ain aloud of Cato's discipline,
And wait but the command to change their master.

_Sem._ Believe me, Syphax, there's no time to waste;
Ev'n while we speak, our conqueror comes on,
And gathers ground upon us every moment.
Alas! thou know'st not Caesar's active soul,
With what a dreadful course he rushes on
From war to war. In vain has nature form'd
Mountains and oceans t'oppose his passage;
He bounds o'er all.
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 Caesar,
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 every instant I expect him here)
If yet I can subdue those stubborn principles
Of faith and honour, and I know not what,
That have corrupted his Numidian temper,
And struck th' infection into all his soul.

_Sem._ Be sure to press upon him every motive.
Juba's surrender, since his father's death,
Would give up Afric into Caesar'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.

_Sem._ 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 Caesar, till I shake the senate.
Your cold hypocrisy's a stale device,
A worn-out trick: wouldst 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.

_Sem._ Once more be sure to try thy skill on Juba.
Remember, Syphax, we must work in haste;
Oh, think what anxious moments pass between
The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods!
Oh, 'tis a dreadful interval of time,
Fill'd up with horror all, and big with death!
Destruction hangs on every word we speak,
On every thought, till the concluding stroke
Determines all, and closes our design. [_Exit._

_Syph._ I'll try if yet I can reduce to reason
This headstrong youth, and make him spurn at Cato.
The time is short; Caesar comes rushing on us--
But hold! young Juba sees me, and approaches!

_Enter_ JUBA.

_Jub._ Syphax, I joy to meet thee thus alone.
I have observed of late thy looks are fall'n,
O'e