Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue; But when, or where ?-This world was made for Cæsar. (Laying his hand on his sword.) Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life, The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. (Enter Portius.) But, ha! who's this? my son! Why this intrusion? Why am I disobeyed? Portius. Alas, my father! What means this sword, this instrument of death? Let me convey it hence. Cato. Rash youth, forbear. Por. Oh, let the prayers, the entreaties of your friends, Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from you. Calo. Wouldst thou betray me? Wouldst thou give me up A slave, a captive, into Cæsar's hands? Retire, and learn obedience to a father, Or know, young man Por. Look not thus sternly on me; You know, I'd rather die than disobey you. Cato. 'Tis well! again I'm master of myself. Now, Cæsar, let thy troops beset our gates, And bar each avenue; thy gathering fleets And mock thy hopes. Por. (Kneeling.) Oh, Sir, forgive your son, I e'er shall call you so? Be not displeased, (Embracing him.) Weep not, my son, all will be well again; Por. Your words give comfort to my drooping heart. Thy father will not act what misbecomes him. Por. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives.- (Enter Marcia.) Oh, Marcia! Oh, my sister! still there's hope So needful to us all, and to his country. He is retired to rest, and seems to cherish (Exit Cato.) Thoughts full of peace. He has despatched me hence 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, With easy dreams; remember all his virtues, And show mankind that goodness is your care! Luc. (Enter Lucius.) Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man! Oh, Marcia, I have seen thy godlike father; Some power invisible supports his soul, In pleasing dreams; as I drew near his couch, He smiled, and cried, Cæsar, thou canst not hurt me. Marcia. His mind still labors with some dreadful thought. (Enter Portius.) Por. Oh, sight of wo! Oh, Marcia, what we feared is come to pass! Cato has fallen upon his sword Luc. Oh, Portius, Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale, And let us guess the rest. Por. I've raised him up, And placed him in his chair; where, pale and faint, Marcia. Oh, Heaven! assist me in this dreadful hour, (Cato brought on, in a chair.) Juba. These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O Cæsar! Portius, come near me.--Are my friends embarked? Oh, bend me forward!-Oh, when shall I get loose I've been too hasty !-Oh, ye powers, that search The best may err, but you are good, and—Oh! (Dies.) Luc. There fled the greatest soul that ever warmed A Roman breast-Oh, Cato! oh, my friend! (Exeunt.) XXII.-FROM JULIUS CÆSAR.-Shakspeare. BRUTUS-CASSIUS. Tent Scene. Cassius. That you have wronged me, doth appear in this: You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella For taking bribes here of the Sardinians; Wherein my letter (praying on his side, Because I knew the man) was slighted of. Brutus. You wronged yourself, to write in such a case. Cas. At such a time as this it is not meet That every nice offense should bear its comment. Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemned to have an itching palm; To sell and mart your offices for gold, To undeservers. Cas. I an itching palm? You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember! Cas. Brutus, bay not me; I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius. Bru. I say you are not. Cas. Urge me no more: I shall forget myself Have mind upon your health-tempt me no farther. Cas. Is it possible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Cas. O gods! ye gods! must I endure all this? Bru. All this! ay, more.-Fret till your proud heart break! Go, tell your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Cas. Bru. Is it come to this? You say, you are a better soldier : Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cas. You wrong me every way-you wrong me, Brutus ; I said an elder soldier, not a better; Did I say better? Bru. Cas. Bru. If you did, I care not. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. Cas. I durst not! Cas. What? durst not tempt him? Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do what I shall be sorry for. Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am armed so strong in honesty, |