I hear their trumpets; 'tis too late to stagger.
Give me the head; and be you confident.-

Enter CESAR, ANTONY, DOLABELLA, SCEVA, and Soldiers.

Hail, conqueror, the head of all the world,

Now this head's off!

Cæsar. Ha!

Pho. Do not shun me, Cæsar.

From kingly Ptolemy 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 dream'dst of being worthy, and of war,
And all thy furious conflicts were but slumbers:
Here they take life; here they inherit honour,
Grow fix'd, and shoot up everlasting triumphs.
Take it, and look upon thy humble servant,
With noble eyes look on the princely Ptolemy,
That offers with this head, most mighty Cæsar,
What thou wouldst once have given for it, all
Egypt.

Achil. Nor do not question it, most royal con

queror,

Nor disesteem the benefit that meets thee,
Because 'tis easily got, it comes the safer :
Yet, let me tell thee, most imperious Cæsar,

• Acho. Nor do not question, &c.] Mr Theobald's margin says, certe Achillas. And there is this proof of it, that in Lucan the whole speech to Cæsar is made by Achillas, though, in reality, Theodotus the rhetorician, who had joined Photinus in persuading Ptolemy to the murder, was the person who presented the head to Cæsar, and harangued on the occasion, for which he afterwards met his due reward from Brutus and Cassius, who tortured and crucified him. Notwithstanding this, there is room to doubt 8

Though he opposed no strength of swords to win

this,

Nor labour'd through no showers of darts and lances,

Yet here he found a fort, that faced him strongly,
An inward war: He was his grandsire's guest,
Friend to his father, and, when he was expell'd
And beaten from this kingdom by strong hand,
And had none left him to restore his honour,
No hope to find a friend in such a misery,
Then in stept Pompey, took his feeble fortune,
Strengthen'd and cherish'd it, and set it right
again :

This was a love to Cæsar.

Sce. Give me hate, gods!

Pho. This Cæsar may account a little wicked; But yet remember, if thine own hands, conqueror,

whether the poets designed Achoreus to speak this, for they have given it a different turn from Lucan.

— nec vile putáris

Hoc meritum, nobis facili quod cæde peractum est.
Hospes avitus erat: Depulso sceptra parenti
Reddiderat. Quid plura feram? Tu nomina tanto
Invenies operi, vel famam consule mundi;

Si scelus est, plus te nobis debere fateris,
Quod scelus hoc non ipse facis.

Lucan. lib. ix.

This is the language of villainy, boasting of merits from the greatness of it. But the speech in the False One represents the reluctance, the pangs, and inward war that Ptolemy struggled through to be able to serve Cæsar; and this, spoke by a man who had a real love for virtue, gives a fine contrast to Photinus's unfeeling and confirmed villainy.-Seward.

"We heartily join with Theobald-certe ACHILLAS," say the last editors. Had they deigned to consult the first folio, they would have discovered that the speech is attributed to Ach., which may mean either Achillas or Achoreus. The doubts of Seward certainly carry some weight in them; but he should have recollected that, in a previous note, he himself had observed that our poets had not drawn Achillas in such odious colours as his real character deserved.

Had fallen upon him, what it had been then; If thine own sword had touch'd his throat, what that way!

He was thy son-in-law; there to be tainted

Had been most terrible! Let the worst be render'd, We have deserved for keeping thy hands innocent. Cæsar. Oh, Sceva, Sceva, see that head! See, captains,

The head of godlike Pompey!

Sce. He was basely ruin'd;

But let the gods be grieved that suffer'd it,
And be you Cæsar.

Cæsar. Oh, thou conqueror,

Thou glory of the world once, now the pity,
Thou awe of nations, wherefore didst thou fall thus?
What poor fate follow'd thee, and pluck'd thee on,
To trust thy sacred life to an Egyptian?

The light and life of Rome, to a blind stranger,
That honourable war ne'er taught a nobleness,
Nor worthy circumstance shew'd what a man was?
That never heard thy name sung, but in banquets,
And loosè lascivious pleasures? to a boy,
That had no faith to comprehend thy greatness,
No study of thy life, to know thy goodness?
And leave thy nation, nay, thy noble friend,
Leave him distrusted, that in tears falls with thee,
In soft relenting tears? Hear me, great Pompey,
If thy great spirit can hear, I must task thee! 7
Thou hast most unnobly robb'd me of my victory,
My love and mercy.

Ant. Oh how brave these tears shew!
How excellent is sorrow in an enemy !

7 I must task thee.] Mr Seward reads tax thee, instead of task, but without reason; the word task for tax is so common in all the dramatic writings of the time, that examples of it are unnecessary. To take a man to task, is a common expression at this day.

Mason.

Dol. Glory appears not greater than this good

ness.

Cæsar. Egyptians, dare ye think your highest pyramids,

Built to out-dure the sun, as you suppose,
Where your unworthy kings lie raked in ashes,
Are monuments fit for him? No, brood of Nilus,
Nothing can cover his high fame, but Heaven;
No pyramids set off his memories,

But the eternal substance of his greatness;
To which I leave him. Take the head away,
And, with the body, give it noble burial:

Your earth shall now be bless'd to hold a Roman, Whose braveries, all the world's-earth' cannot balance.

Sce. [Aside.] If thou be'st thus loving, I shall

honour thee:

But great men may dissemble, 'tis held possible, And be right glad of what they seem to weep for; There are such kind of philosophers. Now do I wonder

How he would look if Pompey were alive again; But how he would set his face.

8 ---your high pyramids,

Built to out-dare the sun, as you suppose.] Former editions. To out-dare the sun by their height is poetical, but, as you suppose, greatly flattens it; for this reason both Mr Sympson and I change it to out-dure, which seems to suit the context better.-Seward.

The last editors reject this amendment; but there seems to be an absolute necessity for restoring it, the text conveying little meaning, as it must ridiculously suppose an emulative challenge between the sun and the pyramids, who could exceed the other in hazardous undertakings. The occurrence of the word dare, in the preceding line, accounts for the compositor's mistake.

9 All the world's earth.] Mr Sympson observes the expression of world's-earth directly answers the Latin terrarum orbis. Seward,

Cæsar. You look now, king,

And you that have been agents in this glory,
For our especial favour?

Ptol. We desire it.

Cæsar. And doubtless you expect rewards?
Sce. Let me give 'em :

I'll give 'em such as Nature never dreamt of;
I'll beat him and his agents in a mortar,

Into one man, and that one man I'll bake then. Cæsar. Peace!--I forgive you all; that's re

compence,

You are young, and ignorant, that pleads your pardon,

And fear, it may be, more than hate provoked you. Your ministers, I must think, wanted judgment, And so they err'd: I am bountiful to think this, Believe me, most bountiful: Be you most thankful; That bounty share amongst ye. If I knew what To send you for a present, king of Egypt,

I mean a head of equal reputation,

And that you loved, though 'twere your brightest sister's,

(But her you hate) I would not be behind you. Ptol. Hear me, great Cæsar!

Cæsar. I have heard too much ;

And study not with smooth shows to invade
My noble mind, as you have done my conquest:
You are poor and open. I must tell you roundly,
That man that could not recompence the benefits,
The great and bounteous services, of Pompey,
Can never dote upon the name of Cæsar.
Though I had hated Pompey, and allowed his ruin,
I gave you no commission to perform it :
Hasty to please in blood are seldom trusty;
And, but I stand environ'd with my victories,
My fortune never failing to befriend me,

My noble strengths, and friends about my person,