If these soft tears cannot sink to thy pity,
And waken with their murmurs thy compassions;
Yet for thy nobleness, for vertues sake,
And if thou beest a man, for despis'd beauty,
For honourable conquest, which thou doat'st on,
Let not those cankers of this flourishing Kingdom,
_Photinus_, and _Achillas_, (the one an Eunuch,
The other a base bondman) thus raign over me.
Seize my inheritance, and leave my Brother
Nothing of what he should be, but the Title,
As thou art wonder of the world.

_Cæsar_. Stand up then
And be a Queen, this hand shall give it to ye,
Or choose a greater name, worthy my bounty:
A common love makes Queens: choose to be worshipped,
To be divinely great, and I dare promise it;
A suitor of your sort, and blessed sweetness,
That hath adventur'd thus to see great _Cæsar_,
Must never be denied, you have found a patron
That dare not in his private honour suffer
So great a blemish to the Heaven of beauty:
The God of love would clap his angry wings,
And from his singing bow let flye those arrows
Headed with burning griefs, and pining sorrows,
Should I neglect your cause, would make me monstrous,
To whom and to your service I devote me.

_Enter_ Sceva.