_Pho._ O _Septimius_!

_Sept._ Your [Lordship] knows my wrongs.

_Pho._ Wrongs?

_Sept._ Yes, my Lord,
How the Captain of the Guard, _Achillas_, slights me.

_Pho._ Think better of him, he has much befriended thee,
Shew'd thee much love in taking the head from thee.
The times are alter'd (Souldier) _Cæsar's_ angry,
And our design to please him lost and perish'd;
Be glad thou art unnam'd, 'tis not worth the owning;
Yet, that thou maist be useful--

_Sept._ Yes, my Lord,
I shall be ready.

_Pho._ For I may employ thee
To take a rub or two out of my way,
As time shall serve, say that it be a Brother?
Or a hard Father?

_Sept._ 'Tis most necessary,
A Mother, or a Sister, or whom you please, Sir.

_Pho._ Or to betray a noble Friend?