The False One | Page 3

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 C?sar, 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.
Enter Ptolomy, Labienus, Guard.
Pho. I'le not boast, What my Intelligence costs me: but 'ere long You shall know more. The King, with him a Roman.
Ach. The scarlet livery of unfortunate war Dy'd deeply on his face.
Achil. 'Tis Labienus C?sars Lieutenant in the wars of Gaul, And fortunate in all his undertakings: But since these Civil jars he turn'd to Pompey, And though he followed the better Cause Not with the like success.
Pho. Such as are wise Leave falling buildings, flye to those that rise; But more of that hereafter.
Lab. In a word, Sir, These gaping wounds, not taken as a slave, Speak Pompey's loss: to tell you of the Battail, How many thousand several bloody shapes Death wore that day in triumph: how we bore The shock of C?sars charge: or with what fury His Souldiers came on as if they had been So many C?sars, and like him ambitious To tread upon the liberty of Rome: How Fathers kill'd their Sons, or Sons their Fathers, Or how the Roman Piles on either side Drew Roman blood, which spent, the Prince of weapons, (The sword) succeeded, which in Civil wars Appoints the Tent on which wing'd victory Shall make a certain Stand; then, how the Plains Flow'd o're with blood, and what a cloud of vulturs And other birds of prey, hung o're both armies, Attending when their ready Servitors, (The Souldiers, from whom the angry gods Had took all sense of reason, and of pity) Would serve in their own carkasses for a feast, How C?sar with his Javelin force'd them on That made the least stop, when their angry hands Were lifted up against some known friends face; Then coming to the body of the army He shews the sacred Senate, and forbids them To wast their force upon the Common Souldier, Whom willingly, if e're he did know pity, He would have spar'd.
Ptol. The reason Labienus?
Lab. Full well he knows, that in their blood he was To pass to Empire, and that through their bowels He must invade the Laws of Rome, and give A period to the liberty of the world. Then fell the Lepidi, and the bold Corvini, The fam'd Torquati, Scipio's, and Marcelli, (Names next to Pompeys, most renown'd on Earth) The Nobles, and the Commons lay together, And Pontique, Punique, and Assyrian blood Made up one crimson Lake: which Pompey seeing, And that his, and the fate of Rome had left him Standing upon the Rampier of his Camp, Though scorning all that could fall on himself, He pities them whose fortunes are embarqu'd In his unlucky quarrel; cryes aloud too That they should sound retreat, and save themselves: That he desir'd not, so much noble blood Should be lost in his service, or attend On his misfortunes: and then, taking horse With some few of his friends, he came to Lesbos, And with Cornelia, his Wife, and Sons, He's touch'd upon your shore: the King of Parthia, (Famous in his defeature of the Crassi) Offer'd him his protection, but Pompey Relying on his Benefits, and your Faith, Hath chosen ?gypt for his Sanctuary, Till he may recollect his scattered powers, And try a second day: now Ptolomy, Though he appear not like that glorious thing That three times rode in triumph, and gave laws To conquer'd Nations, and made Crowns his gift (As this of yours, your noble Father took From his victorious hand, and you still wear it At his devotion) to do you more honour In his declin'd estate, as the straightst Pine In a full grove of his yet flourishing friends, He flyes to you for succour, and expects The entertainment of your Fathers friend, And Guardian to