ACT IV.

SCENE I.

LUCIA, MARCIA.

LUCIA.

Now tell me, Marcia, tell me from thy soul,
If thou believ'st 'tis possible for woman
To suffer greater ills than Lucia suffers?

MARCIA.

O Lucia, Lucia, might my big-swoln heart
Vent all its griefs, and give a loose to sorrow:
Marcia could answer thee in sighs, keep pace
With all thy woes, and count out tear for tear.

LUCIA

I know thou'rt doom'd, alike, to be belov'd
By Juba and thy father's friend, Sempronius;
But which of these has power to charm like Portius!

MARCIA.

Still must I beg thee not to name Sempronius?
Lucia, I like not that loud boisterous man;

Juba to all the bravery of a hero

Adds softest love, and more than female sweetness:

Juba might make the proudest of our sex,

Any of womankind, but Marcia, happy.

LUCIA.

And why not Marcia? Come, you strive in vain
To hide your thoughts from one who knows too well

The inward glowings of a heart in love.

MARCIA.

While Cato lives, his daughter has no right
To love or hate, but as his choice directs.

LUCIA.

But should this father give you to Sempronius?

MARCIA.

I dare not think he will: but if he should--
Why wilt thou add to all the griefs I suffer
Imaginary ills, and fancy'd tortures?

I hear the sound of feet! they march this way!
Let us retire, and try if we can drown

Each softer thought in sense of present danger.
When love once pleads admission to our hearts
(In spite of all the virtue we can boast)
The woman that deliberates is lost.

SCENE II.

SEMPRONIUS, dressed like Juba, with Numidian guards.

SEMPRONIUS.

The deer is lodg'd. I've track'd her to her covert.
Be sure 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 lost! if aught could glad my soul,
Beyond th' enjoyment of so bright a prize,
'Twould be to torture that young gay Barbarian.
But, hark, what noise! death to my hopes! 'tis he
'Tis Juba's self! there is but one way left-
He must be murder'd, and a pass age cut

-Hah! dastards, do you

Through those his guards

tremble!

Or act like men, or, by yon azure heaven

ENTER JUBA.

JUBA.

What do I see? who's this that dares usurp
The guards and habit of Numidia's prince?

SEMPRONIUS.

One that was born to scourge thy arrogance,
Presumptuous youth!

JUBA.

What can this mean? Sempronius!

SEMPRONIUS.

My sword shall answer thee. Have at thy heart.

JUBA.

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

SEMPRONIUS.

Curse on my stars! am I then doom'd to fall
By a boy's hand? disfigur'd in a vile
Numidian dress, and for a worthless woman?
Gods, I'm distracted! this my close of life!
O for a peal of thunder that would make
Earth, sea, and air, and heaven, and Cato tremble!

JUBA.

[Dies.

With what a spring his furious soul broke loose,
And left the limbs still quivering on the ground!
Hence let us carry off those slaves to Cato,
That we may there at length unravel all
This dark design, this mystery of fate."

SCENE III.

LUCIA, MARCIA.

LUCIA.

Sure 'twas the clash of swords; my troubled heart
Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows,
It throbs with fear, and aches at every sound.
O Marcia, should thy brothers for my sake!
I die away with horror at the thought.

MARCIA.

See, Lucia, see! 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 sight! a diadem,
And purple robes! O gods! 'tis he, 'tis he!
Juba, the loveliest youth that ever warm'd
A virgin's heart, Juba lies dead before us!

LUCIA.

Now, Marcia, now call up to thy assistance
Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind;
Thou canst 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?

LUCIA.

What can I think or say to give thee comfort?

MARCIA.

Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills:
Behold a sight, that strikes all comfort dead.

[Enter Juba listening.

I will indulge my sorrows, and give way

To all the pangs and fury of despair,

That man, that best of men, deserv'd it from me,

JUBA.

What do I hear? and was the false Sempronius
That best of men? O had I fallen like him,

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

LUCIA.

Here will I stand, companion in thy woes,
And help thee with my tears; when I behold
A loss like thine, I half forget my own.

MARCIA.

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

JUBA.

I'm on the wreck! was he so near her heart?

MARCIA,

Oh! he was all made up of love and charms,
Whatever maid could wish, or man admire:
Delight of every eye! when he appear'd,
A secret pleasure gladden'd all that saw him;
But when he talk'd, the proudest Roman blush'd
To hear his virtues and old age grew wise.

I shall run mad

JUBA.

MARCIA.

O Juba! Juba! Juba!

JUBA.

What means that voice? did she not call on Juba?