Oh, give me way,
And let me fly into my father's presence! [_Exit._

_Luc._ Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome,
And, in the wild disorder of his soul,
Mourns o'er his country.--Ha! a second groan--
Heav'n guard us all!

_Marcia._ Alas, 'tis not the voice
Of one who sleeps; 'tis agonizing pain--
'Tis death is in that sound----

_Enter_ PORTIUS.

_Por._ Oh, sight of woe!
Oh, Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pass--
Cato has fall'n upon his sword----

_Luc._ Oh, Portius,
Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale,
And let me guess the rest.

_Por._ I've raised him up,
And placed him in his chair; where pale and faint,
He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows from him,
Demands to see his friends. His servants weeping,
Obsequious to his order, bear him hither!----

_Marcia._ Oh, Heav'n! assist me in this dreadful hour,
To pay the last sad duties to my father!

CATO _brought on, in a Chair._

_Cato._ Here set me down----
Portius, come near me--Are my friends embark'd?
Can any thing be thought of for their service?
Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain----
Oh, Lucius, art thou here?--Thou art too good--
Let this our friendship live between our children;
Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia----
Marcia, my daughter----
Oh, bend me forward!----Juba loves thee, Marcia--
A senator of Rome, while Rome survived,
Would not have match'd his daughter with a king--
But Caesar's arms have thrown down all distinction--
I'm sick to death----Oh, when shall I get loose
From this vain world, th' abode of guilt and sorrow!
And yet, methinks, a beam of light breaks in
On my departing soul----Alas, I fear
I've been too hasty!--Oh, ye powers, that search
The heart of man, and weigh his inmost thoughts,
If I have done amiss, impute it not----
The best may err, but you are good, and--Oh!-- [_Dies._

_Por._ There fled the greatest soul that ever warm'd
A Roman breast:--
From hence, let fierce contending nations know,
What dire effects from civil discord flow:
'Tis 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. [_Exeunt omnes._

THE END.

PRINTED BY J. SMITH.

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CATO***

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