_Enter_ SOPHONISBA _and_ ZANTHIA, _as out of a cave's mouth_. _So._ Where are we, Zanthia? _Zan._ Vangue said the cave Opened in Belos' forest. _So._ Lord, how sweet I scent the air! The huge long vault's close vein, What damps[355] it breath'd! In Belos' forest, say'st? Be valiant, Zanthia; how far's Utica From these most heavy shades? _Zan._ Ten easy leagues. _So._ There's Massinissa: my true Zanthia, Shall's venture nobly to escape, and touch My lord's just arms? Love's wings so nimbly[356] heave The body up, that, as our toes shall trip 10 Over the tender and obedient grass, Scarce any drop of dew is dash'd to ground. And see the willing shade of friendly night Makes safe our instant haste! Boldness and speed Make actions most impossible succeed. _Zan._ But, madam, know the forest hath no way But one to pass, the which holds strictest guard. _So._ Do not betray me, Zanthia. _Zan._ I, madam? _So._ No, I not mistrust thee, yet--but---- _Zan._ Here you may 20 Delay your time. _So._ Ay, Zanthia, delay, By which we may yet hope--yet hope--alas! How all benumb'd's my sense! Chance hath so often struck I scarce can feel. I should now curse the gods, Call on the furies, stamp the patient earth. Cleave my stretch'd cheeks with sound, speak from all sense, But loud and full of players' eloquence. No, no; what shall we eat? _Zan._ Madam, I'll search For some ripe nuts which autumn hath shook down From the unleaved hazel, then some cooler air 30 Shall lead me to a spring. Or I will try The courteous pale[357] of some poor foresters For milk. _So._ Do, Zanthia. O happiness [_Exit_ ZANTHIA. Of those that know not pride or lust of city! There's no man bless'd but those that most men pity. O fortunate poor maids, that are not forced To wed for state, nor are for state divorced! Whom policy of kingdoms doth not marry, But pure affection makes to love or vary; You feel no love which you dare not to show, 40 Nor show a love which doth not truly grow! O you are surely blessèd of the sky! You live, that know not death before you die. [_Through the vaut's_[358] _mouth, in his nightgown, torch in his hand_, SYPHAX _enters just behind_ SOPHONISBA. You are---- _Sy._ In Syphax' arms. Thing of false lip, What god shall now release thee? _So._ Art a man? _Sy._ Thy limbs shall feel. Despite thy virtue, know I'll thread thy richest pearl. This forest's 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, 50 Well-featured creature, and our utmost wonder, Queen of our youthful bed, be proud.