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Front Page  Titles (by Subject) SCENE V - Cato: A Tragedy and Selected Essays
SCENE V - Joseph Addison, Cato: A Tragedy and Selected Essays [1710]Edition used:Cato: A Tragedy and Selected Essays, ed. by Christine Dunn Henderson and Mark E. Yellin, with a Foreword by Forrest McDonald (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 2004).
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- Foreword
- Introduction
- The Life of Joseph Addison
- Addison the Essayist
- Cato, a Tragedy
- Editors’ Note
- Acknowledgments
- Cato: a Tragedy
- Prologue By Mr. Pope 2
- Dramatis Personae
- Act I —
- Scene I
- Scene Ii
- Scene Iii
- Scene Iv
- Scene V
- Scene Vi
- Act Ii —
- Scene I
- Scene Ii
- Scene Iii
- Scene Iv
- Scene V
- Scene Vi
- Act Iii —
- Scene I
- Scene Ii
- Scene Iii
- Scene Iv
- Scene V
- Scene Vi
- Scene Vii
- Act Iv —
- Scene I
- Scene Ii
- Scene Iii
- Scene Iv —
- Act V —
- Scene I
- Scene Ii
- Scene Iii
- Scene Iv
- Epilogue By Dr. Garth. 1
- Selected Essays
- Tatler, No. 161
- Tatler, No. 162
- Whig Examiner, No. 5
- Spectator, No. 55
- Spectator, No. 125
- Spectator, No. 169
- Spectator, No. 215
- Spectator, No. 219
- Spectator, No. 231
- Spectator, No. 237
- Spectator, No. 243
- Spectator, No. 255
- Spectator, No. 256
- Spectator, No. 257
- Spectator, No. 287
- Spectator, No. 293
- Spectator, No. 349
- Spectator, No. 446
- Spectator, No. 557
- Guardian, No. 99
- Guardian, No. 161
- Freeholder, No. 1
- Freeholder, No. 2
- Freeholder, No. 5
- Freeholder, No. 10
- Freeholder, No. 12
- Freeholder, No. 13 1
- Freeholder, No. 16
- Freeholder, No. 29
- Freeholder, No. 34
- Freeholder, No. 39
- Freeholder, No. 51
- The Life and Character of M. Cato of Utica [ ]
SCENE V
Syphax, Juba.
Syphax- How’s this, my prince; what! covered with confusion?
- You look as if yon stern philosopher
- Had just now chid you.
Juba
Syphax
Juba- Cato thinks meanly of me.
Syphax
Juba
- The weakness of my soul, my love for Marcia.
Syphax- Cato’s a proper person to intrust
- A love-tale with!
Juba- Oh! I could pierce my heart,
- My foolish heart! was ever wretch like Juba?
Syphax
- Alas! my prince, how are you changed of late!
- I’ve known young Juba rise before the sun,
- To beat the thicket where the tiger slept,
- Or seek the lion in his dreadful haunts:
- How did the colour mount into your cheeks,
- When first you roused him to the chase! I’ve seen you,
- Even in the Libyan 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.
Juba
Syphax
- How would the old king smile
- To see you weigh the paws, when tipped with gold,
- And throw the shaggy spoils about your shoulders!
Juba- Syphax, this old man’s talk (though honey flowed
- In every word) would now lose all its sweetness.
- Cato’s displeased, and Marcia lost for ever!
Syphax- Young prince, I yet could give you good advice.
- Marcia might still be yours.
Juba- What say’st thou, Syphax?
- By heavens, thou turn’st me all into attention.
Syphax- Marcia might still be yours.
Juba
Syphax- Juba commands Numidia’s hardy troops,
- Mounted on steeds, unused to the restraint
- Of curbs or bits, and fleeter than the winds:
- Give but the word, we’ll snatch this damsel up
- And bear her off.
Juba
- Can such dishonest thoughts
- Rise up in man! wouldst thou seduce my youth
- To do an act that would destroy my honour?
Syphax
- Gods! I could tear my beard to hear you talk!
- Honour’s a fine imaginary notion,
- That draws in raw and unexperienced men
- To real mischiefs, while they hunt a shadow.
Juba- Wouldst thou degrade thy prince into a ruffian?
Syphax
- The boasted ancestors of these 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 heaven, was founded on a rape.
- Your Scipios, Caesars, Pompeys, and your Catos,
- (These gods on earth,) are all the spurious brood
- Of violated maids, of ravished Sabines.
Juba- Syphax, I fear that hoary head of thine
- Abounds too much in our Numidian wiles.
Syphax
- Indeed, my prince, you want to know the world;
- You have not read mankind; your youth admires
- The throws and swellings of a Roman soul,
- Cato’s bold flights, the extravagance of virtue.
Juba- If knowledge of the world makes man perfidious,
- May Juba ever live in ignorance?
Syphax
Juba
- Gods! must I tamely bear
- This arrogance unanswered! thou’rt a traitor,
Syphax- I have gone too far. [Aside.]
Juba- Cato shall know the baseness of thy soul.
Syphax- 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.
Juba- Those locks shall ne’er protect thy insolence.
Syphax- Must one rash word, the infirmity of age,
- Throw down the merit of my better years?
- This the reward of a whole life of service!
- —Curse on the boy! how steadily he hears me! [Aside.]
Juba- Is it because the throne of my forefathers
- Still stands unfilled, and that Numidia’s crown
- Hangs doubtful yet, whose head it shall enclose,
- Thou thus presum’st to treat thy prince with scorn?
Syphax
- Why will you rive my heart with such expressions?
- Does not old Syphax follow you to war?
- What are his aims? why does he load with darts
- His trembling hand, and crush beneath a casque
- His wrinkled brows? what is it he aspires to?
- Is it not this, to shed the slow remains,
- His last poor ebb of blood, in your defence?
Juba- Syphax, no more! I would not hear you talk.
Syphax
- Not hear me talk! what, when my faith to Juba,
- My royal master’s son, is called in question?
- My prince may strike me dead, and I’ll be dumb:
- But whilst I live I must not hold my tongue,
- And languish out old age in his displeasure.
Juba- Thou know’st the way too well into my heart,
- I do believe thee loyal to thy prince.
Syphax
- What greater instance can I give? I’ve offered
- To do an action, which my soul abhors,
- And gain you whom you love at any price.
Juba- Was this thy motive? I have been too hasty.
Syphax- And ’tis for this my prince has called me traitor.
Juba- Sure thou mistak’st; I did not call thee so.
Syphax- You did indeed, my prince, you called me traitor:
- Nay, further, threatened 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.
Juba
- 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,
- And imitates her actions, where she is not:
- It ought not to be sported with.
Syphax
- By heavens,
- I’m ravished when you talk thus, though you chide me!
- Alas! I’ve hitherto been used to think
- A blind, officious zeal to serve my king
- The ruling principle that ought to burn
- And quench all others in a subject’s heart.
- Happy the people, who preserve their honour
- By the same duties that oblige their prince!
Juba
- Syphax, thou now begin’st to speak thyself.
- Numidia’s grown a scorn among the nations
- For breach of public vows. Our Punic faith
- Is infamous, and branded to a proverb.
- Syphax, we’ll join our cares, to purge away
- Our country’s crimes, and clear her reputation.
Syphax- 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.
Juba
- 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 comes into my hand,
- Syphax shall stand the second in my kingdom.
Syphax
- Why will you overwhelm my age with kindness?
- My joy grows burdensome, I sha’n’t support it.
Juba- 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.
Syphax, solus
- Young men soon give, and soon forget affronts;
- Old age is slow in both—A false old traitor!
- Those 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—
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