dreadful looks,
Again we follow'd; but got near the Sea;
On which his Navy anchor'd; in one hand
Holding a Scroll he had above the waves,
And in the other grasping fast his Sword,
As it had been a Trident forg'd by _Vulcan_
To calm the raging Ocean, he made away
As if he had been _Neptune_, his friends like
So many _Tritons_ follow'd, their bold shouts
Yielding a chearful musick; we showr'd darts
Upon them, but in vain, they reach'd their ships
And in their safety we are sunk; for _Caesar_
Prepares for War.

_Pho._ How fell the King?

_Achil._ Unable
To follow _Caesar_, he was trod to death
By the Pursuers, and with him the Priest
Of _Isis_, good _Achoreus_.

_Ars._ May the Earth
Lye gently on their ashes.

_Pho._ I feel now,
That there are powers above us; and that 'tis not
Within the searching policies of man
To alter their decrees.

_Cleo._ I laugh at thee;
Where are thy threats now, Fool, thy scoffs and scorns
Against the gods? I see calamity
Is the best Mistress of Religion,
And can convert an Atheist. [_Shout within._

_Pho._ O they come,
Mountains fall on me! O for him to dye
That plac'd his Heaven on Earth, is an assurance
Of his descent to Hell; where shall I hide me?
The greatest daring to a man dishonest,
Is but a Bastard Courage, ever fainting. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Caesar, Sceva, Antony, Dolabella.

_Caes._ Look on your _Caesar_; banish fear, my fairest,
You now are safe.

_Sce._ By _Venus_, not a kiss
Till our work be done; the Traitors once dispatch'd
To it, and we'll cry aim.

_Caes._ I will be speedy. [_Exeunt._

_Cleo._ Farewel again, _Arsino_; how now, _Eros_?
Ever faint-hearted?

_Eros_. But that I am assur'd,
Your Excellency can command the General,
I fear the Souldiers, for they look as if
They would be nibling too.

_Cleo._ He is all honour,
Nor do I now repent me of my favours,
Nor can I think that Nature e'r made a Woman
That in her prime deserv'd him.

_Enter_ Caesar, Sceva, Antonie, Dolabella, _Souldiers, with the
Heads._

_Ars._ He's come back,
Pursue no further; curb the Souldiers fury.

_Caes._ See (beauteous Mistris) their accursed heads
That did conspire against us.

_Sce._ Furies plague 'em,
They had too fair an end to dye like Souldiers,
_Pompey_ fell by the Sword, the Cross or Halter