Cleopatra, Queen of Ægypt. Cæsar's Mistris.

Arsino, Cleopatra's Sister.

Eros, Cleopatra's waiting Woman.

John Lowin.

John Underwood.

Robert Benfield.

Richard Sharpe.

Joseph Taylor.

Nicholas Toolie.

John Rice.

George Birch.

[Ach.] I love the King, nor do dispute his power,

(For that is not confin'd, nor to be censur'd

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 himself,

And I hope wisely) to commit his Sister,

The Princess Cleopatra (if I said

The Queen) Achillas 'twere (I hope) no treason,

She being by her Fathers Testament

(Whose memory I bow to) left Co-heir

In all he stood possest of.

Achil. 'Tis confest

(My good Achoreus) that in these Eastern Kingdoms

Women are not exempted from the Sceptre,

But claim a priviledge, equal to the Male;

But how much such divisions have ta'en from

The Majesty of Egypt, and what factions

Have sprung from those partitions, to the ruine

Of the poor Subject, (doubtful 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 disunited Government, and to shew

The King without a Partner, in full splendour,

Thought it convenient the fair Cleopatra,

(An attribute not frequent to the Climate)

Should be committed in safe Custody,

In which she is attended like her Birth,

Until her Beauty, or her royal 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 Laws of Nature;

[pg 302]

But grant that Cleopatra can sit down

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 deliver'd) or great Pompey,

(That is appointed Cleopatra's Guardian

As well as Ptolomies) will e're approve

Of this rash counsel, their consent not sought for,

That should authorize it?

Achil. The Civil war

In which the Roman Empire is embarqu'd

On a rough Sea of danger, does exact

Their whole care to preserve themselves, and gives them

No vacant time to think of what we do,

Which hardly can concern them.

Ach. What's your opinion

Of the success? 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 several Nations

From whence he drew his powers: but that were tedious.

They have rich arms, are ten to one in number,

Which makes them think the day already won;

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 success; but knew not to make use of

Fortunes fair offer: so much I have heard

Cæsar himself confess.

Ach. Where are they now?

Achil. In Thessalie, near 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 spoils of Germany and France,

Inur'd to his Command, and only know

[pg 303]

To fight and overcome; And though that Famine

Raigns in his Camp, compelling them to tast

Bread made of roots, forbid the use of man,

(Which they with scorn threw into Pompeys Camp

As in derision of his Delicates)

Or corn not yet half 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.

Ach. May Victory

Attend on't, where it is.

Achil. We every hour

Expect to hear the issue.

Sep. Save my good Lords;

By Isis and Osiris, whom you worship;

And the four hundred gods and goddesses

Ador'd in Rome, I am your honours servant.

Ach. Truth needs, Septimius, no oaths.

Achil. You are cruel,

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 vows, nor protestations win belief,

I think, and (I can find no other reason)

Because I am a Roman.

Ach. No Septimius,

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 believe, without an oath.

Sep. I fear

[pg 304]

Your Lordship has slept ill to night, and that

Invites this sad discourse: 'twill make you old

Before your time:—O these vertuous Morals,

And old religious principles, that fool us!

I have brought you a new Song, will make you laugh,

Though you were at your prayers.

A[c]h. What is the subject?

Be free Septimius.

Sep. 'Tis a Catalogue

Of all the Gamesters 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 himself:

Harmless conceits,

Though fools 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 welcom guest too: and it was approv'd of

By a dozen of his friends, though they were touch'd in't:

For look you, 'tis a kind of merriment,

When we have laid by foolish modesty

(As not a man of fashion will wear it)

To talk what we have done; at least to hear it;

If meerily set down, it fires the blood,

And heightens Crest-faln appetite.

Ach. New doctrine!

Achil. Was't of your own composing?

Sep. No, I bought it

Of a skulking Scribler for two Ptolomies:

But the hints were mine own; the wretch was fearfull:

But I have damn'd my self, should it be question'd,

That I will own it.

Ach. And be punished for it:

Take heed: for you may so long exercise

Your scurrilous wit against authority,

The Kingdoms Counsels; and make profane Jests,

[pg 305]

(Which to you (being an atheist) is nothing)

Against Religion, that your great maintainers

(Unless they would be thought Co-partners with you)

Will leave you to the Law: and then, Septimius,

Remember there are whips.

Sep. For whore's I grant you,

When they are out of date, till then are safe too,

Or all the Gallants of the Court are Eunuchs,

And for mine own 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 goddess)

Shall wait 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.

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 Ear.

Sep. Hell, and the furies,

And all the plagues of darkness light upon me:

You are my god on earth: and let me have

Your favour here, fall what can fall hereafter.

Pho. Thou art believ'd: dost thou want mony?

Sep. No Sir.

Pho. Or hast thou any suite? these ever follow

Thy vehement protestations.

Sep. You much wrong me;

[pg 306]

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

Unless employment to express my zeal

To do your greatness service? do but think

A deed so dark, the Sun would blush to look on,

For which Man-kind would curse me, and arm 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 wear a Kingly wreath, and your grave judgment,

Given to dispose of monarchies, not to govern

A childs affairs, the peoples eye's upon you,

The Souldier courts you: will you wear a garment

Of sordid loyalty when 'tis out of fashion?

Pho. When Pompey was thy General, Septimius,

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, design, 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 than 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 deliver'd yet no certain rumour

Of the great Roman Action?

Achil. That we are

To enquire, and learn of you Sir: whose grave care

For Egypts happiness, and great Ptolomies good,

Hath eyes and ears in all parts.

Pho. I'le not boast,

What my Intelligence costs me: but 'ere long

[pg 307]

You shall know more. The King, with him a Roman.

Ach. The scarlet livery of unfortunate war

Dy'd deeply on his face.

Achil. 'Tis Labienus

Cæsars Lieutenant in the wars of Gaul,

And fortunate in all his undertakings:

But since these Civil jars he turn'd to Pompey,

And though he followed the better Cause

Not with the like success.

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,

Speak Pompey's loss: to tell you of the Battail,

How many thousand several bloody shapes

Death wore that day in triumph: how we bore

The shock 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 Piles on either side

Drew Roman blood, which spent, the Prince of weapons,

(The sword) succeeded, which in Civil wars

Appoints the Tent on which wing'd victory

Shall make a certain Stand; then, how the Plains

Flow'd 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 took all sense of reason, and of pity)

Would serve in their own 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 coming to the body of the army

He shews the sacred Senate, and forbids them

To wast their force upon the Common Souldier,

Whom willingly, if e're he did know pity,

[pg 308]

He would have spar'd.

Ptol. The reason Labienus?

Lab. Full well he knows, that in their blood he was

To pass 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 Rampier of his Camp,

Though scorning all that could fall on himself,

He pities them whose fortunes are embarqu'd

In his unlucky quarrel; 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 appear not like that glorious thing

That three times rode in triumph, and gave laws

To conquer'd Nations, and made Crowns his gift

(As this of yours, your noble Father took

From his victorious hand, and you still wear it

At his devotion) to do you more honour

In his declin'd estate, as the straightst Pine

In a full grove of his yet flourishing friends,

He flyes to you for succour, and expects

The entertainment of your Fathers friend,

[pg 309]

And Guardian to your self.

Ptol. To say I grieve his fortune

As much as if the Crown I wear (his gift)

Were ravish'd from me, is a holy truth,

Our Gods can witness for me: yet, being young,

And not a free disposer of my self;

Let not a few hours, borrowed for advice,

Beget suspicion of unthankfulness,

(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, think

The little respite, I desire shall be

Wholly emploi'd 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 counsel: to be honest,

Religious and thankfull, in themselves

Are forcible motives, and can need no flourish

Or gloss in the perswader; your kept faith,

(Though Pompey never rise to th' height he's fallen from)

Cæsar himself 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 counsell'd

Like a Religious, and honest man,

Worthy the honour that he justly holds

In being Priest to Isis: But alas,

What in a man, sequester'd from the world,

Or in a private person, is prefer'd,

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: joyn with the gods,

[pg 310]

Observe the man they favour, leave the wretched,

The Stars are not more distant from the Earth

Than profit is from honesty; all the power,

Prerogative, and greatness of a Prince

Is lost, if he descend once but to steer

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 keep your own

From such as are or'e come. If you are tired

With being a King, let not a stranger take

What nearer pledges challenge: resign rather

The government of Egypt and of Nile

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 choice of

What Nation he shall fall with: and pursu'd

By their pale ghosts, slain in this Civil war,

He flyes not Cæsar only, but the Senate,

Of which, the greater part have cloi'd the hunger

Of sharp Pharsalian fowl, he flies the Nations

That he drew to his Quarrel, whose Estates

Are sunk in his: and in no place receiv'd,

Hath found out Egypt, by him yet not ruin'd:

And Ptolomy, things consider'd, justly may

Complain of Pompey: wherefore should he stain

Our Egypt, with the spots of civil war?

Or make the peaceable, or quiet Nile

Doubted of Cæsar? wherefore should he draw

His loss, 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 redeem his favour

But by the head of Pompey.

[pg 311]

Ach. Great Osiris,

Defend thy Ægypt from such cruelty,

And barbarous ingratitude!

Pho. Holy trifles,

And not to have place in designs 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 overcome? No, no, he'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 dear, when all his hopes are dead,

To drown him, set thy foot upon his head.

Ach. Most execrable Counsel.

Pho. To be follow'd,

'Tis for the Kingdoms safety.

Ptol. We give up

Our absolute power to thee: dispose of it

As reason shall direct thee.

Pho. Good Achillas,

Seek out Septimius: do 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.

Apol. Is the Queen stirring, Eros?

Eros. Yes, for in truth

[pg 312]

She touch'd no bed to night.

Apol. 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,

She is your debtor for it.

Apol. Did you tell her

Of the sports I have prepar'd to entertain her?

She was us'd to take delight, with her fair hand,

To angle in the Nile, 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 tears in death, and kneeling thanks her

To his last gasp, then prouder of his Fate,

Than if with Garlands Crown'd, he had been chosen

To fall a Sacrifice before the altar

Of the Virgin Huntress: the King, nor great Photinus

Forbid her any pleasure; and the Circuit

In which she is confin'd, gladly affords

Variety of pastimes, which I would

Encrease with my best service.

Eros. O, but the thought

That she that was born free, and to dispense

Restraint, or liberty to others, should be

At the devotion of her Brother, whom

She only knows her equal, makes this place

In which she lives (though stor'd with all delights)

A loathsome dungeon to her.

Apol. Yet, (howe're

She shall interpret it) I'le not be wanting

To do my best to serve her: I have prepar'd

Choise Musick near her Cabinet, and compos'd

Some few lines, (set unto a solemn time)

In the praise of imprisonment. Begin Boy.

Look out bright eyes, and bless the air:

Even in shadows you are fair.

Shut-up-beauty is like fire,

That breaks out clearer still and higher.

Though your body be confin'd,

And soft Love a prisoner bound,

Yet the beauty of your mind

Neither check, nor chain hath found.

Look out nobly then, and dare

Even the Fetters that you wear.

Cleo. But that we are assur'd this tastes of duty,

And love in you, my Guardian, and desire

In you, my Sister, and the rest, to please us,

We should receive this, as a sawcy rudeness

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 kiss the foot 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 raign o're Ptolomy, make that a Court,

Where they reside, and this, where I, a Prison?

But there's a Rome, a Senate, and a Cæsar,

(Though the great Pompey lean to Ptolomy)

May think of Cleopatra.

Ap. Pompey, Madam?

Cleo. What of him? speak: if ill, Apollodorus,

It is my happiness: and for thy news

Receive a favour (Kings have kneel'd in vain for)

And kiss my hand.

Ap. He's lost.

[pg 314]

Cleo. Speak it again!

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

By the all-conquering Cæsar.

Cleo. Whither bends he?

Ap. To Egypt.

Cleo. Ha! in person?

Ap. 'Tis receiv'd

For an undoubted truth.

Cleo. I live again,

And if assurance of my love, and beauty

Deceive me not, I now shall find a Judge

To do me right: but how to free my self,

And get access? the Guards are strong upon me,

This door I must pass through. Apollodorus,

Thou often hast profess'd (to do me service,)

Thy life was not thine own.

Ap. I am not alter'd;

And let your excellency propound a means,

In which I may but give the least assistance,

That may restore you, to that you were born to,

(Though it call on the anger of the King,

Or, (what's more deadly) all his Minion

Photinus can do to me) I, unmov'd,

Offer my throat to serve you: ever provided,

It bear some probable shew to be effected.

To lose my self upon no ground, were madness,

Not loyal duty.

Cleo. Stand off: to thee alone,

I will discover what I dare not trust

My Sister with, Cæsar is amorous,

And taken more with the title of a Queen,

Than feature or proportion, he lov'd Eunoe,

A Moor, 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 princely birth, bring beauty with me,

That know to prize my self at mine own rate,

Despair his favour? art thou mine?

Ap. I am.

[pg 315]

Cleo. I have found out a way shall bring me to him,

Spight of Photinus watches; if I prosper,

(As I am confident I shall) expect

Things greater than thy wishes; though I purchase

His grace with loss of my virginity,

It skills not, if it bring home Majesty. [Exeunt.

Sep. 'Tis here, 'tis done, behold you fearfull viewers,

Shake, and behold the model of the world here,

The pride, and strength, look, look again, 'tis finish'd;

That, that whole Armies, nay whole nations,

Many and mighty Kings, have been struck blind at,

And fled before, wing'd with their fears and terrours,

That steel war waited on, and fortune courted,

That high plum'd honour built up for her own;

Behold that mightiness, behold that fierceness,

Behold that child of war, with all his glories;

By this poor hand made breathless, here (my Achillas)

Egypt, and Cæsar, owe me for this service,

And all the conquer'd Nations.

Ach. Peace Septimius,

Thy words sound more ungratefull than thy actions,

Though sometimes safety seek 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 binds the King unto me, and his bounties,

Strike this rude stroke? I'le tell thee (thou poor 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 General's;

That mans that fed thee once, that mans that bred thee,

The air thou breath'dst was his; the fire that warm'd thee,

[pg 316]

From his care kindled ever, nay, I'le show thee,

(Because I'le make thee sensible of the business,

And why a noble man durst not touch at it)

There was no piece of Earth, thou putst thy foot 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,

Dear to the Gods he was, to them that fear'd him

A fair and noble Enemy. Didst thou hate him?

And for thy love to Cæsar, sought his ruine?

Arm'd in the red Pharsalian fields, Septimius,

Where killing was in grace, and wounds were glorious,

Where Kings were fair competitours for honour,

Thou shouldst have come up to him, there have fought him,

There, Sword to Sword.

Sep. I kill'd him on commandment,

If Kings commands be fair, when you all fainted,

When none of you durst look—

Ach. On deeds so barbarous,

What hast thou got?

Sep. The Kings love, and his bounty,

The honour of the service, which though you rail at,

Or a thousand envious souls fling their foams on me,

Will dignifie the cause, and make me glorious:

And I shall live.

Ach. A miserable villain,

What reputation, and reward belongs to it

Thus (with the head) I seize on, and make mine;

And be not impudent to ask me why, Sirrah,

Nor bold to stay, read in mine eyes the reason:

The shame and obloquy I leave thine own,

Inherit those rewards, they are fitter for thee,

Your oyl's spent, and your snuff stinks: go out basely.

Sep. The King will yet consider.

Achil. Here he comes Sir.

Ach. Yet if it be undone: hear me great Sir,

If this inhumane stroak be yet unstrucken,

If that adored head be not yet sever'd

[pg 317]

From the most noble Body, weigh the miseries,

The desolations that this great Eclipse works,

You are young, be provident: fix not your Empire

Upon the Tomb of him will shake all Egypt,

Whose warlike groans will raise ten thousand Spirits,

(Great as himself) in every hand a thunder;

Destructions darting from their looks, and sorrows

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 feel 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 fears; his death was necessary,

If you consider, Sir, most necessary,

Not to be miss'd: and humbly thank great Isis,

He came so opportunely to your hands;

Pity 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 beat this Pompey, and pursu'd him?

Was not this great man, his great enemy?

This Godlike vertuous man, as people held him,

But what fool dare be friend to flying vertue?

I hear their Trumpets, 'tis too late to stagger,

Give me the head, and be you confident:

Hail 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 Crown, and sweat of thy Pharsalian labour:

The goal and mark of high ambitious honour.

Before thy victory had no name, Cæsar,

[pg 318]

Thy travel and thy loss of blood, no recompence,

Thou dreamst of being worthy, and of war;

And all thy furious conflicts were but slumbers,

Here they take life: here they inherit honour,

Grow fixt, and shoot up everlasting triumphs:

Take it, and look upon thy humble servant,

With noble eyes look on the Princely Ptolomy,

That offers with this head (most mighty Cæsar)

What thou would'st once have given for it, all Egypt.

Ach. Nor do not question it (most royal Conquerour)

Nor dis-esteem the benefit that meets 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 labour'd through no showres of darts, and lances:

Yet here he found a fort, that faced him strongly,

An inward war: he was his Grand-sires Guest;

Friend to his Father, and when he was expell'd

And beaten from this Kingdom by strong hand,

And had none left him, to restore his honour,

No hope to find a friend, in such a misery;

Then in stept Pompey; took his feeble fortune:

Strengthen'd, and cherish'd it, and set it right again,

This was a love to Cæsar.

Sceva. Give me, hate, Gods.

Pho. This Cæsar may account a little wicked,

But yet remember, if thine own hands, Conquerour,

Had fallen upon him, what it had been then?

If thine own sword had touch'd his throat, what that way!

He was thy Son in Law, there to be tainted,

Had been most terrible: let the worst be render'd,

We have deserv'd for keeping thy hands innocent.

Cæsar. Oh Sceva, Sceva, see that head: see Captains,

The head of godlike Pompey.

Sceva. He was basely ruin'd,

But let the Gods be griev'd that suffer'd it,

And be you Cæsar—

Cæsar. Oh thou Conquerour,

Thou glory of the world once, now the pity:

Thou awe of Nations, wherefore didst thou fall thus?

[pg 319]

What poor fate follow'd thee, and pluckt thee on

To trust thy sacred life to an Egyptian;

The life and light of Rome, to a blind stranger,

That honorable war ne'r taught a nobleness,

Nor worthy circumstance shew'd what a man was,

That never heard thy name sung, but in banquets;

And loose lascivious pleasures? to a Boy,

That had no faith to comprehend thy greatness,

No study of thy life to know thy goodness;

And leave thy Nation, nay, thy noble friend,

Leave him (distrusted) that in tears falls with thee?

(In soft relenting tears) hear me (great Pompey)

(If thy great spirit can hear) I must task thee:

Thou hast most unnobly rob'd me of my victory,

My love, and mercy.

Ant. O how brave these tears shew!

How excellent is sorrow in an Enemy!

Dol. Glory appears not greater than this goodness.

Cæsar. Egyptians, dare you think 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 cover his high fame, but Heaven;

No Pyramides set off his memories,

But the eternal substance of his greatness

To which I leave him: take the head away,

And (with the body) give it noble burial,

Your Earth shall now be bless'd to hold a Roman,

Whose braverys 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 seem to weep for,

There are such kind of Philosophers; now do I wonder

How he would look if Pompey were alive again,

But how he would set his face?

Cæsar. You look now, King,

And you that have been Agents in this glory,

For our especial favour?

Ptol. We desire it.

Cæsar. And doubtless you expect rewards.

[pg 320]

Sceva. Let me give 'em:

I'le give 'em such as nature never dreamt of,

I'le beat him and his Agents (in a morter)

Into one man, and that one man I'le bake then.

Cæsar. Peace: I forgive you all, that's recompence:

You are young, and ignorant, that pleads your pardon,

And fear it may be more than hate provok'd ye,

Your Ministers, I must think, wanted judgment,

And so they err'd: I am bountiful to think this;

Believe me most bountiful; be you most thankful,

That bounty share amongst ye: if I knew

What to send you for a present, King of Egypt,

(I mean a head of equal reputation

And that you lov'd) though it were your brightest Sisters,

(But her you hate) I would not be behind ye.

Ptol. Hear me, (Great Cæsar.)

Cæs. I have heard too much,

And study not with smooth shews to invade

My noble Mind as you have done my Conquest.

Ye are poor and open: I must tell ye roundly,

That Man that could not recompence the Benefits,

The great and bounteous services of Pompey,

Can never dote upon the Name of Cæsar;

Though I had hated Pompey, and allow'd his ruine,

[I gave you no commission to performe it:]

Hasty to please in Blood are seldome trusty;

And but I stand inviron'd with my Victories,

My Fortune never failing to befriend me,

My noble strengths, and friends about my Person,

I durst not try ye, nor expect: a Courtesie,

Above the pious love you shew'd to Pompey.

You have found me merciful in arguing with you;

Swords, Hangmen, Fires, Destructions of all natures,

Demolishments of Kingdoms, and whole Ruines

Are wont to be my Orators; turn to tears,

You wretched and poor seeds 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 himself still,

Know how to meet his Worth with humane Courtesies,

[pg 321]

Go, and embalm those bones of that great Souldier;

Howl round about his Pile, fling on your Spices,

Make a Sabæan Bed, and place this Phoenix

Where the hot Sun may emulate his Vertues,

And draw another Pompey from his ashes

Divinely great, and fix him 'mongst the Worthies.

Ptol. We will do all.

Cæs. You have rob'd him of those tears

His Kindred and his Friends kept sacred for him;

The Virgins of their Funeral Lamentations:

And that kind Earth that thought to cover him,

(His Countries Earth) will cry out 'gainst your Cruelty,

And weep unto the Ocean for revenge,

Till Nilus raise his seven heads and devour ye;

My grief 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 aim (Photinus)

The Oracles, and fair Favours from the Conquerour

You rung into mine Ears? how stand I now?

You see the tempest of his stern displeasure,

The death of him you urged a Sacrifice

To stop his Rage, presaging a full ruine;

Where are your Counsels now?

Acho. I told you, Sir,

(And told the truth) what danger would flye after;

And though an Enemy, I satisfied you

He was a Roman, and the top of Honour;

And howsoever this might please Great Cæsar,

I told ye that the foulness of his Death,

The impious baseness—

Pho. Peace, you are a Fool,

Men of deep ends must tread as deep ways to 'em;

Cæsar I know is pleas'd, and for all his sorrows

(Which are put on for forms and meer dissemblings)

I am confident he's glad; to have told ye so,

And thank ye outwardly, had been too open,

And taken from the Wisedom of a Conquerour.

Be confident and proud ye have done this service;

Ye have deserv'd, and ye will find it highly:

Make bold use of this benefit, and be sure

[pg 322]

You keep your Sister, (the high-soul'd Cleopatra)

Both close and short enough, she may not see him;

The rest, if I may counsel, Sir—

Ptol. Do all;

For in thy faithful service rests my safety. [Exeunt.

Sept. Here's a strange alteration in the Court;

Mens Faces are of other setts and motions,

Their minds of subtler stuff; I pass by now

As though I were a Rascal, no man knows me,

No Eye looks after; as I were a Plague

Their doors shut close against me; and I wondred at

Because I have done a meritorious Murther;

Because I have pleas'd the Time, does the Time plague me?

I have known the day they would have hug'd me for it,

For a less stroke than this have done me Reverence;

Open'd their Hearts and secret Closets to me,

Their Purses, and their Pleasures, and bid me wallow.

I now perceive the great Thieves eat the less,

And the huge Leviathans of Villany

Sup up the merits, nay the men and all

That do them service, and spowt 'em out again

Into the air, 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 principal Qualities that became me,

Now a foolish unthankful Murther has undone me,

If my Lord Photinus be not merciful

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

Pho. Cæsars unthankfulness a little stirs me,

A little frets my bloud; take heed, proud Roman,

Provoke me not, stir not mine anger farther;

I may find 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.

Sept. May it please your Lordship?

[pg 323]

Pho. O Septimius!

Sept. Your [Lordship] knows my wrongs.

Pho. Wrongs?

Sept. Yes, my Lord,

How the Captain of the Guard, Achillas, slights me.

Pho. Think better of him, he has much befriended thee,

Shew'd thee much love in taking the head from thee.

The times are alter'd (Souldier) Cæsar's angry,

And our design to please him lost and perish'd;

Be glad thou art unnam'd, 'tis not worth the owning;

Yet, that thou maist be useful—

Sept. Yes, my Lord,

I shall be ready.

Pho. For I may employ thee

To take a rub or two out of my way,

As time shall serve, say that it be a Brother?

Or a hard Father?

Sept. 'Tis most necessary,

A Mother, or a Sister, or whom you please, Sir.

Pho. Or to betray a noble Friend?

Sept. 'Tis all one.

Pho. I know thou wilt stir for Gold.

Sept. 'Tis all my motion.

Pho. There, take that for thy service, and farewel;

I have greater business now.

Sept. I am still your own, Sir.

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

Unless I send. [Exit.

Sept. I shall observe your hour.

So, this brings something in the mouth, some savour;

This is the Lord I serve, the Power I worship,

My Friends, Allies, and here lies my Allegiance.

Let People talk as they please of my rudeness,

And shun me for my deed; 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 kill'd my Father, give me Gold

I'll make men swear 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.

Cæs. Keep strong Guards, and with wary eyes (my friends)

There is no trusting to these base Egyptians;

They that are false to pious benefits,

And make compell'd necessities their faiths

Are Traitors to the gods.

Ant. We'll call ashore

A Legion of the best.

Cæs. Not a Man, Antony,

That were to shew our fears, and dim our greatness:

No, 'tis enough my Name's ashore.

Sce. Too much too,

A sleeping Cæsar is enough to shake them;

There are some two or three malicious Rascals

Train'd 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 cozen'd,

There be of us as be of all other Nations,

Villains, and Knaves; 'tis not the name contains him,

But the obedience; when that's once forgotten,

And Duty flung away, then welcome Devil.

Photinus and Achillas, and this Vermine

That's now become a natural Crocodile

Must be with care observ'd.

Ant. And 'tis well counsel'd

No Confidence, nor trust—

Sce. I'll trust the Sea first,

When with her hollow murmurs she invites me,

And clutches in her storms, as politick Lions

Conceal their Claws; I'll trust the Devil first.

Cæs. Go to your rests, and follow your own Wisedoms,

And leave me to my thoughts: pray no more complement,

Once more strong Watches.

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

Cæs. I am dull and heavy, yet I cannot sleep,

How happy was I in my lawful Wars,

In Germany, and Gaul, and Britanny

[pg 325]

When every night with pleasure I set down

What the day ministred! The sleep came sweetly:

But since I undertook this home-division,

This civil War, and past the Rubicon;

What have I done that speaks an ancient Roman?

A good, great man? I have enter'd Rome by force,

And on her tender Womb (that gave me life)

Let my insulting Souldiers rudely trample,

The dear Veins of my Country I have open'd,

And sail'd upon the torrents that flow'd from her,

The bloody streams 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

Plac'd there as sacred to the Peace of Rome;

I raz'd Massilia, in my wanton anger:

Petreius and Afranius I defeated:

Pompey I overthrew: what did that get me?

The slubber'd Name of an authoriz'd Enemy. [Noise within.

I hear some Noise; they are the Watches sure.

What Friends have I ty'd fast by these ambitions?

Cato, the Lover of his Countries freedom,

Is now past into Africk to affront me,

Fuba (that kill'd my friend) is up in Arms too;

The Sons of Pompey are Masters of the Sea,

And from the reliques of their scatter'd faction,

A new head's sprung; Say I defeat all these too;

I come home crown'd an honourable Rebel.

I hear the Noise still, and it still comes nearer;

Are the Guards fast? Who waits there?

Sce. Are ye awake Sir?

Cæs. I'th' name of Wonder.

Sce. Nay, I am a Porter,

A strong one too, or else my sides would crack, Sir,

And my sins were as weighty, I should scarce walk with 'em.

Cæs. What hast thou there?

Sce. Ask them which stay without,

And brought it hither, your Presence I deny'd 'em,

[pg 326]

And put 'em by; took up the load my self,

They say 'tis rich, and valu'd at the Kingdome,

I am sure 'tis heavy; if you like to see it

You may: if not, I'll give it back.

Cæs. Stay Sceva,

I would fain see it.

Sce. I'll begin to work then;

No doubt, to flatter ye they have sent ye something,

Of a rich value, Jewels, or some rich 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?

Cæs. 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 looks like one; now she begins to move too:

A tempting Devil, o' my life; go off, Cæsar,

Bless thy self, off: a Bawd grown in mine old days?

Bawdry advanc'd upon my back? 'tis noble:

Sir, if you be a Souldier come no nearer,

She is sent to dispossess you of your honour,

A Spunge, a Spunge to wipe away your Victories:

And she would be cool'd, Sir, let the Souldiers trim her!

They'll give her that she came for, and dispatch her;

Be loyal to your self. Thou damned Woman,

Dost thou come hither with thy flourishes,

Thy flaunts, and faces to abuse mens manners?

And am I made the instrument of Bawdry?

I'll find a Lover for ye, one that shall hug ye.

Cæs. Hold, on thy life, and be more temperate,

Thou Beast.

Sce. Thou Beast?

Cæs. Could'st thou be so inhumane,

So far from noble Men, to draw thy Weapon

Upon a thing divine?

Sce. Divine, or humane,

They are never better pleas'd, nor more at hearts ease,

[pg 327]

Than when we draw with full intent upon 'em.

Cæs. Move this way (Lady)

'Pray ye let me speak to ye.

Sce. And Woman, you had best stand.

Cæs. By the gods,

But that I see her here, and hope her mortal,

I should imagine some celestial sweetness,

The treasure of soft love.

Sce. Oh, this sounds mangily,

Poorly, and scurvily 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 celestial Beauty may befriend ye;

At these years do you learn to be fantastical?

After so many bloody fields, a Fool?

She brings her Bed along too, she'll lose no time,

Carries her Litter to lye soft, do you see that?

Invites ye like a Gamester: note that impudence,

For shame reflect upon your self, your honour,

Look back into your noble parts, and blush:

Let not the dear sweat of the hot Pharsalia,

Mingle with base Embraces; am I he

That have receiv'd so many wounds 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 General?

Cæsar. Offend no more: be gone.

Sce. I will, and leave ye,

Leave ye to womens wars, that will proclaim ye:

You'l conquer Rome now, and the Capitol

With Fans, and Looking-glasses, farewel Cæsar.

Cleo. Now I am private Sir, I dare speak to ye:

But thus low first, for as a God I honour ye.

Sce. Lower you'l be anon.

Cæsar. Away.

Sce. And privater,

For that you covet all. [Exit.

Cæsar. Tempt me no farther.

[pg 328]

Cleo. Contemn me not, because I kneel thus, Cæsar,

I am a Queen, and coheir to this country,

The Sister to the mighty Ptolomy,

Yet one distress'd, that flyes unto thy justice,

One that layes sacred hold on thy protection

As on an holy Altar, to preserve me.

Cæsar. Speak Queen of beauty, and stand up.

Cleo. I dare not,

'Till I have found that favour in thine eyes,

That godlike great humanity to help 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 Queen from my sad ruines,

If these soft tears cannot sink to thy pity,

And waken with their murmurs thy compassions;

Yet for thy nobleness, for vertues sake,

And if thou beest a man, for despis'd beauty,

For honourable conquest, which thou doat'st on,

Let not those cankers of this flourishing Kingdom,

Photinus, and Achillas, (the one an Eunuch,

The other a base bondman) thus raign 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 Queen, this hand shall give it to ye,

Or choose a greater name, worthy my bounty:

A common love makes Queens: choose to be worshipped,

To be divinely great, and I dare promise it;

A suitor of your sort, and blessed sweetness,

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 arrows

Headed with burning griefs, and pining sorrows,

Should I neglect your cause, would make me monstrous,

To whom and to your service I devote me.

Cleo. He is my conquest now, and so I'le work him,

The conquerour of the world will I lead captive.

Sce. Still with this woman? tilting still with Babies?

As you are honest think the Enemy,

Some valiant Foe indeed now charging on ye:

Ready to break your ranks, and fling these—

Cæsar. Hear 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 should rule himself, then others;

As a poor hungry Souldier, I might bite, Sir,

Yet that's a weakness too: hear me, thou Tempter:

And hear thou Cæsar too, for it concerns thee,

And if thy flesh be deaf, yet let thine honour,

The soul of a commander, give ear to me,

Thou wanton bane of war, thou guilded Lethargy,

In whose embraces, ease (the rust of Arms)

And pleasure, (that makes Souldiers poor) inhabites.

Cæsar. Fye, thou blasphem'st.

Sce. I do, when she is a goddess.

Thou melter of strong minds, dar'st thou presume

To smother all his triumphs, with thy vanities,

And tye him like a slave, to thy proud beauties?

To thy imperious looks? that Kings have follow'd

Proud of their chains? 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, farewel, the day will break dear Lady,

My Souldiers will come in; please you retire,

And think 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.

[pg 330]

Cleo. So far as modesty,

And majesty gives leave Sir, ye are too violent.

Cæsar. You are too cold to my desires.

Cleo. Swear to me,

And by your self (for I hold that oath sacred)

You will right me as a Queen—

Cæsar. These lips be witness,

And if I break 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 again: this one word,

You shall believe.

Cleo. I must, you are a conquerour. [Exeunt.

Pho. Good Sir, but hear.

Ptol. No more, you have undone me,

That, that I hourly fear'd, is fain upon me,

And heavily, and deadly.

Pho. Hear 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 ruin'd me:

My Sister is with Cæsar, in his chamber,

All night she has been with him; and no doubt

Much to her honour.

Pho. Would that were the worst, Sir,

That will repair it self: but I fear mainly,

She has made her peace with Cæsar.

Ptol. 'Tis most likely,

And what am I then?

Pho. 'Plague upon that Rascal

Apollod[or]us, under whose command,

Under whose eye—

Ptol. Curse on you all, ye are wretches.

[pg 331]

Pho. 'Twas providently done, Achillas.

Achil. Pardon me.

Pho. Your guards were rarely wise, and wondrous watchfull.

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

Alas, who would suspect a pack of bedding,

Or a small Truss of houshold furniture?

And as they said, for Cæsars use: or who durst

(Being for his private chamber) seek to stop it?

I was abus'd.

Ach. 'Tis no hour now for anger:

No wisdom to debate with fruitless choler,

Let us consider timely what we must do,

Since she is flown to his protection,

From whom we have no power to sever her,

Nor force conditions—

Ptol. Speak (good Achoreus)

Ach. Let indirect and crooked counsels vanish,

And straight, and fair directions—

Pho. Speak your mind Sir.

Ach. Let us choose Cæsar, (and endear him to us,)

An Arbitrator in all differences

Betwixt you, and your Sister; this is safe now:

And will shew off, most honourable.

Pho. Base,

Most base and poor; a servile, cold submission:

Hear me, and pluck your hearts up, like stout Counsellours,

Since we are sensible this Cæsar loathes us,

And have begun our fortune with great Pompey,

Be of my mind.

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 fair Sister my commends negotiate,

And here I ratifie what e're thou treat'st on.

[pg 332]

Ach. Crown'd with fair peace, I go. [Exit.

Ptol. My love go with thee,

And from my love go you, you cruel vipers:

You shall know now I am no ward, Photinus. [Exit.

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 diffrence: heark Achillas,

I may do something yet, when times are ripe,

To tell this raw unthankful! King.

Achil. Photinus,

What e're it be I shall make one: and zealously:

For better dye attempting something nobly,

Than fall disgraced.

Pho. Thou lov'st me and I thank thee. [Exeunt.

Dol. Nay there's no rowsing him: he is bewitch'd sure,

His noble blood curdled, and cold within him;

Grown 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 Bullwork 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 sweetness—

Dol. But why should he be fool'd so?

Let her be what she will, why should his wisdom,

His age, and honour—

Ant. Say it were your own case,

Or mine, or any mans, that has heat in him:

'Tis true at this time when he has no promise

Of more security than his sword can cut through,

I do not hold it so discreet: but a good face, Gentlemen,

[pg 333]

And eyes that are the winningst Orators:

A youth that opens like perpetual 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 turn.

Ant. Would I had, Sceva,

With all her faults too: let me alone to mend 'em,

O'that condition I made thee mine heir.

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

Dol. Cæsar writes Sonnetts now, the sound of war

Is grown too boystrous for his mouth: he sighs too.

Sce. And learns to fiddle most melodiously,

And sings, 'twould make your ears prick up, to hear him Gent.

Shortly she'l make him spin: and 'tis thought

He will prove an admirable maker of Bonelace,

And what a rare gift will that be in a General!

Ant. I would he could abstain.

Sce. She is a witch sure,

And works upon him with some damn'd inchantment.

Dol. How cunning she will carry her behaviours,

And set her countenance in a thousand postures,

To catch her ends!

Sce. She will be sick, well, sullen,

Merry, coy, over-joy'd, and seem to dye

All in one half hour, to make an asse of him:

I make no doubt she will be drunk too damnably,

And in her drink will fight, then she fits him.

Ant. That thou shouldst bring her in!

Sce. 'Twas my blind fortune,

My Souldiers told me, by the weight 'twas wicked:

Would I had carried Milo's Bull a furlong,

When I brought in this Cow-Calf: he has advanced me

From an old Souldier, to a bawd of memory:

O, that the Sons of Pompey were behind him,

The honour'd Cato, and fierce Juba with 'em,

That they might whip him from his whore, and rowze him:

That their fierce Trumpets, from his wanton trances,

Might shake him like an Earth-quake.

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 commander?

Sce. Yes, he has a Roman face, he has been at fair 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 own curse, and the Devils too light on me.

Ant. Is't not Septimius?

Sce. Yes.

Dol. He that kill'd Pompey?

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

Dol. How glorious villany appears in Egypt!

Sep. Gallants, and Souldiers, sure they do admire me.

Sce. Stand further off, thou stinkest.

Sep. A likely matter:

These Cloaths smell mustily, do they not, Gallants?

They stink, they stink, alas poor things, contemptible.

By all the Gods in Egypt, the perfumes

That went to trimming these cloathes, cost me—

Sce. Thou stinkest still.

Sep. The powdering of this head too—

Sce. If thou hast it,

I'le tell thee all the Gumms in sweet Arabia

Are not sufficient, were they burnt about thee,

To purge the scent of a rank Rascal from thee.

Ant. I smell him now: fie, how the Knave perfumes him,

How strong he scents of Traitor!

Dol. You had an ill Millener,

He laid too much of the Gum of Ingratitude

Upon your Coat, you should have washt off that Sir,

Fie, how it choaks! too little of your loyaltie,

Your honesty, your faith, that are pure Ambers;

I smell the rotten smell of a hired Coward,

[pg 335]

A dead Dog is sweeter.

Sep. Ye are merry Gentlemen,

And by my troth, such harmless mirth takes me too,

You speak like good blunt Souldiers; and 'tis well enough:

But did you live at Court, as I do, Gallants,

You would refine, and learn an apter language;

I have done ye simple service on your Pompey,

You might have lookt him yet this brace of twelve months

And hunted after him, like foundred 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 Mongrel,

Thou murdring mischief, in the shape of Souldier

To make all Souldiers hatefull; thou disease

That nothing but the Gallows 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 melancholy:

Ye all want mony, and you are liberal Captains,

And in this want will talk a little desperately:

Here's gold, come share; I love a brave Commander:

And be not peevish, do as Cæsar does:

He's merry with his wench now, be you jovial,

And let's all laugh and drink: would he have partners?

I do consider all your wants, and weigh 'em,

He has the Mistris, you shall have the maids,

I'le bring 'em to ye, to your arms.

Ant. I blush,

All over me, I blush, and sweat to hear him:

Upon my conscience, if my arms were on now

Through them I should blush too: pray ye let's be walking.

Sce. Yes, yes: but e're we goe, I'le leave this lesson,

And let him study it: first Rogue, then Pander,

Next Devil that will be; get thee from mens presence,

And where the name of Souldier has been heard of

Be sure thou live not: to some hungry desert

Where thou canst meet with nothing but thy conscience,

[pg 336]

And that in all the shapes of all thy vill[anie]s

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'st it fitter

Goe hang thy self.

Dol. Hark 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 keep my gold still, and my confidence,

Their want of breeding makes these fellows murmur,

Rude valors, so I let 'em pass; rude honours:

There is a wench yet, that I know, affects me

And company for a King: a young plump villain,

That when she sees this gold, she'l leap upon me.

And here she comes: I am sure of her at midnight,

My pretty Eros welcom.

Eros. I have business.

Sep. Above my love, thou canst not.

Eros. Yes indeed Sir,

Far, far above.

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

We are alone.

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

Sep. You want a new Gown now, & a handsom Petticoat,

A Skarf, and some odd toyes: I have gold here ready,

Thou shal[t] have any thing.

Eros. I want your absence:

Keep on your way, I care not for your company.

Sep. How? how? you are very short: do you know me Eros?

And what I have been to ye?

Eros. Yes I know ye:

And I hope I shall forget ye: Whilst you were honest

I lov'd ye too.

Sep. Honest? come prethee kiss me.

Eros. I kiss 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,

[pg 337]

I scorn to nourish it with bloody purchase,

Purchase so foully got; I pray ye unhand me

I had rather touch the plague, than one unworthy:

Goe seek some Mistris that a horse may marry,

And keep her company, she is too good for ye. [Exit.

Sep. Marry this goes near; now I perceive I am hatefull,

When this light stuff can distinguish, it grows dangerous,

For mony, seldom they refuse a Leper:

But sure I am more odious, more diseas'd too:

It sits cold here; what are these? three poor Souldiers?

Both poor and lame: their misery may make 'em

A little look upon me, and adore me,

If these will keep me company, I am made yet.

1 Sol. The pleasure Cæsar sleeps in, makes us miserable,

We are forgot, our maims and dangers laugh'd at;

He Banquets, and we beg.

2 Sol. He was not wont

To let poor Souldiers that have spent their Fortunes,

Their Bloods, and limbs, walk up and down like vagabonds.

Sep. Save ye good Souldiers: good poor men, heaven help ye:

You have born the brunt of war, and shew the story,

1 Sol. Some new commander sure.

Sep. You look (my good friends)

By your thin faces, as you would be Suitors.

2 Sol. To Cæsar, for our means, Sir.

Sep. And 'tis fit Sir.

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

Sep. I grieve for it:

Good Souldiers should have good rewards, and favours,

I'le give up your petitions, for I pity ye,

And freely speak to Cæsar.

All. O we honour ye.

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

Sep. And to relieve your wants the while, hold Soldiers,

Nay 'tis no dream: 'tis good gold: take it freely,

'Twill keep ye in good heart.

2 Sol. Now goodness quit ye.

Sep. I'le be a friend to your afflictions,

[pg 338]

And eat, and drink with ye too, and we'l 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 meet ye.

All. Was never such a man.

1 Sold. Dear 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 thief, call him Septimius, Souldiers,

The villain that kill'd Pompey.