With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom,
And fanctity of manners. Cato's foul
Shines out in every thing he acts or speaks,
While winning mildness and attractive fmiles
Dwell in her looks, and with becoming grace
Soften the rigour of her father's virtue.

SYPHA X.

How does your tongue grow wanton in her praise! But on my knees I beg you would confider

JUBA.

Hah! Syphax, is't not she!-fhe moves this way: And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter.

My heart beats thick I pr'ythee Syphax leave me.

SYPHA X.

Ten thousand curfes faften on 'em both!

Now will this woman with a fingle glance

Undo, what I've been labouring all this while.

[Exit.

SCENE V.

JUBA, MARCIA, LUCI A.

JUBA.

Hail, charming maid! how does thy beauty fmooth

The face of war, and make even horror fmile!
At fight of thee my heart shakes off its forrows;
I feel a dawn of joy break in upon me,
And for a while forget th' approach of Cæfar.

MARCIA.

MARCI A.

I should be grieved, young Prince, to think myprefence Unbent your thoughts, and flacken'd 'em to arms, While, warm with flaughter, our victorious foe Threatens aloud, and calls you to the field.

JUBA.

O Marcia, let me hope thy kind concerns
And gentle wishes follow me to battle!

The thought will give new vigour to my arm,
Add strength and weight to my defcending sword,
And drive it in a tempeft on the foe.

MARCI A.

My prayers and wishes always fhall attend
The friends of Rome, the glorious caufe of virtue,
And men approv'd of by the gods and Cato.

JUBA.

That Juba may deferve thy pious cares,
I'll gaze for ever on thy god-like father,
Tranfplanting, one by one, into my life
His bright perfections, 'till I fhine like him.

MARCI A.

My father never at a time like this

Would lay out his great foul in words, and waste
Such precious moments.

JUBA.

Thy reproofs are just,

Thou virtuous maid; I'll haften to my troops,
And fire their languid fouls with Cato's virtue.

If e'er I lead them to the field, when all
The war fhall ftand rang'd in its juft array,
And dreadful pomp: then will I think on thee!
O lovely maid, then will I think on thee!

And, in the fhock of charging hofts, remember
What glorious deeds fhould grace the man, who hopes
For Marcia's love.

SCENE VI.

LUCIA, MARCIA,

LUCIA

Marcia, you're too fevere:

[Exit.

How could you chide the young good-natur'd Prince,
And drive him from you with fo fern an air,
A Prince that loves and dotes on you to death?

"Tis therefore, Lucia, that I chide him from me..

His air, his voice, his looks, and honeft foul.
Speak all fo movingly in his behalf,

I dare not truft myself to hear him talk.

LUCIA.

Why will you fight against so sweet a paffion, And steel your heart to fuch a world of charms?

MARCI A.

How, Lucia! would'ft thou have me fink away

In pleafing dreams, and lofe myself in love,

When

When every moment Cato's life's at stake!
Cæfar comes arm'd with terror and revenge,
And aims his thunder at my father's head:
Should not the fad occafion swallow up
My other cares, and draw them all into it?

LUCIA.

Why have not I this conftancy of mind, Who have so many griefs to try its force? Sure, nature form'd me of her softest mold, Enfeebled all my foul with tender paffions, And funk me even below my own weak sex: Pity and love, by turns, opprefs my heart.

MARCI A.

Lucia, difburden all thy cares on me,
And let me fhare thy moft retir'd diftrefs;
Tell me who raifes up this conflict in thee?

LUCIA.

I need not blush to name them, when I tell thee They're Marcia's brothers, and the fons of Cato.

MARCI A.

They both behold thee with their fifter's eyes ::
And often have reveal'd their paffion to me.
But tell me, whose address thou favour'st most ?
I long to know, and yet I dread to hear it.

LUCIA.

Which is it Marcia wifles for ?

MARCIA.

For neither

And yet for both

MARCI A.

the youths have equal share
In Marcia's wishes, and divide their fifter:
But tell me, which of them is Lucia's choice?
LUCIA.

Marcia, they both are high in my esteem,
But in my love-why wilt thou make me name him ?
Thou know'ft it is a blind and foolish paffion,
- Pleas'd and difgufted with it knows not what-

MARCI A.

O Lucia, I'm perplex'd, O tell me which I must hereafter call my happy brother?

LUCIA.

Suppofe 'twere Portius, could you blame my choice?
- Portius, thou hast stol'n away my foul!
With what a graceful tenderness he loves!
And breathes the fofteft, the fincereft vows!
Complacency, and truth, and manly sweetness
Dwell ever on his tongue, and smooth his thoughts.
Marcus is over-warm, his fond complaints
Have fo much earneftnefs and paffion in them,

I hear him with a fecret kind of horror,
And tremble at his vehemence of temper.

MARCI A.

Alas, poor youth! how can't thou throw him from thee? Lucia, thou know'st not half the love he bears thee? Whene'er he speaks of thee, his heart's in flames,

He