If e'er I lead them to the field, when all
The war shall stand rang'd 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.

[Exil. [prince, Lucia. Marcia, you're too severe : How could you chide the young, good-natur'd And drive him from you with so stern an air; A prince that loves and dotes on you to death? Marcia. 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?" Lucia. Why have not I this constancy of mind,

Who have so many griefs to try its force? Sure, nature form'd me of her softest mould, Enfeebled all my soul with tender passions, And sunk me e'en below my own weak sex: Pity and love, by turns, oppress my heart.

Marcia. Lucia, disburden all thy cares on

me,

And let me share thy most retir'd distress.
Tell me, who raises up this conflict in thee?
Lucia. I need not blush to name them, when
I tell thee
[Cato.
They're Marcia's brothers, and the sons of
Marcia. But tell me whose address thou
favour'st most?

I long to know, and yet I dread to hear it. Lucia. Suppose 'twere Portius, could you blame my choice?

Oh, Portius, thou hast stolen away my soul!
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.
Marcia. Alas, poor youth!
How will thy coldness raise

Tempests and storms in his afflicted bosom?
I dread the consequence.

Lucia. You seem to plead
Against your brother Portius.
Marcia. Lucia, no:

Had Portius been the unsuccessful lover,
The same compassion would have fallen on

him.

To hold it out, and fight it to the last?
Or are your hearts subdu'd 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, slav'ry or death?
No; let us rise at once, gird on our swords,
And, at the head of our remaining troops,
Attact the foe, break through the thick array
Of his throng'd 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 her slaughter'd citizens,
Or share their fate ;-
To battle!

[slow, Great Pompey's shade complains that we are And Scipio's ghost walks unreveng'd amongst

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.

Cato. Let us appear nor rash nor diffident;
Immod'rate 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 desp'rate: we have bulwarks
round us;

Within our walls are troops inur'd to toil
In Afric's heat, and season'd to the sun;
Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us,
Ready to rise at its young prince's call.
While there is hope, do not disturb 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,
A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty,
Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.

Dec. Cæsar is well acquainted with your virtues,

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

[ship,

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 employ'd

To clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes, 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.

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,
[ship?
For all his gen'rous cares and proffer'd friend-
Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain :
Presumptuous man! the gods take care of Cato.
Would Cæsar show the greatness of his soul,
Bid him employ his care for these my friends,
And make good use of his ill-gotten power,
By shelt'ring men much better than himself.
Dec. Your high, unconquer'd 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, attended.

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

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 luke-warm patriots.

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 sacrific'd to Rome-I stand reprov'd.
Cato. Fathers, 'tis time you come to a resolve.
Luc. Cato, we all go into your opinion:
Cæsar's behaviour has convinc'd the senate,
We ought to hold it out till terms arrive.
Sem. We ought to hold it out till death;
but, Cato,
[nate's.
My private voice is drown'd amidst the se-
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 prolong'd. [prince Fathers, farewell. The young Numidian Comes forward, and expects to know our counsels. [Exeunt Senators.

Enter JUBA.

Juba, the Roman senate has resolv'd
Till time give better prospects, still to keep
The sword unsheath'd, 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 order'd me to march for Utica, (Alas! I thought not then his death so near!) Wept o'er me, press'd me in his aged arms; And, as his griefs gave way, "My son," said he, "Whatever fortune shall befall 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

Juba. I do not mean to boast his power and greatness,

But point out new alliances to Cato.
Had we not better leave this Utica,
To arm Numidia in our cause, and court
Th' assistance of my father's powerful friends?
Did they know Cato, our remotest kings
Would pour embattled multitudes about him;
Their swarthy hosts would darken all our
plains,

Doubling the native horror of the war,
And making death more grim.

Cato. And canst thou think

Cato will fly before the sword of Cæsar!
Reduc'd, 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 fav'rites, 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 which shun the day, and lie conceal'd In the smooth seasons and the calm of life. Juba. I'm charm'd 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 aim'd 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?
Jubu. 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, cover'd with confusion?

You look as if yon stern philosopher

Had just now chid you.

Juba. Syphax, I'm undone !

Syph. I know it well.

Juba. Cato thinks meanly of me.

Syph. And so will all mankind.
Juba. I've open'd to him

The weakness of my soul, my love for Marcia.
Syph. Cato's a proper person to intrust
A love tale with!

Juba. Oh, I could pierce my heart,
My foolish heart!

Syph. Alas, my prince, how are you chang'd of late!

I've known young Juba rise before the sun,
To beat the thicket where the tiger slept,
Or seek the lion in his dreadful haunts.
I've seen you,

Even in the Libyan dog-days hunt him down,
Then charge him close,

And, stooping from your horse,

Rivet the panting savage to the ground.
Juba. Pr'ythee, no more.

Syph. How would the old king smile,

To see you weigh the paws, when tipp'd with

gold,

And throw the shaggy spoils about your

shoulders!

That draws in raw and inexperienc'd men
To real mischiefs, while they hunt a shadow.
Juba. Wouldst thou degrade thy prince into
a ruffian?

men,

Syph. The boasted ancestors of these great [tians. Whose virtues you admire, were all such rufThis dread of nations, this almighty Rome, That comprehends in her wide empire's bounds All under Heav'n, was founded on a rape; Your Scipios, Cæsars, Pompeys, and your Catos,

(The gods on earth,) are all the spurious blood Of violated maids, of ravish'd Sabines.

Juba. Syphax, I fear that hoary head of thine Abounds too much in our Numidian wiles. Syph. Indeed, my prince, you want to know the world.

Juba. If knowledge of the world makes men perfidious,

May Juba ever live in ignorance!
Syph. Go, go; you're young.
Jubu. Gods, must I tamely bear

This arrogance unanswer'd! thou'rt a traitor,
A false old traitor!

Syph. I have gone too far

[Aside.

Juba. Cato shall know the baseness of thy

Syph. Why will you rive my heart with such expressions?

Does not old Syphax follow you to war?
What are his aims? to shed the slow remains,
His last poor ebb of blood, in your defence?
Juba. Syphax, no more! I would not hear
you talk.

Syph. Not hear me talk! what, when my faith to Juba,

My royal master's son, is call'd in question? My prince may strike me dead, and I'll be dumb;

But whilst I live I must not hold my tongue,
And languish out old age in his displeasure.
Juba. Thou know'st the way too well into
my heart.

I do believe thee loyal to thy prince.
Syph. What greater instance can I give?
I've offer'd

To do an action which my soul abhors,
And gain you whom you love, at any price.
Juba. Was this thy motive? I have been too

hasty.

Syph. And 'tis for this my prince has call'd me traitor.

Juba. Sure thou mistak'st; I did not call

thee so.

Syph. You did indeed, my prince, you call'd

me traitor.

Nay, further, threaten'd you'd complain to Cato.

Of what, my prince, would you complain to Cato?

That Syphax loves you, and would sacrifice
His life, nay more, his honour, in your service?
Juba. Syphax, I know thou lov'st me; but
indeed

Thy zeal for Juba carried thee too far.
Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings,
The noble mind's distinguishing perfection,
That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets
And imitates her actions where she is not: [her,
It ought not to be sported with.

Syph. Believe me, prince, you make old
Syphax weep

To hear you talk-but 'tis with tears of joy.
If e'er your father's crown adorn your brows,
Numidia will be bless'd by Cato's lectures.
Juba Syphax, thy hand; we'll mutually for-
get

The warmth of youth, and frowardness of age.
Thy prince esteems thy worth, and loves thy

person.

If e'er the sceptre come into my hand,
Syphax shall stand the second in my kingdom.
Syph. Why will you o'erwhelm my age with
kindness?

My joys grow burdensome, I sha'n't support it. Juba. Syphax, farewell, I'll hence, and try to find

Some bless'd occasion, that may set me right In Cato's thoughts. I'd rather have that man Approve my deeds, than worlds for my admirers. [Exit.

Syph. Young men soon give, and soon forget affronts;

Old age is slow in both-A false old traitor!These words, rash boy, may chance to cost thee dear. [thee, My heart had still some foolish fondness for But hence, 'tis gone! I'll give it to the winds: Caesar, I'm wholly thine.

Enter SEMPRONIUS.

All hail, Sempronius!

Well, Cato's senate is resolv'd to wait
The fury of a siege, before it yields.

Sem. Syphax, we both were on the verge of

fate;

Lucius declar'd for peace, and terms were offer'd
To Cato, by a messenger from Cæsar.
Syph. But, how stands Cato?

Sem. Thou hast seen mount Atlas ; Whilst storms and tempests thunder on its brows,

And oceans break their billows at its feet,
It stands unmov'd, and glories in its height:
Such is that haughty man; his towering soul,
'Midst all the shocks and injuries of fortune,
Rises superior, and looks down on Cæsar.
Syph. But what's this messenger?
Sem. I've practis'd with him,
And found a means to let the victor know,
That Syphax and Sempronius are his friends.
But let me now examine in my turn;
Is Juba fix'd?

Syph. Yes-but it is to Cato.

I've tried the force of every reason on him, Sooth'd and caress'd; been angry, sooth'd

again;

Laid safety, life, and interest, in his sight;
But all are vain, he scorns them all for Cato.
Sem. Well, 'tis no matter; we shall do with-
out him.

Sypnax, I now may hope, thou hast forsook
Thy Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine.
Syph. May she be thine as fast as thou
wouldst have her.

But, are thy troops prepar'd for a revolt?
Does the sedition catch from man to man,
And run among the ranks?
Sem. All, all is ready;

[spread The actious leaders are our friends, that Murmurs and discontents among the soldiers; They count their toilsome marches, long fatigues,

Unusual fastings, and will bear no more
This medley of philosophy and war.
Within an hour they'll storm the senate-house.
Syph. Meanwhile I'll draw up my Numidian
troops

Within the square, to exercise their arms,
And, as I see occasion, favour thee.

I laugh to see how the unshaken Cato
Will look aghast, while unforeseen destruc-
tion

Pours in upon him thus from every side.
So, where our wide Numidian wastes extend,
Sudden th' impetuous hurricanes descend;
Wheel through the air, in circling eddies play,
Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains

its weakness;

Then, pr'ythee, spare me on its tender side; Indulge me but in love, my other passions Shall rise and fall by virtue's nicest rules.

Por. When love's well tim'd, 'tis not a fault

to love: [wise, The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the Sink in the soft captivity together.

Marc. Alas, thou talk'st like one that never felt

Th' impatient throbs and longings of a soul,
That pants and reaches after distant good!
A lover does not live by vulgar time:
Believe me, Portius, in my Lucia's absence,
Life hangs upon me, and becomes a burden;
And yet, when I behold the charming maid,
I'm ten times more undone; while hope, and

fear,

And grief, and rage, and love, rise up at once, And, with variety of pain, distract me.

Por. What can thy Portius do to give thee

help?

Marc. Portius, thou oft enjoy'st the fair one's