ment.

The Scene opens, and discovers CASSANDRA's ApartMusicians and Dancers. PTOLEMY leads in CASSANDRA; SOSIBIUS follows.-They sit. Towards the end of the song and dance, enter CLEOMENES and CLEANTHES on one side of the Stage, where they stand.

SONG.

No, no, poor suffering heart, no change endeavour,
Choose to sustain the smart, rather than leave her;
My ravished eyes behold such charms about her,
I can die with her, but not live without her ;
One tender sigh of hers to see me languish,
Will more than pay the price of my past anguish :
Beware, O cruel fair, how you smile on me,
'Twas a kind look of yours, that has undone me.

Love has in store for me one happy minute,
And she will end my pain, who did begin it
Then no day void of bliss, of pleasure, leaving,
Ages shall slide away without perceiving :

Cupid shall guard the door, the more to please us, And keep out Time and Death, when they would seize us :

Time and Death shall depart, and say, in flying, Love has found out a way to live by dying.

Cleom. [To CLEAN.] Is this the council of the
Egyptian king?

And am I called upon the grave debate,
To judge of trilling notes, and tripping feet?
Clean. 'Tis of a piece with all the rest of Ptolemy;
A singing and a dancing government.

O Egypt, Egypt! thou art grown the lees
Of all the world; the slime of thy own Nile.
Sure we had neither human sires, nor mothers;
The sun and Nile begot us : We're so cowardly,
And yet so proud; so many gods we have,

And yet not one!

Cleom. No more ;-they seem to gaze on me with wonder.

Clean. And well they may, to see a man in Egypt. [King, CASSANDRA, and SoSIBIUs, rise and come forward.

Ptol. Welcome, royal stranger!

Not only to my court, but to my bosom.

Cleom. I heard you sent for me; but on what business

Am yet to learn.

Ptol. The greatest in the world: to see the man, Whom even his foes extol, his friends adore, And all mankind admire.

Cleom. Say rather, sir,

A man forsaken of his better stars,

A banished prince, the shadow of a king.
Ptol. My father's friend.

Cleom. I must not think so vainly of myself,
To be what you have said; lest it upbraid you,
To let your father's friend, for three long months
Thus dance attendance for a word of audience.
Cas. Now, by my soul, 'tis nobly urged: He
speaks

As if he were in Sparta, on his throne;

Not asking aid, but granting.

How little looks our pageant prince to him!
This is the only king I ever saw.

[Aside.

Cleom. By all the gods, when I have stood repulsed,
Before your gates, and could not gain admittance,
I have not sighed so much for my own sorrows,
As I have blushed for your ungenerous usage.
Clean. Not a word, Ptolemy?—
Ashamed, by all that's good, to be miscalled
A king, when this is present.

Cleom. Think you 'tis nothing
For me to beg; that I constrain my temper

[Aside.

To sue for aid, which you should first have offered? Believe me, Ptolemy, a noble soul

Does much, that asks: He gives you power to oblige him.

Know, sir, there's a proud modesty in merit,
Averse from begging; and resolved to pay
Ten times the gift it asks.

Ptol. I have been to blame;

And you have justly taxed my long neglect.
I am young, and am a lover; and how far
Fair eyes may
make even kings forgetful, look,

And read my best excuse.

Clean. O miracle! He blushes!

The first red virtue I have ever seen

Upon that face.

Aside.

Cas. I am sorry, sir, you've made me your excuse;

As if I stood betwixt the good you meant,

And intercepted every royal grace.

Now, in my own defence, I must solicit

All his concerns, as mine:

And if my eyes have power, he should not sue

In vain, nor linger with a long delay.

Ptol. Well! I'll consider.

Cas. Say that word again,

And I'll consider too.

Ptol. Pr'ythee be satisfied; he shall be aided,

Or I'll no more be king.

Clean. When wert thou one!-For shame, for shame, ye gods,

That e'er you put it in a strumpet's power,

To do so good a deed!

[Aside. Cleom. I am a Spartan, madam, scarce of words; We have but just enough to speak our meaning. Be thanked; that's all I could have said to Jove, Had Jove, like you, restored me to my crown. Sosib. [To CLEOM.] The gods have given you, sir, the speedy means

To satisfy your debt of gratitude.

Cleom. Oh, make me happy! tell me how this sword

(This and my heart are all that's left me now) Can be employed to serve the crown of Egypt. Clean. Well said, father, thou art a true states

man.

So much for so much is the way at court.

[Aside. Sosib. My king has in the camp a younger brother, Valiant, they say, but very popular;

He gets too far into the soldiers' grace,

And inches out my master.

Cleom. Is the king

Assured of this, by any overt-act,

Or any close conspiracy revealed ?

Ptol. He has it in his power to be a traitor;

And that's enough.

Sosib. He has it in his will too;

Else, why this ostentation of his virtues,
His bounty, valour, and his temperance?
Why are they thus exposed to public view,
But as a Venus set beside a monster,
To make an odious comparison;

As if his brother wanted what he boasts ?
Ptol. What's to be done with him?

Cas. There needs no more, I think, but to contrive, With secrecy, and safety, to dispatch him.

Clean. I thank thee, that thou hast not cozened me In this advice; for two good deeds together

Had been too much in conscience for thy cailing.

Ptol. He dies, that's out of doubt.

Cleom. Your brother, sir!

Ptol. Why do you ask that question?

Cleom. Because I had a brother,

(Oh grief to say I had, and have not now!)

[Aside.

Wise, valiant, temperate, and, in short, a Spartan;

Had all the virtues, which your counsellor
Imputed to your brother as his crimes.

He loved me well; so well, he could but die,
To show he loved me better than his life.
He lost it for me in Sellasia's field;

And went the greatest ghost of all our name,
That ever had a brother, or a king.

*

Sosib. Wipe off the tears that stand upon your eyes; Good nature works too far. Kings have no brothers, What men call such, are rivals of their crowns; Yours timed his death, so as to merit grief. Who knows, but he laid in, by that last action, The means to have betrayed you, had he lived? Cleom. I would say something; but I curb my

passion,

Because thou art the father to my friend.-
To you, sir, this: If

you condemn your brother,

[To PTOL. Only because he's bounteous, great, and brave,Know, you condemn those virtues, own you want

them.

Had you a thousand brothers, such as he,
You ought to show you are above them all,
By daring to reward, and cherish them,
As bucklers of your crown in time of war,
And in soft peace, the jewels that adorn it.
Cas. I stand corrected, sir; he ought to live.
Ptol. I think so too.

Sosib. I do not wish his death,

Howe'er I seemed to give that rugged counsel.
Clean. Well said again, father! Comply, comply;

It is surprising that Dryden has not here availed himself of the beautiful and affectionate apostrophe of Cleomenes, when he saw his brother Eucleidas overpowered in the battle of Sellasia: "Thou art lost, dear brother! lost for ever, thou brave example to our Spartan youth, and theme of our matrons' songs!"