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.

Act. V.

SCEN. I.

Cornelia with a little Urne in her hand, and Philip.

CORNELIA.

MAy I believe my Eyes? or does this sight Delude me, with Chimera's of the Night? Do I behold Thee Philip? and didst Thou Funeral rites to my lov'd Lord allow? His Ashes does this Urne contain? O view! At once so terrible and tender too! Eternal Food of Sorrow and of Hate, All of Great Pompey that is spar'd by fate. Expect not I a Tear to you should pay, For Great Souls ease their Griess another way. Shallow Afflictions, by Complaints are fed: And who laments, would fain be Comforted. But I have sworn by all that we Adore; And by your self (sad Object) which is more: (For my griev'd Heart does more to you submit, Then to those Gods who so ill-guarded it.) By you I swear it then (Mournful remain, My only Deity, now he is slain) That no extinction or decay, shall be In that revenge which must enoble me.

To Caesar, Ptolomy, by base surprize, Rome, of thy Pompey, made a Sacrifice. And I, thy injur'd walls will never see, Till Priest, and God, to him shall offer'd be. Put me in mind, and my just hate sustain, O Ashes! now my hope as well as Pain. And to assist me in that great design, Shed in all Hearts, what now is felt by mine. But Thou, who on so infamous a shore, Gavist him a flame, so Pions, though so Poor: Tell me, what God thy Fortune made so great, To pay to such a Hero such a Debt?

PHILIP.

Cover'd with Blood, and much more dead then he; When I had curs'd the Royal Treachery, My wandring Feet were by my grief convey'd, Where yet the wind upon the Water plaid: After long search, I on a Rock did stand, And saw the Headless Trunk approach the Sand: Where th' angry Wave, a pleasure seem'd to take To cast it off, and then to snatch it back: I to it leap'd, and thrust it to the banks; Then gathering a heap of Shipwrack'd Planks, An hasty, artless Pile, I to him rais'd, Such as I could, and such as Fortune pleas'd. 'Twas hardly kindled, when Heaven grew so kind To send me help, in what I had design'd. Codrus, an Ancient Roman, who lives here, Returning from the City, spy'd me there. And when he did a headless Carcass view, By that sad mark alone he Pompey knew: Then weeping said, O thou who e're thou art, To whom the Gods such honours do impart, Thy fortune's greater then thou dost believe, Thou shalt rewards, not Punishments receive. Caesar's in Egypt and Revenge declares, For him to whom thou pay'st these Pious Cares, These Ashes to his Widow thou mayst bear In Alexandria, for now she is there. By Pompey's Conquerour so entertain'd, As by a God it would not be disdain'd. Go on till I return: this said, he went, And quickly brought me this small Monument. Then we, betwixt us, into it convey'd, That Hero's Ashes which the fire had made.

CORNELIA.

With what great Praises should this act be crown'd!

PHILIP.

Entring the Town I great disorders found. A numerous People to the Port did flye,

Which they believ'd the King would fortifie. The eager Romans fiercely these pursu'd, Rage in their eyes, their hands with blood imbrew'd. When Caesar with brave Justice did Command, Photin to perish by a Hangmans hand; On me appearing, he vouchsaf'd to look, And with these words my Masters Ashes took. Remainders of a Demi-god! whose Name I scarce can equal Conquerour as I am; Behold guilt punish'd, and till Altars call For other Victims, let these Traytors fall. Greater shall follow. To the Court go thou, On Pompey's Widow this from me bestow. And whilst with it she makes with grief some truce, Tell her how Caesar her Revenge pursues. That great Man, sighing, then from me did turn, And humbly kissing did restore the Urne.

CORNELIA.

O Formal Grief! how easie is that Tear, That's shed for Foes whom we no longer fear! How soon revenge for others fills that brest, Which to it, is, by its own danger prest? And when the Care we take to right the dead Secures our Life and does our glory spread. Caesar is generous 'tis true, but he By the King wrong'd, and from his Rival free, Might in an envious mind a doubt revive, What he would do were Pompey yet alive. His courage, his own safety does provide, Which does the Beauty of his actions hide. Love is concern'd in't too, and he does fight In Pompey's Cause for Cleopatra's Right. So many Int'rests with my Husband's met, Might to his Virtue take away my debt. But as Great Hearts judge by themselves alone, I chuse to guess his honour by my own; And think we only make his fury such, Since in his Fortune I should do as much.

SCEN. II.

Cleopatra, Charmion, Cornelia, Philip.

CLEOPATRA.

I come not to disturb a grief so due To that affliction which hath wounded you: But those remains t'adore, which from the wave, A faithful freed-man did so lately save: To mourn your fortune, Madam, and to swear You'd still enjoy'd a man so justly dear, If Heaven which did persecute you still, Had made my power equal to my will. Yet if to what that Heaven sends you now, Your grief can any room for joy allow: If any sweetness in revenge there be, Receive the certainty of yours from me. The false Photinus—But you may have heard.

CORNELIA.

Yes, Princess that he hath his just reward.

CLEOPATRA.

Have you no comfort in that news discern'd?

CORNELIA.

If there be any you are most concern'd.

CLEOPATRA.

All hearts with joy receive a wish'd event.

CORNELIA.

Our thoughts are, as our int'rests, different. Though Caesar add Achillas death, 'twill be To you a satisfaction, not to me: For nobler Rites to Pompey's Ghost belong, These are too mean to expiate his wrong. No reparation by such blood is made, Either to my grief, or his injur'd shade; And the revenge which does my Soul enflame, Till it hath Caesar, Ptolomy doth claim;

Who though so much unfit to reign or live, Caefar I know will for his safety strive. But though his love hath dar'd to promise it, Yet juster Heaven dares it not permit. And if the Gods an Ear to me afford, They shall both perish by each others Sword: Such an event would my hearts grief destroy, Which now is such a Stranger grown to joy. But if ye gods think this too great a thing, And but one fall, O let it be the King!

CLEOPATRA.

Heaven does not govern as our Wills direct.

CORNELIA.

But gods, what causes promise, will effect, And do the guilty with revenge pursue.

CLEOPATRA.

As they have justice, they have mercy too.

CORNELIA.

But we may judge as here events have past, They now the first will act, and not the last.

CLEOPATRA.

Their Mercie oft does through their Justice break.

CORNELIA.

Queen, you as Sister, I as Widow speak. Each hath her cause of kindness and of hate, And both concern'd are in this Princes Fate. But by the blood which hath to day been shed, We shall perceive whose vows have better sped. Behold your Achoreus.

SCEN. III.

To them Achoreus.

CLEOPATRA.

But alas! I read no good presages in his Face; Speak Achoreus, let us freely hear What yet deserves my sorrow, or my fear.

ACHOREUS.

Assoon as Caesar did the Treason know:—

CLEOPATRA.

'Tis not his Conduct I enquire of now, I know he cut and stopt that secret vault Which to him should the Murtherers have brought, That to secure the Streets his men he sent, Where Photin did receive his Punishment: Whose sudden fall Achillas so amaz'd, That on th' abandon'd Port he quickly seiz'd; Whom the King follow'd, and that, to the land Antonius all his Souldiers did command. Where Caesar join'd him, and I thence do guess Achillas punishment, and his success.

ACHOREUS.

His usual Fortune her assistance gave.

CLEOPATRA.

But tell me if he did my brother save, And kept his Promise.

ACHOREUS.

Yes with all his might.

CLEOPATRA.

That's all the News I wish'd you to recite. Madam, you see the Gods my prayers heard.

CORNELIA.

They only have his punishment deferr'd.

CLEOPATRA.

You wish'd it now; but they have him secur'd.

ACHOREUS.

Or Caesar had, if he had life endur'd.

CLEOPATRA.

What said you last? Or did I rightly hear? Oh! quickly your obscure Discourses clear.

ACHOREUS.

Neither your cares nor ours could save him, who Would die in spight of Caesar, and of You: But Madam, in the noblest way he dy'd, That ever falling Monarch dignifi'd: His restor'd Vertue did his Birth make good, And to the Romans dearly sold his blood. He fought Antonius with such noble heat, That on him he did some advantage get: But Caesar's coming alter'd the event; Achillas there after Photinus went: But so as him did too much honour bring; With Sword in hand he perish'd for his King. O spare the King, in vain the Conquerour cry'd; To him no hope but terrour it imply'd. For frighted, he thought Caesar did intend But to reserve him to a shameful end. He charg'd, and broke our Ranks, bravely to shew What Virtue armed by despair can do. By this mistake his vexed soul abus'd, Still sought the death which still was him refus'd. Breathless at last, with having fought and bled, Encompass'd round, and his best Souldiers dead, Into a Vessel which was near he leaps, And follow'd was by such tumultuous heaps, As by their number, overprest, the Ship With all its fraight was swallow'd in the Deep. This death recovers all his lost Renown, Gives Caesar Fame, and You th' Aegyptian Crown: You were proclaim'd, and though no Roman Sword Had touch'd the Life so much by you deplor'd, Caesar extreamly did concern'd appear; He sighs, and he complains: but see him here,

Who better can then I his Griefs relate, For the unhappy Kings resistless Fate.

SCEN. IV.

To them Caesar, Antonius, Lepidus.

CORNELIA.

Caesar be just, and me my Gallies yield, Achillas and Photinus both are kill'd; Nor could thy softned heart their Master save, And Pompey here, no more revenge can have. This fatal shore nothing does me present, But th' Image of their horrible Attempt, And thy new Conquest, with the giddy noise Of People who in change of Kings rejoyce: But what afflicts me most, is still to see Such an obliging Enemy in Thee. Release me then from this inglorious pain, And set my Hate at liberty again. But yet before I go I must request The Head of Pompey with his Bones may rest. Give it me then, as that alone, which yet I can with Honour at thy hands intreat.

CAESAR.

You may so justly that Remainder claim, That to deny it would be Caesar's shame: But it is fit, after so many Woes, That we should give his wandring Shade repose, And that a Pile which You and I enflame, From the first mean one rescue Pompey's name. That he should be appeas'd our Grief to view; And that an Urn more worthy him and you May (the Pomp done, and fire extinct again) His re-united Ashes entertain. This Arm, which did so long with him debate, Shall Altars to his Vertue dedicate,

Offer him Vows, Incense and Victims too, And yet shall give him nothing but his Due. I but to morrow for these Rites require, Refuse me not the Favour I desire; But stay till these solemnities be past, And then you may resume your eager haste. Bring to our Rome a Treasury so great, That Relique bear—

CORNELIA.

Not thither Caesar yet. Till first thy ruine, granted me by Fate, To these lov'd Ashes shall unlock the Gate; And thither (though as Dear to Rome as me) They come not till Triumphant over thee. To Affrick I must this rich burthen bear, Where Pompey's Sons, Cato and Scipio are. Who'll find, I hope, (with a brave King ally'd) Fortune as well as Justice on their side: And thou shalt see, there with new fury hurl'd, Pharsalia's Ruines arm another World. From Rank to Rank these Ashes I'll expose Mixt with my Tears, t' exasperate thy Foes. My Hate shall guide them too, and they shall fight With Urns, instead of Eagles in their sight; That such sad Objects may make them intent On his Revenge, and on thy Punishment. Thou to this Hero now devout art grown, But, raising his Name, do'st exalt thy own. I must be Witness too! and I submit; But thou canst never move my Heart with it. My Loss can never be repair'd by Fate, Nor is it possible t' exhaust my Hate. This Hate shall be my Pompey now, and I In his Revenge will live, and with it die. But as a Roman, though my Hate be such, I must confess, I thee esteem as much. Both these extreams Justice can well allow: This does my Virtue, that my Duty show.

My sense of Honour does the first command; Concern, the last, and they are both constrain'd. And as thy Virtue, whom none can betray, Where I should hate, makes me such value pay: My Duty so my Anger does create, And Pompey's Widdow makes Cornelia hate. But I from hence shall hasten, and know then, I'll raise against thee Gods, as well as Men. Those Gods that flatter'd thee, and me abus'd, And in Pharsalia Pompey's Cause refus'd; Who at his Death could Thunder-bolts refrain, To expiate that, will his Revenge maintain: If not his Soul will give my Zeal such heat, As I without their help shall thee defeat. But should all my Endeavours prosper ill, What I can not do, Cleopatra will. I know thy flame, and that t' obey its force Thou from Calphurnia study'st a Divorce: Now blinded, thou wouldst this Alliance make, And there's no Law of Rome thou dar'st not break. But know, the Roman Youth think it no sin To fight against the Husband of a Queen. And thy offended Friends will at the Price Of thy best Blood revenge their scorn'd Advice. I check thy Ruine if I check thy Love; Adieu; to morrow will thy Honour prove.

SCEN. V.

Caesar, Cleopatra, Charmion, Antonius, Lepidus, Achoreus.

CLEOPATRA.

Rather then You to this expos'd should be, With my own Ruine I would set you free. Sacrifice me, Sir, to your Happiness; For that's the greatest that I can possess;

Though far unworthy to be Caesar's Bride, Yet He'll remember one that for him Dy'd.

CAESAR.

Those empty projects, Queen, are all now left To a great Heart of other Help bereft; Whose keen desires her want of Strength confess, Could she perform more, she would wish it less. The Gods will these vain Auguries disprove, Nor can they my Felicitie remove. If your Love stronger then your Grief appears, And will for Caesars sake dry up your Tears; And that a Brother, who deserv'd them not, May for a Faithful Lover be forgot. You may have heard, with what Regret of mine His Safety to Despair he did resign; How much I sought his Reason to redeem From those vain Terrors that surrounded him, Which he disputed to his latest Breath, And cast away his Life for fear of Death. O shame for Caesar! Who so eminent! And so sollicitous for your Content! Yet by the Cruel Fortune of this Day Could not the First of your Commands Obey: But vainly we resist the Gods, who will Their Just Decrees on guilty men fulfil. And yet his Fall your Happiness procures, Since by his Death Aegypt is wholly Yours.

CLEOPATRA.

I know I gain another Diadem, For which none can be blam'd but Heav'n and Him; But as the Fate of humane things is such, That Joy and Trouble do each other touch, Excuse me, if the Crown conferr'd by You As it obliges, does afflict me too; And if to see a Brother justly kill'd, To Nature I as well as Reason yield. No sooner on my Grandeur I reflect, But my Ambition by my Blood is checkt.

I meet my Fortune with a secret Groan, Nor dare without Regret ascend the Throne.

ACHOREUS.

The Court is full, Sir, People crowding in, Who with great shouts demand to see their Queen, And many signs of their Impatience give, That such a Blessing they so late receive.

CAESAR.

Let them so just a Happiness obtain, And by that Goodness, Queen, commence your reign. O may the Gods so favour my Desire, That in their Joy your Sorrow may expire; That no Idea in your Soul may be, But of the Wounds which you have given me: Whilst my Attendants and your Courtiers may Prepare to morrow for a glorious day. When all such Noble Offices may owne, Pompey t' appease, and Cleopatra Crown. To her a Throne, to him let's Altars Build, And to them both Immortal Honours yield.

Exeunt.

After the Fifth Act by two Egyptian Priests as after the second.

AScend a Throne Great Queen! to you By Nature, and by Fortune due; And let the World adore One who Ambition could with stand, Subdue Revenge, and Love command, On Honours single score.

2.

Ye mighty Roman shades, permit That Pompey should above you sit, He must be Deifi'd.

For who like him, e're fought or fell? What Hero ever liv'd so well, Or who so greatly dy'd?

1.

What cannot Glorious Caesar do? How nobly does he fight and woe! On Crowns how does he tread! What mercie to the weak he shews, How fierce is he to living Foes, How pious to the dead?

2.

Cornelia yet would challenge Tears, But that the sorrow which she wears, So charming is, and brave, That it exalts her Honour more, Then if she all the Scepters bore, Her Generous Husband gave.

Chorus.

Then after all the Blood that's shed, Let's right the living and the dead: Temples to Pompey raise; Set Cleopatra on the Throne; Let Caesar keep the World h' has won; And sing Cornelia's praise.

After which a Grand Masque is Danc'd before Caesar and Cleopatra, made (as well as the other Dances and the Tunes to them) by Mr. John Ogilby.