After due ceremony done to th' dead,
The noble dead. Come, let's go burn the body.
[Exeunt all but PETILLIUS.
Pet. The regiment given from me? disgraced
openly?

In love too with a trifle to abuse me?
A merry world, a fine world! served seven years
To be an ass o'both sides? sweet Petillius,
You have brought your hogs to a fine market!
you are wise, sir,

Your honourable brain-pan full of crotchets,
An understanding gentleman; your projects
Cast with assurance ever! Wouldst not thou now
Be banged about the pate, Petillius?

Answer to that, sweet soldier! surely, surely,
I think would; pulled by the nose, kicked?
hang thee,

you

Thou art the arrant'st rascal! Trust thy wisdom
With any thing of weight? the wind with feathers!
Out, you blind puppy! you command? you go-
vern?

Dig for a groat a day, or serve a swine-herd,
Too noble for thy nature too!-I must up;
But what I shall do there, let time discover.

SCENE III.

[Exit.

Enter MACER and JUDAS, with meat and a bottle.
Macer. Hang it on the side of the rock, as
though the Britons

Stole hither to relieve him: Who first ventures
To fetch it off, is ours. I cannot see him.

Judas. He lies close in a hole above, I know it,
Gnawing his
upon anger. Ha! no; 'tis not he.
Macer. 'Tis but the shaking of the boughs.
Judas. Pox shake them!

I'm sure they shake me soundly.-There!

Macer. 'Tis nothing.

Judas. Make no noise; if he stir, a deadly tempest

Of huge stones falls upon's. 'Tis done! away, close!

Enter CARATACH.

[Exeunt.

Jun. How!

Pet. Pray kill me.

Jun. Kill you?

Pet. Ay, kill me quickly, suddenly;
Now kill me.

Jun. On what reason? You amaze me!

Pet. If you do love me, kill me; ask me not why:

I would be killed, and by you.

Jun. Mercy on me!

What ails this man? Petillius!
Pet. Pray you dispatch me ;

You are not safe, whilst I live: I am dangerous,

Car. Sleep still, sleep sweetly, child; 'tis all Troubled extremely, even to mischief, Junius,

thou feedest on.

SCENE IV.

An enemy to all good men. Fear not; 'tis justice;

I shall kill you else.

Jun. Tell me but the cause,

And I will do it.

Pet. I am disgraced, my service
Slighted and unrewarded by the general,
My hopes left wild and naked; besides these,
I am grown ridiculous, an ass, a folly,

I dare not trust myself with: Prithee, kill me!
Jun. All these may be redeemed as easily
As you would heal your finger.

Pet. Nay

Jun. Stay, I'll do it;

You shall not need your anger. But first, Petillius,
You shall unarm yourself; I dare not trust

Enter JUNIUS, DECIUS, PETILLIUS, and Guide. A man so bent to mischief.

Guide. You are not far off now, sir,
Jun. Draw the companies

Pet. There's my sword,
And do it handsomely.

You shall command in chief; how are we paid We'll be as merrythen?

(Whose memory I bow to) left co-heir In all he stood possessed of.

Achil. 'Tis confessed,

My good Achoreus, that, in these eastern king-
doms,

Women are not exempted from the sceptre,
But claim a privilege equal to the male;
But how much such divisions have ta'en from
The majesty of Egypt, and what factions
Have sprung from those partitions, to the ruin
Of the poor subject, doubtful which to follow,
We have too many and too sad examples:
Therefore the wise Photinus, to prevent
The murders, and the massacres, that attend
On disunited government, and to shew
The king without a partner, in full splendour,
Thought it convenient the fair Cleopatra
(An attribute not frequent in this climate)
Should be committed to safe custody,
In which she is attended like her birth,
Until her beauty, or her royal dower,
Hath found her out a husband.

Achor. How this may

Stand with the rules of policy, I know not;
Most sure I am, it holds no correspondence
With the rites of Egypt, or the laws of nature.
But, grant that Cleopatra can sit down
With this disgrace, though insupportable,
Can you imagine, that Rome's glorious senate,
To whose charge, by the will of the dead king,
This government was delivered, or great Pompey,
That is appointed Cleopatra's guardian,
As well as Ptolomy's, will e'er approve

Enter SEPTIMIUS.

Achor. May victory
Attend on it, where'er it is.
Achil. We every hour
Expect to hear the issue.

Sept. Save my good lords!

By Isis and Osiris, whom you worship,
And the four hundred gods and goddesses,
Adored in Rome, I am your honours' servant.

Achor. Truth needs, Septimius, no oaths,
Achil. You're cruel;

If you deny him swearing, you take from him
Three full parts of his language.

Sept. Your honour's bitter.

Confound me, where I love, I cannot say it,
But I must swear it: Yet such is my ill fortune,
Nor vows nor protestations win belief;

I think, (and I can find no other reason)

Of this rash counsel, their consent not sought for, Because I am a Roman.
That should authorize it?

Achil. The civil war,

In which the Roman empire is embarked

On a rough sea of danger, does exact

Their whole care to preserve themselves, and
gives them

No vacant time to think of what we do,
Which hardly can concern them.

Achor. What's your opinion

Of the success? I have heard, in multitudes
Of soldiers, and all glorious pomp of war,
Pompey is much superior.

Achil. I could give you

A catalogue of all the several nations,
From whence he drew his powers; but that were
tedious.

They have rich arms, are ten to one in number,
Which makes them think the day already won;
And Pompey being master of the sea,

Such plenty of all delicates are brought in,
As if the place, on which they are entrenched,
Were not a camp of soldiers, but Rome,
In which Lucullus and Apicius joined
To make a public feast. They at Dirachium
Fought with success; but knew not to make use

of

Fortune's fair offer: So much, I have heard,
Cæsar himself confessed.

Achor. Where are they now?

Achil. In Thessaly, near the Pharsalian plains; Where Cæsar, with a handful of his men,

VOL. I.

Achor. No, Septimius?

To be a Roman were an honour to you,

Did not your manners and your life take from it,
And cry aloud, that from Rome you bring nothing
But Roman vices, which you would plant here,
But no seed of her virtues.

Sept. With your reverence,
I am too old to learn.

Achor. Any thing honest;
That I believe without an oath.
Sept. I fear

Your lordship has slept ill to-night, and that
Invites this sad discourse; 'twill make you old
Before your time. Oh, these virtuous morals,
And old religious principles, that fool us!
I've brought you a new song will make you laugh,
Though you were at your prayers.
Achor. What is the subject?

Be free, Septimius.

Sept. 'Tis a catalogue

Of all the gamesters of the court and city,
Which lord lies with that lady, and what gallant
Sports with that merchant's wife; and does relate
Who sells her honour for a diamond,
Who for a tissue robe; whose husband's jealous,
And who so kind, that, to share with his wife,
Will make the match himself: Harmless conceits,
Though fools say they are dangerous. I sang it
The last night, at my lord Photinus' table,
Achor. How? as a fiddler?
Sept. No, sir, as a guest,

M