 | The tragedy of Sophonisba |  |
68
SCENE VI.
Sophonisba, Phoenissa.Sophonisba.
Yes, Masinissa loves me—Heavens! how fond!
But yet I know not what hangs on my spirit,
A dismal boding; for this fatal Scipio,
I dread his virtues, this prevailing Roman,
Even now perhaps deludes the generous king,
Fires his ambition with mistaken glory,
Demands me from him; for full well he knows,
That, while I live, I must intend their ruin.
Phoenissa.
Madam, these fears—
Sophonisba.
And yet it cannot be.
Can Scipio, whom even hostile fame proclaims
Of perfect honour, and of polish'd manners,
Smooth, artful, winning, moderate, and wise,
Make such a wild demand? Or, if he could,
Can Masinissa grant it? give his queen,
Whom love and honour bind him to protect,
Yield her a captive to triumphant Rome?
'Tis baseness to Iuspect it; 'tis inhuman.
Can Scipio, whom even hostile fame proclaims
Of perfect honour, and of polish'd manners,
Smooth, artful, winning, moderate, and wise,
Make such a wild demand? Or, if he could,
Can Masinissa grant it? give his queen,
Whom love and honour bind him to protect,
Yield her a captive to triumphant Rome?
'Tis baseness to Iuspect it; 'tis inhuman.
What then remains?—Suppose they should resolve
By right of war to seize me for their prize.
Ay, there it kills!—What can his single arm,
Against the Roman power? that very power
By which he stands restor'd? Distracting thought!
Still o'er my head the rod of bondage hangs.
Shame on my weakness!—This poor catching hope,
This transient taste of joy, will only more
Imbitter death.
By right of war to seize me for their prize.
Ay, there it kills!—What can his single arm,
Against the Roman power? that very power
By which he stands restor'd? Distracting thought!
Still o'er my head the rod of bondage hangs.
Shame on my weakness!—This poor catching hope,
This transient taste of joy, will only more
Imbitter death.
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A moment will decide.
Madam, till then—
Sophonisba.
Would I had dy'd before!
And am I dreaming here? Here from the Romans,
Beseeching I may live to swell their triumph?
When my free spirit should ere now have join'd
That great assembly, those devoted shades,
Who scorn'd to live till liberty was lost,
But ere their country fell, abhorr'd the light.
And am I dreaming here? Here from the Romans,
Beseeching I may live to swell their triumph?
When my free spirit should ere now have join'd
That great assembly, those devoted shades,
Who scorn'd to live till liberty was lost,
But ere their country fell, abhorr'd the light.
Whence this pale slave? he trembles with his message.
| The tragedy of Sophonisba | |