_Cato._ Then let us rise, my friends, and strive to fill This little interval, this pause of life (While yet our liberty and fates are doubtful) With resolution, friendship, Roman bravery, And all the virtues we can crowd into it; That Heav'n may say, it ought to be prolong'd. Fathers, farewell--The young Numidian prince Comes forward, and expects to know our counsels. [_Exeunt_ SENATORS. _Enter_ JUBA. Juba, the Roman senate has resolved, Till time give better prospects, still to keep The sword unsheathed, and turn its edge on Caesar. _Jub._ The resolution fits a Roman senate. But, Cato, lend me for a while thy patience, And condescend to hear a young man speak. My father, when, some days before his death, He order'd me to march for Utica, (Alas! I thought not then his death so near!) Wept o'er me, press'd me in his aged arms, And, as his griefs gave way, "My son," said he, "Whatever fortune shall befal thy father, Be Cato's friend; he'll train thee up to great And virtuous deeds; do but observe him well, Thou'lt shun misfortunes, or thou'lt learn to bear them." _Cato._ Juba, thy father was a worthy prince, And merited, alas! a better fate; But Heav'n thought otherwise. _Jub._ My father's fate, In spite of all the fortitude that shines Before my face, in Cato's great example, Subdues my soul, and fills my eyes with tears. _Cato._ It is an honest sorrow, and becomes thee. _Jub._ My father drew respect from foreign climes: The kings of Afric sought him for their friend; Kings far remote, that rule, as fame reports, Behind the hidden sources of the Nile, In distant worlds, on t'other side the sun; Oft have their black ambassadors appear'd, Loaden with gifts, and fill'd the courts of Zama. _Cato._ I am no stranger to thy father's greatness. _Jub._ I would not boast the greatness of my father, But point out new alliances to Cato. Had we not better leave this Utica, To arm Numidia in our cause, and court Th' assistance of my father's powerful friends? Did they know Cato, our remotest kings Would pour embattled multitudes about him: Their swarthy hosts would darken all our plains, Doubling the native horror of the war, And making death more grim. _Cato._ And canst thou think Cato will fly before the sword of Caesar? Reduced, like Hannibal, to seek relief From court to court, and wander up and down A vagabond in Afric? _Jub._ Cato, perhaps I'm too officious; but my forward cares Would fain preserve a life of so much value. My heart is wounded, when I see such virtue Afflicted by the weight of such misfortunes.