SCENE I.

_The palace of Syphax at Cirta._

SYPHAX _and_ VANGUE.

_Sy._ Syphax, Syphax! why wast thou cursed a king? What angry god made thee so great, so vile? Contemn'd, disgracèd! think, wert thou a slave, Though Sophonisba did reject thy love, Thy low neglected head, unpointed at, Thy shame unrumour'd, and thy suit unscoff'd, Might yet rest quiet. Reputation, Thou awe of fools and great men; thou that chok'st Freest addictions, and makest mortals sweat Blood and cold drops in fear to lose, or hope 10 To gain, thy never-certain seldom-worthy gracings; Reputation, Were't not for thee, Syphax could bear this scorn, Not spouting up his gall among his blood In black vexations: Massinissa might Enjoy the sweets of his preferrèd graces Without my dangerous envy or revenge; Were't not for thy affliction, all might sleep In sweet oblivion: but (O greatness' scourge!) We cannot without envy keep high name, 20 Nor yet disgraced can have a quiet shame.

_Van._ Scipio----

_Sy._ Some light in depth of hell. Vangue, what hope?

_Van._ I have received assured intelligence, That Scipio, Rome's sole hope, hath raised up men, Drawn troops together for invasion----

_Sy._ Of this same Carthage?

_Van._ With this policy, To force wild Hannibal from Italy----

_Sy._ And draw the war to Afric?

_Van._ Right.

_Sy._ And strike This secure country with unthought of arms? 30

_Van._ My letters bear he is departed Rome, Directly setting course and sailing up----

_Sy._ To Carthage, Carthage! O thou eternal youth, Man of large fame, great and abounding glory, Renownful Scipio, spread thy two-necked eagles, Fill full thy sails with a revenging wind, Strike through obedient Neptune, till thy prows[297] Dash up our Libyan ooze,[298] and thy just arms Shine with amazeful terror on these walls! O now record thy father's[299] honour'd blood 40 Which Carthage drunk; thy uncle Publius'[300] blood Which Carthage drunk; thirty thousand souls Of choice Italians Carthage set on wing: Remember Hannibal, yet Hannibal, The consul-queller: O then enlarge thy heart, Be thousand souls in one! let all the breath, The spirit of thy name and nation, be mix'd strong In thy great heart! O fall like thunder-shaft, The wingèd vengeance of incensèd Jove, Upon this Carthage! for Syphax here flies off 50 From all allegiance, from all love or service, His (now free'd) sceptre once did yield this city. Ye universal gods, light, heat, and air, Prove all unblessing Syphax, if his hands Once rear themselves for Carthage but to curse it! It had been better they had changed their faith, Denied their gods, than slighted Syphax' love; So fearfully will I take vengeance. I'll interleague with Scipio.--Vangue, Dear Ethiopian negro, go wing a vessel, 60 And fly to Scipio: say his confederate, Vow'd and confirm'd, is Syphax: bid him haste To mix our palms and arms; will him make up, Whilst we are in the strength of discontent, Our unsuspected forces well in arms; For Sophonisba, Carthage, Asdrubal, Shall feel their weakness in preferring weakness, And one less great than we. To our dear wishes, Haste, gentle negro, that this heap may know Me and their wrong. 70

_Van._ Wrong?

_Sy._ Ay, tho' 'twere not; yet know, while kings are strong, What they'll but think, and not what is, is wrong. I am disgraced in and by that which hath No reason,--love, and woman; my revenge Shall therefore bear no argument of right; Passion is reason when it speaks from might. I tell thee, man, nor kings nor gods exempt, But they grow pale if once they find contempt. Haste! 80

[_Exeunt._

[297] So ed. 1.--Ed. 2. (_i.e._ 8vo of 1633) "powers."

[298] Ed. 1. reads "ouse," which becomes "house" in ed. 2.

[299] Cn. Scipio, who fell fighting in Spain, B.C. 212. See Livy, xxv. 36.

[300] See Livy, xxv. 34.