 | The False One |  |
Actus Secundus
Scena Prima.
Enter Septimius, with a head, Achillas Guard.Sep.
'Tis here, 'tis done, behold you fearefull viewers,
Shake, and behold the modell of the world here,
The pride, and strength, looke, looke againe, 'tis finished;
That, that whole Armyes, nay whole nations,
Many and mighty Kings, have been strooke blinde at,
And fled before wingd with their feares and terrours,
That steele warr waited on, and fortune courted,
That high plum'd honour built up for her owne:
Behold that mightinesse, behold that fiercenesse,
Behold that child of warr, with all his glories;
By this poore hand made breathlesse, here (my Achillas,
Egypt, and Cesar, owe me for this service,
And all the conquer'd Nations.
Ach.
Peace Septimius,
Thy words sound more ungratefull then thy actions,
Though sometimes safety seeke an instrument
Of thy unworthy nature, thou (loud boaster)
Think not she is bound to love him too, that's barbarous,
Why did not I, if this be meritorious
And bindes the King unto me, and his bounties,
Strike this rude stroke? I'le tell thee (thou poore Roman)
It was a sacred head, I durst not heave at,
Not heave a thought.
Sep.
It was.
Ach.
I'le tell thee truely,
And if thou ever yet heard'st tell of honour,
I'le make thee blush: It was thy Generalls;
That mans that fed thee once, that mans that bred thee,
The aire thou breath'st was his: the fire that warm'd thee;
From his care kindled euer, nay, I'le show thee,
(Because I'le make thee sensible of thy businesse:
And why a noble man durst not touch at it)
There was no peece of Earth, thou puts thy foote on
But was his conquest; and he gave thee motion,
He triumph'd three times, who durst touch his person?
The very walls of Rome, bow'd to his presence,
Deare to the Gods he was, to them that feard him
A faire and noble Enemy, didst thou hate him?
And for thy love to Cesar, sought his ruine?
Armed the red Pharsalian feilds (Septimius)
Where killing was in grace, and wounds were glorious,
Where Kings were faire competitours for honour,
Thou should'st have come up to him, there have sought him.
There, sword, to sword.
Sep.
I kill'd him on commandment,
If Kings commands be faire, when you all fainted,
When none of you durst looke—
Ach.
On deeds so barbarous,
What hast thou got?
Sep.
The Kings love, and his bounty,
The honour of the service, which though you raile at;
Or a thousand envious soules fling their foames on me,
Will dignifie the cause, and make me glorious:
And I shall live.
Ach.
A miserable villaine,
What reputation, and reward belongs to it?
Thus (with the head) I seize on, and make mine;
And be not impudent to aske me why (Sirha)
Nor bold to stay, read in mine eyes, the reason:
The shame and obloquy, I leave thine owne,
Inherit those rewardes, they are fitter for thee,
Your oyle's spent, and your snuff stinks: go out basely.
Sep.
The King will yet consider.
Exit.
Enter Ptolomy, Achareus, Photinus.
Achil.
Here he comes Sir.
Ach.
Yet if it be undon: heare me great Sir,
If this inhumane stroake be yet unstrooken,
If that adored head be not yet severd
From the most noble Body, weigh the miseryes:
The desolations that this great Eclipse works,
You are young, be provident: fix not your Empire
Upon the Tombe of him, will shake all Egypt,
Whose warlike groanes will raise ten thousand Spirits,
(Great as himselfe) in every hand a thunder;
Destructions darting from their lookes and sorrowes,
That easy womens eyes shall never empty.
Pho.
You have done well; and 'tis done, see Achillas,
And in his hand the head.
Ptol.
Stay come no nearer,
Me thinks, I feele the very earth shake under me,
I do remember him, he was my guardian,
Appointed by the Senate to preserve me:
What a full Majesty fits in his face yet?
Pho.
The King is troubled: be not frighted Sir,
126
If you consider (Sir) most necessary,
Not to be miss'd: and humbly thanke great Isis:
He came so opportunely to your hands;
Pitty must now give place to rules of safety,
Is not victorious Cæsar, new arriv'd:
And enter'd Alexandria, with his friends,
His Navy riding by to wait his charges?
Did he not beate this Pompey, and pursude him?
Was not this great man, his great enemy?
This Godlike vertuous man, as people held him,
But what foole dare be friend to flying vertue?
Enter Cæsar, Anthony, Dollobella, Sceva.
I heare their Trumpets, 'tis too late to stagger,
Give me the head, and be you confident:
Haile Conquerour, and head of all the world,
Now this head's off.
Cæsar.
Ha?
Pho.
Do not shun me (Cæsar)
From kingly Ptolomy, I bring this present,
The Crowne, and sweat of thy Pharsalian labour:
The goale and marke of high ambitious honour,
Before thy victory had no name (Cæsar)
Thy travell and thy losse of blood, no recompence,
Thou dreamst of being worthy, and of warr;
And all thy furious conflicts were but slumbers,
Here they take life: here they inherit honour,
Grow fixt, and shoot up everlasting triupmhes,
Take it, and looke upon thy humble servant,
With noble eyes looke on the Princely Ptolomy,
That offers with this head (most mighty Cæsar)
What thou would'st once have given for it, all Egypt.
Ach.
Nor do not question it (most royall Conquerour)
Nor dis-esteeme the benefit that meetes thee,
Because 'tis easily got, it comes the safer:
Yet let me tell thee (most imperious Cæsar)
Though he oppos'd no strength of Swords to win this,
Nor labourd through no showres of darts, and lances:
Yet here he found a fort, that faced him strongly
An inward warr: he was his Grand sires Guest;
Friend to his Father, and when he was expell'd
And beaten from this Kingdome by strong hand,
And had none left him, to restore his Honour,
No hope to finde a friend, in such a misery;
Then in stept Pompey: tooke his feeble fortune:
Strengthend, and cherish'd it, and set it right againe,
This was a love to Cesar.
Sceva.
Give me, hate, Gods.
Pho.
This Cesar, may account a little wicked,
But yet remember, if thine owne hands (Conquerour)
Had fallen upon him, what it had bin then?
If thine owne Sword had touch'd his throat, what that way!
He was thy Son in law, there to be tainted,
Had bin most terrible: let the worst be renderd,
We have deserv'd for keeping thy hands innocent.
Cesar.
Oh Sceva, Sceva, see that head: see Captaines,
The head of godlike Pompey.
Sce.
He was basely ruinde,
But let the Gods be griev'd that sufferd it,
And be you Cesar—
Cesar.
Oh thou Conquerour,
Thou glory of the world once, now the pitty:
Thou awe of Nations, wherefore didst thou fall thus?
What poore fate followed thee, and pluckt thee on
To trust thy sacred life to an Egyptian;
The life and light of Rome, to a blind stranger:
That honourable war nere taught a noblenesse,
Nor worthy circumstance shew'd what a man was,
That never heard thy name song, but in banquets;
And loose lascivious pleasures? to a Boy,
That had no faith to comprehend thy greatnesse:
No study of thy life to know thy goodnesse;
And leave thy Nation, nay, thy noble friend,
Leave him (distrusted) that in teares falls with thee?
(In soft relenting teares) heare me (great Pompey
(If thy great spirit can heare) I must taske thee:
Thou hast most unnobly rob'd me of my victory,
My love, and mercy.
Ant.
O how brave these teares shew?
How excellent is sorrow in an Enemy?
Dol.
Glory appeares not greater then this goodnesse.
Cesar.
Egyptians, dare you thinke your high Pyramides,
Built to out-dare the Sun, as you suppose,
Where your unworthy Kings, lye rak'd in ashes:
Are monuments fit for him? no, (brood of Nilus)
Nothing can couer his high fame, but heaven;
No Pyramides set off his memoryes:
But the eternall substance of his greatenesse
To wich I leave him, take the head away,
And (with the body) give it noble buriall,
Your Earth shall now be bless'd to hold a Roman,
Whose braveryes all the worlds-earth cannot ballance.
Sce.
If thou bee'st thus loving, I shall honour thee,
But great men may dissemble; 'tis held possible,
And be right glad of what they seeme to weepe for,
Where are such kinde of Phylosophers; now do I wonder
How he would looke if Pompey were alive againe,
But how he would set his face?
Cesar.
You looke now (King)
And you that have beene Agents in this glory,
For our especiall favour?
Ptol.
We desire it.
Cesar.
And doubtlesse you expect rewards.
Sce.
Let me give 'em:
I'le give 'em such as nature never dreampt of,
I'le beat him and his Agents (in a morter)
Into one man, and that one man I'le bake then.
Cesar.
Peace: I forgive you all that's recompence:
You are young, and ignorant, that pleads your pardon,
And feare it may be more then hate provok'd ye;
Your Ministers I must thinke wanted judgement,
And so they erd: I am bountifull to thinke this;
Beleeve me most bountifull: Be you most thankfull,
That bounty share amongst ye, if I knew
What to send you for a present King of Egypt;
(I meane a head of equall reputation
And that you lov'd) though it were your brightest Sisters,
(But her you hate) I would not be behinde ye.
Ptol:
Heare me (great Cesar.)
Cesar.
I heave hard too much
And study not with smooth shewes, to invade
My noble minde, as you have done my conquest:
Ye are poore and open: I must tell you roundly,
That man that could not recompence the benefits;
The great and bounteous services of Pompey
Can never doate upon the name of Cesar;
Though I had hated Pompey, and allowd his ruine,
I gave you no comission to performe it:
Hasty to please in blood, are seldome trusty,
And but I stand invirond with my victories;
My fortune never failing to be friend me,
My noble strengthes, and friends about my person,
I durst not trye ye, nor expect a courtisy,
Above the pious love, you shewd to Pompey,
You have found me mercifull in arguing with ye:
127
Demolishments of Kingdomes, and whole Ruines
Are wont to be my Orators, turne to teares,
You wretched, and poore Seedes of Sun-burnt Egypt,
And now you have found the nature of a Conquerour,
That you cannot decline, with all your flatteries,
That where the day gives light, will be himselfe still.
Know how to meet his worth with humane courtesies,
Go, and embalme those bones of that great Souldier;
Howle round about his pile, fling on your Spices,
Make a Sabean bed, and place this Phenix
Where the hot Sun may emulate his vertues,
And draw another Pompey from his ashes
Divinely great, and fixe him 'mongst the worthies.
Ptol.
We will doe all.
Cesar.
You have rob'd him of those teares
His kindred, and his friends kept sacred for him:
The Virgins of their funerall Lamentations:
And that kind Earth that thought to cover him,
(His Countries Earth) will cry out 'gainst your crueltie,
And weepe unto the Ocean for revenge,
Till Nilus raise his seven heads and devoure ye:
My griefe has stopt the rest; when Pompey liv'd
He us'd you nobly, now he is dead, use him so.
Exit.
Ptol.
Now where's your confidence your aime (Photinus)
The Oracles, and faire Favors from the Conquerour
You rung into mine eares? how stand I now?
You see the tempest of his sterne displeasure,
The death of him you urged a Sacrifice
To stop his rage, presaging a full ruine;
Where are your Councells now?
Ach.
I told ye Sir,
(And told the truth) what danger would fly after:
And though an Enemie, I satisfied you
He was a Roman, and the top of honour;
And howsoever this might please great Cæsar,
I told ye that the fowlenesse of his death
The impious basenesse—
Pho.
Peace, ye are a foole,
Men of deepe ends, must tread as deepe waies to'm;
Cæsar I know is pleas'd, and for all his sorrowes
(Which are put on for formes and meere dissemblings)
I am confident he's glad: to have told ye so,
And thanke ye outwardly, had bin too open,
And taken from the wisedome of a Conquerour.
Be confident, and proud ye have done this service;
Ye have deserv'd, and ye will finde it highly:
Make bold use of this benefit, and be sure
You keepe your Sister, (the high-sould-Cleopatra,)
Both close and short enough, she may not see him:
The rest, if I may councell sir.—
Ptol.
Doe all:
For in thy faithfull service rests my safetie.
Exit.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Septinius.Sep.
Heere's a strange alteration in the Court;
Mens faces are of other setts, and motions,
Their minds of subtler stuffe: I passe by now
As though I were a Rascall, no man knowes me,
No eye lookes after: as I were a plague,
Their doores shut close against me: and I wondred at
Because I have done a meritorious Murther,
Because I have pleas'd the Time, does the Time plague me?
I have knowne the day they would have huggd me for it:
For a lesse stroke then this, have done me reverence:
Opend their hearts, and secret closets to me
Their purses, and their pleasures, and bid me wallow.
I now perceive the great Theeves eate the lesse,
And the huge Leviathans of Villany
Sup up the merits, nay the men and all
That doe them service, and spowt 'em out againe
Into the ayre, as thin, and unregarded
As drops of water; that are lost i'th Ocean;
I was lov'd once for swearing, and for drinking,
And for other principall Qualities, that became me,
Now a foolish unthankfull murther has undone me,
If my Lord Photinus be not mercifull
Enter Photinus.
That set me on: And he comes, now fortune.
Pho.
Cæsars unthankfulnesse a little stirrs me
A little frets my blood: take heede, proud Roman,
Provoke me not; stir not my anger farther:
I may finde out a way unto thy life too,
(Though arm'd in all thy Victories) and seize it,
A Conquerour has a heart, and I may hit it.
Sep.
May it please your Lordship?
Pho.
O Septinius!
Sep.
Your Lordship knowes my wrongs.
Pho.
Wrongs?
Sep.
Yes my, Lord,
How the Captaine of the Guard Achillas, slights me.
Pho.
Thinke better of him, he has much befriended thee,
Shew'd thee much love in taking the head from thee.
The times are altered (Souldier) Cæsars angry,
And our designe to please him, lost, and perish'd:
Be glad thou art unnam'd 'tis not worth the owning;
Yet, that thou maist be usefull—
Sep.
Yes my Lord,
I shall be ready.
Pho.
For I may employ thee
To take a rubbe or too out of my way
As time shall serve: say that it be a Brother?
Or a hard Father?
Sep.
'Tis most necessary,
A Mother, or a Sister; or whom you please (sir.)
Pho.
Or to betray a noble friend.
Sep.
Tis all one.
Pho.
I know thou wilt stir for gold.
Sep.
Tis all my motion.
Pho.
There take that for thy service, and farewell:
I have greater businesse now.
Sep.
I am still your owne, Sir.
Pho.
One thing I charge thee; see me no more (Septinius)
Vnlesse I send.
Exit.
Sep.
I shall observe your houre.
So, this brings something in the mouth; some favour,
This is the Lord I serve, the power I worship,
My friends, Allyes, And here lyes my Allegeance.
Let people talke as they please of my rudenesse,
And shun me for my deede: bring but this to 'em,
(Let me be damn'd for blood) yet still I am honourable,
This God creates new tongues, and new affections:
And though I had killd my Father, give me gold,
I'le make men sweare I have done a pious Sacrifice.
Now I will out-brave all: make all my Servants,
And my brave deed shall be writ in wine, for vertuous.
Exit.
128
Scena Tertia.
Enter Cæsar, Antony, Dollobella, Sceva.Cæsar.
Keepe strong guardes, and with wary eyes (my friends)
There is no trusting to these base Egyptians:
They that are false to pious benefits,
And make compelld necessityes their faithes
Are traitors to the Gods.
Ant.
Weel'e call a shore,
A legion of the best.
Cæsar.
Not a man (Antony)
That were to shew our feares, and dim our greatnesse:
No 'tis enough my name's a shore.
Sce.
Too much too,
A sleeping Cæsar, is enough to shake them;
There are some two or three malitious Rascalls
Trained up in villany, besides that Cerberus
That Roman dog, that lick'd the blood of Pompey.
Dol.
'Tis strange, a Roman Souldier?
Sce.
You are cozend,
There be of us, as be of all other nations,
Villaines, and Knaves; 'tis not the name containes him,
But the obedience: when that's once forgotten,
And duty flung away, then welcom Devill,
Photinus and Achillas, and this vermine:
That's now become a naturall Crocadile,
Must be with care obseru'd.
Ant.
And 'tis well counsell'd
No confidence, nor trust—
Sce.
Ile trust the Sea first,
When with her hollow murmurs she invites me,
And cluches in her stormes, as politique Lyons
Conceale their clawes: Ile trust the Devill first:
The rule of ill, I'le trust before the dore.
Cæsar.
Go to your rests: & follow your own wisedomes,
And leave me to my thoughts: pray no more complement,
Once more strong watches.
Dol.
All shall be observ'd, Sir.
Exit.
Cæsar.
I am dull, and heavy: yet I cannot sleepe,
How happy was I, in my lawfull warrs
In Germany, and Gaul, and Britany?
When euery night with pleasure I sat downe
What the day ministred? the sleepe came sweetely.
But since I undertooke this home-division,
This civill war, and past the Rubicon,
What have I done, that speakes an antient Roman?
A good, great Man? I have enterd Rome by force,
And on her tender wombe, (that gave me life)
Let my insulting Souldiers rudely trample,
The deare vaines of my Country, I have opend
And saild upon the torrents that flowd from her,
The bloody streames, that in their confluence
Carried before 'em thousand desolations;
I rob'd the treasury, and at one gripe
Snatch'd all the wealth, so many worthy triumphs,
Placed there as sacred to the peace of Rome;
I raiz'd Massilia, in my wanton anger:
Petreius and Affrinius I defeated.
Pompey I over threw; what did that get me?
The slubbord name of an authoriz'd enemy;
noise within.
I heare some noises: they are the watches sure,
What friends have I tyde fast, by these ambitiones?
Cato, the lover of his Countryes freedom
Is past now into Affrik, to affront me,
Juba, (that kill'd my friend) is up in armes too:
The Sonnes of Pompey, are Masters of the Sea,
And from the reliques of their scatterd faction,
A new head's sprung: Say I defeate all these too:
I come home Crown'd an honourable Rebell,
I heare the noise still, and it comes still nearer:
Are the guards fast? who waites there?
Enter Sceva, with a packet, Cleopatra in it.
Sce.
Are ye awake Sir?
Cæsar.
'Ith name of wonder.
Sce.
Nay I am a Porter,
A strong one too: or else my sides would cracke Sir,
And my sinnes were as waighty, I should scarce walke with 'em.
Cæsar.
What hast thou there?
Sce.
Aske them which stay without,
And brought it hither, your presence I denide 'em:
And put 'em by: tooke up the load my selfe,
They say 'tis rich: and valude at the Kingdome,
I am sure 'tis heavy: if you like to see it;
You may, if not I'le give it back.
Cæsar.
Stay Sceva,
I would faine see it.
Sce.
I'le begin to worke then:
No doubt to flatter ye, they have sent ye something,
Of a rich vallue, Iewells, or some Treasure;
May be a Rogue within, to do a mischief:
I pray you stand farther off, if there be villany,
Better my danger first: he shall scape hard too,
Ha? what art thou?
Cæsar.
Stand farther off (good Sceva)
What heavenly vision? do I wake or slumber?
Farther off that hand friend.
Sce.
What apparition,
What Spirit have I rais'd? sure 'tis a woman:
She lookes like one: Now she begins to move too:
A tempting Devill, ô my life: go off Cæsar,
Blesse thy selfe off, a baud growne in mine old dayes?
Bawdry advanced upon my back? 'tis noble;
Sir, if you be a Souldier come no nearer,
She is sent to dispossesse you of your honour,
A spunge, a spunge, to wipe away your victories:
And she would be coold (Sir) let the Souldiers trim her?
They'le give her that she came for, and dispatch her;
Be loyall to your selfe: thou damned woman
Do'st thou come hither with thy flourishes,
Thy flaunts, and faces, to abuse mens manners?
And am I made the instrument of bawdry?
I'le finde a lover for ye, one shall hugg ye;
Cæsar.
Hold on thy life: and be more temperate,
Thou beast.
Sce.
Thou beast?
Cæsar.
Could'st thou be so inhumane,
So farr from noble men to draw thy weapon,
Upon a thing divine?
Sce.
Divine, or humane,
They are never better pleas'd, nor more at harts-ease,
Then when we draw with full intent upon 'em.
Cæsar.
Move this way (Lady)
Pray ye let me speake to ye.
Sce.
And woman, you had best stand.
Cæsar.
By the Gods,
But that I see her here, and hope her mortall:
I should imagine some celestiall sweetnesse,
The treasure of soft love.
Sce.
Oh, this soundes mangely,
Poorely; and scurvely in a Souldiers mouth:
129
For lovers ever are, and let your nose drop
That your celestiall beauty may be-friend ye:
At these yeares do you learne to be fantasticall?
After so many bloody feildes, a foole?
She brings her bed along too; shee'le loose no time,
Carryes her Litter to lye soft, do you see that?
Invites ye like a Gamster: note that impudence,
For shame reflect upon your selfe, your honour,
Looke back into your noble parts and blush:
Let not the deare sweat of the hot Pharsalia,
Mingle with base Embraces; am I he
That have receiv'd so many woundes for Cæsar?
Upon my Target, groves of darts still growing?
Have I endur'd all hungers, colds, distresses,
And as I had been bred that Iron that arm'd me)
Stood out all weathers, now to curse my fortune?
To ban the blood I lost for such a Generall?
Cæsar.
Offend no more: be gon.
Sce.
I will, and leave ye,
Leave ye to womens wars, that will proclaime ye:
You'le conquer Rome now, and the Capitoll
With Fans, and Looking-glasses, farwell Cæsar.
Cleo.
Now I am private sir, I dare speake to ye:
But thus low first, for as a God I honour ye.
Sce.
Lower you'le be anon.
Cæsar.
Away.
Sce.
And privater,
For that you covet all.
Exit.
Cæsar.
Tempt me no farther.
Cleo.
Contemne me not, because I know thus (Cæsar)
I am a Queene, and coheire to this country,
The sister to the mighty Ptolomy,
Yet one distressd, that flyes unto thy justice,
One that layes sacred hold on thy protection
As on a holy Altar, to preserve me.
Cæsar.
Speake Queene of beauty, and stand up.
Cleo.
I dare not,
'Till I have found that favour in thine eyes,
That godlike great humanity to helpe me,
Thus, to thy knees must I grow: (sacred Cæsar,)
And if it be not in thy will, to right me,
And raise me like a Queene from my sad ruines,
If these soft teares cannot sinke to thy pitty;
And waken with their murmurs thy compassions:
Yet for thy noblenesse, for vertues sake,
And if thou beest a man, for despis'd beauty,
For honourable conquest, which thou do'tst on:
Let not those cankers of this flourishing Kingdome,
Photinus, and Achillas, (the one an Evnuch,)
The other a base bondman, thus raigne over me,
Seize my inheritance, and leave my brother
Nothing of what he should be, but the Title:
As thou art wonder of the world.
Cæsar.
Stand up then
And be a Queene, this hand shall give it to ye,
Or chose a greater name, worthy my bounty:
A common love makes Queenes: chose to be worshiped,
To be divinely great, and I dare promise it,
A suitor of your sort, and blessed sweetnesse:
That hath adventur'd thus to see great Cæsar,
Must never be denied, you have found a patron
That dare not in his private honour, suffer
So great a blemish to the heaven of beauty:
The God of love would clap his angry wings,
And from his singing bow, let flye those arrowes
Headed with burning grieves, and pining sorrowes:
Should I neglect your cause would make me monstrous,
To whom and to your service I devote me.
Enter Sceva.
Cle.
He is my conquest now, and so I'le worke him,
The conquerour of the world will I lead captive,
Sce.
Still with this woman? tilting still with Babies?
As you are honest thinke the Enemy,
Some valiant Foe indeed now charging on ye:
Ready to breake your ranks, and fling these—
Cæsar.
Heare me,
But tell me true, if thou hadst such a treasure:
(And as thou art a Souldier, do not flatter me)
Such a bright gem, brought to thee, wouldst thou not
Most greedily accept?
Sce.
Not as an Emperour,
A man that first would rule him selfe, then others,
As a poore hungry Souldier, I might bite, Sir,
Yet that's a weaknesse too: heare me, thou Tempter:
And heare thou Cæsar too, for it concerns thee,
And if thy flesh be deaf yet let thine honour,
The soule of a commander, give ear to me,
Thou wanton bane of warr, thou guilded Lethergy,
In whose embraces, ease (the rust of Armes)
And pleasure, (that makes Souldiers poore) inhabites.
Cæsar.
Fye, thou blasphem'st.
Sce.
I do, when she is a goddesse,
Thou melter of strong mindes, dar'st thou presume
To smother all his triumphes, with thy vanityes,
And tye him like a slave, to thy proud beautyes?
To thy imperious lookes? that Kings have follow'd
Proud of their chaines? have waited on? I shame Sir.
Exit.
Cæsar.
Alas thou art rather mad: take thy rest Sceva,
Thy duty makes thee erre, but I forgive thee:
Go: go I say, shew me no disobedience:
'Tis well, farewell, the day will breake deare Lady,
My Souldiers will come in; please you retire,
And thinke upon your servant?
Cleo.
Pray you Sir, know me,
And what I am.
Cæsar.
The greater, I more love ye,
And you must know me too.
Cleo.
So far as modesty,
And majesty gives leave Sir, ye are too violent.
Cæsar.
You are too cold to my desires.
Cleo.
Sweare to me,
And by your selfe (for I hold that oath sacred)
You will right me as a Queene—
Cæsar.
These lips be witnesse,
And if I breake that oath—
Cleo.
You make me blush Sir,
And in that blush interpret me.
Cæsar.
I will do,
Come let's go in, and blush againe: this one word,
You shall beleeve.
Cleo.
I must, you are a conquerour.
Exeunt.
| The False One | |