SYPH. Go, go, you're young.
JUBA.
Gods! must I tamely bear
This arrogance unanswered! thou 'rt a traitor,
A false old traitor.
I have gone too far. [Aside. JUBA. Cato shall know the baseness of thy soul.
SYPH. I must appease this storm, or perish in it. [Aside.
Young prince, behold these locks that are grown white
Beneath a helmet in your father's battles.
JUBA. Those locks shall ne'er protect thy insolence.
SYPH. Must one rash word, the infirmity of age,
Throw down the merit of my better
This the reward of a whole life of service!
-Curse on the boy! how steadily he hears me! [Aside. JUBA. Is it because the throne of my forefathers
Still stands unfilled, and that Numidia's crown
Hangs doubtful yet, whose head it shall enclose,
Thou thus presum'st to treat thy prince with scorn?
SYPH. Why will you rive my heart with such expressions ?
Does not old Syphax follow you to war?
What are bis aims? 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.
SYPH. Not hear me talk! what, when my faith to Juba,
My royal master's son, is called in question?
My prince may strike me dead, and I'll be dumb:
But whilst I live I must not hold my tongue,
And languish out old age in his displeasure.
JUBA. Thou know'st the way too well into my heart,
I do believe thee loyal to thy prince.
SYPH. What greater instance can I give? I've offered
To do an action, which my soul abhors,
And gain you whom you love at any price.
JUBA. Was this thy motive? I have been too hasty.
SYPH. And 'tis for this my prince has called me traitor.
JUBA. Sure thou mistak'st; I did not call thee so.
SYPH. You did indeed, my prince, you called me traitor :
Nay, further, threatened you'd complain to Cato.
Of what, my prince, would you complain to Cato?
That Syphax loves you, and would sacrifice
His life, nay, more, his honour in your service.
JUBA. Syphax, I know thou lov'st me, but indeed
Thy zeal for Juba carried thee too far.
1Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings,
The noble mind's distinguishing perfection,
That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her,
And imitates her actions, where she is not:
It ought not to be sported with.
I'm ravished when you talk thus, though you chide me! Alas! I've hitherto been used to think A blind, officious zeal to serve my king The ruling principle that ought to burn And quench all others in a subject's heart. Happy the people, who preserve their honour By the same duties that oblige their prince! JUBA. Syphax, thou now begin'st to speak thyself. Numidia's grown a scorn among the nations For breach of public vows. Our Punic faith Is infamous, and branded to a proverb.
Syphax, we 'll join our cares, to purge away
Our country's crimes, and clear her reputation.
SYPH. Believe me, prince, you make old Syphax weep
To hear you talk-but 'tis with tears of joy.
If e'er your father's crown adorn your brows,
Numidia will be blest by Cato's lectures.
JUBA. Syphax, thy hand! we 'll mutually forget
The warmth of youth, and forwardness of age:
Thy prince esteems thy worth, and loves thy person.
If e'er the sceptre comes into my hand,
Syphax shall stand the second in my kingdom.
SYPH. Why will you overwhelm my age with kindness?
My joy grows burdensome, I sha'n't support it.
JUBA. Syphax, farewell, I'll hence, and try to find
Some blest occasion that may set me right
In Cato's thoughts. I'd rather have that man2
Approve my deeds, than worlds for my admirers.
For a comment on these famous lines, see Note on the Guardian, No. 161.
2 I'd rather have that man, &c.] That is, Juba's honour was the love of honest praise. See the note above referred to.
SYPH., solus. Young men soon give, and soon forget affronts;
Old age is slow in both-A false old traitor!
Those words, rash boy, may chance to cost thee dear.
My heart had still some foolish fondness for thee:
But hence! 'tis gone: I give it to the winds :-
Cæsar, I'm wholly thine
Well, Cato's senate is resolved to wait
The fury of a siege before it yields.
SEM. Syphax, we both were on the verge of fate:
Lucius declared for peace, and terms were offered
To Cato by a messenger from Cæsar.
Should they submit, ere our designs are ripe,
We both must perish in the common wreck,
Lost in a general, undistinguished ruin.
SYPH. But how stands Cato?
Thou hast seen Mount Atlas:2 While storms and tempests thunder on its brows, And oceans break their billows at its feet, It stands unmoved, and glories in its height. Such is that haughty man; his towering soul, 'Midst all the shocks and injuries of fortune, Rises superior, and looks down on Cæsar. SYPH. But what's this messenger?
I've practised with him,
And found a means to let the victor know
That Syphax and Sempronius are his friends.
But let me now examine in my turn:
Is Juba fixt?
I've tried the force of every reason on him,
'Cæsar, I'm wholly thine-] Nature is finely touched in this scene, but especially in the concluding soliloquy of Syphax. An ordinary writer would not have reflected, that the worst of men are glad to lay hold on some pretence to reconcile their baseness to themselves.
2 Thou hast seen Mount Atlas.] Wonderfully judicious. The simile, as fine as it is, had been cold and trivial, if no particular mountain had been specified; and none could be so properly and gracefully specified in a simile addressed to Syphax, as Mount Atlas.
Soothed and caressed, been angry,
Laid safety, life, and interest in his sight,
But all are vain, he scorns them all for Cato. SEM. Come, 'tis no matter, we shall do without him. He'll make a pretty figure in a triumph, And serve to trip before the victor's chariot. Syphax, I now may hope thou hast forsook Thy Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine. SYPH. May she be thine as fast as thou wouldst have her! SEM. Syphax, I love that woman; though I curse Her and myself, yet, spite of me, I love her. SYPH. Make Cato sure, and give up Utica,
Cæsar will ne'er refuse thee such a trifle.
But are thy troops prepared for a revolt?
Does the sedition catch from man to man,
And run among their ranks ?
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 'Il storm the senate-house.
SYPH. Meanwhile 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 wastes1 extend,
Sudden, the 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 smothered in the dusty whirlwind dies.
MAR. THANKS to my stars, I have not ranged about
The wilds of life, ere I could find a friend;
Nature first pointed out my Portius to me,
And early taught me, by her secret force,
To love thy person, ere I knew thy merit;
Till, what was instinct, grew up into friendship.
POR. Marcus, the friendships of the world are oft
Confederacies in vice, or leagues of pleasure;
Ours has severest virtue for its basis,
And such a friendship ends not but with life.
MAR. Portius, thou know'st my soul in all its weakness,
Then prithee spare me on its tender side,
Indulge me but in love, my other passions
Shall rise and fall by virtue's nicest rules.
POR. When love 's well-timed '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 dismiss thy passion,
(I know 'twere vain,) but to suppress its force,
Till better times may make it look more graceful.
MAR. Alas! thou talk'st like one who never felt
The 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.
POR. What can thy Portius do to give thee help?
MAR. Portius, thou oft enjoy'st the fair one's presence:
Then undertake my cause, and plead it to her
With all the strength and heats 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 loathes his food,
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