 | Pompey the Great |  |
Scene the Second.
Enter Ptolomey, Cæsar and Lepidus, Antonius.Ptolom.
My Lord, as Soveraign here, our Throne ascend.
Cæsar.
That offer, Sir, speaks you not Cæsar's friend,
Fortunes worst Malice could not set me down
To less Advantage than upon a Throne;
Here Rome's hard usage would find Just excuse,
If such a weak Temptation could seduce
24
To stoop at Loyalty, disdain'd by her,
And giv'n as Cheap, 'tis bred in our Souls frame
To hate that Quality, and slight the Name;
This from great Pompey you had sooner known,
If your Distressed friend y'had dar'd to own,
He had this offer of your Chair declin'd,
If to that Worthy you had been thus kind;
You might perhaps, have fallen, but strew'd with Bays,
No Trophees of Success had match't that praise,
When Fortune had betray'd your Enterprize,
Cæsar had took delight to help you Rise,
But since your Thoughts had no regard of Fame,
To that Illustrious head whence grew your Claim;
Which way could he forfeit his Life to you,
Whose Homage is to the least Roman due?
Has fate made me Triumphant o're my Foes,
That Ægypts King the Conquest should dispose?
My too Destructive Sword did I unsheath,
That you might Judge of Romans Life and Death?
I Fought to wrest that Power from Pompeys hands,
Shall I endure your Barbarous Commands?
What do you think for this can be your Doom,
Where you pretend a Soveraignty o're Rome?
Affronted more in this Illustrious head,
Than all the Blood that Mithridates shed;
Had I been Vanquish'd, your Complying thought
My head a present had to Pompey brought;
Thanks to my Fortune that I am ador'd,
From him Retreating I had met your Sword;
Friendship abhorr'd, and formidable Love,
That Safe or Dangerous as our Fortunes prove;
But speak, you have too long stood thus Confus'd.
Ptolom.
'Tis true, but with Just cause may be Excus'd.
A Soveragn Born that always us'd Command,
I now in presence of my Master stand,
My Courtiers all with Reverence on me look,
But with like Awe I am by Cæsar strook,
25
Who from your Words such Cause of Terrour find;
Lost in profound Respect, how should we Clear
This double Cloud of Reverence and Fear?
But above all that which Confounds me most,
Is to find Cæsar Friend to Pompeys Ghost.
You urge Ingratitude, but this I know,
That more to Cæsar than to him I owe;
Your favour first on our Dark Fortune shin'd,
To what he did he was by you inclin'd,
Our Cause ith' Senate he did undertake,
Protecting Injur'd Princes for your sake,
Yet vain had been whatever they Decreed,
Unless your Bounty had supply'd our need;
The Thousand Talents you so Nobly lent,
Restor'd us to our Throne from Banishment.
Your Son we Honour'd, while he was your Friend,
Before his Force he did against you bend;
Before he Envy'd your Success in Warr,
And Tyrant like began this Civil Jarr.
Cæsar.
Hold—Are you not contented with his Death,
That thus you Blast his Glory with your Breath?
Vent not such Slanders as may Rome offend,
Nor him Reproach, while you your Self Defend.
Ptolom.
Then we referr to Heav'n his secret thought,
Which all our Vows during these Warrs besought,
That you by prosp'rous Arms might be redrest,
Whose slow Resentment was so rudely Press'd.
How could I think, that it became your Friend
To spare his Life, that did your Death intend?
A man whose Rage no Victory could quel,
Might have fetch'd Succour from the lowest Hell,
Made the Wild Parthian the Sworn foe of Rome,
And all the East against his Father come;
Besides, had you his Person got, our fear
Suppos'd your heart too generous would forbear
Your Just Revenge, and Clemency's Excess
Had still Continu'd your Unhappiness.
26
Made us secure you, though against your Will;
Our forward Zeal as Guilty you disown,
But 'twas to Serve you, what has been misdone;
Nor need you own the Fact by which you gain,
To keep you Innocent I took the stain,
The Blacker 'tis the more it should be Priz'd,
My Fame to your Concernment Sacrifis'd.
Cæsar.
Reasons ill grounded your false Zeal misled,
If what the whole World pray'd for, caus'd your Dread,
That your too Curious fear should thus delude
The fairest hope our Civil Arms pursu'd;
Honour engag'd me my proud Foes to tame,
And then to pardon was my only aim,
The feircest Enemies I have o'rethrown,
For my Dear Friends and Confidents I own.
VVhat publique Joy had our sad Warr ensu'd,
If I and Pompey o're our former feud,
Triumphant had in the same Chariot Rid?
All which your narrow Policies forbid.
You fear'd my Clemency! O gross mistake!
VVish it were greater now for your own sake;
If by strict Rules of Justice I were led,
I should appease Romes Anger with your Head;
VVithout regard to seeming Love, your State,
Or too late Penitence, Indulge my Hate,
And make your Throne it self the Tragick Stage,
Did not your Sister obviate my Rage:
Your guilty Blood my Pardon only gains,
Because it runs in Cleopatra's Veins;
On your base Flatterers the fault I lay,
And am content their Lives the forfeit pay;
Guilty or Innocent I shall Esteem
You, as you Spare, or as you Punish them.
Mean while to Pompey let new Altars rise
VVith Honours, such as to the Deities
Are paid, with Sacrifice your Crime repair,
And in that Work imploy your Cheifest care;
27
And leave me otherwise imploy'd with mine.
Exit Ptolomey.
| Pompey the Great | |