[_Exeunt._
_ACTUS QUARTUS. SCENA PRIMA._
_Enter_ Ptolomy, Photinus, Achillas, Achoreus.
_Ach._ I told ye carefully, what this would prove to,
What this inestimable wealth and glory
Would draw upon ye: I advis'd your Majesty
Never to tempt a Conquering Guest: nor add
A bait, to catch a mind, bent by his Trade
To make the whole world his.
_Pho._ I was not heard Sir:
Or what I said, lost, and contemn'd: I dare say,
(And freshly now) 'twas a poor weakness in ye,
A glorious Childishness: I watch'd his eye,
And saw how Faulcon-like it towr'd, and flew
Upon the wealthy Quarry: how round it mark'd it:
I observ'd his words, and to what it tended;
How greedily he ask'd from whence it came,
And what Commerce we held for such abundance:
The shew of _Nilus_, how he laboured at
To find the secret wayes the Song delivered.
_Ach._ He never smil'd, I noted, at the pleasures,
But fixt his constant eyes upon the treasure;
I do not think his ears had so much leisure
After the wealth appear'd, to hear the Musique?
Most sure he has not slept since, his mind's troubled
With objects that would make their own still labour.
_Pho._ Your Sister he ne're gaz'd on: that's a main note,
The prime beauty of the world had no power over him.
_Ach._ Where was his mind the whilst?
_Pho.
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