_Ant._ O how brave these tears shew!
How excellent is sorrow in an Enemy!
_Dol._ Glory appears not greater than this goodness.
_Caesar._ _Egyptians_, dare you think your high _Pyramides_,
Built to out-dare the Sun, as you suppose,
Where your unworthy Kings lye rak'd in ashes,
Are monuments fit for him? no, (brood of _Nilus_)
Nothing can cover his high fame, but Heaven;
No _Pyramides_ 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 braverys all the worlds-Earth cannot ballance.
_Sce._ If thou bee'st thus loving, I shall honour thee,
But great men may dissemble, 'tis held possible,
And be right glad of what they seem to weep for,
There are such kind of Philosophers; now do I wonder
How he would look if _Pompey_ were alive again,
But how he would set his face?
_Caesar._ You look now, King,
And you that have been Agents in this glory,
For our especial favour?
_Ptol._ We desire it.
_Caesar._ And doubtless you expect rewards.
_Sceva_. Let me give 'em:
I'le give 'em such as nature never dreamt of,
I'le beat him and his Agents (in a morter)
Into one man, and that one man I'le bake then.
_Caesar_. Peace: 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 Sisters,
(But her you hate) I would not be behind ye.
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