For his vast soul, and then he starts out wide, [ALEXAS and the priests come forward. Alex. You have your full instructions; now ad vance; Proclaim your orders loudly. Ser. Romans! Egyptians! hear the queen's command. Thus Cleopatra bids: Let labour cease; Be this the general voice sent up to heaven, [Aside. Ser. Set out before your doors The images of all your sleeping fathers, With laurels crowned; with laurels wreath your posts, And strew with flowers the pavement; let the priest Do present sacrifice, pour out the wine, Vent. Curse on the tongue that bids this general joy! Can they be friends to Antony, who revel Alex. A love, which knows no bounds to An- Would mark the day with honours; when all Laboured for him, when each propitious star Vent. Would it had slept Divided far from his, till some remote Alex. Your emperor, Tho' grown unkind, would be more gentle than To upbraid my queen for loving him too well. Vent. Does the mute sacrifice upbraid the priest? He knows him not his executioner. Oh! she has decked his ruin with her love, Led him in golden bands to gaudy slaughter, And made perdition pleasing: she has left him The blank of what he was. I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmanned him: Can any Roman see and know him now, Thou bravest soldier, and thou best of friends! As bounty were thy being. Rough in battle Than all their praying virgins left at home! His truth to her, who loves him. But wherefore waste I precious hours with thee? Re-enter the Gentleman of MARC ANTONY. On pain of death, that none presume to stay. [Going out with the other. Vent. Well, I dare: But I'll observe him first, unseen, and find Which way his humour drives: the rest I'll ven[Withdraws. ture. Enter ANTONY, walking with a disturbed motion before he speaks. Ant. They tell me, 'tis my birth-day; and I'll keep it With double pomp of sadness: 'Tis what the day deserves, which gave me breath. Why was I raised the meteor of the world, Hung in the skies, and blazing as I travelled, Till all my fires were spent, and then cast downward, To be trod out by Cæsar? Vent. [Aside] On my soul 'Tis mournful, wondrous mournful! Ant. Count thy gains Now, Antony; wouldst thou be born for this? Vent. [Aside] How sorrow shakes him! Ant. [Having thrown himself down] Lie there, thou shadow of an emperor; The place, thou pressest on thy mother earth, Is all thy empire now: now it contains thee; Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more of it. Give me some music; look, that it be sad. [Soft music. Tis somewhat to my humour. Stay, I fancy I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature; Of all forsaken, and forsaking all, Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene, Vent. Emperor. Ant. Emperor! why that's the style of vic- The conquering soldier, red with unfelt wounds, Stretched at my length beneath some blasted Shall that sound reach my ears. you, Vent. Sir, I love And therefore will not leave you. Ant. Will not leave me! Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I? Vent. My emperor; the man I love next heaven: If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin: Ant. All that's wretched. You will not leave me then? Vent. 'Twas too presuming To say I would not; but I dare not leave you; For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough, Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew: I have not wept this forty years; but now Vent. I warrant you. Ant. Actium, Actium! Oh- Ant. Here, here it lies, a lump of lead by day, And, in my short distracted nightly slumbers, The hag, that rides my dreams Vent. Out with it; give it vent. I lost a battle. Vent. So has Julius done. Ant. Thou favourest me, and speakest not half thou thinkest; For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly; Vent. Nay, stop not. Ant. Antony (Well, thou wilt have it) like a coward fled, Fled, while his soldiers fought; fled first, Venti Ant. I'll help thee-I have been a man, Ventidius. Vent. Yes, and a brave one; but Ant. I know thy meaning. But I have lost my reason, have disgraced me, And turned her loose; yet still she came again. Without just cause? No, when I found all lost Vent. Cæsar thinks not so; He'll thank you for the gift, he could not take. You would be killed like Tully, would you? Do; Hold out your throat to Cæsar, and die tamely. Ant. No, I can kill myself, and so resolve. Vent. I can die with you too, when time shall you, And long to call you chief: by painful journies I led them, patient both of heat and hunger, Down from the Parthian marches of the Nile: 'Twill do you good to see their sunburnt faces, Their scarred cheeks, and chopt hands: there's virtue in them: They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates Than yon trim bands can buy. Ant. Where left you them? Vent. I said in Lower Syria. Ant. Bring them hither; There may be life in these. Vent. They will not come. Ant. Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids To double my despair? they are mutinous. On all my other faults, but, on your life, Vent. Behold, you powers! To whom you have entrusted humankind; woman! I think the gods are Antonies, and give, Ant. You grow presumptuous. Vent. I take the privilege of plain love to speak. Ant. Plain love! plain arrogance, plain inso- Thy men are cowards, thou an envious traitor, Vent. You may kill me : You have done more already, called me traitor. Ant. Art thou not one? Vent. For shewing you yourself, Which none else durst have done? But had I been eagles To fill Octavia's bands? I could have been Ant. Forgive me, soldier; I have been too passionate. Vent. You thought me false, Thought my old age betrayed you. Kill me, sir, Pray kill me: yet you need not; your unkindness Has left your sword no work. Ant. I did not think so; I said it in my rage: prithee forgive me. Vent. No prince, but you, At their own skill, and cried,' A lucky hit Ant. But Cleopatra Go on, for I can bear it now. Vent. No more. Ant. Thou dar'st not trust my passion, but And I will leave her, though heaven knows I love Beyond life, conquest, empire, all but honour: But I will leave her. Vent. That is my royal master. And shall we fight? Ant. I warrant thee, old soldier; Octavius fell. Gods! let me see that day, Vent. Again! Ant. I have done; in that last sigh she went. Cæsar shall know what it is to force a lover From all he holds most dear. Vent, Methinks you breathe Ant. Oh, thou hast fired me! my soul's up in ACT II. SCENE I.-A grand Saloon. Enter CLEOPATRA, IRAS, and ALEXAS. Cleo. What shall I do, or whither shall I turn! Ventidius has o'ercome, and he will go. Aler. He goes to fight for you. Each hour the victor's chain? These ills are small, For Antony is lost, and I can mourn For nothing else but him. Now come, Octavius; Cleo. Then he would see me ere he went to Has taught my mind the fortune of a slave. Iras. Call reason to assist you. Cleo. I have none, And none would have: my love's a noble mad I soared at first quite out of reason's view, Sure he would sigh; for he is noble-natured, Iras. Let it be past with you: Forget him, madam. Cleo. Never, never, Iras: But making show as he would rub his eyes, If what thou hast to say be not as pleasing, Cleo. Thou wouldst say he would not see me! He once was mine, and once, though now it is Which he could ill resist; yet he should ever gone, Leaves a faint image of possession still. Alex. Think him inconstant, cruel, and ungrateful. Cleo. I cannot; if I could, those thoughts were Faithless, ungrateful, cruel, though he be, Enter CHARMION. Now, what news, my Charmion? Will he be kind? and will he not forsake me? Or am I dead? for when he gave his answer, Cleo. A long speech preparing! If thou bringest comfort, haste and give it me, Iras. I know he loves you. Cleo. Had he been kind, her eyes had told me so, Before her tongue could speak it: now she studies Char. I found him then, Encompassed round, I think, with iron statues, When he beheld me struggling in the crowd, Aler. There's comfort yet. Char. Ventidius fixed his eyes upon my sage not Respect you as he ought. For Antony to use to Cleopatra ? Oh, that faint word respect! how I disdain it! He should have kept that word for cold Octavia; Alex. You misjudge; You see through love, and that deludes your sight, But I, who bear my reason undisturbed, Cleo. Could I believe thee Alex. By every circumstance I know he loves. True, he is hard prest by interest and honour; Yet he but doubts and parleys, and casts out Many a long look for succour. Cleo. He sends word Alex. And would you more? He shows his weakness, who declines the combat; And you must urge your fortune. Could he speak More plainly to my ears the message sounds, 'Come to my rescue, Cleopatra, come! Come, free me from Ventidius, from my tyrant; See me, and give me a pretence to leave him.' [A march. I hear his trumpets. This way he must pass. Please you retire a while; I'll work him first, pas-That he may bend more easy. Severely, as he meant to frown me back, Cleo. You shall rule me, But all, I fear, in vain. [Exit with Char, and Iras. Though I concealed my thoughts to make her bold; But it is our utmost means, and fate befriend it. Enter Lictors with fusces, one bearing the Eagle; Ant. Octavius is the minion of blind chance, |