[_Shewing himself._
To frighten our Egyptian boys withal,
And train them up, betimes, in fear of priesthood?

_Serap._ My lord, I saw you not,
Nor meant my words should reach your ears; but what
I uttered was most true.

_Alex._ A foolish dream,
Bred from the fumes of indigested feasts,
And holy luxury.

_Serap._ I know my duty:
This goes no farther.

_Alex._ 'Tis not fit it should;
Nor would the times now bear it, were it true.
All southern, from yon hills, the Roman camp
Hangs o'er us black and threatning, like a storm
Just breaking on our heads.

_Serap._ Our faint Egyptians pray for Antony;
But in their servile hearts they own Octavius.

_Myr._ Why then does Antony dream out his hours,
And tempts not fortune for a noble day,
Which might redeem what Actium lost?

_Alex._ He thinks 'tis past recovery.

_Serap._ Yet the foe
Seems not to press the siege.

_Alex._ O, there's the wonder.
Mecaenas and Agrippa, who can most
With Caesar, are his foes. His wife Octavia,
Driven from his house, solicits her revenge;
And Dolabella, who was once his friend,
Upon some private grudge, now seeks his ruin:
Yet still war seems on either side to sleep.

_Serap._ 'Tis strange that Antony, for some days past,
Has not beheld the face of Cleopatra;
But here, in Isis temple, lives retired,
And makes his heart a prey to black despair.

_Alex._ 'Tis true; and we much fear he hopes by absence
To cure his mind of love.

_Serap._ If he be vanquished,
Or make his peace, Egypt is doomed to be
A Roman province; and our plenteous harvests
Must then redeem the scarceness of their soil.
While Antony stood firm, our Alexandria
Rivalled proud Rome, (dominion's other seat)
And Fortune striding, like a vast Colossus,
Could fix an equal foot of empire here.

_Alex._ Had I my wish, these tyrants of all nature,
Who lord it o'er mankind, should perish,--perish,
Each by the other's sword; but, since our will
Is lamely followed by our power, we must
Depend on one; with him to rise or fall.

_Serap._ How stands the queen affected?

_Alex._ O she dotes,
She dotes, Serapion, on this vanquished man,
And winds herself about his mighty ruins;
Whom would she yet forsake, yet yield him up,
This hunted prey, to his pursuer's hands,
She might preserve us all: but 'tis in vain--
This changes my designs, this blasts my counsels,
And makes me use all means to keep him here,
Whom I could wish divided from her arms,
Far as the earth's