Jub. Oh, Marcia, let me hope thy kind concerns And gentle wishes follow me to battle! The thought will give new vigour to my arm, And strength and weight to my descending sword, And drive it in a tempest on the foe. Marcia. My pray'rs and wishes always shall attend The friends of Rome, the glorious cause of virtue, And men approved of by the gods and Cato. Jub. That Juba may deserve thy pious cares, I'll gaze for ever on thy godlike father, Transplanting one by one, into my life, His bright perfections, till I shine like him. Marcia. My father never, at a time like this, Would lay out
...more
