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But ftill the lovely maid improves her charms,
With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom,
And fanctity of manners. Cato's foul
Shines out in ev'ry thing she acts or fpeaks,
While winning mildness and attractive smiles
Dwell in her looks, and with becoming grace
Soften the rigour of her father's virtues.

SYPH. How does your tongue grow wanton in her praise !

CHA P. VIII.

CATO's SOLILOQUY.

T must be fo-Plato, thou reason'st well

IT

Elfe whence this pleafing hope, this fond defire,
This longing after immortality ?

Or whence this fecret dread, and inward horror,
Of falling into nought; Why fhrinks the foul
Back on herself, and ftartles at destruction?
'Tis the Divinity that ftirs within us;

'Tis Heav'n itself that points out an hereafter.
And intimates eternity to man.

Eternity! thou pleafing, dreadful thought!
Thro' what variety of untry'd being.

Thro' what new scenes and changes must we pass!
The wide, th' unbounded profpect lies before me;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness, reft upon it.
Here will I hold. If there's a pow'r above us,
(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud
Thro' all her works) he muft delight in virtue ;
And that which he delights in, must be happy.

R 3

CATO.

But

But when, or where ?-This world was made for Cæfar. I'm weary of conjectures-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 moment brings me to an end;
But this informs me I fhall never die.
The foul, fecur'd in her exiftence, fmiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point;
The ftars fhall fade away, the fun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature fink in years;
But thou fhalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.

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MY

Y 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 fudden !

Ess. Is death th' event of all my flatter'd hope?

Falfe Sex! and Queen more perjur'd than them all!

But die I will without the least complaint,

My foul fhall vanish filent as the dew,

Attracted by the fun from verdant fields,

And leaves of weeping flowers.-Come, my dear friend,
Partner in fate, give me thy body in

Thefe faithful arms, and O now let me tell thee,
And you, my Lords, and Heaven my witness too,

I have no weight, no heavinefs on my foul,
But that I've loft my dearest friend his life.

SOUTH. And I proteft, by the fame powers divine,
And to the world, 'tis all my happiness,

The greatest blifs my mind yet e'er enjoy'd,

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 fent you a reprieve from death,
With pardon of your treasons, and commands
You to depart immediately from hence.

SOUTH. O my unguarded foul! Sure never was
A man with mercy wounded so before.

Ess. Then I am loofe to steer my wand'ring voyage ;
Like a bad veffel that has long been croft,
And bound by adverse winds, at last gets liberty,
And joyfully makes all the fail fhe can,

To reach its wifh'd-for port-Angels protect
The Queen, for her my chiefeft prayers fhall be,
That as in time she has spar'd my noble friend,
And owns his crimes worth mercy, may fhe ne'er
Think fo 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 move lefs pity,

Or I fhall fink beneath the weight of fadness?

I

weep that I am doom'd to live without you,

And fhould have fmil'd to share the death of Effex.

Ess. O fpare this tenderness for one that needs it,
For her that I commit to thee, 'tis all that I
Can claim of my Southampton-O my wife!

Methinks

Methinks that very name should stop thy pity,

And make thee covetous of all as loft

That is not meant to her.-be a kind friend
To her, as we have been to one another;
Name not the dying Effex to thy Queen,
Left it fhould coft a tear, nor e'er offend her.

SOUTH. O ftay, my Lord, let me have one word more : One laft farewel, before the greedy axe

Shall part my friend, my only friend from me.
And Effex from himself-I know not what
Are call'd the pangs of death, but fure I am
I fell an agony that's worse than death-

Farewel.

-Farewel to thee

Ess. Why, that's well faid. Then let us part, juft like two travellers, Take diftant paths, only this difference is, 'Thine is the longeft, mine the shortest wayif there's a throne in heaven

Now let me go

For the most brave of men and beft of friends,

I will befpeak it for Southampton,

SOUTH. And I, while I have life, will hoard thy memory:

When I am dead, we then shall meet again.

Ess. Till then, Farewel.

SOUTH. Till then, Farewel.

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JAFF. BY

I must be heard, I must have leave to speak :

Thou haft difgrac'd me, Pierre, by a vile blow:

Had

Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice?

But ufe me as thou wilt, thou can't not wrong me,
For I am fallen 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,
Liften with mildness to my fupplications.

PIER. What wining monk art thou? what holy cheat, That would'st incroach upon my credulous ears,

And cant'ft 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 liv'd, valu'd friend ! Tho' now deferv'dly fcorn'd, and us'd moft hardly.

PIER. Thou Jaffier! thou my once lov'd, `valu'd friend!
By heav'ns thou ly'ft; the man fo call'd, my friend,
Was generous, honeft, faithful, juft, and valiant,
Noble in mind, and in his perfon lovely,

Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart :
But thou a wretched, bafe, falfe, worthlefs coward
Poor even in foul, and loathfome in thy afpect:
All eyes muft fhun thee, and all hearts deteft thee.
Prithee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me,
Like fomething baneful, that my nature's chill'd at.

JAFF. I have not wrong'd thee, by these tears I have.not,
But ftill am honeft, true, and hope too, valiant;
My mind ftill full of thee, therefore still noble.
Let not thy eyes then shun me, nor thy heart
Deteft me utterly: Oh! look upon me,

Look back and fee my fad, fincere fubmiffion!

How my heart fwells, as e'en 'twould burit my bɔfom;

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