University of Virginia Library

Scen. I.

Bellona's Temple.
An Altar is shown, with a Souldier lying upon it, arm'd all but his head: Aglave, Cumana, standing each upon a Tripos, with Daggers in their right hands, and Cencers in their left.
Agla.
E're we our solemn rites begin,
The sacred Cavern purge from sin.
About the dreadful Alter go;
About it Inchantations blow.

Cum.
The dire oblation thus we drain,
And with his blood our Temples staine.
The Screech-Owl warns us with her Note,
Strike your dagger in his throat.
Gash him deep, and suck his blood,
Prepare his frighted ghost a shrowd.

Agla.
Rise ye sulphrous flames, arise,
Consume the baleful sacrifice.
That of his ashes we may take;
And clotted Cinders with 'em rake,
And Viands for Bellona make.

Cum.
Our Goddess smil'd, 'tis done, 'tis done,
The Romans have the Battle won.
From yonder batlement of heaven,
I saw the Carthaginians driven.
They fly they fly, the Consul there,
Pursues 'em through long tracks of Air.
He puts their General to rout;
And drives 'em like a storm about.

Agla.
Our Goddess shall have death enough,
Her thrine with fat of thousands stuff.
With goary heads her Altar fill,
And Tuns of blood upon 'em spill.

Enter Hannibal Maherbal, Bomiloar.
Cum.
But loe who comes, what, what are these,
That pry into our misteryes?
Speak, speak Aglave, I'le begone,
Their business know, I'le come anon:
The fit of prophecy's come on.
Our Goddess does the Tunnel wind,
And sacred horrours swell my mind.

[Exit.
Agla.
What are you? and what is it you would know?

Han.
Men call me Hannibal, Rome's dreadful foe.
Who after many Battles lost and won,
Resolve to perish or my conquest Crown.
One day the world's great Empire must decide;
But what the Gods and that great day provide,
We wish to know who dare the worst abide.

Agla.
Cumana to the sacred Tunnel cleaves,
Her breast enlarg'd the Goddess now receives.
And now she rages like a Bacchinal,
With fury's acted rends the holy veile.
Ful of the deity about she roames,
Stares, gapes, and on the hallowed Curtain foames.
Cuts her hot flesh, grovels upon the ground,
Sings, Dances, kicks the golden Tripeds round.

Enter Cumana scratching her face, stabbing a Dagger into her Armes: Spirits following her.
Sings.
She speaks.
Sings.

Agla.
Cumana to a period hast:
You shall have ease when you have done;
And sweet refreshing slumbers tast.
Upon the Borders of the Moon.

A Dance of Spirits.
Cum.
Lo, afar off the curst Bythinian Band,
A poyson'd General rules upon the sand.
Gods, how he swells! how bloated is his look?
Death from the Pummel of his Sword he took.

[Exit.
Han.
Shall Romans fall by Carthaginian Swords,
And Carthage sinke? what mean these mistick words?
A foolish Bard as much as this might tell;
Or a white Witch without the ayd of hell.
More I must know, speak Rosalinda's doom,
Let all the losses of a Battle come.
May Scipio in the dust our glory soyl,
Wee'l bear the frowns of Mars if Cupid smile,

Agla.
Too curious mortal, seek not what once known,
May snatch your sleep, and make you ever groan.
Your fate crowds back, and would not come in view,
Do not too far th'unwilling Gods pursue.
Like one who rashly dares give spirits chace,
They fly a while to some dark ruin'd place.
Through Caverns run, through Cloysters dodge him round,
Or dance before him over Fairy ground.
Till urg'd too far, a face all pale and sad,
Turns quick upon him, and the fool runs mad.

Bom.
Let's go my Lord, I am not us'd to fear,
And yet methinks I dread to tarry here.

Mah.
Heaps of the slain I often have beheld,
And with my Battle-ax, have hundreds fell'd.
Yet here I'm shaken the objects too funest,
I'd rather see a Javelin at my breast.

Han.
Aglave, by your Goddess Armes I swear,
We will not from the sacred Cavern stir.
Till you have cleard my doubts though every star:
At your dread call start from his flaming sphere.
Though from her orbe close mantled in a Cloud;
The Moon slide down to wander in this Wood,
Though with your Charmes the Sun dissolve in blood.
Fathom the depth of desting below,
And all the terrours of your Magick showe.

Agla.
Beneath those burd'ned branches stand,
Safe from the spirit I command.
Arise, appear thou whom his soul does love,
His heart with visionary horrours move.

Rosalinda rises in a Chaire pale with a wound on her breast, two Cupids descend and hang weeping over her.
Han.
Shall Rosalinda then untimely dye,
'Tis false and all these damn'd deceivers lye.
Faceing thy fate with my Sword drawn I'le stand,
Back'd with my Conquering old Italian Band.
With the same haughty fierceness rushing on,
Which the Saguntines City thundred down.
Like Troy's young Hero:
Who while the World about him did admire,
His father bore through night death, blood and fire.
Spight of opposing hell and war's worst harmes,
So will I bear my love upon my Armes.

Bom.
To horse my Lord, and leave this cursed place,
Lets go and instantly the Consul face.

Mah.
No more in this damn'd sorceress confide,
Permit my Sword her body to divide.
Or from her Corps cut her enchanted Head,
And her black braines upon the Altar shed.

Han.
Wee'le go Maherbal with to morrow's dawn.
On the vast plain our squadrons shall be drawn
Yet for some minutes, Battle shall decline,
Wee'le see this Consul e're our Bodies joyn.
And if on equal terms a peace may be,
For Carthage sake I'le court my Enemy.

Bom.
Tis just you should deliberation take,
With caution deal, and mannage the last stake.

Mah.
You Armies are the Cards which both must play,
At least come off a saver if you may.

Han.
But like Sols off-spring swell'd with dangerous fires,
He to the management of all as pires.
Alone the scepter of the world would sway,
Alone would rule the heaven and drive the day.
Like that indulgent God I'le first advise,
Show him the tracks through which ambition flies.
If deaf to all let him ascend the Throne,
Snatching at glories which must weigh him down,
Like Jove we'le toss him from his glistering Chair:
Sindging ye Clouds hissing through liquid Air,
And darting headlong like a falling Star.

[Exeunt.
Trebellius, Enter Scipio, meeting Lelius disarmed, Varro.
Scip.
Lelius return'd and said tell the Event.

Lel.
Too late my Lord, I was to Cirta sent.
For e're some thousand paces got from hence,
I Massinissa met that wretched Prince.
Not as I us'd arm'd with a warriour's grace,
Like Mars when thundring on the plaines of Thrace.
But in a Chariot drawn by milk white Steeds,
Like soft Adonis driving through the meads.
And Sophonisba leaning on his breast,
Like Venus with her wanton Hunts man blest.

Scip.
Are these his vowes? some new way we must try,
Rather then live dishonour'd, he shall dye.

Lel.
Soon as the Tyrant Syphax was or'e thrown,
With Menaces he forc'd the frighted Town.
Which entered straight he to the Palace flew,
Forgetting all his vowes he lov'd anew;
The Conquer'd did the Conquerour subdue.
In short, her tears and beauty won so far,
In view of all the world he married her.
They are arriv'd and now upon the Plain,
In a Pavilion Royal both remain.

Scip.
Trebellius go, this subtile Charmer bring;
Take all our Guards to assist against the King.
And say that we'l attend him in his Tent,
But first expect the Queen be Prisoner sent.
Tell him she is the Romans fo, and shall,
A sacrifice for blood of thousands fall.

[Exeunt severally.
Enter King Massinissa, Sophonisba.
K. Mas.
Let him Arm all his pow'r against this breast.
My heart unmov'd shall stand the mighty Test.
What I have sworn shall like thy vertue last,
I'le hold thee to me as my heart-strings fast.
Thou soul of love, all charming Excellence!
Whose every look drives stormy troubles hence,
Does all the blessings of the Gods Dispence.
Why dost thou tremble? let no sawcy fear,
Make thy heart pant, or cause thee shed a tear.

Soph.
Alas my Lord 'twere better I were dead,
In my cold grave safe from these troubles laid.
Rather ten thousand Racks let me endure,
Then once be brought under the Roman power.
'Tis true that you have deeply sworn you wou'd:
Defend me.

K. Mas.
To my hearts last drop of blood
Or may I by some Coward mangled lie,
And dogs and vultures tear me as I die.
The Tygress will revenge her ravish'd young,
'Midst Darts, and Spears, and Javelins rush along.
The Glown so low and ignorant of fame,
Will venture life to save his swarthy dame.
And shall not I for thee wast all this blood,
Thou softest blessing, and the sweetest good.

Soph.
I know not what the Gods for you intend,
But 'tis most certan I am near my end.
Not that deaths darkest horrour I can fear.
But Bondage is a load I cannot bear.

K. Mas.
Quit all those fancies that disturb thy rest,
And cast thy Melancholly on this breast:
This heart is ever thine.

Soph.
O my lov'd Lord,
If you shou'd break—but you will keep your word.
Keep all your Oaths, yet Heaven and you know best,
Some surfeit with their love as on a feast.
And then they loath when once they're satiated,
But you'le remember me when I am dead.
From these dear eyes to endless shades remov'd,
None e're will love you sure, as I have lov'd.

Enter Trebellius.
Treb.
Guards wait without—My Lord, you must resign,
The Queen whom I have order to confine.

K. Mas.
Touch her not for thy life, but straight retire,
Safer thou mayst with thunder play, kiss fire.
Grapple with death, a Pestilence invade,
With all his fatal Purple pomp array'd.

Trebellius goes to seize her, Massinissa kills him.
Treb.
Cut off in my full growth, curse on your strife,
To dye thus when I business had for life.
Just Scipio will revenge my death, beware,
I feel I'm going, though I know not where.

[Dies.
K. Mas.
Nought but thy blood cou'd wash thy guilt away,
Who durst the rancour of thy heart display.
And sully with rude hands the fairest piece,
That the Gods ever drew, your troubles cease.
I'm in, and now no hope of safety's nigh,
Yet still a King we will attended dye.
Like a brave Merchant:
Who when his long toss'd loaded Vessel hits.
Against some Rock, and with loud horrour splits.
First grasps one Casket which does all contain,
Then fearless, shoots himself into the Main.
So I with thee, my only wealth, my all,
Amidst the numerous slaine at last must fall.
The noise comes near safe, retire from view,
Glory and love shall teach us what to do.

[Exeunt.
Enter Scipio, Lelius, Varro, Guards.
Lel.
Trebellius slain, and in a woman's cause,
Shame to our Armes, disgrace to honour's Laws.
What flames of mischiefe from this sparke might rise,
'Tis just with rigour you his fault chastise.

Scip.
Yet Massinissa thou shalt dearly buy,
Thy ill got love and fatal Gallantry.
Curle on in wanton wayes, bask in her Charms,
By Mars she is a victim to our Arms.

K. Mass. meets him.
K. Mas.
Your high displeasure in your face I spy.
When the great Scipio frowns, great dangers nigh.
The fact I must confess done in defence,
Of beauty wrong'd, and helpless Innocence.

Scip.
Where is that fair incendiary fled,
Er'e to extreamest rigour we proceed.
I strictly charge thee bring her forth to bleed.
Or on thy person I will vengeance take,
And thou shalt perish for thy Mistriss's sake.

K. Mas.
With greedy joy I offer you my life,
If by the Gods you swear to free my wife.

Scip.
You shall not for her sake have leave to dy,
Nor will I give her life or liberty.
For Rome, not for your sake this war was wag'd,
You only as a voluntier engag'd.
Therefore whatever Towns or Captives fall,
Into our hands, they are the Romans all.

K. Mas.
Then thus I draw, think it not insolence;
For it's not meant, Sir, in my own defence,
But to preserve a sacred Innocence.
From their bright Thrones perhaps the Gods will glide,
And range themselves in battle on my side.
Beneath a Cause so just I cannot fall,
I, and the Gods will fight it with you all.

Scip.
Thou deem'st thy lust an Action great and good,
Death ought to cool this feaver in thy blood.
With me contending against fate you strive,
Yet I will pity show, take him alive.

K. Mas.
Ingloriously you have a Conquest made,
That breast my tim'rous arm durst not invade.
My heart though prompted by her powerful charms,
Fainted before the Master of my Arms.
Nor shall you yet my souls lov'd treasure reach,
My body thus dams up the narrow breach.
And he who dares—
Rashly on this forbidden Earth to tread,
I'l Graspe his soul, I'l spurn him dead.

Trumpets within, enter Menander.
Scip.
What means this mournful noise, whose Tragick sound,
With solemn horrour does my thoughts confound?

Men.
O sacred Sir.

Scip.
What Souldier, all in tears?

Men.
Sorrow her self close mourner now appears;
The Prince Massina slain, see blasted there,
The hopes you lov'd the darling of the war.
That beauteous Captive who with you did treat,
He to the Carthaginian Camp did wait.
Where Hannibal of's beauty jealous grown,
Cast him in bands; but when his birth was known,
As soon unbound, but then despair did move,
Despair of glory, and despair of love.
Which when the Royal youth had rashly weigh'd,
And fate with murmuring thoughts a while delay'd.
A ponyard from his Robe unmark'd he took,
And to his heart the deadly weapon strook.

Scip.
Behold, of furious love the dire Event.
Yet Massinissa wilt thou not repent.
Behold the pledge you left for your default,
By heavens high Justice to perdition brought.

K. Mas.
Was ever man thus wretched and durst live,
Yet will I not one tear to nature give.
Least Bankrupt like I lavish what's not mine,
Since all my stock of sorrow love is thine.

Scip.
Remove the Princes body from his sight,
Least too much grief should to distraction fright.
Yet if thou'lt bring her forth we will forget,
This daring rashness which is passion's heat.
Thy glory with fresh laurells wee'l advance,
And with due praise thy valiant Acts inhance.
Thy pile of honour this right hand shall build:
Why dost thou weep?

K. Mas.
Because I dare not yield;
No Sir, my love I never can betray,
Though you have touch'd me in the noblest way.

Scip.
Can'st thou both promises and threats refuse?

K. Mas.
Death, and what's worse you only bid me chuse.

Scip.
Bring forth thy love and life, thou shalt enjoy,

K. Mas.
Is that a life your purpose act destroy.
Turn all your Javelins points against this breast,
But let it not of love be dispossest.

Scip.
Must I who can Command thus vainly sue.

K. Mas.
My stubborn heart death only can subdue.

Scip.
Then take that death which you so little dread.

Enter Sophonisba.
Soph.
Stay, Tirant hold, first thou shalt strike me dead;
Come on with thy brave sword rip up my brest,
And fix my panting heart upon thy proud crest.
There let it hang thy valours Trophy grown,
To all the wondring world let it be shown.
That none but fools the Conquest may deplore,
While all the brave admire the Conquerour.
A Conquerour so great with one sole blow,
He Cou'd even Hercules himself out-do.
O heavens! he durst attempt, what shall I say;
What words his hearts fierce grandeur can display,
In heat of blood he durst a woman stay.

Scip.
When Ladies rail, a Souldier should be mute:
Besides I have no leisure to dispute.
As Hellen did to Troy perdition bring,
Where e're you come your eyes destruction fling.
When will your thirsty Charms with blood be cloy'd,
Two Kings you have like that fair Greek destroy'd.
Spight of your pride you shall to Rome be led,
And there for all your Witchcrafts loose your head.

Soph.
On with thy threats thy violent course pursue,
Enjoy thy bloody wishes Tyger, do,
Barbarian, for in Rome thou wert not born,
By such a wretch her glories are not worn.
Unless when dress'd up to be sacrific'd
To thee the Moors and Goths are civiliz'd.
Gorge thy self, Saturn, make my flesh thy food,
And laugh when thou art drunk with a Queens blood.

K. Mas.
All will be well fair excellence retire,
Add not fresh fewel to the dying fire.

Soph.
To you and heaven my heart must ever bow,
Consul with thee I am not angry now.

Scip.
Observe ungovern'd Prince with how much ease,
This Royal foe we if we would might seize.
Yet on your promise that she shall not go,
Till we the fate of war at Zama know.
We will permit her in your Tent, t'remain,
But oh my friend break this inglorious Chain.
Contrive some means to keep your faith with me,
And set your heart from that curst Charmer free.

[Exit.
K. Mas.
O rigid honour must we separate then!
Loose all the sweets of life to purchase pain.

Men.
If she were dead your glory were secure.

K. Mas.
But could I then this wretched life endure?
Without her live? it's fatal to refuse,
And glory ruines me if love I chuse.
What help Menânder?

Men.
'Tis the sport of heaven,
When Ships on Rocks are in the Harbour driv'n.
Having through thousand stormy dangers past,
In prospect of your bliss you're wrack'd at last.

K. Mas.
Like one who having scap't the waves, arrives,
To some lone Rock, and there more wretched lives.
Halfe famish'd on the ragged flint he stands,
Viewing with watry Eyes the distant strands,
And past his call, men walking on the lands.
With sighs he swells the wind, and looking round,
Mourns his sad choice, or to be starv'd or drown'd.

[Exeunt.