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SCENE 2.
Ptolomy, Photinus.
Ptol.
I am mistaken, Photin, or by this
My Sister will her expectation miss,
Pompey my Fathers Will having secur'd,
Her Coronation she believes assur'd.
And she her self the Mistress does esteem
Of that divided Scepter left by him.
Their Antient Friendship she depends upon,
And inwardly already shares my Throne.
Whence her Ambition is become so vain,
That from its Ashes it revives again.
Photin.
Sir, 'Twas a motive I did not debate,
And yet which ought to hasten Pompey's Fate.
He your Pretentions doubtless will decide,
And by your Fathers Will your Claims Divide.
To which great Trust of Friendship being true,
You know how much he disobliges you.
Nor that by this Discourse I would remove
The Sacred Cement of a Brothers Love,
I banish her not from your Heart, but Throne,
For he Reigns not that does not Reign alone.
Divided Empire all wise Kings avoid,
For Pow'r Communicated is Destroy'd;
And Policy.—But, Sir, she does appear.
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