 | The tragedy of Sophonisba |  |
42
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Sophonisba, Phoenissa.Phoenissa.
Hail queen of Masæsylia once again!
And fair Massylia join'd! This rising day
Saw Sophonisba, from the height of life,
Thrown to the very brink of slavery:
State, honours, armies vanquish'd; nothing left
But her own great unconquerable mind.
And yet, ere evening comes, to larger power
Restor'd, I see my royal friend; and kneel
In grateful homage to the Gods, and her.
And fair Massylia join'd! This rising day
Saw Sophonisba, from the height of life,
Thrown to the very brink of slavery:
State, honours, armies vanquish'd; nothing left
But her own great unconquerable mind.
And yet, ere evening comes, to larger power
Restor'd, I see my royal friend; and kneel
In grateful homage to the Gods, and her.
Ye Powers, what awful changes often mark
The fortunes of the great!
The fortunes of the great!
Sophonisba.
Phœnissa, true;
'Tis awful all, the wonderous work of fate.
But ah! this sudden marriage damps my soul;
I like it not, that wild precipitance
Of youth, that ardor, that impetuous stream
In which his love return'd. At first, my friend,
He vainly rag'd with disappointed love;
And, as the hasty storm subsided, then
To softness varied, to returning fondness,
To sighs, to tears, to supplicating vows;
But all his vows were idle, till at last
He shook my heart by Rome.—To be his queen,
Could only save me from their horrid power.
And there is madness in that thought, enough
In that strong thought alone to make me run
From nature.
43
Was it not auspicious, madam?
Just as we hop'd? just as our wishes plan'd?
Nor let your spirit sink. Your serious hours,
When you behold the Roman ravage check'd,
From their enchantment Masinissa freed,
And Carthage mistress of the world again,
This marriage will approve: then will it rise
In all its glory, virtuous, wise and great,
While happy nations, then deliver'd, join
Their loud acclaim. And, had the white occasion
Neglected flown, where now had been your hopes?
Your liberty? your country? where your all?
Think well of this, think that, think every way,
And Sophonisba cannot but exult
In what is done.
Sophonisba.
So may my hopes succeed!
As love alone to Carthage, to the public,
Led me a marriage-victim to the temple,
And justifies my vows.—Ha! Syphax here!
What would his rage with me?—Phœnissa, stay.
But this one tryal more—Heroic truth,
Support me now!
SCENE II.
Syphax, Sophonisba, Phoenissa.Syphax.
You seem to fly me, madam,
To shun my gratulations.—Here I come,
To join the general joy; and I, sure I,
Who have to dotage, have to ruin lov'd you,
Must take a tender part in your success,
In your recover'd state.
44
'Tis very well.
I thank you, sir.
Syphax.
And gentle Masinissa,
Say, will he prove a very coming fool?
All pliant, all devoted to your will?
A glorious wretch like Syphax?—Ha! not mov'd!
Speak, thou perfidious! canst thou bear it thus?
With such a steady countenance? canst thou
Here see the man thou hast so grosly wrong'd,
And yet not sink in shame? And yet not shake
In every guilty nerve?
Sophonisba.
What have I done,
That I should tremble? that I should not dare
To bear thy presence? Was my heart to blame,
I'd tremble for my self, and not for thee,
Proud man! Nor would I live to be asham'd.
My soul it self would die, could the least shame
On her unspotted fame be justly cast:
For of all evils, to the generous, shame
Is the last deadly pang.—But you behold
My late engagement with a jealous, false,
And selfish eye.
Syphax.
Avenging Juno, hear!
And canst thou think to justify thy self?
I blush to hear thee, traitress!
Sophonisba.
O my soul!
Canst thou hear this, this base opprobrious language,
And yet be tamely calm?—Well, well, for once
It shall be so—in pity to thy madness—
Impatient spirit down!—Yes, Syphax, yes,
Yes I will greatly justify my self;
Even by the consort of the thundering Jove,
Who binds the holy marriage-vow, be judg'd.
And every public heart, not meanly lost
In little low pursuits, to wretched self
45
But in the tempest of the soul, when rage,
Loud indignation, unattending pride,
And jealousy confound it, how can then
The nobler passions, how can they be heard?
Yet let me tell thee—
Syphax.
Thou canst tell me nought.
Away! away! nought but illusion, falshood—
Sophonisba.
My heart will burst, in honour to my self,
If here I speak not; tho' thy rage, I know,
Can never be convinc'd, yet shall it be
Confounded.—And must I renounce my freedom?
Forgoe the power of doing general good?
Must yield my self the slave, the barbarous triumph
Of insolent, enrag'd, inveterate Rome?
And all for nothing but to grace thy fall?
Nay by my self to perish for thy pleasure?
If here I speak not; tho' thy rage, I know,
Can never be convinc'd, yet shall it be
Confounded.—And must I renounce my freedom?
Forgoe the power of doing general good?
Must yield my self the slave, the barbarous triumph
Of insolent, enrag'd, inveterate Rome?
And all for nothing but to grace thy fall?
Nay by my self to perish for thy pleasure?
For thee, the Romans may be mild to thee;
But I, a Carthaginian, I, whose blood
Holds unrelenting enmity to theirs;
Who have my self much hurt them, and who live
Alone to work them woe; what, what can I
Hope from their vengeance, but the very dregs
Of the worst fate, the bitterness of bondage?
Yet thou, thou kind man, wouldst in thy generous love,
Wouldst have me suffer that; be bound to thee,
For that dire end alone, beyond the stretch
Of nature, and of law.
But I, a Carthaginian, I, whose blood
Holds unrelenting enmity to theirs;
Who have my self much hurt them, and who live
Alone to work them woe; what, what can I
Hope from their vengeance, but the very dregs
Of the worst fate, the bitterness of bondage?
Yet thou, thou kind man, wouldst in thy generous love,
Wouldst have me suffer that; be bound to thee,
For that dire end alone, beyond the stretch
Of nature, and of law.
Syphax.
Confusion! Law!
I know the laws permit thee, the gross laws
That rule the vulgar. I'm a captive, true;
And therefore may'st thou plead a shameful right
To leave me to my chains—But say, thou base one!
Ungrateful! say, for whom am I a captive?
For whom these many years with war, and death,
Defeats, and desolation have I liv'd?
For whom has battle after battle bled?
46
Been vilely cast away? For whom this day,
This very day, have I been stain'd with slaughter?
With yon last reeking field?—For one, ye gods!
Who leaves me for the victor, for the wretch
I hold in utter endless detestation.
Fire! fury! hell!—Oh I am richly paid!—
But thus it is to love a woman—Woman!
The source of all disaster, all perdition!
Man in himself is social, would be happy,
Too happy; but the gods, to keep him down,
Curs'd him with woman! fond, enchanting, smooth,
And harmless-seeming woman; while at heart
All poison, serpents, tygers, furies, all
That is destructive, in one form combin'd,
And gilded o'er with beauty!
Sophonisba.
Hapless man!
I pity thee; this madness only stirs
My bosom to compassion, not to rage.
Think as you list of our unhappy sex,
Too much subjected to your tyrant force;
Yet know that all, we were not all, at least,
Form'd for your trifles, for your wanton hours.
Our passions too can sometimes soar above
The houshold task assign'd us, can expand
Beyond the narrow sphere of families,
And take in states into the panting heart,
As well as yours, ye partial to yourselves!
And this is my support, my joy, my glory,
The Conscience that my heart abhors all baseness,
And of all baseness most ingratitude.
I pity thee; this madness only stirs
My bosom to compassion, not to rage.
Think as you list of our unhappy sex,
Too much subjected to your tyrant force;
Yet know that all, we were not all, at least,
Form'd for your trifles, for your wanton hours.
Our passions too can sometimes soar above
The houshold task assign'd us, can expand
Beyond the narrow sphere of families,
And take in states into the panting heart,
As well as yours, ye partial to yourselves!
And this is my support, my joy, my glory,
The Conscience that my heart abhors all baseness,
And of all baseness most ingratitude.
This sure affronted honour may declare,
With an unblushing cheek.
With an unblushing cheek.
Syphax.
False, false as Hell!
False as your sex! when it pretends to virtue.
You talk of honour, conscience, patriotism.
A female patriot!—Vanity!—Absurd!
Even doating dull credulity would laugh
47
Had any better purpose in her eye,
Than how to please her pride or wanton will?
In various shapes, and various manners, all,
All the same plagues, or open, or conceal'd,
The bane of life!
Sophonisba.
Must I then, must I, Syphax,
Give thee a bitter proof of what I say?
I would not seem to heighten thy distress,
Not in the least insult thee; thou art fallen,
So fate severe has will'd it, fallen by me.
I therefore have been patient; from another,
Such language, such indignity, had fir'd
My soul to madness. But since driven so far,
I must remind thy blind injurious rage
Of our unhappy Marriage.—
Syphax.
Horror!—Oh!
Blot it eternal night!
Sophonisba.
Allow me, Syphax!
Hear me but once! If what I here declare
Shines not with reason, and the clearest truth;
May I be base, despis'd, and dumb for ever!
Hear me but once! If what I here declare
Shines not with reason, and the clearest truth;
May I be base, despis'd, and dumb for ever!
I pray thee think, when unpropitious Hymen
Our hands united, how I stood engag'd.
I need not mention what full well thou know'st.
But pray recal, was I not flatter'd? young?
With blooming life elate, with the warm years
Of vanity? sunk in a passion too,
Which few resign? Yet then I married thee,
Because to Carthage deem'd a stronger friend;
For that alone. On these conditions, say,
Didst thou not take me, court me to thy throne?
Have I deceiv'd thee since? Have I dissembled?
To gain one purpose, e'er pretended what
I never felt? Thou canst not say I have.
And if that principle, which then inspir'd
My marrying thee, was right, it cannot now
Be wrong. Nay since my native city wants
Assistance more, and sinking calls for aid,
Must be more right—
Our hands united, how I stood engag'd.
I need not mention what full well thou know'st.
But pray recal, was I not flatter'd? young?
With blooming life elate, with the warm years
Of vanity? sunk in a passion too,
Which few resign? Yet then I married thee,
Because to Carthage deem'd a stronger friend;
For that alone. On these conditions, say,
Didst thou not take me, court me to thy throne?
Have I deceiv'd thee since? Have I dissembled?
To gain one purpose, e'er pretended what
I never felt? Thou canst not say I have.
And if that principle, which then inspir'd
My marrying thee, was right, it cannot now
48
Assistance more, and sinking calls for aid,
Must be more right—
Syphax.
This reasoning is insult!
Sophonisba.
I'm sorry that thou dost oblige me to it.
Then in a word take my full-open'd soul.
Then in a word take my full-open'd soul.
All love, but that of Carthage, I despise.
I formerly to Masinissa thee
Preferr'd not, nor to thee now Masinissa,
But Carthage to you both. And if preferring
Thousands to one, a whole collected people,
All nature's tenderness, whate'er is sacred,
The liberty the welfare of a state,
To one man's frantic happiness, be shame;
Here, Syphax, I invoke it on my head!
I formerly to Masinissa thee
Preferr'd not, nor to thee now Masinissa,
But Carthage to you both. And if preferring
Thousands to one, a whole collected people,
All nature's tenderness, whate'er is sacred,
The liberty the welfare of a state,
To one man's frantic happiness, be shame;
Here, Syphax, I invoke it on my head!
This set aside; I, careless of my self,
And, scorning prosperous state, had still been thine,
In all the depth of misery proudly thine!
But since the public good, the law supreme,
Forbids it; I will leave thee with a kingdom,
The same I found thee, or not reign my self.
And, scorning prosperous state, had still been thine,
In all the depth of misery proudly thine!
But since the public good, the law supreme,
Forbids it; I will leave thee with a kingdom,
The same I found thee, or not reign my self.
Alas! I see thee hurt—Why cam'st thou here,
Thus to inflame thee more?
Thus to inflame thee more?
Syphax.
Why sorceress? why?
Thou complication of all deadly mischief!
Thou lying, soothing, specious, charming fury!
I'll tell thee why—To breathe my great revenge;
To throw this load of burning madness from me;
To stab thee!—
Sophonisba.
Ha!—
Syphax.
—And, springing from thy heart,
To quench me with thy blood!
(Phœnissa interposes)
49
Off, give me way!
Phœnissa; tempt not thou his brutal rage.
Me, me, he dares not murder: if he dares,
Here let his fury strike; for I dare die.
What holds thy trembling point?
Phoenissa.
Guards!
Sophonisba.
Seize the king.
But look you treat him well, with all the state
His dignity demands.
Syphax.
Goodness from thee
Is the worst death,—The Roman trumpets!—Ha!
Now I bethink me, Rome will do me justice.
Yes, I shall see thee walk the slave of Rome;
Forget my wrongs, and glut me with the sight.
Be that my best revenge.
Sophonisba.
Inhuman! that,
If there is death in Afric, shall not be.
SCENE III.
Lælius, Syphax.Lælius.
Syphax! alas, how fallen! how chang'd! from what
I here beheld thee once in pomp, and splendor;
At that illustrious interview, when Rome
And Carthage met beneath this very roof,
Their too great generals, Asdrubal and Scipio,
To court thy friendship. Of the same repast
Both gracefully partook, and both reclin'd
50
And hatred seldom burn between the brave.
Then the superiour virtues of the Roman
Gain'd all thy heart. Even Asdrubal himself,
With admiration struck and just despair,
Own'd him as dreadful at the social feast
As in the battle. This thou may'st remember;
And how thy faith was given before the Gods,
And sworn and seal'd to Scipio; yet how false
Thou since has prov'd, I need not now recount:
But let thy sufferings for thy guilt attone,
The captive for the king. A Roman tongue
Scorns to pursue the triumph of the sword,
With mean upbraidings.
Syphax.
Lælius, 'tis too true.
Curse on the cause!
Lælius.
But where is Masinissa?
The brave young victor, the Numidian Roman!
Where is he? that my joy, my glad applause,
From envy pure, may hail his happy state.
Why that contemtuous smile?
Syphax.
Too credulous Roman,
I smile to think how that this Masinissa,
This Rome-devoted heroe, must still more
Attract thy praises by a late exploit.
In every thing successful.
Lælius.
What is this?
These public shouts? A strange unusual joy
O'er all the captive city blazes wide.
What wanton riot reigns to night in Cirtha?
Within these conquer'd walls?
Syphax.
This, Lælius, is
A night of triumph o'er my conqueror,
O'er Masinissa.
51
Masinissa! How?
Syphax.
Why he to night is married to my queen.
Lælius.
Impossible!—
Syphax.
Yes, she, the fury! she,
Who put the nuptial torch into my hand,
That set my throne, my palace, and my kingdom,
All in a blaze—she now has seiz'd on him.
Will turn him soon from Rome—I know her power,
Her lips distil unconquerable poison.
O glorious thought!—will sink this hated youth,
Will crush him deep, beneath the mighty ruins
Of falling Carthage.
Lælius.
Can it be? Amazement!
Syphax.
Nay learn it from himself.—He comes—Away!
Ye furies snatch me from his sight! For hell,
Its tortures all are gentle to the presence
Of a triumphant rival?
Lælius.
What is man?
SCENE IV.
Masinissa, Lælius.Masinissa.
Thou more than partner of this glorious day!
Which has from Carthage torn her chief support,
And tottering left her, I rejoice to see thee—
To Cirtha welcome, Lælius.—Thy brave legions
Now taste the sweet repose by valour purchas'd;
52
I order'd Narva—
Lælius.
Thanks to Masinissa.
All that is well. I here observ'd the king,
But loosely guarded. True, indeed, from him
There is not much to fear. The dangerous spirit,
Still not unworthy fear, our matchless prize,
Is his imperious queen, is Sophonisba.
The pride, the rage of Carthage live in her.
How? where is she?
Masinissa.
She, Lælius? In my care.
Think not of her. I'll answer for her conduct.
Lælius.
Yes, if in chains. Till then, believe me, prince,
It were as hopeful answering for the winds,
That their broad pinions will not rouze the desart;
Or that the darted Lightning will be harmless;
As promise peace from her.—But why so dark?
You shift your place, your countenance grows warm.
It is not usual this in Masinissa.
Pray what offence can asking for the queen,
The Roman captive give?
Masinissa.
Lælius, no more.
You know my marriage.—Syphax has been busy—
It is unkind to dally with my passion.
Lælius.
Ah, Masinissa! was it then for this,
Thy hurry hither from the recent battle?
Is the first instance of the Roman bounty
Thus, thus abus'd? They give thee back thy kingdom;
And in return are of their captive robb'd;
Of all they valued, Sophonisba.—
Masinissa.
Robb'd!
How, Lælius? Robb'd!
53
Yes, Masinissa, robb'd.
What is it else? But I, this very night,
Will here assert the majesty of Rome;
And, mark me, tear her from the nuptial bed.
Masinissa.
Oh Gods! oh patience! As soon, fiery Roman!
As soon thy rage might from her azure sphere
Tear yonder moon.—The man who seizes her,
Shall set his foot first on my bleeding heart.
Of that be sure.—And is it thus ye treat
Your firm allies? Thus kings in friendship with you?
Of human passions strip them?—Slaves indeed!
If thus deny'd the common privilege
Of nature, what the weakest creatures claim,
A right to what they love.
Lælius.
Out! out!—For shame!
This passion makes thee blind. Here is a war,
Which desolates the nations, has almost
Laid waste the world. How many widows, orphans,
And love-lorn virgins pine for it in Rome!
Even her great senate droops; her nobles fail;
Her Circus shrinks; her every lustre thins,
Nature her self, by frequent prodigies,
Seems at this havock of her works to sicken:
And our Ausonian plains are now become
A horror to the sight: At each sad step,
Remembrance weeps. Yet her, the greatest prize
It hitherto has yielded; her, whose charms
Are only turn'd to whet its cruel point;
Thou to thy wedded breast hast taken her:
Hast purchas'd thee her beauties by a sea
Of thy protector's blood; and on a throne
Set her, this day recover'd by their arms.
Canst thou thy self, thou, think of it with patience?
This passion makes thee blind. Here is a war,
Which desolates the nations, has almost
Laid waste the world. How many widows, orphans,
And love-lorn virgins pine for it in Rome!
Even her great senate droops; her nobles fail;
Her Circus shrinks; her every lustre thins,
Nature her self, by frequent prodigies,
Seems at this havock of her works to sicken:
And our Ausonian plains are now become
A horror to the sight: At each sad step,
Remembrance weeps. Yet her, the greatest prize
It hitherto has yielded; her, whose charms
Are only turn'd to whet its cruel point;
Thou to thy wedded breast hast taken her:
Hast purchas'd thee her beauties by a sea
Of thy protector's blood; and on a throne
Set her, this day recover'd by their arms.
Canst thou thy self, thou, think of it with patience?
Nor to a Roman mention King.—A Roman
Would scorn to be a king.—The Roman people
Took liberty from out the very dust,
And for great ages urg'd it to the skies,
The dread of kings!
Would scorn to be a king.—The Roman people
Took liberty from out the very dust,
And for great ages urg'd it to the skies,
54
Masinissa.
Be not so haughty, Lælius.
It scarce becomes the gentle Scipio's friend;
Suits not thy wonted ease, the tender manners
I still have mark'd in thee. I honour Rome;
But honour too my self, my vows, my queen:
Nor will, nor can, I tamely hear thee threaten
To seize her like a slave.
Lælius.
I will be calm.
This thy rash deed, this unexpected shock,
Such a peculiar injury to me,
Thy friend and fellow-soldier, has perhaps
Snatch'd me too far. For hast thou not dishonour'd,
By this last action, a successful war?
Our common charge, entrusted us by Scipio.
Masinissa.
Ay, there it is.—Has not thy vain ambition,
(Oh where is friendship!) plan'd her for thy triumph?
To think on't, death! to think it is dishonour.
At such a sight, the warriour's eye might wet
His burning cheek; and all the Roman matrons,
Who line the laurel'd way, asham'd, and sad,
Turn from a captive brighter than themselves.
But Scipio will be milder.
Lælius.
I disdain
This thy surmise, and give it up to Scipio.
Those passions are not comely.—Here to morrow
Comes the proconsul. Mean time, Masinissa,
Ah harden not thy self in flattering hope!
Scipio is mild, but steady.—Ha! the queen.
I think she hates a Roman.—and will leave thee.
55
SCENE V.
Sophonisba, Masinissa.Sophonisba.
Was not that Roman Lælius, as I enter'd,
Who parted gloomy hence?
Masinissa.
Madam, the fame.
Sophonisba.
Unhappy Afric! since these haughty Romans
Have in this lordly manner trod thy courts.
Have in this lordly manner trod thy courts.
I read his fresh reproaches in thy face;
The lesson'd pupil in thy fallen look,
In that forc'd smile which sickens on thy cheek.
The lesson'd pupil in thy fallen look,
In that forc'd smile which sickens on thy cheek.
Masinissa.
Oh say not so, thou rapture of my soul!
For while I see thee, meditate thy charms,
I smile as cordial as the sun in may;
Deep from the heart, in every sense of joy
I fondly smile.
Sophonisba.
Nay, tell me, Masinissa;
How feels their tyranny, when 'tis brought home?
When, lawless grown, it touches what is dear?
Pomp for a while may dazle thoughtless man,
False glory blind him; but there is a time,
When ev'n the slave in heart will spurn his chains,
Nor know submission more.—What said his pride?
Masinissa.
His disappointment for a moment only
Burst in vain passion, and—
Sophonisba.
You stood abash'd;
56
Heard the fierce Roman mark me for his triumph.
Oh bitter!
Masinissa.
Banish that unkind suspicion.
The thought enflam'd my soul. I vow'd my life,
My last Massylian to the sword, ere he
Shou'd touch thy freedom with the least dishonour.
But that from Scipio—
Sophonisba.
Scipio!
Masinissa.
That from him—
Sophonisba.
I tell thee, Masinissa, if from him
I gain my freedom, from my self conceal it.
I shall disdain such freedom.
Masinissa.
Sophonisba!
Thou all my heart holds precious! doubt no more.
Nor Rome, nor Scipio, nor a world combin'd
Shall tear thee from me; till outstretch'd I lie,
A nameless wretch!
Sophonisba.
If thy protection fails,
Of this at least be sure, be very sure,
To give me timely death.
Masinissa.
Cease thus to talk,
Of death of Romans, of unkind Ambition.
My softer thoughts those rugged themes refuse,
Can turn alone to love.—All, all, but thee,
All nature is a passing dream to me.
Fix'd in my view, thou dost for ever shine,
Thy form forth-beaming from the soul divine.
A spirit thine, which mortals might adore;
Despising love, and thence creating more.
Thou the high passions, I the tender prove,
Thy heart was form'd for glory, mine for love.
The End of the Fourth Act.
| The tragedy of Sophonisba | |