SCENE III.

SYPHAX,

SEMPRONIUS.

SYPHA X.

-Sempronius, all is ready.

I've founded my Numidians, man by man,
And find them ripe for a revolt: they all
Complain aloud of Cato's difcipline,

And wait but the command to change their master.

SEMPRONIUS.

Believe me, Syphax, there's no time to waste ; Ev'n whilft we fpeak, our conqueror comes on, And gathers ground upon us every moment. Alas! thou know'ft not Cæfar's active foul, With what a dreadful courfe he rushes on From war to war: in vain has nature form'd Mountains and oceans to oppofe his paffage; He bounds o'er all, victorious in his march; The Alps and Pyreneans fink before him Through winds, and waves, and ftorms, he works his

way,

Impatient for the battle: one day more

Will fet the victor thundering at our gates.

But tell me, haft thou yet drawn-o'er young Juba ?
That ftill would recommend thee more to Cæfar,
And challenge better terms-

SYPHA X.

-Alas! he 's loft,

He's loft, Sempronius; all his thoughts are full
Of Cato's virtues-But I'll try once more

(For

(For every instant I expect him here)

If yet I can fubdue those stubborn principles
Of faith, of honour, and I know not what,
That have corrupted his Numidian temper,
And struck th' infection into all his foul.

SEMPRONIUS.

Be fure to prefs upon him every motive.
Juba's furrender, fince his father's death,
Would give up Afric into Cæfar's hands,
And make him lord of half the burning Zone.

SY PHAX.

But is it true, Sempronius, that your Senate
Is call'd together? Gods! thou must be cautious!
Cato has piercing eyes, and will difcern

Our frauds, unless they 're cover'd thick with art.

SEMPRONIUS.

Let me alone, good Syphax, I'll conceal My thoughts in paffion, ('tis the surest way); I'll bellow out for Rome and for my country, And mouth at Cæfar till I shake the Senate. Your cold hypocrify 's aftale device,

A worn-out trick: wouldst thou be thought in earnest? Clothe thy feign'd zeal in rage, in fire, in fury!

SYPHA X.

In troth, thou 'rt able to inftruct grey-hairs, And teach the wily African deceit !

SEM PRONIUS.

Once more, be fure to try thy skill on Juba; Mean while I'll haften to my Roman foldiers,

Inflame the mutiny, and underhand

Blow up their discontents, till they break out
Unlook'd for, and discharge themselves on Cato.
Remember, Syphax, we must work in haste:
O think what anxious moments pass between
The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods.
Oh! tis a dreadful interval of time,
Fill'd up with horror all, and big with death!
Destruction hangs on every word we speak,
On every thought, till the concluding stroke
Determines all, and clofes our defign.

SYPHA X.

I'll try if yet I can reduce to reafon

[Exit.

This head-ftrong youth, and make him spurn at Cato.
The time is fhort, Cæfar comes rufhing on us-
But hold young Juba fees me, and approaches.

JUBA.

Syphax, I joy to meet thee thus alone.

I have obferv'd of late thy looks are fallen,
O'ercaft with gloomy cares, and discontent;

Then tell me, Syphax, I conjure thee, tell me,
What are the thoughts that knit thy brow in frowns,
And turn thine eye thus coldly on thy Prince ?

SY PHAX.

'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts, Nor carry fimiles and fun-fhine in my face,

When

When discontent fits heavy at my heart.

I have not yet fo much the Roman in me.
JUBA.

Why doft thou caft out such ungenerous terms
Against the lords and fovereigns of the world?
Doft thou not see mankind fall down before them,
And own the force of their fuperior virtue?
Is there a nation in the wilds of Afric,
Amidft our barren rocks and burning fands,
That does not tremble at the Roman name?

SY PHAX.

Gods! where's the worth that fets this people up
Above your own Numidia's tawny fons !
Do they with tougher finews bend the bow?
Or flies the javelin fwifter to its mark,
Launch'd from the vigour of a Roman arm?
Who like our active African inftructs

The fiery fteed, and trains him to his hand?
Or guides in troops th' embattled elephant,
Loaden with war? Thefe, these are arts, my Prince,
In which your Zama does not stoop to Rome.

JUBA.

These all are virtues of a meaner rank,
Perfections that are plac'd in bones and nerves.
A Roman foul is bent on higher views:
To civilize the rude unpolish'd world,
And lay it under the restraint of laws;
To make man mild and fociable to man;
To cultivate the wild licentious favage
With wisdom, difcipline, and liberal arts;
S 3

Th'

Th' embellishments of life: virtues like these
Make human nature shine, reform the foul,
And break our fierce barbarians into men.

SYPHAX.

Patience, kind heavens!-Excufe an old man's wrath. What are thefe wondrous civilizing arts,

This Roman polifh, and this fmooth behaviour,
That render man thus tractable and tame ?
Are they not only to disguise our paffions,
To fet our looks at variance with our thoughts,
To check the ftarts and fallies of the foul,
And break-off all its commerce with the tongue;
In fhort, to change us into other creatures
Than what our nature and the gods design'd us?
JUBA.

To ftrike thee dumb: turn up thine eyes to Cato!
There may'ft thou fee to what a godlike height
The Roman virtues lift up mortal man.

While good, and just, and anxious for his friends,
He 's ftill feverely bent against himself;

Renouncing fleep, and reft, and food, and ease,
He strives with thirst and hunger, toil and heat
And when his fortune fêts before him all

The pomps

and pleasures that his foul can wish, His rigid virtue will accept of none.

SYPHAX.

Believe me, Prince, there 's not an African
That traverfes our vaft Numidian deferts
In queft of prey, and lives upon his bow,
But better practises thefe boasted virtues.

Coarfe