Castlist [Achillas], [Achoreus], [Septinius], [Photinus], [Labienus], [Ptolomy], [Apollodorus], [Eros], [Arsino], [Boy], [Cleopatra], [Caesar], [Antony], [Dollabella], [Sceva], [Soldier 1], [Soldier 2], [Soldier 3] [Isis], [Labourers], [Nylus]

A TRAGEDY.

THE FALSE ONE. Actus Primus,

Scena Prima. Enter Achillas and Achoreus.

Ach.
I love the K. nor do dispute his power,
For that is not confin'd, nor to be censurd
By me, that am his Subject) yet allow me
The liberty of a man, that still would be
A friend to Justice, to demand the Motives
That did induce young Ptolomy, or Photinus
(To whose directions he gives up himselfe,
And I hope wisely) co commit his Sister
The Princesse Cleopatra (if I said
The Queen (Achillas) twere (I hope) no treason,
Shee being by her Fathers testament
(Whose memory I bow to) left Co-heire
In all he stood possest of.

Achil.
Tis confest
(My good Achoreus) that in these Eastern Kingdomes
Women are not exempted from the Scepter,
But claime a priviledge, equall to the Male;
But how much such divisions have tane from
The Majesty of Egypt, and what factions
Have sprung from those partitions, to the ruine
Of the poor Subject, (doubtfull which to follow,)
We have too many and too sad examples,
Therefore the wise Photinus, to prevent
The murthers, and the massacres, that attend
On dis-united Government, and to shew
The King, without a partner, in full splendor,
Thought it convenient, the faire Cleopatra,
(An attribute not frequent in this Clymate)
Should be committed to safe custody,
In which she is attended like her Birth,
Untill her Beauty, or her royall Dowre,
Hath found her out a Husband.

Ach.
How this may
Stand with the rules of policy, I know not;
Most sure I am, it holds no correspondence
With the rites of Ægypt, or the lawes of Nature;
But grant that Cleopatra can sit downe
With this disgrace (though insupportable)
Can you imagine, that Romes glorious Senate
(To whose charge, by the will of the dead King
This government was deliverd) or great Pompey,
(That is appointed Cleopatra's Guardian
As well as Ptolomies) will ere approve
Of this rash Counsell, their consent not sought for,
That should authorize it?

Achil.
The Civill war
In which the Roman Empire is embarq'd
On a rough Sea of danger, does exact
Their whole care to preserve themselves, and give them
No vacant time to think of what we do,
Which hardly can concern them.

Ach.
What's your opinion
Of the successe? I have heard, in multitudes
Of souldiers, and all glorious pomp of war,
Pompey is much superiour.

Achil.
I could give you
A Catalogue of all the severall Nations
From whence he drew his powers: but that were tedious
They have rich armes, are ten to one in number,
Which makes them think the day already wonne;
And Pompey being master of the Sea,
Such plenty of all delicates are brought in,
As if the place on which they are entrench'd,
Were not a Camp of souldiers, but Rome,
In which Lucullus and Apicius joyn'd
To make a publique Feast: they at Dirachium
Fought with successe; but knew not to make use of
Fortunes faire offer: so much I have heard
Cæsar himselfe confesse.

Ach.
Where are they now?

Achil.
In Thessalie, neere the Pharsalian plains
Where Cæsar with a handfull of his Men
Hems in the greater number: his whole troops
Exceed not twenty thousand, but old Souldiers
Flesh'd in the spoiles of Germany and France,
Enur'd to his Command, and only know
To fight and overcome; And though that Famine
Raignes in his Camp, compelling them to tast
Bread made of rootes, forbid the use of man,
(Which they with scorne threw into Pompeys Camp
As in derision of his Delicates)
Or corne not yet halfe ripe, and that a Banquet:
They still besiege him, being ambitious only
To come to blows, and let their swords determine
Who hath the better Cause. Enter Septinius.

Ach.
May Victory
Attend on't, where it is.

Achil.
We every houre
Expect to heare the issue.

Sep.
Save my good Lords;
By Isis and Osiris, whom you worship;
And the foure hundred gods and goddesses
Ador'd in Rome, I am your Honours servant.

Ach.
Truth needs (Septinius) no oaths.

Achil.
You are cruell,
If you deny him swearing, you take from him
Three full parts of his language.

Sep.
Your Honour's bitter,
Confound me, where I love I cannot say it,
But I must swear't: yet such is my ill fortune,
Nor vowes, nor protestations win beliefe,
I think, and (I can finde no other reason)
Because I am a Roman.

Ach.
No Septinius,
To be a Roman, were an honour to you,
Did not your manners, and your life take from it,
And cry aloud, that from Rome, you bring nothing
But Roman Vices, which you would plant here,
But no seed of her vertues.

Sep.
With your reverence
I am too old to learn.

Ach.
Any thing honest,
That I beleeve, without an oath.

Sept.
I feare
Your Lordship has slept ill to night, and that
Invites this sad discourse: 'twill make you old
Before your time:—o' these vertuous Moralls,
And old religious principles, that foole us;
I have brought you a new Song, will make you laugh,
Though you were at your prayers.

Ach.
What is the subject?
Be free Septinius.

Sep.
'Tis a Catalogue
Of all the Gamsters of the Court and City,
Which Lord lyes with that Lady: and what Gallant
Sports with that Merchants wife; and does relate
Who sells her honour for a Diamond,
Who, for a tissew robe: whose husband's jealous,
And who so kind, that, to share with his Wife
Will make the match himselfe?
Harmlesse conceits,
Though fooles say they are dangerous: I sang it
The last night at my Lord Photinus table.

Ach.
How? as a Fidler?

Sep.
No Sir, as a Guest,
A welcome guest too: and it was approv'd of
By a dozen of his friends, though they were touch'd in't:
For looke you, 'tis a kind of merriment,
When we have laid by foolish modesty
(As not a man of fashion will weare it)
To talke what we have done: at least to heare it:
If merrily, set down, it fires the blood,
And heightens Crest-falne appetite.

Ach.
New doctrine!

Achil.
Was't of your owne composing?

Sep.
No, I bought it
Of a skulking Scribler for two Ptolomies:
But the hints were mine owne; the wretch was fearfull:
But I have damnd my selfe, should it be question'd,
That I will owne it.

Ach.
And be punished for it:
Take heed: for you may so long exercise
Your scurrilous wit against authority,
The Kingdomes Counsels: and make profane Jests,
(Which to you (being an atheist) is nothing)
Against Religion, that your great maintainers
(Unlesse they would be thought Co-partners with you)
Will leave you to the Law: and then (Septinius)
Remember there are whips.

Sep.
For whores I grant you,
Till they are out of date, till then are safe too,
Or all the Gallants of the Court are Eunuchs,
And for mine owne defence I'le only add this,
I'le be admitted for a wanton tale
To some most private Cabinets, when your Priest-hood
(Though laden with the mysteries of your goddesse)
Shall waite without unnoted: so I leave you
To your pious thoughts. Exit.

Achil.
'Tis a strange impudence,
This fellow does put on.

Ach.
The wonder great,
He is accepted of.

Achil.
Vices, for him,
Make as free way as vertues doe for others.
'Tis the times fault: yet great ones still have grace'd
To make them sport, or rub them o're with flattery,
Observers of all kinds. Enter Photinus and Septinius.

Ach.
No more of him,
He is not worth our thoughts: a Fugitive
From Pompeys army: and now in a danger
When he should use his service.

Achil.
See how he hangs
On great Photinus Eare.

Sep.
Hell, and the furies,
And all the plagues of darknesse light upon me:
You are my god on earth: and let me have
Your favour here, fall what can fall hereafter.

Pho.
Thou art beleev'd: dost thou want money?

Sep.
No Sir.

Pho.
Or hast thou any suite? these ever follow
Thy vehement protestations.

Sep.
You much wrong me;
How can I want, when your beames shine upon me,
Unlesse employment to expresse my zeale
To do your Greatnesse service? doe but thinke
A deed so darke, the Sun would blush to looke on,
For which Man-kind would curse me, and arme all
The Powers above, and those below against me:
Command me, I will on.

Pho.
When I have use,
I'le put you to the test.

Sep.
May it be speedy,
And something worth my danger: you are cold,
And know not your own powers: this brow was fashion'd
To weare a Kingly wreath, and your grave judgment,
Given to dispose of Monarchies, not to govern
A childes affaires, the peoples eyes upon you,
The Souldier courts you; will you weare a garment
Of sordid loyalty when 'tis out of fashion?

Pho.
When Pompey was thy Generall (Septinius)
Thou saidst as much to him.

Sep.
All my love to him,
To Cæsar, Rome, and the whole world is lost
In the Ocean of your Bounties: I have no friend,
Project, designe, or Countrey, but your favour,
Which I'le preserve at any rate.

Pho.
No more;
When I call on you, fall not off: perhaps
Sooner then you expect, I may employ you,
So leave me for a while.

Sep.
Ever your Creature. Exit.

Pho.
Good day Achoreus; my best friend Achillas,
Hath fame delivered yet, no certaine rumour
Of the great Roman action.

Achil.
That we are
To enquire, and learn of you Sir: whose grave care
For Egypts happinesse; and great Ptolomies good,
Have eyes and eares in all parts. Enter Ptolomy, Labienus, Guard.

Pho.
I'le not boast,
What my Intelligence costs me: but 'ere long
You shall know more. The King, with him a Roman,

Ach.
The scarlet livery of unfortunate war
Dy'de deeply on his face.

Achil.
'Tis Labienus
Cæsars Lieutenant in the wars of Gaul,
And fortunate in all his undertakings:
But since these Civill Jars he turn'd to Pompey,
And though he followed the better Cause
Not with the like successe.

Pho.
Such as are wise
Leave falling buildings, flye to those that rise;
But more of that hereafter.

Lab.
In a word (Sir,)

These gaping wounds, not taken as a slave,
Speake Pompeys osse: to tell you of the Battaile,
How many thousand severall bloody shapes
Death wore thaday, in triumph: how we bore
The shocke of Cæsars charge: or with what fury
His souldiers came on as if they had been
So many Cæsars, and like him ambitious,
To tread upon the liberty of Rome:
How Fathers kill'd their Sons, or Sons their Fathers,
Or how the Roman Peils on either side
Drew Roman blood, which spent, the Prince of weapons,
(The sword) succeeded, which in Civill wars,
Appoints the Tent, on which wing'd victory
Shall make a certaine Stand, then, how the Plaines
Flowd o're with blood, and what a cloud of vulturs
And other birds of prey, hung o're both armies,
Attending when their ready Servitors,
(The souldiers, from whom the angry gods
Had tooke all sense of reason, and of pity)
Would serve in their owne carkasses for a feast.
How Cæsar with his Javelin force'd them on
That made the least stop, when their angry hands
Were lifted up against some known friends face;
Then comming to the body of the army
He shews the sacred Senate, and forbids them
To waste their force upon the Common souldier,
Whom willingly, if ere he did know pity,
He would have spar'd.

Ptol.
The reason Labienus?

Lab.
Full well he knows, that in their blood he was
To passe to Empire, and that through their bowels,
He must invade the Laws of Rome, and give
A period to the liberty of the world.
Then fell the Lepidi, and the bold Corvini,
The fam'd Torquati, Scipio's, and Marcelli,
(Names next to Pompeys, most renown'd on earth)
The Nobles, and the Commons lay together,
And Pontique, Punique, and Assyrian blood
Made up one crimson Lake: which Pompey seeing,
And that his, and the fate of Rome had left him
Standing upon the Ramper of his Camp,
Though scorning all that could fall on himselfe,
He pities them whose fortunes are embarqu'd
In his unlucky quarrell; cryes aloud too
That they should sound retreat, and save themselves:
That he desir'd not, so much noble blood
Should be lost in his service, or attend
On his misfortunes: and then, taking horse
With some few of his friends, he came to Lesbos,
And with Cornelia, his Wife, and Sons,
He's touch'd upon your shore: the King of Parthia
(Famous in his defeature of the Crassi)
Offer'd him his protection, but Pompey
Relying on his Benefits, and your Faith,
Hath chosen Ægypt for his Sanctuary,
Till he may recollect his scattered powers,
And try a second day: now Ptolomy,
Though he appeare not like that glorious Thing,
That three times rode in triumph, and gave lawes
To conquer'd Nations, and made Crownes his guift
(As this of yours, your noble Father tooke
From his victorious hand, and you still weare it
At his devotion) to do you more honour
In his declinde estate, as the straightst Pyne
In a full grove of his yet flourishing friends,
He flyes to you for succour, and expects
The entertainment of your Fathers friend,
And Guardian to your selfe.

Ptol.
To say I grieve his fortune
As much as if the Crowne I weare (his gift)
Were ravish'd from me, is a holy truth,
Our Gods can witnesse for me: yet, being young,
And not a free disposer of my self;
Let not a few hours, borrowed for advice,
Beget suspition of unthankfulnesse,
(Which next to hell I hate) pray you retire,
And take a little rest, and let his wounds
Be with that care attended, as they were
Carv'd on my flesh: good Labienus, thinke
The little respite, I desire shall be
Wholly emploid to find the readiest way
To doe great Pompey service.

Lab.
May the gods
(As you intend) protect you. Exit.

Ptol.
Sit: sit all,
It is my pleasure: your advice, and freely.

Ach.
A short deliberation in this,
May serve to give you counsell to be honest,
Religious and thankfull, in themselves
Are forcible motives, and can need no flourish
Or glosse in the perswader, your kept faith,
(Though Pompey never rise to the height he's fallen from)
Cæsar himselfe will love; and my opinion
Is (still committing it to graver censure)
You pay the debt you owe him, with the hazard
Of all you can call yours.

Ptol.
What's yours (Photinus?)

Pho.
Achoreus (great Ptolomy) hath counsaild
Like a religious, and honest man,
Worthy the honour that he justly holds
In being Priest to Isis: But alas,
What in a man, sequesterd from the world,
Or in a private person, is preferd,
No policy allows of in a King,
To be or just, or thankfull, makes Kings guilty,
And faith (though prais'd, is punish'd) that supports
Such as good Fate forsakes: joyne with the gods,
Observe the man they favour, leave the wretched,
The Stars are not more distant from the Earth
Then profit is from honesty; all the power,
Prerogatives, and greatnesse of a Prince
Is lost, if he descend once but to steere
His course, as what's right, guides him; let him leave
The Scepter, that strives only to be good,
Since Kingdomes are maintain'd by force and blood.

Ach.
Oh wicked.

Ptol.
Peace: goe on.

Pho.
Proud Pompey shews how much he scorns your youth,
In thinking that you cannot keepe your owne
From such as are ore-come. If you are tired
With being a King, let not a stranger take
What nearer pledges challenge: resigne rather
The government of Ægypt and of Nyle
To Cleopatra, that has title to them,
At least defend them from the Roman gripe,
What was not Pompeys, while the wars endured,
The Conquerour will not challenge, by all the world
Forsaken and despis'd, your gentle Guardian
His hopes and fortunes desperate, makes choise of
What Nation he shall fall with: and pursu'd
By their pale Ghosts, slaine in this Civill War,
He flyes not Cæsar only, but the Senate,
Of which, the greater part have cloid the hunger
Of sharpe Pharsalian fowle he flies the Nations
That he drew to his Quarrell, whose Estates
Are sunk in his: and in no place receiv'd,

Hath found out Ægypt, by him yet not ruin'd:
And Ptolomy, things consider'd, justly may
Complaine of Pompey: wherefore should he staine
Our Ægypt, with the spots of Civill warre?
Or make the peaceable, or quiet Nyle
Doubted of Cæsar? wherefore should he draw
His losse, and overthrow upon our heads?
Or choose this place to suffer in? already
We have offended Cæsar, in our wishes,
And no way left us to redeeme his favour
But by the hand of Pompey.

Ach.
Great Osiris,
Defend thy Ægypt from such cruelty,
And barbarous ingratitude!

Pho.
Holy triflles,
And not to have place in designes of State;
This sword, which Fate commands me to unsheath,
I would not draw on Pompey, If not vanquish'd,
I grant it rather should have pass'd through Cæsar,
But we must follow where his fortune leads us;
All provident Princes measure their intents
According to their power: and so dispose them;
And thinkst thou (Ptolomy) that thou canst prop
His Ruines, under whom sad Rome now suffers?
Or tempt the Conquerours force when 'tis confirm'd?
Shall we, that in the Battail sate as Neuters
Serve him that's over-come? No, no, hee's lost.
And though 'tis noble to a sinking friend
To lend a helping hand while there is hope
He may recover, thy part not engag'd:
Though one most deare, when all his hopes are dead,
To drowne him, set thy foote upon his head.

Ach.
Most execrable Councell.

Achil.
To be follow'd,
'Tis for the Kingdomes safety.

Ptol.
We give up
Our absolute power to thee: dispose of it
As reason shall direct thee.

Pho.
Good Achillas,
Seeke out Septimius: doe you but sooth him,
He is already wrought: leave the dispatch
To me; of Labienus: 'tis determin'd
Already how you shall proceed: nor Fate
Shall alter it, since now the dye is cast,
But that this hour to Pompey is his last. Exit.

Scena Secunda. Enter Apollodorus, Eros, Arsino.

Ap.
Is the Queen stirring (Eros?)

Er.
Yes, for in truth
Shee touch'd no bed to night.

Ap.
I am sorry for it,
And wish it were in me, with my hazard
To give her ease.

Ars.
Sir, she accepts your will,
And does acknowledge she hath found you noble,
So far, as if restraint of liberty
Could give admission to a thought of mirth,
Shee is your debtor for it.

Ap.
Did you tell her
Of the sports I have prepar'd to entertaine her?
Shee was us'd to take delight, with her faire hand,
To angle in the Nyle, where the glad fish
(As if they knew who 'twas sought to deceive 'em)
Contended to be taken: other times
To strike the Stag, who wounded by her arrows,
Forgot his teares in death, and kneeling thanks her
To his last gaspe, then prouder of his Fate,
Then if with Garlands Crown'd, he had been chosen
To fall a Sacrifice before the altar
Of the Virgin Huntresse: the King, nor great Photinus
Forbid her any pleasure; and the Circuite
In which she is confin'd, gladly affords
Variety of pastimes, which I would
Encrease with my best service.

Er.
O, but the thought
That she that was borne free, and to dispence
Restraint, or liberty to others, should be
At the devotion of her Brother, whom
She only knows her equall, makes this place
In which she lives (though stor'd with all delights)
A loathsome dungeon to her.

Ap.
Yet, (how ere
She shall interpret it) I'le not be wanting
To do my best to serve her: I have prepar'd
Choise Musicke neare her Cabinet, and compos'd
Some few lines, (set unto a solemn time)
In the praise of imprisonment. Begin boy.
The Song.
Looke out bright eyes, and blesse the ayre:
Even in shadowes you are faire.
Shut-up-beauty is like fire,
That breakes out clearer still and higher.
Though your body be confin'd,
And soft Love a prisoner bound,
Yet the beauty of your mind,
Neither checke, nor chaine hath found.
  Looke out nobly then, and dare,
  Even the Fetters that you weare. Enter Cleopatra.

Cleo.
But that we are assur'd this tasts 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 sawcy rudenesse
Offer'd 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? (O
I suffer in the name) and that (in Justice)
There is no place in Ægypt, where I stand,
But that the tributary Earth is proud
To kisse the foote of her, that is her Queen,
Can she (I say) that is all this, e're relish
Of comfort, or delight, while base Photinus,
Bond man Achillas, and all other monsters
That raigne ore Ptolomy, make that a Court,
Where they reside, and this, where I a Prisoner?
But there's a Rome, a Senate, and a Cæsar,
(Though the great Pompey leane to Ptolomy)
May thinke of Cleopatra.

Ap.
Pompey (Madam?)

Cleo.
What of him? speake: if ill (Appollodorus)
It is my happinesse: and for thy newes
Receive a favour (Kings have kneel'd in vaine for)
And kisse my hand.

Ap.
Hee's lost.

Cleo.
Speake it againe?

Ap.
His army routed: he fled and pursu'd

By the all-conquering Cæsar.

Cleo.
Whether bends he?

Ap.
To Egypt.

Cleo.
Ha! in person?

Ap.
'Tis receiv'd,
For an undoubted truth,

Cleo.
I live againe,
And if assurance of my love, and beauty
Deceive me not, I now shall finde a Judge,
To do me right: but how to free my selfe,
And get accesse? the Guardes are strong upon me,
This doore I must passe through, Appollodorus;
Thou often hast profess'd (to do me service,)
Thy life was not thine owne.

Ap.
I am not alterd;
And let your excellency propound a meanes,
In which I may but give the least assistance,
That may restore you, to that you were borne to,
(Though it call on the anger of the King,
Or, (what's more daedly) all his Minion
Photinus can do to me, I, unmov'd,
Offer my throate to serve you: ever provided,
It beare some probable shew to be effected,
To loose my selfe upon no ground, were madnesse:
Not loyall duty.

Cleo.
Stand off: to thee alone,
I will discover what I dare not trust
My Sister with, Cesar is amarous,
And taken more with the title of a Queene,
Then feature or proportion, he lov'd Evnoe;
A More, deformed too, I have heard, that brought
No other object to inflame his blood,
But that her husband was a King, on both
He did bestow rich presents; shall I then,
That with a Pincly birth, bring beauty with me,
That know to prize my selfe at mine owne rate,
Despaire his favour? art thou mine?

Ap.
I am.

Cleo.
I have found out away shall bring me to him,
Spight of Photinus watches, if I prosper,
(As I am confident I shall) expect
Things greater then thy wishes, though I purchase
His grace, with losse of my virginity,
It skills not, if it bring home Majesty. Exeunt. Actus Secundus

Scena Prima. Enter Septimius, with a head, Achillas Guard.

Sep.
'Tis here, 'tis done, behold you fearefull viewers,
Shake, and behold the modell of the world here,
The pride, and strength, looke, looke againe, 'tis finished;
That, that whole Armyes, nay whole nations,
Many and mighty Kings, have been strooke blinde at,
And fled before wingd with their feares and terrours,
That steele warr waited on, and fortune courted,
That high plum'd honour built up for her owne:
Behold that mightinesse, behold that fiercenesse,
Behold that child of warr, with all his glories;
By this poore hand made breathlesse, here (my Achillas,
Egypt, and Cesar, owe me for this service,
And all the conquer'd Nations.

Ach.
Peace Septimius,
Thy words sound more ungratefull then thy actions,
Though sometimes safety seeke an instrument
Of thy unworthy nature, thou (loud boaster)
Think not she is bound to love him too, that's barbarous,
Why did not I, if this be meritorious
And bindes the King unto me, and his bounties,
Strike this rude stroke? I'le tell thee (thou poore Roman)
It was a sacred head, I durst not heave at,
Not heave a thought.

Sep.
It was.

Ach.
I'le tell thee truely,
And if thou ever yet heard'st tell of honour,
I'le make thee blush: It was thy Generalls;
That mans that fed thee once, that mans that bred thee,
The aire thou breath'st was his: the fire that warm'd thee;
From his care kindled euer, nay, I'le show thee,
(Because I'le make thee sensible of thy businesse:
And why a noble man durst not touch at it)
There was no peece of Earth, thou puts thy foote on
But was his conquest; and he gave thee motion,
He triumph'd three times, who durst touch his person?
The very walls of Rome, bow'd to his presence,
Deare to the Gods he was, to them that feard him
A faire and noble Enemy, didst thou hate him?
And for thy love to Cesar, sought his ruine?
Armed the red Pharsalian feilds (Septimius)
Where killing was in grace, and wounds were glorious,
Where Kings were faire competitours for honour,
Thou should'st have come up to him, there have sought
him.
There, sword, to sword.

Sep.
I kill'd him on commandment,
If Kings commands be faire, when you all fainted,
When none of you durst looke—

Ach.
On deeds so barbarous,
What hast thou got?

Sep.
The Kings love, and his bounty,
The honour of the service, which though you raile at;
Or a thousand envious soules fling their foames on me,
Will dignifie the cause, and make me glorious:
And I shall live.

Ach.
A miserable villaine,
What reputation, and reward belongs to it?
Thus (with the head) I seize on, and make mine;
And be not impudent to aske me why (Sirha)
Nor bold to stay, read in mine eyes, the reason:
The shame and obloquy, I leave thine owne,
Inherit those rewardes, they are fitter for thee,
Your oyle's spent, and your snuff stinks: go out basely.

Sep.
The King will yet consider. Exit. Enter Ptolomy, Achoreus, Photinus.

Achil.
Here he comes Sir.

Ach.
Yet if it be undon: heare me great Sir,
If this inhumane stroake be yet unstrooken,
If that adored head be not yet severd
From the most noble Body, weigh the miseryes:
The desolations that this great Eclipse works,
You are young, be provident: fix not your Empire
Upon the Tombe of him, will shake all Egypt,
Whose warlike groanes will raise ten thousand Spirits,
(Great as himselfe) in every hand a thunder;
Destructions darting from their lookes and sorrowes,
That easy womens eyes shall never empty.

Pho.
You have done well; and 'tis done, see Achillas,
And in his hand the head.

Ptol.
Stay come no nearer,
Me thinks, I feele the very earth shake under me,
I do remember him, he was my guardian,
Appointed by the Senate to preserve me:
What a full Majesty sits in his face yet?

Pho.
The King is troubled: be not frighted Sir,

Be not abus'd with feares; his death was necessary,
If you consider (Sir) most necessary,
Not to be miss'd: and humbly thanke great Isis:
He came so opportunely to your hands;
Pitty must now give place to rules of safety,
Is not victorious Cæsar, new arriv'd:
And enter'd Alexandria, with his friends,
His Navy riding by to wait his charges?
Did he not beate this Pompey, and pursude him?
Was not this great man, his great enemy?
This Godlike vertuous man, as people held him,
But what foole dare be friend to flying vertue? Enter Cæsar, Anthony, Dollobella, Sceva.
I heare their Trumpets, 'tis too late to stagger,
Give me the head, and be you confident:
Haile Conquerour, and head of all the world,
Now this head's off.

Cæsar.
Ha?

Pho.
Do not shun me (Cæsar)
From kingly Ptolomy, I bring this present,
The Crowne, and sweat of thy Pharsalian labour:
The goale and marke of high ambitious honour,
Before thy victory had no name (Cæsar)
Thy travell and thy losse of blood, no recompence,
Thou dreamst of being worthy, and of warr;
And all thy furious conflicts were but slumbers,
Here they take life: here they inherit honour,
Grow fixt, and shoot up everlasting triupmhes,
Take it, and looke upon thy humble servant,
With noble eyes looke on the Princely Ptolomy,
That offers with this head (most mighty Cæsar)
What thou would'st once have given for it, all Egypt.

Ach.
Nor do not question it (most royall Conquerour)
Nor dis-esteeme the benefit that meetes thee,
Because 'tis easily got, it comes the safer:
Yet let me tell thee (most imperious Cæsar)
Though he oppos'd no strength of Swords to win this,
Nor labourd through no showres of darts, and lances:
Yet here he found a fort, that faced him strongly
An inward warr: he was his Grand sires Guest;
Friend to his Father, and when he was expell'd
And beaten from this Kingdome by strong hand,
And had none left him, to restore his Honour,
No hope to finde a friend, in such a misery;
Then in stept Pompey: tooke his feeble fortune:
Strengthend, and cherish'd it, and set it right againe,
This was a love to Cesar.

Sceva.
Give me, hate, Gods.

Pho.
This Cesar, may account a little wicked,
But yet remember, if thine owne hands (Conquerour)
Had fallen upon him, what it had bin then?
If thine owne Sword had touch'd his throat, what that
way!
He was thy Son in law, there to be tainted,
Had bin most terrible: let the worst be renderd,
We have deserv'd for keeping thy hands innocent.

Cesar.
Oh Sceva, Sceva, see that head: see Captaines,
The head of godlike Pompey.

Sce.
He was basely ruinde,
But let the Gods be griev'd that sufferd it,
And be you Cesar—

Cesar.
Oh thou Conquerour,
Thou glory of the world once, now the pitty:
Thou awe of N ations, wherefore didst thou fall thus?
What poore fate followed thee, and pluckt thee on
To trust thy sacred life to an Egyptian;
The life and light of Rome, to a blind stranger:
That honourable war nere taught a noblenesse,
Nor worthy circumstance shew'd what a man was,
That never heard thy name song, but in banquets;
And loose lascivious pleasures? to a Boy,
That had no faith to comprehend thy greatnesse:
No study of thy life to know thy goodnesse;
And leave thy Nation, nay, thy noble friend,
Leave him (distrusted) that in teares falls with thee?
(In soft relenting teares) heare me (great Pompey
(If thy great spirit can heare) I must taske thee:
Thou hast most unnobly rob'd me of my victory,
My love, and mercy.

Ant.
O how brave these teares shew?
How excellent is sorrow in an Enemy?

Dol.
Glory appeares not greater then this goodnesse.

Cesar.
Egyptians, dare you thinke your high Pyramides,
Built to out-dare the Sun, as you suppose,
Where your unworthy Kings, lye rak'd in ashes:
Are monuments fit for him? no, (brood of Nilus)
Nothing can couer his high fame, but heaven;
No Pyramides set off his memoryes:
But the eternall substance of his greatenesse
To wich I leave him, take the head away,
And (with the body) give it noble buriall,
Your Earth shall now be bless'd to hold a Roman,
Whose braveryes all the worlds-earth cannot ballance.

Sce.
If thou bee'st thus loving, I shall honour thee,
But great men may dissemble; 'tis held possible,
And be right glad of what they seeme to weepe for,
Where are such kinde of Phylosophers; now do I wonder
How he would looke if Pompey were alive againe,
But how he would set his face?

Cesar.
You looke now (King)
And you that have beene Agents in this glory,
For our especiall favour?

Ptol.
We desire it.

Cesar.
And doubtlesse you expect rewards.

Sce.
Let me give 'em:
I'le give 'em such as nature never dreampt of,
I'le beat him and his Agents (in a morter)
Into one man, and that one man I'le bake then.

Cesar.
Peace: I forgive you all that's recompence:
You are young, and ignorant, that pleads your pardon,
And feare it may be more then hate provok'd ye;
Your Ministers I must thinke wanted judgement,
And so they erd: I am bountifull to thinke this;
Beleeve me most bountifull: Be you most thankfull,
That bounty share amongst ye, if I knew
What to send you for a present King of Egypt;
(I meane a head of equall reputation
And that you lov'd) though it were your brightest Sisters,
(But her you hate) I would not be behinde ye.

Ptol:
Heare me (great Cesar.)

Cesar.
I heave hard too much
And study not with smooth shewes, to invade
My noble minde, as you have done my conquest:
Ye are poore and open: I must tell you roundly,
That man that could not recompence the benefits;
The great and bounteous services of Pompey
Can never doate upon the name of Cesar;
Though I had hated Pompey, and allowd his ruine,
I gave you no comission to performe it:
Hasty to please in blood, are seldome trusty,
And but I stand invirond with my victories;
My fortune never failing to be friend me,
My noble strengthes, and friends about my person,
I durst not trye ye, nor expect a courtisy,
Above the pious love, you shewd to Pompey,
You have found me mercifull in arguing with ye:

Swordes, Hangers, Fires, destructions of all natures,
Demolishments of Kingdomes, and whole Ruines
Are wont to be my Orators, turne to teares,
You wretched, and poore Seedes of Sun-burnt Egypt,
And now you have found the nature of a Conquerour,
That you cannot decline, with all your flatteries,
That where the day gives light, will be himselfe still.
Know how to meet his worth with humane courtesies,
Go, and embalme those bones of that great Souldier;
Howle round about his pile, fling on your Spices,
Make a Sabean bed, and place this Phenix
Where the hot Sun may emulate his vertues,
And draw another Pompey from his ashes
Divinely great, and fixe him 'mongst the worthies.

Ptol.
We will doe all.

Cesar.
You have rob'd him of those teares
His kindred, and his friends kept sacred for him:
The Virgins of their funerall Lamentations:
And that kind Earth that thought to cover him,
(His Countries Earth) will cry out 'gainst your crueltie,
And weepe unto the Ocean for revenge,
Till Nilus raise his seven heads and devoure ye:
My griefe has stopt the rest; when Pompey liv'd
He us'd you nobly, now he is dead, use him so. Exit.

Ptol
Now where's your confidence your aime (Photinus)
The Oracles, and faire Favors from the Conquerour
You rung into mine eares? how stand I now?
You see the tempest of his sterne displeasure,
The death of him you urged a Sacrifice
To stop his rage, presaging a full ruine;
Where are your Councells now?

Ach.
I told ye Sir,
(And told the truth) what danger would fly after:
And though an Enemie, I satisfied you
He was a Roman, and the top of honour;
And howsoever this might please great Cæsar,
I told ye that the fowlenesse of his death
The impious basenesse—

Pho.
Peace, ye are a foole,
Men of deepe ends, must tread as deepe waies to'm;
Cæsar I know is pleas'd, and for all his sorrowes
(Which are put on for formes and meere dissemblings)
I am confident he's glad: to have told ye so,
And thanke ye outwardly, had bin too open,
And taken from the wisedome of a Conquerour.
Be confident, and proud ye have done this service;
Ye have deserv'd, and ye will finde it highly:
Make bold use of this benefit, and be sure
You keepe your Sister, (the high-sould-Cleopatra,)
Both close and short enough, she may not see him:
The rest, if I may councell sir.—

Ptol.
Doe all:
For in thy faithfull service rests my safetie. Exit.

Scena Secunda. Enter Septinius.

Sep.
Heere's a strange alteration in the Court;
Mens faces are of other setts, and motions,
Their minds of subtler stuffe: I passe by now
As though I were, a Rascall, no man knowes me,
No eye lookes after: as I were a plague,
Their doores shut close against me: and I wondred at
Because I have done a meritorious Murther,
Because I have pleas'd the Time, does the Time plague me?
I have knowne the day they would have huggd me for it:
For a lesse stroke then this, have done me reverence:
Opend their hearts, and secret closets to me
Their purses, and their pleasures, and bid me wallow.
I now perceive the great Theeves eate the lesse,
And the huge Leviathans of Villany
Sup up the merits, nay the men and all
That doe them service, and spowt 'em out againe
Into the ayre, as thin, and unregarded
As drops of water; that are lost i'th Ocean;
I was lov'd once for swearing, and for drinking,
And for other principall Qualities, that became me,
Now a foolish unthankfull murther has undone me,
If my Lord Photinus be not mercifull Enter Photinus.
That set me on: And he comes, now fortune.

Pho.
Cæsars unthankfulnesse a little stirrs me
A little frets my blood: take heede, proud Roman,
Provoke me not; stir not my anger farther:
I may finde out a way unto thy life too,
(Though arm'd in all thy Victories) and seize it,
A Conquerour has a heart, and I may hit it.

Sep.
May it please your Lordship?

Pho.
O Septinius!

Sep.
Your Lordship knowes my wrongs.

Pho.
Wrongs?

Sep.
Yes my, Lord,
How the Captaine of the Guard Achillas, slights me.

Pho.
Thinke better of him, he has much befriended thee,
Shew'd thee much love in taking the head from thee.
The times are altered (Souldier) Cæsars angry,
And our designe to please him, lost, and perish'd:
Be glad thou art unnam'd 'tis not worth the owning;
Yet, that thou maist be usefull—

Sep.
Yes my Lord,
I shall be ready.

Pho.
For I may employ thee
To take a rubbe or too out of my way
As time shall serve: say that it be a Brother?
Or a hard Father?

Sep.
'Tis most necessary,
A Mother, or a Sister; or whom you please (sir.)

Pho.
Or to betray a noble friend.

Sep.
Tis all one.

Pho.
I know thou wilt stir for gold.

Sep.
Tis all my motion.

Pho.
There take that for thy service, and farewell:
I have greater businesse now.

Sep.
I am still your owne, Sir.

Pho.
One thing I charge thee; see me no more (Septinius)
Vnlesse I send. Exit.

Sep.
I shall observe your houre.
So, this brings something in the mouth; some savour,
This is the Lord I serve, the power I worship,
My friends, Allyes, And here lyes my Allegeance.
Let people talke as they please of my rudenesse,
And shun me for my deede: bring but this to 'em,
(Let me be damn'd for blood) yet still I am honourable,
This God creates new tongues, and new affections:
And though I had killd my Father, give me gold,
I'le make men sweare I have done a pious Sacrifice.
Now I will out-brave all: make all my Servants,
And my brave deed shall be writ in wine, for vertuous. Exit.

Scena Tertia. Enter Cæsar, Antony, Dollobella, Sceva.

Cæsar.
Keepe strong guardes, and with wary eyes (my friends)
There is no trusting to these base Egyptians:
They that are false to pious benefits,
And make compelld necessityes their faithes
Are traitors to the Gods.

Ant.
Weel'e call a shore,
A legion of the best.

Cæsar.
Not a man (Antony)
That were to shew our feares, and dim our greatnesse:
No 'tis enough my name's a shore.

Sce.
Too much too,
A sleeping Cæsar, is enough to shake them;
There are some two or three malitious Rascalls
Trained up in villany, besides that Cerberus
That Roman dog, that lick'd the blood of Pompey.

Dol.
'Tis strange, a Roman Souldier?

Sce
You are cozend,
There be of us, as be of all other nations,
Villaines, and Knaves; 'tis not the name containes him,
But the obedience: when that's once forgotten,
And duty flung away, then welcom Devill,
Photinus and Achillas, and this vermine:
That's now become a naturall Crocadile,
Must be with care obseru'd.

Ant.
And 'tis well counsell'd
No confidence, nor trust—

Sce.
Ile trust the Sea first,
When with her hollow murmurs she invites me,
And cluches in her stormes, as politique Lyons
Conceale their clawes: Ile trust the Devill first:
The rule of ill, I'le trust before the dore.

Cæsar.
Go to your rests: & follow your own wisedomes,
And leave me to my thoughts: pray no more complement,
Once more strong watches.

Dol.
All shall be observ'd, Sir. Exit.

Cæsar.
I am dull, and heavy: yet I cannot sleepe,
How happy was I, in my lawfull warrs
In Germany, and Gaul, and Britany?
When euery night with pleasure I sat downe
What the day ministred? the sleepe came sweetely.
But since I undertooke this home-division,
This civill war, and past the Rubicon,
What have I done, that speakes an antient Roman?
A good, great Man? I have enterd Rome by force,
And on her tender wombe, (that gave me life)
Let my insulting Souldiers rudely trample,
The deare vaines of my Country, I have opend
And saild upon the torrents that flowd from her,
The bloody streames, that in their confluence
Carried before 'em thousand desolations;
I rob'd the treasury, and at one gripe
Snatch'd all the wealth, so many worthy triumphs,
Placed there as sacred to the peace of Rome;
I raiz'd Massilia, in my wanton anger:
Petreius and Affrinius I defeated.
Pompey I over threw; what did that get me?
The slubbord name of an authoriz'd enemy; noise within.
I heare some noises: they are the watches sure,
What friends have I tyde fast, by these ambitiones?
Cato, the lover of his Countryes freedom
Is past now into Affrik, to affront me,
Juba, (that kill'd my friend) is up in armes too:
The Sonnes of Pompey, are Masters of the Sea,
And from the reliques of their scatterd faction,
A new head's sprung: Say I defeate all these too:
I come home Crown'd an honourable Rebell,
I heare the noise still, and it comes still nearer:
Are the guards fast? who waites there? Enter Sceva, with a packet, Cleopatra in it.

Sce.
Are ye awake Sir?

Cæsar.
'Ith name of wonder.

Sce.
Nay I am a Porter,
A strong one too: or else my sides would cracke Sir,
And my sinnes were as waighty, I should scarce walke with 'em.

Cæsar.
What hast thou there?

Sce.
Aske them which stay without,
And brought it hither, your presence I denide 'em:
And put 'em by: tooke up the load my selfe,
They say 'tis rich: and valude at the Kingdome,
I am sure 'tis heavy: if you like to see it;
You may, if not I'le give it back.

Cæsar.
Stay Sceva,
I would faine see it.

Sce.
I'le begin to worke then:
No doubt to flatter ye, they have sent ye something,
Of a rich vallue, Iewells, or some Treasure;
May be a Rogue within, to do a mischief:
I pray you stand farther off, if there be villany,
Better my danger first: he shall scape hard too,
Ha? what art thou?

Cæsar.
Stand farther off (good Sceva)
What heavenly vision? do I wake or slumber?
Farther off that hand friend.

Sce.
What apparition,
What Spirit have I rais'd? sure 'tis a woman:
She lookes like one: Now she begins to move too:
A tempting Devill, ô my life: go off Cæsar,
Blesse thy selfe off, a baud growne in mine old dayes?
Bawdry advanced upon my back? 'tis noble;
Sir, if you be a Souldier come no nearer,
She is sent to dispossesse you of your honour,
A spunge, a spunge, to wipe away your victories:
And she would be coold (Sir) let the Souldiers trim her?
They'le give her that she came for, and dispatch her;
Be loyall to your selfe: thou damned woman
Do'st thou come hither with thy flourishes,
Thy flaunts, and faces, to abuse mens manners?
And am I made the instrument of bawdry?
I'le finde a lover for ye, one shall hugg ye;

Cæsar.
Hold on thy life: and be more temperate,
Thou beast.

Sce.
Thou beast?

Cæsar.
Could'st thou be so inhumane,
So farr from noble men to draw thy weapon,
Upon a thing divine?

Sce.
Divine, or humane,
They are never better pleas'd, nor more at harts-ease,
Then when we draw with full intent upon 'em.

Cæsar.
Move this way (Lady)
Pray ye let me speake to ye.

Sce.
And woman, you had best stand.

Cæsar.
By the Gods,
But that I see her here, and hope her mortall:
I should imagine some celestiall sweetnesse,
The treasure of soft love.

Sce.
Oh, this soundes mangely,
Poorely; and scurvely in a Souldiers mouth:

You had best be troubled with the Tooth-ach too:
For lovers ever are, and let your nose drop
That your celestiall beauty may be-friend ye:
At these yeares do you learne to be fantasticall?
After so many bloody feildes, a foole?
She brings her bed along too; shee'le loose no time,
Carryes her Litter to lye soft, do you see that?
Invites ye like a Gamster: note that impudence,
For shame reflect upon your selfe, your honour,
Looke back into your noble parts and blush:
Let not the deare sweat of the hot Pharsalia,
Mingle with base Embraces; am I he
That have receiv'd so many woundes for Cæsar?
Upon my Target, groves of darts still growing?
Have I endur'd all hungers, colds, distresses,
And as I had been bred that Iron that arm'd me)
Stood out all weathers, now to curse my fortune?
To ban the blood I lost for such a Generall?

Cæsar.
Offend no more: be gon.

Sce.
I will, and leave ye,
Leave ye to womens wars, that will proclaime ye:
You'le conquer Rome now, and the Capitoll
With Fans, and Looking-glasses, farwell Cæsar.

Cleo.
Now I am private sir, I dare speake to ye:
But thus low first, for as a God I honour ye.

Sce.
Lower you'le be anon.

Cæsar.
Away.

Sce.
And privater,
For that you covet all. Exit.

Cæsar.
Tempt me no farther.

Cleo.
Contemne me not, because I know thus (Cæsar)
I am a Queene, and coheire to this country,
The sister to the mighty Ptolomy,
Yet one distressd, that flyes unto thy justice,
One that layes sacred hold on thy protection
As on a holy Altar, to preserve me.

Cæsar.
Speake Queene of beauty, and stand up.

Cleo.
I dare not,
'Till I have found that favour in thine eyes,
That godlike great humanity to helpe me,
Thus, to thy knees must I grow: (sacred Cæsar,)
And if it be not in thy will, to right me,
And raise me like a Queene from my sad ruines,
If these soft teares cannot sinke to thy pitty;
And waken with their murmurs thy compassions:
Yet for thy noblenesse, for vertues sake,
And if thou beest a man, for despis'd beauty,
For honourable conquest, which thou do'tst on:
Let not those cankers of this flourishing Kingdome,
Photinus, and Achillas, (the one an Evnuch,)
The other a base bondman, thus raigne over me,
Seize my inheritance, and leave my brother
Nothing of what he should be, but the Title:
As thou art wonder of the world.

Cæsar.
Stand up then
And be a Queene, this hand shall give it to ye,
Or chose a greater name, worthy my bounty:
A common love makes Queenes: chose to be worshiped,
To be divinely great, and I dare promise it,
A suitor of your sort, and blessed sweetnesse:
That hath adventur'd 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 flye those arrowes
Headed with burning grieves, and pining sorrowes:
Should I neglect your cause would make me monstrous,
To whom and to your service I devote me. Enter Sceva.

Cle.
He is my conquest now, and so I'le worke him,
The conquerour of the world will I lead captive,

Sce.
Still with this woman? tilting still with Babies?
As you are honest thinke the Enemy,
Some valiant Foe indeed now charging on ye:
Ready to breake your ranks, and fling these—

Cæsar.
Heare me,
But tell me true, if thou hadst such a treasure:
(And as thou art a Souldier, do not flatter me)
Such a bright gem, brought to thee, wouldst thou not
Most greedily accept?

Sce.
Not as an Emperour,
A man that first would rule him selfe, then others,
As a poore hungry Souldier, I might bite, Sir,
Yet that's a weaknesse too: heare me, thou Tempter:
And heare thou Cæsar too, for it concerns thee,
And if thy flesh be deaf yet let thine honour,
The soule of a commander, give ear to me,
Thou wanton bane of warr, thou guilded Lethergy,
In whose embraces, ease (the rust of Armes)
And pleasure, (that makes Souldiers poore) inhabites.

Cæsar.
Fye, thou blasphem'st.

Sce.
I do, when she is a goddesse,
Thou melter of strong mindes, dar'st thou presume
To smother all his triumphes, with thy vanityes,
And tye him like a slave, to thy proud beautyes?
To thy imperious lookes? that Kings have follow'd
Proud of their chaines? have waited on? I shame Sir. Exit.

Cæsar.
Alas thou art rather mad: take thy rest Sceva,
Thy duty makes thee erre, but I forgive thee:
Go: go I say, shew me no disobedience:
'Tis well, farewell, the day will breake deare Lady,
My Souldiers will come in; please you retire,
And thinke upon your servant?

Cleo.
Pray you Sir, know me,
And what I am.

Cæsar.
The greater, I more love ye,
And you must know me too.

Cleo.
So far as modesty,
And majesty gives leave Sir, ye are too violent.

Cæsar.
You are too cold to my desires.

Cleo.
Sweare to me,
And by your selfe (for I hold that oath sacred)
You will right me as a Queene—

Cæsar.
These lips be witnesse,
And if I breake that oath—

Cleo.
You make me blush Sir,
And in that blush interpret me.

Cæsar.
I will do,
Come let's go in, and blush againe: this one word,
You shall beleeve.

Cleo.
I must, you are a conquerour. Exeunt. Actus Tertius

Scena Prima. Enter Ptolomy, Photinus.

Pho.
Good Sir, but heare.

Ptol.
No more, you have undon me,
That, that I howrely feard, is falne upon me,
And heavily, and deadly.

Pho.
Heare a remedy.

Ptol.
A remedy now the disease is ulcerous?

And has infected all? your secure negligence
Has broke through all the hopes I have, and ruinde me:
My Sister is with Cæsar, in his chamber,
All night she has bin with him; and no doubt
Much to her honour.

Pho.
Would that were the worst, Sir,
That will repaire it selfe: but I feare mainely,
She has made her peace with Cæsar.

Ptol.
'Tis most likely,
And what am I then?

Pho.
'Plague upon that Rascall
Apollodorus, under whose command,
Under whose eye— Enter Achillas.

Ptol.
Curse on you all, ye are wreches.

Pho.
'Twas providently don (Achillas.

Achil.
Pardon me.

Pho.
Your guardes were rarely wise, and woundrous watchfull.

Achil.
I could not helpe it, if my life had laine for't,
Alas, who would suspect a pack of bedding:
Or a small Trusse of houshould furniture?
And as they saide for Cæsars use:) or who durst
(Being for his private chamber) seeke to stop it?
I was abus'd. Enter Achoreus.

Ach.
'Tis no hower now for anger:
No wisedome to debate with fruitlesse choler,
Let us consider timely what we must do,
Since she is flowne to his protection:
From whom we have no power to sever her,
Nor force conditions—

Ptol.
Speake (good Achoreus)

Ach.
Let indirect and crooked counsells vanish,
And straight, and faire directions—

Pho.
Speake your minde Sir.

Ach.
Let us choose Cæsar, and endeare him to us,)
An Arbitrator in all differences,
Betwixt you, and your sister; this is safe now:
And will shew off, most honourable.

Pho.
Base,
Most base and poore; a servile, cold submission:
Heare me, and pluck your hearts up, like stout Counsellours,
Since we are sensible this Cæsar loades us,
And have begun our fortune, with great Pompey
Be of my minde.

Ach.
'Tis most uncomely spoken,
And if I say most bloodily, I lye not:
The law of hospitality, it poysons,
And calls the Gods in question that dwell in us
Be wise O King.

Ptol.
I will be: go my counsellour,
To Cæsar go, and do my humble service:
To my faire sister my commends negotiate,
And here I ratefie what e're thou treat'st on.

Ach.
Crown'd with faire peace, I go. Exit.

Ptol.
My love go with thee,
And from my love go you, you cruell vipers:
You shall know now I am no ward, Photinus. Exit.

Pho.
This for our service?
Princes do their pleasures,
And they that serve obey in all disgraces:
The lowest we can fall to, is our graves,
There we shall know no difference: heark Achillas,
I may do something yet, when times are ripe,
To tell this rare unthankfull King.

Achil.
Photinus,
What e're it be I shall make one: and zealously:
For better dye attempting something nobly,
Then fall disgraced.

Pho.
Thou lou'st me and I thanke thee. Exeunt.

Scena Secunda. Enter Antony, Dollobella, Sceva.

Dol.
Nay there's no rowsing him: he is bewitchd sure,
His noble blood crudled, and cold within him;
Growne now a womans warriour.

Sce.
And a tall one:
Studies her fortifications, and her breaches,
And how he may advance his ram to batter
The Bullworke of her chastitie.

Ant.
Be not too angry,
For by this light, the woman's a rare woman,
A Lady of that catching youth, and beauty,
That unmatch'd sweetnesse—

Dol.
But why should he be foold so?
Let her be what she will, why should his wisedome,
His age, and honour—

Ant.
Say it were your owne case,
Or mine, or any mans, that has heate in him:
'Tis true at this time when he has no promise
Of more security then his sword can cut through,
I do not hold it so discreete: but a good face (Gentleman)
And eyes that are the winningst Orators:
A youth that opens like perpetuall spring,
And to all these, a tongue that can deliver
The Oracles of Love—

Sce.
I would you had her,
With all her Oracles, and Miracles,
She were fitter for your turne.

Ant.
Would I had (Sceva)
With all her faultes too: let me a lone to mend 'em,
O that condition I made thee mine heire.

Sce.
I had rather have your black horse, then your harlots.

Dol.
Cæsar writes Sonnetts now, the sound of war
Is growne to boystrous for his mouth he sighes too.

Sce.
And learnes to fidle most mellodiously,
And sings, 'twould make your eares prick up, to heare him (Gent.)
Shortly shee'le make him spin: & 'tis thought
He will prove an admirable maker of Bonelace,
And what a rare guift will that be in a generall?

Ant.
I would he could abstaine.

Sce.
She is a witch sure,
And workes upon him with some damn'd inchantment.

Dol.
How cunning she will cary her behaviours,
And set her countenance in a thousand postures:
To catch her ends?

Sce.
She will be sick, well, sullen,
Merry, coy, over-joyd, and seeme to dye
All in one halfe an houre, to make an asse of him,
I make no doubt she will be drunk too: damnably,
And in her drinke will fight, then she sitts him.

Ant.
That thou shoulds bring her in?

Sce.
'Twas my blinde fortune,
My Souldiers told me, by the waite 'twas wicked:
Would I had carried Milos Bull a furlong,
When I brought this Cow-Calfe: he has advanced mee,
From an old Soldier, to a baw'd of memory:
O, that the Sonnes of Pompey were behinde him,
The honor'd Cato, and feirce Juba with 'em,
That they might whip him from his whore, & rowze him:
That their feirce Trumpers, from his wanton trances,
Might shake him like an Earthquake. Enter Septinius.

Ant.
What's this fellow?

Dol.
Why, a brave fellow, if we judge men by their clothes,

Ant.
By my faith he is brave indeed: he's no c&obar;mander.

Sce.
Yes, he has a Roman face, he has been at faire wars
And plenteous too, and rich, his Trappings shew it.

Sep.
And they will not know me now, they'l never know me,
Who dare blush now at my acquaintance? ha?
Am I not totally a span-new Gallant
Fit for the choycest eyes? have I not gold?
The friendship of the world? if they shun me now?
(Though I were the arrantest Rogue, as I am well forward,
Mine owne curse, and the Devills are light on me.

Ant.
Is't not Septinius?

Sce.
Yes.

Dol.
He that killd Pompey?

Sce.
The same Dog, Scab, that guilded botch, that rascal

Dol.
How glorious villany appeares in Egypt?

Sep.
Gallants, and Soldiers, sure they doe admire me.

Sce.
Stand further off, thou stinkest

Sep.
A likely matter:
These Cloaths smell mustily, doe they not Gallants?
They stinke they stinke, alas poore things, contemptible
By all the Gods in Egypt, the perfumes
That went to trymming these cloathes, cost me—

Sce.
Thou stinkest still.

Sep.
The powdring of this head too—

Sce.
If thou hast it
I'll tell thee all the Gumms in sweet Arabia
Are not sufficient, were they burnt about thee,
To purge the sent of a ranck Rascall from thee,

Ant.
I smell him now: fie, how the Knave perfumes him,
How strong he sents of Traitor?

Dol.
You had an ill Millaner,
He laid too much of the Gum of Ingratitude
Upon your Coate, you should have washt off that sir,
Fie, how it choakes, too litle of your loyaltie
Your honesty, your faith, that are pure Ambers,
I smell the rotten smell of a hired Coward,
A dead Dog is sweeter.

Sep.
Ye are merry Gentlemen
And by my troth, such harmelesse mirth takes me too,
You speake like good blunt Souldiers; and 'tis well enough,
But did you live at Court, as I doe (Gallants)
You would refine, and learne an apter language;
I have done ye simple service on your Pompey,
You might have lookt him yet this brace of twelve moneths
And hunted after him, like founderd Beagles,
Had not this fortunate hand—

Ant.
He brags on't too:
By the good Gods, rejoyces in't; thou wretch
Thou most contemptible Slave.

Sce.
Dog, mangy Mongrell,
Thou murdring mischiefe, in the shape of Souldier
To make all Souldiers hatefull; thou disease
That nothing but the Gallowes can give ease to.—

Dol.
Thou art so impudent, that I admire thee
And know not what to say.

Sep.
I know your anger
And why you prate thus: I have found your mellencholly
Ye all want money, and you are liberall Captaines
And in this want, will talke a little desperately:
Heere's gold, come share; I love a brave Commander:
And be not peevish, doe as Cæsar does:
He's merry with his wench now, be you joviall,
And let's all laugh and drinke: would ye have partners?
I doe consider all your wants, and weigh 'em,
He has the Mistris, you shall have the maids,
I'le bring 'em to ye, to your armes.

Ant.
I Blush,
All over me, I blush, and sweat to heare him:
Upon my conscience, if my Armes were on now
Through them I should blush too: pray ye let's be walking.

Sce.
Yes, yes: but ere we goe, I'le leave this lesson,
And let him study it: first Rogue, then Pander,
Next Devill that will be; get thee from mens presence,
And where the name of Souldier has beene heard of
Be sure thou live not: to some hungry desert
Where thou canst meete with nothing but thy conscience,
(And that in all the shapes of all thy villanies)
Attend thee still, where bruit Beasts will abhor thee,
And even the Sun will shame to give thee light
Goe hide thy head: or if thou think if it fitter
Goe hang thy selfe.

Dol.
Harke to that clause,

Sce.
And that speedily
That nature may be eas'd of such a Monster. Exit.

Sep.
Yet all this moves not me: nor reflects on me:
I keepe my God still, and my confidence,
Their want of breeding, makes these fellowes murmur
Rude valorus, so I let 'em passe; rude honours:
There is a wench yet, that I know, affects me
And company for a King: a young plump villaine,
That when she sees this gold, shee'll leap upon me, Enter Eros.
And here she comes: I am sure of her at midnight,
My pretty Eros welcome.

Eros.
I have businesse.

Sep.
Above my love, thou canst not.

Er.
Yes indeede sir,
Far, far above.

Sep.
Why, why so coy? 'pray ye tell me
We are alone.

Er.
I am much asham'd we are so.

Sep.
You want a new Gowne now, & a handsome Pettecote,
A Skarfe, and some odd toyes: I have gold here ready,
Thou shalt have any thing.

Eros.
I want your absence:
Keepe on your way, I care not for your company.

Sep.
How? how? you are very short: doe you know me Eros?
And what I have beene to ye?

Eros.
Yes I know ye:
And I hope I shall forget ye: Whilst you were honest
I lou'd ye too.

Sep.
Honest? come prethee kisse me.

Eros.
I kisse no knaves: no Murderers, no Beasts,
No base betrayers of those men, that fed 'em,
I hate their looks; and though I may be wanton,
I scorne to nourish it, with blood purchase,
Purchase so fowly got; I pray ye unhand he,
I had rather touch the plague, then one unworthy:
Goe seeke some Mistris, that a horse may marry
And keepe her company, shee is too good for ye. Exit.

Sep.
Marry this goes neere; now I perceive I am hatefull,
When this light stuffes can distinguish, it growes dangerous,
For mony seldome they refuse a Leaper:
But sure I am more odious, more diseas'd too: Enter three lame Souldiers.
It sits cold here; what are these? three poore Souldiers?
Both poore and lame: their misery may make 'em
A little looke upon me, and adore me,
If these will keepe me company, I am made yet.

1. Sol.
The pleasure Cæsar sleepes in, makes us miserable,
We are forgot, our maymes, and dangers laughed at;
He Banquets, and we beg.

2. Sol.
He was not wont
To let poore Soldiers that have spent their Fortunes,
Their Bloods, & limbes, walk up & down like vagabonds,

Sep.
Save ye good Souldiers: good poore men, heaven help ye:
You have borne the brunt of warr, and shew the story.

1. Sould.
Some new commander sure.

Sep.
You looke (my good friends)
By your thin faces, as you would be Suitors.

2. Sol.
Cæsar, for our meanes (Sir.)

Sep.
And 'tis fit Sir.

3. Sol.
We are poore men, and long forgot.

Sep.
I grieve for it:
Good Souldiers should have good rewardes, and favours,
I'le give up your petitions, for I pitty ye,
And freely speake to Cæsar.

All.
O we honour ye.

1. Sould.
A good man sure ye are: the Gods preserve ye.

Sep.
And to releive your wants the while, hold souldiers
Nay 'tis no dreame: 'tis good gold: take it freely,
'Twill keepe ye in good heart.

2. Sold.
Now goodnesse quit ye.

Sep.
I'le be a friend to your afflictions,
And eate, and drink with ye too, and wee'le be merry:
And every day I'le see ye.

1. Sol.
You are a souldier,
And one sent from the Gods, I think.

Sep.
I'le cloth ye,
Ye are lame, and then provide good lodging for ye:
And at my Table, where no want shall meete ye. Enter Sceva.

All.
Was never such a man.

1. Sold.
Deare honour'd Sir,
Let us but know your name, that we may worship ye.

2. Sold.
That we may ever thank?

Sep.
Why, call me any thing,
No matter for my name that may betray me.

Sce.
A cunning thiefe, call him Septinius (souldiers)
The villaine that kil'd Pompey.

All.
How?

Sce.
Call him the shame of men. Exit.

1. Sold.
O that this money,
Were waight enough to breake thy braines out: fling all:
And fling our curses next: let them be mortall,
Out bloody wolfe, dost thou come guilded over,
And painted with the charities, to poyson us?

2. Sold.
I know him now: may never Father owne thee,
But as a monstrous birth shun thy base memory:
And if thou hadst a Mother (as I cannot
Beleeve thou wert a naturall Burden, let her womb,
Be cursed of women for a bed of vipers.

3. Sold.
Me thinks the ground shakes to devoure this Rascall,
And the kinde aire turnes into foggs, and vapours
The infectious mists, to Crowne his villanies,
Thou maist go wander, like a thing heaven hated.

1. Sold.
And valiant minds hold poysonous to remember
The Hangman will not keepe thee company,
He has an honourable house to thine,
No, not a theife though thou couldst save his life for't
Will eate thy bread, nor one, for thirst starv'd, drinke with thee.

2. Sould.
Thou art no company for an honest dog,
And so wee'le leave thee to a ditch (thy destiny) Exeunt.

Sep.
Contemned of all? and kickt too? now I finde it;
My vallours fled too, with mine honesty,
For since I would be knave I must be Coward:
This 'tis to be a Traitor, and betrayer,
What a deformity dwells round about me?
How monstrous shewes that man, that is ungratefull?
I am a fraide the very beasts will teare me,
Inspir'd with what I have done: the windes will blast me:
Now I am paid, and my reward dwells in me,
The wages of my fact, my soules opprest,
Honest and noble mindes, you finde most rest. Exit.

Scena Tertia. Enter Ptolemy, Achoreus, Photinus, Achillas.

Ptol.
I have commanded, and it shall be so,
A preparation I have set o'foote,
VVorthy the frendship and the fame of Cæsar,
My Sisters favours shall seeme poore and wither'd:
Nay she her selfe, (trim'd up in all her beautyes)
Compar'd to what I'le take his eyes with all,
Shall be a dreame.

Pho.
Do you meane to shew the glory,
And wealth of Egypt?

Ptol.
Yes: and in that lustre,
Rome shall appeare in all her famous Conquests,
And all her riches of no note unto it.

Ach.
Now you are reconcilde to your faire Sister,
Take heed Sir, how you step into a danger:
A danger of this præcipice: but note sir,
For what Rome ever rais'd her mighty armyes?
First for ambition: then for wealth: 'tis madnesse,
Nay more, a secure impotence, to tempt
An armed Guest: feed not an eye, that conquers,
Nor teach a fortunate sword the way to be coveteous.

Ptol.
Ye judge a misse: and far to wide to alter me,
Yet all be ready, as I gave direction:
The secret way of all our wealth appearing
Newly, and handsomely: and all about it:
No more disswading: 'tis my will.

Ach.
I grieve for't.

Ptol.
I will dazell Cæsar, with excesse of glory.

Pho.
I feare you'le curse your will we must obey ye. Ex.

Scena Quarta. Enter Cæsar, Antony, Dollabella, Sceva, above.

Cæsar.
I wonder at the glory of this Kingdome,
And the most bounteous preparation,
Still as I passe, they Court me with.

Sce.
I'le tell ye:
In Gaul, and Germany, we saw such visions,
And stood not to admire 'em, but possesse em:
VVhen they are ours, they are worth our admiration. Enter Cleopatra.

Ant.
The young Queen comes: give roome.

Cæsar.
VVelcome (my dearest)
Come blesse my side.

Sce.
I mary: here's a wonder,
As she appears now, I am no true Souldier,
If I be not readiest to recant.

Cleo.
Be merry Sir,
My brother wil be proud to do you honour
That now appeares himselfe. Enter Ptolomy, Achoreus, Achillas, Photinus, Appollodorus.

Ptol.
Haile to great Cæsar
My Royall Guest, first I will feast thine eyes
VVith wealthy Ægypts store: and then thy palat
And waite my selfe upon thee. Treasure brought in.

Cæsar.
VVhat rich Service?

What mines of treasure? richer still?

Cleo.
My Cæsar,
What do you admire? pray ye turn, and let me talk to ye.
Have ye forgot me Sir? how, a new object?
Am I grown old o'th sodaine? Cæsar?

Cæsar.
Tell me
From whence comes all this wealth?

Cleo.
Is your eye that way?
And all my Beauties banisht?

Ptol.
I'le tell thee Cæsar,
We owe for all this wealth to the olde Nylus:
We need no dropping raine to cheer the husband-man,
Nor Merchant that ploughs up the Sea, to seeke us;
Within the wealthy wombe of reverent Nylus,
All this is nourished: who to do thee honour,
Comes to discover his seven Deities,
(His conceal'd heads) unto thee: see with pleasure

Cæsar.
The matchlesse wealth of this Land!

Cleo.
Come, ye shall heare.

Cæsar.
Away: let me imagine.

Cleo.
How? frown on me?
The eyes of Cæsar wrapt in stormes?

Cæsar.
I am sorry:
But let me thinke—
Musicke, Song. Enter Isis, and three Labourers.

Isis, the Goddesse of this Land,
Bids thee (great Cæsar) understand
And marke our Customes, and first know,
With greedy eyes these watch the flow
Of plenteous Nylus: when he comes,
With Songs, with Daunces, Timbrels, Drums,
They entertaine him: cut his way,
And give his proud Heads leave to play:
  Nylus himselfe, shall rise, and show
  His matchlesse wealth in Over-flow. Labourers Song.

Come let us help the reverend Nyle,
Hee's very olde (alas the while)
Let us dig him easie wayes,
And prepare a thousand Playes:
To delight his streames let's sing,
Aloud welcome to our spring.
This way let his curling Heads,
Fall into our new made Beds.
This way let his wanton spawnes,
Friske, and glide it o're the Lawnes.
This way profit comes, and gaine:
How he tumbles here amaine.
How his waters hast to fall
Into our Channells? Labour all
And let him in: Let Nylus flow,
And perpetuall plenty show.
With Incense let us blesse the brim,
And as the wanton fishes swim
Let us Gums, and Garlands fling,
And loud our Timbrels ring.
  Come (olde Father) come away,
  Our labour is our holy-day.

Isis.
Here comes the aged River now
With Garlands of great Pearl, his Brow
Begirt and rounded: In his Flow,
All things take life; and all things grow.
A thousand wealthy Treasures still,
To doe him service at his will,
Follow his rising Flood, and powre
Perpetuall blessings in our store.
Heare him: and next there will advance,
His sacred: Heads to tread a Dance,
In honour of my Royall Guest,
Marke them too: and you have a Feast.

Cleo.
A little drosse betray me?

Cæsar.
I am asham'd I warr'd at home, (my friends)
When such wealth may be got abroad? what honour?
Nay everlasting glory had Rome purchas'd,
Had she a just cause but to visit Ægypt?
Nylus Song, and Dance.
Make roome for my rich waters fall,
    and blesse my Flood,
Nylus comes flowing, to you all
    encrease and good.
Now the Plants and Flowers shall spring,
And the merry Plough-man sing.
In my hidden waves I bring,
Bread, and wine, and every thing.
Let the Damsells sing me in:
Sing aloud that I may rise:
Your holy Feasts and houres begin,
And each hand bring a Sacrifice.
  Now my wanton Pearls I show
  That to Ladies faire neckes grow.
    Now my gold
And treasures that can ne're be told,
Shall blesse this Land, by my rich Flow,
  And after this, to crowne your Eyes,
  My hidden holy head arise.

Cæsar.
The wonder of this wealth, so troubles me,
I am not well: good-night.

Sce.
I am glad ye have it:
Now we shall stir againe.

Ptol.
Thou wealth, still haunt him.

Sce.
A greedy spirit set thee on: we are happy.

Ptol.
Lights: lights for Cæsar, and attendance.

Cleo.
Well,
I shall yet finde a time to tell thee Cæsar,
Thou hast wrong'd her Love: the rest here.

Ptol.
Lights along still:
Musicke, and Sacrifice to sleep for, Cæsar. Exeunt. Actus Quartus

Scena Prima. Enter Ptolomy, Photinus, Achillas, Achoreus.

Ach.
I told ye carefully, what this would prove to,
What this inestimable wealth and glory
Would draw upon ye: I advis'd your Majesty
Never to tempt a Conquering Guest: nor add
A bayte, to catch a mind, bent by his Trade
To make the whole world his.

Pho.
I was not heard Sir:
Or what I said, lost, and contemn'd: I dare say,
(And freshly now) 'twas a poore weaknesse in ye,
A glorious Childishness: I watch'd his eye,
And saw how Faulcon-like it towr'd, and flew
Upon the wealthy Quarry: how round it mark'd it:

I observ'd his words, and to what it tended;
How greedily he ask'd from whence it came,
And what Commerce we held for such abundance:
The shew of Nylus, how he laboured at
To finde the secret wayes: the Song delivered.

Ach.
He never smil'd I noted at the pleasures:
But fixt his constant eyes upon the treasure;
I doe not thinke his eares had so much leizure
After the wealth appear'd, to heare the Musique?
Most sure he has not slept since, his minds troubld
With objects they would make their own still labour.

Pho.
Your sister he ne're gaz'd on: that's a main note,
The prime beauty of the world had no power over him.

Ach.
Where was his mind the whilst?

Pho.
Where was your carefulnesse
To shew an armed thiefe the way to rob ye:
Nay, would you give him this, 'twill excite him
To seeke the rest. Ambition feeles no gift,
Nor knows no bounds indeed: ye have done most weakly.

Ptol.
Can I be too kind to my noble friend?

Pho.
To be unkind unto your noble selfe, but savours
Of indiscretion, and your friend has found it.
Had ye been train'd up in the wants and miseries
A souldier marches through: and known his temperance
In offerd courtesies, you wovld have made
A wiser Master of your owne, and stronger.

Ptol.
Why should I give him all, he would return it?
'Tis more to him, to make Kings.

Pho.
Pray thee be wiser,
And trust not with your lost wealth, your loved liberty,
To be a King still at your own discretion:
Is like a King; to be at his a vassaile.
Now take good councell, or no more take to ye
The freedome of a Prince.

Achil.
'Twill be too late else:
For, since the Masque, he sent three of his Captaines
(Ambitious as himselfe) to view againe
The glory of your wealth.

Pho.
The next himselfe comes,
Not staying for your courtesie, and takes it.

Ptol.
What counsell my Achoreus?

Ach.
I'le goe pray Sir,
(For that is best counsel now) the gods may help ye. Ex.

Pho.
I found ye out a way but 'twas not credited,
A most secure way; whether will ye flye now?

Achil.
For when your wealth is gone, your power must
follow.

Pho.
And that diminisht also, what's your life worth?
Who would regard it?

Ptol.
You say true.

Achil.
What eye
Will looke upon King Ptolomy? If they do looke,
It must be in scorne:
[illeg.] a poore King is a monster;
What eare remember ye? 'twill be then a courtesie,
(A noble one) to take your life too from ye:
But if reserv'd, you stand to fill a victory,
As who knowes Conquerours minds? though outwardly
They beare faire streames.
O Sir, does this not shake ye?
If to be honyed on to these afflictions—

Ptol.
I never will: I was a Foole.

Pho.
For then Sir
Your Countreys cause falls with ye too, and fetterd:
All Ægypt shall be ploughed up with dishonour.

Ptol.
No more: I am sensible: and now my spirit
Burnes hot within me.

Achil.
Keepe it warm and fiery.

Pho.
And last be counsaild.

Ptol.
I will, though I perish.

Pho.
Goe in: wee'l tell you all: and then wee'l execute. Exeunt.

Scena Secunda. Enter Cleopatra, Arsino, Eros.

Ars.
You are so impatient.

Cleo.
Have I not cause?
Women of common Beauties, and low Births,
When they are slighted, are allowd their angers,
Why should not (a Princesse) make him know
The basenesse of his usage.

Ars.
Yes: 'tis fit:
But then againe you know what man.

Cleo.
He is no man:
The shadow of a Greatnesse hangs upon him,
And not the vertue: he is no Conquerour,
H'as suffer'd under the base drosse of Nature:
Poorely delivered up his power to wealth,
(The god of bed-rid men) taught his eyes treason
Against the truth or love: he has rais'd rebellion:
defid'e his holy flames.

Eros.
He will fall backe again,
And satisfie your Grace.

Cleo.
Had I been old,
Or blasted in my bud, he might have shewd
Some shadow of dislike: But, to prefer
The lustre of a little art, (Arsino)
And the poore glow-worme light of some faint Jewels,
Before the life of Love, and soule of Beauty,
Oh how it vexes me: he is no Souldier,
(All honourable souldiers are Lovers servants)
He is a Merchant: a meere wandring Merchant,
Servile to gaine: he trades for poore Commodities,
And makes his Conquests, thefts; some fortunate Captains
That quarter with him, and are truly valiant,
Have flung the name of happy Cæsar on him,
Himselfe ne're wonne it: he is so base and covetous,
Hee'l sell his sword for gold.

Ars.
This is too bitter.

Cleo.
Oh I could curse my self, that was so foolish,
So fondly childish to beleeve his tongue,
His promising tongue, ere I could catch his temper,
I had trash enough to have cloyd his eyes withall:
His covetous eyes; such as I scorne to tread on:
Richer then ere he saw yet, and more tempting;
Had I known he had stoop'd at that, I had sav'd mine honour,
I had been happy still: but let him take it,
And let him brag how poorly I am rewarded:
Let him goe conquer still weake wretched Ladies:
Love has his angry Quiver too, his deadly,
And when he findes scorne, arm'd at the strongest:
I am a foole to fret thus, for a foole:
An old blinde foole too? I lose my health: I will not:
I will not cry: I will not honour him,
With tears diviner then the gods he worships:
I will not take the paines to curse a poore thing.

Eros.
Dye not: you shall not need.

Cleo.
Would I were prisoner
To one I hate, that I might anger him,
I will love any man, to breake the heart of him:
Any, that has the heart and will to kill him.

Ar.
Take some faire truce.

Cleo.
I will goe study mischiefe,
And put a looke on, arm'd with all my cunnings,
Shall meet him like a Basilisque, and strike him:
Love, put destroying flames into mine eyes,
Into my smiles, deceits, that I may torture him,
That I may make him love to death, and laugh at him. Enter Appollodorus.

Ap.
Cæsar commends his Service to your Grace.

Cleo.
His service? what's his service?

Eros.
Pray ye be patient,
The noble Cæsar loves still.

Cleo.
What's his will?

Ap.
He craves access unto your Highnesse

Cleo.
No:
Say no: I will have none to trouble me.

Ars.
Good Sister:

Cleo.
None I say: I will be private.
Would thou hadst flung me into Nylus (keeper)
When first thou gav'st consent, to bring my body
To this unthankfull Cæsar.

Ap.
'Twas your will (Madam)
Nay more: your charge upon me, as I honoured ye:
You know what danger I endured.

Cleo.
Take this,
And carry it to that Lordly Cæsar sent thee:
There's a new Love, a handsome one: a rich one:
One that will hug his minde: bid him make love to it:
Tell the ambitious Broker, this will suffer— Enter Cæsar.

Ap.
He enters.

Cleo.
How?

Cæsar.
I doe not use to waite (Lady)
Where I am, all the dores are free, and open.

Cleo.
I ghesse so, by your rudenesse.

Cæsar.
Ye are not angry?
Things of your tender mold, should be most gentle;
Why doe you frowne? good gods, what a set-anger
Have you forc'd into your face? Come, I must temper ye:
VVhat a coy smile was there, and a disdainfull?
How like an ominous flash it broke out from ye?
Defend me (Love) Sweet, who has anger'd ye?

Cleo.
Shew him a glasse; that false face has betraid me:
That base heart wrought me—

Cæsar.
Be more sweetly angry;
I wrong'd ye faire?

Cleo.
Away with your foule flatteries:
They are too grosse: but that I dare be angry,
And with as great a god as Cæsar is,
To shew how poorly I respect his memory,
I would not speake to ye.

Cæsar.
Pray ye undoe this riddle,
And tell me how I have vext ye?

Cleo.
Let me thinke first
VVhether I may put on a Patience
That will with honour suffer me: know, I hate ye,
Let that begin the story: Now I'le tell ye.

Cæsar.
But do it milder: In a noble Lady,
Softnesse of spirit, and a sober nature,
That moves like summer winds, coole: and blows sweetnesse;
Shews blessed like her selfe.

Cleo.
And that great blessednesse
You first reap'd of me, till you taught my nature
Like a rude-storm to talk aloud, and thunder
Sleep was not gentler to my soule, and stiller;
You had the Spring of my affections:
And my faire fruits I gave you leave to taste of:
You must expect the winter of mine anger:
You flung me off, before the Court disgrac'd me,
VVhen in the pride I appeard of all my beauty,
Appear'd your Mistresse; tooke into your eyes
The common-strumpet love of hated lucre,
Courted with covetous heart, the slave of nature,
Gave all your thoughts to gold: that men of glory,
And minds adorn'd with noble love, would kick at:
Souldiers of royall marke, scorne such base purchase:
Beauty and honour are the marks they shoot at;
I spake to ye then; I courted ye, and woo'd ye:
Call'd ye deare Cæsar, hung about ye tenderly:
VVas proud to appear your friend.

Cæsar.
You have mistaken me.

Cleo.
But neither Eye, nor Favour, not a Smile
VVas I blessed backe; but shooke off rudely,
And, as ye had been sold to sordid infamy,
You fell before the Images of treasure,
And in your soule you worship'd: I stood slighted,
Forgotten and contemn'd; my soft embraces,
And those sweete kisses you call'd Elizium,
As letters writ in sand, no more remembred?
The name and glory of your Cleopatra
Laugh'd at, and made a story to your Captaines:
Shall I endure?

Cæsar.
You are deceiv'd in all this,
Upon my life you are, 'tis your much tendernesse.

Cleo.
No, no, I love not that way; you are cozen'd:
I love with as much ambition as a Conquerour,
And where I love, will triumph.

Cæsar.
So you shall:
My heart shall be the Chariot that shall beare ye,
All I have wonne shall waite upon ye: By the gods
The bravery of this womans mind, has fired me:
Deare Mistress shall I but this night?—

Cleo.
How Cæsar?
Have I let slip a second vanity
That gives thee hope?

Cæsar.
You shall be absolute,
And Reigne alone as Queen: you shall be any thing.

Cleo.
Make me a maide againe, and then I'le hear thee;
Examine all thy art of VVar, to doe that;
And if thou find'st it possible, I'le love thee:
Till when, farewell, unthankfull.

Cæsar.
Stay.

Cleo.
I will not.

Cæsar.
I command.

Cleo.
Command, and goe without, Sir.
I doe command thee be my slave for ever,
And vexe while I laugh at thee.

Cæsar.
Thus low, beauty?

Cleo.
It is too late; when I have found thee absolute,
The man that Fame reports thee, and to me:
May be I shall thinke better. Farewell Conquerour. Exit

Cæsar.
She mocks me too: I will enjoy her Beauty:
I will not be deni'd; Ile force my longing.
Love is best pleas'd, when roundly we compell him,
And as he is Imperious, so will I be.
Stay fool, and be advis'd: that dulls the appetite;
Takes of the strength and sweetnesse of delight.
By heaven she is a miracle, I must use
A handsome way to win: how now? what feare
Dwells in your faces? you looke all distracted.

Enter Sceva, Anthony, Dollabella.

Sce.
If it be feare, 'tis feare of your undoing?
Not of our selves: feare of your poore declining:
Our lives and deaths are equall benefits,
And we make louder prayers to dye nobly,
Then to live high, and wantonly: whilst you are secure here,
And offer Heccatombs of lazie kisses
To the lewd god of Love, and cowardize,
And most lasciviously dye in delights,
You are begirt with the fierce Alexandrians,

Dol.
The spawne of Ægypt, flow about your Pallace,
Arm'd all: and ready to assault.

Ant.
Led on
By the false and base Photinus and his Ministers;
No stirring out; no peeping through a loop-hole,
But straight-saluted with an armed Dart.

Sce.
No parley: they are deafe to all but danger,
They sweare they will flea us, and then dry our Quarters:
A rasher of a salt lover, is such a Shooing-horne:
Can you kisse away this conspiracy, and set us free?
Or will the Giant god of love, fight for ye?
Will his fierce war-like bow kill a Cock-sparrow?
Bring out the Lady, she can quel this mutiny:
And with her powerfull looks, strike awe into them:
She can destroy, and build againe the City,
Your Goddesses have mighty gifts: shew 'em her fair brests,
The impregnable Bulwarks of proud Love, and let 'em
Begin their battery there: she will laugh at 'em;
They are not above a hundred thousand, Sir.
A mist, a mist, that when her Eyes breake out,
Her powerfull radiant eyes, and shake their flashes,
Will flye before her heates.

Cæsar.
Begirt with Villaines?

Sce.
They come to play you, and your Love a Huntsup
You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come too:
You are taken napping now: has not a souldier
A time to kisse his friend, and a time to consider,
But he must lye still digging, like a Pioner,
Making of mines, and burying of his honour there?
'Twere good you would thinke—

Dol.
And time too, or you will finde else
A harder task, then Courting a coy Beauty.

Ant.
Look out and then beleeve.

Sce.
No, no, hang danger:
Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her:
Goe to your Love, and let her feele your valour;
Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,)
You may cry, Cæsar, and see if that will help ye.

Cæsar.
I'le be my selfe againe, and meet their furies,
Meet, & consume their mischiefs: make some shift (Sceva)
To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions,
And you shall see me, how I'le breake like thunder
Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em.

Sce.
Now ye speak sense: I'le put my life to the hazard
Before I goe. No more of this warm Lady,
Shee will spoil your sword-hand.

Cæsar.
Goe: come, lets to Councell
How to prevent, and then to execute.

Scena Tertia. Enter Souldiers.

1 Sold.
Did ye see this Penitence?

2 Sold.
Yes: I saw, and heard it.

3 Sold.
And I too: looke'd upon him, and observ'd it,
Hee's the strangest Septinius now—

1. Sol.
I heard he was altered,
And had given away his Gold to honest uses:
Cryde monstrously.

2. Sol.
He cryes abundantly:
He is blind almost with weeping.

3. Sol.
'Tis most wonderfull
That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier
Should have so much kind moysture: when his mother dyde
He laughed aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads—

1. Sol.
'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his Parents;
Nor can I blame him, for they neere lov'd him.
His mother dream'd before she was deliverd
That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after
She whistled him up to th'world, his brave clothes too
He has flung away: and goes like one of us now:
Walks with his hands in's pockets, poore and sorrowfull,
And gives the best instructions.—

2. Sol.
And tells stories
Of honest and good people that were honourd,
And how they were remembred: and runs mad
If he but hear of any ungratefull person,
A bloudy, or betraying man—

3. Sol.
If it be possible
That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered,
This penitent Rascall will put hard: 'twere worth our labour
To see him once againe. Enter Septinius.

1. Sol.
He spares us that labour
For here he comes.

Sep.
—Blesse ye my honest friends,
Blesse ye from base unworthy men; come not neare me:
For I am yet too taking for your company.

1. Sol.
Did I not tell ye?

2. Sol.
What booke's that?

1. Sol.
No doubt
Some excellent Salve for a sore heart, are you
Septinius, that base knave, that betrayd Pompey?

Sep.
I was, and am; unlesse your honest thoughts
Will look upon my penitence, and save me
I must be ever Villaine: O good Souldiers
You that have Roman hearts, take heede of falsehood:
Take heede of blood; take heede of foule ingratitude,
The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefes,
Take heede of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it.

2. Sol.
This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallowes

3. Sol.
'Tis very fit he were hangd to edifie us:

Sep.
Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient,
Love your Commanders, honour them that feede ye:
Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty
As in the use of armes; Labour, and diligently
To keepe your hearts from ease, and her base issues;
Pride, and ambitious wantonnesse, those spoyld me:
Rather loose all your limbs, then the least honesty,
You are never lame indeed, till losse of credit
Benum ye through: Scarrs, and those maimes of honour
Are memorable crutches, that shall beare
When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity.

1. Sol.
I cry.

2. Sol.
And so doe I.

3. Sol.
An excellent villaine.

1. Sol.
A more sweet pious knave, I never heard yet.

2. Sol.
He was happie he was Rascall, to come to this Enter Achoreus.
Who's this? a Priest?

Sep.
O stay, most holy Sir!

And by the Gods of Egypt, I conjure ye,
(Isis, and great Osiris) pitty me,
Pitty a loaden man, and tell me truly
With what most humble Sacrifice I may
Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me?
Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies,
That restlesse gnaw upon my life, and save me?
Orestes bloody hands fell on his Mother,
Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd.

Ach.
Orestes out of madnesse did his murther,
And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men)
Out of cold blood, and hope of gaine, base lucre,
Slewst thine own Feeder: come not neare the altar,
Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice,
Thou art markt for shame eternall. Exit.

Sep.
Looke all on me,
And let me be a story left to time
Of blood and Infamy, how base and ougly
Ingratitude appears, with all her profits,
How monstrous, my hoped grace, at Court? good souldiers.
Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound
Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodnesse:
To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessednesse—

1 Sold.
Dost thou want any thing?

Sep.
Nothing but your prayers:

2 S.
Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst,
We have gods as well as they, and they will heare us.

3 S.
Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty Pompeyes. Enter Photinus, Achillas.

Pho.
So penitent?

Achil.
It seemes so.

Pho.
Yet for all this
We must employ him.

1 Sold.
These are the armed Souldier-leaders:
Away: and let's tot'h Fort, we shall be snapt else. Exit.

Pho.
How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection?

Achil.
Why dost thou weepe?

Sep.
Pray leave me, you have ruin'd me,
You have made me a famous Villain.

Pho.
Does that touch thee?

Achil.
He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdnesse,

Pho.
He must be won, or we shall want our right hand.
This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartned,
Art thou so poore to blench at what thou hast done?
Is Conscience a comrade for an old souldier?

Achil.
It is not that: it may be some disgrace
That he takes heavily; and would be cherish'd,
Septinius ever scorn'd to shew such weaknesse.

Sep.
Let me alone; I am not for your purpose,
I am now a new man.

Pho.
We have new affairs for thee
Those that would raise thy head.

Sep.
I would 'twere off,
And in your bellies for the love you beare me.
I'le be no more Knave: I have stings enough
Already in my breast.

Pho.
Thou shalt be noble:
And who dares thinke then that thou art not honest?

Achil.
Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces
And if thou serv'st an use, must not all justifie it?

Sep.
I am Rogue enough.

Pho.
Thou wilt be more, and baser:
A poor Rogue is all rogues: open to all shames:
Nothing to shadow him: dost thou think crying
Can keep thee from the censure of the Multitude?
Or to be kneeling at the altar save thee?
'Tis poore and servile:
Wert thou thine own Sacrifice
'Twould seeme so low, people would spit the fire out.

Achil.
Keep thy self glorious stil, though ne're so staind,
And that will lessen it, if not work it out
To goe complaining thus: and thus repenting
Like a poore Girle that had betraid her maiden-head—

Sep.
I'le stop mine eares.

Achil.
Will shew so in a souldier,
So simply, and so ridicolously, so tamely—

Pho.
If people would believe thee, 'twer some honesty,
And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee
(As sure they will) and beat thee, for thy poverty:
If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope.

Sep.
My foolery?

Pho.
Nay, more then that, thy misery,
Thy monstrous misery.

Achil.
He begins to hearken:
Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee.

Sep.
That this were true!

Pho.
Why does this conquering Cæsar
Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls & troubles,
Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards?
Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battell,
And whip his Countrey with the Sword? to cry for't?
Thou killdst great Pompey: hee'l kil all his kinred,
And justifie it: nay raise up Trophies to it,
When thou hearest him repent: (he's held most holy too)
And cry for doing daily bloody murthers,
Take thou example, and goe aske forgivenesse,
Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience,
And let it work: then 'twill seeme well Septinius.

Sep.
He does all this.

Achil.
Yes: and is honoured for it;
Nay call'd the honoured Cæsar, so maist thou be:
Thou wert born as neere a Crowne as he.

Sep.
He was poore.

Pho.
And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit.

Sep.
I am afraid you will once more—

Pho.
Help to raise thee:
Off with thy pining blacke, it dulls a Souldier,
And put on resolution like a man,
A noble Fate waits on thee.

Sep.
I now feele
My selfe returning Rascall speedily.
O that I had the power—

Achil.
Thou shalt have all:
And doe all through thy power, men shall admire thee,
And the vices of Septinius, shall turn vertues.

Sep.
Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize,
Puling repentance off.

Pho.
Now thou speakst nobly.

Sep.
Off my dejected looks: and welcome impudence:
My daring shall be Deity, to save me:
Give me instructions, and put action on me:
A glorious cause upon my swords point (Gentlemen)
And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me,
And make me out-dare all my miseries?

Pho.
All this, and all thy wishes.

Sep.
Use me then,
Womanish feare farewell: I'le never melt more,
Lead on, to some great thing, to weale my spirit:
I cut the Cedar Pompey, and I'le fell
This huge Oake Cæsar too.

Pho.
Now thou singst sweetly:
And Ptolomy shall crowne thee for thy service: (Exeunt.

Achil.
He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling.

Actus Quintus

Scena Prima. Enter Cæsar, Antony, Dollabella.

Ant.
The tumult still encreases.

Cæsar.
O my fortune!
My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well,
And worthily I am made a bondmans prey,
That after all my glorious victoryes,
In which I pass'd so many seas of dangers:
When all the Elements conspir'd against me,
Would yeild up the dominion of this head
To any mortall power; so blinde and stupid:
To trust these base Egyptians, that proclaim'd
Their periuries, in noble Pompeys death,
And yet that could not warn me.

Dol.
Be still, Cæsar,
Who ever lov'd to exercise his fate,
Where danger look't most dreadfull.

Ant.
If you fall,
Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister
Be buried in your ruines: on my life
They both are guilty: reason may assure you
Photinus nor Achillas durst attempt you,
Or shake one Dart, or Sword, aim'd at your safety,
Without their warrant.

Cæsar.
For the young King I know not
How he may be misled; but for his Sister
(Unequall'd Cleopatra) 'twere a kinde
Of blasphemy to doubt her: ougly treason
Durst never dwell in such a glorious building,
Nor can so cleare and great a spirit, as hers is,
Admit of falsehood.

Ant.
Let us seize on him then:
And leave her to her fortune.

Dol.
If he have power
Use it to your security, and let
His honesty acquit him; if he be fase,
It is too great an honour he should dye
By your victorious hand.

Cæsar.
He comes: and I
Shall do as I finde cause. Enter Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus.

Ptol.
Let not great Cæsar
Impute the breach of hospitality,
To you (my guest) to me; I am contemn'd,
And my rebellious subjects lift their hands
Against my head: and would they aim'd no farther,
Provided that I fell a sacrifice
To gaine you safety: that this is not faign'd,
The boldnesse of my innocence may confirme you:
Had I bin privy to their bloody plot,
I now had led them on, and given faire glosse
To their bad cause, by being present with them:
But I that yet taste of the punishment,
In being false to Pompey, will not make
A second fault to Cæsar uncompell'd
With such as have not yet shooke off obedience,
I yeild my selfe to you, and will take part
In all your dangers.

Cæsar.
This pleades your excuse,
And I receive it.

Ach.
If they have any touch,
Of justice, or religion, I will use
The athority of our Gods, to call them back,
From their bad purpose.

Ap.
This part of the pallace,
Is yet defensible: we may make it good,
Till your powers rescue us.

Cæsar.
Cæsar beseig'd?
Ostaine to my great actions: 'twas my custome
An Army routed, as my feete had wings
To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworkes
Could guard those that escap'd the Battailes fury
From this strong Arme, and I to be enclos'd
My heart! my hart! but 'tis necessity,
To which the Gods must yeild, and I obey,
'Till I redeeme it, by some glorious way. Exeunt.

Scena Secunda. Enter Photinus, Achillas, Septinius, Souldiers.

Pho.
Ther's no retiring now, we are broke in:
The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper
A will be stilde lawfull, and we shall give lawes
To those that now command us: stop not at
Or loyalty, or duty, bold Ambition,
To dare and power to do, gave the first difference
Betweene the King, and subject, Cæsars Motto,
Aut Cæsar aut Nihil, each of us must claime,
And use it as our owne.

Achil.
The deed is bloody
If we conclude in Ptolomies death.

Pho.
The better
The globe of Empire must be so manur.

Sep.
Rome, that from Romulus first tooke her name
Had her walls watered with a Crymson showr
Draind from a Brothers heart: nor was she rais'd
To this prodigious height, that overlooks
Three full parts of the Earth, that pay her tribute,
But by enlarging of her narrow bounds
By the Sack of Neighbour Cities, were made hers
Till they were Cemented with the Blood of those
That did possesse 'em: Cæsar, Ptolomy,
(Now I am steeld) to me are empty names
Esteem'd as Pompeys was.

Pho.
Well said Septinius,
Thou now art right againe.

Achil.
But what course take we
For the Princesse Cleopatra?

Pho.
Let her live
A while to make us sport: she shall authorize
Our undertakings to the ignorant people,
As if what we do were by her command:
But our triumvirat Government once confirm'd,
Shee beares her Brother company, that's my Province:
Leave me to work her.

Achil.
I will undertake
For Ptolomy.

Sep.
Cesar shall be my taske,
And as in Pompey I began a name,
I'le perfect it in Cæsar. Enter (above) Cæsar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Appollodorus, Anthony, Dollabella.

Pho.
'Tis resolv'd then

Wee'l force our passage.

Achil.
See: they do appeare
As they desir'd a parley.

Pho.
I am proud yet
I have brought them to capitulate.

Ptol.
Now Photinus?

Pho.
Now Ptolomy?

Ptol.
No addition?

Pho.
We are equall,
Though Cæsars name were put into the scale,
In which our worth is weighd.

Cæsar.
Presumptuous Villaine,
Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise
Thy servile hand against the King, or me,
That have a greater name?

Pho.
On those, by which
Thou didst presume to passe the Rubicon
Against the Laws of Rome; and at the name
Of traytor smile, as thou didst when Marcellus
The Consull, with the Senats full consent
Pronounc'd thee for an enemy to thy Country,
Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause
Was crown'd with fair success: why should we fear then?
Think on that Cæsar.

Cæsar.
O the gods! be brav'd thus?
And be compelld to beare this from a slave
That would not brooke great Pompey his Superiour?

Achil.
Thy glories now have touch'd the highest point,
And must descend.

Pho.
Despaire, and thinke we stand
The Champions of Rome, to wreak her wrongs
Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foote.

Sep.
And that the ghosts of all those noble Romans
That by thy sword fell in this Civill warre,
Expect revenge.

Ant.
Dar'st thou speak, and remember
There was a Pompey?

Pho.
There is no hope to scape us:
If that against the odds we have upon you
You dare come forth and fight, receive the honour
To dye, like Romans, if ye faint, resolve
To starve, like wretches: I disdain to change Exit.
Another syllable with you.

Ant.
Let us dye nobly:
And rather fall upon each others sword
Then come into these villains hands.

Cæsar.
That Fortune
Which to this howre hath been a friend to Cæsar,
Though for a while she cloath her brow with frowns
Will smile again upon me; who will pay her,
Or sacrifice or vowes, if she forsake
Her best of works in me? or suffer him
Whom, with a strong hand she hath led triumphant
Through the whole Western world, & Rome acknowledgd
Her Soveraign Lord, to end in gloriously,
A life admir'd by all? the threatned danger
Must by a way more horrid, be avoided,
And I will run the hazard: Fire the Pallace,
And the rich Magazines that neighbour it,
In which the wealth of Ægypt is contain'd:
Start not, it shall be so; that while the people
Labour in quenching the ensuing flames,
Like Cæsar, with this handfull of my friends
Through fire, and swords, I force a passage to
My conquering Legions. King, if thou darst follow
Where Cæsar leads, or live, or dye a Free-man;
If not, stay here a bond-man to thy slave,
And dead, be thought unworthy of a grave. Exeunt.

Scena Tertia. Enter Septinius.

Sep.
I feele my resolution melts againe,
And that I am not knave alone, but foole
In all my purposes. This Devill Photinus
Employs me, as a property, and grown uselesse
Will shake me off againe: he told me so
When I kill'd Pompey: nor can I hope better
When Cæsar is dispatch'd: Services done
For such as only study their owne ends,
Too great to be rewarded, or return'd
With deadly hate; I learnd this principle
In his own Schoole: yet still he fooles me: well:
And yet he trusts me; Since I in my nature
Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I
That kill'd my Generall, and a Roman, one
To whom I owe all nourishments of life
Be true to an Ægyptian? to save Cæsar,
And turn Photinus plots on his own head,
As it is in my power, redeem my credit,
And live, to lye, and swear again in fashion,
Oh, 'twere a Master-piece? ha?—me Cæsar,
How's he got off? Enter Cæsar, Ptolomy, Antony, Dollabella. Achoreus, Appollodorus, Souldiers.

Cæsar.
The fire has tooke,
And shews the City, like a second Troy,
The Navy too is scorch'd, the people greedy
To save their wealth, and houses, while their souldiers
Make spoile of all: only Achillas troops
Make good their guard: break through them, we are safe:
I'le lead you like a Thunder-bolt.

Sep.
Stay Cæsar.

Cæsar.
Who's this? the dog Septinius?

Ant.
Cut his throat.

Dol.
You barkt but now, fawne you so soone?

Sep.
O heare me,
What I'le deliver is for Cæsars safety,
For all your good.

Ant.
Good from a moneth like thine,
That never belch'd but blasphemy & treason, on Festivall dayes

Sep.
I am an altered man: altered indeed,
And I will give you cause to say I am a Roman.

Dol.
Rogue, I grant thee.

Sep.
Trust me, I'le make the passage smooth and easy,
For your escape.

Ant.
I'le trust the Devill sooner,
And make a safer bargaine.

Sep.
I am trusted,
With all Photinus secrets.

Ant.
There's no doubt then,
Thou wilt be false.

Sep.
Still to be true to you.

Dol.
And very likely.

Cæsar.
Be breife, the meanes?

Sep.
Thus Cæsar:
To me alone, but bound by terrible oathes
Not to discover it, he hath reveal'd
A dismall vault, whose dreadfull mouth do's open
A mile beyond the Citty: in this cave
Lye but two houres conceal'd.

Ant.
If you believe him,
Hee'le bury us alive.

Dol.
I'le fly in the ayre first.

Sep.
Then in the dead of night, I'le bring you backe.
Into a private roome, where you shall finde

Photinus, and Achillas, and the rest
Of their Commanders, close at Counsell.

Cæsar.
Good: what followes?

Sep.
Fall me fairly on their throates,
Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude
Will easily disperse.

Cæsar.
O Devill! away with him:
Nor true to friend nor enemy? Cæsar scornes
To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs
So base a way: or owe the meanes of life
To such a leaprous Traytor. I have towr'd
For victory like a Faulcon in the clouds,
Not dig'd for't like a Moale: our Swords, and Cause
Make way for us; and that it may appeare
We tooke a noble course, and hate base Treason,
Some souldiers, that would merit Cæsars favour,
Hang him on yonder turret, and then follow
The lane, this sword makes for you. Exit.

1 Sold.
Here's a Belt,
Though I dye for it I'le use it.

2 Sold.
Tis too good
To trusse a Cur in.

Sep.
Save me, here's gold.

1 Sold.
If Rome
Were offered for thy ransome, it could not help thee.

2 Sold.
Hang not an arse.

1 Sold.
Goad him on with thy sword:
Thou dost deserve a worser end; and may
All such conclude so, that their friends betray. Exeunt.

Scena Quarta. Enter (severally) Arsino, Eros, Cleopatra.

Ar.
We are lost.

Eros.
Undon.

Ar.
Confusion, Fire, and Swords,
And fury in the souldiers face, more horrid
Circle us round.

Eros.
The Kings command they laugh at,
And jeere at Cæsars threats.

Ars.
My brother seizd on
By the Roman, as thought guilty of the tumult,
And forc'd to beare him company, as mark'd out
For his protection, or revenge.

Eros.
They have broke
Into my Cabinet: my Trunks are ransak'd.

Ar.
I have lost my Jewels too; but thats the least:
The barbarous Rascalls, against all humanity,
Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little dog,
And broke my monkeys chaine.

Eros.
They rufled me:
But that I could endure, and tire 'em too,
Would they proceed no further.

Ar.
O my sister!

Eros.
My Queen, my Mistresse!

Ar.
Can you stand unmov'd
When an Earth-quake of rebellion shakes the City?
And the Court trembles?

Cleo.
Yes Arsino,
And with a masculine constancy deride
Fortunes worst malice, as a servant to
My Vertues, not a Mistress: then we forsake
The strong fort of our selves, when we once yield,
Or shrink at her assaults; I am still my selfe,
And though dis-roab'd of Soveraignty, and ravisht
Of ceremonious duty, that attends it,
Nay, grant they had slav'd my body, my free mind
Like to the Palm-tree, walling fruitfull Nyle,
Shall grow up straighter, and enlarge it selfe
Spight of the envious weight that loads it with:
Think of thy birth (Arsino) common burthens
Fit common shoulders: teach the multitude
By suffering nobly what they feare to touch at:
The greatnesse of thy mind does soare a pitch,
Their dim eyes (darkned by their narrow soules)
Cannot arrive at.

Ar.
I am new created,
And owe this second being to you (best sister)
For now I feele you have infus'd into me
Part of your fortitude.

Eros.
I still am fearfull:
I dare not tell a lye: you that were born
Daughters, and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish
Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid
Must not presume to ryvall.

Cleo.
Yet (my Eros)
Though thou hast profited nothing, by observing
The whole course of my life, learn in my death,
Though not to equall, yet to imitate
Thy fearlesse Mistresse. Enter Photinus.

Eros.
O, a man in armes?
His weapon drawn too?

Cleo.
Though upon the point
Death sate, I'le meete 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 rudenesse
Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects breath
Dare raise a storme, when we command a calm?
Are duty, and obedience fled to heaven,
And in their roome, ambition and pride
Sent into Ægyt? that face speaks thee Photinus,
A thing thy Mother brought into the world:
My Brothers, and my Slave: but thy behaviour,
Oppos'd to that an insolent Intruder
Upon that Soveraignty 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 the desperate madnesse
From running headlong on to thy confusion.
Throw from thee quickly those rebellious armes,
And let me read submission in thine eyes,
Ahy wrongs to us, we will not only pardon,
But be a ready advocate, to plead for thee
To Cæsar, and my Brother.

Pho.
Plead my pardon?
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 sensuall beast:
All my designes, my counsels, and dark ends
Were aym'd to purchase you.

Cleo.
How durst thou, being
The scorne of basenesse, nourish such a thought?

Pho.
They that have power are royall: and those base
That live at the devotion of an other,
What birth gave Ptolomy, or fortune Cæsar,
By Engines fashiond in this Protean Anvill
I have made mine: and onely stoop at you,
Whom I would still preserve free to command me;
For Cæsars frownes, they are below my thoughts,
And but in these faire eyes, I still have read
The story of a supreame Monarchy,
To which all hearts with mine, gladly pay tribute,
Photinus name, had long since bin as great
As Ptolomies ere was, or Cæsars is,
This made me as a weaker tye to unloose
The knot of loyalty, that chain'd my freedom;
And slight the feare that Cæsars threats might cause,
That I and they might see no Sun appeare.
But Cleopatra, in th'Egyptian Spheare.

Cleo.
O giantlike Ambition! married to
Cymerian darknesse! in considerate foole,
(Though flatter'd with selve love) could'st thou beleeve,
Were all Crownes on the earth, made into one,
And that (by Kings) set on thy head: all Scepters,
Within thy graspe, and laid downe at my feete,
I would vouchsafe a kisse to a no-man?
A guelded Evenuch?

Phot.
Fairest, that makes for me:
And shewes it is no sensuall appetite,
But true love to the greatnesse of thy spirit,
That when that you are mine shall yeild me pleasures:
Hymen, though blessing a new married paire
Shall blush to thinke on, and our certaine Issue,
The glorious splendour of dread Majesty:
Whose beames shall dazell Rome, and awe the world:
My wants in that kinde, others shall supply,
And I give way to it.

Cleo.
Baser then thy birth:
Can there be Gods, and heare this, and no thunder,
Ram thee into the earth?

Pho.
They are a sleepe,
And cannot heare thee:
Or with open eyes,
Did Jove looke on us, I would laugh and sweare
That his artillary is cloid by me:
Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts
Are in my hand.

Cleo.
Most impious!

Pho.
They are dreames,
Religious fooles shake at: yet to assure thee,
If Nemesis, that scourges pride, and scorne,
Be any thing but a name she lives in me:
For by my selfe (an oath to me more dreadfull
Then Stix is to your Gods) weake Ptolomy dead,
And Cœsar (both being in my toile) remov'd
The poorest Rascalls, that are in my Camp
Shall, in my presence, quench their lustfull heate
In thee, and young Arsinoe; while I laugh
To heare you howle in vaine:
I deride those Gods,
That you thinke can protect you,

Cleo.
To prevent thee,
In that I am the Mistress of my fate:
So hope I, of my Sister, to confirme it,
I spit at thee, and scorne thee.

Pho.
I will tame,
That haughty courage, and make it stoop too.

Cleo.
Never:
I was borne to command and I will dye so. Enter Achillas and Souldiers, with the body of Ptolomy.

Pho.
The King dead? this is a faire entrance to,
Our future happinesse.

Ar.
O my Deare Brother?

Cleo.
Weepe not Arsinoe, common women do soe,
Nor loose a teare for him, it cannot helpe him:
But study to dye nobly.

Pho.
Cæsar fled?
'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart:
It choakes my vitall spirits: where was your care?
Did the guardes sleepe?

Achil.
He rowz'd them with his sword:
We talke of Mars, but I am sure his courage
Admits of no comparison but it selfe,
And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends
With such a confidence, as you Eagletss prey
Under the large wing of their feircer dam,
Brake through our troopes, and scatterd 'em, he went on:
But still pursude by us: when on the sudaine,
He turn'd his head, and from his eyes flew terrour;
Which strooke in us no lesse feare, and amazement,
Then if we had encounter'd with the lightning,
Hurld from Joves clowdy brow.

Cleo.
'Twas like my Cæsar.

Achil.
We falne back, he made on, and as our feare
Had parted from us, with his dreadfull lookes,
Againe we follow'd: but got neare the sea:
On which his navy anchord; in one hand
Holding a scroll he had, above the waves,
And in the other grasping fast his sword
As it had bin a trident, forg'd by Uulcan,
To calme the raging Ocean, he made away
As if he had bin Neptune: his friends like
So many Tritons follow'd their bold showts,
Yeilding a chearefull musique; we showr'd darts,
Upon them but in vaine, they reach'd their ships,
And in their safety we are sunck; for Cæsar
Prepares for war.

Pho.
How fell the King?

Achil.
Unable,
To follow Cæsar, he was trod to death
By the pursuers, and with him the Priest,
Of Isis good Achoreus.

Ar.
May the Earth,
Lye gently on their ashes.

Pho.
I feele now,
That there are powers above us: and that 'tis not
Within the searching policies of man,
To alter their decrees.

Cleo.
I laugh at thee:
Where are thy threates now, (foole) thy scoffs, and scornes
Against the Gods? I see calamity
Is the best Mistris of Religion,
And can convert an Atheist. Showt within.

Pho.
O they come,
Mountaines fall on me! O, for him to dye
That plac'd his heaven on earth, is an assurance
Of his descent to hell; where shall I hide me?
The greatest daring to a man dishonest,
Is but a bastard courage, ever fainting. Exit.

Enter Cæsar, Sceva, Antony, Dollabella.

Cæsar.
Looke on your Cæsar; banish feare (my fairest)
You now are safe.

Sce.
By Uenus, not a kisse
Till our worke be done: the Traitors once dispatch'd
To it, and wee'le cry aime.

Cæsar.
I will be speedy. Exeunt.

Cleo.
Farewell againe Arsinoe; how now Eros,
Ever faint-harted?

Eros.
But that I am assur'd,
Your excellency can command the Generall,
I feare the Souldiers, for they looke as if
They would be nibling too.

Cleo.
He is all honour,
Nor do I now repent me of my favours;
Nor can I thinke nature e're made a woman,
That in her prime deserv'd him. Enter Cæsar, Sceva, Antony, Dollabella, Souldiers, With the beads.

Ars.
He's come backe,
Pursue no farther; curb the Souldiers fury.
See (beauteous Mistris) their accursed heads,
That did conspire against us.

Sceva.
Furies plague 'em,
They had too faire an end, to dye like Souldiers,
Pompey fell by the sword; the crosse, or halter
Should have dispatch'd them.

Cæsar.
All is but death (good Sceva)
Be therefore satisfied, and now (my dearest)
Looke up on Cæsar, as he still appear'd
A Conquerour, and this unfortunate King
Entomb'd with honour, wee'le for Rome, where Cæsar
Will shew he can give Kingdomes: for the Senate,
(Thy brother dead) shall willingly decree
The Crowne of Egypt, (that was his) to thee. Exeunt omnes.

The Prologue.
New Titles, warrant not a Play for new,
The subject being old: and 'tis as true,
Fresh, and neate matter may with ease be fram'd
Out of their Stories, that have oft been nam'd
With glory on the Stage: what borrows he
From him that wrote olde Priams Tragedy.
That writes his love to Hecuba? Sure, to tell
Of Cæsars amorous heates, and how he fell
In the Capitoll, can never be the same.
To the Judicious: Nor will such blame
Those that penn'd this, for Barrennesse when they finde
Young Cleopatra here, and her great mind
Express'd to the height, with us a Maid, and free,
And how he rated her Virginity.
We treat not of what boldnesse she did dye,
Nor of her fatall Love to Anthony.
What wee present and offer to your view,
(Upon their Faiths) the Stage yet never knew.
Let Reason then, first to your wills give Lawes,
And after judge of them, and of their Cause.

The Epilogue.
I now should wish another had my place,
But that I hope to come off, and with grace.
And but expresse some signe that you are pleas'd,
We of our doubts, they of their feares are eas'd.
I would beg further (Gentlemen) and much say
In the favour of our selves, them, and the Play;
Did I not rest assur'd; the most I see
Hate Impudence, and cherish modesty.

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