_Gelo._ Ask old Gelosso, who returns from them, Inform'd with fullest charge. Strong Asdrubal, Great Massinissa, Carthage general, 140 So speaks the Senate: counsel for this war In Hanno Magnus, Bytheas, Carthalon, And us Gelosso, rests. Embrace this charge, You never yet dishonour'd Asdrubal, High Massinissa! by your vows to Carthage, By th' god of great men,--glory,--fight for Carthage! Ten thousand strong Massulians, ready troop'd, Expect their king; double that number waits The leading of loved Asdrubal: beat loud Our Afric drums! and, whilst our o'er-toil'd foe 150 Snores on his unlacked casque, all faint, though proud, Through his successful fight, strike fresh alarms. Gods are not if they grace not bold, just arms. _Mass._ Carthage, thou straight shalt know Thy favours have been done unto a king. [_Exit with_ ASDRUBAL _and the Page_. _So._ My lords, 'tis most unusual such sad haps Of sudden horror should intrude 'mong beds Of soft and private loves; but strange events Excuse strange forms. O you that know our blood, Revenge if I do feign. I here protest, 160 Though my lord leave his wife a very maid, Even this night, instead of my soft arms Clasping his well-strung limbs with glossful steel, What's safe to Carthage shall be sweet to me. I must not, nor am I once ignorant My choice of love hath given this sudden danger To yet strong Carthage: 'twas I lost the fight; My choice vex'd Syphax, enraged Syphax struck Arms' fate;[310] yet Sophonisba not repents: O we were gods if that we knew events. 170 But let my[311] lord leave Carthage, quit his virtue, I will not love him; yet must honour him, As still good subjects must bad princes. Lords, From the most ill-graced hymeneal bed That ever Juno frown'd at, I entreat That you'll collect from our loose-formèd speech This firm resolve: that no low appetite Of my sex' weakness can or shall o'ercome Due grateful[312] service unto you or virtue. Witness, ye gods, I never until now 180 Repined at my creation: now I wish I were no woman, that my arms might speak My heart to Carthage. But in vain: my tongue Swears I am woman still, I talk too[313] long. _Cornets, a march. Enter two Pages with targets and javelins; two Pages with torches._ MASSINISSA _armed cap-à-pie_; ASDRUBAL _armed_.