Cato Part 7

Why did he fly the place, and shun my presence?

_Por._ 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!

_Lucia._ 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, would raise to such a height Thy brother's griefs, as might perhaps destroy him.

_Por._ Alas, poor youth! What dost thou think, my Lucia?

His gen'rous, open, undesigning heart Has begg'd his rival to solicit for him!

Then do not strike him dead with a denial.

_Lucia._ 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 powers that judge mankind, Never to mix my plighted hands with thine, While such a cloud of mischief hangs upon us, But to forget our loves, and drive thee out From all my thoughts--as far as I am able.

_Por._ What hast thou said? I'm thunderstruck--recall Those hasty words, or I am lost for ever.

_Lucia._ Has not the vow already pa.s.s'd my lips?

The G.o.ds have heard it, and 'tis seal'd in heav'n.

May all the vengeance that was ever pour'd On perjured heads, o'erwhelm me if I break it!

_Por._ Fix'd in astonishment, I gaze upon thee, Like one just blasted by a stroke from heav'n, Who pants for breath and stiffens, yet alive, In dreadful looks, a monument of wrath!

_Lucia._ 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 demands the cause, the accursed cause, That robs him of his son: poor Marcia trembles, Then tears her hair, and, frantic in her griefs, Calls out on Lucia. What could Lucia answer, Or how stand up in such a scene of sorrow?

_Por._ To my confusion and eternal grief, I must approve the sentence that destroys me.

_Lucia._ Portius, no more; thy words shoot through 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, though death is in the word,--for ever!

_Por._ Stay, Lucia, stay! What dost thou say? For ever?

Thou must not go; my soul still hovers o'er thee, And can't get loose.

_Lucia._ If the firm Portius shake, To hear of parting, think what Lucia suffers!

_Por._ 'Tis true, unruffled and serene, I've met The common accidents of life, but here Such an unlook'd-for storm of ills falls on me.

It beats down all my strength--I cannot bear it.

We must not part.

_Lucia._ What dost thou say? Not part!

Hast thou forgot the vow that I have made?

Are not there heavens, and G.o.ds, that thunder o'er us?

--But see, thy brother Marcus bends 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_ LUCIA.

_Enter_ MARCUS.

_Marc._ Portius, what hopes? How stands she? am I doom'd To life or death?

_Por._ What wouldst thou have me say?

_Marc._ What means this pensive posture? Thou appear'st Like one amazed and terrified.

_Por._ I've reason.

_Marc._ Thy downcast looks, and thy disorder'd thoughts, Tell me my fate. I ask not the success My cause has found.

_Por._ I'm grieved I undertook it.

_Marc._ What, does the barbarous maid insult my heart, My aching heart, and triumph in my pains?

That I could cast her from my thoughts for ever!

_Por._ Away! you're too suspicious in your griefs; Lucia, though sworn never to think of love, Compa.s.sionates your pains, and pities you.

_Marc._ Compa.s.sionates my pains, and pities me!

What is compa.s.sion, when 'tis void of love?

Fool that I was, to choose so cold a friend To urge my cause!--Compa.s.sionates my pains!

Pr'ythee what art, what rhet'ric didst thou use To gain this mighty boon?--She pities me!

To one that asks the warm returns of love, Compa.s.sion's cruelty, 'tis scorn, 'tis death--

_Por._ Marcus, no more; have I deserved this treatment?

_Marc._ What have I said? Oh! Portius, Oh, forgive me!

A soul exasperated in ills, falls out With every thing--its friend, itself--but hah! [_Shout._ What means that shout, big with the sounds of war?

What new alarm?

_Por._ A second, louder yet, Swells in the wind, and comes more full upon us.

_Marc._ Oh, for some glorious cause to fall in battle!

Lucia, thou hast undone me: thy disdain Has broke my heart; 'tis death must give me ease.

_Por._ Quick let us hence. Who knows if Cato's life Stands sure? Oh, Marcus, I am warm'd; my heart Leaps at the trumpet's voice, and burns for glory. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Part of the Senate House._

_Enter_ SEMp.r.o.nIUS, _with_ LEADERS _of the Mutiny_.

_Sem._ 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'll herd among his friends, and seem One of the number, that, whate'er arrive, My friends and fellow soldiers may be safe. [_Exit._

_1 Lead._ We are all safe; Semp.r.o.nius is our friend.

Semp.r.o.nius is as brave a man as Cato.

But, hark, he enters. Bear up boldly to him; Be sure you beat him down, and bind him fast; This day will end our toils.

Fear nothing, for Semp.r.o.nius is our friend.

_Enter_ SEMp.r.o.nIUS, _with_ CATO, LUCIUS, PORTIUS, _and_ MARCUS.