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He is retir'd to rest, and feems to cherish We ken them from afar; the setting fun Thoughts full of peace. He has dispatch'd me Plays on their shining arms and burnith'd helmets, hence

And covers all the field with gleams of fire. With orders that bespeak a mind compos'd, Luc. Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy And studious for the safety of his friends.

father. Marcia, take care that none diturb his numbers. Cæsar is still dispos'd to give us terms,

[Exit. And waits at distance till he hears from Cato. Mar. Oye immortal powers that guard the just.

Enter Portius.
Watch round his couch, and foften his repore,
Banish his forrows, and becalm his foul Portius, thy louks speak somewhat of importance.
With ealy dreams; remember all his virtues ! What tidings doft thou bring? Methinks I sce
And thew mankind that goodncís is your care.

Unusual gladness sparkling in thine eyes.
Enter Lucia.

Por. As I was hafting io the port, where now
Luc. Where is your father, Marcia, where is My father's friends, impatient for a passage,

Accuse the ling’ring winds, a fail arriv'd Mar. Lucia, speak low, he is retir'd to rest.

From Pompey's son, who thro' the realms of Spain Lucia, I feel a gentle dawning hope

Calls ont for vengeance on his father's death,

And rouses the whole nation up to arms.
Rise in my soul. We shall be happy hill.
Luc. Alas! I tremble when I think on Cato!

Were Cato at their head, once more might Rome

Allert her rights, and claim her liberty.
In every view, in every thought, I tremble !
Cato is stern and awful as a god;

But, hark ! what means that groan? O, give me He knows not how to wink at human frailty,

way, Or pardon weakness that he never felt.

And let me Ay into my father's presence. [Erit. Mar. Tho' fern and awful to the foes of Rome, And, in the wild diforder of his foul,

Luc. Cato, amidft his slumbers,thinks on Rome, He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild,

Mourns o'er his country. Hah! a second groan Compallionate and gentle to his friends. Fillå with domestic tenderness, the best,

Heaven guard us all!-The kindeft father I have ever found him,

Mar. Alas! 'is not the voice

Of one who sleeps; 'tis agonizing pain, Easy and good, and bounteous to my wilhes.

Luc. 'Tis his consent alone can make us bless'd. 'Tis death is in that sound.-
Marcia, we are both equally involv'd

Re-enter Portius.
In the fame intricate, perplex'd distress.
The cruel hand of fate, that has destroy'd

Por. O fight of woe!

O Marcia, what we fear'd is come to pafs !
Thy brother Marcus, whoin we both lament
Mw. And ever shall lament, unhappy youth!

Cato is fallen upon his sword.
Lic. Has set my foul at large, and now I stand Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale,

Luc. O Porrius,
Loose of my vow.

But who knows Cato's thoughts?

And let us guess the rest. Who knows how

Por. I've rais'd him up, yet

he may dispose of Portius, And plac'd him in his chair, where pale and fainz Or how he has determin'd of thyself? Mar. Let him but live, commit the rest to

He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows from

Enter Lucius.

Demands to see his friends. His servants weeping,

Obsequious to his order, bear him hither. Luc. Sweet are the numbers of the virtuous

Mar. O Heaven! affist me in this dreadful hour, man !

To pay the last fad duties to my father. O Marcia, I have feen thy godlike father ;

Jub. These are thy triumphs, rhy exploits, O Some power invisible supports his soul,

And bears it up in all its wonted greatnefs. Luc. Now is Rome fallen indeed!
A kind refrething feep is fallen upon him :
I law him stretch'd at case, his fancy lost

Cate brought in on a chair.

Cato. Here set me down-
In pleafing dreams: as I drew near his couch,
Hc Imild, and cricd, Cæsar, thou can t not hurt

Portius, come near me-Are myfriends embark d?

Can any thing be thought of for their service! Mar. His mind still labours with some dread-Whilft 1 yet live, let me not live in vain. ful thought.

-O Lucius, art thou here?--thou art too good

(sorrow Læc. Lucia, why all this grief, these foods of Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia.

Let this our friendthip live between our children, Dry up tły tears, my child, we all are safe While Cato lives his presence will protect us.

Alas! poor man, he weeps ! -Marcia, my daughEnter Juba.

O, bend me forward !- Juba loves thee, Marcia, Jub. Lucius, the horsemen are return'd from A senator of Rome, while Rome surviv'd, viewing

Would not have match'd his daughter with a The number, firength, and posture of our foes,

king; Who now encamp within a short hour's march; But Cæsar's arms have thrown down all diftince On the high point of yon bright western tower

tion : 7




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Whoe'er is brave and virtuous, is a Roman Why did she wed old Theseus? while his son,
-I'm fick to death-0, when Ihall I get loose The brave Hippolitus, with equal youth
From this vain world, th’abode of guilt and for- And equal beauty might have fill'd her arms.

Lyc. Hippolitus (in distant Scythia born,
And yet, methinks, a beam of light breaks in The warlike Amazon, Camilla's fon)
Oa my departing foul. Alas, I fear

Tillour queen's marriage, was unknown to Crete: I've been too hasty. Oye pow'rs, that search And sure the queen couldwish him ftillunknown : The heart of man, and weigh his inmost thoughts, She loaths, detests him, flies his hated presence, If I have done amiss, impute it not !

And Ihrinks and trembles at his very name. The best may err, but you are good, and! Crat. Well may lie hate the prince the needs

[Dies. muft fear; Luc. There fled the greatest soul that ever He may dispute the crown with Phædra's son. warın'd

He's brave, he's fiery, youthful, and belov'd; A Roman breast; O Cato! O my friend ! His courage charms the men, his form the wor Thy will shall be religiously observd.

But let us bear this awful corpse to Cæsar, His very sports are war.
And lay it in his fight, that it may stand Lyc. 'O he's all hero, scorns th'inglorious eale
A fence betwixt us and the victor's wrath; Of lazy Crete, delights to thine in arins,
Caro, though dead, thall fill protect his friends. T wield the sword, and launch the pointed

From hence, let fierce contending nations know spear;
What dire effects from civil disconi fow. To tame the gen'rous horse, that nobly wild
'Tis this that shakes our country with alarms, Neighs on the hills, and dares the angry lion;
And gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms, To join the struggling courters to his chariot,
Produces fraud, and cruelty, and strife, To make their Itubborn necks the rein obey,
And robs the guilty world of Cato's life. To turn, or stop, or stretch along the plain.

[ Exeunt omnes. No:v the queen 's sick, there's danger in his


He must be watch'd. § 48. PHÆDRA AND HIPPOLITUS. Be ready with your guards.-I fear Hippolitus. SMITH.

[ Exit Cral. ACT I. SCENE 1. Fear him! for what? poor filly virtuous wretch! Enter Cratanıder and lycon.

Affe&ting glory, and contemning power :

Warm without pride, without ambition brave;
Lycor. "Tis ftrange, Cratander, that the royal A fenseless hero, fit to be a tool

Should ftill continue resolute in grief,

To those whose godlike souls are turn'd for eme

And obstinately wretched :
That one fo gay, so beautiful and young,

An open honest fool, that loves and hates,
Of gndlike virtue and imperial power,

And yet more fool to own it. He hates flatterers,

He hates me too ; weak boy, to make a foe
Should fly inviting joys, and court destruction.
Crat. Is there not cause, when lately join'd in But cringe, and flatter, fawn, adore, yet hate him.

Where he might have a llave. I hate him too, marriage,

Let the queen live or die, the prince muft fall.
To have the king her husband callid to war ?
Then for three tedious moons to mourn his ab-

Enter Ismena.

What, ftill attending on the queen, Ismena ?
Mor know his fate?

O charming virgin ! O exalted virtue !
Lyc. The king may cause her sorrow, Can still your goodness conquer all your wrongs?
But not by absence : oft I've seen him hang. Are you not robb'd of your Athenian crown?
With greedy eyes and languish o'er her beauties; Was not your royal father Pallas llain,
She from his wide, deceiv'd, defiring arms And all his wretched race, by conqu’ring Theseus !
Flew tasteless, loathing; whilft dejected Theseus And do you fill watch o'er his confort Phædra ?
With mournful loving cyes pursued her fight, And still repay such cruelty with love?
And dropp'd a filent tear.

Ifm. Let them be cruel that delight in mischief:
Crat. Ha! this is hatred,

I'm of a softer mould; poor Phædra's forrows This is aversion, horror, deteftation :

Pierce through my yielding heart, and wound my Why did the queen, who might have cullid soul. mankind,

Lyc. Now thrice the rising fun has cheer'd the Why did the give her person and her throne

world, To one she loath'd ?

Since the renew'd her strength with due refrelha Lyc. Perhaps the thought it just

That he should wear the crown his valour fav’d. Thrice has the night brought ease to man, to beast,
Crat. Could she not glut his hopes with wealth Since wretched Phædra clos'd her streaming eyes:
and honour,

She flies all rest, all necessary food,
Reward his valour, yet reject his love?

Resolu'd to die, nor capable to live. [phrensy ;
Why, when a happy mother, queen and widow, Ifm. But now her grief has wrought her into


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The images her troubled fancy forms

And in the noble dust the chariot's loft. Are incoherent, wild; her words disjointed : Lyc. What, madam ! Sometimes the raves for music, light, and air. Pbæd. Ah, iny Lycon ! ah, what said I? Nor air, nor light, nor music, calin her pains; Where was I hurried by my roving fancy? Then with ecstatic strength the springs a loft, My languid eyes are wet with ludden tears, And moves and bounds with vigour not her own. And on my cheeks unbideen blufhes glouv. Lyc. Then life is on the wing; then most the Lyc. Then blush, but blush for your deltructive finks

Silence, When most she seems reviv`d. Like boiling water, That tears your soul, and weighis you down to That foams and hilles c'er the crackling wood,

death. And bubbles to the brim; ev'n then most waiting, O! should you die (ye pow'rs, forbid her death!), When most it livells.

Who they would thield from wrongs your help, Ifr. My lord, now try your art;

less orphan Her wild disorder may disclose the fecret Hethen might wander, Phædra'sson might wander, Her cooler fense conceal'd. The Pyrhian goddess | A naked Tuppliant thro' the world for aid: Is dumb and fullen, till with fury fuld Then he may cry, invoke his mother's name: She spreads, the rites, growing to the right, He may be doomd to chains, to Mame, to death, She ftares, the foains, the raves; the awful secrets While proud Hippolitus ihall mount his throne. Burst from her trembling lips, and ease the tor Pbad. O Heaveos! tur'd maid.

Luc. Ha! Phædra, are you touch'd at this? But Phædra comes, ye gods, how palc, how weak! Phad. Unhappy wretch! what name was that

you spoke Enter Phadra and Alexidants,

Lyc. And does his name provoke your just rea Phed. Stay, virgins, stay; I'll rest my weary fentments? steps:

Then let it raise your fear as well as wrath : My strength forfakes me, and my dazzled eyes Think how you wrong'd him, to his father Ake with the flashing light; my Icofen d knees wrongid hiin; Sink under their dull weight. Support me, Lycon. Think how you drove him hence a wand'ring exile Alas! I faint.

To distant climes; then think what certain venLyc. Afford her case, kind Heaven!

geance Pbæd. Why blaze these jewels round my His rage may wreak on your unhappy orphan, wretched head ?

For his sake then renew your drooping fpirits; Why all this labour'd elegance of dress? Feed with new oil the wasting lanıp of life, Why flow these wanton curls in artful rings? Chat winks and treinbles, now, just now expiring; Take, snatch 'em hence, Alas ! you all contpire Make hatte, preserve your life, To heap new sorrows on my tortur'd soul : Pbad. Alas! too long, All, all conspire to make your queen unhappy. Too long have I preferi'd that guilty life, Lady. This you requir'd, and to the pleasing Lic. Guilty ! what guilt: Has blood, has talk

horrid murder Call’d your officious maids, and urg'd their art; Imbrued your hands? You bid 'em Icad


hideous darkncis Phad. Alas! my hands are guiltless,
To the glad cheering day, yet now avoid it, But O! my heart's debilid.
And hate the light you fought.

I've faid too much ; forbear the rest, my Lycon, Phæd. O my Lycon!

And let me dic, tu fare the black confellion. O! how I long to lay my wcary head

Luc. Dic then, but not alone ; old faiılıful Lycon On tender flow'ry beds and springing grass, Shall be a victim to your cruel Gilence. To stretch my limbs beneath ihe spreading thades Will you not tell? O lovely, wretched queen! Of venerable oaks, to flake my thirst

By all the cares of your titt infant years, (you, With the cool nectar of refreshing springs! By all the love, and faith, and zeal I've how'd Lyc. I'll footh her phrenly. Camc, Phædia, Tell me your griefs, unfold your luidden forrows, let's away ;

And teach your Lycon how to bring you come Let's to the woods and lawns, and limpid Atreams. fort. Phæd. Comc, let's away; and thou most bright Phoed. What Thall I say, malicious cruel pow'rs? Diana,

() where shall I begin. O cruel Venus, Goddess of woods, immortal, chalte Diana, How fatal love has been to all our race ! Goddess presiding o’er the rapid race,

Luc. Forget it, madam ; let it die in silence. Place me, O place me in the dusty ring,

Pbxed. O Ariadne! O unhappy fitter! Where youthful charioteers contend for glory! Lyc. Cease to record your fifter's grief and Sec how they mount, and shake the Aowing reins ! Thame. See from the goal the fiery coursers bound ! Pball. And since the cruel god of love re. Now they strain, panting up the steepy hill;

quires it, Now sweep along its top, now neigh along the I fall the last, and most undone of all. vale.

Lyc. Do you then love? How the car rattles, how its kindling whecls Phaed, Alas! I groan beneath Smoke in the whirl! the circling faud duchus, The pain, the guilt, the shame of impious love.




AT I C. Ly. Forbid it, Heaven !

Phæd. Yes, at first. Pbeerd. Do not upbraid me, Lycon:

That fatal ev'ning we pursued the chace, I love. Alas! | thudder at the name; When from behind the wood, with rustling My blood runs backward, and my falt'ring

found, tongue

A monstrous boar rush'd forth : his baleful eyes Sticks at the found - I love.-Orighteous Heaven' Shot glaring fire, and his stiff-pointed bristles Why was I born with such a serie of virtue, Rofe high upon his back : at me he made, So great abhorience of the smallest crime, Whetting his tusks, and churning hideous foam : And yet a slave to fuch impetuous guilt ? Then, then Hippolitus flew in to aid me: Rain on me, gols, your plagues, your harper Collecting all himfelf, and rising to the blow, tortures,

He launch 'd the whistling spear; the well-aim'd Aflict my foul with any thing but guilt,

javelin Ånd vet that guilt is mine. -I 'll think no more; Pierc'd his tough hide, and quiver'd in his I'll to the woods among the happier brutes.

heart; Coine, let 's away ; hark, the thrili horn retounds, The monster fell, and, gnalhing, with huge tusks The jolly huntsmen's crics rend the wide heavens. Plow'd up the criinfon carth. But then HipComc, o'cr the hills pursue the bounding stag, politus ! Come, chale the lion and the foamy boar; Gods! how he mov'd and look'd when he apCome, roule up all the monsters of the wood;

proach'd me! For there, evin there, Hippolitus will guard me. When hot and panting from the savage conquest, Lyr. Hippolitus!

Dreadful as Mars, and as bis Venus lovely, Boad. Who's he that names Hippolitus ? His crimson cheeks with purple beauties glow'd, Ah! I'm betray'd, and all my guilt discover'd. His lovely sparkling eyes shot martial fires. 0! give me poison, twords ; I'll not live, nor O godlike form! O ecitafy and tranfport ! bear it ;

My breath grew short, my beating heart sprung I'll stop my breath.

upward, lim I'm lost, but what's that loss?

And leap'd and bounded in my heaving bosom. Hipolitus is lout, or lost to me :

Alas! I'm pleas'd; the horrid story charms me. Yet thould her charms prevail upon his soul, No more-That night with fear and love I Should he be falle, I would not with him ill;

ficken'd. With my last pariing breath I'd blets my lord : Oft I receiv'd his fatal charming visits ; Then in line lonely delert place expire,

Then would he talk with such an heavenly grace, Whence my unhappy death fhall never reach Look with such dear compaffion on my pains, hiin,

That I could wish to be fo fick for ever. Lift it should wound bis peace, or damp his jovs. My ears, my greedy eyes, my thirsty foul,

[ Afide Drank gorging in the dcar delicious poison, Lyc. Think fill the secret in your royal breast; Till I was lost, quite loft in impious love. For by the awful majesty of Jove,

And thall I drag an execrable life? By the all-feeing sun, by righteous Minos, And thall I hoard up guilt, and treasure venBy all your kindred gods we ficar, o Phædra, geance? Sate as our lives we'll keep the Fatal secret. Lyc. No; labour, ftrive, subdue that guilt, and Ilm. &c. We twear, all twear to keep it ever live. fecret.

Pbed. Did I not labour, ftrive, all-feeing Pbail . Keep it' from whom? why it's alieady

pow'rs! krown,

Did I not weep and pray, implore your aid ! The tale, the whisper of the babbling vulgar : Burn clouds of incenfe on your loaded altars ? O, can you keep it from yourfelves, unknow it: 0!I call's heaven and earth to my allistance, Or do you think I'ın to far gone in guilt,

All the ainbitious thirst of fame and empire,
That I can foc, can bear the looks, the eyes And all the honest pride of conscious virtue :
Of one who knows my black detelted crimes, I struggled, rav'd; the new-born passion reign'd
Of one who knows that Phædra loves her fon Almighịy in its birth.

Lyc. Unhappy queen! august, unhappy race ! Lyc. Did you e'er try
Or why did The!cus touch this faral thore? To gain his love?
Why did he fave us from Nicander's arms, Pbæd. Avert such crimes, ye pow'rs!
To bring worse ruin on us by his love? No; to avoid his love I fought his hatred :

Phad. His lore indeed; for that unhappy hour I wrong'd him, thunn’d him, banith'd him from
In which the priest join’d Thefeus' hand to mine, Crete :
Shew'd the young Scythian to my dazzled eyes. I sent him, drove him from my longing right:
Gols! how I look! what boiling heat inflam’d In vain I drove him, for his tyrant form
My panting breaft! how from the touch of Reign'd in my heart, and divélt before my eyes.

If to the gods I pray'd, the very vows
My flack hand dropp'd, and all the idle pomp, I made to Heaven were by my crring tongue
Priests, altars, victims, fwam before my light! Spoke to Hippolitus. If tried to fleep,
The god of love, ev’n the whole god, poliels'd me. Straight to my drowsy cyes n y resilet's fancy
1,6. At once, at first poffefs 'd you !

Brought back his fatal forin,anıl curs dmy slumber,




Lyc. First let me try to melt him into love. Lyc. Then may his happier son be bles with

Ďbæd. No; let his hapless passion equal mine, I would refuse the bliss i molt desir’d,

Then rouse your soul, and muster all your Consult my fame, and sacrifice my life.

charms, Yes, I would die, Heaven knows, this very mo- Sooth his ambitious mind with thirst of empire, ment,

And all his tender thoughts with soft allure.' Rather than wrong my lord, my husband Theseus. Lyc. Perhaps that lord, that husband is no Phad. But should the youth refuse my profmore;

fer'd love? He went from Crete in hafte, his army thin, 0, should he throw me from his loathing arms ? To meet the numerous troops of fierce Molor- I fear the trial; for I know Hippolitus sians;

Fierce in the right, and obftinately good : Yet tho' he lives, while ebbing life decays, When round beset, his virtue, like a food, Think on your son.

Breaks with refiftless force th' opposing dams, Phæd. Alas ! that shocks me.

And bears the mounds along; they're hurry'don, O let me see my young one, let me Inatch And swell the torrent they were rais'd to stop. A hasty farewel, a last dying kiss.

I dare not yet resolve ; I 'il try to live, Yet stay ; his fight will, melt my just resolves : And to the awful gods I 'll leave the rest. But o ! I beg with my last fallying breath, Lyc. Madam, your signet, that your Nave may Cherish my babe.


What's most expedient for your royal service. Erter Messenger.

Pbad. Take it, and with it take the fate of Meff. Madam, I grieve to tell you

What you must know: your royal husband's | And thuu, O Venus, aid a suppliant queen,

Thar owns thy triumphs, and adores thy pow'r : Phad. Dead ! O ye pow'rs !

O spare thy captives, and subdue thy foes. Lyc. O fortunate event !

On this cold Scythian let thy pow'r be known, Then earth-born Lycon may ascend the throne, And in a lover's caufe affert thy own : Leave to his happy son the crown of Jove, Then Crete as Paphos shall adore thy shrine ; And be ador'd like him. Be hush’d, my joys. This nurse of Jove with grateful fires shall

[Ajide. fhine, Mourn, mourn, ye Cretans ! ·

And with thy father's flammes thall worship thine, Since he is dead whose valour sav'd your isle,

[Excunt Pbad, &c. Whose prudent care with Mowing plenty crown'd His peaceful subjects ; as your tow'ring Ida,

Lycon folus. With spreading oaks, and with descending If the proposes love, why then as surely streams,

His haughty soul refuses it with fcorn.Shades and enriches all the plains below. Say I confine him! If the dies, he's safe; Say how he died.

And if the lives, I 'll work her raging mind. Mel. He died as Theseus ought,

A woman scorn'd with ease I 'll work to ven. In battle died : Philotas, now a prisoner,

geance : That rushing on fought next his royal person, With humble, wise, obsequious fawning arts That saw his thund'ring arın beat squadrons I'll rule the whirl and transport of her loul; down,

That, when her reaton hates, her rage may act. Saw the great rival of Alcides fall.

When barks glide lowly thro' the lazy main, beheld his well-known steed, beheld The bafiled pilots turn the helms in vain ; A proud barbarian glitt'ring in his arms,

When driv'n by winds they cut the foamy way, Encumber'd with the spoil.

[Exit. The rudders govern, and the thips obey. Pbad, Is he then dead?

(Exit Is my much-injur'd lard,


Theseus, dead >
And don't I Thed one tear upon his urn?
What! not a sigh, a groan, a soft complaint ?
Ah! these are tributes due from pious brides,

From a chaste matron, and a virtuous wife :
But savage Love, the tyrant of my heart,

Enter Phadra and Lycon. [Enter Meffenger. Claims all my forrows, and usurps my grief.

Lyc. Dismiss that grief, and give a loose to joy: Mel MADAM, the prince Hippolitus atHe's dead, the bar of all your bliss is dead;

tends. Live,then, my queen, forget the wrinkled Theseus, Pbad. Admit him. Where, where, Phædra, And take the youthful hero to your arms.

is now thy soul? Phæd. I dare not now admit of such a thought, What-hall I speak? And shall my guilty And bless'd be Heaven that steel'd my stubborn tongue heart;

Let this infulting victor know his pow'r? That made me fhun the bridal bed of Theseus, Or shall I still confine within this breast And give him empire, but refuse him love. My restless pations and devouring flames !


These eyes

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