Act I. Scene I

The Temple of Isis

Enter SERAPION, MYRIS, Priests of Isis

SERAPION
Portents and prodigies have grown so frequent,
That they have lost their name. Our fruitful Nile
Flowed ere the wonted season, with a torrent
So unexpected, and so wondrous fierce,
That the wild deluge overtook the haste
Even of the hinds that watched it: Men and beasts
Were borne above the tops of trees, that grew
On the utmost margin of the water-mark.
Then, with so swift an ebb the flood drove backward,
It slipt from underneath the scaly herd:
Here monstrous phocae panted on the shore;
Forsaken dolphins there with their broad tails,
Lay lashing the departing waves: hard by them,
Sea horses floundering in the slimy mud,
Tossed up their heads, and dashed the ooze about them.

Enter ALEXAS behind them

MYRIS
Avert these omens, Heaven!

SERAPION
Last night, between the hours of twelve and one,
In a lone aisle of the temple while I walked,
A whirlwind rose, that, with a violent blast,
Shook all the dome: the doors around me clapt;
The iron wicket, that defends the vault,
Where the long race of Ptolemies is laid,
Burst open, and disclosed the mighty dead.
From out each monument, in order placed,
An armed ghost starts up: the boy-king last
Reared his inglorious head. A peal of groans
Then followed, and a lamentable voice
Cried, Egypt is no more! My blood ran back,
My shaking knees against each other knocked;
On the cold pavement down I fell entranced,
And so unfinished left the horrid scene.

ALEXAS
And dreamed you this? or did invent the story,

[Showing himself.]

To frighten our Egyptian boys withal,
And train them up, betimes, in fear of priesthood?

SERAPION
My lord, I saw you not,
Nor meant my words should reach you ears; but what
I uttered was most true.

ALEXAS
A foolish dream,
Bred from the fumes of indigested feasts,
And holy luxury.

SERAPION
I know my duty:
This goes no further.

ALEXAS
'Tis not fit it should;
Nor would the times now bear it, were it true.
All southern, from yon hills, the Roman camp
Hangs o'er us black and threatening like a storm
Just breaking on our heads.

SERAPION
Our faint Egyptians pray for Antony;
But in their servile hearts they own Octavius.

MYRIS
Why then does Antony dream out his hours,
And tempts not fortune for a noble day,
Which might redeem what Actium lost?

ALEXAS
He thinks 'tis past recovery.

SERAPION
Yet the foe
Seems not to press the siege.

ALEXAS
Oh, there's the wonder.
Maecenas and Agrippa, who can most
With Caesar, are his foes. His wife Octavia,