_Ach._ Great _Osiris_,
Defend thy _AEgypt_ from such cruelty,
And barbarous ingratitude!
_Pho._ Holy trifles,
And not to have place in designs of State;
This sword, which Fate commands me to unsheath,
I would not draw on _Pompey_, if not vanquish'd.
I grant it rather should have pass'd through _Caesar_,
But we must follow where his fortune leads us;
All provident Princes measure their intents
According to their power, and so dispose them:
And thinkst thou (_Ptolomy_) that thou canst prop
His Ruines, under whom sad _Rome_ now suffers?
Or 'tempt the Conquerours force when 'tis confirm'd?
Shall we, that in the Battail sate as Neuters
Serve him that's overcome? No, no, he's lost.
And though 'tis noble to a sinking friend
To lend a helping hand, while there is hope
He may recover, thy part not engag'd
Though one most dear, when all his hopes are dead,
To drown him, set thy foot upon his head.
_Ach._ Most execrable Counsel.
_Pho._ To be follow'd,
'Tis for the Kingdoms safety.
_Ptol._ We give up
Our absolute power to thee: dispose of it
As reason shall direct thee.
_Pho._ Good _Achillas_,
Seek out _Septimius_: do you but sooth him,
He is already wrought: leave the dispatch
To me of _Labienus_: 'tis determin'd
Already how you shall proceed: nor Fate
Shall alter it, since now the dye is cast,
But that this hour to _Pompey_ is his last.
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