Syph. 'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul;

I think the Romans call it stoicism.
Had not your royal father thought so highly
Of Roman virtue, and of Cato's cause,
He had not fallen by a slave's hand inglorious;
Nor would his slaughtered army now have lain
On Afric's sands disfigured with their wounds,
To gorge the wolves and vultures of Numidia.
Juba. Why dost thou call my sorrows up afresh?
My father's name brings tears into my eyes.
Syph. Oh, that you'd profit by your father's
ills!

Juba. What wouldst thou have me do?
Syph. Abandon Cato.

Juba, Syphax, I should be more than twice an orphan

Still must I cherish the dear, sad remembrance,
At once to torture and to please my soul.
The good old king at parting wrung my hand,
(His eyes brim-full of tears) then sighing, cried,
Pr'ythee be careful of my son! His grief
Swelled up so high, he could not utter more.

Juba. Alas! thy story melts away my soul.
That best of fathers! how shall I discharge
The gratitude and duty which I owe him!
Syph. By laying up his counsels in your heart.
Juba. His counsels bade me yield to thy di-

rections:

Then, Syphax, chide me in severest terms;
Vent all thy passion, and I'll stand its shock,
Calm and unruffled as a summer sea,
When not a breath of wind flies o'er its surface.
Syph. Alas! my prince, I'd guide thee to your
safety.

Juba. I do believe thou wouldst; but tell me
how?

Syph. Fly from the fate that follows Cæsar's foes!

Juba. My father scorned to do it.

Syph. And therefore died.

Juba. Better to die ten thousand thousand deaths,

Than wound my honour.

Syph. Rather say, your love.

Juba. Syphax, I've promised to preserve my
temper.

Why wilt thou urge me to confess a flame,
I long have stifled, and would fain conceal?

Syph. Believe me, prince, though hard to con

quer love,

'Tis easy to divert and break its force.
Absence might cure it, or a second mistress
Light up another flame, and put out this.
The glowing dames of Zama's royal court
Have faces flushed with more exalted charms;
The sun, that rolls his chariot o'er their heads,
Works up more fire and colour in their cheeks;
Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon for-
get

The pale unripened beauties of the north.

Juba. 'Tis not a set of features, or complexion, The tincture of a skin, that I admire : Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex: True, she is fair, (oh, how divinely fair!) But still the lovely maid improves her charms With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom, And sanctity of manners; Cato's soul Shines out in every thing she acts or speaks, While winning mildness and attractive smiles Dwell in her looks, and, with becoming grace, Soften the rigour of her father's virtue.

Syph. How does your tongue grow wanton in her praise!

But on my knees I beg you would considerJuba. Ha! Syphax, is't not she? She moves this way:

And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter.
My heart beats thick-I prithee, Syphax, leave

me.

Syph. Ten thousand curses fasten on them both! Now will the woman, with a single glance, Undo what I've been labouring all this while. [Exit SYPHAX.

Enter MARCIA and LUCIA. Juba. Hail, charming maid! How does thy beauty smooth

The face of war, and make even horror smile!
At sight of thee my heart shakes off its sorrows;
I feel a dawn of joy break in upon me,
And for a while forget the approach of Cæsar.
Mar. I should be grieved, young prince, to
think my presence
Unbent your thoughts, and slackened them to

Mar. My father never, at a time like this, Would lay out his great soul in words, and waste Such precious moments.

Juba. Thy reproofs are just,

Thou virtuous maid! I'll hasten to my troops,
And fire their languid souls with Cato's virtue.
If e'er I lead them to the field, when all
The war shall stand, ranged in its just array,
And dreadful pomp, then will I think on thee!
Oh, lovely maid! then will I think on thee;
And, in the shock of charging hosts, remember
What glorious deeds should grace the man, who
hopes

For Marcia's love.

[Exit JUBA. Luc. Marcia, you're too severe; Ilow could you chide the young good-natured prince,

And drive him from you with so stern an air?
A prince, that loves and doats on you to death?
Mar. 'Tis therefore, Lucia, that I chid him
from me.

Ilis air, his voice, his looks, and honest soul,
Speak all so movingly in his behalf,
I dare not trust myself to hear him talk.

Luc. Why will you fight against so sweet a
passion,

And steel your heart to such a world of charms? Mar. How, Lucia! wouldst thou have me sink

away

In pleasing dreams, and lose myself in love,
When every moment Cato's life's at stake?
Cæsar comes armed with terror and revenge,
And aims his thunder at my father's head.
Should not the sad occasion swallow up
My other cares, and draw them all into it?
Luc. Why have not I this constancy of mind,
Who have so many griefs to try its force!
Sure, nature formed me of her softest mould,
Enfeebled all my soul with tender passions,
And sunk me even below my own weak sex:
Pity and love, by turns, oppress my heart.

Mur. Lucia, disburthen all thy cares on me,
And let me share thy most retired distress.
Tell me who raises up this conflict in thee?
Luc. I need not blush to name them, when I
tell thee,

They're Marcia's brothers, and the sons of Cato. Mar. They both behold thee with their sis

ter's eyes,

And often have revealed their passion to me.
But tell me, whose address thou favour'st most?
I long to know, and yet I dread to hear it.
Luc. Which is it Marcia wishes for?
Mar. For neither-

And yet for both-The youths have equal share
In Marcia's wishes, and divide their sister:
But tell me which of them is Lucia's choice?
Luc. Marcia, they both are high in my esteem,
But in my love-Why wilt thou make me name
him!

Thou know'st it is a blind and foolish passion, Pleased and disgusted with it knows not whatMar. Oh, Lucia, I'm perplexed! Oh, tell me which

I must hereafter call my happy brother? Luc. Suppose 'twere Portius, could you blame choice?

my -Oh, Portius, thou hast stolen away my soul! With what a graceful tenderness he loves! And breathes the softest, the sincerest vows! Complacency, and truth, and manly sweetness, Dwell ever on his tongue, and smooth his thoughts.

Marcus is over-warm, his fond complaints
Have so much earnestness and passion in them,
I hear him with a secret kind of horror,
And tremble at his vehemence of temper.
Mar. Alas, poor youth! how canst thou throw
him from thee?

Lucia, thou know'st not half the love he bear thee;

Whene'er he speaks of thee, his heart's in flames,
He sends out all his soul in every word,
And thinks, and talks, and looks like one trans

ported.

Unhappy youth! How will thy coldness raise Tempests and storms in his afflicted bosom! I dread the consequence.

Luc. You seem to plead
Against your brother Portius.
Mar. Heaven forbid !

Had Portius been the unsuccessful lover,
The same compassion would have folien on him.

Luc. Was ever virgin love distrest like mine!
Portius himself oft falls in tears before me,
As if he mourned his rival's ill success,
Then bids me hide the motions of my heart,
Nor shew which way it turns. So much he fears
The sad effects that it will have on Marcus.

Mar. He knows too well how easily he is fired, And would not plunge his brother in despair, But waits for happier times, and kinder moments.

Luc. Alas! too late I find myself involved In endless griefs and labyrinths of woe, Born to afflict my Marcia's family, And sow dissention in the hearts of brothers. Tormenting thought! It cuts into my soul.

Mar. Let us not, Lucia, aggravate our sorrows, But to the gods submit the event of things. Our lives, discoloured with our present woes, May still grow bright, and smile with happier hours.

So the pure limpid stream, when foul with

The Senate. LUCIUS, SEMPRONIUS, and Sena

tors.

Sem. Rome still survives in this assembled senate.

Let us remember we are Cato's friends,
And act like men who claim that glorious title.
Luc. Cato will soon be here, and open to us
The occasion of our meeting. Hark! he comes!
[A sound of trumpets.
May all the guardian gods of Rome direct him!

Enter CATO.

Cato. Fathers, we once again are met in council:

Cæsar's approach has summoned us together,
And Rome attends her fate from our resolves.
How shall we treat this bold aspiring man?
Success still follows him, and backs his crimes;
Pharsalia gave him Rome, Egypt has since
Received his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæsar's.
Why should I mention Juba's overthrow,
And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning sands
Still smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should de-

cree

What course to take. Our foe advances on us, And envies us even Lybia's sultry desarts. Fathers, pronounce your thoughts: are they still fixed

To hold it out and fight it to the last?

Or are your hearts subdued at length, and wrought

By time, and ill success, to a submission?
Sempronius, speak.

Sem. My voice is still for war.
Gods! can a Roman senate long debate
Which of the two to choose, slavery or death!
No; let us rise at once, gird on our swords,
And, at the head of our remaining troops,
Attack the foe, break through the thick array
Of his thronged legions, and charge home upon
him.

Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage.

Rise, fathers, rise! 'Tis Rome demands your help:
Rise, and revenge your slaughtered citizens,
Or share their fate! The corpse of half her se-

nate

True fortitude is seen in great exploits,
That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides;
All else is towering frenzy and distraction.
Are not the lives of those, who draw the sword
In Rome's defence, entrusted to our care?
Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter,
Might not the impartial world with reason say,
We lavished at our deaths the blood of thousands,
To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious?-
Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion.

Luc. My thoughts, I must confess, are turned
on peace.

Already have our quarrels filled the world
With widows, and with orphans: Scythia mourns
Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions
Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome:
'Tis time to sheath the sword and spare man
kind.

It is not Cæsar, but the gods, my fathers,
The gods declare against us, and repel
Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle,
(Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair)
Were to refuse the awards of Providence,
And not to rest in Heaven's determination.
Already have we shewn our love to Rome,
Now let us shew submission to the gods.
We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves,
But free the commonwealth: when this end fails,
Arms have no further use. Our country's cause,
That drew our swords, now wrests them from
our hands,

And bids us not delight in Roman blood
Unprofitably shed. What men could do,
Is done already: heaven and earth will witness,
If Rome must fall, that we are innocent.

Sem. This smooth discourse, and mild beha-
viour, oft

I

Conceal a traitor-something whispers me
All is not right-Cato, beware of Lucius.
[Aside to CATO.
Cato. Let us appear nor rash nor diffident,
Immoderate valour swells into a fault;
And fear, admitted into public councils,
Betrays like treason. Let us shun them both.
Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs
Are grown thus desperate: we have bulwarks
round us;

Within our walls are troops inured to toil
In Afric's heat, and seasoned to the sun;
Numidia's spacious kingdom Hes behind us,
Ready to rise at its young prince's call.
While there is hope, do not distrust the gods;
But wait at least till Cæsar's near approach
Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late
To sue for chains, and own a conqueror.
Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time?
No, let us draw her term of freedom out
In its full length, and spin it to the last;
So shall we gain still one day's liberty:
And let me perish, but, in Cato's judgment,

Myself will mount the rostrum in his favour, And strive to gain his pardon from the people. Dec. A style like this becomes a conqueror, Cato. Decius, a style like this becomes a Roman. Dec. What is a Roman, that is Cæsar's foe? Cato. Greater than Cæsar: he's a friend to virtue.

Dec. Consider, Cato, you're in Utica, And at the head of your own little senate; You don't now thunder in the capital, With all the mouths of Rome to second you. Cato. Let him consider that, who drives u hither.

'Tis Cæsar's sword has made Rome's senate little, And thinned its ranks. Alas! thy dazzled eye Beholds this man in a false glaring light, Which conquest and success have thrown upon him;

Did'st thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black

With murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimes,

come.

Are not your orders with the senate ?

Dec. My business is with Cato; Cæsar sees The straits to which you're driven; and, as he knows

Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life.

Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome. Would he save Cato, bid him spare his country. Tell your dictator this; and tell him, Cato Disdains a life which he has power to offer, Dec. Rome and her senators submit to Cæsar; Her generals and her consuls are no more, Who checked his conquests, and denied his triumphs.

Why will not Cato be this Cæsar's friend?

Cato. These very reasons thou hast urged for

bid it.

I must not think of life on such conditions.
Dec. Cæsar is well acquainted with your vir-
tues,

And therefore sets this value on your life.
Let him but know the price of Cato's friendship,
And name your terms.

Cato. Bid him disband his legions,
Restore the commonwealth to liberty,
Submit his actions to the public censure,
And stand the judgment of a Roman senate.
Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend.

Dec. Cato, the world talks loudly of your wisdom

Cato. Nay, more; though Cato's voice was ne'er employed

To clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes,

I know thou look'st on me as on a wretch Beset with ills, and covered with misfortunes; But, by the gods I swear, millions of worlds Should never buy me to be like that Cæsar.

Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to Cæsar, For all his generous cares and proffered friendship?

Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain. Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato: Would Cæsar shew the greatness of his soul, Bid him employ his care for these my friends, And make good use of his ill-gotten power, By sheltering men much better than himself. Dec. Your high unconquered heart makes you forget You are a man. You rush on your destruction. But I have done. When I relate hereafter The tale of this unhappy embassy, All Rome will be in tears.

Exit DECIUS.

Sem. Cato, we thank thee. The mighty genius of immortal Rome Speaks in thy voice; thy soul breathes liberty, Cæsar will shrink to hear the words thou utter'st, And shudder in the midst of all his conquests.

Luc. The senate owns its gratitude to Cato, Who with so great a soul consults its safety, And guards our lives while he neglects his own. Sem. Sempronius gives no thanks on this ac

count.

Lucius seems fond of life; but what is life?
'Tis not to stalk about, and draw fresh air
From time to time, or gaze upon the sun;
'Tis to be free. When liberty is gone,
Life grows insipid, and has lost its relish.
Oh, could my dying hand but lodge a sword
In Cæsar's bosom, and revenge my country,
By Heavens I could enjoy the pangs of death,
And smile in agony!

Luc. Others, perhaps,

May serve their country with as warm a zeal, Though 'tis not kindled into so much rage.

Sem. This sober conduct is a mighty virtue In lukewarm patriots.

3

Cato. Come; no more, Sempronius: All here are friends to Rome, and to each other. Let us not weaken still the weaker side By our divisions.

Sem. Cato, my resentments

Are sacrificed to Rome-I stand reproved.
Cato. Fathers, 'tis time you come to a resolve.
Luc. Cato, we all go into your opinion.
Cæsar's behaviour has convinced the senate,
We ought to hold it out till terms arrive.

Sem. We ought to hold it out till death; but,
Cato,

My private voice is drowned amidst the senate's. Cato. Then let us rise, my friends, and strive to fill

This little interval, this pause of life, (While yet our liberty and fates are doubtful) With resolution, friendship, Roman bravery, And all the virtues we can crowd into it, That Heaven may say it ought to be prolonged. Fathers, farewell-The young Numidian prince Comes forward, and expects to know our coun[Exeunt Senators. sels.

Enter JUBA.

Juba, the Roman senate has resolved,
Till time give better prospects, still to keep
The sword unsheathed, and turn its edge on
Cæsar.

Juba. The resolution fits a Roman senate. But, Cato, lend me for a while thy patience, And condescend to hear a young man speak. My father, when, some days before his death, He ordered me to march for Utica,

(Alas! I thought not then his death so near!) Wept o'er me, pressed me in his aged arms, And, as his griefs gave way, My son,' said he, Whatever fortune shall befal thy father, 'Be Cato's friend; he'll train thee up to great And virtuous deeds; do but observe him well, • Thou'lt shun misfortunes, or thou'lt learn to bear them.'

Cato. Juba, thy father was a worthy prince, And merited, alas! a better fate;

But Heaven thought otherwise.

Juba. My father's fate,

In spite of all the fortitude that shines
Before my face in Cato's great example,
Subdues my soul, and fills my eyes with tears.
Cato. It is an honest sorrow, and becomes thee.
Juba. My father drew respect from foreign

climes:

Did they know Cato, our remotest kings
Would pour embattled multitudes about him;
Their swarthy hosts would darken all our plains,
Doubling the native horrors of the war,
And making death more grim.

Calo. And canst thou think

Cato will fly before the sword of Cæsar!
Reduced, like Hannibal, to seek relief
From court to court, and wander up and down
A vagabond in Afric?

Juba. Cato, perhaps

I'm too officious; but my forward cares
Would fain preserve a life of so much value.
My heart is wounded, when I see such virtue
Afflicted by the weight of such misfortunes.

Cato. Thy nobleness of soul obliges me.
But know, young prince, that valour soars above
What the world calls misfortune and affliction.
These are not ills; else would they never fall
On Heaven's first favourites and the best of men.
The gods, in bounty, work up storms about us,
That give mankind occasion to exert
Their hidden strength, and throw out into practice
Virtues that shun the day, and lie concealed
In the smooth seasons and the calms of life.
Juba. I'm charmed whene'er thou talk'st; I
pant for virtue,

And all my soul endeavours at perfection. Cato. Dost thou love watchings, abstinence and toil,

Laborious virtues all? Learn them from Cato; Success and fortune must thou learn from Cæsar. Juba. The best good fortune that can fall on

Juba,

The whole success at which my heart aspires,
Depends on Cato.

Cato. What does Juba say?
Thy words confound me.

Juba. I would fain retract them;

Give them me back again, they aimed at nothing.
Cato. Tell me thy wish, young prince, make
not my ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.

Juba. Oh! they're extravagant;

Still let me hide them.

Cato. What can Juba ask,

That Cato will refuse?

Juba. I fear to name it.

Marcia-inherits all her father's virtues.
Cato. What wouldst thou say?

Juba. Cato, thou hast a daughter.

Cato. Adieu, young prince; I would not hear
a word

Should lessen thee in my esteem. Remember,
The hand of fate is over us, and Heaven
Exacts severity from all our thoughts.
It is not now a time to talk of aught
But chains, or conquest; liberty, or death.—

Enter SYPHAX.

[Exit

Syph. How's this, my prince! what, covered. with confusion?"

You look as if yon stern philosopher
Had just now chid you,