 | Sophonisba |  |
SCENE THE FIRST.
Syphax, with Roman Centurions.Sy.
You may at least here leave me to myself
Till Scipio's return.—My hands, my feet,
Are manacled with fetters; Syphax now
Stands in the centre of the Roman camp;
Of every means of flight is he bereft:
Grant him, at least, a respite from your presence.
| Sophonisba | |