Some furlong hence, is climb'd, and full of people,

That easily may see hither, it seems looking What these so near intend: take heed, they come.

Enter Acilius, Septius, Salvius, with
soldiers.

Ac. Hail to Rome's great commander; to whom Egypt

(Not long since seated in his kingdom by thee,

And sent to by thee in thy passage by) Sends us with answer, which withdraw and hear.

Pom. I'll kiss my children first.
Se. Bless me, my lord.

Pom. I will, and Cyris, my poor daughter

too.

Even that high hand that hurl'd me down thus low,

Keep you from rising high! I hear; now tell me.

I think, my friend, you once served under me. [Septius only nods with his head. Pom. Nod only! not a word deign? what are these?

Cornelia, I am now not worth men's words. Ac. Please you receive your aid, sir? Pom. Ay, I come.

[Exit Pom. They draw and follow. Co. Why draw they? See, my lords; attend them, ushers.

Se. O they have slain great Pompey!
Co. O my husband.

}Mother, take comfort.

Se.

Cy.

O, my lord, and father!

Enter Pompey bleeding.

Your late great spirits; all the world will

say

You know not how to bear adverse events, If now you languish.

Omnes. Take her to her coach.

[They bear her out.

Cato with a book in his hand. O beastly apprehenders of things manly, And merely heavenly; they with all the

reasons

I used for just men's liberties, to bear Their lives and deaths up in their own free hands,

Fear still my resolution, though I seem
To give it off like them; and now am

won

To think my life in law's rule, not mine

own,

When once it comes to death, as if the law

Made for a sort of outlaws, must bound

me

In their subjection; as if I could
Be rack'd out of my veins to live in others,
As so I must, if others rule my life,
And public power keep all the right of
death,

As if men needs must serve the place of justice,

The form and idol, and renounce itself, Ourselves and all our rights in God and goodness;

Our whole contents and freedoms to dis

pose

All in the joys and ways of arrant rogues! No, stay but their wild errors to sustain

us !

No forges but their throats to vent our breaths,

pray

Sufficeth us, we are entirely such
As 'twixt them and our consciences we
know

Their graces, in our virtues, shall present
Unspotted with the earth, to the high throne
That overlooks us; for this giant world,
Let's not contend with it, when heaven itself
Fails to reform it: why should we affect
The least hand over it, in that ambition?
A heap 'tis of digested villany;
Virtue in labour with eternal chaos
Press'd to a living death, and rack'd beneath
it.

Her throes unpitied; every worthy man
Limb by limb sawn out of her virgin womb,
To live here piecemeal tortured; fly life
then;

men.

Your life and death made precedents for [Exit. Ca. Ye hear, my masters, what a life this is, And use much reason to respect it so. But mine shall serve ye. Yet restore my

sword,

Lest too much ye presume, and I conceive Ye front me like my fortunes. Where's Statilius?

Po. I think, sir, gone with the three hundred Romans

In Lucius Cæsar's charge, to serve the victor.

Ca. And would not take his leave of his poor friend?

Then the philosophers have stoop'd his spirit,

Which I admire in one so free and knowing,
And such a fiery hater of base life;
Besides, being such a vow'd and noted foe
To our great conqueror. But I advised him
To spare his youth, and live.

The nature of the soul, in which the acts Of her high faculties are still employ'd. And that true object must her powers obtain

To which they are in nature's aim directed. Since 'twere absurd to have her set an object

Which possibly she never can aspire.

Enter a Page with his sword taken out before.

Pa. Your sword, my lord.

Ca. O, is it found? lay't down

Upon the bed, my boy. [Exit Page.] Poor men! a boy

Must be presenter; manhood at no hand Must serve so foul a fact; for so are call'd,