JUBA.

Why do'st thou call my forrows up afresh? My father's name brings tears into my eyes.

SY PHA X.

Oh, that you'd profit by your father's ills!

JUBA.

What would't thou have me do?

SYPHA X,

Abandon Cato.

JUBA.

Syphax, I should be more than twice an orphan

By fuch a lofs.

SY PHAX.

Ay, there's the tie that binds you!

You long to call him father. Marcia's charms
Work in your heart unfeen, and plead for Cato.
No wonder you are deaf to all I fay.

JUBA.

Syphax, your zeal becomes importunate;
I've hitherto permitted it to rave,

And talk at large; but learn to keep it in,
Left it should take more freedom than I'll give it.

SY PHAX.

Sir, your great father never us'd me thus.
Alas, he 's dead! but can you e'er forget
The tender forrows, and the pangs of nature,
The fond embraces, and repeated bleffings,
you drew from him in your last farewell?
Still muft I cherish the dear fad remembrance,

Which

At

At once to torture and to please my foul.

The good old king, at parting, wrung my hand,
(His eyes brim-full of tears) then fighing cry'd,
Pr'ythee be careful of my fon !—his grief
Swell'd up fo high he could not utter more.
JUBA.

Alas, thy ftory melts away my foul.
That beft of fathers! how fhall I discharge
The gratitude and duty, which I owe him!

SY PHAX.

By laying up his counfels in your heart.

JUBA.

His counsels bade me yield to thy directions: Then, Syphax, chide me in severest terms, Vent all thy paffion, and I'll stand its shock, Calm and unruffled as a fummer-fea,

When not a breath of wind flies o'er its furface.

SYPHA X.

Alas, my prince, I'd guide you to your fafety.

JUBA.

I do believe thou would'ft; but tell me how?

SY PHAX.

Fly from the fate that follows Cæfar's foes.

JUBA.

My father fcorn'd to do't.

SYPHAX.

And therefore dy'ď.

JUBA.

Better to die ten thousand thousand deaths,

Than wound my honour.

SY PHA X.

Rather say your love.

JUBA.

Syphax, I've promis'd to preferve my temper.
Why wilt thou urge me to confess a flame,
I long have ftifled, and would fain conceal?

SYPHA 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 íkin, that I admire.
Beauty foon grows familiar to the lover,
Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
The virtuous Marcia towers above her fex:
True, fhe is fair, (oh, how divinely fair!)
But ftill the lovely maid improves her charms
With inward greatnefs, unaffected wisdom,
And fanctity of manners. Cato's foul
Shines out in every thing fhe acts or speaks,
While winning mildnefs and attractive smiles

Dwell

Dwell in her looks, and with becoming grace
Soften the rigour of her father's virtues.

SY PHA X.

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 fhe !-She moves this And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter. My heart beats thick-I pr'ythee, Syphax, leave me. SYPHA 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 smooth

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 fhould be griev'd, young prince, to think my prefence, Unbent your thoughts, and flacken'd them to arms, While, warm with flaughter, 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 ftrength and weight to my defcending sword,
And drive it in a tempeft on the foe.

MARCIA.

My prayers and wishes always fhall attend
The friends of Rome, the glorious cause of virtue,
And men approv'd of by the gods and Cato.

JUBA.

That Juba may deserve thy pious cares, I'll gaze for ever on thy godlike father, Tranfplanting, one by one, into my life His bright perfections, till I shine like him.

MARCIA.

My father never at a time like this

Would lay out his great foul in words, and waste
Such precious moments.

JUBA.

Thy reproofs are juft,

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 shall stand 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.