_Pompey_ I began a name
I'le perfect it in _Caesar_.

_Enter (above)_ Caesar, Ptolomy, Achoreus, Apollodorus, Antony,
Dolabella.

_Pho._ 'Tis resolv'd then,
We'll force our passage.

_Achil._ See, they do appear
As they desir'd a Parley.

_Pho._ I am proud yet
I have brought 'em to capitulate.

_Ptol._ Now, _Photinus_?

_Pho._ Now, _Ptolomy_?

_Ptol._ No addition?

_Pho._ We are equal,
Though _Caesars_ name were put into the scale,
In which our worth is weigh'd.

_Caes._ Presumptuous Villain,
Upon what grounds hast thou presum'd to raise
Thy servile hand against the King, or me,
That have a greater name?

_Pho._ On those, by which
Thou didst presume to pass the _Rubicon_
Against the Laws of _Rome_; and at the name
Of Traitor smile; as thou didst when _Marcellus_,
The Consul, with the _Senates_ full consent
Pronounc'd thee for an Enemy to thy Country,
Yet thou wentst on, and thy rebellious Cause
Was crown'd with fair success: Why should we fear then?
Think on that, _Caesar_.

_Caes._ O the gods! be brav'd thus,
And be compell'd to bear this from a Slave
That would not brook Great _Pompey_ his Superiour?

_Achil._ Thy glories now have toucht the highest point,
And must descend.

_Pho._ Despair, and think we stand
The Champions of _Rome_, to wreak her wrongs,
Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot.

_Sept._ And that the Ghosts of all those noble _Romans_
That by thy Sword fell in this Civil War
Expect revenge.

_Ant._ Dar'st thou speak, and remember
There was a _Pompey_?

_Pho._ There is no hope to 'scape us:
If that against the odds we have upon you
You dare come forth, and fight, receive the honour
To dye like _Romans_, if ye faint, resolve
To starve like Wretches; I disdain to change
Another syllable with you. [_Exeunt._

_Ant._ Let us dye nobly;
And rather fall upon each others Sword
Than come into these Villains hands.

_Caes._ That Fortune,
Which to this hour hath been a Friend to _Caesar_,
Though for a while she cloath her Brow with frowns,
Will smile again upon me: who will pay her,
Or sacrifice, or Vows, if she forsake
Her best of works in me? or suffer him,
Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant
Through the whole western world, and _Rome_ acknowledg'd
Her Soveraign Lord, to end in-gloriously
A life admir'd by all