SOPHONISBA, OR HANNIBAL'S Overthrow. A TRAGEDY, Acted at the Theatre-Royall, By their MAJESTY'S SERVANTS.  
Written by Nathaniel Lee, Gent.  
Praecipitandus est liber spiritus,  Petronius. 
LONDON. Printed for I. Magnes and R. Bentley in Russel-street in covent-garden near the Piazza's, Anno Domini, MDCLXXVI.   

To her GRACE the DUCHESS OF PORTSMOUTH.  
Madam,  
IF Sophonisba received some applause upon the stage, I arrogate nothing from the merit of the Poem, but as I ought with the humblest acknowledgements and profoundest gratitude, impute it to the favourable aspects of the Court-Stars. But above all, I must pay my adorations to your Grace, who as you are the most Beautiful, as well in the bright appearances of body, as in the immortal splendours of an elevated soul; did shed mightier influence, and darted on me a largess of glory answerable to your stock of Beams. Hannibal himself whose hardy spirit never bowed but to the fair imperious Rosalinda: nay, he who in spite of beauty's charms, durst gaze upon that sun with Eagle-eyes, and tax her with a blemish, now making his approaches to your Grace, seems awed with the source of so many rays, and dazzled with a presence so illustrious. He sees with new bleedings, eyes more attractive than those of Rosalinda, something more delicate in your shape, and lofty in your mien; an Air so charming sweet, that 'tis miraculous it should be Majestic too: Smiles of more delightful Shine than April suns, such softnesses and languish, as the almighty Poet's hand cannot describe, nor Painter's Pencil ever draw. For my own part I am resolved to look up to you daily, and dedicate my Life and Labours to your Grace, to spend all the store of my yet unexhausted fancy in your unbounded Fame. For I declare to be wreathed in Laurel from head to foot, is not comparable honour to that of being Madam.  
Your Grace's most humble and devoted servant. Nat. Lee.   

Dramatis personae.  
Hannibal, General of Carthage. Mr. Moon. Maherbal, Lieutenant General. Mr. Wats. Bomilcar, Master of the Horse, and Elephants. Mr. Haris. Scipio, Consul of Rome. Mr. Kingeston. Lelius, His Lieutenant. Mr. Wintersel. Massinissa, Syphax, Kings of Nudimia; both married to Sophonisba. Mr. Harte. Massina, Nephew of Massinissa. Mr. Clerk. Menander, The confident of Massinissa. Mr.— Sophonisba, A Carthaginian Lady daughter of Asdrubal. Mrs. Cosh. Rosalinda, A Roman Lady the Mistress of Hannibal. Mrs. Damport. Rezambe, Merna, Maids of honour, and confidents of Sophonisba. Mrs.—  
The SCENE Zama.   

THE TRAGEDY OF SOPHONISBA; OR HANNIBAL'S OVERTHROW.  
ACT. I. Scaen. I.  Enter Hannibal, Maherbal, Bomilcar. Guards and Attendants. Han. 
COnquest with Laurels has our arms adorned,  
And Rome in Tears of blood our anger mourned.  
Like Gods we passed the rugged Alpine hills  
Melted our way and drove our hissing wheels  
Through Cloudy deluges, eternal Rills.  
What after ages shall with pain believe  
Through burning Quarries did our passage cleave.  
Hurled dreadful Fire, and Vinegar infused,  
Whose horrid force the Nerves of Flints unloosed.  
Made Nature start to see us root up Rocks,  
And open all her Adamantine Locks.  
Shake off her massy Barrs, o'er mountains go  
Through Globes of Ice, and flakes of solid Snow.  
On our last Elephant while we did sleep  
In Arnus foggy Fens and Marshes deep.  
One light we lost, for Carthage underwent  
Wars tedious toils, our Blood and spirits spent,  
And all the stock of health which bounteous Nature lent.  Mah. 
But what return has that slow City made?  
Admired by foes you were by friends betrayed.  
While you abroad famed Battles bravely fought.  
The Traitor Hanno your destruction sought,  
No succours were for your assistance meant,  
For still to Rome Intelligence was sent  
That did the Carthaginians strength declare  
Which way they passed, and what their numbers were.  Bom. 
By his design your Brother's death was wrought,  
When he apart from you with Nero fought.  
Too well that Barbarous Statesman Hanno knew  
If Gallant Asdrubal should join with you.  
The Romans could no hope of safety have,  
No Power on Earth could their lost Empire save.  
With wicked policy ' he therefore tried  
your two all conquering armies to divide.  
How fatally did his cursed Plots succeed?  
When with your Brother all his Troops did bleed.  Han 
Great Statesmen Kings should watch while they employ  
Lest what they build, those underhand destroy,  
Nor has his separating Chiefs been known  
Only on Land, but on the Ocean shown.  
Where Fleets divided by close practised Arts  
Have melted womens' Eyes, and Soldiers Hearts.  
Now all the Fiends those Traitors drag to Hell,  
Who for Revenge or Gold; their Country sell.  Han. 
How would the Slaves have quaked had they but seen  
The flights of Trebia or Thrasimen?  
Or Dreadful Cannae?  
Where the dire Sister's bit the Roman Looms  
As if their hands were tired with cutting dooms.  Bom. 
Where fourscore valiant Senators we killed,  
The blood of seventy thousand Soldiers spilled,  
And great Emilius death our Conquest swelled.  Han. 
When all with crimson slaughter covered o'er,  
We urged our Horses through a flood of Gore;  
Whilst from the battlements of Heavens high wall,  
Each God looked down, and shook his awful head,  
Mourning to see so many thousands fall,  
And then looked pale, to see us look so red.  Mah. 
That was a Time worthy severest Fate,  
When victory on Hills of Heroes sat,  
And turned her eyes all bloodshot on the fray,  
And laughed, and clapped her wings, and blessed the day.  Han. 
And are we thus at last rewarded then?  
Dare they review our dangers with disdain?  
Dull Counsellors, who only talk of harm,  
Sleep till high Noon, to costly Banquets swarm,  
And with rich Wines drink their cold Spirits warm.  
Instead of fighting, Scipio, let us haste  
Set fire to Carthage, lay her glories waste;  
Melt all their hoarded Treasures down, and pour  
Into their thirsty Throats the scalding o'er.  Bom. 
Go on great Sir, their rusty Coffers burn,  
Their Towering pride to desolation turn.  Mah. 
How I should laugh to see their Ermines smoke,  
May sulphurous flames their gorged vitals choke.  Han. 
Maherbal stay, though Carthage used me ill,  
Spite of my wrongs, she is my Country still:  
My Father the great Master of our Arms,  
(Who while he gave me life heard loud alarms)  
Swore me Rome's foe, when in my age's bud,  
Weaned me from milk, and nursed up in blood,  
And taught me to be obstinately good:  
Rome, the World's Giant Empress, to invade,  
Till her bright fame should shrink into a shade,  
And all her golden Spires in dust were laid.  Bom. 
Carthage, and Rome, which did so long divide  
The troubled World, to prop their weighty pride,  
Will brook no more each others mighty sway,  
The Gods to this or that must give the day;  
Since such Majestic Power to both is given,  
As each might take up all the care of Heaven.  Mah. 
Besides the natural hate to Rome you bear,  
With Scipio, love obliges you to War,  
Since Rosalinda is a Prisoner there.  
Heavens! shall he dare to keep your Love in bands?  
Beauty like hers, Swords, Hands, and Hearts commands.  Han. 
O my, Maherbal, thou wert always kind,  
Seest all my good, but to my ills art blind:  
Had I by thy advice my Soldiers led,  
Hot with their Joys, and striding o'er the dead,  
To Rome, to Rome, my Warrior— But 'tis lost.  
That hour, that did so many last hours cost,  
The Gods and opportunity ride post;  
Melting at Capua I'm pleasures lay,  
And for a Mistress gave the World away.  Mah. 
Grudge you the World? could I such hearts subdue,  
Were I great jove himself I'd give Heaven too.  
But I am rough, and not for Women made,  
In Natures coursest mould by Fortune laid.  Han. 
Hast to the Roman Camp, Bomilcar fly,  
Take Scouts along, unseen as Spirits pry,  
And learn the posture of the Enemy:  
Learn if thy knowledge may so happy be,  
Where Rosalinda mourns for Liberty;  
Seek her as thou wouldst wreaths for glories toil,  
As after Conquest thou wouldst seek for spoil.  The SCENE drawn, discovers a pleasant Grotto, King Massinissa, Massina, and Menander sitting upon a Bank: Soft Music is heard. K. Mas. 
Since Love, the brighest Jewel of a Crown,  
That fires Anbition, and adorns Renown;  
That with sweet hopes does our harsh pains beguile,  
And, midst of Javelins makes the Soldier smile;  
Since this great Trophies lost, quite lost to me,  
What wretched things must fame, and Empire be?  Men. 
Yet once your Soul was of another strain,  
And still you talked how Godlike 'twas to Reign;  
In mystic Empire to be placed alone,  
And your cheeks burned when you beheld a Throne,  
Even in your Nonage, haughty were, and bold;  
And smiling would your Father's Sceptre hold,  
And talked when young, how you would rule when old.  K. Mas. 
Ambition than I loved, but now abhor.  Mass. 
What is ambition, Sir?  K. Mas. 
The lust of Power,  
Like glory Boy, it licenses to kill,  
A strong temptation, to do bravely ill;  
Abait to draw the bold, and backward in,  
The dear bought recompense of highest sin:  
For when to death we make the conquered yield,  
What are we, but the Murderers of the Field?  Men. 
In gallant souls Ambition is no more,  
The Bawd of Empire, or the lust of Power,  
Then lawful Mirth is lewdness in a Bride,  
Or neatness in a Vestal Virgin Pride.  K. Mas. 
Then be it so, yet I will out no more,  
Since Love has wracked me on the longed for shore;  
Not, but I had a Soul could storms outwear,  
Durst against Rocks, or over Quicksands steer:  
For Love, if Venus had like juno bid,  
I durst as much as e'er Alcides did:  
But I am lost; nothing Massina now,  
With Love's each blast, I like a Bulrush bow:  
Am I not altered much of late?  Mass. 
Alas!  
You look like withered Flowers, or Mountain grass.  K. Mas. 
O Sophonisba, oh!  Mass. 
Why sighs my Lord?  
Speak, for I will revenge you with my Sword,  
What cruel Vulture's this, that tears your breast  
Like festered wounds, it takes away your rest?  
You will grow mad, I think; you watch all night,  
And with your groans the croaking Ravens fright;  
Who is it that these killing griefs has wrought,  
That bends your brow, and turns you into thought?  K. Mas. 
My sorrows load alas! thou canst not bear.  Mass. 
Think you my Soul is capable of fear;  
What is it, for your sake, I could not bear.  K. Mas. 
Massina, thou art all that I would have;  
There's nothing after thee, but a low grave:  
Obdurate stubborn heart, still wilt thou hold?  
Observe me, Boy, when thou shalt see me cold,  
Grown by my Death a longer line of woe,  
Pale as wronged Lovers Ghosts, that sighs below;  
Then learn to curse the Author of my Fate.  Mass. 
What horrid things are these, which you relate?  K. Mas. 
Thee from thy Childhood I have trained with care,  
I'th' painful Discipline of tedious War:  
In Mountains bred thee, and on barren sands,  
And led the near the Moon, through high parched Lands;  
Showed thee to chase wild Boars upon the heath,  
And taught thy Infant hands the Trade of death,  
When I by Boccar hotly war pursued,  
And forced to plunge into the rapid Flood,  
Thou leapest in after me.  Mass. 
I did, my Lord:  
But you forget the whirl-pool in the ford,  
Where when I struggled, and my strength grew slack,  
You dashed my Fate, and bore me on your back;  
So through the Hellespont Europa rod,  
Half dead with fear, though mounted on a God.  K. Mas. 
But my Massina, there's one danger more,  
More dreadful than all those we passed before.  
Vile Women.  Mass. 
Women, Sir, I oft have seen,  
Dancing with Timbrels on the flowery Green,  
Or like small Clouds upon the Mountain's brow;  
But never thought they thunder boar till now.  
I know they are all black, have rolling eyes,  
Thick lips, flat noses, breasts of mighty size.  K. Mas. 
Thou never yet in shining Courts hast been,  
Nor the fair part of Woman kind hast seen,  
Who close in Africa Palaces reside,  
And from the injurious Sun their faces hide;  
To whom compared these seem all hideous night,  
But those like Cinthia's Silver Crescent, bright.  Mass. 
Is it a sin to be acquainted, Sir,  
With those white Maids, that are so fine, and fair?  K. Mas. 
Shun'em Massina, as thou wouldst thy Fate,  
As things which by Antipathy we hate:  
Not all the horrors of a bloody War,  
Not Lions, Tigers such hid sury bear;  
Those appear Monsters, but these seem all mild;  
None ever yet destroyed, but still she smiled;  
They are all grief, when they appear all joy;  
Like Lightning, while they glitter they destroy.  
Lie down sweet youth, a fair white Woman was  
Of what thou seest me now, the cruel cause;  
Though clear her form appeared, without one stain,  
Bright as those Bodies which o'er darkness reign,  
Her Soul is blacker than the skin of moors;  
For fraud with Beauty does his Lodging take.  Mass. 
Then Beauty's breast is like a bank of Flowers,  
That fairly hides a foul, and ugly Snake.  K. Mas. 
There not one safe, and fair— all Seas of sin,  
Shouldst thou be used alas! as I have been,  
'Twould make thee gray, hear not my Story told.  Mass. 
Will Women, if they use me, make me old?  K. Mas. 
I had a Mistress once,  
For her I fought, and did her cause maintain  
Against the World upon the listed Plain:  
The Gods too, know with what obliging smiles,  
And blushing joy, she praised my mighty toils:  
And when to kiss her hand I bended low,  
She made it meet my lips, and pressed 'em too,  
All this in Public; but from sight removed,  
Fierce were our Joys, and with a loose we loved:  Mass. 
You may remember, Sir, that I was by,  
Called as a witness to the secret tie:  
Thrice we invoked the God of Marriage there,  
With rich Sabaean scents, perfumed the Air  
And uttered sacred vows, and binding prayer.  K. Mas. 
When you were gone,  
And none but I left with that charming Maid,  
What furious fires did my hot Nerves invade:  
With open arms upon my Bliss I ran,  
With pangs I grasped her like a dying man;  
Like light and heat, incorporate we lay,  
We blessed the night, and cursed the coming day.  Mass. 
Now as I love bright Arms, the Story's fine;  
Tell it all night, my Lord, the Stars will shine.  K. M. 
Soon as the Birds did on the morning call,  
Her brighter eyes a shower of tears let fall.  
Which in my panting bosom trickled down;  
She pressed me close, and cried must you be gone?  
Then round my neck her snowy arms did twine,  
She sighed; but will you for ever be mine?  
Will you be true?— and then our lips did join.  Mass. 
Kind pretty heart.  K. Mas. 
Her last words were,  
Hear me ye Gods, may I be never blessed,  
If Massinissa be not to this breast,  
The sweetest, dearest, everlasting Guest.  
Yet she, this fair, this soft deluding, she  
Forgetting all her vows, forgetting me;  
While I for Carthage followed Wars alarms,  
Resigned herself up to another's arms.  Enter Lelius, and Varro. Lel. 
At length he's found: rise Massinissa, rise,  
Shake off these Clouds that hang about your eyes:  
glory's in view, and courts them with her call,  
New storms of War like Hail around us fall.  Var. 
Fury that sat at home, on massy Shields  
Now heaves'em up, and ranges through the Fields;  
With all her hundred whips of wire she comes,  
And drives despairing Monarchs to their Tombs.  Lel. 
Syphax and Asdrubal their forces join  
With Arms the Mountains, and the Valleys shine:  
Ha! what unwonted Charm your Soul enchains,  
Is your high blood congealed with your veins,  
That from the dusty Field you thus retire,  
And seek cool shades, when all the World's on fire?  Var. 
King's cast their Silks, and Armour, make their Robe  
Instead of Lutes, shrill Trumpets charm the Globe;  
Yet you from this great Race of honour run,  
Wave falling Palms, and courting Laurels shun:  
Why should you Sophonisba's loss bemoan,  
When Syphax, who enjoys her, cries come on?  K. Mas. 
Ha! that the base Usurper did but dare  
T'meet me alone, without his crowds of War.  Lel. 
If you die here so silently, you'll fall,  
As if Fate knew not of your Funeral;  
And censuring Fame will say, when you are gone,  
His thread of life was by a Woman spun.  
But, Varro, we mistake, this is not he,  
This is some poarer on Morality;  
Some studious Youth, who does the heavens' survey,  
And in dull science fools his life away.  K. Mas. 
Awake! where hast thou been my drowsy Soul,  
In Lethaes steeped, or freezing near the Pole?  
I feel her now, my benumbed limbs inspire,  
My Spirits shoot, and dart, and mount up higher,  
Like sparks that scatter from a kindling fire;  
The Plots of Love inglorious are, and dark,  
Blindly he aims, and night is all his mark;  
Like day I'll dart him through, and through, I will  
To cure my honour, I my Love will kill;  
Kill her myself, cut piecemeal all her charms.  
War, how it sounds away, to Arms, to Arms;  
Let's go where the Illustrious Scipio calls,  
I'll be the first shall scale proud Carthage Walls:  
Winged with our Glory, Come my Friends, let's fly,  
To conquer bravely, or as bravely die.  Lel. 
Spoke like yourself, thus we our homage pay;  
So looked Achilles when Troy lost the day.  Var. 
Fierce and majestic as young Mars you stand:  
'Tis fit that look, this Africa should command.  K. Mas. 
As Lovers, big with expectation, burn  
My Soul to Battle, does all fiery turn,  
Swift as the Gods, in haste out strip the wind,  
And leave the Courses of the day behind.  
Yet stay, methinks I am uneasy still;  
What real pleasure can it be to kill?  Lel. 
Frail Prince! how wavering all his actions be,  
By passions tossed in Love's tempestuous Sea?  
War fires the brave.  K. Mas. 
Yet War contracts a guilt,  
And the brave grieve when many lives are spilled:  
Love like a Monarch, merciful and young,  
Shedding no blood, effeminates the strong.  
But War does like a Tyrant vex us more,  
And breaks those hearts, which Love did melt before.  Exeunt. 
The end of the First ACT.   

ACT. II. Scen. I.  Enter Scipio, K. Massinissa, Massina, Menander, Lelius and Varro. Scip. 
THe Scouts of Hannibal, have they surveyed  
The Camp?  Lel. 
Your will exactly was obeyed.  Scip. 
I hear my gallant Friend, and grieve to hear,  
That you the Chains of Sophonisba wear;  
In Glory's School you had the foremost name,  
Skilled in the dark mysterious Book of Fame,  
Did those worn Characters with pleasure read,  
Which told the Stories of the mighty dead:  
But by this act of softness, you will drown  
Those Noble parts, and forfeit your renown;  
Truant to all the Honour that you had,  
Drunk with love's tears, with smiles of Beauty mad.  K. Mas. 
I strove, Sir, by your great achievements taught,  
To drive this Beauty from my labouring thought;  
But I as well to Heaven might carry Wars,  
And quench the influence of our crosser Stars;  
Like those with fatal fires, she gilds my way,  
And leads me on, that I may further stray.  Scip. 
Then I must angry grow, since you are frail,  
And Corrosives apply where Cordials fail:  
To me prove civil, for yourself be wise,  
You have my friendship, therefore I advise.  K. Mas. 
Mean you, my Lord, not Sophonisba love?  Scip. 
As she's the Foe of Rome, I disapprove  
All Treaties with her, shake her off in time,  
Or against Honour you commit a Crime.  K. Mas. 
And would you have me live?  Scip. 
When she is dead:  
Why should you wish her life, that has betrayed  
Both you and Rome? Syphax whom I had wrought,  
Her cunning Tongue to side with Carthage brought:  
By Heaven I swear, if she my Captive be,  
I'll use her as the Romans Enemy.  K. Mas. 
You'd have me shake her off, and live; I'd know,  
Whether this flesh you wear you can forgo,  
And be the same? Here through my bosom run  
Your sword, and when the bloody deed is done,  
When your steel smokes with my hearts reeking Gore,  
Bid me be well as e'er I was before.  Scip. 
You are resolved it seems to cross my will,  
But from a Friend I'll construe nothing ill.  K. Mas. 
O then endure yet more, and let me speak,  
Without some vent my labouring heart will break;  
'Tis as a Friend your life, your life I spare,  
Not as you more than King Rome's Consul are,  
The far famed Scipio, and God of War;  
Can any Man that's brave,  
His Mistress injuries with patience hear?  
Let any other in your cause appear,  
And justify the words that you have said,  
By the Immortal Powers I'll strike him dead.  Lel. 
My lord As the King moves forward, Lelius lays his hand on his sword.  Scip. 
Your generous temper Lelius hold,  
He shall be hotter yet to be more cold,  
My virtue all the storms of Passion knows,  
Has tried its calms, its wondrous Ebbs and flows.  
Since a Request so small you can deny,  
From greater proofs how would your friendship fly?  K. Mas. 
Try me, my Lord, but any other way,  
Heavens! with what readiness would I obey;  
While blood kind warmth does to these limbs afford,  
While I can shake a Spear, or wield a Sword,  
You shall be ever Massinissa's Lord:  
Go on, and wander the wide Ocean o'er,  
Go sail to some unhospitable shore,  
Where dreadful Monsters guard the horrid Land;  
Though down to Hell I sink at your Command;  
I'll throw my body on the untried sand:  
Would you have all the Carthaginians slain,  
Or see their Cities leveled with the Plain,  
With cheerful toil the business shall be done,  
Give me but Sophonisba for my Crown.  Scip. 
To conquer Enemies abroad's no more,  
Then every Tribune here has done before:  
Search all the Army through, and find that one,  
Who if I bid, the force of fire dares shun,  
Or will not from a precipice leap down:  
At my command Lelius would you refuse  
To die?  Lel. 
My Fate for Empire I'd not lose,  
At thy Command, Temples and Shrines should blaze;  
I'd spoil their Gods, their Statues, Altars raze,  
And with my fury mak'em dread thee more,  
Then I fear them when all their thunders roar.  Scip. 
To Conquer Kingdoms, and on Sceptres tread,  
Is but to imitate great Heroes dead:  
Should you your Arms to the World's limits bear,  
The mighty Alexander pierced as far:  
But if ungoverned passion you can bind,  
And quench th'inglorious ardour of your mind,  
Your Fame shall with that haughty victors vie,  
Which all the Eastern Beauties could defy:  
If still you are resolved her Charms to trust,  
The World may truly term you rash, unjust;  
And when you perish, say, he died for lust.  K. Mas. 
You tax me, Sir, with Crimes I do not know;  
But urge me not too far, for I may grow  
Beyond all limits, just revenge pursue,  
And blinded by my rage let fly at you.  Scip. 
Unhand him.— By the Gods your worst I dare,  
A single arm Rome's Consul cannot fear:  
I shine above thee like a Star fixed higher,  
Whom though you cannot reach, you may admire.  K. Mas. 
Like Meteors rather you false glory take,  
Whose short lived blaze, low Earthy vapours make:  
Yet since with fancied fires you fill the Sky,  
Shall not one Prince at your dread aspect die.  Scip. 
How have I erred? your Tryall's at an end,  
Heaven! That I e'er should call this man my Friend;  
How could my Soul so grossly be o'reseen,  
From all mankind wert thou selected then?  
O most ungrate! ill tempered barbarous King,  
No good did ever from this Africa spring.  
Did I for this each Roman friendship shun,  
And to those savage Arms for refuge run?  
When with the weighty cares of War oppressed,  
Leaned all my troubles on that sullen breast;  
Took no Petition, granted no Command,  
But what was given by Massinissa's hand.  
What Triumphs did I ever yet design,  
Wherein your glory might not equal shine?  
Yet for a Woman, and a false one too,  
Your Fame, your Faith and Friendship you forego.  
Still let the great of Favourites beware,  
They most deceive us, who most trusted are.  The Consul turns away. K. Mas. 
Stay Consul, stay my Friend, my noble Lord;  
Could you then cast me off for one rash word?  
Forsake me ever— O you never loved  
Your Massinissa, who could be thus moved?  
Go if you please, leave this ungrateful King,  
This savage, barbarous, indigested thing.  
What e'er my passion did, should pardoned be,  
For I confess— you are a God to me,  
Yet it had been more friendly and more kind,  
Not to have met the Tempest of my mind.  Scip. 
But was it possible in this our strife?  
That Massinissa should attempt my life.  K. Mas. 
Pronounce my death, cut off these cursed hands,  
Send me to Syphax, bound with shameful bands.  
That I may all the subtlest torments bear,  
And after death no more reproaches hear.  Scip. 
By this return of virtue I am made,  
For ever yours— say do I now upbraid?  
Are these reproaches?  K. Mass. 
O ye powers look down,  
And hear me swear by your eternal Throne.  
Whatever this your likeness shall command,  
Though Sophonisba from my trembling hand,  
I will obey— or curse me where I stand.  Scip. 
As your first Trial straight to Crita fly,  
And perjured Syphax at his Gates defy.  
Our Troops must conquer when led on by you,  
Chiefly his Wife endeavour to subdue.  
Whose subtle working Wit wrought all this care,  
And with her beauteous griefs renewed the War.  K. Mass. 
This youth, my Kinsman, as a pledge I leave  
My all, the darling of my Soul receive.  
As I in War shall false or faithful be,  
So may Just Heaven do both to him and me.  Mass. 
Ah! if I am that darling of your Heart,  
How can you leave me thus forlorn behind?  
Take me along, or I shall think 'twas Art  
That made you seem so pitiful and kind.  K. Mass. 
Now all the Gods thy precious life defend,  
Something that's fatal sure these Tears portend;  
I was not used to weep.  Scip. 
Nor must not now.  
At your return we will to Zama go,  
From thence to Bagrada our Forces draw,  
To try our strength with dreadful Hannibal,  
And keep that famous Conqueror in awe,  
That talked of giving Laws i'th' Capitol.  K. Mas. 
My Blood boils in my Veins, and catchesfire;  
Such words, such courage would the Dead inspire:  
Yes we will fight, my Lord, with Hannibal.  
To bloody ' count his boasted valour call.  Scip. 
Like some vast ill built Tower, so high he grows;  
He Marble-front nods with each blast that blows.  K. Mas. 
Our Arms like Thunder leveled at his Crown,  
Shall all at once hurled by our rage, rush on,  
And in a moment roll his Glories down.  Manet Massina solus. 
Was ever Youth unfortunate as I?  
But I will be revenged on him, and die.  
Perhaps to lose me in the Wars he fears,  
As if my Soul did not outgo my Years.  Enter Rosolinda. Ros. 
I've scaped with much ado the Tribune's Hands;  
But 'tis the Consul who must break my Bands,  
And send me with a passport back.— Who's there?  
What are you?  Mas. 
First instruct me what you are.  
And how you came to be thus Heavenly fair:  
What is it makes your Cheeks so fresh and bright,  
The Red of Roses, or the Lilies White.  Ros. 
Were you ne'er thus before?  Mas. 
I never knew  
Such Agues in my Blood, and Fevers too.  Ros. 
I'll leave you, Sir.  Mas. 
You cannot if you would,  
You may as easily forgo your Blood.  
Like that I'll blushing creep about you still.  
And my sick thoughts with silent pleasures fill.  Ros. 
What is't you'd have?  Mas. 
Alas, I do not know;  
Something there is which Nature will not show:  
When e'er you speak, as at melodious strains;  
There's something purls and trickles through my Veins,  
Like Quicksilver it moves so cold and fast;  
Then my Eyes twinkle as they'd look their last.  Ros. 
It shows like Love, but in its birth destroy  
A passion which scarce pity can enjoy.  Mass. 
Perhaps you think me born of Common Race;  
But Royal Blood does my high Lineage grace:  
Ah! do not then put out this harmless flame,  
Since from your Eyes the tingling torment came.  Ros. 
In vain your passion's ardour you allege,  
The Fort's impregnable, break up your Siege;  
No force, nor art can the least Out-work win,  
There's one for you too mighty entered in;  
The haughtiest, bravest, foremost Man on Earth,  
Who from the Blood of Gods derives his Birth.  Mass. 
To his Immortal Kindred leave him then,  
You may be better placed with blood of Men:  
Besides, who knows, but his Divinity,  
As Gods will sometimes very froward be,  
May chance take pet as you in Love engage,  
And thunder you to pieces in his rage.  Ros. 
'Tis true, in War most dreadful he appears,  
All Cruel, Glorious, dangers thick he wears:  
Not to amuse you, when I have named all  
That's great, and lovely, think on Hannibal.  Mas. 
Is't possible!  
In Age can beauty aught that's lovely spy,  
Can dreams of glory waking youth supply?  Ros. 
Though his blood moved like freezing Currents slow;  
Were his head whiter than the Alpine snow,  
My youth his age into one piece should grow.  Mas. 
All you have said, I know in jest was spoke;  
What should you do with such a sapless Oak?  
When a young pleasant Vine so near you stands,  
And bows with all his Clusters to your hands.  Ros. 
Honour to youth, and beauty I prefer,  
I'm for the best and bravest Man in War;  
And since the World knows none so great as he,  
None else shall Lord of my affection be:  
In shorter joys let other Maid's delight,  
These transitory pleasures of a night;  
But I more lasting happiness design:  
In my Illustrious warrior's heart to shine,  
And have my name on his high Tomb engraved,  
This, this is she who Hannibal enslaved.  Mass. 
Though I no dawn of comfort can descry,  
Yet in this hopeless Love I will engage,  
And every thought of Royalty cast by,  
Through all the World attend you as your Page;  
For all my pains I will not beg one kiss,  
That were to wrong your mighty Man of War;  
Give a kind look, and I will prize the bliss  
Above those hopes which the Ambitious bear.  Ros. 
Since than you are resolved a while to wait,  
As your first task show me the Consul straight:  
My beauty like a Comet shall arise,  
That temperate Lord of Nations to surprise,  
I'll thunder in his ears, and light'n in his eyes. Exeunt.  SCENE The Carthaginian Camp. Hannibal is discovered in his Tent, sitting at a Table with lights. Han. 
How great's the care, the toil and lingering pain,  
That racks a General's breast, and breaks his brain:  
Argus had a hundred lights, and I but one,  
Yet all the Day 'tis busy as the Sun;  
And all the Night 'tis watchful as the Moon.  
When shall I sleep from noise and business freed?  
'Tis hushed, but beauty business does succeed:  
Beauty which jove could draw from heavens' high Tower;  
When Nymphs in Groves his Godhead stooped t'adore,  
So much he loved delight, above Almighty power:  
In his deep blood the soft Contagion ran,  
Staining his Son, that vast Immortal Man.  
The great Alcides, who a distaff made  
Of that huge Club, which Nations could invade,  
Would in his Mistress Glass kind looks devise,  
lessening the Glories of his Godlike eyes,  
And tuned his mighty voice to tender cries.  
Since Gods themselves, and Godlike Men have loved,  
Why should not I with beauty's Charms be moved?  
The highest Power has love's blind Mazes trod,  
Then Hannibal love on, and imitate a God.  Enter Bomilcar. 
Bomilcar here? so suddenly returned?  
You look as if your journey you had mourned.  Bom. 
My Lord, we were discovered.  Han. 
Ha! how then?  
Was your lost freedom given you again?  Bom. 
The generous Consul knowing who we were,  
Commanded us to dissipate our fear:  
Then to his Officers gave strict command,  
To let us take a view of every Band;  
But such brave Men, and such strict discipline!  Han. 
You speak, Bomilcar, as you knew not mine.  Bom. 
My Lord, your pardon if I say, these eyes  
ne'er yet beheld such gallant Enemies.  
When we had seen what might less Spirits damp,  
He generously dismissed us from the Camp.  Han. 
This Civil bravery has obliged me so,  
I shall to Battle with half fury go:  
Doubts enter here, which yet my breast ne'er felt:  
Doubts beget fears, and fears my courage melt.  
But of my Love, x, you nothing said;  
Is she alive? how I that answer dread!  
Or is it possible she can be dead?  Bom. 
Though in the search our utmost wit essayed,  
We nought could hear of that Illustrious Maid.  Han. 
Perhaps his heart for temperance so renowned,  
From her all conquering eyes might take a wound,  
And now he keeps her close.— which should he dare,  
With fire and sword we'll carry on the War.  
Yes, we will instantly our bodies join,  
The World's at stake, let it be his or mine.  Bom. 
Throw boldly at the sum which the Gods set,  
A hundred thousand lives at once are met,  
That on your side will all their fortunes bet.  Enter Maherbal. Mah. 
Come forth my Lord, hast from your Tent, behold  
Sights that may i'll the fiery, daunt the bold;  
Shrill Trumpets Echo through the Arch of Heaven,  
Battles proclaimed, and bloody signals given:  
Two Suns their gaudy Chariots Curtains furl,  
And at each other brandished lightning hurl,  
Red bolts, rush flaming through a bloody sky,  
Wounding the Air, vast pointed splinters fly,  
Immortal Spirits drop down, and seem to die;  
A Host of Heavenly Warriors bright, and gay  
Appointed, stand, and ready for the fray:  
In golden Arms their shining Chiefs appear,  
Helmets, and Shields of Diamonds they wear,  
And Spears with Stars of value set, they bear.  Han. 
The end of all things sure is drawing nigh.  Mah. 
Through the void place swift Darts obliquely fly;  
Black swarthy Demons hold a hollow Cloud,  
And with long Thunderbolts they drum aloud;  
Their Trumpets all with Sunbeams are inlaid,  
Where dreadful sounds by fiery breath are made.  
Mountains are buried in the womb of Earth,  
A grave they find where first they had their birth.  
Our household-gods sweat as they stand, and all  
Your Garlands from their Temples untouched fall.  
A Wolf but now his jaws all bloodied o'er,  
And by his fide a Savage foaming Boar.  
Your Out-gards faced, and slaughter there began,  
Nor stopped they, but through all the Army ran,  
Till satiated with blood the Monsters fled,  
Vanished from sight, and in dark Forests hid.  Han. 
Lead to the place, from whence we may descry  
These dreadful Prodigies that fill the sky.  
Command our Priests a Sacrifice prepare,  
T'appease the angry Doemons of the Air. Exeunt.  The SCENE drawn, discovers a Heaven of blood, two Suns, Spirits in Battle, Arrows shot to and fro in the Air: Cries of yielding Persons, etc. Cries of Carthage is fallen, Carthage, etc. Re-enter Hannibal, Maherbal, Bomilcar. Han. 
What means the Gods by these fantastic forms?  
And unprovoked, why do they raise such storms?  Mah. 
When dreadful Prodigies like these appear,  
The sure destruction of some State is near.  
Our General's moved, his angry looks dart fire,  
And noble rage does his grieved Soul inspire.  Han. 
Can this be true? Answer ye Powers Divine,  
Shall in our death the Roman glory shine?  
Has Fate our ruin fixed? Is it decreed,  
That Carthage fall, and Hannibal must bleed?  
Yet with unshaken Souls our doom we'll wait,  
And perish bravely, though unfortunate:  
Yes, ye malicious Powers, this Hannibal,  
Whom you untimely to destruction call,  
Still what he was, shall like a Soldier fall.  
Let Hanno shiver in the arms of Death;  
But loud reports shall wait our parting breath:  
We'll drown the talking Gods with our last cry,  
And Earth shall thunder back upon the sky.  Exeunt. 
The end of the Second Act.   

ACT. III. Scen. I.  A Roman Camp. Enter Scipio, Lelius, Attendants, Varro, Guard. Scip. 
'TIs strange that we no News from Cirta hear;  
No Soldier thence?  Lel. 
None, Sir, does yet appear.  Scip. 
'Twere fit some Tribune with our Horse should go,  
And the intents of Massinissa know.  Enter Rosalinda, and Massina. Ros. 
Where is the General? By your Majesty,  
And august Garb, you should the Consul be:  
If such you are, I charge you set me free.  Scip. 
Your strict Commands are told in such a way,  
The Consul doubts, whether he should obey;  
Nor know I Fair one, what or whose you are,  
Wrongfully held, or Prisoner of War.  Ros. 
By right or wrong, when Beauty pleads like mine,  
'Tis fit you straight my liberty enjoin;  
To keep me here against my will is wrong,  
Since I to Hannibal the Great belong:  
Dare you detain what's his?  Scip. 
We all things dare,  
But would not willingly offend the Fair;  
None shall presume your freedom to deny,  
If with the gift we may your friendship buy.  Ros. 
My friendship? No to death I hate you all,  
All that bear Arms against my Hannibal;  
A Man so great, I, though a Roman born,  
Can for his sake, my Friends, and Country scorn;  
Who drives the bravest of you from the Field,  
As I in Cities make all Beauties yield.  
Rome! she's not fit, though she her head lay down,  
To be his Footstool, when he mounts a Throne.  Scip. 
My yet unshaken Soul with virtue bound,  
No force of War, or Love could ever wound:  
But Mars and Cupid now at once appear,  
And strike me with an Object fierce and fair.  
How her Eyes shine? what killing fires they dart?  
And all within I feel the fatal smart.  
Away with her, she is a Sorceress, go.  Mass. 
Stay, stay, my Lord, remember she's your Foe;  
Besides I love her, and if she depart,  
Or suffer any wrong, 'twill break my heart.  
By all those noble promises you made, Kneels.  
When Asdrubal in Spain before you fled,  
And I your Prisoner was, you loved me, then  
With Gold, and Jewels sent me home again,  
And hung about my neck a Diamond Chain.  Scip. 
At your Request, she shall not go, but stay  
With me.  Mass. 
With you? Dispatch her, Sir, away,  
A Rival in my Love I cannot bear:  
Love toys, my Lord, below your greatness are,  
They'll take you of the business off the War.  Scip. 
Though War usurp the day, Love claims the night;  
At least we'll try this Amorous new delight.  Mass. 
Yes, you may try, but ne'er can please like me;  
You'll still be dreaming, Sir, of Victory,  
Of storming Forts, and digging Trenches deep,  
And call for Arms, and break your Mistress's sleep.  Ros. 
The serious trifles of your love adjourn,  
For know I view you both with equal scorn.  
O mighty Hannibal! thou all Divine,  
This loyal heart shall never be but thine;  
How little these compared to thee? how low!  Scip. 
Trophies as great, and Conquests we can show,  
Noble as those which his famed Arms adorn,  
From as dire dangers Victory have torn.  Ros. 
'Tis true, some Glory you achieved in Spain,  
And Carthagina by surprise did gain;  
For your late Conquest poorly did conspire,  
Pretending Peace you set the Camp on fire:  
Yet you will loudly talk of Roman fame,  
When all your Eagles Dovelike flew so tame:  
But Hannibal with noise to War proceeds,  
Makes the World start at his unequalled deeds;  
He like some rolling Whale, who as he laves,  
With his bright Armoury gilds all the waves;  
Dashes the frighted Nations from his side,  
That pale and foaming fury far off ride,  
O'er all the watery Region does Command;  
The Ocean's Lord, and Tyrant of the Land:  
While your tame Legions, like the smaller fry,  
Glide silent on, and only twinkle by.  Scip. 
Take her Massina, bear her from my Tent,  
To Freedom, Chains, to Death, or Banishment:  
Bear her where I may never see her more.  Massina leads her off. 
She's gone, and now I am as heretofore,  
My panting heart with thirst of Glory burns;  
Fame flies before, and beckoning Fortune turns,  
Bevers and Bucklers, Swords and massy Shields,  
And all the wonted Objects fancy yields,  
Black Hills, and dusty Plains, and bloody Fields.  Enter Maherbal. 
What art thou? 'Tis the Consul speaks.  Mah. 
From Hannibal I come, with you to treat,  
ere Fortune half the frighted World defeat:  
The grace which for his Spies you did command,  
He thanks you for: But with his Sword in hand,  
He who ne'er yet a parley wished with Rome,  
Since War is to the dreadful upshot come,  
Would hold discourse with you of the Earth's doom.  Scip. 
'Tis granted; where's the place?  Mah. 
On Zama's Plain,  
Attended only with five hundred Men;  
Soon as the Morn's first blushes shall appear,  
Expect the terror of your Armies there. Exit.  Scip. 
Would it were done, the great decision made;  
Rome crowned, and in the dust great Carthage laid.  Enter Trebellius. Treb. 
Laurels, and all the Trophies conquest yields,  
Colours and Standards, bought with blood in fields,  
King Massinissa does to Scipio send,  
His Godlike Master, and his Warlike Friend.  Scip. 
Relate in brief the progress of his Arms.  Treb. 
Soon as King Syphax heard our dread alarms,  
He sent some Troops of Horse abroad to scout;  
Which were by equal numbers put to rout:  
Urged with despair, and by his charming Wife,  
Whose beauty has been fatal to his life,  
He came in person forth, to end the strife.  
Our Battles joined, and fiercly it was fought,  
Till to the last extremes our Troops were brought,  
When Massinissa more than Man appeared,  
And with his overflowing valour cleared  
Those mighty odds which first our Soldiers teared.  Scip. 
Some wondrous Act of fortitude was shown,  
Which could re-settle Troops half overthrown.  Treb. 
Where e'er our General turned, death marked his look,  
And whom he eyed with his cold Arrow struck;  
Like some vast flame he made his glorious way,  
And all about him desolation lay.  
Syphax whose name he made to Heaven resound,  
With cries of echoing Joys at last he found,  
Trembling though with his Guards encompassed round;  
Swift as revenge could dart he on him flew,  
Whom from his Horse with his hands force he drew,  
And pierced his heart in both the Armies view:  
Which seen, with one consent the Soldiers fled,  
As if all hopes were with their Monarch dead.  Scip. 
Cirta should after such a loss in course,  
Surrender to the Victor's dreaded force.  Treb. 
It did, great Sir: To Massinissa now  
The gravest Lords with willing homage bow;  
Whereas I did amongst the foremost ride,  
'Twas wished the Queen might prove the Victor's Bride.  Scip. 
I rather wish thou couldst not Conquest boast,  
And that the King were with the Battle lost.  
To Cirta Lelius instantly repair,  
And make that subtle Queen our Prisoner:  
If Massinissa should oppose you, say,  
'Tis my Command; who swore you to obey. Exeunt.  Maherbal, Enter Hannibal, and Bomilcar. Han. 
My Rosalinda freed, and in my Tent?  
But wherefore was that Stranger with her scent?  
Thou hast a Tempest raised within my mind;  
Speak, was this Youth so fair, and she so kind?  Bom. 
Your Rosalinda's beauty did appear,  
Bright as Noon day all piercing, sprightly clear:  
But he who lead her, seemed so soft and young,  
As if that pity handed Love along,  
And tears his blushing Cheeks did so adorn,  
Me thought the Sun came ushered by the Morn.  Han. 
Cease thy unwelcome praise; what did she say?  Bom. 
That she would there for your appearance stay:  
I bowed, and went; but being curious grown,  
I stopped a while, to mark that Fair unknown:  
When she with languishing entreaties said,  
Is this your Love? Shall I not be obeyed?  
Be gone, be gone, if Hannibal should come,  
And but suspect— death were your certain doom.  Han. 
Peace, Harbinger of Fate, with Ravens dwell,  
Thy tale at Midnight to the dying tell:  
Oh! it has pierced me like a poisoned dart,  
Which by degrees infects the blood and heart;  
And now it higher mounts, divides my head,  
Where like a plague its pointed venoms spread.  
My brain ten thousand various tortures turn,  
Now Agues chill me, and now Fevers burn.  
Oh Rosalinda! false ungrateful Maid,  
Am I for loss of glory thus repaid.  
But let's away to my Pavilion lead,  
That Ravisher of all my hopes shall bleed. Exeunt.  Enter Rosalinda, and Massina. Ros. 
Why will you stay? If you did ever love,  
Let me conjure you, from this place remove.  Mass. 
Permit me as your Menial Servant stay,  
And near your Person sigh my life away:  
Is that so much?  Ros. 
It cannot, must not be,  
That you should idly spend your hours with me:  
You like the golden Planet of the day,  
Should as you rise, all glorious set, all gay;  
A generous pity does my heart subdue,  
Which bids you now eternally Adieu.  Mass. 
Say, your disdain.— Alas! how can I part?  
Me thinks I go as if I had no heart:  
But since you are resolved it must be so,  
Near to some murmuring brook I'll lay me down;  
Whose waters if they should too shallow flow,  
My tears shall swell'em up that I will drown.  Enter Hannibal, Bomilcar, Asper. Ros. 
Massina stay; I strictly charge you live.  Han. 
Not Heaven, nor Earth can grant him a reprieve,  
Since Hannibal has vowed that he shall die.  
Bomilcar bind him, bind him instantly:  
False Rosalinda!— Bear him from my sight,  
And shade his beauties with Eternal night.  
Is it for this at last we meet again?  
Would thou hadst still the Consul's Captive been.  Ros. 
Oh Hannibal! can you resist my tears?  
What change is this your stormy temper wears?  
He shall not die: Bomilcar, Asper, stay,  
'Tis I command you; dare you disobey?  Han. 
Be gone, he dies who listens to her prayer;  
Pull off his Bracelets, let him shackles wear,  
With fetters fret his soft and supple skin,  
Too light a penance for so foul a sin. Massina is taken away.  Ros. 
If Rosalinda yet has any part Kneels.  
Left in that cruel, yet renowned heart,  
This Stranger's freedom instantly enjoin,  
And you shall ever be the Lord of mine.  Han. 
How dar'st thou plead for him, false as you are?  
Falser, if possible, than thou art fair:  
In his behalf no Intercession make,  
His torments shall be doubled for thy sake.  Ros. 
Henceforth wronged Innocence from Court's retreat,  
Thou best, but rare Companion of the great:  
Since thus abused, ah! visit them no more,  
But rest thy sorrows at some Shepard's door.  Han. 
Oh guilt! canst thou to Innocence appeal?  
Who to this Youth such kindness did reveal?  Ros. 
If pity kindness be, I was most kind,  
Who all my softness to his griefs resigned;  
And what, but Marble hearts could see him mourn,  
Yet so much sweetness with such sorrows scorn?  Han. 
Pity like yours, that does so swiftly move,  
Is the forerunner of approaching Love.  Ros. 
Unworthy of the honour you possess,  
My passions great would I could make it less:  
Know most unjust, and jealous, therefore vain,  
For jealousy's great weakness in great Men;  
My constant Soul did for thy glory wave,  
The Rich, the Young, the Beautiful, and Brave.  
My charms, the cold and temperate Consul felt,  
Whilst beauties beams did fiercely on him play;  
The frost, which long had bound his heart, did melt,  
And Love like Sunshine thawed his Ice away.  Han. 
Your looks, me thinks, have quite another Air;  
Nor doubt I but your Beauty has been tried,  
So faint loves Colours in your face appear,  
Like Silks that lose their gloss with being died.  Ros. 
That Scipio, nor this Prince, whom cruel you  
Have bound, could nothing on my heart prevail,  
Is as Heaven's high Decree most justly true;  
And I am Innocent, as thou art frail.  Han. 
Alas! 'twas Innocence, to say, begone,  
If Hannibal should but suspect, you're dead.  Ros. 
Compassion, for a Love, I could not own,  
Urged me to speak; what you have heard was said,  
Therefore release him instantly from Bands,  
And yield him safe into the Consul's hands,  
Without delays or murmuring free him straight;  
Or may your Laurels never more be green,  
Nor may your Arms in War be fortunate,  
Nor Rosalinda but with frowns be seen.  Han. 
Stay, Madam.— Hast, the Captive Prince unbind;  
My heart to others rough, the Soldier's crime,  
As Rocks to Seas, or stubborn Oaks to wind,  
Shall bow to you, as those must yield to time:  
Forgive my temper, hardened with the steel,  
In which I stood almost Immortal Man,  
Till Love let fall a blow, that made me reel,  
And pointed Beauty through my Armour ran;  
Can you forgive the rudeness of my mind?  Ros. 
Forgo your jealousy, and I'll be kind.  Enter Massina unbound. Han. 
May a rash Man, wronged Prince, your pardon crave?  Mass. 
No, Sir, my pardon you shall never have;  
For know I hate thee on a double score,  
Much for thy Love, more for Tyrannic power:  
Princes who have like me dishonoured been,  
Should blush to look abroad in flesh again.  
Disgraced Massina!  
Fall, die, dispatch, to fortune's malice bow,  
Thy Royal Uncle would not own thee now.  
Life proffered with the World, I would not take;  
Yet I could live for Rosalinda's sake:  
Speak, Hannibal, wilt thou thy share resign?  Ros. 
He may, but I can never part with mine.  Mass. 
How never?  Ros. 
Never.  Mass. 
O unkind hard heart!  
Love when he shot me, sure mistook his dart,  
Or changed with death, whose quick destroying shaft;  
Thus drinks my blood, thus with a full deep draught.  Stabs himself. Ros. 
Hold, cruel Prince; the Dagger from him wrest.  Han. 
Too late, alas! I drew it from his breast.  Ros. 
What have you done?  Mass. 
Only my Body areyned  
Of that sick blood, which Hannibal had stained:  
What less than death could I to honour give?  
And Love neglected, charged me not to live.  
Now you may take him, take him to you all,  
This cruel, haughty, happy Hannibal.  Han. 
The business of our life's a senseless thing;  
Why burns th'Ambitious Man to be a King?  
Or to what purpose does the Warrior call  
For Arms? Or Gownsmen bustle in the Hall?  
Sport for the Gods, they whirl us here and there,  
As Boys blow watery bubbles in the Air.  
My help!—  Mass. 
Ah let me not be touched by thee,  
If Foes may capable of pity be.  
Your Rosalinda seize, and with her fly  
To Golden Beds, Embrace her fast while I  
Within my dark and dusty Dungeon lie. dies.  Han. 
Crowds of ill boding thoughts my Soul dismay  
His body to the Roman Camp convey.  
Hearsed in a Mourning Chariot softly tread  
And look so sad that they may think you dead.  They bear off the Body. Ros. 
This your suspicion of my honour was:  
See the effects where Jealousies the cause.  
Ah cruel Victor I could curse thee now,  
With all thy Laurels blasted on thy brow.  
Love sick'ns with this deed my Transports fade,  
Would we were both in Earth's low Cavern laid.  
Curtained with shady horrors where the Sun:  
And Stars their fiery Courses never run.  
But all the business of the World is done. Exit.  Han. 
Oh that my heart her future State could find:  
Know to what good or ill this life's designed.  
Prudence against such knowledge may advise:  
But who of all mankind was always wise?  
For the great secret to the Gods I'll go,  
And if they fail me fathom for't below.  
Though hid by fate under a thousand Rocks,  
And drag it up by the dark Jetty locks.  
Let it all ghastly as a Gorgeon come,  
Stiff with the view I will outgaze my Doom.  The SCENE the City of Cirta. Enter King Massinissa and Menander. Trumpets sound a lofty March. K. Mas. 
Was ever victory so swiftly won:  
We scarce had leisure to demand the Town.  
Their Gates they opened with such haste and fear,  
As if our Conquering Swords Enchanted were.  Men. 
Syphax the great Usurper of your Throne:  
Is to revenging Furies downwards gone.  
In hell's low valleys grown the darkest Weed,  
And feels the stings that make Ambition bleed.  K. Mas. 
Straight to the Palace bid our Forces turn,  
Where Sophonisba does her losses mourn.  
We'll visit that forsworn Illustrious fair,  
To let her see how unconcerned we are.  Men, 
Since you have promised that you would forsake:  
Why should your virtue need less trials make.  
Love though scarce warm within your bosom pent;  
Fanned with her kindling sighs may get a vent.  
Like he at which stifled in some closer space,  
If any Air gets in, fires all the place.  K. Mas. 
Dar'st thou suspect? I say it cannot be:  
Has Air or its winged ranger liberty.  
lose like the Wind as the wide Ocean free:  
My enlarged soul rolls wantonly along,  
Can hear unmoved the warbling Syren's song;  
Braving her Eyes, her falsehood I'll upbraid.  
For those rude wrongs she on my virtue laid.  Man. 
Your Majesty best knows what's fit to choose:  
I humbly offered what you may refuse.  K. Mas. 
Perhaps my present rage I may not keep;  
For she has word would make the Cruel weep.  
And Charms as powerful as Circe's wiles;  
As ravished Virgins sighs, or Infants smiles.  
But I more blind with rage than she with tears:  
Maugre the Cunning which her sorrow wears,  
Her hopes will laugh at, and despise her fears. Exeunt  SCENE, The Palace. Enter Sephonisba Rezambe and Merna. Seph. 
Rome and the World against my life combine,  
Methinks I'm still a Queen whilst this is mine.  
Though Massinissa has the King o'erthrown:  
And his Victorious Troops possess the Town.  
Yet Sophonisba is, and shall be free,  
Spite of the frighted Senators Decree.  
They blush to see this life so glorious shine;  
And fear their Eagles' eyes, should dazzled be with mine.  
Merna, if I have aught from thee deserved,  
Be grateful thus, and thou hast nobly served.  Mer. 
Not for the World.  Soph. 
Rezambe thou art brave,  
Strike, and the Carthaginian glory save.  
How will the Just, the Valiant, and the Wise;  
Extol thy virtue and thy Courage prize?  
Who durst the softness of thy Sex forgo;  
And free thy Country with one desperate Blow.  
A deed that will even Hannibal out do.  Rez. 
Rather than I would live to see those hands:  
Which Kings have kissed fettered with Roman Bands.  
That body like a Pageant wretch adorned;  
Graceing the victor's Wheels, your greatness scorned.  
Rather than this endure, by all that's good,  
I'd bathe this Dagger in your lives warm flood:  
Till the haft reeked with your hearts Royal blood.  Soph. 
O thou most noble Martial worthy Maid,  
If by thy eyes my soul could be surveyed.  
Thou wouldst believe what cannot be expressed,  
How dear thou art to Sophonisba's breast.  
Thy voice like sad, but pleasing Music flew;  
Like dying Swans 'twas sweet and fatal too.  
Now strick, and bravely Act thy Tragic part:  
Just here, strike through, and through this wretched heart.  Rez. 
Death's our last remedy as 'tis the worst.  
'Tis fit you try the victor's mercy first.  
Prince Massinissa loved you once, who knows,  
But the same passion in his bosom glows.  
Blow it into a flame, try all your Charms:  
Love laughs at Brandished swords and glittering Arms.  Mer. 
Never was man like Massinissa kind;  
By nature mild, and amerously inclined.  
Not vanquished Syphax dying fell so low,  
As this Charmed Prince will to your beauty bow.  Rez. 
Imputed Treachery you ought to clear,  
Let guilt shrink back, and Innocence appear,  
I'll hide the Poniard in my Robe, if he  
Dooms you a slave, this gives you liberty.  Soph. 
When breach of faith joined hearts does disengage,  
The Calmest temper turns to wildest Rage.  
He thinks me false, though I have been most true:  
And thinking so what may his fury do?  Rez. 
His Trumpets Clangors make the Palace ring;  
Here wait your fate, and this victorious King.  Enter King Massinissa Menander attendants. K. Mass. 
Madam I come to tell you that you are  
No more a Queen, but Prisoner of War.  
The King whose loss 'tis probable you grieve,  
To whose loved memory those tears you give.  
For Judgement is to Heaven's Tribunal gone;  
And I now come to claim my Father's Throne.  
You in the War have been unfortunate;  
Not but your cause deserved a better fate.  Soph. 
Of Empire's joys to you a gift I make,  
More willingly than I did ever take.  
Freely as ever Syphax made it mine.  
To Massinissa I my Crown resign.  K. Mas. 
Not as your gift, Crowns I should then despise.  
But as my right by Birth and valour's prize.  
My father Galla's Diadem I'll bear,  
And all the Royalties of Circa wear.  Soph. 
These springs of grief unkindness now supplies.  K. Mas. 
Syphax deserved that tribute from your Eyes.  Soph. 
There is a cause more worthy of these tears.  K. Mas. 
More worthy? what then Syphax? for your sake:  
Did he not fame and Empire victims make.  
Gving love over measure, when at last,  
He threw his life up for you as a Cast  Soph. 
If what I speak might kindly be received;  
But misery can never be believed.  K. Mas. 
Not you believed? O Gods is it clear day,  
So manifest are all things that you say.  
Not you believed? what hardened Infidel:  
Shall dare to doubt the Oracles you tell?  Soph. 
I will when sorrow shall permit me speak:  
But sure my heart must with unkindness break,  K. Mas. 
'Tis possible, yet Madam ere I go;  
Express your will for I have much to do.  
My men I have not placed, my father's Throne,  
We have not filled, I must, I must begone.  
Menander do we triumph.  Men. 
Bravely Sir,  
All like yourself, and more than Conqueror.  Rez. 
Merna we're lost with what a haughty scorn,  
He turns away and smiles to see her mourn.  Soph. 
Are you not Massinissa called?  K. Mas. 
I am.  Soph. 
Have you not heard of Sophinisba's name?  
She who unmoved your high disdain endures;  
Yet Sophonisba who was always yours.  K. Mas. 
Oh heavens!  Soph. 
Whom wasting cares did all the day devour,  
Who watched all night, counting each tedious hour:  
And never found that there were joys in power.  K. Mas. 
Ha! Sophonisba! yes I knew her well;  
That Angel fair, and loved her ere she fell.  
Oh Sophonisba, hadst thou but a mind  
Half beauteous as the case where 'tis enshrined.  
Thou wert but she is dangerous to name:  
My reasons snatched by my tempestuous flame.  
Menander help—  
Or I shall sink in th' abiss of thought,  
My vows, my friendship, glory, all forgot.  
As when we launch into the Sea, the land  
Goes backward with the trees, and all the neighbouring strand.  Men. 
Be gone my Lord, you're rnined if you stay.  K. Mas. 
What from the vanquished shall we run away.  Mern. 
Still there's some hopes, since at her name he shook,  
And now he eyes her with a kindling look.  Rez. 
With that last Glance methought love shot him there.  K. Mas. 
Yes Madam this is Massinissa here:  
I am (to thy Confusion be it kuown.)  
A walking Grave with sorrows overgrown,  
With rooted cares and every baneful weed,  
That nightly watchings and pale troubles breed.  
Once I was free from these and flourished fair,  
Like a tall tree I blossomed in the air.  
My cheerful friends like birds about me sung;  
Free from the Charms of thy deceitful tongue.  
And ripening hopes blooming around me hung,  
Till thou fair murderess didst like lightning fall.  
And blasted blossoms, branches, root, and all.  Soph. 
O Massinissa hear I this from thee?  K. Mas. 
'Tis equally a truth from him or me;  
Or any here— why Madam not from me.  
But if my presence should a trouble prove,  
I will for ever from your sight remove.  Soph. 
Stay, Massinissa, stay, my life, my soul;  
Why do your eyes with such strange motion roll?  
Your fury in this heart that loves you hide.  K. Mas. 
Where does that searcher of the soul reside:  
Who through blind tracks finds out a woman's heart?  
Lo here's a bar, a stop to all his Art,  
Who would not swear that such a love was true?  Soph. 
Do I not love you? By the Gods I do.  K. Mas. 
Oh thou dissembler! once this would have done,  
But all thy practised wiles at last are known.  
Just so she talked, and so she wept before,  
And with that beauteous honest look she swore:  
Gods If I stay, I shall believe again,  
Farewell thou greatest pleasure, greatest pain.  Soph. 
By all our loves, this cannot, must not be;  
Those cruel words could not be meant to me.  
To me who love you with a heart entire,  
A flame more lasting than the vestals fire,  
To me who am indeed all one desire.  
Ah Prince thy love is all my light and health;  
The treasure I would hoard, my only wealth:  
Take not that from me.  K. Mas. 
'Tis but vain delay.  Soph. 
Unkindly urged why do you turn away? kneels.  
You shall not go till you have left me dead;  
My tears till now were never vainly shed.  
O hear my sighs, my vows, ye powers above,  
If any power like me could ever love.  
Let loose your fires and thaw this frozen heart,  
And thou dread God of love try every dart:  
You sha'not stir.  K. Mas. 
What means this rising flood. weeps.  Soph. 
Nature will start at such ingratitude:  
Revenge on after ages this disgrace,  
And only Monsters make of humane race:  
Inhuman thou.  K. Mas. 
She shall not, yet she shall;  
She grasps my heart, and cries she'll have it all.  
'Tis so, her eyes restless magic bear,  
Angels I see, and Gods are dancing there.  
Rise Madam, rise, each sigh, each softening glance;  
Lulls my loud wrongs, I'm hushed, and in a trance.  Men. 
His sighs flow from him with so strong a Gale,  
As if his soul would through his lipsexhale.  Soph. 
Could you be thus? on your poor Mistress frown,  
What was my fault, alas what have I done?  K. Mas. 
Nothing, why nothing, only this thou art,  
My life, my soul, my spirits blood and heart.  
Whose hands least thirlling touch does please above;  
The very act of any other love.  
Gods how she Charms, none sure was e'er like thee:  
Nor wild as I, storms borrow rage of me.  
But thou art soft, and sweet, and silent all,  
As births of Roses or as blossoms fall.  Soph. 
This Rose that sticks so near your heart will fade,  
When planted by your hand in death's cold shade.  K. Mas. 
By mine? Not savages would harm thy breast;  
On whose refreshing pillows, jove might rest:  
And with Immortal sweets be ever blessed.  
So fair 'tis well thou art not faithful too;  
I could not bear my bliss if thou wert true.  Soph. 
Think me not false though I did Syphax wed,  
Who ever was a stranger to my bed.  
Forced by my Father's positive command;  
I must confess I suffered him my hand.  
Heaven curse me if I ever granted more,  
Could I be his having been yours before?  K. Mas. 
Why do you stop? still as statue lo,  
I stand, nor shall the wind presume to blow.  
Speak, and it shall be night not one shall dare;  
To sigh though on the Rack he tortured were,  
Nor for his soul whisper a dying prayer.  Soph. 
Make your love long, and let it burn less fast,  
These sudden raptures are to hot to last.  K. Mas. 
Right Madam long if we such joys should feel:  
The furious transports of delight would kill.  
Menander to the Temple lead away,  
By my clear fame this is our Marriage day.  Soph. 
Your fame does far above all Censure sir,  
Free from the taunts of low repining with't.  
Kings though they err should never be arraigned,  
But if I yield, my glory will be stained.  
What will the World report of such a Bride,  
Who married the same day her Husband died.  K. Mas. 
Since Scipio is your mortal Enemy;  
It must be so upon necessity.  
Who yet will not molest you being mine.  Soph. 
Then to the Gods let me my breath resign.  K. Mas. 
Can you consent rather than be my wife,  
To hazard honour liberty and life.  Soph. 
But sir.  K. Mas. 
But Madam say what you can say;  
You ought not, must not, and I cannot stay,  
One minute more casts both our lives away.  Soph. 
Know mighty Prince I was, and am the same,  
And though the world this Act may justly blame,  
I will be yours, and in that way you name.  
But first by all the Gods and glory swear,  
Rather than yield me up Rome's Prisoner.  
That you some fatal token will present,  
To free me from Inglorious punishment.  K. Mas. 
I swear by Heaven, by Glory, and by Arms,  
By something more, and by your own conquering Charms.  
You shall be ever from the Romans free;  
Or I by death will give you liberty.  Soph. 
Now lead me where you please.  K. Mas. 
A taste of bliss.  
The God of marriage seal our vows with this, kisses her  
Nectar, and flames the sweets of Hybla grow,  
About her lips ambrosial Odours flow.  
Let melancholy Monarch Council take,  
Wed by advice and sullen Nuptials make.  
But I prefer what thus my Arms enfold,  
To all the wealth that Earth or Seas can hold,  
To Rocks of Diamonds, or to hills of Gold.  
Spite of proud Rome and all her haughty men,  
She was my Mistress, and shall be my Queen.  
The end of the Third ACT.   

ACT. IU. Scen. I.  Bellona's Temple. An Altar is shown, with a Soldier lying upon it, armed all but his head: Aglave, Cumana, standing each upon a Tripos, with Daggers in their right hands, and Cencers in their left. Agla. 
e'er we our solemn rites begin,  
The sacred Cavern purge from sin.  
About the dreadful Altar go;  
About it Inchantations blow.  Cum. 
The dire oblation thus we drain,  
And with his blood our Temples stain.  
The Screech-Owl warns us with her Note,  
Strike your dagger in his throat.  
Gash him deep, and suck his blood,  
Prepare his frighted ghost a shroud.  Agla. 
Rise ye sulphurous flames, arise,  
Consume the baleful sacrifice.  
That of his ashes we may take;  
And clotted Cinders with 'em rake,  
And Viands for Bellona make.  Cum. 
Our Goddess smiled, 'tis done, 'tis done,  
The Romans have the Battle won.  
From yonder batlement of heaven,  
I saw the Carthaginians driven.  
They fly they fly, the Consul there,  
Pursues 'em through long tracks of Air.  
He puts their General to rout;  
And drives 'em like a storm about.  Agla. 
Our Goddess shall have death enough,  
Her shrine with fat of thousands stuff.  
With gory heads her Altar fill,  
And Tuns of blood upon 'em spill.  Enter Hannibal Maherbal, Bomiloar. Cum. 
But lo who comes, what, what are these,  
That pry into our misteryes?  
Speak, speak Aglave, I'll begone,  
Their business know, I'll come anon:  
The fit of prophecy's come on.  
Our Goddess does the Tunnel wind,  
And sacred horrors swell my mind. Exit.  Agla. 
What are you? and what is it you would know?  Han. 
Men call me Hannibal, Rome's dreadful foe.  
Who after many Battles lost and won,  
Resolve to perish or my conquest Crown.  
One day the world's great Empire must decide;  
But what the Gods and that great day provide,  
We wish to know who dare the worst abide.  Agla. 
Cumana to the sacred Tunnel cleaves,  
Her breast enlarged the Goddess now receives.  
And now she rages like a Bacchinal,  
With fury's acted rends the holy veil.  
Full of the deity about she roams,  
Stares, gapes, and on the hallowed Curtain foams.  
Cuts her hot flesh, grovels upon the ground,  
Sings, Dances, kicks the golden Tripeds round.  Enter Cumana scratching her face, stabbing a Dagger into her Arms: Spirits following her. Sings. 
Beneath the Poplar's shadow lay me,  
No raging fires will there dismay me.  
Near some silver current lying,  
Under sleepy Poppies dying.  
I swell, and am bigger than Typhon e'er was,  
With a strong band of Brass, O bind me about;  
Lest my bosom should burst for the secret to pass:  
And a vent being given the fury get out.  
I cannot, I will not be vexed any longer,  
While I rage's I grow weak, and the Goddess grows stronger.  She speaks. 
If Hannibal to Zama tend,  
His valour Scipio shall Commend.  
And near Nadagra on the Plain,  
There shall be thousand Romans slain.  
Thou with thy old Italian Band.  
Shalt put the Consul to a stand.  Sings. 

Hark, hark, the Drums rattle,  
Dub a dub to the Battle.  
Tararara, Tararara the Trumpets too tattle,  
Now, now they come on, and pell mell they mingle.  
What rustling and bustling:  
And splinters of lances with broken Arms jingle.  
Gold trappings, bright Bevers, Swords, Bucklers and Daggers,  
The stout man flies on, and the faint hearted staggers.   

See the saddle girts burst,  
And the general's unhorsed.  
But he rallies again,  
And brings up his men.  
Spite of fortune and fate:  
And the Gods that oppose;  
He hacks and he hews:  
Through the hearts of his foes.   
Cease Goddess, cease, thy servant to torment,  
My lungs are with Prophetic fury spent.  
The struggling fates within my bosom turn,  
And heavenly fires my trembling heart strings burn.  
When will thy Godhead let me rest,  
Too mighty for a mortal breast.  Agla. 
Cumana to a period hast:  
You shall have ease when you have done;  
And sweet refreshing slumbers taste.  
Upon the Borders of the Moon.  A Dance of Spirits. Cum. 
Lo, afar off the cursed Bythinian Band,  
A poisoned General rules upon the sand.  
Gods, how he swells! how bloated is his look?  
Death from the Pummel of his Sword he took. Exit.  Han. 
Shall Romans fall by Carthaginian Swords,  
And Carthage sink? what mean these mystic words?  
A foolish Bard as much as this might tell;  
Or a white Witch without the aid of hell.  
More I must know, speak Rosalinda's doom,  
Let all the losses of a Battle come.  
May Scipio in the dust our glory soil,  
we'll bear the frowns of Mars if Cupid smile,  Agla. 
Too curious mortal, seek not what once known,  
May snatch your sleep, and make you ever groan.  
Your fate crowds back, and would not come in view,  
Do not too far th' unwilling Gods pursue.  
Like one who rashly dares give spirits chase,  
They fly a while to some dark ruined place.  
Through Caverns run, through Cloisters dodge him round,  
Or dance before him over Fairy ground.  
Till urged too far, a face all pale and sad,  
Turns quick upon him, and the fool runs mad.  Bom. 
Let's go my Lord, I am not used to fear,  
And yet methinks I dread to tarry here.  Mah. 
Heaps of the slain I often have beheld,  
And with my Battle-ax, have hundreds felled.  
Yet here I'm shaken the objects too funest,  
I'd rather see a Javelin at my breast.  Han. 
Aglave, by your Goddess Arms I swear,  
We will not from the sacred Cavern stir.  
Till you have cleared my doubts though every star:  
At your dread call start from his flaming sphere.  
Though from her or be close mantled in a Cloud;  
The Moon slide down to wander in this Wood,  
Though with your Charms the Sun dissolve in blood.  
Fathom the depth of desting below,  
And all the terrors of your Magic show.  Agla. 
Beneath those burdened branches stand,  
Safe from the spirit I command.  
Arise, appear thou whom his soul does love,  
His heart with visionary horrors move.  Rosalinda rises in a Chair pale with a wound on her breast, two Cupids descend and hang weeping over her. Han. 
Shall Rosalinda then untimely die,  
'Tis false and all these damned deceivers lie.  
Faceing thy fate with my Sword drawn I'll stand,  
Backed with my Conquering old Italian Band.  
With the same haughty fierceness rushing on,  
Which the Saguntines City thundered down.  
Like Troy's young Hero:  
Who while the World about him did admire,  
His father bore through night death, blood and fire.  
Spite of opposing hell and war's worst harms,  
So will I bear my love upon my Arms.  Bom. 
To horse my Lord, and leave this cursed place,  
Let's go and instantly the Consul face.  Mah. 
No more in this damned sorceress confide,  
Permit my Sword her body to divide.  
Or from her Corpse cut her enchanted Head,  
And her black brains upon the Altar shed.  Han. 
we'll go Maherbal with to morrow's dawn.  
On the vast plain our squadrons shall be drawn.  
Yet for some minutes, Battle shall decline,  
we'll see this Consul ere our Bodies join.  
And if on equal terms a peace may be,  
For Carthage sake I'll court my Enemy.  Bom. 
'tis just you should deliberation take,  
With caution deal, and manage the last stake.  Mah. 
You Armies are the Cards which both must play,  
At least come off a saver if you may.  Han. 
But like Sols offspring swelled with dangerous fires,  
He to the management of all as pires.  
Alone the sceptre of the world would sway,  
Alone would rule the heaven and drive the day.  
Like that indulgent God I'll first advise,  
Show him the tracks through which ambition flies.  
If deaf to all let him ascend the Throne,  
Snatching at glories which must weigh him down,  
Like jove we'll toss him from his glistering Chair:  
Singeing ye Clouds hissing through liquid Air,  
And darting headlong like a falling Star. Exeunt.  Trebellius, Enter Scipio, meeting Lelius disarmed, Varro. Scip. 
Lelius returned and said tell the Event.  Lel. 
Too late my Lord, I was to Cirta sent.  
For e'er some thousand paces got from hence,  
I Massinissa met that wretched Prince.  
Not as I used armed with a warrior's grace,  
Like Mars when thundering on the plains of Thrace.  
But in a Chariot drawn by milk white Steeds,  
Like soft Adonis driving through the meads.  
And Sophonisba leaning on his breast,  
Like Venus with her wanton Hunt's man blessed.  Scip. 
Are these his vows? some new way we must try,  
Rather than live dishonoured, he shall die.  Lel. 
Soon as the Tyrant Syphax was o'er thrown,  
With Menaces he forced the frighted Town.  
Which entered straight he to the Palace flew,  
Forgetting all his vows he loved anew;  
The Conquered did the Conqueror subdue.  
In short, her tears and beauty won so far,  
In view of all the world he married her.  
They are arrived and now upon the Plain,  
In a Pavilion Royal both remain.  Scip. 
Trebellius go, this subtle Charmer bring;  
Take all our Guards to assist against the King.  
And say that we'll attend him in his Tent,  
But first expect the Queen be Prisoner sent.  
Tell him she is the Romans foe, and shall,  
A sacrifice for blood of thousands fall. Exeunt severally.  Enter King Massinissa, Sophonisba: K. Mas. 
Let him Arm all his power against this breast.  
My heart unmoved shall stand the mighty Test.  
What I have sworn shall like thy virtue last,  
I'll hold thee to me as my heartstrings fast.  
Thou soul of love, all charming Excellence!  
Whose every look drives stormy troubles hence,  
Does all the blessings of the Gods Dispense.  
Why dost thou tremble? let no sawoy fear,  
Make thy heart pant, or cause thee shed a tear.  Soph. 
Alas my Lord 'twere better I were dead,  
In my cold grave safe from these troubles laid.  
Rather ten thousand Racks let me endure,  
Then once be brought under the Roman power.  
'Tis true that you have deeply sworn you would:  
Defend me.  K. Mas. 
To my hearts last drop of blood.  
Or may I by some Coward mangled lie,  
And dogs and vultures tear me as I die.  
The Tygress will revenge her ravished young,  
'Midst Darts, and Spears, and Javelins rush along.  
The Clown so low and ignorant of fame,  
Will venture life to save his swarthy dame.  
And shall not I for thee waste all this blood,  
Thou softest blessing, and the sweetest good.  Soph. 
I know not what the Gods for you intent,  
But 'tis most certan I am near my end.  
Not that death's darkest horror I can fear.  
But Bondage is a load I cannot bear.  K. Mas. 
Quit all those fancies that disturb thy rest,  
And cast thy Melancholy on this breast:  
This heart is ever thine.  Soph. 
O my loved Lord,  
If you should break— but you will keep your word.  
Keep all your Oaths, yet Heaven and you know best,  
Some surfeit with their love as on a feast.  
And then they loathe when once they 're satiated,  
But you'll remember me when I am dead.  
From these dear eyes to endless shades removed,  
None e'er will love you sure, as I have loved.  Enter Trebellius. Treb. 
Guards wait without— My Lord, you must resign,  
The Queen whom I have order to confine.  K. Mas. 
Touch her not for thy life, but straight retire,  
Safer thou mayst with thunder play, kiss fire.  
Grapple with death, a Pestilence invade,  
With all his fatal Purple pomp arrayed.  Trebellius goes to seize her, Massinissa kills him. Treb. 
Cut off in my full growth, curse on your strife,  
To die thus when I business had for life.  
Just Scipio will revenge my death, beware,  
I feel I'm going, though I know not where. Dies.  K. Mas. 
Nought but thy blood could wash thy guilt away,  
Who durst the rancour of thy heart display.  
And sully with rude hands the fairest piece,  
That the Gods ever drew, your troubles cease.  
I'm in, and now no hope of safety's nigh,  
Yet still a King we will attended die.  
Like a brave Merchant:  
Who when his long tossed loaded Vessel hits.  
Against some Rock, and with loud horror splits.  
First grasps one Casket which does all contain,  
Then fearless, shoots himself into the Main.  
So I with thee, my only wealth, my all,  
Amidst the numerous slain at last must fall.  
The noise comes near safe, retire from view,  
Glory and love shall teach us what to do. Exeunt.  Enter Scipio, Lelius, Varro, Guards. Lel. 
Trebellius slain, and in a woman's cause,  
Shame to our Arms, disgrace to honour's Laws.  
What flames of mischief from this spark might rise,  
'Tis just with rigour you his fault chastise.  Scip. 
Yet Massinissa thou shalt dearly buy,  
Thy ill got love and fatal Gallantry.  
Curl on in wanton ways, bask in her Charms,  
By Mars she is a victim to our Arms.  K. Mass. meets him. K. Mas. 
Your high displeasure in your face I spy.  
When the great Scipio frowns, great dangers nigh.  
The fact I must confess done in defence,  
Of beauty wronged, and helpless Innocence.  Scip. 
Where is that fair incendiary fled,  
Ere to extremest rigour we proceed.  
I strictly charge thee bring her forth to bleed.  
Or on thy person I will vengeance take,  
And thou shalt perish for thy Mistriss' sake.  K. Mas. 
With greedy joy I offer you my life,  
If by the Go●● you swear to free my wife.  Scip. 
Yo●●●all not for her sake have leave to die,  
Nor will I give her life or liberty.  
For Rome, not for your sake this war was waged,  
You only as a volunteer engaged.  
Therefore whatever Towns or Captives fall,  
Into our hands, they are the Romans all.  K. Mas. 
Then thus I draw, think it not insolence;  
For it's not meant, Sir, in my own defence,  
But to preserve a sacred Innocence.  
From their bright Thrones perhaps the Gods will glide,  
And range themselves in battle on my side.  
Beneath a Cause so just I cannot fall,  
I, and the Gods will fight it with you all.  Scip. 
Thou deemest thy lust an Action great and good,  
Death ought to cool this fever in thy blood.  
With me contending against fate you strive,  
Yet I will pity show, take him alive.  K. Mas. 
Ingloriously you have a Conquest made,  
That breast my timorous arm durst not invade.  
My heart though prompted by her powerful charms,  
Fainted before the Master of my Arms.  
Nor shall you yet my souls loved treasure reach,  
My body thus dams up the narrow breach.  
And he who dares—  
Rashly on this forbidden Earth to tread,  
I'll Grasp his soul, I'll spurn him dead.  Trumpets within, enter Menander. Scip. 
What means this mournful noise, whose Tragic sound,  
With solemn horror does my thoughts confound?  Men. 
O sacred Sir.  Scip. 
What Soldier, all in tears?  Men. 
Sorrow herself close mourner now appears;  
The Prince Massina slain, see blasted there,  
The hopes you loved the darling of the war.  
That beauteous Captive who with you did treat,  
He to the Carthaginian Camp did wait.  
Where Hannibal of's beauty jealous grown,  
Cast him in bands; but when his birth was known,  
As soon unbound, but then despair did move,  
Despair of glory, and despair of love.  
Which when the Royal youth had rashly weighed,  
And fate with murmuring thoughts a while delayed.  
A poniard from his Robe unmarked he took,  
And to his heart the deadly weapon struck.  Scip. 
Behold, of furious love the dire Event.  
Yet Massinissa wilt thou not repent.  
Behold the pledge you left for your default,  
By heavens high Justice to perdition brought.  K. Mas. 
Was ever man thus wretched and durst live,  
Yet will I not one tear to nature give.  
Least Bankrupt like I lavish what's not mine,  
Since all my stock of sorrow love is thine.  Scip. 
Remove the Prince's body from his sight,  
Lest too much grief should to distraction fright.  
Yet if thou'lt bring her forth we will forget,  
This daring rashness which is passion's heat.  
Thy glory with fresh laurels we'll advance,  
And with due praise thy valiant Acts enhance.  
Thy pile of honour this right hand shall build:  
Why dost thou weep?  K. Mas. 
Because I dare not yield;  
No Sir, my love I never can betray,  
Though you have touched me in the noblest way.  Scip. 
Canst thou both promises and threats refuse?  K. Mas. 
Death, and what's worse you only bid me choose.  Scip. 
Bring forth thy love and life, thou shalt enjoy,  K. Mas. 
Is that a life your purpose act destroy.  
Turn all your Javelins points against this breast,  
But let it not of love be dispossessed.  Scip. 
Must I who can Command thus vainly sue.  K. Mas. 
My stubborn heart death only can subdue.  Scip. 
Then take that death which you so little dread.  Enter Sophonisba. Soph. 
Stay, Tyrant hold, first thou shalt strike me dead;  
Come on with thy brave sword rip up my breast,  
And fix my panting heart upon thy proud crest.  
There let it hang thy valour's Trophy grown,  
To all the wondering world let it be shown.  
That none but fools the Conquest may deplore,  
While all the brave admire the Conqueror.  
A Conqueror so great with one sole blow,  
He Could even Hercules himself outdo.  
O heavens! he durst attempt, what shall I say;  
What words his hearts fierce grandeur can display,  
In heat of blood he durst a woman slay.  Scip. 
When Ladies rail, a Soldier should be mute:  
Besides I have no leisure to dispute.  
As Helen did to Troy perdition bring,  
Where e'er you come your eyes destruction fling.  
When will your thirsty Charms with blood be cloyed,  
Two Kings you have like that fair Greek destroyed.  
Spite of your pride you shall to Rome be led,  
And there for all your Witchcrafts lose your head.  Soph. 
On with thy threats thy violent course pursue,  
Enjoy thy bloody wishes Tiger, do,  
Barbarian, for in Rome thou wert not born,  
By such a wretch her glories are not worn.  
Unless when dressed up to be sacrificed  
To thee the Moors and Goths are civilised.  
Gorge thyself, Saturn, make my flesh thy food,  
And laugh when thou art drunk with a Queen's blood.  K. Mas. 
All will be well fair excellence retire,  
Add not fresh fuel to the dying fire.  Soph. 
To you and heaven my heart must ever bow,  
Consul with thee I am not angry now.  Scip. 
Observe ungoverned Prince with how much ease,  
This Royal foe we if we would might seize.  
Yet on your promise that she shall not go,  
Till we the fate of war at Zama know.  
We will permit her in your Tent, t' remain,  
But oh my friend break this inglorious Chain.  
Contrive some means to keep your faith with me,  
And set your heart from that cursed Charmer free. Exit.  K. Mas. 
O rigid honour must we separate then!  
lose all the sweets of life to purchase pain.  Men. 
If she were dead your glory were secure.  K. Mas. 
But could I then this wretched life endure?  
Without her live? it's fatal to refuse,  
And glory ruins me if love I choose.  
What help Menander?  Men. 
'Tis the sport of heaven,  
When Ships on Rocks are in the Harbour driven.  
Having through thousand stormy dangers passed,  
In prospect of your bliss you're wracked at last.  K. Mas. 
Like one who having scaped the waves, arrives,  
To some lone Rock, and there more wretched lives.  
Half famished on the ragged flint he stands,  
Viewing with watery Eyes the distant strands,  
And past his call, men walking on the lands.  
With sighs he swells the wind, and looking round,  
Mourns his sad choice, or to be starved or drowned. Exeunt.  
The end of the Fourth ACT.   

ACT. V. Scen. I.  Hannibal and Scipio. Han. 
ARt thou the Chief whom men famed Scipio call?  Scip. 
Art thou the much more famous Hannibal?  Han. 
Since by our partial fate it is ordained;  
That I who have such dreadful Battles gained.  
That torrent like which from some Mountain falls,  
Ran from the Cloudy Alps to Rome's proud Walls.  
Should now at last for peace inglorious sue,  
I thank the Gods that they have chosen you,  
To reap that honour by this Interview.  Scip. 
In civil praise, and from so brave a foe.  
True courage may a sense of pleasure show.  
Thy words inspire me with such vast delight,  
'Twill scarce be more to vanquish thee in fight.  Han. 
'Twas much the Gods to our forefathers gave,  
That you should Italy, we afric have.  
Our Africa Arms much Roman blood have spilled,  
And Carthage has the Roman fury felt.  
What sayst thou Scipio, is it Peace or War?  
Th' Invasion made by us we will repair.  
we'll give you Sicily, Sardinia, Spain,  
And all the Islands which our Arms did gain;  
'Twixt Italy and afric on the Main.  
Thy boiling Courage does to war incline,  
And glory more than profit you design;  
Such fortune once did on our Genius shine.  
But long experience and the chance of War,  
Makes me at present certain peace prefer.  
Grasp not at Sceptres which may turh to rods,  
To Day is yours, to morrow is the Gods.  Scip. 
That your late landing upon Leptis Coast,  
Restored those hopes which drooping Carthage lost.  
All must confess, we know you are that man,  
Whose glory to the utmost Thale ran.  
Born in a Winter's Camp, in Battles bread,  
Whilst yet a Stripling durst an Army head.  
Whose very name could make the Romans mourn,  
And forced dread groans from every hollow urn.  
The boldest Senators began to droop,  
Yet when all fainted I alone stood up.  
And faced that storm which threatened from a far,  
Shot warmth, and rose upon 'em like a Star.  
To afric came and in few months retrieved,  
All that your Arms for many years achieved:  
Peace I refuse, unless you offer more,  
You give naught yet but what was ours before.  
Since all the neighbour Kings our actions eye,  
It rests at last we should our fortune try;  
Let one victorious be, the other die.  Han. 
Gods, that the glorious Hannibal should bow!  
To be refused— It shall be battle now,  
Forgetful Hero, couldst thou court the son  
Twice, by whose force his father was o'erthrown.  
Scipio thou mayst too late repent thy pride,  
And vainly in thy death this fury chide.  
On Fabius think, Rome shield, her Guard from harms,  
Her sword Marcellus broken by my arms.  
Remember great Emilius slain by me,  
And then think last what may thy fortune be  
Ere yet the day be done:  
With Seas of gore we'll drown the neighbouring Wood,  
And yonder sun shall set in Roman blood.  Scip. 
Prepare to hear thy last, thy last alarms.  Han. 
In Battle we shall meet, to arms, to arms. Exeunt.  Enter Rosalinda in man's Apparel. Ros. 
Thus dressed, and with this warlike weapon drawn,  
What hinders but an Army, I lead on.  
Oh cruel nature why didst thou disgrace,  
So brave a Spirit with a Female face.  
All women would, but sure no woman can,  
Be changed into the Lordly creature man.  
However, with this Garb I fit my mind,  
Whose high ambition has great things designed.  
I'll out and chase, if Hannibal succeeds;  
And if he falls, than Rosalinda bleeds.  Alarms, enter Hannibal, Maherbal, Bomilcar. Han. 
Both wings are lost, the Carthaginians yield,  
Fierce Caius Lelius drives 'em through the field.  
The Gauls and the Ligurians quit their ground,  
The Massisilian King does all confound.  
With such swift force his Arms our Troops assail,  
As hurricans toss showers, and scatter hail.  Bom. 
Wild as our Elephants about he raves,  
And tramples on those mercenary slaves.  
Who scouring through the field avoid his stroke,  
And fly like flocks of Doves before a Hawk.  Mah. 
Your valiant old Italian Troops stand fast,  
Resolved to fight your Battle to the last.  
The Conquering Consul riding o'er the Plain,  
With all his Officers and bravest men.  
The Hastati and Triarij this way comes,  
With Trumpets sounding and with beat of Drums.  Han. 
Auspicious juno, thou that didst e'er while,  
Favour our cause, and on our Carthage smile.  
Prosper our Arms this bloody dreadful day,  
And Hannibal shall the foundation lay  
Of such a Temple sacred to thy name,  
As ne'er was found in the records of fame. Exeunt.  Enter K. Massinissa, Leluis. K. Mas. 
Their flight has winged the Cowards, let 'em fly,  
Not worthy by such Conquering swords to die.  
'Tis time we to the Consul should repair,  
Rejoin our forces and conclude the war.  SCENE of Hannibal and Scipio fighting, the Consul gives ground: Enter K. Mas. and Lel. and beat Han. off. Scip. 
Gods, what prodigious valour have you sent,  
And what rewards are worthy to present!  
O Massinissa.  
With what impetuous swiftness fortunes wheel,  
Turned with thy strokes how did the valiant reel?  Lel. 
As when some distant labourer hews an Oak,  
We see his Arm raised for a second stroke,  
Ere the first blow's report can reach our ear,  
So flagged our sense; nor could it reach him there.  Scip. 
Th' Italian Troops shrunk from his Marshal fire,  
But Hannibal himself did last retire.  
All Lion-like.  
Whom a bold band of huntsmen having found;  
And dared to rouse, he rowls his eyes around,  
Lashing his sides, and tearing up the ground.  
With trouble from th' unequal skirmish goes,  
Majestic stalks, and turns upon his foes.  
So from the fight went the great General,  
Proud in his loss, and rising from his fall. Exeunt.  Enter Soldiers skirmishing, Rosalinda falls. Ros. 
Heaven thou hast done thy worst there needs no more:  
Bold with my overthrow, I brave thy power,  
And shake the Glass that holds my latest hour.  
O Hannibal; did I for this design,  
This heart, this youth and beauty only thine.  
Pride and neglect on every lover hurled,  
Scorned him that Conquers thee, and all the world.  
From me lost Hero, learn, be great, and die,  
The brave should bleed for loss of victory.  Enter Hannibal, Maherbal, Bomilcar. Han. 
Carthage is lost, and Hannibal o'erthrown,  
What is there left that we may call our own?  
The bleeding world, Rome does by conquest claim,  
And swells the prize with our revolted fame.  
Yet spite of fate our length of earth we have,  
Thus vanquished glory shroud thee in a Grave,  Bom. 
Hold General the Gods your deaths forbid,  
Vengeance is due, first let false Hanno bleed,  
Who cut the wings of Conquest till she fell,  Mah. 
By me he shall be headlong sent to hell.  
Where Fiends for Treason kindle double fire:  
Then let the famous Hannibal expire.  Ros. 
Sure I the name of Hannibal did hear,  
Maherbal, tell me, is the General there?  Mah, 
Approach my Lord, view well this wounded fair:  
Sure in your Capuan Mistress I have seen,  
The same Majestic Air, and charming mien.  Han. 
Ha! thou hast roused a thought that wracks me more,  
Then all the losses I in Battle bore.  
Either I dream or in this closing eye,  
My dazzled senses Rosalinda spy.  Ros. 
Where do th' ambitious rest? O Hannibal!  Han. 
What art that, dost upon the wretched call?  Ros. 
One that's more wretched and more rash than thou,  
That would to fate, and not to Scipio bow.  
Disguised and dying Rosalinda see,  
Who mourns in death thy loss of victory:  
That last disgrace.  Han. 
Dire Goddess of war,  
Too true I find all thy presages are:  
The Gods have given a double overthrow,  
Would I had bravely perrished by my fo.  
Stretched in the field this loss I had not known,  
Nor should my tortured soul thy ruin moan.  Ros. 
Is it so hard our wishes to obtain?  
Sad hearts with bleeding loose love's burning pain.  Han. 
O dying fair look up, revive a while,  
With one short joy eternal care beguile.  
The setting sun all curtained round with night,  
At his departure gives a larger light.  Ros. 
Flow faster blood, It will not be I fear,  
The wound's so small, death cannot enter here.  
But shall I stay behind when honour's fled;  Han. 
Live, and I'll raise that honour from the dead.  Ros. 
Renown runson like time but ne'er turns back.  Han. 
Then we that swift renown will overtake:  
we'll haste where glory baits to every hold,  
And mount new fame till we outstrip the old.  Ros. 
Dear Hannibal, alas I wish I could:  
But 'twill not be, life trembling takes the flood,  
Till well nigh swallowed in waves of blood.  
The Roman glory shines too fatal bright,  
And with its gathering lustre dims my sight.  
Eternally adieu my body take,  
Chaste and entire I kept it for your sake;  
'Tis the last present that I now can make. dies.  Han. 
For ever gone, all her sweet stock of breath,  
Spent in one sigh, the riot of rich death.  
Now by Arms the Gods too partial are,  
Or else they envied my full trade of War.  
Which could so vast a state of beauty buy,  
As far surpassed the Manors of their sky.  
Dead Rosalinda.—  Bom. 
Raise you from the ground,  
And let not love your virtue's force confound,  
Where is that heat and haughty courage gone,  
Which against nature's lets your Troops led on?  Mah. 
Think you for naught the Gods such valour gave,  
You should prop Thrones, and falling Kingdoms save.  
Buried in thought, and deaf to honour's call,  
Your soul beneath her mighty pitch does fall.  Han. 
Maherbal no, astonished thou shalt be,  
We dare be brave in spite of destiny.  
Though robbed of all the riches love could give,  
And stripped of glory too yet we will live:  
Courage is formed of the Etherial mould,  
And round it bands of Adamant are rolled.  
To this still haughty breast such fire is given,  
I could the summons meet of hell or Heaven.  
Could like the great eternal mover sway  
The world in Arms, and teach it to obey.  
'Twas noble grief that lately changed my form,  
But I am ruffled now into a storm.  Bom. 
Your Mistress body hence we will convey,  
And in some hallowed Vault her relics lay.  Mah. 
Like Pilgrims once a year we'll mourning go,  
And on her Urn sad yiew with Cypress throw;  
And all our stock of tears and sighs bestow.  Han. 
Forever brightest of thy kind farewell,  
Who wert too worthy, therefore early fell.  
As the young Phoenix does in sacred myrrh,  
His father's dust to the sun's Temple bear.  
So in fame's houses shalt thou honoured be,  
And every God shall have a grain of thee.  Mah. 
Since glory with her last breath she professed,  
May wished Dominion widen all your breast.  Han. 
Hast, hast Maherbal, and fresh levies make,  
Honour that did but now calm slumbers take:  
Shall like the Ocean in a Tempest wake.  
we'll pass new Alps, new Consuls overthrow,  
To Rome with far more dreadful Armies go.  
Forcing the Appian and Emilian way,  
To the Suburra we'll pursue the fray.  
Nor stop till Rosalinda's statue crowned,  
Sits in the Capitol with Gods enthroaned. Exeunt.  Scipio, K. Massinissa, Lelius, etc. Scip. 
I grieve brave Prince so often to deny,  
She must a Captive be, or she must die.  K. Mas. 
I know she must, if you will have it so,  
But pardon may be granted to a fo.  
O spare her then as you would be forgiven,  
At your last hour, when you prepare for Heaven.  Scip. 
Learn to ask blessings? those you shall not want,  
This is a curse which I can never grant.  
Like one who in a burning fever lies,  
And begs for water if he drinks, he dies.  
I like a wise Physician thwart your will,  
And vanquish your distemper with my skill.  K. Mas. 
For the God's sake, for friendship, glory, love,  
By all that's good below, or blessed above.  
Let not at last my well taught Courage droop,  
Break not the heart which you have fostered up.  
Oh Sophonisba— Give her to my prayers,  
To these fast rising sighs, and falling tears.  
No other crown I ask as valour's due,  
For all that I have done, or all that I shall do.  
Lo at your knees, behold a Monarch fall.  
Yet more your friend, and then I have said all.  Scip. 
Let not your passion Royalty degrade,  
Rise valiant Prince, I've thought of what you said.  
And as your friend my temper cannot keep,  
Mourn your Misfortunes, and like you can weep.  
Curse Roman Tyranny, and wish you were.  
Forever Joined with that unhappy fair.  K. Mas. 
Oh you have blessed me!  Scip. 
Massinissa stay,  
You only heard what friendship bid me say.  
But as Rome's Consul and the Lord of power,  
I now command you never see her more.  
Unless the view to her may fatal be,  
This is my last immutable decree.  K. Mas. 
Is your feigned pity come to this, your tears?  
Falser than those which Egypt's Monster wears.  
Tyrannic Rome! Barbarous are all thy Laws,  
Have I for this in thy accursed cause.  
Starved life by lavishing her precious food,  
My spirits lost, emptied my dearest blood,  
Fought till I rampiers made of bodies round;  
So marked with fate that I appeared one wound,  
Yet raised thy bleeding Eagles from the ground.  Scip. 
Think no more on't her memory forget.  K. Mas. 
Cut me to Atoms, tear my soul out, yet,  
In every smallest particle of me,  
You shall the form of Sophonisba see.  
All like my soul, and all in every part;  
Bathed in my eyes, and bleeding in my heart.  Scip. 
Lelius secure the Queen.  K. Mas. 
Stay Lelius, stay;  
I've done my Lord, and will your power obey.  
The Queen shall die, on a King's word she shall;  
She must a victim for the Empire fall.  
How am I now?  Scip. 
For Sophonisba's loss,  
Your Arms Numidia's Empire shall engross.  
For your late Gallantry at Zama shown,  
Kind Rome presents you an Imperial Crown.  
Salutes you King, now all your griefs defy;  
Thus we embrace thee as our brave ally.  
Give your grief truce, thus praised, and thus adorned;  
Let all the beauties of the Earth be scorned. Exit.  K. Mas. 
Scorned be your glory more, and Roman pride,  
While I in winding-sheets embrace my Bride.  
For 'tis decreed that we must never part,  
we'll be one spirit as we're now one heart.  
Traverse the glittering Chambers of the Sky,  
Born on a Cloud in view of fate I'll lie:  
And press her soul while Gods stand wishing by.  Men. 
My Lord, if you would hear.  K. Mas. 
What canst thou say?  Men. 
Reason's a Rebel when high passions sway.  K. Mas. 
And such art thou, yet speak, what shall I do;  
Instruct me to be greatly false or true.  Men. 
The Queen must die.  K. Mas. 
Ha must? no more.  Men. 
She to the Gods: is given or Roman power.  K. Mas. 
Neither, she shall not die, nor shall she live,  
The Romans slave, I'll give her a reprieve.  Men. 
But how?  K. Mas. 
Why thus, I'll kill myself, kill thee,  
Rome, Carthage, all the world, and then she shall live free.  Men. 
Glory or beauty 'tis ordained you lose;  K. Mas. 
O Rome! Oh Heaven! both equally my foes:  
Was ever heart thus miserably torn,  
Were ever woes like mine so calmly born.  
From the Contagion of my troubles take,  
As much as might the spring a winter make.  
Freeze the hot blood of a Crowned Conqueror;  
Damp the wished joys of a young Bridal pair,  
Yet than I shall have more than man can bear.  Men. 
When virtue thus oppressed, mankind does see,  
What fearful dreaming fool will pious be.  
Martyrs no more shall Racks or Flames require,  
Nor dying wit, life, but to on desire,  
To murder Priests, and Temples set on fire.  K. Mas. 
Why, why, ye Immortal Gods is all this care.  
Why do you drive your Creatures to despair?  
Had I upon my Throne sat King of fears,  
The Orphan wronged, or drunk the Widow's tears.  
Had I braved Heaven by some outrageous sin,  
For these afflictions there had reason been.  
But 'tis all well, I no injustice have,  
The Gods but take the being which they gave.  
Menander hast two bowls with poison fill,  
And when I call, like fate come forth and kill.  Men. 
'Tis a dread deed to which you urge my hand.  K. Mas. 
It's glorious too: dispute not my command.  Men. 
I'll not presume to fathom your deep thought,  
But straight your will shall by your slave be wrought.  K. Mas. 
Love and ambition have their utmost done,  
'Twas love allured, ambition led me on.  
Like a rash Boy, who a steep Mountain Climbs,  
Big with brave thoughts of reaching Heaven betimes.  
And puffs and blows, and mighty pains he takes,  
Plies all his strength, and much ado he makes.  
But having reached the top he veiws aloof,  
The fancied Heaven, and all the painted roof.  
So did ambition draw me with a wile,  
And fleeting love my towering hopes beguile. Exit.  Enter Sophonisba. Soph. 
The Consul is returned with conquest Crowned;  
Triumphant voices rend the Eccahoing ground,  
And to the heavens the Trumpets Clangors sound.  
Yet I no news of Massinissa here,  
Should he be slain, which I with reason fear.  
Most lost of women, desperate, undone,  
What couldst thou do? what Gods would thou atone?  
Abhorred thou must to angry Rome repair,  
And all the cruelties of bondage bear.  
No Sophonisba, think what thou hast been,  
The Mistress of two Monarchs, twice a Queen.  
If thou must fall bravely, resign thy breath,  
And be above the Romans in thy death.  Enter King Massinissa. 
Oh my loved Lord, are you then come at last?  
Are you alive? and do I hold you fast?  K. Mas. 
Best of thy sex, and dearer than my life,  
The fairest Mistress, and the Gentlest wife.  
So great and Glorious Emperor's envy thee,  
And art so good, that the Gods envy me.  
They sent thee here but as an Angel scout,  
With a short lightning view, to gaze, and out.  
Torments of hell, and Racks of destiny,  
Thou must, oh that I live to speak it, die.  Soph. 
Blessed sound! we shall not then to Rome be led,  
But solemn Triumphs have in honour's bed.  
This last alarm my drooping spirits cheers,  
As when the warour his loved Trumpet hears.  
His Martial blood begins to warm apace;  
And boil and flushes in his kindling face,  
And much he longs to strive in Glories race.  
Speak death again, my Guard and sure Defence,  
It bears a mighty sound and mighty sense.  K. Mas. 
O keep thee there now while thy virtues glow,  
And dart divinity: I'll give the blow.  
Come forth Menander with those fatal bowls,  
Whose Juice though it the body's force Controls,  
Revives the mind, and slakes the thirst of souls.  Enter Menander with two Bowls. 
Give me the draught.  Soph. 
What means my Royal love?  K. Mas. 
By your bright self, by all the powers above,  
No Angels Eloquence my soul shall move.  
To die with thee and thy dear honour save;  
What greater glory could th' ambitious have,  
'Twill build a Palace for me in the Grave.  
Not but that in the agonies of breath,  
I tremble when I think upon thy death.  Soph. 
Thon best of men whose fame where ere it flies,  
Shall draw up bleeding hearts and weeping Eyes.  
Let not your soul tremble for me, for I  
Can fear no torment but to see you die,  K. Mas. 
Then cheerfully let's go, here's to my love,  
And to our meeting with the blessed above. drinks.  Soph. 
Give me the bowl, mark if my hand does shake,  
Or the fresh springing blood my Cheeks forsake.  
Undaunted to my lips, the draught I lift,  
'Tis to my Lord, this is his Nuptial gift. drinks.  K. Mas. 
Menander, faithful, confident, farewell,  
Hast, and our story to the Consul tell.  
On thy allegiance go without reply,  
Thou shouldst rejoice to see me bravely die. Exit Men.  
How fares my only love? My first last dear,  
The sweets of thousand springs are blowing here.  
All in thy sighs.  Soph. 
Ah give your kindness o'er,  
Or we shall live and feel the Roman power.  
Me thought death touched me with a Chilling pain,  
But your warm kisses shot through every vein.  
A kinder heat, and kindled life again.  K. Mas. 
Thus let us launch into eternity.  
Sink in death's Bottomless and boundless sea.  
Like drowning friends linked in Embraces fast,  
Our Arms love's Nets about each other cast.  Soph. 
What could long life or Empire give like this?  K. Mas. 
Thy love is Empire and eternal bliss.  Soph. 
I go, where shall we meet? dies.  K. Mas. 
The Gods can tell.  
Heaven's peace, and golden slumbers with thee dwell. die  Enter Scipio, Lelius, and Menander. Men. 
See there great Sir, the effects of your rash Doom,  
The victims you have offered up to Rome.  Lel. 
What cruel eyes could pity here refrain,  
Beholding two such Royal lovers slain.  Scip. 
These unexpected objects so amaze,  
My reason I could ever on 'em gaze.  
Since thou most great and lovely Prince art dead,  
War's marches Scipio shall no longer tread.  
With Carthage peace we'll instantly conclude,  
Which hadst thou lived our Arms might have subdued.  
To Rome our Drooping Eagles then shall steer,  
Where after tiresome honours we'll repair.  
To some small village Lelius thou, and I,  
And study not to live, but how to die.  
FINIS.