[354] In old eds. is the direction—“Organs, Viols, and Voices play for this Act.”
[355] Old eds. “dumps.”
[356] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “justly.”
[357] Enclosure.
[358] Old form of “vault.”
[359] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “New graud whose entrailes yet not turne.”
[360] Ed. 1. “gelled;” ed. 2. “gellid.”—Gelid is here preferable to the form jellied that I adopted in vol. i. p. 114.
[361] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “love.” (Persons born under the planet Jupiter were supposed to be of a jovial disposition.)
[362] Ed. 1. “heastes.”
[363] Ed. 1. “vncurlde.”
[364]
So Chapman in a magnificent passage of Bussy D’Ambois:—
“Terror of darkness, O thou king of
flames,” &c.
[365] A recognised old form of reverend. It occurs so frequently in this sense that it cannot be regarded as a misprint.
[366] “Vively limn’d,”—drawn to the life.
[367] “Without a man”—outside of man’s senses.
SCENE I.
Bed-chamber in the palace of Syphax.
Syphax draws the curtains, and discovers Erictho lying with him.
Eri. Ha! ha! ha!
Sy. Light, light!
Eri. Ha! ha!
Sy.
Thou rotten scum of hell!
O my abhorrèd heat! O loath’d delusion!
[They leap out of the bed; Syphax takes him to his sword.
Eri.
Why! fool of kings, could thy weak soul imagine
That ’tis within the grasp of heaven or hell
To enforce love? Why, know love dotes the fates,
Jove groans beneath his weight: mere[369] ignorant thing,
Know we, Erictho, with a thirsty womb, 10
Have coveted full threescore suns for blood of kings.
We that can make enraged Neptune toss
His huge curl’d locks without one breath of wind;
We that can make heaven slide from Atlas’ shoulder;
We, in the pride and height of covetous lust,
Have wish’d with woman’s greediness to fill
Our longing arms with Syphax’ well-strung limbs:
And dost thou think, if philters or hell-charms
Could have enforced thy use, we would have deigned[370]
Brain sleights? No, no. Now are we full 20
Of our dear wishes. Thy proud heat, well wasted,
Hath made our limbs grow young! Our love, farewell!
Know he that would force love, thus seeks his hell.
[Erictho slips into the ground, as Syphax offers his sword to her.
Sy.
Can we yet breathe? Is any plagued like me?
Are we—let’s think—O now contempt, my hate
To thee, thy thunder, sulphur, and scorn’d name!
He whose life’s loath’d, and he who breathes to curse
His very being,[371] let him thus with me
[Syphax kneels at the altar.
Fall ’fore an altar, sacred to black powers,
And thus dare heavens! O thou whose blasting flames
Hurl barren droughts upon the patient earth, 31
And thou, gay god of riddles and strange tales,
Hot-brainèd Phœbus, all add if you can
Something unto my misery! if aught
Of plagues lurk in your deep-trench’d brows,
Which yet I know not,—let them fall like bolts,
Which wrathful Jove drives strong into my bosom!
If any chance of war, or news ill-voiced,
Mischief unthought of lurk, come, give’t us all,
Heap curse on curse, we can no lower fall! 40
[Out of the altar the ghost of Asdrubal ariseth.
Asd. Lower—lower!
Sy.
What damn’d air is form’d
Into that shape? Speak, speak, we cannot quake!
Our flesh knows not ignoble tremblings. Speak!
We dare thy terror. Methinks hell and fate
Should dread a soul with woes made desperate.
Asd.
Know me the spirit of great Asdrubal,
Father to Sophonisba, whose bad heart
Made justly most unfortunate; for know,
I turn’d unfaithful, after that[372] the field
Chanced to our loss, when of thy men there fell 50
Six thousand souls, next fight of Libyans ten.
After which loss we unto Carthage flying,
Th’ enragèd people cried their army fell
Through my base treason. Straight my revengeful Furies[373]
Makes them pursue me; I with resolute haste
Made to the grave of all our ancestors,
Where poisoned, hoped my bones should have long rest:
But see, the violent multitude arrives,
Tear down our monument, and me now dead
Deny a grave; hurl us among the rocks 60
To staunch beasts’ hunger; therefore thus ungraved
I seek slow rest. Now dost thou know more woes,
And more must feel. Mortals, O fear to slight
Your gods and vows. Jove’s arm is of dread might.
Sy. Yet speak: shall I o’ercome approaching foes?
Asd.
Spirits of wrath know nothing but their woes.
[Exit.
Enter Nuntius.
Nun.
My liege, my liege,
The scouts of Cirta bring intelligence
Of sudden danger; full ten thousand horse,
Fresh and well-rid, strong Massinissa leads, 70
As wings to Roman legions that march swift,
Led by that man of conquest, Scipio.
Sy. Scipio?
Nun.
Direct to Cirta.
[A march far off is heard.
Hark! their march is heard even to the city.
Sy.
Help! our guard! my arms!
Bid all our leaders march! beat thick alarms!
I have seen things which thou wouldst quake to hear.
Boldness and strength! the shame of slaves be fear.
Up, heart, hold sword! though waves roll thee on shelf,
Though fortune leave thee, leave not thou thyself! 81
[Exit, arming.
[368] In old eds. is the direction—“A Base Lute and a Treble Violl play for the Act.”
[369] “Mere ignorant”—utterly ignorant. Old eds. “more ignorant.”
[370] Old eds. “dam’d.”
[371] Old eds. “beings.”
[372] Old eds. “which.”
[373] Old eds. “fury.”
Neighbourhood of Cirta.
Enter two Pages, with targets and javelins; Lælius and Jugurth, with halberds; Scipio and Massinissa armed; cornets sounding a march.
Sci. Stand!
Mass. Give the word—Stand!
Sci. Part the file!
Mass.
Give way!
Scipio, by thy great name, but greater virtue,—
By our eternal love, give me the chance
Of this day’s battle! Let not thy envied fame
Vouchsafe t’oppose[374] the Roman legions
Against one weakened Prince of Libya.
This quarrel’s mine—mine be the stroke of fight!
Let us and Syphax hurl out well-forced darts
Each unto other’s breast. O (what should I say?)
Thou beyond epithet, thou whom proud lords of fortune
May even envy,—alas! my joy’s so vast 11
Makes me seem lost,—let us thunder and lightning
Strike from our brave arms! Look, look, seize that hill!
Hark! he comes near. From thence discern us strike
Fire worth Jove; mount up, and not repute
Me very proud, though wondrous resolute.
My cause, my cause is my bold heart’ning odds,
That sevenfold shield; just arms should fright the gods.
Sci. Thy words are full of honour; take thy fate.
Mass.
Which we do scorn to fear, to Scipio state 20
Worthy his heart. Now let the forcèd brass
Sound on!
Cornets sound a march. Scipio leads his train up to the mount.
Jugurth, clasp sure our casque,
Arm us with care; and Jugurth, if I fall
Through this day’s malice or our fathers’ sins,
If it in thy sword lie, break up my breast,
And save my heart that never fell nor sued[375]
To aught but Jove and Sophonisba. Sound,
Stern heart’ners unto wounds and blood—sound loud,
For we have namèd Sophonisba!
[Cornets, a flourish.
So!
[Cornets, a march far off.
Hark, hark, he comes! stand blood! Now multiply 31
Force more than fury. Sound high, sound high, we strike
For Sophonisba!
Enter Syphax, arm’d, his Pages with shields and darts before; cornets sounding marches.
Sy. For Sophonisba!
Mass. Syphax!
Sy. Massinissa!
Mass.
Betwixt us two,
Let single fight try all.
Mass.
Well granted.
Of you, my stars, as I am worthy you,
I implore aid; and O, if angels wait
Upon good hearts, my genius be as strong
As I am just.
Sy.
Kings’ glory is their wrong. 40
He that may only do just acts ’s a slave.
My god’s my arm;[376] my life my heaven; my grave
To me all end.
Mass.
Give day, gods,—life, not death,—
To him that only fears blaspheming breath.
For Sophonisba!
Sy. For Sophonisba!
Cornets sound a charge. Massinissa and Syphax combat. Syphax falls. Massinissa unclasps Syphax’ casque, and is[377] about to kill him when Syphax speaks.
Sy. Unto thy fortune, not to thee, we yield.
Mass.
Lives Sophonisba yet unstain’d, speak just—
Yet ours unforced?
Sy.
Let my heart fall more low
Than is my body, if only to thy glory 50
She lives not yet all thine.
Mass.
Rise, rise! Cease strife!
Hear a most deep revenge—from us take life!
Cornets sound a march. Scipio and Lælius Enter. Scipio passeth to his throne. Massinissa presents Syphax to Scipio’s feet, cornets sounding a flourish.
To you all power of strength; and next to thee,
Thou spirit of triumph, born for victory,
I heave these hands. March we to Cirta straight,
My Sophonisba with swift haste to win,
In honour and in love all mean is sin.
[Exeunt Massinissa and Jugurth.
Sci.
As we are Rome’s great general, thus we press
Thy captive neck. But as still Scipio,
And sensible of just humanity, 60
We weep thy bondage. Speak, thou ill-chanced man,
What spirit took thee when thou wert our friend
(Thy right hand given both to gods and us,
With such most passionate vows and solemn faith),
Thou fled’st with such most foul disloyalty
To now weak Carthage? strengthening their bad arms,
Who lately scorn’d thee with all loath’d abuse,
Who never entertain for love but use?
Sy.
Scipio, my fortune is captived, not I,
Therefore I’ll speak bold truth; nor once mistrust 70
What I shall say, for now, being wholly yours,
I must not feign. Sophonisba, ’twas she,
’Twas Sophonisba that solicited
My forced revolt; ’twas her resistless suit,
Her love to her dear Carthage, ’ticed me break
All faith with men; ’twas she made Syphax false;
She that loves Carthage with such violence,
And hath such moving graces to allure,
That she will turn a man that once hath sworn
Himself on’s father’s bones her Carthage foe, 80
To be that city’s champion and high friend.
Her hymeneal torch burnt down my house;
Then was I captived, when her wanton arms
Threw[378] moving clasps about my neck. O charms,
Able to turn even Fate! But this, in my true grief,
Is some just joy, that my love-sotted foe
Shall seize that plague; that Massinissa’s breast
Her hands shall arm, and that ere long you’ll try
She can force him your foe as well as I.
Sci.
Lælius, Lælius, take a choice troop of horse, 90
And spur to Cirta. To Massinissa thus:
Syphax’ palace, crown’s spoil, city’s sack,
Be free to him. But if our new-leagued[379] friend
Possess that woman of so moving art,
Charge him with no less weight than his dear vow,
Our love, all faith, that he resign her thee;
As he shall answer Rome, will him[380] give up
A Roman prisoner to the Senate’s doom:
She is a Carthaginian. Now our law’s[381]—
Wise men prevent not actions, but ever cause. 100
Sy.
Good Malice, so, as liberty so dear,
Prove my revenge. What I cannot possess
Another shall not—that’s some happiness.
[Exeunt, cornets flourishing.
[374] Ed. 1. “t’appose.”
[375] Ed. 1. “that neuer fell nor’s adue.”
[376] So Mezentius in the Æneid, x. 772:—“Dextra mihi deus.”
[377] Old eds. “and as ready to kill him, speaks Syphax.”
[378] Ed. 1. “Threw mouing claspt.”—Ed. 2. “There mouing claspt.”
[379] Old eds. “new laugh’d.”
[380] “Will him,” &c.,—order him to give up. Ed. 2. “will give him up.”
[381]
Perhaps we should read—
“She is a Carthaginian, ’neath our laws.
Wise men,” &c.
SCENE III.
Cirta.
Cornets afar off sounding a charge. A soldier wounded at one door. Enter at the other Sophonisba, two Pages before her with lights, two women bearing up her train.
Sol.
Princess, O fly! Syphax hath lost the day,
And captived lies. The Roman legions
Have seiz’d the town, and with inveterate hate
Make slaves, or murder all. Fire and steel,
Fury and night, hold all. Fair Queen, O fly!
We bleed for Carthage, all for[382] Carthage die!
[Exit.
Cornets sounding a march. Enter Pages with javelins and targets. Massinissa and Jugurth; Massinissa’s beaver shut.
Mass. March to the palace.
So.
Whate’er man thou art,
Of Libya thy fair arms speak, give heart
To amazed weakness; hear her, that for long time
Hath seen no wishèd light. Sophonisba, 10
A name for misery much known, ’tis she
Entreats of thy graced sword this only boon:—
Let me not kneel to Rome; for though no cause
Of mine deserves their hate, though Massinissa
Be ours to heart, yet Roman generals
Make proud their triumphs with whatever captives.
O ’tis a nation which from soul I fear,
As one well knowing the much-grounded hate
They bear to Asdrubal and Carthage blood;
Therefore with tears that wash thy feet, with hands 20
Unused to beg, I clasp thy manly knees:
O save me from their fetters and contempt,
Their proud insults and more than insolence!
Or, if it rest not in thy grace of breath
To grant such freedom, give me long-wish’d death;
For ’tis not now loath’d life that we do crave,—
Only an unshamed death and silent grave,
We will now deign to bend for.
Mass.
Rarity!
[Massinissa disarms his head.
By thee and this right hand, thou shalt live free!
So. We cannot now be wretched.
Mass.
Stay the sword! 30
Let slaughter cease; sounds soft as Leda’s breast
[Soft music.
Slide through all ears. This night be love’s high feast.
So. O’erwhelm me not with sweets; let me not drink
Till my breast burst, O Jove, thy nectar-skink.[383]
[She sinks into Massinissa’s arms.
Mass. She is o’ercome with joy!
So.
Help—help to bar[384]
Some happiness, ye powers! I have joy to spare,
Enough to make a god! O Massinissa!
Mass.
Peace!
A silent thinking makes full joys increase!
Enter Lælius.
Læ. Massinissa!
Mass. Lælius!
Læ. Thine ear.
Mass. Stand off.
Læ.
From Scipio thus: by thy late vow of faith, 40
And mutual league of endless amity,
As thou respects his virtue, or Rome’s force,
Deliver Sophonisba to our hand.
Mass. Sophonisba?
Læ. Sophonisba.
So. My lord
Looks pale, and from his half-burst eyes a flame
Of deep disquiet breaks. The gods turn false
My sad presage!
Mass. Sophonisba?
Læ. Even she.
Mass.
She kill’d not Scipio’s father, nor his uncle,
Great Cneius.
Læ. Carthage did!
Læ.
Know ’twas her father Asdrubal strook[385] off 50
His father’s head. Give place to faith and fate!
Mass. ’Tis cross to honour.
Læ.
But ’tis just to state.
So speaketh Scipio. Do not thou detain
A Roman prisoner, due to this great triumph,
As thou shalt answer Rome and him.
Mass.
Lælius,
We now are in Rome’s power. Lælius,
View Massinissa do a loathèd act,
Most sinking from that state his heart did keep.
Look, Lælius, look, see Massinissa weep!
Know I have made a vow, more dear to me 60
Than my soul’s endless being, she shall rest
Free from Rome’s bondage!
Læ.
But dost thou forget
Thy vow, yet fresh, thus breath’d: When I desist
To be commanded by thy virtue, Scipio,
Or fall from friend of Rome, revenging gods,
Afflict me with your torture!
Mass. Lælius, enough.
Læ.
Salute the Roman, tell him we will act
What shall amaze him.
Læ. Wilt thou yield her then?
Mass. She shall arrive there straight.
Læ.
Best fate of men
To thee.
Mass. And Scipio.—Have I lived, O heavens, 70
[Exit Lælius with pages.
To be enforcedly perfidious?
So. What unjust grief afflicts my worthy lord?
Mass.
Thank me, ye gods, with much beholdingness;
For mark, I do not curse you.
So.
Tell me, sweet,
The cause of thy much anguish.
Mass.
Ha, the cause?
Let’s see: wreathe back thine arms, bend down thy neck,
Practise base prayers, make fit thyself for bondage.
So. Bondage!
Mass. Bondage—Roman bondage!
So. No, no!
Mass. How then have I vow’d well to Scipio?
So. How then to Sophonisba?
Mass.
Right, which way? 80
Run mad!—impossible!—distraction!
So.
Dear lord, thy patience; let it maze all power,
And list to her in whose sole heart it rests
To keep thy faith upright.
Mass. Wilt thou be slaved?
So. No, free.
Mass. How then keep I my faith?
So. My death
Gives help to all. From Rome so rest we free;
So brought to Scipio, faith is kept in thee.
Mass.
Thou darest not die—some wine!—thou darest not die!
Enter a Page with a bowl of wine.
So.
How near was I unto the curse of man. Joy!
How like was I yet once to have been glad! 90
He that ne’er laugh’d may with a constant face
Contemn Jove’s frown: happiness makes us base.
[She takes the bowl, into which Massinissa puts poison.
Behold me, Massinissa, like thyself,
A king and soldier; and I prithee keep
My last command.
Mass. Speak, sweet.
So.
Dear, do not weep.
And now with undismay’d resolve behold,
To save you—you (for honour and just faith
Are most true gods, which we should much adore),
With even disdainful vigour I give up
An abhorr’d life. You have been good to me, 100
[She drinks.
And I do thank thee, heaven! O my stars,
I bless your goodness, that with breast unstain’d,
Faith pure, a virgin wife, tried to my glory,
I die, of female faith the long-lived story;
Secure from bondage and all servile harms,
But more—most happy in my husband’s arms.
[She sinks.
Ju. Massinissa, Massinissa!
Mass.
Covetous,
Fame-greedy lady, could no scope of glory,
No reasonable proportion of goodness,
Fill thy great breast, but thou must prove immense 110
Incomprehence in virtue! What, wouldst thou
Not only be admired, but even adored?
O glory ripe for heaven! Sirs, help, help, help!
Let us to Scipio with what speed you can;
For piety make haste, whilst yet we are man.
[Exeunt, bearing Sophonisba in a chair.