Or sense of pity, have killed my little dog, And broke my monkey's chain.
Eros. They rifled me:
But that I could endure, and tire them too, Would they proceed no further.
Ars. Oh, my sister!
Eros. My queen, my mistress!
Ars. Can you stand unmoved, when
The earthquake of rebellion shakes the city, And the court trembles ?
And with a masculine constancy deride Fortune's worst malice, as a servant to My virtues, not a mistress: Then we forsake The strong fort of ourselves, when we once yield, Or shrink at her assaults; I'm still myself, And though disrobed of sovereignty, and ravished Of ceremonious duty, that attends it:
Nay, grant they had slaved my body, my free mind,
Like to the palm-tree walling fruitful Nile, Shall grow up straighter, and enlarge itself, Spite of the envious weight that loads it with." Think of thy birth, Arsinoe; common burdens Fit common shoulders: Teach the multitude, By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at, The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, Their dim eyes, darkned by their narrow souls, Cannot arrive at.
Enter PHOTINUS.
Eros. Oh, a man in arms!
His weapon drawn too!
Cleo. Though upon the point
Death sat, I'll meet it, and out-dare the danger. Pho. Keep the watch strong; and guard the passage sure,
That leads unto the sea.
Cleo. What sea of rudeness
Breaks in upon us? or what subject's breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are duty and obedience fled to heaven, And, in their room, ambition and pride Sent into Egypt? That face speaks thee Photinus, A thing, thy mother brought into the world My brother's and my slave: But thy behaviour, Opposed to that, an insolent intruder Upon that sovereignty, thou shouldst bow to! If in the gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to Ptolomy the king
Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose daughter, and whose sister; or, suppose That is forgot too, let the name of Cæsar (Which nations quake at) stop thy desperate mad-
From running headlong on to thy confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious arms, And let me read submission in thine eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To Cæsar and my brother.
To you I bow; but scorn as much to stoop thus To Ptolomy, to Cæsar, nay the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my essence with a sensual beast: All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends, Were aimed to purchase you.
Cleo, How durst thou, being
The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought! Pho. They, that have power, are royal; and those base,
That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave Ptolomy, or fortune Cæsar, By engines fashioned in this Protean anvil, I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free, to command me. For Cæsar's frowns, they are below my thoughts; And, but in these fair eyes I still have read The story of a supreme monarchy,
To which all hearts, with mine, gladly pay tri bute,
Photinus' name had long since been as great As Ptolomy's e'er was, or Cæsar's is. This made me, as a weaker tie, to unloose The knot of loyalty, that chained my freedom, And slight the fear, that Cæsar's threats might
Hymen, tho' blessing a new married pair,
| Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread majesty ; Whose beams shall dazzle Rome, and awe the world.
My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to't.
Cleo. Baser than thy birth!
Can there be gods and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the earth!
And cannot hear thee Or, with open eyes TM Did Jove look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloyed by me:
Or, if that they have power to hurt, his bolts Are in my hand.
Cleo. Most impious!
Pho. They are dreams,
Religious fools shake at. Yet to assure thee, If Nemesis, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For, by myself (an oath to me more dreadful Than Styx is to your gods) weak Ptolomy dead, And Cæsar, both being in my toil, remov❜d, The poorest rascals that are in my camp Shall, in my presence, quench their lustful heat In thee, and young Arsinoe, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain. I deride those gods, That you think can protect you!
Cleo. To prevent thee,
In that I am the mistress of my fate, So hope I of my sister: to confirm it, I spit at thee, and scorn thee!
But still pursued by us: When, on the sudden, He turned his head, and from his eyes flew terror, Which struck in us no less fear and amazement, Than if we had encounter'd with the lightning, Hurled from Jove's cloudy brow.
Cleo. 'Twas like my Cæsar!
Achil. We fallen back, he made on; and, as our fear
Had parted from us with his dreadful looks, Again we followed: But, got near the sea, On which his navy anchored, in one hand Holding a scroll he had above the waves, And in the other grasping fast his sword, As it had been a trident forged by Vulcan To calm the raging ocean, he made away, As if he had been Neptune; his friends, like So many Tritons, followed, their bold shouts
A conqueror! And, this unfortunate king Entombed with honour, we'll to Rome, where Cæsar
Will shew he can give kingdoms; for the senate,
Thy brother dead, shall willingly decree The crown of Egypt, that was his, to thee. [Exeunt omnes.
I Now should wish another had my place, But that I hope to come off, and with grace; And, but express some sign that you are pleas'd, We of our doubts, they of their fears, are eas'd.
I would beg further, gentlemen, and much say I'th' favour of ourselves, them, and the play, Did I not rest assur'd, the most I see Hate impudence, and cherish modesty.
That has the strongest arm and sharpest sword,
SCENE I.-The Camp of Timoleon near Syra- I'd court Bellona in her horrid trim,
As if she were a mistress, and bless fortune That offers my young valour to the proof, How much I dare do for your sister's love. But, when that I consider how averse Your noble father, great Archidamus, Is, and hath ever been, to my desires, Reason may warrant me to doubt and fear, What seeds soever I sow in these wars Of noble courage, his determinate will May blast, and give my harvest to another, That ne'er toiled for it.
Timag. Prithee, do not nourish These jealous thoughts; I'm thine, and, pardon
Though I repeat it, that Timagoras That, for thy sake, when the bold Theban sued, Far-famed Pisander, for my sister's love, Sent him disgraced and discontented home;
I wrought my father then; and I, that stopped not In the career of my affection to thee,
When that renowned worthy, that brought with him
High birth, wealth, courage, as fee'd advocates To mediate for him, never will consent, A fool, that only has the shape of man, Asotus, though he be rich Cleon's heir, Shall bear her from thee.
Leost. In that trust I love.
Timag. Which never shall deceive you. Enter PISANDER.
Pis. Sir, the general,
Timoleon, by his trumpets hath given warning For a remove.
Timag. 'Tis well; provide my horse. Pis. I shall, sir. [Exit PISANDER. Leost. This slave has a strange aspect? Timag. Fit for his fortune; 'tis a strong limbed
My father bought him for my sister's litter. O pride of women! Coaches are too common; They surfeit in the happiness of peace, And ladies think they keep not state enough, If, for their pomp and ease, they are not borne In triumph on mens' shoulders.
Leost. Who commands
The Carthaginian fleet?
Timag. Gisco's their admiral,
And, 'tis our happiness, a raw young fellow, One never trained in arms, but rather fashioned To tilt with ladies lips than crack a lance, Ravish a feather from a mistress' fan, And wear it as a favour. A steel helmet, Made horrid with a glorious plume, will crack His woman's neck.
Leo. No more of him.-The motives That Corinth gives us aid?
Timag. The common danger:
For Sicily being on fire, she is not safe; It being apparent that ambitious Carthage, (That to enlarge her empire strives to fasten An unjust gripe on us, that live free lords Of Syracusa) will not end, till Greece Acknowledge her their sovereign. Leost. I'm satisfied.
What think you of our general? Timag. He is a man
Of strange and reserved parts; but a great soldier. (A Trumpet sounds. His trumpets call us; I'll forbear his character: To-morrow, in the senate-house, at large He will express himself.
SCENE II-Syracuse. A room in CLEON'S House.
Enter CLEON, CORISCA, and GRACCULO.
Coris. Nay, good chuck.
Cleon. I've said it; stay at home.
I cannot brook your gadding; you're a fair one, Beauty invites temptations, and short heels Are soon tripp'd up.
Coris. Deny me! by my honour,
Who ministers physic to her on her back, Her ladyship lying as she were entranced: (I've peep'd in at the key-hole, and observ them:)
And sure his potions never fail to work, For she's so pleasant in the taking them, She tickles again.
Coris. And all's to make you merry When you come home.
Cleon. You flatter me; I'm old, And wisdom cries, Beware. Coris. Old, duck! to me You are a young Adonis.
Grac. Well said, Venus; I am sure she Vulcan's him.
Coris. I will not change thee
For twenty boisterous young things withou beards.
These bristles give the gentlest titillations, And such a sweet dew flows on them, it cures My lips without pomatum. Here's a round belly 'Tis a down pillow to my back; I sleep So quietly by it: and this tunable nose, Faith, when you hear it not, affords such music That I curse all night-fiddlers.
Grac. This is gross. Not find she flouts him!
Coris. As I live, I'm jealous. Cleon. Jealous of me, wife? Coris. Yes; and I have reason;
Knowing how lusty and active a man you are. Cleon. Hum, hum!
Grac. This is no cunning quean! 'slight, she
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