blasted from a stroke from heaven who pants for breath and stiffens yet alive and dreadful looks a monument of wrath. LUCIA: Think Portius think, you see your dying brother stabbed at his heart and all besmeared with blood storming at heaven and you your sad father sternly demands the cause, the accursed cause, that robs him of his son. Poor Marcia trembles then tears her hair and frantic in her grief calls out to me. What could I answer? Or how stand up in such a scene of sorrow? To my confusion and eternal grief I must approve the sentence that destroys me. PORTIUS: You appear more fair, more amiable, and more charming. Loveliest of women, heaven is in your soul beauty and virtue shine forever around you - brightening each other. You are all divine. LUCIA: Portius no more. Your words shoot through my heart melt my resolves and turn me all to love. Why are those tears of fondness in your eyes? Why heaves your heart, why swells your soul with sorrow? It softens me too much. farewell my Portius. Farewell though death is in the word 'forever'. PORTIUS: Stay Lucia stay. What do you say forever. You must not go - my soul still hovers over you and can't get loose. LUCIA: If the firm Portius shake to hear of parting, think of what Lucia suffers. PORTIUS: It is true unruffled and serene I've met the common accidents of life but here such an unlookedfor storm of ills falls on me, it beats down all my strength I cannot bear it. We must not part. LUCIA: What do you say 'not part'? Have you forgot the vow I have made? Are there not heavens and gods and thunder over us? But see your brother Marcus bends this way, I sickened at the sight once more farewell farewell and know you wrong me if you think ever was love or ever grief like mine. MARCUS: Portius what hopes? How stand she? Am I doomed to life or death? What would you have me say? What means this pensive posture? You appear like one amazed and terrified. PORTIUS: I've reason. Your downcast looks and disordered thoughts tell me my fate I ask not the success my cause has found. I'm grieved I undertook it. MARCUS: What does this barbarous girl insult my heart my aching heart and triumph in my pain? away you are too suspicious in your griefs. PORTIUS: Lucia though sworn to never think of love compassionates your pains and pities you. MARCUS: 'Compassionates my pain and pities me', what is compassion when it is void of love? Fool that I was to choose so cold a friend to urge my cause. 'Compassionates my pain' pray what art of rhetoric did you use to gain such a mighty boon? She pities me - to one who sensed the warm return of love. Compassions, cruelty, tis scorn, tis death. PORTIUS: Marcus no more. Have I deserved this treatment? MARCUS: What have I said? Oh Portius forgive me. A soul exasperated in ills falls, out with everything; a friend, itself... But what means that shout big with the sounds of war what new alarm? A second louder yet, swells in the wind and comes more full upon us. Oh for some glorious cause to fall in battle. Lucia you have undone me. Your disdain has broken my heart. Tis death must give me ease. Quick let us go - who knows if Cato's life stands safe. PORTIUS: Oh Marcus, I am warmed. My heart leaps at the trumpet's voice and burns for glory. SEMPRONIUS: Yes, come in brave warriors come come in you lovely rabel. At length the winds are raised, the storm blows high. Be it your care my friends to keep it up in all its fury and direct it right till it has spent itself on Cato's head. Meanwhile, I will herd among his friends and seem one of their number - that where ever arrive my friends and fellow soldiers may be safe. We are safe Sempronius is our friend. Sempronius is as brave a man as Cato-but hark he enters be sure to beat him down and bind him fast this day we'll end our toils. Fear nothing for Sempronius is our friend. CATO: Where are those bold intrepid sons of war that greatly turn their backs upon the foe and to their generals and a brave defiance? SEMPRONIUS: (Aside) Curse on their dastard souls. they stand astonished. CATO: Perfidious men, will you dishonor your past exploits and suddenly all your wars? Why could Cato not fall without betrayal? Behold ungrateful men, behold my chest naked to your sword and let the man that's injured strike the blow. Which of you all suspects that he is wronged or thinks he suffers worse than Cato? I am elevated by you only for my toils. Greater toils and heavier weight of cares - painful preeminence. SEMPRONIUS: (Aside) Confusion to the villains all is lost. CATO: Have you forgotten Libya's burning waste its barren rocks parched earth and hills of sand its tainted air and all its broods of poison? Who was the first to explore the untrodden path when life was hazarded in every step while fainting in the long laborous march? When on the banks of the life-saving stream you sunk the river with your thirsty gulps who was the last of our host to drink. Yes, yes, Cato and if some perfidious sauce by chance appeared, scanty water, then you scooped it up and offered it in the full helmet to Cato. Did he not refuse to drink? Did he not lead you through the midday sun and the clouds of dust? Did not his temples glow in the same sultry winds and scorching heats? Hence worthless men hence and complained to Caesar you could not undergo the toils of war nor bear the hardships that your leader bore. SEMPRONIUS: See Cato see the unhappy men they weep. Fear and remorse and sorrow for their crimes appear in every look and plead for mercy. CATO: Learn to be honest men. Give up your leaders and pardon shall descend on all the rest. SEMPRONIUS: Cate Cato commit these wretches to my care - first let each of them be broken on the rack and then with what life remains impaled and left to rithe at leisure around the bloody stake. There let them hang and taint the southern wind. The partners of their crimes will learn obedience when they look up and see their fellow traitors stuck on a fork and blackening in the sun. CATO: Sempronius see they suffer death but but in their deaths remember they are men. Strain not the laws to make their tortures grievous. Lucius the base degenerate age requires severity, when by just vengeance guilty mortals perish the gods behold the punishment with pleasure and lay the uplifted thunderbolt aside. SEMPRONIUS: Cato I execute your will with pleasure. CATO: Meanwhile we'll sacrifice to liberty remember. Oh my friends remember the laws the rights the generous plan of power, to deliver down from age to age by your renowned forefathers. So dearly bought, the price of so much blood. Oh let it never perish in your hands but piously transmit it to your children. You great liberty inspire our souls and make our lives in your possession happy or are deaths glorious in your just defense. Give us liberty! SEMPRONIUS: You have acted like yourself. One would have thought you were half an earnest. Villain! standoff base groveling worthless wretch! mongrels in faction! Poor faint-hearted traitors! No. Now you you'll carry it too far, Sempronius. I should never have employed such weak slaves to take on treason. If the plot succeeds, they're thrown neglected by. But if it fails they're sure to die like dogs - as you shall do. Here take these factious monsters, drag them forth, to sudden death. No no no he's with us. Since it comes to this, I'll just say... Dispatch them quickly - but first pluck out their tongues - lest with their dying breath they so dissension. SYPHAX: Our first design my friend has proved abortive still there remains an after-game to play. My troops are mounted let about Sempronius head us in our fight, we'll force the gate where Marcus keeps his guard and throw down all that would oppose our passage. A day will bring us into Caesar's camp... SEMPRONIUS: Confusion. I have failed - I have failed of half my purpose - Marcia the charming Marcia left behind. SYPHAX: How? Will Sempronius turn a woman's slave? SEMPRONIUS: Do you think your friend is capable of ever feeling the unmanly warmth and tenderness of love? I longe to clasp that haughty girl and bend her stubborn virtue to my passion. When I have gone that far, I'll cast her off. SYPHAX: Well said you've spoken like myself Sempronius. What hinders then but that you locate her and hurry her away by manly force? SEMPRONIUS: But how to gain admission - for access is given to none but Juba and her brothers? SYPHAX: You shall have Juba's dress and Juba's garb. The doors will open when Numidias' Prince seems to appear before the slaves that watch them. SEMPRONIUS: Heavens what a thought is there - Marcia my own. How will my bosom swell with anxious joy when I behold her struggling in my arms, with glowing beauty and disordered charms, while fear and anger with alternate grace, pants in her breast and very in her face. So Pluto seized Persephone - conveyed to hell's tremendous gloom the afrightened maid. There grimly smiled with his beautiful prize - never again to envy Jove his sunshine and his skies. LUCIA: Now tell me Marcia, tell me from your soul if you believe it's possible for woman to suffer greater ills than Lucia suffers? Oh Lucia, Lucia, might my big swollen heart vent all its grief and give loose to sorrow Marcia could answer you in size, keep pace with all your distress, and count out tear for tear. I know we're doomed alike. You are beloved by Juba and thy father's friend Sempronius. But which of these has power to charm like Portius? MARCIA: Still must I beg thee not to name Sepronius. I like not that loud boisterous man. Juba to all bravery of a hero add softest love and more than female sweetness Juba might make any of woman kind happy but Marcia. LUCIA: And why not Marcia? Come you strive in vain to hide your thoughts from one who knows all too well the inward glowing of a heart in love. MARCIA: While Cato lives his daughter has no right to love or hate but as his choice directs. LUCIA: But what if your father gives you to Sempronius? MARCIA: I dare not think he will but if he should Why will you add to all the griefs I suffer, imaginary ills and fancy tortures? I hear the sound of feet. They march this way. Let us retire and try if we can drown each amorous thought in awareness of present danger. When love once pleads admission to our hearts, in spite of all the virtue we can boast, the woman that deliberates is lost. SEMPRONIUS: The deer is trapped I've tracked her to her covert. How will the young new Numidian rave to see his mistress lost. If anything could glad my soul beyond the enjoyment of so brighter price it would be to torture that young barbarian but quiet. What's that noise? Death to my hopes it's Juba himself. There is but one way left the point of my sword. JUBA: What do I see who is this dares to usurp the garbs and habits of Numidia's prince? One that was born to scourge your arrogance presumptuous youth. SEMPRONIUS: What can this mean Sempronius? My sword shall answer you once it's in your heart. Rather beware your own proud barbarous man. Curse on my stars, am I then doomed to fall by a boy's hand, disfigured in a vile Numidian dress and for a worthless woman? Gods I am distracted. And as I close my life - Oh for a peel of thunder that would make earth, sea and air in heaven and Cato tremble (dies) JUBA: With what a spring this furious soul broke loose and left of the limbs still quivering on the ground? I must go to Cato that we may at length unravel this dark design this mystery of fate. LUCIA: I'm sure it was a clash of swords - my troubled heart is so cast down and sunk amidst its sorrows - it throbs with fear and aches at every sound. Marcia should your brothers for my sake- I die with horror at the thought. MARCIA: See Lucia see - here is blood his blood and murder! Hah! A Numidian! Heavens preserve the prince the face lies muffled up within the garment death to my sight! a Diadem and purple robes! Oh gods it is he it is he, Juba, the loveliest youth that ever warmed a virgin's heart. LUCIA: Juba lies dead before us. Now Marcia now call up all your resilience your strength and constancy of mind; you cannot be put at a greater trial. MARCIA: Lucia look there and wonder at my patience. Have I not caused to rant and beat my breasts to rend my heart with grief, and run distracted? LUCIA: What can I think or say to give you comfort? MARCIA: Talk not of comfort - that's for small troubles - behold a sight that strikes all comforts dead. I will indulge my sorrows and give way to all the suffering and fury of despair, that man, the best of men deserved it from me. LUCIA: What do I hear? and was the false Sempornius the best of men? MARCIA: Oh but if only I could have fallen like him and be thus mourned, I would be happy. Fate will not ease my tortured heart Oh he was made all up of love and charms. Whatever a maid could wish or man admire: Delight of every eye. When he appeared, a secret pleasure gladdened all that saw him; But when he talked the proudest Roman blushed to hear his virtues and old age grew wise. Oh, Juba! JUBA: What means that voice did she not call on Juba? MARCIA: Why do I think on what he was? He's dead, he's dead, and never knew how much I loved him? LUCIA: Lucia who knows but his poor bleeding heart, amidst its agonies, remembered Marcia, and the last words he uttered called me 'cruel'. MARCIA: Alas he knew not unlucky boy, he knew not, Marcia's whole soul was full of love for Juba. JUBA: Where am I? do I live? or am I indeed what Marcia thinks - all is Elysium around me? MARCIA: You dear remains of the most loved of men - no modesty or virtue here forbid a last embrace thus... JUBA: See Marcia see the happy Juba lives - he lives to catch that deer embrace and return it too with mutual warmth and eagerness of love. MARCIA: With pleasure and amaze I stand transported sure it is a dream - dead and alive at once. If you are Juba who lies there? JUBA: A wretch disguised like Juba on a cursed scheme. I could not bear to leave you here in the neighborhood of death, but flew in all the haste of love, to find you I found you weeping and confess I am wrapped with joy to see your tears. I've been surprised in an unguarded hour but must not now go back. The love that lay half smothered in my breast has broke through all its weak restraints and burns in its full luster. I cannot if I would conceal it from you. MARCIA: Oh fortunate mistake. Oh happy Marcia. JUBA: My joy my best beloved my only wish. How shall I speak the transport of my soul? MARCIA: Lucia your arm. Lead me to my apartment. Oh prince I blush to think what I have said but fate has rested the confession from me. Go on and prosper in the paths of honor. Your virtue will excuse my passion for you and make the gods propitious to our love. JUBA: Fortune thou has made amends for all your past unkindness. I absolve my stars. what though Numidia add her conquered towns and provinces to swell the victor's triumph? Juba will never at his fate repine, let's Caesar to have the world, if mercy is mine. LUCIUS: I stand astonished - what that bold Simpronius that broke through foremost through the crowd of patriots, as with a hurricane of zeal transported, and virtuous even to madness - that he should be the one to betray us? CATO: Trust me Lucius uh civil discords have produced such crimes, such monstrous crimes. I'm surprised at nothing, Oh Lucius I am sick of this bad world. The daylight and the sun grow painful to me. Ah but see where Portius comes - what means this haste? why are your looks thus changed? PORTIUS: My heart is grieved - I bring such news as will afflict my father. CATO: Has Caesar shed more Roman blood? PORTIUS: 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 called to him but in vain. He tossed his arms aloft and proudly told me he would not stay to perish like Sempronius. CATO: Treacherous man - but quickly my son - see your brother Marcus acts a Roman part. Oh Lucius the torrent bears too hard upon us justice gives way to force, and the conquered world is Caesar's. Cato has no business in it. LUCIUS: 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 slaves? or buy a base submission give up the cause of Rome and own a tyrant? The victor will never impose on Cato ungenerous terms. His enemies confess the virtues of humanity are Caesar's. LUCIUS: Curse on his virtues - they've undone his country. Such popular humanity is treason but see young Juba, the good youth, appears full of guilt for his perfidious subjects. Alas poor prince, his fate deserves compassion. JUBA: I blush and I'm confounded to appear before your presence Cato. CATO: What's thy crime? JUBA: I'm a Numidian. CATO: And a brave one too. Thou hast a Roman soul. JUBA: Have you not heard of my false countrymen? CATO: Alas young prince falsehood and fraud shoot up in every soil, the product of all regions. Rome has it's Caesars. JUBA: It is generous of you to comfort my distress. CATO: It is just to give applause where it's deserved. Your virtue prince has stood the test of fortune - like purest gold that tortured in the furnace comes out more bright and brings forth all its weight. JUBA: What shall I answer you? I'd rather gain your praise Oh Cato to the Numidia's empire. PORTIUS: Misfortune upon misfortune, grief on grief, my brother Marcus. CATO: Oh what has he done? Has he abandoned his post? Has he given way? Did he look tamely on and let them pass? PORTIUS: Scarce Had I left you father, but I met him born on the shields of his surviving soldiers - breathless and pale and covered over with wounds - long at the head of his few faithful friends, he stood the shock of the whole host of foes, until obstinately brave and bent on death, oppressed with multitudes, he greatly fell. CATO: I'm satisfied. PORTIUS: Nor did he fall before his sword had pierced through the false heart of Syphax. Beyond he lies I saw the gray-haired traitor grin in the pangs of death and bite the ground. CATO: Thank the gods - my boy has done his duty. Portius when I am dead, be sure you place his urn near mine. Long may they keep together. LUCIUS: Cato to arm your soul with all your patience. See where the corpse of your dead son approaches. The citizens and senators alarmed, have gathered around it and attended weeping. CATO: Welcome my son. Lay him down my friends - full in my sight that I may view at leisure the bloody corpse and count these glorious wounds. How beautiful is death when earned by virtue. Who would not be that youth? What pity it is that we can die but once to serve our country. Why sits the sadness on your brows my friends? I should have blushed if Cato's house had stood secure and flourished in a civil war. Portius behold your brother and remember your life is not your own when Rome demands it. LUCIUS: Was ever man like this? CATO: Alas my friends, why mourn you thus? Let not a private loss afflict your hearts. It is Rome requires your tears. The mistress of the world, the seat of the republic, the nurse of heroes, the delight of the gods, that humbled the proud tyrants of the earth and set the nations free, Rome is no more. Oh Liberty, Oh virtue, Oh my country! LUCIUS: Behold that upright man, Rome fills his eyes with tears that flowed not over his own dead son. CATO: Whatever the Roman virtue has subdued, the Sun's whole course, the day and year, are Caesar's. For him the self-made Decii died, the Fabii fell, and the great Scipio conquered; even Pompey fought and fell to Caesar. Oh my friends, how the toil of fait, the work of ages, the Roman republic has fallen to cursed ambition - fallen into Caesar's hands. Our great forefathers left him nothing to conquer but his own country. While Cato lives, Caesar will blush to see mankind enslaved and be ashamed of the name of empire. LUCIUS: Caesar ashamed? Has he not read Pharsalia? Cato it is time to save yourself and us. CATO: Lose not a thought on me. I am out of danger. Heaven will not leave me in the victor's hands. Caesar will never say 'I conquered Cato' but Oh my friends, your safety fills my heart with anxious thoughts, a thousand secret terrors rise in my soul, how shall I save my friends? It is now Caesar I begin to fear you. LUCIUS: Caesar has mercy if we ask of him. CATO: Then ask ask it I conjure you. Let him know whatever was done against him - Cato did it - and if you please that I requested of him, that I myself with tears, request of him that virtue of my friends may pass unpunished. Juba my heart is troubled for your sake. Should I advise you to retain Numidia or seek the conqueror? JUBA: If I forsake you whilst I live, may heaven abandoned Juba. CATO: Your virtue prince, if I foresee correctly, will one day make you great at Rome. Thereafter it will be no crime to have been Cato's friend. Portius draw near my son. You have often seen your father engaged in a corrupt state - wrestling with vice and faction. Now you see me spent, over power, despairing of success, let me advise you to retreat early to our paternal home - the Sabine Field where the great Censor toiled with his own hands, and all our frugal ancestors were blessed in humble virtues and a rural life. There live retired, pray for the peace of Rome. Content yourself to be obscurely good. When vice prevails and impious men bear sway, the post of honor is a private station. PORTIUS: I hope my father does not recommend a life to Portius he scorns himself? CATO: Farewell my friends. If there be any of you that dare not trust the victor's clemency, know that our ships prepared, by my command, (Their sail ready open to the winds) that shall convey you to the wished-for port. Is there anything else my friends, I can do for you? The conqueror draws near. Once more farewell. If ever we meet thereafter we shall meet in happier climates and on safer shores, where Caesar shall never approach us more. There the brave youth with love of virtue fired, who greatly in his country cause expired, shall know he conquered. The firm patriot there who made the welfare of mankind his care, though still by faction vice and fortune crussed, shall find the generous labor was not lost. CATO: The soul is immortal it - it must be so. Plato you reason well - otherwise why would it be this pleasing hope - this fond desire - this longing for immortality? Or, whence the secret dread, this inward horror of falling into nothing? Why shrinks the soul back on herself and startles at destruction? Tis the divinity that stirs within us Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, and intimates eternity to man. Eternity thou pleasing dreadful thought. Through what variety of untried being, through what new scenes and changes must we pass? The wide the unbound prospect lies before me, but shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Here will I hold, if there's a power above and that there is (all nature cries aloud through all her works) he must delight in virtue, and that which he delights in, must be happy. But when? or where? - This world is made for Caesar I'm weary of conjectures-this must end them. Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life, my bane and antidote are both before me: This in a moment brings me to an end, but this informs me I shall never die. The soul secured in her existence smiles at the drawn dagger and defies its point the star shall fade away the sun herself grow dim with age and nature sink sinking years but thou shall flourish and immortal youth unhurt amidst the war of elements, the wreck of matter, the crash of worlds. What means this heaviness that hangs upon me? This lethargy that creeps through all my senses. Nature oppressed and harassed out with care sinks down to rest. This once I'll favor her, that my awakened soul, may take her flight renewed in all her strength, and fresh with life, an offering lit for heaven. Let guilt or fear disturb men's rest, Cato knows neither of them, indifferent to his choice to sleep or die. PORTIUS: How is this my son? why this intrusion? Were not my orders that I would be private? Why am I disobeyed? CATO: Oh father, what means this sword? this instrument of death. Let me take it away. PORTIUS: Rash youth - refrain. Oh let the prayers and entreaties of your friends, their tears, their common danger, rested from you. Would you betray me? Would you give me up a slave, a captive, into Caesar's hands? Retire and learn obedience to your father or know young man... Look not! Look not so stern at me. You know I'd rather die than disobey you. CATO: It is well again. I am master of myself. Now Caesar let your troops storm our gates and bar each avenue. Your gathering fleets over-spread the sea and stop up every port, Cato shall open to himself a passage and mock your hopes. PORTIUS: Oh sir forgive your son whose grief hangs heavy on him. Oh my father, how am I sure it is not the last time I shall ever call you so? Be not displeased - be not angry with me, while I weep and in the anguish of my heart, beseech you to quit the dreadful purpose of your soul. CATO: Thou hast been ever good and dutiful. Weep not my son all will be well again. The righteous gods whom I have sought to please, will succor Cato and preserve his children. PORTIUS: Your words give comfort to my drooping heart. CATO: Portis you know you may rely on my conduct. Your father will not act in a way that misbecomes him. But, go my son and see if anything is wanting among your father's friends. See them embarked and tell me if the winds and sea befriend them. My soul is quite weighed down with cares and asks the soft refreshment of a moment's sleep. My thoughts are more at ease my heart revives. PORTIUS: Oh Marcia Oh my sister, still there is hope our father will not cast away his life so needful to all of us and to his country. He is retired to rest and seems to cherish thoughts full of peace. He has dispatched me with orders that indicate a mind composed and studious to the safety of his friends. Marcia take care that no one disturbs his slumbers. Ye immortal powers that guard the just watch round his couch and soften his repose. Banish his sorrows and calm his soul with easy dreams. Remember all his virtues and show mankind that goodness is your care. LUCIA: Where is your father Marcia? Where is Cato? MARCIA: Lucia speak low, he's retired to rest. Lucia, I feel a gently dawning hope rise in my soul. We shall be happy still. LUCIA: Alas I tremble when I think on Cato. In every view and every thought - I tremble. Cato is stern and awful as a god. 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, compassionate and gentle to his friends, filled with domestic tenderness. The best, the kindest father, I have ever found him easy and good and bounteous to my wishes. LUCIA: It is his consent alone can make us blessed, Marcia. We are both equally involved in the same intricate perplexed distress. The cruel hand of fate that has destroyed your brother Marcus whom we both lament. And ever shall lament - unhappy youth. 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 will determine of you? MARCIA: Let him but live - commit the rest to heaven. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man. O marcy I have seen your godlike father - some power invisible supports his soul and bears it up in all its unrestrained greatness. A kind refreshing sleep has fallen upon him I saw him stretched at ease his worries lost in pleasing dreams. As I drew near his couch, he smiled and cried 'Caesar thou shalt not hurt me'. His mind still labors with some dreadful thought. LUCIA: Lucia why all this grief this flood of sorrows? Dry up your tears, my child, we are all safe while Cato lives. His presence will protect us. LUCIUS: Lucius the horsemen are returned from viewing the number strength and posture of our foe who are now encamped within a short hour's march. On the high point of the far bright western tower we spotted them from afar, the gleaming sun playing on their shining arms, and burnished helmets, and covering all the field with gleams of fire. Marcia it is time. We should wake your father. Caesar is still disposed to give us terms and waits at distance until he hears from Cato. PORTIUS: Portius your looks speak somewhat of importance. What news do you bring? I think I see an unusual gladness sparkle in your eyes. As I was rushing to the port, where now my father's friends impatient for passage accuse the lingering winds, a sail arrived from Pompeii's son - who through the realms of Spain calls out for vengeance on his father's death and rouses the whole nation up in arms. Where Cato at their head, once more might Rome assert her rights, and claim her liberty. But listen, what was that groan? Oh give way. Let me fly to my father. Cato amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome and in the wild the disorder of his soul mourns for his country. Ahh a second groan, heaven protect us. It is not the voice of one who sleeps. It is agonizing pain and it is death in that sound. Oh, sight of doom Oh Marcia, what we feared has come to pass. Cato has fallen on his sword. MARCIA: Oh Portius, hide all the gore in your tale and let us guess the rest. PORTIUS: I've raised him up and placed him in his chair where pale and frail he gasps for breath and as his life flows from him, demands to see his friends. His weeping servants, obsequious to his orders, bear him here. MARCIA: Oh heaven help me in this dark hour to pay the last sad duties to my father. PORTIUS: These are the triumphs of your exploits Caesar. Now is Rome fallen, indeed. Here set me down. CATO: Portius come near me. Are my friends embarked? Can anything be thought of for their service? Whilst I live let me not live in vain. Oh Lucius are you here. You are too good. Let this our friendship live between our children. Make Portius happy in your daughter Lucia. Alas, poor man, he weeps. Marcia my daughter Oh bend me forward ... Juba loves you Marcia. A senator at Rome well Rome survived would not have matched his daughter with a king that Caesar's arms have thrown down all distinction whoever is brave and virtuous is a Roman I am sick to death oh when shall I get loose of this world the abode of guilt and sorrow and yet I see a beam of light breaking in on my departing soul alas I fear I have been too hasty oh you powers that search the hearts of men and weigh their innermost thoughts if I have done amiss impugn it not, the best of us may air but you are good and (dies) PORTIUS: There fled the greatest soul that ever warmed a Roman breast oh Cato oh my friend your will shall be rigorously observed but let us bear this awful corpse Caesar and lay it in his sight that it may stand a fence between us and the victor's wrath Cato though dead shall still protect his friends from hence let fierce contending nations know what dire effects from civil discord flow it is this that shakes our country with alarms and gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms produces fraud and cruelty and strife, and robs the guilty world of Cato's life.]</p>