Than wound my honour.

SY PHA X.

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 stifled, 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 Zama's royal court
Have faces flufht 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 fkin, that I admire. Beauty foon

grows familiar to the lover,
Fades in his eye, and palls upon the fense.
The virtuous Marcia towers above her fex:
True, she is fair, (oh, how divinely fair !)
But ftill 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.

SY PHAX.

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

Enter MARCIA and LUCIA

JUBA.

way:

Hah! Syphax, is 't not she !—She moves this And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter. My heart beats thick-I pr'ythee, Syphax, leave me.

SY PHA X.

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.

MARCI A.

I should be griev'd, young prince, to think my prefence Unbent your thoughts, and flacken'd them to arms, While, warm with slaughter, 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 strength and weight to my descending sword,
And drive it in a tempeft on the foe.

MARCIA,

My prayers and wishes always shall attend
The friends of Rome, the glorious cause 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, Tranfplanting, 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 just,

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 ftand ranged in its just array,
And dreadful pomp: then will I think on thee!
O 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 fevere :

How could you chide the young good-natur'd prince,
And drive him from you with so stern 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 honest soul, Speak all fo movingly in his behalf,

I dare not trust myself to hear him talk.

LUCIA.

Why will you fight againft fo fweet a paffion, And steel 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 stake? Cæfar comes arm'd with terror and revenge, And aims his thunder at my father's head: Should not the fad occafion fwallow up My other cares, and draw them all into it?

LUCIA.

Why have not I this conftancy of mind, Who have so many griefs to try its force? Sure, nature form'd me of her fofteft mould, Enfeebled all my foul with tender paffions, And funk me ev'n below my own weak sex : Pity and love, by turns, oppress my heart.

MARCI A.

MARCI A.

Lucia, difburthen all thy cares on me, And let me fhare 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 They're Marcia's brothers, and the fons of Cato.

MARCI A.

They both behold thee with their fifter's eyes:
And often have reveal'd their paffion to me.
But tell me, whofe address thou favour'st most?
I long to know, and yet I dread to hear it.

LUCIA.

Which is it Marcia wishes for?

MARCIA.

For neither

And yet for both-The youths have equal share

In Marcia's wishes, and divide their fifter:
But tell me which of them is Lucia's choice?

LUCIA.

Marcia, they both are high in my esteem, But in my love-Why wilt thou make me name him? Thou know'ft, it is a blind and foolish paffion, Pleas'd and difgusted with it knows not what.

MARCIA.

O Lucia, I'm perplex'd: O tell me which I must hereafter call my happy brother?

LUCIA..

Suppofe 'twere Portius, could you blame my choice?
Portius, thou haft ftol'n away my foul!