University of Virginia Library

SCENE 1.

Ptolomey, Achillas, Photinus, Septimius.
Ptol.
Fate hath declar'd her self, and we may see
Th'Intrigue of th'great Rivals Destiny:
That quarrel which did all the Gods divide,
Pharsalia hath the Honour to decide.
Whose Rivers swelling with new bloody Tides
(Sent thither from so many Parricides)
The Horrour of torn Ensigns, Chariots, Shields,
Spread in Confusion o're th'infected Fields;
Those Slaughter'd heaps whose shades no rest obtain'd
By Nature to their own revenge constrain'd,
(Their Putrefactions seeming to Revive
The War with those that do remain alive,)
Are Dreadful rules by which the Sword thinks fit,
Pompey to cast, and Cæsar to acquit.
That distress'd Leader of the Juster Side,
Whose wearied Fortune hath all Help deny'd,
A terrible Example will create
To future Times, of the Extreams of Fate:
He flies, whose happy Courage had, till now,
Confin'd the Bay to his Victorious Brow:
He in our Ports chooses his last Retreat;
And wanting Refuge from a Foe so Great,
His bold Misfortune seeks it in Abodes,
Which from the Titans once preserv'd the Gods;
And from so fam'd a Climate, doth expect
That it should Earth as well as Heav'n protect;
And lending his Despair a kinde Effort,
It should the staggering Universe support:
Yes, the World's Fortune Pompey with him brings,
And hopes a Land whose Fame such Wonder sings,
A Prop or Tomb might to her Freedom give,
And Pompey's Fall Attend, if not Releive.
This, Friends, the Subject is of our debate;
Our Triumphs he, or Ruine will create:
He hazards me, who did my Father save,
And does expose that Memphis which he gave:
We must now hasten or prevent his fate,
His Ruine hinder or precipitate:
That is unsafe, and this Ignoble is;
I dread in justice, or unhappiness;
And angry fortune each way offers me
Either much danger, or much infamy.
It is my part to choose, yours to advise
What you believe to be most safe and wise:
Pompey's Concern'd; nay, we the fame shall get,
Cæsar's success to trouble, or compleat;
And never Monarchs Fortune did afford
So great a Subject for a Councel Board.

Photin.
When things, Sir, are determin'd by the sword,
Justice is nothing but an empty word:
And he who then Affairs would rightly weigh
Must not his Reasons, but his power obey:
View your own Strength, let Pompey be survey'd,
Whose Fortune Droop's, and Valour is betray'd;
Who not from Cæsar only takes his flight,
But from the Senates just Reproach and sight,
(Whose greater part, were cheaply left a Prey
To the Keen Vultures of Pharsalia)
He flies lost Rome, and every Roman now,
Who must to his defeat their Fetters owe.
He flies those Kings who would chastise his Guilt,
Of all the blood that in his cause was spilt.
Their Kingdoms now of Men and Money void,
Their broken Scepters and their Thrones destroy'd,
As Author of all Woes, abhor'd by all,
He flies the whole World, shatter'd by his Fall.
Can you alone resist so many Foes?
His safety he did in himself Repose:
He falls, and You may yield without a Blush
To such a weight as Rome her self does Crush;
A weight which hath the Universe prest down,
And the yet greater Pompey overthrown.
He that will save whom Heaven would have wrack't,
By too much Justice may a Guilt Contract.
And a fidelity so indiscreet
May a short Fame, but long Repentance meet:
He but a more Illustrious wound will have
Which will not smart the less for being brave:
Do not for Egypt Thunderbolts provide,
But choose with Fortune, and the Gods to side.
Believe not they can an Injustice do.
But where they favour, pay you homage too.
Whatever they decree for them declare,
And think it Impious where they frown to spare,
With Divine Anger Pompey now beset
Comes to involve you too, in his Defeat.
His Head for which both Gods and Men do call
Already shakes, and seeks but where to fall:
His coming hither an Offence does seem
And shew's his Hatred rather then esteem.
He would his safety with Your Ruine buy,
And can you Doubt, if he deserve to dye?
Had he fulfil'd what we both wisht and thought,
And a Victorious Navy hither brought,
We then should him a Joyful welcom shew,
Who must the Gods blame for his usage now.
I of his Fortune, not of him Complain,
But with Regret Act what the Gods Ordain,
And the same Ponyard, once for Cæsar meant
Shall with a sigh to Pompey's Heart be sent.
Nor can you at a less rate then his Head
Secure Your Own, and shun the storm You Dread,
Let this be thought a Crime, if so it must,
'Tis not a States-man's Virtue to be Just.
When Right and Wrong are in the Ballance lay'd,
The Interest of Kingdoms is betray'd,
Extreamest Rigour is the Right of Kings,
When Timorous Equity their Ruine brings,
Who fears a Crime shall ever be affraid,
But hee'l rule all who all things dares invade,
Who Dangerous Virtue, as Disgrace, does shun,
And to an Useful Crime as swiftly run.
This is my Thought, Sir, but Achillas may,
Or else Septimius, choose some other way.
But this I know, whatever others like,
They fear no Conquerour who the Conquer'd strike.

Achil.
Photin says true, Sir, but though Pompey we
Divested of his former Grandeur see,
Yet that Blood Pretious does to me appear
Which the Gods did in Thessaly revere,
Not that a Crime of State should be refrain'd,
But 'tis not lawful, till it be constrain'd:
And what need is there of such Rigour here?
Who quits the Conquer'd needs no Conquerour fear.
You may be Neuter, as You were before:
And Cæsar may, if him you must adore;
But though you treat him as a Power Divine,
This is too great an Offring for his Shrine.
To Mars himself should this Head offer'd be,
'Twould fix on Yours too black an Infamy:
Let him not be Assisted nor Destroy'd,
And such a Conduct will all blame avoid.
You owe him much, Sir, for Rome, mov'd by him,
Help'd our last King his Scepter to redeem,
But Gratitude and Hospitality,
In Monarchs Brests must regulated be,
Nor can a King Contract so great a Debt,
But that his Subjects claim a greater yet.
And all Engagements are to Princes void,
To Cancel which, their Blood must be Imploy'd:
Consider too, what Pompey did expose,
When he your Father help'd against his Foes:
By that he made his Power the greater seem,
And rais'd his own Fame, by restoring him:
He did in serving him but language spend;
But Cæsar's Purse appear'd the better Friend,
Had we not Cæsars thousand Talents seen,
Pompey's Orations had small succours been.
Let him not then his Verbal merits boast,
For Cæsar's Actions have Oblig'd You most.
But if a benefit to Him be due,
Speak now for Him, as he did once for You:
His kindness safely thus requite you may;
But here receiv'd, He will your Scepter sway:
This Conquer'd Roman yet a King will brave,
And in your own Dominions you enslave.
Refuse him Welcome then, but spare his Head;
But if't must fall, this arm shall strike him dead:
I can obey (Sir) and should Jealous grow,
If any Hand but mine should strike the blow.

Septim.
Sir, I'm a Roman, and these Hero's know
Pompey needs aid, and from you seeks it now;
You are his fate, may his lost hopes revive,
Banish, or Kill, or give him up alive:
The first would cost you much too dear a Rate,
I'le only then the other three debate.
His exile draws on You enraged Pow'r,
And does but half oblige the Conquerour;
Since to a long suspence you will him leave,
What fate his future battles shall receive;
And both on you Revenge, when weary grown
The Ills which, but for You, they had not known.
To render him to Cæsar were the same,
Who must forgive him, to Augment his Fame:
He will a brav'ry on himself impose,
And swell in that false mercy he bestowes;
Glad if that way he Pompey can o'recome,
And in the same Act please subjected Rome:
But whilst you him to this necessitate,
You'l purchase his, as well as Pompey's hate:
His danger and dishonour then prevent,
Both make him great, and keep him Innocent;
Whilst Pompey's Faction, you in him, destroy,
Let Cæsar, at your cost, the Fruit enjoy:
By this advice, which you'l, I hope, allow,
You'l gain a Friend, and need not fear a Foe;
But if Achillas unsafe course you choose,
You neither gain, but both their Friendships lose.

Ptol.
Let us no more debate what's Just and fit,
But to the Worlds vicissitude submit.
Your Major votes do with my Thoughts agree
Who in so great a change would active be,
Rome hath too long made an Injurious Claim
That all men should adore the Roman Name:
Her lofty Freedom let us now throw down,
And all Her scorn in Pompey's Blood lets drown.
Cutting the Root by which that Pride does live,
To the Worlds Tyrants let's a Tyrant give;
Now fate would chain an Arrogance so fierce,
Let's help her to revenge the Universe.
Rome, thou shalt serve, and Kings which always yet
Th'hast dar'd with so much Insolence to treat,
Will Cæsar now, with less Regret, obey
Since thou shalt be enslav'd as well as they:
Achillas and Septimius lose no time,
But make us Deathless by this glorious Crime,
Of Heavens Resentment I'le the hazard run,
Who sent him hither sure to be undone.

Achil.
A Kings Command must no dispute endure.

Ptol.
Go then, the Scepter which I bear, secure;
For you by this Commission are become
The Destinies of Egypt and of Rome.