Hail Conquerour, and head of all the world,
Now this head's off.

_Cæsar_. Ha?

_Pho._ Do not shun me, _Cæsar_,
From kingly _Ptolomy_ I bring this present,
The Crown, and sweat of thy _Pharsalian_ labour:
The goal and mark of high ambitious honour.
Before thy victory had no name, _Cæsar_,
Thy travel and thy loss of blood, no recompence,
Thou dreamst of being worthy, and of war;
And all thy furious conflicts were but slumbers,
Here they take life: here they inherit honour,
Grow fixt, and shoot up everlasting triumphs:
Take it, and look upon thy humble servant,
With noble eyes look on the Princely _Ptolomy_,
That offers with this head (most mighty _Cæsar_)
What thou would'st once have given for it, all _Egypt_.

_Ach._ Nor do not question it (most royal Conquerour)
Nor dis-esteem the benefit that meets thee,
Because 'tis easily got, it comes the safer:
Yet let me tell thee (most imperious _Cæsar_)
Though he oppos'd no strength of Swords to win this,
Nor labour'd through no showres of darts, and lances:
Yet here he found a fort, that faced him strongly,
An inward war: he was his Grand-sires Guest;
Friend to his Father, and when he was expell'd
And beaten from this Kingdom by strong hand,