Abbildungen der Seite

Tho' loyalty, well held, to fools does make
Our faith meer folly: yet he, that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fall'n Lord,
Does conquer him that did his master conquer,
And earns a place i'th' ftory.

Enter Thyreus.

Cleo. Cafar's will?

Thyr. Hear it apart.

Cleo. None but friends; fay boldly.
Thyr. So, haply, are they friends to Antony.
Eno. He needs as many, Sir, as Cæfar has:
Or needs not us. If Cafar pleafe, our master
Will leap to be his friend; for, as you know,
Whose he is, we are, and that's Cæfar's.
Thyr. So.

Thus then, thou most renown'd, Cafar intreats,
Not to confider in what cafe thou stand'st

Further than he is Cæfar.

Cleo. Go on


right royal.

Thyr. He knows, that you embrace not Antony As you did love, but as you fear'd him.

Cleo. Oh!


Thyr. The fears upon your honour, therefore, he Does pity, as constrained blemishes,

Not as deferv'd.

Cleo. He is a God, and knows

What is most right. Mine honour was not yielded,

Our Faith meer Folly: &c.

If I fee any thing of the Poet's Sentiment in this Paffage, both the Text and Pointing are flightly deprav'd; and, I think, I have reform'd both justly. After Enobarbus has faid, that his Honesty and he begin to quarrel, (í. e. that his Reafon fhews him to be miftaken. in his firm Adherence to Antony;) he immediately falls into this generous Reflection: "Tho' Loyalty, ftubbornly preferv'd to a Mafter in his declin'd Fortunes, feems Folly in the Eyes of "Fools; (i. e. Men, who have not Honour enough to think more "wifely ;) yet he, who can be fo obftinately loyal, will make as great a Figure on Record, as the Conqueror.

G 5


But conquer'd meerly.

Eno. To be fure of that,

I will ask Antony-Sir, thou'rt fo leaky,
That we must leave thee to thy finking, for
Thy dearest quit thee.

Thyr. Shall I fay to Cafar

What you require of him? he partly begs,

[Exit Eno.

To be defir'd to give. It much would please him,
That of his fortunes you would make a staff

To lean upon. But it would warm his spirits,

To hear from me you had left Antony,

And put yourfelf under his fhroud, the univerfal landlord. Cleo. What's your name!

Thyr. My name is Thyreus.

Cleo. Most kind meffenger, (25)

Say to great Cæfar this; in deputation

I kifs his conqu❜ring hand: tell him, I'm prompt
To lay my crown at's feet, and there to kneel.
Tell him, that from his all-obeying breath

I hear the doom of Ægypt.

Thyr. 'Tis your noblest course :
Wisdom and fortune combating together,
If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may fhake it. Give me grace to lay
My duty on your hand.

Cleo. Your Cafar's father oft,

When he hath mus'd of taking Kingdoms in,

(25) Moft kind Meffenger;

Say to great Cæfar this in Difputation,

I kifs bis conqu' ring band:]

Again, the Pointing and Text must be corrected. If the Sagacious Editors can reasonably expound Disputation here, I allow them to fee farther into a Milftone than I pretend to do. The Poet certainly wrote, (as Mr. Warburton likewife faw, we must restore ;)

Moft kind Meffenger,

Say to great Cæfar this; in Deputation

I kifs bis conqu'ring band:

3. e. by Proxy; I depute you to pay him that Duty in my Name.



Beftow'd his lips on that unworthy place,

As it rain'd kiffes.

Enter Antony, and Enobarbus.

Ant. Favours! by Jove, that thunders.

What art thou, fellow?

[Seeing Thyreus kifs her hand.

Thyr. One that but performs

The bidding of the fullest man, and worthieft

To have command obey'd.

Eno. You will be whipp'd.

Ant. Approach there

and Devils!

ah, you kite! now, Gods

Authority melts from me of late.-When I cry'd, hoa! Like boys unto a mufs, Kings would start forth,

And cry, your will? have you no ears?

I'm Antony yet. Take hence this Jack, and whip him. Enter Servants.

Eno. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp, Than with an old one dying.

Ant. Moon and ftars!

Whip him :-Were't twenty of the greatest Tributaries
That do acknowledge Cefar, fhould I find them
So fawcy with the hand of She here, (what's her name,
Since fhe was Cleopatra ?)-whip him, fellows-
Till, like a boy, you fee him cringe his face,
And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.
Thyr. Mark Antony

Ant. Tug him away; being whipp'd,

Bring him again: this Jack of Cafar's fhall
Bear us an errand to him.

[Exeunt with Thyreus.

You were half blafted, ere I knew you: ha!
Have I my pillow left unpreft in Rome,
Forborn the getting of a lawful race,
And by a jem of women, to be abus'd
By one that looks on feeders ?

Cleo. Good my Lord,

Ant. You have been a boggler ever.


But when we in our viciousness grow hard,
(Oh mifery on't!) the wife Gods feal our eyes
In our own filth, drop our clear judgments, make us
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we ftrut
To our confufion.

Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?

Ant. I found you as a morfel, cold upon
Dead Cafar's trencher: nay, you were a fragment
Of Cneius Pompey's; befides what hotter hours,
Unregifter'd in vulgar fame, you have
Luxuriously pickt out. For, I am fure,
Though you can guess what temperance should be,
You know not what it is.

Cleo. Wherefore is this?

Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And fay, God quit you, be familiar with
My play-fellow, your hand; this kingly feal,
And plighter of high hearts!-

-Othat 1 were

Upon the hill of Bafan, to out-roar

The horned herd, for I have favage cause!

And to proclaim it civilly, were like

A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him. Is he whipp'd?.

Re-enter a Servant, with Thyreus

Serv. Soundly, my Lord.

Ant. Cry'd he? and begg'd a 'pardon?

Serv. He did ask favour.

Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent

Thou waft not made his daughter; and be thou forry To follow Cafar in his triumph, fince

Thou haft been whipp'd for following him. Henceforth,
The white hand of a lady fever thee,

Shake to look on't.-Go, get thee back to Cafar,
'Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou fay,
He makes me angry with him: For he seems
Proud and difdainful, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was.
He makes me angry;
And, at this time, most easy 'tis to do't:
When my good ftars, that were my former guides,

Have empty left their orbs, and fhot their fires
Into the abyfm of hell. If he mislike

My fpeech, and what is done, tell him, he has
Hipparchus my enfranchis'd bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he fhall like, to quit me. Urge it thou:
Hence with thy ftripes, be gone. [Exit Thyreus

Cleo. Have you done yet?

Ant. Alack, our terrene moon is now eclips'd,
And it portends alone the fall of Antony.
Cleo. I muft ftay his time.

Ant. To flatter Cafar, would you mingle eyes
With one that ties his points?

Cleo. Not know me yet?

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me!

Cleo. Ah, dear, if I be fo,

From my cold heart let heav'n ingender hail,
And poison't in the fource, and the first stone
Drop in my neck; as it determines, fo
Diffolve my life! the next Cæfario fmite!
"Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
Togther with my brave Egyptians all,
(26) By the difcandying of this pelletted ftorm,
Lie gravelefs; 'till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey!

Ant. I'm fatisfied:

Cafar fets down in Alexandria, where

I will oppofe his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held; our fever'd navy too

Have knit again, and float, threatning moft fea-like.

(26) By the difcattering of this pelletted Storm,] This Reading we ewe first, I prefume, to Mr. Rowe: and Mr. Pope has very faithfully fall'n into it. The old Folio's read, difcandering: from which Corruption both Dr. Thirlby and I faw, we muft retrieve the Word with which I have reform'd the Text. Cleopatra's Wish is this; that the Gods would ingender Hail, and poifon it; and that as it fell upon her and her fubjects, and melted, their Lives might determine, as that diffolv'd and difcandied: the congealing of the Water into Hail he metaphorically calls candying and it is an Image he is fond of, in several other Paffages.


« ZurückWeiter »