 | Pompey |  |
SCENE 4.
To them Cornelia.Cornel.
Cæsar, have a Care.
For Traytors have against thy Life Combin'd,
And sworn thy Head shall be to Pompey's Joyn'd.
If to prevent them thou shouldst be remiss,
Thy Blood will speedily be mixt with his.
If thou my Slaves examine, thou may'st know,
The Author, Order, and the Actor too.
I yield them thee;
Cæsar.
O truly Roman Heart!
And Worthy him of whom you were a part!
His Soul, which sees from its exalted State,
How I endeavour to Revenge his fate,
Forgets his hate, and is become so kind,
To save my Life by what he left behind.
Whatever Treason could to Pompey do,
Yet he does still subsist, and act in you:
And prompts you to a thing so brave, that he
May vanquish me in generosity.
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Cæsar, thou art deceiv'd in my intent,
If thou think'st Hate yields to acknowledgment:
No, Pompey's blood must all commerce deny,
Betwixt his Widow and his Enemy.
And I thy offer'd Freedom would enjoy,
That to thy Ruine I might it employ.
Nay, I shall make new business for thy Sword,
If thou dar'st be so just to keep thy word.
But though so much on thy Destruction bent,
Yet I thy Murther would as much prevent.
I have thy Death with too much Justice sought,
That it should now be with a Treason bought.
Who knows and suffers, does partake the guilt:
Nor should thy blood be infamously spilt.
But when my Husbands Sons, and Kinred do
Attempt thy death, then I shall wish it too.
And that some brave Arm, which I shall excite,
May in the Field, and in thy Armies sight,
Offer thee Nobly to that Hero's Ghost,
In whose Revenge thou so much zeal bestow'st?
My restless thirst for such a day as this,
By thy untimely fall its end would miss.
But whatsoe're hopes from abroad I may
Receive, yet I am Rack'd by their delay.
“For distant satisfaction is half lost:
“And long expected joys too dearly cost.
I shall not wander on the Affrick Strands;
To seek the vengeance ready in thy hands,
Which does the head it Threatens best befit:
For I could thine have had instead of it;
But that my hatred saw the difference great,
Betwixt my Husbands murther and defeat:
And I an earlier Punishment would see
On their Presumption, then thy Victory.
This is Romes wish, Whose Venerable Brow
To this affront, too just a Blush would owe:
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Her Trumphs) with so much dishonour fall.
She, upon whom thou never couldst impose,
Would sooner punish Criminals, then Foes.
Her liberty would a misfortune grow,
If upon Tiber Nile should it bestow.
None but a Roman could her Master be,
And but a Roman none should set her free.
Here thou wouldst fall to her unsacrific'd:
And wouldst be murther'd so, but not chastis'd.
Nor would succeding Tyrants frighted be,
For the Example too would dye with Thee.
Revenge her now on Egypts wrong, and I
Will her revenge upon Pharsalia try.
Adieu, no time in this should wasted be,
Go then, and boast I once made vows for thee.
| Pompey | |