Vent. Was ever such a strife of sullen honour! | You, Agrippina, hang upon his arms, Both scorn to be obliged. Dol. Oh, she has touched him in the tender- See how he reddens with despite and shame, Vent. See how he winks! how he dries up a That fain would fall! Ant, Octavia, I have heard you, and must praise The greatness of your soul, But cannot yield to what you have proposed; Ant. Then I must be obliged To one, who loves me not, who to herself Vent. I'm glad it pinches there. Oct. Would you triumph o'er poor virtue? Octavia's That pride was all I had to bear me up, I have been injured, and my haughty soul Ant. Therefore, you love me not. I should not love you. Ant. Therefore you would leave me. Oct. And therefore I should leave you-if I could. Dol. Her soul's too great, after such injuries, To say she loves, and yet she lets you see it. Her modesty and silence plead her cause. Ant. Oh, Dolabella! which way shall I turn? One would be ruined with you, but she first In every thing their merits are unequal. For you may speak, and he may own you too His children. Go, I say, and pull him to me, woman: And you, Antonia, clasp about his waist: Ant. I am vanquished: take me, Octavia, take me, children, share me all. [Embracing them. I have been a thriftless debtor to your loves, Be sure to be the first; haste forward; Haste, my dear eunuch, haste! [Exit. Alex. This downright fighting fool, this thickskulled hero, This blunt unthinking instrument of death, Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, IRAS, and train. Cleo. Peace with thy raven's note! I know it too, and now am in The pangs of death. Aler. You are no more a queen, Egypt is lost. Cleo. What tellest thou me of Egypt! The gods threw by for rubbish. For one like that! Oct. Thou lovest him not so well. Cleo. I love him better, and deserve him more. Oct. You do not, cannot: you have been his ruin. Who made him cheap at Rome, but Cleopatra? Cleo. Yet she, who loves him best, is Cleopatra. To gild your cause, and draw the pitying world Oct. Be it so then; take thy wish. Cleo. And 'tis my wish, Now he is lost, for whom I lived. My sight grows dim, and every object dances And swins before me in the maze of death. My spirits, while they were opposed, kept up; They could not sink beneath a rival's scorn: But now she's gone they faint. Alex. Mine have had leisure To recollect their strength, and furnish counsel To ruin her, who else must ruin you. Cleo. Vain promiser! Lead me, my Charmion; nay, your hand too, Iras. Then leave me to myself, to take alone There I till death will his unkindness weep, [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I-A Saloon. Enter ANTONY and DOLABELLA. Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain; And yet the soul, shut up in her dark room, Dol. WHY would you shift it from yourself on Viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing, me? He's rough by nature. Ant. Oh, he'll speak too harshly, He'll kill her with the news: thou, only thou. Dol. Nature has cast me in so soft a mould, That but to hear a story, feigned for pleasure, Of some sad lover's death, moistens my eyes, And robs me of my manhood.-I should speak So faintly, with such fear to grieve her heart, She'd not believe it earnest. Ant. Therefore, therefore Thou, only thou, art fit. Think thyself me, Dol. What you have said so sinks into my soul, I sent her word to meet you. I forgot: [Goes to the door, and comes back. Let her be told, I'll make her peace with mine: Dol. Fear not, I will remember. [Antony goes again to the door, and comes back. Ant. And tell her too, how much I was constrained; I did not this but with extremest force. [Goes out and returns again. go, For every time, I have returned, I feel But, like a mole in earth, busy and blind, Enter VENTIDIUS above. Vent. Alone, and talking to himself! Concerned too! Perhaps my guess is right: he loved her once, And may pursue it still. Dol. Oh, friendship! friendship! Ill canst thou answer this, reason worse: To ruin her yet more with Antony. [Aside. Then, like a burning vessel set adrift, Cleo. Can I do this? ah, no! my love's so true, Alex. Force yourself; The event will be, your lover will return Cleo. I must attempt it; But oh, with what regret! [Exit Alex. She comes up to Dolabella. Vent. So now the scene draws near; they're in my reach. Cleo. to Dol. Discoursing with my women! Share in your entertainment? Char. You have been The subject of it, madam. Cleo. How! and how? Iras. Such praises of your beauty! Your Roman wits, your Gallus and Tibullus, Cleo. You, Charmion, and your fellow, stand at distance. Hold up, my spirits! [Aside.]-Well, now your mournful matter, For I am prepared, perhaps can guess it too. Dol. I wish you would, for 'tis a thankless office To tell ill news; and I, of all your sex, Cleo. Of all your sex, I soonest could forgive you, if you should. Vent. Most delicate advances! Woman! woman! Dear, damned unconstant sex! Cleo. No, no, I am not run mad; I can bear fortune; And love may be expelled by other love, Dol. -You overjoy me, madam, Cleo. And constancy deserves reward, that is certain. Dol. Deserves it not, but give it leave to hope. Vent. I'll swear thou hast my leave. I have enough: But how to manage this! Well, I'll consider. To tell you heavy news; news, which I thought Would fright the blood from your pale cheeks to hear; But you have met it with a chearfulness, Cleo. Hold, Dolabella. First tell me, were you chosen by my lord, Dol. He picked me out, and, as his bosomfriend, He charged me with his words. Cleo. The message then I know was tender, and each accent smooth, Dol. Oh! you mistake: he chose the harshest words: With fiery eyes, and with contracted brows, In sounds scarce human, 'Hence, away for ever! [All the time of this speech Cleopatra seems more and more concerned, till she sinks quite down. 'Let her be driven, as far as men can think, 'From man's commerce: she'll poison to the cen tre.' Dol. Help, help! Oh wretch! oh cursed, cur- | Would you indeed! the pretty hand in earnest ? sed wretch! you seen How often he came back, and every time (But what can you not do, who made me false !) I forged that lie, for whose forgiveness kneels This self-accused, self-punished, criminal. Cleo. With how much ease believe we what we wish! Rise, Dolabella; if you have been guilty, I have contributed, and too much love [Aside. Dol. I will, for this reward: [Takes her hand. -Draw it not back; 'Tis all I e'er will beg. Vent. They turn upon us. Oct. What quick eyes has guilt! Vent. Seem not to have observed them, and go on, tery; And, while she speaks, night steals upon the day, Unmarked of those, that hear: then she's sq charming, The advance of kindness, which I made, was Age buds at sight of her, and swells to youth: feigned, To call back fleeting love by jealousy; Dol. I find your breast fenced round from hu- Transparent as a rock of solid crystal, What endless treasure hast thou thrown away, Cleo. Could you not beg An hour's admittance to his private ear? Like one, who wanders through long barren wilds, And yet foreknows no hospitable inn Is near to succour hunger, Eats his fill before his painful march, So would I feed a while my famished eyes VENTIDIUS, with OCTAVIA, behind. Vent. From whence you may discover-Oh, sweet, sweet! The holy priests gaze on her when she smiles, With a malignant joy behold such beauty, With Caesar he is endeavouring her peace. I'll |