A foe, but not a mistress and a friend: Treason is there in its most horrid shape, Where trust is greatest; and the soul resigned Is stabbed by its own guards. I'll hear no more: Hence from my sight for ever! Cleo. How? for ever! I cannot go one moment from your sight, My joys, my only joys, are centred here: me, With strictest justice, for I beg no favour, And, if I have offended you, then kill me, But do not banish me! Ant. I must not hear you; I have a fool within me takes your part, But honour stops my ears. Cleo. For pity hear me ! Would you cast off a slave, who followed you, Who crouched beneath your spurn? He has no pity! See, if he gives one tear to my departure, your smiles, Watches your eye, to say or unsay Whate'er you please. I am not to be moved. Cleo. Then must we part? farewell, my cruel lord! The appearance is against me; and I go, I love you more, even now you are unkind, Ant. Good Heaven! they weep at parting. Live, but live wretched; 'tis but just you should, And each your own sad fate with mine deplore, That you were false, and I could trust no more. [Exeunt severally. ACT V. Enter ALEXAS. Iras Help, oh, Alexas, help! The queen grows desperate, her soul struggles in her, With all the agonies of love and rage, Cleo. Let me go. Art thou there, traitor !—Oh, Oh for a little breath to vent my rage! The ruins of a falling majesty, To place myself beneath the mighty flaw, Cleo. I would reason More calmly with you. Did you not o'errule Dropping and faint with climbing up the cliff, To draw the other's weight, would he look back Cleo. Sunk, never more to rise. Aler. Octavia's gone, and Dolabella banished. Cleo. Look well thou dost, else Aler. Else what your silence threatens-An tony Is mounted up the Pharos, from whose turret If the first happen, fate acquits my promise; Iras. Hark! they redouble it. Aler. Tis from the port; Ser. No; Cleo. Then they fled. Ser. Nor that: I saw, With Antony, your well-appointed fleet The Roman rear; and now they all come forward, Cleo. Enough, Serapion; I have heard my doom. This needed not, you When I lost Antony, your work was done. Ser. His fury cannot be expressed by words: Alex. Shun him, seek your safety, Alex. You must not; haste you to the monu- While I make speed to Cæsar. Cleo. Cæsar! no; The loudness shows it near. Good news, kind I have no business with him. Aler. Oh heavens! I dare not: I meet my certain death. Cleo. Slave, thou deservest it. Not that I fear my lord will I avoid him; Alex. Oh! pity me, and let me follow you! Cleo. To death, if thou stir hence. Speak, if thou canst, Now for thy life, which basely thou wouldst save, While mine I prize at this. Come, good Serapion. [Exeunt Cleo. Ser. Char, and Iras. Aler. Oh, that I less could fear to lose this being, Which, like a snow-ball in my coward hand, These two long lovers, soul and body, dread And this court-devil, which I so oft have raised, [Exit. Ant. They're enough. We'll not divide our stars, but side by side Vent. Now you shall see I love you. Not a word Of chiding more. By my few hours of life, Ant. Who knows but we may pierce through And reach my veterans yet? 'Tis worth the tempting To o'erleap this gulf of fate, And leave our wandering destinies behind. Vent. See, see that villain! See Cleopatra stamped upon that face, How he has set his countenance for deceit, Aler. Oh, spare me, spare me! [Drawing. Ant. Hold; he's not worth your killing. On thy life, (Which thou mayest keep, because I scorn to take it) No syllable to justify thy queen; Alex. Sir, she's gone Where she shall never be molested more, Ant Fled to her Dolabella! Ant. She is; my eyes Are open to her falsehood. My whole life Aler. Think not so; Her fortunes have in all things mixed with yours: Vent. She sent it first, Ant. Tis too plain, Else would she have appeared to clear herself. Some undistinguished words she inly murmured; Ant. My heart forebodes Vent. All for the best. Go on. And buried half within her. Vent. Heaven be praised! Ant. Why, let him enter: Vent. What lethargy has crept into your soul? Ant. I will, but not by fighting. Oh, Venti- What should I fight for now? my queen is dead: Let Cæsar take the world An empty circle, since the jewel's gone, Which made it worth my strife: my being's nauseous, For all the bribes of life are gone away. Vent. Would you be taken? But as a Roman ought; dead, my Ventidius- Ant. Then art thou innocent, my poor dear Should have a lord, and know, whom to obey. love! And art thou dead? We two have kept its homage in suspense, Oh, those two words! their sound should be di- Till it was dinted inwards. Let him walk vided. Hadst thou been false and died, or hadst thou And hadst been true-But innocence and death! As can express my guilt! Alone upon it: I'm weary of my part. But that I'll not outlive you. Chuse your death, Vent. Is it come to this? The gods have been 'Tis scarce worth giving. I could wish indeed too gracious, And thus you thank them for it. Ant. [To Alex.] Why stay'st thou here? Is it for thee to spy upon my soul, And see its inward mourning? Get thee hence! [Aside. His grief betrays it. Good! the joy to find I have saved myself and her. But oh! the Ro- Fate comes too fast upon my wit, Hunts me too hard, and meets me at each double. [Exit. Vent. Would she had died a little sooner Before Octavia went; you might have treated; Ant. I will not fight; there's no more work for We threw it from us with a better grace, We might at least thrust out our paws, and wound Ant. I have thought on it; Ventidius, you must live. Vent. I must not, sir. Ant. Wilt thou not live to speak some good of me? To stand by my fair fame, and guard the ap proaches From the ill tongues of men? Ant. Say, I command it. Vent. If we die well, our deaths will speak themselves, And need no living witness. Ant. Thou hast loved me, And fain I would reward thee. I must die; Vent. Thank your kindness! But think, 'tis the first time I e'er deceived you, [Dies. Ant. Farewell ever my leader, even in death! My queen and thou have got the start of me, For all the learned are cowards by profession. My further thought; for death, for aught I know, Is but to think no more. Here's to be satisfied. [Falls on his sword. I have missed my heart-Oh, unperforming hand! Thou never couldst have erred in a worse time. My fortune jades me to the last; and death, Like a great man, takes state, and makes me wait For my admittance- [Trampling within. Some, perhaps, from Cæsar! If he should find me living, and suspect, [Rises upon his knees. Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, and IRAS. Cleo. Where is my lord? where is he? Or am I dead before I knew, and thou The first kind ghost, that meets me? Cleo. Help me seat him! Send quickly, send for help! [They place him in a chair. Ant. I am answered: Cleo. How is it with you? Removing in a hurry; all packed up Cleo. Too long, ye heavens! you have been cruel to me! Oh, now be kind, and give me back Ant. It will not be, my love! Cleo. I will come; Doubt not, my life! I'll come, and quickly too! Cæsar shall triumph o'er no part of thee. Ant. But grieve not, while thou stayest, My last disastrous times! Think we have had a clear and glorious day, And heaven did kindly to delay the storm, Just till our close of evening. Ten years love, And not a moment lost, but all improved To the utmost joys! What ages have we lived! And now to die each other's! and so dying, While hand in hand we walk in groves below, Whole troops of lovers' ghosts shall flock about us, And all the train be ours. Cleo. Your words are like the notes of dying |