The False One Part 16

_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 G.o.ds? 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 a.s.surance Of his descent to h.e.l.l; where shall I hide me?

The greatest daring to a man dishonest, Is but a b.a.s.t.a.r.d Courage, ever fainting. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Caesar, Sceva, Antony, Dolabella.

_Caes._ Look on your _Caesar_; banish fear, my fairest, You now are safe.

_Sce._ By _Venus_, not a kiss Till our work be done; the Traitors once dispatch'd To it, and we'll cry aim.

_Caes._ I will be speedy. [_Exeunt._

_Cleo._ Farewel again, _Arsino_; how now, _Eros_?

Ever faint-hearted?

_Eros_. But that I am a.s.sur'd, Your Excellency can command the General, I fear the Souldiers, for they look as if They would be nibling too.

_Cleo._ He is all honour, Nor do I now repent me of my favours, Nor can I think that Nature e'r made a Woman That in her prime deserv'd him.

_Enter_ Caesar, Sceva, Antonie, Dolabella, _Souldiers, with the Heads._

_Ars._ He's come back, Pursue no further; curb the Souldiers fury.

_Caes._ See (beauteous Mistris) their accursed heads That did conspire against us.

_Sce._ Furies plague 'em, They had too fair an end to dye like Souldiers, _Pompey_ fell by the Sword, the Cross or Halter Should have dispatch'd them.

_Caes._ All is but death, good _Sceva_, Be therefore satisfied: and now my dearest, Look upon _Caesar_, as he still appear'd A Conquerour, and this unfortunate King Entomb'd with honour, we'll to _Rome_, where _Caesar_ Will shew he can give Kingdoms; for the Senate, (Thy Brother dead) shall willingly decree The Crown of _Egypt_ (that was his) to thee. [_Exeunt omnes._

PROLOGUE.

_New t.i.tles warrant not a Play for new,_ _The Subject being old; and 'tis as true,_ _Fresh and neat matter may with ease be fram'd_ _Out of their Stories, that have oft been nam'd_ _With glory on the Stage; what borrows he_ _From him that wrote old_ Priam's _Tragedy,_ _That writes his love to_ Hecuba? _Sure to tell_ _Of_ Caesars _amorous heats, and how he fell_ _In the Capitol, can never be the same_ _To the Judicious; Nor will such blame_ _Those who pen'd this, for Barrenness when they find_ _Young_ Cleopatra _here, and her great Mind_ _Expressed to the height, with us a Maid, and free,_ _And how he rated her Virginitie._ _We treat not of what boldness she did dye,_ _Nor of her fatal Love to_ Antony.

_What we present and offer to your view,_ _Upon their faiths the Stage yet never knew._ _Let Reason then first to your Wills give laws,_ _And after judge of them and of their cause._

EPILOGUE.

_I Now should wish another had my place,_ _But that I hope to come off, and with Grace;_ _And but express some sign that you are pleas'd,_ _We of our doubts, they of their fears are eas'd._ _I would beg further (Gentlemen) and much say_ _In favour of our selves, them, and the Play;_ _Did I not rest a.s.sured, the most I see_ _Hate Impudence, and cherish Modestie._