Luc. The senate owns its gratitude to Cato, Kings far remote, that rule, as fame reports Who with so great a soul consults its safety, Behind the hidden sources of the Nile, And guards our lives, while he neglects his own. In distant worlds, on t'other side the sun; Sem. Sempronius gives no thanks on this Oft have their black ambassadors appear'd, Loaden with gifts, and fill'd the courts of Zama. Cato. I am no stranger to thy father's great account. ness. Juba. I do not mean to boast his power and greatness, Lucius seems fond of life; but what is life? Luc. Others perhaps May serve their country with as warm a zeal, Though 'tis not kindled into so much rage. Sem. This sober conduct is a mighty virtue In lukewarm patriots. Cato. Come, no more, Sempronius; All here are friends to Rome, and to each other. Let us not weaken still the weaker side By our divisions. Sem. Cato, my resentments Are sacrific'd to Rome-I stand reprov'd. Cato. Fathers, 'tis time you come to a resolve. Lu. Cato, we all go into your opinion: Caesar's behaviour has convinc'd the senate, We ought to hold it out till terms arrive. Sem. We ought to hold it out till death; but, Cato, My private voice is drown'd amidst the senate's. Cato. Then let us rise, my friends, strive to fill But point out new alliances to Cato. Did they know Cato, our remotest kings Cato. And canst thou think Cato will fly before the sword of Caesar! Juba. Cato, perhaps I'm too officious; but my forward cares Cato. Thy nobleness of soul obliges me. This little interval, this pause of life Enter JUBA. Jeba, the Roman senate has resolv'd, Juba. The resolution fits a Roman senate. Virtues which shun the day, and lie conceal'd In the smooth seasons and the calms of life. Juba. I'm charm'd whene'er thou talk'st; I pant for virtue; And all my soul endeavours at perfection. Cato. Dost thou love watchings, abstinence, and toil, Laborious virtues all? Learn them from Cato: Cato. What does Juba say? Juba. I would fain retract them. A stranger to thy thoughts. Cato. What can Juba ask, Cafe. Juba, thy father was a worthy prince, That Cato will refuse? And merited, alas! a better fate; But heav'n thought otherwise. Juba. My father's fate, In site of all the fortitude that shines Before my face in Cato's great example, Subdues my soul, and fills my eyes with tears. Cat it is an honest sorrow, and becomes thee. Juba. His virtues drew respect from foreign climes: The kings of Afric sought him for their friend; Juba. I fear to name it. Marcia-inherits all her father's virtues. But chains, or conquest; liberty, or Enter SYPHAX. death. I Juba. If knowledge of the world makes men Syph. How's this, my prince? What, cover'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 M'arcia. Juba. Oh, I could pierce my heart, Syph. Alas, my prince, how are you chan g'd I've known young Juba rise before the sun, Ev'n in the Libyan dog-days, hunt 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, May Juba ever live in ignorance! This arrogance unanswer'd! thour't a traitor, Syph. I have gone too far. [Aside. Juba. Cato shall know the baseness of thy soul. Syph. I must appease this storm, or perish in it. [Aside. Young prince, behold these locks, that are grown white Beneath a helmet in your father's battles. Juba. Those locks shall ne'er protect thy insolence. Syph. Must one rash word, the infirmity of Still stands unfill'd, and that Numidia's crown scorn? 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, Juba. Syphax, this old man's talk, though In ev'ry word, would now lose all its sweetness. Marcia might still be yours. Juba. As how, dear Syphax? Mounted on steeds unus'd to the restraint Juba. Can such dishonest thoughts Honour's a fine imaginary notion, into a ruffian? Syph. The boasted ancestors of these great men, Whose virtues you admire, were all such ruf- This dread of nations, this almighty Rome, Juba. Syphax, I fear that hoary head of thine His last poor ebb of blood in your defence? you talk. Syph. Not hear me talk! what, when my My royal master's son, is call'd in question? 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 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. 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 This medley of philosophy and war. phax weep Within an hour they'll storm the senate-house. Syph. Meanwhile I'll draw up my Numidian troops To bear you talk-but 'tis with tears of joy. person. "e'er the sceptre come into my hand, > phax shall stand the second in my kingdom. Sph. Why will you o'erwhelm my age with kindness? So, where our wide Numidian wastes extend, Sudden th' impetuous hurricanes descend, My joys grow burdensome, I shan't support it. Wheel through th' air, in circling eddies play, Juba. Syphax, farewell. I'll hence, and try Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains to find away. Some blest occasion, that may set me right The helpless traveller, with wild surprise, In Cato's thoughts. I'd rather have that man Sees the dry desert all around him rise, 4ove my deeds, than worlds for my admir-And, smother'd in the dusty whirlwind, dies. crs. [Exit. Syph. Young men soon give, and soon forget affronts; Old age is slow in both-A false old traitor!These words, rash boy, may chance to cost thee dear. My heart had still some foolish fondness for thee, Bat hence, is gone! I give it to the winds: Caesar, I'm wholly thine. of fate; Lurius declar'd for peace, and terms were of fer'd To Cato, by a messenger from Caesar. Sen. Thou hast seen mount Atlas: And found a means to let the victor know, Siph. Yes-but it is to Cato. Ive tried the force of ev'ry reason on him, Sorted and caress'd; been angry, sooth'd again; Laid satety, life, and interest in his sight; but all are vain, he scorns them all for Cato. Sem. Well, 'tis no matter; we shall do without him. Suphas, I now may hope, thou hast forsook Tay Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine. Syph. May she be thine as fast as thou wouldst have her. But are thy troops prepar'd for a revolt? Does the sedition catch from man to man, And run among the ranks? Sem. All, all is ready; ACT III. [Exeunt. its weakness; Then, pr'ythee, spare me on its tender side; Indulge me but in love, my other passions Shall rise and fall by virtue's nicest rules. Por. When love's well tim'd, 'tis not a fault to love. The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise Sink in the soft captivity together. Marc. Alas, thou talk'st like one that never felt 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 presence; Then undertake my cause, and plead it to her The tactions leaders are our friends, that spread tigues, 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, Lucia. Has not the vow already pass'd n lips? The gods have heard it, and 'tis seal'd in heav May all the vengeance that was ever pour On perjur'd heads o'erwhelm me if I break Por. Fix'd in astonishment, I gaze upon the Like one just blasted by a stroke from hear Who pants for breath, and stiffens, yet aliv In dreadful looks; a monument of wrath! Lucia. Think, Portius, think thou see'st t dying brother Stabb'd at his heart, and all besmear'd wi blood, Storming at heav'n and thee! Thy awful si Sternly demands the cause, th' accursed cau That robs him of his son:-farewell, my Portiu Farewell, though death is in the word—for eve Por. Thou must not go; my soul still ho ers o'er thee, And can't get loose. Lucia. If the firm Portius shake To hear of parting, think what Lucia suffer Por. 'Tis true, unruffled and serene, I've m Our friendship's at an end; if I conceal it, 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, Enter LUCIA. tears, Thy father's anguish, and thy brother's death, Never to mix my plighted hands with thine, Those hasty words, or I am lost for ever. Lucia. What dost thou say? Not part! Hast thou forgot the vow that I have made Are not there heavens, and gods, that thund o'er us? But see, thy brother Marcus bends this wa I sicken at the sight. Once more, farewell Farewell, and know thou wrong'st me, if th think'st, Ever was love, or ever grief, like mine. Enter MARCUS. [Ex What is compassion when 'tis void of lov Fool that I was to choose so cold a friend To urge my cause!-Compassionates my pair Pr'ythee what art, what rhet'ric didst thou To gain this mighty boon?-She pities me To one that asks the warm returns of love Compassion's cruelty, 'tis scorn, 'tis death Por. Marcus, no more; have I deserv'd t treatment? Marc. What have I said? Ob, Portius, forgive me! A soul, exasperate in ills, falls out With every thing-its friend, itself-but, ha [Shouts and Trumpe What means that shout, big with the soun of war? What new alarm? Sem. Cato, commit these wretches to my care; [Shouts and Trumpels repeated. First let them each be broken on the rack, Por. A second, louder yet, Then, with what life remains, impal'd, and left To writhe at leisure, round the bloody stake; There let them hang, and taint the southern wind. Sweils in the wind, and comes more full upon us. Marc. Oh, for some glorious cause to fall Lacia, thou hast undone me: thy disdain ease. death, The partners of their crime will learn obedience. Cato. Forbear, Sempronius!-see they suffer me But in their deaths remember they are men ; if Lucius, the base, degen'rate age requires Severity. Por. Quick, let us hence. Who knows heart Leaps at the trumpet's voice, and burns for glory. [Exeunt. Trumpets and shouting. SCENE IL-Before the Senate-house. Enter SEMPRONICS, with the Leaders of the Mutiny. 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, Trumpets. Re-enter SEMPRONIUS, with CATO, of war, That greatly turn their backs upon the foe, Your past exploits, and sully all your wars? Sem. Confusion to the villains! all is lost! When by just vengeance guilty mortals perish, Sem. Cato, I execute thy will with pleasure. Sem. Villain, stand off; base, grov'ling, worthless wretches, Mongrels in faction, poor faint-hearted traitors! 2 Lead. Nay, now you carry it too far, Sempronius! 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. A day will bring us into Caesar's camp. purpose: Marcia, the charming Marcia's left behind! slave? Sem. Think not thy friend can ever feel the soft Unmanly warmth and tenderness of love. |