_Syph._ Believe me, prince, you make old Syphax weep To hear you talk--but 'tis with tears of joy. If e'er your father's crown adorn your brows, Numidia will be blest by Cato's lectures. _Jub._ Syphax, thy hand; we'll mutually forget The warmth of youth, and forwardness of age: Thy prince esteems thy worth, and loves thy person. If e'er the sceptre come into my hand, Syphax shall stand the second in my kingdom. _Syph._ Why will you overwhelm my age with kindness? My joys grow burdensome, I sha'n't support it. _Jub._ Syphax, farewell. I'll hence, and try to find Some blest occasion, that may set me right In Cato's thoughts. I'd rather have that man Approve my deeds, than worlds for my admirers. [_Exit._ _Syph._ Young men soon give, and soon forget, affronts; Old age is slow in both--A false old traitor! These words, rash boy, may chance to cost thee dear. My heart had still some foolish fondness for thee; But hence, 'tis gone! I give it to the winds: Caesar, I'm wholly thine. _Enter_ SEMPRONIUS. All hail, Sempronius! Well, Cato's senate is resolved to wait The fury of a siege, before it yields. _Sem._ Syphax, we both were on the verge of fate; Lucius declared for peace, and terms were offer'd To Cato, by a messenger from Caesar. Should they submit, ere our designs are ripe, We both must perish in the common wreck, Lost in the general, undistinguish'd ruin. _Syph._ But how stands Cato? _Sem._ Thou hast seen mount Atlas: Whilst storms and tempests thunder on its brows, And oceans break their billows at its feet, It stands unmoved, and glories in its height; Such is that haughty man; his tow'ring soul, 'Midst all the shocks and injuries of fortune, Rises superior, and looks down on Caesar. _Syph._ But what's this messenger? _Sem._ I've practised with him, And found a means to let the victor know That Syphax and Sempronius are his friends. But let me now examine in my turn; Is Juba fix'd? _Syph._ Yes--but it is to Cato. I've tried the force of every reason on him, Soothed and caress'd; been angry, soothed again; Laid safety, life, and interest in his sight; But all are vain, he scorns them all for Cato. _Sem._ Come, 'tis no matter; we shall do without him. He'll make a pretty figure in a triumph, And serve to trip before the victor's chariot. Syphax, I now may hope thou hast forsook Thy Juba's cause, and wishest Marcia mine. _Syph._ May she be thine as fast as thou wouldst have her. _Sem._ Syphax, I love that woman; though I curse Her and myself, yet, spite of me, I love her. _Syph._ Make Cato sure, and give up Utica, Caesar will ne'er refuse thee such a trifle. But are thy troops prepared for a revolt? Does the sedition catch from man to man, And run among the ranks?