So easie to his hand.
Cleop.Look well thou do't; else———
Alex.Else, what your silence threatens———Antony
Is mounted up the Pharos; from whose Turret,
He stands surveying our Egyptian Gallies,
Engag'd with Cæsar's Fleet: now Death, or Conquest.
If the first happen, Fate acquits my Promise:
If we o'ercome, the Conqueror is yours.
A distant Shout within.
Char.Have comfort, Madam: did you mark that Shout?
Second Shout nearer.
Iras.Hark; they redouble it.
Alex.'Tis from the Port.
The loudness shows it near: good News, kind Heavens.
Cleop.Osiris make it so.
Enter Serapion.
Serap.Where, where's the Queen?
Alex.How frightfully the holy Coward stares!
As if not yet recover'd of th' assault,
When all his Gods, and what's more dear to him,
His Offerings were at stake.
Serap.O horror, horror!
Egypt has been; our latest hour is come:
The Queen of Nations from her ancient seat,
Is sunk for ever in the dark Abyss:
Time has unrowl'd her Glories to the last,
And now clos'd up the Volume.
Cleop.Be more plain:
Say, whence thou com'st, (though Fate is in thy face,
Which from thy haggard eyes looks wildly out,
And threatens ere thou speak'st.)
Serap.I came from Pharos;
From viewing (spare me and imagine it)
Our Lands last hope, your Navy.———
Cleop.Vanquish'd?
Serap.No.
They fought not.
Cleop.Then they fled.
Serap.Nor that. I saw,
