Eros. O, a man in Arms! His Weapon drawn too? Cleo. Though upon the point Death sate, I'll meet it, and outdare the danger. Pho. Keep the Watch strong, and guard the passage sure That leads unto the Sea. Cleo. What Sea of rudeness Breaks in upon us? or what Subjects Breath Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm? Are Duty and Obedience fled to Heaven? And in their room ambition and pride Sent into Egypt? That Face speaks thee, Photinus, A thing thy Mother brought into the World; My Brother's and my Slave: but thy behaviour, Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to. If in the Gulph of base ingratitude, All loyalty to Ptolomy the King Be swallowed up, remember who I am, Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose That is forgot too; let the name of Cæsar Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness From running headlong on to thy Confusion. Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms, And let me read submission in thine Eyes; Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, But be a ready advocate to plead for thee To Cæsar, and my Brother. Pho. Plead my Pardon? To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus To Ptolomy or Cæsar, Nay, the gods, As to put off the figure of a man, And change my Essence with a sensual Beast; All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends Were aim'd to purchase you. Cleo. How durst thou, being The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought? Pho. They that have power are royal; and those base That live at the devotion of another. What birth gave Ptolomy, or fortune Cæsar, By Engines fashion'd in this Protean Anvil I have made mine; and only stoop at you, Whom I would still preserve free to command me; For Cæsar's frowns, they are below my thoughts, And but in these fair Eyes I still have read The story of a supream Monarchy, To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute, Photinus's Name had long since been as great As Ptolomies e'r was, or Cæsars is, This made me as a weaker tye to unloose The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom, And slight the fear that Cæsars threats might cause, That I and they might see no Sun appear But Cleopatra in the Egyptian Sphear. Cleo. O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to Cymmerian darkness! inconsiderate Fool, (Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe, Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one, And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters, Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet, I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man? A guelded Eunuch? Pho. Fairest, that makes for me, And shews it is no sensual appetite, But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit, That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures, Hymen, though blessing a new married Pair Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue, The glorious splendor of dread Majesty, Whose beams shall dazel Rome, and aw the world, My wants in that kind others shall supply, And I give way to it. Cleo. Baser than thy Birth; Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder Ram thee into the Earth? Pho. They are asleep, And cannot hear thee; Or with open Eyes, Did Jove look on us, I would laugh and swear That his artillery is cloy'd by me: Or if that they have power to hurt, his Bolts Are in my hand. Cleo. Most impious! Pho. They are dreams, Religious Fools shake at: yet to assure thee, If Nemesis, that scourges pride and scorn, Be any thing but a name, she lives in me; For by my self (an oath to me more dreadful Than Stix is to your gods) weak Ptolomy dead, And Cæsar (both being in my toil) remov'd, The poorest Rascals that are in my Camp Shall in my presence quench their lustful heat In thee, and young Arsino, while I laugh To hear you howl in vain: I deride those gods, That you think can protect you. Cleo. To prevent thee, In that I am the Mistress of my Fate; So hope I of my sister to confirm it. I spit at thee, and scorn thee. Pho. I will tame That haughty courage, and make thee stoop too. Cleo. Never, I was born to command, and will dye so.

Enter Achillas, and Souldiers, with the Body of Ptolomy

Pho. The King dead? this is a fair entrance to Our future happiness. Ars. Oh my dear Brother! Cleo. Weep not, Arsino, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. Pho. Cæsar fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? Achil. He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of Mars, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer Dam, Brake through our Troops and scatter'd them, he went on But still pursu'd by us, when on the sudden, He turn'd his head, and from his Eyes flew terrour; Which strook in us no less fear and amazement, Than if we had encounter'd with the lightning Hurl'd from Jove's cloudy Brow. Cleo. 'Twas like my Cæsar. Achil. We faln back, he made on, and as our fear Had parted from us with his dreadful looks, Again we follow'd; but got near the Sea; On which his Navy anchor'd; in one hand Holding a Scroll he had above the waves, And in the other grasping fast his Sword, As it had been a Trident forg'd by Vulcan To calm the raging Ocean, he made away As if he had been Neptune, his friends like So many Tritons follow'd, their bold shouts Yielding a chearful musick; we showr'd darts Upon them, but in vain, they reach'd their ships And in their safety we are sunk; for Cæsar Prepares for War. Pho. How fell the King? Achil. Unable To follow Cæsar, he was trod to death By the Pursuers, and with him the Priest Of Isis, good Achoreus. Ars. May the Earth Lye gently on their ashes. Pho. I feel now, That there are powers above us; and that 'tis not Within the searching policies of man To alter their decrees. Cleo. I laugh at thee; Where are thy threats now, Fool, thy scoffs and scorns Against the gods? I see calamity Is the best Mistress of Religion, And can convert an Atheist. [Shout within. Pho. O they come, Mountains fall on me! O for him to dye That plac'd his Heaven on Earth, is an assurance Of his descent to Hell; where shall I hide me? The greatest daring to a man dishonest, Is but a Bastard Courage, ever fainting. [Exit.

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