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To-morrow should we thus express our friendship,
Each might receive a flave into his arms.

This fun perhaps, this morning fun, 's the last
That e'er fhall rife on Roman liberty.

PORTIU S.

My father has this morning call'd together
To this poor hall his little Roman Senate
(The leavings of Pharfalia), to confult
If yet he can oppofe the mighty torrent

That bears down Rome, and all her gods, before it,
Or must at length give up the world to Cæfar.

SEMPRONIUS.

Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome
Can raise her Senate more than Cato's presence.
His virtues render our affembly awful,

They ftrike with fomething like religious fear,
And make ev'n Cæfar tremble at the head

Of armies flush'd with conqueft: O my Portius,
Could I but call that wondrous man my father,
Would but thy fifter Marcia be propitious
To thy friend's vows: I might be bless'd indeed!
PORTIU S.

Alas! Sempronius, would'ft thou talk of love
To Marcia, whilft her father's life's in danger?
Thou might'ft as well court the pale trembling Vestal,
When the beholds the holy flame expiring.

SEMPRONIUS.

The more I fee the wonders of thy race,

The more I'm charm'd. Thou must take heed, my

Portius !

The world has all its eyes on Cato's fon.
Thy father's merit fets thee up to view,
And shows thee in the fairest point of light,
To make thy virtues or thy faults confpicuous.

PORTIU S.

Well doft thou seem to check my lingering here On this important hour-I 'll strait away; And while the fathers of the Senate meet In clofe debate, to weigh th' events of war, I'll animate the foldiers' drooping courage, With love of freedom, and contempt of life. I'll thunder in their ears their country's cause, And try to rouze up all that 's Roman in them. 'Tis not in mortals to command fuccefs, But we 'll do more, Sempronius; we 'll deferve it.

SEMPRONIUS.

Curfe on the ftripling! How he apes his fire!
Ambitiously fententious!—But I wonder
Old Syphax comes not; his Numidian genius
Is well difpos'd to mischief, were he prompt
And eager on it; but he must be spurr'd,
And every moment quicken'd to the course.
Cato has us'd me ill: he has refus'd
His daughter Marcia to my ardent vows.
Befides, his baffled arms and ruin'd cause

Are bars to my ambition. Cæfar's favour,

[Exit.

That fhowers down greatnefs on his friends, will raise me To Rome's first honours. If I give up Cato,

I claim in my reward his captive daughter.

But Syphax comes !

S

SCENE

SCENE III.

SYPHAX, SEMPRONIUS.

SYPHA X.

-Sempronius, all is ready.

I've founded my Numidians, man by man,
And find them ripe for a revolt: they all
Complain aloud of Cato's difcipline,

And wait but the command to change their master.
SEMPRONIUS.

Believe me, Syphax, there's no time to waste;
Ev'n whilft we fpeak, our conqueror comes on,
And gathers ground upon us every moment.
Alas thou know'ft not Cæfar's active foul,
With what a dreadful courfe he rushes on
From war to war: in vain has nature form'd
Mountains and oceans to oppose his passage;
He bounds o'er all, victorious in his march;
The Alps and Pyreneans fink before him
Through winds, and waves, and ftorms, he works his

way,

Impatient for the battle: one day more

;

Will set the victor thundering at our gates.

But tell me,

haft thou yet drawn-o'er young Juba? That ftill would recommend thee more to Cæfar, And challenge better terms—

SYPHA X.

-Alas! he 's loft,

He's loft, Sempronius; all his thoughts are full
Of Cato's virtues-But I'll try once more

(For

(For every inftant I expect him here)

If yet I can fubdue those ftubborn principles
Of faith, of honour, and I know not what,
That have corrupted his Numidian temper,
And ftruck th' infection into all his foul.

SEMPRONIUS.

Be fure to prefs upon him every motive.
Juba's furrender, fince his father's death,
Would give up Afric into Cæfar's hands,
And make him lord of half the burning Zone.
SYPHA X.

But is it true, Sempronius, that your Senate
Is call'd together? Gods! thou must be cautious!
Cato has piercing eyes, and will discern

Our frauds, unless they 're cover'd thick with art.

SEMPRONIUS.

Let me alone, good Syphax, I'll conceal My thoughts in paffion, ('tis the fureft way); I'll bellow out for Rome and for my country, And mouth at Cæfar till I thake the Senate. Your cold hypocrify 's a stale device,

A worn-out trick: wouldst thou be thought in earnest ? Clothe thy feign'd zeal in rage, in fire, in fury!

SYPHA X.

In troth, thou 'rt able to inftruct grey-hairs, And teach the wily African deceit !

SEMPRONIUS.

Once more, be sure to try thy skill on Juba; Mean while I'll haften to my Roman foldiers,

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Inflame the mutiny, and underhand

Blow

up
their discontents, till they break out
Unlook'd for, and discharge themfelves on Cato.
Remember, Syphax, we must work in haste :
O think what anxious moments pafs between
The birth of plots, and their laft fatal periods.
Oh! tis a dreadful interval of time,

Fill'd up with horror all, and big with death!
Destruction hangs on every word we speak,
On every thought, till the concluding stroke
Determines all, and clofes our defign.

SYPHAX.

I'll try if yet I can reduce to reafon

[Exit.

This head-strong youth, and make him spurn at Cato.
The time is short, Cæfar comes rushing on us—
But hold! young Juba fees me, and approaches.

SCENE IV.

JUBA, SYPHAX.

JUBA. Syphax, I joy to meet thee thus alone. I have obferv'd of late thy looks are fallen, O'ercaft with gloomy cares, and discontent; Then tell me, Syphax, I conjure thee, tell me, What are the thoughts that knit thy brow in frowns, And turn thine eye thus coldly on thy Prince ?

SYPHA X.

'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts, Nor carry fmiles and fun-fhine in my face,

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