[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:_--"êrxanto de pinein apo Psammêtichou, proteron

d' ouk epinon oinon, oude espendon, hôs philion theois, all' hôs

haima tôn polemêsantôn pote tois theois, ex hôn oiontai pesontôn

kai tê gê symmigentôn ampelous genesthai; dio kai to methyein

ekphronas poiei kai paraplêgas hate dê tôn progonôn tou haimatos

empiplamenous."

[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._

[335] In the old eds. is the direction--"_Organ mixt with

recorders for this Act_."

[336] So ed. 1.--Ed. 2. "_twound_."

[337] Ed. 1. "of good men shame."

[338] Ed. 1. "O save thine owne (yet) fame."

[339] Old eds. "beare."

[340] Quy. "feeble"?

[341] Ed. 1. "is."

[342] Old eds. "That they oft love their vailes; hold," &c.--If

the text is not corrupt, we must suppose that a sentence breaks

off at the word "their." Marston is fond of employing the horrid

figure _aposiopesis_. "Vails" is intelligible on the supposition

that Syphax is feeing the waiting-woman.

[343] Old eds. "get."

[344] Old eds. "to."

[345] Old eds. "place."

[346] Dogs on the banks of the Nile were supposed to drink by

snatches, running, from fear of the crocodiles.--(Aelian, _Var.

Hist._ i. 4.)

[347] Old eds. "Only for thirst; the Flie," &c.

[348] Old eds. "bear" and "beare."

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._

[349] The text is corrupt.--"Sees _me_ thus" (_i.e._, see me

grateful), "sees the thus" (_i.e._, incense), and "sees this use"

(_i.e._, interest of thanks) are alike unsatisfactory.

[350] Old eds. "Romes."

[351] Old eds. "worth."

[352] Old eds. "And beggars treasure heapt."

[353] Ed. 2. "vilde."

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._ 200

_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.

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 Phoebus, all add if you can

Something unto my misery! if aught

Of plagues lurk in your deep-trench'd brows,

Which yet I know not,--let them fall like bolts,

Which wrathful Jove drives strong into my bosom!

If any chance of war, or news ill-voiced,

Mischief unthought of lurk, come, give't us all,

Heap curse on curse, we can no lower fall! 40

[_Out of the altar the ghost of_ ASDRUBAL _ariseth_.

_Asd._ Lower--lower!

_Sy._ What damn'd air is form'd

Into that shape? Speak, speak, we cannot quake!

Our flesh knows not ignoble tremblings. Speak!

We dare thy terror. Methinks hell and fate

Should dread a soul with woes made desperate.

_Asd._ Know me the spirit of great Asdrubal,

Father to Sophonisba, whose bad heart

Made justly most unfortunate; for know,

I turn'd unfaithful, after that[372] the field

Chanced to our loss, when of thy men there fell 50

Six thousand souls, next fight of Libyans ten.

After which loss we unto Carthage flying,

Th' enragèd people cried their army fell

Through my base treason. Straight my revengeful Furies[373]

Makes them pursue me; I with resolute haste

Made to the grave of all our ancestors,

Where poisoned, hoped my bones should have long rest:

But see, the violent multitude arrives,

Tear down our monument, and me now dead

Deny a grave; hurl us among the rocks 60

To staunch beasts' hunger; therefore thus ungraved

I seek slow rest. Now dost thou know more woes,

And more must feel. Mortals, O fear to slight

Your gods and vows. Jove's arm is of dread might.

_Sy._ Yet speak: shall I o'ercome approaching foes?

_Asd._ Spirits of wrath know nothing but their woes.

[_Exit._

_Enter_ NUNTIUS.

_Nun._ My liege, my liege,

The scouts of Cirta bring intelligence

Of sudden danger; full ten thousand horse,

Fresh and well-rid, strong Massinissa leads, 70

As wings to Roman legions that march swift,

Led by that man of conquest, Scipio.

_Sy._ Scipio?

_Nun._ Direct to Cirta.

[_A march far off is heard._

Hark! their march is heard even to the city.

_Sy._ Help! our guard! my arms!

Bid all our leaders march! beat thick alarms!

I have seen things which thou wouldst quake to hear.

Boldness and strength! the shame of slaves be fear.

Up, heart, hold sword! though waves roll thee on shelf,

Though fortune leave thee, leave not thou thyself! 81

[_Exit, arming._

[368] In old eds. is the direction--"_A Base Lute and a Treble

Violl play for the Act_."

[369] "Mere ignorant"--utterly ignorant. Old eds. "_more_

ignorant."

[370] Old eds. "dam'd."

[371] Old eds. "beings."

[372] Old eds. "which."

[373] Old eds. "fury."

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._

[374] Ed. 1. "t'appose."

[375] Ed. 1. "that neuer fell nor's adue."

[376] So Mezentius in the _Æneid_, x. 772:--"Dextra mihi deus."

[377] Old eds. "_and as ready to kill him, speaks_ SYPHAX."

[378] Ed. 1. "Threw mouing claspt."--Ed. 2. "There mouing

claspt."

[379] Old eds. "new laugh'd."

[380] "Will him," &c.,--order him to give up. Ed. 2. "will give

him up."

[381] Perhaps we should read--

"She is a Carthaginian, 'neath our laws.

Wise men," &c.

SCENE III.

_Cirta._

_Cornets afar off sounding a charge. A soldier wounded at one door.

Enter at the other_ SOPHONISBA, _two Pages before her with

lights, two women bearing up her train_.

_Sol._ Princess, O fly! Syphax hath lost the day,

And captived lies. The Roman legions

Have seiz'd the town, and with inveterate hate

Make slaves, or murder all. Fire and steel,

Fury and night, hold all. Fair Queen, O fly!

We bleed for Carthage, all for[382] Carthage die!

[_Exit._

_Cornets sounding a march. Enter Pages with javelins and targets._

MASSINISSA _and_ JUGURTH; MASSINISSA'S _beaver shut_.

_Mass._ March to the palace.

_So._ Whate'er man thou art,

Of Libya thy fair arms speak, give heart

To amazed weakness; hear her, that for long time

Hath seen no wishèd light. Sophonisba, 10

A name for misery much known, 'tis she

Entreats of thy graced sword this only boon:--

Let me not kneel to Rome; for though no cause

Of mine deserves their hate, though Massinissa

Be ours to heart, yet Roman generals

Make proud their triumphs with whatever captives.

O 'tis a nation which from soul I fear,

As one well knowing the much-grounded hate

They bear to Asdrubal and Carthage blood;

Therefore with tears that wash thy feet, with hands 20

Unused to beg, I clasp thy manly knees:

O save me from their fetters and contempt,

Their proud insults and more than insolence!

Or, if it rest not in thy grace of breath

To grant such freedom, give me long-wish'd death;

For 'tis not now loath'd life that we do crave,--

Only an unshamed death and silent grave,

We will now deign to bend for.

_Mass._ Rarity!

[MASSINISSA _disarms his head_.

By thee and this right hand, thou shalt live free!

_So._ We cannot now be wretched.

_Mass._ Stay the sword! 30

Let slaughter cease; sounds soft as Leda's breast

[_Soft music._

Slide through all ears. This night be love's high feast.

_So._ O'erwhelm me not with sweets; let me not drink

Till my breast burst, O Jove, thy nectar-skink.[383]

[_She sinks into_ MASSINISSA'S _arms_.

_Mass._ She is o'ercome with joy!

_So._ Help--help to bar[384]

Some happiness, ye powers! I have joy to spare,

Enough to make a god! O Massinissa!

_Mass._ Peace!

A silent thinking makes full joys increase!

_Enter_ LÆLIUS.

_Læ._ Massinissa!

_Mass._ Lælius!

_Læ._ Thine ear.

_Mass._ Stand off.

_Læ._ From Scipio thus: by thy late vow of faith, 40

And mutual league of endless amity,

As thou respects his virtue, or Rome's force,

Deliver Sophonisba to our hand.

_Mass._ Sophonisba?

_Læ._ Sophonisba.

_So._ My lord

Looks pale, and from his half-burst eyes a flame

Of deep disquiet breaks. The gods turn false

My sad presage!

_Mass._ Sophonisba?

_Læ._ Even she.

_Mass._ She kill'd not Scipio's father, nor his uncle,

Great Cneius.

_Læ._ Carthage did!

_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_.

[382] Ed. 1. "of."

[383] So ed. 2.--Ed. 1. "O Ioue thy Nectar, thinke."

("Nectar-skink"--draught of nectar.)

[384] Old eds. "beare," but the sense clearly requires "bar"

(pronounced "bear" to rhyme with "spare"). We have twice had the

word "bar" spelt "beare" earlier in the present play.

[385] Ed. 2. "struck."

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 Phoebus 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._

[386] Ed. 2. "tongues."

[387] Ed. 1. "he."

[388] Ed. 2. "like to wild fire." (As the line stands, "firm" is

equivalent to a dissyllable.)

[389] _i.e._, in my heart, not my eyes.

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]

[390] "And now ... fear." Printed as one line in ed. 1. Ed. 2.

reads, "And now with lighter passion, though just feare."

[391] So ed. 1.--Ed. 2. "will'd me for him speake."

[392] In ed. 1. is added the following note:--"After all, let me

intreat my Reader not to taxe me for the fashion of the Entrances

and Musique of this tragedy, for know it is printed only as it

was presented by youths, and after the fashion of the private

stage. Nor let some easily amended errors in the Printing afflict

thee, since thy owne discourse will easily set vpright any such

vneuennes."

WHAT YOU WILL.

_What Yov Will. By Iohn Marston. Imprinted at London by G. Eld, for

Thomas Thorppe._ 1607. 4to.

STORY OF THE PLAY.

Albano, a rich Venetian merchant, is reported to have been drowned at

sea; whereupon his wife, Celia, is beset with suitors, and her choice

falls upon a French knight, Laverdure. Jacomo, a disappointed suitor,

plots with Albano's brothers, Andrea and Randolfo, to disturb the

match, and for this purpose they disguise Francisco, a perfumer, in

the habiliments of Albano; but the plot is detected by Laverdure's

page, Bidet, who communicates the discovery to his master. The true

Albano now arrives upon the scene, and encountering Laverdure, is

accosted as Francisco, and is told that the plot has been discovered.

Laverdure leaves him in a distraction of rage and amazement, which is

not lessened when Jacomo and his own brothers approach and

congratulate him on his powers of deception. A meeting between Albano

and the disguised Francisco presently ensues. While Celia is

entertaining her friends, Albano and Francisco clamour for admittance.

Laverdure had told Celia (and the news had been spread abroad) that he

intended to disguise a fiddler in the likeness of Albano as a foil to

the disguised perfumer. When Albano and Francisco appear, Celia

imagines that one is the fiddler and the other the perfumer. The true

Albano and the counterfeit Albano, after engaging in a lively

skirmish, declare that they will appeal to the Duke. When they retire

Laverdure protests that he knows nothing of the new claimant, but his

words are disregarded. The rivals appeal to the Duke, and the mystery

is quickly solved when Albano, taking Celia aside, shows her a secret

mark on his person, and reminds her of words that he had spoken on a

certain memorable occasion.

INDUCTION.

_Before the music sounds for the Act, enter_ ATTICUS, DORICUS, _and_

PHILOMUSE; _they sit a good while on the stage before the candles

are lighted, talking together, and on sudden_ DORICUS _speaks_.

_Enter Tireman with lights._

_Dor._ O fie, some lights! Sirs, fie! let there be no

deeds of darkness done among us. Ay,--so, so, prithee,

Tireman, set Signior Snuff a-fire: he's a choleric gentleman;

he will take pepper in the nose[393] instantly; fear

not. 'Fore heaven, I wonder they tolerate him so near

the stage.

_Phi._ Faith, Doricus, thy brain boils; keel[394] it, keel it,

or all the fat's in the fire; in the name of Phoebus, what

merry genius haunts thee to-day? Thy lips play with

feathers. 10

_Dor._ Troth, they should pick straws before they should

be idle.

_Atti._ But why--but why dost thou wonder they dare

suffer Snuff so near the stage?

_Dor._ O, well recall'd; marry, Sir Signior Snuff, Monsieur

Mew, and Cavaliero Blirt, are three of the most-to-be-fear'd

auditors that ever----

_Phi._ Pish! for shame! stint thy idle chat.

_Dor._ Nay, dream whatsoe'er your fantasy swims on,

Philomuse; I protest, in the love you have procured me

to bear your friend the author, I am vehemently fearful

this threefold halter of contempt that chokes the breath

of wit, these aforesaid _tria sunt omnia_, knights of the

mew,[395] will sit heavy on the skirts of his scenes, if---- 24

_Phi._ If what? Believe it, Doricus, his spirit

Is higher blooded than to quake and pant

At the report of Scoff's artillery.

Shall he be crest-fall'n, if some looser brain,

In flux of wit uncivilly befilth

His slight composures? Shall his bosom faint, 30

If drunken Censure belch out sour breath

From Hatred's surfeit on his labour's front?

Nay, say some half a dozen rancorous breasts

Should plant themselves on purpose to discharge

Imposthum'd malice on his latest scene,

Shall his resolve be struck through with the blirt

Of a goose-breath? What imperfect-born,

What short-liv'd meteor, what cold-hearted snow

Would melt in dolour, cloud his mudded eyes,

Sink down his jaws, if that some juiceless husk, 40

Some boundless ignorance, should on sudden shoot

His gross-knobb'd burbolt[396] with--"That's not so good;

Mew, blirt, ha, ha, light chaffy stuff!"

Why, gentle spirits, what loose-waving vane,

What anything, would thus be screw'd about

With each slight touch of odd phantasmatas?

No, let the feeble palsey'd lamer joints

Lean on opinion's crutches; let the----

_Dor._ Nay, nay, nay.

Heaven's my hope, I cannot smooth this strain; 50

Wit's death, I cannot. What a leprous humour

Breaks from rank swelling of these bubbling wits?

Now out upon't, I wonder what tight brain,

Wrung in this custom to maintain contempt

'Gainst common censure;[397] to give stiff counter-buffs,

To crack rude scorn even on the very face

Of better audience. Slight, is't not odious?

Why, hark you, honest, honest Philomuse

(You that endeavour to endear our thoughts

To the composer's spirit), hold this firm: 60

Music and poetry were first approved

By common sense; and that which pleasèd most,

Held most allowèd pass: know,[398] rules of art

Were shaped to pleasure, not pleasure to your rules;

Think you, if that his scenes took stamp in mint

Of three or four deem'd most judicious,

It must enforce the world to current them,

That you must spit defiance on dislike?

Now, as I love the light, were I to pass

Through public verdict, I should fear my form, 70

Lest ought I offer'd were unsquared or warp'd.

The more we know, the more we want:

What Bayard[399] bolder than the ignorant?

Believe me, Philomuse, i'faith thou must,

The best, best seal of wit is wit's distrust.

_Phi._ Nay, gentle Doricus.

_Dor._ I'll hear no more of him; nay, and your friend

the author, the composer, the _What You Will_, seems so

fair in his own glass, so straight in his own measure,

that he talks once of squinting critics, drunken censure,

splay-footed opinion, juiceless husks, I ha' done with

him, I ha' done with him. 82

_Phi._ Pew, nay then----

_Dor._ As if any such unsanctified stuff could find a

being 'mong these ingenuous breasts.

_Atti._ Come, let pass, let pass; let's see what stuff

must clothe our ears. What's the play's name?

_Phi._ _What You Will._

_Dor._ Is't comedy, tragedy, pastoral, moral, nocturnal,

or history? 90

_Phi._ Faith, perfectly neither, but even _What You Will_,--a

slight toy, lightly composed, too swiftly finish'd, ill

plotted, worse written, I fear me worst acted, and indeed

_What You Will_.

_Dor._ Why, I like this vein well now.

_Atti._ Come, we strain the spectators' patience in

delaying their expected delights. Let's place ourselves

within the curtains, for good faith the stage is so very

little, we shall wrong the general eye else very much.

_Phi._ If you'll stay but a little, I'll accompany you; I

have engaged myself to the author to give a kind of inductive

speech to his comedy. 102

_Atti._ Away! you neglect yourself, a gentleman----

_Phi._ Tut, I have vow'd it; I am double charged; go

off as 'twill, I'll set fire to it.

_Dor._ I'll not stand it; may chance recoil, and be not

stuffed with saltpetre: well, mark the report; mark the

report.

_Phi._ Nay, prithee stay; 'slid the female presence, the

Genteletza, the women will put me out. 110

_Dor._ And they strive to put thee out, do thou endeavour

to put them.

_Atti._ In good faith, if they put thee out of countenance,

put them out of patience, and hew their ears with hacking

imperfect utterance.

_Dor._ Go, stand to it; show thyself a tall man of thy

tongue; make an honest leg; put off thy cap with discreet

carriage: and so we leave thee to the kind gentlemen

and most respected auditors.

[_Exeunt, all but_ PHILOMUSE.

[393] "_Se courroucer._ To fret, fume, chafe, be angrie, _take_

pet, or _pepper in the nose_."--_Cotgrave._

[394] See note, vol. i. p. 77.

[395] Cat-calls.--See Middleton, iv. 9.

[396] A short blunt arrow, for killing birds without piercing

them.

[397] Judgment.--Marston is here plainly referring to the

truculent attitude assumed by Ben Jonson towards the audience.

[398] Old eds. "not."

[399] "As bold as blind bayard" was a proverb (as old as Chaucer)

applied to those who do not look before they leap. In R. B.'s

_Appius and Virginia_, 1575, we have:--"As bold as blind bayard,

as wise as a woodcock." _Bayard_ was the name for a bay-horse.

PROLOGUS.

Nor labours he the favour of the rude,

Nor offers sops unto the Stygian dog,

To force a silence in his viperous tongues;

Nor cares he to insinuate the grace

Of loath'd detraction, nor pursues the love

Of the nice critics of this squeamish age;

Nor strives he to bear up with every sail

Of floating censure; nor once dreads or cares

What envious hand his guiltless muse hath struck;

Sweet breath from tainted stomachs who can suck?

But to the fair proportion'd loves of wit, 11

To the just scale of even, paizèd[400] thoughts;

To those that know the pangs of bringing forth

A perfect feature; to their gentle minds,

That can as soon slight of as find a blemish;

To those, as humbly low as to their feet,

I am obliged to bend--to those his muse

Makes solemn honour for their wish'd delight.

He vows industrious sweat shall pale his cheek,

But he'll gloss up sleek objects for their eyes; 20

For those he is asham'd his best's too bad.

A silly subject, too too[401] simply clad,

Is all his present, all his ready pay

For many debts. Give further day.[402]

I'll give a proverb,--Sufferance giveth ease:

So you may once be paid, we once may please.

[_Exit._

[400] Balanced.--Perhaps we should read "even-paizèd."

[401] Sometimes written "too-too" (a strengthened form of _too_),

but quite as often printed as two separate words. I have followed

the old copies.

[402] "Give further day" = allow the day of payment to be

deferred. Cf. Middleton, ii. 337.

_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._

_Duke of Venice._

ALBANO, _a merchant_.

JACOMO, _in love with_ CELIA.

ANDREA, }

RANDOLFO, } _brothers to_ ALBANO.

QUADRATUS.

LAVERDURE, _a Frenchman_.

LAMPATHO DORIA.

SIMPLICIUS FABER.

FRANCISCO, _a perfumer_.

PHILUS, _page to_ JACOMO.

BIDET, _page to_ LAVERDURE.

SLIP, _page to_ ALBANO.

HOLOFERNES PIPPO, _page to_ SIMPLICIUS.

_A Schoolmaster._

BATTUS, }

NOUS, } _schoolboys_.

NATHANIEL, }

SLIP, }

NOOSE, }

TRIP, } _pages_.

DOIT, }

CELIA, _wife to_ ALBANO.

MALETZA, _sister to_ CELIA.

LYZABETTA.

LUCIA, _waiting-woman to_ CELIA.

THE SCENE--VENICE.

WHAT YOU WILL.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

_A Street._

_Enter_ QUADRATUS, PHILUS _following him with a lute; a Page going

before_ QUADRATUS _with a torch._

_Phi._ O, I beseech you, sir, reclaim his wits;

My master's mad, stark mad, alas! for love.

_Qua._ For love? Nay, and he be not mad for hate,

'Tis amiable fortune. I tell thee, youth,

Right rare and geason.[403] Strange? Mad for love!

O show me him; I'll give him reasons straight--

So forcible, so all invincible,

That it shall drag love out. Run mad for love?

What mortally exists, on which our hearts

Should be enamoured with such passion? 10

For love! Come, Philus; come, I'll change his fate;

Instead of love, I'll make him mad for hate.

But, troth, say what strain's his madness of?

_Phi._ Fantastical.

_Qua._ Immure him; sconce him; barricado him in't,

Fantastical mad! thrice blessèd heart!

Why hark, good Philus (O that thy narrow sense

Could but contain me now!), all that exists,

Takes valuation from opinion,

A giddy minion now. Pish! thy taste is dull, 20

And canst not relish me. Come; where's Jacomo?

_Enter_ JACOMO, _unbraced, and careless dressed._

_Phi._ Look, where he comes. O map of boundless woe!

_Jaco._ Yon gleam is day; darkness, sleep, and fear,

Dreams, and the ugly visions of the night,

Are beat to hell by the bright palm of light;

Now roams the swain, and whistles up the morn:

Deep silence breaks; all things start up with light,

Only my heart, that endless night and day,

Lies bed-rid, crippled by coy Celia.[404]

_Qua._ There's a strain, law. 30

Nay, now I see he's mad most palpable;

He speaks like a player: ha! poetical.

_Jaco._ The wanton spring lies dallying with the earth,

And pours fresh blood in her decayèd veins;

Look how the new-sapp'd branches are in child

With tender infants! how the sun draws out,

And shapes their moisture into thousand forms

Of sprouting buds! all things that show or breathe

Are now instaur'd,[405] saving my wretched breast,

That is eternally congeal'd with ice 40

Of frozed despair. O Celia! coy, too nice!

_Qua._ Still, sans question, mad?

_Jaco._ O where doth piety and pity rest?

_Qua._ Fetch cords; he's irrecoverable; mad, rank mad.

He calls for strange chimeras, fictions,

That have no being since the curse of death

Was thrown on man. Pity and piety,

Who'll deign converse with them? Alas! vain head,

Pity and piety are long since dead.

_Jaco._ Ruin to chance, and all that strive to stand 50

Like swoll'n Colossus on her tottering base!

Fortune is blind--

_Qua._ You lie! you lie!

None but a madman would term fortune blind.

How can she see to wound desert so right,

Just in the speeding-place?[406] to girt lewd brows

With honor'd wreath? Ha! Fortune blind? Away!

How can she, hood-wink'd, then so rightly see

To starve rich worth and glut iniquity?

_Jaco._ O love!

_Qua._ Love! Hang love.

It is the abject outcast of the world. 60

Hate all things; hate the world, thyself, all men;

Hate knowledge; strive not to be over-wise:

It drew destruction into Paradise.

Hate honor, virtue; they are baits

That 'tice men's hopes to sadder fates.

Hate beauty: every ballad-monger

Can cry his idle foppish humour.

Hate riches: wealth's a flattering Jack;

Adores to face, mews 'hind thy back.

He that is poor is firmly sped; 70

He never shall be flatterèd.

All things are error, dirt and nothing,

Or pant with want, or gorged to loathing.

Love only hate, affect no higher

Than praise of Heaven, wine, a fire.

Suck up thy days in silent breath,

When their snuff's out, come Signior Death.

Now, sir, adieu, run mad and wilt;[407]

The worst is this, my rhyme's but spilt.

_Jaco._ Thy rhymes are spilt! who would not run rank mad, 80

To see a wandering Frenchman rival, nay,

Outstrip my suit? He kiss'd my Celia's cheek.

_Qua._ Why, man, I saw my dog even kiss thy Celia's lips.

_Jaco._ To-morrow morn they go to wed.

_Qua._ Well then I know

Whither to-morrow night they go.

_Jaco._ Say quick.

_Qua._ To bed.

_Jaco._ I will invoke the Triple Hecate,

Make charms as potent as the breath of fate, 90

But I'll confound the match!

_Qua._ Nay, then, good day;

And you be conjuring once, I'll slink away.

[_Exit_ QUADRATUS.

_Jaco._ Boy, could not Orpheus make the stones to dance?

_Phi._ Yes, sir.

_Jaco._ By'r Lady, a sweet touch. Did he not bring

Eurydice out of hell with his lute?

_Phi._ So they say, sir.

_Jaco._ And thou canst bring Celia's head out of the

window with thy lute. Well, hazard thy breath. Look,

sir, here's a ditty. 100

'Tis foully writ, slight wit, cross'd here and there,

But where thou find'st a blot, there fall a tear.

_The Song._

Fie! peace, peace, peace! it hath no passion in't.

O melt thy breath in fluent softer tunes,

That every note may seem to trickle down

Like sad distilling tears, and make--O God!

That I were but a poet, now t' express my thoughts,

Or a musician but to sing my thoughts,

Or anything but what I am.--Sing't o'er once more,

My grief's a boundless sea that hath no shore. 110

[_He sings, and is answered; from above a willow_[408]

_garland is flung down, and the song ceaseth._

Is this my favour? Am I crown'd with scorn?

Then thus I manumit my slaved condition.

Celia, but hear me execrate thy love.

By Heaven, that once was conscious of my love;

By all that is, that knows my all was thine,

I will pursue with detestation;

Thwart with outstretchèd[409] vehemence of hate,

Thy wishèd Hymen! I will craze my brain,

But I'll[410] dissever all. Thy hopes unite:

What rage so violent as love turn'd spite! 120

_Enter_ RANDOLFO _and_ ANDREA, _with a supplication,

reading._

_Ran._ _Humbly complaining, kissing the hands of your

excellence, your poor orators_ RANDOLFO _and_ ANDREA _beseecheth,

forbidding of the dishonour'd match of their niece_

CELIA, _widow, to their brother----_

O 'twill do; 'twill do; it cannot choose but do.

_And._ What should one say?--what should one do now? Umph!

If she do match with yon same wand'ring knight,

She's but undone; her estimation, wealth----

_Jaco._ Nay, sir, her estimation's mounted up.

She shall be ladied and sweet-madam'd now. 130

_Ran._ Be ladied? Ha! ha! O, could she but recall

The honour'd port of her deceasèd love!

But think whose wife she was! God wot no knight's,

But one (that title off) was even a prince,

A Sultan Solyman. Thrice was he made,

In dangerous arms, Venice providetore.

_And._ He was a merchant; but so bounteous,

Valiant, wise, learned, all so absolute,

That naught was valued praiseful excellent,

But in it was he most praiseful excellent. 140

_Jaco._ O, I shall ne'er forget how he went clothed.

He would maintain 't a base ill-usèd fashion

To bind a merchant to the sullen habit

Of precise black; chiefly in Venice state,

Where merchants gilt the top;

And therefore should you have him pass the bridge

Up the Rialto like a soldier

(As still he stood a potestate at sea).

_Ran._ In a black beaver felt, ash-colour plain,

A Florentine cloth-of-silver jerkin, sleeves 150

White satin cut on tinsel, then long stock.[411]

_Jaco._ French panes[412] embroider'd, goldsmith's work, O God!

Methinks I see him now how he would walk;

With what a jolly presence he would pace

Round the Rialto.[413] Well, he's soon forgot;

A straggling sir in his rich bed must sleep,

Which if I cannot cross I'll curse and weep.

Shall I be plain as truth? I love your sister:

My education, birth, and wealth deserves her.

I have no cross, no rub to stop my suit; 160

But Laverdure's a knight: that strikes all mute.

_And._ Ay, there's the devil, she must be ladied now.

_Jaco._ O ill-nursed custom!

No sooner is the wealthy merchant dead,

His wife left great in fair possessions,

But giddy rumour grasps it 'twixt his teeth,

And shakes it 'bout our ears. Then thither flock

A rout of crazèd fortunes, whose crack'd states

Gape to be solder'd up by the rich mass

Of the deceased labours; and now and then 170

The troop of "I beseech," and "I protest,"

And "Believe it, sweet," is mix'd with two or three

Hopeful, well-stock'd, neat clothèd citizens.

_Ran._ But as we see the son of a divine

Seldom proves preacher, or a lawyer's son

Rarely a pleader (for they strive to run

A various fortune from their ancestors),

So 'tis right geason[414] for the merchant's widow

To be the citizen's loved second spouse.

_Jaco._ Variety of objects please us still; 180

One dish, though ne'er so cook'd, doth quickly fill,

When diverse cates the palate's sense delight,

And with fresh taste creates new appetite;

Therefore my widow she cashiers the blacks,[415]

Forswears, turns off the furr'd-gowns, and surveys

The beadroll of her suitors, thinks and thinks,

And straight her questing thoughts springs up a knight;

Have after then amain, the game's a-foot,

The match clapp'd up; tut, 'tis the knight must do't!

_Ran._ Then must my pretty peat[416] be fann'd and coach'd? 190

_Jaco._ Muff'd, mask'd, and ladied, with "my more than most

sweet madam!"

But how long doth this perfume of sweet madam last?

Faith, 'tis but a wash scent. My riotous sir

Begins to crack jests on his lady's front,

Touches her new-stamp'd gentry, takes a glut,

Keeps out, abandons home, and spends and spends,

Till stock be melted; then, sir, takes up[417] here,

Takes up there, till nowhere ought is left.

Then for the Low Countries, hey for the French!

And so (to make up rhyme) good night, sweet wench.

_Ran._ By blessedness we'll stop this fatal lot. 201

_Jaco._ But how? But how?

_Ran._ Why, stay, let's think a plot.

_And._ Was not Albano Beletzo honourable-rich?

_Ran._ Not peer'd in Venice, for birth, fortune, love.

_And._ Tis scarce three months since fortune gave him dead.

_Ran._ In the black fight in the Venetian gulf.

_And._ You hold a truth.

_Ran._ Now what a giglet[418] is this Celia?

_And._ To match so sudden, so unworthily?

_Ran._ Why, she might have----

_And._ Who might not Celia have? 210

The passionate enamour'd Jacomo.

_Jaco._ The passionate enamour'd Jacomo!

_And._ Of honour'd lineage, and not meanly rich.

_Ran._ The sprightful Piso; the great Florentine,

Aurelius Tuber.

_And._ And to leave these all,

And wed a wand'ring knight, Sir Laverdure,

A God knows what!

_Ran._ Brother, she shall not. Shall our blood be mongrell'd

With the corruption of a straggling French?

_And._ Saint Mark, she shall not. 220

She[419] shall not, brother, by our father's soul.

_Ran._ Good day.

_Jaco._ Wish me good day? It stands in idle stead;

My Celia's lost! all my good days are dead!

[_The cornets sound a flourish._

Hark: Lorenzo Celso, the loose Venice Duke

Is going to bed; 'tis now a forward morn,

For he take rest. O strange transformèd sight,

When princes make night day, the day their night!

_And._ Come, we'll petition him.

_Jaco._ Away! Away!

He scorns all plaints; makes jest of serious suit. 230

_Ran._ Fall out as 'twill, I am resolved to do't.

[_The cornets sound._

_Enter the_ Duke _coupled with a_ Lady; _two couples more with them,

the men having tobacco-pipes in their hands, the women sit; they

dance a round. The petition is delivered up by_ RANDOLFO; _the_

Duke _lights his tobacco-pipe with it, and goes out dancing_.

_Ran._ Saint Mark! Saint Mark!

_Jaco._ Did not I tell you? lose no more rich time;

What can one get but mire from a swine?

_And._ Let's work a cross; we'll fame it all about

The Frenchman's gelded.

_Ran._ O that's absolute.

_Jaco._ Fie on't! Away! She knows too well 'tis false.

I fear it too well. No, no, I have't will strongly do't.

Who knows Francisco Soranza?

_Ran._ Pish! pish! Why, what of him? 240

_Jaco._ Is he not wondrous like your deceased kinsman,

Albano?

_And._ Exceedingly; the strangest, nearly like

In voice, in gesture, face, in----

_Ran._ Nay, he hath Albano's imperfection too,

And stuts[420] when he is vehemently moved.

_Jaco._ Observe me, then; him would I have disguised,

Most perfect, like Albano; giving out,

Albano saved by swimming (as in faith

'Tis known he swome most strangely): rumour him 250

This morn arrived in Venice, here to lurk,

As having heard the forward nuptials;

T' observe his wife's most infamous lewd haste,

And to revenge----

_Ran._ I have't, I have't, I have't; 'twill be invincible.

_Jaco._ By this means now some little time we catch

For better hopes, at least disturb the match.

_And._ I'll to Francisco.

_Ran._ Brother Adrian,

You have our brother's picture; shape him to it. 259

_And._ Precise in each point:[421] tush, tush! fear it not.

_Ran._ Saint Mark then prosper once our hopeful plot!

_Jaco._ Good souls, good day; I have not slept last night;

I'll take a nap: then pell-mell broach all spite.

[_Exeunt._

[403] "Rare.--Rare, seld, unusuall, _geason_."--_Cotgrave._

(Spenser has the word more than once. The derivation is

uncertain.)

[404] Old eds. "Lucea."

[405] Repaired, renovated.

[406] "_Id est_, in the place _where a wound is fatal_.

Tharsalio, in the _Widow's Tears_ of Chapman, says:--'I have

given't him i' th' _speeding-place_ for all his

confidence.'"--_Dilke._

[407] Old eds. "'twilt."

[408] The appropriate garland for forsaken lovers.

[409] Old eds. "thwart without stretched."

[410] Old eds. "all."