The head of godlike Pompey.
Sceva. He was basely ruin'd,
But let the Gods be griev'd that suffer'd it,
And be you Cæsar—
Cæsar. Oh thou Conquerour,
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 pluckt thee on
To trust thy sacred life to an Egyptian;
The life and light of Rome, to a blind stranger,