SCENA III.
Enter Ptolomy, Achoreus, Photinus, Achillas.
Ptol. I have commanded, and it shall be so,
A preparation I have set o' foot,
Worthy the friendship and the fame of Cæsar,
My Sisters favours shall seem poor and wither'd:
Nay she her self, (trim'd up in all her beautys)
Compar'd to what I'le take his eyes withall,
Shall be a dream.
Pho. Do you mean to shew the glory,
And wealth of Egypt?
Ptol. Yes: and in that lustre,
Rome shall appear in all her famous Conquests,
And all her riches of no note unto it.
Ach. Now you are reconcil'd to your fair Sister,
Take heed Sir, how you step into a danger:
A danger of this precipice: but note Sir,
For what Rome ever rais'd her mighty armies;
First for ambition, then for wealth: 'tis madness,
Nay more, a secure impotence, to tempt
An armed Guest: feed not an eye, that conquers,
Nor teach a fortunate sword the way to be covetous.
Ptol. Ye judge amiss, and far too wide to alter me,
Yet all be ready, as I gave direction:
The secret way of all our wealth appearing
Newly, and handsomely: and all about it:
No more disswading: 'tis my will.
Ach. I grieve for't.
Ptol. I will dazel Cæsar, with excess of glory.
Pho. I fear you'l curse your will, we must obey ye. [Exit.