University of Virginia Library

SCENE the Temple.
Enter Candace and Lycormas.
Can.
Much to thy kind Compassion, gentle Priest,
Believe me, I am bound: To visit the Distress'd,
To calm the Mind, and sooth our anxious Cares,
Are Offices that well become thy Function;
Wisely for this great End you're set apart,
Freed from the Troubles of the busy World,
To teach unhappy Mortals to submit
To whatsoever the good Gods inflict;
And for the pious Deeds Mankind reveres you.

Lyc.
I'm pleas'd, great Princess, to behold the Storm
That rag'd so boysterous in your swelling Breast,
Gently subsiding to this Halcyon Calm;
Say, is there Ought in which I more may serve you?

Can.
A lucky Offer;—well have I dissembled,
And hid the wild Disquiet in my Soul.
(Aside.)
There is—but what, I fear, thou wilt refuse.

Lyc.
Command Lycormas, know him for thy Friend.

Can.
But shall this Friendship reach to bring me Fabius?
Ungrateful Fabius, hither to the Temple?
Whom spight of all my Wrongs, I still must love.

Lyc.
From him for Safety wer't thou hither brought,
Confided to our Care: Should I abuse
The Trust the People have committed to us,
My forfeit Head must answer the Offence.

Can.
Alas, what shall I say? I fear'd thy Answer,
Nor have I ought to bribe thee to the Hazard:
What can a Captive offer? I swear by Ammon,
My great Progenitor, if e'er my Fate
Restore me to the Garamantian Throne,
I'll give thee a whole Province in Reward.

Lyc.
A smaller Bribe might purchase what she asks.
If Hannibal succeeds without our Aid,
Her Interest then may stand me in good stead.

(Aside.)
Can.
He seems to ponder on it, then there's Hope.

Lyc.
I have consider'd this thy bold Request,
Which, at my utmost Peril I shall grant;
And in Return will only this demand,
That in the Day which Fate seems bringing on,
And to the Tyrian's Pow'r shall give the City,
Thou wilt not prove unmindful of Lycormas.

Can.
May Heav'n be so of me, if I forget
Thy gen'rous Pity to a wretched Captive:
But haste, and bring him to my longing Eyes.

Lyc.
Do not too soon anticipate the Joy,
Which Fate may yet deny thy eager Hopes;
Perhaps upon the Field he now lies Dead;
For in the Instant thou wert here convey'd,
The Foe approaching, all our Forces sally'd,
And I am yet to learn of the Event.

Can.
Forbid it, Heav'n! forbid it ev'ry Power!
That should protect a Brave and Godlike Man;
For such the scorn'd Candace still must own him.

Lyc.
Within the Temple, on its utmost Verge,
A most recluse and gloomy Cell there lies;
To this th'inferior Priests have never Entrance,
And only Theron and my self approach it;
Thither, if he survive, I will conduct him
In my own Robe conceal'd; and freely there
Thou may'st disclose whate'er thy Heart shall dictate,
But be not long, for in the tedious Minutes,
Exquisite Interval, I'm on the Rack;
For sure the greatest Evil Man can know,
Bears no Proportion to the dread Suspence.

Can.

[Exit.
Lyc.
So, she's retir'd; now to perform my Promise.
I must go learn—
Enter Eurydamas.
—Eurydamas return'd!
What from the Field? And how have we succeeded?

Eur.
Our Plots have fail'd, and turn upon our selves:
The Roman's Genius has again preserv'd him:
But what more grates, th'infatuated People,
Whom the fierce Foe pursu'd with dreadful Slaughter
Ev'n to the Gates, reproaching now themselves,
Impute to Fabius' Absence the Misfortune.

Lyc.
To Fabius' Absence!—went he not to Battel?

Eur.
Fir'd with Disdain at our bold Accusation,
Th'Indignity was offer'd to his Name,
By forcing from him, in such sort, his Captive,
He would not arm, but from the Battlements,
A pleas'd Spectator, saw the dismal Havock.

Lyc.
Thy self an idle one, I may presume,
Did'st only make the Semblance of a Fight.

Eur.
True; and that gave me Leisure to behold
The various Chances that attend on War;
While Tyrians here, Saguntines there prevail'd,
And at a Stay long held the doubtful Battel.

Lyc.
What gave at last a Fortune to the Day?

Eur.
The Carthaginian Chief came furious on,
And calling loud for Fabius through the Field,
Scatter'd Destruction wheresoe'er he pass'd.
Unequal to the Shock, our harrass'd Men
Gave way, and flying, hardly reach'd the City;
Which he had enter'd with them, but for Theron.

Lyc.
How undesign'dly has he wrought us good?
Thou and my self, my Friend, are much his Debtors:
But how prevented he the Tyrian's Purpose?

Eur.
Imagine to thy self a Swarm of Bees
Driv'n to their Hive by some impending Storm,
Which at its little Port, in clust'ring Heaps,
And climbing o'er each other's Back, they enter.
Such was the People's Flight, and such their Haste
To gain the Gates; not even then secure,
So close the Foe pursu'd: 'Twas then that Theron,
Advancing singly like another Cocles,
Met his full Rage; and from his brawny Arms
With Force Herculean hurl'd his knotty Club:
Strongly it flew, and on the Tyrian's Armour
Horridly clanking, from his Breast rebounded.
Him reeling on his Steed his Friends supported,
The Priest retreated, and the Gates were clos'd.

Lyc.
Once, as I think, thou didst reproach Lycormas,
As one too lavish in thy Rival's Praise;
Now are we quit.

Eur.
—The Time indeed requires
Our more immediate Thoughts; and tho' we've fail'd,
In what, as Earnest of our Truth, was ask'd;
Our next Success shall more than compensate.
This Night, by Daunus' and Metiscus' Death,
Who in the Sally fell, the Gates are mine.
This happens cross, as hurrying on our Plot
Before the Time concerted with the Tyrian,
Yet from our Hands we must not slip th'Occasion;
But when the Ev'ning Shades shall spread the Earth,
Another perilous Adventure waits thee,
By once more seeking the Sidonian Camp.
Still it remains to make the Guard our own.

Lyc.
I have with other Thought, long since, prepar'd,
Within my Cell, a Sleep-provoking Draught;
So potent in effect, it instant gives
Lethargick Rest, and fast binds down the Sense.
This, as a Treasure pointed out by Fate
For a rich Cordial to thy slender Guard,
Worn out by Toils of War, thou may'st dispense,
And greedy they shall drink the treach'rous Juice.
Then as we shall perceive the Guile take place,
We'll give the Signal, and admit the Foe.
But I have now t'acquaint thee with a Boon
The Captive Queen has begg'd, and I have granted:
Here in the Temple would she meet the Roman,
And, habited like me, I mean to bring him.

Eur.
Bold Deed thou hast presum'd to promise, Priest;
But what from thence can she, or thou propose?

Lyc.
I heed not her Design; my own but this,
To make her my sure Friend with Hannibal.

Eur.
Indeed!—but I may chance to spoil your Plot:
This forward Priest encroaches on my Hopes,
And from an Emissary grows a Rival.
I must at once get rid of him and Murrus,
And Fate now throws th'occasion in my way.

[Aside.
Lyc.
What is it, Friend, that thus employs thy Thought?

Eur.
I have been weighing what thou dost propose,
According little to thy wonted Prudence;
Great is the Risque, and small, in my Conceit,
The Profit rising from that Danger run;
For if this Night propitious to us prove,
Self-recommended, thoul't not want her Friendship:
Yet as thou seem'st to make light of the Hazard,
Hear what I offer to thy better Thoughts.
In the last Conf'rence with the Tyrian Chief,
He then propos'd as our Associate Murrus;
Here 'twould be wise to gratify that Wish,
And noble Pity to preserve the Youth:
For this, in vain, I've us'd my utmost Arts,
To all impenetrable he remains;
Weak on the Side of Love alone he seems,
And, like Achilles, mortal in one Part.

Lyc.
Proceed; for yet I do not ken thy Aim.

Eur.
Murrus is still a Stranger to the Flame,
Which to thyself the Carthaginian own'd:
Him, in the Roman's stead, I would advise
To the desiring Queen thou should'st convey.
I will prepare him for the Interview,
And bid him say his Rival fell in Battel;
Then, for thou know'st the Sex that easily pass
From one Excess of Passion to another,
Should Thought of Liberty, or Love prevail
To give him Hopes, she surely makes him ours.

Lyc.
My aug'ring Soul forbids; yet I consent.
Let Murrus come, the Habit shall be ready.

[Exit.
Eur.
There's One o'er-reach'd; the harder Task, I fear,
Is yet to come; Murrus, by Nature honest,
Perhaps may startle at the Thought of Rape;
And, aw'd by Conscience, disappoint my Purpose:
But then his Hopes are desp'rate, and his Love
Is, like his other Passions, in Excess:
On That I build, assist but Fortune here,
Down sink my Rivals in the Tyrian's Favour.
Murrus, I come; if that thy steady Virtue
Escape this Snare, my Wiles know no Resource.

[Exit.