Jub._ While Cato lives, Caesar will blush to see
Mankind enslaved, and be ashamed of empire.

_Cato._ Caesar ashamed! Has he not seen Pharsalia?

_Luc._ 'Tis time thou save thyself and us.

_Cato._ Lose not a thought on me; I'm out of danger:
Heaven will not leave me in the victor's hand.
Caesar shall never say, he conquer'd Cato.
But oh, my friends! your safety fills my heart
With anxious thoughts; a thousand secret terrors
Rise in my soul. How shall I save my friends?
'Tis now, O Caesar, I begin to fear thee!

_Luc._ Caesar has mercy, if we ask it of him.

_Cato._ Then ask it, I conjure you; let him know,
Whate'er was done against him, Cato did it.
Add, if you please, that I request of him,--
That I myself, with tears, request it of him,--
The virtue of my friends may pass unpunish'd.
Juba, my heart is troubled for thy sake.
Should I advise thee to regain Numidia,
Or seek the conqueror?

_Jub._ If I forsake thee
Whilst I have life, may Heaven abandon Juba!

_Cato._ Thy virtues, prince, if I foresee aright,
Will one day make thee great; at Rome, hereafter,
'Twill be no crime to have been Cato's friend.
Portius, draw near: my son, thou oft hast seen
Thy sire engaged in a corrupted state,
Wrestling with vice and faction: now thou see'st me
Spent, overpower'd, despairing of success.
Let me advise thee to retreat betimes
To thy 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, pray for the peace of Rome;
Content thyself to be obscurely good.
When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway,
The post of honour is a private station.

_Por._ I hope my father does not recommend
A life to Portius that he scorns himself.

_Cato._ Farewell, my friends! If there be any of you
Who dare not trust the victor's clemency,
Know there are ships prepared, by my command,
That shall convey you to the wish'd-for port.
Is there aught else, my friends, I can do for you?
The conqueror draws near. Once more, farewell!
If e'er we meet hereafter, we shall meet
In happier climes, and on a safer shore,
Where Caesar never shall approach us more.
[_Pointing to his dead son._
There, the brave youth, with love of virtue fired,
Who greatly in his country's cause expired,
Shall know he conquer'd. The firm patriot there,
Who made the welfare of mankind his care,
Though still by