my Slave: but thy behaviour,
Oppos'd to that, an insolent intruder
Upon that Soveraignty thou shouldst bow to.
If in the Gulph of base ingratitude,
All loyalty to _Ptolomy_ the King
Be swallowed up, remember who I am,
Whose Daughter and whose Sister; or suppose
That is forgot too; let the name of _Caesar_
Which Nations quake at, stop the desperate madness
From running headlong on to thy Confusion.
Throw from thee quickly those rebellious Arms,
And let me read submission in thine Eyes;
Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon,
But be a ready advocate to plead for thee
To _Caesar_, and my Brother.

_Pho._ Plead my Pardon?
To you I bow, but scorn as much to stoop thus
To _Ptolomy_ or _Caesar_, Nay, the gods,
As to put off the figure of a man,
And change my Essence with a sensual Beast;
All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends
Were aim'd to purchase you.

_Cleo._ How durst thou, being
The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought?

_Pho._ They that have power are royal; and those base
That live at the devotion of another.
What birth gave _Ptolomy_, or fortune _Caesar_,
By Engines fashion'd in this _Protean_ Anvil
I have made mine; and only stoop at you,
Whom I would still preserve free to command me;
For _Caesar's_ frowns, they are below my thoughts,
And but in these fair Eyes I still have read
The story of a supream Monarchy,
To which all hearts with mine gladly pay tribute,
_Photinus's_ Name had long since been as great
As _Ptolomies_ e'r was, or _Caesars_ is,
This made me as a weaker tye to unloose
The knot of Loyalty, that chain'd my freedom,
And slight the fear that _Caesars_ threats might cause,
That I and they might see no Sun appear
But _Cleopatra_ in the _Egyptian_ Sphear.

_Cleo._ O Giant-like Ambition! marryed to
_Cymmerian_ darkness! inconsiderate Fool,
(Though flatter'd with self-love) could'st thou believe,
Were all Crowns on the Earth made into one,
And that (by Kings) set on thy head; all Scepters,
Within thy grasp, and laid down at my feet,
I would vouchsafe a kiss to a no-man?
A guelded Eunuch?

_Pho._ Fairest, that makes for me,
And shews it is no sensual appetite,
But true love to the greatness of thy Spirit,
That when that you are mine shall yield me pleasures,
_Hymen_, though blessing a new married Pair
Shall blush to think on, and our certain issue,
The glorious splend