garment that he knew this; it was by his face, then: his face
therefore was not muffled. Upon seeing this man with his muffled
face, Marcia falls a-raving; and, owning her passion for the
supposed defunct, begins to make his funeral oration. Upon which
Juba enters listening, I suppose on tip-toe; for I cannot imagine
how any one can enter listening in any other posture. I would fain
know how it came to pass that, during all this time, he had sent
nobody--no, not so much as a candle-snuffer--to take away the dead
body of Sempronius. Well, but let us regard him listening. Having
left his apprehension behind him, he, at first, applies what Marcia
says to Sempronius; but finding at last, with much ado, that he
himself is the happy man, he quits his eaves-dropping, and discovers
himself just time enough to prevent his being cuckolded by a dead
man, of whom the moment before he had appeared so jealous, and
greedily intercepts the bliss which was fondly designed for one who
could not be the better for it. But here I must ask a question:
how comes Juba to listen here, who had not listened before
throughout the play? Or how comes he to be the only person of this
tragedy who listens, when love and treason were so often talked in
so public a place as a hall? I am afraid the author was driven upon
all these absurdities only to introduce this miserable mistake of
Marcia, which, after all, is much below the dignity of tragedy; as
anything is which is the effect or result of trick.

"But let us come to the scenery of the fifth act. Cato appears
first upon the scene, sitting in a thoughtful posture; in his hand
Plato's Treatise on the Immortality of the Soul; a drawn sword on
the table by him. Now let us consider the place in which this sight
is presented to us. The place, forsooth, is a long hall. Let us
suppose that any one should place himself in this posture, in the