Cato. Farewell, my friends! If there be any of you

[Exeunt.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

 A Chamber. Cato solus, sitting in a thoughtful Posture; in his Hand, Plato's Book on the Immortality of the Soul. A drawn Sword on the Table by him. 

Cato

Cato. It must be so—Plato, thou reason'st well—

Portius

Por. Alas, my father!

Cato. Rash youth, forbear!

Por. Oh, let the pray'rs, th' entreaties of your friends,

Cato. Wouldst thou betray me? Wouldst thou give me up,

Por. Look not thus sternly on me;

Cato. 'Tis well! again I'm master of myself.

Por. Oh, sir! forgive your son,

Cato. Thou hast been ever good and dutiful.

Por. Your words give comfort to my drooping heart.

Cato. Portius, thou may'st rely upon my conduct:

Por. My thoughts are more at ease, my heart revives—

Cato

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