Act 5 — ACT V.[368]

ACT V.[368]

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.

SCENE II.

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.

Sy. Well urged.

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.

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!

Mass. To her what’s Carthage?

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.

SCENE IV.

Neighbourhood of Cirta.

Cornets a march. Enter Scipio in full state, triumphal ornaments carried before him, and Syphax bound; at the other door, Lælius.

Sci. What answers Massinissa? Will he send That Sophonisba of so moving tongue?[386]

Læ. Full of dismay’d unsteadiness he stood, His right hand lock’d in hers, which hand he gave As pledge for Rome she[387] ever should live free. But when I enter’d and well urged this vow And thy command, his great heart sunk with shame, His eyes lost spirit, and his heat of life Sank from his face, as one that stood benumb’d, All mazed, t’effect impossibilities; 10 For either unto her or Scipio He must break vow. Long time he toss’d his thoughts; And as you see a snow-ball being roll’d, At first a handful, yet, long bowl’d about, Insensibly acquires a mighty globe,— So his cold grief through agitation grows, And more he thinks, the more of grief he knows. At last he seem’d to yield her.

Sy. Mark, Scipio! Trust him that breaks a vow?

Sci. How then trust thee? 19

Sy. O, misdoubt him not, when he’s thy slave like me.

Enter Massinissa, all in black.

Mass. Scipio!

Sci. Massinissa!

Mass. General!

Sci. King!

Mass. Lives there no mercy for one soul of Carthage, But must see baseness?

Sci. Wouldst thou joy thy peace, Deliver Sophonisba straight and cease; Do not grasp that which is too hot to hold. We grace thy grief, and hold it with soft sense; Enjoy good courage, but ’void insolence. I tell thee Rome and Scipio deign to bear So low a breast as for her say—we fear.

Mass. Do not, do not; let not the fright of nations 30 Know so vile terms. She rests at thy dispose.

Sy. To my soul[’s] joy. Shall Sophonisba then With me go bound, and wait on Scipio’s wheel? When th’ whole world’s giddy, one man cannot reel.

Mass. Starve thy lean hopes; and, Romans, now behold A sight would sad the gods, make Phœbus cold.

Organ and recorders play to a single voice. Enter in the meantime the mournful solemnity of Massinissa’s presenting Sophonisba’s body.

Look, Scipio, see what hard shift we make To keep our vows. Here, take, I yield her thee; And Sophonisba, I keep vow, thou’rt still free.

Sy. Burst, my vex’d heart: the torture that most racks 40 An enemy is his foe’s royal acts.

Sci. The glory of thy virtue live for ever; Brave hearts may be obscured, but extinct never.

[Scipio adorns Massinissa.

Take from the general of Rome this crown, This robe of triumph, and this conquest’s wreath, This sceptre and this hand; for ever breathe Rome’s very minion. Live worth thy fame, As far from faintings as from now base name.

Mass. Thou whom, like sparkling steel, the strokes of chance Made hard and firm, and, like[388] wild-fire turn’d, 50 The more cold fate, the more thy virtue burn’d, And in whole seas of miseries didst flame; On thee, loved creature of a deathless fame,

[Massinissa adorns Sophonisba.

Rest all my honour! O thou for whom I drink So deep of grief, that he must only think, Not dare to speak, that would express my woe; Small rivers murmur, deep gulfs silent flow. My grief is here,[389] not here: heave gently then, Women’s right wonder, and just shame of men.

[Exeunt all but Massinissa.

Cornets a short flourish.

EPILOGUS.

Mass. And[390] now With lighter passion, though with most just fear, I change my person, and do hither bear Another’s voice, who with a phrase as weak As his deserts, now will’d me (thus form’d[391]) speak: If words well sensed, best suiting subject grave, Noble true story, may once boldly crave Acceptance gracious; if he whose fires Envy not others, nor himself admires; If scenes exempt from ribaldry or rage 10 Of taxings indiscreet, may please the stage;— If such may hope applause, he not commands, Yet craves as due the justice of your hands. But freely he protests, howe’er it is— Or well, or ill, or much, not much amiss— With constant modesty he does submit To all, save those that have more tongue than wit.[392]