Crom.-O my lord, Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego Wol.-Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not: O Cromwell, thou fall'st a blessed martyr!— There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny-'tis the king's: my robe, I dare now call mine own.-O Cromwell, Cromwell! Crom.-Good sir, have patience. The hopes of Court! My hopes in heaven do dwell! [They go out together.] CATO'S SPEECH OVER HIS DEAD SON.-ADDISON. [With a heroic, but dignified expression.] THANKS to the Gods! my boy has done his duty.— Porcius, behold thy brother! and remember, Thy life is not thy own, when Rome demands it! Despairing of success, Let me advise thee to withdraw, betimes, To our paternal seat, the Sabine field, Where the great Censor toil'd with his own hands, And all our frugal ancestors were bless'd In humble virtues and a rural life. There live retired: content thyself to be *In recitation, the pupil may omit the lines between the asterisks. When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, Farewell, my friends! If there be any of you In happier climes, and on a safer shore, THE END. |