[342] Old eds. "That they oft love their vailes; hold," &c.--If the text is not corrupt, we must suppose that a sentence breaks off at the word "their." Marston is fond of employing the horrid figure _aposiopesis_. "Vails" is intelligible on the supposition that Syphax is feeing the waiting-woman. [343] Old eds. "get." [344] Old eds. "to." [345] Old eds. "place." [346] Dogs on the banks of the Nile were supposed to drink by snatches, running, from fear of the crocodiles.--(Aelian, _Var. Hist._ i. 4.) [347] Old eds. "Only for thirst; the Flie," &c. [348] Old eds. "bear" and "beare." SCENE II. _Neighbourhood of Utica._ _Enter_ SCIPIO _and_ LÆLIUS, _with the complements of Roman Generals before them_. _At the other door_, MASSINISSA _and_ JUGURTH. _Cornets sound marches._ _Mass._ Let not the virtue of the world suspect Sad Massinissa's faith; nor once condemn Our just revolt. Carthage first gave me life; Her ground gave food, her air first lent me breath: The earth was made for men, not men for earth. Scipio, I do not thank the gods for life, Much less vile men, or earth; know, best of lords, It is a happy being, breath well famed, For which Jove sees these thus.[349] Men, be not fool'd With piety to place, tradition's fear; 10 A just man's country Jove makes everywhere. _Sci._ Well urgeth Massinissa; but to leave A city so ingrate, so faithless, so more vile Than civil speech can name, fear not; such vice To scourge is Heaven's grateful sacrifice. Thus all confess, first they have broke a faith To the[e] most due, so just to be observed, That barbarousness itself may well blush at them: Where is thy passion? They have shared thy crown, The proper right of birth, contrived thy death: 20 Where is thy passion? Given thy beauteous spouse To thy most hated rival. Statue, not man! And last, thy friend Gelosso (man worth gods) With tortures have they rent to death. _Mass_. O Gelosso! For thee full eyes---- _Sci._ No passion for the rest? _Mass._ O Scipio, My grief for him may be expressed by tears, But for the rest, silence, and secret anguish Shall waste--shall waste! Scipio, he that can weep, Grieves not, like me, private deep inward drops 30 Of blood. My heart! for god's right give me leave To be a short time man. _Sci._ Stay, prince. _Mass._ I cease; Forgive if I forget thy presence. Scipio, Thy face makes Massinissa more than man, And here before your steady power a vow As firm as fate I make: when I desist To be commanded by thy virtue, Scipio, Or fall from friend of Rome,[350] revenging gods Afflict me with[351] your torture. I have given Of passion and of faith, my heart.