« ZurückWeiter »
Juba, the lovliest youth that ever warm'd a virgin's heart, Juba lies dead before us!
Luc. Now, Marcia, now call up to thy assistance thy wonted strength, and constancy of mind; thou canst not put it to a greater trial.
Mar. Lucia, look there, and wonder at my patience. Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast, to rend my heart with grief, and run distracted?
Luc. What can I think or say, to give thee comfort ? Marc. Talk not of comfort, 't is for lighter ills: behold a sight, that strikes all comfort dead.
Enter JUBA listenin. I will indulge my sorrows, and give way to all the pangs and fury of despair; that man, that best of inen, deserv'd it from me.
Jub. What do I hear? and was the false Semprothat best of men? O had I falln like him, [nius and could have thus been mourn'd, I bad been happy!
Luc. Here will I stand, companion in thy woes, and help thee with my tears; when I behold a loss like thine, I half sorget my own.
Marc. 'Tis not in fate to ease my tortur'd breast. This empty world, to me a joyless desert, has nothing left to make poor Marcia happy.
Jub. I'm on the rack! was he so near her heart? Marc. 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. Jub. I shall run mada
Marc. O Juba! Juba ! Juba!
Jub, What means that voice? did she not call on
Juba? Marc. Why do I think on what he was! he's dead! he's dead, and never knew how much I lov'd 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!
Marc. Ye dear remains of the most lov'd of men, nor modesty nor virtue here forbid a last embrace, while thus Jub.
See, Marcia, see, the happy Juba lives! he lives to catch that dear embrace, and to return it too with inutual warmth and eagerness of love.
Marc. With pleasure and amaze, I stand trans sure't is a dream! dead and alive at once! [ported! If thou art Juba, who lies there? Jub.
A wretch, disguis'd like Juba on a curs’d design. The tale is long, nor have I heard it out. Thy father knows it all. 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 wrapt with joy to see my Marcia's tears.
Marc. I've been surpris'd in an unguarded hour, but must not now go back: the love, that lay half-smother'd in my breast, has broke through all it's weak restraints, and burns in it's full lustre; I cannot, if I would, conceal it from thee.
Jub. I'm lost in ecstacy! and dost thou love, hou charming maid? Marc.
' And dost thou live to ask it? Jub. This, this is life indeed! lise worth preserva uch life as Juba never felt till now! • [ing!
Marco Believe me, prince, before I thought thee did not know myself how much I lov'd thee. [dead, Jub. O fortunate mistake!
O happy Marcia! Jub. My joy! my best belov’d! my only wish! low shall I speak the transport of my soul !
Marc. Lucia, thy arm! oh let me rest upon it! he vital blood, that had forsook my heart, eturns again in such tumultuous tides, t quite oʻercomes me. Lead to my apartment. ) prince! I blush to think what I have said, out fate has wrested the confession from me; zoon, 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 bless'd, I fear 't is 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, Jet Cæsar have the world, if Marcia's mine.
[Exit. A March at a distance.
Enter Caro and Lucius. Luc. Istand astonish'd ! what, the bold Sempronius that still broke foremost through the crowd of patrias with a hurricane of zeal transported, [ots, and virtuous ev'o to madness
Cato. Trust me, Lucius, our civil discords have produced such crimes, such monstrous crimes, I am surpris'd at nothing. L O Lucius, I am sick of this bad world! the day-light and the sun grow painful to me.
Enter PORTIUS. But see where Portius comes! what means this haste? why are thy looks thus chang'd? Por.
My heart is griev'd. I bring such news as will afflict my father.
Cato. Has Cæsar shed more Roman blood?
Not so. The traitor Syphax, as within the square he exercis'd bis 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 Semprovius.
Calo. Perfidious men! but haste, my son, and see thy brother Marcus acts a Roman's part.
[Exit Portius. -Lucius, the torrent bears too bard upon me: Justice gives way to force: the conquer'd world is Cæsar's: Cato 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 of Cæsar's slaves, or by a base submission [number give up the cause of Rome, and own a tyrant?
Luc. The victor never will impose on Cato
ngenerous terms. His enemies confess the virtues of humanity are Cæsar's.
Cato. Curse on his virtues! they've undone hia uch popular humanity is treason.. [country, Sut see young Juba! the good youth appears all of the guilt of his perfidious subjects. Luo. Alas, poor princel his fate deserves compassion,
What's thy crime?
And a brave one too,
Hast thou not heard. of my false countrymen? Cato.
Alas! young Prince, alsehood and fraud shoot up in every soil, he product of all climes.-Rome has it's Cæsars.
Jub. 'Tis generous thus to comfort the distress'd. Cato. 'Tis just to give applause where't is deserv'd; hy virtue, prince, has stood the test of fortune, ike purest gold, that, tortur'd in the furnace, omes out more bright, and brings forth all it's weight,
Jub. What shall I answer thee? my ravish'd heart verflows with secret joy: I'd rather gain hy praise, O Cato, than Numidia's empire,
Enter Portius hastily.
Ha! what has he done?