Mounted on steeds unus'd to the restraint
Of curbs or bits, and fleeter than the winds:
Give but the word, we'll snatch this damsel up,
And bear her off.

JUBA.

Can such dishonest thoughts Rise up in man! wouldst thou seduce my youth To do an act that would destroy my honour?

SYPHAX.

Gods, I could tear my beard to hear you talk! Honour's a fine imaginary nction, That draws in raw and unexperienced men To real mischiefs, while they hunt a shadow.

JUBA.

Hangs doubtful yet whose head it shall enclose, Thou thus presum'st to treat thy prince with scorn? SYPHAX.

Why will you rive my heart with such expresDoes not old Syphax follow you to war? [sions? What are his arms? why does he load with darts 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?

JUBA.

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

SYPHAX.

SYPHAX.

The boasted ancestors of these great men, Whose virtues you admire, were all such ruffians. This dread of nations, this almighty Rome, That comprehends in her wide empire's bounds All under Heaven, was founded on a rape. Your Scipios, Cæsars, Pompeys, and your Catos (These gods on Earth) are all the spurious brood Of violated maids, of ravish'd Sabines.

JUBA.

Syphax, I fear that hoary head of thine Abounds too much in our Numidian wiles.

SYPHAX.

Indeed, my prince, you want to know the world. You have not read mankind: your youth admires The throes and swellings of a Roman soul, Cato's bold flights, th extravagance of virtue.

JUBA.

If knowledge of the world makes man perfidious, May Juba ever live in ignorance!

SYPHAX.

Go, go, you're young.

JUBA.

Gods, must I tamely bear This arrogance unanswer'd! thou'rt a traitor, A false old traitor.

SYPHAX.

I have gone too far.

JUBA,

Cato shall know the baseness of thy soul.

SYPHAX.

her,

And imitates her actions where she is not: It ought not to be sported with.

SEMPRONIUS.

SYPHAX.

May she be thine as fast as thou wouldst have her!

SEMPRONIUS.

SYPHAX.

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 their ranks?

SEMPRONIUS.

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.

SYPHAX.

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 think how your unshaken Cato
Will look aghast, while unforeseen destruction
Pours in upon him thus from every 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 desert all around him rise,
And, smother'd in the dusty whirlwind, dies.

PORTIUS.

When love's well-tim'd, 'tis not a fault to love. The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise, Sink in the soft captivity together.

I would not urge thee to disiniss thy passion, (I know 'twere vain) but to suppress its force, Till better times may make it look more graceful.

MARCUS.

Alas! thou talk'st like one who never felt Th' impatient throbs and longings of a soul, That pants and reaches after distant good. A lover does not live by vulgar time: Believe me, Portius, in my Lucia's absence Life hangs upon me, and becomes a burden; And yet when I behold the charming maid, I'm ten-times more undone; while hope, and fear, And grief, and rage, and love, rise up at once, And with variety of pain distract me.

PORTIUS.

What can thy Portius do to give thee help?

MARCUS.

Portius, thou oft enjoy'st the fair-one's presence.
Then undertake my cause, and plead it to her
With all the strength and heat of eloquence
Fraternal love and friendship can inspire.
Tell her thy brother languishes to death,
And fades away, and withers in his bloom;
That he forgets his sleep, and loaths his food;
That youth, and health, and war, are joyless to
him:

Describe his anxious days and restless nights,
And all the torments that thou seest me suffer.
PORTIUS.

Marcus, I beg thee, give me not an office
That suits with me so ill.

temper.

MARCUS.

Oh, Lucia, language is too faint to show His rage of love; it preys upon his life; He pines, he sickens, he despairs, he dies: His passions and his virtues lie confus'd, And mix'd together in so wild a tumult, That the whole man is quite disfigur❜d in him. Heavens! would one think 'twere possible for love To make such ravage in a noble soul !

Oh, Lucia, I'm distress'd! my heart bleeds for him; Ev'n now, while thus I stand blest in thy presence, A secret damp of grief comes o'er my thoughts, And I'm unhappy, though thou smil'st upon me.

LUCIA.'

How wilt thou guard thy honour, in the shock Of love and friendship? think betimes, my Portius,

Think how the nuptial tie, that might ensure
Our mutual bliss, would raise to such a height
Thy brother's griefs, as might perhaps destroy him.

PORTIUS.

Has begg'd his rival to solicit for him.
Then do not strike him dead with a denial,
But hold him up in life, and cheer bis soul
With the faint glimmering of a doubtful hope:
Perhaps, when we have pass'd these gloomy hours,
And weather'd out the storm that beats upon us—

Talk not of love, thou never knew'st its force. I've been deluded, led into a dream

Of fancied bliss. Lucia, cruel maid!
Thy dreadful vow, loaden with death, still sounds
In my stunn'd ears. What shall I say or do?
Quick, let us part! perdition 's in thy presence,
And horrour dwells about thec!-Ah, she faints!
Wretch that I am! what has my rashness done!
Lucia, thou injur'd innocence! thou best
And loveliest of thy sex! awake, my Lucia,
Or Portius rushes on his sword to join thee.
-Her imprecations reach not to the tomb,
They shut not out society in death.—

But, ah! she moves! life wanders up and down
Through all her face, and lights up every charm.

What would'st thou have me do? consider well The train of ills our love would draw behind it. Think, Portius, think, thou seest thy dying brother Stabb'd at his heart, and all besmear'd with blood, Storining at Heaven and thee! thy awful sire Sternly demands the cause, th' accursed canse, That robs him of his son! poor Marcia trembles, Then tears her bair, and frantic in her griefs, Calls out on Lucia! what could Lucia answer? Or how stand up in such a scene of sorrow? PORTIUS.

To my confusion and eternal grief,

I must approve the sentence that destroys me, The mist that hung about my mind clears up; And now, athwart the terrours that thy vow Has planted round thee, thou appear'st more fair, More amiable, and risest in thy charms. Loveliest of women! Heaven is in thy soul, Beauty and virtue shine for ever round thee, Brightening each other! thou art all divine!

LUCIA.

What dost thou say? not part? Hast thou forgot the vow that I have made? [us? Are there not Heavens, and gods, and thunder, o'er -But see, thy brother Marcus bends this way! I sicken at the sight. Once more, farewell; Farewell, and know thou wrong'st me, if thou think'st Ever was love, or ever grief, like mine.

Enter MARCUS. MARCUS.

[Exit.

Portius, what hopes? how stands she? am I To life, or death?

PORTIUS.

[doom'd

What would'st thou have me say?

MARCUS.

What means this pensive posture: thou appear'st Like one anıaz'd and terrify'd.

PORTIUS.

I've reason.

MARCUS.

Thy down-cast looks, and thy disorder'd
thoughts,

Tell me my fate. I ask not the success
My cause has found.

PORTIUS.

I'm griev'd I undertook it.

MARCUS.

What? does the barbarous maid insult my heart, My aching heart! and triumph in my pains? That I could cast her from my thoughts for ever!