_Pho._ Base,
Most base and poor; a servile, cold submission:
Hear me, and pluck your hearts up, like stout Counsellours,
Since we are sensible this _Caesar_ loathes us,
And have begun our fortune with great Pompey,
Be of my mind.
_Ach._ 'Tis most uncomely spoken,
And if I say most bloodily, I lye not:
The law of hospitality it poysons,
And calls the Gods in question that dwell in us,
Be wise O King.
_Ptol._ I will be: go my counsellour,
To _Caesar_ go, and do my humble service:
To my fair Sister my commends negotiate,
And here I ratifie what e're thou treat'st on.
_Ach._ Crown'd with fair peace, I go. [_Exit._
_Ptol._ My love go with thee,
And from my love go you, you cruel vipers:
You shall know now I am no ward, _Photinus_. [_Exit._
_Pho._ This for our service?
Princes do their pleasures,
And they that serve obey in all disgraces:
The lowest we can fall to, is our graves,
There we shall know no diffrence: heark _Achillas_,
I may do something yet, when times are ripe,
To tell this raw unthankful! King.
_Achil._ _Photinus_,
What e're it be I shall make one: and zealously:
For better dye attempting something nobly,
Than fall disgraced.
_Pho._ Thou lov'st me and I thank thee. [_Exeunt._
SCENA II.
_Enter_ Antony, Dolabella, Sceva.
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