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THE FALSE ONE: A TRAGEDY. BY JOHN FLETCHER.
Ptolomy, King of Egypt, presents to Cæsar the head of Pompey.
Cæsar rebukes the Egyptians for their treachery and ingratitude.
CÆSAR, ANTHONY, DOLLABELA, SCEVA, Romans;
PTOLOMY, PHOTINUS, ACHILLAS, Egyptians. Pho. Hail, conqueror and head of all the world, Now this head's off.
Ces. Ha !
Pho. Do not shun me, Cæsar.
Ach. Nor do not question it, most royal conqueror,
Friend to his father, and when he was expell’d
Sce. Give me hate, gods.
Pho. This Cæsar may account a little wicked; But yet remember, if thine own hands, conqueror, Had fall'n upon him, what it had been then; If thine own sword had touch'd his throat, what that way; He was thy son-in-law, there to be tainted Had been most terrible: let the worst be renderd, We have deserv'd for keeping thy hands innocent.
Cæs. O Sceva, Sceva, see that head; see, captains, The head of godlike Pompey.
Sce. He was basely ruin'd,
poor fate follow'd thee and pluck'd thee on
If thy great spirit can hear, I must task thee :
Ant. O how brave these tears shew!
Dol. Glory appears not greater than this goodness.
Cæs. Egyptians, dare you think your high pyramides, , Built to out-dure the sun as you suppose, Where your unworthy kings lie rak'd in ashes, Are monuments fit for him ? No, brood of Nilus, Nothing can cover his high fame but heaven, No pyramids set off his memories But the eternal substance of his greatness : To which I leave him. Take the head away, And with the body give it noble burial. Your earth shall now be bless'd to hold a Roman, Whose braveries all the world's earth cannot balanceYou look now, king, And you
that have been agents in this glory, For our especial favour?
Ptol. We desire it.
Cæs. And doubtless you expect rewards ? I forgive you
all: that's recompence. You are young and ignorant; that pleads your pardon; And fear, it may be, more than hate provok'd ye. Your ministers I must think wanted judgment. And so they err’d; I am bountiful to think this, Believe me, most bountiful; be you most thankful, That bounty share amongst ye: if I knew What to send you for a present, king of Egypt, I mean, a head of equal reputation, And that you lov'd, though it were your brightest sister's *, (But her you hate) I would not be behind ye.
Ye are poor
Ptol. Hear me, great Cæsar.
Cæs. I have heard too much :
open: I must tell ye roundly, That man that could not recompence the benefits, The great and bounteous services of Pompey, Can never doat upon the name of Cæsar. Though I Had hated Pompey, and allow'd his ruin, Hasty to please in blood are seldom trusty: And but I stand environ'd with my victories, My fortune never failing to befriend me, My noble strengths and friends about my person, I durst not try ye, nor expect a courtesy Above the pious love you shew'd to Pompey. You've found me merciful in arguing with you; Swords, hangmen, fires, destructions of all natures, Demolishments of kingdoms, and whole ruins, Are wont to be my orators. Turn to tears, You wretched and poor seeds of sun-burnt Egypt : And now you've found the nature of a conqueror, That you cannot decline with all your flatteries, That where the day gives light will be himself still, Know how to meet his worth with human courtesies. Go, and embalm the bones of that great soldier ; Howl round about his pile, fling on your spices, Make a Sabæan bed, and place this Phænix Where the hot sun may emulate his virtues, And draw another Pompey from his ashes Divinely great, and fix him 'mongst the worthies.
Ptol. We will do all.
Cæs. You've robb'd him of those tears
And that kind earth that thought to cover him,
LOVE'S PILGRIMAGE: A COMEDY. BY JOHN FLETCHER.
Leocadia leaves her Father's house, disguised in man's apparel,
to travel in search of Mark-antonio, to whom she is contracted, but has been deserted by him. When at length she meets with him, she finds, that by a precontract he is the Husband of Theodosia. In this extremity, Philippo, Brother to Theodosia, offers Leocadia marriage.
Phi. Will you not hear me ?
Leo. I have heard so much,
Phi. Appeal to reason ;