Had fallen upon him, what it had been then; If thine own sword had touched his throat, what that way!

He was thy son-in-law; there to be tainted Had been most terible! Let the worst be rendered,

We have deserved for keeping thy hands innocent. Cæsar. Oh, Sceva, Sceva, see that head! sce, captains,

The head of godlike Pompey!

Sce. He was basely ruined;

But let the gods be grieved, that suffered it,
And be you Cæsar.

Cæsar. Oh, thou conqueror,

Thou glory of the world once, now the pity, Thou awe of nations, wherefore didst thou fall thus?

To trust thy sacred life to an Egyptian?
The life and light of Rome, to a blind stranger,
That honourable war ne'er taught a nobleness,
Nor worthy circumstance shewed what a man
was?

That never heard thy name sung, but in banquets,

And loose lascivious pleasures? to a boy,
That had no faith to comprehend thy greatness,
No study of thy life, to know thy goodness?
And leave thy nation, nay, thy noble friend,
Leave him distrusted, that in tears falls with thee,
In soft relenting tears? Hear me, great Pompey,
If thy great spirit can hear, I must task thee!
Thou hast most unnobly robbed me of my victory,
My love and mercy.

Ant. Oh, how brave these tears shew!
How excellent is sorrow in an enemy!
Dol. Glory appears not greater than this good-

ness.

Casar. Egyptians, dare ye think your highest pyramids,

Built to out-dare the sun, as you suppose,
Where your unworthy kings lie raked in ashes,
Are monuments fit for him? No, brood of Nilus,
Nothing can cover his high fame, but heaven;
No pyramids set off his memories,

But the eternal substance of his greatness,
To which I leave him. Take the head away,
And, with the body, give it noble burial:
Your carth shall now be blessed to hold a Ro-

man,

Whose braveries all the world's earth cannot balance.

Sce. If thou be'st thus loving, I shall honour thee:

But great men may dissemble, it is held possible, And be right glad of what they seem to weep for; There are such kind of philosophers. Now do I wonder

How he would look, if Pompey were alive again; How would he set his face.

Cæsar. You look now, king,

you.

Your ministers, I must think, wanted judgment,
And so they erred: I'm bountiful to think this,
Believe me, most bountiful: Be you most thank-
ful;

That bounty share amongst you. If I knew what
To send you for a present, king of Egypt,
I mean a head of equal reputation,
And that you loved, though it were your bright-
est sister's,

(But her you hate) I would not be behind you.
Ptol. Hear me, great Cæsar!

Cæsar. I have heard too much;

And study not with smooth shows to invade
My noble mind, as you have done my conquest:
You are poor and open. I must tell you roundly,
That man, that could not recompence the bene-
fits,

The great and bounteous services, of Pompey,
Can never dote upon the name of Cæsar.
Though I had hated Pompey, and allowed his
ruin,

I gave you no commission to perform it:
Hasty to please in blood are seldom trusty;
And, but I stand environed with my victories,
My fortune never failing to befriend me,
My noble strengths, and friends about my person,
I durst not try you, nor expect a courtesy,
Above the pious love you shewed to Pompey.
You have found me merciful in arguing with ye;
Swords, hangmen, fires, destructions of all natures,
Demolishments of kingdoms, and whole ruins,
Are wont to be my orators. Turn to tears,
You wretched and poor reeds of sun-burnt Egypt,
And now you have found the nature of a con-
queror,

That you cannot decline, with all your flatteries, That where the day gives light, will be himself still;

Know how to meet his worth with humane courtesies!

Go, and embalm those bones of that great soldier,
Howl round about his pile, fling on your spices,
Make a Sabæan bed, and place this phoenix,
Where the hot sun may emulate his virtues,
And draw another Pompey from his ashes,
Divinely great, and fix hini amongst the worthies!
Ptol. We will do all.

Casar. You have robbed him of those tears

His kindred and his friends kept sacred for him, The virgins of their funeral lamentations; And that kind earth, that thought to cover him, (His country's earth) will cry out against your cruelty,

ye!

And weep unto the ocean for revenge, 'Till Nilus raise his seven heads and devour My grief has stopt the rest! When Pompey lived, He used you nobly; now he is dead, use him so. [Exit.

Ptol. Now, where's your confidence, your aim,
Photinus,

The oracles, and fair favours from the conqueror,
You rung into mine ears? How stand I now?
You see the tempest of his stern displeasure;
The death of him, you urged a sacrifice
To stop his rage, presaging a full ruin!
Where are your counsels now?

Achor. I told you, sir,

And told the truth, what danger would fly after:
And, though an enemy, I satisfied you
He was a Roman, and the top of honour;
And howsoever this might please great Cæsar,
I told you, that the foulness of his death,
The impious baseness-

Pho. Peace; you are a fool!

Men of deep ends must tread as deep ways to them;

Cesar I know is pleased, and for all his sorrows, Which are put on for forms, and mere dissemblings,

I am confident he is glad: To have told you so,
And thanked you outwardly, had been too open,
And taken from the wisdom of a conqueror.
Be confident, and proud you have done this ser-

vice;

You have deserved, and you will find it, highly.
Make bold use of this benefit, and be sure
You keep your sister, the high-souled Cleopatra,
Both close and short enough, she may not see
him.

The rest, if I may counsel, sir

Ptol. Do all;

For in thy faithful service rests my safety.

SCENE II.

Enter SEPTIMIUS.

[Exeunt.

| Opened their hearts, and secret closets to me, Their purses and their pleasures, and hid me wallow.

I now perceive the great thieves eat the less,
And the huge leviathans of villainy

Sup up the merits, nay, the men and all,
That do them service, and spout them out again
Into the air, as thin and unregarded

As drops of water, that are lost in the ocean.
I was loved once for swearing and for drinking,
And for other principal qualities, that became nie;
Now a foolish unthankful murder has undone me,
my lord Photinus be not merciful,

If
That set me on. And he comes; now, Fortune!

Sept. 'Tis all one.

Pho. I know thou wilt stir for gold.

Sept. 'Tis all my motion.

Pho. There, take that for thy service, and farewell!

I have greater business now.

Sept. I'm still your own, sir.

Pho. One thing I charge thee; see me no more, Septimius,

Unless I send.

Sept. I shall observe your hour.

[Exit.

So! this brings something in the mouth, some

favour:

This is the lord I serve, the power I worship, My friends, allies; and here lies my allegiance. I

What spirit, have I raised? Sure, 'tis a woman;
She looks like one; now she begins to move too.
A tempting devil, o' my life! Go off, Cæsar!
Sir, if you be a soldier, come no nearer;
She's sent to dispossess you of your honour;
A sponge, a sponge, to wipe away your victories.
Be loyal to yourself!-Thou damned woman,
Dost thou come hither with thy flourishes,

Thy flaunts, and faces, to abuse men's manners?
And am I made the instrument?

Casar. Hold, on thy life, and be more tempe

ease,

Than when we draw with full intent upon them. Cesar. Move this way, lady: Pray you let me speak to you.

Sce. And, woman, you had best stand-
Cesar. By the gods,

But that I see her here, and hope her mortal,
I should imagine some celestial sweetness,
The treasure of soft love!

See. Oh, this sounds mangily,
Poorly, and scurvily, in a soldier's mouth!
You'd best be troubled with the tooth-ache too,
For lovers ever are, and let your nose drop,
That your celestial beauty may befriend you.
At these years, do you learn to be fantastical?
After so many bloody fields, a fool?
She brings her bed along too (she'll lose no time),
Carries her litter to lie soft; do you see that?
Invites you like a gamester; note that impudence.
For shame, reflect upon yourself, your honour,
Look back into your noble parts, and blush!
Let not the dear sweat of the hot Pharsalia,
Mingle with base embraces! Am I he
That have received so many wounds for Cæsar?
Upon my target, groves of darts still growing;
Have I endured all, hungers, colds, distresses,
And, as I had been bred that iron that armed me,
Stood out all weathers, now to curse my fortune?
To ban the blood I lost for such a general?

Casar. Offend no more; be gone!
Sce. I will, and leave you,

Leave you to women's wars, that will proclaim

you:

You'll conquer Rome now, and the capitol,
With fans and looking-glasses. Farewell, Cæsar!
[Erit.
Cleo. Now I am private, sir, I dare speak to

you;
But thus low first, for as a god I honour you!
Contemn me not, because I kneel thus, Čæsar :
I am a queen, and co-heir to this country,
The sister to the mighty Ptolomy;
Yet one distressed, that flics unto thy justice,

Casar. Stand up then,

And be a queen; this hand shall give it to you:
Or, chuse a greater name, worthy my bounty;
A common love makes queens: Chuse to be wor-
shipped,

To be divinely great, and I dare promise it.
A suitor of your sort, and blessed sweetness,
That hath adventured thus to see great Cæsar,
Must never be denied. You have found a patron,
That dare not, in his private honour, suffer
So great a blemish to the heaven of beauty:
The god of love would clap his angry wings,
And from his singing bow let fly those arrows,
Headed with burning griefs and pining sorrows,
Should I neglect your cause, would make me
monstrous;

To whom, and to your service, I devote me!

Pho. A remedy, now the disease is ulcerous, And has infected all? Your secure negligence Has broke through all the hopes I have, and ruined me!

My sister is with Cæsar, in his chamber;

All night she has been with him; and, no doubt,
Much to her honour.

Pho. 'Would that were the worst, sir!
That will repair itself: But I fear mainly,
She has made her peace with Cæsar.
Ptol. 'Tis most likely;

And what am I then?

Pho. Plague upon that rascal, Apollodorus, under whose command, Under whose eye

Enter ACHILLAS.

Ptol. Curse on you all, ye are wretches!
Pho. 'Twas providently done, Achillas.
Achil. Pardon me.

Pho. Your guards were rarely wise, and wondrous watchful!

Achil. I could not help it, if my life had lain for it.

Alas, who would suspect a pack of bedding,
Or a small truss of houshold furniture,
And, as they said, for Cæsar's use? or who durst,
Being for his private chamber, seek to stop it?
I was abused."

Enter ACHOREUS,

Achor. 'Tis no hour now for anger,

No wisdom to debate with fruitless choler,
Let us consider timely what we must do,
Since she is flown to his protection,

From whom we have no power to sever her,
Nor force conditions.

Ptol. Speak, good Achoreus.

Achor. Let indirect and crooked counsels vanish, And straight and fair directions

Pho. Speak your mind, sir.

Achor. Let us chuse Cæsar (and endear him to us)

An arbitrator in all differences

Betwixt you and your sister; this is safe now,
And will shew off, most honourable.

Since we are sensible this Cæsar loathes us,
And have begun our fortune with great Pompey,
Be of my mind.

Achor. 'Tis most uncomely spoken,
And if I say most bloodily, I lie not:
The law of hospitality it poisons,
And calls the gods in question, that dwell in us.
Be wise, oh, king!

Ptol. I will be. Go, my counsellor,
To Cæsar go, and do my humble service;
To my fair sister my commends negociate;
And here I ratify whate'er thou treat'st on.

Achor. Crowned with fair peace, I go. [Exit.
Ptol. My love go with thee;

And from my love go you, you cruel vipers!
You shall know now I am no ward, Photinus.

[Exit.