John Marston

The Wonder of Women Or The Tragedie of Sophonisba, as it hath beene sundry times Acted at the Blacke Friers. Written by Iohn Marston. London. Printed by Iohn Windet and are to be sold neere Ludgate. 1606. 4to.

STORY OF THE PLAY.

Syphax and Massinissa, princes of Libya, are rivals for the hand of Sophonisba, daughter of Asdrubal, a powerful Carthaginian nobleman. Massinissa’s suit is accepted; whereupon Syphax enters into a league with Scipio, who is advancing against Carthage. On Sophonisba’s marriage-night news is brought that the Carthaginian forces stationed at Utica have been defeated by the united armies of Scipio and Syphax. Massinissa is ordered by the senate to march without delay against the enemy; he loyally obeys the command, and takes leave of his virgin-wife. While he is serving Carthage in the field, the Carthaginian senators at home proceed to plot against his life. They determine to gain Syphax to their side by giving him Sophonisba to wife; and Gisco, a physician and skilful empoisoner, is sent to the Carthaginian camp to despatch Massinissa. Among the senators there is an honest old man, Gelosso, who disguises himself, follows Gisco to the camp, and hands Massinissa a letter containing a disclosure of the plot. Massinissa has no sooner dismissed the empoisoner (whom he scorns to punish) than Jugurth, Massinissa’s nephew, enters, to announce that Syphax has been seen riding in the direction of Cirta, and that his horsemen are coming at a leisurely pace towards the camp as if to fraternise with Massinissa’s forces. By advice of Gelosso, who lays aside his disguise, Massinissa scatters the horsemen by a sudden onslaught, and hastens to make a league with Scipio. Meanwhile Sophonisba has been sent by the Carthaginian senators to the palace of Syphax at Cirta. She escapes by a subterranean passage that led from the palace to a forest, but through the treachery of her attendant, Zanthia, falls again into the hands of Syphax. In despair of effecting his purpose by persuasion, Syphax applies for help to a powerful enchantress, Erictho, who engages to force Sophonisba by magic to his arms, on condition that he shall speak no word, and have no lights burning, while he embraces her. On the appointed night Syphax discovers to his horror that his embraces have been given to Erictho. While he is cursing his fortunes, a messenger arrives to announce that Scipio and Massinissa are advancing against Cirta. He marches out to meet them; the troops on either side withdraw, while Syphax and Massinissa engage in single combat; Massinissa vanquishes his opponent, but spares his life on receiving assurance that Sophonisba has not suffered outrage. Leaving his prisoner in Scipio’s hands, Massinissa hastens to Cirta. He enters the palace with his beaver down, unrecognised by Sophonisba, who throws herself at his feet, and implores him to save her from falling into the hands of the Romans, or grant her instant death. Pledging his oath that he will protect her, he doffs his helmet. The joyful reunion is presently interrupted by the entrance of the Roman general, LÆlius, who orders Massinissa to deliver Sophonisba into Scipio’s custody (Syphax having represented to Scipio that Sophonisba would quickly induce Massinissa to revolt from Rome). LÆlius departs with Massinissa’s assurance that the command shall be obeyed. Massinissa is distracted; he must either break the oath that he had pledged to Sophonisba, or he must be faithless in the allegiance that he had sworn to Rome. Sophonisba’s heroism rescues him from his dilemma. She declares her willingness to die; he infuses poison in a bowl of wine, and the dauntless woman drinks, speaking words of comfort to her husband as the poison courses through her veins. The lifeless body, laid on a bier, is presented to Scipio by Massinissa.

TO THE GENERAL READER.

Know that I have not laboured in this poem to tie myself to relate anything as an historian, but to enlarge everything as a poet. To transcribe authors, quote authorities, and translate Latin prose orations into English blank verse, hath, in this subject, been the least aim of my studies.[295] Then (equal reader) peruse me with no prepared dislike; and, if ought shall displease thee, thank thyself; if ought shall please thee, thank not me: for I confess in this it was not my only end.

---

ARGUMENTUM.

A grateful heart’s just height; ingratitude,
And vow’s base breach with worthy shame pursued;
A woman’s constant love, as firm as fate;
A blameless counsellor well born for state;
The folly to enforce free love: these, know,
This subject with full light doth amply show.

[295] Marston is evidently glancing at Ben Jonson’s Sejanus, which had been published in the previous year (1605).

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Massinissa, and
Syphax, Kings of Libya, rivals for Sophonisba.
Asdrubal, father to Sophonisba.
Gelosso, a senator of Carthage.
Bytheas, a senator of Carthage.
Hanno Magnus, Captain of Carthage.
Jugurth, Massinissa’s nephew.
Scipio, and
LÆlius, Generals of Rome.
Vangue, an Æthiopian slave.
Carthalon, a senator of Carthage.
Gisco, a surgeon of Carthage.
Nuntius.

Sophonisba, daughter to Asdrubal of Carthage.
Zanthia, her maid.
Erictho, an enchantress.
Arcathia, and
Nycea, waiting-women to Sophonisba.

Scene—Cirta, Carthage, &c.

PROLOGUS.

Cornets sounding a march.

Enter at one door the Prologue, two Pages with torches, Asdrubal and Jugurth, two Pages with lights, Massinissa leading Sophonisba, Zanthia bearing Sophonisba’s train, Arcathia and Nycea, Hanno and Bytheas: at the other door two Pages with targets and javelins, two Pages with lights, Syphax arm’d from top to toe, followed by Vangue.

These, thus enter’d, stand still, whilst the Prologue, resting between both troops, speaks.

The scene is Libya, and the subject thus:
Whilst Carthage stood the only awe of Rome,
As most imperial seat of Libya,
Govern’d by statesmen, each as great as kings
(For seventeen kings were Carthage feodars);
Whilst thus she flourish’d, whilst her Hannibal
Made Rome to tremble, and the walls yet pale:
Then in this Carthage Sophonisba lived,
The far-famed daughter of great Asdrubal:
For whom (’mongst others) potent Syphax sues, 10
And well-graced Massinissa rivals him,
Both princes of proud sceptres: but the lot
Of doubtful favour Massinissa graced,
At which Syphax grows black: for now the night
Yields loud resoundings of the nuptial pomp:
Apollo strikes his harp, Hymen his torch;
Whilst louring Juno, with ill-boding eye,
Sits envious at too forward Venus. Lo,
The instant night: and now ye worthier minds,
To whom we shall present a female glory 20
(The wonder of a constancy so fix’d,
That fate itself might well grow envious):
Be pleased to sit,[296] such as may merit oil,
And holy dew, still’d from diviner heat.
For rest thus knowing: what of this you hear,
The author lowly hopes, but must not fear:
For just worth never rests on popular frown,
To have done well is fair deeds’ only crown.

Nec se quÆsiverit extra.

Cornets sound a march.

The Prologue leads Massinissa’s troops over the stage, and departs: Syphax’ troops only stay.

[296] Quy. “see’t.”

THE TRAGEDY
OF
SOPHONISBA.

---

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The palace of Syphax at Cirta.

Syphax and Vangue.

Sy. Syphax, Syphax! why wast thou cursed a king?
What angry god made thee so great, so vile?
Contemn’d, disgracÈd! think, wert thou a slave,
Though Sophonisba did reject thy love,
Thy low neglected head, unpointed at,
Thy shame unrumour’d, and thy suit unscoff’d,
Might yet rest quiet. Reputation,
Thou awe of fools and great men; thou that chok’st
Freest addictions, and makest mortals sweat
Blood and cold drops in fear to lose, or hope 10
To gain, thy never-certain seldom-worthy gracings;
Reputation,
Were’t not for thee, Syphax could bear this scorn,
Not spouting up his gall among his blood
In black vexations: Massinissa might
Enjoy the sweets of his preferrÈd graces
Without my dangerous envy or revenge;
Were’t not for thy affliction, all might sleep
In sweet oblivion: but (O greatness’ scourge!)
We cannot without envy keep high name, 20
Nor yet disgraced can have a quiet shame.

Van. Scipio——

Sy. Some light in depth of hell. Vangue, what hope?

Van. I have received assured intelligence,
That Scipio, Rome’s sole hope, hath raised up men,
Drawn troops together for invasion——

Sy. Of this same Carthage?

Van. With this policy,
To force wild Hannibal from Italy——

Sy. And draw the war to Afric?

Van. Right.

Sy. And strike
This secure country with unthought of arms? 30

Van. My letters bear he is departed Rome,
Directly setting course and sailing up——

Sy. To Carthage, Carthage! O thou eternal youth,
Man of large fame, great and abounding glory,
Renownful Scipio, spread thy two-necked eagles,
Fill full thy sails with a revenging wind,
Strike through obedient Neptune, till thy prows[297]
Dash up our Libyan ooze,[298] and thy just arms
Shine with amazeful terror on these walls!
O now record thy father’s[299] honour’d blood 40
Which Carthage drunk; thy uncle Publius’[300] blood
Which Carthage drunk; thirty thousand souls
Of choice Italians Carthage set on wing:
Remember Hannibal, yet Hannibal,
The consul-queller: O then enlarge thy heart,
Be thousand souls in one! let all the breath,
The spirit of thy name and nation, be mix’d strong
In thy great heart! O fall like thunder-shaft,
The wingÈd vengeance of incensÈd Jove,
Upon this Carthage! for Syphax here flies off 50
From all allegiance, from all love or service,
His (now free’d) sceptre once did yield this city.
Ye universal gods, light, heat, and air,
Prove all unblessing Syphax, if his hands
Once rear themselves for Carthage but to curse it!
It had been better they had changed their faith,
Denied their gods, than slighted Syphax’ love;
So fearfully will I take vengeance.
I’ll interleague with Scipio.—Vangue,
Dear Ethiopian negro, go wing a vessel, 60
And fly to Scipio: say his confederate,
Vow’d and confirm’d, is Syphax: bid him haste
To mix our palms and arms; will him make up,
Whilst we are in the strength of discontent,
Our unsuspected forces well in arms;
For Sophonisba, Carthage, Asdrubal,
Shall feel their weakness in preferring weakness,
And one less great than we. To our dear wishes,
Haste, gentle negro, that this heap may know
Me and their wrong. 70

Van. Wrong?

Sy. Ay, tho’ ’twere not; yet know, while kings are strong,
What they’ll but think, and not what is, is wrong.
I am disgraced in and by that which hath
No reason,—love, and woman; my revenge
Shall therefore bear no argument of right;
Passion is reason when it speaks from might.
I tell thee, man, nor kings nor gods exempt,
But they grow pale if once they find contempt.
Haste! 80

[Exeunt.

[297] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. (i.e. 8vo of 1633) “powers.”

[298] Ed. 1. reads “ouse,” which becomes “house” in ed. 2.

[299] Cn. Scipio, who fell fighting in Spain, B.C. 212. See Livy, xxv. 36.

[300] See Livy, xxv. 34.

SCENE II.

Sophonisba’s bedchamber.

Enter Arcathia; Nycea, with tapers; Sophonisba, in her night attire, followed by Zanthia.

So. Watch at the doors: and till we be reposed
Let no one enter. Zanthia, undo me.

Zan. With this motto under your girdle:
You had been undone if you had not been undone.
Humblest service!

So. I wonder, Zanthia, why the custom is,
To use such ceremony, such strict shape,
About us women: forsooth the bride must steal
Before her lord to bed; and then delays,
Long expectations, all against known wishes. 10
I hate these figures in locution,
These about phases forced by ceremony;
We must still seem to fly what we most seek,
And hide ourselves from what we fain would find.
Let those that think and speak and do just acts,
Know form can give no virtue to their acts,
Nor detract vice.

Zan. Alas, fair princess! those that are strongly form’d
And truly shap’d, may naked walk; but we,
We things call’d women, only made for show 20
And pleasure, created to bear children
And play at shuttlecock; we imperfect mixtures,
Without respective ceremony used,
And ever compliment, alas! what are we?
Take from us formal custom and the courtesies
Which civil fashion hath still used to us,
We fall to all contempt. O women, how much,
How much are you beholding to ceremony!

So. You are familiar. Zanthia, my shoe.

Zan. ’Tis wonder, madam, you tread not awry. 30

So. Your reason, Zanthia.

Zan. You go very high.

So. Hark! music! music!

The Ladies lay the Princess in a fair bed, and close the curtains, whilst Massinissa Enters.

Ny. The bridegroom!Arca. The bridegroom!

So. Haste, good Zanthia: help! keep yet the doors!

Zan. Fair fall you, lady; so, admit, admit.

Enter four Boys, anticly attired, with bows and quivers, dancing to the cornets a fantastic measure; Massinissa in his nightgown, led by Asdrubal and Hanno, followed by Bytheas and Jugurth. The Boys draw the curtains, discovering Sophonisba, to whom Massinissa speaks.

Mass. You powers of joy, gods of a happy bed,
Show you are pleased; sister and wife of Jove,
High-fronted Juno, and thou Carthage patron,
Smooth-chinn’d Apollo, both give modest heat
And temperate graces!

[Massinissa draws a white ribbon forth[301] of the bed, as from the waist of Sophonisba.

Lo, I unloose thy waist!
She that is just in love is god-like chaste. 40
Io to Hymen!

Chorus, with cornets, organ and voices. Io to Hymen!

So. A modest silence, though’t be thought
A virgin’s beauty and her highest honour;
Though bashful feignings nicely wrought,
Grace her that virtue takes not in, but on her;
What I dare think I boldly speak:
After my word my well-bold action rusheth.
In open flame then passion break!
Where virtue prompts, thought, word, act never blusheth.
Revenging gods, whose marble hands 50
Crush faithless men with a confounding terror,
Give me no mercy if these bands
I covet not with an unfeignÈd fervour;
Which zealous vow when ought can force me t’lame,[302]
Load with that plague Atlas would groan at, shame.
Io to Hymen!

Chorus. Io to Hymen!

Asdru. Live both high parents of so happy birth,
Your stems may touch the skies and shadow earth;
Most great in fame, more great in virtue shining.
Prosper, O powers! a just, a strong divining. 60
Io to Hymen!

Chorus. Io to Hymen!

Enter Carthalon, his sword drawn, his body wounded, his shield struck full of darts; Massinissa being ready for bed.

Car. To bold hearts Fortune! be not you amazed,
Carthage! O Carthage! be not you amazed.

Mass. Jove made us not to fear; resolve, speak out;
The highest misery of man is doubt.
Speak, Carthalon! Car. The stooping sun, like to some weaker prince,
Let his shades spread to an unnatural hugeness,
When we, the camp that lay at Utica,
From Carthage distant but five easy leagues, 70
Descried from off the watch three hundred sail,
Upon whose tops the Roman eagles stretch’d
Their large spread wings, which fann’d the evening air,
To us cold breath; for well we might discern
Rome swam to Carthage.

Asd. Hannibal, our rancour[303] is come back; thy slight,
Thy stratagem, to lead war unto Rome,
To quite ourselves, hath now taught desperate Rome
T’assail our Carthage: now the war is here.

Mass. He is nor blest, nor honest, that can fear. 80

Han. Ay, but to cast the worst of our distress——

Mass. To doubt of what shall be, is wretchedness:
Desire, fear, and hope, receive no bond
By whom, we in ourselves are never but beyond.
On!

Car. Th’ alarum beats necessity of fight;
Th’ unsober evening draws out reeling forces,
Soldiers, half men, who to their colours troop
With fury, not with valour: whilst our ships
Unrigg’d, unus’d, fitter for fire than water, 90
We save in our barr’d haven from surprise.
By this our army marcheth toward the shore,
Undisciplin’d young men, most bold to do,
If they knew how, or what; when we descry
A mighty dust, beat up with horses’ hooves:
Straight Roman ensigns glitter; Scipio——

Asd. Scipio!

Car. Scipio, advancÈd like the god of blood,
Leads up grim war, that father of foul wounds,
Whose sinewy feet are steep’d in gore, whose hideous voice 100
Makes turrets tremble and whole cities shake;
Before whose brows flight and disorder hurry;
With whom march burnings, murder, wrong, waste, rapes;
Behind whom a sad train is seen, woe, fears,
Tortures, lean need, famine, and helpless tears.
Now make we equal stand in mutual view:
We judg’d the Romans eighteen thousand foot,
Five thousand horse; we almost doubled them
In number, not in virtue;[304] yet in heat
Of youth and wine, jolly, and full of blood, 110
We gave the sign of battle: shouts are raised
That shook the heavens; pell-mell our armies join;
Horse, targets, pikes, all against each opposed,[305]
They give fierce shock, arms thunder’d as they clos’d:
Men cover earth, which straight are coverÈd
With men and earth; yet doubtful stood the fight,
More fair to Carthage, when lo, as oft we see,
In mines of gold, when labouring slaves delve out
The richest ore, being in sudden hope
With some unlook’d-for vein to fill their buckets, 120
And send huge treasure up, a sudden damp
Stifles them all, their hands yet stuff’d with gold,—
So fell our fortunes; for look, as we stood proud,
Like hopeful victors, thinking to return
With spoils worth triumph, wrathful Syphax lands
With full ten thousand strong Numidian horse,
And joins to Scipio. Then lo, we[306] all were damp’d;
We fall[307] in clusters, and our wearied troops
Quit all. Slaughter ran through us straight; we fly,
Romans pursue, but Scipio sounds retreat, 130
As fearing trains and night: we make amain
For Carthage most, and some for Utica,
All for our lives.—New force, fresh arms with speed!

Han.[308] You have said truth of all; no more: I bleed.
O[309] wretched fortune!

[Tearing his hair.

Mass. Old lord, spare thy hairs:
What, dost thou think baldness will cure thy grief?
What decree the Senate?

Enter Gelosso with commissions in his hand, sealed.

Gelo. Ask old Gelosso, who returns from them,
Inform’d with fullest charge. Strong Asdrubal,
Great Massinissa, Carthage general, 140
So speaks the Senate: counsel for this war
In Hanno Magnus, Bytheas, Carthalon,
And us Gelosso, rests. Embrace this charge,
You never yet dishonour’d Asdrubal,
High Massinissa! by your vows to Carthage,
By th’ god of great men,—glory,—fight for Carthage!
Ten thousand strong Massulians, ready troop’d,
Expect their king; double that number waits
The leading of loved Asdrubal: beat loud
Our Afric drums! and, whilst our o’er-toil’d foe 150
Snores on his unlacked casque, all faint, though proud,
Through his successful fight, strike fresh alarms.
Gods are not if they grace not bold, just arms.

Mass. Carthage, thou straight shalt know
Thy favours have been done unto a king.

[Exit with Asdrubal and the Page.

So. My lords, ’tis most unusual such sad haps
Of sudden horror should intrude ’mong beds
Of soft and private loves; but strange events
Excuse strange forms. O you that know our blood,
Revenge if I do feign. I here protest, 160
Though my lord leave his wife a very maid,
Even this night, instead of my soft arms
Clasping his well-strung limbs with glossful steel,
What’s safe to Carthage shall be sweet to me.
I must not, nor am I once ignorant
My choice of love hath given this sudden danger
To yet strong Carthage: ’twas I lost the fight;
My choice vex’d Syphax, enraged Syphax struck
Arms’ fate;[310] yet Sophonisba not repents:
O we were gods if that we knew events. 170
But let my[311] lord leave Carthage, quit his virtue,
I will not love him; yet must honour him,
As still good subjects must bad princes. Lords,
From the most ill-graced hymeneal bed
That ever Juno frown’d at, I entreat
That you’ll collect from our loose-formÈd speech
This firm resolve: that no low appetite
Of my sex’ weakness can or shall o’ercome
Due grateful[312] service unto you or virtue.
Witness, ye gods, I never until now 180
Repined at my creation: now I wish
I were no woman, that my arms might speak
My heart to Carthage. But in vain: my tongue
Swears I am woman still, I talk too[313] long.

Cornets, a march. Enter two Pages with targets and javelins; two Pages with torches. Massinissa armed cap-À-pie; Asdrubal armed.

Mass. Ye Carthage lords, know Massinissa knows
Not only terms of honour, but his actions;
Nor must I now enlarge how much my cause
Hath danger’d Carthage, but how I may show
Myself most prest[314] to satisfaction.
The loathsome stain of kings’ ingratitude 190
From me O much be far! And since this torrent,
War’s rage, admits no anchor—since the billow
Is risen so high we may not hull,[315] but yield
This ample state to stroke of speedy swords;
What you with sober haste have well decreed,
We’ll put to sudden arms; no, not this night,
These dainties, these firstfruits of nuptials,
That well might give excuse for feeble lingerings,
Shall hinder Massinissa. Appetite,
Kisses, loves, dalliance, and what softer joys 200
The Venus of the pleasing’st ease can minister,
I quit you all. Virtue perforce is vice;
But he that may, yet holds, is manly wise.
Lo then, ye lords of Carthage, to your trust
I leave all Massinissa’s treasure: by the oath
Of right good men stand to my fortune just:
Most hard it is for great hearts to mistrust.

Car. We vow by all high powers.

Mass. No, do not swear;
I was not born so small to doubt or fear.

So. Worthy, my lord——

Mass. Peace, my ears are steel; 210
I must not hear thy much-enticing voice.

So. My Massinissa, Sophonisba speaks
Worthy thy wife: go with as high a hand
As worth can rear. I will not stay my lord.
Fight for our country; vent thy youthful heat
In field, not beds: the fruit of honour, Fame,
Be rather gotten than the oft disgrace
Of hapless parents, children. Go, best man,
And make me proud to be a soldier’s wife,
That values his renown above faint pleasures: 220
Think every honour that doth grace thy sword
Trebles my love. By thee I have no lust
But of thy glory. Best lights of heaven with thee!
Like wonder, stand or fall; so, though thou die,
My fortunes may be wretched, but not I.

Mass. Wondrous creature! even fit for gods, not men:
Nature made all the rest of thy fair sex
As weak essays, to make thee a pattern
Of what can be in woman! Long farewell!
He’s sure unconquer’d in whom thou dost dwell, 230
Carthage Palladium.[316] See that glorious lamp—
Whose lifeful[317] presence giveth sudden flight
To fancies, fogs, fears, sleep, and slothful night—
Spreads day upon the world: march swift amain;—
Fame got with loss of breath is god-like gain!

[The Ladies draw the curtains about Sophonisba; the rest accompany Massinissa forth: the cornets and organs playing loud full music for the Act.

[301] The maiden-girdle worn by unmarried women. It was loosed by the bridegroom on the marriage night.

[302] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. (8vo of 1633) “claime.”

[303] Old eds. “ancor”—an obvious misprint. The meaning is “our rancorous hatred of the Romans has recoiled on our own heads.”

[304] Valour (Lat. virtus).

[305] Ed. 1. “apposd.”

[306] Ed. 1. “yee.”

[307] Ed. 2. “fell.”

[308] Not marked in ed. 1.

[309] The words “O wretched fortune!” are given to Bytheas in ed. 1.

[310] Quy. “Arm’d hate”?

[311] Ed. 1. “me.”

[312] Ed. 2. “gracefull.”

[313] Ed. 2. “so.”

[314] Ready, forward.

[315] See note 2, vol. i. p. 87.

[316] The image of Pallas at Troy. The safety of the city depended on its possession.

[317] Ed. 2. “lightfull.”

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Senate-house at Carthage.

Whilst the music for the first Act sounds, Hanno, Carthalon, Bytheas, Gelosso, Enter: they place themselves to counsel, Gisco, the impoisoner, waiting on them; Hanno, Carthalon, and Bytheas setting their hands to a writing, which being offered to Gelosso, he denies his hand, and, as much offended, impatiently starts up and speaks.

Enter Gelosso, Hanno, Bytheas, Carthalon.

Gel. My hand? my hand? rot first; wither in aged shame.

Han. Will you be so unseasonably wood?[318]

By. Hold such preposterous zeal as stand[319] against
The full decree of Senate, all think fit?

Car. Nay, most inevitable[320] necessary
For Carthage’ safety, and the now sole good
Of present state, that we must break all faith
With Massinissa. Whilst he fights abroad,
Let’s gain back Syphax, making him our own,
By giving Sophonisba to his bed. 10

Han. Syphax is Massinissa’s greater, and his force
Shall give more side to Carthage: as for’s queen,
And her wise father, they love Carthage fate;
Profit and honesty are not one in state.

Gel. And what decrees our very virtuous Senate
Of worthy Massinissa, that now fights,
And (leaving wife and bed) bleeds in good arms
For right old Carthage?

Car. Thus ’tis thought fit:
Her father, Asdrubal, on sudden shall take in
Revolted Syphax; so with doubled strength, 20
Before that Massinissa shall suspect,
Slaughter both Massinissa and his troops,
And likewise strike with his deep stratagem
A sudden weakness into Scipio’s arms,
By drawing such a limb from the main body
Of his yet powerful army: which being done,
Dead Massinissa’s kingdom we decree
To Sophonisba and great Asdrubal
For their consent; so this swift plot shall bring
Two crowns to her, make Asdrubal a king. 30

Gel. So, first faith’s breach, murder, adultery, theft!

Car. What else?

Gel. Nay, all is done, no mischief left.

Car. Pish!
Prosperous success gives blackest actions glory;
The means are unremember’d in most story.

Gel. Let me not say gods are not.

Car. This is fit:
Conquest by blood is not so sweet as wit:
For howsoe’er nice virtue censures[321] it,
He hath the grace of war that hath war’s profit.
But Carthage, well advised that states come on 40
With slow advice, quick execution,
Have here an engineer long bred for plots,
Call’d an impois’ner, who knows this sound excuse:
Th’ only dew that makes men sprout in court is use.
Be’t well or ill, his thrift is to be mute;
Such slaves must act commands, and not dispute.
Knowing foul deeds with danger do begin,
But with rewards do end: sin is no sin,
But in respects——

Gel. Politic lord, speak low: though Heaven bears
A face far from us, gods have most long ears; 51
Jove has a hundred marble marble hands.

Car. O ay, in poetry or tragic scene!

Gel. I fear gods only know what poets mean.

Car. Yet hear me, I will speak close truth and cease:
Nothing in Nature is unserviceable,
No, not even inutility itself.
Is then for nought dishonesty in being?
And if it be sometimes of forcÈd use,
Wherein more urgent than in saving nations? 60
State shapes are solder’d up with base, nay faulty,
Yet necessary functions: some must lie,
Some must betray, some murder, and some all;
Each hath strong use, as poison in all purges:
Yet when some violent chance shall force a state
To break given faith, or plot some stratagems,
Princes ascribe that vile necessity
Unto Heaven’s wrath. And sure, though’t be no vice,
Yet ’tis bad chance: states must not stick too nice,
For Massinissa’s death sense bids forgive: 70
Beware t’offend great men, and let them live;
For ’tis of empire’s body the main arm,—
He that will do no good shall do no harm.
You have my mind.

Gel. Although a stage-like passion, and weak heat,
Full of an empty wording, might suit age,
Know I’ll speak strongly truth. Lords, ne’er mistrust,
That he who’ll not betray a private man
For his country, will ne’er betray his country
For private men; then give Gelosso faith. 80
If treachery in state be serviceable,
Let hangmen do it. I am bound to lose
My life, but not mine honour, for my country.
Our vows, our faith, our oaths, why they’re ourselves,
And he that’s faithless to his proper self
May be excus’d if he break faith with princes.
The gods assist just hearts, and states that trust
Plots before Providence are toss’d like dust.
For Massinissa (O, let me slack a little
Austere discourse and feel humanity!) 90
Methinks I hear him cry, “O fight for Carthage!
Charge home! wounds smart not for that so just, so great,
So good a city.” Methinks I see him yet
Leave his fair bride, even on his nuptial night,
To buckle on his arms for Carthage. Hark!
Yet, yet, I hear him cry,—“Ingratitude,
Vile stain of man, O ever be most far
From Massinissa’s breast! Up, march amain;
Fame got by loss of breath is god-like gain!”
And see, by this he bleeds in doubtful[322] fight, 100
And cries “For Carthage!” whilst Carthage—Memory,
Forsake Gelosso! would I could not think,
Nor hear, nor be, when Carthage is
So infinitely vile! See, see! look here!

Cornets. Enter two Ushers; Sophonisba, Zanthia, and Arcathia; Hanno, Bytheas, and Carthalon present Sophonisba with a paper, which she having perused, after a short silence, speaks.

So. Who speaks? What, mute? Fair plot! What? blush to break it?
How lewd to act when so shamed but to speak it.
Is this the Senate’s firm decree?[323]

Car. It is.

So. Is this the Senate’s firm decree?

Car. It is.

So. Hath Syphax entertained the stratagem?

Car. No doubt he hath or will. So. My answer’s thus, 110
What’s safe to Carthage shall be sweet to us.[324]

Car. Right worthy.

Han. Royalest.

Gel. O very woman!

So. But ’tis not safe for Carthage to destroy.
Be most unjust, cunningly politic,
Your head’s still under heaven. O trust to Fate:
Gods prosper more a just than crafty state;
’Tis less disgrace to have a pitied loss,
Than shameful victory.

Gel. O very angel!

So. We all have sworn good Massinissa faith;
Speech makes us men, and there’s no other bond 120
’Twixt man and man but words. O equal gods!
Make us once know the consequence of vows—

Gel. And we shall hate faith-breakers worse than man-eaters.

So. Ha, good Gelosso, is thy breath not here?

Gel. You do me wrong: as long as I can die,
Doubt you that old Gelosso can be vile?
States may afflict, tax, torture, but our minds
Are only sworn to Jove. I grieve, and yet am proud
That I alone am honest: high powers, ye know
Virtue is seldom seen with troops to go. 130

So. Excellent man! Carthage and Rome shall fall
Before thy fame.—Our lords, know I the worst?

Car. The gods foresaw, ’tis fate we thus are forc’d. So. Gods naught foresee, but see, for to their eyes
Naught is to come or past; nor are you vile
Because the gods foresee; for gods, not[325] we,
See as things are; things are not as[326] we see.
But since affected wisdom in us women
Is our sex’ highest folly, I am silent;
I cannot speak less well, unless I were 140
More void of goodness. Lords of Carthage, thus:
The air and earth of Carthage owes[327] my body;
It is their servant; what decree they of it?

Car. That you remove to Cirta, to the palace
Of well-form’d Syphax, who with longing eyes
Meets you: he that gives way to Fate is wise.

So. I go: what power can make me wretched? what evil
Is there in life to him that knows life’s loss
To be no evil? show, show thy ugliest brow,
O most black chance; make me a wretched story: 150
Without misfortune virtue hath no glory;
OpposÈd trees makes tempests show their power,
And waves forced back by rocks makes Neptune tower,—
Tearless O see a miracle of life,
A maid, a widow, yet a hapless wife!

[Cornets. Sophonisba, accompanied with the Senators, departs; only Gelosso stays.

Gel. A prodigy! let Nature run cross-legg’d,
Ops go upon his head, let Neptune burn,
Cold Saturn crack with heat, for now the world
Hath seen a woman!
Leap nimble lightning from Jove’s ample shield, 160
And make at length an end! The proud hot breath
Of thee-contemning greatness; the huge drought
Of sole self-loving vast ambition;
Th’ unnatural scorching heat of all those lamps
Thou rear’dst to yield a temperate fruitful heat;
Relentless rage, whose heart hath no one drop
Of human pity;—all, all loudly cry,
Thy brand, O Jove, for now[328] the world is dry!
O let a general end save Carthage fame!
When worlds do burn, unseen’s a city’s flame. 170
Phoebus in me is great; Carthage must fall;
Jove hates all vice, but vows’ breach worst of all.

[Exit.

[318] Distracted, mad.

[319] Ed. 2. “stands.”

[320] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “vnevitable.”

[321] Judges.

[322] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “double.”

[323] Ed. 1. “decrees.”

[324] Ed. 1. “me.”

[325] Ed. 1. “and.”

[326] Ed. 1. “for.”

[327] Own.

[328] Old eds. “know.”

SCENE II.

Near Cirta.

Cornets sound a charge. Enter Massinissa in his gorget[329] and shirt, shield, sword; his arm transfix’d with a dart. Jugurth follows, with his cuirass and casque.

Mass. Mount us again; give us another horse!

Jug. Uncle, your blood flows fast: pray ye withdraw.

Mass. O Jugurth, I cannot bleed too fast, too much,
For that so great, so just, so royal Carthage!
My wound smarts not, blood’s loss makes me not faint,
For that loved city. O nephew, let me tell thee,
How good that Carthage is: it nourish’d me,
And when full time gave me fit strength for love,
The most adorÈd creature of the city,
To us before great Syphax did they yield,— 10
Fair, noble, modest, and ’bove all, my [own],
My Sophonisba! O Jugurth, my strength doubles:
I know not how to turn a coward,—drop
In feeble baseness I cannot. Give me horse!
Know I’m Carthage’ very creature, and am grac’d
That I may bleed for them. Give me fresh horse!

Jug. He that doth public good for multitude,
Finds few are truly grateful.

Mass. O Jugurth! fie! you must not say so. Jugurth,
Some[330] common-weals may let a noble heart 20
Even bleed to death abroad, and not bemoan’d,
Neither revenged, at home. But, Carthage, fie!
It cannot be ungrate, faithless through fear:
It cannot, Jugurth: Sophonisba’s there.
Beat a fresh charge!

Enter Asdrubal, his sword drawn, reading a letter; Gisco follows him.

Asd. Sound the retreat; respect your health, brave prince;
The waste of blood throws paleness on your face.

Mass. By light, my heart’s not pale: O my loved father,
We bleed for Carthage; balsam to my wounds,
We bleed for Carthage; shall’s restore the fight? 30
My squadron of Massulians yet stands firm.

Asd. The day looks off from Carthage; cease alarms!
A modest temperance is the life of arms.
Take our best surgeon Gisco; he is sent
From Carthage to attend your chance of war.

Gis. We promise sudden ease.

Mass. Thy comfort’s good.

Asd. —That nothing can secure us but thy blood!
Infuse it in his wound, ’twill work amain.

Gis. —O Jove!

Asd. —What Jove? thy god must be thy gain,—
And as for me——Apollo Pythian, 40
Thou know’st a statist[331] must not be a man.

[Exit Asdrubal.

Enter Gelosso disguised like an old soldier, delivering to Massinissa (as he is preparing to be dressed by Gisco) a letter, which Massinissa reading, starts, and speaks to Gisco.

Mass. Forbear; how art thou call’d?

Gis. Gisco, my lord.

Mass. Um, Gisco. Ha! touch not my arm.—[To Gelosso.] Most only man!—
[To Gisco.] Sirra, sirra, art poor?

Gis. Not poor.Mass. Nephew, command

[Massinissa begins to draw.

Our troops of horse make indisgraced retreat;
Trot easy off.—Not poor!—Jugurth, give charge
My soldiers stand in square battalia,

[Exit Jugurth.

Entirely of themselves.—Gisco, th’ art old;
’Tis time to leave off murder; thy faint breath
Scarce heaves thy ribs, thy gummy blood-shut eyes 50
Are sunk a great way in thee, thy lank skin
Slides from thy fleshless veins: be good to men.
Judge him, ye gods: I had not life to kill
So base a creature. Hold, Gisco, live;
The god-like part of kings is to forgive.

Gis. Command astonish’d Gisco.

Mass. No, return.
Haste unto Carthage, quit thy abject fears,
Massinissa knows no use of murderers.

[Exit Gisco.

Enter Jugurth, amazed, his sword drawn.

Speak, speak! let terror strike slaves mute,
Much danger makes great hearts most resolute. 60

Jug. Uncle, I fear foul arms; myself beheld
Syphax on high speed run his well-breath’d horse
Direct to Cirta, that most beauteous city
Of all his kingdom; whilst his troops of horse,
With careless trot, pace gently toward our camp,
As friends to Carthage. Stand on guard, dear uncle;
For Asdrubal, with yet his well-rank’d army,
Bends a deep threat’ning brow to us, as if
He waited but to join with Syphax’ horse,
And hew us all to pieces. O my king, 70
My uncle, father, captain, O over all!
Stand like thyself, or like thyself now fall!
Thy troops yet hold good ground. Unworthy wounds,
Betray not Massinissa!

Mass. Jugurth, pluck,
Pluck! so, good coz.

Jug. O God! Do you not feel?

Mass. Not, Jugurth, no; now all my flesh is steel.

Gel. Off base disguise! high lights scorn not to view
A true old man. Up, Massinissa! throw
The lot of battle upon Syphax’ troops,
Before he join with Carthage; then amain 80
Make through to Scipio; he yields safe abodes:
Spare treachery, and strike the very gods.

Mass. Why wast thou born at Carthage! O my fate!
Divinest Sophonisba! I am full
Of much complaint, and many passions,
The least of which express’d would sad the gods,
And strike compassion in most[332] ruthless hell.
Up, unmaim’d heart, spend all thy grief and rage
Upon thy foe! the field’s a soldier’s stage,
On which his action shows. If you are just, 90
And hate those that contemn you, O you gods,
Revenge worthy your anger, your anger! O,
Down man, up heart! stoop Jove, and bend thy chin
To thy large breast; give sign th’art pleased, and just;
Swear good men’s foreheads must not print the dust.

[Exeunt.

[329] Armour for the throat.

[330] I follow the reading of ed. 2.—Ed. 1. gives:—

“Some common weales melt at a noble hart,
Too forward bleeds abrode and bleed bemond,
But not revengd at home.”

[331] Statesman.—The word is used by Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, &c.

[332] So ed. 1.—Ed. 2. “into ruthlesse hell.”

SCENE III.

Carthage.

Enter Asdrubal, Hanno, Bytheas.

Asd. What Carthage hath decreed, Hanno, is done;
Advanced and born was Asdrubal for state;
Only with it, his faith, his love, his hate,
Are of one piece. Were it my daughter’s life
That, fate hath sung, to Carthage safety brings,
What deed so red but hath been done by kings?
Iphigenia—He that’s a man for men,
Ambitious as a god, must, like a god,
Live free from passions; his full aim’d at end,
Immense to others, sole self to comprehend, 10
Round in’s own globe; not to be clasp’d, but holds
Within him all; his heart being of more folds
Than shield of Telamon, not to be pierc’d, though struck:
The god of wise men is themselves, not luck.

Enter Gisco.

See him by whom now Massinissa is not.
Gisco, is’t done?

Gis. Your pardon, worthy lord,
It is not done, my heart sunk in my breast,
His virtue mazed me, faintness seized me all:
Some god’s in kings, that will not let them fall. 19 Asd. His virtue mazed thee! (umh) why now I see
Th’art that just man that hath true touch of blood,
Of pity, and soft piety. Forgive?
Yes, honour thee; we did it but to try
What sense thou hadst of blood. Go, Bytheas,
Take him into our private treasury—
[Aside to Bytheas] And cut his throat; the slave hath all betray’d.

By. —Are you assured?

Asd. —Afear’d, for this I know,
Who thinketh to buy villainy with gold,
Shall ever find such faith so bought, so sold.—
Reward him thoroughly.

[A shout; the cornets giving a flourish.

Han. What means this shout? 30

Asd. Hanno, ’tis done. Syphax’ revolt by this
Hath secured Carthage; and now his force come in,
And join’d with us, give Massinissa charge,
And assured slaughter. O ye powers! forgive,
Through rotten’st dung best plants both sprout and live;
By blood[333] vines grow.

Han. But yet think, Asdrubal,
’Tis fit at least you bear grief’s outward show;
It is your kinsman bleeds. What need men know
Your hand is in his wounds? ’Tis well in state
To do close ill, but ’void a public hate. 40

Asd. Tush, Hanno! let me prosper, let routs prate;
My power shall force their silence or my hate.
I scorn their idle malice: men of weight
Know, he that fears envy let him cease to reign;
The people’s hate to some hath been their gain.
For howsoe’er a monarch feigns his parts,
Steal anything from kings but subjects’ hearts.

Enter Carthalon leading in bound Gelosso.

Car. Guard, guard the camp!—make to the trench!—stand firm!

Asd. The gods of boldness with us!—how runs chance?

Car. Think, think how wretched thou canst be, thou art; 50
Short words shall speak long woes.

Gel. Mark, Asdrubal.

Car. Our bloody plot to Massinissa’s ear
Untimely by this lord was all betrayed.

Gel. By me it was; by me, vile Asdrubal;
I joy to speak’t.

Asd. Down, slave!

Gel. I cannot fall.

Car. Our train’s disclosed, straight to his well-used arms
He took himself, rose up with all his force
On Syphax’ careless troops, Syphax being hurried
Before to Cirta, fearless of success,
Impatient Sophonisba to enjoy; 60
Gelosso rides to head of all our squadrons,
Commands make stand in thy name, Asdrubal,
In mine, in his, in all: they all obey;
Whilst Massinissa, now with more than fury,
Chargeth the loose and much-amazÈd ranks
Of absent Syphax, who with broken shout
(In vain expecting Carthage secondings)
Give faint repulse. A second charge is given:
Then look, as when a falcon towers aloft,
Whole shoals of fowl and flocks of lesser birds 70
Crouch fearfully, and dive; some among sedge,
Some creep in brakes: so Massinissa’s sword,
Brandish’d aloft, toss’d ’bout his shining casque,
Made stoop whole squadrons; quick as thought he strikes,
Here hurls he darts, and there his rage-strong arm
Fights foot to foot; here cries he “strike! they sink!”
And then grim slaughter follows; for by this,
As men betray’d, they curse us, die, or fly, or both;
Six thousand fell at once. Now was I come,
And straight perceived all bled by his vile plot. 80

Gel. Vile! Good plot! my good plot, Asdrubal!

Car. I forced our army beat a running march;
But Massinissa struck his spurs apace
Upon his speedy horse, leaves slaughtering;
All fly to Scipio, who with open ranks
In view receives them: all I could effect
Was but to gain him.

Asd. Die! Gel. Do what thou can,
Thou canst but kill a weak old honest man.

[Gelosso departs, guarded.

Car. Scipio and Massinissa by this strike
Their claspÈd palms, then vow an endless love; 90
Straight a joint shout they raise, then turn they breasts
Direct on us, march strongly toward our camp,
As if they dared us fight. O Asdrubal,
I fear they’ll force our camp.

Asd. Break up and fly.—
This was your plot.

Han. But ’twas thy shame to choose it.

Car. He that forbids not offence, he does it.

Asd. The curse of women’s words go with you.—Fly!—
You are no villains!—Gods and men, which way?—
Advise vile things!

Han. Vile?

Asd. Ay!

Car. Not?

By. You did all.

Asd. Did you not plot?

Car. Yielded not Asdrubal? 100

Asd. But you enticed me.

Han. How?

Asd. With hope of place.

Car. He that for wealth leaves faith, is abject.

Han. Base.

Asd. Do not provoke my sword; I live.

Car. More shame,
T’ outlive thy virtue and thy once great name.Asd. Upbraid ye me?

Han. Hold!

Car. Know that only thou
Art treacherous: thou shouldst have had a crown.

Han. Thou didst all, all; he for whom mischief’s done,
He does it.

Asd. Brook[334] open scorn, faint powers!—
Make good the camp!—No, fly!—yes, what?—wild rage!— 110
To be a prosperous villain! yet some heat, some hold;
But to burn temples, and yet freeze, O cold!
Give me some health; now your blood sinks: thus deeds
Ill nourish’d rot; without Jove nought succeeds.

[Exeunt.

[333] Marston may here be alluding to a passage in Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride:—“???a?t? d? p??e?? ?p? ?a?t????, p??te??? d? ??? ?p???? ?????, ??d? ?spe?d??, ?? f????? ?e???, ???? ?? a?a t?? p??e?s??t?? p?t? t??? ?e???, ?? ?? ????ta? pes??t?? ?a? t? ?? s?????t?? ?t????? ?e??s?a?· d?? ?a? t? e??e?? ??f???a? p??e? ?a? pa?ap???a? ?te d? t?? p??????? t?? a?at?? ?p?p?a?????.”

[334] So ed. 2.—Ed. 1. “Brode skorne oppen faind powers.”

ACT III.[335]

SCENE I.

The Palace of Syphax at Cirta.

Syphax, with his dagger twon[336] about her hair, drags in Sophonisba in her nightgown and petticoat; Zanthia and Vangue following.

Sy. Must we entreat? sue to such squeamish ears?
Know, Syphax has no knees, his eyes no tears;
EnragÈd love is senseless of remorse.
Thou shalt, thou must: kings’ glory is their force.
Thou art in Cirta, in my palace, fool:
Dost think he pitieth tears that knows to rule?
For all thy scornful eyes, thy proud disdain,
And late contempt of us, now we’ll revenge,
Break stubborn silence. Look, I’ll tack thy head
To the low earth, whilst strength of two black knaves 10
Thy limbs all wide shall strain. Prayer fitteth slaves,
Our courtship be our force: rest calm as sleep,
Else at this quake; hark, hark, we cannot weep.So. Can Sophonisba be enforc’d?

Sy. Can? see.

So. Thou mayest enforce my body, but not me.

Sy. Not?

So. No.

Sy. No?

So. No: off with thy loathÈd arms,
That lie more heavy on me than the chains
That wear deep wrinkles in the captive’s limbs!
I do beseech thee.

Sy. What?

So. Be but a beast,
Be but a beast.

Sy. Do not offend a power 20
Can make thee more than wretched: yield to him
To whom fate yields. Know, Massinissa’s dead.

So. Dead!

Sy. Dead.

So. To gods’ and[337] good men’s shame.

Sy. Help, Vangue, my strong blood boils.

So. O[338] yet save thine own fame.

Sy. All appetite is deaf; I will, I must.
Achilles’ armour could not bar[339] out lust.

So. Hold thy strong arm, and hear me. Syphax, know
I am thy servant now: I needs must love thee,
For (O, my sex, forgive!) I must confess
We not affect protesting feebleness, 30
Entreats, faint blushings, timorous modesty;
We think our lover is but little man,
Who is so full of woman. Know, fair Prince,
Love’s strongest arm’s not rude; for we still prove,
Without some fury there’s no ardent love.
We love our love’s impatience of delay;
Our noble[340] sex was only born t’obey,
To him that dares command.

Sy. Why, this is well;
Th’ excuse is good: wipe thy fair eyes, our Queen,
Make proud thy head; now feel more friendly strength
Of thy lord’s arm: come, touch my rougher skin 41
With thy soft lip. Zanthia, dress our bed.
Forget old loves, and clip him that through blood
And hell acquires his wish; think not but kiss,
The flourish fore love’s fight and[341] Venus’ bliss.

So. Great dreadful lord, by thy affection,
Grant me one boon. Know I have made a vow—

Sy. Vow! what vow? speak.

So. Nay, if you take offence,
Let my soul suffer first, and yet——

Sy. Offence?
Not, Sophonisba; hold, thy vow is free 50
As——come, thy lips!

So. Alas, cross misery!
As I do wish to live, I long t’enjoy
Your warm embrace; but, oh my vow, ’tis thus:
If ever my lord died, I vow’d to him
A most, most private sacrifice, before
I touch’d a second spouse. All I implore,
Is but this liberty.

Sy. This? go, obtain.
What time?

So. One hour.

Sy. Sweet, good speed, speed, adieu!—
Yet, Syphax, trust no more than thou may’st view.—
Vangue shall stay.

So. He stays.

Enter a Page, delivering a letter to Sophonisba, which she privately reads.

Sy. Zanthia, Zanthia! 60
Thou art not foul, go to; some lords are oft
So much in love with their known ladies’ bodies,
That they oft love their—Vails:[342] hold, hold, thou’st find
To faithful care kings’ bounty hath no shore.

Zan. You may do much.

Sy. But let my gold do more.

Zan. I am your creature.

Sy. Be yet;[343] ’tis no stain;
The god of service is however gain.

[Exit.

So. Zanthia, where are we now? speak worth my service;
Ha’ we done well? Zan. Nay, in height of best
I fear’d a superstitious virtue would spoil all, 70
But now I find you above women rare.
She that can time her goodness hath true care
Of her best good. Nature at home begins;
She, whose integrity herself hurts, sins.
For Massinissa, he was good, and so;
But he is dead, or worse, distress’d, or more
Than dead, or much distress’d. O sad, poor,—
Who ever held such friends? no, let him go;
Such faith is praised, then laugh’d at; for still know
Those are the living women that reduce 80
All that they touch unto their ease and use,
Knowing that wedlock, virtue, or good names,
Are courses and varieties of reason,
To use or leave, as they advantage them,
And absolute within themselves reposed,
Only to greatness ope, to all else closed.
Weak sanguine fools are to their own good nice;
Before I held you virtuous, but now wise.

So. Zanthia, victorious Massinissa lives,
My Massinissa lives. O steady powers, 90
Keep him as safe as heaven keeps the earth,
Which looks upon it with a thousand eyes!
That honest valiant man! and Zanthia,
Do but record the justice of his love,
And my for ever vows, for ever vows!

Zan. Ay, true madam; nay, think of his great mind,
His most just heart, his all of excellence,
And such a virtue as the gods might envy.
Against this, Syphax, is but——and you know,
Fame lost, what can be got that’s good for——

So. Hence! 100
Take, nay, with one hand.

Zan. My service.

So. Prepare
Our sacrifice.

Zan. But yield you, ay or no?

So. When thou dost know.

Zan. What then?

So. Then thou wilt know.

[Exit Zanthia.

Let him that would have counsel ’void th’ advice
Of friends, made his with weighty benefits,
Whose much dependence only strives to fit
Humour, not reason, and so still devise
In any thought to make their friend seem wise.
But above all, O fear a servant’s tongue,
Like such as only for their gain do[344] serve. 110
Within the vast capacity of space,[345]
I know no vileness so most truly base.
Their lord’s their gain; and he that most will give,
With him (they will not die, but) they will live.
Traitors and these are one; such slaves once trust,
Whet swords to make thine own blood lick the dust.

Cornets and organs playing full music, enter under the conduct of Zanthia and Vangue, the solemnity of a sacrifice; which being entered, whilst the attendants furnish the altar, Sophonisba sings a song; which done, she speaks.

Withdraw, withdraw; all but Zanthia and Vangue depart.—

[Exeunt attendants.

I not invoke thy arm, thou god of sound,—
Nor thine, nor thine,—although in all abound
High powers immense. But jovial Mercury, 120
And thou, O brightest female of the sky,
Thrice-modest Phoebe, you that jointly fit
A worthy chastity and a most chaste wit,
To you corruptless honey and pure dew
Upbreathes our holy fire; words just and few,
O deign to hear! if in poor wretches’ cries
You glory not; if drops of withered eyes
Be not your sport, be just; all that I crave
Is but chaste life, or an untainted grave.
I can no more; yet hath my constant tongue 130
Let fall no weakness, tho’ my heart were wrung
With pangs worth hell; whilst great thoughts stop our tears,
Sorrow unseen, unpitied, inward wears:
You see now where I rest, come is my end.
Cannot Heaven virtue ’gainst weak chance defend?
When weakness hath out-borne what weakness can,—
What should I say?—’tis Jove’s, not sin of man.
—Some stratagem now! let wit’s God be shown,
Celestial powers by miracles are known.
I have’t; ’tis done.—Zanthia, prepare our bed. 140
Vangue!Van. Your servant.

So. Vangue, we have perform’d
Due rites unto the dead.

[Sophonisba presents a carouse to Vangue.

Now to thy lord, great Syphax, healthful cups,
Which done, the king is right much welcome.

Van. Were it as deep as thought, off it should thus.

[He drinks.

So. My safety with that draught.

Van. Close the vault’s mouth lest we do slip in drink.

So. To what use, gentle negro, serves this cave,
Whose mouth thus opens so familiarly,
Even in the king’s bedchamber?

Van. O, my queen, 150
This vault with hideous darkness, and much length,
Stretcheth beneath the earth into a grove,
One league from Cirta (I am very sleepy);
Through this, when Cirta hath been strong begirt,
With hostile siege the king hath safely ’scaped
To, to——

So. The wine is strong.

Van. Strong?

So. Zanthia!

Zan. What means my princess?

So. Zanthia, rest firm
And silent. Help us; nay, do not dare refuse.

Zan. The negro’s dead!

So. No, drunk.

Zan. Alas!

So. Too late!
Her hand is fearful whose mind’s desperate. 160
It is but sleepy opium he hath drunk.
Help, Zanthia!

[They lay Vangue in Syphax’ bed and draw the curtains.

There lie Syphax’ bride; a naked man is soon undress’d;
There bide dishonoured passion.

[They knock within, forthwith Syphax comes.

Sy. Way for the king!

So. Straight for the king. I fly
Where misery shall see nought but itself.
Dear Zanthia, close the vault when I am sunk,
And whilst he slips to bed, escape; be true;
I can no more; come to me. Hark, gods, my breath
Scorns to crave life, grant but a well-famed death. 170

[She descends.

Enter Syphax, ready for bed, with attendants.

Sy. Each man withdraw, let not a creature stay
Within large distance.

Zan. Sir!

Sy. Hence, Zanthia!
Not thou shalt hear; all stand without ear-reach
Of the soft cries nice shrinking brides do yield,
When——

Zan. But, sir——

Sy. Hence!—stay, take thy delight by steps,
Think of thy joys, and make long thy pleasures.
O silence, thou dost swallow pleasure right;
Words take away some sense from our delight.
Music! 180
Be proud, my Venus; Mercury, thy tongue;
Cupid, thy flame; ’bove all, O Hercules,
Let not thy back be wanting; for now I leap
To catch the fruit none but the gods should reap.

[Offering to leap into bed, he discovers Vangue.

Hah! can any woman turn to such a devil?
Or—or—Vangue, Vangue——

Van. Yes, yes.

Sy. Speak, slave!
How camest thou here?

Van. Here?

Sy. Zanthia, Zanthia!
Where’s Sophonisba? speak at full—at full.
Give me particular faith, or know thou art not——

Zan. Your pardon, just-moved prince, and private ear. 190

Sy. Ill actions have some grace, that they can fear.

Van. How came I laid? which way was I made drunk?
Where am I? think I, or is my state advanced?
O Jove, how pleasant is it but to sleep,
In a king’s bed!

Sy. Sleep there thy lasting sleep,
Improvident, base, o’er-thirsty slave.

[Syphax kills Vangue.

Die pleased, a king’s couch is thy too-proud grave.—
Through this vault say’st thou?

Zan. As you give me grace
To live, ’tis true. Sy. We will be good to Zanthia;
Go, cheer thy lady, and be private to us. 200

Zan. As to my life.

[She descends after Sophonisba.

Sy. I’ll use this Zanthia,
And trust her as our dogs drink dangerous Nile[346]
(Only for thirst), that[347] fly the crocodile.
Wise Sophonisba knows love’s tricks of art:
Without much hindrance pleasure hath no heart.
Despite all virtue or weak plots I must:
Seven-wallÈd Babel cannot bar[348] out lust.

[Descends through the vault.

SCENE II.

Neighbourhood of Utica.

Enter Scipio and LÆlius, with the complements of Roman Generals before them. At the other door, Massinissa and Jugurth. Cornets sound marches.

Mass. Let not the virtue of the world suspect
Sad Massinissa’s faith; nor once condemn
Our just revolt. Carthage first gave me life;
Her ground gave food, her air first lent me breath:
The earth was made for men, not men for earth.
Scipio, I do not thank the gods for life,
Much less vile men, or earth; know, best of lords,
It is a happy being, breath well famed,
For which Jove sees these thus.[349] Men, be not fool’d
With piety to place, tradition’s fear; 10
A just man’s country Jove makes everywhere.

Sci. Well urgeth Massinissa; but to leave
A city so ingrate, so faithless, so more vile
Than civil speech can name, fear not; such vice
To scourge is Heaven’s grateful sacrifice.
Thus all confess, first they have broke a faith
To the[e] most due, so just to be observed,
That barbarousness itself may well blush at them:
Where is thy passion? They have shared thy crown,
The proper right of birth, contrived thy death: 20
Where is thy passion? Given thy beauteous spouse
To thy most hated rival. Statue, not man!
And last, thy friend Gelosso (man worth gods)
With tortures have they rent to death.

Mass. O Gelosso!
For thee full eyes——

Sci. No passion for the rest?

Mass. O Scipio,
My grief for him may be expressed by tears,
But for the rest, silence, and secret anguish
Shall waste—shall waste! Scipio, he that can weep,
Grieves not, like me, private deep inward drops 30
Of blood. My heart! for god’s right give me leave
To be a short time man.

Sci. Stay, prince. Mass. I cease;
Forgive if I forget thy presence. Scipio,
Thy face makes Massinissa more than man,
And here before your steady power a vow
As firm as fate I make: when I desist
To be commanded by thy virtue, Scipio,
Or fall from friend of Rome,[350] revenging gods
Afflict me with[351] your torture. I have given
Of passion and of faith, my heart.

Sci. To counsel then; 40
Grief fits weak hearts, revenging virtue men.
Thus I think fit, before that Syphax know
How deeply Carthage sinks, let’s beat swift march
Up even to Cirta, and whilst Syphax snores
With his, late thine——

Mass. With mine! no, Scipio;
Libya hath poison, asps, knives, and too much earth
To make one grave. With mine! Not; she can die.
Scipio, with mine! Jove, say it, thou dost lie.

Sci. Temperance be Scipio’s honour.

LÆ. Cease your strife,
She is a woman.

Mass. But she is my wife. 50

LÆ. And yet she is no god.

Mass. And yet she’s more:
I do not praise gods’ goodness, but adore;
Gods cannot fall, and for their constant goodness
(Which is necessited) they have a crown
Of never-ending pleasures; but faint man
(Framed to have his weakness made the heavens’ glory),
If he with steady virtue holds all siege
That power, that speech, that pleasure, that full sweets,
A world of greatness can assail him with,
Having no pay but self-wept misery, 60
A[352] beggar’s treasure-heap,—that man I’ll praise
Above the gods.

Sci. The Libyan speaks bold sense.

Mass. By that by which all is, proportion,
I speak with thought.

Sci. No more.

Mass. Forgive my admiration:
You touch’d a string to which my sense was quick.
Can you but think? Do, do; my grief—my grief—
Would make a saint blaspheme! Give some relief;
As thou art Scipio, forgive that I forget
I am a soldier. Such woes Jove’s ribs would burst:
Few speak less ill that feel so much of worst.— 70
My ear attends.

Sci. Before then Syphax join,
With new-strength’d Carthage, or can once unwind
His tangled sense from out so wild[353] amaze,
Fall we like sudden lightning ’fore his eyes:
Boldness and speed are all of victories.

Mass. Scipio, let Massinissa clip thy knees!
May once these eyes view Syphax? shall this arm
Once make him feel his sin? O ye gods!
My cause, my cause! Justice is so huge odds,
That he who with it fears, heaven must renounce 80
In his creation.

Sci. Beat then a close quick march!
Before the morn shall shake cold dews through skies,
Syphax shall tremble at Rome’s thick alarms.

Mass. Ye powers, I challenge conquest to just arms.

[With a full flourish of cornets, they depart.

ACT IV.[354]

SCENE I.

Near Cirta.

Enter Sophonisba and Zanthia, as out of a cave’s mouth.

So. Where are we, Zanthia?

Zan. Vangue said the cave
Opened in Belos’ forest.

So. Lord, how sweet
I scent the air! The huge long vault’s close vein,
What damps[355] it breath’d! In Belos’ forest, say’st?
Be valiant, Zanthia; how far’s Utica
From these most heavy shades?

Zan. Ten easy leagues.

So. There’s Massinissa: my true Zanthia,
Shall’s venture nobly to escape, and touch
My lord’s just arms? Love’s wings so nimbly[356] heave
The body up, that, as our toes shall trip 10
Over the tender and obedient grass,
Scarce any drop of dew is dash’d to ground.
And see the willing shade of friendly night
Makes safe our instant haste! Boldness and speed
Make actions most impossible succeed.

Zan. But, madam, know the forest hath no way
But one to pass, the which holds strictest guard.

So. Do not betray me, Zanthia.

Zan. I, madam?

So. No,
I not mistrust thee, yet—but——

Zan. Here you may 20
Delay your time.

So. Ay, Zanthia, delay,
By which we may yet hope—yet hope—alas!
How all benumb’d’s my sense! Chance hath so often struck
I scarce can feel. I should now curse the gods,
Call on the furies, stamp the patient earth.
Cleave my stretch’d cheeks with sound, speak from all sense,
But loud and full of players’ eloquence.
No, no; what shall we eat?

Zan. Madam, I’ll search
For some ripe nuts which autumn hath shook down
From the unleaved hazel, then some cooler air 30
Shall lead me to a spring. Or I will try
The courteous pale[357] of some poor foresters
For milk.

So. Do, Zanthia. O happiness

[Exit Zanthia. Of those that know not pride or lust of city!
There’s no man bless’d but those that most men pity.
O fortunate poor maids, that are not forced
To wed for state, nor are for state divorced!
Whom policy of kingdoms doth not marry,
But pure affection makes to love or vary;
You feel no love which you dare not to show, 40
Nor show a love which doth not truly grow!
O you are surely blessÈd of the sky!
You live, that know not death before you die.

[Through the vaut’s[358] mouth, in his nightgown, torch in his hand, Syphax Enters just behind Sophonisba.

You are——

Sy. In Syphax’ arms. Thing of false lip,
What god shall now release thee?

So. Art a man?

Sy. Thy limbs shall feel. Despite thy virtue, know
I’ll thread thy richest pearl. This forest’s deaf
As is my lust. Night and the god of silence
Swells my full pleasures; no more shalt thou delude
My easy credence. Virgin of fair brow, 50
Well-featured creature, and our utmost wonder,
Queen of our youthful bed, be proud.

[Syphax setteth away his light, and prepareth to embrace Sophonisba.

I’ll use thee.

[Sophonisba snatcheth out her knife. So. Look thee—view this—show but one strain of force,
Bow but to seize this arm, and by myself,
Or more, by Massinissa, this good steel
Shall set my soul on wing. Thus, form’d gods, see,
And, men with gods’ worth, envy nought but me!

Sy. Do, strike thy breast; know, being dead, I’ll use,
With highest lust of sense, thy senseless flesh,
And even then thy vexÈd soul shall see, 60
Without resistance, thy trunk prostitute
Unto our appetite.

So. I shame to make thee know
How vile thou speakest; corruption then as much
As thou shalt do; but frame unto thy lusts
Imagination’s utmost sin: Syphax,
I speak all frightless, know I live or die
To Massinissa; nor the force of fate
Shall make me leave his love, or slake thy hate.
I will speak no more.

Sy. Thou hast amazed us: woman’s forcÈd use, 70
Like unripe fruits, no sooner got but waste;
They have proportion, colour, but no taste.—
[aside.] Think, Syphax.—Sophonisba, rest thine own.
Our guard!

Enter a guard.

Creature of most astonishing virtue,
If with fair usage, love, and passionate courtings,
We may obtain the heaven of thy bed,
We cease no suit; from other force be free:
We dote not on thy body, but love thee.

So. Wilt thou keep faith?

Sy. By thee, and by that power 80
By which thou art thus glorious, trust my vow.
Our guard convey the royal’st excellence
That ever was call’d woman to our palace:
Observe her with strict care.

So. Dread Syphax, speak!
As thou art worthy, is not Zanthia false?

Sy. To thee she is.

So. As thou art then thyself,
Let her not be.

Sy. She is not!

[The guard seizeth Zanthia.

Za. Thus most speed:
When two foes are grown friends, partakers bleed.

Sy. When plants must flourish, their manure must rot.

So. Syphax, be recompensed, I hate thee not. 90

[Exeunt Sophonisba, Zanthia, and guard.

Sy. A wasting flame feeds on my amorous blood,
Which we must cool, or die. What way all power,
All speech, full opportunity, can make,
We have made fruitless trial. Infernal Jove,
You resolute angels that delight in flames,
To you, all-wonder-working spirits, I fly!
Since heaven helps not, deepest hell we’ll try
Here in this desert, the great soul of charms,
Dreadful Erictho lives, whose dismal brow
Contemns all roofs or civil coverture. 100
Forsaken graves and tombs, the ghosts forced out,
She joys to inhabit.
A loathsome yellow leanness spreads her face,
A heavy hell-like paleness loads her cheeks,
Unknown to a clear heaven; but if dark winds
Or thick black clouds drive back the blinded stars,
When her deep magic makes forced heaven quake
And thunder spite of Jove,—Erictho then
From naked graves stalks out, heaves proud her head
With long unkemb’d hair loaden, and strives to snatch 110
The night’s quick sulphur; then she bursts up tombs,
From half-rot sear-cloths then she scrapes dry gums
For her black rites; but when she finds a corpse
But[359] newly graved, whose entrails are not turn’d
To slimy filth, with greedy havock then
She makes fierce spoil, and swells with wicked triumph
To bury her lean knuckles in his eyes;
Then doth she gnaw the pale and o’ergrown nails
From his dry hand; but if she find some life
Yet lurking close, she bites his gelid[360] lips, 120
And, sticking her black tongue in his dry throat,
She breathes dire murmurs, which enforce him bear
Her baneful secrets to the spirits of horror.
To her first sound the gods yield any harm,
As trembling once to hear a second charm:
She is——

Infernal music plays softly whilst Erictho enters, and, when she speaks, ceaseth.

Eri. Here, Syphax, here; quake not, for know
I know thy thoughts: thou wouldst entreat our power
Nice Sophonisba’s passion to enforce
To thy affection, be all full of Jove.[361]
’Tis done, ’tis done; to us heaven, earth, sea, air, 130
And Fate itself obeys; the beasts[362] of death,
And all the terrors angry gods invented
(T’afflict the ignorance of patient man),
Tremble at us; the roll’d-up snake uncurls[363]
His twisted knots at our affrighting voice.
Are we incensed? the king of flames[364] grows pale,
Lest he be chok’d with black and earthy fumes,
Which our charms raise. Be joy’d, make proud thy lust:
I do not pray you, gods; my breath’s, “You must.”

Sy. Deep knowing spirit, mother of all high 140
Mysterious science, what may Syphax yield
Worthy thy art, by which my soul’s thus eased?
The gods first made me live, but thou live pleased.

Eri. Know then, our love, hard by the reverent[365] ruins
Of a once glorious temple rear’d to Jove,
Whose very rubbish (like the pitied fall
Of virtue most unfortunate) yet bears
A deathless majesty, though now quite rased,
Hurl’d down by wrath and lust of impious kings,
So that, where holy flamens wont to sing 150
Sweet hymns to heaven, there the daw and crow,
The ill-voiced raven, and still-chattering pie,
Send out ungrateful sounds and loathsome filth;
Where statues and Jove’s acts were vively limn’d[366]
Boys with black coals draw the veil’d parts of nature,
And lecherous actions of imagin’d lust;
Where tombs and beauteous urns of well-dead men
Stood in assurÈd rest, the shepherd now
Unloads his belly, corruption most abhorr’d
Mingling itself with their renownÈd ashes: 160
Ourself quakes at it!
There once a charnel-house, now a vast cave,
Over whose brow a pale and untrod grove
Throws out her heavy shade, the mouth thick arms
Of darksome yew (sun-proof) for ever choke;
Within rests barren darkness; fruitless drought
Pines in eternal night; the steam of hell
Yields not so lazy air: there, that’s my cell;
From thence a charm, which Jove dare not hear twice,
Shall force her to thy bed. But, Syphax, know, 170
Love is the highest rebel to our art:
Therefore I charge thee, by the fear of all
Which thou know’st dreadful, or more, by ourself,
As with swift haste she passeth to thy bed,
And easy to thy wishes yields, speak not one word,
Nor dare, as thou dost fear thy loss of joys,
T’admit one light, one light.

Sy. As to my fate
I yield my guidance.

Eri. Then, when I shall force
The air to music, and the shades of night
To form sweet sounds, make proud thy raised delight:
Meantime, behold, I go a charm to rear, 181
Whose potent sound will force ourself to fear.

Sy. Whither is Syphax heaved? at length shall’s joy
Hopes more desired than heaven? Sweet labouring earth,
Let heaven be unform’d with mighty charms;
Let Sophonisba only fill these arms,
Jove we’ll not envy thee. Blood’s appetite
Is Syphax’ god; my wisdom is my sense,
Without[367] a man I hold no excellence.
Give me long breath, young beds, and sickness’ ease;
For we hold firm, that’s lawful which doth please. 191

Infernal music, softly.

Hark! hark! now rise infernal tones,
The deep-fetch’d groans
Of labouring spirits that attend
Erictho.
Erictho!

[within.

Now crack the trembling earth, and send
Shrieks that portend
Affrightment to the gods which hear
Erictho.
Erictho!

[within.

A treble viol, a base lute, &c., play softly within the canopy.

Hark! hark! now softer melody strikes mute
Disquiet Nature. O thou power of sound,
How thou dost melt me! Hark! now even heaven
Gives up his soul amongst us. Now’s the time
When greedy expectation strains mine eyes
For their loved object; now Erictho will’d
Prepare my appetite for love’s strict gripes.
O you dear founts of pleasure, blood, and beauty,
Raise active Venus worth fruition 210
Of such provoking sweetness. Hark, she comes!

A short song to soft music above.

Now nuptial hymns enforcÈd spirits sing.
Hark, Syphax, hark! Now hell and heaven rings.

CANTANT.

With music spite of Phoebus. Peace! She comes!

Enter Erictho in the shape of Sophonisba, her face veiled, and hasteth in the bed of Syphax.

Fury of blood’s impatient! Erictho,
’Bove thunder sit: to thee, egregious soul,
Let all flesh bend. Sophonisba, thy flame
But equal mine, and we’ll joy such delight,
That gods shall not admire, but even spite!

[Syphax hasteneth within the canopy, as to Sophonisba’s bed.

[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.