_No, no, poor suffering heart, no change endeavour, Chuse to sustain the smart, rather than leave her; My ravished eyes behold such charms about her, I can die with her, but not live without her; One tender sigh of hers to see me languish, Will more than pay the price of my past anguish: Beware, O cruel fair, how you smile on me, 'Twas a kind look of yours, that has undone me._ _Love has in store for me one happy minute, And she will end my pain, who did begin it; Then no day void of bliss, of pleasure, leaving, Ages shall slide away without perceiving: Cupid shall guard the door, the more to please us, And keep out Time and Death, when they would seize us: Time and Death shall depart, and say, in flying, Love has found out a way to live by dying._ _Cleom._ [_To_ CLEAN.] Is this the council of the Egyptian king? And am I called upon the grave debate, To judge of trilling notes, and tripping feet? _Clean._ 'Tis of a piece with all the rest of Ptolemy; A singing and a dancing government.-- O Egypt, Egypt! thou art grown the lees Of all the world; the slime of thy own Nile. Sure we had neither human sires, nor mothers; The sun and Nile begot us: We're so cowardly, And yet so proud; so many gods we have. And yet not one!-- _Cleom._ No more:--they seem to gaze on me with wonder. _Clean._ And well they may, to see a man in Egypt. [_King_, CASSANDRA, _and_ SOSIBIUS, _rise and come forward_. _Ptol._ Welcome, royal stranger! Not only to my court, but to my bosom. _Cleom._ I heard you sent for me; but on what business Am yet to learn. _Ptol._ The greatest in the world: to see the man, Whom even his foes extol, his friends adore, And all mankind admire. _Cleom._ Say rather, sir, A man forsaken of his better stars, A banished prince, the shadow of a king. _Ptol._ My father's friend. _Cleom._ I must not think so vainly of myself, To be what you have said; lest it upbraid you, To let your father's friend for three long months Thus dance attendance for a word of audience. _Cas._ Now, by my soul, 'tis nobly urged: He speaks As if he were in Sparta, on his throne; Not asking aid, but granting. How little looks our pageant prince to him! This is the only king I ever saw. [_Aside._ _Cleom._ By all the gods, when I have stood repulsed, Before your gates, and could not gain admittance, I have not sighed so much for my own sorrows, As I have blushed for your ungenerous usage. _Clean._ Not a word, Ptolemy?-- Ashamed, by all that's good, to be miscalled A king, when this is present. [_Aside._