University of Virginia Library

ACT. 2.

SCEN. 1.

Cleopatra, Charmion.
Cleo.
I love him, but a Flame so much refin'd,
How bright soever, dazles not my mind:
For Virtue makes my inclination know
What Cæsars Mistress does to Pompey owe:
And none dares own a passion so sublime,
But she that scorn's the shadow of a crime:
I should but small respect to Cæsar pay,
To seek his love in an unhandsome way:

Char.
Can you love Cæsar, Madam, and advise
That Egypt should in Armes against him rise?
That they should Pompey against him protect,
And his Pharsalian Triumphs should be checkt,
Sure Love in you does little Empire shew,

Cleo.
This to their high extraction Princes shew,
That by th'assistance of their Royal Blood
Their Passions are more easily subdu'd.
Their honour still the Victory will have;
And whilst they trust themselves, they still are brave.
All the disorders which in Kings we see,
To others Counsels must imputed be.
This is the cause of Pompey's ruine Deem;
The King would help, but Photin murthers him.
Whose Counsel hath his Masters faith o'rethrown,
Which still had sway'd, had he observ'd his own.

Char.
You then who Cæsar love, and yet oppose.

Cleo.
The Love I cherish no dishonour knows,
But worthy him.

Char.
Are you of his secur'd?

Cleo.
I think I am.

Char.
But are you well assur'd?

Cleo.
Know that a Princess by her glory mov'd,
No Love confesses till she be belov'd.
Nor the most noble passion ever shows,
When it shall her to a Contempt expose.
At Rome I first did Cæsars Heart invade,
Where he the first expression of it made;
And ever since he did to me renew
The Tribute of his Vows and Laurels too.
He march'd through Italy, through Gaule and Spain,
With Love in's Breast, and fortune in his Train:
Nor did he ever make so brave a Prize,
But he pay'd Homage for it to these Eyes.
With the same hand, which did that weapon quit
With' Blood of Pompey's party reeking yet,
He writ complaints, and put my fetters on;
Ev'n in the Field, which he had newly won.
Yes from Pharsalia his submissions came:
And if his speed be equal to his flame,
Or rather, if the Sea befriend his Fleet,
Egypt shall see him shortly at my feet.
He comes, my Charmion and from me alone,
Seeks the reward of all that he hath done.
And all his glory to my Shrine he brings,
With the same hand which gives the Law to Kings.
So that, ev'n in his Triumphs, my disdain
Can make the Man that rules the World complain:

Char.
Yet I dare swear, your charmes a pow'r enjoy
Which though they boast of, they will ne're employ.
And the great Cæsar shall no trouble know,
If it can only from your rigour grow.
But what can you expect from Cæsars flames,
Wherein such right another Woman claims,
His freedom he by marriage hath resign'd,
And only to Calphurnia is confin'd.

Cleo.
But a Divorce, at Rome so common now,
May remove her, and my desires allow.
Cæsar's experience him to that may lead,
Since 'twas Calphurnia's Passage to his bed.

Char.
But the same way may you at length remove.

Cleo.
Perhaps I better shall secure his love,
Perhaps my passion may find out an Art
Better to manage that Illustrious Heart.
But let's to Heaven leave what may arrive,
And this Allyance (if we can) contrive.
Were it but one day, 'twere enough for me,
One day, the Mistress of the World to be.
I have Ambition, and bee't good or ill,
It is the only Sovereign of my Will.
And 'tis this Noble Passion, sure, or none,
A Princess may without a Blemish own.
But yet with Glory I would it enflame,
Nor would buy greatness with the loss of Fame,
For I the brightest Crown can scorn to touch,
When 'tis attended with the least Reproach.
Wonder not then, that I so much pursue
Pompey's defence, and would my Duty do.
His injur'd virtue, since I cannot right:
My secret Wishes must invoke his flight.
That some kind storm may so his Ships disperse,
As may preserve him from his Murtherers.
But faithful Achoreus comes, and he
Will quickly tell us Pompey's Destiny.

SCENE 2.

Cleopatra, Charmion, Achoreus.
Cleop.
What, is it done, and hath some Treacherous hand
With that Rich blood stain'd our unhappy strand?

Achor.
By your commands, I to the shore did run,
And saw this Treason, in its Horrour, done.
I saw the greatest Mortal lose his Breath,
And though a sad, I saw a glorious Death.
And since a story you require from me,
So much his Honour, and our Infamy:
Hear then his fate, and wonder, and bewail,
His three Ships in the Harbour striking sail,
When to our ready Gallies he approach'd,
He thought the King, with his misfortunes touch'd,
By noble sense of Honour, did intend
With all his Court to meet so brave a friend.
But when he only saw a skiff prepar'd,
And that too fill'd with Ruffians of his guard:
Th'ingrateful Treachery did then appear,
And gave him some approaches of a fear:
But seeing Arm'd Men on our Ships and Shoar,
He blush'd his Apprehensions were so Poor;
And when the Danger was so near him brought,
He only on Cornelia's safety thought.
“Let's but expose, says he, this single head
“To a Reception we may so much dread.
“But whilst I only do the shock sustain,
“Hasten thy Flight, and my revenge obtain.
“King Juba is more gen'rously inclin'd,
“Where thou thy Father, and my Sons shalt find:
“But if their Deaths should thee of them deprive,
“Never Despair while Cato is alive.
While their contest, on this, was sad and kind;
Achilla's fatal boat their Vessel Joyn'd:
Septimius then, to get him in his Pow'r,
I'th Roman Language call'd him Emperour;
And as deputed from th'Egyptian Prince,
Let, Sir, says he, this bark convey you hence;
The Shelfs and Sands, which under water lye,
To greater Vessels an Access deny.
The Hero saw, and smil'd at this abuse;
He then receiv'd his Wifes and Friends adieus,
Their stay commanded, and to death did go
With the same look, as he did Crown's bestow:
With the same Majesty writ in his Brow,
He sat unmov'd among his Murtherers now:
His stedfast Courage did his Conduct seem,
Philip his Freed-man only follow'd him,
Of whom, what I have told you I did learn,
But saw the rest my self with sad concern:
And think, (so mournful it to me appears)
Cæsar himself could not refuse it Tears.

Cleop.
But spare not mine, not let them intercept
A story which I have already wept.

Achor.
Whilst toward Land they brought him, not a word
To the unhappy Pompey they afford:
In which contempt he did foresee his end.
At length arriv'd, they ask him to descend,
He Rising, as Achillas stood behind
Drawing his Sword, for what they had design'd,
Septimius, and three Romans more, embrew'd
Their Guilty hands in that Heroick Blood.
Till ev'n Achillas was with horrour strook,
Upon a Rage so Barbarous to look.

Cleop.
You Gods, who Nations do chastise with War,
When you Revenge this Death, our Cities spare!
And not the place, but Actors look upon,
The crime of Egypt was by Romans done.
But tell me what this Worthy said, and did.

Achor.
With his Robes border he his visage hid,
Blindly his cruel Destiny obey'd;
And would not see that Heav'n which him betray'd:
Lest any look of his, in such a stroak,
Should its assistance, or Revenge invoke.
Not the least poor complaint fell from his Tongue,
Or ought that spoke him worthy of his wrong:
But that despising, made his last Retreat
To all that in his Life was good or great:
And held the treason which the King had wrought
Too much below him to imploy his thought.
His Virtue, by their crime, more brightly shone,
And his last Gasp was an Illustrious one.
This great Soul fled, his Body did expose
To th'greedy Eyes of his inhumane Foes:
His Head, which tumbled on the blushing Deck,
(By yile Septimius sever'd from his neck.)
Upon Achillas lance we fixed see,
As after Battles Trophyes use to be:
And to conclude a Destiny so sad,
The Sea was all the Sepulchre he had.
To fortune now his slaughter'd Corps resign'd,
Floats at the Pleasure of the Wave and Winde.
The Poor Cornelia at the Dreadful view,

Cleop.
O Gods! What could she either say or do!

Achor.
By dreadful shrieks she try'd his Life to shield,
Then hopeless up to Heav'n her hands she held:
And by her mighty sorrow overthrown,
Fell either dead, or in a deadly swoon.
In this Distress, her Ships imploy their Oars
To gain the Sea, and quit those horrid Shoars.
But infamous Septimius having thought
Cornelia's flight rob'd him of half his fault:
Has with six Ships hasten'd to her pursuit,
And the dead Pompey still does persecute.
But whilst to th'King Achillas brings the Prize,
The trembling People turn'd away their eyes.
One does with horror on the guilt reflect,
And a Revenging Earthquake does expect:
This hears it Thunder, and that does believe
Nature a Revolution must receive.
Their Reason, troubled by the Crimes extent,
Cannot but dread as vast a Punishment.
Philip, mean while, shews on the Riverside,
That his mean fortune a brave soul did hide.
He curiously examines every wave,
For that rich Pledge which Treason to them gave:
That those lov'd Bones he piously might burn,
And give him one, though an inglorious Urne.
And with a little Dust a Tomb erect
To him who did the Universe subject.
But whilst Cornelia they one way pursue,
Another we might Cæsars coming view,
A Navy which can hardly Reckon'd be:

Cleop.
Ne're doubt it, Achoreus, it is he;
Tremble bad Men, at your approaching Doom,
My Breath is now your Destiny become.
Cæsar's come, I'm a Queen, Pompey's reveng'd,
Tyranny ruin'd, and the times are chang'd.
“But let's with wonder on the Great reflect;
“Pity their Fortune, and our own suspect:
He who we thought ev'n Fate her self had sway'd,
Who rul'd a Senate which the World obey'd:
Whom his own Rome saw (almost Deifi'd)
Over the World's three Parts in Triumph ride;
And who in the last hazards of his Fate,
Saw both the Consuls on his Standards wait:
As soon as Fortune one unkindness shows,
Egyptian Monsters of his Life dispose:
As a Photinus, or Septimius, can
Govern the Destiny of such a Man.
A King who ow's him ev'n the Crown he wears,
Exposing him to those base Flatterers.
So fell the mighty Pompey, and so may
Cæsar himself perhaps another day.
O may the Gods the Augury disprove!
And make his Fortune constant as my Love.

Charm.
The King comes, Madam, who may over-hear.

SCENE 3.

Ptolomy, Cleopatra.
Ptol.
Know you what happiness is Drawing near?

Cleop.
Yes, I have heard it, the great Cæsar's come:
And Photin shall no more pronounce my Doom:

Ptol.
That faithful Subject you could ne're endure.

Cleop.
No, but am from his Projects now secure.

Ptol.
Which of his Plots could you so much offend?

Cleop.
I've much endur'd, and more may apprehend:
For such a Politician is not Nice,
And you are always steer'd by his Advice.

Ptol.
If I believe him, I his prudence see.

Cleop.
And I who fear him, Know his cruelty.

Ptol.
For a Crown's safety all things just appear.

Cleop.
That kind of equity creates my fear,
My share of Power hath been by it lost,
And now it has the head of Pompey cost.

Ptol.
Never a game of State was more advis'd,
For else by Cæsar we had been surpris'd:
You see his speed, and we had been subdu'd,
Before we could in our defence have stood.
But now I to a Conquerour so great,
Your Heart may offer, and my Royal seat.

Cleop.
Make your own Presents, I'le dispose of mine,
Nor others Interests with Yours combine.

Ptol.
Our Blood's the same uniting me and you.

Cleop.
You might have said, our Rank unites us too.
We both are Sovereigns, yet 'twill be confest,
There is some Difference in our Interest.

Ptol.
Yes, Sister, for my Heart is well content
Only with Egypts narrow Continent.
But now your Beauty Cæsars Heart does wound,
Tagus and Ganges must your Empire bound.

Cleop.
I have Ambition, but it is confin'd,
It may surpize my Soul, but never blind.
T'upbraid me with those bounds there is no need,
I know my Reach, and shall not that exceed.

Ptol.
Your Fortune smiles and you th'advantage use.

Cleop.
You may revile me, if I that abuse.

Ptol.
I hope the best, Love no ill Fruit can bear.

Cleop.
You seem to hope what really you fear.
But though the Gods my just pretentions Crown,
You need not doubt I'le ask but what's my own.
You ne're shall Anger from your Sister find,
Though you'r a Cruel Brother, I'le be kind.

Ptol.
But yet, methinks, you do discover Pride.

Cleop.
Time is the Standard whereby things are try'd.

Ptol.
Your present carriage that doth plainly shew.

Cleop.
Cæsar is come, and you've a Master now.

Ptol.
I made him mine who the Worlds Master is.

Cleop.
Pay him your Homage, while I look for his.
In this Address you may your self be seen,
But Ile remember that I am a Queen.
Photin will help you to receive him now,
Advise with him, hee'l tell you what's to do.

SCENE 4.

Ptolomy, Photinus.
Ptol.
I have observ'd thy Counsel, but find since
To flatter her but swells her insolence.
For with her Pride she did affront me so.
That I at last fell into Passion too.
This Arm enrag'd by her could scarce forbear
(Without a Thought that Cæsar was so near)
Dispatching her (as safe as she does seem)
To have complain'd to Pompey, not to him.
She talks already at that haughty rate,
That if great Cæsar please her Pride and Hate,
And she o're him her boasted Empire have,
Her Brother and her King must be her Slave.
No, no, we needs must Frustrate that intent,
Nor poorly wait the Ills we may prevent.
Let's spoil her of her Power to disdain,
And break those Charmes whereby she hopes to reign:
Nor after such indignities, let's brook,
That she should buy my Scepter with a look.

Photin.
Do not for Cæsar, Sir, pretence provide
That Egypt should be to his Triumphs Ty'd:
For this Ambitious Man which through the world
Hath War and Slavery together hurl'd;
Swell'd with his Conquest and a Rage so smart,
As such a loss writes in a Lovers Heart:
Though you but act what Equity approves,
Will thence ground his revenge for what he loves:
As for a crime, Hee'l you to Bondage bring,
Though you did only what became a King.

Ptol.
If Cleopatra sees him shee's a Queen.

Photin.
But if she die, your Ruine is foreseen.

Ptol.
Who ruines me should on my fall attend.

Photin.
To ruine her you must your-self befriend.

Ptol.
What? must my Crown upon her Temples shine?
No, if my Scepter I must needs resign,
The Conquerour shall rather it command.

Photin.
You'l sooner force it from a Sisters hand.
How great soever now his flames appear,
He must be gone, and leave You Master here.
Love in such Men seldom that room can find
Which to their Interest will not be resign'd.
With Juba, Scipio, and with Pompey's Sons,
Spain, to Revenge, he knows, with Africk runs:
And while that Party are not yet o'rethrown,
He cannot safely call the World his own.
Cæsar's too great a Captain, to o'resee
The pursuit of Pharsalia's Victory:
And leave such fierce Hearts on revenge intent,
To rise from their so late Astonishment.
If he his ends obtain, and them o'recome,
He his gain'd Empire must secure at Rome:
And there the fruit of his success enjoy,
Whilst he at pleasure does her laws Destroy.
Judge in that time, what great things you may do,
See Cæsar then, and strive to please him too.
Resign him all, but yet this Rule intend,
That future things on accidents Depend.
Your Throne and Scepter give into his hand,
And without murmur yield to his Command:
He will believe that Justice he shall do
If he your Fathers Testament pursue;
Besides, this signal service you have done
Will give you still some Title to your Throne.
Entire submission to his Orders shew,
Applaud his iudgment, but then let him go.
That time for our Revenge will be most fit
When we can act, as well as think of it.
With temper let these Passions then be born,
Which were excited by your Sisters scorn.
Boasts are but Aire, and he revenges best,
Who Acts his braver Thoughts, yet talks the least.

Ptol.
O thy Advice my greatest Comfort brings,
A prudent Counsellour's the bliss of Kings.
Come dear Supporter of my Throne, let's go,
And to save all, on Cæsar all bestow.
His Pride lets flatter with an empty State,
And with our whole Fleet on him hither Wait.