THE FALSE ONE. A TRAGEDY.  

Actus Primus,  

Scena Prima.  Enter Achillas and Achoreus. Ach. 
I Love the K. nor do dispute his power,  
For that is not confined, nor to be censured  
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 Ptolemy, 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 Father's testament  
(Whose memory I bow to) left Coheir  
In all he stood possessed of.  Achil. 
'tis confessed  
(My good Achoreus) that in these Eastern kingdom's  
Women are not exempted from the Sceptre,  
But claim a privilege, 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 ruin  
Of the poor Subject, (doubtful which to follow,)  
We have too many and too sad examples,  
Therefore the wise Photinus, to prevent  
The murders, and the massacres, that attend  
On disunited Government, and to show  
The King, without a partner, in full splendour,  
Thought it convenient, the fair Cleopatra,  
(An attribute not frequent in this Climate)  
Should be committed to safe custody,  
In which she is attended like her Birth,  
Until her Beauty, or her royal Dowry,  
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 Egypt, or the laws of Nature;  
But grant that Cleopatra can sit down  
With this disgrace (though insupportable)  
Can you imagine, that Rome's glorious Senate  
(To whose charge, by the will of the dead King  
This government was delivered) or great Pompey,  
(That is appointed Cleopatra's Guardian  
As well as Ptolemy's) will ere approve  
Of this rash Counsel, their consent not sought for,  
That should authorise it?  Achil. 
The Civil war  
In which the Roman Empire is embarked  
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 success? I have heard, in multitudes  
Of soldiers, and all glorious pomp of war,  
Pompey is much superior.  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 entrenched,  
Were not a Camp of soldiers, but Rome,  
In which Lucullus and Apicius joined  
To make a public Feast: they at Dirachium  
Fought with success; but knew not to make use of  
Fortune's fair offer: so much I have heard  
Caesar himself confess.  Ach. 
Where are they now?  Achil. 
In thessaly, near the Pharsalian plains  
Where Caesar with a handful of his Men  
Hems in the greater number: his whole troops  
Exceed not twenty thousand, but old Soldiers  
Fleshed in the spoils of Germany and France,  
Enured to his Command, and only know  
To fight and overcome; And though that Famine  
Reigns in his Camp, compelling them to taste  
Bread made of roots, forbid the use of man,  
(Which they with scorn threw into Pompey's 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.  Enter Septinius. 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  
Adored in Rome, I am your honour's servant.  Ach. 
Truth needs (Seprinius) 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 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 virtues.  Sep. 
With your reverence  
I am too old to learn.  Ach. 
Any thing honest,  
That I believe, without an oath.  Sept. 
I fear  
Your Lordship has slept ill tonight, and that  
Invites this sad discourse: 'twill make you old  
Before your time:— oF these virtuous 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.  Ach. 
What is the subject?  
Be free Septinius.  Sep. 
'Tis a Catalogue  
Of all the Gamesters of the Court and City,  
Which Lord lies with that Lady: and what Gallant  
Sports with that Merchant's wife; and does relate  
Who sells her honour for a Diamond,  
Who, for a tissue 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 Fiddler?  Sep. 
No Sir, as a Guest,  
A welcome guest too: and it was approved of  
By a dozen of his friends, though they were touched 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 merrily, set down, it fires the blood,  
And heightens crest-fallen appetite.  Ach. 
New doctrine!  Achil. 
Was't of your own composing?  Sep. 
No, I bought it  
Of a skulking Scribbler for two Ptolemy's:  
But the hints were mine own; the wretch was fearful:  
But I have damned myself, should it be questioned,  
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 kingdom's Counsels: and make profane Jests,  
(Which to you (being an atheist) is nothing)  
Against Religion, that your great maintainers  
(Unless they would be thought Copartners 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 own defence I'll only add this,  
I'll be admitted for a wanton tale  
To some most private Cabinets, when your Priesthood  
(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 virtues do for others.  
'Tis the Time's fault: yet great ones still have graced  
To make them sport, or rub them o'er with flattery,  
Observes of all kinds.  Enter Photinus and Septinius. Ach. 
No more of him,  
He is not worth our thoughts: a Fugitive  
From Pompey's 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 believed: dost thou want money?  Sep. 
No Sir.  Pho. 
Or hast thou any suit? these ever follow  
Thy vehement protestations.  Sep. 
You much wrong me;  
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 Mankind 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'll 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 fashioned  
To wear a Kingly wreath, and your grave judgement,  
Given to dispose of Monarchies, not to govern  
A child's affairs, the people's eyes upon you,  
The Soldier courts you; will you wear a garment  
Of sordid loyalty when 'tis out of fashion?  Pho. 
When Pompey was thy General (Septinius)  
Thou saidst as much to him.  Sep. 
All my love to him,  
To Caesar, Rome, and the whole world is lost  
In the Ocean of your Bounties: I have no friend,  
Project, design, or Country, but your favour,  
Which I'll 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 delivered yet, no certain rumour  
Of the great Roman action.  Achil. 
That we are  
To inquire, and learn of you Sir: whose grave care  
For Egypt's happiness; and great Ptolemy's good,  
Have eyes and ears in all parts.  Enter Ptolemy, Labienus, Guard. Pho. 
I'll 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  
Died deeply on his face.  Achil. 
'Tis Labienus  
Caesar's Lieutenant in the wars of Gaul,  
And fortunate in all his undertakings:  
But since these Civil Jars he turned to Pompey,  
And though he followed the better Cause  
Not with the like success.  Pho. 
Such as are wise  
Leave falling buildings, fly 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 osse: to tell you of the Battle,  
How many thousand several bloody shapes  
Death wore tha day, in triumph: how we bore  
The shock of Caesar's charge: or with what fury  
His soldiers came on as if they had been  
So many Caesars, and like him ambitious,  
To tread upon the liberty of Rome:  
How Fathers killed 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 Civil wars,  
Appoints the Tent, on which winged victory  
Shall make a certain Stand, then, how the Plains  
Flowed o'er with blood, and what a cloud of vultures  
And other birds of prey, hung o'er both armies,  
Attending when their ready Servitors,  
(The soldiers, from whom the angry gods  
Had took all sense of reason, and of pity)  
Would serve in their own carcases for a feast.  
How Caesar with his Javelin forced 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 shows the sacred Senate, and forbids them  
To waste their force upon the Common soldier,  
Whom willingly, if ere he did know pity,  
He would have spared.  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 famed Torquati, Scipio's, and Marcelli,  
(Names next to Pompey's, most renowned on earth)  
The Nobles, and the Commons lay together,  
And Pontic, Punic, 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 Rampart of his Camp,  
Though scorning all that could fall on himself,  
He pities them whose fortunes are embarked  
In his unlucky quarrel; cries aloud too  
That they should sound retreat, and save themselves:  
That he desired 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 touched upon your shore: the King of Parthia  
(Famous in his defeature of the Crassi)  
Offered him his protection, but Pompey  
Relying on his Benefits, and your Faith,  
Hath chosen Egypt for his Sanctuary,  
Till he may recollect his scattered powers,  
And try a second day: now Ptolemy,  
Though he appear not like that glorious Thing,  
That three times rode in triumph, and gave laws  
To conquered 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 declined estate, as the Straight'st Pine  
In a full grove of his yet flourishing friends,  
He flies to you for succour, and expects  
The entertainment of your Father's friend,  
And Guardian to yourself.  Ptol. 
To say I grieve his fortune  
As much as if the Crown I wear (his gift)  
Were ravished from me, is a holy truth,  
Our Gods can witness for me: yet, being young,  
And not a free disposer of myself;  
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  
Carved on my flesh: good Labienus, think  
The little respite, I desire shall be  
Wholly employed to find the readiest way  
To do great Pompey service.  Lab. 
May the gods  
(As you intend) protect you. Exit.  Ptol. 
Sat: 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 thankful, in themselves  
Are forcible motives, and can need no flourish  
Or gloss in the persuader, your kept faith,  
(Though Pompey never rise to the height he's fallen from)  
Caesar 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 Ptolemy) hath counselled  
Like a religious, and honest man,  
Worthy the honour that he justly holds  
In being Priest to Isis: But alas,  
What in a man, sequestered from the world,  
Or in a private person, is preferred,  
No policy allows of in a King,  
To be or just, or thankful, makes Kings guilty,  
And faith (though praised, is punished) that supports  
Such as good Fate forsakes: join 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 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 Sceptre, that strives only to be good,  
Since Kingdoms are maintained by force and blood.  Ach. 
Oh wicked.  Ptol. 
Peace: go on.  Pho. 
Proud Pompey shows how much he scorns your youth,  
In thinking that you cannot keep your own  
From such as are o'ercome. 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 Pompey's, while the wars endured,  
The Conqueror will not challenge, by all the world  
Forsaken and despised, your gentle Guardian  
His hopes and fortunes desperate, makes choice of  
What Nation he shall fall with: and pursued  
By their pale Ghosts, slain in this Civil War,  
He flies not Caesar only, but the Senate,  
Of which, the greater part have cloyed 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 received,  
Hath found out Egypt, by him yet not ruined:  
And Ptolemy, things considered, 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 Caesar? wherefore should he draw  
His loss, and overthrow upon our heads?  
Or choose this place to suffer in? already  
We have offended Caesar, in our wishes,  
And no way left us to redeem his favour  
But by the hand of Pompey.  Ach. 
Great Osiris,  
Defend thy Egypt 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 unsheathe,  
I would not draw on Pompey, If not vanquished,  
I grant it rather should have passed through Caesar,  
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 (Ptolemy) that thou canst prop  
His Ruins, under whom sad Rome now suffers?  
Or tempt the conquerors force when 'tis confirmed?  
Shall we, that in the Battle sat 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 engaged:  
Though one most dear, when all his hopes are dead,  
To drown him, set thy foot upon his head.  Ach. 
Most execrable Council.  Achil. 
To be followed,  
'Tis for the kingdom's 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 determined  
Already how you shall proceed: nor Fate  
Shall alter it, since now the die is cast,  
But that this hour to Pompey is his last. Exit.   

Scena Secunda.  Enter Appollodorus, Aeros, Arsino. Ap. 
Is the Queen stirring (Erisychthon?)  Er. 
Yes, for in truth  
She touched no bed tonight.  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,  
She is your debtor for it.  Ap. 
Did you tell her.  
Of the sports I have prepared to entertain her?  
she was used 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, than prouder of his Fate,  
Then if with Garlands Crowned, 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 confined, gladly affords  
Variety of pastimes, which I would  
Increase with my best service.  Er. 
O, but the thought  
That she that was borne 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 stored with all delights)  
A loathsome dungeon to her.  Ap. 
Yet,( howe'er  
She shall interpret it) I'll not be wanting  
To do my best to serve her: I have prepared  
Choice Music near her Cabinet, and composed  
Some few lines, (set unto a solemn time)  
In the praise of imprisonment. Begin boy.  

The SONG.  
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 confined,  
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.   Enter Cleopatra. Cleo. 
But that we are assured this tastes of duty,  
And love in you (my Guardian) and desire  
In you (my Sister) and the rest, to please us,  
We should receive this, as a saucy rudeness  
Offered our private thoughts. But your intents  
Are to delight us: alas, you wash an Aethiop:  
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 Egypt, 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'er relish  
Of comfort, or delight, while base Photinus,  
Bond man Achillas, and all other monsters  
That reign o'er Ptolemy, make that a Court,  
Where they reside, and this, where I a Prisoner?  
But there's a Rome, a Senate, and a Caesar,  
(Though the great Pompey lean to Ptolemy)  
May think of Cleopatra.  Ap. 
Pompey (Madam?)  Cleo. 
What of him? speak: if ill (Appollodorus)  
It is my happiness: and for thy news  
Receive a favour (Kings have kneeled in vain for)  
And kiss my hand.  Ap. 
he's lost.  Cleo. 
Speak it again?  Ap. 
His army routed: he fled and pursued  
By the all-conquering Caesar.  Cleo. 
Whether bends he?  Ap. 
To Egypt.  Cleo. 
Ha! in person?  Ap. 
'Tis received,  
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 myself,  
And get access? the Guards are strong upon me,  
This door I must pass through, Appollodorus;  
Thou often hast professed (to do me service,)  
Thy life was not thine own.  Ap. 
I am not altered;  
And let your excellency propound a means,  
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 deadly) all his Minion  
Photinus can do to me, ay, unmoved,  
Offer my throat to serve you: ever provided,  
It bear some probable show to be effected,  
To lose myself 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, Cesar is amorous,  
And taken more with the title of a Queen,  
Than feature or proportion, he loved Eunoe;  
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 myself at mine own rate,  
Despair his favour? art thou mine?  Ap. 
I am.  Cleo. 
I have found out away shall bring me to him,  
Spite 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.    

Actus Secundus  

Scena Prima.  Enter Septimius, with a head, Achillas Guard. Sep. 
'TIs here, 'tis done, behold you fearful viewers,  
Shake, and behold the model of the world here,  
The pride, and strength, look, look again, 'tis finished;  
That, that whole Armies, nay whole nations,  
Many and mighty Kings, have been struck blind at,  
And fled before winged with their fears and terrors,  
That steel war waited on, and fortune courted,  
That high plumed 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 Cesar, owe me for this service,  
And all the conquered Nations.  Ach. 
Peace Septimius,  
Thy words sound more ungrateful 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'll tell thee (thou poor Roman)  
It was a sacred head, I durst not heave at,  
Not heave a thought.  Sep. 
It was.  Ach. 
I'll tell thee truly,  
And if thou ever yet heard'st tell of honour,  
I'll make thee blush: It was thy Generals;  
That man's that fed thee once, that man's that bred thee,  
The air thou breathest was his: the fire that warmed thee;  
From his care kindled ever, nay, I'll show thee,  
(Because I'll make thee sensible of thy business:  
And why a noble man durst not touch at it)  
There was no piece of Earth, thou puts thy foot on  
But was his conquest; and he gave thee motion,  
He triumphed three times, who durst touch his person?  
The very walls of Rome, bowed to his presence,  
Dear to the Gods he was, to them that feared him  
A fair and noble Enemy, didst thou hate him?  
And for thy love to Cesar, sought his ruin?  
Armed the red Pharsalian fields (Septimius)  
Where killing was in grace, and wounds were glorious,  
Where Kings were fair competitors for honour,  
Thou shouldst have come up to him, there have sought him.  
There, sword, to sword.  Sep. 
I killed 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 king's love, and his bounty,  
The honour of the service, which though you rail at;  
Or a thousand envious souls fling their foams on me,  
Will dignify the cause, and make me glorious:  
And I shall live.  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 oil's spent, and your snuff stinks: go out basely.  Sep. 
The King will yet consider. Exit.  Enter Ptolemy, Achareus, Photinus. Achil. 
Here he comes Sir.  Ach. 
Yet if it be undone: hear me great Sir,  
If this inhuman stroke be yet unstroken,  
If that adored head be not yet severed  
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 women's 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,  
methinks, 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 fits in his face yet?  Pho. 
The King is troubled: be not frighted Sir,  
Be not abused with fears; his death was necessary,  
If you consider (Sir) most necessary,  
Not to be missed: and humbly thank great Isis:  
He came so opportunely to your hands;  
Pity must now give place to rules of safety,  
Is not victorious Caesar, new arrived:  
And entered Alexandria, with his friends,  
His Navy riding by to wait his charges?  
Did he not beat this Pompey, and pursued him?  
Was not this great man, his great enemy?  
This Godlike virtuous man, as people held him,  
But what fool dare be friend to flying virtue?  Enter Caesar, Anthony, Dollobella, Sceva. 
I hear their Trumpets, 'tis too late to stagger,  
Give me the head, and be you confident:  
Hail Conqueror, and head of all the world,  
Now this head's off.  Caesar. 
Ha?  Pho. 
Do not shun me (Caesar)  
From kingly Ptolemy, 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 (Caesar)  
Thy travel and thy loss of blood, no recompense,  
Thou dreamest of being worthy, and of war;  
And all thy furious conflicts were but slumbers,  
Here they take life: here they inherit honour,  
Grow fixed, and shoot up everlasting triumphs,  
Take it, and look upon thy humble servant,  
With noble eyes look on the Princely Ptolemy,  
That offers with this head (most mighty Caesar)  
What thou wouldst once have given for it, all Egypt.  Ach. 
Nor do not question it (most royal Conqueror)  
Nor disesteem the benefit that meets thee,  
Because 'tis easily got, it comes the safer:  
Yet let me tell thee (most imperious Caesar)  
Though he opposed no strength of Swords to win this,  
Nor laboured through no showers of darts, and lances:  
Yet here he found a fort, that faced him strongly  
An inward war: he was his Grand sire's Guest;  
Friend to his Father, and when he was expelled  
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 stepped Pompey: took his feeble fortune:  
Strengthened, and cherished it, and set it right again,  
This was a love to Cesar.  Sceva. 
Give me, hate, Gods.  Pho. 
This Cesar, may account a little wicked,  
But yet remember, if thine own hands (Conqueror)  
Had fallen upon him, what it had been then?  
If thine own Sword had touched his throat, what that way!  
He was thy Son in law, there to be tainted,  
Had been most terrible: let the worst be rendered,  
We have deserved for keeping thy hands innocent.  Cesar. 
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 Cesar—  Cesar. 
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 showed what a man was,  
That never heard thy name sang, but in banquets;  
And lose 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. 
O how brave these tears show?  
How excellent is sorrow in an Enemy?  Dol. 
Glory appears not greater than this goodness.  Cesar. 
Egyptians, dare you think your high Pyramids,  
Built to outdare 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 Earth shall now be blessed to hold a Roman,  
Whose braveries all the worlds-earth cannot balance.  Sce. 
If thou be'st thus loving, I shall honour thee,  
But great men may dissemble; 'tis held possible,  
And be right glad of what they seem to weep for,  
There are such kind of Philosophers; now do I wonder  
How he would look if Pompey were alive again,  
But how he would set his face?  Cesar. 
You look now (King)  
And you that have been Agents in this glory,  
For our especial favour?  Ptol. 
We desire it.  Cesar. 
And doubtless you expect rewards.  Sce. 
Let me give 'em:  
I'll give 'em such as nature never dreamt of,  
I'll beat him and his Agents (in a mortar)  
Into one man, and that one man I'll bake then.  Cesar. 
Peace: I forgive you all that's recompense:  
You are young, and ignorant, that pleads your pardon,  
And fear it may be more than hate provoked ye;  
Your Ministers I must think wanted judgement,  
And so they erred: 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 loved) though it were your brightest Sisters,  
(But her you hate) I would not be behind ye.  Ptol: 
Hear me (great Cesar.)  Cesar. 
I heave hard too much  
And study not with smooth shows, to invade  
My noble mind, as you have done my conquest:  
Ye are poor and open: I must tell you roundly,  
That man that could not recompense the benefits;  
The great and bounteous services of Pompey  
Can never dote upon the name of Cesar;  
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 be friend me,  
My noble strengths, and friends about my person,  
I durst not try ye, nor expect a courtesy,  
Above the pious love, you showed to Pompey,  
You have found me merciful in arguing with ye:  
Swords, Hangers, Fires, destructions of all natures,  
Demolishments of Kingdoms, and whole Ruins  
Are wont to be my Orators, turn to tears,  
You wretched, and poor Seeds of Sunburnt Egypt,  
And now you have found the nature of a Conqueror,  
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 Sabean bed, and place this Phoenix  
Where the hot Sun may emulate his virtues,  
And draw another Pompey from his ashes  
Divinely great, and fix him 'mongst the worthies.  Ptol. 
We will do all.  Cesar. 
You have robbed him of those tears  
His kindred, and his friends kept sacred for him:  
The Virgins of their funeral Lamentations:  
And that kind Earth that thought to cover him,  
(His 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 stopped the rest; when Pompey lived  
He used 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 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?  Ach. 
I told ye 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 Caesar,  
I told ye that the foulness of his death  
The impious baseness—  Pho. 
Peace, ye are a fool,  
Men of deep ends, must tread as deep ways to'm;  
Caesar I know is pleased, and for all his sorrows  
(Which are put on for forms and mere dissemblings)  
I am confident he's glad: to have told ye so,  
And thank ye outwardly, had been too open,  
And taken from the wisdom of a Conqueror.  
Be confident, and proud ye have done this service;  
Ye have deserved, and ye 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 him:  
The rest, if I may council sir.—  Ptol. 
Do all:  
For in thy faithful service rests my safety. Exit.   

Scena Secunda.  Enter Septinius. Sep. 
here's a strange alteration in the Court;  
Men's faces are of other sets, and motions,  
Their minds of subtler stuff: I pass by now  
As though I were a Rascal, no man knows me,  
No eye looks after: as I were a plague,  
Their doors shut close against me: and I wondered at  
Because I 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 reverence:  
Opened 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 Villainy  
Sup up the merits, nay the men and all  
That do them service, and spout 'em out again  
Into the air, as thin, and unregarded  
As drops of water; that are lost i'th' 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 Enter Photinus.  
That set me on: And he comes, now fortune.  Pho. 
Caesar's unthankfulness a little stirs me  
A little frets my blood: take heed, proud Roman,  
Provoke me not; stir not my anger farther:  
I may find out a way unto thy life too,  
(Though armed in all thy Victories) and seize it,  
A Conqueror has a heart, and I may hit it.  Sep. 
May it please your Lordship?  Pho. 
O Septinius!  Sep. 
Your Lordship knows my wrongs.  Pho. 
Wrongs?  Sep. 
Yes my, Lord,  
How the Captain of the Guard Achillas, slights me.  Pho. 
Think better of him, he has much be friended thee,  
Showed thee much love in taking the head from thee.  
The times are altered (Soldier) Caesar's angry,  
And our design to please him, lost, and perished:  
Be glad thou art unnamed 'tis not worth the owning;  
Yet, that thou mayst be useful—  Sep. 
Yes my Lord,  
I shall be ready.  Pho. 
For I may employ thee  
To take a rub 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 business now.  Sep. 
I am still your own, Sir.  Pho. 
One thing I charge thee; see me no more (Septinius)  
Unless I send. Exit.  Sep. 
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 damned for blood) yet still I am honourable,  
This God creates new tongues, and new affections:  
And though I had killed my Father, give me gold,  
I'll make men swear I have done a pious Sacrifice.  
Now I will outbrave all: make all my Servants,  
And my brave deed shall be writ in wine, for virtuous.  Exit.  

Scena Tertia.  Enter Caesar, Antony, Dollobella, Sceva. Caesar. 
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 compelled necessities their faiths  
Are traitors to the Gods.  Ant. 
we'll call ashore,  
A legion of the best.  Caesar. 
Not a man (Antony)  
That were to show our fears, and dim our greatness:  
No 'tis enough my name's ashore.  Sce. 
Too much too,  
A sleeping Caesar, is enough to shake them;  
There are some two or three malicious Rascals  
Trained up in villainy, besides that Cerberus  
That Roman dog, that licked the blood of Pompey.  Dol. 
'Tis strange, a Roman Soldier?  Sce 
You are cozened,  
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 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 le trust before the door.  Caesar. 
Go to your rests: & follow your own wisdoms,  
And leave me to my thoughts: pray no more compliment,  
Once more strong watches.  Dol. 
All shall be observed, Sir. Exit.  Caesar. 
I am 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 sat down  
What the day ministered? 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 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 'em thousand desolations;  
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 Affrinius I defeated.  
Pompey I over threw; what did that get me?  
The stubborn name of an authorised enemy; noise within.  
I hear some noises: they are the watches sure,  
What friends have I tIED fast, by these ambitions?  
Cato, the lover of his Country's freedom  
Is passed now into Afrique, to affront me,  
Juha, (that killed my friend) is up in arms too:  
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 ye awake Sir?  Caesar. 
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.  Caesar. 
What hast thou there?  Sce. 
Ask them which stay without,  
And brought it hither, your presence I denied 'em:  
And put 'em by: took up the load myself,  
They say 'tis rich: and value at the Kingdom,  
I am sure 'tis heavy: if you like to see it;  
You may, if not I'll give it back.  Caesar. 
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 Treasure;  
May be a Rogue within, to do a mischief:  
I pray you stand farther off, if there be villainy,  
Better my danger first: he shall scape hard too,  
Ha? what art thou?  Caesar. 
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 raised? sure 'tis a woman:  
She looks like one: Now she begins to move too:  
A tempting Devil, o my life: go off Caesar,  
Bless thyself off, a band grown in mine old days?  
Bawdry advanced upon my back? 'tis noble;  
Sir, if you be a Soldier come no nearer,  
She is sent to dispossess you of your honour,  
A sponge, a sponge, to wipe away your victories:  
And she would be cooled (Sir) let the Soldiers trim her?  
They'll give her that she came for, and dispatch her;  
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 of bawdry?  
I'll find a lover for ye, one shall hug ye;  Caesar. 
Hold on thy life: and be more temperate,  
Thou beast.  Sce. 
Thou beast?  Caesar. 
Couldst thou be so inhuman,  
So far from noble men to draw thy weapon,  
Upon a thing divine?  Sce. 
Divine, or humane,  
They are never better pleased, nor more at hearts-ease,  
Then when we draw with full intent upon 'em.  Caesar. 
Move this way (Lady)  
Pray ye let me speak to ye.  Sce. 
And woman, you had best stand.  Caesar. 
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 had best be troubled with the Toothache 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 lie soft, do you see that?  
Invites ye like a Gamester: note that impudence,  
For shame 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 Caesar?  
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?  Caesar. 
Offend no more: be gone.  Sce. 
I will, and leave ye,  
Leave ye to women's wars, that will proclaim ye:  
You'll conquer Rome now, and the Capitol  
With Fans, and Looking-glasses, farewell Caesar.  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'll be anon.  Caesar. 
Away.  Sce. 
And privater,  
For that you covet all. Exit.  Caesar. 
Tempt me no farther.  Cleo. 
Contemn me not, because I know thus (Caesar)  
I am a Queen, and coheir to this country,  
The sister to the mighty Ptolemy,  
Yet one distressed, that flies unto thy justice,  
One that lays sacred hold on thy protection  
As on a holy Altar, to preserve me.  Caesar. 
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 Caesar,)  
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 compassions:  
Yet for thy nobleness, for virtue's sake,  
And if thou be'st a man, for despised beauty,  
For honourable conquest, which thou dot'st 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.  Caesar. 
Stand up then  
And be a Queen, this hand shall give it to ye,  
Or chose a greater name, worthy my bounty:  
A common love makes, Queens: chose to be worshipped,  
To be divinely great, and I dare promise it,  
A suitor of your sort, and blessed sweetness:  
That hath adventured thus to see great Caesar,  
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 grieves, and pining sorrows:  
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'll work him,  
The conqueror 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—  Caesar. 
Hear me,  
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  
Most greedily accept?  Sce. 
Not as an Emperor,  
A man that first would rule himself, than others,  
As a poor hungry Soldier, I might bite, Sir,  
Yet that's a weakness too: hear me, thou Tempter:  
And hear thou Caesar 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 Soldiers poor) inhabits.  Caesar. 
Fie, thou blasphemest.  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 tie him like a slave, to thy proud beauties?  
To thy imperious looks? that Kings have followed  
Proud of their chains? have waited on? I shame Sir. Exit.  Caesar. 
Alas thou art rather mad: take thy rest Sceva,  
Thy duty makes thee err, but I forgive thee:  
Go: go I say, show me no disobedience:  
'Tis well, farewell, the day will break dear Lady,  
My Soldiers will come in; please you retire,  
And think upon your servant?  Cleo. 
Pray you Sir, know me,  
And what I am.  Caesar. 
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.  Caesar. 
You are too cold to my desires.  Cleo. 
Swear to me,  
And by yourself (for I hold that oath sacred)  
You will right me as a Queen—  Caesar. 
These lips be witness,  
And if I break that oath—  Cleo. 
You make me blush Sir,  
And in that blush interpret me.  Caesar. 
I will do,  
Come let's go in, and blush again: this one word,  
You shall believe.  Cleo. 
I must, you are a conqueror. Exeunt.    

Actus Tertius  

Scena Prima.  Enter Ptolemy, Photinus. Pho. 
GOod Sir, but hear.  Ptol. 
No more, you have undone me,  
That, that I hourly feared, is fall'n 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 ruined me:  
My Sister is with Caesar, 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 Caesar.  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't,  
Alas, who would suspect a pack of bedding:  
Or a small Trusse of household furniture?  
And as they said for Caesar's use:) or who durst  
(Being for his private chamber) seek to stop it?  
I was abused. Enter Achoreus.  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 Caesar, and endear him to us,)  
An Arbitrator in all differences,  
Betwixt you, and your sister; this is safe now:  
And will show off, most honourable.  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 Caesar loads 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 lie not:  
The law of hospitality, it poisons,  
And calls the Gods in question that dwell in us,  
Be wise O King.  Ptol. 
I will be: go my counsellor,  
To Caesar go, and do my humble service:  
To my fair sister my commends negotiate,  
And here I rectify whate'er thou treat'st on.  Ach. 
Crowned 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?  
PRINCE's 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: hark Achillas,  
I may do something yet, when times are ripe,  
To tell this rare unthankful King.  chil. Photinus, 
whate'er it be I shall make one: and zealously:  
For better die attempting something nobly,  
Then fall disgraced.  Pho. 
Thou lov'st me and I thank thee. Exeunt.   

Scena Secunda.  Enter Antony, Dollobella, Sceva. Dol. 
Nay there's no rousing him: he is bewitched sure,  
His noble blood curdled, and cold within him;  
Grown now a woman's warrior.  Sce. 
And a tall one:  
Studies her fortifications, and her breaches,  
And how he may advance his ram to batter  
The Bulwark of her chastity.  Ant. 
Be not too angry,  
For by this light, the woman's a rare woman,  
A Lady of that catching youth, and beauty,  
That unmatched sweetness—  Dol. 
But why should he be fooled 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 man's, 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 (Gentleman)  
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. 
Caesar writes Sonnets now, the sound of war  
Is grown too boisterous 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'll make him spin: & '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 damned enchantment.  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, overjoyed, and seem to die  
All in one half an hour, to make an ass of him,  
I make no doubt she will be drunk too: damnably,  
And in her drink will fight, than she fits him.  Ant. 
That thou shouldst bring her in?  Sce. 
'Twas my blind fortune,  
My Soldiers told me, by the wait 'twas wicked:  
Would I had carried Milos Bull a furlong,  
When I brought in this cow-calf: he has advanced me,  
From an old Soldier, to a bawd of memory:  
O, that the Sons of Pompey were behind him,  
The honoured Cato, and fierce Juba with 'em,  
That they might whip him from his whore, & rouse him:  
That their fierce Trumpets, 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 commander.  Sce. 
Yes, he has a Roman face, he has been at fair wars  
And plenteous too, and rich, his Trappings show it.  Sep. 
And they will not know me now, they'll never know me,  
Who dare blush now at my acquaintance? ha?  
Am I not totally a span-new Gallant  
Fit for the choicest 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 are light on me.  Ant. 
Is't not Septinius?  Sce. 
Yes.  Dol. 
He that killed Pompey?  Sce. 
The same Dog, Scab; that guilded botch, that rascal  Dol. 
How glorious villainy appears in Egypt?  Sep. 
Gallants, and Soldiers, sure they do admire me.  Sce. 
Stand further off, thou stinkest  Sep. 
A likely matter:  
These Clothes 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 clothes, cost me—  Sce. 
Thou stinkest still.  Sep. 
The powdering of this head too—  Sce. 
If thou hast it  
I'll tell thee all the Gums 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 milliner,  
He laid too much of the Gum of Ingratitude  
Upon your Coat, you should have washed off that sir,  
Fie, how it chokes, too little of your loyalty  
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 harmless mirth takes me too,  
You speak like good blunt Soldiers; 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 looked him yet this brace of twelve months  
And hunted after him, like foundered Beagles,  
Had not this fortunate hand—  Ant. 
He brags on't too:  
By the good Gods, rejoices in't; thou wretch  
Thou most contemptible Slave.  Sce. 
Dog, mangy Mongrel,  
Thou murdering mischief, in the shape of Soldier  
To make all Soldiers hateful; 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 money, 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 Caesar does:  
He's merry with his wench now, be you jovial,  
And let's all laugh and drink: would ye have partners?  
I do consider all your wants, and weigh'em,  
He has the Mistress, you shall have the maids,  
I'll 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 ere we go, I'll leave this lesson,  
And let him study it: first Rogue, than Pander,  
Next Devil that will be; get thee from men's presence,  
And where the name of Soldier has been heard of  
Be sure thou live not: to some hungry desert  
Where thou canst meet with nothing but thy conscience,  
(And that in all the shapes of all thy villainies)  
Attend thee still, where bruit Beasts will abhor thee,  
And even the Sun will shame to give thee light  
Go hide thy head: or if thou think'st it fitter  
Go hang thyself.  Dol. 
Hark to that clause,  Sce. 
And that speedily  
That nature may be eased of such a Monster. Exit.  Sep. 
Yet all this moves not me: nor reflects on me:  
I keep my God still, and my confidence,  
Their want of breeding, makes these fellows murmur  
Rude valorous, 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'll leap upon me,  Enter Aeros. 
And here she comes: I am sure of her at midnight,  
My pretty Erisychthon welcome.  Eros. 
I have business.  Sep. 
Above my love, thou canst not.  Er. 
Yes indeed sir,  
Far, far above.  Sep. 
Why, why so coy? pray ye tell me  
We are alone.  Er. 
I am much ashamed we are so.  Sep. 
You want a new Gown now, & a handsome petticoat,  
A Scarf, and some odd toys: I have gold here ready,  
Thou shalt 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 Erisychthon?  
And what I have been to ye?  Eros. 
Yes I know ye:  
And I hope I shall forget ye: Whilst you were honest  
I loved ye too.  Sep. 
Honest? come prithee 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,  
I scorn to nourish it, with blood purchase,  
Purchase so foully got; I pray ye unhand he,  
I had rather touch the plague, than one unworthy:  
Go seek some Mistress, 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 hateful,  
When this light stuffs can distinguish, it grows dangerous,  
For money seldom they refuse a leper:  
But sure I am more odious, more diseased too:  Enter three lame Soldiers. 
It sits cold here; what are these? three poor Soldiers?  
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 Caesar sleeps in, makes us miserable,  
We are forgot, our maims, and dangers laughed at;  
He Banquets, and we beg.  2. Sol. 
He was not wont  
To let poor Soldiers that have spent their Fortunes,  
Their Bloods, & limbs, walk up & down like vagabonds,  Sep. 
Save ye good Soldiers: good poor men, heaven help ye:  
You have borne the brunt of war, and show the story.  1. Sould. 
Some new commander sure.  Sep. 
You look (my good friends)  
By your thin faces, as you would be Suitors.  2. Sol. 
Caesar, for our means (Sir.)  Sep. 
And 'tis fit Sir.  3. Sol. 
We are poor men, and long forgot.  Sep. 
I grieve for it:  
Good Soldiers should have good rewards, and favours,  
I'll give up your petitions, for I pity ye,  
And freely speak to Caesar.  All. 
O we honour ye.  1. Sould. 
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. Sold. 
Now goodness quit ye.  Sep. 
I'll be a friend to your afflictions,  
And eat, and drink with ye too, and we'll be merry:  
And every day I'll see ye.  1. Sol. 
You are a soldier,  
And one sent from the Gods, I think.  Sep. 
I'll clothe ye,  
Ye are lame, and then provide good lodging for ye:  
And at my Table, where no want shall meet ye.  Enter Sceva. All. 
Was never such a man.  1. Sold. 
Dear honoured Sir,  
Let us but know your name, that we may worship ye.  2. Sold. 
That we may ever thank?  Sep. 
Why, call me anything,  
No matter for my name that may betray me.  Sce. 
A cunning thief, call him Septinius (soldiers)  
The villain that killed Pompey.  All. 
How?  Sce. 
Call him the shame of men. Exit.  1. Sold. 
O that this money,  
Were weight enough to break thy brains out: fling all:  
And fling our curses next: let them be mortal,  
Out bloody wolf, dost thou come guilded over,  
And painted with the charities, to poison us?  2. Sol. 
I know him now: may never Father own thee,  
But as a monstrous birth shun thy base memory;  
And if thou hadst a Mother (as I cannot  
Believe thou wert a natural Burden, let her womb,  
Be cursed of women for a bed of vipers.  3. Sold. 
methinks the ground shakes to devour this Rascal,  
And the kind air turns into fogs, and vapours  
The infectious mists, to Crown his villainies,  
Thou mayst go wander, like a thing heaven hated.  1. Sold. 
And valiant minds hold poisonous to remember  
The Hangman will not keep thee company,  
He has an honourable house to thine,  
No, not a thief though thou couldst save his life for't  
Will eat thy bread, nor one, for thirst starved, drink with thee.  2. Sould. 
Thou art no company for an honest dog,  
And so we'll leave thee to a ditch (thy destiny) Exeunt.  Sep. 
Contemned of all? and kicked too? now I find it;  
My valours 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 shows that man, that is ungrateful?  
I am afraid the very beasts will tear me,  
Inspired with what I have done: the winds will blast me:  
Now I am paid, and my reward dwells in me,  
The wages of my fact, my souls oppressed,  
Honest and noble minds, you find 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' foot,  
Worthy the friendship and the same of Caesar,  
My sister's favours shall seem poor and withered:  
Nay she herself, (trimmed up in all her beauties)  
Compared to what I'll take his eyes with all,  
Shall be a dream.  Pho. 
Do you mean to show the glory,  
And wealth of Egypt?  Ptol. 
Yes: and in that lustre,  
Rome shall appear in all her famous Conquests,  
And all her riches of no note unto it.  Ach. 
Now you are reconciled to your fair Sister,  
Take heed Sir, how you step into a danger:  
A danger of this precipice: but note sir,  
For what Rome ever raised her mighty armies?  
First for ambition: then for wealth: 'tis madness,  
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 covetous.  Ptol. 
Ye judge a miss: and far too wide to alter me,  
Yet all he ready, as I gave direction:  
The secret way of all our wealth appearing  
Newly, and handsomely: and all about it:  
No more dissuading: 'tis my will.  Ach. 
I grieve for't.  Ptol. 
I will dazzle Caesar, with excess of glory.  Pho. 
I fear you'll curse your will we must obey ye Ex.   

Scena Quarta.  Enter Caesar, Antony, Dollabella, Sceva, above. Caesar. 
I wonder at the glory of this Kingdom,  
And the most bounteous preparation,  
Still as I pass, they Court me with.  Sce. 
I'll tell ye:  
In Gaul, and Germany, we saw such visions,  
And stood not to admire 'em, but possess 'em.  
When they are ours, they are worth our admiration.  Enter Cleopatra. Ant. 
The young Queen comes: give room.  Caesar. 
Welcome (my dearest)  
Come bless my side.  Sce. 
I marry: here's a wonder,  
As she appears now, I am no true Soldier,  
If I be not readiest to recant.  Cleo. 
Be merry Sir,  
My brother will be proud to do you honour  
That now appears himself.  Enter Ptolemy, Achoreus, Achillas, Photinus, Appollodorus. Ptol. 
Haile to great Caesar  
My Royal Guest, first I will feast thine eyes  
With wealthy Egypt's store▪ and than thy   
And wait myself upon thee. Treasure brought in.  Caesar. 
What rich Service?  
What mines of treasure? richer still?  Cleo. 
My Caesar,  
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' sudden? Caesar?  Caesar. 
Tell me  
From whence comes all this wealth?  Cleo. 
Is your eye that way?  
And all my Beauties banished?  Ptol. 
I'll tell thee Caesar,  
We owe for all this wealth to the old Nilus:  
We need no dropping rain to cheer the husbandman,  
Nor Merchant that ploughs up the Sea, to seek us;  
Within the wealthy womb of reverent Nilus,  
All this is nourished: who to do thee honour,  
Comes to discover his seven Deities,  
(His concealed heads) unto thee: see with pleasure  Caesar. 
The matchless wealth of this Land!  Cleo. 
Come, ye shall hear.  Caesar. 
Away: let me imagine,  Cleo. 
How? frown on me?  
The eyes of Caesar wrapped in storms?  Caesar. 
I am sorry:  
But let me think—  Music, Song. Enter Isis, and three Labourers. 
ISis, the Goddess of this Land,  
Bids thee (great Caesar) understand  
And mark our Customs, and first know,  
With greedy eyes these watch the flow  
Of plenteous Nilus: when he comes,  
With Songs, with Dances, Timbrels, Drums,  
They entertain him: cut his way,  
And give his proud Heads leave to play:  
Nilus himself, shall rise, and show  
His matchless wealth in Overflow.  

Labourers Song.  
COme let us help the reverend Nile,  
he's very old (alas the while)  
Let us dig him easy ways,  
And prepare a thousand Plays:  
To delight his streams 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 spawns,  
Friske, and glide it o'er the Lawns.  
This way profit comes, and gain:  
How he tumbles here amain.  
How his waters haste to fall  
Into our Channels? Labour all  
And let him in: Let Nilus flow,  
And perpetual plenty show.  
With Incense let us bless the brim,  
And as the wanton fishes swim  
Let us Gums, and Garlands fling,  
And loud our Timbrels ring.  
Come (old Father) come away,  
Our labour is our holiday.   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 do him service at his will,  
Follow his rising Flood, and pour  
Perpetual blessings in our store.  
Hear him: and next there will advance,  
His sacred: Heads to tread a Dance,  
In honour of my Royal Guest,  
Marks them too: and you have a Feast.  Cleo. 
A little dross betray me?  Caesar. 
I am ashamed I warred at home, (my friends)  
When such wealth may be got abroad? what honour?  
Nay everlasting glory had Rome purchased,  
Had she a just cause but to visit Egypt?  
Nylus' SONG, and Dance.  
MAke room for my rich waters fall,  
and bless my Flood,  
Nilus comes flowing, to you all  
increase and good.  
Now the Plants and Flowers shall spring,  
And the merry Ploughman sing.  
In my hidden waves I bring,  
Bread, and wine, and every thing.  
Let the Damsels sing me in:  
Sing aloud that I may rise:  
Your holy Feasts and hours begin,  
And each hand bring a Sacrifice.  
Now my wanton Pearls I show  
That to ladies' fair necks grow.  
Now my gold  
And treasures that can ne'er be told,  
Shall bless this Land, by my rich Flow,  
And after this, to crown your Eyes,  
My hidden holy head arise.  Caesar. 
The wonder of this wealth, so troubles me,  
I am not well: goodnight.  Sce. 
I am glad ye have it:  
Now we shall stir again.  Ptol. 
Thou wealth, still haunt him.  Sce. 
A greedy spirit set thee on: we are happy.  Ptol. 
Lights: lights for Caesar, and attendance.  Cleo. 
Well,  
I shall yet find a time to tell thee Caesar,  
Thou hast wronged her Love: the rest here.  Ptol. 
Lights along still:  
Music, and Sacrifice to sleep for, Caesar. Exeunt.    

Actus Quartus  

Scena Prima.  Enter Ptolemy, Photinus, Achillas, Achoreus. Ach. 
I Told ye carefully, what this would prove to,  
What this inestimable wealth and glory  
Would draw upon ye: I advised your Majesty  
Never to tempt a Conquering Guest: nor add  
A bait, 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 contemned: I dare say,  
(And freshly now) 'twas a poor weakness in ye,  
A glorious Childishness: I watched his eye,  
And saw how Falcon-like it towered, and flew  
Upon the wealthy Quarry: how round it mack'd it:  
I observed his words, and to what it tended;  
How greedily he asked from whence it came,  
And what Commerce we held for such abundance:  
The show of Nilus, how he laboured at  
To find the secret ways: the Song delivered.  Ach. 
He never smiled I noted at the pleasures:  
But fixed his constant eyes upon the treasure;  
I do not think his ears had so much leisure  
After the wealth appeared, to hear the Music?  
Most sure he has not slept since, his minds troubled  
With objects they would make their own still labour.  Pho. 
Your sister he ne'er gazed 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 carefulness  
To show an armed thief the way to rob ye:  
Nay, would you give him this, 'twill excite him  
To seek the rest. Ambition feels 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 self, but savours  
Of indiscretion, and your friend has found it.  
Had ye been trained up in the wants and miseries  
A soldier marches through: and known his temperance  
In offered courtesies, you would have made  
A wiser Master of your own, 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 vassal.  
Now take good council, or no more take to ye  
The freedom of a Prince.  Achil. 
'Twill be too late else:  
For, since the Masque, he sent three of his Captains  
(Ambitious as himself) to view again  
The glory of your wealth.  Pho. 
The next himself comes,  
Not staying for your courtesy, and takes it.  Ptol. 
What counsel my Achoreus?  Ach. 
I'll go 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,  
〈…〉 secure way; whether will ye fly now?  Achil. 
For when your wealth is gone, your power must follow.  Pho. 
And that diminished also, what's your life worth?  
Who would regard it?  Ptol. 
You say true.  Achil. 
What eye  
will look upon King Ptolemy? If they do look,  
It must be in scorn:  
A a poor King is a monster;  
what ear remember ye? 'twill be then a courtesy,  
●A noble one) to take your life too from ye:  
But if reserved, you stand to fill a victory,  
As who knows Conquerors minds? though outwardly  
They bear fair streams.  
O Sir, does this not shake ye?  
If to be honeyed on to these afflictions—  Ptol. 
I never will: I was a Fool.  Pho. 
For then Sir  
Your Countries' cause falls with ye too, and fettered:  
All Egypt shall be ploughed up with dishonour.  Ptol. 
No more: I am sensible: and now my spirit  
Burns hot within me.  Achil. 
Keep it warm and fiery.  Pho. 
And last be counselled.  Ptol. 
I will, though I perish.  Pho. 
Go in: we'll tell you all: and then we'll execute.  Exeunt.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Cleopatra, Arsino, Aeros. Ars. 
You are so impatient.  Cleo. 
Have I not cause?  
Women of common Beauties, and low Births,  
When they are slighted, are allowed their angers,  
Why should not I (a Princess) make him know  
The baseness of his usage.  Ars. 
Yes: 'tis fit:  
But then again you know what man.  Cleo. 
He is no man:  
The shadow of a Greatness hangs upon him,  
And not the virtue: he is no Conqueror,  
H'as suffered under the base dross of Nature:  
Poorly delivered up his power to wealth,  
(The god of bedrid men) taught his eyes treason  
Against the truth or love: he has raised rebellion:  
defied his holy flames.  Eros. 
He will fall back again,  
And satisfy your Grace.  Cleo. 
Had I been old,  
Or blasted in my bud, he might have showed  
Some shadow of dislike: But, to prefer  
The lustre of a little art, (Arsino)  
And the poor glowworm light of some faint Jewels,  
Before the life of Love, and soul of Beauty,  
Oh how it vexes me: he is no Soldier,  
(All honourable soldiers are Lovers servants)  
He is a Merchant: a mere wandering Merchant,  
Servile to gain: he trades for poor Commodities,  
And makes his Conquests, thefts; some fortunate Captains  
That quarter with him, and are truly valiant,  
Have hung the name of happy Caesar on him,  
Himself ne'er won it: he is so base and covetous,  
he'll sell his sword for gold.  Ars. 
This is too bitter.  Cleo. 
Oh I could curse myself, that was so foolish,  
So fondly childish to believe his tongue,  
His promising tongue, ere I could catch his temper,  
I had trash enough to have cloyed his eyes withal:  
His covetous eyes; such as I scorn to tread on:  
Richer then ere he saw yet, and more tempting;  
Had I known he had stooped at that, I had saved mine honour,  
I had been happy still: but let him take it,  
And let him brag how poorly I am rewarded:  
Let him go conquer still weak wretched Ladies:  
Love has his angry Quiver too, his deadly,  
And when he finds scorn, armed at the strongest:  
I am a fool to fret thus, for a fool:  
An old blind fool too? I lose my health: I will not  
I will not cry: I will not honour him,  
With tears diviner than the gods he worships:  
I will not take the pains to curse a poor thing.  Eros. 
Die 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 break the heart of him:  
Any, that has the heart and will to kill him.  Ar. 
Take some fair truce.  Cleo. 
I will go study mischief,  
And put a look on, armed 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. 
Caesar commends his Service to your Grace.  Cleo. 
His service? what's his service?  Eros. 
Pray ye be patient,  
The noble Caesar loves still.  Cleo. 
What's his will?  Ap. 
He craves access unto your Highness  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 Nilus (keeper)  
When first thou gav'st consent, to bring my body  
To this unthankful Caesar.  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 Caesar sent thee:  
There's a new Love, a handsome one: a rich one:  
One that will hug his mind: bid him make love to it:  
Tell the ambitious Broker, this will suffer—  Enter Caesar. Ap. 
He enters.  Cleo. 
How?  Caesar. 
I do not use to wait (Lady)  
Where I am, all the doors are free, and open.  Cleo. 
I guess so, by your rudeness.  Caesar. 
Ye are not angry?  
Things of your tender mould, should be most gentle;  
Why do you frown? good gods, what a set-anger  
Have you forced into your face? Come, I must temper ye:  
What a coy smile was there, and a disdainful?  
How like an ominous flash it broke out from ye?  
Defend me (Love) Sweet, who has angered ye?  Cleo. 
Show him a glass; that false face has betrayed me:  
That base heart wrought me—  Caesar. 
Be more sweetly angry;  
I wronged ye fair?  Cleo. 
Away with your foul flatteries:  
They are too gross: but that I dare be angry,  
And with as great a god as Caesar is,  
To show how poorly I respect his memory,  
I would not speak to ye.  Caesar. 
Pray ye undo this riddle,  
And tell me how I have vexed ye?  Cleo. 
Let me think first  
whether I may put on a Patience  
That will with honour suffer me: know, I hate ye,  
Let that begin the story: Now I'll tell ye.  Caesar. 
But do it milder: In a noble Lady,  
Softness of spirit, and a sober nature,  
That moves like summer winds, cool: and blows sweetness;  
Shows blessed like herself.  Cleo. 
And that great blessedness  
You first reaped of me, till you taught my nature  
Like a rude storm to talk aloud, and thunder  
Sleep was not gentler to my soul, and stiller;  
You had the Spring of my affections:  
And my fair fruits I gave you leave to taste of:  
You must expect the winter of mine anger:  
You flung me off, before the Court disgraced me,  
When in the pride I appeared of all my beauty,  
Appeared your Mistress; took into your eyes  
The common-strumpet love of hated lucre,  
Courted with covetous heart, the slave of nature,  
Gave all your thought to gold: that men of glory,  
And minds adorned with noble love, would kick at:  
Soldiers of royal mark, scorn such base purchase:  
Beauty and honour are the marks they shoot at;  
I spoke to ye then; I courted ye, and wooed ye:  
Called ye dear Caesar, hung about ye tenderly:  
Was proud to appear your friend.  Caesar. 
You have mistaken me.  Cleo. 
But neither Eye, nor Favour, not a Smile  
Was I blessed back; but shook off rudely,  
And, as ye had been sold to sordid infamy,  
You fell before the Images of treasure,  
And in your soul you worshipped: I stood slighted,  
Forgotten and contemned; my soft embraces,  
And those sweet kisses you called Elysium,  
As letters writ in sand, no more remembered?  
The name and glory of your Cleopatra  
Laughed at, and made a story to your Captains:  
Shall I endure?  Caesar. 
You are deceived in all this,  
Upon my life you are, 'tis your much tenderness.  Cleo. 
No, no, I love not that way; you are cozened:  
I love with as much ambition as a Conqueror,  
And where I love, will triumph.  Caesar. 
So you shall:  
My heart shall be the Chariot that shall bear ye,  
All I have won shall wait upon ye: By the gods  
The bravery of this woman's mind, has fired me:  
Dear Mistress shall I but this night?—  Cleo. 
How Caesar?  
Have I let slip a second vanity  
That give thee hope?  Caesar. 
You shall be absolute,  
And Reign alone as Queen: you shall be any thing.  Cleo. 
Make me a maid again, and then I'll hear thee;  
Examine all thy art of War, to do that;  
And if thou find'st it possible, I'll love thee:  
Till when, farewell, unthankful.  Caesar. 
Stay.  Cleo. 
I will not.  Caesar. 
I command.  Cleo. 
Command, and go without, Sir.  
I do command thee be my slave for ever,  
And vex while I laugh at thee.  Caesar. 
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 think better. Farewell Conqueror. Exit.  Caesar. 
She mocks me too: I will enjoy her Beauty:  
I will not be denied; He force my longing.  
Love is best pleased, when roundly we compel him,  
And as he is Imperious, so will I be.  
Stay fool, and be advised: that dulls the appetite;  
Takes of the strength and sweetness of delight.  
By heaven she is a miracle, I must use  
A handsome way to win: how now? what fear  
Dwells in your faces? you look all distracted.  Enter Sceva, Anthony, Dollabella. Sce. 
If it be fear, 'tis fear of your undoing?  
Not of ourselves: fear of your poor declining:  
Our lives and deaths are equal benefits,  
And we make louder prayers to die nobly,  
Then to live high, and wantonly: whilst you are secure here,  
And offer hecatombs of lazy kisses  
To the lewd god of Love, and cowardice,  
And most lasciviously die in delights,  
You are begirt with the fierce Alexandrians,  Dol. 
The spawn of Egypt, flow about your Palace,  
Armed all: and ready to assault.  Ant. 
Led on  
By the false and base Photinus and his Ministers;  
No stirring out; no peeping through a loophole,  
But straight saluted with an armed Dart.  Sce. 
No parley: they are deaf to all but danger,  
They swear they will flay us, and then dry our Quarters:  
A rasher of a salt lover, is such a shooing-horn:  
Can you kiss away this conspiracy, and set us free?  
Or will the Giant god of love, fight for ye?  
Will his fierce warlike bow kill a Cock-sparrow?  
Bring out the Lady, she can quell this mutiny:  
And with her powerful looks, strike awe into them:  
She can destroy, and build again the City,  
Your Goddesses have mighty gifts: show 'em her fair breasts,  
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 break out,  
Her powerful radiant eyes, and shake their flashes,  
Will fly before her heats.  Caesar. 
Begirt with Villains?  Sce. 
They come to play you, and your Love a Huntsup  
You were told what this same whoreson wenching, long ago would come too:  
You are taken napping now: has not a soldier  
A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider,  
But he must lie still digging, like a Pioneer,  
Making of mines, and burying of his honour there?  
'Twere good you would think—  Dol. 
And time too, or you will find else  
A harder task, then Courting a coy Beauty.  Ant. 
Look out and then believe.  Sce. 
No, no, hang danger:  
Take me provoking broth, and then go to her:  
Go to your Love, and let her feel your valour;  
Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,)  
You may cry, Caesar, and see if that will help ye.  Caesar. 
I'll be myself again, 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'll break like thunder  
Amongst these beds of slimy Eels, and scatter 'em.  Sce. 
Now ye speak sense: I'll put my life to the hazard  
Before I go. No more of this warm Lady,  
She will spoil your sword-hand.  Caesar. 
Go: come, let's to Council  
How to prevent, and then to execute.   

Scena Tertia  Enter Soldiers. 1 Sold. 
Did ye see this Penitence?  2 Sold. 
Yes: I saw, and heard it.  3 Sold. 
And I too: looked upon him, and observed it,  
he's the strangest Septinius now—  1 Sol. 
I heard he was altered,  
And had given away his Gold to honest uses:  
Cried monstrously.  2. Sol. 
He cries abundantly:  
He is blind almost with weeping.  3. Sol. 
'Tis most wonderful  
That a hard hearted man, and an old Soldier  
Should have so much kind moisture: when his mother died  
He laughed aloud, and made the wickedest Ballads—  1. Sol. 
'Tis like enough: he never loved his Parents;  
Nor can I blame him, for they near loved him.  
His mother dreamed before she was delivered  
That she was brought a-bed 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, poor and sorrowful,  
And gives the best instructions.—  2 Sol. 
And tells stories  
Of honest and good people that were honoured,  
And how they were remembered: and runs mad  
If he but hear of any ungrateful person,  
A bloody, or betraying man—  3. Sol. 
If it be possible  
That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered,  
This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour  
To see him once again.  Enter Septinius. 1. Sol. 
He spares us that labour  
For here he comes.  Sep. 
— Bless ye my honest friends,  
Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me:  
For I am yet too taking for your company.  1. Sol. 
Did I not tell ye?  2. Sol. 
What book's that?  1. Sol. 
No doubt  
Some excellent Salve for a sore heart, are you  
Septinius, that base knave, that betrayed Pompey?  Sep. 
I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts  
Will look upon my penitence, and save me  
I must be ever Villain: O good Soldiers  
You that have Roman hearts, take heed of falsehood:  
Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude,  
The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs,  
Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it.  2. Sol. 
This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows  3. Sol. 
'Tis very fit he were hanged to edify us:  Sep. 
Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient,  
Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye:  
Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty  
As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently  
To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues;  
Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoilt me:  
Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty,  
You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit  
benumb ye through: Scars, and those maims of honour  
Are memorable crutches, that shall bear  
When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity.  1. Sol. 
I cry.  2. Sol. 
And so do I.  3. Sol. 
An excellent villain.  1. Sol. 
A more sweet pious knave, I never heard yet.  2. Sol. 
He was happy he was Rascal, to come to this  Enter Acboreus. 
Who's this? a Priest?  Sep. 
O stay, most holy Sir!  
And by the Gods of Egypt, I conjure ye,  
(Isis, and great Osiris) pity me,  
Pity 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 restless gnaw upon my life, and save me?  
Orestes bloody hands fell on his Mother,  
Yet, at the holy altar he was pardoned.  Ach. 
Orestes out of madness did his murder,  
And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men)  
Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre,  
Slewst thine own Feeder: come not near the altar,  
Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice,  
Thou art marked for shame eternal. Exit.  Sep. 
Look all on me,  
And let me be a story left to time  
Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly  
Ingratitude appears, with all her profits,  
How monstrous, my hoped grace, at Court? good soldiers  
Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound  
Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness:  
To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness—  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 hear us.  3 S. 
Come, cry no more: thou hast wept out twenty Pompeyes.  Enter Photinus, Achillas. Pho. 
So penitent?  Achil. 
It seems so.  Pho. 
Yet for all this  
We must employ him.  1 Sold. 
These are the armed soldier-leaders:  
Away: and let's toth' Fort, we shall be snapped else. Exit.  Pho. 
How now? why thus? what cause of this dejection?  Achil. 
Why dost thou weep?  Sep. 
Pray leave me, you have ruined me,  
You have made me a famous Villain.  Pho. 
Does that touch thee?  Achil. 
He will be hard to win: he feels his lewdness,  Pho. 
He must be won, or we shall want our right hand.  
This fellow dares, and knows, and must be heartened,  
Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done?  
Is Conscience a comrade for an old soldier?  Achil. 
It is not that: it may be some disgrace  
That be takes heavily; and would be cherished,  
Septinius ever scorned to show such weakness.  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 bear me.  
I'll be no more Knave: I have stings enough  
Already in my breast.  Pho. 
Thou shalt be noble:  
And who dares think then that thou art not honest?  Achil. 
Thou shalt command in Chief, all our strong Forces  
And if thou servest an use, must not all justify 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 poor and servile:  
Wert thou thine own Sacrifice  
'Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire out.  Achil. 
Keep thyself glorious still, though ne'er so stained,  
And that will lessen it, if not work it out  
To go complaining thus: and thus repenting  
Like a poor Girl that had betrayed her maidenhead—  Sep. 
I'll stop mine ears.  Achil. 
Will show so in a soldier,  
So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely—  Pho. 
If people would believe thee, 'twere 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 than that, thy misery,  
Thy monstrous misery.  Achil. 
He begins to harken:  
Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee.  Sep. 
That this were true!  Pho. 
Why does this conquering Caesar  
Labour through the world's deep Seas of toils & troubles,  
Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards?  
Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battle,  
And whip his Country with the Sword? to cry for't?  
Thou killed'st great Pompey: he'll kill all his kindred,  
And justify it: nay raise up Trophies to it,  
When thou hearest him repent: (he's held most holy too)  
And cry for doing daily bloody murders,  
Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness,  
Call up the thing thou namest thy conscience,  
And let it work: then 'twill seem well Septinius.  Sep. 
He does all this.  Achil. 
Yes: and is honoured for it;  
Nay called the honoured Caesar, so mayst thou be:  
Thou wert born as near a Crown as he.  Sep. 
He was poor.  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 black, it dulls a Soldier,  
And put on resolution like a man,  
A noble Fate waits on thee.  Sep. 
I now feel  
myself returning Rascal speedily.  
O that I had the power—  Achil. 
Thou shalt have all:  
And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee,  
And the vices of Septinius, shall turn virtues.  Sep. 
Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardice,  
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 sword's point (Gentlemen)  
And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me,  
And make me outdare all my miseries?  Pho. 
All this, and all thy wishes.  Sep. 
Use me then,  
Womanish fear farewell: I'll never melt more,  
Lead on, to some great thing, to weal my spirit:  
I cut the Cedar Pompey, and I'll fell  
This huge Oak Caesar too.  Pho. 
Now thou singest sweetly:  
And Ptolemy shall crown thee for thy service: (Exeunt.  Achil. 
He's well wrought: put him on apace for cooling.    

Actus Quintus  

Scena Prima.  Enter Caesar, Antony, Dollabella. Ant. 
THe tumult still increases.  Caesar. 
O my fortune!  
My lustfull folly rather! but 'tis well,  
And worthily I am made a bondman's prey,  
That after all my glorious victories,  
In which I passed so many seas of dangers:  
When all the Elements conspired against me,  
Would yield up the dominion of this head  
To any mortal power; so blind and stupid:  
To trust these base Egyptians, that proclaimed  
Their perjuries, in noble Pompey's death,  
And yet that could not warn me.  Dol. 
Be still, Caesar,  
whoever loved to exercise his fate,  
Where danger looked most dreadful.  Ant. 
If you fall,  
Fall not alone: let the King and his Sister  
Be buried in your ruins: on my life  
They both are guilty: reason may assure you  
Photinus nor Achillas durst attempt you,  
Or shake one Dart, or Sword, aimed at your safety,  
Without their warrant.  Caesar. 
For the young King I know not  
How he may be missed; but for his Sister  
(Unequalled Cleopatra) 'twere a kind  
Of blasphemy to doubt her: ugly treason  
Durst never dwell in such a glorious building,  
Nor can so clear 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 false,  
It is too great an honour he should die  
By your victorious hand.  Caesar. 
He comes: and I  
Shall do as I find cause.  Enter Ptolemy, Achoreus, Apollodorus. Ptol. 
Let not great Caesar  
Impute the breach of hospitality,  
To you (my guest) to me; I am contemned,  
And my rebellious subjects lift their hands  
Against my head: and would they aimed no farther,  
Provided that I fell a sacrifice  
To gain you safety: that this is not feigned,  
The boldness of my innocence may confirm you:  
Had I been privy to their bloody plot,  
I now had led them on, and given fair gloss  
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 Caesar uncompelled  
With such as have not yet shook off obedience,  
I yield myself to you, and will take part  
In all your dangers.  Caesar. 
This pleads your excuse,  
And I receive it.  Ach. 
If they have any touch,  
Of justice, or religion, I will use  
The authority of our Gods, to call them back,  
From their bad purpose.  Ap. 
This part of the palace,  
Is yet defensible: we may make it good,  
Till your powers rescue us.  Caesar. 
Caesar besieged?  
O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom  
An Army routed, as my feet had wings  
To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulwarks  
Could guard those that escaped the battle's fury  
From this strong Arm, and I to be enclosed  
My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity,  
To which the Gods must yield, and I obey,  
Till I redeem it, by some glorious way. Exeunt.   

Scena Secunda.  Enter Photinus, Achillas, Septinius, Soldiers. Pho. 
there's no retiring now, we are broke in:  
The deed past hope of pardon: if we prosper  
'a will be styled lawful, and we shall give laws  
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  
Between the King, and subject, Caesar's Motto,  
Aut Caesar aut Nihil, each of us must claim,  
And use it as our own.  Achil. 
The deed is bloody  
If we conclude in Ptolemy's death.  Pho. 
The better  
The globe of Empire must be so manured.  Sep. 
Rome, that from Romulus first took her name  
Had her walls watered with a Crimson shower  
Drained from a Brother's heart: nor was she raised  
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 possess 'em: Cesar, Ptolemy,  
(Now I am steeled) to me are empty names  
Esteemed as Pompey's was.  Pho. 
Well said Septinius,  
Thou now art right again.  Achil. 
But what course take we  
For the Princess Cleopatra?  Pho. 
Let her live  
A while to make us sport: she shall authorise  
Our undertakings to the ignorant people,  
As if what we do were by her command:  
But our triumvirate Government once confirmed,  
She bears her Brother company, that's my Province:  
Leave me to work her.  Achil. 
I will undertake  
For Ptolemy.  Sep. 
Cesar shall be my task,  
And as in Pompey I began a names  
I'll perfect it in Caesar.  Enter (above) Caesar, Ptolemy, Achoreus, Appollodorus, Anthony, Dollabella. Pho. 
'Tis resolved then  
we'll force our passage.  Achil. 
See: they do appear  
As they desired a parley.  Pho. 
I am proud yet  
I have brought them to capitulate.  Ptol. 
Now Photinus?  Pho. 
Now Ptolemy?  Ptol. 
No addition?  Pho. 
We are equal,  
Though Caesar's name were put into the scale,  
In which our worth is weighed.  Caesar. 
Presumptuous Villain,  
Upon what grounds hast thou presumed to raise  
Thy servile hand against the King, or me,  
That have a greater name?  Pho. 
On those, by which  
Thou didst presume to pass the Rubicon  
Against the Laws of Rome; and at the name  
Of traitor smile, as thou didst when Marcellus  
The Consul, with the senate's full consent  
Pronounced thee for an enemy to thy Country,  
Yet thou went'st on, and thy rebellious Cause  
Was crowned with fair success: why should we fear then?  
Think on that Caesar.  Caesar. 
O the gods! be braved thus?  
And be compelled to bear this from a slave  
That would not brook great Pompey his Superior?  Achil. 
Thy glories now have touched the highest point,  
And must descend.  Pho. 
Despair, and think we stand  
The Champions of Rome, to wreak her wrongs  
Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot.  Sep. 
And that the ghosts of all those noble Romans  
That by thy sword fell in this Civil war,  
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 die, like Romans, if ye faint, resolve  
To starve, like wretches: I disdain to change Exit.  
Another syllable with you.  Ant. 
Let us die nobly:  
And rather fall upon each other's sword  
Then come into these villains hands.  Caesar. 
That Fortune  
Which to this hour hath been a friend to Caesar,  
Though for a while she clothe her brow with frowns  
Will smile again upon me; who will pay her,  
Or sacrifice or vows, 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 acknowledged  
Her Sovereign Lord, to end in gloriously,  
A life admired by all? the threatened danger  
Must by a way more horrid, be avoided,  
And I will run the hazard: Fire the Palace,  
And the rich Magazines that neighbour it,  
In which the wealth of Egypt is contained:  
Start not, it shall be so; that while the people  
Labour in quenching the ensuing flames,  
Like Caesar, with this handful of my friends  
Through fire, and swords, I force a passage to  
My conquering Legions. King, if thou dar'st follow  
Where Caesar leads, or live, or die a Freeman;  
If not, stay here a bondman to thy slave,  
And dead, be thought unworthy of a grave. Exeunt.   

Scena Tertia.  Enter Septinius. Sep. 
I feel my resolution melts again,  
And that I am not knave alone, but fool  
In all my purposes. This Devil Photinus  
Employs me, as a property, and grown useless  
Will shake me off again: he told me so  
When I killed Pompey: nor can I hope better  
When Caesar is dispatched: Services done  
For such as only study their own ends,  
Too great to be rewarded, or returned  
With deadly hate: I learned this principle  
In his own School: yet still he fooles me: well:  
And yet he trusts me; Since I in my nature  
Was fashioned to be false, wherefore should I  
That killed my General, and a Roman, one  
To whom I owe all nourishments of life  
Be true to an Egyptian? to save Caesar,  
And turn Photinus plots on his own head,  
As it is in my power, redeem my credit,  
And live, to lie, and swear again in fashion,  
Oh, 'twere a Masterpiece? ha?— me Ceasar,  
How's he got off?  Enter Caesar, Ptolemy, Antony, Dollabella. Achoreus, Appollodorus, Soldiers. Caesar. 
The fire has took,  
And shows the City, like a second Troy,  
The Navy too is scorched, the people greedy  
To save their wealth, and houses, while their soldiers  
Make spoil of all: only Achillas troops  
Make good their guard: break through them, we are safe:  
I'll lead you like a Thunderbolt.  Sep. 
Stay Caesar.  Caesar. 
Who's this? the dog Septinius?  Ant. 
Cut his throat.  Dol. 
You barked but now, fawn you so soon?  Sep. 
O hear me,  
What I'll deliver is for Caesar's safety,  
For all your good.  Ant. 
Good from a month like thine,  
That never belched but blasphemy & treason, on Festival days  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'll make the passage smooth and easy,  
For your escape.  Ant. 
I'll trust the Devil sooner,  
And make a safer bargain.  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.  Caesar. 
Be brief, the means?  Sep. 
Thus Caesar:  
To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths  
Not to discover it, he hath revealed  
A dismal vault, whose dreadful mouth does open  
A mile beyond the City: in this cave  
Lie but two hours concealed.  Ant 
If you believe him,  
he'll bury us alive.  Dol. 
I'll fly in the air first.  Sep. 
Then in the dead of night, I'll bring you back  
Into a private room, where you shall find  
Photinus, and Achillas, and the rest  
Of their Commanders, close at Counsel.  Caesar. 
Good: what follows?  Sep. 
Fall me fairly on their throats,  
Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude  
Will easily disperse.  Caesar. 
O Devil! away with him:  
Nor true to friend nor enemy? Caesar scorns  
To find his safety, or revenge his wrongs  
So base a way: or owe the means of life  
To such a leprous Traitor. I have towered  
For victory like a Falcon in the clouds,  
Not digged for't like a mole: our Swords, and Cause  
Make way for us; and that it may appear  
We took a noble course, and hate base Treason,  
Some soldiers, that would merit Caesar's 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 die for it I'll use it.  2 Sold. 
'tis too good  
To truss a Cur in.  Sep. 
Save me, here's gold.  1 Sold. 
If Rome  
Were offered for thy ransom, 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, Aeros, Cleopatra. Ar. 
We are lost.  Eros. 
Undone.  Ar. 
Confusion, Fire, and Swords,  
And fury in the soldier's face, more horrid  
Circle us round.  Eros. 
The Kings command they laugh at,  
And jeer at Caesar's threats.  Ars. 
My brother seized on  
By the Roman, as thought guilty of the tumult,  
And forced to bear him company, as marked out  
For his protection, or revenge.  Eros. 
They have broke  
Into my Cabinet: my Trunks are ransacked.  Ar. 
I have lost my Jewels too; but that's the least:  
The barbarous Rascals, against all humanity,  
Or sense of pity, have killed my little dog,  
And broke my monkeys chain.  Eros. 
They ruffled me:  
But that I could endure, and tire 'em too,  
Would they proceed no further.  Ar. 
O my sister!  Eros. 
My Queen, my Mistress!  Ar. 
Can you stand unmoved  
When an Earthquake of rebellion shakes the City?  
And the Court trembles?  Cleo. 
Yes Arsino,  
And with a masculine constancy deride  
Fortune's worst malice, as a servant to  
My Virtues, not a Mistress: than we forsake  
The strong fort of ourselves, when we once yield,  
Or shrink at her assaults; I am still myself,  
And though disrobed of Sovereignty, and ravished  
Of ceremonious duty, that attends it,  
Nay, grant they had slaved my body, my free mind  
Like to the Palmtree, walling fruitful Nile,  
Shall grow up straighter, and enlarge itself  
Spite of the envious weight that loads it with:  
Think of thy birth (Arsino) common burdens  
Fit common shoulders; teach the multitude  
By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at:  
The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch,  
Their dim eyes (darkened by their narrow souls)  
Cannot arrive at.  Ar. 
I am new created,  
And owe this second being to you (best sister)  
For now I feel you have infused into me  
Part of your fortitude.  Eros. 
I still am fearful:  
I dare not tell a lie: you that were born  
Daughters, and Sisters unto Kings, may nourish  
Great thoughts, which I, that am your humble handmaid  
Must not presume to rival.  Cleo. 
Yet (my Erisychthon)  
Though thou hast profited nothing, by observing  
The whole course of my life, learn in my death,  
Though not to equal, yet to imitate  
Thy fearless Mistress.  Enter Photinus. Eros. 
O, a man in arms?  
His weapon drawn too?  Cleo. 
Though upon the point  
Death sat, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger.  Pho. 
Keep the watch strong, and guard the passage sure  
That leads unto the Sea.  Cleo. 
What sea of rudeness  
Breaks in upon us? or what subject's breath  
Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm?  
Are duty, and obedience fled to heaven,  
And in their room, ambition and pride  
Sent into Egypt? that face speaks thee Photinus,  
A thing thy Mother brought into the world:  
My Brothers, and my Slave: but thy behaviour,  
Opposed to that an insolent Intruder  
Upon that Sovereignty thou shouldst bow to,  
If in the gulf of base ingratitude,  
All loyalty to Ptolemy the King  
Be swallowed up, remember who I am,  
Whose Daughter, and whose Sister: or suppose  
That is forgot too; let the name of Caesar  
Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness  
From running headlong on to thy confusion.  
Throw from thee quickly those rebellious arms,  
And let me read submission in thine eyes,  
Thy wrongs to us, we will not only pardon,  
But be a ready advocate, to plead for thee  
To Caesar, and my Brother.  Pho. 
Plead my pardon?  
To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus  
To Ptolemy, to Caesar? Nay the gods,  
As to put off the figure of a man,  
And change my Essence, with a sensual beast:  
All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends  
Were aimed to purchase you.  Cleo. 
How durst thou, being  
The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought?  Pho. 
They that have power are royal: and those base  
That live at the devotion of another,  
What birth gave Ptolemy, or fortune Caesar,  
By Engines fashioned in this Protean Anvil  
I have made mine: and only stoop at you,  
Whom I would still preserve free to command me;  
For Caesar's frowns, they are below my thoughts,  
And but in these fair eyes, I still have read  
The story of a supreme Monarchy,  
To which all hearts with mine, gladly pay tribute,  
Photinus' name, had long since been as great  
As Ptolemy's e'er was, or Caesar's is,  
This made me as a weaker tie to unloose  
The knot of loyalty, that chained my freedom;  
And slight the fear that Caesar's threats might cause,  
That I and they might see no Sun appear  
But Cleopatra, in th' Egyptian Sphere.  Cleo. 
O giantlike Ambition! married to  
Cimmerian darkness! in considerate fool,  
(Though flattered with self love) couldst thou believe,  
Were all Crowns on the earth, made into one,  
And that (by Kings) set on thy head: all Sceptres,  
Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet,  
I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man?  
A gelded Eunuch?  Phot. 
Fairest, that makes for me:  
And shows it is no sensual appetite,  
But true love to the greatness of thy spirit,  
That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures:  
Hymen, though blessing a new married pair  
Shall blush to think on, and our certain Issue,  
The glorious splendour of dread Majesty:  
Whose beams shall dazzle Rome, and awe the world:  
My wants in that kind, others shall supply,  
And I give way to it.  Cleo. 
Baser than thy birth:  
Can there be Gods, and hear this, and no thunder,  
Ram thee into the earth?  Pho. 
They are asleep,  
And cannot hear thee:  
Or with open eyes,  
Did Jove look on us, I would laugh and swear  
That his artillery is cloyed by me:  
Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts  
Are in my hand.  Cleo. 
Most impious!  Pho. 
They are dreams,  
Religious fools shake at: yet to assure thee,  
If Nemesis, that scourges pride, and scorn,  
Be any thing but a name she lives in me:  
For by myself (an oath to me more dreadful  
Than Styx is to your Gods) weak Ptolemy dead,  
And Caesar (both being in my toil) removed  
The poorest Rascals, that are in my Camp  
Shall, in my presence, quench their justful heat  
In thee, and young Arsinoe; while I laugh  
To hear you howl in vain:  
I deride those Gods,  
That you think can protect you,  Cleo. 
To prevent thee,  
In that I am the Mistress of my fate:  
So hope I of my Sister, to confirm it,  
I spit at thee, and scorn thee.  Pho. 
I will tame,  
That haughty courage, and make it stoop too.  Cleo. 
Never:  
I was borne to command and I will die so.  Enter Achillas and Soldiers, with the body of Ptolemy. Pho. 
The King dead? this is a fair entrance to,  
Our future happiness.  Ar. 
O my Dear Brother?  Cleo. 
Weep not Arsinoe, common women do so,  
Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him:  
But study to die nobly.  Pho. 
Caesar fled?  
'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart:  
It chokes my vital spirits: where was your care?  
Did the guards sleep?  Achil. 
He roused them with his sword:  
We talk of Mars, but I am sure his courage  
Admits of no comparison but itself,  
And (as inspired by him) his following friends  
With such a confidence, as you eaglets prey  
Under the large wing of their fiercer dam,  
broke through our troops, and scattered 'em, he went on:  
But still pursued by us: when on the sudden,  
He turned his head, and from his eyes flew terror;  
Which struck in us no less fear, and amazement,  
Then if we had encountered with the lightning,  
Hurled from Jove's cloudy brow.  Cleo. 
'Twas like my Caesar.  Achil. 
We fallen back, he made on, and as our fear  
Had parted from us, with his dreadful looks,  
Again we followed: but got near the sea:  
On which his navy anchor; in one hand  
Holding a scroll he had, above the waves,  
And in the other grasping fast his sword  
As it had been a trident, forged by Vulcan,  
To calm the raging Ocean, he made away  
As if he had been Neptune: his friends like  
So many Tritons followed their bold shouts,  
Yielding a cheerful music; we showered darts,  
Upon them but in vain, they reached their ships,  
And in their safety we are sunk; for Caesar  
Prepares for war.  Pho. 
How fell the King?  Achil. 
Unable,  
To follow Caesar, he was trod to death  
By the pursuers, and with him the Priest,  
Of Isis' good Achoreus.  Ar. 
May the Earth,  
Lie gently on their ashes.  Pho. 
I feel 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 threats now, (fool) thy scoffs, and scorns  
Against the Gods? I see calamity  
Is the best Mistress of Religion,  
And can convert an Atheist.  Shout within. Pho. 
O they come,  
Mountains fall on me! O, for him to die  
That placed 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 Caesar, Scevan, Antony, Dollabella. Caesar. 
Look on your Caesar; banish fear (my fairest) You now are safe.  Sce. 
By Venus, not a kiss  
Till our work be done: the Traitors once dispatched  
To it, and we'll cry aim.  Caesar. 
I will be speedy. Exeunt.  Cleo. 
Farewell again Arsinoe; how now Erisychthon,  
Ever faint-hearted?  Eros. 
But that I am assured,  
Your excellency can command the General,  
I fear the Soldiers, for they look as if  
They would be nibbling too.  Cleo. 
He is all honour,  
Nor do I now repent me of my favours;  
Nor can I think nature e'er made a woman,  
That in her prime deserved him.  Enter Caesar, Sceva, Antony, Dollabella, Soldiers, With the heads. Ars. 
He's come back,  
Pursue no farther; curb the soldier's fury.  
See (beauteous Mistress) their accursed heads,  
That did conspire against us.  Sceva. 
Furies plague 'em,  
They had too fair an end, to die like Soldiers,  
Pompey fell by the sword; the cross, or halter  
Should have dispatched them.  Caesar. 
All is but death (good Sceva)  
Be therefore satisfied, and now (my dearest)  
Look up on Caesar, as he still appeared  
A Conqueror, and this unfortunate King  
Entombed with honour, we'll for Rome, where Caesar  
Will show he can give Kingdom: for the Senate,  
(Thy brother dead) shall willingly decree  
The Crown 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 neat matter may with ease be framed  
Out of their Stories, that have oft been named  
With glory on the Stage: what borrows he  
From him that wrote old Priam's Tragedy.  
That writes bis love to Hecuba? Sure, to tell  
Of Caesar's amorous heats, and how he fell  
In the Capitol, can never be the same  
To the Judicious: Nor will such blame  
Those that penned this, for Barrenness when they find  
Young Cleopatra here, and her great mind  
Expressed to the height, with us a Maid, and free,  
And how he rated her Virginity.  
We treat not of what boldness she did die,  
Nor of her fatal Love to Anthony.  
What we present and offer to your view,  
(Upon their Faiths) the Stage yet never knew.  
Let Reason then, first to your wills give Laws,  
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 express some sign that you are pleased,  
We of our doubts, they of their fears are eased.  
I would beg further (Gentlemen) and much say  
In the favour of ourselves, them, and the Play;  
Did I not rest assured; the most I see  
Hate Impudence, and cherish modesty.