English

Sad Sophonisba wistly notes the storie,
And giuing foorth a death-presaging grone:
Deare wronged Lady (quoth she) I am sorry,
That time will not permit me to bemone
Thy sad mischance, nor shalt thou grieue alone;
For why I hope our ghosts shall meet ere long,
Where each to other shall complaine our wrong.

O how my fortune doth resemble thine!
How like thy sorrowes are (alas) my woes!
Affricke thy country, Affricke likewise mine:
Both our destructions from one fountaine flowes:

Victorious Scipio , Carthage fatal foe,
The scourge of Affrick, and the glore of Rome,
Whose chiefest drift and aime is t' haue me goe,
T' attend his triumphes vainely shall consume,
Those idle hopes by which he doth presume,
With my disgrace, to grace his high renoune,
In his proud entry, to that more proud towne.

For why my better destiny now saies,
From Affrick, Europe shall no way deuide,
This wretched remnant of my worser daies,
The best being spent already here in pride:

Whose amorous youths, when once they feele the force
Of thy enuenomed shafts, shall freely story
Mee and my Massinissaes sad diuorce,
Feeding their Ladies eares with farre-fetchd glory,
Straining their toungs, their wits and memory,
In their best forme, with eloquence to show,
Such accidents as they desire to know.

One in his armes holding his deerest dame,
May haply court her with such words as these:
Faire worlds admired beauty, here I am,

Oh! had I died when death was so expected,
It had not seem'd so grieuous far (alasse)
For while I stood at vnder and deiected,
Bearing the burden of a sad disgrace,
I would haue thought he pittied had my case,
Who had me kil'd in such a wofull plight,
" For death, in sorrow and despaire, seemes light.

But fortune false, her fury to fulfill,
Reseru'd me then to a more wretched end,
As to make him the author of my ill,
Who from all euils did euer me defend;

No, none ore me shall so insult or vaunt,
Whome slaue nor captiue they shall neuer see,
Though conquerd and orecome my selfe I graunt,
In all things else, yet of my liberty
None other liuing shall commander be;
Which I esteeme and prize at higher rate,
Then whatsoeuer riches, wealth, or state.

Shall I who in the highest chiefe degree
Of Fortunes fauour lately shin'd in grace,
Abase my selfe so low a slaue to be,
To those who ruin'd me and all my race?

No otherwise within her care-fraught breast,
This powerfull combat twixt her life and honor,
Is still maintain'd by turnes, whiles th' one is chac't,
Whiles th' other flies, whiles both do set vpon her,
Yet neither of them to their side can win her:
But now to honor, now to life giues place,
And dares not either freely to embrace.

Now in the midst of this intestine warre,
Vncertaine thus to either side to yeeld,
Her passions still augment, more growes her care;

Thy dainty corps fits better to receiue
The sweet imbracements of a louing friend,
Then to be made a morsell for the graue,
From whence againe it cannot be redeem'd:
Oh! that from thence it might be still exeem'd,
Thy beauty is too delicate a prey,
By lothsome wormes to be consum'd away.

Thus fearefull life did for her selfe protest,
Still seeking intertainment by delayes;
Till Honor mad to see her so possest,
With such inchanting, false, and Syren sayes,

Dead must to dead, the liuing to the liuing,
The graue cannot be capable of loue,
It ill beseemes thy youth to be thus greeuing:
Must thou a mourner restlesse euer proue?
Thy beauty was not fram'd to such behoue,
That thy sweete yeeres should still consumed be
A votresse vnto loues-foe, chastity,

Let vestalls, who all other Nuns excells,
Closely immur'd from mens society,
While as they chat in their religious cells,
Maintaine this idle theame of chastitie,

Of which (sayd hee) I hope his princely letter,
Can better far then I informe your grace.
I thanke thee friend (sayd shee) but sighes did let her
To say the rest, such was her carefull case:
Transported for a while, she held her peace.
Words killing sighes, sighes killing words agame,
So that betwixt them her discours is slaine.

This airy combat, this debate of breath,
This speech restrayning strife, this sighing warre
Did euen bewray what she to shew was laith:
And makes the carrier to discerne her care,

Nor doth this breath-bereauing monster keepe,
A certaine diet, or appointed date,
For sometime they who most securely sleepe,
VVho doe on nothing lesse then death conceit,
There life then hangs into most dangerous state:
For why vnwares he oftimes comes to many,
But being called for, seldome comes to any.

And when he comes, request, nor yet intreat,
With this remorselesse catife nought availes,
For when he finds aproach the fatall date:
The execution neuer in him failes,