University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE, a Tent before the City Carthage.
Enter Scipio and Lelius.
Scipio.
The Town is ours, those lofty Walls that seem'd
To emulate the Skies, and brave our Force,
No longer can maintain their haughty Pride,
But yield to our Assault—This happy Day
Such Fortune waits on our Triumphant Arms,
The Ruling Gods, in Justice to our Cause,
Have crown'd our Toils with so compleat a Vict'ry,
Glorious and Great, (e'en to Amazement Great)
That Rome no more with Anguish shall reflect
On past Misfortunes, and successless Battles,
But think them doubly recompenc'd in this.

Lel.
This is a Conquest worthy Scipio's Sword;
A Glorious Conquest, by the Gods reserv'd
For you their Fav'rite Chief, to plant its Laurels
On your Victorious Brow, and shew the World,
That Heav'n and Godlike Scipio fight for Rome.

Scip.
Lelius, I think thou art my faithful Friend;
If so, Sincerity becomes thee best.
Dress me not up with Praises undeserv'd,
Nor attribute to me the sole Applause,
When ev'ry one acquir'd an equal Share.
It has the Tincture of a flatt'ring Art,
Therefore a thing most odious to the Man,
Who prizes Caius Lelius as his Friend.
As I'm a Roman, so my Blood's unstain'd
With the ambitious Thirst of noisy Fame.
If I'm ambitious, 'tis to serve my Country,
To hunt her Foes through ev'ry Hostile Clime,
Though at th'Expence o'th'dearest Drop of Blood
That swells my Veins, and animates this Frame.
But are not you as anxious as my self,
As much concern'd to do your Country good?
Have you not all been equally engag'd,
Expos'd to frequent Hardships, and the same
Dangers with equal Resolution met?
And shall I rob you of your just Deserts,
The due Applause of Brav'ry?—No, my Friend,
Learn this from me, that Gen'ral who conquers,
(Tho' ne'er so valiant) if he once denies
The Praise his Fellow-Soldiers duly merit,
And arrogates the Glory to himself,
By that ambitious Act he sullies sullies all.

Lel.
I can but wonder at thy gen'rous Soul,
Illustrious Honour to the Roman Name,
Pattern of Goodness to succeeding Times!
Thus to preserve thy Virtues undefil'd,
Thy Temp'rance free from the polluting Charms
Of Greatness, e'en amidst the flowing Tide
And ecchoing Shouts of Vict'ry,—by my Soul,
I'm lost in Admiration.

Scip.
Lelius, enough;
As we profess a Friendship, let's observe
Its sacred Rules inviolably just.
We must not too profusely lavish it
In empty Words, but cherish it as dearly
As Women Beauty, or as Niggards Gold:
Be this our Maxim, 'tis a Thing that's rare,
And therefore ought with Care to be preserv'd.
[Sound of Trumpets.
These Trumpets speak some Message from the Town,
Trebellius and Lucilius are return'd
From Carthage.
Enter Trebellius and Lucilius.
Speak, Sirs, what Tydings from the Town?

Tre.
Heav'n, that first favour'd the Attempts of Rome,
By Scipio's Conduct crown'd them with Success;
With such Success as only Heav'n could grant,
And only Scipio's Virtue could obtain;
So speedy and so great, continues still
To smile with Kindness on us: As our Toils
Were great, so likewise great are our Rewards,
The Strength, the Pow'r of Spain in Carthage fell;
The Captive Crowd (all bury'd in their Fears,)
Now curse their Fate, now in dissembling Terms
Cringe to that Mercy they disdain'd before;
The num'rous Spoils in gaudy Triumph born,
Compleat their Horror, and the Victor's Joys.

Luc.
Yes, Sir, what Victor can refrain from Joy
At such a Conquest, which disdains Applause
From those inferior Triumphs of the Day,
Where Beauties own the far superior Force
Of Mars, and in their silent Tears confess
Captivity; Maids of the noblest Blood,
The blooming Pride of Spain, proceed in Form
To hear their Doom from you? Who would not brave
Each glorious Danger in the Field of War,
The hissing Arrow, and the pointed Steel,
What Coward would not bid adieu to Fear,
When such strong Motives, such delicious Charms
Provoke him to be brave?

Scip.
'Tis well, Lucilius;
But let's not triumph in a Woman's Tears,
It is beneath a Roman; for we fight
Only to right our Country: And, my Friends,
Let me commend you all; for you have fought
Like Patriots zealous for the Publick Good,
And bravely conquer'd in your Country's Cause;
I must embrace you all. You Trebellius,
And you Lucilius, reconcile your Strife;
Both wear the Mural Crown your Acts deserve,
Both dear to Scipio, worthy of Applause.

Luc.
What! shall Trebellius wear the Mural Crown
In equal Honour with my self?—But hold,
I'll smother my Resentments for a while.

[Aside.
Scip.
Was it not you, Lucilius, who inform'd us,
The Captive Ladies were in mournful Pomp
Approaching to our Camp?

Luc.
It was, my Lord,
And lo, they come—Some distance from yon' Mount,
Perceive you not a thronging Crowd that press
This Way? They are the Captives, whose Beauties
Attract the dazzled Eyes and wishing Hearts
Of the rough Soldier, and disarm his Rage.

Scip.
[Exeunt Treb. and Lucil.

Enter Trebellius conducting in Semanthe and her Mother Axarte; Lucilius, Almeyda and her Confident Phænissa.
Scip.
By Heav'n 'tis mournful, wondrous mournful all;
When Innocence, and Beauty so Divine
Stand thus expos'd to the destructive Hand
Of War, and suffer for their Country's Crimes:
A Sight like this would strike the Savage Hearts
Of the most fierce Barbarians with Remorse,
And soften 'em to Pity.

Axa.
Oh General!
[Kneeling.
Oh Scipio! fam'd for thy Success in War,
Thou Scourge to all the Enemies of Rome,
Divest thy Bosom of a Soldier s Roughness,
Look down with Pity on this Captive Train,
Who thus unfortunately mourn the Fall
Of their dear Country. Oh my Semanthe!
Oh my poor Daughter! 'tis not for myself,
But for thy Sake thy tender Mother kneels,
Fearing the rude oppressive Force of War
Should mingle in an undistinguish'd Heap
Of bloody Slaughter thy weak Innocence;
Or, that the barb'rous Violence of Soldiers
Flush'd with Success, insulting in the Field
Of Devastation, Massacre and Blood,
Should seize thy Person as a common Spoil,
And violate thy Beauties, unless He,
This Victor, will compassionate thy Fate.

Scip.
Rise, Madam, and dispel these anxious Fears,
Your beauteous lov'd Semanthe and your self
Shall both be safe, 'tis Scipio that assures it:
The Warriour only rages in my Breast,
When th'enlivening Trumpet calls me forth,
T'exert my Courage in the glorious Field
Of Honour, and dispute my Country's Cause:
But when the Fury of the Battle ends,
Destruction ceases, and my Rage is past,
Returning Pity sways within my Breast,
And mourns the Havock which my Sword had made.

Axa.
Believe me, Royal Sir, I scarcely thought
Such Goodness, such Humanity was lodg'd
Within a Roman Breast; but I'm convinc'd,
I find, and I am pleas'd to find it now:
Nor do I wonder that my Husband fell,
That Carthage yielded to the Roman Arms,
When Scipio's Virtues, so divinely bright,
Were leagu'd against it; for approving Heav'n
Smiles on the Honest, and asserts their Quarrel.
And oh! I wish that my Mandonius liv'd
To see th'exalted Worth of injur'd Rome!
He would no longer guide his hardy Troops,
Brandish a Spear against the Roman Cause:
Vain empty Wish! Mandonius is no more;
Lost to his Widow and defenceless Child,
Who in this Depth of Sorrow are compell'd
To crave Assistance at a Victor's Hand.

[Weeping.
Scip.
[Exeunt Trebellius, Semanthe, Axarte.
[Scipio turning sees Almeyda.

Alm.
No wonder, Sir.
A Slave, a Captive Woman must attend,
And wait the Leisure of a Conqueror.

Scip.
Pierce not my Heart with such unwelcome Sounds,
With those severe Expressions, Slave and Captive.
Can they reflect on me? Can you suppose
That Scipio glories in a Woman's Bonds?
Think on those Charms which so profusely reign
In ev'ry Feature; think how fair you are,
And thence conclude you are no more a Slave.

Alm.
What Share of Beauty can Almeyda boast,
She thus forsaken, and o'erwhelm'd with Ills?
Or what avails it, when prevailing Mars
Views its Distress, and joys in its Captivity?
Oh Love! Oh my Alucius!

[Aside.
Scip.
Why those Sighs,
As if some weighty Sorrow had o'er-press'd
Your Soul, and that Way work'd its furious Vent?

Alm.
Yes, Sorrows upon Sorrows, that demand
The largest Tribute that my Soul can pay.

Scip.
If from your Bondage you derive these Woes,
Let me relieve you there, and with your Bonds
Dismiss these weighty and pernicious Cares;
Explain the Means, and Scipio will obey.

Alm.
Thanks, Noble Scipio, for these gracious Terms:
But you inquire what means this pensive State,
This cloudy Aspect, and these flowing Tears;
'Tis that Misfortunes rush so fast upon me,
They almost hurry me to wild Despair,
And make me wish a thousand thousand Times
That I was laid intomb'd within my Grave,
Beyond the future Malice of my Stars;
I cannot,—dare not farther to proceed.

Scip.
Gods! 'tis a Pity; if I must not learn
The Reason of your Griefs; yet give me leave
(As I'm the General of Rome) to shew
The Duty of a Roman, and afford
All the Assistance your Afflictions claim.

Alm.
Great Sir, I only can repeat my Thanks.

Scip.
Madam, I ask them not; you may command
This Tent, and ought which may the least avail
To ease the sad Remembrance of your Bonds.
Madam, we leave you to your self and Friend.

[Exeunt Scipio, Lelius, Lucilius.
[Manent Almeyda, Phænissa.
Alm.
Oh! my Phænissa, Partner of my Woes,
Thou only Remnant of my Shipwreck'd Fortunes;
If that my Soul can know one glimm'ring Hope,
One dawning Joy, 'tis at the Sight of thee:
Ha, said I, Joy! What Joy can I receive
To see my Friend unhappy? Cruel Thought!

Phæ.
Condemn it not, but stile it the Effects
Of purest Friendship rather, here 'tis prov'd.

Alm.
Severely too.

Phæ.
But wherefore should you thus
Lament, and rend your Bosom with Complaints,
And make your self more wretched than you are?
This Victor is as kind as he is great;
He gently begs you to forget your Cares,
And treats you with the Promise of your Freedom;
Still, still you may be happy; oh revive,
Chear up your gloomy Soul, and welcome Light!

Alm.
Think not Almeyda's Soul can be reviv'd
With fancy'd Pleasures, she must still despond,
Her Love is lost, Alucius is no more;
At least no more for me, that gallant Prince,
That Godlike Heroe, that most charming Youth,
To whom my Vows were plighted; but alas,
This rude, this barb'rous wide Destroyer, War,
Has made a Separation; he perhaps
Lies stretch'd upon the Ground a breathless Coarse;
Or, if alive, my bleeding Heart forbodes
That we shall never, never meet again.

Phæ.
Why do you thus anticipate your Fate,
And double your Misfortunes? 't must not be;
Methinks, if divining Thoughts prove true,
And my exulting Mind portends aright,
I see Alucius, the good anxious Prince,
Consulting for his lov'd Almeyda's Safety,
Contriving Means to rescue her he loves
From all the Hardships of a Victor's Chain.

Alm.
I know, Phænissa, thou art ever kind,
To sooth my Heart with Promises and Hopes;
But yet I am unwilling to deceive,
Or blind my Sense with weak fictitious Joys:
Nay, tho' I wish it (witness, oh ye Gods,
How much I wish it!) yet my Heart denies
To hear of Comfort 'till th'Event is sure.
Come, my Phænissa, let us now retire
To calm Distress, and chase away Despair.
Mean while, if Pity shou'd some Goddess move
To succour my afflicted hapless Love;
Dispel these Clouds that o'er my Fortune wait,
And ease the hard Condition of my Fate;
At past Misfortunes I'd no more repine,
Forget them all, was but Alucius mine.