[Ach.] I love the King, nor do dispute his power,

(For that is not confin'd, nor to be censur'd

By me, that am his Subject) yet allow me

The liberty of a Man, that still would be

A friend to Justice, to demand the motives

That did induce young Ptolomy, or Photinus,

(To whose directions he gives up himself,

And I hope wisely) to commit his Sister,

The Princess Cleopatra (if I said

The Queen) Achillas 'twere (I hope) no treason,

She being by her Fathers Testament

(Whose memory I bow to) left Co-heir

In all he stood possest of.

Achil. 'Tis confest

(My good Achoreus) that in these Eastern Kingdoms

Women are not exempted from the Sceptre,

But claim a priviledge, equal to the Male;

But how much such divisions have ta'en from

The Majesty of Egypt, and what factions

Have sprung from those partitions, to the ruine

Of the poor Subject, (doubtful which to follow,)

We have too many, and too sad examples,

Therefore the wise Photinus, to prevent

The Murthers, and the Massacres, that attend

On disunited Government, and to shew

The King without a Partner, in full splendour,

Thought it convenient the fair Cleopatra,

(An attribute not frequent to the Climate)

Should be committed in safe Custody,

In which she is attended like her Birth,

Until her Beauty, or her royal Dowre,

Hath found her out a Husband.

Ach. How this may

Stand with the rules of policy, I know not;

Most sure I am, it holds no correspondence

With the Rites of Ægypt, or the Laws of Nature;

But grant that Cleopatra can sit down

With this disgrace (though insupportable)

Can you imagine, that Romes glorious Senate

(To whose charge, by the will of the dead King

This government was deliver'd) or great Pompey,

(That is appointed Cleopatra's Guardian

As well as Ptolomies) will e're approve

Of this rash counsel, their consent not sought for,

That should authorize it?

Achil. The Civil war

In which the Roman Empire is embarqu'd

On a rough Sea of danger, does exact

Their whole care to preserve themselves, and gives them

No vacant time to think of what we do,

Which hardly can concern them.

Ach. What's your opinion

Of the success? I have heard, in multitudes

Of Souldiers, and all glorious pomp of war,

Pompey is much superiour.

Achil. I could give you

A Catalogue of all the several Nations

From whence he drew his powers: but that were tedious.

They have rich arms, are ten to one in number,

Which makes them think the day already won;

And Pompey being master of the Sea,

Such plenty of all delicates are brought in,

As if the place on which they are entrench'd,

Were not a Camp of Souldiers, but Rome,

In which Lucullus and Apicius joyn'd,

To make a publique Feast: they at Dirachium

Fought with success; but knew not to make use of

Fortunes fair offer: so much I have heard

Cæsar himself confess.

Ach. Where are they now?

Achil. In Thessalie, near the Pharsalian plains

Where Cæsar with a handfull of his Men

Hems in the greater number: his whole troops

Exceed not twenty thousand, but old Souldiers

Flesh'd in the spoils of Germany and France,

Inur'd to his Command, and only know

To fight and overcome; And though that Famine

Raigns in his Camp, compelling them to tast

Bread made of roots, forbid the use of man,

(Which they with scorn threw into Pompeys Camp

As in derision of his Delicates)

Or corn not yet half ripe, and that a Banquet:

They still besiege him, being ambitious only

To come to blows, and let their swords determine

Who hath the better Cause.

Ach. May Victory

Attend on't, where it is.

Achil. We every hour

Expect to hear the issue.

Sep. Save my good Lords;

By Isis and Osiris, whom you worship;

And the four hundred gods and goddesses

Ador'd in Rome, I am your honours servant.

Ach. Truth needs, Septimius, no oaths.

Achil. You are cruel,

If you deny him swearing, you take from him

Three full parts of his language.

Sep. Your Honour's bitter,

Confound me, where I love I cannot say it,

But I must swear't: yet such is my ill fortune,

Nor vows, nor protestations win belief,

I think, and (I can find no other reason)

Because I am a Roman.

Ach. No Septimius,

To be a Roman were an honour to you,

Did not your manners, and your life take from it,

And cry aloud, that from Rome you bring nothing

But Roman Vices, which you would plant here,

But no seed of her vertues.

Sep. With your reverence

I am too old to learn.

Ach. Any thing honest,

That I believe, without an oath.

Sep. I fear

Your Lordship has slept ill to night, and that

Invites this sad discourse: 'twill make you old

Before your time:—O these vertuous Morals,

And old religious principles, that fool us!

I have brought you a new Song, will make you laugh,

Though you were at your prayers.

A[c]h. What is the subject?

Be free Septimius.

Sep. 'Tis a Catalogue

Of all the Gamesters of the Court and City,

Which Lord lyes with that Lady, and what Gallant

Sports with that Merchants wife; and does relate

Who sells her honour for a Diamond,

Who, for a tissew robe: whose husband's jealous,

And who so kind, that, to share with his wife,

Will make the match himself:

Harmless conceits,

Though fools say they are dangerous: I sang it

The last night at my Lord Photinus table.

Ach. How? as a Fidler?

Sep. No Sir, as a Guest,

A welcom guest too: and it was approv'd of

By a dozen of his friends, though they were touch'd in't:

For look you, 'tis a kind of merriment,

When we have laid by foolish modesty

(As not a man of fashion will wear it)

To talk what we have done; at least to hear it;

If meerily set down, it fires the blood,

And heightens Crest-faln appetite.

Ach. New doctrine!

Achil. Was't of your own composing?

Sep. No, I bought it

Of a skulking Scribler for two Ptolomies:

But the hints were mine own; the wretch was fearfull:

But I have damn'd my self, should it be question'd,

That I will own it.

Ach. And be punished for it:

Take heed: for you may so long exercise

Your scurrilous wit against authority,

The Kingdoms Counsels; and make profane Jests,

(Which to you (being an atheist) is nothing)

Against Religion, that your great maintainers

(Unless they would be thought Co-partners with you)

Will leave you to the Law: and then, Septimius,

Remember there are whips.

Sep. For whore's I grant you,

When they are out of date, till then are safe too,

Or all the Gallants of the Court are Eunuchs,

And for mine own defence I'le only add this,

I'le be admitted for a wanton tale

To some most private Cabinets, when your Priest-hood

(Though laden with the mysteries of your goddess)

Shall wait without unnoted: so I leave you

To your pious thoughts. [Exit.

Achil. 'Tis a strange impudence,

This fellow does put on.

Ach. The wonder great,

He is accepted of.

Achil. Vices, for him,

Make as free way as vertues doe for others.

'Tis the times fault: yet Great ones still have grace'd

To make them sport, or rub them o're with flattery,

Observers of all kinds.

Ach. No more of him,

He is not worth our thoughts: a Fugitive

From Pompeys army: and now in a danger

When he should use his service.

Achil. See how he hangs

On great Photinus Ear.

Sep. Hell, and the furies,

And all the plagues of darkness light upon me:

You are my god on earth: and let me have

Your favour here, fall what can fall hereafter.

Pho. Thou art believ'd: dost thou want mony?

Sep. No Sir.

Pho. Or hast thou any suite? these ever follow

Thy vehement protestations.

Sep. You much wrong me;

How can I want, when your beams shine upon me,

Unless employment to express my zeal

To do your greatness service? do but think

A deed so dark, the Sun would blush to look on,

For which Man-kind would curse me, and arm all

The powers above, and those below against me:

Command me, I will on.

Pho. When I have use,

I'le put you to the test.

Sep. May it be speedy,

And something worth my danger: you are cold,

And know not your own powers: this brow was fashion'd

To wear a Kingly wreath, and your grave judgment,

Given to dispose of monarchies, not to govern

A childs affairs, the peoples eye's upon you,

The Souldier courts you: will you wear a garment

Of sordid loyalty when 'tis out of fashion?

Pho. When Pompey was thy General, Septimius,

Thou saidst as much to him.

Sep. All my love to him,

To Cæsar, Rome, and the whole world is lost

In the Ocean of your Bounties: I have no friend,

Project, design, or Countrey, but your favour,

Which I'le preserve at any rate.

Pho. No more;

When I call on you, fall not off: perhaps

Sooner than you expect, I may employ you,

So leave me for a while.

Sep. Ever your Creature. [Exit.

Pho. Good day Achoreus; my best friend Achillas,

Hath fame deliver'd yet no certain rumour

Of the great Roman Action?

Achil. That we are

To enquire, and learn of you Sir: whose grave care

For Egypts happiness, and great Ptolomies good,

Hath eyes and ears in all parts.