SCENE I.

_Near Cirta._

_Enter_ SOPHONISBA _and_ ZANTHIA, _as out of a cave's mouth_.

_So._ Where are we, Zanthia?

_Zan._ Vangue said the cave Opened in Belos' forest.

_So._ Lord, how sweet I scent the air! The huge long vault's close vein, What damps[355] it breath'd! In Belos' forest, say'st? Be valiant, Zanthia; how far's Utica From these most heavy shades?

_Zan._ Ten easy leagues.

_So._ There's Massinissa: my true Zanthia, Shall's venture nobly to escape, and touch My lord's just arms? Love's wings so nimbly[356] heave The body up, that, as our toes shall trip 10 Over the tender and obedient grass, Scarce any drop of dew is dash'd to ground. And see the willing shade of friendly night Makes safe our instant haste! Boldness and speed Make actions most impossible succeed.

_Zan._ But, madam, know the forest hath no way But one to pass, the which holds strictest guard.

_So._ Do not betray me, Zanthia.

_Zan._ I, madam?

_So._ No, I not mistrust thee, yet--but----

_Zan._ Here you may 20 Delay your time.

_So._ Ay, Zanthia, delay, By which we may yet hope--yet hope--alas! How all benumb'd's my sense! Chance hath so often struck I scarce can feel. I should now curse the gods, Call on the furies, stamp the patient earth. Cleave my stretch'd cheeks with sound, speak from all sense, But loud and full of players' eloquence. No, no; what shall we eat?

_Zan._ Madam, I'll search For some ripe nuts which autumn hath shook down From the unleaved hazel, then some cooler air 30 Shall lead me to a spring. Or I will try The courteous pale[357] of some poor foresters For milk.

_So._ Do, Zanthia. O happiness

[_Exit_ ZANTHIA.

Of those that know not pride or lust of city! There's no man bless'd but those that most men pity. O fortunate poor maids, that are not forced To wed for state, nor are for state divorced! Whom policy of kingdoms doth not marry, But pure affection makes to love or vary; You feel no love which you dare not to show, 40 Nor show a love which doth not truly grow! O you are surely blessèd of the sky! You live, that know not death before you die.

[_Through the vaut's_[358] _mouth, in his nightgown, torch in his hand_, SYPHAX _enters just behind_ SOPHONISBA.

You are----

_Sy._ In Syphax' arms. Thing of false lip, What god shall now release thee?

_So._ Art a man?

_Sy._ Thy limbs shall feel. Despite thy virtue, know I'll thread thy richest pearl. This forest's deaf As is my lust. Night and the god of silence Swells my full pleasures; no more shalt thou delude My easy credence. Virgin of fair brow, 50 Well-featured creature, and our utmost wonder, Queen of our youthful bed, be proud.

[SYPHAX _setteth away his light, and prepareth to embrace_ SOPHONISBA.

I'll use thee.

[SOPHONISBA _snatcheth out her knife_.

_So._ Look thee--view this--show but one strain of force, Bow but to seize this arm, and by myself, Or more, by Massinissa, this good steel Shall set my soul on wing. Thus, form'd gods, see, And, men with gods' worth, envy nought but me!

_Sy._ Do, strike thy breast; know, being dead, I'll use, With highest lust of sense, thy senseless flesh, And even then thy vexèd soul shall see, 60 Without resistance, thy trunk prostitute Unto our appetite.

_So._ I shame to make thee know How vile thou speakest; corruption then as much As thou shalt do; but frame unto thy lusts Imagination's utmost sin: Syphax, I speak all frightless, know I live or die To Massinissa; nor the force of fate Shall make me leave his love, or slake thy hate. I will speak no more.

_Sy._ Thou hast amazed us: woman's forcèd use, 70 Like unripe fruits, no sooner got but waste; They have proportion, colour, but no taste.-- [_Aside._] Think, Syphax.--Sophonisba, rest thine own. Our guard!

_Enter a guard._

Creature of most astonishing virtue, If with fair usage, love, and passionate courtings, We may obtain the heaven of thy bed, We cease no suit; from other force be free: We dote not on thy body, but love thee.

_So._ Wilt thou keep faith?

_Sy._ By thee, and by that power 80 By which thou art thus glorious, trust my vow. Our guard convey the royal'st excellence That ever was call'd woman to our palace: Observe her with strict care.

_So._ Dread Syphax, speak! As thou art worthy, is not Zanthia false?

_Sy._ To thee she is.

_So._ As thou art then thyself, Let her not be.

_Sy._ She is not!

[_The guard seizeth_ ZANTHIA.

_Za._ Thus most speed: When two foes are grown friends, partakers bleed.

_Sy._ When plants must flourish, their manure must rot.

_So._ Syphax, be recompensed, I hate thee not. 90

[_Exeunt_ SOPHONISBA, ZANTHIA, _and guard_.

_Sy._ A wasting flame feeds on my amorous blood, Which we must cool, or die. What way all power, All speech, full opportunity, can make, We have made fruitless trial. Infernal Jove, You resolute angels that delight in flames, To you, all-wonder-working spirits, I fly! Since heaven helps not, deepest hell we'll try Here in this desert, the great soul of charms, Dreadful Erictho lives, whose dismal brow Contemns all roofs or civil coverture. 100 Forsaken graves and tombs, the ghosts forced out, She joys to inhabit. A loathsome yellow leanness spreads her face, A heavy hell-like paleness loads her cheeks, Unknown to a clear heaven; but if dark winds Or thick black clouds drive back the blinded stars, When her deep magic makes forced heaven quake And thunder spite of Jove,--Erictho then From naked graves stalks out, heaves proud her head With long unkemb'd hair loaden, and strives to snatch 110 The night's quick sulphur; then she bursts up tombs, From half-rot sear-cloths then she scrapes dry gums For her black rites; but when she finds a corpse But[359] newly graved, whose entrails are not turn'd To slimy filth, with greedy havock then She makes fierce spoil, and swells with wicked triumph To bury her lean knuckles in his eyes; Then doth she gnaw the pale and o'ergrown nails From his dry hand; but if she find some life Yet lurking close, she bites his gelid[360] lips, 120 And, sticking her black tongue in his dry throat, She breathes dire murmurs, which enforce him bear Her baneful secrets to the spirits of horror. To her first sound the gods yield any harm, As trembling once to hear a second charm: She is----

_Infernal music plays softly whilst_ ERICTHO _enters, and, when she speaks, ceaseth_.

_Eri._ Here, Syphax, here; quake not, for know I know thy thoughts: thou wouldst entreat our power Nice Sophonisba's passion to enforce To thy affection, be all full of Jove.[361] 'Tis done, 'tis done; to us heaven, earth, sea, air, 130 And Fate itself obeys; the beasts[362] of death, And all the terrors angry gods invented (T'afflict the ignorance of patient man), Tremble at us; the roll'd-up snake uncurls[363] His twisted knots at our affrighting voice. Are we incensed? the king of flames[364] grows pale, Lest he be chok'd with black and earthy fumes, Which our charms raise. Be joy'd, make proud thy lust: I do not pray you, gods; my breath's, "You must."

_Sy._ Deep knowing spirit, mother of all high 140 Mysterious science, what may Syphax yield Worthy thy art, by which my soul's thus eased? The gods first made me live, but thou live pleased.

_Eri._ Know then, our love, hard by the reverent[365] ruins Of a once glorious temple rear'd to Jove, Whose very rubbish (like the pitied fall Of virtue most unfortunate) yet bears A deathless majesty, though now quite rased, Hurl'd down by wrath and lust of impious kings, So that, where holy flamens wont to sing 150 Sweet hymns to heaven, there the daw and crow, The ill-voiced raven, and still-chattering pie, Send out ungrateful sounds and loathsome filth; Where statues and Jove's acts were vively limn'd[366] Boys with black coals draw the veil'd parts of nature, And lecherous actions of imagin'd lust; Where tombs and beauteous urns of well-dead men Stood in assurèd rest, the shepherd now Unloads his belly, corruption most abhorr'd Mingling itself with their renownèd ashes: 160 Ourself quakes at it! There once a charnel-house, now a vast cave, Over whose brow a pale and untrod grove Throws out her heavy shade, the mouth thick arms Of darksome yew (sun-proof) for ever choke; Within rests barren darkness; fruitless drought Pines in eternal night; the steam of hell Yields not so lazy air: there, that's my cell; From thence a charm, which Jove dare not hear twice, Shall force her to thy bed. But, Syphax, know, 170 Love is the highest rebel to our art: Therefore I charge thee, by the fear of all Which thou know'st dreadful, or more, by ourself, As with swift haste she passeth to thy bed, And easy to thy wishes yields, speak not one word, Nor dare, as thou dost fear thy loss of joys, T'admit one light, one light.

_Sy._ As to my fate I yield my guidance.

_Eri._ Then, when I shall force The air to music, and the shades of night To form sweet sounds, make proud thy raised delight: Meantime, behold, I go a charm to rear, 181 Whose potent sound will force ourself to fear.

_Sy._ Whither is Syphax heaved? at length shall's joy Hopes more desired than heaven? Sweet labouring earth, Let heaven be unform'd with mighty charms; Let Sophonisba only fill these arms, Jove we'll not envy thee. Blood's appetite Is Syphax' god; my wisdom is my sense, Without[367] a man I hold no excellence. Give me long breath, young beds, and sickness' ease; For we hold firm, that's lawful which doth please. 191

_Infernal music, softly._

_Hark! hark! now rise infernal tones, The deep-fetch'd groans Of labouring spirits that attend Erictho._ _Erictho!_ [_within._ _Now crack the trembling earth, and send Shrieks that portend Affrightment to the gods which hear Erictho._ 200 _Erictho!_ [_within._

_A treble viol, a base lute, &c., play softly within the canopy._

Hark! hark! now softer melody strikes mute Disquiet Nature. O thou power of sound, How thou dost melt me! Hark! now even heaven Gives up his soul amongst us. Now's the time When greedy expectation strains mine eyes For their loved object; now Erictho will'd Prepare my appetite for love's strict gripes. O you dear founts of pleasure, blood, and beauty, Raise active Venus worth fruition 210 Of such provoking sweetness. Hark, she comes!

_A short song to soft music above._

Now nuptial hymns enforcèd spirits sing. Hark, Syphax, hark! Now hell and heaven rings.

CANTANT.

With music spite of Phoebus. Peace! She comes!

_Enter_ ERICTHO _in the shape of_ SOPHONISBA, _her face veiled, and hasteth in the bed of_ SYPHAX.

Fury of blood's impatient! Erictho, 'Bove thunder sit: to thee, egregious soul, Let all flesh bend. Sophonisba, thy flame But equal mine, and we'll joy such delight, That gods shall not admire, but even spite!

[SYPHAX _hasteneth within the canopy, as to_ SOPHONISBA'S _bed_.

[354] In old eds. is the direction--"_Organs, Viols, and Voices play for this Act._"

[355] Old eds. "dumps."

[356] So ed. 1.--Ed. 2. "justly."

[357] Enclosure.

[358] Old form of "vault."

[359] So ed. 2.--Ed. 1. "New graud whose entrailes yet not turne."

[360] Ed. 1. "gelled;" ed. 2. "gellid."--_Gelid_ is here preferable to the form _jellied_ that I adopted in vol. i. p. 114.

[361] So ed. 1.--Ed. 2. "love." (Persons born under the planet Jupiter were supposed to be of a _jovial_ disposition.)

[362] Ed. 1. "heastes."

[363] Ed. 1. "vncurlde."

[364] So Chapman in a magnificent passage of _Bussy D'Ambois_:-- "Terror of darkness, O thou _king of flames_," &c.

[365] A recognised old form of _reverend_. It occurs so frequently in this sense that it cannot be regarded as a misprint.

[366] "Vively limn'd,"--drawn to the life.

[367] "Without a man"--outside of man's senses.