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Abig Abigail Alcibiades arms beats Behold believe blood bower Caesar Cato Cato's charms Coach conjurer dear death Decius dost thou dreadful drum duke of Anjou Enter Exit eyes fair fancy Fant Fantome fate father fear four legs friends Gard ghost give glorious gods Grid grief hand happy hear heart heaven honour husband Juba King Lady liberty live Look ye lover Lucia Lucius madam maid Marcia Marcus marry master never night Numidian o'er passion Pharsalia pleasure Portius Pray prince Prithee Queen rage riddle rise Roman Roman senate Rome Rosamond SCENE secret Semp Sempronius senate servants Sir George Sir Trusty sorrow soul Spanish monarchy speak stand steward sure sword Syphax talk tears tell thee Theophrastus thou art thou hast thought thousand pound Tinsel Utica Vellum virtue vows widow woman word wouldst young youth
64. oldal - To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To^ raise the genius, and to mend the heart, To make mankind in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold...
129. oldal - It must be so — Plato, thou reasonest well — Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into naught ? 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.
65. oldal - A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state. While Cato gives his little senate laws...
107. oldal - Oh, stop those sounds, Those killing sounds ! Why dost thou frown upon me ? My blood runs cold, my heart forgets to heave, And life itself goes out at thy displeasure.
102. oldal - tis no matter, we shall do without him. He'll make a pretty figure in a triumph, And serve to trip before the victor's chariot. Syphax, I now may hope thou hast forsook Thy Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine.
133. oldal - Alas! I tremble when I think on Cato, In every view, in 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. Mar. Though stern and awful to the foes of Rome, He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild, Compassionate, and gentle to his friends. Fill'd with domestic tenderness, the best, The kindest father!
129. oldal - The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me ; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us (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.
67. oldal - And heavily in clouds brings on the day, The great, th' important day, big with the fate Of Cato and of Rome" Our father's death Would fill up all the guilt of civil war, And close the scene of blood. Already...
84. oldal - So the 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, And a new heaven in its fair bosom shows.
87. oldal - 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 free the common-wealth ; when this end fails, Arms have no further use : our country's cause, That drew our swords, now wrests 'em from our hands, And bids us not 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.