Cato - Free Audiobook
Length: 5 chapters
Language: English
Narrators:ToddHW, Sonia, Tomas Peter, Jim Locke, Adrian Stephens, Cavaet, Anna Maria, Inkell, Alan Mapstone, Greg Giordano, Kerry Adams, David Purdy
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Cato
THE END.
| Cato. 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 Heav'n 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. |
| But when, or where?—this world was made for Cæsar: |
| I'm weary of conjectures—this must end them. |
| [Laying his hand upon his sword. |
| Thus am I doubly arm'd: 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 war of elements, |
| The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. |
| What means this heaviness, that hangs upon me? |
| This lethargy, that creeps through all my senses? |
| Nature, oppress'd and harass'd out with care, |
| Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her, |
| That my awaken'd soul may take her flight, |
| Renew'd in all her strength, and fresh with life, |
| An offering lit for Heav'n. Let guilt or fear |
| Disturb man's rest, Cato knows neither of them, |
| Indiff'rent in his choice to sleep or die. |
| Enter Portius. |
| But, hah! who's this? my son! Why this intrusion? |
| Were not my orders that I would be private? |
| Why am I disobey'd? |
| Por. Alas, my father! |
| What means this sword, this instrument of death? |
| Let me convey it hence. |
| Cato. Rash youth, forbear! |
| Por. Oh, let the pray'rs, th' 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 Cæsar's hands? |
| Retire, and learn obedience to a father, |
| Or know, young man— |
| Por. 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, Cæsar, let thy troops beset our gates, |
| And bar each avenue; thy gath'ring fleets |
| O'erspread the sea, and stop up ev'ry port; |
| Cato shall open to himself a passage, |
| And mock thy hopes.—— |
| Por. 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. |
| Por. 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 embark'd, |
| And tell me if the winds and seas befriend them. |
| My soul is quite weigh'd down with care, and asks |
| The soft refreshment of a moment's sleep. |
| Por. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives— |
| [Exit Cato. |
| Enter Marcia. |
| Oh, Marcia! Oh, 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 dispatch'd 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. Oh, 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! |
| Enter Lucia. |
| Lucia. Where is your father, Marcia; where is Cato? |
| Marcia. Lucia, speak low, he is retired to rest. |
| Lucia, I feel a gentle 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; |
| 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, perplex'd distress. |
| The cruel hand of fate, that has destroy'd |
| 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 himself? |
| Marcia. Let him but live, commit the rest to Heav'n. |
| Enter Lucius. |
| Luc. Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man! |
| Oh, Marcia, I have seen thy godlike father! |
| Some power invisible supports his soul, |
| And bears it up in all its wonted greatness. |
| A kind, refreshing sleep is fall'n upon him: |
| I saw him stretch'd at ease; his fancy lost |
| In pleasing dreams; as I drew near his couch, |
| He smiled, and cried, "Cæsar, thou canst not hurt me." |
| Marcia. His mind still labours with some dreadful thought. |
| Enter Juba. |
| Jub. Lucius, the horsemen are return'd from viewing |
| The number, strength, and posture of our foes, |
| Who now encamp within a short hour's march; |
| On the high point of yon bright western tower, |
| We ken them from afar; the setting sun |
| Plays on their shining arms and burnish'd helmets, |
| And covers all the field with gleams of fire. |
| Luc. Marcia, 'tis time we should awake thy father. |
| Cæsar 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 sparkle in thy eyes. |
| Por. As I was hasting to the port, where now |
| My father's friends, impatient for a passage, |
| Accuse the ling'ring winds, a sail arrived |
| From Pompey's son, who, through the realms of Spain, |
| 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
