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And make even Caesar tremble at the head
That show’rs down greatness on his friends, will raise
... Syph. 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. Sem. Believe me, Syphax, there's no time to waste; Ev’n while we speak, our conqueror comes on, And gathers ground upon us every moment. Alas! thou know'st not Caesar’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 ; One day more Will set the victor thund'ring at our gates. But, tell me, hast thou yet drawn o'er young Juba? That still would recommend thee more to Caesar, And challenge better terms. Syph. 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 Offaith and honour, and I know not what, o That have corrupted his Numidian temper, And struck th’ infection into all his soul. ... Sem. Be sure to press upon him every motive. fouba's surrender, since his father's death, -> Would give up Afric into Caesar's hands, 'And make him lord of half the burning zone.
Syph. 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. Sem. 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 Caesar, till I shake the senate. Your cold hypocrisy’s a stale device, A worn-out trick: would'st thou be thought in earnest, Clothe thy feign'd zeal in rage, in fire, in fury! Syph. in troth, thou'rt able to instr ct grey hairs, And teach the wily African deceit. T--~~~ Sem. Once more be sure to try thy skill on Juba. Remember, Syphax, we must work in haste; Oh, 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 every word we speak, On every thought, till the concluding stroke Determines all, and closes our design. [Exit. Syph. I'll try if yet I can reduce to reason This headstrong youth, and make him spurn at Cato. The time is short; Caesar comes rushing on us— But hold! young Juba sees me, and approaches .
Jub. Syphax, I joy to meet thee thus alone.
Syph. 'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts,
I have not yet so much the Roman in me.
Jub. Why dost thou cast out such ungenerous
terms Against the lords and sov’reigns of the world 2 Dost thou not see mankind fall down before them, And own the force of their superior virtue 2 Is there a nation in the wilds of Afric, Amidst our barren rocks, and burning sands, That does not tremble at the Roman name 2 Syph. Gods! where's the worth that sets these - pecple up Above your own Numidia's tawny sons? Do they with tougher sinews bend the bow 2 Or flies the jav’lin swifter to its mark, Launch’d from the vigour of a Roman arm 2 Who like our active African instructs The fiery steed, and trains him to his hand? Or guides in troops th’ embattled elephant Laden with war : These, these are arts, my prince, In which your Zama does not stoop to Rome. Jub. These all are virtues of a meaner rank : Perfections that are placed in bones and nerves. A Roman soul is bent on higher views; Turn up thy eyes to Cato; There may’st thou see to what a godlike height The Roman virtues lift up mortal man. While good, and just, and anxious for his friends, He’s still severely bent against himself; And when his fortune sets before him all The pomps and pleasures that his soul can wish, His rigid virtue will accept of none. Syph. Believe me, prince, there’s not an African That traverses our vast Numidian deserts In quest of prey, and lives upon his bow, But better practises those boasted virtues. Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chase; Amidst the running stream he slakes his thirst; Toils all the day, and at th' approach of night,
On the first friendly bank he throws him down,