His trembling hand, and crush beneath a casque
His wrinkled brows? What is it he aspires to?
Is it not this? to shed the slow remains

His last poor ebb of blood in your defence?

Jub. Syphax, no more! I would not hear you talk.
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.

Jub. 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.

Jub. Was this thy motive? I have been too hasty. Syph. And 'tis for this my prince has call'd me traitor.

Jub. 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.

Jub. Syphax, I know thou lov'st me; but indeed
Thy zeal for Juba 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. By Heav'ns,

I'm ravish'd when you talk thus, though you chide me!
Alas! I've hitherto been us'd to think

A blind official zeal to serve my king,
The ruling principle, that ought to burn
And quench all others in a subject's heart.
Happy the people who preserve their honour
By the same duties that oblige their prince.
. Jub. Syphax, thou now beginn'st to speak thyself.
Numidia's grown a scorn among the nations,
For breach of public vows. Our Punic faith
Is infamous, and branded to a proverb.
Syphax, we'll join our cares, to purge away
Our country's crimes, and clear her reputation.
Syph. 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.

Jub. Syphax, thy hand; we'll mutually forget The warmth of youth, and frowardness of age; Thy prince esteems thy worth, and loves thy person. If e'er the scepter come into my hand,

Syphax shall stand the second in my kingdom.

Syph. Why will you overwhelm my age with kind

ness?

My joys grow burdensome, I shan't support it.

Jub. Syphax, 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. [Ex. Syph. Young men soon give, and soon forget af

fronts ;

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

Enter SEMPRONIUS.

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.

Shou'd they submit ere our designs are ripe,
We both must perish in the common wreck,
Lost in the gen'ral undistinguish'd ruin.
Syph. But how stands Cato?

Sem. Thou hast seen mount Atlas:

Whilst storms and tempests thunder on its brows,
And oceans break their billows at its feet,
It stands unmov'd, and glories in its height:
Such is that haughty man; his tow'ring soul,
'Midst all the shocks and injuries of fortune,
Rises superior, and looks down on Cæsar.

Syph. But what's this messenger ?
Sem. I've practis'd with him,

And found a means to let the victor know

That Syphax and Sempronius are his friends.
But let me now examine in my turn:
Is Juba fix'd?

Syph. Yes-but it is to Cato.

I've try'd the force of ev'ry reason on him,
Sooth'd and caress'd; been angry, sooth'd again;
Laid safety, life, and intʼrest in his sight.

But all are vain, he scorns them all for Cato.

Sem.

Come, 'tis no matter; we shall do without him.

He'll make a pretty figure in a triumph,

And serve to trip before the victor's chariot.
Syphax, I now may hope thou hast forsook
Thy Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine.
Syph. May she be thine as fast as thou wouldst have
her.

Sem Syphax, I love that woman; though I cui se
Her and myself, yet, spite of me, I love her.
Syph. Make Cato sure, and give up Utica,
Cæsar will ne'er refuse thee such a trifle.
But are thy troops prepar'd for a revolt?
Does the sedition catch from man to man,
And run among the ranks?

Sem. All, all is ready,

The factious leaders are our friends, that spread
Murmurs and discontents among the soldiers;
They count their toilsome marches, long fatigues,

Unusual fastings, and will bear no more

This medley of philosophy and war.

Within an hour they'll storm the senate-house.

Syph. Mean while I'll draw up my Numidian troops
Within the square to exercise their arms,
And as I see occasion, favour thee.

I laugh to see how your unshaken Cato
Will look aghast, while unforeseen destruction
Pours in upon him thus from ev'ry side.
So, where our wide Numidian wastes extend,
Sudden, th' impetuous hurricanes descend,
Wheel through the air, in circling eddies play,
Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains away.
The helpless traveller, with wild surprise

Sees the dry desart all around him rise,

And, smother'd in the dusty whirlwind, dies. [Exeunt.

ACT III. SCENE I.

Enter MARCUS and PORTIUS.

Marcus.

THANKS to my stars I have not rang'd about
The wilds of life, ere I could find a friend;
Nature first pointed out my Portius to me,
And early taught me, by her secret force,
To love thy person, erę I knew thy merit,
Till what was instinct, grew up into friendship.
Por. Marcus, the friendships of the world are oft