Classic Poem

Ptolemy . Sit: sit all,
It is my pleasure: your advice, and freely.
ACHOREUS . A short deliberation in this,
May serve to give you counsell. To be honest,
Religious and thankfull, in themselves
Are forcible motives, and can need no flourish
Or glosse in the perswader; your kept faith,
(Though Pompey never rise to the height he's fallen from)
Caesar himself will love; and my opinion
Is (still committing it to graver censure)
You pay the debt you owe him, with the hazard
Of all you can call yours.
PTOL . What's yours ( Photinus? )
PHOTINUS . Achoreus (great Ptolemy ) hath counsaild
Like a religious, and honest man,
Worthy the honour that he justly holds
In being Priest to Isis : But alas,
What in a man, sequesterd from the world,
Or in a private person, is preferd,
No policy allows of in a King:
To be or just, or thankfull, makes Kings guilty;
And faith (though prais'd, is punish'd) that supports
Such as good Fate forsakes: joyne with the gods,
Observe the man they favour, leave the wretched;
The Stars are not more distant from the Earth
Than profit is from honesty; all the power,
Prerogatives, and greatnesse of a Prince
Is lost, if he descend once but to steere
His course, as what's right guides him: let him leave
The Scepter, that strives only to be good,
Since Kingdomes are maintain'd by force and blood.
ACHOR . Oh, wicked!
PTOL . Peace: goe on.