University of Virginia Library

Scena Prima.

A Base Lute and a Treble Violl play for the Act.
Syphax drawes the curtaines and discouers Erichtho lying with him.
Eri.
Ha, ha, ha,

Se.
Light, light,

Eri.
Ha, ha,

Sy.
Thou rotten scum of Hell—
O my abhorred heat! O loath'd delusion!

They leape out of the bed Syphax takes him to his sword
Eri.
Why foole of kings, could thy weake soule imagin
That t'is within the graspe of Heauen or Hell
To inforce loue? why know Loue doates the Fates
Ioue groanes beneath his waight: more ignorant thing,
Know we Erichtho, with a thirsty womb
Haue coueted full threescore Suns for bloud of kings,
We that can make inraged Neptune tosse
His huge curld lockes without one breath of wind:
We that can make Heauen slide from Atlas shoulder:
We in the pride and haight of couetous lust
Haue wisht with womans gredines to fill
Our longing armes with Syphax well strong lims:
And dost thou think if Philters or Hels charmes
Could haue inforc'd thy vse, we would hau' dam'd
Braine sleightes? no, no, Now are we full
Of our deare wishes: thy proud heat well wasted
Hath made our lims grow young: our loue farwell,
Know he that would force loue, thus seekes his Hell.

Erichtho slips into the ground as Syphax offers his sword to hir.
Sy.
Can we yet breath? is any plagued like me?
Are we? lets thinke: O now contempt, my hate
To the, thy thunder, sulphure and scorn'd name.
He whose lifes loath'd, and he who breathes to curse
His very being; let him thus with me
Syphax kneeles at the Aultar
Fall fore an Aultar sacred to black powers,
And thus dare Heauens: O thou whose blasting flames
Hurle barren droughes vpon the patient earth,
And thou gay God of riddles and strange tales
Hot-brained Phebus, all adde if you can
Something vnto my misery; if ought
Of plagues lurk in your deepe trench'd browes
Which yet I know not: let them fall like boltes
Which wrathfull Ioue driues strong into my bosom,
If any chance of war, or newes ill voyc'd,
Mischeife vnthought or lurke, come gift vs all,
Heape curse on curse, we can no lower fall.

Out of the Aultar the ghost of Asdruball ariseth.
Asd.
Lower, lower,

Sy.
What damn'd ayre is form'd
Into that shape? speake, speake, we cannot quake,
Our flesh knowes not ignoble tremblinges, speake,
We dare thy terror: me thinkes Hell and fate
Should dread a soule with woes made desperate.

As.
Know me the spirit of great Asdruball
Father to Sophonisba, whose bad heart
Made justly most vnfortunate: for know
I turn'd vnfaithfull, after which the feeld
Chanc'd to our losse, when of thy men there fell
6000 soules next fight of Lybeans ten.
After which losse we vnto Carthage flying,
Th'inraged people cride their army fell
Through my base treason: straight my reuengefull fury
Makes them persue me, I with resolute hast.
Made to the graue of all our Auncestors
Where poyson'd, hop'd my bones should haue long rest.
But see the violent multitude arriues
Teare downe our monument, and mee now dead
Deny a graue: hurle vs among the rockes
To stanch beasts hunger; therefore thus vngrau'd
I seeke slow rest: now doest thou know more woes
And more must feele: Mortals O feare to sleight
Your Gods and vowes: Ioues arme is of dread might.

Sy.
Yet speak shall I ore come approaching foes.

As.
Spirits of wrath know nothing but their woes.

Exit.
Enter Nuntius.
Nun.
My liedge, my liedge, the scouts of Cirta bring intelligēce
Of suddaine danger, full ten thousand horse
Fresh and well rid strong Massinissa leades
As wings to Roman legions that march swift
Led by that man of conquest, Scipio,

Sy.
Scipio

Nu.
Direct to Cirta.
A march far off is heard.
Harke their march is heard euen to the cittye.

Sy.
Helpe, our guard, my armes, bid all our leaders march,
Beate thicke allarms, I haue seene things which thou
Wouldst quake to heare,
Boldnes and strength the shame of slaues bee feare.
Vp heart, hold sword: though waues roule thee on shelfe,
Though fortune leaue thee leaue not thou thy selfe.

Exit arming