And imitates her actions where she is not:

It ought not to be sported with.

Spyh. By Heavens,

We both must perish in the common wreck, Lost in the general undistinguished ruin. Syph. But how stands Cato?

Sem. Thou hast seen mount Atlas:

chide me!

Alas! I have hitherto been used to think
A blind officious zeal to serve my king,
The ruling principle, that ought to burn
And quench all others in a subject's heart.
Happy the people who preserve their honour
By the same duties that oblige their prince!
Juba. Syphax, thou now beginnest to speak
thyself.

Numidia's grown a scorn among the nations,
For breach of public vows. Our Punic faith
Is infamous, and branded to a proverb.
Syphax, we'll join our cares, to purge away.
Our country's crimes, and clear her reputation.
Syph. Believe me, prince, you make old Sy-
phax weep,

To hear you talk-but 'tis with tears of joy.
If e'er your father's crown adorn your brows,
Numidia will be blest by Cato's lectures.

Juba. Syphax, thy hand; we'll mutually forget

The warmth of youth, and frowardness of age; Thy prince esteems thy worth, and loves thy per

The fury of a siege before it yields.

And oceans break their billows at its feet,
It stands unmoved, and glories in its height:
Such is that haughty man; his towering soul,
'Midst all the shocks and injuries of fortune,
Rises superior, and looks down on Cæsar.
Syph. But what's this messenger ?
Sem. I have practised with him,
And found a means to let the victor know
That Syphax and Sempronius are his friends.
But let me now examine in my turn:
Is Juba fixed?

Syph. Yes-but it is to Cato.

I have tried the force of every reason on him,
| Soothed and caressed; been angry, soothed again;
Laid safety, life, and interest in his sight.
But all are vain; he scorns them all for Cato.
Sem. Come, 'tis no matter; we shall do with-

out him.

He'll make a pretty figure in a triumph,
And serve to trip before the victor's chariot.
Syphax, I now may hope thou hast forsook
Thy Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine.
Syph. May she be thine as fast as thou wouldst
have her.

Sem. Syphax, I love that woman; though I

curse

Her and myself, yet, spite of me, I love her.

Syph. Make Cato sure, and give up Utica,
Cæsar will ne'er refuse thee such a trifle.
But are thy troops prepared for a revolt ?
Does the sedition catch from man to man,
And run among the ranks?

Sem. All, all is ready;
The factious leaders are our friends, that spread
Murmurs and discontents among the soldiers;
They count their toilsome marches, long fatigues,
Unusual fastings, and will bear no more
This medley of philosophy and war.
Within an hour they'll storm the senate-house.
Syph. Meanwhile I'll draw up my Numidias

troops

Within the square, to exercise their arms,
And, as I see occasion, favour thee.

I laugh to see how your unshaken Cato
Will look aghast, while unforeseen destruction
Pours in upon him thus from every side.
So, where our wide Numidian wastes extend,
Sudden, the impetuous hurricanes descend,
Wheel through the air, in circling eddies play,

fate:

The helpless traveller, with wild surprise,

ed

To Cato, by a messenger from Casar.

And, smothered in the dusty whirlwind, dies.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

Enter MARCUS and PORTIUS.

Marc. THANKS to my stars I have not ranged about

The wilds of life, ere I could find a friend;
Nature first pointed out my Portius to me,
And early taught me, by her secret force,
To love thy person, ere I knew thy merit,
Till what was instinct, grew up into friendship,
Por. Marcus, the friendships of the world are
oft

Confederacies in vice, or leagues of pleasure;
Ours has severest virtue for its basis,

And such a friendship ends not but with life. Marc. Portius, thou know'st my soul in all its weakness;

Then, prithee, 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-timed, 'tis not a fault to love.

The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise, Sink in the soft captivity together.

I would not urge thee to dismiss thy passion,
(I know 'twere vain) but to suppress its force,
Till better times may make it look more graceful.
Marc. Alas! thou talk'st like one who never
felt

The impatient throbs and longings of a soul,
That pants and reaches after distant good.
A lover does not live by vulgar time:
Believe me, Portius, in my Lucia's absence
Life hangs upon me, and becomes a burden;
And yet, when I behold the charming maid,
I'm ten times more undone; while hope and fear,
And grief, and rage, and love, rise up at once,
And with variety of pain distract me.

Por. What can thy Portius do to give thee help?

Marc. Portius, thou oft enjoy'st the fair-one's presence;

Then undertake my cause, and plead it to her
With all the strength and heat of eloquence,
Fraternal love and friendship can inspire.
Tell her thy brother languishes to death,
And fades away, and withers in his bloom;
That he forgets his sleep, and loaths his food;
That youth, and health, and war are joyless to

him;

Describe his anxious days, and restless nights, And all the torments that thou see'st me suffer. Por. Marcus, I beg thee give me not an office That suits with me so ill. Thou knowest 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 can'st not ask what I'd refuse.

But here, believe me, I have 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 did'st but know thyself what 'tis to love
Then wouldst thou pity and assist thy brother.
Por. What should I do! If I disclose my pas-

sion

Our friendship's at an end; if I conceal it,
The world will call me false to a friend and
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 heaven of beauty!

Observe her, well, and blame me if thou canst.
Por. She sees us, and advances-
Marc. I'll withdraw,

And leave you for a while. Remember, Portius,
Thy brother's life depends upon thy tongue.

Enter LUCIA.

[Exit.

Luc. Did I not see your brother Marcus here? Why did he fly the place, and shun my presence? Por. Oh, Lucia, language is too faint to shew His rage of love; it preys upon his life; He pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies: His passions, and his virtues lie confused, And mixt together in so wild a tumult, That the whole man is quite disfigured in him. Heavens, would one think 'twere possible for love

To make such ravage in a noble soul! Oh, Lucia, I'm distressed; my heart bleeds for him :

Even now, while thus I stand blest in thy presence, A secret damp of grief comes o'er my thoughts, And I'm unhappy, though thou smilest upon me.

Luc. How wilt thou guard thy honour, in the

shock

Of love and friendship? Think betimes, my Portius,
Think how the nuptial tie, that might ensure
Our mutual bliss, would raise to such a height
Thy brother's grief, as might perhaps destroy
him.

Por. Alas, poor youth! What dost thou think, my Lucia?

His generous, open, undesigning heart
Has begged his rival to solicit for him;
Then do not strike him dead with a denial;

But hold him up in life, and cheer his soul
With the faint glimmering of a doubtful hope;
Perhaps when we have passed these gloomy hours,
And weathered out the storm that beats upon

us

Luc. No, Portius, no; I see thy sister's tears, Thy father's anguish, and thy brother's death, In the pursuit of our ill-fated loves:

And, Portius, here I swear, to Heaven I swear, To Heaven and all the powers that judge man kind,

Never to mix my plighted hands with thine,
While such a cloud of mischief hangs upon us!
But to forget our loves, and drive thee out
From all my thoughts as far as I am able.
Por. What hast thou said! I'm thunderstruck
-recall

Those hasty words, or I am lost for ever.

Luc. Has not the vow already passed my lips? The gods have heard it, and 'tis sealed in Heaven. May all the vengeance, that was ever poured On perjured heads, o'erwhelin me, if I break it! Por. Fixed in astonishment, I gaze upon thee, Like one just blasted by a stroke from Heaven, Who pants for breath, and stiffens, yet alive, In dreadful looks; a monument of wrath!

Luc: At length I've acted my severest part; I feel the woman breaking in upon me, And melt about my heart; my tears will flow. But, oh, I'll think no more! the hand of fate Has torn thee from me, and I must forget thee. Por. Hard-hearted, cruel maid! Luc. Oh, stop those sounds, Those killing sounds! Why dost thou frown me?

upon

My blood runs cold, my heart forgets to heave,
And life itself goes out at thy displeasure.
The gods forbid us to indulge our loves;
But, oh! I cannot bear thy hate, and live.

Por. Talk not of love, thou never knew'st its force.

I've been deluded, led into a dream

Of fancied bliss. Oh, Lucia, cruel maid!

Destruction stands betwixt us; we must part.

Por. Name not the word! my frighted thoughts run back,

And startle into madness at the sound.

Luc. What wouldst thou have me do? Consider well

The train of ills our love would draw behind it. Think, Portius, think thou seest thy dying brother Stabbed at his heart, and all besmeared with blood,

Storming at Heaven and thee! Thy awful sire Sternly demands the cause, the accursed cause, That robs him of his son: poor Marcia trembles, Then tears her hair, and, frantic in her griefs, Calls out on Lucia. What could Lucia answer, Or how stand up in such a scene of sorrow?

Por. To my confusion, and eternal grief, I must approve the sentence that destroys me. The mist, that hung upon my mind, clears up; And now, athwart the terrors that thy vow Has planted round thee, thou appear'st more fair, More amiable, and risest in thy charms. Loveliest of women! Heaven is in thy soul; Beauty and virtue shine for ever round thee, Brightening each other: thou art all divine.

Luc. Portius, no more; thy words shoot through my heart,

Melt my resolves, and turn me all to love.
Why are those tears of fondness in thy eyes?
Why heaves thy heart? Why swells thy soul with
sorrow?

It softens me too much-farewell, my Portius;
Farewell, though death is in the word-for ever.
Por. Stay, Lucia, stay? What dost thou say?
For ever?

Luc. Have I not sworn? If, Portius, thy suc

cess

Must throw thy brother on his fate, farewell— Oh, how shall I repeat the word! for ever.

Por. Thus o'er the dying lamp the unsteady flame

Hangs quivering on a point, leaps off by fits,
And falls again, as loth to quit its hold.

In my stunned ears. What shall I say or do?
Quick let us part! Perdition's in thy presence,
And horror dwells about thee! Ha! she faints!
Wretch that I am, what has my rashness done!
Lucia, thou injured innocence! thou best
And loveliest of thy sex! awake, my Lucia,
Or Portius rushes on his sword to join thee.
-Her imprecations reach not to the tomb,
They shut not out society in death—
But ah! she moves, life wanders up and down
Through all her face, and lights up every charm.
Luc. Oh, Portius, was this well-to frown on
her

That lives upon thy smiles? To call in doubt
The faith of one expiring at thy feet,
That loves thee more than ever woman loved?
-What do I say? My half-recovered sense
Forgets the vow in which my soul was bound.

And can't get loose.

Luc. If the firm Portius shake

To hear of parting, think what Lucia suffers!

Por. 'Tis true, unruffled and serene, I've met The common accidents of life; but here Such an unlooked-for storm of ills falls on me, It beats down all my strength. I cannot bear it. We must not part.

Luc. What dost thou say? Not part!
Hast thou forgot the vow that I have made?
Are there not heavens, and gods, that thunder
o'er us?

-But see, thy brother Marcus bends this way:
I sicken at the sight. Once more, farewell,
Farewell and know thou wrong'st me, if thou

think'st