Sy. Yet speak: shall I o’ercome approaching foes?
Asd. Spirits of wrath know nothing but their woes.
[Exit.
Enter Nuntius.
Nun. My liege, my liege,
The scouts of Cirta bring intelligence
Of sudden danger; full ten thousand horse,
Fresh and well-rid, strong Massinissa leads, 70
As wings to Roman legions that march swift,
Led by that man of conquest, Scipio.
Sy. Scipio?
Nun. Direct to Cirta.
[A march far off is heard.
Hark! their march is heard even to the city.
Sy. Help! our guard! my arms!
Bid all our leaders march! beat thick alarms!
I have seen things which thou wouldst quake to hear.
Boldness and strength! the shame of slaves be fear.
Up, heart, hold sword! though waves roll thee on shelf,
Though fortune leave thee, leave not thou thyself! 81