_Car._ He that forbids not offence, he does it. _Asd._ The curse of women's words go with you.--Fly!-- You are no villains!--Gods and men, which way?-- Advise vile things! _Han._ Vile? _Asd._ Ay! _Car._ Not? _By._ You did all. _Asd._ Did you not plot? _Car._ Yielded not Asdrubal? 100 _Asd._ But you enticed me. _Han._ How? _Asd._ With hope of place. _Car._ He that for wealth leaves faith, is abject. _Han._ Base. _Asd._ Do not provoke my sword; I live. _Car._ More shame, T' outlive thy virtue and thy once great name. _Asd._ Upbraid ye me? _Han._ Hold! _Car._ Know that only thou Art treacherous: thou shouldst have had a crown. _Han._ Thou didst all, all; he for whom mischief's done, He does it. _Asd._ Brook[334] open scorn, faint powers!-- Make good the camp!--No, fly!--yes, what?--wild rage!-- 110 To be a prosperous villain! yet some heat, some hold; But to burn temples, and yet freeze, O cold! Give me some health; now your blood sinks: thus deeds Ill nourish'd rot; without Jove nought succeeds. [_Exeunt._ [333] Marston may here be alluding to a passage in Plutarch's _De Iside et Osiride:_--"êrxanto de pinein apo Psammêtichou, proteron d' ouk epinon oinon, oude espendon, hôs philion theois, all' hôs haima tôn polemêsantôn pote tois theois, ex hôn oiontai pesontôn kai tê gê symmigentôn ampelous genesthai; dio kai to methyein ekphronas poiei kai paraplêgas hate dê tôn progonôn tou haimatos empiplamenous." [334] So ed. 2.--Ed. 1. "Brode skorne oppen faind powers." ACT III.[335] SCENE I. _The Palace of_ SYPHAX _at Cirta_. SYPHAX, _with his dagger twon_[336] _about her hair, drags in_ SOPHONISBA _in her nightgown and petticoat_; ZANTHIA _and_ VANGUE _following_. _Sy._ Must we entreat? sue to such squeamish ears? Know, Syphax has no knees, his eyes no tears; Enragèd 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 we'll revenge, Break stubborn silence. Look, I'll tack thy head To the low earth, whilst strength of two black knaves 10 Thy limbs all wide shall strain. Prayer fitteth slaves, Our courtship be our force: rest calm as sleep, Else at this quake; hark, hark, we cannot weep. _So._ Can Sophonisba be enforc'd? _Sy._ Can? see. _So._ Thou mayest enforce my body, but not me. _Sy._ Not? _So._ No. _Sy._ No? _So._ No: off with thy loathèd arms, That lie more heavy on me than the chains That wear deep wrinkles in the captive's limbs! I do beseech thee. _Sy._ What?