Complain of _Pompey_: wherefore should he stain
Our _Egypt_, with the spots of civil war?
Or make the peaceable, or quiet _Nile_
Doubted of _Cæsar_? wherefore should he draw
His loss, and overthrow upon our heads?
Or choose this place to suffer in? already
We have offended _Cæsar_, in our wishes,
And no way left us to redeem his favour
But by the head of _Pompey_.

_Ach._ Great _Osiris_,
Defend thy _Ægypt_ from such cruelty,
And barbarous ingratitude!

_Pho._ Holy trifles,
And not to have place in designs of State;
This sword, which Fate commands me to unsheath,
I would not draw on _Pompey_, if not vanquish'd.
I grant it rather should have pass'd through _Cæsar_,
But we must follow where his fortune leads us;
All provident Princes measure their intents
According to their power, and so dispose them:
And thinkst thou (_Ptolomy_) that thou canst prop
His Ruines, under whom sad _Rome_ now suffers?
Or 'tempt the Conquerours force when 'tis confirm'd?
Shall we, that in the Battail sate as Neuters
Serve him that's overcome? No, no, he's lost.
And though 'tis noble to a sinking friend
To lend a helping hand, while there is hope
He may recover, thy part not engag'd