Cato. Would Lucius have me live to swell the number

Luc. The victor never will impose on Cato

Cato. Curse on his virtues! they've undone his country.

Luc. Alas, poor prince! his fate deserves compassion.

Juba

Jub. I blush, and am confounded to appear

Cato. What's thy crime?

Jub. I'm a Numidian.

Cato. And a brave one, too. Thou hast a Roman soul.

Jub. Hast thou not heard of my false countrymen?

Cato. Alas, young prince!

Jub. 'Tis generous thus to comfort the distress'd.

Cato. 'Tis just to give applause, where 'tis deserved:

Jub. What shall I answer thee?

Portius

Por. Misfortune on misfortune! grief on grief!

Cato. Ha! what has he done?

Por. Scarce had I left my father, but I met him

Cato. I'm satisfied.

Por. Nor did he fall, before

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