Mass. Um, Gisco. Ha! touch not my arm.—[To Gelosso.] Most only man!—
[To Gisco.] Sirra, sirra, art poor?

Gis. Not poor.

Mass. Nephew, command

[Massinissa begins to draw.

Our troops of horse make indisgraced retreat;
Trot easy off.—Not poor!—Jugurth, give charge
My soldiers stand in square battalia,

[Exit Jugurth.

Entirely of themselves.—Gisco, th’ art old;
’Tis time to leave off murder; thy faint breath
Scarce heaves thy ribs, thy gummy blood-shut eyes    50
Are sunk a great way in thee, thy lank skin
Slides from thy fleshless veins: be good to men.
Judge him, ye gods: I had not life to kill
So base a creature. Hold, Gisco, live;
The god-like part of kings is to forgive.

Gis. Command astonish’d Gisco.

Mass. No, return.
Haste unto Carthage, quit thy abject fears,
Massinissa knows no use of murderers.

[Exit Gisco.