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But better practises those boasted virtues.
Coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chace,
Amidst the running stream he slakes his thirst,
Toils all the day, and at th' approach of night,
On the first friendly bank he throws him down,
Or rests his head upon a rock till morn;
Then rises fresh, pursues his wonted game,
And if the following day he chance to find
A new repast, or an untasted spring,
Blesses his stars and thinks it luxury.

Jub. Thy prejudices, Syphax, won't discern
What virtues grow from ignorance and choice,
Nor how the hero differs from the brute.
“ But grant that others could with equal glory
“ Look down on pleasures, and the baits of sense,”
Where shall we find the man that bears affliction,
Great and majestic in his griefs, like Cato?
“ Heav'ns! with what strength, what steadiness of

mind, “ He triumphs in the midst of all his suff'rings !" How does he rise against a load of woes, And thank the gods that throw the weight upon

him!
Syph'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of

soul;
I think the Romans call it stoicism.
Had not your royal father thought so highly
Of Roman virtue, and of Cato's cause,
He had not fall’n by a slave's hand inglorious :
Nor would his slaughter'd army now have lain

On Afric sands disfigur'd with their wounds,
To
gorge

the wolves and vultures of Numidia. Jub. Why dost thou call my sorrows up

afresh ? My father's name brings tears into my eyes.

Syph. Oh, that you'd profit by your father's ills!
Jub. What wouldst thou have me do
Syph. Abandon Cato.

Jub. Syphax, I shou'd be more than twice an orphan By such a loss.

Syph. Aye, there's the tie that binds you!
You long to call him father. Marcia's charms
Work in your heart unseen, and plead for Cato.
No wonder you are deaf to all I say.

Jub. Syphax, your zeal becomes importunate;
I've hitherto permitted it to rave,
And talk at large ; but learn to keep it in,
Lest it should take more freedom than I'll give it.

Syph. Sir, your great father never us'd me thus. Alas, he's dead! but can you e'er forget The tender sorrows, and the pangs of nature, “ The fond embraces, and repeated blessings,” Which you drew from him in your last farewell ? Still must I cherish the dear, sad remembrance, At once to torture and to please my soul. The good old king at parting wrung my hand (His eyes brim-tull of tears), then sighing, cry'd, Pr'yth be careful of my son !-His grief Swellid up so high, he could not utter more.

Jub. Alas! thy story melts away my soul;

That best of fathers ! how shall I discharge
The gratitude and duty which I owe him?

Syph. By laying up his counsels in your heart.

Jub. His counsels bade me yield to thy directions : Then, Syphax, chide me in severest terms, Vent all thy passion, and I'll stand its shock, Calm and unruffled as a summer sea, When not a breath of wind flies o'er its surface. Syph. Alas! my prince, I'd guide thee to your

safety. Jub. I do believe thou wouldst; but tell me how ? Syph. Fly from the fate that follows Cæsar's foes. Jub. My father scorn'd to do it, Syph. And therefore dy'd.

Fub. Better to die ten thousand thousand deaths, Than wound my honour.

Syph. Rather say your love.

Jub. Syphax, I've promis’d to preserve my temper.
Why wilt thou urge me to confess a flame
I long have stifled, and would fain conccal?
Syph. Believe me, prince, though hard to conquer

love,
'Tis easy to divert and break its force.
Absence might cure it, or a second mistress
Light up another flame and put out this.
The glowing dames of Zama's royal court
Have faces flush'd with more exalted charms;
The sun that rolls his chariot o'er their heads,
Works up more fire and colour in their cheeks;

Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forget The pale, unripen'd beauties of the North.

Jub. 'Tis not a set of features, or complexion, The tincture of a skin, that I admire : Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. The virtuous Marcia tow'rs above her sex : True, she is fair, (Oh, how divinely fair !) But still the lovely maid improves her charms With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom, And sanctity of manners; Cato's soul Shines out in every thing she acts or speaks, While winning mildness and attractive smiles, Dwell in her looks, and with becoming grace Soften the rigour of her father's virtue. Syph. How does your tongue grow wanton in her

praise ! But on my knees I beg you would consider

Fub. Hah! Syphax, is't not shel-She moves this

way :

And with her Lucia, Lucius's fair daughter.
My heart beats thick-I prythee, Syphax, leave me.

Syph. Ten thousand curses fasten on them both!
Now will the woman, with a single glance,
Undo what I've been lab'ring all this while.

[Exit Syphax.

Enter MARCIA and LUCIA. Jub. Hail, charming maid! How does thy beauty

smooth

The face of war, and make ev'n horror smile!
At sight of thee my heart shakes off its sorrows;
I feel a dawn of joy break in upon me,
And for a while forget th' approach of Cæsar.
Mar. I should be griev'd, young prince, to think

my presence
Unbent your thoughts, and slacken'd 'em to arms,
While, warm with slaughter, our victorious foe,
Threatens aloud, and calls you to the field.

Jub. Oh, 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 tempest on the foe.

Mar. My pray’rs and wishes always shall attend The friends of Rome, the glorious cause of virtue, And men approv'd of by the gods and Cato.

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

Mar. My father never, at a time like this,
Would lay out his great soul in words, and waste
Such precious moments.

Jub. Thy reproofs are just,
Thou virtuous maid ; I'll hasten to my troops,
And fire their languid souls with Cato's virtue. .
If e'er I lead them to the field, when all
The war shall stand rang’d in its just array,
And dreadful pomp; then will I think on thee.

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