University of Virginia Library

Scena Prima.

Enter Ptolomy, Photinus, Achillas, Achoreus.
Ach.
I told ye carefully, what this would prove to,
What this inestimable wealth and glory
Would draw upon ye: I advis'd your Majesty
Never to tempt a Conquering Guest: nor add
A bayte, 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 contemn'd: I dare say,
(And freshly now) 'twas a poore weaknesse in ye,
A glorious Childishness: I watch'd his eye,
And saw how Faulcon-like it towr'd, and flew
Upon the wealthy Quarry: how round it mark'd it:
I observ'd his words, and to what it tended;
How greedily he ask'd from whence it came,
And what Commerce we held for such abundance:
The shew of Nylus, how he laboured at
To finde the secret wayes: the Song delivered.

Ach.
He never smil'd I noted at the pleasures:
But fixt his constant eyes upon the treasure;
I doe not thinke his eares had so much leizure
After the wealth appear'd, to heare the Musique?
Most sure he has not slept since, his minds troubld
With objects they would make their own still labour.

Pho.
Your sister he ne're gaz'd 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 carefulnesse
To shew an armed thiefe the way to rob ye:
Nay, would you give him this, 'twill excite him
To seeke the rest. Ambition feeles 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 selfe, but favours
Of indiscretion, and your friend has found it.
Had ye been train'd up in the wants and miseries
A souldier marches through: and known his temperance
In offerd courtesies, you wovld have made
A wiser Master of your owne, 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 vassaile.
Now take good councell, or no more take to ye
The freedome of a Prince.

Achil.
'Twill be too late else:
For, since the Masque, he sent three of his Captaines
(Ambitious as himselfe) to view againe
The glory of your wealth.

Pho.
The next himselfe comes,
Not staying for your courtesie, and takes it.

Ptol.
What counsell my Achoreus?

Ach.
I'le goe 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,
A most secure way; whether will ye flye now?

Achil.
For when your wealth is gone, your power must
follow.

Pho.
And that diminisht also, what's your life worth?
Who would regard it?

Ptol.
You say true.

Achil.
What eye
Will looke upon King Ptolomy? If they do looke,
It must be in scorne:
For a poore King is a monster;
What eare remember ye? 'twill be then a courtesie,
(A noble one) to take your life too from ye:
But if reserv'd, you stand to fill a victory,
As who knowes Conquerours minds? though outwardly
They beare faire streames.
O Sir, does this not shake ye?
If to be honyed on to these afflictions—

Ptol.
I never will: I was a Foole.

Pho.
For then Sir
Your Countreys cause falls with ye too, and fetterd:
All Ægypt shall be ploughed up with dishonour.

Ptol.
No more: I am sensible: and now my spirit
Burnes hot within me.

Achil.
Keepe it warm and fiery.

Pho.
And last be counsaild.

Ptol.
I will, though I perish.

Pho.
Goe in: wee'l tell you all: and then wee'l execute.

Exeunt.