And purple greatness met my ripened years. Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains And worked against my fortune, chid her from me, Ant. Why? Vent. You are too sensible already Of what you've done, too conscious of your failings; To fury, sting yourself in mad revenge. I would bring balm, and pour it in your wounds, Cure your distempered mind, and heal your fortunes. Ant. I know thou wouldst. Vent. I will. Ant. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Vent. You laugh. Ant. I do, to see officious love Give cordials to the dead. Vent. You would be lost, then? Ant. I am. Vent. I say you are not. Try your fortune. Ant. I have to the utmost. Dost thou think me des perate Without just cause? No; when I found all lost Beyond repair, I hid me from the world, And learnt to scorn it here; which now I do So heartily, I think it is not worth The cost of keeping. 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, Vent. I can die with you too, when time shall serve; But fortune calls upon us now to live, To fight, to conquer. Ant. Sure thou dream'st, Ventidius. Vent. No; 'tis you dream; you sleep away your hours In desperate sloth, miscalled philosophy. Up, up, for honour's sake; twelve legions wait you, Their scarred cheeks, and chopt hands: there's virtue in them. They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates Than your 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're mutinous. Vent. Most firm and loyal. Ant. Yet they will not march To succour me. Oh trifler! Vent. They petition You would make haste to head them. Ant. I'm besieged. Vent. There's but one way shut up. How came I hither! Ant. I will not stir. Vent. They would, perhaps, desire A better reason. Ant. I never used My soldiers to demand a reason of My actions. Why did they refuse to march? Vent. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. Why should they fight, indeed, to make her conquer, Ant. Ventidius, I allow your tongue free license Vent. Behold, you Powers, To whom you have intrusted human kind! And all weighed down by one light, worthless woman! 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 insolence! Thy men are cowards; thou, an envious traitor, Who, under seeming honesty, hast 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 a stain to honour! Vent. You may kill me; You have done more already;-called me traitor. Vent. For showing 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, And not have been so called. Ant. Forgive me, soldier; I've 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. Pr'ythee forgive me: Vent. No prince but you Could merit that sincerity I used, Nor durst another man have ventured it; Has mended our design. Their envy hindered, VII.-CATO'S SENATE. (ADDISON.) Cato. FATHERS, we once again are met in council, Cæsar's approach has summoned us together, And Rome attends her fate from our resolves. How shall we treat this bold, aspiring man? Success still follows him, and backs his crimes. Pharsalia gave him Rome: Egypt has since Received his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæsar's. Why should I mention Juba's overthrow, And Scipio's death? Numidia's burning sands Still smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should decree What course to take. Our foe advances on us, And envies us even Libya's sultry deserts. Fathers, pronounce your thoughts: are they still fixed To hold it out and fight it to the last? Or are your hearts subdued at length, and wrought By time and ill success to a submission? Sempronius. My voice is still for war. May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage Or share her fate ! the corpses of half her senate If we should sacrifice our lives to honour, That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides; 'Tis time to sheathe the sword and spare mankind. |