Sep. The King will yet consider.

    Enter Ptolomy, Achoreus, Photinus.

  Achil. Here he comes Sir.

Ach. Yet if it be undone:  hear me great Sir, If this inhumane stroak be yet unstrucken, If that adored head be not yet sever’d From the most noble Body, weigh the miseries, The desolations that this great Eclipse works, You are young, be provident:  fix not your Empire Upon the Tomb of him will shake all Egypt, Whose warlike groans will raise ten thousand Spirits, (Great as himself) in every hand a thunder; Destructions darting from their looks, and sorrows That easy womens eyes shall never empty.

  Pho. You have done well; and ’tis done, see Achillas,
  And in his hand the head.

Ptol. Stay come no nearer, Me thinks I feel the very earth shake under me, I do remember him, he was my guardian, Appointed by the Senate to preserve me:  What a full Majesty sits in his face yet?

Pho. The King is troubled:  be not frighted Sir, Be not abus’d with fears; his death was necessary, If you consider, Sir, most necessary, Not to be miss’d:  and humbly thank great Isis, He came so opportunely to your hands; Pity must now give place to rules of safety.  Is not victorious Caesar new arriv’d, And enter’d Alexandria, with his friends, His Navy riding by to wait his charges?  Did he not beat this Pompey, and pursu’d him?  Was not this great man, his great enemy?  This Godlike vertuous man, as people held him, But what fool dare be friend to flying vertue?

    Enter Caesar, Anthony, Dolabella, Sceva.

  I hear their Trumpets, ’tis too late to stagger,
  Give me the head, and be you confident: 
  Hail Conquerour, and head of all the world,
  Now this head’s off.

  Caesar.  Ha?

Pho. Do not shun me, Caesar, From kingly Ptolomy I bring this present, The Crown, and sweat of thy Pharsalian labour:  The goal and mark of high ambitious honour.  Before thy victory had no name, Caesar, Thy travel and thy loss of blood, no recompence, Thou dreamst of being worthy, and of war; And all thy furious conflicts were but slumbers, Here they take life:  here they inherit honour, Grow fixt, and shoot up everlasting triumphs:  Take it, and look upon thy humble servant, With noble eyes look on the Princely Ptolomy, That offers with this head (most mighty Caesar) What thou would’st once have given for it, all Egypt.

Ach. Nor do not question it (most royal Conquerour) Nor dis-esteem the benefit that meets thee, Because ’tis easily got, it comes the safer:  Yet let me tell thee (most imperious Caesar) Though he oppos’d no strength of Swords to win this, Nor labour’d through no showres of darts, and lances:  Yet here he