But chains, or conquest; liberty, or death. | Juba. If knowledge of the world makes men Enter SYPHAX. [Exit. Syph. How's this, my prince? What, cov er'd with confusion? You look as if yon stern philosopher Had just now chid you. Juba. Syphax, I'm undone! Syph. I know it well. Juba. Cato thinks meanly of me. The weakness of my soul, my love for Marcia. Juba. Oh, I could pierce my heart, Syph. Alas, my prince, how are you chang'd of late! I've known young Juba rise before the sun, Ev'n in the Libyan dog-days, bunt him down, And, stooping from your horse, Rivet the panting savage to the ground. Syph. How would the old king smile, To see you weigh the paws, when tipp'd with gold, perfidious, May Juba ever live in ignorance! Syph. I have gone too far. [Aside. Juba. Cato shall know the baseness of thy soul. Syph. Why will you rive my heart with such expressions? Does not old Syphax follow you to war! And throw the shaggy spoils about your shoul-What are his aims? to shed the slow remains, ders! Juba. Syphax, this old man's talk, though honey flow'd In ev'ry word, would now lose all its sweetness. Cato's displeas'd, and Marcia lost for ever. Syph. Young prince, I yet could give you good advice; Marcia might still be yours. Juba. As how, dear Syphax? troops, Mounted on steeds unus'd to the restraint Juba. Can such dishonest thoughts Rise up in man! Wouldst thou seduce my youth To do an act that would destroy mine honour? Syph. Gods, I could tear my hair to hear you talk! Honour's a fine imaginary notion, Syph. The boasted ancestors of these great men, Whose virtues you admire, were all such ruffians. This dread of nations, this almighty Rome, That comprehends in her wide empire's bounds All under heav'n, was founded on a rape; Your Scipios, Caesars, Pompeys, and your Catos (The gods on earth), are all the spurious blood Of violated maids, of ravish'd Sabines. Juba. Syphax, I fear that hoary head of thine Abounds too much in our Numidian wiles. Syph. Indeed, my prince, you want to know the world. His last poor ebb of blood in your defence? Juba. Syphax, no more! I would not hear you talk. Syph. Not hear me talk! what, when my faith to Juba, My royal master's son, is call'd in question? My prince may strike me dead, and I'll be dumb; But whilst I live I must not hold my tongue, And languish out old age in his displeasure. Juba. Thou know'st the way too well into my heart. I do believe thee loyal to thy prince. To do an action which my soul abhors, Syph. And 'tis for this my prince has call'd me traitor. Juba. Sure thou mistak'st; I did not call thee so. Syph. You did indeed, my prince, you call'd me traitor. Nay, further, threaten'd you'd complain to Cato. Of what, my prince, would you complain to Cato? your That Syphax loves you, and would sacrifice Thy zeal for Juba carried thee too far. And imitates her actions where she is not Syph. Believe me, prince, you make old Sy-Unusual fastings, and will bear no more phax weep Within an hour they'll storm the senate-house. Syph. Meanwhile I'll draw up my Numidian troops To hear you talk—but 'tis 'with tears of joy. person. If e'er the sceptre come into my hand, So, where our wide Numidian wastes extend, Sudden th' impetuous hurricanes descend, Wheel through th' air, in circling eddies play, Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains away. My joys grow burdensome, I shan't support it. ers. [Exit. of fate; Lucius declar'd for peace, and terms were of To Cato, by a messenger from Caesar. Sein. Thou hast seen mount Atlas: And found a means to let the victor know, Syph. Yes-but it is to Cato. Sypbas, I now may hope, thou hast forsook wouldst have her. But are thy troops prepar'd for a revolt? ACT III [Exeunt. Ours has severest virtue for its basis, its weakness; Then, pr'ythee, spare me on its tender side; The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise Marc. Alas, thou talk'st like one that never Th' impatient throbs and longings of a soul, And grief, and rage, and love, rise up at once, Marc. Portius, thou oft enjoy'st the fair one's Then undertake my cause, and plead it to her With all the strength and heat of eloquence Fraternal love and friendship can inspire. Tell her thy brother languishes to death, And fades away, and withers in his bloom; That he forgets his sleep, and loathes his food, The factious leaders are our friends, that spread That youth, and health, and war, are joyless Marmurs and discontents among the soldiers: to him; They count their toilsome marches, long fa-Describe his anxious days, and restless nights. tigues, And all the torments that thou see'st me suffer Por. Marcus, I beg thee give me not an office That suits with me so ill. Thou know'st my temper. Marc. Wilt thou behold me sinking in my woes, And wilt thou not reach out a friendly arm, To raise me from amidst this plunge of sorrows? Por. Marcus, thou canst not ask what I'd refuse; But here, believe me, I've a thousand reasonsMarc. I know thou'lt say my passion's out of season, That Cato's great example and misfortunes Should both conspire to drive it from my thoughts. But what's all this to one that loves like me? O Portius, Portius, from my soul I wish Thou didst but know thyself what 'tis to love! Then wouldst thou pity and assist thy brother. Por. What should I do? If I disclose my passion, Our friendship's at an end; if I conceal it, The world will call me false to friend and brother. [Aside. Marc. But see, where Lucia, at her wonted hour, Amid the cool of yon high marble arch, Enjoys the noon-day breeze! Observe her, Portius; That face, that shape, those eyes, that heav'n of beauty! Observe her well, and blame me if thou canst. And leave you for awhile. Remember, Portius, Thy brother's life depends upon thy tongue. [Exit. Enter LUCIA. Lucia. Did not I see your brother Marcus here? Why did he fly the place, and shun my presence? in the shock Of love and friendship? Think betimes, my Portius, Think how the nuptial tie, that might ensure Our mutual bliss, would raise to such a height Thy brother's griefs, as might perhaps destroy him. Por. Alas, poor youth! What dost thou think, my Lucia? His gen'rous, open, undesigning heart Lucia. Has not the vow already 'pass'd my lips? The gods have heard it, and 'tis seal'd in heav'n. May all the vengeance that was ever pour'd On perjur'd heads o'erwhelm me if I break it! Por. Fix'd in astonishment, I gaze upon thee, Like one just blasted by a stroke from heav'n, Who pants for breath, and stiffens, yet alive, In dreadful looks; a monument of wrath! Lucia. Think, Portius, think thou see'st thy dying brother Stabb'd at his heart, and all besmear'd with blood, Storming at heav'n and thee! Thy awful sire Sternly demands the cause, th' accursed cause That robs him of his son:-farewell, my Portius! Farewell, though death is in the word-for ever! Por. Thou must not go; my soul still hovers o'er thee, And can't get loose. Lucia. If the firm Portius shake To hear of parting, think what Lucia suffers! Por. 'Tis true, unruffled and serene, I've met The common accidents of life; but here Such an unlook'd-for storm of ills falls on me, It beats down all my strength, I cannot bear it. We must not part. Lucia. What dost thou say? Not part! Hast thou forgot the vow that I have made? Are not there heavens, and gods, that thunder o'er us? But see, thy brother Marcus bends this way; I sicken at the sight. Once more, farewell, Farewell, and know thou wrong'st me, if thou think'st, Ever was love, or ever grief, like mine. Enter MARCUS. [Exit. Marc. Portius, what hopes? How stands she? am I doom'd To life or death? Por. What wouldst thou have me say? Marc. Thy downcast looks, and thy disor der'd thoughts, Tell me my fate. I ask not the success Por. I'm griev'd I undertook it. My aching heart, and triumph in my pains? Por. Away, you're too suspicious in your griefs; Lucia, though sworn never to think of love, Compassionates your pains, and pities you. Marc. Compassionates my pains, and pities me! What is compassion when 'tis void of love? Fool that I was to choose so cold a friend To urge my cause!-Compassionates my pains! Pr'ythee what art, what rhet'ric didst thou use To gain this mighty boon?-She pities me! To one that asks the warm returns of love, And, Portius, here I swear, to heav'n I swear, Compassion's cruelty, 'tis scorn, 'tis deathTo heav'n, and all the powers that judge mankind, Thy father's anguish, and thy brother's death, In the pursuit of our ill-fated loves: Never to mix my plighted hands with thine, While such a cloud of mischief hangs upon us; But to forget our loves, and drive thee out From all my thoughts-as far as I am able. Por. What hast thou said?-I'm thunderstruck-recall Those hasty words, or I am lost for ever. Por. Marcus, no more; have I deserv'd this treatment? Marc. What have I said? Ob, Portius, oh forgive me! A soul, exasperate in ills, falls out With every thing-its friend, itself-but, hah! [Shouts and Trumpets. What means that shout, big with the sounds of war? But in their deaths remember they are men; if Lucius, the base, degen'rate age requires Severity. my When by just vengeance guilty mortals perish, The gods behold the punishment with pleasure, And lay th' uplifted thunderbolt aside. Leaps at the trumpet's voice, and burns for SCENE IL-Before the Senate-house. Sem. At length the winds are rais'd, the Be it your care, my friends, to keep it up seem One of the number, that, whate'er arrive, [Exit. [Trumpets. 1 Lead. We are all safe; Sempronius is our friend. Sem. Cato, I execute thy will with pleasure. Cato. Mean while, we'll sacrifice to liberty. Remember, O my friends! the laws, the rights, The gen'rous plan of power deliver'd down From age to age by your renown'd forefathers (So dearly bought, the price of so much blood): Oh, let it never perish in your hands! But piously transmit it to your children. Do thou, great liberty, inspire our souls, And make our lives in thy possession happy, Or our deaths glorious in thy just defence. [Exeunt Cato, etc. 1 Lead. Sempronius, you have acted like yourself, One would have thought you had been balf in earnest. Sem. Villain, stand off; base, grov'ling, worthless wretches, But, bark, Cato enters. Bear up boldly to him; Mongrels in faction, poor faint-hearted traitors! 2 Lead. Nay, now you carry it too far, Sempronius! Be sure you beat him down, and bind him fast; Fear nothing, for Sempronius is our friend. Trumpets. Re-enter SEMPRONIUS, with CATO, of war, That greatly turn their backs upon the foe, Your past exploits, and sully all your wars? Without your guilt? Behold, ungrateful men, Sem. Confusion to the villains! all is lost! Throw off the mask, there are none here but friends. Sem. Know, villains, when such paltry slaves To mix in treason, if the plot succeeds, 1 Lead. Nay, since it comes to this- Lest with their dying breath they sow sedition. Enter SYPHAX. Syph. Our first design, my friend, has prov'd Still there remains an after-game to play; Let but Sempronius head us in our flight, Cato. Hence, worthless men! hence! and And hew down all that would oppose our complain to Caesar, You could not undergo the toil of war, Fear and remorse, and sorrow for their crime, And pardon shall descend on all the rest. passage. Marcia, the charming Marcia's left behind! slave? Sem. Think not thy friend can ever feel the soft Unmanly warmth and tenderness of love. 'tis he, Syphax, I long to clasp that haughty maid, Twould be to torture that young, gay barbarian. find her out, And hurry her away by manly force? Sem. But how to gain admission? For access Is giv'n to none but Juba and her brothers. Syph. Thou shalt have Juba's dress and Ju ba's guards; Enter JUBA, with Guards. Juba. What do I see? Who's this that dares usurp The doors will open, when Numidia's prince The guards and habits of Numidia's prince? Seems to appear before the slaves that watch Sem. One that was born to scourge thy ar them. Sem. Heav'ns, what a thought is there! Mar- How will my bosom swell with anxious joy, [Exeunt. By a boy's hand, disfigur'd in a vile Numidian dress, and for a worthless woman? Nor envy'd Jove his sunshine and his skies. Gods, I'm distracted! this my close of life! Oh, for a peal of thunder, that would make Earth, sea, and air, and heav'n, and Cato tremble! [Dies. Juba. With what a spring his furious soul broke loose, ACT IV. SCENE I-A Chamber. If thou believ'st 'tis possible for woman Vent all its griefs, and give a loose to sorrow, belov'd And left the limbs still quiv'ring on the ground! [Exit Juba; his Guards taking soners. Enter LUCIA and MARCIA. Lucia. Sure 'twas the clash of swords; my troubled heart By Juba, and thy father's friend, Sempronius: Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows, But which of these has pow'r to charm like It throbs with fear, and aches at ev'ry sound. Portius? Oh, Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sakedie away with horror at the thought! Marcia. See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's blood and murder! Marcia. Still I must beg thee not to name Lucia, I like not that loud, boist'rous man, Marcia. I dare not think he will: but if he Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer, Sem. The deer is lodg'd, I've track'd her to He sure you mind the word, and, when I give it, Ha! Lucia. Now, Marcia, now call up to thy assistance Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind; Marcia. Lucia, look there, and wonder at 1 Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast, thee comfort? Marcia. Talk not of comfort; 'tis for lighter ills: Behold a sight that strikes all comfort dead. Enter JUBA, unperceived. I will indulge my sorrows, and give way |
