Pompey the Great a tragedy as it was acted by the servants of His Royal Highness the Duke of York / translated out of French by certain persons of honour.
About this Item
Title
Pompey the Great a tragedy as it was acted by the servants of His Royal Highness the Duke of York / translated out of French by certain persons of honour.
Author
Corneille, Pierre, 1606-1684.
Publication
London :: Printed for Henry Herringman ...,
1664.
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Subject terms
Pompey, -- the Great, 106-48 B.C. -- Drama.
Cite this Item
"Pompey the Great a tragedy as it was acted by the servants of His Royal Highness the Duke of York / translated out of French by certain persons of honour." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A34585.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 15, 2024.
Pages
Scene First.
Cleopatra sola.
Cleop.
YEs, I do Love, but must not let the flameDazle me so as to neglect my Fame;My heart feels both its Duties, and by turns,It sighs for Pompey, and for Caesar burns:Nor shall the Victors passion make me loseThe sense of what our House to Pompey owes.She that great Caesar loves, should in her SoulAbhorr th' appearance of a Crime so foul;It were an Injury to his Desire,To think that Baseness can foment the Fire.
Enter Charmion.
Charm.
VVhat, do you Caesar love, and yet would raiseAegypt to trample on Pharsalia's Bays,Stop the high course of Fate, your Force direct'Gainst him you Love, and his great Foe protect?Love is no Tyrant with you I perceive.
Cleop.
VVith their high Birth Princes this good receive,Their Souls partake their Generous race, and soTheir rudest Passions to their Virtue bow,And whilst the Dictates of their own high BloodThey dare observe, Illustrious, and all goodThat they determine, and the ill we find,Flows from the Counsel of some Baser Mind;Thus is great Pompey lost, the King would saveA friend distress'd, Photinus diggs his Grave.
Charm.
Thus then of Caesar, we in one Person seeAt once the Lover and the Enemy.
descriptionPage 12
Cleop.
No, thus I Court him, and no Charm there isLike that of Virtue, o're a Mind like his.
Charm.
VVhat we Desire is easily Believ'd,And where we Love we soonest are Deceiv'd.
Cleop.
Know then a Queen that holds her Honour dear,From no brave man, a low neglect can fear,And whensoe're she owns her high desire,She meets an Equal if no greater Fire:But this concerns not me, who long agoGave that great Conquerour the fatal Blow.At Rome the haughty Man became my Slave,And the first marks of his new Passion gave;And since that time, each Day, some new expressBrings me his Vows, and tells me his Success,Through France, through Spain, or wheresoe're he flies,Fortune attends, and Love Accompanies,He VVorships me alone, and to my EyesAscribes the Fame of all his Victories,Oft with that hand all Reaking in the goreOf Slaughter'd foes, my Pity does implore,Beating his breast, and with an humble guiseComplains of Chains amidst his Victories,Vows he no pleasure took on what he had won,Till unto me the high Success was known,In whose dear I ove, alone, he can receiveThe utmost Joys the Conquer'd world can give:He offers me his Glory, to my LawsSubmits that Heart and Hand the VVorld obeys,So that my Rigour, like Joves Thunder, canMake the most VVretched of the Greatest man.
Charm.
VVell, I dare swear your Charms a Power enjoy,VVhich though they boast of, they will ne're Employ;And the great Caesar shall no Trouble know,If it can only from your Rigour grow:But what d' you aim at? or to what pretend?Another VVife does all fair hopes defend;The Holy band of Sacred Hymen keep,His Soul enchain'd, and all such Thoughts asleep.
descriptionPage 13
Cleop.
A fresh Divorce so common at this day,May in my favour take those Lets away.'Twas so he Marry'd her, and who can blameHim to return her by the way she came?
Charm.
And who can say but hee'l serve you so too?
Cleop.
That sure my better Stars wo'nt let him do;And if propitious Heaven but bless my BedWith any branch of his Illustrious seed,That happy Union of our Blood will JoynOur Interest so, he'll be for ever mine;And since he hath no Children, the new tyeWill grow upon him, and my Youth supply:But whatsoe're befall me, if I may,Ile be his Bride, and though but one short DayOur Marriage last, the Glory ne're can fallTo have been once the Mighty Queen of allThe Prostrate World; this my Ambition says,To which, be it right or wrong, my Soul obeys;I Love the Noble heat, and 'tis aloneThe generous passion that a Queen may own.
Charm.
'Tis not the nearest way to Caesar's Bed,Nor this thought greatness, to save Pompey's Head.
Cleop.
But 'tis the Nobl'st, and I should disdainThe Highest Title with the Smallest Stain;Then wonder not, I Pompey thus protect,For so my Honour, and his Worth, direct.'Tis for his hapless Virtue all I may,And would to Heaven h'had ta'ne some other way,And hope some friendly Storm will yet preventUpon so Brave a Man our Foul Intent,Forcing his Vessel from our Faithless shore;But here comes Achoree will tell us more:What, is it done? and is our cursed Land,With the high Blood of the great Pompey stain'd?
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Enter Achoree.
Achor.
Madam, as you commanded, to the placeI follow'd 'em, where I in little spaceSaw the whole Treason, the Great Pompey bleed,And every passage of that Barbarous deed;And since you do command me here proclameThat glorious Death which covers us with shame,Hearken! admire! and his strange Fate deplore.His Vessel now in sight of our false Shore,Had strucken Sail, and he with Joy beheldOur Gally's coming which his Murderers fill'd,Thought our brave King toucht with a generous senseOf the Sad Fortunes of so Great a Prince,Had sent his Fleet, but when that he perceiv'dThe Armed Boat, he soon was undeceiv'd;Found the Base man Ingratefull to such Worth,Instead of Aid had sent his Murderers forth.
Cleop.
How great a Curse Heaven on that Prince does send,Whom they do Power without Virtue lend!How much more Blest are they that cannot reachThat height of Mischief which their Natures teach!Whose Lives and Faults are private, so that FameCan lay no lasting Blot upon their name!But this base Stain will stick upon our House,Whilst Memphis stands, or Nilus overflows.But how did Pompey on the Villains look?
Achor.
He was with Wonder, and not Terror strook;Some little Fear surpriz'd him, but he soonRecall'd his Temper, and then thought alone,Regardless of himself, how he might saveHis dear Cornelia from the present Grave;Let us expose alone these Silver hairs,To the reception that base Land prepares;Fly then he said, wh••lst the whole Storm I bear,And to take Vengeance by thy restless care;
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Our noble Juba bears a Braver mind,With him thy Father, and my Sons thou'lt find;Yet if they fail, and meet untimely Deaths,Never despair, whilst the bold Cato breaths.Thus whilst their Loves contest, the fatal BarkMakes towards them: Septimius as a markOf Service gives his hand, in his own TongueSalutes him Emperour, as from the YoungAegyptian Monarch, Step, great Sir, he said,Into this Boat, Quick-sands and Shelves have madeOur Ports unsafe for greater Ships; even thenOur Heroe saw the baseness of the Men,Yet shew'd no Change, but keeping in his faceHis wonted Majesty and fearless Grace,With the same Count'nance towards his Death doth go,Wherewith he wont whole Kingdoms to bestow.His Virtue intire attends him in his fate.Of all the followers of his happier State,His freed-man Philip then remain'd alone,From him I learnt what I have now made known.And this is all, Madam, that he exprest,My Eyes have seen, my Heart would sigh the rest;Caesar himself when his sad Fate he hears,To such Misfortunes cann't deny his Tears.
Cleop.
O spare not mine, proceed, this one relief,I have, that nothing can increase my grief.
Achor.
Far off we saw him coming, and not oneOf all that Troop but his Discourse did shun;Which strange contempt made him too well perceive,The Entertainment he should soon receive:At length they came to Land, and as he steptA shore, Achillas that base Traitor leaptForth of the Boat, and the first Wound he made.Then all at once basely his Life invade;All of one Land, degenerate Sons of Rome,That should his Guard his Murderers become,Achillas's self that set the Villains on,Stood yet amaz'd to see't so boldly done.
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Cleop.
Ye Gods that give the World to civil War,When ye Revenge his Death our City Spare;Find out the Hands, and punish not the Town,The crime of Memphis was by Romans done.But how does he receive their Treachearous blows?
Achor.
Part of his Robe over his Face he throws,And without seeing it his Fate obey'd,Disdain'd the Heav'ns that had his cause betray'd,To look at then, lest Dying he might seem,Or Aid, or Vengeance to implore of them;No feeble part though of his failing breath••ut shew'd him worthy of a Nobler Death:His Head cut off, is by the Villains shew'n,Like some proud Trophie when a Battels won,And his Dead Body to the Seas expos'd,Floats now at randome in no Urn inclos'd;At such a sight the poor Cornelia lost—
Cleop.
Great Gods, in what Distraction was she Tost?
Achor.
Her Mournfull hands to cruel Heaven she lifts,Yet pays Subbmission to its hidden Drifts,And then again o'recome with suddain grief,Falls in a Sound, and seems to hate Relief;Her men the while plying the Oars amain,With frighted haste the Milder Sea regain:But yet I fear they cannot scape, for baseSeptimius does them with six Vessels chace,VVho to compleat his Crime endeavours shews,And Pompey even after Death persues.
Cleop.
Unequall'd Villais! O! Accursed brood!Are they not Glutted with that Hero's Blood,That thus his dearer half they do persue,Forgetting all that to her Sex is due?
Achor.
Mean while Achillas doth in Triumph bringHis horrid Present to our Faithless King;The people as he goes astonisht mourn,And from the hated sight their Faces turn,A general horrour doth their Souls invade,Some fear the Ground will open, and be made
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Their common Grave: others loud Thunder hear,To every one does some strange Sight appear,So does the Guilt distract them, and presentUnto their Thoughts th' excess of Punishment;His freed-man Philip in a Servants mind,Shews yet a Courage of the Noblest kind,He follows his Dead Lord, and watches whereOr to what Shore the Angry main will bearThe Headless Trunck, that he may duely burn,And put his Sacred Ashes in an Urn;But as toward Africk they Cornelia chase,Caesar appears, and almost hide the faceOf spacious Neptune with his Numerous Fleet.
Cleop.
It must be he, in that we plainly see't.Tremble ye Villains of this impious Land,Cleopatra now holds Thunder in her hand,May throw't on whom she will, Caesar is come,She is your Queen, her angry Breath your Doom.Let us admire the while, th' uncertain stateOf human greatness, and by Pompey's fateLearn what our own may be: This Prince that sway'dTh' Imperial Senate, whom the world Obey'd,Whom Fortune seem'd to have advanc'd aboveHer own proud reach, who did more terrour moveIn Rome than Loudest Thunder, whom she sawThree times her proud Triumphal Chariots draw,Who in these last extremes and falling stateBoth Consulls had Companions of his Fate,When Fortune once neglected him, we seeAegyptian Monsters of his Head decree,We see a Photin and Achillas straightThe great Disposers of the highest Fate,A King that from his Hands a Crown receives,Him to the hands of Basest Villains gives;So Pompey falls, and so perhaps one Day,The now Victorious and great Caesar may:But O ye powerfull Gods that see my Tears,Assist my Wishes, and avert my Fears.
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Achor.
Madam, the King is coming?
[Enter Ptolomey, Photinus.
Ptolom.
Do you know the Honour we are like to have?
Cleop.
Yes, Caesar's come, I'm no more Photin's Slave.
Ptolom.
Sister, you always hate that worthy Man.
Cleop.
No, but I now despise the worst he can.
Ptolom.
Of what design of his can you complain?
Cleop.
Where we have suffer'd much, fears are not Vain;So great a States-man may do any thing,When he's assisted by a Credulous King.
Ptolom.
I follow his advice, and know 'tis good.
Cleop.
I fear th' Effects, and see it spares no Blood.
Ptolom.
For common safety, all things Lawfull are.
Cleop.
That kind of Justice, I too Justly fear:It cost me late my Interest in the Throne,And Pompey's Head to whom you owe your Crown.
Ptolom.
He never plaid a greater States-mans part,Caesar to gain there was no other Art;You see his haste, and our Disorder'd Town,Before it could have Arm'd, had been O'rethrown,But safely now to his Victorious hand,Your Heart I offer, and my own Command.
Cleop.
Make your own offers, I shall mine propound,You need not thus our Interests confound.
Ptolom.
They are but one, since of one Blood we be.
Cleop.
You might as well say two of one Degree,Being Soveraigns both, and yet you'l shortly learnThere is some difference in our concern.
Ptolom.
Yes Sister, for my small Dominion ends▪In narrow Bounds, nor beyond Nile pretends,But you are Caesar's Queen, and may commandO're Ganges, Tagus, and the farthest Land.
Cleop.
I have Ambition, but 'tis so confin'd,That thought it Dazels me I am not Blind.Talk not to me of Tagus nor of Ganges,I know my Right, and care not for your Changes.
Ptolom.
Y' have an advantage, and you'l use't I find.
Cleop.
I'm sure if I do'nt I'm not of your mind.
[Exit.
descriptionPage 19
Ptolom.
I follow'd thy advice, yet all my Art,And lowest Flattery, but made her startInto a farther Pride, untill at lastTyr'd with such Scorn my Rage had like t' have pastAll bounds, and neither minding Caesar nor his force,With her high Pride have taken such a Course,That spight of all her Braggs she sooner mightImplore of Pompey than of him a right;She talks as though sh' already were a Queen,And if he do indulge her Pride and Spleen,And she o're him her boasted Empire have,Her Brother and her King must be her Slave;But lets prevent her Rage, 'tis poor to wait,And tamely bear the certain stroaks of Fate;Lets put an end to her too long disdain,Lets from her take the Means to Please and Reign.What? shall my Scepter and undoubted Right,So long maintain'd, a Wanton smile requite?
Photin.
Sir, give him no pretence to rend your CrownFrom off your Head, and joyn it to his own;That haughty Mind which has no other careBut to bring Cruel Slavery and WarrWhere e're he comes, Transported with the RageWhich such a loss must certainly engageA Real Lover in, though you but Justice do,Will take th' occasion to become your Foe,And then to Colour o're his Thirst of Spoil,Your brave Revenge will a foul Murder style.
Ptolom.
If she once see him she will have the Crown.
Photin.
And if she don't, y' are certainly undone.
Ptolom.
I'le pluck her with me, since I needs must fall.
Photin.
Preserve your self I pray, if that be all.
Ptolom.
What! in my Crown to see her proudly Shine?Scepter, if thou must leave these hands of mine,Pass, pass, unto the Mighty Conquerours.
Photin.
Sir, you will better wrest it out of hers.What ever Flames he for a while may show,Fear not, he shortly must begone we know;
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No Ardour Love can give to such a Soul,But what his High designs will soon Controul,Iberia, Africa, are yet possestBy the Young Pompeys and that Interest,So great a General would much mistakeNo other use of his Success to make,Than to give Leisure to such Daring sprights,To be again in posture for new Fights.
Ptolom.
What human Force can long oppose that Hand,Which neither Rome nor Pompey could withstand?And then with Lovers haste he will return,And we too late our lost Occasion Mourn.
Photin.
Soon as he has that Party quite o'rethrown,He must to Rome there to secure his own;Change at his Will the Model of the State,Enjoy the Bounty of Indulgent Fate,And when he's there, what is't you may not do?But for a while you must to Caesar bow,Constrain your self to please him, we shall findA time to settle all things to your Mind;Give freely to his hands your Power and Crown,And to his high Disposal leave your Throne;What ever hopes her haughty Mind may fill,I know he must observe your Fathers will;Besides, the late great Service you have done,Bids you be confident of what's your own;But whatso'ere he do's, seem to comply,Extoll his Judgment, praise his Equity,Till he begon at least, and when we seeThat time and place with our Designs agree,We will revenge our selves, and she shall findThe fatal Error of her haughty Mind.
Ptolom.
Thou hast restor'd me to my Life and Crown;The greatest Blessings that the Gods send downOn Princes, are such Counsellours; lets goDear Atlas of my Throne, to meet our FoeWith all our Fleet, present him all we have,That we may all again intire Receive.
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