Asd. The day looks off from Carthage; cease alarms!
A modest temperance is the life of arms.
Take our best surgeon Gisco; he is sent
From Carthage to attend your chance of war.
Gis. We promise sudden ease.
Mass. Thy comfort’s good.
Asd. —That nothing can secure us but thy blood!
Infuse it in his wound, ’twill work amain.
Gis. —O Jove!
Asd. —What Jove? thy god must be thy gain,—
And as for me——Apollo Pythian, 40
Thou know’st a statist[331] must not be a man.
[Exit Asdrubal.
Enter Gelosso disguised like an old soldier, delivering to Massinissa (as he is preparing to be dressed by Gisco) a letter, which Massinissa reading, starts, and speaks to Gisco.
Mass. Forbear; how art thou call’d?
Gis. Gisco, my lord.