Who would regard it? Ptol. You say true. Will look upon king Ptolomy? If they do look, They bear fair streams? Oh, sir, does not this If to be honied on to these afflictions Ptol. I never will: I was a fool! Pho. For then, sir, And the poor glow-worm light of some faint jewels, Before the life of love, and soul of beauty, That quarter with him, and are truly valiant, He'll sell his sword for gold! Ars. This is too bitter. Cleo. Oh, I could curse myself, that was so So fondly childish, to believe his tongue, per. I had trash enough to have cloyed his eyes withal, (His covetous eyes) such as I scorn to tread on, Richer than ever he saw yet, and more tempting; Had I known he had stooped at that, I had saved mine honour, Your country's cause falls with you too, and fet- I had been happy still! But let him take it, tered: All Egypt shall be ploughed up with dishonour. Ptol. No more; I am sensible: And now my spirit And let him brag how poorly I am rewarded; An old blind fool too! I lose my health; I will not, I will not cry; I will not honour him To one I hate, that I might anger him! Cleo. I will go study mischief, Enter APPOLODORUS. When first thou gavest consent, to bring my body | Gave all your thoughts to gold, that men of glory, Apol. Twas your will, madam, Nay more, your charge upon me, as I honoured Soldiers of royal mark scorn such base purchase; Beauty and honour are the marks they shoot at. I spake to you then, I courted you, and wooed you. You know what danger I endured. [Groing a jewel. And carry it to that lordly Cæsar sent thee; There's a new love, a handsome one, a rich one, One that will hug his mind: Bid him make love to it; Tell the ambitious broker, this will suffer Enter CESAR. Apol. He enters. Cleo. How! Casar. I do not use to wait, lady; Where I am, all the doors are free and open. 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 you. What a coy smile was there, and a disdainful! How like an ominous flash it broke out from you! Defend me, Love! Sweet, who has angered you? Cleo. Shew him a glass! That false face has betrayed me, That base heart wronged me! Casar. Be more sweetly angry. I wronged you, fair? Cleo. Away with your foul flatteries; They are too gross! But that I dare be angry, To shew how poorly I respect his memory, Casar. Pray you undo this riddle, And tell me how I have vexed you? Whether I may put on a patience, That will with honour suffer me. Know, I hate you! Let that begin the story: Now, I'll tell you. That moves like summer winds, cool, and blows sweetness, Shews blessed, like herself. Cleo. And that great blessedness You reaped of me: Till you taught my nature, And my fair fruits I gave you leave to taste of; you, Called you dear Cæsar,' hung about you tenderly, Was proud to appear your friend Casar. You have mistaken me. Cleo, But neither eye, nor favour, not a smile, Was I blessed back withal, but shook off rudely; And, as you had been sold to sordid infamy, You fell before the images of treasure, And in your soul you worshipped: I stood slighted, Forgotten and condemned; 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? Cæsar. You are deceived in all this; I love with as much ambition as a conqueror; Casar. So you shall; Stay, fool, and be advised; that dulls the appetite, Takes off 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, ANTONY, and DOLABELLA. 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, Than to live high and wantonly. are secure here, And offer hecatombs of lazy kisses Whilst you To the lewd god of love and cowardice, 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 loop-hole, But straight saluted with an armed dart. Sce. No parley; they are deaf to all but danger. They swear they'll flay us, and then dry our quarters; A rasher of a salt lover is such a shoeing-horn! She can destroy and build again the city; They are not above a hundred thousand, sir, Casar. Begirt with villains? Casar. I'll be myself again, and meet their furies, Meet, and 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 thun der Amongst these beds of slimy eels, and scatter them. Sce. Now you speak sense, I'll put my life to the hazard. Before I go, no more of this warm lady! Casar. Go. Come, let us to counsel, SCENE III. Enter Soldiers. 1 Sold. Did you see this penitence? 2 Sold. Yes, I saw, and heard it. 3 Sold. And I too looked upon him, and observed it; He is the strangest Septimius now 1 Sold. I heard he was altered, And had given away his gold to honest uses, Cried monstrously. 2 Sold. He cries abundantly; He is blind almost with weeping. 3 Sold. '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 Sold. Tis like enough: he never loved his pa rents; Nor can I blame him, for they never loved him. She whistled him up to the world. His brave Sce. They come to play you and your love a He has flung away, and goes like one of us now; hunts-up. You were told what this same whoreson wench ing long ago would come to: 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'd think Dol. And time too; or you'll find else A harder task than courting a coy beauty. Ant. Look out, and then believe. Sce. No, no, hang danger; Take me provoking broth, and then go to her, You may cry, 'Cæsar! and see, if that will help you. Walks with his hands in his pockets, poor and sorrowful, And gives the best instructions! 2 Sold. And tells stories Bless ye from base unworthy men! Come not near me, For I am yet too taking for your company. 1 Sold. Did I not tell ye? 2 Sold. What book is that? 1 Sold. No doubt, Some excellent salve for a sore heart. Are you Septimius, that base knave, that betrayed Pompey? Sept. I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts Will look upon my penitence, and save me, I must be ever villain. Oh, 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; it was that, that brought me to it. Who is this? a priest? Sept. Oh, stay, most holy sir! And, by the gods of Egypt, I conjure ye, Pity a loaden man! and tell me truly, 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! Achor. 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, Slewest thine own feeder! Come not near the altar, Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the sacrifice; And let me be a story, left to time, Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound 1 Sold. Dost thou want any thing? 2 Sold. Be thus, and let the blind priest do his worst; Achil. Thou shalt command in chief all our strong forces; And if thou servest an use, must not all justify it? Sept. I am rogue enough. Pho. Thou wilt be more and baser; A poor rogue's 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. Sept. I'll stop mine ears. Achil. Will shew so in a soldier, So simply and so ridiculously, so tamely Pho. If people would believe thee, it were some honesty; And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee, Pho. Nay, more than that, thy misery, Achil. He begins to hearken. Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. Pho. Why does this conquering Cæsar Labour through the world's deep seas of toils and 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 it? Thou killedst great Pompey: He'll kill all his kindred, And justify it; nay, raise up trophies to it. When thou hearest him repent (he is held most holy too), SCENE I. Enter CESAR, ANTONY, and DOLABELLA, Ant. THE tumult still encreases. Casar. Oh, my fortune! Sept. He does all this. Achil. Yes, and is honoured for it; Nay, called the honoured Cæsar: So mayst thou be; Thou wert born as near a crown as he, Pho. And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit. Sept. I am afraid you will once more- Off with thy pining black; it dulls a soldier, Myself returning rascal speedily. Achil. Thou shalt have all; And do all through thy power. Men shall admire thee, And the vices of Septimius shall turn virtues. Sept. Off, off! thou must off; off, my cowardice! ACT V. My lustful folly rather! But 'tis well, |