SYPHAX

Some light in depth of hell: Vangue what hope? Of this same Carthage. And draw the war to Africa. And strike This secure country with unthought of arms To Carthage, Carthage, Oh thou eternal youth Man of large fame great and abounding glory Renounefull Scipio, spread thy too-necked Eagles, Fill full thy sails with a revenging wind, Strike through obedient Neptune, till thy prows Dash up our Lybian ouse, and thy joust arms Shine with amazfull terror on these walls, Oh now record thy Father's honoured blood Which Carthage drunk, thy Uncle Publius blood Which Carthage drunk, 30000. souls Of choice Italians Carthage set on wing: Remember Hannibal, yet Hannibal The consul-queller: Oh then enlarge thy heart Be thousand souls in one, let all the breath The spirit of thy name and nation be mixed strong In thy great heart: Oh fallen Like thunder shaft The winged vengeance of incensed Jove Upon this Carthage: for Syphax here flies off From all allegiance, from all love or service His (now freed) sceptre once did yield this City Ye universal Gods, Light, Heat, and Air Prove all unblessing Syphax if his hands Once rear them selves for Carthage but to curse it. It had been better they had changed their faith, Denied their Gods, then sleighted Syphax love So fearfully will I take vengeance. I'll interleague with Scipio. Vangue. Dear Ethiopian Negro, go wing a vessel And fly to Scipio. say his confederate Vowed and confirmed is Syphax: bid him hast To mix our palms and arms: will him make up While we are in the strength of discontent Our unsuspected forces well in arms For Sophonisba, Carthage, Asdrubal Shall feel their weakness in preferring weakness And one less great then we, to our deer wishes Haste gentle Negro, that this heap may know strong Me, and their wrong: I, though it not, yet know while Kings are What thei'le but think and not what is, is wrong I am disgraced in, and by that which hath No reason, Love, and Woman, my revenge Shall therefore bear no argument of right Passion is Reason when it speaks from Might I tell thee, man, nor Kings, nor Gods exempt But they grow pale if once they find Contempt: haste. Must we entreat? sue to such squeamish ears, Know Syphax has no knees, his eyes no tears, Enraged love is senseless of remorse, Thou shalt, thou must. Kings glory is their force. Thou art in Cirta, in my Palace Fool Dost think he pitieth tears, that knows to rule. For all thy scornful eyes thy proud disdain, And late contempt of us now weel revenge, Break stubborn silence: look I'll tack thy head To the low earth, while stre ̄ gth of too black knaves, Thy limbs all wide shall strain: prayer fits slaves. Our courtship be our force: rest calm as sleep, Else at this quake, hark, hark, we cannot weep. Can? see. Not? No? What? dead. Help vangue my strong blood boils. All appetite is deaf, I will I must. Achilles armour could not bear out lust. Why this is well. Th'excuse is good: wipe thy fair eyes our Queen, Make proud thy head now feel: more friendly stre ̄ gth Of thy Lords arm: come touch my rougher skin. With thy soft lip Zanthia dress our bed, Forget old loves and clip him that through blood, And hell acquire's his Wish think not but kiss, The flourish before loves fight is Venus bliss. Vow? what vow? speak. offence? Not Sophonisba, hold, thy vow is free, As:—come thy lips. This go obtain What time sweet good speed speed adieu Yet Syphax trust no more then thou mayest view. Vangue shall stay Zanthia, Zanthia Thou art not foul, go to, some Lords are oft So much in love with their known Ladies bodies, That they oft love their vails, hold, hold thou'st find, To faithful care Kings bounty hath no shore, But let my gold do more. Be, get, 'tis no stain The God of service is however gain. Way for the King. Each man withdraw, let not a creature stay Within large distance. hence Zanthia, Not thou shalt hear, all stand without eare-reach Of the soft cries nice shrinking brides do yield When— Hence—stay, take thy delight by steps, Think of thy joys, and make long thy pleasures, Oh silence thou dost swallow pleasure right, Words take away some sense from our delight; Music: be proud my Venus, Mercury thy tonge, Cupid thy flame, above all Oh Hercules Let not thy back be wanting: for now I leap To catch the fruit none but the Gods should reap Offering to leap into bed, he discovers Vangue. Hah! can any woman turn to such a Devil? Or: or: Vangue, Vangue — speak slave, How camest thou here? Zanthia, Zanthia, Where's Sophonisba? speak at full, at full, Give me particular faith, or know thou art not— Ill actions have some grace, that they can fear Sleep there thy lasting sleep Improvident, base, over-thirsty slave. Sy. kills Vam. Die pleased a kings couch is thy too proud graven. Through this vault sayest thou? We will be good to Zanthia; Go cheer thy Lady, and be private to us. I'll use this Zanthia, And trust her as our dogs drink dangerous Nile, only for thirst, the Fly the Crocodile: Wise Sophonisba knows loves tricks of art, Without much hindrance, pleasure hath no heart; Despite all virtue or weak plots I must Seven waled Babel cannot bear out lust In Syphax arms, thing of false lip, What God shall now release thee, Thy limbs shall feel, despite thy virtue know I'll thread thy richest pearl: this forests deaf, As is my lust: Night and the God of silence, Swells my full pleasures, no more shalt thou delude, My easy credence Virgin of fair brow, Well featured creature, and our utmost wonder, Queen of our youthful bed be proud, Syphax sets away his light, & prepareth tin'brace Soph. I'll use thee, Do strike thy breast, know being dead, I'll use, With highest lust of sense thy senseless flesh, And even then thy vexed soul shall see, Without resistance, thy trunk prostitute, Unto our appetite. Thou hast amazed us, Woman's forced use, Like unripe fruits, no sooner God but waste, They have proportion, colour but no taste, Think Syphax—Sophonisba rest thine own, Our Guard, Enter a Guard. Creature of most astonishing virtue, If with fair usage, love and passionate courtings, We may obtain, the heaven of thy bed, We cease, no suit from other force be free. We dote not on thy body, but love thee, By thee & by that power By which thou art thus glorious, trust my vow, Our guard, convey the roialst excellence That ever was called Woman, to our Palace, Observe her with strict care: To thee she is. She is not. When Plants must flourish Their manure must rot. Deep knowing spirit, mother of all high Mysterious science, what may Syphax yield, Worthy thy art, by which my soul's thus eased, The Gods first made me live, but thou live pleased. As to my Fate I yield my guidance. Whither is Syphax heaved? at length shalls joy Hope's more desired then Heaven? Sweet labouring Earth Let Heaven be unformed with mighty charms, Let Sophonisba only fill these arms. Joan weel not envy thee: Bloods appetite Is Syphax God: My wisdom is my sense, Without a man I hold no excellence. Give me long breath young beds and sickless ease For we hold firm thats lawful which doth please Infernal Music softly. Hark, hark, now rise jnfernall tones The deep fetched groans Of labouring spirits that attend Erichtho. Now crack the trembling earth and send Shrieks that portend Affrightment to the Gods which hear Erichtho. Thou rotten scum of Hell— Oh my abhorred heat! Oh loathed delusion! Can we yet breath? is any plagued Like me? Are we? lets think: Oh now contempt, my hate To the, thy thunder, sulphur and scorned name. He whose life's loathed, and he who breathes to curse His very being; let him thus with me Syphax kneels at the Altar Fallen before and Altar sacred to black powers, And thus dare Heavens: Oh thou whose blasting flames Hurl barren droughes upon the patient earth, And thou gay God of riddles and strange tales Hot-brained Phebus, all add if you can Something unto my misery; if ought Of plagues lurk in your deep trenched brows Which yet I know not: let them fallen Like bolts Which wrathful Jove drives strong in oh my bosom, If any chance of war, or news ill voiced, Mischief unthought of lurk, come gift us all, Heap curse on curse, we can no lower fallen. What damned air is formed Into that shape? speak, speak, we cannot quake, Our flesh knows not ignoble tremblings, speak, We dare thy terror: me thinks Hell and fate Should dread a soul with woes made desperate. Yet speak shall I overcome approaching foes. Scipio Help, our guard, my arms, bid all our leaders march. Beat thick alarms, I have seen things which thou Wouldst quake to hear, Boldness and strength the shame of slaves be fear. Up heart, hold sword: though waves roll thee on shelf, Though fortune leave thee leave not thou thy self. For Sophonisba. Massinissa. Kings glory is their wrong. He that may only do joust act's a slave My Gods my arm, my life, my heaven, my graven To me all end. For Sophonisba. Unto thy fortune not to thee we yield Scipio my fortune is captived not I Therefore I'll speak bold truth nor once mistrust What I shall say, for now being wholly yours I must not feign, Sophomsba was she Was Sophonisba that solicited My forced revolt, was his resistless suit His love to his deer Carthage'tic'd me break All faith with men: was she made Syphax false She that loves Carthage with such violence And hath such moving graces to allure That she will turn a man that once hath sworn Himself on's father's bones his Carthage foe To be that cities Champion and high friend His Himeneall torch burned down my house Then was I captived when his wanton arms There moving clasped about my neck, Oh charms Able to turn even fate: but this in my true grief Is some iustioy, that my love sotted foe Shall seize that plague, that Massinissas breast His hands shall arm, and that ere long yowl try She can force him your foe as well as I, Good malice, so, as liberty so deer Prove my revenge: what I cannot possess Another shall not: thats some happiness. Mark Scipio, Trust him that breaks a vow? To my soul joy, shall Sophonisba then With me go bound and wait on Scipios wheel? When whole world's giddy one man Can ̄ not reel, Burst my vexed heart, the torture that most racks And enemy, is his foes royal acts. A wasting flame feeds on my amorous blood Which we must cool or die? what way all power, All speech full Opportunity can make, We have made fruitless trial. Infernal Jove, You resolute Angels that delight in flames, To you all wonder working spirits I fly Since heaven helps not, deepest hell weel try. Here in this desert the great soul of Charms, Dreadful Erictho lives whose dismal brow, Contemnes all roofs or civil coverture. Forsaken graves and tombs the Ghosts forced out She joys to inhabit. A loathsome yellow leanness spreads his face A heavy hell-like paleness loads his cheeks Unknown to a clear heaven: but if dark winds. Or thick black clouds driven back the blinded stars When her deep magic makes forced heaven quake And thunder spite of Jove. Erichtho then From ̄ naked graves stalks out, heaves proud his head With lo ̄ g unke ̄ de hair loaded, and strives to snatch The Nights quick sulphar: then she bursts up tombs From half rot searcloaths then she scrapes dry gums For his black rites: but when she finds a corpse New graved whose entrails yet not turn To fly my filth with greedy havoc then she makes fierce spoil: & swells with wicked triumph To bury his lean knuckles in his eyes Then doth she knaw the pale and or'egrowne nails From his dry hand: but if she find some life Yet lurking close she bites his gelled lips, And sticking her black tongue in his dry throat, She breathes dire murmurs, which enforce him bear Her baneful secrets to the spirits of horror. To her first found, the Gods yield any harm, As trembling once to hear a second charm, She is: Syphax, Syphax, why wast thou cursed a King? What angry God made thee so great, so vile? Contemd, disgraced, think, Wertenberg thou a slave Though Sophonisba did reject thy love Thy low neglected head unpointed at Thy shame vnrumord and thy suit vnskoffd Might yet rest quiet: Reputation Thou awe of fools and greatmen: thou that choakst Freest addictions, and makest mortals sweat Blood and cold drops in fear to lose, or hope To gain thy never certain seldom worthy gracings. Reputation! Wertenberg not for thee Syphax could bear this scorn Not spouting up his gall among his blood In black vexations: Massinissa might Enjoy the sweets of his preferred graces Without my dangerous Envy or Revenge Wertenberg not for thy affliction all might sleep In sweet oblivion: But (Oh greatness skourge!) We cannot without Envy keep high name Nor yet disgraced can have a quiet shame. Do not offend a power Can make thee more then wretched: yield to him To whom fate yields: Know Massinissas dead, Well urged, Let my heart fallen more low Then is my body, if only to thy glory She lives not yet all thine. Oh misdoubt him not, when he's thy slave Like me