_Pho._ Would that were the worst, Sir,
That will repair it self: but I fear mainly,
She has made her peace with _Caesar_.
_Ptol._ 'Tis most likely,
And what am I then?
_Pho._ 'Plague upon that Rascal
_Apollod[or]us_, under whose command,
Under whose eye--
_Enter_ Achillas.
_Ptol._ Curse on you all, ye are wretches.
_Pho._ 'Twas providently done, _Achillas_.
_Achil._ Pardon me.
_Pho._ Your guards were rarely wise, and wondrous watchfull.
_Achil._ I could not help it, if my life had lain for't,
Alas, who would suspect a pack of bedding,
Or a small Truss of houshold furniture?
And as they said, for Caesars use: or who durst
(Being for his private chamber) seek to stop it?
I was abus'd.
_Enter_ Achoreus.
_Ach._ 'Tis no hour now for anger:
No wisdom to debate with fruitless choler,
Let us consider timely what we must do,
Since she is flown to his protection,
From whom we have no power to sever her,
Nor force conditions--
_Ptol._ Speak (good _Achoreus_)
_Ach._ Let indirect and crooked counsels vanish,
And straight, and fair directions--
_Pho._ Speak your mind Sir.
_Ach._ Let us choose _Caesar_, (and endear him to us,)
An Arbitrator in all differences
Betwixt you, and your Sister; this is safe now:
And will shew off, most honourable.
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