Printed by John Crooke, Printer to the Kings
Moſt Excellent Majeſty, for Samuel
, next Door to the Bear
and Ragged-Staff in Caſtleſtreet
. 16631663.

A1v A2r

The Printer to the Reader.

I hope you expect no Eloquence from a Printer, nor Regularity in a Preface, which hath nothing to ſay to you, but that Pompey being a Tranſlation out of the French of Monſieur Corneille, the hand that did it is reſponſible for nothing but the Engliſh, and the Songs between the Acts, which were added only to lengthen the Play, and make it fitter for the Stage, when thoſe that could not be reſiſted were reſolved to have it acted; and that no abuſes of Tranſcribers (though they were numerous) could have prevail’d to ſend it to the Preſs, if the Perſon moſt concern’d had not fear’d to diſobey an excellent Lady, who commanded this publication, more than the ſeverity of the Cenſorious World.

A2 The A2v

The Perſons of the Play.

Julius Cæſar.

Marcus Antonius.


Ptolomy, King of Ægypt.

Cleopatra, His Siſter.

Photinus, His Governour.

Achillas, His Lieutenant General.

Septimius, A Roman in the Ægyptian Kings Army.

Achoreus, Cleopatra’s Gentleman Uſher.

Charmion, Cleopatra’s Maid of Honour.

Cornelia, Pompey’s Widdow.

Philip, Pompey’s Freedman.

Romans and Ægyptians.

The Scene Ptolomey’s Pallace in Alexandria.
Pro- A3r

Prologue, For the Theatre at Dublin, written by the Earl of Roſcomon,

The mighty Rivals, whoſe deſtructive Rage

Did the whole World in Civil Armes engage:

Are now agreed, and make it both their Choice,

To have their Fates determin’d by your Voice.

Cæſar from none but You, will hear his Doom,

He hates th’ obſequious Flatteries of Rome:

He ſcorns, where once he rul’d, now to be try’d,

And he hath rul’d in all the World beſide.

When he the Thames, the Danube, and the Nile

Had ſtain’d with Blood, Peace flouriſhed in this Iſle;

Annd you alone may Boaſt, you never ſaw

Cæſar ’till now, and now can give him Law:

Great Pompey too, comes as a ſuppliant here,

But ſayes He cannot now begin to fear.

He A3v

He knowes your equal Juſtice, and (to tell

A Roman Truth) He knowes himſelf too well.

Succeſs, tis true, waited on Cæſar’s ſide,

But Pompey thinks he conquer’d when he dy ’d.

His Fortune when ſhe prov’d the moſt unkind,

Chang’d his Condition, but not Cato’s Mind.

Then of what Doubt can Pompey’s Cauſe admit,

Since here ſo many Cato’s Judging ſit.

To the Ladies.

But you bright Nymphs, give Cæſar leave to woo.

The greateſt Wonder of the world but you.

And hear a Muſe, who has that Hero taught

To ſpeak as gen’rouſly, as e’re he fought.

Whoſe Eloquence from ſuch a Theme deters

All Tongues but Engliſh, and all pens but Hers.

By the juſt Fates your Sex is doubly bleſt,

You Conquer’d Cæſar, and you praiſe him beſt.

To the Lord Lieutenant

And You (Illuſtrious Sir) receive as due,

A Preſent Deſtiny reſerv’d for You.

Rome, France and England joyn their Forces here,

To make a Poem worthy of your Ear.

Accept it then, and on that Pompey’s Brow

Who gave ſo many Crowns, beſtow one now.

Pompey 2A1r 1


Act. 1. Scen. 1.

Ptolomey, Achillas, Photinus, Septimius..


Fate hath declar’d herſelf, and we may ſee

Th’ Intrigue of the great Rivals Deſtiny:

That quarrel which did all the Gods divide,

Pharſalia hath the Honour to decide.

Whoſe Rivers ſwelling with new bloody Tides

(Sent thither from ſo many Parricides)

The Horrour of torn Enſigns, Chariots, Shields,

Spread in Confuſion o’re th’ infected Fields;

Thoſe Slaughter’d heaps whoſe ſhades no reſt obtain’d

By Nature to their own revenge conſtrain’d.

(Their Putrefactions ſeeming to Revive

The War, with thoſe that do remain alive,)

Are Dreadful rules by which the Swords thinks fit,

Pompey to caſt, and Cæſar to acquit.

A That 2A1v 2

That diſtreſs’d Leader of the Juſter Side,

Whoſe wearied Fortune hath all Help deni’d,

A terrible Example will create

To future Times, of the Extreams of Fate:

He flies, whoſe happy Courage had, till now,

Confin’d the Bay to his Victorious Brow:

He in our Ports chooſes his laſt Retreat;

And wanting Refuge from a Foe ſo Great,

His bold Misfortune ſeeks it in Abodes,

Which from the Titans once preſerv’d the Gods;

And from ſo fam’d a Climate, doth expect

That it ſhould Earth as well as Heav’n protect;

And lending his Deſpair a kinde Effort,

It ſhould the ſtaggering Univerſe ſupport:

Yes, the World’s Fortune Pompey with him brings,

And hopes a Land whoſe Fame ſuch Wonder ſings,

A Prop or Tomb might to her Freedom give,

And Pompey’s Fall Attend, if not Releive.

This, Friends, the Subject is of our debate;

Our Triumphs he, or Ruine will create:

He hazards me, who did my Father ſave,

And does expoſe that Memphis which he gave:

We muſt now haſten, or prevent his fate,

His Ruine hinder or precipitate:

That is unſafe, and this Ignoble is;

I dread injuſtice, or unhappineſs;

And angry fortune each way offers me

Either much danger, or much infamy.

It is my part to chooſe, yours to adviſe

What you believe to be moſt ſafe and wiſe:

Pompey’s Concern’d; nay, we the ſame ſhall get,

Cæſar’s ſucceſs to trouble, or compleat;

And 2A2r 3

And never Monarchs Fortune, did afford

So great a Subject, for a Councel Board.


When things, Sir, are determin’d by the ſword,

Juſtice is nothing, but an empty word;

And he who then Affairs would rightly weigh

Muſt not his Reaſons, but his power obey:

View your own Strength, let Pompey be ſurvey’d,

Whoſe Fortune Droop’s, and Valour is betray’d;

Who not from Cæſar only takes his flight,

But from the Senates juſt Reproach and ſight,

(Whoſe greater part, were cheaply left a Prey

To the Keen Vultures of Pharſalia)

He flies loſt Rome, and every Roman now;

Who muſt to his defeat their Fetters owe.

He flies thoſe Kings who would chaſtiſe his Guilt,

Of all the blood that in his cauſe was ſpilt.

Their Kingdoms now of Men and Mony void,

Their broken Scepters and their Thrones deſtroy’d,

As Author of all Woes, abhor’d by all,

He flies the whole World, ſhatter’d by his Fall.

Can you alone reſiſt ſo many Foes?

His ſafety he did in himſelf Repoſe:

He falls, and You may yield without a Bluſh

To ſuch a weight as Rome her ſelf does Cruſh;

A weight which hath the Univerſe preſt down,

And the yet greater Pompey, overthrown.

He that will ſave, whom Heaven will have wrack’t,

By too much Juſtice may a Guilt Contract.

A2 And 2A2v 4

And a fidelity ſo indiſcreet

May a ſhort Fame, but long Repentance meet:

He but a more illuſtrious wound will have,

Which will not ſmart the leſs for being brave:

Do not for Egypt Thunderbolts provide,

But chooſe with Fortune, and the Gods to ſide.

Believe not they can an Injuſtice do,

But where they favour, pay your Homage too.

Whatever they decree for them declare,

And think it Impious where they frown to ſpare,

With Divine Anger, Pompey now beſet,

Comes to involve you too, in his Defeat.

His Head for which both Gods and Men do call

Already ſhakes, and ſeeks but where to fall:

His coming hither an Offence does ſeem

And ſhew’s his Hatred rather then eſteem.

He would his ſafety with Your Ruine, buy,

And can you Doubt, if he deſerve to dye?

Had he fulfill’d what we both wiſht and thought,

And a Victorious Navy hither brought,

We then ſhould him a Joyful welcom ſhew,

Who muſt the Gods blame for his uſage now.

I of his Fortune, not of him Complain,

But with Regret Act what the Gods Ordain,

And the ſame Ponyard, once for Cæſar meant

Shall with a ſigh to Pompey’s Heart be ſent.

Nor can you at a leſs rate then his Head

Secure Your Own, and ſhun the ſtorm You Dread,

Let this be thought a Crime, if ſo it muſt,

’Tis not a States-man’s Virtue to be Juſt.

When Right and Wrong are in the Ballance lay’d,

The Intereſt of Kingdoms is betray’d,

Ex- 2A3r 5

Extreameſt Rigour is the Right of Kings,

When Timorous Equity their Ruine brings,

Who fears a Crime ſhall ever be affraid,

But hee’l rule all, who all things dare invade,

Who Dangerous Virtue, as Diſgrace, does ſhun,

And to an Uſeful Crime as ſwiftly run.

This is my Thought Sir, but Achillas may,

Or elſe Septimius, chooſe ſome other way.

But this I know, whatever others like,

They fear no Conquerour, who the Conquer’d ſtrike.


Photin ſayes true Sir, but though Pompey we

Deveſted of his former Grandeur ſee,

Yet that Blood Pretious does to me appear

Which the Gods did in Theſſaly revere.

Not that a Crime of State ſhould be refrain’d,

But ’tis not lawful, till it be conſtrain’d:

And what need is there of ſuch Rigour here?

Who quits the Conquer’d, needs no Conquerour fear.

You may be Neuter, as You were before:

And Cæſar may, if him you muſt adore;

But though you treat him as a Power Divine,

This is too great an Offring for his Shrine.

To Mars himſelf ſhould this Head offer’d be,

’Twould fix on Yours too black an Infamy:

Let him not be Aſſiſted nor Deſtroy’d,

And ſuch a Conduct will all blame avoid.

You owe him much Sir, for Rome, mov’d by him,

Help’d our laſt King his Scepter to redeem,

But 2A3v 6

But Gratitude and Hoſpitality,

In Monarchs Breſts muſt regulated be,

Nor can a King Contract ſo great a Debt,

But that his Subjects claim a greater yet.

And all Engagements are to Princes void,

To Cancel which, their Blood muſt be Imploy’d:

Conſider too, what Pompey did expoſe,

When he your Father help’d againſt his Foes:

By that he made his Power the greater ſeem,

And rais’d his own Fame, by reſtoring him:

He did in ſerving him but language ſpend;

But Cæſar’s Purſe appear’d the better Friend,

Had we not Cæſars thouſand Talents ſeen,

Pompey’s Orations had ſmall ſuccours been.

Let him not then his Verbal merits boaſt,

For Cæſar’s Actions have Oblig’d You moſt.

But if a benefit to Him be due,

Speak now for Him, as he did once for You:

His kindneſs ſafely thus requite you may;

But here receiv’d, He will your Scepter ſway:

This Conquer’d Roman yet a King will brave,

And in your own Dominions you enſlave.

Refuſe him Welcom then, but ſpare his Head;

But if’t muſt fall, this arme ſhall ſtrike him dead:

I can obey (Sir) and ſhould Jealous grow,

If any Hand but mine ſhould ſtrike the blow.


Sir, I’m a Roman, and theſe Hero’s know

Pompey needs aid, and from you ſeeks it now;

You 2A4r 7

You are his fate, may his loſt hopes revive,

Baniſh, or Kill, or give him up alive:

The firſt would coſt you much too dear a Rate,

I’le only then the other three debate.

His exile draws on You enraged Pow’r,

And does but half oblige the Conquerour;

Since to a long ſuſpenſe you will him leave,

What fate his future battles ſhall receive;

And both on you Revenge, when weary grown

The Ills, which but for You, they had not known.

To render him to Cæſar were the ſame,

Who muſt forgive him, to Augment his Fame:

He will a brav’ry on himſelf impoſe,

And ſwell in that falſe mercy he beſtowes;

Glad if that way, he Pompey can o’recome,

And in the ſame Act pleaſe ſubjected Rome:

But whilſt you him to this neceſſitate,

You’l purchaſe his, as well as Pompey’s hate:

His danger and diſhonour then prevent,

Both make him great, and keep him Innocent;

Whilſt Pompey’s Faction, you, in him deſtroy,

Let Cæſar, at your coſt, the Fruit enjoy:

By this advice, which you’l I hope allow,

You’l gain a Friend, and need not fear a Foe;

But if Achillas unſafe courſe you chooſe,

You neither gain, but both their Friendſhips looſe.


Let us no more debate what’s Juſt and fit,

But to the Worlds viciſſitude ſubmit.

Your 2A4v 8

Your Major votes do with my Thoughts agree

Who in ſo great a change would active be,

Rome hath too long made an Injurious Claim

That all Men ſhould adore the Roman Name:

Her lofty Freedom let us now throw down,

And all Her ſcorn in Pompey’s Blood lets drown.

Cutting the Root by which that Pride does live,

To the Worlds Tyrants, let’s a Tyrant give;

Now fate would chain an Arrogance, ſo fierce,

Let’s help her to revenge the Univerſe.

Rome, thou ſhalt ſerve, & Kings which alwayes yet,

Th’ haſt dar’d with ſo much Inſolence to treat,

Will Cæſar now, with leſs Regret, obey

Since thou ſhalt be enſlav’d as well as they.

Achillas and Septimius looſe no time,

But make us Deathleſs by this glorious Crime,

Of Heavens Reſentment I’le the hazard run,

Who ſent him hither ſure to be undone.


A Kings Command muſt no diſpute endure.


Go then, the Scepter which I bear, ſecure;

For you by this Commiſſion are become

The Deſtinies of Egypt and of Rome.

Scen.2. B1r 9


Ptolomy, Photinus.


I am miſtaken Photin, or by this

My Siſter will her expectation miſs,

Pompey my Fathers Will having ſecur’d,

Her Coronation ſhe believes aſſur’d.

And ſhe her ſelf the Miſtreſs does eſteem,

Of that divided Scepter left by him.

Their Antient Friendſhip ſhe depends upon,

And inwardly already ſhares my Throne.

Whence her Ambition is become ſo vain,

That from its Aſhes it revives again.


Sir, ’Twas a motive I did not debate,

And yet which ought to haſten Pompey’s Fate.

He your Pretentions doubtleſs will decide,

And by your Fathers Will your Claims Divide.

To which great Truſt of Friendſhip being true,

You know how much he diſobliges you.

Nor that by this Diſcourſe, I would remove

The Sacred Ciment of a Brothers Love,

I baniſh her not from your Heart, but Throne,

For he Reigns not, that does not Reign alone.

B Divided B1v 10

Divided Empire all wiſe Kings avoid,

For Pow’r Communicated is Deſtroy’d;

And Policy.—But, Sir, ſhe does appear.


Ptolomy, Cleopatra, Photinus.


Pompey is come (Sir) and you can be here,


That mighty Warriour I at home attend,

And him Achillas and Septimius ſend.


What? ſuch Embaſſadours as thoſe to him?


You may go too, if they too little ſeem.


Is your own meeting him, too great a thing?


I muſt remember, that I am a King.


Can you reflect on that, and yet be ſlow

To kiſs the hand of him, that made you ſo?

And pay your homage to a Man ſo great?


Did he that Title in Pharſalia get?


Though none did his misfortunes help afford,

Hee’s ſtill that Pompey who your Crown reſtor’d.

Ptolomy. B2r 11


Rather his ſhade, and but my Father Crown’d,

By whoſe Ghoſt, not by me, it ſhould be own’d.

Let him, attend his Duſt, and be content

To receive Thanks, from his cold Monument.


Hath ſuch a Benefit ſuch uſage met?


I both remember it and his Defeat.


You do indeed but with a ſcornfull Pride.


Time is the Standard by which things are Try’d:

You, that ſo prize him may his greatneſs Court,

But know, He yet may periſh in the Port.


What, may his Shipwrack in the Port arrive?

And have you dar’d his Ruine to contrive.


I have done only what the Gods inſpir’d,

And what the ſafety of my State requir’d.


I know but too much, Photin, and his Crew

Have with their wicked Councels poyſon’d you:

Souls that are but of Natures Rubbiſh fram’d.


The Councel, Madam, will not be diſclaim’d.


’Tis the King, Photin, I diſcourſe with now;

Stay then, till I deſcend to talke to you.

CB2 Ptolomy. B2v 12


You muſt a little with her ſcorn diſpenſe,

I know her hatred, and your innocence;

But ſhe’s my Siſter, give her humour vent.


Sir, If too late it be not to repent,

Shake off at length, a Yoke that is ſo vile,

And call your Virtue back from her exile:

That magnanimity ſo great, and good,

Which is convey’d to Princes, with their Blood.


Swell’d with a hope, in vain by you foreſeen,

You ſpeak to me of Pompey, like a Queen:

Through your falſe zeal, flaſhes of Pride eſcape;

And Intereſt does act in Virtues ſhape:

Confeſs it then, you had been ſilent ſtill,

Were it not for the King our Fathers Will;

You know who kept it?


And you ſhall Know too.

Virtue alone, prompts me to what I do.

For if I did my own advantage ſeek,

I ſhould for Cæſar, not for Pompey ſpeak:

Receive a ſecret I conceal’d before,

And after that, never reproach me more.

When none that bold Rebellion could withſtand,

Which rob’d our Father, of his Crown and Land,

The injur’d King forſook his Native ſhoar,

And Romes great Senate did for Aid Implore.

With him we went, their pitty to engage,

You very Young; but I was in an Age,

When B3r 13

When Nature had ſupply’d my Eyes with Darts,

Already Active in ſubduing hearts.

Cæſar receiv’d, or elſe pretended love,

And by his Actions, would his Paſſion prove.

But ſince the Senat’s Pique to him he knew,

He their lov’d Pompey, to our party drew.

Whoſe high concern for us, on Cæſar’s ſcore,

Was the laſt fruit their Friendſhip ever bore.

Of this you do inherit the event.

But ſuch a Lover not with it content,

When by th’ aſſiſtance of ſo great a Man,

In our behalf the Roman ſuffrage ran,

Reſolving further Kindneſs to impart,

He gave his Treaſure to attend his Heart:

And from the bounty of his growing flame,

Theſe ſinews both of War and Power came:

Thoſe thouſands Talents which we owe him yet,

Forc’d our revolted Egypt to ſubmit.

On this the King reflecting, when he dy’d

Betwixt us did his Dignity divide;

And by his Sovereign Right, on me beſtow’d

A part of what, he to my Beauty ow’d:

Whilſt you, who this great reaſon never knew,

Thought that his Favour, which was but my due;

And Your dread Father, partiall dar’d to call,

Who gave me half, when yet he ow’d me all.


This Story, you with Art enough contrive.


I am aſſur’d, Cæſar will ſoon arrive.

And a few hours will ſuch a change effect,

As your Dark Policy did leaſt expect.

And B3v 14

And ſhew you why I ſpoke ſo like a Queen,

Who the loath’d Object of your ſcorn have been.

You in the Throne, uſurp’d my equal ſeat,

And as a Slave you did your Siſter Treat;

Till I was forc’d to ſhun a ruder Fate,

To ſtoop and Court your Miniſters of State.

Whoſe ſteel or poyſon, I ſtill fear’d: but Know

Pompey or Cæſar will ſecure me now;

And whatſoe’re your Sycophants Ordain,

I now am ſure my Scepter to obtain:

Till when my Pride ſhall leave you, to divine

In this Conteſt, what could be my deſign.

Ptolomy, Photin.


What think you Photin, of this lofty Mind?


My ſpirit, Sir, to wonder is reſign’d,

And nothing but amazement can expreſs;

At ſuch a ſecret as I nere could gueſs,

My thoughts are ſo unquiet and confus’d,

I ſcarce know what expedient ſhould be us’d.


Shall we ſave Pompey?


Had you that decreed,

Yet it were now convenient he ſhould bleed.

Your Siſter hates you, ſhe is fair and fierce,

And if ſhe ſuch Victorious Charmes diſperſe;

The head of Pompey only, can ſuffice

To win the heart of Cæſar from her Eyes.

Ptolomy. B4r 15


This dangerous woman hath a buſie wit.


But ſuch a ſervice will out-ballance it.


But what if Cæſar ſtill her Pow’r Obey?


Then flatter her, yet mind not what I ſay.

Till firſt you ask, in an affair ſo Nice,

Achillas and Septimius beſt advice.


Lets from the Tow’r ſee them act Pompey’s doom,

And this Debate at their return, reſume.

After the firſt Act of Pompey, The King and Photin ſhould be diſcovered, ſitting and hearkning to this ſong.

Since affairs of the State, are already decreed,

Make room for Affairs of the Court,

Employment, and Pleaſure each other ſucceed,

Becauſe they each other ſupport.

Were Princes confin’d

From ſlackening their Mind,

When by Care it is rufled and Curl’d.

A Crown would appear

Too heavy to wear

And no Man would govern the World.

If the Gods themſelves who have power enough,

In diverſions are various, and oft

Since the buſineſs of Kings is angry and rough,

Their Intervals ought to be ſoft.

Were Princes confin’d, &c.

To B4v 16

To our Monarch we owe, whatſoer’e we enjoy:

And no grateful subjects were thoſe,

Who would not the ſafety, he gives them, employ

To contribute to his repoſe.

Were Princes confin’d, &c.

After which an Antick dance of Gypſies ſhould be preſented.

Act.2. Scen.1.

Cleopatra, Charmion.


I Love him, but a Flame ſo much refin’d,

How bright ſoever, dazles not my mind:

For Virtue makes my inclination know,

What Cæſars Miſtreſs does to Pompey owe:

And none dares own a paſsion ſo ſublime,

But ſhe that ſcorn’s the ſhaddow of a crime.

I ſhould but ſmal Reſpect to Cæſar pay,

To ſeek his love in an unhandſom way.


Can you love Cæſar, Madam, and adviſe

That Egypt ſhould in Armes againſt him riſe?

That they ſhould Pompey againſt him Protect,

And his Pharſalian Triumphs ſhould be checkt,

Sure Love in you does little Empire ſhew.


This to their high extraction Princes owe,

That C1r 17

That by th’ Aſsiſtance, of their Royal Blood,

Their Paſſions are more eaſily ſubdu’d.

Their honour ſtill the Victory will have,

And whilſt they truſt themſelves, they ſtill are brave.

All the Diſorders, which in Kings we ſee,

To others Councels muſt imputed be.

This I the cauſe of Pompey’s ruine Deem;

The King would help, but Photin murthers him.

Whoſe Councel hath his Maſters faith o’rethrown,

Which ſtill had ſway’d, had he obſervd his own.


You then who Cæſar love, and yet oppoſe.


The Love I cheriſh no diſhonour knows,

But worthy him.


Are you of his ſecur’d?


I think I am.


But are you well aſſur’d?


Know that a Princeſs by her glory mov’d,

No Love confeſſes till ſhe be belov’d.

Nor the moſt noble paſſion ever ſhows,

When it ſhall her to a Contempt expoſe.

At Rome, I firſt did Cæſars Heart invade,

Where he the firſt expreſſion of it made;

And ever ſince, he did to me renew,

The Tribute of his Vows and Laurels too.

He march’d through Italy, through Gaule and Spain,

With Love in’s Breſt, and fortune in his Train:

C Not C1v 18

Nor did he ever make ſo brave a Prize,

But he pay’d Homage for it to theſe Eyes.

With the ſame hand, which did that weapon quit

Wi’th Blood of Pompey’s party reeking yet,

He writ complaints, and put my fetters on,

Ev’n in the Field, which he had newly won.

Yes from Pharſalia his ſubmiſſions came,

And if his ſpeed be equal to his flame,

Or rather, if the Sea befriend his Fleet,

Egypt ſhall ſee him ſhortly at my feet.

He comes my Charmion, and from me alone,

Seeks the reward of all that he hath done.

And all his glory, to my Shrine he brings,

With the ſame hand, which gives the law to Kings.

So that ev’n in his Triumphs, my diſdain

Can make the Man, that rules the World, complain.


Yet I dare ſwear, your charmes a pow’r enjoy

Which though they boaſt of they will n’ere employ.

And the great Cæſar ſhall no trouble know,

If it can only from your rigour grow.

But what can you expect from Cæſars flames,

Wherein ſuch right another Woman claims,

His freedom he by marriage hath reſign’d,

And only to Calphurnia is confin’d.


But a Divorce at Rome ſo common now,

May remove her, and my deſires allow;

Cæſar’s experience him to that may lead,

Since ’twas Calphurnia’s Paſſage to his bed.

Charmion. C2r 19


But the ſame way, may you at length remove.


Perhaps I better ſhall ſecure his love,

Perhaps my paſſion may find out an Art

Better to manage that Illuſtrious Heart:

But let’s to Heaven leave what may arrive,

And this Allyance (if we can) contrive.

Were it but one day, ’twere enough for me,

One day, the Miſtreſs of the World to be.

I have Ambition, and bee’t good or ill,

It is the only Soveraign of my Will.

And ’tis this Noble paſſion ſure, or none,

A Princeſs may without a Blemiſh own.

But yet with Glory I would it enflame,

Nor would buy greatneſs with the loſs of Fame,

For I the brighteſt Crown can ſcorn to touch,

When ’tis attended with the leaſt Reproach.

Wonder not then, that I ſo much purſue

Pompey’s defence, and would my Duty doe.

His injur’d virtue, ſince I cannot right:

My ſecret Wiſhes muſt invoke his flight.

That ſome kind ſtorm may ſo his Ships diſperſe,

As may preſerve him from his Murtherers.

But faithfull Achoreus comes, and he

Will quickly tell us Pompey’s Deſtiny.

C2 Scen.2. C2v 20


Cleopatra, Char mion, Achoreus.


What, is it done, and hath ſome Treacherous hand

With that Rich blood ſtain’d our unhappy ſtrand?


By your commands, I to the ſhore did run,

And ſaw this Treaſon, in its Horrour done.

I ſaw the greateſt Mortal looſe his Breath,

And though a ſad, I ſaw a glorious Death.

And ſince a ſtory you require from me,

So much his Honour, and our Infamy:

Hear then his fate, and wonder, and bewail,

His three Ships in the Harbour ſtriking ſail,

When to our ready Gallies he approach’d,

He thought the King, with his misfortunes touch’d,

By noble ſenſe of Honour, did intend

With all his Court to meet ſo brave a friend.

But when he only ſaw a ſquiffe prepar’d,

And that too fill’d with Ruffians of his guard:

Th’ ingrateful Treachery did then appear,

And gave him ſome approaches of a fear:

But ſeeing Arm’d Men on our Ships and Shoar,

He bluſh’d his Apprehenſions were ſo Poor;

And when the Danger, was ſo near him brought,

He only on Cornelia’s ſafety thought.

Let’s but expoſe ſayes he, this ſingle head

To a Reception we may ſo much dread.

“But C3r 21

But whilſt I only do the ſhocke ſuſtain,

Haſten thy Flight, and my revenge obtain.

King Juba is more gen’rouſly inclin’d,

Where thou thy Father, and my Sons ſhalt find:

But if their Deaths ſhould thee of them deprive,

Never Deſpair while Cato is alive.

While their conteſt on this, was ſad and kind;

Achillas fatal boat their Veſſel Joyn’d:

Septimius then, to get him in his Pow’r,

I’th Roman Language call’d him Emperour;

And as deputed from th’ Egyptian Prince,

Let, Sir, ſayes he, this barke convey you hence;

The Shelfs and Sands, which under water lye,

To greater Veſſels an Acceſs deny.

The Hero ſaw, and ſmil’d at this abuſe;

He then receiv’d his Wifes and Friends adieus,

Their ſtay commanded, and to death did go

With the ſame look, as he did Crown’s beſtow:

With the ſame Majeſty writ in his Brow,

He ſat unmov’d among his Murtherers now:

His ſtedfaſt Courage, did his Conduct ſeem,

Philip his Freed-man only follow’d him,

Of whom, what I have told you I did learn,

But ſaw the reſt my ſelf with ſad concern:

And think, (ſo mournful it to me appears)

Cæſar himſelf could not refuſe it Tears.


But ſpare not mine, nor let them intercept

A ſtory, which I have already wept.

Achoreus. C3v 22


Whilſt toward Land they brought him, not a word

To the unhappy Pompey they afford:

In which contempt, he did foreſee his end.

At length arriv’d, they ask him to deſcend,

He Riſing, as Achillas ſtood behind

Drawing his Sword, for what they had deſign’d,

Septimius, and three Romans more embrew’d,

Their Guilty hand in that Heroick Blood.

Till ev’n Achillas was with horrour ſtrook,

Upon a Rage ſo Barbarous to look.


You Gods, who Nations do chaſtiſe with War,

When you Revenge this Death, our Cities ſpare!

And not the place, but Actors look upon,

The crime of Egypt was by Romans done.

But tell me what this Worthy ſaid, and did.


With his Robes border he his viſage hid,

Blindly his cruel Deſtiny obey’d;

And would not ſee that Heav’n, which him betray’d:

Leaſt any look of his, in ſuch a ſtroak,

Should its aſſiſtance, or Revenge invoke.

Not the leaſt poor complaint fell from his Tongue,

Or ought that ſpoke him worthy of his wrong:

But that deſpiſing, made his laſt Retreat.

To all that in his Life, was good or great:

And held the treaſon, which the King had wrought,

Too much below him to imploy his thought.

His C4r 23

His Virtue, by their crime more brightly ſhone,

And his laſt Gaſpe, was an Illuſtrious one.

This great Soul fled, his Body did expoſe

To th’ greedy Eyes, of his inhumane Foes:

His Head, which tumbled on the bluſhing Deck,

(By vile Septimius ſever’d from his neck.)

Upon Achillas lance we fixed ſee,

As after Battles Trophyes uſe to be:

And to conclude a Deſtiny ſo ſad,

The Sea was all the Sepulcher he had.

To fortune now, his ſlaughter’d Corps reſign’d,

Floats at the Pleaſure of the Wave and Winde.

The Poor Cornelia at the Dreadfull view.


O Gods! What could ſhe either ſay or do!


By dreadful ſhrieks, ſhe try’d his Life to ſhield,

Then hopeleſs up to Heav’n her hands ſhe held:

And by her mighty ſorrow overthrown,

Fell either dead, or in a deadly ſwoon.

In this Diſtreſs, her Ships imploy their Oars

To gain the Sea, and quit thoſe horrid Shoars.

But infamous Septimius having thought

Cornelia’s flight, rob’d him of half his fault:

Has with ſix Ships haſten’d to her purſuit,

And the dead Pompey ſtill does perſecute.

But whilſt to th’ King Achillas brings the Prize,

The trembling People turn’d away their eyes.

One does with horror on the guilt reflect,

And a Revenging Earthquake does expect:

This C4v 24

This hears it Thunder, and that does believe

Nature a Revolution muſt receive.

Their Reaſon, troubled by the Crimes extent,

Cannot but dread as vaſt a Puniſhment.

Philip mean while ſhews on the River ſide,

That his mean fortune a brave ſoul did hide.

He curiouſly examines every wave,

For that rich Pledge, which Treaſon to them gave:

That thoſe lov’d Bones he piouſly might burn,

And give him one, though an inglorious Urne.

And with a little Duſt, a Tomb erect

To him, who did the Univerſe ſubject.

But whilſt Cornelia they one way purſue,

Another we might Cæſars coming view,

A Navy which can hardly Reckon’d be:


Ne’re Doubt it, Achoreus, it is he;

Tremble bad Men, at your approaching Doom,

My Breath is now your Deſtiny become.

Cæſar’s come, I’m a Queen, Pompey’s reveng’d,

Tyranny ruin’d, and the times are chang’d.

But let’s with wonder on the Great reflect;

Pity their Fortune, and our own ſuſpect:

He who we thought ev’n Fate her ſelf had ſway’d,

Who rul’d a Senate which the World obey’d:

Whom his own Rome ſaw (almoſt Deifi’d)

Over the World’s three Parts in Triumph ride;

And who in the laſt hazards of his Fate,

Saw both the Conſuls on his Standards wait:

As ſoon as Fortune one unkindneſs ſhows,

Egyptian Monſters of his Life diſpoſe:

And D1r 25

And a Photimus, or Septimius, can

Govern the Deſtiny of ſuch a Man.

A King who ow’s him, ev’n the Crown he wears,

Expoſing him to thoſe baſe Flatterers.

So fell the mighty Pompey, and ſo may

Cæſar himſelf perhaps another day.

O may the Gods the Augury diſprove!

And make his Fortune conſtant as my Love.


The King comes Madam, who may overhear.


Ptolomy, Cleopatra.


Know you what happineſs is Drawing near?


Yes I have heard it, the great Cæſar’s come:

And Photin ſhall no more pronounce my Doom:


That faithful Subject you could ne’re endure.


No, but am from his Projects now ſecure.


Which of his Plots could you ſo much offend?


I’ve much endur’d, and more may apprehend:

For ſuch a Polititian is not Nice,

And you are alwayes ſteer’d by his Advice.

D Ptolomy. D1v 26


If I believe him, I his prudence ſee.


And I who fear him, Know his cruelty.


For a Crown’s ſafety all things juſt appear.


That kind of equity creates my fear,

My ſhare of Power hath been by it loſt,

And now it has the head of Pompey coſt.


Never a game of State was more advis’d,

For elſe by Cæſar we had been ſurpris’d:

You ſee his ſpeed, and we had been ſubdu’d,

Before we could in our defence have ſtood.

But now I to a Conquerour ſo great,

Your Heart may offer, and my Royal ſeat.


Make your own Preſents, I’le diſpoſe of mine,

Nor others Intereſts with Yours combine.


Our Blood’s the ſame, uniting me and you.


You might have ſaid, our Rank unites us too.

We both are Soveraigns, yet ’twill be confeſt,

There is ſome Difference in our Intereſt.


Yes, Siſter, for my Heart is well content

Only with Egypts narrow Continent.

But now your Beauty, Cæſars Heart does wound,

Tagus and Ganges muſt your Empire bound.

Cleopatra. D2r 27


I have Ambition, but it is confin’d,

It may ſurprize my Soul, but never blind.

T’ upbraid me with thoſe bounds there is no need,

I know my Reach, and ſhall not that exceed.


Your Fortune ſmiles and you th’ advantage uſe.


You may revile me, if I that abuſe.


I hope the beſt, Love no ill Fruit can bear.


You ſeem to hope, what really you fear.

But though the Gods my juſt pretentions Crown,

You need not doubet I’le ask, but what’s my own.

You ne’re ſhall Anger from your Siſter find,

Though you’r a Cruel Brother, I’le be kind.


But yet methinks you do diſcover Pride.


Time is the Standard whereby things are try’d.


Your preſent carriage; that doth plainly ſhew.


Cæſar is come and you’ve a Maſter now.


I made him mine who the Worlds Maſter is.


Pay him your Homage, while I look for his.

In this Addreſs you may your ſelf two charactersflawed-reproductionp:pcaton.xzc ſeen,

But Ile remember that Iapproximately 2 wordsp:pcaton.xzcflawed-reproduction Queen.

D2 Photin D2v 28

Photin will help you to receive him now,

Adviſe with him, hee’l tell you what’s to do.

Act.2. Scen.4.

Ptolomy, Photinus.


I have obſerv’d thy Counſel, but find ſince

To flatter her, but ſwells her inſolence.

For with her Pride ſhe did affront me ſo,

That I at laſt fell into Paſsion too.

This Arme enrag’d by her, could ſcarce forbear

(Without a Thought that Cæſar was ſo near)

Diſpatching her (as ſafe as ſhe does ſeem)

To have complain’d to Pompey, not to him.

She talks already at that haughty rate,

That if great Cæſar pleaſe her Pride and Hate,

And ſhe o’re him her boaſted Empire have,

Her Brother and her King muſt be her Slave.

No, no, we needs muſt Fruſtrate that intent,

Nor poorly wait the Ills we may prevent.

Let’s ſpoile her of her Power to diſdain,

And break thoſe Charmes whereby ſhe hopes to reign:

Nor after ſuch indignities, let’s brook,

That ſhe ſhould buy my Scepter with a look.


Do not for Cæſar, sir, pretence provide

That Egypt ſhould be to his Triumphs Ty’d:

For D3r 29

For this Ambitious Man which through the world,

Hath War and Slavery together hurl’d;

Swell’d with his Conqueſt, and a Rage ſo ſmart,

As ſuch a loſs, writes in a Lovers Heart:

Though you but act, what Equity approves,

Will thence ground his revenge for what he loves:

As for a crime, Hee’l you to Bondage bring,

Though you did only what became a King.


If Cleopatra ſees him ſhee’s a Queen.


But if ſhe dye your Ruine is foreſeen.


Who ruines me ſhould on my fall attend.


To ruine her you muſt your ſelf befriend.


What? muſt my Crown upon her Temples ſhine?

No, If my Scepter I muſt needs reſign,

The Conquerour ſhall rather it command.


You’l ſooner force it from a Siſters hand.

How great ſoever now his flames appear,

He muſt be gone, and leave You Maſter here.

Love in ſuch Men, ſeldom that room can find,

Which to their Intereſt will not be reſign’d.

With Juba, Scipio, and with Pompeys Sons,

Spain, to Revenge, he knows, with Affrick runs:

And while that Party are not yet o’rethrown,

He cannot ſafely call the World his own.

Cæſar’s too great a Captain, to o’reſee

The Purſuit of Pharſalia’s Victory:

And D3v 30

And leave ſuch fierce Hearts on revenge intent,

To riſe from their ſo late Aſtoniſhment.

If he his ends Obtain, and them o’recom,

He his gain’d Empire muſt ſecure at Rome:

And there the fruit of his ſucceſs enjoy,

Whilſt he at pleaſure does her laws Deſtroy.

Judge in that time, what great things you may do,

See Cæſar then, and ſtrive to pleaſe him too.

Reſign him all, but yet this Rule intend,

That future things on accidents Depend.

Your Throne and Scepter give into his hand,

And without murmur yeild to his Command:

He will believe that Juſtice he ſhall do

If he your Fathers Teſtament purſue;

Beſides this ſignal ſervice you have done;

Will give you ſtill ſome Title to your Throne.

Entire ſubmiſſion to his Orders ſhew,

Applaud his Judgment, but then let him go.

That time for our Revenge will be moſt fit

When we can Act, as well as think of it.

With temper let theſe Paſsions then be born,

Which were excited by your Siſters ſcorn.

Boaſts are but Air, and he revenges beſt,

Who Acts his braver Thoughts, yet talks the leaſt.


O thy Advice my greateſt Comfort brings,

A Prudent Counſellour’s the bliſs of Kings.

Come dear Supporter of my Throne, let’s go,

And to ſave all, on Cæſar all beſtow.

His Pride let’s flatter with an empty State,

And with our whole Fleet on him either Wait.

After D4r 31

After the ſecond Act, this Song is to be ſung by two Egyptian Prieſts on the Stage.

Egyptian Priest 1[Speaker label not present in original source]


See how Victorious Cæſar’s Pride

Does Neptune’s Boſom ſweep!

And with Theſſalian Fortune ride

In Triumph o’re the Deep.

Egyptian Priest 2[Speaker label not present in original source]


What Rival of the Gods is this

Who dare’s do more then they?

Whoſe Feet the Fates themſelves do kiſs

And Sea, and Land obey.

Egyptian Priest 1[Speaker label not present in original source]


What can the Fortunate withſtand?

For this reſiſtleſs He,

Rivers of Blood brings on the Land,

And Bulwarks on the Sea.

Egyptian Priest 2[Speaker label not present in original source]


Since Gods as well as Men ſubmit,

And Cæſar’s favour woe,

Virtue her ſelf, may think it fit

That Egypt court him too.

Egyptian Priest 1[Speaker label not present in original source]


But Pompey’s Head’s a rate to dear,

For by that impious price

The Godleſs Noble will appear

Then do’s the Sacrifice.

2. If D4v 32

Egyptian Priest 2[Speaker label not present in original source]


If Juſtice be a thing divine,

The Gods ſhould it maintain,

For us t’ attempt what they decline,

Would be as raſh as vain.


How deſperate is our Princes Fate?

What hazzard doe’s he run?

He muſt be wicked to be great,

Or to be juſt, undone.

Act.3. Scen.1.

Charmion, Achoreus.


Yes, whilſt the King himſelf is gone to meet

Cæſar, and lay his Scepter at his Feet.

To her Appartment Cleopatra went,

And there unmov’d expects his Complement.

What words have you to cloath this Humour in?


’Tis Noble Pride and worthy of a Queen.

Who with Heroick courage does make good

The Honour of her Rank, and of her Blood.

May E1r 33

May I ſpeak to Her?


No, but ſhe hath ſent

Me to enquire this meetings great event.

How Cæſar on this Gift himſelf explain’d,

Whether it were acknowledg’d or diſdain’d.

If he the fierce takes, or the gentler way,

And what he to our Murtherers could ſay.


The head of Pompey hath already coſt,

More than they will have any cauſe to boaſt:

For whether Cæſar be or ſeem ſevere,

Yet I for them have ground enough to fear.

If they lov’d Ptolomy, they ſerv’d him ill,

You ſaw him part, and I puſu’d him ſtill.

When from the City his well order’d Fleet,

Advanc’d a League, that they might Cæſar meet.

He with ſpread Sails arriv’d, and as in Wars

He ſtill had been the Favourite of Mars:

So Neptune to his Navy was ſo kind.

His Fortune was not fairer than his wind.

Our Prince was ſo Aſtoniſh’d when they met,

As if he did his Crowned Head forget.

Through his falſe Joy his Terrour he Confeſs’d,

And all his Actions his low Thoughts expreſs’d.

I my ſelf bluſh’d as at a ſhamefull Thing,

There to ſee Ptolomy, but not the King;

Cæſar who ſaw his Courage thus expire,

In pitty flatter’d him to raiſe it higher.

He with low voice offering his Fatal gift,

Now Sir, ſayes he you have no Rival left.

E “What E1v 34

What in Theſſalia, not the Gods could do,

I give you Pompey and Cornelia too.

Here’s one, and though the other flight did take,

Six Ships of mine will quickly bring her back.

Achillas, then the great Head did expoſe,

Which ſtill to ſpeak it ſelf ſeem’d to diſpoſe.

At this new injury ſome warm Remain

Did in imperfect groans ſeem to complain.

I thought his open mouth and ghaſtly look,

Recall’d the Soul which ſcarce her leave had took;

And his laſt anger ſeem’d with dying Breath,

To charge the Gods with his Defeat and Death.

Cæſar ſeem’d Thunder ſtricken at this view,

As not reſolv’d what to believe or do.

Immoveably on that ſad Object ty’d;

He long from us his inward thought did hide,

And I would ſay if I durſt make a gueſs,

By what our Nature uſes to expreſs:

Some ſuch malignant Pleaſure he enjoy’d,

As his offended honour ſcarce deſtroy’d.

That the whole World now in his Power lies,

Could not but bring ſome flattering ſurprize.

But though a while this conflict he endur’d,

Yet his great Soul it ſelf ſoon re-aſſur’d.

Though he loves Power, yet he Treaſon hates,

Himſelf he Judges, on himſelf debates.

Each Joy and Grief at reaſons bar appears,

At length reſolv’d, he firſt let fall ſome Tears.

His Virtues Empire he by force regains,

And Nobleſt Thoughts by that weak ſign explains.

The horrid preſent from his ſight expell’d,

His Eyes and Hands he up to Heaven held.

In E2r 35

In a few words their inſolence repreſs’d,

And after did in Penſive ſilence reſt.

Nor even to his Romans could reply,

But with a heavy ſigh and furious Eye.

At laſt with Thirty Cohorts come to Land,

To ſeize the Gates and Ports he does command.

The Guards he ſet, and ſecret Orders ſent,

Shew his Diſtruſt, as well as Diſcontent.

Egypt he ſpeaks of, as a Province won,

And now calls Pompey not a Foe, but Son.

This I obſerv’d.


By which the Queen may find

The Juſt Oſiris to her Vows inclin’d:

Whilſt with this happy News to her I fly,

Do you preſerve her your Fidelity,


Ne’re doubt it; but here Cæſar comes, go then

Deſcribe the Conſternation of our Men:

And whatſoever proves to be their Fate;

Ile firſt obſerve, and then to her Relate.

E2 Scen. 2. E2v 36

Scen. 2.

Cæſar, Ptolomy, Lepidus, Photinus, Achoreus, Roman and Egyptian Souldiers.


Great Sir, aſcend the Throne, and govern Us.


Do you Know Cæſar, and ſpeak to him thus?

What worſe could envious Fortune offer me?

Who alike hate a Crown, and Infamy.

This to accept, would all my Boaſt confute,

That Rome did me unjuſtly Perſecute:

Rome, who both ſcorns, and gives Crowns every where,

And nothing ſees in Kings, to love or fear;

Nay, at our Birth, does all our Souls enflame,

To ſlight the Ranke, and to abhor the Name.

This truth you might have learn’d from Pompey, who

If he ſuch Offers lik’d, could ſhun them too.

Both Throne and King had honour’d been, t’ afford

Service to him who had them both reſtor’d:

So glorious had been even ill ſucceſs,

In ſuch a Cauſe, that Triumphs had been leſs:

And if your Fortune ſafety had deny’d,

To have beſtow’d it, had been Cæſars Pride:

But though you would not own ſo brave a ſtrife,

What right had you to that Illuſtrious Life?

Who E3r 37

Who that rich Blood to waſh your hands allow’d,

That to the meaneſt Roman ſhould have bow’d?

Was it for you, Pharſalia’s Field I won;

Wherein ſo many Nations were undone?

And did I purchaſe at ſo high a Rate,

That you ſhould be the Arbiters of Fate?

If I in Pompey that could ne’re admit,

Shall you eſcape, o’re him aſſuming it?

How much is my Succeſs abus’d by you,

Who attempt more then ever I durſt do?

What Name, think you, will ſuch a blow become,

Which has uſurp’d the Soveraignty of Rome?

And in one Perſon did affront her more,

Then could the Aſian Maſſacre before.

Do you imagine I ſhall e’re agree

You would have been more ſcrupulous for me?

No, had you Pompey here Victorious ſeen,

My Head to him had ſuch a Preſent been:

I to my Conqueſt your Submiſſions owe,

When all Wrongs had purſu’d my Overthrow.

You do adore the Conquerour, not me;

I but enjoy it by Felicity.

Dangerous Friendſhip! Kindneſs to be fear’d!

Which turnes with Fortune, and by her is ſteer’d.

But ſpeak; this Silence does encreaſe your Sin.


Never hath my Confuſion greater been;

And I believe, Sir, you’l allow it me,

Since I, a King born, now a Maſter ſee:

Where at my frown, each Man did trembling ſtand,

And every Word of mine, was a Command;

I E3v 38

I ſee a New Court, and Another ſway,

And I have nothing left, but to obey:

Your very Look abates my Spirits force;

And can it be regain’d by your Diſcourſe?

Judge how I can from ſuch a Trouble ceaſe,

Which my Reſpects create, and Fears encreaſe:

And what can an aſtoniſht Prince expreſs,

Who Anger ſees in that Majeſtique Dreſs?

And whoſe Amazement, do his Soul ſubdue,

That Pompey’s Death ſhould be reveng’d by You.

Yet I muſt ſay, whatever he beſtow’d,

We owe you more, then ever him we ow’d:

Your Favour was the firſt to us expreſt,

And all he did, was done at your Requeſt;

He did the Senate move for injur’d Kings

And them that Paayer to our Aſſiſtance brings

But all that He for Egypt could obtain,

Without your Mony, Sir, had been in vain:

By that his Rebels our late King ſubdu’d,

And you have Right to all our Gratitude:

We Pompey as your Friend and Son rever’d,

But when he your Competitour appear’d,

When of your Fortune he ſuſpicious grew,

Tyranny ſought and dar’d to fight with you――


Forbear, your hatreds Thirſt his Blood ſupplies,

Touch not his Glory, let his Life ſuffice;

Say nothing here that Rome ſtill dares deny,

But plead your Cauſe without a Calumny.

Ptolomy. E4r 39


Then left the Gods be Judges of his Thought;

I only ſay, That in the Wars laſt fought,

To which ſo many Wrongs did you perſwade,

Our Vows for your ſucceſs were only made:

And ſince he ever ſought your Blood to ſpill,

I thought his Death a neceſſary Ill.

For as his groundleſs Hatred daily grew,

He would, by all wayes, the Diſpute renew;

Or if at length, he fell into your Hand

We fear’d your Mercy would your Right withſtand:

For to that Pitch your ſenſe of Honour flies,

As would to Fame your Safety Sacrifice;

Which made me Judge, in ſo extream an Ill,

We ought to ſerve you, Sir, againſt your will;

My forward Zeal th’ occaſion did embrace,

Without your leave, and to my own diſgrace:

And this you as a Crime in me diſclaim,

But nothing done for you deſerves that Name:

I ſtain’d my Hands, your Danger to remove,

Which Act you may enjoy, and diſapprove;

Nay by my Guilt, my Merit higher growes;

Since I my Glory gave for your Repoſe

And by that greateſt Victim have procur’d

Your Glory and your Power to be aſſur’d.


You employ, Ptolomy, ſuch Crafty Words,

And weak Excuſes as your Cauſe affords;

Your Zeal was falſe, if ’twere affraid to ſee

What all Mankind beg’d of the Gods ſhould be:

And E4v 40

And did to you ſuch ſubtilties Convey,

As ſtole the Fruit of all my Wars away;

Where Honour me engag’d, and where the end

Was of a Foe ſubdu’d, to make a Friend;

Where the worſt Enemies that I have met,

When they are conquer’d, I as Brother Treat:

And my Ambition only this Deſign’d,

To Kill their Hate, and force them to be kind;

How bleſt a Period of the War’t had been,

If the glad World had in one Chariot ſeen

Pompey and Cæſar at once to have ſate

Triumphant over all their former Hate!

Theſe were the Dangers you fear’d ſhould befall;

O fear Ridiculous! and Criminal!

You fear’d my Mercy, but that trouble quit,

And wiſh it rather; you have need of it.

For I am ſure ſtrict Juſtice would conſent

I ſhould appeaſe Rome with your puniſhment.

Not your Reſpects, nor your Repentance now,

No nor your Ranke, preſerves you from that Blow:

Ev’n on your Throne I would revenge your Guilt,

But Cleopatra’s Blood muſt not be ſpilt:

Wherefore your Flatterers only I condemn;

And muſt expect you’l do me Right on them:

For what in this I ſhall obſerve you do,

Muſt be the Rule of my Eſteem for you:

To the great Pompey Altars now erect,

And to him pay, as to the Gods, Reſpect.

By Sacrifices your Offenſe expell,

But have a Care you chooſe your Victims well.

Go then, and whilſt you do for this prepare,

I muſt ſtay here about another Care.

Scen.3. F1r 41


Cæſar, Antonius, Lepidus.


Antonius, have you this bright Princeſs ſeen?


Yes, Sir, I have, and ſhee’s a matchleſs Queen:

With ſuch proportion Heaven never yet

All Beauties both of Minde and Body knit;

So ſweet a Greatneſs in her Face does ſhine,

The Nobleſt Courage muſt to it reſign;

Her Looks and Language with ſuch eaſe ſubdue.

If I were Cæſar, I ſhould love her too.


How was the Offer of my Love receiv’d?


As doubted, and yet inwardly believ’d:

She modeſtly declin’d her higheſt aims,

And thinks ſhe Merits, what ſhe moſt diſclaims.


But can I hope her love?


Can ſhe have yours?

As that your Joyes, ſo this her Crown ſecures.

To gain that Heart can you believe it hard,

Whoſe kindneſs you with Empire can reward?

Then let your Paſſion all its Doubts disband,

For what can Pompey’s Conquerour withſtand?

F But F1v 42

But yet her Fear to her remembrance brings,

How little Rome hath ever valu’d Kings;

And more then that, ſhe dreads Calphurnia’s Love;

But both theſe Rubs your preſence will remove;

And your ſuccesfull Hope all Miſts will break,

If you vouchſafe but for your Self to ſpeak.


Let’s go then, and theſe needleſs ſcruples quit,

Shewing my Heart to Her that wounded it:

Come let us ſtay no longer.


But firſt know,

Cornelia is within your Power now:

Septimius brings her, boaſting of his Fault,

And thinks by that, he hath your Favour bought.

But once aſhoar your Guards (by Orders taught)

No notice took, but hither both have brought.


Then let her enter: Ah unwelcome News!

Which my Impatience does ſo roughly uſe!

O Heaven! and am I not allow’d to pay

My Love this ſmall remainder of one day?

Scen.4. F2r 43


Cæſar, Cornelia, Antonius, Lepidus, Septimius.




Go Septimius for your Maſter look,

Cæſar a Traytors preſence cannot Brook;

A Roman, who to ſerve a King could be

Content, when he had Pompey ſerv’d, and me.

Exit Septimius.


Cæſar, that envious Fate which I can brave,

Makes me thy Priſoner, but not thy Slave:

Expect not then my Heart ſhould e’re afford

To pay thee Homage, or to call thee Lord:

How rude ſoever Fortune makes her Blow;

I Craſſus Widow once, and Pompey’s now;

Great Scipio’s Daughter, (and what’s higher yet)

A Roman, have a Courage ſtill more great;

And of all Stroaks her Cruelty can give,

Nothing can make me bluſh, but that I live,

And have not follow’d Pompey, when he dy’d;

For though the Means to do it were deny’d,

And Cruel Pity would not let me have

The quick aſſiſtance of a Steel or Wave,

Yet I’m aſham’d, that after ſuch a Woe,

Grief had not done as much as they could do:

F2 Death F2v 44

Death had been glorious, and had ſet me free

As from my Sorrow then, ſo now from Thee.

Yet I muſt thank the Gods, though ſo ſevere,

That ſince I muſt come hither, Thou art here:

That Cæſar reigns here, and not Ptolomy;

And yet, O Heaven! what Stars do govern me?

That ſome faint kind of ſatisfaction ’tis,

To meet here with my greateſt Enemies;

And into their Hands that I rather fall,

Then into His that ow’d my Husband all.

But of thy Conqueſt, Cæſar, make no boaſt,

Which to my ſingle Deſtiny thou ow’ſt;

I both my Husbands Fortunes have defac’d,

And twice have caus’d th’ whole World to be diſgrac’d;

My Nuptial Knot twice ominouſly ty’d,

Baniſh’d the Gods from the Uprighter Side;

Happy in miſery I had been, if it,

For Romes advantage, had with Thee been Knit;

And on thy Houſe that I could ſo diſpenſe

All my own Stars malignant influence:

For never think my Hatred can grow leſs,

Since I the Roman Conſtancy profeſs;

And though thy Captive, yet a Heart like mine,

Can never ſtoop to hope for ought from Thine:

Command, but think not to ſubject my Will,

Remember this, I am Cornelia ſtill.


O Worthy Widow of a Man ſo brave!

Whoſe Courage, Wonder, Fate does pity crave;

Your generous Thoughts do quickly make us know

To whom your Birth, to whom your Love you owe;

And F3r 45

And we may find, by your Hearts glorious frame,

Both to, and from what Families you came;

Young Craſſus Soul, and noble Pompey’s too,

Whoſe Virtues Fortune cheated of their due;

The Scipio’s Blood, who ſav’d our Deities,

Speak in your Tongue, and ſparkle in your Eyes;

And Rome her ſelf hath not an ancient Stem,

Whoſe Wife or Daughter, hath more honour’d them:

Would to thoſe Gods your Anceſtors once ſav’d,

When Hannibal them at their Altars brav’d,

That your dear Hero had declin’d this Port,

And better known a falſe Barbarians Court;

And had not his uncertain Honour try’d,

But rather on our Ancient love rely’d;

That he had ſuffered my ſuccesfull Arms,

Only to vanquiſh his unjuſt Allarms;

Then he, without deſtruſting me, had ſtay’d

Till he had heard what Cæſar could have ſaid;

And I, in ſpight of all our former ſtrife,

Would then have beg’d him to accept of Life;

Forget my Conqueſt, and that Rival love,

Who fought, but that I might his Equal prove:

Then I, with a content entirely great,

Had Pray’d the Gods to Pardon his Defeat;

And giving me his Friendſhip to poſſeſs,

He had pray’d Rome to Pardon my ſucceſs.

But ſince Fate, ſo Ambitious to deſtroy,

Hath rob’d the World, and Us, of ſo much Joy,

Cæſar muſt ſtrive t’ acquit himſelf to you,

Of what was your Illuſtrious Husbands due:

Enjoy your ſelf then with all freedom here.

Only two dayes my Priſoner appear;

And F3v 46

And witneſs be, how after our Debate,

I ſhall revere his Name, revenge his Fate;

You this Account to Italy may yield,

What Pride I borrow from Theſſalia’s Field.

I leave you to your ſelf, and ſhall Retire;

Lepidus, furniſh her to her deſire;

As Roman Ladies have reſpected been,

So Honour her, (that is,) above a Queen.

Madam, command; all ſhall your Orders wait.


O Gods! how many Virtues muſt I hate!

After the third Act, to Cornelia aſleep on a Couch, Pompey’s Ghoſt ſings this in Recitative Air.

Pompey’s Ghoſt[Speaker label not present in original source]

From laſting and unclouded Day,

From Joys refin’d above Allay,

And from a ſpring without decay.

I come, by Cynthia’s borrow’d Beams

To viſit my Cornelia’s Dreams,

And give them yet ſublimer Theams.

Behold the Man, thou lov’dſt before,

Pure ſtreams have waſh’d away his Gore,

And Pompey now ſhall bleed no more.

By Death my Glory I reſume;

For ’twould have been a harſher Doom

T’ outlive the Liberty of Rome.

By F4r 47

By me her doubtfull fortune try’d,

Falling, bequeaths my Fame this Pride,

I for it liv’d, and with it Dy’d.

Nor ſhall my Vengeance be withſtood

Or unattended with a Flood,

Of Roman and Egyptian Blood.

Cæſar himſelf it ſhall purſue,

His dayes ſhall troubled be, and few,

And he ſhall fall by Treaſon too.

He, by ſeverity Divine

Shall be an offering at my Shrine;

As I was his, he muſt be mine.

Thy ſtormie Life regret no more,

For Fate ſhall waft thee ſoon a ſhoar,

And to thy Pompey thee reſtore.

Where paſt the fears of ſad removes

We’l entertain our ſpotleſs Loves,

In beauteous, and Immortal Groves.

There none a Guilty Crown ſhall wear,

Nor Cæſar be Dictator there.

Nor ſhall Cornelia ſhed a Tear.

After F4v 48

After this a Military Dance, as the continuance of her Dream, and then Cornelia ſtarts up, as waken’d in amazement, ſaying.

Cornelia[Speaker label not present in original source]

What have I ſeen? and whether is it gone

How great the viſion! and how quickly done!

Yet if in Dreams we future things can ſee,

There’s ſtill ſome Joy laid up in Fate for me.


Act.4. Scen.I.

Ptolomy, Achillas, Photinus.


What? with that Hand, and with that Sword which had

A Victim of th’ unhappy Pompey made,

Saw you Septimius, fled from Cæſars hate,

Give ſuch a bloody Period to his Fate?


He’s Dead, Sir, and by that you may collect,

What ſhame (foreſeen by him) you muſt expect:

Cæſar you may by this ſlow anger know,

The violent does quickly come and go:

But G1r 49

But the conſider’d Indignation grows

Stronger by Age, and gives the fiercer Blows;

In vain you hope his Fury to aſſwage,

Who now ſecure, does Politickly rage;

He ſafely for his Fame concern’d appears,

Pompey, alive, abhor’d; he dead reveres:

And of his Slaughter by this Art doth chooſe,

To act the vengeance, and yet make the uſe.


Had I believ’d Thee, I had never known

A Maſter here, nor been without a Throne:

But ſtill with this Imprudence Kings are curſt,

To hear too much Advice, and chooſe the worſt;

At the Pits brinke Fate does their Reaſon blind;

Or if ſome hint, they of their Danger find,

Yet that falſe Light amiſs their Judgment ſteer’s,

Plunges them in, and then it diſappears.


I muſt confeſs I Cæſar did miſtake,

Since ſuch a Service he a Crime does make:

But yet his ſide hath ſtreams, and thoſe alone

Can expiate your fault, and fix your Throne.

I no more ſay, you ſilently ſhould bear,

And your Revenge, till he be gone, defer:

No, I a better Remedy eſteem,

To juſtifie his Rivals Death, on him.

When you the Firſt Act, by the laſt make good,

And Cæſar’s ſhed, as well as Pompey’s Blood,

Rome will no difference in her Tyrants know,

But will to you, from both, her Freedom owe.

Ptolomy. G1v 50


Yes, Yes, to this all Reaſons do perſwade;

Let’s fear no more the Greatneſs we have made:

Cæſar ſhall ſtill from Us receive his Doom,

And twice in one day wee’l diſpoſe of Rome;

As Bondage firſt, let’s Freedom next beſtow;

Let not thy Actions, Cæſar, ſwell Thee ſo;

But call to mind what thou haſt ſeen me doe;

Pompey was Mortal, and ſo thou art too;

Thou envy’dſt him, for his exceeding thee,

And I think, thou haſt no more Lives, then he;

Thy own Compaſſion for his Fate, does ſhew

That thy Heart may be Penetrable too:

Then let thy Juſtice threaten as it pleaſe,

’Tis I, muſt with thy Ruine, Rome appeaſe;

And of that Cruel Mercy Vengeance take,

Which ſpares a King, but for his Siſters ſake.

My Life and Power ſhall not expoſed be

To her Reſentment, or thy Levity;

Leaſt thou, to morrow, ſhould’ſt at ſuch a Rate

Reward her Love, or elſe revenge her Hate:

More noble Maximes ſhall my Fears expell;

Thou bad’ſt me once to chooſe my Victims well,

And my Obedience thou in this ſhalt ſee,

Who know no Victim worthier then thee,

Nor th’ Immolation of whoſe Blood, will draw

Better Acceptance from thy Son in law.

But vainly, Friends, we thus foment our Rage,

Unleſs we knew, what Strength we could engage;

All this may be unprofitable heat,

The Tyrants Forces being here ſo great;

But G2r 51

But of our Power let us be firſt agreed,

And in what time and method to proceed.


We may do much, Sir, in our preſent State,

Two miles from hence, ſix thouſand Souldiers wait;

Which I, foreſeeing ſome new Diſcontents,

Have kept in readineſs, for all Events;

Cæſar with all his Arts, could not foreſee

That underneath this Town a Vault ſhould be,

By which this night we to the Pallace may

Our Men with Eaſe, and without Noiſe convey;

T’ aſſault his Life by open force alone,

Would be the only way to looſe your Own:

We muſt ſurprize him, and act our deſign,

When he is Drunk with Pleaſure, Love and Wine.

The People are all ours; for when he made

His entry, Horrour did their Souls invade;

When with a Pomp ſo arrogantly grave,

His Faſces did our Royal Enſigns brave;

I mark’d what Rage at that Injurious view,

From their incenſed Eyes, like ſparkles, flew;

And they ſo much did with their fury ſtrive,

That your leaſt Countenance may it revive.

Septimius Souldiers fill’d with greater hate,

Struck with the Terrour of their Leaders Fate,

Seek nothing but revenge on him, who them

Did, in their Captains Perſon, ſo contemn.


But what way to approach him can be found!

If at the Feaſt his Guards do him ſurround?

G2 Photinus. G2v 52


Cornelia’s Men, who have already known

Among your Romans Kindred of their own,

Seem to perſwade us they would help afford

To Sacrifice their Tyrant, to their Lord;

Nay have aſſur’d it, and much better may

Then we, to Cæſar the firſt ſtabs convey;

His Clemency (not only falſe but vain)

Which Courts Cornelia, that He Rome may gain,

Will to his Perſon, give them ſuch acceſs,

As may aſſure our Plot of a ſucceſs.

But Cleopatra comes; to Her appear

Only poſſeſs’d with Weakneſs, and with Fear:

Let us withdraw Sir, for your know that we

Are Objects, ſhe will much abhor to ſee.


Go wait me.――


Ptolomy, Cleopatra.


Brother, I have Cæſar ſeen,

And have to him your Interceſſour been.


I never could expect an Act leſs kind

From, you who bear ſo generous a Mind.

But G3r 53

But your great Lover quickly from you went.


’Twas to the Town, t’ appeaſe ſome diſcontent,

Which he was told had newly raiſed been

Betwixt the Souldier and the Citizen:

Whilſt I with Joyfull haſt come to aſſure

You, that your Life and Kingdom were ſecure;

Th’ Illuſtrious Cæſar on the Courſe you took,

Does with leſs anger then Compaſſion look,

He pitties you, who ſuch vile States-men heard,

As make their Kings not to be lov’d, but fear’d;

Whoſe Souls the baſeneſs of their Birth confeſs,

And who in vain great Dignities poſſeſs:

For Slaviſh Spirits cannot guide the Helm;

Thoſe too much Power would quickly overwhelm.

That hand, whoſe Crimes alone do purchaſe Fear,

Will ſoon let fall a Weight it cannot bear.


Thoſe Truths, and my ill Fate do me perſwade

How bad a choice of Counſellours I made:

For had I acted Honourable things,

I had as Glorious been, as other Kings;

And better merited the Love you bear

A Brother, ſo unworthy of your Care;

Cæſar and Pompey had been here agreed,

And the Worlds Peace in Egypt been decreed;

Who her own Prince a friend to both had ſeen;

Nay, he perhaps an Arbiter had been.

But ſince to call this back is paſt our Art,

Let me diſcharge to you my Troubled heart;

You, that for all the Wrongs that I have done,

Could yet Preſerve me both my Life and Crown

G3v 54

Be truly great and vanquiſh all your Hate,

By changing Photin’s and Achilla’s Fate.

For their offending you, their Death is due,

But that my Glory ſuffers in it to;

If for their Kings Crimes they ſhould puniſh’d be,

The Infamy would wholy light on me;

Cæſar through them wounds me, their’s is my Pain

For my ſake, therefore, your Juſt Hate conſtrain:

Your heart is Noble, and what pleaſure then

Is th’ abject Blood of two unhappy Men?

Let me owe all to you, who Cæſar charme,

And, with a Look, his Anger can diſarm.


Were but their Life and Death in me to give,

My ſcorn is great enough to let them live:

But I with Cæſar little can prevail,

When Pompey’s Blood lyes in the other ſcale;

I boaſt no Power to Diſpoſe his will,

For I have ſpoke, and he hath ſhun’d it ſtill,

And turning quickly to ſome new Affair,

He neither does refuſe, nor grant my Prayer:

Yet Ile once more on that harſh Theam proceed,

In hope a New attempt may better ſpeed;

And Ile believe.――


He comes, let me be gone,

Leaſt I ſhould chance to draw his anger on;

My preſence may enflame what t’ would make leſs,

1 wordflawed-reproductionyou alone, may act with more ſucceſs.

Scen.3. G4r 55


Cæſar, Cleopatra, Antonius, Lepidus, Charmion, Achoreus, and Romans.


The City now is quiet, Beauteous Queen,

Which had alarm’d with little reaſon been;

Nor need they fear the troubleſome event

Of Souldiers Pride, or Peoples Diſcontent:

But O great Gods! when abſent from your Eyes,

A greater Tumult did within me Riſe;

When theſe unwelcom Cares ſnatcht me from you,

My heart, ev’n with my Grandeur, angry grew;

And I my own Renown began to hate,

Since it my parting did neceſſitate:

But I forgave all to the ſingle Thought

How much advantage to my Love it brought:

For ’tis to that, I owe the noble Hope

Which to my Flame does give ſo fair a ſcope,

And perſwades Cæſar that his Heart may prove

Not utterly unworthy of your Love,

And that he may pretend to that, ſince he

Nothing above him, but the Gods, can ſee.

Yes Queen; if in the World a Man there were

That with more glory could your fetters bear

Or if there were a Throne, wherein you might

By Conquering its King, appear more bright.

Leſs G4v 56

Leſs for his Throne would I the Man purſue,

Then to diſpute the Right of ſerving you.

’Twas to acquire that valuable Right,

That my Ambitious Arm did alwayes fight.

And in Pharſalia rather my Sword drew

To Preſerve that, then Pompey to ſubdue.

I Conquer’d, and the God of Battles, leſs

Then your bright Eys, afforded me ſucceſs.

They rais’d my Courage, and my hand did ſway,

And I owe them that memorable day.

As the effect of heat by them inſpir’d,

For when your beauties had my paſſion fir’d,

That a return might your great Soul become,

They made me Maſter of the World and Rome.

I would ennoble that high ſtile I wear,

By the Addition of your Priſoner.

And ſhall moſt happy be, if you think fit

That Title to eſteem, and this permit.


I know how much I to my fortune owe,

Which this exceſs of Honour does beſtow.

Nor will from you my inward thoughts conceal

Since I know both, you, and my ſelf ſo well.

Your Love did in my earlieſt Youth appear,

And I my Scepter as your Preſent wear:

I twice receiv’d my Kingdom from your Hand,

And after that, can I your Love withſtand?

No, Sir, my Heart cannot reſiſt your ſiege,

Who ſo much merit, and ſo much Oblige.

But yet my Birth, my Ranke, and the Command

Which I have now regain’d in Egypts Land,

The H1r 57

The Scepter, by your hand reſtor’d to mine,

Do all againſt my innocent Hopes combine;

To my deſires injurious they have been,

And leſſen me, by making me a Queen:

For if Rome ſtill be as ſhe was before,

T’ aſcend a Throne, will but debaſe me more;

Theſe Marks of Honour will be but my Shame

And Ruine my Pretences to your Flame:

But yet, methinks, the Power you enjoy,

Might all my Fears with eaſe enough deſtroy,

And I would hope, that ſuch a Man as you,

May juſtly Romes Capriciouſneſs ſubdue,

And her unjuſt averſion for a Throne

She might ſee cauſe, for your ſake, to diſown:

I know that you can greater things effect,

And from your Promiſe Wonders I expect;

You in Pharſalia did much greater do,

And I invoke no other Gods but You.


There’s nothing humane can my Love withſtand;

’Tis but the overrunning Affricks Land,

To ſhew my Standards to the reſt of thoſe,

Who did me with ſo ill a Fate oppoſe;

And when Rome can no more of them Advance,

She will be forc’d to ſtudy Complaiſance:

And you ſhall ſee her with a ſolemn State,

At your Feet ſacrifice her Pride and Hate:

Nay I muſt have her, at your Royal Seat,

In my behalf, your Favour to entreat;

And with ſo much Reſpect theſe Beauties view,

That ſhe young Cæſars ſhall requeſt from you;

H This H1v 58

This is the only Fortune I deſire,

And all to which my Lawrels do aſpire:

How bleſt were my Condition, if I might

Obtain thoſe Wreaths, and ſtill enjoy your ſight!

But yet my Paſſion its own harm procures,

For I muſt quit you, if I will be yours;

While there are flying Foes, I muſt purſue,

That I may them defeat, and merit you.

To bear that abſence therefore, ſuffer me

To take ſuch Courage from the Charmes I ſee,

That frighted Nations may, at Cæſars name,

Say, He but came, and ſaw, and overcame.


This is too much; but if I this abuſe,

The fault which you create you muſt excuſe:

You did my Crown, and perhaps Life reſtore,

And yet your Love (I truſt) will grant me more;

And I Conjure you, by its ſtrongeſt Charms,

By that great Fortune which attends your Arms,

By all my hopes, and all your high Deſert,

Dip not in Blood the Bounties you impart;

Great Sir, forgive thoſe that have Guilty been,

Or elſe by that, let me appear a Queen;

Achillas and Photinus blood diſdain,

For they endure enough, to ſee me reign;

And their Offenſe――


Ah! by ſome other way

Aſſure your ſelf how much my Will you ſway,

As H2r 59

As you Rule me, if I might you requeſt,

You better ſhould imploy your Intereſt;

Govern your Cæſar, as a lawfull Queen,

And make him not Partaker of their Sin:

For your ſake only, I the King durſt ſpare;

’Twas love alone that――


To them Cornelia.


Cæſar, have a Care.

For Traytors have againſt thy Life combin’d,

And ſworn thy Head ſhall be to Pompey’s Joyn’d.

If to prevent them thou ſhouldſt be remiſs,

Thy Blood will ſpeedily be mixt with his.

If thou my Slaves examine, thou may’ſt know,

The Author, Order, and the Actor too.

I yield them thee;


O truly Roman Heart!

And Worthy him, of whom you were a part!

His Soul, which ſees from its exalted State,

How I endeavour to Revenge his fate,

Forgets his hate, and is become ſo kind,

To ſave my Life, by what he left behind.

Whatever Treaſon could to Pompey do,

Yet he does ſtill ſubſiſt, and act in you:

And prompts you to a thing ſo brave, that he

May vanquiſh me in generoſity.

H2 Cornelia. H2v 60


Cæſar, thou art deceived in my intent,

If you think’ſt Hate yields to acknowledgment:

No, Pompey’s blood muſt all commerce deny,

Betwixt his Widow and his Enemy.

And I thy offer’d Freedom would enjoy,

That to thy Ruine I might it employ.

Nay, I ſhall make new buſineſs for thy Sword,

If thou dra’st be ſo Juſt to keep thy word.

But though ſo much on thy Deſtruction bent,

Yet I thy Murther would as much prevent.

I have thy Death, with too much Juſtice ſought,

That it ſhould now, be with a Treaſon bought.

Who knows and ſuffers, does partake the guilt:

Nor ſhould thy blood be infamouſly ſpilt.

But when my Husbands Sons, and Kindred do

Attempt thy death, then I ſhall wiſh it too.

And that ſome brave Arm, which I ſhall excite,

May in the Field, and in thy Armies fight,

Offer thee Nobly to that Hero’s Ghoſt,

In whoſe Revenge thou ſo much zeal beſtoweſt?

My reſtleſs thirſt for ſuch a day as this,

By thy untimely fall its end would miſs.

But whatſoe’re hopes from abroad I may

Receive, yet I am Rack’d by their delay.

For diſtant ſatisfaction is half loſt:

And long expected Joys too dearly coſt.

I ſhall not wander on the Affrick Strands;

To ſeek the vengeance ready in thy hands,

Which does the head it Threatens beſt befit:

For I could thine have had inſtead of it;

But H3r 61

But that my hatred ſaw the difference great,

Betwixt my Husbands murther and defeat:

And I an earlier Puniſhment would ſee

On their Preſumption, then thy Victory.

This is Romes wiſh, Whoſe Venerable Brow

To this affront, too juſt a Bluſh would owe:

If her two Nobleſt heads ſhould (after all

Her Triumphs) with ſo much diſhonour fall.

Shee, upon whom thou never couldſt impoſe,

Would ſooner Puniſh Criminals, then foes.

Her Liberty, would a misforntune grow,

If upon Tiber Nile ſhould it beſtow.

None but a Roman could her Maſter be,

And but a Roman none ſhould ſet her free.

Here thou wouldſt fall to her unſacrific’d:

And wouldſt be murther’d ſo, but not chaſtis’d.

Nor would ſucceeding Tyrants frighted be,

For the Example too, would dye with Thee.

Revenge her thou, on Egypts wrong, and I

Will her revenge upon Pharſalia try.

Adieu, no time in this ſhould waſted be,

Go then, and boaſt I once made vows for thee.

Scen.5. H3v 62


Cæſar, Cleopatra, Antonius, Lepidus, Achoreus, Charmion.


Her Virtue, and their Crime, alike amaze,

Queen, you perceive for whom your goodneſs prayes.


That, now, no more againſt your Juſtice fights,

Go (Sir) Revenge all violated rights:

My Ruine, they much more then yours deſire:

The Traytors do againſt my Right Conſpire.

As my ſupport, againſt you they deſign:

And by your death, would make their way to mine.

But though all this be to my anger known,

Yes ’tis my Brother ſtill, that leads them on.

Do you know that Sir, and may I obtain,

It your deſerved fury may reſtrain?


Yes, Ile remember, your heart is ſo great,

That for his Births ſake, you his Crime forget.

Adieu, fear nothing, for theſe are not foes,

That can the fortune of my Arms oppoſe.

Them, and their Party, I ſhall quickly rout,

When I to them but Whips and Racks bring out:

They ſhall not Souldiers, but Tormentors ſee,

And now my Axes ſhall my Enſigns be.

Exit. Cæſar. Cleopatra. H4r 63


Dear Achoreus, after Cæſar go,

With him prevent my Threatned overthrow.

And when he puniſhes our worthleſs Foes,

Make him remember what his promiſe ows.

Obſerve the King, when he in ſight appears,

And ſpare his blood, that you may ſpare my tears.


Madam, his fortune ſhall no ſorrow need,

If all my Care and ſervice can ſucceed.

After the fourth Act, Cleopatra ſits hearkening to this Song.

Proud Monuments of Royal Duſt!

Do not your old Foundations ſhake?

And labour to reſign their truſt

For ſure your mighty Gueſts ſhould wake

Now their own Memphis lies at Stake.

Alas! in vain our Dangers call;

They care not for our Deſtiny,

Nor will they be concern’d at all

If Egyypt now enſlav’d, or free,

A Kindgom or a Province be.

What is become of all they did?

And what of all they had deſign’d,

Now death the buſie Scene hath hid;

Where but in ſtory ſhall we find

Thoſe great diſturbers of Mankind?

When H4v 64

When Men their quiet Minutes ſpent

Where Mirtles grew and Fountains purl’d,

As ſafe as they were Innocent:

What angry God among them hurl’d

Ambition to undoe the World?

What is the charm of being Great;

Which oft is gain’d and loſt with Sin,

Or if w’ attain a Royal ſeat,

With Guiltleſs ſteps what do we win,

If Love and Honour fight within.

Honour the Brightneſs of the Mind!

And love her nobleſt extaſie:

That does our ſelves, this others bind

When you great Pair ſhall diſagree

What Caſuiſt can the Umpire be.

Though Love does all the heart ſubdue,

With gentle, but reſiſtleſs ſway

Yet Honour muſt that govern too:

And when thus Honour wins the Day,

Love overcomes the braveſt way.

Act. 5. I1r 65

Act. 5. Scen.I.

Cornelia with a little Urne in her hand, and Philip.


May I believe my Eyes? or does this ſight

Delude me, with Chimera’s of the Night?

Do I behold Thee Philip? and didſt Thou

Funeral rites to my lov’d Lord allow?

His Aſhes does this Urne contain? O view!

At once ſo terrible and tender too!

Eternal Food of Sorrow and of Hate,

All of Great Pompey that is ſpar’d by fate.

Expect not I a Tear to you ſhould pay,

For Great Souls, eaſe their Griefs another way.

Shallow Afflictions, by Complaints are fed:

And who laments, would fain be Comforted.

But I have ſworn by all that we Adore;

And by your ſelf (ſad Object) which is more:

(For my griev’d Heart does more to you ſubmit,

Then to thoſe Gods who ſo ill-guarded it.)

By you I ſwear it then (Mournfull remain,

My only Deity, now he is ſlain)

That no extinction or decay, ſhall be

In that revenge which muſt enoble me.

I To I1v 66

To Cæſar, Ptolomy, by baſe ſurprize,

Rome, of thy Pompey, made a Sacrifice.

And I, thy injur’d walls will never ſee,

Till Prieſt, and God, to him ſhall offer’d be.

Put me in mind, and my juſt hate ſuſtain,

O Aſhes! now my hope as well as Pain.

And to aſſiſt me in that great deſign,

Shed in all Hearts, what now is felt by mine.

But Thou, who on ſo infamous a ſhoar,

Gav’ſt him a flame, ſo Pious, though ſo Poor:

Tell me, what God thy Fortune made ſo great,

To pay to ſuch a Hero ſuch a Debt?


Cover’d with Blood, and much more dead then he;

When I had curs’d the Royal Treachery,

My wandring Feet were by my grief convey’d,

Where yet the Wind upon the Water plaid:

After long ſearch, I on a Rock did ſtand,

And ſaw the Headleſs Trunk approach the Sand:

Where th’ angry Wave, a pleaſure ſeem’d to take

To caſt it off, and then to ſnatch it back:

I to it leap’d, and thruſt it to the banks;

Then gathering a heap of Shipwrack’d Planks,

An haſty, artleſs Pile, I to him rais’d,

Such as I could, and ſuch as Fortune pleas’d.

’Twas hardly kindled, when Heaven grew ſo kind

To ſe ndſend me help, in what I had deſign’d.

Codrus, and Ancient Roman, who lives here,

Returning from the City, ſpy’d me there.

And when he did a headleſs Carkaſs view,

By that ſad mark alone he Pompey knew:

Then I2r 67

Then weeping ſaid, O thou who die thou art

To whom the Gods ſuch honours do impart.

Thy fortune’s greater then thou doſt believe,

Thou ſhalt rewards, not Puniſhments receive.

Cæſar’s in Egypt and Revenge declares,

For him to whom thou pay’ſt theſe Pious Cares,

Theſe Aſhes to his Widow thou mayſt bear

In Alexandria, for now ſhe is there.

By Pompeys Conquerour ſo entertain’d,

As by a God it would not be diſdain’d.

Go on till I return, this ſaid, he went,

And quickly brought me this ſmall Monument.

Then we, betwixt us, into it convey’d,

That Hero’s Aſhes which the fire had made.


With what great Praiſes ſhould this act be crown’d!


Entring the Town I great diſorders found.

A numerous People to the Port did flye,

Which they believ’d the King would fortifie.

The eager Romans fiercely theſe purſu’d,

Rage in their eys, their hands with blood imbrew’d.

When Cæſar with brave Juſtice did Command,

Photin to periſh by a Hangmans hand.

On me appearing, he vouchſaf’d to look,

And with theſe words my Maſters Aſhes took.

Remainders of a Demigod! whoſe Name

I ſcarce can equal Conquerour as I am.

Behold guilt puniſh’d and till Altars call,

For other Victims let theſe Traytors fall.

I2 Greater I3r 68

Greater ſhall follow. To the Court go thou,

On Pompey’s Widow this from me beſtow.

And whilſt with it ſhe makes with grief ſome truce,

Tell her how Cæſar her Revenge purſues.

That great Man, ſighing, then from me did turn,

And humbly kiſſing did reſtore the Urne.


O Formal Grief! how eaſie is that Tear,

That’s ſhed for Foes whom we no longer fear!

How ſoon revenge for others fills that breſt,

Which to it, is, by its own danger preſt?

And when the Care we take to right the dead

Secures our Life and does our glory ſpread.

Cæſar is generous ’tis true, but he

By the King wrong’d, and from his Rival free,

Might in an envious mind a doubt revive,

What he would do were Pompey yet alive.

His courage, his own ſafety does provide,

Which does the Beauty of his actions hide.

Love is concern’d in’t too, and he does fight

In Pompeys Cauſe for Cleopatra’s Right.

So many Int’reſts with my Husband’s met,

Might to his Virtue take away my debt.

But as Great Hearts judge by themſelves alone,

I chooſe to gueſs his honour by my own.

And think we only make his fury ſuch,

Since in his Fortune I ſhould do as much.

Scen. 2. I2v 69

Scen. 2.

Cleopatra, Charmion, Cornelia, Philip.


I come not to diſturb grief ſo due

To that affliction which hath wounded you.

But thoſe remains t’ adore, which from the wave,

A faithfull freed-man did ſo lately ſave.

To mourn your fortune, Madam, and to ſwear,

You’d ſtill enjoy, a Man ſo juſtly Dear

If Heaven which does perſecute you ſtill,

Had made my Power equal to my will.

Yet if to what, that Heaven ſends you now,

Your Grief can any Room for Joy allow:

If any ſweetneſs in revenge there be,

Receive the certainty of yours from me.

The falſe Photinus――But you may have heard.


Yes, Princeſs that he hath his Juſt reward.


Have you no comfort in that news diſcern’d?


If there be any you are moſt concern’d.


All hearts with Joy receive a wiſh’d Event.


Our thoughts are, as our Int’reſts, different.

Though I3v 70

Though Cæſar and Achillas Death ’twill be,

To you a ſatisfaction, not to me.

For nobler rites to Pompey’s Ghoſt belong,

Theſe are too mean to expiate his wrong.

No reparation by ſuch Blood is made,

Either to my grief, or his injur’d ſhade,

And the Revenge which does my Soul enflame,

Till it hath Cæſar, Ptolomy doth claim;

Who though ſo much unfit to reign or live,

Cæſar I know will for his ſafety ſtrive.

But though his Love hath dar’d to promiſe it,

Yet juſter Heaven dares it not permit.

And if the Gods and Ear to me afford,

They ſhall both periſh by each others Sword.

Such an event would my Hearts grief deſtroy,

Which now is ſuch a Stranger grown to Joy.

But if ye Gods think this too great a thing,

And but one fall, O let it be the King!


Heaven does not govern as our Wills direct.


But Gods, what Cauſes promiſe, will effect

And do the guilty with revenge purſue.


As they have Juſtice they have Mercy too.


But we may Judge as here events have paſt,

They now the firſt will act and not the laſt.


Their Mercy oft does through their Juſtice break.


Queen, you as Siſter, I as Widow ſpeak.

Each I4r 71

Each hath her cauſe of kindnes and of hate,

And both concern’d are in this Princes fate.

But by the Blood which hath to day been ſhed,

We ſhall perceive whoſe vows have better ſped.

Behold your Achoreus.

Scen. 3.

To them Achoreus.


But alas,

I read no good preſages in his Face;

Speak Achoreus, let us freely hear

What yet deſerves my ſorrow, or my fear.


Aſſoon as Cæſar did the Treaſon know:――


’Tis not his Conduct I enquire of now,

I know he cut and ſtopt that ſecret vault

Which to him ſhould the Murtherers have brought,

That to ſecure the ſtreets his men he ſent,

Where Photin did receive his Puniſhment:

Whoſe ſudden fall Achillas ſo amaz’d,

That on th’ Abandon’d Port he quickly ſeiz’d;

Whom the King follow’d, and that, to the land

Antonius all his Souldiers did command.

Where Cæſar joyn’d him, and I thence do gueſs

Achillas Puniſhment, and his ſucceſs.

Achoreus. I4v 72


His uſual Fortune her Aſſiſtance gave.


But tell me if he did my Brother ſave,

And kept his Promiſe.


Yes, with all his Might.


That’s all the News I wiſh’d you to recite.

Madam, You ſee the Gods my wiſhes heard.


They only have his Puniſhment deferr’d.


You wiſh’d it now; but they have him ſecur’d:


Or Cæſar had, if he had life endur’d.


What ſaid you laſt? Or did I rightly hear?

Oh! Quickly your obſcure Diſcourſes clear.


Neither your cares nor ours could ſave him, who

Would die in ſpight of Cæſar, and of You:

But Madam, in the nobleſt way he dy’d

That ever falling Monarch dignify’d.

His reſtor’d Virtue did his Birth make good,

And to the Romans dearly ſold his blood.

He fought Antonius with ſuch noble heat,

That on him He did ſome advantage get:

But Cæſars coming alter’d the event;

Achillas there after Photinus went.

But ſo as him did too much Honour bring:

With Sword in hand he periſh’d for his King.

O K1r 73

O ſpare the King; in vain the Conquerour cry’d;

To him no Hope but Terrour it imply’d.

For frighted, he thought Cæſar did intend

But to reſerve him to a ſhameful end.

He charg’d, and broke our Ranks, bravely to ſhew

What Virtue armed by Deſpair can do.

By this miſtake his vexed ſoul abus’d,

Still fought the Death which ſtill was him refus’d.

Breathleſs at laſt, with having fought and bled,

Encompaſs’d round, and his beſt Souldiers dead,

Into a Veſſel which was near he leaps,

And follow’d was by ſuch tumultuous heaps,

As by their number, overpreſt, the Ship

With all its fraight was ſwallow’d in the Deep.

This Death recovers all his loſt Renown,

Gives Cæſar Fame, and You th’ Ægyptian Crown

You were proclaim’d, and though no Roman ſword

Had touch’d the Life ſo much by you deplor’d.

Cæſar extreamly did concern’d appear;

He ſighs, and he complains: but ſee him here,

Who better can then I his Griefs relate,

For the unhappy Kings reſiſtleſs Fate.

Scen. 4.

To them. Cæſar, Antonius, Lepidus,


Cæſar be juſt, and me my Gallies yield,

Achillas and Photinus both are kill’d;

K Nor K1v 74

Nor could thy ſoftned heart their Maſter ſave,

And Pompey here, no more revenge can have.

This fatal ſhoare nothing does me preſent,

But th’ Image of their horrible Attempt,

And thy new Conqueſt, with the giddy noiſe

Of People who in change of Kings rejoyce:

But what afflicts me moſt, is ſtill to ſee

Such an obliging Enemy in Thee.

Releaſe me then from this inglorious pain,

And ſet my Hate at liberty again.

But yet before I go I muſt requeſt

The Head of Pompey with his Bones may reſt.

Give it me then, as that alone, which yet

I can with Honour at thy hands intreat.


You may ſo juſtly that Remainder claim,

That to deny it would be Cæſar’s ſhame:

But it is fit, after ſo many Woes,

That we ſhould give his wandring Shade repoſe,

And that a Pile which You and I enflame,

From the firſt mean one reſcue Pompeys name.

That he ſhould be appeas’d our Grief to view;

And that an Urn more worthy him and you

May (the Pomp done, and fire extinct again)

His reunited Aſhes entertain.

This Arm, which did ſo long with him debate,

Shall Altars to his Vertue dedicate,

Offer him Vows, Incenſe and Victims too,

And yet shall give him nothing but his Due.

I but to morrow for theſe Rites require,

Refuſe me not the Favour I deſire;

But K2r 75

But ſtay till theſe ſolemnities be paſt,

And then you may reſume your eager haſte.

Bring to our Rome a Treaſury ſo great,

That Relique bear――


Not thither Cæſar yet.

Till firſt thy ruine, granted me by Fate,

To theſe lov’d Aſhes ſhall unlock the Gate;

And thither (though as Dear to Rome as me)

They come not till Triumphant over thee.

To Affrick I muſt this rich burthen bear,

Where Pompey’s ſons, Cato and Scipio are.

Who’ll finde I hope, (with a brave King ally’d)

Fortune as well as Juſtice on their ſide:

And thou ſhalt ſee, there with new fury hurl’d,

Pharſalia’s Ruines arme another World.

From Rank to Rank theſe Aſhes I’ll expoſe

Mixt with my Tears, t’ exaſperate thy Foes.

My Hate ſhall guide them too, and they ſhall fight

With Urns, inſtead of Eagles in their ſight;

That ſuch ſad Objects may make them intent

On his Revenge, and on thy Puniſhment.

Thou to this Hero now devout art grown,

But, raiſing his Name, do’ſt exalt thy own.

I muſt be Witneſs too! and I ſubmit;

But thou canſt never move my Heart with it.

My Loſs can never be repair’d by Fate,

Nor is it poſſible t’ exhauſt my Hate.

This Hate ſhall be my Pompey now, and I

In his Revenge will live, and with it die.

K2 But K2v 76

But as a Roman, though my Hate be ſuch,

I muſt confeſs, I thee eſteem as much.

Both theſe extreams Juſtice can well allow:

This does my Virtue, that my Duty ſhow.

My ſenſe of Honour does the firſt command,

Concern, the laſt, and they are both conſtraind.

And as thy Virtue, whom none can betray,

Where I ſhould hate, makes me ſuch value pay:

My Duty ſo my Anger does create,

And Pompey’s Widdow makes Cornelia hate.

But I from hence ſhall haſten, and know then,

I’ll raiſe againſt thee Gods, as well as Men.

Thoſe Gods that flatter’d thee and me abus’d,

And in Pharſalia Pompey’s Cauſe refus’d;

Who at his Death could Thunderbolts refrain,

To expiate that, will his Revenge maintain:

If not his Soul will give my Zeal ſuch heat,

As I without their help ſhall thee defeat.

But ſhould all my Endeavors proſper ill,

What I can not do, Cleopatra will.

I know thy flame, and that t’ obey its force

Thou from Calphurnia ſtudy’ſt a Divorce:

Now blinded, thou wouldſt this Alliance make,

And there’s no Law of Rome thou dar’ſt not break.

But know, the Roman Youth think it no ſin

To fight againſt the Husband of a Queen.

And thy offended Friends will at the Price

Of thy beſt Blood revenge their ſcorn’d Advice.

I check thy Ruine if I check thy Love;

Adieu; tomorrow will thy Honour prove.

Scen. 5. K3r 77

Scen. 5.

Cæſar, Cleopatra, Charmion, Antonius, Lepidus, Achoreus.


Rather then You to this expos’d ſhould be,

With my own Ruine I would ſet you free.

Sacrifice me, Sir, to your Happineſs;

For that’s the greateſt that I can poſſeſs.

Though far unworthy to be Cæſars Bride,

Yet He’ll remember one that for him Dy’d.


Thoſe empty projects, Queen, are all now left

To a great Heart of other Help bereft;

Whoſe keen deſires her want of Strength confeſs,

Could ſhe perform more, ſhe would wiſh it leſs.

The Gods will theſe vain Auguries diſprove,

Nor can they my Felicitie remove.

If your Love ſtronger then your Grief appears,

And will for Cæſars ſake dry up your Tears;

And that a Brother, who deſerv’d them not,

May for a Faithful Lover be forgot.

You may have heard, with what Regret of mine

His Safety to Deſpair he did reſigne.

How much I ſought his Reaſon to redeem

From thoſe vain Terrors that ſurrounded him,

Which he diſputed to his lateſt Breath,

And caſt away his Life for fear of Death.

O ſhame for Cæſar! Who ſo eminent!

And ſo ſollicitous for your Content!

Yet K3v 78

Yet by the Cruel Fortune of this Day

Could not the Firſt of your Commands Obey:

But vainly we reſiſt the Gods, who will

Their Juſt Decrees on guilty men fulfill.

And yet his Fall your Happineſs procures,

Since by his Death Ægypt is wholly Yours.


I know I gain another Diadem,

For which none can be blam’d but Heav’n and Him;

But as the Fate of humane things is ſuch,

That Joy and Trouble do each other touch,

Excuſe me, if the Crown conferr’d by You

As it obliges, Does afflict me too.

And if to ſee a Brother juſtly kill’d

To Nature I as well as Reaſon yield.

No ſooner on my Grandeur I reflect,

But my Ambition by my Blood is checkt.

I meet my Fortune with a ſecret Groan,

Nor dare without Regret aſcend the Throne.

A Choreus.

The Court is full, Sir, People crowding in,

Who with great ſhouts demand to ſee their Queen,

And many ſignes of their Impatiences give,

That ſuch a Bleſſing they ſo late receive.


Let them ſo juſt a Happineſs obtain,

And by that Goodneſs, Queen, commence your reign.

O may the Gods ſo favour my Deſire,

That in their Joy your Sorrow may expire;

That K4r 79

That no Idea in your Soul may be,

But of the Wounds which you have given me:

Whilſt my Attendants and your Courtiers may

Prepare to morrow for a glorious day.

When all ſuch Noble offices may owne,

Pompey t’ appeaſe, and Cleopatra Crown.

To her a Throne, to him let’s Altars Build,

And to them both Immortal Honours yield.


After the Fifth Act by two Egyptian Prieſts as after the ſecond.

Egyptian Priest 1[Speaker label not present in original source]

Ascend a Throne Great Queen! to you

By Nature, and by Fortune due;

And let the World adore

One who ambition could withſtand,

Subdue revenge, and Love command,

On Honours ſingle ſcore.

Egyptian Priest 2[Speaker label not present in original source]


Ye mighty Roman ſhades, permit

That Pompey ſhould above you ſit,

He muſt be Deifi’d.

For who like him e’re fought or fell?

What Hero, ever liv’d ſo well,

Or who ſo greatly dy’d?

Egyptian Priest 1[Speaker label not present in original source]


What cannot Glorious Cæſar do?

How nobly does he fight and woe!

On Crowns how does he tread!

What K4v 80

What mercie to the weak he ſhews,

How fierce is he to living Foes,

How pious to the dead?

Egyptian Priest 2[Speaker label not present in original source]


Cornelia yet, would challenge Tears,

But that the ſorrow which ſhe wears,

So charming is, and brave.

That it exalts her Honour more,

Then if ſhe the Scepters bore,

Her Generous Husband gave.


Then after all the Blood that’s ſhed,

Let’s right the living and the dead:

Temples to Pompey raiſe;

Set Cleopatra on the Throne;

Let Cæſar keep the World h’has won;

And ſing Cornelia’s praiſe.

After which a Grand Maſque is Danc’d before Cæſar and Cleopatra, made (as well as the other Dances and the Tunes to them) by Mr. John Ogilby.

Epilogue L1r


Written by Sir Edward Dering Baronet.

Pleas’d or diſpleas’d, cenſure as you think fit,

The Action, Plot, the language or the wit:

But we’re ſecure, no Bolder thought can tax

Theſe ſcenes of Blemiſh to the bluſhing Sex.

Nor Envy with her hundred Eyes eſpie

One line ſevereſt Virtue need to flye:

As Chaſt the words, as harmleſs is the ſence,

As the firſt ſmiles of Infant Innocence.

Yet at your Feet, Cæſar’s Content to bow,

And Pompey, never truly Great till now:

Who does your Praiſe and kinder Votes prefer

Before th’ applauſe of his own Theatre:

Where fifty Thouſand Romans daily bleſt

The Gods and him, for all that they poſſeſt.

The ſad Cornelia ſayes, your gentler breath

Will force a ſmile, ev’n after Pompey’s Death.

L She L1v

She thought all Paſſions bury’d in his Urne,

But flattering hopes and trembling fears return:

Undone in Egypt, Theſſaly and Rome,

She yet in Ireland hopes a milder Doom:

Nor from Iberian Shoars, or Libian Sands

Expects relief, but only from you hands.

Ev’n Cleopatra, not content to have

The univerſe, and Cæſar too her Slave:

Forbears her Throne, till you her right allow;

Tis leſs t’ have rul’d the World, then pleaſed you.