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CsO

C s O Expeft not then tny Heart fhould «r<* afford T o pay thee Homage, or to call thee Lord ? How rude foever Fortune makes her blow, I Craffns W idow once, and Pompey s now; Great Scipio's Daughter, (and what's higher yet) A Roman, have a Courage ftill mow? great i And of all ftrokes her cruelty can give, Nothing can make me blufh, but that I live, And have not follow’d Pompey when he dy’d , For though the means to do it were deny’d, And cruel Pity would not let me have The quick afliftance o f a Steel or Wave, Y et I’m afham’d, that after fuch a woe, G rief had not done as much as they could do : Death had been glorious,and had fet me freej As from my Sorrow then, fo now from thee. Y et Imuft thank the gods, though fo fevere, That fince Imuft come hither, thou art here : That Cxfar reigtis here, and not Ptolomy J And yet, O Heaven ! what Stars do govern me ? That fome faint kind of fatisfa&ion ’tis, T o meet here with my grcateft Enemies j And into their hands that I rather fall, Than into his that ow’d my Husband all. But o f thy Conqueft, Cxfar, make no boaft, Which to my fingle Deftiny thou ow’ft ; I both my Husbands Fortunes have defac’d, And twice have caus'd th’whole W orld to be dif* My Nuptial Knot twice ominoufly ty’d, (grac’d i Banifh’d the Gods from the uprighter fide 5 Happy in mifery I had been, if it, For Romes advantage, had with thee been knit 5 And on thy Houfe that I could fo difpenfe All my own Stars malignant influence : For never think my hatred can grow lefs* Since I the Roman Conftancy profefs 5 And though thy Captive, yet a heart like mine. Can never ftoop to hope for ought from thine :