University of Virginia Library

SCENA 4.

Enter Achillas, and Sempronius.
Ach.
Here are we placed, by Ptolomies command,
To murther Pompey when he comes on shore,
Then braue Sempronius prepare they selfe.
To execute the charge thou hast in hand,

Sem.
I am a Romaine, and haue often serued,
Vnder his collours, when in former state,
Pompey hath bin the Generall of the field,
But cause I see that now the world is changd:
And like wise feele some of King Ptolomeis gould.
Ile kill him were he twenty Generalls,
And send him packing to his longest home
I maruell of what mettell was the French man made.
Who when he should haue stabbed Marius,
They say he was astonished with his lookes.
Marius, had I beene there, thou neere hadst liu'd,
To brag thee of thy seauen Consulships.

Achil.
Brauely resolu'd, Noble Sempronius,
The damnedst villaine that ere I heard speake:
But great men still must haue such instruments,
To bring about their purpose, which once donne,
The deede they loue, but do the doer hate:
Thou shalt no lesse (stout Romaine) be renown'd,
For being Pompeys Deaths-man, then was he,
That fir'd the faire Ægiptian Goddesse Church.

Sem.
Nay that's al one, report say what she list,
Tis for no shadowes I aduenture for:
Heere are the Crownes, heere are the wordly goods,
This betweene Princes doth contention bring:
Brothers this sets at ods, turnes loue to hate;
It makes the Sonne to wish his Father hang'd
That he thereby might reuell with his bagges:
And did I knowe that in my Mothers womb,
There lurk'd a hidden vaine of Sacred gould,
This hand, this sword, should rape and rip it out.

Achil.
Compassion would that greedinesse restraine.

Sem.
I that's my fault, I am to compassionate,
Why man, art thou a souldier and dost talke
Of womanish pity and compassion?
Mens eyes must mil-stones drop, when fooles shed teares,
But soft heeres Pompey, Ile about my worke

Enter Pompey.
Pom.
Trusting vpon King Ptolomeys promis'd faytn,
And hoping succor, I am come to shore:
In Egipt heere a while to make aboade.

Sem.
Fayth longer Pompey then thou dost expect.

Pom.
See now worlds Monarchs, whom your state makes proud
That thinke your Honors to be permanent,
Of Fortunes change see heere a president,
Who whilom did command, now must intreate
And sue for that which to accept of late,
Vnto the giuer was thought fortunate.

Sem.
I pray thee Pompey do not spend thy breath,
In reckning vp these rusty titles now,
Which thy ambition grac'd thee with before,
I must confesse thou wert my Generall,
But that cannot a vaile to saue thy life.
Talke of thy Fortune while thou list,
There is thy fortune Pompey in my fist.

Pom.
O you that know what hight of honor meanes,
What tis for men that lulled in fortunes lap,
Haue climd the heighest top of soueraignety.
From all that pomp to be cast hed-long downe,
You may conceaue what Pompey doth sustayne,
I was not wont to walke thus all alone,
But to be met with troopes of Horse and Men.
With playes and pageants to be entertaynd,
A courtly trayne in royall rich aray,
With spangled plumes, that daunced in the ayre,
Mounted on steeds, with braue Caparisons deckt,
That in their gates did seeme to scorne the Earth.
Was wont my intertaynment beautiefie,
But now thy comming is in meaner sort,
They by thy fortune will thy welcom rate.

Sem.
What dost thou for such entertaynement looke,
Pompey how ere thy comming hether bee,
I haue prouided for thy going hence.

Achi.
I will draw neere, and with fayre pleasing shew,
Wellcome great Pompey as the Siren doth
The wandering shipman with her charming song.

Pom.
O how it greeues a noble hauty mind,
Framed vp in honors vncontrouled schoole,
To serue and sue, whoe erst did rule and sway
What shall I goe and stoope to Ptolomey,
Nought to a noble mind more greefe can bring
Then be a begger where thou wert a King,

Ach.
Wellcome a shore most great and gratious prince
Welcome to Ægipt and to Ptolomey.
The King my Maister is at hand my Lord,
To gratulate your safe ariuall heere.

Sem.
This is the King, and here is the Gentleman,
Which must thy comming gratulate a non,

Pom.
Thanks worthy Lord vnto your King and you,
It ioyes me much that in extremity,
I sound so sure a friend as Ptolomey,

Sem.
Now is the date of thy proud life expird,
To which my poniard must a full poynt put,
Pompey from Ptolomey I come to thee,
From whome a presant and a guift I bring,
This is the gift and this my message is

Stab him
Pom.
O Villaine thou hast slayne thy Generall,
And with thy base hand gor'd my royall heart.
Well I haue liued till to that height I came,
That all the world did tremble at my name,
My greatnesse then by fortune being enuied,
Stabd by a murtherous villaynes hand I died.

Ach.
What is he dead, then straight cut of his head,
That whilom mounted with ambitions wings:
Cæsar no doubt with praise and noble thanks,
Regarding well this well deserued deede,
Whome weele present with this most pleasing gift,

Sem.
Loe you my maisters, hee that kills but one,
Is straight a Villaine and a murtherer cald,
But they that vse to kill men by the great,
And thousandes slay through their ambition,
They are braue champions, and stout warriors cald,
Tis like that he that steales a rotten sheepe
That in a dich would else haue cast his hide,
He for his labour hath the haltars hier.
But Kings and mighty Princes of the world,
By letter pattens rob both Sea and Land.
Do not then Pompey of thy murther plaine,
Since thy ambition halfe the world hath slayne.