University of Virginia Library

Act Third

Scene First.

Enter Charmion and Achoreus.
Charm.
While Ptolomey with low respect does haste
Onr Ægypts Crown at Cæsars feet to Cast,
The Queen as unconcern'd at Home does stay,
Expecting Cæsar like respect should pay
To her; what think you of this haughty Dame?

Acho.
'Tis a just Value set upon the Fame
Of her great Beauty, and becomes her Place
And high Extraction of that Royal Race;
But may I have access?

Charm.
No, I am sent
Of the late Interview to know th'Event,
To learn what the strange Present did obtain,
The thanks of Cæsar or his Just disdain,
If his Reception of the King were kind,
And what Success our Murtherers do find.

Acho.
The Head presented will produce Effects
Much differing from what Ægypts Court expects,
Whose Flatteries have mis-led their Soveraign;
When he took Shipping I was in his Train;
Our Navy Anchor in good Order weigh'd,
And a League hence for Cæsars coming staid,
He with full Sails advanc't, as Mars had grac't
His Sword with Conquest, Neptune now as fast
Favours his Course, and to his Fleet, as kind
As his late Fortune, gives a prosperous Wind;
When they first meet, Our Prince dismay'd appears,
Forgetting what became the Crown he wears,
Shews Abject Fear, in Chearfulness ill feign'd,
A servil Baseness his Behaviour stain'd;
I blush'd to see our Ptolomey so near
To mighty Cæsar and no King appear;
Cæsar that saw Fear strike him in amaze,
With Flattering pity did his Spirits raise;
He faintly then the fatal Present shows,
Behold my Lord, the last of all your Foes.
Pompey, Cornelia, both from me receive
More than the Gods could at Pharsalia give;
Here is his Head, the other, though she flies,
Our Fleet persuing will soon make your prize.
The Head discover'd of great Pompey slain
Appear'd as though it would have Spoke again,
As if it yet were warm enough to have
Sense of th'Affront which to his Ghost they gave;
The mouth yet Gasping, and the wandring sight
Seem'd to recall the Soul but yet in Flight,
His Dying anger wanted only breath
T'accuse the Gods for his Defeat and Death.

Charm.
Drawn in small space, large Histories have been,
So in that point those Miseries were seen,
That like a Deluge the whole World o'respread,
E're they could swell so high to reach that Head;
Could horrour there, Contracting all her power
Make no Impression on the Conquerour?

Acho.
The sight like Thunder strook him with surprize,
As one not knowing what, or how t'advise,
His fixed Eye a while, and deep suspence
From all about him hid his Doubtfull sense;
If we may guess, he labour'd to Destroy
The rising Motions of uncomely Joy,
To which Ambition did his Thoughts allure,
Finding his Empire o're the World secure,
This Pleasure with Discretion did contest
For a short pause, till Reason got the best;
Though he loves Greatness, Treachery he hates,
Weighs the Worlds Judgment and his own, Debates
What solid Motives urge his Joy, or Woe,
At length Concluding, Tears his Eyes o'reflow,
A generous Frailty in his Temper shines,
And to his Virtue Interest resigns;
Out of his Sight he sends them with their Gift,
And with his Eyes and Hands to Heav'n up lift,
Against the Fact in bitter Words declares,
Then silent stood as one opprest with Cares,
Nor to his Romans would he make reply,
But with deep Sighing or an angry Eye;
At length with Thirty Cohorts set on Land,
Both of our Ports and Gates he took Command,
Plac'd Guards with secret Orders every where,
To make Distrust as well as Grief appear,
Speaks as our Lord, names Pompey, not as one
That was his Rival, but his Dearest Son;
There's what I saw.

Charm.
Here's what the Queen would have,
And what her Prayers from just Osiris crave,
Shee'l be Transported with this welcome News,
Which to encrease your faithfull Service use.

Acho.
I shall, but Cæsar's come, go let her hear
How pale our Courtiers look, how Dead with fear,
And we, as Cæsar shall his mind disclose,
Will soon inform her how this new World goes.

Exeunt.

Scene the Second.

Enter Ptolomey, Cæsar and Lepidus, Antonius.
Ptolom.
My Lord, as Soveraign here, our Throne ascend.

Cæsar.
That offer, Sir, speaks you not Cæsar's friend,
Fortunes worst Malice could not set me down
To less Advantage than upon a Throne;
Here Rome's hard usage would find Just excuse,
If such a weak Temptation could seduce
A Roman heart from its true Character,
To stoop at Loyalty, disdain'd by her,
And giv'n as Cheap, 'tis bred in our Souls frame
To hate that Quality, and slight the Name;
This from great Pompey you had sooner known,
If your Distressed friend y'had dar'd to own,
He had this offer of your Chair declin'd,
If to that Worthy you had been thus kind;
You might perhaps, have fallen, but strew'd with Bays,
No Trophees of Success had match't that praise,
When Fortune had betray'd your Enterprize,
Cæsar had took delight to help you Rise,
But since your Thoughts had no regard of Fame,
To that Illustrious head whence grew your Claim;
Which way could he forfeit his Life to you,
Whose Homage is to the least Roman due?
Has fate made me Triumphant o're my Foes,
That Ægypts King the Conquest should dispose?
My too Destructive Sword did I unsheath,
That you might Judge of Romans Life and Death?
I Fought to wrest that Power from Pompeys hands,
Shall I endure your Barbarous Commands?
What do you think for this can be your Doom,
Where you pretend a Soveraignty o're Rome?
Affronted more in this Illustrious head,
Than all the Blood that Mithridates shed;
Had I been Vanquish'd, your Complying thought
My head a present had to Pompey brought;
Thanks to my Fortune that I am ador'd,
From him Retreating I had met your Sword;
Friendship abhorr'd, and formidable Love,
That Safe or Dangerous as our Fortunes prove;
But speak, you have too long stood thus Confus'd.

Ptolom.
'Tis true, but with Just cause may be Excus'd.
A Soveragn Born that always us'd Command,
I now in presence of my Master stand,
My Courtiers all with Reverence on me look,
But with like Awe I am by Cæsar strook,
Judge then how I should presence have of mind,
Who from your Words such Cause of Terrour find;
Lost in profound Respect, how should we Clear
This double Cloud of Reverence and Fear?
But above all that which Confounds me most,
Is to find Cæsar Friend to Pompeys Ghost.
You urge Ingratitude, but this I know,
That more to Cæsar than to him I owe;
Your favour first on our Dark Fortune shin'd,
To what he did he was by you inclin'd,
Our Cause ith' Senate he did undertake,
Protecting Injur'd Princes for your sake,
Yet vain had been whatever they Decreed,
Unless your Bounty had supply'd our need;
The Thousand Talents you so Nobly lent,
Restor'd us to our Throne from Banishment.
Your Son we Honour'd, while he was your Friend,
Before his Force he did against you bend;
Before he Envy'd your Success in Warr,
And Tyrant like began this Civil Jarr.

Cæsar.
Hold—Are you not contented with his Death,
That thus you Blast his Glory with your Breath?
Vent not such Slanders as may Rome offend,
Nor him Reproach, while you your Self Defend.

Ptolom.
Then we referr to Heav'n his secret thought,
Which all our Vows during these Warrs besought,
That you by prosp'rous Arms might be redrest,
Whose slow Resentment was so rudely Press'd.
How could I think, that it became your Friend
To spare his Life, that did your Death intend?
A man whose Rage no Victory could quel,
Might have fetch'd Succour from the lowest Hell,
Made the Wild Parthian the Sworn foe of Rome,
And all the East against his Father come;
Besides, had you his Person got, our fear
Suppos'd your heart too generous would forbear
Your Just Revenge, and Clemency's Excess
Had still Continu'd your Unhappiness.
These friendly fears of Accidents so ill,
Made us secure you, though against your Will;
Our forward Zeal as Guilty you disown,
But 'twas to Serve you, what has been misdone;
Nor need you own the Fact by which you gain,
To keep you Innocent I took the stain,
The Blacker 'tis the more it should be Priz'd,
My Fame to your Concernment Sacrifis'd.

Cæsar.
Reasons ill grounded your false Zeal misled,
If what the whole World pray'd for, caus'd your Dread,
That your too Curious fear should thus delude
The fairest hope our Civil Arms pursu'd;
Honour engag'd me my proud Foes to tame,
And then to pardon was my only aim,
The feircest Enemies I have o'rethrown,
For my Dear Friends and Confidents I own.
VVhat publique Joy had our sad Warr ensu'd,
If I and Pompey o're our former feud,
Triumphant had in the same Chariot Rid?
All which your narrow Policies forbid.
You fear'd my Clemency! O gross mistake!
VVish it were greater now for your own sake;
If by strict Rules of Justice I were led,
I should appease Romes Anger with your Head;
VVithout regard to seeming Love, your State,
Or too late Penitence, Indulge my Hate,
And make your Throne it self the Tragick Stage,
Did not your Sister obviate my Rage:
Your guilty Blood my Pardon only gains,
Because it runs in Cleopatra's Veins;
On your base Flatterers the fault I lay,
And am content their Lives the forfeit pay;
Guilty or Innocent I shall Esteem
You, as you Spare, or as you Punish them.
Mean while to Pompey let new Altars rise
VVith Honours, such as to the Deities
Are paid, with Sacrifice your Crime repair,
And in that Work imploy your Cheifest care;
Among your Courtiers order this Design,
And leave me otherwise imploy'd with mine.

Exit Ptolomey.

Scene the Third.

Anton.
Yes, and all wonders met in that fair Queen,
Heav'n never yet in such a Union Joyn'd
All Beauties Charms with an Accomplish'd mind;
Her Look with a sweet Majesty replete,
The coldest Hearts invades with Conquering heat,
Her Wit surprizes, and her bright Eyes so,
That were I Cæsar, I should Love her too.

Cæsar.
But how does she our offer'd Love receive?

Anton.
As if she durst not, but yet did believe;
With Weak Denials she invites to sue,
And seems not worthy, though she thinks it due.

Cæsar.
Shall I prevail?

Anton.
What doubt if you Command
Her, that Expects a Scepter from your Hand?
How should your Passion fear to be repell'd?
What can oppose him that has Pompey quell'd?
All the Objection that her Caution brings,
Is the Contempt that Romans have of Kings;
Something she's troubl'd with Calphurnia too,
But all will Vanish at the sight of you,
To pleasing Hopes these Fears will soon give place,
When you shall Woo her with a Conquerours Grace.

Cæsar.
Lets go and free her from this Trivial fear,
By making Cæsars matchless Love appear;
Come, lets away.

Anton.
Before you wait on her
Know that Cornelia is your Prisoner,
Brought by Septimius, whom his late Crimes raise
To great Expectance of your thanks and praise;
Your Guards by Order when they first took Shore,
Led them tow'rds you without Expressing more.

Cæsar.
She must come in; these News untimely stay
Impatient hopes with Languishing delay;
O the Excess of Greatness that Imploys
Our Life in Business, and Deferrs our Joys.

Scene the Fourth.

Enter Cornelia with a Guard.
Septim.
My Lord—

Cæsar.
Septimius to your Master go,
No Traitors shall abide with Cæsar, no
Degenerate wretch, that Roman Swords could bring
From Pompeys Camp or mine to serve a King.

Cornel.
Cæsar, for Envious Fates that I out-brave
Can make me but your Prisoner, not your Slave,
Expect not that their Rage should make me Bow
To call you Lord, That Homage is below
Young Crassus, Pompey's Widdow, Scipio's Blood,
And what's yet more a Roman Born, how shou'd
I stoop to that who am so much above
The power of Fortune in my Birth and Love?
For Life, 'tis that I Blush to own, that I
Could stay behind when I saw Pompey Dye;
Though Pity with rude Force impos'd restraint
From Steel, or Waves, It is my shame to want
Those borrowed helps, for loss of such a Friend,
Excess of Grief should Lingring Torments end;
Death were my Glory, that your Captive I
Live, is the last Degree of Misery.

Cæsar.
The Nature of your Grief so Violent,
Does to your Thoughts through a Dark Veil present
All black like Ægypts Monsters, this belief
Of them were Just, not where a Roman's chief.

Cornel.
O Heav'n! upon my Birth what Planets shin'd,
That I must praise their Clemency to find
My greatest Foe Rule here, rather than one
My Husbands hand Restor'd to his lost Throne?
Cæsar, upon your Triumphs set less rate,
Effects produc'd by my Disastrous fate,
Ruine my Portion to both Husbands paid,
Theirs, and the whole Worlds Fortune has out-weigh'd;
'Tis I, that with my Nuptial Knot ill ty'd,
Twice made the Gods forsake the Juster side.
O that on Cæsar I had been bestow'd,
That Rome to my Misfortune might have ow'd
Her freedome, and thy Family the bane
Of blasting Stars led thither as my Train;
Think not to change my Hate, a Heart like mine
Though force may Captivate, can ne're incline
Basely to sue, what e're your Order Threats,
Cornelia neither Trembles, nor Intreats.

Cæsar.
O worthy half of an Illustrious mate,
Your Courage we admire, and mourn your Fate,
From whence you Sprung, this great Heart amply proves,
And your Just Title to such Worthy Loves;
Young Crassus, Pompey's Virtues, whose reward
Fate could not pay, Scipio's great Soul, the Guard
Of our Distress'd and Threatned Deities
Speak with your Voice, and Sparkle in your Eyes;
No Dame so highly Married, and so Born,
Does Rome the Mistress of the World Adorn;
Would Jove and all the Gods your Scipio sav'd
From Punick Rage, had heard but what I crav'd,
That in your Hero's Brest no mis-conceit
Of my Design had made him thus retreat
To Barbarous Courts, on us he had rely'd,
And stop't his Flight to hear me Justified,
Then had I Triumph'd with a happier Doom
Over Mistakes and Strife, not Him, and Rome,
And he his Losses recompenc'd might prove
In the full Treasure of his Rivals Love:
To Live his Equal, and to Dye his Friend,
Of my Contention was the only End,
His Mind once setled in a quiet state,
His Pardon I had got for partial Fate;
And with it gain'd Romes Alienated heart,
When she had known I had in his a part.

Cornel.
Cæsar, great Promises are safely made,
Where the performance is but to a Shade,
The way's too Common, and we easily find
Men to the Ashes of their Rivals kind;
Be still your self, for we receive your Hate
With better Welcome, than a Love so Late.

Cæsar.
Yet, Madam, since with him these Hopes must Dye,
And Envious Fates so great a Joy deny,
To what is left of him, that is, to You,
Cæsar shall render what to Both is due.
Be Mistriss of your Self, I only pray
The favour from you of a Two Days stay,
To be a Witness after all your Hate,
How I Resent his Loss, Revenge his Fate,
That so the World for all the late Spilt flood,
May know the Price I set on Roman Blood.
Madam, I leave you for a Moment, see
Good Lepidus, that her Attendance be
As Roman Ladies ought, That is, above
Whats paid to greatest Queens, let all things move
At her Command.

Cornel.
O Cruelty of Fate!
That I such Virtue should be forc't to Hate.

Exeunt.