But ftill the lovely maid improves her charms, Shines out in ev'ry thing fhe acts or speaks, SYPH How does your tongue grow wanton in her praise ! С НА Р. VIII. CATO's SOLILOQUY. CATO. T must be fo-Plato, thou reason'st well IT Elfe whence this pleafing hope, this fond defire, Or whence this fecret dread, and inward horror, Eternity! thou pleafing, dreadful, thought! But when? or where ?This world was made for Cæfar, Thus am I doubly arm'd. My death and life, The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. CHA P. IX. CATO. SOUTHAMPTON AND ESSEX. 'Y Lord, M' OFFICER. 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 leaft 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, These faithful arms, and O now let me tell thee, I have no weight, no heavinefs on my foul, SOUTH. And I proteft, by the fame powers divine, The greatest blifs my mind yet e'er enjoy'd, Since we muft die, my Lord, to die together. OFFICER. The Queen, my Lord Southampton, has been pleas'd To grant particular mercy to your person; SOUTH. O my unguarded foul! Sure never was Ess. Then I am loofe to fteer my wand'ring voyage; Like a bad veffel that has long been croft, And bound by adverfe winds, at laft gets liberty, To reach its wifh'd-for port-Angels protect Again, Southampton, let me hold thee fast, SOUTH. O be lefs kind, my friend, or move lefs pity, Or I shall fink beneath the weight of sadness! I weep that I am doom'd to live without you, And should have fmil'd to share the death of Effex. Ess. O fpare this tenderness for one that needs it, I Methinks Methinks that very name should stop thy pity, Left it should 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, Are call'd the pangs of death, but fure I am Farewel. -Farewel to thee Ess. Why, that's well faid- I will befpeak it for Southampton. SOUTH. And I, while I have life, will hoard thy memory: When I am dead, we then fhall meet again. JAFF.DY Heav'n, you ftir not, But 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 juftice? But use me as thou wilt, thou can'st not wrong me, For I am fallen beneath the baseft injuries: Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy, With pity and with charity behold me; PIER. What whining monk art thou? what holy cheat, That would'ft incroach upon my credulous ears, And cant'ft thus vilely? hence! I know thee not. PIER. No, know thee not; what art thou? JAFF. Jaffier, thy friend, thy once lov'd, valu'd friend! Tho' now deferv'dly scorn'd, and us'd most hardly. PIER. Thou Jaffier! thou my once lov'd, valu'd friend! By heav'ns thou ly'ft; the man so 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 aspect: 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 ftill noble. Let not thy eyes then fhun me, nor thy heart Deteft me utterly: Oh! look upon me, Look back and fee my fad, fincere fubmifion! How my heart fwells, as e'en 'twould burst my bofom; Fond |