Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue;
And that which he delights in must be happy;

But when, or where ?-This world was made for Cæsar.
I'm weary of conjectures ;-this must end them.

(Laying his hand on his sword.)

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 stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years,
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the crush 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 fit for Heaven. Let guilt or fear
Disturb man's rest, Cato knows neither of them,
Indifferent in his choice, to sleep or die.

(Enter Portius.)

But, ha! who's this? my son! Why this intrusion?
Were not my orders that I would be private?

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
O'erspread the sea, and stop up every port,
Cato shall open to himself a passage,

And mock thy hopes.

Por. (Kneeling.) 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 e'er shall call you so? Be not displeased,
Oh, be not angry with me whilst 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.

(Embracing him.)

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.

Por. Your words give comfort to my drooping heart.
Cato. Portius, thou mayest rely upon my conduct.

Thy father will not act what misbecomes him.
But go, my son, and see if aught be wanting
Among thy father's friends; see them embarked,
And tell me if the winds and seas befriend them.
My soul is quite weighed down with care, and asks
The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep.

Por. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives.-

(Enter Marcia.)

Oh, Marcia! Oh, my sister! still there's hope
Our father will not cast away a life

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
With orders that bespeak a mind composed,

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,
Watch round his couch, and soften his repose;
Banish his sorrows, and becalm his soul

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,
And bears it up in all its wonted greatness.
A kind, refreshing sleep is fallen upon him:
I saw him stretched at ease, his fancy lost

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,
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, Heaven! assist me in this dreadful hour,
To pay the last sad duties to my father!

(Cato brought on, in a chair.)

Juba. These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O Cæsar!
Luc. Now is Rome fallen indeed!

Portius, come near me.--Are my friends embarked?
Can any thing be thought of for their service?
Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain-

Oh, bend me forward!-Oh, when shall I get loose
From this vain world, the 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.)

Luc. There fled the greatest soul that ever warmed

A Roman breast-Oh, Cato! oh, my friend!
Thy will shall be religiously observed.
But let us bear this awful corpse to Cæsar,
And lay it in his sight, that it may stand
A fence betwixt us and the victor's wrath:
Cato, though dead, shall still protect his friends.

(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,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide its head.
Cas. Chastisement !-

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember!
Did not great Julius bleed for justice's sake?
What villain touched his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world,
But for supporting robbers; shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ?
And sell the mighty meed of our large honors
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Cas. Brutus, bay not me;

I'll not endure it: you forget yourself,
To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius.
Cas.
I am.

Bru. I say you are not.

Cas.

Urge me no more: I shall forget myself

Have mind upon your health-tempt me no farther.
Bru. Away, slight man!

Cas. Is it possible?

Bru.

Hear me, for I will speak.

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

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?
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humor? By the gods,

You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it doth split you: for, from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

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.
Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempted him.

Cas. I durst not!

Cas. What? durst not tempt him?
Bru. For your life you durst not.

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,
That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me;
For I can raise no money by vile means.
By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart,