And therefore will not leave you.

Ant. Will not leave ine?
[I?
Where have you learnt that answer! Who am
Vent. My emperor: the man I love next Heaven.
If I faid more, I think 't were fcarce a fin:
You're all that's good and godlike.

Ant. All that's wretched.
You will not leave me then?

Vent. 'Twas too prefuming

To fay I would not: but I dare not leave you;
And 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence
So foon, when I fo far have come to fee you.
Ant. Now thou haft seen me, art thou fatisfied?
For, if a friend, thou haft beheld enough;
And, if a foe, too much.

Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew,
I have not wept thefe forty years; but now
My mother comes afresh into my eyes;
I cannot help her softness.

Ant. By Heaven he weeps, poor good old man!

Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of
See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not
For my own griefs, but thine,-nay, father-
Vent. Emperor !

Ant. Emperor! why that's the style of victory.
The conqu ring foldier, red with unfelt wounds,
Salutes his general fo: but never more
Shall that found reach my ears.

Vent. I warrant you.
Ant. A&tium, Actium! O
Vent. It fits too near you.

Ant. Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by day;
And in my fhort, distracted, nightly flumbers,
The hag that rides my dreams

Vent. Out with it give it vent.
Ant. Urge not my shame-
I loft a battle.

Vent. So has Julius done." [thou think,'t;
Ant. Thou favour'ft me, and fpeak'ft not half
For Julius fought it out, and loft it fairly:
But Antony-

Vent. Nay, ftop not.

Ant. Antony

(Well, thou wilt have it)-like a coward fled,
Fled while his foldiers fought; fled firft, Ventidius.
Thou long'st to curfe me, and I give thee leave.
I know thou cam'st prepar'd to rail.

Vent. I did.

Ant. I'll help thee-I have been a man, Venti-
Vent. Yes, and a brave one: but― [dius,
Ant. I know thy meaning.

But I have loft my reafon, have difgrac'd
The name of foldier, with inglorious cafe.
In the full vintage of my flowing honours
Sate fill, and faw it preft by other hands.
Fortune came fmiling to my youth, and we'd it,
And purple greatnefs met my ripen'd yea
When firft I came to empire, I was borne
On tides of people, crowding to my triumph;
The wish of nations, and the willing world
Received me as its pledge of future peace.
I was fo great, fo happy, fo belov'd,
Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains,
And work'd against my fortune,chid her from me,
And turn'd her loofe: yet still she came again.
My careless days, and my luxurious nights
At length have wearied her, and now he's gore
Gone, gone, divorc'd for ever! Help me, foldi
To curfe this madman, this industrious fool,
Who labour'd to be wretched. Pry'thee curie
Vent. No.

Ant. Why?

Vent. You are too fenfible already
Of what you've done, too conscious of your
And like a fcorpion, whipt by others firft
To fury, fting yourself in mad revenge.
I would bring balm, and pour it in your wor
Cure your diftemper'd mind, and heal your:
Ant. I know thou wouldst.
Vent. I will.

Ant. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Vent. You laugh.

Ant. I do, to fee officious love
Give cordials to the dead.

Vent. You would be loft then!
Ant. I am.

Vent. I fay you are not. Try your forte
Ant. I have to th' utmoft. Dost thou th

me defperate

Without juft caufe? No, when I found all lo
Beyond repair, I hid me from the world,
And learnt to fcorn it here; which now I d
So heartily, I think it is not worth
The cost of keeping.

Vent. Cæfar thinks not fo:
He'll thank you for the gift he could not tak
You would be kill'd like Tully, would you
Hold out your throat to Cæfar, and die tat

Ant. No, I can kill myself; and fo rele
Vent. I can die with you too, when time a
ferve:

But fortune calls upon us now to live,
To fight, to conquer.

Ant. Sure thou dream'ft, Ventidius.
Vent. No, 'tis you dream; you fleep away yo
In defperate floth, mifcall'd philofophy. [
Up, up, for honour's fake; twelve legions
And long to call you chief. By painful journ
I led 'em, patient both of heat and hunger,
Down from the Parthian marches to the Nile
Twill do you good to fee their fun-burnt fac
Their fearr d cheeks, and chopt hands; ther

virtue in 'em ;

d

They's

Vent. There's but one way fhut up-how came
Ant. I will not ftir.

Vent. They would perhaps defire
A better reafon.

Ant. I have never us'd

My foldiers to demand a reafon of

My actions. Why did they refufe to march ? Vent. They faid they would not fight for Cleopatra.

Ant. What was 't they faid?

Vent. They faid they would not fight for Cleopatra.

conquer,

Why fhould they fight, indeed, to make her
[doms,
And make you more a flave? to gain you king-
Which for a kifs, at your next midnight feaft,
You'll fell to her? Then the new names her
jewels,

And calls this diamond fuch or such a tax ;
Each pendant in her ear fhall be a province.

Ant. Ventidus, I allow your tongue free li.
On all my other faults; but on your life, [cence
No ward of Cleopatra: the deferves
More worlds than I can lofe.

Vent. Behold, you pow'rs,

To whom you have entrusted human kind;
See Europe, Afric, Afia put in balance;
And all weigh'd down by one light worthlefs

woman!

I think the gods are Antonies, and give,
Like prodigals, this nether world away
To none but wafteful hands.

Ant. You grow prefumptuous.

Vent. Itake the privilege of plain love to speak.
Ant. Plain love! plain arrogante, plain info-

lence!

Thy men are cowards; thou, an envious traitor;
Who, under feeming honesty, haft vented
The burden of thy rank o'erflowing gall.
O, that thou wert my equal; great in arms
As the first Cæfar was, that I might kill thee
Without ftain to my honour!

Vent. You may kill me.

1 faid it in my rage: pr'ythee forgive me.
Why didft thou tempt my anger, by discovery
Of what I would not hear?

Vent. No prince but you
Could merit that fincerity I us'd

Nor durft another man have ventur'd it:
But you, ere love mifled your wand'ring eyes,
Were fure the chief and beft of human race,
Fram'd in the very pride and boast of nature.
Ant. But Cleopatra-

Go on; for I can bear it now.

Vent. No more.

Ant. Thou dar'ft not truft my paffion; but thou mayft:

Thou only lov't, the reft have flatter'd me. Vent. Heaven's bleffing on your heart, for that kind word.

May I believe you love me? Speak again.

Ant. Indeed I do. Speak this, and this, and this
Thy praises were unjust; but I'll deferve 'em,
And yet mend all. Do with me what thou wilt;
Lead me to victory, thou know'ft the way.

Vent. And, will you leave this--
Ant. Pr'ythee do not curfe her,

And I will leave her; tho' Heaven knows I love
Beyond life, conqueft, empire, all but honour
But I will leave her.

Vent. That's my royal master.
And thall we fight?

Ant. I warrant thee, old foldier:
Thou shalt behold me once again in irch;
And, at the head of our old troops, that beat
The Parthians, cry aloud, Come, follow me!

Vent. O, now I hear my emperor! In that word
Octavius fell. Gods, let me fee that day;
And, if I have ten years behind, take all :
I'll thank you for the exchange.
Ant. O, Cleopatra !

Vent. Again!

Ant. I've done. In that last figh she went
Cæfar fhall know what 'tis to force a lover
From all he holds most dear.

Vent. Methinks you breathe
Another foul; your looks are more divine ;
You fpeak a hero, and you move a god.

Ant. O, thou haft fir'd me! my foul's up in
And mans each part about me. Once again [arms,

You have done more already; call'd me traitor. The noble eagerness of fight has feiz'd me;

Ant. Art thou not one?

Vent. For thewing you yourself,
Which none elfe durft have done. But had I been
That name, which I dffdain to speak again,
I needed not have fought your abject fortunes,
Come to partake your fate, to die with you.

That eagerness, with which I darted upward
To Caffius' camp. In vain the fteepy hill
Oppos'd my way; in vain a war of spears
Sung round my head, and planted all my thield '
I won the trenches, while my foremost men
Lagg'd on the plain below.

Vent. Ye gods, ye gods, For fuch another honour!

Ant. Come on, my foldier;

Our hearts and arms are ftill the fame. I long
Once more to meet our foes; that thou and I,
Like Time and Death, marching before our
troops,

May tafte fate to 'em ; mow 'em out a paffage,
And, ent'ring where the utmoft fquadrons yield,
Begin the noble harvest of the field.

$30. Theodofius and Marcian.

Theo.

LEE.

Before I go, I'll rip the malady,
And let the venom flow before your eyes,
This is a debt to the great Theodofius,
The grandfather of your illuftrious blood;
And then farewell for ever.

Theo. Prefuming Marcian!

What canft thou urge against my innocence!
Thro' the whole courfe of all my harmless youth,
Ev'n to this hour, I cannot call to mind
One wicked act which I have done to shame nt.
Mar. This may be true: yet if you give the
fway

To other hands, and your poor fubjects fuffer,

HA! what rafh thing art thou, who Your negligence to them is as the caufe.

fett'st so small

A value on thy life, thus to presume
Against the fatal orders I have given,
Thus to entrench on Cæfar's folitude,
And urge me to thy ruin?

Mar. Mighty Cæfar,

I have tranfgrefs'd; and for my pardon bow
To thee, as to the gods, when I offend:
Nor can I doubt your mercy, when you know
The nature of my crime. I am commiffion'd
From all the earth to give thee thanks and praises,
Thou darling of mankind! whofe conqu'ring arms
Already drown the glory of great Julius;
Whofe deeper reach in laws and policy
Makes wife Auguftus envy thee in heaven!
What mean the Fates by fuch prodigious virtue?
When fcarce the manly down yet fhades thy face,
With conqueft thus to over-run the world,
And make barbarians tremble. O ye gods!
Should Destiny now end thee in the bloom,
Methinks I fee thee mourn'd above the lofs
Of lot'd Germanicus; thy funerals,
Like his, are folemniz'd with tears and blood,
Theo. How, Marcian!

Mar. Yes, the raging multitude,

Like torrents, fet no bound to their mad grief;
Shave their wives' heads, and tear off their own

hair;

With wild defpair they bring their infants out,
To brawl their parents' forrow in the streets:
Trade is no more, all courts of juftice stopt;
With tones they dash the windows of their
temples,
[gods;
Pull down their altars, break their household
And ftill the univerfal groan is this-
"Conftantinople's loft, our empire's ruin'd;
Since he his gone that father of his country,
Since he is dead, O life, where is thy pleafure?
ORome, O conquer'd world, where is thy glory!"
Theo. I know thee well, thy cuftom and thy

manners:

Thou didst upbraid me; but no more of this,
Not for thy life-

Mar. What's life without my honour?
Could you transform yourself into a Gorgon,
Or make that beardlefs face like Jupiter's,
I would be heard in fpite of all your thunder:
O pow'r of guilt! you fear to ftand the test
Which virtue brings: like fores your vices
make

Before this Roman healer, But, by the gods,

O Theodofius, credit me, who know
The world, and hear how foldiers cenfure king:;
In after times, if thus you fhould go on,
Your memory by warriors will be fcorn'd,
As much as Nero or Caligula loath'd:
They will defpife your floth, and backward caft,
More than they hate the other's cruelty.
And what a thing, ye gods, is fcorn or pity!
Heap on me, Heaven, the hate of all mankind;
Load me with malice, envy, deteftation;
Let me be horrid to all apprehenfion,
And the world fhun me, so I scape but fcorn,
Theo. Pr'ythee no more.

Mar. Nay, when the legions make compari.

fons,

And fay, Thus cruel Nero once refolv'd,
On Galba's infurrection, for revenge
To give all France as plunder to the army;
To poifon the whole fenate at a feaft;
To burn the city, turn the wild beasts out,
Bears, lions, tigers, on the multitude;
That, fo obftructing thofe that quench'd the ft,
He might at once deftroy rebellious Rome

Theo. O cruelty! why tell'ft thou me of this'
Am I of fuch a barb'rous bloody temper?
Mar. Yet fome will fay, This fhew'd he had
a fpirit,

However fierce avenging, and pernicious,
That favour'd of a Roman: but for you,
What can your partial fycophants invent,
To make you room among the emperors?
Whofe utmost is the smalleft part of Nero;
A pretty player, one that can act a hero,
And never be one. O ye immortal gods !
Is this the old Cæfarean majesty?
Now in the name of our great Romulus,
Why fing you not, and fiddle too, as he did?
Why have you not, like Nero, a Phonafcus !
One to take care of your celestial voice?
Lie on your back, my lord, and on your stomach
Lay a thin plate of lead, abftain from fruits;
And when the business of the stage is done,
Retire with your loofe friends to coftly banquets,
While the lean army groans upon the ground.
Theo. Leave me, I fay, left I chaftife thee;
Hence, begone, I fay-

Mar. Not till you have heard me out.
Build too, like him, a palace lin'd with gold,
As long and large as that of th' Efquiline:
Inclofe a pool too in it, like the fea,
And at the empire's soft let navies meet;

Mar. How quickly was the tide of fury turn'd
To foft compaffion, and relenting tears !
But when the axe

Sever'd the brightest beauty of the earth
From that fair body-had you heard the groan,
Which, like a peal of diftant thunder, ran
Through all the armed hoft, you would have
thought,

By the immediate darkness that fell round us,
Whole nature was concern'd at such a suff`ring,
And all the gods were angry.

Cruel, ambitious fifter! this must be
Thy doing. O, fupport me, nobie Marcian!
Now, now's the time, if thou dar 'ft ftrike: behold,
I offer thee my breaft; with my last breath,
I'll thank thee too, if now thou draw'ft my blood.
Were I to live, thy counfel fhould direct me;
But 'tis too late-

Mar. He faints! What, hoa, there! Lucius!
My lord the emperor! Eudofia lives;
She's here, or will be in a minute, moment!
Quick as the thought, the calls you to the temple.
O, Lucius, help?-I've gone too far; but fee,
He breathes again.-Eudofia has awak'd him.
Theo. Did you not name Eudofia?
Mar. Yes, the lives:

I did but feign the story of her death,
To find how near you plac'd her to your heart:
And may the gods rain all their plagues upon me,
If ever I rebuke you thus again!

Gloft. My lord, y' are well encounter'd; here Upon a royal tock; from thence, at full