Caesar.  Tempt me no farther.

Cleo. Contemn me not, because I kneel thus, Caesar, I am a Queen, and coheir to this country, The Sister to the mighty Ptolomy, Yet one distress’d, that flyes unto thy justice, One that layes sacred hold on thy protection As on an holy Altar, to preserve me.

  Caesar.  Speak Queen of beauty, and stand up.

Cleo. I dare not, ’Till I have found that favour in thine eyes, That godlike great humanity to help me, Thus, to thy knees must I grow (sacred Caesar,) And if it be not in thy will, to right me, And raise me like a Queen from my sad ruines, If these soft tears cannot sink to thy pity, And waken with their murmurs thy compassions; Yet for thy nobleness, for vertues sake, And if thou beest a man, for despis’d beauty, For honourable conquest, which thou doat’st on, Let not those cankers of this flourishing Kingdom, Photinus, and Achillas, (the one an Eunuch, The other a base bondman) thus raign over me.  Seize my inheritance, and leave my Brother Nothing of what he should be, but the Title, As thou art wonder of the world.

Caesar.  Stand up then And be a Queen, this hand shall give it to ye, Or choose a greater name, worthy my bounty:  A common love makes Queens:  choose to be worshipped, To be divinely great, and I dare promise it; A suitor of your sort, and blessed sweetness, That hath adventur’d thus to see great Caesar, Must never be denied, you have found a patron That dare not in his private honour suffer So great a blemish to the Heaven of beauty:  The God of love would clap his angry wings, And from his singing bow let flye those arrows Headed with burning griefs, and pining sorrows, Should I neglect your cause, would make me monstrous, To whom and to your service I devote me.

    Enter Sceva.

  Cleo. He is my conquest now, and so I’le work him,
  The conquerour of the world will I lead captive.

Sce. Still with this woman? tilting still with Babies?  As you are honest think the Enemy, Some valiant Foe indeed now charging on ye:  Ready to break your ranks, and fling these—­

Caesar.  Hear me, But tell me true, if thou hadst such a treasure, (And as thou art a Souldier, do not flatter me) Such a bright gem, brought to thee, wouldst thou not Most greedily accept?

Sce. Not as an Emperour, A man that first should rule himself, then others; As a poor hungry Souldier, I might bite, Sir, Yet that’s a weakness too:  hear me, thou Tempter:  And hear thou Caesar too, for it concerns thee, And if thy flesh be deaf, yet let thine honour, The soul of a commander, give ear to me, Thou wanton bane of war, thou guilded Lethargy, In whose embraces, ease (the rust of Arms) And pleasure, (that makes Souldiers poor) inhabites.

  Caesar.  Fye, thou blasphem’st.