 | Cato |  |
SCENE III.
Syphax, Sempronius.Syph.
—Sempronius, all is ready,
I've sounded my Numidians, Man by Man,
And find 'em ripe for a Revolt: They all
Complain aloud of Cato's Discipline,
And wait but the Command to change their Master.
Semp.
Believe me, Syphax, there's no Time to waste;
Ev'n whilst we speak, our Conqueror comes on,
And gathers Ground upon us ev'ry Moment.
Alas! thou know'st not Cæsar's active Soul,
With what a dreadful Course he rushes on
From War to War: In vain has Nature form'd
Mountains and Oceans to oppose his Passage;
He bound's o'er all, victorious in his March,
The Alpes and Pyreneans sink before him;
Through Winds, and Waves, and Storms, he works his way,
7
Will set the Victor thundring at our Gates.
But tell me, hast thou yet drawn o'er young Juba?
That still wou'd recommend thee more to Cæsar,
And challenge better Terms—
Syph.
—Alas! he's lost,
He's lost, Sempronius; all his Thoughts are full
Of Cato's Virtues—But I'll try once more
(For ev'ry Instant I expect him here)
If yet I can subdue 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 Soul.
Semp.
Be sure to press upon him ev'ry Motive.
Juba's Surrender, since his Father's Death,
Would give up Africk into Cæsar's Hands,
And make him Lord of half the burning Zone.
Syph.
But is it true, Sempronius, that your Senate
Is call'd together? Gods! Thou must be cautious!
Cato has piercing Eyes, and will discern
Our Frauds, unless they're cover'd thick with Art.
Semp.
Let me alone, good Syphax, I'll conceal
My Thoughts in Passion ('tis the surest way;)
I'll bellow out for Rome and for my Country,
And mouth at Cæsar till I shake the Senate.
Your cold Hypocrisie's a stale Device,
A worn-out Trick: Wouldst thou be thought in Earnest?
Cloath thy feign'd Zeal in Rage, in Fire, in Fury!
Syph.
In troth, thou'rt able to instruct Grey-hairs,
And teach the wily African Deceit!
Semp.
Once more, be sure to try thy Skill on Juba.
Mean while I'll hasten to my Roman Soldiers,
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
8
Oh! 'tis a dreadful Interval of Time,
Fill'd up with Horror all, and big with Death!
Destruction hangs on ev'ry Word we speak,
On ev'ry Thought, 'till the concluding Stroke
Determines all, and closes our Design.
[Exit.
Syphax
solus.
I'll try if yet I can reduce to Reason
This head-strong Youth, and make him spurn at Cato.
The Time is short, Cæsar comes rushing on us—
But hold! young Juba sees me, and approaches.
| Cato | |