SCENE II.

SEMPRONIUS, drefs'd like JU BA, with Numidian guards.

SEMPRONIUS.

The deer is lodg'd, I've track'd her to her covert. Be fure you mind the word, and when I give it, Rush in at once, and seize upon your prey.

Let not her cries or tears have force to move you.
-How will the young Numidian rave to see
His mistress loft? if aught cou'd glad my foul,
Beyond th' enjoyment of fo bright a prize,
'Twould be to torture that young gay barbarian.
-But hark, what noife! death to my hopes! 'tis he,
'Tis Juba's felf! there is but one way left-
He must be murder'd, and a paffage cut
Through those his guards-hah, daftards, do you tremble
Or act like men, or by yon azure heav'n—

JUBA.

What do I fee? Who's this that dares ufurp

The guards and habit of Numidia's prince?

SEMPRONIUS.

One that was born to fcourge thy arrogance,
Prefumptuous youth!

JUBA.

JUBA.

What can this mean? Sempronius!

SEMPRONIUS.

My fword fhall anfwer thee. Have at thy heart.

JUBA.

Nay, then beware thy own, proud barbarous man! [Semp. falls, His guards furrender.

SEMPRONIUS.

Curfe on my stars! Am I then doom'd to fall
By a boy's hand, disfigur'd in a vile
Numilian drefs, and for a worthless woman?
Gcds, I'm diftracted! this my close of life!
O 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 foul broke loose,
And left the limbs ftill quivering on the ground!
Hence let us carry off those slaves to Cato,
That we may there at length unravel all
Tis dark defign, this mystery of fate.

[Exit Juba with prisoners, &c.

SCENE

SCENE III.

LUCIA, MARCIA.

LUCIA.

Sure 'twas the clash of fwords; my troubled heart
Is fo caft down and funk amidst its forrows,
It throbs with fear, and akes at every found.
O Marcia, fhould thy brothers for my fake!-
I die away with horror at the thought.

MARCI A.

See, Lucia, fee! here's blood! here's blood and murder!
Hah! a Numidian! heavens preserve the Prince
The face lies muffled up within the garment,
But hah! death to my fight! a diadem,
And purple robes! O gods! 'tis he, 'tis he!
Juba, the lovelieft youth that ever warm'd
A virgin's heart, Juba lies dead before us!
LUCIA.

Now, Marcia, now call up to thy affiftance Thy wonted strength, and constancy of mind Thou can'ft not put it to a greater trial.

MARCIA.

Lucia, look there, and wonder at my patience.
Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast,
To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted ?

1

LUCIA.

What can I think or fay to give thee comfort?
MARCI A.

Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills:

Behold a fight, that strikes all comfort dead.

7

tening.

Enter JUBA

I will indulge my forrows, and give way
To all the pangs and fury of defpair;
That man, that beft of men, deferv'd it from me.

JUBA.

What do I hear? and was the falle Sempronius That beft of men? O had I fall'n like him,

And cou'd have thus been mourn'd, I had been happy!

T

LUCIA.

Here will I ftand, companion in thy woes, And help thee with my tears, when I behold A lofs like thine, I half forget my own. MARCI A.

'Tis not in fate to ease my tortur'd breast,
This empty world, to me a joyless defart,
Has nothing left to make poor Marcia happy.
JU B. A.

I'm on the rack! was he fo near her heart?
MARCI A.

O he was all made up of love and charms,
Whatever maid could wish, or man admire :
Delight of every eye! when he appear'd,
VOL. II.
H

A fecret

A fecret pleasure gladden'd all that faw him;
But when he talk'd, the proudeft Roman blush'd
To hear his virtues, and old age grew wife.

JUBA.

I fhall run mad

MARCI A.

O Juba! Juba! Juba!

JUBA.

What means that voice? did the not call on Juba? MARCI A.

Why do I think on what he was! he's dead!

He's dead, and never knew how much I lov'd him.
Lucia, who knows but his poor bleeding heart,
Amidft its agonies, remember'd Marcia,
And the laft words he utter'd call'd me cruel!
Alas, he knew not, hapless youth, he knew not
Marcia's whole foul was full of love and Juba!
JUBA

Where am I do I live! or am indeed

What Marcia thinks! all is Elyftum round ine!

MARCIA

Ye dear remains of the moft lov'd of men!

Nor modefty nor virtue here forbid

A laft embrace, while thus

JUBA.

See, Marcia, fee,

The happy Juba lives! he lives to catch

[Throwing himself before her.

That