Poems by the most deservedly admired Mrs. Katherine Philips, the matchless Orinda ; to which is added Monsieur Corneille's Pompey & Horace, tragedies ; with several other translations out of French.

SCEN. III.

Caesar, Antonius, Lepidus.

CAESAR.

Antonius, have you this bright Princess seen?

ANTONIUS.

Yes, Sir, I have, and shee's a matchless Queen; With such proportion Heaven never yet All Beauties both of Mind and Body knit; So sweet a Greatness in her Face does shine, The Noblest Courage must to it resign; Her Looks and Language with such ease subdue, If I were Caesar, I should love her too.

CAESAR.

How was the Offer of my Love receiv'd?

ANTONIUS.

As doubted, and yet inwardly believ'd: She modestly declin'd her highest aims, And thinks she merits, what she most disclaims.

CAESAR.

But can I hope her love?

ANTONIUS.

Can she have yours? As that your Joys, so this her Crown secures. To gain that Heart can you believe it hard, Whose kindness you with Empire can reward? Then let your Passion all its Doubts disband, For what can Pompey's Conquerour withstand? But yet her Fear to her remembrance brings,

How little, Rome hath ever valu'd Kings; And more then that, she dreads Calphurnia's Love▪ But both these Rubs your presence will remove, And your successful Hope all Mists will break, If you vouchsafe but for your Self to speak.

CAESAR.

Let's go then, and these needless scruples quit, Shewing my Heart to Her that wounded it: Come let us stay no longer.

ANTONIUS.

But first know, Cornelia is within your Power now: Septimius brings her, boasting of his Fault, And thinks by that he hath your Favour bought. But once ashore your Guards (by Orders taught) No notice took, but hither both have brought.

CAESAR.

Then let her enter: Ah unwelcome News! Which my Impatience does so roughly use! O Heaven! and am I not allow'd to pay My Love this small remainder of one day?