University of Virginia Library

Actus Tertius

Scena Prima.

Enter Ptolomy, Photinus.
Pho.
Good Sir, but heare.

Ptol.
No more, you have undon me,
That, that I howrely feard, is falne upon me,
And heavily, and deadly.

Pho.
Heare a remedy.

Ptol.
A remedy now the disease is ulcerous?
And has infected all? your secure negligence
Has broke through all the hopes I have, and ruinde me:
My Sister is with Cæsar, in his chamber,
All night she has bin with him; and no doubt
Much to her honour.

Pho.
Would that were the worst, Sir,
That will repaire it selfe: but I feare mainely,
She has made her peace with Cæsar.

Ptol.
'Tis most likely,
And what am I then?

Pho.
'Plague upon that Rascall
Apollodorus, under whose command,
Under whose eye—

Enter Achillas.
Ptol.
Curse on you all, ye are wreches.

Pho.
'Twas providently don (Achillas.

Achil.
Pardon me.

Pho.
Your guardes were rarely wise, and woundrous watchfull.

Achil.
I could not helpe it, if my life had laine for't,
Alas, who would suspect a pack of bedding:
Or a small Trusse of houshould furniture?
And as they saide for Cæsars use:) or who durst
(Being for his private chamber) seeke to stop it?
I was abus'd.

Enter Achoreus.
Ach.
'Tis no hower now for anger:
No wisedome to debate with fruitlesse choler,
Let us consider timely what we must do,
Since she is flowne to his protection:
From whom we have no power to sever her,
Nor force conditions—

Ptol.
Speake (good Achoreus)

Ach.
Let indirect and crooked counsells vanish,
And straight, and faire directions—

Pho.
Speake your minde Sir.

Ach.
Let us choose Cæsar, and endeare him to us,)
An Arbitrator in all differences,
Betwixt you, and your sister; this is safe now:
And will shew off, most honourable.

Pho.
Base,
Most base and poore; a servile, cold submission:
Heare me, and pluck your hearts up, like stout Counsellours,
Since we are sensible this Cæsar loades us,
And have begun our fortune, with great Pompey
Be of my minde.

Ach.
'Tis most uncomely spoken,
And if I say most bloodily, I lye not:
The law of hospitality, it poysons,
And calls the Gods in question that dwell in us
Be wise O King.

Ptol.
I will be: go my counsellour,
To Cæsar go, and do my humble service:
To my faire sister my commends negotiate,
And here I ratefie what e're thou treat'st on.

Ach.
Crown'd with faire peace, I go.

Exit.
Ptol.
My love go with thee,
And from my love go you, you cruell vipers:
You shall know now I am no ward, Photinus.

Exit.
Pho.
This for our service?
Prince's do their pleasures,
And they that serve obey in all disgraces:
The lowest we can fall to, is our graves,
There we shall know no difference: heark Achillas,
I may do something yet, when times are ripe,
To tell this rare unthankfull King.

Achil.
Photinus,
What e're it be I shall make one: and zealously:
For better dye attempting something nobly,
Then fall disgraced.

Pho.
Thou lou'st me and I thanke thee.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Antony, Dollobella, Sceva.
Dol.
Nay there's no rowsing him: he is bewitchd sure,
His noble blood crudled, and cold within him;
Growne now a womans warriour.

Sce.
And a tall one:
Studies her fortifications, and her breaches,
And how he may advance his ram to batter
The Bullworke of her chastitie.

Ant.
Be not too angry,
For by this light, the woman's a rare woman,
A Lady of that catching youth, and beauty,
That unmatch'd sweetnesse—

Dol.
But why should he be foold so?
Let her be what she will, why should his wisedome,
His age, and honour—

Ant.
Say it were your owne case,
Or mine, or any mans, that has heate in him:
'Tis true at this time when he has no promise
Of more security then his sword can cut through,
I do not hold it so discreete: but a good face (Gentleman)
And eyes that are the winningst Orators:
A youth that opens like perpetuall spring,
And to all these, a tongue that can deliver
The Oracles of Love—

Sce.
I would you had her,
With all her Oracles, and Miracles,
She were fitter for your turne.

Ant.
Would I had (Sceva)
With all her faultes too: let me a lone to mend 'em,
O that condition I made thee mine heire.

Sce.
I had rather have your black horse, then your harlots.

Dol.
Cæsar writes Sonnetts now, the sound of war
Is growne to boystrous for his mouth, he sighes too.

Sce.
And learnes to fidle most mellodiously,
And sings, 'twould make your eares prick up, to heare him (Gent.)
Shortly shee'le make him spin: & 'tis thought
He will prove an admirable maker of Bonelace,
And what a rare guift will that be in a generall?

Ant.
I would he could abstaine.

Sce.
She is a witch sure,
And workes upon him with some damn'd inchantment.

Dol.
How cunning she will cary her behaviours,
And set her countenance in a thousand postures:
To catch her ends?

Sce.
She will be sick, well, sullen,
Merry, coy, over-joyd, and seeme to dye
All in one halfe an houre, to make an asse of him,
I make no doubt she will be drunk too: damnably,
And in her drinke will fight, then she sitts him.

Ant.
That thou shoulds bring her in?

Sce.
'Twas my blinde fortune,
My Souldiers told me, by the waite 'twas wicked:
Would I had carried Milos Bull a furlong,
When I brought this Cow-Calfe: he has advanced mee,
From an old Soldier, to a baw'd of memory:
O, that the Sonnes of Pompey were behinde him,
The honor'd Cato, and feirce Juba with 'em,
That they might whip him from his whore, & rowze him:
That their feirce Trumpers, from his wanton trances,
Might shake him like an Earthquake.

Enter Septinius.
Ant.
What's this fellow?

Dol.
Why, a brave fellow, if we judge men by their clothes,

Ant.
By my faith he is brave indeed: he's no cōmander.

Sce.
Yes, he has a Roman face, he has been at faire wars
And plenteous too, and rich, his Trappings shew it.

Sep.
And they will not know me now, they'l never know me,
Who dare blush now at my acquaintance? ha?
Am I not totally a span-new Gallant
Fit for the choycest eyes? have I not gold?
The friendship of the world? if they shun me now?
(Though I were the arrantest Rogue, as I am well forward,
Mine owne curse, and the Devills are light on me.

Ant.
Is't not Septinius?

Sce.
Yes.

Dol.
He that killd Pompey?

Sce.
The same Dog, Scab, that guilded botch, that rascal

Dol.
How glorious villany appeares in Egypt?

Sep.
Gallants, and Soldiers, sure they doe admire me.

Sce.
Stand further off, thou stinkest

Sep.
A likely matter:
These Cloaths smell mustily, doe they not Gallants?
They stinke they stinke, alas poore things, contemptible
By all the Gods in Egypt, the perfumes
That went to trymming these cloathes, cost me—

Sce.
Thou stinkest still.

Sep.
The powdring of this head too—

Sce.
If thou hast it
I'll tell thee all the Gumms in sweet Arabia
Are not sufficient, were they burnt about thee,
To purge the sent of a ranck Rascall from thee,

Ant.
I smell him now: fie, how the Knave perfumes him,
How strong he sents of Traitor?

Dol.
You had an ill Millaner,
He laid too much of the Gum of Ingratitude
Upon your Coate, you should have washt off that sir,
Fie, how it choakes, too litle of your loyaltie
Your honesty, your faith, that are pure Ambers,
I smell the rotten smell of a hired Coward,
A dead Dog is sweeter.

Sep.
Ye are merry Gentlemen
And by my troth, such harmelesse mirth takes me too,
You speake like good blunt Souldiers; and 'tis well enough,
But did you live at Court, as I doe (Gallants)
You would refine, and learne an apter language;
I have done ye simple service on your Pompey,
You might have lookt him yet this brace of twelve moneths
And hunted after him, like founderd Beagles,
Had not this fortunate hand—

Ant.
He brags on't too:
By the good Gods, rejoyces in't; thou wretch
Thou most contemptible Slave.

Sce.
Dog, mangy Mongrell,
Thou murdring mischiefe, in the shape of Souldier
To make all Souldiers hatefull; thou disease
That nothing but the Gallowes can give ease to.—

Dol.
Thou art so impudent, that I admire thee
And know not what to say.

Sep.
I know your anger
And why you prate thus: I have found your mellencholly
Ye all want money, and you are liberall Captaines
And in this want, will talke a little desperately:
Heere's gold, come share; I love a brave Commander:
And be not peevish, doe as Cæsar does:
He's merry with his wench now, be you joviall,
And let's all laugh and drinke: would ye have partners?
I doe consider all your wants, and weigh 'em,
He has the Mistris, you shall have the maids,
I'le bring 'em to ye, to your armes.

Ant.
I Blush,
All over me, I blush, and sweat to heare him:
Upon my conscience, if my Armes were on now
Through them I should blush too: pray ye let's be walking.

Sce.
Yes, yes: but ere we goe, I'le leave this lesson,
And let him study it: first Rogue, then Pander,
Next Devill that will be; get thee from mens presence,
And where the name of Souldier has beene heard of
Be sure thou live not: to some hungry desert
Where thou canst meete with nothing but thy conscience,
(And that in all the shapes of all thy villanies)
Attend thee still, where bruit Beasts will abhor thee,
And even the Sun will shame to give thee light
Goe hide thy head: or if thou think if it fitter
Goe hang thy selfe.

Dol.
Harke to that clause,

Sce.
And that speedily
That nature may be eas'd of such a Monster.

Exit.
Sep.
Yet all this moves not me: nor reflects on me:
I keepe my God still, and my confidence,
Their want of breeding, makes these fellowes murmur
Rude valorus, so I let 'em passe; rude honours:
There is a wench yet, that I know, affects me
And company for a King: a young plump villaine,
That when she sees this gold, shee'll leap upon me,
Enter Eros.
And here she comes: I am sure of her at midnight,
My pretty Eros welcome.

Eros.
I have businesse.

Sep.
Above my love, thou canst not.

Er.
Yes indeede sir,
Far, far above.

Sep.
Why, why so coy? 'pray ye tell me
We are alone.

Er.
I am much asham'd we are so.

Sep.
You want a new Gowne now, & a handsome Pettecote,
A Skarfe, and some odd toyes: I have gold here ready,
Thou shalt have any thing.

Eros.
I want your absence:
Keepe on your way, I care not for your company.

Sep.
How? how? you are very short: doe you know me Eros?
And what I have beene to ye?

Eros.
Yes I know ye:
And I hope I shall forget ye: Whilst you were honest
I lou'd ye too.

Sep.
Honest? come prethee kisse me.

Eros.
I kisse no knaves: no Murderers, no Beasts,
No base betrayers of those men, that fed 'em,
I hate their looks; and though I may be wanton,
I scorne to nourish it, with blood purchase,
Purchase so fowly got; I pray ye unhand he,
I had rather touch the plague, then one unworthy:
Goe seeke some Mistris, that a horse may marry
And keepe her company, shee is too good for ye.

Exit.
Sep.
Marry this goes neere; now I perceive I am hatefull,
When this light stuffes can distinguish, it growes dangerous,
For mony seldome they refuse a Leaper:
But sure I am more odious, more diseas'd too:
Enter three lame Souldiers.
It sits cold here; what are these? three poore Souldiers?
Both poore and lame: their misery may make 'em
A little looke upon me, and adore me,
If these will keepe me company, I am made yet.

1. Sol.
The pleasure Cæsar sleepes in, makes us miserable,
We are forgot, our maymes, and dangers laughed at;
He Banquets, and we beg.

2. Sol.
He was not wont
To let poore Soldiers that have spent their Fortunes,
Their Bloods, & limbes, walk up & down like vagabonds,

Sep.
Save ye good Souldiers: good poore men, heaven help ye:
You have borne the brunt of warr, and shew the story.

1. Sould.
Some new commander sure.

Sep.
You looke (my good friends)
By your thin faces, as you would be Suitors.

2. Sol.
Cæsar, for our meanes (Sir.)

Sep.
And 'tis fit Sir.

3. Sol.
We are poore men, and long forgot.

Sep.
I grieve for it:
Good Souldiers should have good rewardes, and favours,
I'le give up your petitions, for I pitty ye,
And freely speake to Cæsar.

All.
O we honour ye.

1. Sould.
A good man sure ye are: the Gods preserve ye.

Sep.
And to releive your wants the while, hold souldiers
Nay 'tis no dreame: 'tis good gold: take it freely,
'Twill keepe ye in good heart.

2. Sold.
Now goodnesse quit ye.

Sep.
I'l be a friend to your afflictions,
And eate, and drink with ye too, and wee'le be merry:
And every day I'le see ye.

1. Sol.
You are a souldier,
And one sent from the Gods, I think.

Sep.
I'le cloth ye,
Ye are lame, and then provide good lodging for ye:
And at my Table, where no want shall meete ye.

Enter Sceva.
All.
Was never such a man.

1. Sold.
Deare honour'd Sir,
Let us but know your name, that we may worship ye.

2. Sold.
That we may ever thank?

Sep.
Why, call me any thing,
No matter for my name that may betray me.

Sce.
A cunning thiefe, call him Septinius (souldiers)
The villaine that kill'd Pompey.

All.
How?

Sce.
Call him the shame of men.

Exit.
1. Sold.
O that this money,
Were waight enough to breake thy braines out: fling all:
And fling our curses next: let them be mortall,
Out bloody wolfe, dost thou come guilded over,
And painted with the charities, to poyson us?

2. Sold.
I know him now: may never Father owne thee,
But as a monstrous birth shun thy base memory:
And if thou hadst a Mother (as I cannot
Beleeve thou wert a naturall Burden, let her womb,
Be cursed of women for a bed of vipers.

3. Sold.
Me thinks the ground shakes to devoure this Rascall,
And the kinde aire turnes into foggs, and vapours
The infectious mists, to Crowne his villanies,
Thou maist go wander, like a thing heaven hated.

1. Sold.
And valiant minds hold poysonous to remember
The Hangman will not keepe thee company,
He has an honourable house to thine,
No, not a theife though thou couldst save his life for't
Will eate thy bread, nor one, for thirst starv'd, drinke with thee.

2. Sould.
Thou art no company for an honest dog,
And so wee'le leave thee to a ditch (thy destiny)

Exeunt.
Sep.
Contemned of all? and kickt too? now I finde it;
My vallours fled too, with mine honesty,
For since I would be knave I must be Coward:
This 'tis to be a Traitor, and betrayer,
What a deformity dwells round about me?
How monstrous shewes that man, that is ungratefull?
I am a fraide the very beasts will teare me,
Inspir'd with what I have done: the windes will blast me:
Now I am paid, and my reward dwells in me,
The wages of my fact, my soules opprest,
Honest and noble mindes, you finde most rest.

Exit.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Ptolemy, Achoreus, Photinus, Achillas.
Ptol.
I have commanded, and it shall be so,
A preparation I have set o'foote,
VVorthy the frendship and the fame of Cæsar,
My Sisters favours shall seeme poore and wither'd:
Nay she her selfe, (trim'd up in all her beautyes)
Compar'd to what I'le take his eyes with all,
Shall be a dreame.

Pho.
Do you meane to shew the glory,
And wealth of Egypt?

Ptol.
Yes: and in that lustre,
Rome shall appeare in all her famous Conquests,
And all her riches of no note unto it.

Ach.
Now you are reconcilde to your faire Sister,
Take heed Sir, how you step into a danger:
A danger of this præcipice: but note sir,
For what Rome ever rais'd her mighty armyes?
First for ambition: then for wealth: 'tis madnesse,
Nay more, a secure impotence, to tempt
An armed Guest: feed not an eye, that conquers,
Nor teach a fortunate sword the way to be coveteous.

Ptol.
Ye judge a misse: and far to wide to alter me,
Yet all be ready, as I gave direction:
The secret way of all our wealth appearing
Newly, and handsomely: and all about it:
No more disswading: 'tis my will.

Ach.
I grieve for't.

Ptol.
I will dazell Cæsar, with excesse of glory.

Pho.
I feare you'le curse your will we must obey ye.

Ex.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Cæsar, Antony, Dollabella, Sceva, above.
Cæsar.
I wonder at the glory of this Kingdome,
And the most bounteous preparation,
Still as I passe, they Court me with.

Sce.
I'le tell ye:
In Gaul, and Germany, we saw such visions,
And stood not to admire 'em, but possesse em:
VVhen they are ours, they are worth our admiration.

Enter Cleopatra.
Ant.
The young Queen comes: give roome.

Cæsar.
VVelcome (my dearest)
Come blesse my side.

Sce.
I mary: here's a wonder,
As she appears now, I am no true Souldier,
If I be not readiest to recant.

Cleo.
Be merry Sir,
My brother will be proud to do you honour
That now appeares himselfe.

Enter Ptolomy, Achoreus, Achillas, Photinus, Appollodorus.
Ptol.
Haile to great Cæsar
My Royall Guest, first I will feast thine eyes
VVith wealthy Ægypts store and then thy palat
And waite my selfe upon thee.

Treasure brought in.
Cœsar.
VVhat rich Service?
What mines of treasure? richer still?

Cleo.
My Cæsar,
What do you admire? pray ye turn, and let me talk to ye.
Have ye forgot me Sir? how, a new object?
Am I grown old o'th sodaine? Cæsar?

Cæsar.
Tell me
From whence comes all this wealth?

Cleo.
Is your eye that way?
And all my Beauties banisht?

Ptol.
I'le tell thee Cæsar,
We owe for all this wealth to the olde Nylus:
We need no dropping raine to cheer the husband-man,
Nor Merchant that ploughs up the Sea, to seeke us;
Within the wealthy wombe of reverent Nylus,
All this is nourished: who to do thee honour,
Comes to discover his seven Deities,
(His conceal'd heads) unto thee: see with pleasure

Cæsar.
The matchlesse wealth of this Land!

Cleo.
Come, ye shall heare.

Cæsar.
Away: let me imagine.

Cleo.
How? frown on me?
The eyes of Cæsar wrapt in stormes?

Cæsar.
I am sorry:
But let me thinke—

Musicke, Song.
Enter Isis, and three Labourers.

Labourers
Song.
Come let us help the reverend Nyle,
Hee's very olde (alas the while)
Let us dig him easie wayes,
And prepare a thousand Playes:
To delight his streames let's sing,
Aloud welcome to our spring.
This way let his curling Heads,
Fall into our new made Beds.
This way let his wanton spawnes,
Friske, and glide it o're the Lawnes.
This way profit comes, and gaine:
How he tumbles here amaine.
How his waters hast to fall
Into our Channells? Labour all
And let him in: Let Nylus flow,
And perpetuall plenty show.
With Incense let us blesse the brim,
And as the wanton fishes swim
Let us Gums, and Garlands fling,
And loud our Timbrels ring.
Come (olde Father) come away,
Our labour is our holy-day.

Isis.
Here comes the aged River now
With Garlands of great Pearl, his Brow
Begirt and rounded: In his Flow,
All things take life; and all things grow.
A thousand wealthy Treasures still,
To doe him service at his will,
Follow his rising Flood, and powre
Perpetuall blessings in our store.
Heare him: and next there will advance,
His sacred: Heads to tread a Dance,
In honour of my Royall Guest,
Marke them too: and you have a Feast.

Cleo.
A little drosse betray me?

Cæsar.
I am asham'd I warr'd at home, (my friends)
When such wealth may be got abroad? what honour?
Nay everlasting glory had Rome purchas'd,
Had she a just cause but to visit Ægypt?

Nylus
Song, and Dance.
Make roome for my rich waters fall,
and blesse my Flood,
Nylus comes flowing, to you all
encrease and good.
Now the Plants and Flowers shall spring,
And the merry Plough-man sing.
In my hidden waves I bring,
Bread, and wine, and every thing.
Let the Damsells sing me in:
Sing aloud that I may rise:
Your holy Feasts and houres begin,
And each hand bring a Sacrifice.
Now my wanton Pearls I show
That to Ladies faire neckes grow.
Now my gold
And treasures that can ne're be told,
Shall blesse this Land, by my rich Flow,
And after this, to crowne your Eyes,
My hidden holy head arise.

Cæsar.
The wonder of this wealth, so troubles me,
I am not well: good-night.

Sce.
I am glad ye have it:
Now we shall stir againe.

Ptol.
Thou wealth, still haunt him.

Sce.
A greedy spirit set thee on: we are happy.

Ptol.
Lights: lights for Cæsar, and attendance.

Cleo.
Well,
I shall yet finde a time to tell thee Cæsar,
Thou hast wrong'd her Love: the rest here.

Ptol.
Lights along still:
Musicke, and Sacrifice to sleep for, Cæsar.

Exeunt.