SCENE III.-An open Place in the City.

Enter SEPTIMIUS.

Sept. 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 kill'd Pompey; nor can I hope better,
When Cæsar is despatched. Services done
For such as only study their own ends,
Too great to be rewarded, are return'd
With deadly hate: I learn'd this principle

In his own school. Yet still he fools me: well:-
And yet he trusts me: Since I in my nature
Was fashion'd to be false, wherefore should I,
That kill'd my general, and a Roman, one
To whom I owed all nourishments of life,
Be true to an Egyptian? To save Cæsar,
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 master-piece!-Ha! Curse me ! Cæsar?
How's he got off?

Enter CESAR, PTOLEMY, ANTONY, DOLABELLA, ACHOREUS,
APOLLODORUS, and Soldiers.

Cæsar. The fire has took,

And shews the city like a second Troy ;
The navy too is scorch'd; the people greedy
To save their wealth and houses, while their soldiers
Make spoil of all: Only Achillas' troops
Make good their guard; break through them, we
I'll lead you like a thunder-bolt!

Sept. Stay, Cæsar.

[are safe.

Cæsar. Who's this? the dog Septimius?
Ant. Cut his throat.

Dol. You bark'd but now; fawn you so soon?
Sept. Oh, hear me !

What I'll deliver is for Cæsar's safety,

For all your good.

Into a private room, where you shall find
Photinus, and Achillas, and the rest
Of their commanders, close at counsel.
Cæsar. Good;

What follows?

Sept. Fall me fairly on their throats : Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude Will easily disperse.

Cæsar. Oh, devil!-Away with him! Nor true to friend nor enemy? Cæsar 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 tower'd For victory like a falcon in the clouds, Not digg'd 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 Cæsar's favour, Hang him on yonder turret, and then follow The lane this sword makes for you.

[Exeunt all but SEPTIMIUS and two Soldiers, who seize him. 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. Sept. Save me! here's gold.

SCENE IV. Another Part of the City. Enter severally, ARSINOE, EROS, and CLEOPATRA. Ars. We are lost! Eros. Undone !

Ars. Confusion, fire and swords,

And fury in the soldier's face, more horrid,
Circle us round!

Eros. The king's command they laugh at,
And jeer at Cæsar'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 ransack'd.

Ars. I have lost my jewels too; but that's th

least :

The barbarous rascals, against all humanity

Or sense of pity, have kill'd my little dog, And broke my monkey's chain.

Eros. They ruffled me:

But that I could endure, and tire 'em too, Would they proceed no further.

Ars. Oh, my sister!

Eros. My queen, my mistress!

Ars. Can you stand unmoved,

When an earthquake of rebellion shakes the city And the court trembles?

Cleo. Yes, Arsinoë,

And with a masculine constancy deride
Fortune's worst malice, as a servant to
My virtues, not a mistress: Then we forsake
The strong fort of ourselves, when we once yield
Or shrink at her assaults; I am still myself,
And though disrobed of sovereignty, and ravish
Of ceremonious duty that attends it:

Enter PHOTINUS, with Soldiers.

Eros. Oh, a man in arms!

His weapon drawn too!

Cleo. Though upon the point

Death sate, I'll meet it, and out-dare the danger.
Pho. Keep the watch strong; and guard the
That leads unto the sea.
[passage sure

Cleo. What sea of rudeness

Breaks in upon us? or what subject's breath
Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm ?
Are duty and obedience fled to Heaven,
And, in their room, ambition and pride
Sent into Egypt? That face speaks thee, Photinus,
A thing thy mother brought into the world
My brother's and my slave! But thy behaviour,
Opposed to that, an insolent intruder
Upon that sovereignty thou should'st bow to!
If in the gulph of base ingratitude,
All loyalty to Ptolemy the king

Be swallow'd up, remember who I am,
Whose daughter, and whose sister; or, suppose
That is forgot too, let the name of Cæsar
(Which nations quake at) stop thy desperate

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 Cæsar and my brother.

Pho. Plead my pardon?

To you I bow; but scorn as much to stoop thus To Ptolemy, to Cæsar, nay the gods,

As to put off the figure of a man,

And change my essence with a sensual beast:

All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends,
Were aim'd 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 Cæsar,
By engines fashion'd in this Protean anvil,

I have made mine; and only stoop at you,
Whom I would still preserve free, to command me.
For Cæsar's frowns, they are below my thoughts;
And, but in these fair eyes I still have read
The story of a supreme monarchy,

To which all hearts, with mine, gladly pay tribute,
Photinus' name had long since been as great
As Ptolemy's e'er was, or Cæsar's is.
This made me, as a weaker tie, to unloose
The knot of loyalty, that chain'd my freedom,
And slight the fear that Cæsar's threats might

cause;

That I and they might see no sun appear,
But Cleopatra in the Egyptian sphere.

Cleo. Oh, giant-like ambition, married to Cymmerian darkness! Inconsiderate fool! Though flatter'd with self-love, could'st 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?

Pho. Fairest, that makes for me,
And shews it is no sensual appetite,

But true love to the greatness of thy spirit,

That, when that you are mine, shall yield me

pleasures

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 Cæsar, both being in my toil, removed, The poorest rascals that are in my camp Shall, in my presence, quench their lustful heat In thee, and young Arsincë, 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 born 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.

Ars. Oh, my dear brother!

But still pursued by us: When on the sudden He turn'd his head, and from his eyes flew terror, Which struck in us no less fear and amazement Than if we had encountered with the lightning Hurl'd from Jove's cloudy brow.

Cleo. 'Twas like my Cæsar!

[fear

Achil. We fallen back, he made on and, as our Had parted from us with his dreadful looks, Again we follow'd: But, got near the sea, On which his navy anchor'd, 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 a way, As if he had been Neptune; his friends, like So many Tritons, follow'd, their bold shouts Yielding a cheerful music. We shower'd darts Upon them, but in vain; they reach'd their ships And in their safety we are sunk; for Cæsar Prepares for war.

Pho. How fell the king?

Achil. Unable

fury!

See, beauteous mistress, their accursed heads,
That did conspire against us.

Sce. Furies plague 'em!

They had too fair an end, to die like soldiers: Pompey fell by the sword; the cross or halter Should have dispatch'd them.

Cesar. All is but death, good Sceva; Be therefore satisfied.-And now, my dearest, Look upon Cæsar, as he still appear'd, A conqueror! And, this unfortunate king Entomb'd with honour, we'll to Rome, where Cæs Will shew he can give kingdoms; for the senate Thy brother dead, shall willingly decree

The crown of Egypt, that was his, to thee. [Ex eus

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
I' th' favour of ourselves, them, and the play,
Did I not rest assured, the most I see
Hate impudence, and cherish modesty.

SCENE I.-PARIS. A Street.

Enter DINANT and CLEREMONT.

Din. Dissuade me not.

Cler. 'Twill breed a brawl!

Din. I care not;

I wear a sword!

Cler. And wear discretion with it,

Or cast it off; let that direct your arm; 'Tis madness else, not valour, and more base Than to receive a wrong.

Din. Why, would you have me

Sit down with a disgrace, and thank the doer?
We are not stoicks, and that passive courage
Is only now commendable in lacquies,
Peasants, and tradesmen, not in men of rank
And quality, as I am.

Cler. Do not cherish

That daring vice, for which the whole age suffers.
The blood of our bold youth, that heretofore
Was spent in honourable action,

Or to defend or to enlarge the kingdom,

For the honour of our country, and our prince,
Pours itself out with prodigal expence
Upon our mother's lap, the earth that bred us,
For every trifle. And these private duels,
Which had their first original from the French,
And for which, to this day, we are justly censured,
Are banish'd from all civil governments:
Scarce three in Venice, in as many years;
In Florence they are rarer; and in all
The fair dominions of the Spanish king,

They are never heard of. Nay, those neighbour
Which gladly imitate our other follies, [countries,
And come at a dear rate to buy them of us,
Begin now to detest them.

Din. Will you end yet?

Cler. And I have heard that some of our late For the lie, wearing of a mistress' favour, [kings, A cheat at cards or dice, and such like causes, Have lost us many gallant gentlemen, As might have met the Great Turk in the field, With confidence of a glorious victory: And shall we then

Or be engaged thyself. This goodly calling [died Thou hast follow'd five-and-twenty years, and stuThe criticisms of contentions; and art thou

In so few hours transform'd? Certain, this night Thou hast had strange dreams, or rather visions. Cler. Yes, sir,

I have seen fools and fighters chain'd together, And the fighters had the upper hand, and whipp'd first,

The poor sots laughing at 'em. What I have been It skills not; what I will be is resolved on.

Din. Why, then you'll fight no more?

Cler. Such is my purpose.

Din. On no occasion?

Cler. There you stagger me.

Some kind of wrongs there are, which flesh and
Cannot endure.

Din. Thou would'st not willingly
Live a protested coward, or be call'd one?
Cler. Words are but words.

[blood

Caroch'd, in cloth of tissue; nor five hundred
Of such-like toys, that at no part concern me.
Marry, where my honour, or my friend's is ques
I have a sword, and I think I may use it [tion'd,
To the cutting of a rascal's throat, or so,
Like a good Christian.

Din. Thou'rt of a fine religion;

And, rather than we'll make a schism in friendship,
I will be of it. But, to be serious,
Thou art acquainted with my tedious love-suit
To fair Lamira?

Cler. Too well, sir, and remember
Your presents, courtship-that's too good a name-
Your slave-like services; your morning music,
Your walking three hours in the rain at midnight
To see her at her window, sometimes laugh'd at,
Sometimes admitted, and vouchsafed to kiss
Her glove, her skirt, nay, I have heard, her slippers;
How then you triumph'd! Here was love forsooth.
Din. These follies I deny not;

Such a contemptible thing my dotage made me: But my reward for this

Cler. As you deserved;

For he that makes a goddess of a puppet,
Merits no other recompense.

Din. This day, friend,

For thou art so

Cler. I am no flatterer.

Din. This proud ingrateful she is married to Lame Champernel.

Cler. I know him; he has been

As tall a seaman, and has thrived as well by't,
(The loss of a leg and an arm deducted) as any
That ever put from Marseilles. You are tame;
Plague on't, it mads me! If it were my case,
I should kill all the family.

Din. Yet, but now

You did preach patience.

Cler. I then came from confession ;

And 'twas enjoin'd me three hours, for a penance,
To be a peaceable man, and to talk like one;
But now, all else being pardon'd, I begin
On a new tally. 'Foot, do anything,
I'll second you.

Din. I would not willingly

Make red my yet-white conscience; yet I purpose, I' th' open street, as they come from the temple, (For this way they must pass) to speak my wrongs, And do it boldly. [Music plays.

Cler. Were thy tongue a cannon,
I would stand by thee, boy. They come; upon 'em!

Din. Observe a little first.
Cler. This is a fine fiddling.

Enter VERTAIGNE, CHAMPERNEL, LAMIRA, Nurse, BEAUTRE, and VERDONE; Musicians.

An Epithalamion Song at the Wedding.

Come away; bring on the bride,
And place her by her lover's side.
You fair troop of maids attend her,
Pure and holy thoughts befriend her.
Blush, and wish, you virgins all,
Many such fair nights may fall.

Chorus. Hymen fill the house with joy,
All thy sacred fires employ:
Bless the bed with holy love,
Now, fair orb of beauty, move.

Din. Stand by, for I will be heard. Vert. This is strange rudeness!