Certaine small poems lately printed with the tragedie of Philotas. Written by Samuel Daniel.

SCENA SECVNDA.

Caesar, Cleopatra, Selucus, Dolabella.

Caesar.

VVHat Cleopatra, doost thou doubt so much Of Caesars mercy, that thou hid'st thy face? Or dost thou thinke, thy offences can be such, That they surmount the measure of our grace?

Cle.

O Caesar, not for that I flie thy sight My soule this sad retire of sorrow chose: But that m'oppressed thoughts abhorring light Like best in darkenesse, my disgrace ••'inclose. And heere to these close limites of despaire, This solitary horror where I bide: Caesar, I thought no Roman should repaire, More after him, who here oppressed dyde. Yet now, here at thy conquering feete I lie, Poore captiue soule, that neuer thought to bow: Whose happy foote of rule and Maiestie Stood late on that same ground thou standest now.

Caes.

Rise Queene, none but thy selfe is cause of all, And yet, would all were but thine owne alone: That others ruine had not with thy fall Brought Rome her sorrowes, to my triumphes mone. For breaking off the league of loue and blood, Thou mak'st my winning ioy againe vnpleasing: Sith th'eye of griefs looke not into our good, But thor'w the horror of our owne blood shedding. And all, we must attribute vnto thee.

Cle.

To me? Caesar, what should a woman doe Opprest with greatnes? what was it for me To contradict my Lord, being bent thereto? I was by loue, by feare by weakenesse, made An instrument to such disseignes as these. For when the Lord of all the Orient bade, Who but obey'd? who was not glad to please? And how could I withdraw my succouring hand From him that had my heart, and what was mine? The int'rest of my faith in streightest band, My loue to his most firmely did combine.

Caes.

Loue? ah no no, it was th'innated hatred That thou and thine hast euer borne our people: That made thee seeke all meanes to haue vs scattred, To disunite our strength, and make vs feeble. And therefore did that breast nurse our dissention, With hope t'exalt thy selfe, t'augment thy state: To pray vpon the wracke of our contention, And (with the rest our foes,) to ioy thereat.

Cleo:

O Caesar, see how easie tis t'accuse Whom Fortune hath made faulty by their fall, The wretched conquered may not resuse The titles of reproch hee's charg'd withall. The conquering cause hath right, wherein thou art, The vanquisht still is iudgde the worser part. Which part is mine, because I lost my part. No lesser then the portion of a Crowne. Enough for me, alas was needed art To gaine by others, but to keepe mine owne? But heere let weaker powers note what it is, To neighbour great Compe••itors too neere,

If wee take part, we oft do perish thus, If neutrall bide, both parties we must feare. Alas, what shall the forst partakers doe, When following none, yet must they perish too? But Caesar, sith thy right and cause is such, Be not a heauy weight vpon calamitie: Depresse not the afflicted ouer-much, The chie••est glorie is the Victors lenitie. Th'inheritance of mercie from him take, Of whom thou hast thy fortune•• and thy name: Great Caesar me a Queene at first did make, And let not Caesar now confound the same, Reade here these lines which still I keepe with me, The witnesse of his loue and fauours euer: And God forbid this should be said of thee, That Caesar wrong'd the fauoured of Caesar. For looke what I haue beene to Antony Thinke thou the same I might haue beene to thee. And here I do present thee with the note Of all the treasure, all the iewels rate That Egypt hath in many ages got; And looke what Cleopatra hath, is there.

Seleu.

Nay there's not all set down within that roule, I know some things she hath reseru'd apart.

Cle.

What vile vngrateful wretch, dar'st tho•• cōtroule Thy Queene and soueraigne, cai••i••e as thou art.

Caes.

Holde, holde; a poore reuenge cā worke so feeble hands

Cle.

Ah Caesar, what a great indignitie Is this, that here my vassall subiect stands T' accuse me to my Lord of trecher••e? If I reseru'd some certaine womens toyes,

Alas it was not for my selfe (God knowes,) Poore miserable soule, that little ioyes In trifling ornaments in outward showes. But what I kept, I kept to make my way Vnto thy Liuia and Octauius grace, That thereby in compassion mooued, they Might mediate thy fauour in my case.

Caes.

Well Cleopatra, feare not, thou shalt finde What fauour thou desir'st, or canst expect: For Caesar neuer yet was found but kinde To such as yeeld, and can themselues subiect. And therefore giue thou comfort to thy minde, Relieue thy soule thus ouer-charg'd with care, How well I will intreate thee thou shalt find, So soone as some affaires dispatched are. Till when farewel. Cl. Thanks thrise renowned Caesar, Poore Cleopatra rests thine owne for ••uer.

Dol.

No maruell Caesar though our greatest spirits, Haue to the powre of such act arming beautie Been brought to yeeld the honor of their merits: Forgetting all respect of other dutie. Then whilst the glory of her youth remain'd The wondring object to each wanton eye': Before her full of sweet (with sorrow wain'd,) Came to the period of this miserie. If still, euen in the midst of death and horror Such beautie shines, thorow clouds of age & sorrow, If euen those sweet decaies seeme to pleade for her, Which from affliction mouing graces borrow: If in calamitie she could thus moue, What could she do adorn'd with youth and loue?

What could she do then, when as spreading wide The pomp of beauty, in her glory dight? When arm'd with wonder, she could vse beside, Th'ingines of her loue, Hope and Delight?

Daughter of Meruaile beauty O see how Thou canst disgracing sorrowes sweetly grace. What power thou show'st in a distressed brow, That mak'st affliction faire, giu'st teares their grace. What can vntressed locks, can torne rent haire, A weeping eye, a waiilng face be faire? I see then, artlesse feature can content, And that true beauty needs no ornament,

Caes.

What in passion a Dolabella? what take heed: Let others fresh examples be thy warning: What mischiefs these, so idle humors breed, Whilst error keepes vs from a true discerning. Indeed I saw she labour'd to impart Her sweetest graces in her saddest cheere: Presuming on the face that knew the art To moue with what aspect so eu'r it were. But all in vaine, she takes her ayme amisse. The ground and marke her leuel much deceiues: Time now hath altred all, for neither is She as she was, nor we as she conceiues. And therefore now leaue he•• vnto her sadnesse Folly in youth is sinne, in age, tis madnesse.

And for my part, I seeke but ••'entertaine In her some feeding hope to draw her forth, The greatest Trophey that my trauaile •• gaine, ••••to bring home a prizall of such worth. A•••• now, sith that she seemes so well content.

To be dispos'd by vs, without more stay She with her children shall to Rome be fent, Whilst I by Syria thither take my way.

CHORVS.

O Fearefull frowning Nemesis, Daughter of Iustice, most seuere, That art the worlds great arbitresse, And Queene of causes raigning heere: Whose swift-sure hand is euer neere Eternall iustice, righting wrong: Who neuer yet deferrest long The prowds decay, the weaks redresse: But through thy power euery where, Dost raze the great, and raise the lesse. The lesse made great dost ruine too, To shew the earth what heauen can do.

Thou from darke-clos'd eternitie, From thy blacke cloudy hidden seate, The worlds disorders dost desery: Which when they swell so prowdly great, Reuersing th'order nature set, Thou giu'st thy all confounding doome, Which none can know before it come. Th'ineuitable destinie, Which neither wit nor strength can let, Fast chain'd vnto necessitie, In mortall things doth order so, Th'alternate course of weale or wo.

O how the powres of heauen doe play With trauailed mortalitie: And doth their weakenesse still betray, In their best prosperitie? When being lifted vp so hie, They looke beyond themselues so farre, That to themselues they take no care; Whilst swift confusion downe doth lay, Their late prowd mounting vanitie: Bringing their glory to decay, And with the ruine of their fall, Extinguish people, state and all.

But is it Iustice that all wee The innocent poore multitude, For great mens faults should punisht be, And to destruction thus pursude? O why should th'heauens vs include, Within the compasse of their fall, Who of themselues procured all? Or do the gods in close decree, Occasion take how to extrude Man from the earth with crueltie? Ah no, the gods are euer iust, Our faults excuse their rigor must.

This is the period Fate set downe, To Egypts fat prosperitie: Which now vnto her greatest growne, Must perish thus, by course must die, And some must be the causers why

This reuolution must be wrought: As borne to bring their state to nought: To change the people and the crowne, And purge the worlds iniquitie: Which vice so farre hath ouer growne. As we, so they that treate vs thus, Must one day perish like to vs.