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CATO.
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;
Even whilst we speak our conqueror comes on,
And gathers ground upon us ev'ry moment.
Alas! thou know'st not Cesar'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 bounds o'er all, victorious in his march;
The Alps and Pyreneans sink before him,
Through winds and waves and storms he works his way,
Impatient for the battle: One day more
Will set the victor thund'ring at our gates.
But tell me, hast thou yet drawn o'er young Juba?
That still would recommend thee more to Cesar,
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 struct 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 Afric into Cesar'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 mouthe at Cesar 'till I shake the senate.
Your cold hypocrisy's a stale advice,
A worn out trick: would'st thou be thought in earnest?
Clothe 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!
And wait but the command to change their master.
Semp.Believe me, Syphax, there's no time to waste;
Even whilst we speak our conqueror comes on,
And gathers ground upon us ev'ry moment.
Alas! thou know'st not Cesar'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 bounds o'er all, victorious in his march;
The Alps and Pyreneans sink before him,
Through winds and waves and storms he works his way,
Impatient for the battle: One day more
Will set the victor thund'ring at our gates.
But tell me, hast thou yet drawn o'er young Juba?
That still would recommend thee more to Cesar,
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 struct 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 Afric into Cesar'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 mouthe at Cesar 'till I shake the senate.
Your cold hypocrisy's a stale advice,
A worn out trick: would'st thou be thought in earnest?
Clothe 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.
