Page:The Age of Shakespeare - Swinburne (1908).djvu/134

 in a style as curt and condensed as that of Tacitus or Dante:

Sophonisba. What unjust grief afflicts my worthy lord? Massinissa. Thank me, ye gods, with much beholdingness; For, mark, I do not curse you. Sophonisba.Tell me, sweet, The cause of thy much anguish. Massinissa.Ha, the cause? Let's see; wreathe back thine arms, bend down thy neck, Practise base prayers, make fit thyself for bondage. Sophonisba. Bondage! Massinissa.Bondage: Roman bondage. Sophonisba.No, no! Massinissa. How then have I vowed well to Scipio? Sophonisba. How then to Sophonisba? Massinissa.Right: which way Run mad? impossible distraction! Sophonisba. Dear lord, thy patience; let it maze all power, And list to her in whose sole heart it rests To keep thy faith upright.