The False One Part 8

_1 Sold._ Dear honour'd Sir, Let us but know your name, that we may wors.h.i.+p ye.

_2 Sold._ That we may ever thank.

_Sep._ Why, call me any thing, No matter for my name, that may betray me.

_Sce._ A cunning thief, call him _Septimius_, Souldiers, The villain that kill'd _Pompey_.

_All_. How?

_Sce._ Call him the shame of men. [_Exit._

_1 Sold._ O that this mony Were weight enough to break thy brains out: fling all: And fling our curses next: let them be mortal, Out b.l.o.o.d.y wolf, dost thou come guilded over, And painted with thy charitie, to poyson us?

_2 Sold._ I know him now: may never Father own thee, But as a monstrous birth shun thy base memory: And if thou hadst a Mother (as I cannot Believe thou wert a natural Burden) let her womb Be curs'd of women for a bed of vipers.

_3 Sol._ Me thinks the ground shakes to devour this rascal, And the kind air turns into foggs and vapours, Infectious mists, to crown his villanies.

Thou maist go wander, like a thing heaven hated.

_1 Sold._ And valiant minds hold poysonous to remember.

The Hangman will not keep thee company, He has an honourable house to thine, No, not a thief though thou couldst save his life for't Will eat thy bread, nor one, for thirst starv'd, drink with thee.

_2 Sol._ Thou art no company for an honest dog, And so we'l leave thee to a ditch (thy destiny.) [_Exeunt._

_Sep._ Contemn'd of all? and kickt too? now I find it; My valour's fled too, with mine honesty, For since I would be knave I must be Coward: This 'tis to be a Traitor, and betrayer.

What a deformity dwells round about me!

How monstrous shews that man, that is ungratefull!

I am afraid the very beasts will tear me, Inspir'd with what I have done: the winds will blast me: Now I am paid, and my reward dwells in me, The wages of my fact, my soul's opprest; Honest and n.o.ble minds, you find most rest. [_Exit._

SCENA III.

_Enter_ Ptolomy, Ach.o.r.eus, Photinus, Achillas.

_Ptol._ I have commanded, and it shall be so, A preparation I have set o' foot, Worthy the friends.h.i.+p and the fame of _Caesar_, My Sisters favours shall seem poor and wither'd: Nay she her self, (trim'd up in all her beautys) Compar'd to what I'le take his eyes withall, Shall be a dream.

_Pho._ Do you mean to shew the glory, And wealth of _Egypt_?

_Ptol._ Yes: and in that l.u.s.tre, _Rome_ shall appear in all her famous Conquests, And all her riches of no note unto it.

_Ach._ Now you are reconcil'd to your fair Sister, Take heed Sir, how you step into a danger: A danger of this precipice: but note Sir, For what _Rome_ ever rais'd her mighty armies; First for ambition, then for wealth: 'tis madness, Nay more, a secure impotence, to tempt An armed Guest: feed not an eye, that conquers, Nor teach a fortunate sword the way to be covetous.

_Ptol._ Ye judge amiss, and far too wide to alter me, Yet all be ready, as I gave direction: The secret way of all our wealth appearing Newly, and handsomely: and all about it: No more disswading: 'tis my will.

_Ach._ I grieve for't.

_Ptol._ I will dazel _Caesar_, with excess of glory.

_Pho._ I fear you'l curse your will, we must obey ye. [_Exit._

SCENA IV.

_Enter_ Caesar, Antony, Dolabella, Sceva, _above._

_Caesar_. I wonder at the glory of this Kingdom, And the most bounteous preparation, Still as I pa.s.s, they court me with.

_Sceva_. I'le tell ye: In _Gaul_, and _Germany_, we saw such visions, And stood not to admire 'em, but possess 'em: When they are ours, they are worth our admiration.

_Enter_ Cleopatra.

_Ant._ The young Queen comes: give room.

_Caesar_. Welcom (my dearest) Come bless my side.

_Sceva_. I marry: here's a wonder, As she appears now, I am no true Souldier, If I be not readie to recant.

_Cleo._ Be merry Sir, My Brother will be proud to do you honour That now appears himself.

_Enter_ Ptolomy, Ach.o.r.eus, Achillas, Photinus, Apollodorus.

_Pto._ Haile to great _Caesar_ My Royal Guest, first I will feast thine eyes With wealthy _aegypts_ store, and then thy palate, And wait my self upon thee. [_Treasure brought in._

_Caesar_. What rich Service!

What mines of treasure!

_Cleo._ My _Caesar_, What do you admire? pray ye turn, and let me talk to ye.

Have ye forgot me Sir? how, a new object?

Am I grown old o'th' sudden, _Caesar_?

_Caesar_. Tell me From whence comes all this wealth?

_Cleo._ Is your eye that way?

And all my Beauties banisht?

_Ptol._ I'le tell thee _Caesar_, We owe for all this wealth to the old _Nilus_: We need no dropping rain to cheer the husband-man, Nor Merchant that ploughs up the Sea, to seek us; Within the wealthy womb of reverent _Nilus_, All this is nourish'd: who to do thee honour, Comes to discover his seven Deities, (His conceal'd heads) unto thee: see with pleasure.

_Caesar_. The matchless wealth of this Land!

_Cleo._ Come, ye shall hear me.

_Caesar_. Away: let me imagine.

_Cleo._ How? frown on me?

The eyes of _Caesar_ wrapt in storms?

_Caesar_. I am sorry: But let me think--