Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

Ant: But just enough to season him coward.

from

Oh! 'tis the coldest youth upon a charge, The most deliberate fighter! if he ventures (As in Illyria once they said he did)

To storm a town, 'tis when he cannot chuse, When all the world have fixed their eyes upon him;

And then he lives on that for seven years after :
But at a close revenge he never fails.

Vent. I heard you challenged him.
Ant. I did, Ventidius:

What thinkest thou was his answer? 'twas so tame
-He said, he had more ways than one to die,
I had not.

Vent. Poor!

Ant. He has more ways than one,

But he would chuse them all before that one.
Vent. He first would chuse an ague or a fever.
Ant. No, it must be an ague, not a fever;
He has not warmth enough to die by that.
Vent. Or old age and a bed.
Ant. Av, there's his choice;
He would live like a lamp to the last wink,
And crawl upon the utmost verge of life.
Oh, Hercules! why should a man like this,
Who dares not trust his fate for one great action,
Be all the care of heaven? why should he lord it
O'er fourscore thousand men, of whom each one
Is braver than himself?

Vent. You conquered for him;
Philippi knows it: there you shared with him
That empire, which your sword made all your

[blocks in formation]

Millions of sighs and tears she sends you too, And would have sent

As many embraces to your arms,

As many dear parting kisses to your lips,
But those, she fears, have wearied you already.
Vent. [Aside.] False crocodile!

Alex. And yet she begs not now, you would not leave her;

That were a wish too mighty for her hopes, And too presuming (for her low fortune and your ebbing love);

That were a wish for her most prosperous days, Her blooming beauty, and your growing kindness. Ant. [Aside.] Well, I must man it out-What

would the queen?

Alex. First to these noble warriors, who attend Your daring courage in the chase of fame, (Too daring and too dangerous for her quiet) She humbly recommends all she holds dear, All her own cares and fears, the care of you. Vent. Yes, witness Actium.

Ant. Let him speak, Ventidius.

Alex. You, when his matchless valour bears
him forward

With ardour, too heroic, on his foes;
Fall down, as she would do, before his feet,
Lie in his way, and stop the paths of death;
Tell him this god is not invulnerable,
That absent Cleopatra bleeds in him;
And, that you may remember her petition,
She begs you wear these trifles as a pawn,
Which, at your wished return, she will redeem
[Gives jewels to the Commanders.

With all the wealth of Egypt.
This to the great Ventidius she presents,
Whom she can never count her enemy,
Because he loves her lord.

Vent. Tell her I'll none of it;

I am not ashamed of honest poverty:
Not all the diamonds of the east can bribe
Ventidius from his faith. I hope to see
These, and the rest of all her sparkling store,
Where they shall more deservingly be placed.
Ant. And who must wear them then?
Vent. The wronged Octavia.

Ant. You might have spared that word.
Vent. And she that bribe.

Ant. But have I no remembrance?
Alex. Yes, a dear one;
Your slave, the queen-
Ant. My mistress.

Alex. Then your mistress.

Your mistress would, she says, have sent her soul, But that you had long since; she humbly begs This ruby bracelet, set with bleeding hearts, (The emblems of her own) may bind your arm. [Presenting a bracelet.

Vent. Now, my best lord, in honour's name I

ask you,

For manhood's sake, and for your own dear safety, Touch not these poisoned gifts,

Infected by the sender! touch them not!

Myriads of bluest plagues lie underneath them,
And more than aconite has dipt the silk.
Ant. Nay, now you grow too cynical, Venti-
dius;

A lady's favours may be worn with honour.
What, to refuse her bracelet! on my soul,
When I lie pensive in my tent alone,

Twill pass the wakeful hours of winter nights
To tell these pretty beads upon my arm,
To count for every one a soft embrace,
A melting kiss at such and such a time,
And now and then the fury of her love,
When-And what harm's in this?

Aler. None, none, my lord,

But what's to her, that now 'tis past for ever. Ant. [Going to tie it.] We soldiers are so aukward-help me tie it.

Alex. In faith, my lord, we courtiers too are
aukward

In these affairs; so are all men indeed;
But shall I speak?

Ant. Yes, freely.

[blocks in formation]

You're in the toils! you're taken! you're destroyed!

Her eyes do Cæsar's work.

Ant. You fear too soon:

I am constant to myself: I know my strength;
And yet she shall not think me barbarous neither,
Born in the deeps of Afric: I'm a Roman,
Bred to the rules of soft humanity.

A guest, and kindly used, should bid farewell.
Vent. You do not know

How weak you are to her, how much an infant;
You are not proof against a smile or glance;
A sigh will quite disarm you.

Ant. See, she comes!

Now you shall find your error. Gods! I thank

you;

I formed the danger greater than it was,
And now 'tis near 'tis lessened.

Vent. Mark the end yet.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, and IRAS.

Ant. Well, madam, we are met.
Cleo. Is this a meeting!

Then we must part!

Ant. We must.

Cleo. Who says we must?

Ant. Our own hard fates.

Cleo. We make those fates ourselves.

Ant. Yes, we have made them; we have loved

each other,

Into our mutual ruim.

[blocks in formation]

From you alone

Cleo. Oh, heavens! I ruin you!

Ant. You promised me your silence, and you break it,

Ere I have scarce begun.

Cleo. Well, I obey you.

Ant. When I beheld you first, it was in Egypt, Ere Cæsar saw your eyes: you gave me love, And were too young to know it. That I settled Your father in his throne was for your sake; I left the acknowledgment for time to ripen. Cæsar stepped in, and, with a greedy hand, Plucked the green fruit, ere the first blush of red, Yet cleaving to the bough. He was my lord, And was beside too great for me to rival: But I deserved you first, though he enjoyed you. When after I beheld you in Cilicia, An enemy to Rome, I pardoned you. Cleo. I cleared myself

Ant. Again you break your promise!

I loved you still, and took your weak excuses,
Took you into my bosom, stained by Cæsar,
And not half mine: I went to Egypt with you,
And hid me from the business of the world,
Shut out inquiring nations from my sight,
To give whole years to you.

Vent. Yes, to your shame be it spoken! [Aside.
Ant. How I loved,

Witness ye days and nights, and all ye hours,
That danced away with down upon your feet,
As all your business were to count my passion.
One day passed by, and nothing saw but love;
Another came, and still 'twas only love:
The suns were wearied out with looking on,
And I untired with loving.

I saw you every day, and all the day,
And every day was still but as the first,
So eager was I still to see you more.
Vent. 'Tis all too true.

Ant. Fulvia, my wife, grew jealous,
As she indeed had reason, raised a war
In Italy, to call me back.

Vent. But yet

You went not.

[blocks in formation]

And left me scarce a grasp; I thank your love for't.

Vent. Well pushed: that last was home.
Cleo. Yet may I speak?

Ant. If I have urged a falsehood, yes; else not.
Your silence says I have not. Fulvia died:
(Pardon, you gods! with my unkindness died.)
To set the world at peace, I took Octavia,
This Cæsar's sister. In her pride of youth
And flower of beauty did I wed that lady,
Whom, blushing, I must praise, although I left
her.

You called; my love obeyed the fatal summons:
This raised the Roman arms; the cause was yours.
I would have fought by land, where I was stronger;
You hindered it; yet, when I fought by sea,
Forsook me fighting; and-oh stain to honour!
Oh lasting shame! I knew not that I fled,
But fled to follow you.

Vent. What haste she made to hoist her purple
sails!

And to appear magnificent in flight,
Drew half our strength away.

Ant. All this you caused:

And would you multiply more ruins on me?
This honest man, my best, my only friend,
Has gathered up the shipwreck of my fortunes:
Twelve legions I have left, my last recruits,
And you have watched the news, and bring your

eyes

To seize them too. If you have aught to answer, Now speak, you have free leave.

Aler. She stands confounded:

Despair is in her eyes.

[Aside.

Vent. Now lay a sigh in the way to stop his passage;

Prepare a tear, and bid it for his legions: 'Tis like they shall be sold.

Cleo. How shall I plead my cause, when you,
my judge,

Already have condemned me? Shall I bring
The love, you bore me, for my advocate?
That now is turned against me, that destroys me;
For love, once past, is, at the best, forgotten,
But oftener sours to hate. It will please my lord
To ruin me, and therefore I'll be guilty;
But could I once have thought it would have
pleased you,

That you would pry with narrow searching eyes
Into my faults, severe to my destruction,
And watching all advantages with care,
That serve to make me wretched! Speak, my
lord,

For I end here. Though I deserve this usage,
Was it like you to give it?

Ant. Oh, you wrong me,

To think I sought this parting, or desired
To accuse you more than what will clear myself,
And justify this breach.

Cleo. Thus low I thank you,
And, since my innocence will not offend,
I shall not blush to own it,

Vent. After this,

I think she'll blush at nothing.

Cleo. You seem grieved

(And therein you are kind) that Cæsar first
Enjoyed my love, though you deserved it better;
For had I first been yours, it would have saved
My second choice; I never had been his,
And ne'er had been but yours. But Cæsar first,
You say, possessed my love. Not so, my lord:
He first possessed my person, you my love:
Cæsar loved me, but I loved Antony:
If I endured him after, 'twas because
I judged it due to the first name of men ;
And, half constrained, I gave, as to a tyrant,
What he would take by force.

Vent. Oh, siren! siren!

Yet grant that all the love she boasts were trae,
Has she not ruined you? I still urge that,
The fatal consequence.

Cleo. The consequence indeed,
For I dare challenge him, my greatest foe,
Το say it was designed. It is true I loved you,
And kept you far from an uneasy wife,
Such Fulvia was.

Yes; but he'll say you left Octavia for me‹
And can you blame me to receive that love,
Which quitted such desert for worthless me?
How often have I wished some other Cæsar,
Great as the first, and as the second young,
Would court my love, to be refused for you!
Vent. Words, words! but Actium, sir, remem
ber Actium!

Cleo. Ev'n there I dare his malice. True, I counselled

To fight at sea; but I betrayed you not:
I fled, but not to the enemy. 'Twas fear:
Would I had been a man not to have feared!
For none would then have envied me your friend-
ship,

Who envy me your love.

Ant. We are both unhappy:

If nothing else, yet our ill fortune parts us. Speak! would you have me perish by my stay?

Cleo. If, as a friend, you ask my judgment, go; If, as a lover, stay. If you must perish— 'Tis a hard word-but stay.

Vent. See now the effects of her so boasted love!

She strives to drag you down to ruin with her; But could she 'scape without you, oh, how soon Would she let go her hold, and haste to shore, And never look behind!

Cleo. Then judge my love by this. [Giving Antony a writing.

Could I have borne

A life or death, a happiness or woe,
From yours divided, this had given me means.

Ant. By Hercules the writing of Octavius! I know it well: 'tis that proscribing hand, Young as it was, that led the way to mine, And left me but the second place in murderSee, see, Ventidius! here he offers Egypt,

And joins all Syria to it as a present,
So in requital she forsakes my fortunes,
And joins her arms with his.

Cleo. And yet you leave me!

You leave me, Antony; and yet I love you!
Indeed I do! I have refused a kingdom,
That's a trifle;

For I could part with life, with any thing,
But only you. Oh let me die but with you!
Is that a hard request?

Ant. Next living with you 'Tis all, that heaven can give.

Alex. He melts; we conquer.

[Aside.

Cleo. No, you shall go; your interest call you
hence:

Yes, your dear interest pulls to strong for these
Weak arms to hold you here [Takes his hand.
Go, leave me, soldier,

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

SCENE I.

[ocr errors]

Ant. What is it, Ventidius? it outweighs them

all.

Why, we have more than conquered Cæsar now;
My queen's not only innocent, but loves me.
This, this is she, who drags me down to ruin.!
But, could she escape without me, with what
haste

Would she let slip her hold, and make to shore,
And never look behind!

Down on thy knees, blasphemer as thou art,
And ask forgiveness of wronged innocence.
Vent. I'll rather die than take it. Will you
go?

Ant. Go! whither? go from all that's excel-
lent!

Faith, honour, virtue, all good things, forbid
That I should go from her, who sets my love
Above the price of kingdoms. Give, you gods!
Give to your boy, your Cæsar,

This rattle of a globe to play withal,
This gewgaw world, and put him cheaply off;
I'll not be pleased with less than Cleopatra.

Cleo. She's wholly yours. My heart's so fulf
of joy,

That I shall do some wild extravagance
Of love in public, and the foolish world,
Which knows not tenderness, will think me mad.
Vent. Oh women! women! women! all the

[blocks in formation]

ACT III,

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a train of Egyptians, ANTONY and Romans;

CLEOPATRA crowns ANTONY.

Ant. I THOUGHT how those white arms would fold me in,

And strain me close and melt me into love:

Ant. My brighter Venus!
Cleo. Oh, my greater Mars!

Ant. Thou joinest us well, my love.
Suppose me come from the Phlegrean plains,
Where gasping giants lay cleft by my sword,
And mountain-tops par'd off each other blow
To bury those I slew; receive me, goddess!
Let Cæsar spread his subtle nets, like Vulcan;

So pleased with that sweet image I sprung for-In thy embraces I would be beheld

wards,

And added all my strength to every blow.

Cleo. Come to me, come, my soldier, to my
arms!

You have been too long away from my embraces;
But when I have you fast, and all my own,
With broken murmurs and with amorous sighs
I'll say you are unkind, and punish you,
And mark you red with many an eager kiss.

By heaven and earth at once,

And make their envy what they meant their

sport,

Let those, who took us, blush; I would love on,
With awful state, regardless of their frowns,
As their superior god.

There's no satiety of love in thee;
Enjoyed, thou still art new; perpetual spring
Is in thy arms; the ripened fruit but falls,

And blossoms rise to fill its empty place,
And I grow rich by giving.

Enter VENTIDIUS, and stands apart.
Alex. Oh, now the danger's past, your general

comes;

He joins not in your joys, nor minds your triumphs, But with contracted brows looks frowning on, As envying your success.

Ant. Now, on my soul, he loves me, truly loves me; He never flattered me in any vice,

But awes me with his virtue: even this minute, Methinks, he has a right of chiding me. Lead to the temple; I'll avoid his presence; It checks too strong upon me. [Exeunt the rest. [As Antony is going, Ventidius pulls him by the robe. Vent. Emperor!

Ant. 'Tis the old argument; I prithee spare

[blocks in formation]

Vent. Fain I would find some other.

Ant. Thank thy love.

Some four or five such victories as this Will save thy farther pains.

Vent. Expect no more; Cæsar is on his guard.
I know, sir, you have conquered against odds;
But still you draw supplies from one poor town,
And of Egyptians; he has all the world,
And at his beck nations come pouring in
To fill the gaps you make. Pray think again.
Ant.. Why dost thou drive me from myself to
search

For foreign aids, to hunt my memory,
And range all o'er a wide and barren place,
To find a friend? The wretched have ne
friends-

Yet I have one, the bravest youth of Rome,
Whom Cæsar loves beyond the love of women;
He could resolve his mind, as fire does wax,
From that hard rugged image melt him down,
And mould him in what softer form he pleased.
Vent. Him would I see, that man of all the
world!

Just such a one we want.

Ant. He loved me too;

I was his soul; he lived not but in me :
We were so closed within each other's breasts,
The rivets were not found, that joined us first,
That does not reach us yet: we were so mixt
As meeting streams, both to ourselves were lost:
We were one mass: we could not give or take
But from the same; for he was I, I he.

Vent. He moves as I would wish him. [Aside.
Ant. After this

I need not tell his name: 'twas Dolabella.
Vent. He is now in Cæsar's camp.

Ant. No matter where,

Since he is no longer mine. He took unkindly,
That I forbad him Cleopatra's sight,

Because I feared he loved her. He confest
He had a warmth, which for my sake he stifled;
For 'twere impossible, that two, so one,

Should not have loved the same. When he de

[blocks in formation]

her,

Else he had staid; but he perceived you jealous, And would not grieve his friend. I know he loves you.

Ant. I should have seen him, then, ere now. Vent. Perhaps

He has thus long been labouring for your peace. Ant. Would he were here!

Vent. Would you believe he loved you?

I read your answer in your eyes, you would.
Not to conceal it longer, he has sent

A messenger from Cæsar's camp with letters.
Ant. Let him appear.

Vent. I'll bring him instantly.

[Exit Ventidius, and re-enters immediately with Dolabella.

« ZurückWeiter »