_Cas._ Because you think I have too much command.

_Ptol._ Would you would rule me both by turns, in quiet, And let me take my ease!

Dryden's Works (8 of 18): Amphitryon; King Arthur; Cleomenes; Love Triumphant — Part 142

_Sosib._ Our master's safety, in sound reason, ought To be preferred to both.

Dryden's Works (8 of 18): Amphitryon; King Arthur; Cleomenes; Love Triumphant — Part 142

_Cas._ No; court Sosibius, and cast Cassandra off.

Dryden's Works (8 of 18): Amphitryon; King Arthur; Cleomenes; Love Triumphant — Part 142

_Ptol._ What have I said, or done, To merit this unkindness? Tell me but what you think of Cleomenes, And be my oracle.

_Sosib._ To know him grateful, is enough for Jove.

_Cas._ And therefore not too much for me in Egypt: I say, I know him honest.

_Ptol._ Then I know it. Now may Sosibius speak?

_Cas._ He may; but not to contradict my knowledge.

_Sosib._ Then I concur, to let him go for Greece; And wish our Egypt fairly rid of him. For, as our Apis, though in temples fed, And under golden roofs, yet loaths his food, Because restrained; and longs to roam in meads, Among the milky-mothers of the herd: So, Cleomenes, kept by force in Egypt, Is sullen at our feasts, abhors our dainties, And longs to change them for his Spartan broth[43]. He may be dangerous here; then send him hence, With aid enough to conquer all he lost, And make him formidable to mankind.

_Cas._ He may be formidable then to us? That thou wouldst say.

_Cas._ Would thou wouldst learn to speak without a double, Thou Delphian statesman! [_Rises._

_Sosib._ Would I could know your wishes, that I might! I would but smooth their way, and make them easy. [_Bowing._

_Cas._ Good old man! [_Smiling._ A little over zealous, but well-meaning. My wishes are the honour of my king; That Ptolemy may keep his royal word, And I my promise, to procure this aid. If to be mistress signifies command, Let this be done; if not, the king may find Another beauty, worthier of his bed, And I another lover, less ungrateful.

_Ptol._ Let Egypt sink before that fatal day! No, we are one; Cassandra, we are one; Or I am nothing; thou art Ptolemy.

_Cas._ Now you deserve to be the first of kings, Because you rank yourself the first of lovers. What can I do to show Cassandra grateful? Nothing but this-- To be so nice in my concerns for you; To doubt where doubts are not; to be too fearful; To raise a bug-bear shadow of a danger, And then be frighted, though it cannot reach you.

_Sosib._ Be pleased to name your apprehensions, madam.