_Sep._ Hell, and the furies, And all the plagues of darkness light upon me: You are my god on earth: and let me have Your favour here, fall what can fall hereafter. _Pho._ Thou art believ'd: dost thou want mony? _Sep._ No Sir. _Pho._ Or hast thou any suite? these ever follow Thy vehement protestations. _Sep._ You much wrong me; How can I want, when your beams shine upon me, Unless employment to express my zeal To do your greatness service? do but think A deed so dark, the Sun would blush to look on, For which Man-kind would curse me, and arm all The powers above, and those below against me: Command me, I will on. _Pho._ When I have use, I'le put you to the test. _Sep._ May it be speedy, And something worth my danger: you are cold, And know not your own powers: this brow was fashion'd To wear a Kingly wreath, and your grave judgment, Given to dispose of monarchies, not to govern A childs affairs, the peoples eye's upon you, The Souldier courts you: will you wear a garment Of sordid loyalty when 'tis out of fashion? _Pho._ When _Pompey_ was thy General, _Septimius_, Thou saidst as much to him. _Sep._ All my love to him, To _Cæsar_, _Rome_, and the whole world is lost In the Ocean of your Bounties: I have no friend, Project, design, or Countrey, but your favour, Which I'le preserve at any rate. _Pho._ No more; When I call on you, fall not off: perhaps Sooner than you expect, I may employ you, So leave me for a while. _Sep._ Ever your Creature. [_Exit._ _Pho._ Good day _Achoreus_; my best friend _Achillas_, Hath fame deliver'd yet no certain rumour Of the great _Roman Action_? _Achil._ That we are To enquire, and learn of you Sir: whose grave care For _Egypts_ happiness, and great _Ptolomies_ good, Hath eyes and ears in all parts. _Enter_ Ptolomy, Labienus, _Guard._ _Pho._ I'le not boast, What my Intelligence costs me: but 'ere long You shall know more. The King, with him a _Roman_. _Ach._ The scarlet livery of unfortunate war Dy'd deeply on his face. _Achil._ 'Tis _Labienus_ _Cæsars_ Lieutenant in the wars of _Gaul_, And fortunate in all his undertakings: But since these Civil jars he turn'd to _Pompey_, And though he followed the better Cause Not with the like success. _Pho._ Such as are wise Leave falling buildings, flye to those that rise; But more of that hereafter.