Ptol. To say I grieve his fortune

As much as if the Crown I wear (his gift)

Were ravish'd from me, is a holy truth,

Our Gods can witness for me: yet, being young,

And not a free disposer of my self;

Let not a few hours, borrowed for advice,

Beget suspicion of unthankfulness,

(Which next to Hell I hate) pray you retire,

And take a little rest, and let his wounds

Be with that care attended, as they were

Carv'd on my flesh: good Labienus, think

The little respite, I desire shall be

Wholly emploi'd to find the readiest way

To doe great Pompey service.

Lab. May the gods

(As you intend) protect you. [Exit.

Ptol. Sit: sit all,

It is my pleasure: your advice, and freely.

Ach. A short deliberation in this,

May serve to give you counsel: to be honest,

Religious and thankfull, in themselves

Are forcible motives, and can need no flourish

Or gloss in the perswader; your kept faith,

(Though Pompey never rise to th' height he's fallen from)

Cæsar himself will love; and my opinion

Is (still committing it to graver censure)

You pay the debt you owe him, with the hazard

Of all you can call yours.

Ptol. What's yours, (Photinus?)

Pho. Achoreus (great Ptolomy) hath counsell'd

Like a Religious, and honest man,

Worthy the honour that he justly holds

In being Priest to Isis: But alas,

What in a man, sequester'd from the world,

Or in a private person, is prefer'd,

No policy allows of in a King,

To be or just, or thankfull, makes Kings guilty,

And faith (though prais'd) is punish'd that supports

Such as good Fate forsakes: joyn with the gods,

Observe the man they favour, leave the wretched,

The Stars are not more distant from the Earth

Than profit is from honesty; all the power,

Prerogative, and greatness of a Prince

Is lost, if he descend once but to steer

His course, as what's right, guides him: let him leave

The Scepter, that strives only to be good,

Since Kingdomes are maintain'd by force and blood.

Ach. Oh wicked!

Ptol. Peace: goe on.

Pho. Proud Pompey shews how much he scorns your youth,

In thinking that you cannot keep your own

From such as are or'e come. If you are tired

With being a King, let not a stranger take

What nearer pledges challenge: resign rather

The government of Egypt and of Nile

To Cleopatra, that has title to them,

At least defend them from the Roman gripe,

What was not Pompeys, while the wars endured,

The Conquerour will not challenge; by all the world

Forsaken and despis'd, your gentle Guardian

His hopes and fortunes desperate, makes choice of

What Nation he shall fall with: and pursu'd

By their pale ghosts, slain in this Civil war,

He flyes not Cæsar only, but the Senate,

Of which, the greater part have cloi'd the hunger

Of sharp Pharsalian fowl, he flies the Nations

That he drew to his Quarrel, whose Estates

Are sunk in his: and in no place receiv'd,

Hath found out Egypt, by him yet not ruin'd:

And Ptolomy, things consider'd, justly may

Complain of Pompey: wherefore should he stain

Our Egypt, with the spots of civil war?

Or make the peaceable, or quiet Nile

Doubted of Cæsar? wherefore should he draw

His loss, and overthrow upon our heads?

Or choose this place to suffer in? already

We have offended Cæsar, in our wishes,

And no way left us to redeem his favour

But by the head of Pompey.

Ach. Great Osiris,

Defend thy Ægypt from such cruelty,

And barbarous ingratitude!

Pho. Holy trifles,

And not to have place in designs of State;

This sword, which Fate commands me to unsheath,

I would not draw on Pompey, if not vanquish'd.

I grant it rather should have pass'd through Cæsar,

But we must follow where his fortune leads us;

All provident Princes measure their intents

According to their power, and so dispose them:

And thinkst thou (Ptolomy) that thou canst prop

His Ruines, under whom sad Rome now suffers?

Or 'tempt the Conquerours force when 'tis confirm'd?

Shall we, that in the Battail sate as Neuters

Serve him that's overcome? No, no, he's lost.

And though 'tis noble to a sinking friend

To lend a helping hand, while there is hope

He may recover, thy part not engag'd

Though one most dear, when all his hopes are dead,

To drown him, set thy foot upon his head.

Ach. Most execrable Counsel.

Pho. To be follow'd,

'Tis for the Kingdoms safety.

Ptol. We give up

Our absolute power to thee: dispose of it

As reason shall direct thee.

Pho. Good Achillas,

Seek out Septimius: do you but sooth him,

He is already wrought: leave the dispatch

To me of Labienus: 'tis determin'd

Already how you shall proceed: nor Fate

Shall alter it, since now the dye is cast,

But that this hour to Pompey is his last. [Exit.