Act 1 — ACT I.
Reading edition
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.
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!
[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.