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For his vast soul, and then he starts out wide,
And bounds into a vice, that bears him far
From his first course, and plunges him in ills:
But when his danger makes him find his fault,
Quick to observe, and full of sharp remorse,
He censures eagerly his own misdeeds,
Judging himself with malice to himself,
And not forgiving what as man he did,
Because his other parts are more than man.
He must not thus be lost.

[ALEXAS and the priests come forward. Alex. You have your full instructions; now ad

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Can they be friends to Antony, who revel
When Antony's in danger? Hide, for shame,
You Romans, your great grandsires' images,
For fear their souls should animate their marbles,
To blush at their degenerate progeny.

Alex. A love, which knows no bounds to An-
tony,

Would mark the day with honours; when all
Heaven

Laboured for him, when each propitious star
Stood wakeful in his orb to watch that hour,
And shed his better influence: her own birth-day
Our queen neglected, like a vulgar fate,
That passed obscurely by.

Vent. Would it had slept
Divided far from his, till some remote
And future age had called it out to ruin
Some other prince, not him!

Aler. 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,
Thus altered from the lord of half mankind,
Unbent, unsinewed, made a woman's toy,
Shrunk from the vast extent of all his honours,
And crampt within a corner of the world?
Oh, Antony!

Thou bravest soldier, and thou best of friends!
Bounteous as nature, next to nature's God!
Couldst thou but make new worlds, so wouldst
thou give them,

As bounty were thy being. Rough in battle
As the first Romans, when they went to war,
Yet, after victory, more pitiful

Than all their praying virgins left at home!
Alex. Would you could add to those more
shining virtues,

His truth to her, who loves him.
Vent. Would I could not!

But wherefore waste I precious hours with thee?
Thou art her darling mischief, her chief engine,
Antony's other fate. Go tell thy queen,
Ventidius is arrived to end her charms.
Let your Egyptian timbrels play alone,
Nor mix effeminate sounds with Roman trumpets.
You dare not fight for Antony; go pray,
And keep your cowards' holiday in temples.
[Exeunt Alex. Serap.

Re-enter the Gentleman of MARC Antony.
2 Gent. The emperor approaches, and com-
mands,

On pain of death, that none presume to stay.
1 Gent. I dare not disobey him.
[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

turc.

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?
Glutton of fortune, thy devouring youth
Has starved thy wanting age.

Vent. [Aside] How sorrow shakes him!
So, now the tempest tears him up by the roots,
And on the ground extends the noble ruin.

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;
Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large,
When thou art contracted in thy narrow urn,
Shrunk to a few cold ashes; then Octavia,
(For Cleopatra will not live to see it)
Octavia then will have thee all her own,
And bear thee in her widowed hand to Cæsar;
Cæsar will weep, the crocodile will weep,
To see his rival of the universe

Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more

of it.

Give me some music; look, that it be sad.
I'll soothe my melancholy, till I swell
And burst myself with sighing

[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,

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Vent. I'll do my best.

Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of
friends;

See, I have caught it too. Believe me 'tis not
For my own griefs but thine-Nay, father-
Vent. Emperor.

Ant. Emperor! why that's the style of vic-
tory:

The conquering soldier, red with unfelt wounds,
Salutes his general so; but never more

Stretched at my length beneath some blasted Shall that sound reach my ears.

oak,

I lean my head upon the mossy bark,

And look just of a piece as I grew from it:
My uncombed locks, matted like misletoe,
Hang o'er my hoary face; a murmuring brook
Runs at my foot-

Vent. Methinks I fancy

Myself there too.

Ant. The herd come jumping by me,

And fearless quench their thirst, while I look on,
And take me for their fellow-citizen.
More of this image, more; it lulls my thoughts.
[Soft music again.
Vent. I must disturb him: I can hold no lon-
[Stands before him.
Ant. [Starting up] Art thou Ventidius?
Vent. Are you Antony?

ger.

I'm liker what I was than you to him

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Ant. I would be private.

Leave me.

Vent. Sir, I love you,

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 :
You're all that's good and godlike.

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 ;
And 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence
So soon, when I so far have come to see you.
Ant. Now thou hast seen mc, art thou satis-
fied?

For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough,
And, if a foe, too much.

Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew:
[Weeping.

I have not wept this forty years; but now

Vent. I warrant you.

Ant. Actium, Actium! Oh-
Vent. It sits too near you.

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.
Ant. Urge not my shame--

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;
But Antony-

Vent. Nay, stop not.

Ant. Antony

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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
The name of soldier with inglorious ease;
In the full vintage of my flowing honours
Sat still, and saw it prest by other hands;
Fortune came, smiling to my youth, and wooed it,
And purple greatness met my ripened years.
When first I came to empire, I was borne
On tides of people, crowding to my triumphs,
The wish of nations, and the willing world
Received me as its pledge of future peace.
I was so great, so happy, so beloved,
Fate could not ruin me, till I took pains,
And worked against my fortune, chid her from

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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.

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On all my other faults, but, on your life,
No word of Cleopatra! she deserves
More worlds than I can lose.

Vent. Behold, you powers!

To whom you have entrusted humankind;
See Europe, Afric, Asia, put in balance,
And all weighed down by one light worthless
woman!

I think the gods are Antonies, and give,
Like prodigals, this nether world away
To none but wasteful hands.

Ant. You grow presumptuous.

Vent. I take the privilege of plain love to speak.

Ant. Plain love! plain arrogance, plain inso-
lence!

Thy men are cowards, thou an envious traitor,
Who, under seeming honesty, hath vented
The burden of thy rank o'erflowing gall.
Oh that thou wert my equal, great in arms
As the first Cæsar was, that I might kill thee,
Without stain to my honour!

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
That name, which I disdain to speak again,
I needed not have sought your abject fortunes,
Come to partake your fate, to die with you.
What hindered me to have led my conquering
eagles

To fill Octavia's bands? I could have been A traitor then, a glorious happy traitor, And not have been so called.

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.

Why didst thou tempt my anger by discovery
Of what I would not hear?

Vent. No prince, but you,
Could merit that sincerity, I used;

Nor durst another man have ventured it :
But you, ere love misled your wandering eyes,
Were sure the chief and best of human race,
Framed in the very pride and boast of nature;
So perfect, that the gods, who formed you, won-
dered

At their own skill, and cried, 'A lucky hit
Has mended our design! Their envy hindered,
Else you had been immortal, and a pattern,
When heaven would work for ostentation sake,
To copy out again.

Ant. But Cleopatra

Go on, for I can bear it now.
Vent. No more.

Ant. Thou dar'st not trust my passion, but
thou mayest:

Thou only lovest, the rest have flattered me. Vent. Heaven's blessing on your heart for that kind word!

May I believe you love me? Speak again.
Ant. Indeed I do. Speak this, and this, and
this.
[Embracing him.
Thy praises were unjust: but I'll deserve them,
And yet mend all. Do with me what thou wilt:
Lead me to victory; thou knowest the way.
Vent. And will you leave this————
Ant. Prithee do not curse her,

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;
Thou shalt behold me once again in iron,
And at the head of our old troops, that beat
The Parthians, cry aloud, 'Come, follow me.'
Vent. Oh, now I hear my emperor! In that
word

Octavius fell. Gods! let me see that day,
And if I have ten years behind, take all;
I'll thank you for the exchange.
Ant. Oh, Cleopatra !

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
Another soul; your looks are most divine;
You speak a hero, and you move a god.
Ant. Oh, thou hast fired me ! my

arms,

soul's up in

And mans cach part about me. Once again
That noble eagerness of fight has seized me,
That eagerness, with which I darted upward
To Cassius' camp: in vain the steepy hill
Opposed my way, in vain a war of spears
Sung round my head, and planted all my shield;
I won the trenches, while my foremost men
Lagged on the plain below.

Vent. Ye gods, ye gods,
For such another honour!

Ant. Come on, my soldier;

Our hearts and arms are still the same: I long Once more to meet our foes, that thou and I, Like Time and Death, marching before our troops, May taste fate to them, mow them out a passage, And, entering where the foremost squadrons yield,

Begin the noble harvest of the field.

[Exeunt.

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;
I have no more to lose; prepare thy bands;
I am fit to be a captive: Antony

Cleo. Then he would see me ere he went to Has taught my mind the fortune of a slave.

fight.

Flatter me not; if once he goes, he is lost,

And all my hopes destroyed.

Alex. Does this weak passion

Become a mighty queen?

Cleo. I am no queen :

Is this to be a queen, to be besieged
By you insulting Roman, and to wait
VOL. I.

Iras. Call reason to assist you..

Cleo. I have none,

And none would have: my love's a noble mad

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I soared at first quite out of reason's view,
And now am lost above it-No, I am proud
'Tis thus: would Antony could see me now!
Think you, he would not sigh? Though he must
leave me,

Sure he would sigh; for he is noble-natured,
And bears a tender heart: I know him well:
Ah no! I know him not: I knew him once,
But now 'tis past.

Iras. Let it be past with you:

Forget him, madam.

Cleo. Never, never, Iras:

But making show as he would rub his eyes,
Disguised and blotted out a falling tear.
Cleo. Did he then weep, and was I worth a
tear?

If what thou hast to say be not as pleasing,
Tell me no more, but let me die contented.
Char. He bid me say, he knew himself so well,
He could deny you nothing, if he saw you,
And therefore-

Cleo. Thou wouldst say he would not see me!
Char. And therefore begged you not to use a
power,

He once was mine, and once, though now it is Which he could ill resist; yet he should ever

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Now, what news, my Charmion?

Will he be kind? and will he not forsake me?
Am I to live or die? Nay, do I live,

Or am I dead? for when he gave his answer,
Fate took the word, and then I lived or died.
Char. I found him, madam-

Cleo. A long speech preparing!

If thou bringest comfort, haste and give it me,
For never was more need.

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
To soften what he said: but give me death
Just as he sent it, Charmion, undisguised,
And in the words he spoke.

Char. I found him then,

Encompassed round, I think, with iron statues,
So mute, so motionless, his soldiers stood,
While awfully he cast his eyes about,
And every leader's hopes and fears surveyed.
Methought he looked resolved, and yet

pleased:

When he beheld me struggling in the crowd,
He blushed, and bade make way.

Aler. There's comfort yet.

not

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But I, who bear my reason undisturbed,
Can see this Antony, this dreaded man,
A fearful slave, who fain would run away,
And shuns his master's eyes; if you pursue him,
My life on it, he still drags a chain along,
That needs must clog his flight.

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
He fears to see my face.

Aler. 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,

Char. Ventidius fixed his eyes upon my pas- That he may bend more easy.

sage

Severely, as he meant to frown me back,
And sullenly gave place. I told my message,
Just as you gave it, broken and disordered;
I numbered in it all your sighs and tears,
And while I moved your pitiful request,
That you but only begged a last farewell,
He fetched an inward groan, and every time
I named you, sighed, as if his heart were breaking,
But shunned my eyes, and guiltily looked down.
He seemed not now that awful Antony,
Who shook an armed assembly with his nod,

Cleo. You shall rule me,

But all, I fear, in vain. [Exit with Char, and Iras,
Aler. I fear so too,

Though I concealed my thoughts to make her
bold;

But it is our utmost means, and fate befriend it.
[Withdraws. A march till all are on.

Enter Lictors with fasces, one bearing the Eagle;
then enter ANTONY and VENTIDIUS, followed
by other Commanders.

Ant. Octavius is the minion of blind chance,

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