me desperate Without just cause? No, when I found all lost 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; Hold out your throat to Cæsar, and die tamely. Ant. No, I can kill myself, and so resolve. Vent. I can die with you too, when time shall And long to call you chief: by painful journies I led them, patient both of heat and hunger, Down from the Parthian marches of the Nile: 'Twill do you good to see their sunburnt faces, Their scarred cheeks, and chopt hands: there's virtue in them: They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates Than yon 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 are mutinous. On all my other faults, but, on your life, Vent. Behold, you powers! To whom you have entrusted humankind; woman! I think the gods are Antonies, and give, Ant. You grow presumptuous. Vent. I take the privilege of plain love to speak. Ant. Plain love! plain arrogance, plain inso- Thy men are cowards, thou an envious traitor, Vent. You may kill me: You have done more already, called me traitor. Ant. Art thou not one? Vent. For shewing you yourself, Which none else durst have done? But had I been To fill Octavia's bands? I could have been Ant. Forgive me, soldier; I have 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: prithee forgive me. Vent. No prince, but you, Nor durst another man have ventured it: But you, ere love misled your wandering eyes, Were sure the chief and best of human race, Framed in the very pride and boast of nature; So perfect, that the gods, who formed you, wondered At their own skill, and cried,' A lucky hit Has mended our design! Their envy hindered, Else you had been immortal, and a pattern, When heaven would work for ostentation sake, To copy out again. Ant. But Cleopatra Go on, for I can bear it now. Vent. No more. Ant. Thou dar'st not trust my passion, but thou mayest: Thou only lovest, the rest have flattered me. Vent. Heaven's blessing on your heart for that kind word! And I will leave her, though heaven knows I love Beyond life, conquest, empire, all but honour : But I will leave her. Vent. That is my royal master. And shall we fight? Ant. I warrant thee, old soldier; Octavius fell. Gods! let me see that day, Vent. Again! Ant. I have done; in that last sigh she went. Cæsar shall know what it is to force a lover From all he holds most dear. Vent, Methinks you breathe soul's up in arms, And mans cach part about me. Once again That noble eagerness of fight has seized me, That eagerness, with which I darted upward To Cassius' camp: in vain the steepy hill Opposed my way, in vain a war of spears Sung round my head, and planted all my shield; I won the trenches, while my foremost men Lagged on the plain below. Vent. Ye gods, ye gods, For such another honour! Ant. Come on, my soldier; Our hearts and arms are still the same: I long Once more to meet our foes, that thou and I, Like Time and Death, marching before our troops, May taste fate to them, mow them out a passage, And, entering where the foremost squadrons yield, Begin the noble harvest of the field. [Exeunt. SCENE I.—A grand Saloon. ACT II Enter CLEOPATRA, IRAS, and ALEXAS. Cleo. What shall I do, or whither shall I turn! Ventidius has o'ercome, and he will go. Aler. He goes to fight for you. Each hour the victor's chain? These ills are For Antony is lost, and I can mourn Cleo. Then he would see me ere he went to Has taught my mind the fortune of a slave. fight. Flatter me not; if once he goes, he is lost, And all my hopes destroyed. Alex. Does this weak passion Become a mighty queen? Cleo. I am no queen : Is this to be a queen, to be besieged Iras. Call reason to assist you. Cleo. I have none, And none would have: my love's a noble mad I soared at first quite out of reason's view, Sure he would sigh; for he is noble-natured, Iras. Let it be past with you; Forget him, madam. Cleo. Never, never, Iras : But making show as he would rub his eyes, If what thou hast to say be not as pleasing, Cleo. Thou wouldst say he would not see me! He once was mine, and once, though now it is Which he could ill resist; yet he should ever gone, Leaves a faint image of possession still. Alex. Think him inconstant, cruel, and ungrateful. Cleo. I cannot; if I could, those thoughts were Faithless, ungrateful, cruel, though he be, Enter CHARMION. Now, what news, my Charmion? Will he be kind? and will he not forsake me? Or am I dead? for when he gave his answer, Cleo. A long speech preparing! If thou bringest comfort, haste and give it me, Iras. I know he loves you. Cleo. Had he been kind, her eyes had told me so, Before her tongue could speak it: now she studies Char. I found him then, Encompassed round, I think, with iron statues, pleased: When he beheld me struggling in the crowd, Aler. There's comfort yet. not Respect you as he ought. For Antony to use to Cleopatra? Oh, that faint word respect! how I disdain it! He should have kept that word for cold Octavia; You see through love, and that deludes your sight, But I, who bear my reason undisturbed, Cleo. Could I believe thee Alex. By every circumstance I know he loves, True, he is hard prest by interest and honour; Yet he but doubts and parleys, and casts out Many a long look for succour. Cleo. He sends word Alex. And would you more? He shows his weakness, who declines the combat; I hear his trumpets. This way he must pass. Char. Ventidius fixed his eyes upon my pas- That he may bend more easy. sage Severely, as he meant to frown me back, Cleo. You shall rule me, But all, I fear, in vain. [Exit with Char. and Iras. Though I concealed my thoughts to make her But it is our utmost means, and fate befriend it. Enter Lictors with fasces, one bearing the Eagle; Ant. Octavius is the minion of blind chance, But holds from virtue nothing. Vent. Has he courage? Ant. But just enough to season him from coward. Oh! 'tis the coldest youth upon a charge, The most deliberate fighter! if he ventures (As in Illyria once they said he did) To storm a town, 'tis when he cannot chuse, When all the world have fixed their eyes upon him; And then he lives on that for seven years after : Vent. I heard you challenged him. What thinkest thou was his answer? 'twas so tame Vent. Poor ! Ant. He has more ways than one, But he would chuse them all before that one. Vent. He first would chuse an ague or a fever. Ant. No, it must be an ague, not a fever; He has not warmth enough to die by that. Vent. Or old age and a bed. Ant. Ay, there's his choice; He would live like a lamp to the last wink, And crawl upon the utmost verge of life. Oh, Hercules! why should a man like this, Who dares not trust his fate for one great action, Be all the care of heaven? why should he lord it O'er fourscore thousand men, of whom each one Is braver than himself? Vent. You conquered for him ; Philippi knows it: there you shared with him That empire, which your sword made all your Millions of sighs and tears she sends you too, And would have sent As many embraces to your arms, As many dear parting kisses to your lips, But those, she fears, have wearied you already. Vent. [Aside.] False crocodile! Ales. And yet she begs not now, you would not leave her; That were a wish too mighty for her hopes, And too presuming (for her low fortune and your ebbing love); That were a wish for her most prosperous days, Her blooming beauty, and your growing kindness. Ant. [Aside.] Well, I must man it out-What would the queen ? Alex. First to these noble warriors, who attend Your daring courage in the chase of fame, (Too daring and too dangerous for her quiet) She humbly recommends all she holds dear, All her own cares and fears, the care of you. Vent. Yes, witness Actium. Ant. Let him speak, Ventidius. Alex. You, when his matchless valour bears With ardour, too heroic, on his foes; With all the wealth of Egypt. Vent. Tell her I'll none of it; I am not ashamed of honest poverty: Ant. You might have spared that word. Ant. But have I no remembrance? Your slave, the queen Ant. My mistress. Alex. Then your mistress. Your mistress would, she says, have sent her soul, But that you had long since; she humbly begs This ruby bracelet, set with bleeding hearts, (The emblems of her own) may bind your arm. [Presenting a bracelet. Vent. Now, my best lord, in honour's name I ask you, | For manhood's sake, and for your own dear safety, Touch not these poisoned gifts, Infected by the sender! touch them not! Myriads of bluest plagues lie underneath them, Ant. Nay, now you grow too cynical, Venti- A lady's favours may be worn with honour. 'Twill pass the wakeful hours of winter nights Alex. None, none, my lord, But what's to her, that now 'tis past for ever. Ant. [Going to tie it.] We soldiers are so aukward-help me tie it. Alex. In faith, my lord, we courtiers too are In these affairs; so are all men indeed; Ant. Yes, freely. Alex. Then, my lord, fair hands alone you. You will not see her? [Alexas whispers Ant. But to take my leave. You're in the toils! you're taken! you're des- Her eyes do Cæsar's work. Ant. You fear too soon: I am constant to myself: I know my strength; A guest, and kindly used, should bid farewell. How weak you are to her, how much an infant; Ant. See, she comes! Now you shall find your error. you; From you alone Cleo. Oh, heavens! I ruin you! Ant. You promised me your silence, and you break it, Ere I have scarce begun. Cleo. Well, I obey you. Ant. When I beheld you first, it was in Egypt, Ant. Again you break your promise! I loved you still, and took your weak excuses, Vent. Yes, to your shame be it spoken! [Aside. Witness ye days and nights, and all ye hours, I formed the danger greater than it was, Vent. Mark the end yet. Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, and IRAS. Ant. Well, madam, we are met. Then we must part! Ant. We must. I saw you every day, and all the day, Ant. Fulvia, my wife, grew jealous, Vent. But yet You went not. Ant. While within your arms I lay, The world fell mouldering from my hands each hour, |