Who with so great a soul consults its safety,
And guards our lives, while he neglects his own.

[Sits, L. c. Sem. [Rises.] Sempronius gives no thanks on this ac

count.

Lucius seems fond of life: but what is life?
"Tis not to draw fresh air from time to time;
'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!

Luci. 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.

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.
Luci. Cato, we all go in to your opinion:
Cæsar's behaviour has convinc'd the senate
We ought to hold it out, till terms arrive.

[Sits.

Sem. We ought to hold it out till death. But, Cato, My private voice is drown'd amid 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 prolong'd.
Fathers, farewell.-The young Numidian prince
Comes forward, and expects to know our counsels.

[Exeunt PORCIUS, MARCUS, LUCIUS, SEMPRO-
NIUS, and the other Senators, L.

Enter JUBA, R. U. E.

Cato. (R. c.) 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. (c.) 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, he said,
However Fortune may dispose of me,

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 'em.
Cato. Thy sire, good Juba, was a worthy prince,
And merited, alas! a better fate :-

But heaven thought otherwise.

Juba. His cruel 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. His virtues drew respect from foreign climes :
The kings of Africk sought him for their friend,
Kings far remote, that rule, as fame reports,
Behind the hidden sources of the Nile;

Oft have their black ambassadors appear'd,
Loaden with gifts, and fill'd the courts of Zama.
Cato. I am no stranger to thy father's greatness.

Juba. I do not mean to boast his power and great'ness,

But point out new alliances to Cato.

Had we not better leave this Utica,

To arm Numidia in our cause, and court

The assistance of my father's numerous 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 Africk?

Juba. Cato, perhaps,

I'm too officious; but my forward cares

Lal

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Tell

Syph. The boasted ancestors of these great men
Whose virtues you admire, were all such ruffians:
This dread of nations, this almighty Rome,
That comprehends in her wide empire's bounds
All under heaven, was founded on a rape :
Your Scipios, Cæsars, Pompeys, and your Catos,-
These gods on earth,-
-are all the spurious brood
Of violated maids, of ravish'd Sabines.

Juba. Syphax, I fear, that hoary head of thine
Abounds too much in our Numidian wiles.

Syph. My prince, you want to know the world:
You have not read mankind: your youth admires
The throes and swellings of a Roman soul,
Cato's bold flights, the extravagance of virtue.
Juba. If knowledge of the world makes man perfi-
dious,

May Juba ever live in ignorance!

Syph. Go, go, you're young.

Juba. Gods, must I tamely bear

This arrogance unanswer'd!-Thou'rt a traitor,

A false old traitor. [Crosses to L. and goes up the Stage.
Syph. [Aside.] I have gone too far.

Juba. Cato shall know the baseness of thy soul.

[Comes down. Syph. [Aside.] I must appease this storm, or perish

in it.

Young prince, behold these locks that are grown white

Beneath a helmet in your father's battles.

Juba. Those locks shall ne'er protect thy insolence. Syph. Must one rash word, the infirmity of age, Throw down the merit of my better years?

This the reward of a whole life of service?

[Aside.] Curse on the boy! how steadily he hears

me!

Juba. Is it, because the throne of my forefathers Still stands unfill'd, and that Numidia's crown Hangs doubtful yet whose head it shall inclose, Thou thus presum'st to treat thy prince with scorn?

[Crosses to R. Syph. Why will you rive my heart with such expres.

sions?

Does not old Syphax follow you to war?
What are his aims? What is it he aspires to?
Is it not this? To shed the slow remains,

His last poor ebb of blood in your defence?

Juba. Syphax, no more:

talk.

I would not hear you

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:

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 thy
zeal

To serve thy master, 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 her,
And imitates her actions, where she is not:

It ought not to be sported with.

Syph. (c.) 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 blest by Cato's lectures.

Juba. (L.) Give me thy hand: we'll mutually forget
The warmth of youth, and frowardness of age.
Thy prince esteems thy worth, and loves thy person :
[Embraces SYPHAX.
If e'er the sceptre comes into my hand,

Syphax shall stand the second in my kingdom.

Syph. Why will you overwhelm my age with kind

ness?

My joy grows burdensome: I sha'n't support it.
Juba. My friend, farewell. I'll hence, and try to

find

Some blest 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, L. Syph. Young men soon give, and soon forget affronts;

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

Enter SEMPRONIUS, R.

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. Who is this messenger?

Sem. I've practis'd with him;

And found means to let the victor know
That Syphax and Sempronius are his friends.-
Is Juba fix'd?

Syph. Yes, but it is to Cato.

I've tried the force of every reason on him,

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 without him.

My friend, I now may hope thou hast forsook

Thy Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine.

Syph. May she be thine as fast as thou would'st have her!

But are thy troops prepar'd for a revolt?

Does the sedition catch from man to man,

And run among their ranks?

Sem. All, all is ready;

The factious leaders are our friends, and spread

Murmurs and discontents among the soldiers:

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.

1 laugh to think how your unshaken Cato
Will look aghast, while unforeseen destruction
Pours in upon him thus from every side.