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his way,

To-morrow should we thus express our friend-
ship,

SCENE II1.
Each might receive a slave into his arms.
This fun perhaps, this morning sun's the last

Syphax, Sempronius,
That e'er shall rise on Roman liberty.

Syphax.
Portius.

--Sempronius, all is ready,
My father has this morning calls together

I've founded my Numidians, man by man, To chis poor hall his little Roman fenate

And find them ripe for a revole : they all (The leavings of Pharsalia), to consule

Complain aloud of Cato's discipline, If yet he can oppose the mighty torrent

And wait but the command to change their master, That bears down Rome, and all her gods, before it,

Sempronius. Or must at length give up the world so Cæsar. Believe me, Syphax, chere's no time to waste; Sempronius.

Ev'n whilst we speak, our conqueror comes on, Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome

And gathers ground upon us every moment. Can raise her fenate niore than Cato's presence.

Alas! thou know'st not Cæsar's adive soul, His virtues render our assembly awful,

With what a dreadful course he rushes on They strike with something like religious fear,

From war to war: in vain has aature form'd And make ev'n Cæsar tremble at the head

Mountains and oceans to oppose his passage; Of armies flush'd with conquest : O my Portius,

He bounds o'er all, victorious in his narch; Could I but call that wondrous man my facher,

The Alps and Pyreoeans link before him; Would but thy sister Marcia be propitious

Through winds, and waves, and storms, he works To thy friend's vows; I might be bless'd indeed ! Portius,

Impatient for the battle : one day more Alas! Sempronius, would'st thou talk of love will set the victor thundering at our gates. To Marcia, whilst her father's life's in danger?

But tell me, halt thou yet drawn o'er young Thou might'st as well court the pale trembling

Juba? vestal,

That still would recommend thee more to Cabr, When she beholds the holy flame expiring.

And challenge better terms.-
Sempronius.

Syphax.
The more I see the wonders of thy race,

-Alas! he's Inst, The more I'm charm’d. Thou must take heed, He's lost, Sempronius; all his thoughts are full

Of Cato's virtues- But I'll try once more The world has all its eyes on Cato's son,

(For every instant I expect him here) Thy father's merit sets thee up to view,

If yet I can subdue those stubborn principles And shews thee in the fairest point of light,

Of faith, of honour, and I know not what,
To nake thy virtues or thy faults conspicuous.

That have corrupted his Nunridian temper,
Portius.

And truck th: infection into all his soul.
Well dost thou seem to check my lingering

Sempronius. here

Be sure to press upon him every motive, On this important hour-l'll strait away;

Juba's surrender, since his father's death, And while the fathers of the senate meet

Would give up Afric into Cæsar's hands, In clofe debate, to weigh th'events of war,

And make him lord of half the burning Zone. I'll animate the soldier's drooping courage,

Sypbax. With love of freedom, and contempt of life.

But is it true, Sempronius, that your senate I'll thunder in their cars their country's cause, Is call’d together? Gods ? thou niust be cautious ! And try to rouze up all that's Roman in them, Cato has piercing eyes, and will discern Tis not in mortals to command success :

Qur frauds, unless they're cover'd thick with art. But we'll do more, Sempronius; we'll deserve it.

Sempronius.
Exit. Let me alone, good Syphax, I'll conceal
Sempronius.

My thoughts in paflion ('tis the surest way);

I'll bellow out for Rome and for my country, Curse on the stripling! How he apes his fire!

And mouth at Cæsar till I shake the senate.
Ambitiously sententious! But I wonder
Old Syphax comes not; his Numidian genius

Your cold hypocrisy's a stale device,
Is well dispos'd to mischief, were he prompt

A worn out çrick : wouldd thou be thought in

carnest, And eager on it; but he must be spurr'd,

Clọthe thy feign'd zeal in rage, in fire, in fury! And every moment quicken'd to the course.

Syphax. Cato has us'd me ill : he has refus'd

In troth, thou'rt able to instruct grey-hairs,

. His daughter Marcia to my ardent vows,

And teach the wily African deceit! Besides, his baffled arms and ruin'd cause

Sempronius. Are bars to my ambition. Cæsar's favour, That showers down greatness on his friends, will Once more, be sure to try thy skill on Juba ; raise me

Mean-while I'll hatten to my Roman soldiers, To Rome's first honours. If I give up Cato,

Inflame the mutiny, and underhand I claim in my reward his captive daughter.

Blow up their discontents, till they break out Bir Syphax comes mom

Unlook'd for, and discharge themselves on Cato,

my Portius !

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I have not yet to much the Roman in me.
& A A T .

335 Remember, Syphax, we must work in hastc :

Syphax. O think what anxious moments pass between

Patience, kind heavens ! ~Excuse ao old mza's The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods.

warmth. Oh! 'tis a dreadful interval of time,

What are chese wondrous civilizing arts, Fillid

up with horror all, and big with deach! This Roman polish, and this smooth behaviour, Distruction hangs on every word we speak, That reader man thus tractable and tame? On every thought, till the concluding stroke Are they not only to disguise our passions, Determines all, and closes our delign. (Exit. To see our looks at variance with our thoughts, Syphax.

To check tbe starts and fallies of the soul, I'll try if yet I can reduce to reason

And break off all its commerce with the tongue ; This head-ftrong youth, and make him spurn at In short, to change us into other creatures Cato.

Than what our nature and the gods design'd us? The time is short, Cæfar comes rushing on us—

Fuba. But hold! young Juba sees nie, and approaches. To strike thee dumb : turn up thine eyes to

Cato!

There may'st thou see to what a godlike height SCENE IV.

The Roman virtues lift up niortal man.

While good, and just, and anxious for his frieads, uba, Syp bax.

He's still severely bent against himíulf;
Juba .

Renouncing fleep, and rest, and food, and ease, Syphax, I joy to meet thee thus alone.

He strives with thirst and hunger, toil and heat; I have observ'd of late thy looks are fallen,

And when his fortune fets before hin all O’ercast with gloony cares, and discontent; The pomps and pleasures that his soul can with, Then tell me, syphax, I conjure thee, tell nie, His rigid virtue will accept of nouie. What are the thoughts that koit thy brow in

Sypbar. frowns,

Believe me, Prince, there's not an African And turn thine eye thus coldly on thy prince? That traverses our vast Numidian deserts Syphus.

In quest of prey, and lives upon his bow, 'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts, But better practises these boasted vistues. Nor carry smiles and fun-fhinc in my face,

Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chase, When discontent fits heavy at my heart.

Amidit the running stream he flakes his chirst,

Toils all the day, and at the approach of night Fuba.

On the first friendly bank he throws him down, Why dost thou cast out such ungenerous terms Or rests his head upon a rock till morn: Against the lords and sovereigns of the world? Then riles freth, pursues his wonted game, Dost thou not see niankind fall down before them, and if the following day he chance to find And own the force of their fupcrior virtue? A new repast, or an untafted fpring, Is there a nation in the wilds vf Afric,

Bleffes his stars, and thinks it luxury. Amidst our oarren rocks and burnirig lande,

Fuba.
That does not trenible at the Ronan pane?

Thy prejudices, Syphax, won't discern
Syphax.

What virtues grow from ignorance and choice, Gods! where's the worth that sets this people i Nor how the hero differs fron the brute. up

But grant that others could with equal glory Above your own Numidia's tawny fons ?

Look down on pleasures and the baits of fense, Do they with tougher sinews bend the bow? Wbere shall we find the man that bears aflidion, Or flies the javelin swifter to its mark,

Great and majestic in his griefs, like Catc? Launch'd from the vigour of a Roman arm? Heavens, with what strength, what leadiness of Who like our active African instructs

mind, The fiery steed, and trains him to his hand ? He triumphs in the midlt of all his fufferings ! Or guides in troops th' enbartled elephant, How does he rise againsi a load of woes,

(him! Loaden with war? These, these are arts, my And thank che gods that chrow the weight upon Prince,

Sypbu.. In which your Zama docs not stoop to Rome. 'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul: Fubiz.

I chink the Romans call it Stoicism. There all are virtues of a meaner rank,

Had not your royal father thought so highly Perfections that are plac'd in bones and nerves. Of Roman virtue, and of Cato's cause, A Ronan soul is bent on higher views :

He had not fall'n by a slave's hand inglorious : To civilize the rude unpolish'd world,

Nor would his fiaugheer'd arny now have lain And lay it under the restraint of laws;

On Afric's fauds, disfigur'd with their wounds, To make man mild and sociable to man;

To gorge the wolves and vultures of Numidia. To cultivate che wild licentious favage

Yuda. With wisdom, discipline, and liberal arts;

Why do'st thou call my forrows up afresh? Th' embellissiments of life : virtucs like these My father's name brings tears into my eyes. Make human nature shine, reform the soul,

Sypbar. And break our Serce barbarians into pien.

Oh, that you'd profit by your father's ills !

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Fuba.

The glowing dames of Zama's royal court
What wouldlt thou have me do?

Have faces flusht with more exalted, charms.
Sypbax. .

The sun, that rolls his chariot o'er their heads, Abandon Cato. Works up more fire and colour in their cheeks : Juba.

Were you with thefe, my Prince, you'd food for Syphax, I should be more than twice an orphan

get
By such a lofs.

The pale unripen'd beauties of the north.
Syphix.

Fuba.
Ay, there's the tie that binds you! 'Tis not a set of features, or complexion,
You long to call him father. Marcia's charms The cincture of a skin, that I admire.
Work in your heart unseen, and plead for Cato.

. Beauty finn grows familiar to the lover,
No wonder you are deaf to all I lay.

Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
Juba.

The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex :
Syphax, your zeal beconics importunate; True, she is fair, (oh, how divinely fair :)
I've hitherto permitied it to rave,

Bur itill the lovely niaid improves her charms
And talk at large; but learn to keep it in, With inward greatness, unaffected wisdon,
Left it should take more freedom than I'll give it. Ard fanctity of manners. Cato's foul
Sy: bai .

Shines out in every thing she acts or speaks,
Sir, your great father never usd me thus. While winning mildness and attractive smiles
Alas, he's dead! but can you e'er forget

Dwell in her looks, and with becoming grace
The tender forrows, and the pangs of nature, Sosten the rigour of her father's virtues.
The fond embraces, and repeated blettings,

Syphax.
Which you drew from him in your lat farewell? How does your tongue grow wanton in het
Still mult I cherish the dear fad renienbrance,

praise!
At once to torture and to please nry soul.

But on my knees I beg you would considera
The good old king, at parting, wrung my hand,
(His eyes brim full of tears) then fighing cry'd,

Enter Marcia and Lucia,
Pr'ythee be careful of my son his grief

Juba,

. Swellid up so high, he could not utter more.

Hah! Syphax, is't not the --She moves this Juba.

way:
Alas, thy story melts away my soul.

And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter.
That best of fathers! how shall I discharge My heart beats thick- pr’ythee, Syphax, leave
The gratitude and duty which I owe him!
Syphax.

Sypbar.
By laying up his counsels in

your
hcart.

Ten thousand curses fasten on them both!
Fuba.

Now will this womaa with a single glance
His counsels bade mc yield to thy directions : Undo what I've been labouring all this while.
Then, Syphax, chide me in severest terms,

[Exit,
Vent all thy passion, and i'll stand its shock,
Calm and unruffled as a funinier. fca,

Juba, Marcia, Luçia.
When not a breath of wind flies o'er its surface.

Fuba.
Syphax.

Hail charming maid, how does thy beauty smooth
Alas, my prince, I'd guide you to your safety. The face of war, and make ev'n horros Imile!
Fuba.

At fight of thee ny heart shakes off its sorrows;
I do believe thou wouldst; but tell me how? I feel a dawn of joy break in upon me,
Syphax.

And for a while forget th' approach of Cæfar.
Fly from the fate that follows Cæsar's foes.

Marcia.
Fuba.

I should be griev'd, young prince, to think my
My father scorn'd to do't.

presence Syplax,

Unhent your thoughts, and flacken'd them to arms,
And therefore dy'da While, warnı with laughter, our victorious foe
Juba,

Threatens aloud, and calls you to the field.
Better to die ten thousand thousand deaths,

Juba
Than wound my honour. .

O Marcia, let me hope thy kind concerns
Syphax.

And gentle wishes follow me to battle :
Rather say your love. The thought will give new vigour to my arm,
Juba.

Add strength and weight to ny descending sword,
Syphax, I've promis'd io preserve my temper. And drive it in a tenipeft on the foe.
Why wilt thou urge me to confess a flame

Marcia.
I long have stifled, and would fain conceal?

My prayers and wishes always shall attend
Syphar.

The friends of Rome, the glorious cause of virtue,
Believe me, Prince, us hard to conquer love, And men approv'd of by the gods and Cato.
But easy to divert and break its furce :

Jubae
Absence might curc it, or a second mistress

That Juba may deserve thy pious cares,
Light up another flame, and put out this.

I'll gaze for ever on thy godlike father,

nie.

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CAT

iz Iransplanting, one by one, into my life

In Marcia's wishes, and divide their lister :

But tell me which of them is Lucia's choice?
His bright perfections, çill I thine like him.
Marcia.

Lucia.
My father never at a time like this

Murcia, they both are high in my esteem, Would lay out his great soul in words, and waste But in my love Why wilt thou make me came

him? Such precious moments. Juba.

Thou know'st, it is a blind and foolish passion,
Thy reprouss are just, Pleas'd and disgusted with it knows not what.
Thou virtuous maid; l'li haften to niy tronps,

Marcia.
And fire their languid souls wich Cato's viriue; O Lucia, I'm perplex'd: 0 tell me which
If e'er I lead them to the field, when ail

I must hereafter call my happy brother?
The war fhalt stand rang'd in its just array,

Lucia. And dreadful pomp: chen will I think on thee! Suppose 'twere Portius, could you blame my O lovely maid, then will I think on thee!

choice? And, in the shock of charging hosts, remember O Porcius, thou hast ftol'n away my soul! What glorious deeds fhou'd grace the man, who With what a graceful tenderness he loves ! hopes

And breathes the softest, the fincercít vows! or Marcia's love.

(Exit. Complacency, and truth, and manly sweetness, Lucia.

Dwell ever on his tongue, and smooth his thoughts Marcia, you're too severe : Marcus is over-warm, his fond complaints How could you chide the young good-latur'd Have so much earnestness and passion in them, prince,

I hear him with a secret kind of dread, and drive him from you with so stern an air, And tremble at his vehemence of temper. A prince that loves and dotes on you to death?

Marcia
Marcia.

Alas, poor youth! how can'st thou throw him 'Tis therefore, Lucia, that I chide him from me.

from thee? His air, his voice, his looks, and honest soul, Lucia, thou know'st not half the love he bears thee; Speak all fo movingly in his behalf,

Whene'er he speaks of thec, his heart's in flames, I dare not trult myself to hear him talk.

He finds out all his soul in every word, [ported. Lucia.

And thinks, and talks, and looks like one transWhy will you fight against so sweet a passion, Unhappy youth! how will thy coldaess raise And steel your heart to such a world of charms? Tempelts and storms in his afflicted bofomn! Marcia.

I dread the consequenceHow, Lucia! would'st thou have me link away

Lucia.
In pleasing dreams, and lose myself in love,

You seem to plead
When every moment Cato's life's at Itake? Against your brother Portius-
Cæfar comes arm'd with terror and revenge,

Murcia.
And aims his thunder at my father's head :

Heaven forbid : Should not the fad occasion swallow up

Had Portius been the unsuccessful lover, My other cares, and draw them all into it? The same compaflion would have fall'n on hin, Lucia,

Luci, Why have not I this conttancy of mind,

Was ever virgin love diftreft like mine! Who have so many griefs to try its force ?

Portius himself oft falls in tears before me, Sure, nature form'd me of her softest mould, As if he mourn'd his rival's ill success, Enfechled all niy soul with tender passions, Then bids me hide the motions of my heart,

, And sunk me ev'n below my own weak sex :

Nor shew which way it turns. So much he fears Pity and love, by turns, oppress my heart,

The fad effects that it would have on Marcus,
Murcia.

Aacia.
Lucia, disburthen all thy cares on me,

He knows too well how easily he's fir'd, And let me share thy mo't retir'd distress;

And would not plunge his brother in despair, Tell me who raises up this conflict in chce. But waits for happier times, and kinder monientra Lucia.

Lucia, I need not blush to name them, when I tell Alas! too late I find myself in rolu'd thee

In endleis griefs and labyrinths of woe, They're Marcia's brothers, and the fons of Cato. Boro to afflict iny Marcia's family, Marcia,

And low diflenfion in the hcarcs of brothers,
They both behold thee with their sister's eyes; Tornienting thought : it cuts into my soul.
And often have riveal'd their passion to me.

Macia.
Buc tell me, whose address thou favour'it :uott? Let us not, Licia, aggravate our fortows,
I long to know, and yet I dread to hear it.

But to the gods permii th' event of things.
Lucia.

Our lives, disculour'd with our present woes,
Which is it Marcia wishes for ?

May till grow bright, and mile with happier Marcia.

hours, For neither

So the pure linipid stream, when ful with Rains And yet for both--The youths have equal share Of rufhing torrents, and descending rains,

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THE SENATE.

Works iteif clear, and, as it runs, refines;

Cato, Till, by degrees the floating mirror fines,

Let tot a torrent of impetucus zeal
Reflects each flower that on the border grows, Transport chee thus beyond the bounds of reason :
And a new heaven in its fair bosom fhows.

True fortitude is seen in great exploits,
Exeunt. That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides;

All else is towering phrensy and distraction.
Are not the lives of those, who draw the sword
In Rome's defence, intrusted to our care?

Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter,
ACT II. SCENE 1.

Might not th' inipartial world with reason say,
We lavith'd at our deaths the blood of thousands,

To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious ?
Sempronius.

Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion. Rome still survives in this assembled senate!

Lucius. Let us remember we are Cato's friends,

My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd oti peace. And act like men who claim that glorious title. Already have our quarrels sill'd the world Lucius.

With widows and with orphans: Scythia mourns Cato will soon be here, and open to us

Our guilty wars, aod earth's remotest regions Th' occasion of our meeting. Hark! he comes ! Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Ronie:

[A found of trumpet's. 'Tis time to sheath the sword, and spare mankind. May all the guardiau gods of Rome direct him! It is not Cæsar, but the gods, my fathers,

The gods declare against us, and repel
Enter Caio.

Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle,
Cato.

(Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair) Fathers, we once again are met in council.

Were to refuse th' awards of providence, Cæsar's approach has sunimon'd us together, And not to rest in heaven's determination. And Rome attends her fate from our resolves :

Already have we shewn nur love to Rome : How shall we treat this bold aspiring man ?

Now let us shew submission to the gode. Success till follows him, and backs his crimes : We took up arms, 1104 to revenge ourselves, Pharsalia gave

him Rome; Egypt has since But free the commonwealth ; when this end fails, Receiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæfar's. Arms have no further use; our country's cause, Why should I mention Juba's overthrow,

That drew our swords, now wrests them from our And Scipio's death ? Numidia's burning fands

hands, Still smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should de

And bids us not delight in Roman blood,

Unprofitably shed; what men could do What course to take. Our foe advances on us,

Is done already : heaven and earth will witness, And envies us evin Libca's sultry deserts.

If Rome inust fall, that we are innocent. Fathers, pronounce your thoughts; are they still fixt

Sempronius. To hold it out, and fight it to the last ?

This smooth discourse and mild behaviour oft, Or are your hearts subdued at length, and wrought | Conceal a traitor-Something whispers me By time and ill success to a submission?

All is not right--Cato, beware of Lucius. Sempronius, fpcak.

Afide to Cato,
Semprouins.

Cato.
My voice is still for war.

Let us appear not rash nor diffident :
Gods, can a Roman senate long debate

Inmoderate valour swells into a fault, Which of the two to choose, lavery or death And fear, admitted into public councils, No, let us rise at once, gird on our swords,

Betrays like trcafon. Let us fluun them both, And, at the head of our remaining troops,

Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs Attack the foe, break through the thick array Are grown thus desperate. We have bulwarks Of his throng'd legions, and charge home upon

Within our walls are troops inur'd to toil Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, In Afric's heats, and season'd to the fun; May reach his heart, and free the world froni bon Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us, dage.

Ready to rise at its young prince's call. Rise, fathers, rise; 'tis Rome demands your help; Whilst there is hope, do not distrust the gods; Rise, and revenge her Naughter'd citizens, But wait at least till Cæsar's near approach Or share their fate : the corps of half her senate Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we

To fuc for chains, and own a conqueror. Sit here, deliberating in cold debates,

Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time? If we should sacrifice our lives to honour,

No, let us draw her term of freedom out
Or wear then out in fervitude and chains.

In its full length, and spin it to the last.
Rouse up for shame! our brothers of Pharfalia So shall we gain ftill one day's liberty;
Point at their wounds, and cry aloud-to batele! And let me perish, but in Cato's judgment,
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow, | A day, an hour of virtuous liberty,
And Scinio's ghost walks unrcveng'd aniongst us, s worth a whole eternity in bondage.

I

crec

round us;

him;

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