_Cl._ Alas! this was not his offence, but mine. _Antony_ (ay me! who else so braue a chiefe!) Would not I should haue taken Seas with him: But would haue left me fearfull woman farre From common hazard of the doubtfull warre. O that I had beleu’d! now, now of _Rome_ All the great Empire at our beck should bende. All should obey, the vagabonding _Scythes_, The feared _Germains_, back-shooting _Parthians_, Wandring _Numidians_, _Brittons_ farre remoou’d, And tawny nations scorched with the Sunne. But I car’d not: so was my soule possest, (To my great harme) with burning iealousie: Fearing least in my absence _Antony_ Should leauing me retake _Octauia_. _Char._ Such was the rigour of your destinie. _Cl._ Such was my errour and obstinacie. _Ch._ But since Gods would not, could you doe withall? _Cl._ Alwaies from Gods good happs, not harms, do fall. _Ch._ And haue they not all power on mens affaires? _Cl._ They neuer bow so lowe, as worldly cares. But leaue to mortall men to be dispos’d Freelie on earth what euer mortall is. If we therin sometimes some faultes commit, We may them not to their high maiesties, But to our selues impute; whose passions Plunge vs each day in all afflictions. Wherwith when we our soules do thorned feele, Flatt’ring our selues we say they dest’nies are: That Gods would haue it so, and that our care Could not empeach but that it must be so. _Char._ Things here belowe are in the heau’ns begot, Before they be in this our worlde borne: And neuer can our weaknes turne awry The stailes course of powerfull destenie. Nought here force, reason, humaine prouidence, Holie deuotion, noble bloud preuailes: And Ioue himselfe whose hand doth heauens rule, Who both to Gods and men as King commaunds, Who earth (our firme support) with plenty stores, Moues aire and sea with twinckling of his eie, Who all can doe, yet neuer can vndoe What once hath been by their hard laws decreed. When _Troian_ walles, great _Neptunes_ workmanship, Enuiron’d were with _Greekes_, and Fortunes whele Doubtfull ten yeares now to the campe did turne, And now againe towards the towne return’d: How many times did force and fury swell In _Hectors_ veines egging him to the spoile Of conquer’d foes, which at his blowes did flie, As fearfull shepe at feared wolues approche: To saue (in vaine: for why? it would not be) Pore walles of _Troie_ from aduersaries rage, Who died them in bloud, and cast to ground Heap’d them with bloudie burning carcases. No, Madame, thinke, that if the ancient crowne Of your progenitors that _Nilus_ rul’d, Force take from you; the Gods haue will’d it so, To whome oft times Princes are odiouse. They haue to euery thing an end ordain’d; All worldly greatnes by them bounded is; Some sooner, later some, as they think best: None their decree is able to infringe. But, which is more, to vs disastred men