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Jub. Cato thinks meanly of me.
Jub. I've open'd to him
Syph. Cato's a proper person to intrust
Jub. Oh, I could pierce my heart,
Syph. Alas, my prince, how are you chang'd of late!
you, Ev'n in the Lybian dog-days, hunt him down, Then charge him close, provoke him to the rage Of fangs and claws, and, stooping from your horse, Rivet the panting savage to the ground.
Fub. Pr’ythee no more.
Syph. How would the old king smile To see you weigh the paws, when tipp'd with gold, And throw the shaggy spoils about your shoulders ! Fub. Syphax, this old man's talk (though honey
How'd In ev'ry word) wou'd now lose all its sweetness. Cato's displeas'd, and Marcia lost for ever. Syph. Young prince, I yet could give you good ad
vice, Marcia might still be yours.
Jub. What say'st thou, Syphax?
Syph. Juba commands Numidia's hardy troops,
up, And bear her off.
Jub. Can such dishonest thoughts
Syph. Gods, I could tear my hair to hear you talk !
Jub. Wouldst thou degrade thy prince into a ruffian ?
Syph. The boasted ancestors of those great men, Whose virtues you admire, were all such ruffians. This dread of nations, this almighty Rome, That comprehends in her wide empire's bounds All under Heav'n, was founded on a rape ; Your Scipios, Cæsars, Pompeys, and your Catos (The gods on earth), are all the spurious blood Of violated maids, of ravish'd Sabines.
Jub. Syphax, I fear that hoary head of thine Abounds too much in our Numidian wiles. Syph. Indeed, my prince, you want to know the
world. You have not read mankind; your youth admires
The throes and swellings of a Roman soul,
Syph, Go, go; you're young.
Jub. Gods, must I tamely bear
[ Aside. Jub. 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.
Jub. Those locks shall ne'er protect thy insolence.
Syph. Must one rash word, th’ infirmity of age,
His trembling hand, and crush beneath a casque
Jub. Syphax, no more! I would not hear you talk.
Fub. Thou know'st the way too well into iny heart, I do believe thee loyal to thy prince.
Syph. What greater instance can I give? I've offer'd To do an action which
soul abhors, And gain you whom you love, at any price.
Jub. Was this thy motive? I have been too hasty. Syph. And 'tis for this my prince has callid me
traitor, Jub. Sure thou mistak'st; I did not call thee so. Syph. You did, indeed, my prince, you call'd me
traitor, Nay, further, threaten'd 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.
Jub. Syphax, I know thou lov'st me; but indeed Thy zeal for Juba carried thee too far. Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings, The noble mind's distinguishing perfection,
That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her,
Syph. By Heav'ns,
Jub. Syphax, thou now beginn'st to speak thyself.
Jub. Syphax, thy hand; we'll mutually forget
Syph. Why will you overwhelm my age with kind
My joys grow burdensome, I shan't support it.