Had fallen upon him, what it had been then; If thine own sword had touched his throat, what that way!

He was thy son-in-law; there to be tainted Had been most terible! Let the worst be rendered,

We have deserved for keeping thy hands innocent. Cæsar. Oh, Sceva, Sceva, see that head! see, captains,

The head of godlike Pompey!

Sce. He was basely ruined;

But let the gods be grieved, that suffered it,
And be you Cæsar.

Cæsar. Oh, thou conqueror,

Thou glory of the world once, now the pity, Thou awe of nations, wherefore didst thou fall thus?

What poor fate followed thee, and plucked thee

on,

To trust thy sacred life to an Egyptian?

The life and light of Rome, to a blind stranger, That honourable war ne'er taught a nobleness, Nor worthy circumstance shewed 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 robbed me of my victory,
My love and mercy.

Ant. Oh, how brave these tears shew!
How excellent is sorrow in an enemy!
Dol. Glory appears not greater than this good-

ness.

Cæsar. Egyptians, dare ye think your highest pyramids,

Built to out-dare the sun, as you suppose,
Where your unworthy kings lie raked in ashes,
Are monuments fit for him? No, brood of Nilus,
Nothing can cover his high fame, but heaven;
No pyramids 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 carth shall now be blessed to hold a Ro-

man,

Whose braveries all the world's earth cannot balance.

Sce. If thou be'st thus loving, I shall honour thee:

But great men may dissemble, it is 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; How would he set his face.

Casar. You look now, king,

Your ministers, I must think, wanted judgment,
And so they erred: I'm bountiful to think this,
Believe me, most bountiful: Be you most thank-
ful;

That bounty share amongst you. If I knew what
To send you for a present, king of Egypt,
I mean a head of equal reputation,
And that you loved, though it were your bright-
est sister's,

(But her you hate) I would not be behind you. Ptol. Hear me, great Cæsar!

Cæsar. I have heard too much;

And study not with smooth shows to invade
My noble mind, as you have done my conquest:
You are poor and open. I must tell you roundly,
That man, that could not recompence the bene-
fits,

The great and bounteous services, of Pompey,
Can never dote upon the name of Cæsar.
Though I had hated Pompey, and allowed his
ruin,

I gave you no commission to perform it:
Hasty to please in blood are seldom trusty;
And, but I stand environed with my victories,
My fortune never failing to befriend me,
My noble strengths, and friends about my person,
I durst not try you, nor expect a courtesy,
Above the pious love you shewed to Pompey.
You have found me merciful in arguing with ye;
Swords, hangmen, fires, destructions of all natures,
Demolishments of kingdoms, and whole ruins,
Are wont to be my orators. Turn to tears,
You wretched and poor reeds of sun-burnt Egypt,
And now you have found the nature of a con-

queror,

That you cannot decline, with all your flatteries, That where the day gives light, will be himself still;

Know how to meet his worth with humane courtesies!

Go, and embalm those bones of that great soldier,
Howl round about his pile, fling on your spices,
Make a Sabæan bed, and place this phoenix,
Where the hot sun may emulate his virtues,
And draw another Pompey from his ashes,
Divinely great, and fix hini amongst the worthies!
Ptol. We will do all.

Cæsar. You have robbed him of those tears

Their purses and their pleasures, and bid me wal

low.

And weep unto the ocean for revenge,

'Till Nilus raise his seven heads and devour ye! My grief has stopt the rest! When Pompey lived, He used you nobly; now he is dead, use him so. [Erit.

Ptol. Now, where's your confidence, your aim,
Photinus,

The oracles, and fair favours from the conqueror,
You rung into mine ears? How stand I now?
You see the tempest of his stern displeasure;
The death of him, you urged a sacrifice
To stop his rage, presaging a full ruin!
Where are your counsels now?

Achor. I told you, sir,

And told the truth, what danger would fly after:
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 you, 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 them;

Cæsar I know is pleased, and for all his sorrows, Which are put on for forms, and mere dissem blings,

I am confident he is glad: To have told you so,
And thanked you outwardly, had been too open,
And taken from the wisdom of a conqueror.
Be confident, and proud you have done this ser-
vice;

You have deserved, and you will find it, highly.
Make bold use of this benefit, and be sure

You keep your sister, the high-souled Cleopatra, Both close and short enough, she may not see

Sept. Here's a strange alteration in the court; Mens' faces are of other sets and motions, Their minds of subtler stuff. I pass by now, As though I were a rascal; no man knows me, No eye looks after; as I were a plague,

Their doors shut close against me, and I wondered at,

Because I have done a meritorious murder: Because I have pleased the time, does the time plague me?

I have known the day they would have hugged me for it;

For a less stroke than this, have done me reve

rence,

VOL. I.

I now perceive the great thieves eat the less,
And the huge leviathans of villainy
Sup up the merits, nay, the men and all,
That do them service, and spout them out again
Into the air, as thin and unregarded

As drops of water, that are lost in the ocean.
I was loved once for swearing and for drinking,
And for other principal qualities, that became me;
Now a foolish unthankful murder has undone me,
If my lord Photinus be not merciful,

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

The times are altered, soldier; Cæsar's angry,
And our design to please him, lost and perished:
Be glad, thou art unnamed; 'tis not worth the
owning.

Yet, that thou mayest 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 farewell!

I have greater business now.

Sept. I'm still your own, sir.

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

Unless I send.

Sept. I shall observe your hour.

[Exit.

So! this brings something in the mouth, some

favour:

This is the lord I serve, the power I worship, My friends, allies; and here lies my allegiance. I

What the day ministered, the sleep came sweetly:
But, since I undertook this home-division,
This civil war, and passed the Rubicon,
What have I done, that speaks an ancient Roman,
A good, great man? I have entered Rome by force,
And on her tender womb, that gave me life,
Let my insulting soldiers rudely trample:
The dear veins of my country I have opened,
And sailed upon the torrents, that flowed from
her,

The bloody streams, that in their confluence
Carried before them thousand desolations:
I robbed the treasury; and at one gripe
Snatched all the wealth so many worthy triumphs
Placed there as sacred to the peace of Rome:
I razed Massilia in my wanton anger;
Petreius and Afranius I defeated;
Pompey I overthrew; what did that get me?
The slubbered name of an authorized enemy.
[Noise within.
I hear some noise; they are the watches, sure.
What friends have I tied fast by these ambitions?
Cato, the lover of his country's freedom,
Is now passed into Africk to affront me;

But the obedience; when that is once forgotten,
And duty flung away, then, welcome devil!
Photinus and Achillas, and this vermin,
That's now become a natural crocodile,
Must be with care observed.

Ant. And 'tis well counselled;

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 politic lions Conceal their claws; I'll trust the devil first; The rule of ill I'll trust, before the doer.

Casar. Go to your rests, and follow your own wisdoms,

And leave me to my thoughts; pray no more compliment;

Once more, strong watches.

Dol. All shall be observed, sir.

Manet CESAR.

The sons of Pompey are masters of the sea,
And, from the relics of their scattered faction,
A new head's sprung: Say, I defeat all these too?
I come home crowned an honourable rebel.
I hear the noise still, and it comes still nearer.
Are the guards fast? Who waits there?

Enter ScEVA, with a packet, CLEOPATRA in it.
Sce. Are you awake, sir?

Cæsar. In the name of wonder-
Sce. Nay, I am a porter,

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

Cæsar. I'm dull and heavy, yet I cannot sleep. How happy was I, in my lawful wars In Germany, and Gaul, and Britany! When every night with pleasure I set down

What spirit, have I raised? Sure, 'tis a woman;
She looks like one; now she begins to move too.
A tempting devil, o' my life! Go off, Cæsar!
Sir, if you be a soldier, come no nearer;
She's sent to dispossess you of your honour;
A sponge, a sponge, to wipe away your victories.
Be loyal to yourself!-Thou damned woman,
Dost thou come hither with thy flourishes,
Thy flaunts, and faces, to abuse men's manners?
And am I made the instrument?

Cesar. Hold, on thy life, and be more tempe

rate, Thou beast!

Sce. Thou beast?

Cæsar. Couldst thou be so inhuman,

So far from noble man, to draw thy weapon Upon a thing divine ?

Sce. Divine, or human,

They're never better pleased, nor more at heart's

ease,

Than when we draw with full intent upon them. Cesar. Move this way, lady: Pray you let me speak to you.

Sce. And, woman, you had best stand-
Casar. 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 soldier's mouth!
You'd best be troubled with the tooth-ache too,
For lovers ever are, and let your nose drop,
That your celestial beauty may befriend you.
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 lie soft; do you see that?
Invites you like a gamester; note that impudence.
For shaine, reflect upon yourself, 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 received so many wounds for Cæsar?
Upon my target, groves of darts still growing;
Have I endured all, hungers, colds, distresses,
And, as I had been bred that iron that armed 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 you,

Leave you to women's wars, that will proclaim

One, that lays sacred hold on thy protection, As on a holy altar, to preserve me.

Casar. 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 ruins;
If these soft tears cannot sink to thy pity,
And waken, with their murmurs, thy compas-
sions;

Yet, for thy nobleness, for virtue's sake,
And, if thou be'st a man, for despised beauty,
For honourable conquest, which thou dotest on,
Let not those cankers of this flourishing kingdom,
Photinus and Achillas, the one an eunuch,
The other a base bondman, thus reign 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-

Casar. Stand up then,

And be a queen; this hand shall give it to you:
Or, chuse a greater name, worthy my bounty;
A common love makes queens: Chuse to be wor-
shipped,

To be divinely great, and I dare promise it.
A suitor of your sort, and blessed sweetness,
That hath adventured 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 fly those arrows,
Headed with burning griefs and pining sorrows,
Should I neglect your cause, would make me

monstrous;

But tell me true; if thou hadst such a treasure, (And, as thou art a soldier, do not flatter me) Such a bright gem, brought to thee, wouldst thou

not

Pho. A remedy, now the disease is ulcerous, And has infected all? Your secure negligence Has broke through all the hopes I have, and ruined 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 itself: 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, Apollodorus, under whose command, Under whose eye

Enter ACHILLAS.

Ptol. Curse on you all, ye are wretches!
Pho. 'Twas providently done, Achillas.
Achil. Pardon me.

Pho. Your guards were rarely wise, and wondrous watchful!

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

Alas, who would suspect a pack of bedding,
Or a small truss of houshold furniture,
And, as they said, for Cæsar's use? or who durst,
Being for his private chamber, seek to stop it?
I was abused.'

Enter АCHOREUS.

Achor. "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.

Achor. Let indirect and crooked counsels vanish, And straight and fair directions

Pho. Speak your mind, sir.

Achor. Let us chuse Cæsar (and endear him to

Pho. Base,

Most base and poor; a servile, cold submission! Hear me, and pluck your hearts up, like stout counsellors;

Since we are sensible this Cæsar loathes us, And have begun our fortune with great Pompey, Be of my mind.

Achor. 'Tis most uncomely spoken,
And if I say most bloodily, I lie not:
The law of hospitality it poisons,
And calls the gods in question, that dwell in us.
Be wise, oh, king!

Ptol. I will be. Go, my counsellor,
To Cæsar go, and do my humble service;
To my fair sister my commends negociate;
And here I ratify whate'er thou treat'st on.

Achor. Crowned with fair peace, I go. [Erit.
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.