SCENE IV.

CÆSAR, VOLUSENUS, _&c._

CÆS. Heaven, sea and wind, and all the elements, Conspire to work us harm. Our ships, in Gaul Windbound, at length put forth and come in view, Are toss'd and torn; our navy on the shore With civil discord break each other's planks. The airy rulers are displeas'd; all day Noises and nimble flashes, mix'd with rain, Amaze our soldiers. To make grief full, my daughter's death I hear. When, powerful fortune, will thy anger cease? Never till now did Cæsar fortune fear. Mount Palatine, thou throne of Jove, and ye, Whose lesser turrets pinnacle Rome's head, Are all your deities fled? or was I bold To outgo nature, and our empire stretch Beyond her limits? Pardon, then, my fault. Or do we basely faint? Or is our might Answer'd with like, since Troy 'gainst Troy doth fight? Nor can I write now, _I came over, and_ _I overcame:_ such foes deny such haste.

VOL. The islanders consult, and (sure) intend Some sudden stratagem. And now the scales Poise equal day and night, when rougher seas And stormy Pleiads may our passage stop.

CÆS. Then, sirs, to ship! Compell'd, I leave this land, But to return, if gods do not withstand. [_Exeunt._