The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• Foreword
• Introduction
• The Life of Joseph Addison
• Addison the Essayist
• Cato, a Tragedy
• Editors’ Note
• Acknowledgments
• Cato: a Tragedy
• Prologue By Mr. Pope 2
• Dramatis Personae
• Act I —
• Scene I
• Scene Ii
• Scene Iii
• Scene Iv
• Scene V
• Scene Vi
• Act Ii —
• Scene I
• Scene Ii
• Scene Iii
• Scene Iv
• Scene V
• Scene Vi
• Act Iii —
• Scene I
• Scene Ii
• Scene Iii
• Scene Iv
• Scene V
• Scene Vi
• Scene Vii
• Act Iv —
• Scene I
• Scene Ii
• Scene Iii
• Scene Iv —
• Act V —
• Scene I
• Scene Ii
• Scene Iii
• Scene Iv
• Epilogue By Dr. Garth. 1
• Selected Essays
• Tatler, No. 161
• Tatler, No. 162
• Whig Examiner, No. 5
• Spectator, No. 55
• Spectator, No. 125
• Spectator, No. 169
• Spectator, No. 215
• Spectator, No. 219
• Spectator, No. 231
• Spectator, No. 237
• Spectator, No. 243
• Spectator, No. 255
• Spectator, No. 256
• Spectator, No. 257
• Spectator, No. 287
• Spectator, No. 293
• Spectator, No. 349
• Spectator, No. 446
• Spectator, No. 557
• Guardian, No. 99
• Guardian, No. 161
• Freeholder, No. 1
• Freeholder, No. 2
• Freeholder, No. 5
• Freeholder, No. 10
• Freeholder, No. 12
• Freeholder, No. 13 1
• Freeholder, No. 16
• Freeholder, No. 29
• Freeholder, No. 34
• Freeholder, No. 39
• Freeholder, No. 51
• The Life and Character of M. Cato of Utica [ ]

ACT V —

SCENE I

Cato, solus, sitting in a thoughtful posture: in his hand Plato’s Book on the Immortality of the Soul.1

A drawn sword on the table by him.

• It must be so—Plato, thou reason’st well!—
• Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
• This longing after immortality?
• Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
• Of falling into nought? why shrinks the soul

• Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
• ’Tis the divinity that stirs within us;
• ’Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter,
• And intimates eternity to man.
• Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!

• Through what variety of untried being,
• Through what new scenes and changes must we pass!
• The wide, the 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 he delights in, must be happy.2
• But when! or where!—This world was made for Caesar.
• I’m weary of conjectures—This must end ’em.

•     [Laying his hand on his sword.]
•     Thus am I doubly armed: 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 shall never die.
• The soul secured in her existence, smiles

• At the drawn dagger, and defies its 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 wars of elements,

• The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.
•   What means this heaviness that hangs upon me?
• This lethargy that creeps through all my senses?
• Nature, oppressed and harassed out with care,
• Sinks down to rest. This once I’ll favour her,

• That my awakened soul may take her flight,
• Renewed in all her strength, and fresh with life,
• An offering fit for heaven. Let guilt or fear
• Disturb man’s rest: Cato knows neither of ’em,
• Indifferent in his choice to sleep or die.

SCENE II

Cato, Portius.

Cato

• But, hah! how’s this, my son? why this intrusion?
• Were not my orders that I would be private?
• Why am I disobeyed?

Portius

•   Alas! my father!
• What means this sword? this instrument of death?
• Let me convey it hence!

Cato

•   Rash youth, forbear!

Portius

• Oh let the prayers, the entreaties of your friends,
• Their tears, their common danger, wrest it from you.

Cato

• Wouldst thou betray me? wouldst thou give me up
• A slave, a captive, into Caesar’s hands?
• Retire, and learn obedience to a father,

• Or know, young man!—

Portius

•   Look not thus sternly on me;
• You know I’d rather die than disobey you.

Cato

• ’Tis well! again I’m master of myself.
• Now, Caesar, let thy troops beset our gates,
• And bar each avenue, thy gathering fleets

• O’erspread the sea, and stop up every port;
• Cato shall open to himself a passage,
• And mock thy hopes—3 "

Portius

•   Oh, sir! forgive your son,
• Whose grief hangs heavy on him! Oh my father!
• How am I sure it is not the last time

• I e’er shall call you so! be not displeased,
• Oh be not angry with me whilst I weep,
• And, in the anguish of my heart beseech you
• To quit the dreadful purpose of your soul!

Cato

• Thou hast been ever good and dutiful.  [Embracing him.]

• Weep not, my son. All will be well again.
• The righteous gods, whom I have sought to please,
• Will succour Cato, and preserve his children.

Portius

• Your words give comfort to my drooping heart.

Cato

• Portius, thou may’st rely upon my conduct.

• Thy father will not act what misbecomes him.
• But go, my son, and see if aught be wanting
• Among thy father’s friends; see them embarked;
• And tell me if the winds and seas befriend them.
• My soul is quite weighed down with care, and asks

• The soft refreshment of a moment’s sleep.  [Exit.]

Portius

• My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives.

SCENE III

Portius, Marcia.

Portius

• O Marcia, O my sister, still there’s hope!
• Our father will not cast away a life
• So needful to us all, and to his country.
• He is retired to rest, and seems to cherish
• Thoughts full of peace. He has despatched me hence

• With orders, that bespeak a mind composed,
• And studious for the safety of his friends.
• Marcia, take care that none disturb his slumbers.  [Exit.]

Marcia

• O ye immortal powers, that guard the just,
• Watch round his couch, and soften his repose,

• Banish his sorrows, and becalm his soul
• With easy dreams; remember all his virtues!
• And show mankind that goodness is your care.

SCENE IV

Lucia, Marcia.

Lucia

• Where is your father, Marcia, where is Cato?

Marcia

• Lucia, speak low, he is retired to rest.
• Lucia, I feel a gently-dawning hope
• Rise in my soul. We shall be happy still.

Lucia

• Alas! I tremble when I think on Cato,

• In every view, in every thought I tremble!
• Cato is stern, and awful as a god,4
• He knows not how to wink at human frailty,
• Or pardon weakness that he never felt.

Marcia

• Though stern and awful to the foes of Rome,

• He is all goodness, Lucia, always mild,
• Compassionate, and gentle to his friends.
• Fill’d with domestic tenderness, the best,
• The kindest father! I have ever found him
• Easy, and good, and bounteous to my wishes.

Lucia

• ’Tis his consent alone can make us blest.
• Marcia, we both are equally involved
• In the same intricate, perplext distress.
• The cruel hand of fate, that has destroyed
• Thy brother Marcus, whom we both lament—

Marcia

• And ever shall lament, unhappy youth!

Lucia

• Has set my soul at large, and now I stand
• Loose of my vow. But who knows Cato’s thoughts?
• Who knows how yet he may dispose of Portius,
• Or how he has determined of thyself?

Marcia

• Let him but live! commit the rest to heaven.

Marcia

• His mind still labours with some dreadful thought.

Lucius

• Lucia, why all this grief, these floods of sorrow?
• Dry up thy tears, my child, we all are safe
• While Cato lives—his presence will protect us.

Lucia

• Marcia, ’tis time we should awake thy father.
• Caesar is still disposed to give us terms,
• And waits at distance till he hears from Cato.

Enter Portius.

• Portius, thy looks speak somewhat of importance,
• What tidings dost thou bring? methinks I see

• Unusual gladness sparkling in thy eyes.

Portius

• As I was hasting to the port, where now
• My father’s friends, impatient for a passage,
• Accuse the lingering winds, a sail arrived
• From Pompey’s son, who through the realms of Spain7

• Calls out for vengeance on his father’s death,
• And rouses the whole nation up to arms.
• Were Cato at their head, once more might Rome
• Assert her rights, and claim her liberty.
• But, hark! what means that groan! Oh give me way,

• And let me fly into my father’s presence.
•     [Exit Portius.]

Lucius

• Cato, amidst his slumbers, thinks on Rome,
• And in the wild disorder of his soul
• Mourns o’er his country.—Hah! a second groan!—
• Heaven guard us all—

Marcia

•   Alas! ’tis not the voice

• Of one who sleeps! ’tis agonizing pain,
• ’Tis death is in that sound—

Lucia

•   O Portius,
• Hide all the horrors of thy mournful tale,

• And let us guess the rest.

Portius

•   I’ve raised him up,
• And placed him in his chair, where, pale and faint,
• He gasps for breath, and, as his life flows from him,
• Demands to see his friends. His servants weeping,
• Obsequious to his orders, bear him hither.

•     [The back scene opens, and discovers Cato.]

Marcia

• O heaven, assist me in this dreadful hour
• To pay the last sad duties to my father.

Juba

• These are thy triumphs, thy exploits, O Caesar!

Lucius

• Now is Rome fall’n indeed!—
• [Cato brought forward in his chair.]

Cato

•   Here set me down—
• Portius, come near me—are my friends embarked?

• Can anything be thought of for their service?
• Whilst I yet live, let me not live in vain.
• —O Lucius, art thou here?—thou art too good!—
• Let this our friendship live between our children;
• Make Portius happy in thy daughter Lucia.

• Alas! poor man, he weeps!—Marcia, my daughter—
• —Oh bend me forward!—Juba loves thee, Marcia.
• A senator of Rome, while Rome survived,
• Would not have match’d his daughter with a king,
• But Caesar’s arms have thrown down all distinction;

• Whoe’er is brave and virtuous, is a Roman.—
• —I’m sick to death—Oh when shall I get loose
• From this vain world, the abode of guilt and sorrow!
• —And yet methinks a beam of light breaks in
• On my departing soul. Alas! I fear

• I’ve been too hasty. O ye powers that search
• The heart of man, and weigh his inmost thoughts,
• If I have done amiss, impute it not!—
• The best may err, but you are good, and—oh!  [Dies.]

Lucius

• There fled the greatest soul that ever warmed

• A Roman breast. O Cato! O my friend!
• Thy will shall be religiously observed.
• But let us bear this awful corpse to Caesar,
• And lay it in his sight, that it may stand
• A fence betwixt us and the victor’s wrath;

• Cato, though dead, shall still protect his friends.
•   From hence, let fierce contending nations know
• What dire effects from civil discord flow.
• ’Tis this that shakes our country with alarms,
• And gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms,

• Produces fraud, and cruelty, and strife,
• And robs the guilty world of Cato’s life.  [Exeunt omnes.]

[1. ]Plato’s Phaedo contains Socrates’ death scene and three arguments for the immortality of the soul.

[2. ]The “argument from design” position begins from the observation that some design is visible in nature and uses that observation as proof of a divine designer or creator. This is also the source for the motto selected by Benjamin Franklin for the handbook for self-improvement in his Autobiography.

[3. ]“Look not . . . mock thy hopes” was omitted from the first two editions of the play—most likely because of a printer’s error—and was reinserted into the play’s third printing (1713).

[4. ]See Spectator 169.

[7. ]Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus (79–45 b.c.) was defeated in 45 b.c. at the battle of Munda; he was later captured and executed by Caesar.