[O souldier holde thy hande, and saue theyr liues (quod I.)]
38.
Thence Pompey fled the fielde and into Ægipt came,
To Ptolemy the king as then but yong of age,
Where of his slaughter foule Septimius hath the blame,
Hee was his end that did these warres against mee wage:
Euen so by course wee come to play vpon the stage,
Our trauayles haue an end when wee doe feele the fall,
For sith our[847] life is but a race of misery and thrall,
[Death taketh at the length an order for vs all.]