Semp. Know, Villains, when fuch paltry Slaves prefume To mix in Treafon, if the Plot fucceeds,

They're thrown neglected by: But if it fails,
They're fure to die like Dogs, as you shall do.
Here, take these Factious Monsters, drag 'em forth
To fudden Death.

Enter Guards.

1 Lead. Nay, fince it comes to this--

Semp. Dispatch 'em quick, but firft pluck out their

Tongues,

Left with their dying Breath they fow Sedition.

[Exeunt Guards with the Leaders.

SCENE VII.

Syphax and Sempronius.

Syph. Our firft Design, my Friend, has prov'd abortive; Still there remains an After-game to play:

My Troops are mounted; their Numidian Steeds
Snuff up the Wind, and long to scour the Defart:
Let but Sempronius head us in our Flight,
We'll force the Gate where Marcus keeps his Guard,
And hew down all that would oppose our Paffage.
A Day will bring us into Cafar's Camp.

Semp. Confufion! I have fail'd of half my Purpose.
Marcia, the charming Marcia's left behind!

Syph. How? will Sempronius turn a Woman's Slave!
Semp. Think not thy friend can ever feel the soft
Unmanly Warmth, and Tenderness of Love.
Syphax, I long to clafp that haughty Maid,
And bend her ftubborn Virtue to my Paffion:
When I have gone thus far, I'd caft her off.

Syph.

Syph. Well faid! that's fpoken like thy felf, Sempronius. What hinders then, but that you find her out, And hurry her away by manly Force?

Semp. But how to gain Admiffion? For Access Is given to none but Juba, and her Brothers.

Syph. Thou shalt have Juba's Drefs, and Juba's Guards: The Doors will open, when Numidia's Prince

Seems to appear before the Slaves, that watch them.
Semp. Heav'ns what a Thought is there! Marcia's my
own!

How will my Bosom swell with anxious Joy,
When I behold her ftruggling in my Arms,
With glowing Beauty, and disorder'd Charms,
While Fear and Anger, with alternate Grace,
Pant in her Breast, and vary in her Face!
So Pluto feiz'd of Proferpine, convey'd

To Hell's tremendous Gloom th'affrighted Maid,
There grimly fmil'd, pleas'd with the beauteous Prize)
Nor envy'd Jove his Sun-fhine and his Skies.

The End of the Third A C T.

ACT

ACT IV. SCENE I.

N

Lucia and Marcia.

LUCIA.

OW tell me, Marcia, tell me from thy Soul
If thou believ't 'tis poffible for Woman
To fuffer greater Ills than Lucia fuffers ?
Lucia, Lucia, might my big-

Marc.

fwoln Heart

[row: Vent all its Grief, and give a Loose to Sor

Marcia cou'd answer thee in Sighs, keep Pace
With all thy Woes, and count out Tear for Tear.

Luc. I know thou'rt doom'd alike, to be belov'd
By Juba, and thy Father's Friend Sempronius;
But which of these has Power to charm like Portius!
Marc. Still muft I beg thee not to name Sempronius £
Lucia, I like not that loud boift'rous Man;

Juba to all the Brav'ry of a Hero

Adds fofteft Love, and more than Female Sweetness;
Juba might make the proudeft of our Sex,

Any of Woman-kind, but Marcia, happy.

Luc. And why not Marcia? Come, you strive in vain To hide your Thoughts from one, who knows too well The inward Glowings of a Heart in Love.

Marc. While Cato lives, his Daughter has no Right

To love or hate, but as his Choice directs.

Luc. But fhou'd this Father give you to Sempronius!
Marc. I dare not think he will: But if he fhou’d-----

Why wilt thou add to all the Griefs I fuffer
Imaginary Ills, and fancy'd Tortures?

I

I hear the Sound of Feet! they march this Way!
Let us retire, and try if we can drown
Each fofter Thought in Senfe of prefent Danger,
When Love once pleads Admission to our Hearts
(In spite of all the Virtue we can boast)
The Woman that Deliberates is loft.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Sempronius, dress'd like Juba, with Numidian Guards.

Semp. The Deer is lodg'd. I've track'd her to her Covert. Be fure you mind the Word, and when I give it, Rush in at once, and feize upon your Prey.

Let not her Cries or Tears have Force to move you.
--How will the young Numidian rave to see
His Mistress loft? If aught cou'd glad my Soul,
Beyond th' Enjoyment of fo bright a Prize,
'Twou'd be to Torture that young gay Barbarian.

-But heark, what Noife! Death to my Hopes! tis he,

'Tis Juba's felf! there is but one Way left----He must be murder'd, and a Paffage cut

Through thofe his Guards-Hah, Daftards, do you tremble!

Or act like Men, or by yon azure Heav'n----

Enter Juba.

Jub. What do I fee? Who's this that dares ufurp

The Guards and Habit of Numidia's Prince?

Semp. One that was born to fcourge thy Arrogance, Prefumptuous Youth!

Fub. What can this mean? Sempronius!

Semp. My Sword fall answer thee. Have at thy Heart.

Fub.

Jub. Nay, then beware thy own proud barbarous Man [Semp. falls. His Guards furrend. Semp. Curfe on my Stars! Am I then doom'd to fall By a Boy's Hand disfigur'd in a vile

Numidian Drefs, and for a worthlefs Woman?
Gods, I'm distracted! This my Clofe of Life!
O for a Peal of Thunder that wou'd make
Earth, Sea, and Air, and Heav'n, and Cato tremble!

[Dies

Fub. With what a Spring his furious Soul broke loose,

And left the Limbs ftill quiv'ring on the Ground!
Hence let us carry off thofe Slaves to Cato,

That we may there at length unravel all

This dark Defign, this Myftery of Fate.

[Exit Juba with Prisoners, &c.

SCENE III.

Enter Lucia and Marcia..

Luc. Sure 'twas the Clash of Swords; my troubled Heart

Is fo caft down, and funk amidst its Sorrows,
It throbs, with Fear, and akes at ev'ry Sound.
O Marcia, fhou'd thy Brothers for my Sake!---
I die away with Horror at the Thought.

(Murder!

Marc. See, Lucia, fee! here's Blood! here's Blood and

Hah! a Numidian! Heav'ns preferve the Prince:
The Face lies muffled up within the Garment,
But hah! Death to my Sight! a Diadem,
And Purple Robes! O Gods! 'tis he, 'tis he!
Juba, the lovelieft Youth that ever warm'd
A Virgin's Heart, Juba lies dead before us!

Luc. Now, Marcia, now call up to thy Affiftance
Thy wonted Strength, and Conftancy of Mind;
Thou can'ft not put it to a greater Trial.

Marc