ALL FOR LOVE;

OR,

THE WORLD WELL LOST.

ACT I. SCENE 1.

The Temple of Isis. SERAPION, MYRIS, Priests of Isis, discovered.

Serapion.

PORTENTS and prodigies are grown so frequent,
That they have lost their name. Our fruitful Nile
Flow'd, ere the wonted season, with a torrent
So unexpected and so wondrous fierce,

|_ That the wild deluge overtook the haste

Ev'n of the hinds that watch'd it. Men and beasts Were borne above the tops of trees that grew

On th' utmost margin of the watermark :

Then with so swift an ebb the flood drove backward,
It slipt from underneath the scaly herd:
Here monstrous phocæ panted on the shore,
Forsaken dolphins there with their broad tails
Lay lashing the departing waves, hard by 'em

Sea-horses flound'ring in the slimy mi

Toss'd up their heads, and dash'd th-Joze about 'em.

Enter ALEXAS behind them.

Myr. Avert these omens, Heav'n!

Ser. Last night, between the hours of twelve and

one,

In a lone aisle o' the temple, while I walk'd,

A whirlwind rose, that with a violent blast
Shook all the dome; the doors around me clapt;
The iron wicket, that defends the vault
Where the long race of Ptolemies is laid,
Burst open, and disclos'd the mighty dead:
From out each monument, in order plac'd,
An armed ghost starts up; the boy-king last
Rear'd his inglorious head: a peal of groans
Then follow'd, and a lamentable voice
Cry'd Egypt is no more. My blood ran back,
My shaking knees against each other knock'd,
On the cold pavement down I fell entranc'd,
And so unfinish'd left the horrid scene?

Alex. And dreamt you this, or did invent the story

[Shewing himself.

To frighten our Egyptian boys withal,

And train 'em up betimes in fear of priesthood?

Ser. My lord, I saw you not,

Nor meant my words should reach your ears; but

what

I utter'd was most true.

Alex. A foolish dream,

sred from the fumes of indigested feasts And holy luxury.

Ser. I know my duty:

This goes no farther.

Alex. 'Tis not fit it should,

Nor would the times now bear it were it true.
All southern from yon' hills the Roman camp
Hangs o'er us black and threat'ning, like a storm
Just breaking on our heads.

"Ser. Our faint Egyptians pray for Antony, "But in their servile hearts they own Octavius.

"And tempts not fortune for a noble day,

"Which might redeem what Actium lost?
"Alex. He thinks 'tis past recovery.
"Ser. Yet the foe

"Seems not to press the siege.

"Alex. Oh, there's the wonder.

"Mecenas and Agrippa, who can most

"With Cæsar, are his foes. His wife, Octavia,
"Driv'n from his house, solicits her revenge;
"And Dolabella, who was once his friend,
"Upon some private grudge now seeks his ruin;
"Yet still war seems on either side to sleep."

Ser. 'Tis strange that Antony, for some days past,

Has not beheld the face of Cleopatra,

But here in Isis' temple lives retir'd,

And makes his heart a prey to black despair.

Alex. 'Tis true; and we much fear he hopes by ab

sence

To cure his mind of love.

"Ser. If he be vanquish'd,

"Or make his peace, Egypt is doom'd to be
"A Roman province, and our plenteous harvests
"Must then redeem the scarceness of their soil.
"While Antony stood firm, our Alexandria
"Rivall'd proud Rome, (dominion's other seat)
"And fortune striding, like a vast Colossus,
"Could fix an equal foot of empire here.

"Alex. Had I my wish, these tyrants of all nature, Who lord it o'er mankind, should perish, perish, Each by the other's sword; but since our wil! Is lamely follow'd by our pow'r, we must "Depend on one, with him to rise or fall." Ser. How stands the queen affected ? Alex. Oh, she dotes,

She dotes, Serapion, on this vanquish'd man,
And winds herself about his mighty ruins,
Whom, would she yet forsake, yet yield him up,
This hunted prey, to his pursuer's hands,
She might preserve us all: but 'tis in vain-
This changes my designs, this blasts my counsels,
And makes me use all means to keep him here
Whom I could wish divided from her arms
Far as the earth's deep centre. Well, you know
The state of things: no more of your ill omens
And black prognostics; labour to confirm
The people's hearts.

=༢

Enter VENTIDIUS, talking aside with a Gentleman of

ANTONY'S.

Ser. These Romans will o'erhear us.
But who's that stranger? by his warlike port,

His fierce demeanour, and erected look,

He's of no vulgar note.

Alex. Oh, 'tis Ventidius,

When Antony return'd from Syria last,

He left this man to guard the Roman frontiers.

Ser. You seem to know him well.

Alex. Too well. I saw him in Cilicia first,
When Cleopatra there met Antony:

A mortal foe he was to us and Egypt.
But let me witness to the worth I hate;
A braver Roman never drew a sword:
Firm to his prince, but as a friend, not slave:
He ne'er was of his pleasures, but presides
O'er all his cooler hours and morning counsels:
In short, the plainness, fierceness, rugged virtue
Of an old true stampt Roman lives in him.
His coming bodes, I know not what, of ill
To our affairs. Withdraw to mark him better,
And I'll acquaint you why I sought you here,
And what's our present work.

[They withdraw to a corner of the stage, and Ventidius, with the other, comes forward to the front.