_Por._ Oh, Marcus! did I know the way to ease Thy troubled heart, and mitigate thy pains, Marcus, believe me, I could die to do it. _Marc._ Thou best of brothers, and thou best of friends! Pardon a weak distemper'd soul, that swells With sudden gusts, and sinks as soon in calms, The sport of passions. But Sempronius comes: He must not find this softness hanging on me. [_Exit_ MARCUS. _Enter_ SEMPRONIUS. _Sem._ Conspiracies no sooner should be form'd Than executed. What means Portius here? I like not that cold youth. I must dissemble, And speak a language foreign to my heart. [_Aside._ Good-morrow, Portius; let us once embrace, Once more embrace, while yet we both are free. To-morrow, should we thus express our friendship, Each might receive a slave into his arms; This sun, perhaps, this morning sun's the last That e'er shall rise on Roman liberty. _Por._ My father has this morning call'd together To this poor hall, his little Roman senate, (The leavings of Pharsalia) to consult If he can yet oppose the mighty torrent That bears down Rome and all her gods before it, Or must at length give up the world to Caesar. _Sem._ Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome Can raise her senate more than Cato's presence. His virtues render our assembly awful, They strike with something like religious fear, And make even Caesar tremble at the head Of armies flush'd with conquest. Oh, my Portius! Could I but call that wond'rous man my father, Would but thy sister Marcia be propitious To thy friend's vows, I might be blest indeed! _Por._ Alas, Sempronius! wouldst thou talk of love To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger? Thou might'st as well court the pale, trembling vestal, When she beholds the holy flame expiring. _Sem._ The more I see the wonders of thy race, The more I'm charm'd. Thou must take heed, my Portius; The world has all its eyes on Cato's son; Thy father's merit sets thee up to view, And shows thee in the fairest point of light, To make thy virtues or thy faults conspicuous. _Por._ Well dost thou seem to check my ling'ring here In this important hour--I'll straight away, And while the fathers of the senate meet In close debate, to weigh th' events of war, I'll animate the soldiers' drooping courage With love of freedom and contempt of life; I'll thunder in their ears their country's cause, And try to rouse up all that's Roman in them. 'Tis not in mortals to command success, But we'll do more, Sempronius--we'll deserve it. [_Exit._