Of armies flush'd with conquest. O my Portius,
Could I but call that wondrous man my father,
Wou'd but thy fifter Marcia be propitious
To thy friend's vows, I might be bless'd indeed!
PORTIUS.
Alas! Sempronius, wou'dst thou talk of love
To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger?
Thou might'st as well court the pale trembling vestal,
When the 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
The world has all its eyes on Caro's fon,
Thy father's merit fets thee up to view,
And shews thee in the fairest point of light,
To make thy virtues, or thy faults, confpicuous.
Well doft thou seem to check my ling'ring here
On this important hour I'll ftrait away,
And while the fathers of the fenate meet
In close debate to weigh the 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 Ronan in 'em.
'Tis not in mortals to command fuccess,
But we'll do more, Sempronius; we'll deserve it. [Exit
SEMPRONIUS folus.
Curse on the strippling! how he apes his fire?
Ambitioufly 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 ev'ry 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 ruin'd cause
Are bars to my ambition. Cæfar's favour,
'That show'rs down greatness on his friends, will raise
To Rome's first honours. If I give up Cato,
I claim in my reward his captive daughter.
But Syphax comes!-
SYPHA Χ.
- Sempronius, all is ready,
I've founded my Numidians, man by man,
And find 'em 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 whilft we speak our conqueror comes on,
And gathers ground upon us ev'ry moment.
Alas! thou know'st not Cafar'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 way
Impatient for the battle: One day more
Will set the victor thund'ring at our gates.
But tell me, haft thou yet drawn o'er young Juba ?
That still would recommend thee more to Cefar,
And challenge better terms.
He's loft, Sempronius; all his thoughts are full
Of Cato's virtues but I'll try once more
(For ev'ry instant I expect him here)
If yet I can fubdue 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 foul.
SEMPRONIUS.
Be sure to press upon him ev'ry motive. Juba's furrender, since his father's death, Would give up Africk into Cæfar's hands, And make him lord of half the burning zone.
But is it true, Sempronius, that your senate
Is call'd together! gods! thou must be cautious!
Cato has piercing eyes, and will difcern
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 Cæfar 'till I shake the senate. Your cold hypocrisy's a stale d'ev ce,
A worn-out trick: would'st thou be thought in earnest? Clothe thy feign'd zeal in rage, in fire, in fury !
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:
O think what anxious moments pass between
The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods.
Oh! 'tis a dreadful interval of time,
Fill'd up with horror all, and big with death!
Destruction hangs on ev'ry word we speak,
On ev'ry thought, till the concluding stroke
Determines all, and closes our defign.
SYPHAX folus.
I'll try if yet I can reduce to reafon This head-ftrong youth, and make him spurn at Cato. The time is short, Cafar comes rushing on us
But hold! young Juba sees me, and approaches.
Syphax, I joy to meet thee thus alone. I have observed of late thy looks are fall'n, O'ercaft with gloomy cares and discontent; Then tell me, Syphax, I conjure thee, tell me, What are the thoughts that knit thy brow in frowns, And turn thine eyes thus coldly on thy prince?
'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts,
Or carry smiles and fun-shine in my face,
When discontent fits heavy at my heart.
I have not yet so much the Roman in me.
JUB A.
Why dost thou cast out such ungen'rous terms
Against the lords and sov'reigns of the world?
Doft thou not see mankind fall down before them,
And own the force of their fuperior virtue ?
Is there a nation in the wilds of Afric,
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