Caf. Saw Obey'd?

you my orders, to confirm her crown,

Ant. During my audience, Ptolomey,

In ftate approaching, plac'd it on her brow:
On which the nobles offering to renew

Their homage; "Yet a while defer, she cry'd,
"This doubtful duty-Ere I take my crown,
"From Cæfar am I yet to know the terms
"Of wearing it! my brother boasted to
"Deferve it whole: Cæfar perhaps has wrong'd him!"
Then darting her difdain around, the pafs'd
The croud, and left them to their dread, astonish'd..
What haughty conflict labours in her breast,

Her private audience better will unfold.

But fee, fhe comes! O Cafar guard thy heart! [Exit.

Enter Cleopatra, who having made lowly reverence to Cæfar, be gently approaches her.

Caf. Fair wonder of the Nile! this grace to Cæfar, What fervice can deferve, what toils repay ?

Cleo. Cafar, I come to undeceive thy bounty!
A crown reftor'd, which right, or innocence,
Might claim, reflects its luftre on the donor:
But let not Cleopatra's foul, by fraud,

Or vile concealment of a truth, receive it;
Which might, if known, have undeserv❜d the favour.
Caf. In what can truth be Cleopatra's foe?

Cleo. By Pompey's death, the earth and feas are Cefar's. But Cleopatra, had her power prevail'd

Caf. Had fav'd my rival to dispute the title.

Cleo. The charge is juft. And had not fpies pre vented

Caf. 'Twas not in fpies, to intercept the virtue !

That still retains its merit, tho' abortive!

Cleo. Then Cafar is the hero fame proclaims him!

Now I revere the grandeur I oppos'd!

My crown, in homage due to Cajar, triumphs.
Caf. If homage fhou'd to dignity be paid,
Cafar might, rightly, kneel to Cleopatra.
Her generous concern, for Pompey's fate,

Without the interest her charms might boast,
Alone had been affur'd of Cæfar's fervice.

Cleo. Since Cæfar gives me choice, that fervice,
As to the nobler motive, I ascribe to virtue.

Caf. Yet beauty, if the pleafe, may mend her choice! Let us not rob the needy, for the great.

Love begs a little! Virtue fcorns reward;
Confcious of duty, fhe content refigns

The thanks, that love with tranfport wou'd receive.
Cleo. No, in the lover, Cajar wou'd be lost!
Love wou'd deplume the hero, to the fwain,
And drefs ambition in a vulgar merit.

Caf. Cæfar might fcorn, like other men, to love!
But Cleopatra's charms exait her flave,

And crown his fervitude, with dignity.

Cleo. This is the language of our menial courtiers, Who, when their hearts are warm, defpife our thrones, And find an empire on a Cynthia's bofom :

But Cæfar's loftier views contemn the frailty.
Caf. A foul fo tow'ring, in a form so fair,
As it might dart despair to fighing kings,
Gives the rough Roman emulous defire.

Cleo. How wou'd fuch foftness fuit with Cafar's: laurels

Caf. Nor gods, nor men refuse the flame of love! What is ambition, if not crown'd by beauty? Can proud pre-eminence, or vain degree, Lift up the foul to equal heights of joy? Can all our pomp, our glory, boundless To punish or reward, revenge or pardon? To right the injur'd, or restrain th' oppreffor? To call forth merit from obfcurity,

And give its rags to gaudy floth or fraud?

power

!

To chafe rebellious kings? To crown th' obedient?
To give, if poffible, the world our laws,
And even compel the stubborn to be happy ?
Can all these boasted attributes of power,
Be, in the pride of doing well, rewarded?
In vain the course by martial speed is won,
If fmiling Venus ftands not at the goal!
In vain has conqueft led me round the globe.

If in the richer circle of this zone

The treasure of the earth illudes my toil..
Cleo. O Cafar! Cafar! ceafe these flatteries!
Nor give my heart a profpect of delight,
Which only Latian beauties can enjoy !
Such tranfports, there, to merit might be due
But our Egyptian dames are born too near
The glowing fun, to boast of Roman luftre!
What I might boast, too early cares deface;
And, like an eating canker, in the bud,
Have broke the flender promife of a flower.
But were I mistress of thofe real charms,
Which Cafar's lavish fancy has created,
He'd find my eyes, ambitious as his arms!!
My first of love fhou'd bless the first of men!
Gods! how the glorious image fwells my foul,
T have distant monarchs crouding to my court,
And, at my feet, their fuppliant empires laid!.
If, far behind the throng, fome dazzling brow,
Circled with laurel, caft an awful look ;

Shone o'er their heads, and darkned their pretenfions!
How wou'd my tranfport, thro' the prefs, make way,
And dart, like Venus, to the arms of Mars.
While crowns and fceptres, catching in my robe,
In vain fhou'd clog the flight of my ambition.

Caf. Inchanting vifion! O! the Mars! thou fouli Of Juno, wrapt in Cytherea's form.

Cleo. Forgivethefe fallies of a wandering brain; The fancy'd being is no more! 'tis loft!

For me, the gods have no fuch hero found!"

Unless my vanquifh'd heart-might call him-Cafar.

Caf. Be Cafar, then-the Mars the gods affign thee!

O take me, goddefs, gently to thy arms!

There hide my heart, and mould it to thy wishes!
By heav'n! there's magic in thy foftning eyes!
So look'd Idalian Venus on the fwain,

When, to her charms, the golden prize was giv'n.
Cleo. Cæfar, thou grow'ft too fast upon my heart!
Spite of my boast,

My vaunting wild. ambition, I retreat,

I fhrink, and tremble at thy power! defend me!
Spare me! speak! for I cou'd hear thee talk for ever!
Caf. Is this a time for words! when blazing charms,
Like glittering fwords, in war, provoke the charge!
Come forth, thou fair defiance, to the field
Of love, and prove the prowess of thy beauty!
Hence, to fome fecret verdant bower remove,
By art or nature form'd for blifsful love;
There wanton Cupids round thy couch shall fly,
And kindling flames, for ev'ry charm fupply.
There fhall, complete, the wreaths of Cafar be,
And crown his conqueft of the world in thee!

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

CESAR in EGYPT.

-En altera venit

Victima nobilior: placemus cæde fecundd
Hefperias gentes: jugulus mihi Cæfaris hauftus
Hoc præftare poteft, Pompeii cæde nocentes
Ut populus Romanus amet-

Luc. lib. 10.

ACT

c

IV.

PTOLOMEY, ACHOREUS.

PTOLO ΜΕΥ,

WALK not of comfort to a wretch forlorn!

T

My right, my hopes of empire have their period! My haughty fifter, in her charms triumphant, Now moulds the heart of Cafar, to my ruin! Her vengeance, like a whirling eddy, draws Me headlong down, ingulph'd, to rife no more! While Cafar's confcious tyrrany enjoys The fruit of my ingratitude to Pompey; Yet fwells his fame, with insults for the service. Acho. Yet, Sir, be calm; impartially reflect On Cafar's conduct: you upbraid him now, That in refentment he regards his glory: When was it known he made it not his idol? To hope his friendship from the blood of Pompey, Was mixing Cafar in the herd of men! But fince the awful gods diftinguish him With a fuperior fway, to bow mankind Beneath their uncontestable decrees;

Think it their will, and make obedience virtue.

Ptol. Can I then yield up, to his rage, my friends,

For due obedience to their fovereign's will?