_Pho._ Good day _Achoreus_; my best friend _Achillas_,
Hath fame deliver'd yet no certain rumour
Of the great _Roman Action_?

_Achil._ That we are
To enquire, and learn of you Sir: whose grave care
For _Egypts_ happiness, and great _Ptolomies_ good,
Hath eyes and ears in all parts.

_Enter_ Ptolomy, Labienus, _Guard._

_Pho._ I'le not boast,
What my Intelligence costs me: but 'ere long
You shall know more. The King, with him a _Roman_.

_Ach._ The scarlet livery of unfortunate war
Dy'd deeply on his face.

_Achil._ 'Tis _Labienus_
_Cæsars_ Lieutenant in the wars of _Gaul_,
And fortunate in all his undertakings:
But since these Civil jars he turn'd to _Pompey_,
And though he followed the better Cause
Not with the like success.

_Pho._ Such as are wise
Leave falling buildings, flye to those that rise;
But more of that hereafter.