University of Virginia Library

Scena Secunda.

Cornets sound a charge: Enter Massinissa in his gorget and shert, shield, sword, his arme transfixt with a dart Iugurth followes with his curaes and caske.
Mas.
Mount vs againe, giue vs another horse

Iug.
Vncle your bloud flows fast, pray ye withdraw

Mas.
O Iugurth I cannot bleed too fast, too much
For that so great, so iust so royall Carthage
My wound smarts not, blouds losse maks me not faint
For that lou'de Citty, O Nephew let me tell thee,
How good that Carthage is: it nourishde me,
And when full time gaue me fit strength for loue,
The most adored creature of the citty.
To vs before great Syphax did they yeeld,
Faire, noble, modest, and boue all, my,
My Sophonisba, O Iugurth my strength doubles
I know not how to turne a coward, drop
In feeble basenes, I cannot: giue me horse,
Know I am Carthage very creature, and I am gracde,
That I may bleed for them: giue me fresh horse.

Iug.
He that doth publike good for multitude,
Findes few are truely gratefull.

Mas.
O Iugurth, fie you must not say so, Iugurth,
Some common weales may let a noble hart,
Too forward bleeds abroad and bleed bemond,
But not reuengd at home, but Carthage, fie
It cannot be vngrate, faithles through feare,
It cannot Iugurth: Sophonisba's there,
Beat a fresh charge.

Enter Asdrubal his sword drawne reading a letter Gisco follows him
Asd.
Sound the retraite, respect your health braue Prince,
The waste of blood throw's palenes on your face,

Ma.
By light, my harts not pale: O my lou'd father,
We bleed for Carthage Balsum to my woundes,
We bleede for Carthage: shals restore the fight?
My squadron of Massulians yet stands firme.

Asd.
The day lookes off from Carthage cease all arms
A modest temperance is the life of armes,
Take our best surgeon Gisco, he is sent
From Carthage to attend your chance of warre,

Gis.
We promise sudden ease.

Ma.
Thy cōforts good

Asd.
That nothing can secure vs but thy blood:
Infuse it in his wound, t'will worke amaine,

Gis.
O Ioue,

Asd.
What Ioue? thy God must be thy gain
And as for me.
Thou know'st, a statist must not be a man.

Exit Adru.
Enter Gelosso disguised like an olde soldier, deliuering to Massinissa (as he preparing to be dressed by Gisco) letter which Massinissa reading, starts and speakes to Gisco.
Ma.
Forbeare, how art thou cald?

Gi.
Gisco my Lord.

Mas.
Vm, Gisco, ha, touch not mine arme, most onely man,
to Gelasso.
Sirrha, sirrha, art poore?

Gi.
not poore.

Ma.
Nephew cōmand
Massinissa begins to drane.
Our troupes of horse make indisgracde retraite,
Trot easie off: not poore: Iugurth giue charge,
My souldiers stand in square battalia,
Exit Iugurth.
Intirely of themselues: Gisco th'art old,
Tis time to leaue off murder, thy faint breath.
Scarce heaues thy ribs, thy gummy bloud-shut eyes,
Are sunke a great way in thee, thy lanke skinne,
Slides from thy fleshlesh veines: be good to men,
Iudge him yee Gods, I had not life to kill
So base a Creature, hold Gisco ( ) liue,
The God-like part of Kings is to forgiue,

Gis.
Command astonishd Gisco.

Mas.
No returne.
Haste vnto Carthage: quit thy abiect feares,
Massinissa knowes no vse of murderers.
Enter Iugurth amazde, his sword drawne.
Speake, speake, let terror strike slaues mute.
Much danger makes great hartes most resolute,

Iug.
Vnkle I feare foule armes, my selfe beheld,
Syphax on high speed run his well breathde horse,
Direct to Cirta that most beauteous Citty,
Of all his kingdome: whilst his troupes of horse
With careles trot pace gently toward our campe,
As friendes to Carthage, stand on guard deere vnckle
For Asdrubal with yet his well rankt armie,
Bends a deepe threatning brow to vs as if,
He waited but to ioyne with Syphax horse
And hew vs all to peeces: O my King
My Vncle, Father, Captaine O ouer All
Stand like thy selfe or like thy selfe now fall
Thy troups yet hold good ground: Vnworthy wounds
Betray not Massinissa.

Ma.
Iugurth pluck
Pluck, so, good cuz.

Iug.
O God doe you not feele?

Mas.
Not Iugurth no, now all my flesh is steele.

Gela.
Of base disguise: High lights scorne not to vew
A true old man: vp Massinissa throw
The lot of battle vpon Syphax troups
Before he ioyne with Carthage: then amaine
Make through to Scipio, he yeelds safe abods
Spare treacherie, and strike the very Gods.

Mas.
Why wast thou borne at Carthage, O my fate
Diuinest Sophonisba! I am full
Of much complaint, and many passions,
The least of which expresd would sad the Gods
And strike compassion in most ruthlesse hell
Vp vnmaimd hart spend all thy greefe and rage
Vpon thy foe: the fields a soldiers stage
On which his action shows: If you are iust
And hate those that contemne you, O you Gods
Reuenge worthy your anger, your anger, O,
Downe man, vp hart, stoup Ioue and bend thy chin
To thy large brest, giue signe th'art pleasd, and iust
Sweare, good mens forheads must not print the dust

Exeunt.