 | The tragedy of Sophonisba |  |
SCENE III.
Sophonisba, Masinissa.Sophonisba.
Forgive this quick return.—The rage, confusion,
And mingled passions of this luckless day,
Made me forget another warm request
I had to beg of generous Masinissa;
For oh to whom, save to the generous, can
The miserable fly?—But much disturb'd
You look, and scowl upon me a denial.
Repentance frowns on your contracted brow.
Already, weary of my sinking fate,
You seem to droop; and for unhappy Syphax
I shall implore in vain.
Masinissa.
For Syphax? vengeance!
And canst thou mention him? Oh grant me breath!
34
I know, young prince, how deep he has provok'd thee;
How keen he sought thy youth; thro' what a fire
Of great distress, from which you come the brighter.
How keen he sought thy youth; thro' what a fire
Of great distress, from which you come the brighter.
On dull indifferent objects, or perhaps
Dislik'd a little, 'tis but common bounty
To shower relief; but when our bitterest foe
Lies sunk, disarm'd, and desolate, then! then!
To feel the mercies of a pitying God,
To raise him from the dust, and that best way
To triumph o'er him, is heroic goodness.
Oh let unhappy Syphax touch thy heart,
Victorious Masinissa!
Dislik'd a little, 'tis but common bounty
To shower relief; but when our bitterest foe
Lies sunk, disarm'd, and desolate, then! then!
To feel the mercies of a pitying God,
To raise him from the dust, and that best way
To triumph o'er him, is heroic goodness.
Oh let unhappy Syphax touch thy heart,
Victorious Masinissa!
Masinissa.
Monstrous this!
Still dost thou blast me with that cursed name!
The very name thy conscious guilt should shun.
Still dost thou blast me with that cursed name!
The very name thy conscious guilt should shun.
Oh had he heap'd all ills upon my head,
While it was young, and for the storm unfit;
Had he but driven me from my native throne,
From regal pomp and luxury, to dwell
Among the forest beasts; to bear the beam
Of red Numidian suns, and the rank dew
Of cold unshelter'd nights; to mix with wolves,
To hunt with hungry tygers for my prey,
And thirst with Dipsas on the burning sand;
I could have thank'd him for his angry lesson;
The fair occasion that his rage afforded
Of learning patience, fortitude, and hope,
Still rising stronger on incumbent fate,
And all that try'd humanity can dictate.
But there is one curs'd bitterness behind,
One injury, the man can never pardon;
That scorches up the tear in pity's eye,
And even sweet mercy's self converts to gall.
I cannot—will not name it—Heart of anguish!
Down! down!
While it was young, and for the storm unfit;
Had he but driven me from my native throne,
From regal pomp and luxury, to dwell
Among the forest beasts; to bear the beam
Of red Numidian suns, and the rank dew
Of cold unshelter'd nights; to mix with wolves,
To hunt with hungry tygers for my prey,
And thirst with Dipsas on the burning sand;
I could have thank'd him for his angry lesson;
The fair occasion that his rage afforded
Of learning patience, fortitude, and hope,
Still rising stronger on incumbent fate,
And all that try'd humanity can dictate.
But there is one curs'd bitterness behind,
One injury, the man can never pardon;
That scorches up the tear in pity's eye,
And even sweet mercy's self converts to gall.
I cannot—will not name it—Heart of anguish!
Down! down!
35
Ah! whence this sudden storm? this madness,
That hurries all thy soul?
Masinissa.
And dost thou ask?
Ask thy own faithless heart; snatch'd from my Vows,
From the warm wishes of my springing youth,
And given to that old hated monster, Syphax.
Perfidious Sophonisba!
Sophonisba.
Nay no more.
With too much truth I can return thy charge.
Why didst thou drive me to that cruel choice?
Why leave me, with my country, to destruction?
Why break thy love? thy faith? and join the Romans?
Masinissa.
By heavens! the Romans were my better genius,
Sav'd me from fate, and form'd my youth to glory;
But for the Romans I had been a savage,
A wretch like Syphax, a forgotten thing,
The tool of Carthage.
Sophonisba.
Meddle not with Carthage,
Impatient youth, for that I will not bear;
Tho' here I were a thousand fold thy slave.
Not one base word of Carthage—on thy soul!
Masinissa.
How vain thy phrenzy! Go, command thy slaves,
Thy fools, thy Syphaxes; but I will speak,
Speak loud of Carthage, call it false, ungenerous,
—Yet shall I check me, since it is thy country?
While the Romans are the light, the glory—
Sophonisba.
Romans!
Perdition on the Romans!—and almost
On the too—Romans are the scourge
Of the red world, destroyers of mankind,
The ruffians, ravagers of earth; and all
36
Of justice, and compassion; as if slave
Was but another name for civiliz'd.
All vengeance on the Romans!—While fair Carthage
Unblemish'd rises on the base of commerce;
And asks of heaven nought but the general winds,
And common tides, to carry plenty, joy,
Civility, and grandeur, round the world.
Masinissa.
No more compare them! for the gods themselves
Declare for Rome.
Sophonisba.
It was not always so.
The gods declar'd for Hannibal; when Italy
Blaz'd all around him, all her streams ran blood,
All her incarnate vales were vile with death;
And when at Trebia, Thrasymone, and Cannæ,
The Carthaginion sword with Roman blood
Was drunk—Oh that he then, on that dread day,
While lifeless consternation blacken'd Rome,
Had raz'd th'accursed city to the ground,
And sav'd the world!—When will it come again,
A day so glorious, and so big with vengeance,
On those my soul abhors?
Masinissa.
Avert it heaven!
The Romans not enslave but save the world
From Carthaginian rage.—
Sophonisba.
I'll bear no more!
Nor tenderness, nor life, nor liberty,
Nothing shall make me bear it.—Perish Rome!
And all her menial friends!—Yes, rather, rather,
Detested as ye are, ye Romans, take me,
Oh pitying take me to your nobler chains!
And save me from this abject youth, your slave!
—How canst thou kill me thus?—
Masinissa.
I meant it not.
I only meant to tell thee, haughty fair one!
37
That, in a frail and sliding hour, they snatch'd me
From the perdition of thy love; which fell,
Like baleful lightning, where I most could wish,
And prov'd destruction to my mortal foe.
Oh pleasing! fortunate!
Sophonisba.
I thank them too.
By heavens! for once, I love them; since they turn'd
My better thoughts from thee, thou—But I will not
Give thee the name, thy mean servility
From my just scorn deserves.
Masinissa.
Oh freely call me,
By every name thy fury can inspire;
Enrich me with contempt—I love no more—
It will not hurt me, Sophonisba.—Love,
Long since I gave it to the passing winds,
And would not be a lover for the world.
A lover is the very fool of nature;
Made sick by his own wantonness of thought.
His feaver'd fancy: while, to your own charms
Imputing all, you swell with boundless pride.
Shame on the wretch! who should be driven from men,
To live with Asian slaves, in one soft herd,
All wretched, all ridiculous together.
By every name thy fury can inspire;
Enrich me with contempt—I love no more—
It will not hurt me, Sophonisba.—Love,
Long since I gave it to the passing winds,
And would not be a lover for the world.
A lover is the very fool of nature;
Made sick by his own wantonness of thought.
His feaver'd fancy: while, to your own charms
Imputing all, you swell with boundless pride.
Shame on the wretch! who should be driven from men,
To live with Asian slaves, in one soft herd,
All wretched, all ridiculous together.
For me, this moment, here I mean to bid
Farewel, a glad farewel to love and thee.
Farewel, a glad farewel to love and thee.
Sophonisba.
With all my soul, farewel!—Yet, ere you go;
Know that my spirit burns as high as thine,
As high to glory, and as low to love.
Know that my spirit burns as high as thine,
As high to glory, and as low to love.
Thy promises are void; and I absolve thee;
Here in the presence of the listning gods.—
Take thy repented vows—To proud Cornelia
I'd rather be a slave, to Scipio's mother;
Than queen of all Numidia, by the favour
Of him, who dares insult the helpless thus.
(Pausing:)
Here in the presence of the listning gods.—
Take thy repented vows—To proud Cornelia
I'd rather be a slave, to Scipio's mother;
Than queen of all Numidia, by the favour
Of him, who dares insult the helpless thus.
38
Still dost thou stay? behold me then again,
Hopeless, and wild, a lost abandon'd slave.
And now thy brutal purpose must be gain'd.
Away, thou cruel, and ungenerous, go!
Hopeless, and wild, a lost abandon'd slave.
And now thy brutal purpose must be gain'd.
Away, thou cruel, and ungenerous, go!
Masinissa.
No, not for worlds would I resume my vow!
Dishonour blast me then! all kind of ills
Fill up my cup of bitterness, and shame!
When I resign thee to triumphant Rome.
Dishonour blast me then! all kind of ills
Fill up my cup of bitterness, and shame!
When I resign thee to triumphant Rome.
Oh lean not thus dejected to the ground!
The sight is misery.—what roots me here?
(Aside)
The sight is misery.—what roots me here?
Alas! I have urg'd my foolish heart too far;
And love depress'd, recoils with greater force.
Oh Sophonisba!
And love depress'd, recoils with greater force.
Oh Sophonisba!
Sophonisba.
By thy pride she dies.
Inhuman prince!
Masinissa.
Thine is the conquest, nature!
By heaven and earth! I cannot hold it more.
Wretch that I was! to crush th'unhappy thus;
The fairest too, the dearest of her sex!
For whom my soul could dye!—Turn, quickly turn,
O Sophonisba! my belov'd! my glory!
Turn and forgive the violence of love,
Of love that knows no bounds!
Sophonisba.
And can it be?
Can that soft passion prove so fierce of heart,
As on the tears of misery, the sighs
Of death, to feast? to torture what it loves?
Masinissa.
Yes it can be, thou goddess of my soul!
Whose each emotion is but varied love,
All over love, its powers, its passions, all:
Its anger, indignation, fury, love;
Its pride, disdain, even detestation, love;
And when it, wild, resolves to love no more,
Then is the triumph of excessive love.
Whose each emotion is but varied love,
All over love, its powers, its passions, all:
Its anger, indignation, fury, love;
Its pride, disdain, even detestation, love;
And when it, wild, resolves to love no more,
Then is the triumph of excessive love.
39
Didst thou not mark me? mark the dubious rage,
That tore my heart with anguish while I talk'd?
Thou didst; and must forgive so kind a fault.
What would thy trembling lips?
That tore my heart with anguish while I talk'd?
Thou didst; and must forgive so kind a fault.
What would thy trembling lips?
Sophonisba.
That I must die.
For such another storm, so much contempt
Thrown out on Carthage, so much Praise on Rome,
Were worse than death. Why should I longer tire
My weary fate? The most relentless Roman
What could he more?
Masinissa.
Oh Sophonisba, hear!
See me thy suppliant now. Talk not of death.
I have no life but thee.—Alas! Alas!
Hadst thou a little tenderness for me,
The smallest part of what I feel, thou wouldst—
What wouldst thou not forgive? But how indeed
How can I hope it? Yet I from this moment,
Will so devote my being to thy pleasure,
So live alone to gain thee; that thou must,
If there is human nature in thy breast,
Feel some relenting warmth.
Sophonisba.
Well, well, 'tis past.
To be inexorable suits not slaves.
Masinissa.
Spare, spare that word; it stabs me to the soul;
My crown, my life, and liberty are thine.
My crown, my life, and liberty are thine.
Oh give my passion way! My heart is full,
Oppress'd by love; and I could number tears,
With all the dews that sprinkle o'er the morn;
While thus with thee conversing, thus with thee
Even happy to distress.—Enough, enough,
Have we been cheated by the trick of state,
For Rome and Carthage suffer'd much too long;
And led, by gaudy fantoms, wander'd far,
Far from our bliss. But now since met again,
Since here I hold thee, circle all perfection,
The prize of life! since fate too presses hard,
Since Rome and slavery drive thee to the brink;
Let this immediate night exchange our vows,
Secure my bliss, our future fortunes blend,
Set thee, the queen of beauty, on my throne,
And make it doubly mine.—A wretched gift
To what my love could give!
Oppress'd by love; and I could number tears,
With all the dews that sprinkle o'er the morn;
While thus with thee conversing, thus with thee
Even happy to distress.—Enough, enough,
Have we been cheated by the trick of state,
For Rome and Carthage suffer'd much too long;
And led, by gaudy fantoms, wander'd far,
Far from our bliss. But now since met again,
Since here I hold thee, circle all perfection,
The prize of life! since fate too presses hard,
40
Let this immediate night exchange our vows,
Secure my bliss, our future fortunes blend,
Set thee, the queen of beauty, on my throne,
And make it doubly mine.—A wretched gift
To what my love could give!
Sophonisba.
What? marry thee,
This night?
Masinissa.
Thou dear one! yes, this very night,
Let injur'd Hymen have his rights restor'd,
And bind our broken vows.—Think, serious, think!
On what I plead.—A thousand reasons urge.—
Captivity dissolves thy former marriage;
And if 'tis with the meanest vulgar so,
Can Sophonisba to a slave, to Syphax,
The most exalted of her sex, be bound?
Besides it is the best, perhaps sole way,
To save thee from the Romans; and must sure
Bar their pretensions: or if ruin comes,
To perish with thee is to perish happy.
Sophonisba.
Yet must I still insist.—
Masinissa.
It shall be so.
I know thy purpose; it would plead for Syphax.
He shall have all, thou dearest! shall have all,
Crowns, trifles, kingdoms, all again, but thee,
But thee, thou more than all!
Sophonisba.
(Aside)
Bear witness heaven!
This is alone for Carthage.
(To him)
Gain'd by goodness,
I may be thine. Expect no love, no sighing.
Perhaps, hereafter, I may learn again
To hold thee dear. If on these terms thou canst,
41
Masinissa.
Yes,
Yes, Sophonisba! as a wretch takes life
From off the bleeding rack.—All wild with joy,
Thus hold thee, press thee, to my bounding heart;
And bless the bounteous Gods.—Can heaven give more?
Oh happy! happy! happy!—Come, my fair,
This ready minute sees thy will perform'd;
From Syphax knocks his chains; and I my self,
Even in his favour, will request the Romans.
Yes, Sophonisba! as a wretch takes life
From off the bleeding rack.—All wild with joy,
Thus hold thee, press thee, to my bounding heart;
And bless the bounteous Gods.—Can heaven give more?
Oh happy! happy! happy!—Come, my fair,
This ready minute sees thy will perform'd;
From Syphax knocks his chains; and I my self,
Even in his favour, will request the Romans.
Oh, thou hast smil'd my passions into peace!
So, while conflicting winds embroil'd the Seas,
In perfect bloom, warm with immortal blood,
Young Venus rear'd her o'er the raging flood;
She smil'd around, like thine her beauties glow'd;
When smooth, in gentle swells, the surges flow'd;
Sunk, by degrees, into a liquid plain;
And one bright calm sat trembling on the main.
So, while conflicting winds embroil'd the Seas,
In perfect bloom, warm with immortal blood,
Young Venus rear'd her o'er the raging flood;
She smil'd around, like thine her beauties glow'd;
When smooth, in gentle swells, the surges flow'd;
Sunk, by degrees, into a liquid plain;
And one bright calm sat trembling on the main.
| The tragedy of Sophonisba | |