In a full grove of his yet flourishing friends, He flyes to you for succour, and expects The entertainment of your Fathers friend, And Guardian to your self. _Ptol._ To say I grieve his fortune As much as if the Crown I wear (his gift) Were ravish'd from me, is a holy truth, Our Gods can witness for me: yet, being young, And not a free disposer of my self; Let not a few hours, borrowed for advice, Beget suspicion of unthankfulness, (Which next to Hell I hate) pray you retire, And take a little rest, and let his wounds Be with that care attended, as they were Carv'd on my flesh: good _Labienus_, think The little respite, I desire shall be Wholly emploi'd to find the readiest way To doe great _Pompey_ service. _Lab._ May the gods (As you intend) protect you. [_Exit._ _Ptol._ Sit: sit all, It is my pleasure: your advice, and freely. _Ach._ A short deliberation in this, May serve to give you counsel: to be honest, Religious and thankfull, in themselves Are forcible motives, and can need no flourish Or gloss in the perswader; your kept faith, (Though _Pompey_ never rise to th' height he's fallen from) _Cæsar_ himself will love; and my opinion Is (still committing it to graver censure) You pay the debt you owe him, with the hazard Of all you can call yours. _Ptol._ What's yours, (_Photinus_?) _Pho._ _Achoreus_ (great _Ptolomy_) hath counsell'd Like a Religious, and honest man, Worthy the honour that he justly holds In being Priest to _Isis_: But alas, What in a man, sequester'd from the world, Or in a private person, is prefer'd, No policy allows of in a King, To be or just, or thankfull, makes Kings guilty, And faith (though prais'd) is punish'd that supports Such as good Fate forsakes: joyn with the gods, Observe the man they favour, leave the wretched, The Stars are not more distant from the Earth Than profit is from honesty; all the power, Prerogative, and greatness of a Prince Is lost, if he descend once but to steer His course, as what's right, guides him: let him leave The Scepter, that strives only to be good, Since Kingdomes are maintain'd by force and blood. _Ach._ Oh wicked! _Ptol._ Peace: goe on.