Hence let us carry off those slaves to Cato,
That we may there at length unravel all
This dark defign, this mystery of fate.

[Exit JUBA, with prisoners, &c.

Enter LUCIA and MARCIA.

LUCIA.

Sure 'twas the clash of swords; my troubled heart

Is fo caft down, and funk amidst its forrows,
It throbs with fear, and akes at every found.

O Marcia, should thy brothers for my fake!—
I die away with horror at the thought.

MARCI A.

See, Lucia, fee! here's blood! here's blood and

murder!

Ha! a Numidian! heavens preferve the prince!

The face lies muffled up within the garment.
But ha! death to my fight! 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 !

I. UCIA.

Now, Marcia, now call up to thy affistance Thy wonted ftrength, and conftancy of mind; Thou canst not put it to a greater trial.

MARCI A.

Lucia, look there, and wonder at my patience. Have I not caufe to rave, and beat my breast,

To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted!

4

LUCIA.

LUCIA.

What can I think or fay, to give thee comfort?

MARCIA.

Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills: Behold a fight, that strikes all comfort dead.

Enter JUBA, listening,

I will indulge my forrows, and give way
To all the pangs and fury of despair,

That man, that best of men, deferv'd it from me.

JUBA.

What do I hear? and was the false Sempronius That beft of men? O, had I fall'n like him, And could have thus been mourn'd, I had been happy!

LUCIA.

Here will I ftand, companion in thy woes, And help thee with my tears; when I behold A lofs like thine, I half forget my own.

MARCIA.

'Tis not in fate to ease my tortur'd breast. This empty world, to me a joyless defert, Has nothing left to make poor

JUBA.

Marcia happy.

I'm on the rack! was he fo near her heart?

MARCI A.

Oh, he was all made up of love and charms,
Whatever maid could wish, or man admire :
Delight of every eye! when he appear'd,
A fecret pleasure gladden'd all that saw him;

But

But when he talk'd, the proudest Roman blush'd
To hear his virtues, and old age grew wife.

JUBA.

I fhall run mad

MARCI A.

O Juba! Juba! Juba!

JUBA.

What means that voice? did fhe not call on Juba ?
MARCIA.

Why do I think on what he was! he's dead!
He's dead, and never knew how much I lov'd him.
Lucia, who knows but his poor bleeding heart
Amidst its agonies, remember'd Marcia, '
And the last words he utter'd call'd me cruel!
Alas! he knew not, hapless youth! he knew not
Marcia's whole foul was full of love and Juba!

JUBA.

Where am I! do I live! or am indeed
What Marcia thinks! All is Elyfium round me!

MARCIA.

Ye dear remains of the moft lov'd of men, Nor modefty nor virtue here forbid

A laft embrace, while thus

JUBA.

See, Marcia, fee,

The happy Juba lives! he lives to catch
That dear embrace, and to return it too
With mutual warmth and eagerness of love.

MARCIA,

MARCIA.

With pleasure and amaze, I stand transported! Sure 'tis a dream! dead and alive at once!

If thou art Juba, who lies there?

JUBA.

A wretch,

Difguis'd like Juba on a curs'd defign.
The tale is long, nor have I heard it out.
Thy father knows it all. I could not bear
To leave thee in the neighbourhood of death,
But flew, in all the haste of love, to find thee.
I found thee weeping, and confefs this once,
Am wrapt with joy to see my Marcia's tears.
MARCIA.

I've been furpriz'd in an unguarded hour,
But muft not now go back: the love, that lay
Half-fmother'd in my breast, has broke through all
Its weak restraints, and burns in its full luftre;
I cannot, if I would, conceal it from thee.

JUBA.

I'm loft in extafy! and doft thou love,

Thou charming maid ?

MARCIA.

And doft thou live to ask it?

JUBA.

This, this is life indeed! life worth preserving! Such life as Juba never felt till now!

MARCIA.

Believe me, prince, before I thought thee dead, I did not know myself how much I lov'd thee.

JUBA,

O fortunate mistake!

JUBA.

MARCIA.

O happy Marcia !

!

JUBA.

My joy my best belov'd! my only with! How fhall I fpeak the transport of my foul!

MARCIA.

Lucia, thy arm! oh let me reft upon it!-----
The vital blood, that had forfook my heart,
Returns again in fuch tumultuous tides,
It quite o'ercomes me. Lead to my apartment.
O prince! I blush to think what I have faid,
But fate has wrefted the confeffion from me :
Go on, and profper in the paths of honour,
Thy virtue will excuse my paffion for thee,
And make the gods propitious to our love.

[Ex. MARC. and Luc.

JUBA.

I am fo blefs'd, I fear 'tis all a dream.
Fortune, thou now haft made amends for all
Thy paft unkindness. I abfolve my ftars.
* What though Numidia add her conquer'd towns
And provinces to fwell the victor's triumph?
Juba will never at his fate repine,

Let Cæfar have the world, if Marcia 's mine.

[Exit.

A