Their doors shut close against me; and I wondred at
Because I have done a meritorious Murther;
Because I have pleas'd the Time, does the Time plague me?
I have known the day they would have hug'd me for it,
For a less stroke than this have done me Reverence;
Open'd their Hearts and secret Closets to me,
Their Purses, and their Pleasures, and bid me wallow.
I now perceive the great Thieves eat the less,
And the huge Leviathans of Villany
Sup up the merits, nay the men and all
That do them service, and spowt 'em out again
Into the air, as thin and unregarded
As drops of Water that are lost i'th' Ocean:
I was lov'd once for swearing, and for drinking,
And for other principal Qualities that became me,
Now a foolish unthankful Murther has undone me,
If my Lord _Photinus_ be not merciful

_Enter_ Photinus.

That set me on; And he comes, now Fortune.

_Pho._ Cæsars unthankfulness a little stirs me,
A little frets my bloud; take heed, proud _Roman_,
Provoke me not, stir not mine anger farther;
I may find out a way unto thy life too,
(Though arm'd in all thy Victories) and seize it.
A Conquerour has a heart, and I may hit it.

_Sept_. May it please your Lordship?