 | Pompey |  |
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.
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“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,
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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:
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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:
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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.
| Pompey | |