Page 7
Scene the Second.
Ptolomey, Photinus.
Ptolom.
PHotinus, this our Sister will deceive,
That hopes a Crown from Pompey to receive;
She knows he has our Father's Will in guard,
And sees her way to Royalty prepar'd
By his arrival, she already plays
The Queen, and her Ambitious hopes betrays,
Thinking by Pompey's friendship and his might
To ratifie that Will and share my Right;
She looks as if she were already grown
My Mistriss, or my Partner in the Throne.
Photin.
Sir, 'tis a Motive which I did not urge,
That Pompey's Death will her ill humours purge;
Your cause decided by that antient Host
Of our late King, would half the Kingdome cost.
His Will performed will divide your State;
Yet wish I not you should your Sister hate,
By Nature's Law she ought to have her part,
Not in the Royal Throne, but in your Heart.
To Reign in Consort little Honour brings,
And you would seem Commissioners not Kings;
This way how oft have States distracted been?
But see! your Sister the pretended Queen.