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ACT IIII. (Book 4)
Scene the first. Caesars Tents.
Enter Caesar, Agrippa, Mecoenas.
Caesar,
MY Offers scornd! Ambassadors abus'd!
Yet he of Pride unjustly is accus'd.
Mec.
Thyreus was ill chose, he long has been
A secret Servant to th' Aegyptian Queen.
What if I went with terms more moderate;
I, who am less Obnoxius to his hate.
Caes.
This Offer now the danger grows so near,
In a man less known, shou'd take for fear.
Agrip.
His Insolence no longer I defend.
Caes.
See here the Challenge he thinks fit to send.
Agrip. reads.
Agrip.
In single Combat let our Fencers fight:
With Armies, Emperors dispute their right.
Caes.
Like him, I Roman blood would gladly spare,
And to a Combat would contract the War.
My youth, and unfoil'd strength, may Conquest claim
Over this Shadow of a mighty Name:
Now prest with Age, and with Debauches worn,
Th' unequal Combat I not fear, but scorn.
Agrip.
He like an aged Oak in Autumn shows,
From whose dry Arms some Leaves each minute blows;
One King or Ally, still forsake his side,
His Empire ebbs like a declining Tide.
Have patience, Sir, he of himself muk fall,
Who in despair does for the Combat call.
Caes.
To a brave Death I'll open him the way;
See an Assault be made without delay.
I at my Armies head shall soon appear,
And if he dares, he may engage me there.
Enter Octavia.
Octav.
O Brother! if that name have yet a Pow'r,
And be not lost in that of Emperor: