Mass. Lives there no mercy for one soul of Carthage,
But must see baseness?
Sci. Wouldst thou joy thy peace,
Deliver Sophonisba straight and cease;
Do not grasp that which is too hot to hold.
We grace thy grief, and hold it with soft sense;
Enjoy good courage, but ’void insolence.
I tell thee Rome and Scipio deign to bear
So low a breast as for her say—we fear.
Mass. Do not, do not; let not the fright of nations 30
Know so vile terms. She rests at thy dispose.
Sy. To my soul[’s] joy. Shall Sophonisba then
With me go bound, and wait on Scipio’s wheel?
When th’ whole world’s giddy, one man cannot reel.
Mass. Starve thy lean hopes; and, Romans, now behold
A sight would sad the gods, make Phœbus cold.
Organ and recorders play to a single voice. Enter in the meantime the mournful solemnity of Massinissa’s presenting Sophonisba’s body.
Look, Scipio, see what hard shift we make
To keep our vows. Here, take, I yield her thee;
And Sophonisba, I keep vow, thou’rt still free.
Sy. Burst, my vex’d heart: the torture that most racks 40
An enemy is his foe’s royal acts.
Sci. The glory of thy virtue live for ever;
Brave hearts may be obscured, but extinct never.
[Scipio adorns Massinissa.