SCENE III.
Enter Lucia and Marcia.
Luc.Sure 'twas the clash of swords; my troubled heart
Is so cast down, and sunk amidst its sorrows,
It throbs with fear, and akes at every sound.
O Marcia, should thy brothers for my sake!———
I die away with horror at the thought.
Marc.See, Lucia, see! here's blood! here's blood! and murder!
Hah! a Numidian! Heav'ns preserve the Prince:
The face lies muffled up within the garment.
But hah! death to my sight! a diadem,
And purple robes! O gods! 'tis he, 'tis he!
Juba the lovliest youth that ever warm'd
A virgin's heart, Juba lies dead before us!
Luc.Now, Marcia, now call up to thy assistance
Thy wonted strength, and constancy of mind;
Thou can'st not put it to a greater trial.
Marc.Lucia, look there and wonder at my patience.
Have I not cause to rave, and beat my breast,
To rend my heart with grief, and run distracted!
Luc.What can I think or say to give thee comfort?
Marc.Talk not of comfort, 'tis for lighter ills:
Behold a sight that strikes all comfort dead.
Enter Juba, listening.
I will indulge my sorrows, and give way
To all the pangs and fury of despair;
That man, that best of men, deserv'd it from me.
Jub.What do I hear? and was the false Sempronius
That best of men? Oh, had I fall'n like him,
And could have thus been mourn'd, I had been happy.
Luc.Here will I stand, companion in thy woes,
And help the with my tears, when I behold
A loss like thine, I half forgot my own.
Marc.'Tis not in fate to ease my tortur'd breast,
This empty world, to me a joyless desart,
Has nothing left to make poor Marcia happy.
Jub.I'm on the rack! was he so near her heart!
