Jub. What can this mean? Sempronius!
Sem. My sword shall answer thee.

heart.

ous man.

Have at thy

Jub. Nay, then, beware thy own, proud, barbar[SEMPRONIUS falls. Sem. Curse on my stars! Am I then doom'd to fall By a boy's hand, disfigured in a vile Numidian dress, and for a worthless woman? Gods, I'm distracted! this my close of life! Oh, for a peal of thunder, that would make Earth, sea, and air, and heav'n, and Cato tremble!

Jub. I'll hence to Cato,

That we may there at length unravel all

[Dies.

This dark design, this mystery of fate. [Exit JUBA.

Enter LUCIA and MARCIA.

Lucia. Sure 'twas the clash of swords; my troubled heart

Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows,
It throbs with fear, and aches at ev'ry sound.
Oh, Marcia, should thy brothers, for my sake-
I die away with horror at the thought!

Marcia. See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's blood
and murder!

Ha! a Numidian! Heav'n preserve the prince!
The face lies muffled up within the garment,
But ah! death to my sight! a diadem,

And royal robes! O gods! 'tis he, 'tis he!
Juba lies dead before us!

Lucia. Now, Marcia, now, call up to thy assistance
Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind,
Thou canst not put it to a greater trial.

Marcia. Lucia, look there, and wonder at my pa-
tience;

Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast,
To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted?

Lucia. What can I think, or say, to give thee comfort?

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

Enter JUBA, listening.

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

That man, that best of men, deserved it from me.
Jub. What do I hear? and was the false Sempro-

nius.

That best of men? Oh, had I fall'n like him,
And could have been thus mourn'd, I had been happy.
Marcia. 'Tis not in fate to ease my tortured breast.
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 secret pleasure gladden'd all that saw him;
But when he talk'd, the proudest Roman blush'd
To hear his virtues, and old age grew wise.
Oh, Juba! Juba!

Jub. What means that voice? Did she 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 loved 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 soul was full of love and Juba!

Jub. Where am I? Do I live? or am indeed What Marcia thinks? All is Elysium round me! Marcia. Ye dear remains of the most loved of men, Nor modesty nor virtue here forbid

A last embrace, while thus

Jub. See, Marcia, see,

[Throwing himself before her.

The happy Juba lives! he lives to catch

1

That dear embrace, and to return it too,

With mutual warmth, and eagerness of love.

Marcia. With pleasure and amaze I stand transported!

If thou art Juba, who lies there?
Jub. A wretch,

Disguised like Juba on a cursed design.

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 confess this once,
Am rapt with joy, to see my Marcia's tears.

Marcia. I've been surprised in an unguarded hour,
But must not now go back; the love, that lay
Half smother'd in my breast, has broke through all
Its weak restraints, and burns in its full lustre.
I cannot, if I would, conceal it from thee.

Jub. My joy, my best beloved, my only wish! How shall I speak the transport of my soul!

Marcia. Lucia, thy arm. Lead to my apartment. Oh, prince! I blush to think what I have said, But fate has wrested the confession from me; Go on, and prosper in the paths of honour. Thy virtue will excuse my passion for thee, And make the gods propitious to our love.

[Exeunt MARCIA and LUCIA. Jub. I am so blest, I fear 'tis all a dream. Fortune, thou now hast made amends for all Thy past unkindness: I absolve

my stars.

What though Numidia add her conquer'd towns
And provinces to swell the victor's triumph,
Juba will never at his fate repine:

Let Cæsar have the world, if Marcia's mine. [Exit.

Enter CATO and Lucius.

Luc. I stand astonish'd! What, the bold Sempro-
nius,

That still broke foremost through the crowd of patriots,
As with a hurricane of zeal transported,
And virtuous even to madness-

Cato. Trust me, Lucius,

Our civil discords have produced such crimes,
Such monstrous crimes, I am surprised at nothing.
-Oh Lucius, I am sick of this bad world!
The daylight and the sun grow painful to me.

Enter PORTIUS.

But see, where Portius comes: what means this haste?
Why are thy looks thus changed?

Por. My heart is grieved,

I bring such news as will afflict my father.

Cato. Has Cæsar shed more Roman blood?

Por. Not so.

The traitor Syphax, as within the square,
He exercised his troops, the signal given,
Flew off at once with his Numidian horse

To the south gate, where Marcus holds the watch;
I saw, and call'd to stop him, but in vain:

He toss'd his arm aloft, and proudly told me,

He would not stay, and perish, like Sempronius. Cato. Perfidious man! But haste, my son, and see Thy brother Marcus acts a Roman's part.

[Exit PORTIUS. -Lucius, the torrent bears too hard upon me: Justice gives way to force: the conquer'd world Is Cæsar's! Catò has no business in it.

Luc. While pride, oppression, and injustice reign, The world will still demand her Cato's presence. In pity to mankind submit to Cæsar,

And reconcile thy mighty soul to life.

Cato. Would Lucius have me live to swell the
number

Of Cæsar's slaves, or by a base submission
Give up the cause of Rome, and own a tyrant?
Luc. The victor never will impose on Cato
Ungen'rous terms. His enemies confess

The virtues of humanity are Cæsar's.

Cato. Curse on his virtues! they've undone his country.

Such popular humanity is treason

But see young Juba; the good youth appears,
Full of the guilt of his perfidious subjects!

Luc. Alas, poor prince! his fate deserves compas

sion.

Enter JUBA.

Jub. I blush, and am confounded to appear Before thy presence, Cato.

Cato. What's thy crime?

Jub. I'm a Numidian.

Cato. And a brave one, too. Thou hast a Roman soul.

Jub. Hast thou not heard of my false countrymen ?
Cato. Alas, young prince!

Falsehood and fraud shoot up in ev'ry soil,
The product of all climes-Rome has its Cæsars.

Jub. 'Tis generous thus to comfort the distrsss'd.