[_She sinks into_ MASSINISSA'S _arms_. _Mass._ She is o'ercome with joy! _So._ Help--help to bar[384] Some happiness, ye powers! I have joy to spare, Enough to make a god! O Massinissa! _Mass._ Peace! A silent thinking makes full joys increase! _Enter_ LÆLIUS. _Læ._ Massinissa! _Mass._ Lælius! _Læ._ Thine ear. _Mass._ Stand off. _Læ._ From Scipio thus: by thy late vow of faith, 40 And mutual league of endless amity, As thou respects his virtue, or Rome's force, Deliver Sophonisba to our hand. _Mass._ Sophonisba? _Læ._ Sophonisba. _So._ My lord Looks pale, and from his half-burst eyes a flame Of deep disquiet breaks. The gods turn false My sad presage! _Mass._ Sophonisba? _Læ._ Even she. _Mass._ She kill'd not Scipio's father, nor his uncle, Great Cneius. _Læ._ Carthage did! _Mass._ To her what's Carthage? _Læ._ Know 'twas her father Asdrubal strook[385] off 50 His father's head. Give place to faith and fate! _Mass._ 'Tis cross to honour. _Læ._ But 'tis just to state. So speaketh Scipio. Do not thou detain A Roman prisoner, due to this great triumph, As thou shalt answer Rome and him. _Mass._ Lælius, We now are in Rome's power. Lælius, View Massinissa do a loathèd act, Most sinking from that state his heart did keep. Look, Lælius, look, see Massinissa weep! Know I have made a vow, more dear to me 60 Than my soul's endless being, she shall rest Free from Rome's bondage! _Læ._ But dost thou forget Thy vow, yet fresh, thus breath'd: _When I desist To be commanded by thy virtue, Scipio, Or fall from friend of Rome, revenging gods, Afflict me with your torture!_ _Mass._ Lælius, enough. _Læ._ Salute the Roman, tell him we will act What shall amaze him. _Læ._ Wilt thou yield her then? _Mass._ She shall arrive there straight. _Læ._ Best fate of men To thee. _Mass._ And Scipio.--Have I lived, O heavens, 70 [_Exit_ LÆLIUS _with pages._ To be enforcedly perfidious? _So._ What unjust grief afflicts my worthy lord? _Mass._ Thank me, ye gods, with much beholdingness; For mark, I do not curse you. _So._ Tell me, sweet, The cause of thy much anguish. _Mass._ Ha, the cause? Let's see: wreathe back thine arms, bend down thy neck, Practise base prayers, make fit thyself for bondage. _So._ Bondage! _Mass._ Bondage--Roman bondage! _So._ No, no! _Mass._ How then have I vow'd well to Scipio? _So._ How then to Sophonisba? _Mass._ Right, which way? 80 Run mad!--impossible!--distraction! _So._ Dear lord, thy patience; let it maze all power, And list to her in whose sole heart it rests To keep thy faith upright. _Mass._ Wilt thou be slaved? _So._ No, free.