_Cleo._ Weep not, _Arsino_, common women do so, Nor lose a tear for him, it cannot help him; But study to dye nobly. _Pho._ _Cæsar_ fled! 'Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart, It choaks my vital Spirits: where was your care? Did the Guards sleep? _Achil._ He rowz'd them with his Sword; We talk of _Mars_, but I am sure his Courage Admits of no comparison but it self, And (as inspir'd by him) his following friends With such a confidence as young Eagles prey Under the large wing of their fiercer Dam, Brake through our Troops and scatter'd them, he went on But still pursu'd by us, when on the sudden, He turn'd his head, and from his Eyes flew terrour; Which strook in us no less fear and amazement, Than if we had encounter'd with the lightning Hurl'd from _Jove's_ cloudy Brow. _Cleo._ 'Twas like my _Cæsar_. _Achil._ We faln back, he made on, and as our fear Had parted from us with his dreadful looks, Again we follow'd; but got near the Sea; On which his Navy anchor'd; in one hand Holding a Scroll he had above the waves, And in the other grasping fast his Sword, As it had been a Trident forg'd by _Vulcan_ To calm the raging Ocean, he made away As if he had been _Neptune_, his friends like So many _Tritons_ follow'd, their bold shouts Yielding a chearful musick; we showr'd darts Upon them, but in vain, they reach'd their ships And in their safety we are sunk; for _Cæsar_ Prepares for War. _Pho._ How fell the King? _Achil._ Unable To follow _Cæsar_, he was trod to death By the Pursuers, and with him the Priest Of _Isis_, good _Achoreus_. _Ars._ May the Earth Lye gently on their ashes. _Pho._ I feel now, That there are powers above us; and that 'tis not Within the searching policies of man To alter their decrees. _Cleo._ I laugh at thee; Where are thy threats now, Fool, thy scoffs and scorns Against the gods? I see calamity Is the best Mistress of Religion, And can convert an Atheist. [_Shout within._ _Pho._ O they come, Mountains fall on me! O for him to dye That plac'd his Heaven on Earth, is an assurance Of his descent to Hell; where shall I hide me? The greatest daring to a man dishonest, Is but a Bastard Courage, ever fainting. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Cæsar, Sceva, Antony, Dolabella. _Cæs._ Look on your _Cæsar_; banish fear, my fairest, You now are safe. _Sce._ By _Venus_, not a kiss Till our work be done; the Traitors once dispatch'd To it, and we'll cry aim. _Cæs._ I will be speedy. [_Exeunt._ _Cleo._ Farewel again, _Arsino_; how now, _Eros_? Ever faint-hearted? _Eros_. But that I am assur'd, Your Excellency can command the General, I fear the Souldiers, for they look as if They would be nibling too. _Cleo._ He is all honour, Nor do I now repent me of my favours, Nor can I think that Nature e'r made a Woman That in her prime deserv'd him.