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But still the smother'd fondness burns within him.
When most it swells, and labours for a vent,
The sense of honour and desire of fame

Drive the big passion back into his heart.
What! shall an African, shall Juba's heir
Reproach great Cato's son, and show the world
A virtue wanting in a Roman soul?

MARCUS.

Portius, no more! your words leave stings behind them.
Whene'er did Juba, or did Portius, show

A virtue that has cast me at a distance,
And thrown me out in the pursuits of honour?

PORTIUS.

Marcus, I know thy gen'rous temper well;
Fling but th' appearance of dishonour on it,
It straight takes fire, and mounts into a blaze.

MARCUS.

A brother's sufferings claim a brother's pity.

PORTIUS.

Heaven knows I pity thee: behold my eyes
Even whilst I speak -Do they not swim in tears?
Were but my heart as naked to thy view,
Marcus would see it bleed in his behalf.

MARCUS.

Why then dost treat me with rebukes, instead
Of kind condoling cares, and friendly sorrow?

PORTIUS.

O Marcus! did I know the way to ease

Thy troubled heart, and mitigate thy pains,
Marcus, believe me, I could die to do it.

MARCUS.

Thou best of brothers, and thou best of friends!

Pardon a weak distemper'd soul that swells
With sudden gusts, and sinks as soon in calms,
The sport of passions:-but Sempronius comes:
He must not find this softness hanging on me. [Exit.

SCENE II.

SEMPRONIUS, PORTIUS.

SEMPRONIUS.

Conspiracies no sooner should be form'd
Than executed. What means Portius here?
I like not that cold youth. I must dissemble,
And speak a language foreign to my heart.

[Aside.
Good morrow, Portius! let us once embrace,
Once more embrace; whilst yet we both are free.
To-morrow should we thus express our friendship,
Each might receive a slave into his arms:
This sun, perhaps, this morning sun's the last,
That e'er shall rise on Roman liberty.

PORTIUS.

My father has this morning call'd together
To this poor hall his little Roman senate,
(The leavings of Pharsalia) to consult

If yet

he can oppose the mighty torrent That bears down Rome, and all her gods, before it, Or must at length give up the world to Cæsar.

SEMPRONIUS.

Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome

Can raise her senate more than Cato's presence.
His virtues render our assembly awful,

They strike with something like religious fear,
And make even Cæsar tremble at the head
Of armies flush'd with conquest: O my Portius!
Could I but call that wondrous man my father,
VOL. VI.

P

Would but thy sister Marcia be propitious
To thy friend's vows; I might be bless'd indeed!

PORTIUS.

Alas! Sempronius, wouldst thou talk of love
To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger?
Thou mightst as well court the pale trembling vestal,
When she beholds the holy flame expiring.

SEMPRONIUS.

The more I see the wonders of thy race,
The more I'm charm'd. Thou must take heed, my Portius!
The world has all its eyes on Cato's son.
Thy father's merit sets thee up to view,
And shows thee in the fairest point of light,
To make thy virtues, or thy faults, conspicuous.

PORTIUS.

Well dost thou seem to check my ling'ring here
On this important hour-I'll straight away,
And while the fathers of the senate meet
In close debate to weigh th' events of war,
I'll animate the soldiers' drooping courage
With love of freedom, and contempt of life:
I'll thunder in their ears, their country's cause,
And try to rouse up all that's Roman in them.
"Tis not in mortals to command success,

But we'll do more, Sempronius; we'll deserve it. [Exit.

SEMPRONIUS solus.

Curse on the stripling! how he apes his sire!
Ambitiously sententious!but I wonder
Old Syphax comes not; his Numidian genius
Is well disposed to mischief, were he prompt
And eager on it; but he must be spurr'd,
And every moment quicken'd to the course.
· Cato has us'd me ill: he has refused
His daughter Marcia to my ardent vows.
Besides, his baffled arms, and ruined cause,

Are bars to my ambition. Cæsar's favour,

That show'rs down greatness on his friends, will raise me
To Rome's first honours. If I give up Cato,

I claim in my reward his captive daughter.
But Syphax comes !

SCENE III.

SY PHAX, SEMPRONIUS.

SYPHAX.

Sempronius, all is ready,

I've sounded my Numidians, man by man,
And find them ripe for a revolt: they all
Complain aloud of Cato's discipline,

And wait but the command to change their master.

SEMPRONIUS.

Believe me, Syphax, there's no time to waste;
Even whilst we speak, our conqueror comes on,
And gathers ground upon us every moment.
Alas! thou knowest not Cæsar's active soul,
With what a dreadful course he rushes on
From war to war: in vain has nature form'd
Mountains and oceans to oppose his passage;
He bounds o'er all, victorious in his march;
The Alps and Pyreneans sink before him,
Through winds and waves and storms he works his
Impatient for the battle: one day more
Will set the victor thundering at our gates.
But tell me, hast thou yet drawn o'er young Juba?
That still would recommend thee more to Cæsar,'
And challenge better terms.

way,

SYPHAX.

Alas! he's lost,

He's lost, Sempronius; all his thoughts are full

Of Cato's virtues: but I'll try once. more
(For every instant I expect him here)
If yet I can subdue those stubborn principles
Of faith, of honour, and I know not what,
That have corrupted his Numidian temper,
And struck th' infection into all his soul.

SEMPRONIUS.

Be sure to press upon him every motive.
Juba's surrender, since his father's death,
Would give up Afric into Cæsar's hands,
And make him lord of half the burning zone.

SY PHAX.

But is it true, Sempronius, that

your senate
Is call'd together? Gods! thou must be cautious;
Cato has piercing eyes, and will discern
Our frauds, unless they're cover'd thick with art.

SEMPRONIUS.

Let me alone, good Syphax, I'll conceal
My thoughts in passion ('tis the surest way;)
I'll bellow out for Rome and for my country,
And mouth at Cæsar till I shake the senate.
Your cold hypocrisy's a stale device,

A worn-out trick: wouldst thou be thought in earnest,
Clothe thy feign'd zeal in rage, in fire, in fury!

SYPHAX.

In troth, thou'rt able to instruct grey hairs,
And teach the wily African deceit!

SEMPRONIUS.

Once more be sure to try thy skill on Juba
Mean while I'll hasten to my Roman soldiers.
Inflame the mutiny, and underhand

Blow up their discontents, till they break out
Unlook'd for, and discharge themselves on Cato.
Remember, Syphax, we must work in haste;

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