Thou fee'ft not that thy Brother is thy Rival: But I must hide it, for I know thy temper.
[Afide.
Now, Marcus, now, thy virtue's on the proof:
Put forth thy utmoft ftrength, work every nerve,
And call up all thy father in thy foul:
To quell the tyrant Love, and guard thy heart
On this weak fide, where moft our nature fails,
Would be a conquest worthy Cato's fon.
Portius, the counsel which I cannot take,
Instead of healing, but upbraids my weakness.
Bid me for honour plunge into a war
Of thickeft foes, and rufh on certain death,
Then fhalt thou fee that Marcus is not flow
To follow glory, and confefs his father.
Love is not to be reafon'd down, or lost
In high ambition, and a thirst of greatness;
'Tis fecond life, it grows into the foul,
Warms every vein, and beats in every pulfe,
I feel it here: my refolution melts -
Behold young Juba, the Numidian Prince!
With how much care he forms himself to glory,
And breaks the fiercenefs of his native temper,
To copy out our Father's bright example.
He loves our fifter Marcia, greatly loves her,
His eyes, his looks, his actions all betray it:
But ftill the fmother'd fondness burns within him.
When most it swells, and labours for a vent,
The fenfe of honour, and defire of fame
Drive the big paffion back into his heart.
What! fhall an African, fhall Juba's heir
Reproach great Cato's fon, and fhow the world
A virtue wanting in a Roman foul?
Portius, no more! your words leave ftings behind 'em. When e'er did Juba, or did Portius, show
A virtue that has caft me at a distance,
And thrown me out in the pursuits of honour?
PORTIU S.
Marcus, I know thy gen'rous temper well;
Fling but th' appearance of difhonour on it,
It ftrait takes fire, and mounts into a blaze.
A Brother's fufferings claim a Brother's pity.
PORTIUS.
Heaven knows I pity thee: behold my eyes
Even whilft I speak- Do they not swim in tears?
Were but my heart as naked to thy view,
Marcus would fee it bleed in his behalf.
Why then doft treat me with rebukes, instead Of kind condoling cares, and friendly forrow? PORTIU S.
O Marcus, did I know the way to ease
Thy troubled heart, and mitigate thy pains,
Marcus, believe me, I could die to do it.
Thou beft of brothers, and thou beft of Friends!
Pardon a weak diftemper'd foul, that fwells
With fudden gufts, and finks as foon in calms,
The fport of paflions:- but Sempronius comes:
He must not find this softness hanging on me.
SEMPRONIUS.
Confpiracies no fooner fhould be form'd
Than executed. What means Portius here?
I like not that cold youth. I must dissemble,
And speak a language foreign to my heart.
Good-morrow Portius! let us once embrace,
Once more embrace; whilft yet we both are free.
To-morrow should we thus express our friendship,
Each might receive a flave into his arms :
This Sun perhaps, this morning Sun's the last,
That e'er fhall rife on Roman liberty.
My father has this morning call'd together To this poor hall his little Roman Senate, (The leavings of Pharfalia) to confult
If yet he can oppose the mighty torrent
That bears down Rome, and all her gods before it,
Or muft at length give up the world to Cæfar.
SEMPRONIU S.
Not all the pomp and majefty of Rome
Can raise her Senate more than Cato's prefence.
His virtues render our affembly awful,
They ftrike with something like religious fear,
And make even Cæfar tremble at the head
Of armies flufh'd with conqueft: O my Portius,
Could I but call that wondrous Man my Father,
Would but thy fifter Marcia be propitious.
To thy friend's vows: I might be bless'd indeed!
PORTIU S.
Alas! Sempronius, would'st thou talk of love To Marcia, whilft her father's life's in danger? Thou might'ft as well court the pale trembling Vestal, When the beholds the holy flame expiring.
SEMPRONIUS..
The more I see the wonders of thy race,
The more I'm charm'd. Thou must take heed,my Portius! The world has all its eyes on Cato's fon.
Thy father's merit fets thee up to view,
And shows thee in the faireft point of light,
To make thy virtues, or thy faults confpicuous.
PORTIU S.
Well doft thou seem to check my lingring here
On this important hour- I'll ftrait away,
And while the Fathers of the Senate meet,
In clofe debate to weigh th' events of war,
I'll animate the foldier's drooping courage,
With love of freedom, and contempt of life:
I'll thunder in their ears their country's cause,
And try to roufe up all that's Roman in 'em.
'Tis not in mortals to Command fuccefs,
But we'll do more, Sempronius; we'll Deferve it. [Exit.
SEMPRONIUS folus.
Curfe on the Stripling! how he apes his Sire!
Ambitiously fententious!-
Old Syphax comes not; his Numidian genius
Is well difpos'd to mischief, were he prompt
And eager on it; but he must be spurr'd,
And every moment quickned to the course.
Cato has us'd me ill: he has refused
His daughter Marcia to my ardent vows.
Befides, his baffled arms, and ruin'd cause,`
Are bars to my ambition. Cæfar's favour,
That fhow'rs down greatnefs on his friends, will raife me
To Rome's firft honours. If I give up Cato,
I claim in my reward his captive daughter.
But Syphax comes!
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