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This knows my punisher: therefore as far
From granting he, as I from begging peace:
All hope excluded thus, behold instead
Of us outcast, exild, his new delight,
Mankind created, and for him this world.
So farewell hope ; and, with hope, farewell fear;
Farewell remorse ; all good to me is lost;
Evil be thou my good : by thee at least
Divided empire with Heav'n's King I hold,
And by thee more than half perhaps will reign;
As man ere long, and this new world, shall know.

1 ΤΟΝ.

CHAP. VI.

CATO'S SOLILOQUY.

It must be som

--Plato, thou reason'st well-
Else whence this p.easing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this secret dread, and inward horrour
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the Soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
'Tis the Divinity, that stirs within us;
"Tis Heav'n itself, that points out a hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man,
„Eternity! thau pleasing, dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untried being,
Through what new scenes and changes must we pass !
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 be delights in must be happy.
But when, or where - This world was made for Cæsar.
I'm weary of corjectures— this must end 'em.

Thus am I doubly arm'd-My death and life,
My bane and antidote are both before me.
This in a moinent brings me to an end;

But this informs me I shall never die.
The Soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies it's 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.

CATO.

CHAP. VII.

SOUTHAMPTON AND ESSEX.

Oficer. My Lord,
We bring an order for your execution,
And hope you are prepar’d; for you must die
This very hour.

South. Indeed! the time is sudden!

Esser. Is death th’event of all my flatter'd hope ?
False Sex! and Queen more perjur'd than them all!
But die I will without the least complaint;
My soul shall vanish silent as the dew
Attracted by the sun from verdant fields
And leaves of weeping flow'rs.--Come, my dear friend,
Partner in fate, give me thy body in
These faithful arms, and O now let me tell thee,
And you, my Lords, and Heav'n my witness too,
I have no weight, no heaviness on my soul,
But that I've lost my dearest friend his life.

South. · And I protest, by the same powers divine,
And to the world, 'tis all my happiness,
The greatest bliss of mind yet e'er enjoyed,
Since we must die, my Lord, to die together.
Officer. The Queen, my lord Southampton, has been

pleas'd,
To grant particular mercy to your person;
And has by us sent you a reprieve froin death,
With pardon of your ticasons, and commands
You to depart immediately from hence.

South. O my unguarded soul! Sure never was A man with mercy wounded so before.

Essex. Then I am loose to steer my wand'ring voyage ; Like a bad vessel, that has long been cross'd, And bound by adverse winds, at last gets liberty, And joyfully makes all the sail she can To reach her wish'd-for port-Angels protect The Queen ; for her my chiefest pray’rs shall be, That as in time she spar'd my noble friend, And owns his crimes worth mercy, may she ne'er Think so of me too late, when I am dead Again, Southampton, let me hold thee fast, For 'tis my last embrace.

South. O be less kind, my friend, or niove less pity, Or I shall sink beneath the weight of sadness ! I weep

that I am doom'd to live without you, And should liave smil'd to share the death of Essex. Essex. 0

spare

this tenderness for one that needs it,
For her that I commit to thee, 'tis all
I claim of my Southampton.- my wife!
Methinks that very name should stop thy pity,
And make thee covetous of all as lost,
That is not meant to her

be a kind friend
To her, as we have been to one another;
Name not the dying Essex to thy queen,
Lest it should cost a tear, nor'e'er offend her.

South. O stay, my Lord; let me have one word more;
One last farewell, before the greedy axe
Shall part my friend, my only friend, from me,
And Essex from himself-I know not what
Are call’d the pangs of death, but sure I am,
I feel an agony that's worse than death-
Farewell.

Essex. Why that's well said -Farewell to the
Then let us part just like two travellers,
Take distant paths, only this diff'rence is,
Thine is the longest, mine tne shortest way
Now let me go--if there's a throne in Heav'n
For the most brave of men and best of friends,
I will bespeak it for Southampton.

South. And I, while I have life, will hoard thy mem'ry: When I am dead, we then shall mect again.

Essex. Till then, Farewell.
South. Till then, Farewell.

EARL OF Essex.

CHAP. VIII.

JAFFIER AND PIERRE.

Jaff. By Heav'n, you stir not!
I must be heard, I must have leave to speak !
Thou hast disgrac'd me, Pierre, by a vile blow!
Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice ?
But use me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong me,
For I am fall’n beneath the basest injuries :
Yet look upon me with an eye of

mercy;
With pity and with charity behold me;
Shut not thy heart against a friend's repentance;
But, as there dwells a godlike nature in thee,
Listen with mildness to my supplications.

Pier. What whining monk art thou? what holy cheat,
That wouldst encroach upon my cred'lous ears,
And cant'st thus vilely? hence! I know thee not.

Jaff. Not know me, Pierre ! Pier. No, know thee not ; what art thou? Jaff. Jaffier, thy friend, thy once lov’d, valu'd friend! Though now deserv’dly scorn'd, and us'd most hardly.

Pier. Thou Saffier ! thou my once lov’d, valu'd friend! By Heav'ns thou liest; the man so call’d, my friend, Was gen'rous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant, Noble in mind, and in his person lovely, Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart: But thou a wretched, base, false, worthless coward, Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect : All eyes must sbun thee, and all hearts detes thee. Pritbee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me, Like something baneful, that my nature's chilld at.

Jaff. I have not wrong'd thee: by these tears I have not; But still am honest, true, and hope too, valiant;

My mind still full of thee, therefore still noble.
Let not thy eyes then shun me, nor thy heart
Detest me utterly: Oh! look upon me,
Look back and see my sad, sincere submission !
How my heart swells, as e’en 'twould burst my bosom,
Fond of it's goal, and lab'ring to be at thee.
What shall I do? what say to make thee hear me?
Pier. Hast thou not wrong'd me? dar'st thou call

thyself That once beloved, valu'd friend of mine, And swear thou hast not wrong'd me? Whence these

chains ?
Whence the vile death which I may meet this moment?
Whence this dishonour but from thee, thou false one?
Jaff. All's true ; yet grant one thing, and I've done ·

asking.
Pier. What's that!
Jaff. To take thy life on such conditions
The council have propos’d : thou and thy friend
May yet live long, and to be better treated.

Pier. Life! ask my life! confess! record myself
A villain for the privilege to breathe,
And carry up and down this cursed city
A discontented and repining spirit,
Burdensome to itself, a few years longer,
- To lose it, may be, at last, in a lewd quarrel
For some new friend, treach'rous and false as thou art !
No, this vile world and I have long been jangling,
And cannot part on better terms than now,
When only men like thee are fit to live in't.

Jaff. By all that's just

Pier. Swear by some other pow'rs,
For thou hast broke that sacred oath too lately.

Jaff. Then by that Hell I merit, I'll not leave thee,
Till to thyself at least thou'rt reconcil'd,
However thy resentment deal with me.

Pier. Not leave me!

Jaff. No'; thou shalt not force me from thee;
Use me reproachfully, and like a slave;
Tread on nie, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs
On my poor head; I'll bear it all with patience ;

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