Given to dispose of monarchies, not to govern
A childs affairs, the peoples eye's upon you,
The Souldier courts you: will you wear a garment
Of sordid loyalty when 'tis out of fashion?
Pho. When Pompey was thy General, Septimius,
Thou saidst as much to him.
Sep. All my love to him,
To Cæsar, Rome, and the whole world is lost
In the Ocean of your Bounties: I have no friend,
Project, design, or Countrey, but your favour,