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(Whose memory I bow to) left co-heir

Hems in the greater number. His whole troops In all he stood possessed of.

Exceed not twenty thousand, but old soldiers, Achil. 'Tis confessed,

Fleshed in the spoils of Germany and France, My good Achoreus, that, in these eastern king- Inured to his command, and only know doms,

To fight and overcome: And though that famine Women are not exempted from the sceptre, Reigns in his camp, compelling them to taste But claim a privilege equal to the male;

Bread made of roots, forbid the use of man, But how much such divisions have ta’en from (Which they, with scorn, threw into Pompey's The majesty of Egypt, and what factions

camp, Have sprung from those partitions, to the ruin As in derision of his delicates) Of the poor subject, doubtful which to follow, Or corn not yet half ripe, and that a banquet ; We have too many and too sad examples : They still besiege him, being ambitious only Therefore the wise Photinus, to prevent

To come to blows, and let their swords determine The murders, and the massacres, that attend Who hath the better cause. On disunited government, and to shew The king without a partner, in full splendour,

Enter SEPTIMIUS. Thought it convenient the fair Cleopatra

Achor. May victory (An attribute not frequent in this climate) Attend on it, where'er it is. Should be committed to safe custody,

Achil. We every hour In which she is attended like her birth,

Expect to hear the issue. Until her beauty, or her royal dower,

Sept. Save my good lords ! Hath found her out a husband.

By Isis and Osiris, whom you worship, Achor. How this may

And the four hundred gods and goddesses, Stand with the rules of policy, I know not; Adored in Rome, I am your honours' servant. Most sure I am, it holds no correspondence Achor. Truth needs, Septimius, no oaths. With the rites of Egypt, or the laws of nature. Achil. You're cruel ; But, grant that Cleopatra can sit down

If you deny him swearing, you take from him With this disgrace, though insupportable, Three full parts of his language. Can you imagine, that Rome's glorious senate, Sept. Your honour's bitter. To whose charge, by the will of the dead king, Confound me, where I love, I cannot say it, This government was delivered, or great Pompey, But I must swear it: Yet such is my ill fortune, That is appointed Cleopatra's guardian,

Nor vows nor protestations win belief;
As well as Ptolomy's, will e'er approve

I think, (and I can find no other reason)
Of this rash counsel, their consent not sought for, Because I am a Roman.
That should authorize it?

Achor. No, Septimius ?
Achil. The civil war,

To be a Roman were an honour to you, In which the Roman empire is embarked Did not your manners and your life take from it, On a rough sea of danger, does exact

And cry aloud, that from Rome you bring nothing Their whole care to preserve themselves, and But Roman vices, which you would plant here, gives them

But no seed of her virtues. No vacant time to think of what we do,

Sept. With your reverence, Which hardly can concern them.

I am too old to learn.
Achor. What's your opinion

Achor. Any thing honest;
Of the success? I have heard, in multitudes That I believe without an oath.
Of soldiers, and all glorious pomp of war,

Sept. I fear
Pompey is much superior.

Your lordship has slept ill to-night, and that Achil. I could give you

Invites this sad discourse ; 'twill make you old A catalogue of all the several nations,

Before your time. Oh, these virtuous morals, From whence he drew his powers; but that were And old religious principles, that fool us! tedious.

I've brought you a new song will make you laugh, They have rich arms, are ten to one in number, Though you were at your prayers. Which makes them think the day already won;

Achor. What is the subject? And Pompey being master of the sea,

Be free, Septimius. Such plenty of all delicates are brought in,

Sept. 'Tis a catalogue As if the place, on which they are entrenched, Of all the gamesters of the court and city, Were not a camp of soldiers, but Rome, Which lord lies with that lady, and what gallant In which Lucullus and Apicius joined

Sports with that merchant's wife; and does relate To make a public feast. They at Dirachium Who sells her honour for a diamond, Fought with success; but knew not to make use Who for a tissue robe; whose husband's jealous, of

And who so kind, that, to share with his wite, Fortune's fair offer : So much, I have heard, Will make the match himself : Harmless conceits, Cæsar himself confessed.

Though fools say they are dangerous. I sang is schor. Where are they now?

The last night, at my lord Photinus' table,
Achil. In Thessaly, near the Pharsalian plains ; Achor. How? as a fiddler?
Where Cæsar, with a handful of his men,

Sept. No, sir, as a guest,



A welcome guest too; and it was approved of Thy vehement protestations. By a dozen of his friends, though they were Sept. You much wrong me; touched in it:

How can I want, when your beams shine upon me, For, look


'tis a kind of merriment, Unless employment to express my zeal When we have laid by foolish modesty, To do your greatness service. Do but think (As not a man of fashion will wear it)

A deed, so dark the sun would blush to look on, To talk what we have done, at least to hear it; For which mankind would curse me, and arm all If merrily set down, it fires the blood,

The powers above, and those below, against me; And heightens crest-fallen appetite.

Command me, I will on. Achor. New doctrine !

Pho. When I have use, Achil. Was’t of your own composing? I'll put you to the test. Sept. No, I bought it

Sept. May it be speedy, Of a skulking scribbler for two Ptolomies; And something worth my danger. You are cold, But the hints were mine own: The wretch was And know not your own powers: this brow was fearful;

fashioned But I have damned myself, should it be ques. To wear a kingly wreath, and your grave judge

tioned, That I will own it.

Given to dispose of monarchies, not to govern Achor. And be punished for it?

A child's affairs. The people's eye's upon you, Take heed, for you may so long exercise The soldier courts you: Will you wear a garment Your scurrilous wit against authority,

Of sordid loyalty, when 'tis out of fashion ? The kingdom's counsels, and make profane jests Pho. When Pompey was thy general, Septimius, (Which to you, being an atheist, is nothing) Thou saidst as much to him. Against religion, that your great maintainers, Sept. All my love to him, Unless they would be thought copartners with you, To Cæsar, Rome, and the whole world, is lost Will leave you to the law; and then, Septimius, In the ocean of your bounties : I've no friend, Remember there are whips.

Project, design, or country, but your favour, Sept. For whores, I grant you,

Which I'll preserve at any rate. When they are out of date; 'till then they're safe

Pho. No more;

When I call on you, fall not off: Perhaps,
Or all the gallants of the court are eunuchs. Sooner than you expect, I may employ you;
And, for mine own defence, I'll only add this; So, leave me for a while.
I'll be admitted for a wanton tale,

Sept. Ever your creature!

Erit. To some most private cabinets, when your priest- Pho. Good day, Achoreus. My best friend hood,

Though laden with the mysteries of your goddess, Hath fame delivered yet no certain rumour
Shall wait without unnoted : So I leave you Of the great Roman action?
To your pious thoughts.


Achil. That we are Achil. 'Tis a strange impudence

To enquire and learn of you, sir, whose grave care This fellow does put on.

For Egypt's happiness, and great Ptolomy's good, Achor. The wonder great,

Hath eyes and ears in all parts.
He is accepted of.
Achil. Vices, for him,

Enter PTOLOMY, LABIENUS, and guard. Make as free way as virtues do for others.

Pho. I'll not boast 'Tis the time's fault; yet great ones still have What my intelligence costs me; but ere long graced,

You shall know more. The king! with him a To make them sport, or rub them o'er with flat

Roman. tery,

Achor. The scarlet livery of unfortunate war Observers of all kinds.

Dyed deeply on his face.

Achil. 'Tis Labienus,

Cæsar's lieutenant in the wars of Gaul,
Achor. No more of him,

And fortunate in all his undertakings: He is not worth our thoughts; a fugitive But, since these civil jars, he turned to Pompey, From Pompey's army, and now in a danger, And, though he followed the better cause, When he should use his service.

Not with the like success. Achil. See how he hangs

Pho. Such as are wise On great Photinus' ear.

Leave falling buildings, fly to those that rise. Sept. Hell, and the furies,

But more of that hereafter. And all the plagues of darkness, light upon me, Lab. In a word, sir, You are my god on earth! and let me have These gaping wounds, not taken as a slave, Your favour here, fall what can fall hereafter ! Speak Pompey's loss. To tell you of the battle, Pho. Thou art believed ; dost thou want mo- How many thousand several bloody shapes ney?

Death wore that day in triumph; how we bore Sept. No, sir.

The shock of Cæsar's charge; or with what fury Pho. Or hast thou any suit ? These ever follow His soldiers came on, as if they had been

So many Cæsars, and, like him, ambitious In a full grove of his yet-flourishing friends, To tread upon the liberty of Rome:

He flies to you for succour, and expects How fathers killed their sons, or sons their fathers; The entertainment of your father's friend, Or how the Roman piles on either side

And guardian to yourself. Drew Roman blood, which spent, the prince of Ptol. To say I grieve his fortune, weapons

As much as if the crown I wear (his gift) (The sword) succeeded, which, in civil wars, Were ravished from me, is a holy truth, Appoints the tent, on which winged victory Our gods can witness for me: Yet, being young, Shall make a certain stand: then, how the plains And not a free disposer of myself, Flowed o'er with blood, and what a cloud.of vul- Let not a few hours, borrowed for advice, tures,

Beget suspicion of unthankfulness, And other birds of prey, hung o'er both armies, Which, next to hell, I hate. Pray. you retire, Attending, when their ready servitors,

And take a little rest; and let his wounds The soldiers, from whom the angry gods

Be with that care attended, as they were Had took all sense of reason and of pity, Carved on my flesh. Good Labienus, think Would serve in their own carcasses for a feast; The little respite I desire shall be How Cæsar, with his javelin, forced them on, Wholly employed to find the readiest way That made the least stop, when their angry hands To do great Pompey service. Were lifted up against some known friend's face; Lab. May the gods, Then, coming to the body of the army,

As you intend, protect you !

[Erit. He shews the sacred senate, and forbids them Ptol. Sit, sit all; To waste their force upon the common soldier, It is my pleasure. Your advice, and freely. (Whom willingly, if e'er he did know pity,

Achor. A short deliberation in this, He would have spared)

May serve to give you counsel. To be honest, Ptol. The reason, Labienus ?

Religious, and thankful, in themselves Lab. Full well he knows, that in their blood he Are forcible motives, and can need no flourish was

Or gloss in the persuader ; your kept faith, To pass to empire, and that through their bowels Though Pompey never rise to th height he's He must invade the laws of Rome, and give

fallen from, A period to the liberty o'th' world.

Cæsar himself will love; and my opinion Then fell the Lepidi, and the bold Corvini, Is, still committing it to graver censure, The famed Torquati, Scipio's, and Marcelli,


pay the debt you owe him, with the hazard Names, next to Pompey's, most renowned on Of all you can call yours. earth.

Ptol. What's yours, Photinus ? The nobles, and the commons, lay together, Pho. Achoreus, great Ptolomy, hath counselAnd Pontic, Punic, and Assyrian blood,

led, Made up one crimson lake: Which Pompey see- Like a religious and honest man, ing,

Worthy the honour that he justly holds And that his, and the fate of Rome, had left him, In being priest to Isis. But, alas, Standing upon the rampier of his camp, What in a man, sequestered from the world, Though scorning all that could fall on himself, Or in a private person, is preferred, He pities them, whose fortunes are embarked No policy allows of in a king: In his unlucky quarrel; cries aloud too, To be or just, or thankful, makes kings guilty; That they should sound retreat, and save them- And faith, though praised, is punished, that supselves:

ports That he desired not so much noble blood Such as good fate forsakes: Join with the gods, Should be lost in his service, or attend

Observe the man they favour, leave the wretched; On his misfortunes : And then, taking horse, The stars are not more distant from the earth, With some few of his friends, he came to Lesbos, Than profit is from honesty; all the power, And, with Cornelia, his wife, and sons,

Prerogative, and greatness of a prince He has touched upon your shore. The king of Are lost, if he descend once but to steer Parthia,

His course, as what's right guides him: Let him Famous in his defeature of the Crassi,

leave Offered him his protection; but Pompey, The sceptre, that strives only to be good, Relying on his benefits, and your faith,

Since kingdoms are maintained by force and blood. Hath chosen Egypt for his sanctuary,

Achor. Oh, wicked ! 'Till be may recollect his scattered powers,

Ptol. Peace !-Go on. And try a second day. Now, Ptolomy,

Pho. Proud Pompey shews how much he scorns Though he appear not like that glorious thing,

your youth, That three times rode in triumph, and gave laws In thinking, that you cannot keep your own To conquered nations, and made crowns

his gift, From such as are o'ercome. If you are tired (As this of yours, your noble father took With being a king, let not a stranger take From his victorious hand, and you still wear it What nearer pledges challenge: Resign rather At his devotion) to do you more honour The government of Egypt, and of Nile, In his declined estate, as the straightest pine To Cleopatra, that has title to them;

At least, defend them from the Roman gripe; She touched no bed to-night.
What was not Pompey's, while the wars endured, Apol. I'm sorry for it,
The conqueror will not challenge. By all the world and wish it were in me, with any hazard,
Forsaken and despised, your gentle guardian, To give her ease.
His hopes and fortunes desperate, makes choice of Års. Sir, she accepts your will,
What nation he shall fall with; and, pursued And does acknowledge she hath found you noble,
By their pale ghosts, slain in this civil war, So far, as if restraint of liberty
He flies not Cæsar only, but the senate, Could give admission to a thought of mirth,
Of which the greater part have cloyed the hunger She is your debtor for it.
Of sharp Pharsalian fowl; he flies the nations, Apol. Did you tell her
That he drew to his quarrel, whose estates O'th' sports I have prepared to entertain her?
Are sunk in his; and, in no place received, She was used to take delight, with her fair hand
Hath found out Egypt, by him yet not ruined. To angle in the Nile, where the glad fish,
And Ptolomy, things considered, justly may As if they knew who 'twas sought to deceive them,
Complain of Pompey: Wherefore should he stain Contended to be taken: Other times,
Our Egypt with the spots of civil war,

To strike the stag, who, wounded by her arrows, Or make the peaceable, or quiet Nile,

Forgot his tears in death, and, kneeling, thanks her Doubted of Cæsar? Wherefore should he draw To his last gasp; then prouder of his fate, His loss and overthrow upon our heads, Thanif, with garlands crowned, he had been chosen Or chuse this place to suffer in ? Already To fall a sacrifice before the altar We have offended Cæsar, in our wishes, Of the virgin huntress. The king, nor great PhoAnd no way left us to redeem his favour

tinus, But by the head of Pompey.

Forbid her any pleasure ; and the circuit, Achor. Great Osiris,

In which she is confined, gladly affords Defend thy Egypt from such cruelty,

Variety of pastimes, which I would And barbarous ingratitude !

Encrease with my best service. Pho. Holy trifles,

Eros. Oh, but the thought And not to have place in designs of state. That she, that was born free, and to dispense This sword, which fate commands me to unsheath, Restraint or liberty to others, should be I would not draw on Pompey, if not vanquished; At the devotion of her brother, (whom I grant, it rather should have passed through Cæ- She only knows her equal) makes this place, sar,

In which she lives, though stored with all delights, But we must follow where his fortune leads us : A loathsome dungeon to her. All provident princes measure their intents Apol. Yet, howe'er According to their power, and so dispose them. She shall interpret it, I'll not be wanting And think’st thou, Ptolomy, that thou canst prop To do my best to serve her: I've prepared His ruins, under whom sad Rome now suffers, Choice music near her cabinet, and composed Or tempt the conqueror's force when 'tis con- Some few lines, set unto a solemn time, firmed

In the praise of imprisonment. Begin, boy. Shall we, that in the battle sat as neuters, Serve him, that's overcome? No, no, he's lost.

And though 'tis noble to a sinking friend

Look out, bright eyes, and bless the air :
To lend a helping hand, while there is hope Even in shadows you are fair.
He may recover, thy part not engaged :

Shut-up beauty is like fire,
Though one most dear, when all his hopes are That breaks out clearer still and higher.

Though your body be confined, To drown him, set thy foot upon his head.

And soft love a prisoner bound, Achor. Most execrable counsel !

Yet the beauty of your mind Achil. To be followed ;

Neither check nor chain hath found. Tis for the kingdom's safety.

Look out nobly then, und dare
Ptol. We give up

Even the fetters, that you wear.
Our absolute power to thee: Dispose of it
As reason shall direct thee.

Pho. Good Achillas,

Cleo. But that we are assured this tastes of duty Seek out Septimius: Do you but soothe him; And love in you, my guardian, and desire He is already wrought. Leave the dispatch In you, my sister, and the rest, to please us, To me of Labienus: 'Tis determined

We should receive this as a saucy rudeness, Already how you shall proceed. Nor fate Offered our private thoughts. But your intents Shall alter it, since now the dye is cast, Are to delight us: Alas, you wash an Ethiop! But that this hour to Pompey is his last ! Can Cleopatra, while she does remember

(Ereunt. Whose daughter she is, and whose sister (oh,

I suffer in the name !) and that, in justice, Enter APOLLODORUS, EROS, and ARSINOE.

There is no place in Égypt, where I stand, Apol. Is the queen stirring, Eros ?

But that the tributary earth is proud Eros. Yes ; for in truth

To kiss the foot of her, that is her queen;

Can she, I say, that is all this, e'er relish

And let your excellency propound a means, Of comfort or delight, while base Photinus, In which I may but give the least assistance, Bondman Achillas, and all other monsters, That may restore you to that you were born to, That reign o'er Ptolomy, make that a court, Though it call on the anger of the king, Where they reside ; and this, where I, a prison? Or, what's more deadly, all his minion But there's a Rome, a senate, and a Cæsar, Photinus can do to me, I, unmoved, Though the great Pompey lean to Ptolomy, Offer my throat to serve you; ever provided, May think of Cleopatra.

It bear some probable show to be effected : Apol. Pompey, madam

To lose myself upon no ground were madness, Cleo. What of him? Speak! If ill, Apollodorus, Not loyal duty. It is my happiness; and, for thy news,

Cleo. Stand off!--To thee alone, Receive a favour, kings have kneeled in vain for, I will discover what I dare not trust And kiss my hand.

My sister with. Cæsar is amorous, Apol. He's lost.

And taken more with the title of a queen, Cleo. Speak it again!

Than feature or proportion; he loved Eunoe, Apol. His army routed, he fled, and pursued A moor, deformed too, I have heard, that brought By the all-conquering Cæsar.

No other object to inflame his blood, Cleo. Whither bends he?

But that her husband was a king; on both Apol. To Egypt.

He did bestow rich presents: Shall I, then, Cleo. Ha! In person?

That, with a princely birth, bring beauty with me, Apol. 'Tis received

That know to prize myself at mine own rate, For an undoubted truth,

Despair his favour? Art thou mine? Cleo. I live again;

Apol. I am. And if assurance of my love and beauty

Cleo. I have found out a way shall bring me to Deceive me not, I now shall find a judge

him, To do me right! But how to free myself, Spite of Photinus' watches. If I prosper, And get access ? The guards are strong upon me; As I am confident I shall, expect This door I must pass through.—Apollodorus, Things greater than thy wishes. Though I purThou often hast professed, to do me service,

chase Thy life was not thine own.

His grace with loss of my virginity, Apol, I am not altered;

It skills not, if it bring home majesty. (Ereunt.


Think not she's bound to love him too that's barSCENE I.


Why did not I, if this be meritorious, Enter SEPTIMIUS, with a head, ACHILLAS, and And binds the king unto me, and his bounties, guard.

Strike this rude stroke? I'll tell thee, thou poor Sept. 'Tis here, 'tis done! Behold, you fear

ful viewers,

It was a sacred head, I durst not heave at,
Shake, and behold the model of the world here, Not heave a thought.
The pride, and strength! Look, look again; 'tis Sept. It was?
finished !

Achil, I'll tell thee truly,
That, that whole armies, nay, whole nations, And, if thou ever yet heardst tell of honour,
Many and mighty kings, have been struck blind I'll make thee blush: it was thy general's;

That man's, that fed thee once, that man's that And fled before, winged with their fears and ter

bred thee; rors ;

The air thou breath’dst was his, the fire that That steel war waited on, and fortune courted,

warmed thee, That high-plumed honour built up for her own; From his care kindled ever ! Nay, I'll shew Behold that mightiness, behold that fierceness,

thee, Behold that child of war, with all his glories, Because I'll make thee sensible of thy baseness, By this poor hand made breathless ! Here, my And why a noble man durst not touch at it, Achillas ;

There was no piece of earth, thou put'st thy foot Egypt, and Cæsar, owe me for this service,

on, And all the conquered nations.

But was his conquest, and he gave thee motion ! Achil. Peace, Septimius ;

He triumphed three times: Who durst touch his Thy words sound more ungrateful than thy ac

person? tions.

The very walls of Rome bowed to his presence ! Though sometimes safety seek an instrument Dear to the gods he was; to them, that feared Df thy unworthy nature, (thou loud boaster !)


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