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Sem. The more I see the wonders of thy race, Of Cato's virtues—But I'll try once more
The more I'm charmed. Thou must take heed, (For every instant I expect him here),
my Portius;

If yet I can subdue those stubborn principles The world has all its eyes on Cato's son; Of faith and honour, and I know not what, Thy father's merit sets thee up to view, That have corrupted liis Numidian temper, And shews in the fairest point of light,

And struck the infection into all his soul. To makc thy virtues or thy faults conspicuous. Sem. Be sure to press upon hiin every motive. Por. Well dost thou seem to check my linger- Juba's surrender, since his father's death, ing here

Would give up Afric into Cæsar's hands, On this important hour--I'll straight away, And make him lord of half the burning zone. And wbile the fathers of the senate meet

Syph. But is it true, Sempronius, that your seIn close debate, to weigh the event of war, I'll animate the soldiers' drooping courage Is called together? Gods! thou must be cautious; With love of freedom, and contempt of life; Cato has piercing eyes, and will discern I'll thunder in their ears their country's cause, Our frauds, unless they're covered thick with And try to rouse up all that's Roman in them. Tis not in mortals to cominand success,

Sem. Let me alone, good Syphax; I'll conceal But we'll do more, Seinpronius; we'll deserve it. My thoughts in passion ('tis the surest way);

[Erit. I'll bellow out for Rome, and for my country, Sem. Curse on the stripling! how he apes his And mouth at Cæsar, till I shake the senate. sire !

Your cold hypocrisy's a stale device, Ambitiously sententious—But I wonder A worn-out trick; wouldst thou be thought in Old Syphax comes not; his Numidian genius

earnest, Is well disposed to mischief, were he prompt

Clothe thy feigned zeal in rage, in fire, in fury ! And eager on it; but he must be spurred, Syph. In troth, thou'rt able to instruct grey And every moment quickened to the course.

hairs, Cato has used me ill : he has refused

And teach the wily African deceit. His daughter Marcia to my ardent vows.

Sem. Once more be sure to try thy skill on Besides, his baffled arms, and ruined cause,

Juba. Are bars to my ambition. Cæsar's favour, Meanwhile I'll hasten to my Roman soldiers, That showers down blessings on his friends, will Inflame the mutiny, and underhand

Blow up their discontent, till they break out To Rome's first honours. If I give up Cato, Unlooked for, and discharge themselves on Cato. I claim, as my reward, his captive daughter. Remember, Syphax, we must work in haste : But Syphax comes

Oh! think what anxious moments pass between

The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods! Enter Syphax.

Oh ! 'tis a dreadful interval of time, Syph. Sempronius, all is ready;

Filled up with horror all, and big with death! I've sounded my Numidians, man by man, Destruction hangs on every word we speak, And find them ripe for a revolt: they all On erery thought, till the concluding stroke Complain aloud of Cato's discipline,

Determines all, and closes our design. [Erit. And wait but the command to change their mas- Syph. I'll try if yet I can reduce to reason

This headstrong youth, and make him spurn at Sem. Believe me, Syphax, there's no time to Cato. waste;

The time is short; Cæsar comes rushing on usEven while we speak our conqueror comes on,

But hold !

young Juba sees me, and approaches. And gathers ground upon us every moment.

Enter JUBA.
Alas! though know'st not Cæsar's active soul,
With what a dreadful course he rushes on

Juba. Syphax, I joy to meet thee thus alone.
From war to war. In vain has nature formed I have observed of late thy looks are fallen,
Mountains and oceans to oppose his passage; O'ercast with gloomy cares and discontent:
He bounds o'er all; victorious in his march, Then tell me, Syphax, I conjure thee, tell me,
The Alps and Pyreneans sink before him : What are the thoughts that knit thy brow in
Through winds, and waves, and storms, he works frowns,

And turn thine eye thus coldly on thy prince? Impatient for the battle; one day more

Syph. 'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts, Will see the victor thundering at our gates. Or carry smiles and sunshine in my face, But, tell me, hast thou yet drawn o'er young Juba? When discontent sits heavy at my heart; That still would recommend thee more to Cæsar, I have not yet so much the Roman in me. And challenge better terms.

Juba. Why dost thou cast out such ungenerous Syph. Alas, he's lost !

terms He's lost, Sempronius; all his thoughts are full Against the lords and sovereigns of the world?

raise me


his way,

Dost thou not see mankind fall down before And if the following day he chance to find them,

A new repast, or an untasted spring, And own the force of their superior virtue ? Blesses his stars, and thinks it luxury. Is there a nation in the wilds of Afric,

Juba. Thy prejudices, Syphax, wont discern Amidst our barren rocks, and burning sands, What virtues grow from ignorance and choice, That does not tremble at the Roman name? Nor how the hero differs from the brute. Sypk. Gods! where's the worth that sets these But grant that others could, with equal glory, people up

Look down on pleasures, and the baits of sense, Above our own Numidia's tawny sons?

Where shall we find the man that bears afflicDo they, with tougher sinews, bend the bow?

tion, Or flies the javelin swifter to its mark,

Great and majestic in his griefs, like Cato? Launched from the vigour of a Roman arın? Heavens! with what strength, what steadiness of Who, like our active African, instructs

mind, The fiery steed, and trains him to his hand ? He triumphs in the midst of all his sufferings ! Or guides, in troops, the embattled elephant, , How does he rise against a load of woes, Laden with war? These, these, are arts, my And thank the gods that throw the weight upon prince,

him ! In which your Zama does not stoop to Rome. Syph. 'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness

Juba. These all are virtues of a meaner rank; of soul;
Perfections that are placed in bones and nerves. I think the Romans call it stoicism,
A Roman soul is bent on higher views :

Had not your royal father thought so highly To civilize the rude, unpolished world,

Of Roman virtue, and of Cato's cause, And lay it under the restraint of laws;

He had not fallen by a slave's hand inglorious : To make man mild, and sociable to man; Nor would his slaughtered army now have lain To cultivate the wild, licentious savage,

On Afric's sands distigured with their wounds, With wisdom, discipline, and liberal arts; To gorge the wolves and vultures of Numidia. The embellishments of life: virtues like these Juba. Why dost thou call my sorrows up afresh? Make human nature shine, reform the soul, My father's name brings tears into my eyes. And break our fierce barbarians into men.

Syph. Oh, that you would profit by your faSyph. Patience, kind Heaven !-excuse an old ther's ills! man's warmth :

Juba. What wouldst thou have me do? What are those wondrous civilizing arts,

Syph. Abandon Cato. This Roman polish, and this smooth behaviour, Juba. Syphax, I should be more than twice an That renders man thus tractable and taine?

orphan Are they not only to disguise our passions, By such a loss. To set our looks at variance with our thoughts, Syph. Aye, there's the tie that binds vou ! To check the starts and sallies of the soul, You long to call him father. Marcia's charms And break off all its commerce with the tongue? Work in your heart unseen, and plead for Cato. In short, to change us into other creatures, No wonder you are deaf to all I say. Than what our nature and the gods designed us? Juba. Syphax, your zeal becomes importunate; Juba. To strike thee dumb-turn up thy eyes I have hitherto permitted it to rave, to Cato!

And talk at large; but learn to keep it in, There may'st thou see to what a god-like height Lest it should take more freedom than I will give The Roman virtues lift up mortal man.

it. While good, and just, and anxious for his friends, Syph. Sir, your great father never used me He's still severely bent against himself;

thus. Renouncing sleep, and rest, and food, and ease, Alas, he is dead! but can you e'er forget He strives with thirst and hunger, toil and heat; The tender sorrows, and the pangs of nature, And, when his fortune sets before him all The fond embraces, and repeated blessings, The pomps and pleasures that his soul can wish, Which you drew from him in your last farewell? His rigid virtue will accept of none.

Still must I cherish the dear, sad remembrance, Syph. Believe me, prince, there's not an Afri- At once to torture and to please my soul. can,

The good old king at parting wrung my hand, That traverses our vast Numidian desarts (His eyes brim-full of tears) then sighing, cried, In quest of prey, and lives upon his bow, Pr'ythee be careful of my son! His grief But better practises those boasted virtues. Swelled up so high, he could not utter more. Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chace; Juba. Alas! thy story me'ts away my soul; Amidst the running stream he slakes his thirst; That best of fathers ! how shall I discharge Toils all the day, and, at the approach of night, The gratitude and duty which I owe him! On the first friendly bank he throws him down, Syph. By laying up his counsels in your heart. Or rests his head upon a rock till morn;

Juba. His counsels bade me yield to thy diThen rises fresh, pursues his wonted game,

rections :


your safety.


quer love,


Then, Syphax, chide me in severest terms; The face of war, and make even horror smile! Vent all thy passion, and I will stand its shock, At sight of thee my heart shakes off its sorrows; Calm and unruffled as a summer sea,

I feel a dawn of joy break in upon me, When not a breath of wind flies o'er its surface. And for a while forget the approach of Cæsar. Syph. Alas! my prince, I would guide thee to Mar. I should be grieved, young prince, to

think my presence Juba. I do believe thou wouldst; but tell me Unbent your thoughts, and slackened them to how?

arms, Syph. Fly from the fate that follows Cæsar's While, warm with slaughter, our victorious foe foes!

Threatens aloud, and calls you to the field. Juba. My father scorned to do it.

Juba. Oh, Marcia, let me hope thy kind conSyph. And therefore died. Juba. Better to die ten thousand thousand and gentle wishes follow me to battle ! deaths,

The thought will give new vigour to my arm, Than wound my honour.

Add strength and weight to my descending Syph. Rather say your love.

sword, Juba. Syphax, I have promised to preserve my And drive it in a tempest on the foe. temper.

Mar. My prayers and wishes always shall atWhy wilt thou urge me to confess a flame,

tend I long have stifled, and would fain conceal? The friends of Rome, the glorious cause of virSyph. Believe me, prince, though hard to con- tue,

And men approved of by the gods and Cato. 'Tis easy to divert and break its force.

Juba. That Juba may deserve thy pious cares, Absence might cure it, or a second mistress I'll gaze for ever on thy god-like father, Light up another flame and put out this. Transplanting, one by one, into my life, The glowing dames of Zama's royal court His bright perfections, 'till I shine' like him. Have faces flushed with more exalted charms; Mar. My father never, at a time like this, The sun that rolls his chariot o'er their heads, Would lay out his great soul in words, and Works up more fire and colour in their cheeks; Were you with these, my prince, you would soon Such precious moments. forget

Juba. Thy reproofs are just, The pale, unripened beauties of the north. Thou virtuous maid! I will hasten to my troops,

Juba. 'Tis not a set of features, or complexion, And fire their languid souls with Cato's virtue. The tincture of a skin, that I admire :

If e'er I lead them to the field, when all Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, The war shall stand, ranged in its just array, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. And dreadful pomp; then will I think on thee! The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex: Oh, lovely maid! then will I think on thee; True, she is fair, (Oh, how divinely fair !) And, in the shock of charging hosts, remember But still the lovely maid improves her charms What glorious deeds should grace the man, who With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom,

hopes And sanctity of manners; Cato's soul

For Marcia's love.

[Erit Juba. Shines out in every thing she acts or speaks, Luc, Marcia, you're too severe; While winning mildness and attractive smiles, How could you chide the young good-natured Dwell in her looks, and, with becoming grace,

prince, Soften the rigour of her father's virtue.

And drive him from you with so stern an air? Syph. How does your tongue grow wanton in A prince, that loves and doats on you to death? her praise !

Mar. 'Tis therefore, Lucia, that I chid him But on my knees I beg you would consider Juba. Ha! Syphax, is it not she? She moves His air, his voice, his looks, and honest soul,

Speak all so movingly in his behalf, And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter. I dare not trust myself to hear him talk. My heart beats thick-I prithee, Syphax, leave Luc. Why will you fight against so sweet a

passion, Syph. Ten thousand curses fasten on them And steel your heart to such a world of charms! both !

Mur. How, Lucia! wouldst thou have me sink Now will the woman, with a single glance,

away Undo what I have been labouring all this while. In pleasing dreams, and lose myself in love,

[Exit Syphax. When every moment Cato's life's at stake?

Cæsar comes armed with terror and revenge, Enter Marcia and Lucia.

And aims his thunder at my father's head. Juba. Hail, charming maid! How does thy Should not the sad occasion swallow up beauty smooth

My other cares, and draw them all into it?

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from me.

this way:


Luc. Why have not I this constancy of mind, , Lucia, thou knowest not half the love he bears Who have so many griefs to try its force?

thee; Sure, nature formed me of her softest mould, Whene'er he speaks of thee, his heart's in Enfeebled all my soul with tender passions,

flames, And sunk me even below iny own weak sex: He sends out all luis soul in every word, Pity and love, by turns, oppress my heart. And thinks, and talks, and looks like one transMar. Lucia, disburthen all thy cares on me,

ported. And let me share thy most retired distress. Unhappy youth ! Ilow will thy coldness raise Tell me who raises up this conflict in thee? Tempests and storms in his atilicted basom! Luc. I need not blush to naine them, when II dread the consequence. tell thee,

Luc. You seem to plead
They are Marcia's brothers, and the sons of Cato. Against your brother Portius.
Nlar. They both behold thee with their sister's Mar. Heaven forbid !

Had Portius been the unsuccessful lover,
And often have revealed their passion to me. The sanie compassion would have fallen on biin.
But tell me, whose address thou favourest most? Luc. Was ever virgin love distrest like mine!
I long to know, and yet I dread to hear it. Portius himself oft falls in tears before me,
Luc. Which is it Marcia wishes for?

As if he mourned his rival's ill success, Mar. For neither

Then bids me hide the motions of my heart, And

yet for both—The youths have equal share Nor shew which way it turns. So much he fears In Marcia's wishes, and divide their sister : The sad effects that it will have on Marcus. But tell me which of them is Lucia's choice? Mar. He knows too well how casily he is

Luc. Marcia, they both are high in my esteem, fired, But in my love-Why wilt thou make me name And would not plunge his brother in despair, hiin!

But waits for happier times, and kinder moments, Thou knowest it is a blind and foolish passion, Luc. Alas! too late I finii myself involved Pleased and disgusted with it knows not what– In endless griefs, and labyrinths of woe, Mar. Oh, Lucia, l'ın perplexed! Oh, tell me Born to aftlict my Marcia's family, which

And sow dissention in the hearts of brothers. I must hereafter call my happy brother? Tormenting thought! It cuts into my soul. Luc. Suppose 'twere Portius, could you blame Mar. Let us not, Lucia, aggravate our sor

my choice? -Oh, Portius, thou hast stolen away my soul! But to the gods submit the event of things. With what a graceful tenderness he loves ! Our lives, discoloured with our present woes, And breathes the softest, the sincerest vows! May still grow bright, and smile with happier Complacency, and truth, and manly sweetness,

hours. Dwell ever on his tongue, and smooth his So the pure limpid strcam, when foul with

Marcus is over-warm, his fond complaints Of rushing torrents, and descending rains,
Have so much earnestness and passion in thein, Works itself clear, and as it runs, refines,
I hear him with a secret kind of horror,

'Till, by degrees, the foating mirror shines, And tremble at his vehemence of temper. Reflects each flower that on the border grows, Mar. Alas, poor youth! how canst thou throw Aud a new hearen in its fair bosom shows. him from thee?






SCENE I.— The Senate. Lucius, Sempronius, And Rome attends her fate from our resolves.

Cæsar's approach has summoned us together, and Senators.

Ilow shall we treat this bold aspiring man? Sem. Rome still survives in this assembled senate. Success still follows him, and backs his crimes; Let us remember we are Cato's friends,

Pharsalia gave him Rome, Egypt has since And act like men who claim that glorious title. Received his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæsar's. Luc. Cato will soon be here, and open to us

Why should I mention Juba's overthrow, The occasion of our meeting. Hark! he comes! And Scipio's death? Numidia’s burning sands

(A sound of trumpets. Still snioke with blood. Tis time we should deMay all the guardian gods of Rome direct him!

What course to take. Our foe advances on us, Enter Caro,

And envies us even Lybia's sultry desarts. Cato. Fathers, we once again are met in coun- Fathers, pronounce your thoughts : are they still cil :

fixed Vol. I.



To hold it out and fight it to the last?

That drew our swords, now wrests them from our Or are your hearts subdued at length, and hands, wrought

And bids us not delight in Roman blood By time, and ill success, to a submission? Unprofitably shed. What men could do, Sempronius, speak.

Is done already: heaven and earth will witness, Sem. My voice is still for war.

If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. Gods! can a Roman senate long debate

Sem. This smooth discourse, and mild behaWhich of the two to chuse, slavery or death!

viour, oft
No; let us rise at once, gird on our swords, Conceal a traitor-something whispers me
And, at the head of our remaining troops, All is not right-Cato, beware of Lucius.
Attack the foc, break through the thick array

[Aside to Cato. Of his thronged legions, and charge home upon Cato. Let us appear nor rash nor diffident; him.

Imninoderate valour swells into a fault; Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, And fear, admitted into public councils, May reach his heart, and free the world from Betrays like treason. Let us shun them both. bondage.

Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs, Rise, fathers, rise ! 'Tis Rome demands your Are grown thus desperate : we have bulwarks help:

round us; Rise, and revenge your slaughtered citizens, Within our walls are troops inured to toil Or share their fate! The corpse of half her se- In Afric's heat, and seasoned to the sun; nate

Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us, Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we Ready to rise at its young prince's call. Sit here deliberating in cold debates,

While there is hope do not distrust the gods; If we should sacrifice our lives to honour, But wait at least till Cæsar's near approach Or wear them out in servitude and chains. Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late Rouse up, for shame ! our brothers of Pharsalia. To sue for chains, and own a conqueror. Point at their wounds, and cry aloud-To battle! Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time; Great Pompey's shade complains that we are No, let us draw her term of freedom out slow;

In its full length, and spin it to the last, And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged amongst us. So shall we gain still one day's liberty:

Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal And let me perish, but in Cato's judgment,
Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of rea- A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty,

Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.
True fortitude is seen in great exploits,
That justice warrants, and that wisdom guicies;

Enter Marcus.
All else is towering frenzy and distraction. Marc. Fathers, this moment, as I watched the
Are not the lives of those, who draw the sword

gate, In Rome's defence, intrusted to our care? Lodged on my post, a herald is arrived Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter, From Cæsar's camp, and with him comes old De Might not the impartial world with reason say,

cius, We lavished at our deaths the blood of thousands, The Roman knight; he carries in his looks, To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious ? Impatience, and demands to speak with Cato. Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion? - Cato. By your permission, him Luc. My thoughts, I must confess, are turned


[Exit Marcus. on peace.

Decius was once my friend, but other prospects Already have our quarrels filled the world llave loosed those ties, and bound him fast to With widows, and with orphans: Scythia mourns Cæsar. Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions His message may determine our resolves. Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome : 'Tis time to sheath the sword, and spare man

Enter DECIUS. kind.

Dec. Cæsar sends health to CatoIt is not Cæsar, but the gods, my fathers,

Cato. Could he send it, The gods declare against us, and repel

To Cato's slaughtered friends, it would be welOur vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, (Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair) Are not your orders with the senate? Were to refuse the awards of Providence,

Dec, My business is with Cato; Cæsar sees And not to rest in Heaven's determination, The straits to which you're driven; and, as he Already have we shewn our love to Rome,

knows Now let us shew submission to the gods. Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life. We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves, Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome. But free the commonwealth : when this end fails, Would he save Cato, bid him spare his country. Arms have no further use, Our country's cause, Tell your dictator this; and tell him, Cato

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