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They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates | What hinder'd me t'have led my conq'ring eagles

Than yon trim bands can buy. Ant. Where left you them?

Vent. I say, in Lower Syria.

Ant. Bring 'em hither;

There may be life in these.
Vent. They will not come.

Ant. Why didst thou mock my hopes with promis'd aids,

To double my despair? They're mutinous.
Vent. Most firm and loyal.

Ant. Yet they will not march

To succour me. O trifler!

Vent. They petition

You would make haste to head 'em.

Ant. I am besieg'd.

To fill Octavius' band? I could have been A traitor then, a glorious, happy traitor, And not have been so call'd.

Ant. Forgive me, soldier;

I've been too passionate.

Vent. You thought me false;

Thought my

[Sir;

old age betray'd you. Kill me, Pray kill me; yet you need not, your unkind

ness

Has left your sword no work.

Ant. I did not think so;

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

Vent. No prince but you

Vent. There's but one way shut up-how Could merit that sincerity I us'd,

came I hither?

Ant. I will not stir.

Vent. They would perhaps desire

A better reason.

Ant. I have never us'd

My soldiers to demand a reason of

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

Ant. What was't they said?

Vent. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra.

conquer,

Why should they fight, indeed, to make her [doms, And make you more a slave? to gain you kingWhich for a kiss, at your next midnight feast, You'll sell to her?-Then she new names her jewels,

And calls this diamond such or such a tax;
Each pendant in her ear shall be a province.
Ant. Ventidius, I allow your tongue free licence
On all my other faults; but, on your life,
No word of Cleopatra: she deserves
More worlds than I can lose.

Vent. Behold, you pow'rs,

To whom you have intrusted human kind;
See Europe, Afric, Asia put in balance;
And all weigh'd down by one light worthless

woman!

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

Ant. You grow presumptuous.
Vent. I take the privilege of plain love to speak.
Ant. Plain love! plain arrogance, plain inso-
lence!

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

Vent. You may kill me.

You have done more already; call'd me traitor. Ant. Art thou not one?

Vent. For showing you yourself, Which none else durst have done. But had I been That name, which I disdain to speak again, I needed not have sought your abject fortunes, Come to partake your fate, to die with you.

Nor durst another man have ventur'd it:
But you, ere love misled your wand'ring eyes,
Were sure the chief and best 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'st not trust my passion; but thou mayst:

Thou only lov'st; the rest have flatter'd me. Vent. Heaven's blessing on your heart, for

that kind word.

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Thy praises were unjust; but I'll deserve 'em, And yet mend all. Do with me what thou wilt; Lead me to victory, thou know'st the way.

[love

Vent. And, will you leave thisAnt. Pr'ythee do not curse her, And I will leave her; though Heaven knows I Beyond life, conquest, empire, all but honor; But I will leave her.

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

Ant. I warrant thee, old soldier: Thou shalt behold me once again in iron; 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 see that day;
And, if I have ten years behind, take all;
I'll thank you for the exchange.

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I won the trenches, while my foremost men
Lagg'd on the plain below.
Vent. Ye gods, ye gods,
For such another honor!

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 'em; mow 'em out a passage, And, ent ring where the utmost squadrons yield, Begin the noble harvest of the field.

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

Theo. Presuming Marcian!
What canst thou urge against my innocence?
Through the whole course of all my harmless
Ev'n to this hour, I cannot call to mind [youth,
One wicked act which I have done to shame

me.

Mar. This may be true: yet if you give the

sway

To other hands, and your poor subjects suffer, Your negligence to them is as the cause.

O Theodosius, credit me, who know

Theo. HA! what rash thing art thou, who The world, and hear how soldiers censure kings;

sett'st so small

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

Mar. Mighty Cæsar,

I have transgress'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 commission'd
From all the earth to give thee thanks and praises,
Thou darling of mankind! whose conqu'ring
Already drown the glory of great Julius; [arms
Whose deeper reach in laws and policy
Makes wise Augustus envy thee in heaven!
What mean the Fates by such prodigious virtue?
When scarce the manly down yet shades thy face,
With conquest thus to overrun the world,
And make barbarians tremble. O ye gods!
Should Destiny now end thee in the bloom,
Methinks I see thee mourn'd above the loss
Of lov'd Germanicus; thy funerals,
Like his, are solemniz'd with tears of blood.
Theo How, Marcian!

Mar. Yes, the raging multitude,
Like torrents, set no bound to their mad grief;
Shave their wives' heads, and tear off their own
hair;

With wild despair they bring their infants out,
To brawl their parents' sorrow in the streets :
Trade is no more; all courts of justice stopt;
With stones they dash the windows of their
temples,
[gods,
Pull down their altars, break their household
And still the universal groan is this—————
"Constantinople's lost, our empire's ruin'd;
Since he is gone, that father of his country;
Since he is dead, O life, where is thy pleasure?
O Rome, O conquer'd world, where is thyglory?"
Theo. I know thee well, thy custom and thy

manners:

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

Mar. What's life without my honor? Could you transform yourself into a Gorgon, Or make that beardless face like Jupiter's, I would be heard in spite of all your thunder: O pow'r of guilt! you fear to stand the test Which virtue brings: like sores your vices shake Before this Roman healer. But, by the gods,

In after times, if thus you should go on,
Your memory by warriors will be scorn'd,
As much as Nero or Caligula loath'd:
They will despise your sloth, and backward ease,
More than they hate the others' cruelty.
And what a thing, ye gods, is scorn or pity!
Heap on me, Heaven, the hate of all mankind;
Load me with malice, envy, detestation;
Let me be horrid to all apprehension,
And the world shun me, so I 'scape but scorn.
Theo. Pr'ythee no more.

Mar. Nay, when the legions make compari

sons,

And say, Thus cruel Nero once resolv'd,
On Galba's insurrection, for revenge
To give all France as plunder to the army;
To poison the whole senate at a feast;
To burn the city, turn the wild beasts out,
Bears, lions, tigers, on the multitude;
That, so obstructing those that quench'd the fire,
He might at once destroy rebellious Rome

Theo. O cruelty! why tell'st thou me of this?
Am I of such a barb'rous bloody temper?
Mar. Yet some will say, This show'd he had
a spirit,

However fierce, avenging, and pernicious,
That savor'd of a Roman: but for you,
What can your partial sycophants invent,
To make you room among the emperors?
Whose utmost is the smallest part of Nero;
A pretty player, one that can act a hero,
And never be one. O ye immortal gods!
Is this the old Cæsarean majesty?
Now in the name of our great Romulus,
Why sing you not, and fiddle too, as he did?
Why have you not, like Nero, a Phonascus,
One to take care of your celestial voiee?
Lie on your back, my lord, and on your stomach
Lay a thin plate of lead; abstain from fruits;
And when the business of the stage is done,
Retire with your loose friends to costly ban-

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gems;

Adorn your starry chambers too with
Contrive the plated ceilings to turn round,
With pipes to cast ambrosian oils upon you:
Consume with this prodigious vanity,
In mere perfumes and odorous distillations,
Of sesterces at once four hundred millions;
Let naked virgins wait you at your table,
And wanton Cupids dance and clap their wings.
No matter what becomes of the poor soldiers,
So they perform the drudgery they are fit for;
Why, let 'em starve for want of their arrears,
Drop as they go, and lie like dogs in ditches.
Theo. Come, you are a traitor!
Mar. Go to, you are a boy-
Or by the gods-

Theo. If arrogance like this,

And to the emperor's face should 'scape unpunished,

I'll write myself a coward; die, then, villain,
A death too glorious for so bad a man,
By Theodosius' hand.

Marcian disarms him, but is wounded.
Mar. Now, sir, where are you?
What, in the name of all our Roman spirits,
Now charms my hand from giving thee thy fate?
Has he not cut me off from all my honors?
Torn my commissions, sham'd me to the earth,
Banish'd the court, a vagabond for ever?
Do not the soldiers hourly ask it from me?
Sigh their own wrongs, and beg me to revenge

'em?

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Against his friend a black conspiracy,
And stab the majesty of all the world? [pow'r.
Theo. Act as you please: I am within your
Mar. Did not the former Brutus, for the crime
Of Sextus, drive old Tarquin from his kingdom?
And shall this prince too, by permitting others
To act their wicked wills, and lawless pleasures,
Ravish froin the empire its dear health,
Well-being, happiness, and ancient glory?
Go on in this dishonorable rest? [troops
Shall he, I say, dream on, while the starv'd
Lie cold and waking in the winter camp;
And like pin'd birds, for want of sustenance,
Feed on the haws and berries of the fields?
O temper, temper me, ye gracious gods!
Give to my hand forbearance, to my heart
Its constant loyalty! I would but shake him,
Rouse him a little from this death of honor,
And show him what he should be.

Theo. You accuse me,

As if I were some monster most unheard of!
First, as the ruin of the army; then
Of taking your commission: but by Heaven
I swear, O Marcian! this I never did,
Nor ne'er intended it; nor say I this
To alter thy stern usage; for with what

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The wounds which rage within your country's bowels;

The horrid usage of the suffering soldier: But why will not our Theodosius know? you intrust the government to others That act these crimes, who but yourself's to blame!

If

Be witness, O ye gods! of my plain dealings,
Of Marcian's honesty, howe'er degraded.
I thank you for my banishment: but alas!
My loss is little to what soon will follow!
Reflect but on yourself and your own joys;
Let not this lethargy for ever hold you.
'Twas rumor'd through the city, that you lov'd;
That your espousals should be solemniz'd;
When on a sudden here you send your orders
That this bright favorite, the lov'd Eudosia,
Should lose her head.

Theo. O heaven and earth! What say'st thou That I have seal'd the death of my Eudosia! Mar. 'Tis your own hand and signet: yet I

swear,

[sway, Though you have given to female hands your And therefore I, as well as the whole army, For ever ought to curse all womankind; Yet when the virgin came, as she was doom'd, And on the scaffold, for that purpose rais'd Without the walls, appear'd before the armyTheo. What, on a scaffold! ha! before the army?

Mar. How quickly was the tide of fury turn'd
To soft compassion, 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 distant thunder, ran
Through all the armed host, 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.

Theo. O Pulcheria!

Cruel, ambitious sister! this must be
Thy doing. O, support me, noble Marcian!
Now, now's the time, if thou dar'st strike: be-
hold,

I offer thee my breast; with my last breath,
I'll thank thee too, if now thou draw'st my blood.
Were I to live, thy counsel should direct me;
But 'tis too late-

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

Yet 'tis most certain that you sign'd her death,
Not knowing what the wise Pulcheria offer'd,
Who left it in my hand to startle you:
But, by my life and fame, I did not think
It would have touch'd your life. O pardon me,
Dear prince, my lord, my emperor, royal master:
Droop not because I utter'd some rash words,
And was a madman. By the immortal gods
I love you as my soul: whate'er I said,
My thoughts wereotherwise; believe these tears,
Which do not use to flow: all shall be well.
I swear that there are seeds in that sweet temper,
Tatone for all the crimes in this bad age.
Theo. I thank thee first for my Eudosia's life.
What but my love could have call'd back that
life

Which thou hast made me hate? But, O, methought

Twas hard, dear Marcian, very hard, from thee,
From him I ever reverenc'd as my father,
To hear so harsh a message! But no more;
We're friends: thy hand. Nay, if thou wilt
not rise,

And let me fold my arms about thy neck,
I'll not believe thy love: in this forgive me.
First let me wed Eudosia, and we'll out;
We will, my general, and make amends
For all that's past: glory and arms, ye call,
And Marcian leads me on!

Mar. Let her not rest, then;
Espouse her straight: I'll strike you at a heat.
May this great humor get large growth within

you;

And be encourag'd by the embold'ning gods:
O what a sight will this be to the soldier,
To see me bring you dress'd in shining armour,
To head the shouting squadrons! O ye gods!
Methinks I hear the echoing cries of joy,
The sounds of trumpets, and the beat of drums;
I see each starving soldier bound from earth,
As if a god by miracle had rais'd him;
And with beholding you, grow fat again!
Nothing but gazing eyes, and opening mouths,
Cheeks red with joy, and lifted hands about you;
Some wiping the glad tears that trickle down
With broken Io's, and with sobbing raptures;
Crying, To arms! he's come; our emperor's come
To win the world! Why, is not this far better
Than lolling in a lady's lap, and sleeping,
Fasting or praying? Come, come, you shall be

merry:

And for Eudosia, she is yours already!
Marcian has said it, Sir; she shall be yours.
Theo. O Marcian! O my brother, father, all!

Thou best of friends! most faithful counsellor!
I'll find a match for thee too, ere I rest,
To make thee love me. For, when thou art
with me,

I'm strong and well; but when thou'rt gone,
I'm nothing.

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Hast. Your highness binds me ever to your service.

Glost. You know your friendship is most potent with us,

And shares our power. But of this enough,
For we have other matter for your ear:
The state is out of tune; distracting fears,
And jealous doubts, jar in our public counsels;
Amidst the wealthy city murmurs rise,
Lewd railings, and reproach on those that rule,
With open scorn of government; hence credit,
And public trust 'twixt man and man are broke,
The golden streams of commerce are withheld,
Which fed the wants of needy hinds and artisans,
Who therefore curse the great, and threat re-

bellion.

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The source of these disorders. Who can wonder
If riot and misrule o'erturn the realm,
When the crown sits upon a baby brow?
Plainly to speak-hence comes the gen'ral cry,
And sum of all complaint: "Twill ne'er be well
With England (thus they talk) while children
govern.
[of that?

Hast. "Tis true the king is young; but what
We feel no want of Edward's riper years,
While Glo'ster's valor and most princely wisdom
So well supply our infant sovereign's place,
His youth's support, and guardian to his throne.
Glost. The council (much I'm bound to

thank 'em for't)

Have plac'd a pageant sceptre in my hand, Barren of pow'r, and subject to control; Scorn'd by iny foes, and useless to my friends.

worthy lord! were mine the rule indeed, I think I should not suffer rank offence At large to lord it in the commonweal; Nor would the realm be rent by discord thus, Thus fear and doubt, betwixt disputed titles.

Hast. Of this I am to learn; as not supposing A doubt like this-

Glost. Ay, marry, but there is; And that of much concern. Have you not heard How, on a late occasion, Doctor Shaw Has mov'd the people much about the lawful

ness

Of Edward's issue? by right grave authority
Of learning and religion plainly proving,
A bastard scion never should be grafted
Upon a royal stock; from thence, at full
Discoursing on my brother's former contract
To Lady Elizabeth Lucy, long before

His jolly match with that same buxom widow, | For me, I ask no more than honor gives, The queen he left behind him

Hast. Ill befal

Such meddling priests, who kindle up confusion, And vex the quiet world with their vain scruples! By Heaven, 'tis done in perfect spite to peace. Did not the king,

Our royal master, Edward, in concurrence
With his estates assembled, well determine
What course the sovereign rule should take
henceforward?

When shall the deadly hate of faction cease,
When shall our long-divided land have rest,
If every peevish, moody malcontent
Shall set the senseless rabble in an uproar,
Fright them with dangers, and perplex their
brains,

Each day, with some fantastic giddy change? Glost. What if some patriot, for the public good,

state?

Should vary from your scheme, new-mould the
[it!
Hast. Curse on the innovating hand attempts
Remember him, the villain, righteous Heaven,
In thy great day of vengeance! Blast the traitor,
And his pernicious counsels, who for wealth,
For pow'r, the pride of greatness, or revenge,
Would plunge his native land in civil wars!
Glost. You go too far, my lord.
Hast. Your highness' pardon――
Have we so soon forgot those days of ruin,
When York and Lancaster drew forth the battles?
When, like a matron butcher'd by her sons,
And cast beside some common way, a spectacle
Of horror and affright to passers by,
Our groaning country bled at ev'ry vein;
When murders, rapes, and massacres prevail'd;
When churches, palaces, and cities blaz'd;
When insolence and barbarism triumph'd,
And swept away distinction; peasants trod
Upon the necks of nobles; low were laid
The reverend crosier and the holy mitre,
And desolation cover'd all the land;
Who can remember this, and not, like me,
Here vow to sheath a dagger in his heart
Whose damn'd ambition would renew those
horrors,

And set once more that scene of blood before us?
Glost. How now! so hot!
Hast. So brave, and so resolv'd.

Glost. Is then our friendship of so little moment,

That you could arm your hand against my life? Hast. I hope your highness does not think I meant it; [person No, Heaven forefend that e'er your princely Should come within the scope of my resent

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To think me yours, and rank me with your friends. [should pay.

Hast. Accept what thanks a grateful heart
O princely Gloster! judge me not ungentle,
Of manners rude, and insolent of speech,
If, when the public safety is in question,
My zeal flows warin and eager from my tongue.
Glost. Enough of this; to deal in wordy
compliment

Is much against the plainness of my nature;
I judge you by myself, a clear true spirit;
And, as such, once more join you to my bosom.
Farewell, and be my friend.
[Exit.

Hast. I am not read,
Nor skill'd and practis'd in the arts of greatness,
To kindle thus, and give a scope to passion.
The duke is surely noble; but he touch'd me
E'en on the tend'rest point, the master-string
That makes most harmony or discord to me.
I own the glorious subject fires my breast,
And my soul's darling passion stands confess'd.
Beyond or love's or friendship's sacred band,
Beyond myself, I prize my native land:
On this foundation would I build my fame,
And emulate the Greek and Roman name,
Think England's peace bought cheaply with my
blood,

And die with pleasure for my country's good.

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1st Dale. LET us all see him!
2d Dale. Yes, and hear him too.
3d Dale. Let us be sure 'tis he himself.
4th Dale. Our general.

5th Dale. And we will fight while weapons can be found.

6th Dale. Or hands to wield them.
7th Dale. Get on the bank, Gustavus.
Anderson. Do, my lord.

Gus. My countrymen !-
1st Dale. Ho! hear him!
2d Dale. Peace!
3d Dale. Peace!
4th Dale. Peace!

[hearts,

Gus. Aniazement, I perceive, hath fill'd your And joy for that your lost Gustavus, 'scap'd Thro' wounds, imprisonments, and chains, and deaths,

[ye. Thus sudden, thus unlook'd for, stands before As one escap'd from cruel hands I come, From hearts that ne'er knew pity, dark and vengeful;

Who quaff the tears of orphans, bathe in blood, And know no music but the groans of Sweden. Yet, not for that my sister's early innocence, And mother's age, now grind beneath captivity;

Nor that one bloody, one remorseless hour Swept my great sire and kindred from my side, For them Gustavus weeps not; tho' my eyes Were far less dear, for them I will not weep. But, O great parent, when I think on thee! Thy numberless, thy nameless, shameful infa mies,

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