At least, defend them from the Roman gripe; Achor. Great Osiris, Defend thy Egypt from such cruelty, And barbarous ingratitude! But we must follow where his fortune leads us: Shall we, that in the battle sat as neuters, dead, Apol. Did you tell her O' th' sports I have prepared to entertain her? Of the virgin huntress. The king, nor great Photinus, Forbid her any pleasure; and the circuit, Eros. Oh, but the thought That she, that was born free, and to dispense Apol. Yet, howe'en She shall interpret it, I'll not be wanting THE SONG. Look out, bright eyes, and bless the air: That breaks out clearer still and higher. And soft love a prisoner bound, Yet the beauty of your mind Neither check nor chain hath found. Look out nobly then, und dare Even the fetters, that you wear. Enter CLEOPATRA. Cleo. But that we are assured this tastes of duty And love in you, my guardian, and desire In you, my sister, and the rest, to please us, We should receive this as a saucy rudeness, Offered our private thoughts. But your intents Are to delight us:- › Alas, you wash an Ethiop! Can Cleopatra, while she does remember Whose daughter she is, and whose sister (oh, I suffer in the name!) and that, in justice, There is no place in Egypt, where I stand, But that the tributary earth is proud To kiss the foot of her, that is her queen Apol. He's lost.. Cleo. Speak it again! And let your excellency propound a means, Cleo. Stand off!-To thee alone, I will discover what I dare not trust My sister with. Cæsar is amorous, And taken more with the title of a queen, Apol. His army routed, he fled, and pursued A moor, deformed too, I have heard, that brought By the all-conquering Cæsar. Cleo, Whither bends he? No other object to inflame his blood, But that her husband was a king; on both Cleo. I have found out a way shall bring me to Spite of Photinus' watches. If I prosper, Things greater than thy wishes.-Though I pur- grace His with loss of my virginity, ACT II. rors; That steel war waited on, and fortune courted, Egypt, and Cæsar, owe me for this service, Achil. Peace, Septimius; Thy words sound more ungrateful than thy ac- Though sometimes safety seek an instrument Think not she's bound to love him too that's bar- Why did not I, if this be meritorious, It was a sacred head, I durst not heave at, Achil. I'll tell thee truly, And, if thou ever yet heardst tell of honour, The air thou breath'dst was his, the fire that From his care kindled ever! Nay, I'll shew Sept. I killed him on commandment, If kings commands be fair, when you all fainted, When none of you durst look Achil. On deeds so barbarous. What hast thou got? Sept. The king's love, and his bounty, The honour of the service; which though you rail at, Or a thousand envious souls fling their foams on me, Will dignify the cause, and make me glorious; And I shall live Achil. A miserable villain. What reputation and reward belongs to it, Sept. The king will yet consider. [Exit. Enter PTOLOMY, ACHOREUS, and PHOTINUS. Achil. Here he comes. Achor. Yet, if it be undone, hear me, great sir ! If this inhuman stroke be yet unstrucken, Upon the tomb of him will shake all Egypt; Whose warlike groans will raise ten thousand spirits, Great as himself, in every hand a thunder; Destructions darting from their looks, and sor Methinks I feel the very earth shake under me! Pho. The king is troubled.-Be not frighted, sir; Be not abused with fears: His death was necessary, If you consider, sir, most necessary, Pho. Do not shun me, Cæsar. From kingly Ptolomy I bring this present, The crown and sweat of thy Pharsalian labour, The goal and mark of high ambitious honour. Before, thy victory had no name, Cæsar, Thy travel and thy loss of blood no recompence; Thou dream'dst of being worthy, and of war, And all thy furious conflicts were but slumbers: Here they take life: here they inherit honour, Grow fixed, and shoot up everlasting triumphs. Take it, and look upon thy humble servant, With noble eyes look on the princely Ptolomy, That offers with this head, most mighty Cæsar, What thou wouldst once have given for't, all Egypt. Achil. Nor do not question it, most royal con queror Nor disesteem the benefit, that meets thee, Because 'tis easily got; it comes the safer: Yet, let me tell thee, most imperious Cæsar, Though he opposed no strength of swords to win 'this, Nor laboured through no showers of darts and lances, Yet here he found a fort, that faced him strongly, This was a love to Cæsar. Sce. Give me hate, gods! Pho. This Cæsar may account a little wicked; But yet remember, if thine own hands, conqueror, 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 terrible! Let the worst be rendered, We have deserved for keeping thy hands inno *cent. Cæsar. Oh, Sceva, Sceva, see that head! see, captains, The head of godlike Pompey! Sce. He was basely ruined; But let the gods be grieved, that suffered it, on, To trust thy sacred life to an Egyptian? That never heard thy name sung, but in banquets, And loose lascivious pleasures? to a boy, Ant. Oh, how brave these tears shew! 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, But the eternal substance of his greatness, Your earth shall now be blessed to hold a Roman, 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, 'tis 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; But how he'd set his face. Casar. You look now, king, And you, that have been agents in this glory, For our special favour? Ptol. We desire it. Casar. And, doubtless, you expect rewards? I'll give them such as nature never dreamed of; You are young, and ignorant; that pleads your pardon, And fear, it may be, more than hate, provoked you. Your ministers, I must think, wanted judgment, That bounty share amongst you. If I knew what And that you loved, though't 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 The great and bounteous services, of Pompey, 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, 1 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, ror, 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, Cæsar. You've 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 'gainst your cruelty, And weep unto the ocean for revenge, [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: Pho. Peace; you are a fool! Men of deep ends must tread as deep ways to them; Cæsar I know is pleased, and for all his sorrows, Which are put on for forms, and mere dissemblings, I'm confident he's glad: To have told you so, Ptol. Do all; Sept. Here's a strange alteration in the court; Men's faces are of other sets and motions, Their minds of subtler stuff. I pass by now, As though I were a rascal: no man knows me, No eye looks after; as I were a plague, Their doors shut close against me, and I wondered at, Because I've done a meritorious murder: Because I've pleased the time, does the time plague me? I've known the day they would have hugged me for it; For a less stroke than this, have done me reverence, I now perceive the great thieves eat the less, That set me on. And he comes: now, Fortune! Enter PHOTINUS. Pho. Cæsar's unthankfulness a little stirs me, A little frets my blood: Take heed, proud Roman; Provoke me not, stir not mine anger further! Pho. For I may employ thee To take a rub or two out of my way, As time shall serve; say, that it be a brother, Or a hard father? Sept. 'Tis most necessary; A mother, or a sister, or whom you please, sir. Pho. Or to betray a noble friend? Sept. "Tis all one. Pho. I know thou'lt 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, |