At once to torture and to please my foul,
The good old king, at parting, wrung my hand,
(His eyes
brim-full of tears) then fighing cry'd,
Pr'ythee be careful of my son !-his grief

Swell'd up fo high he could not utter more,

JUBA.

Alas, thy ftory melts away my foul. That beft of fathers! how fhall I discharge The gratitude and duty, which I owe him! SY PHAX.

By laying up his counfels in your heart.

JUBA.

His counfels bade me yield to thy directions::
Then, Syphax, chide me in feverest terms,
Vent all thy paffion, and I'll ftand its shock,
Calin and unruffled as a fummer-fea,

When not a breath of wind flies o'er its furface..

SYPHAX.

Alas, my prince, I'd guide you to your fafety.

JUBA.

I do believe thou would't; but tell me how?

Than wound

my honour.

SYPHAX.

Rather fay your love.

JUBA.

Syphax, I've promis'd to preferve my temper.
Why wilt thou urge me to confefs a flame,
I long have ftifled, and would fain conceal?

SY PHA X.

Believe me, prince, 'tis hard to conquer love, But eafy to divert and break its force: Abfence might cure it, or a fecond mistress Light up another flame, and put out this. The glowing dames of Zaina's royal court Have faces flusht with more exalted charms. The fun, that rolls his chariot o'er their heads, Works up more fire and colour in their cheeks: Were you with thefe, my prince, you'd foon forget The pale unripen'd beauties of the North.

JUBA.

'Tis not a fet of features, or complexion,
The tincture of a skin, that I admire.
Beauty foon grows familiar to the lover,
Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
The virtuous Marcia towers above her fex:
True, he is fair, (oh, how divinely fair!)
But fill the lovely maid improves her charms
With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom,
And fanctity of manners. Cato's foul
Shines out in every thing the acts or speaks,
While winning mildness and attractive smiles

Dwell

Dwell in her looks, and with becoming grace
Soften the rigour of her father's virtues.

SYPHA X.

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

Enter MARCIA and LUCIA.

JUBA.

Hah! Syphax, is 't not fhe !-She moves this way: And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter. My heart beats thick-I pr'y thee, Syphax, leave me.

SY PHAX.

Ten thousand curfes faften on them both!

Now will this woman with a fingle glance
Undo, what I've been labouring all this while. [Exit.

JUBA, MARCIA, LUCIA.

JUBA.

Hail charming maid, how does thy beauty fmooth

The face of war, and make ev'n 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.

I should be griev'd, young prince, to think my prefence Unbent your thoughts, and flacken'd them to arms, While, warm with flaughter, our victorious foe Threatens aloud, and calls you to the field.

JUBA.

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 ftrength and weight to my defcending fword,
And drive it in a tempeft on the foe.

MARCIA.

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 godlike father, Transplanting, one by one, into my life His bright perfections, till I fhine like him.

MARCIA.

My father never at a time like this

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

JUBA.

Thy reproofs are juft,

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 stand ranged in its just array,
And dreadful pomp: then will I think on thee!
✪ lovely maid, then will I think on thee!
And, in the fhock of charging hofts, remember
What glorious deeds fhou'd grace the man, who hopes
For Marcia's love.

[Exit.

LUCIA.

Marcia, you're too severe :

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

MARCIA.

"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 fteel your heart to such a world of charms?

MARCIA.

How, Lucia! would't thou have me fink away In pleafing dreams, and lose myself in love, When every moment Cato's life's at ftake? 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 fo many griefs to try its force? Sure, nature form'd me of her softest mould, Enfeebled all my foul with tender paffions, And funk me ev'n below my own weak fex: Pity and love, by turns, oppress my heart.

MARCIA.