And take me for their fellow-citizen.

More of this image, more; it lulls my thoughts.

[Soft music again.

Vent. I must disturb him; I can hold no longer.

Ant. [Starting up.] Art thou Ventidius?

Vent.

I'm liker what I was than you to him

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[Stands before him.

Are you Antony?

Ant. I would be private: leave me.
Vent.

And therefore will not leave you.

Sir, I love you,

Will not leave me!

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Ant.
Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I?
Vent. My emperor; the man I love next heaven :

If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin :

You're all that's good, and godlike.

Ant.

You will not leave me then?

All that's wretched.

'Twas too presuming

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Vent.
To say I would not; but I dare not leave you :
And 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence

So soon, when I so far have come to see you.

Ant. Now thou hast seen me, art thou satisfied? For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough;

And, if a foe, too much.

Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew.

I have not wept this forty year; but now

My mother comes afresh into my eyes;

I cannot help her softness.

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[Weeping.

265

Ant. By heaven, he weeps! poor good old man, he weeps! The big round drops course one another down

The furrows of his cheeks.-Stop 'em, Ventidius,
Or I shall blush to death: they set my shame,
That caused 'em, full before me.

Vent.

I'll do my best. Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of friends :

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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 conquering soldier, red with unfelt wounds, Salutes his general so; but never more

Shall that sound reach my ears.

Vent.

Ant. Actium, Actium! Oh

Vent.

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I warrant you.

It sits too near you.

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Ant. Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by day,

And, in my short, distracted, nightly slumbers,
The hag that rides my dreams.

Vent. Out with it; give it vent.

Ant.

I lost a battle

Vent.

Urge not my shame.

So has Julius done.

Ant. Thou favour'st me, and speak'st not half thou

think'st;

For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly:

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But Antony

Vent.

Ant.

Nay, stop not.

Antony

Well, thou wilt have it—like a coward, fled,

Fled while his soldiers fought; fled first, Ventidius.
Thou long'st to curse me, and I give thee leave.

I know thou cam'st prepared to rail.

I did.

Vent.
Ant. I'll help thee-I have been a man, Ventidius.
Vent. Yes, and a brave one; but-
Ant.

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I know thy meaning.

But I have lost my reason, have disgraced
The name of soldier, with inglorious ease;
In the full vintage of my flowing honours,
Sate still, and saw it prest by other hands.
Fortune came smiling to my youth, and wooed it,
And purple greatness met my ripened years.
When first I came to empire, I was borne
On tides of people crowding to my triumphs,

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The wish of nations; and the willing world
Received me as its pledge of future peace.
I was so great, so happy, so beloved,

Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains,

And worked against my fortune, chid her from me,
And turned her loose: yet still she came again.
My careless days, and my luxurious nights,
At length have wearied her, and now she's gone,
Gone, gone, divorced for ever. Help me, soldier,
To curse this madman, this industrious fool,
Who laboured to be wretched: pr'ythee curse me.
Vent. No.

Ant.

Vent.

Why?

You are too sensible already

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310

Of what you've done, too conscious of your failings,
And, like a scorpion, whipt by others first

To fury, sting yourself in mad revenge.

I would bring balm, and pour it in your wounds,
Cure your distempered mind, and heal your fortunes.
Ant. I know thou wouldst.

Vent.

Ant.

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I will.

Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Vent. You laugh.

Ant.

Give cordials to the dead.

Vent.

I do, to see officious love

Ant. I am.

Vent.

I say you are not. Try your fortune.

Ant. I have, to the utmost. Dost thou think me desperate, Without just cause? No, when I found all lost

Beyond repair, I hid me from the world,

And learnt to scorn it here; which now I do

So heartily, I think it is not worth

The cost of keeping.

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.

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330

Vent. I can die with you too, when time shall serve ; But fortune calls upon us now to live,

To fight, to conquer.

Ant.

Sure thou dream'st, Ventidius.

Vent. No; 'tis you dream; you sleep away your hours
In desperate sloth, miscalled philosophy.

Up, up, for honour's sake; twelve legions wait you,
And long to call you chief. By painful journeys,

I led 'em, patient both of heat and hunger,

Down from the Parthian marches to the Nile.

"Twill do you good to see their sun-burnt faces,

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340

Their scarred cheeks, and chopt hands; there's virtue in

'em.

They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates

Than yon trim bands can buy.

Ant. Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids, To double my despair? They're mutinous.

Vent. There's but one way shut up: how came I hither?

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?

355

Vent. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. Why should they fight, indeed, to make her conquer,

360

And make you more a slave? to gain you kingdoms,
Which, 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 license
On all my other faults; but, on your life,
No word of Cleopatra; she deserves

More worlds than I can lose.

Vent.

To whom you have intrusted humankind!

365

Behold, you Powers,

370*

See Europe, Afric, Asia, put in balance,

And all weighed 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.

You grow presumptuous.

Ant.
Vent. I take the privilege of plain love to speak.
Ant. Plain love! plain arrogance, plain insolence!
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 a stain to honour!

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

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.
What hindered me to have led my conquering eagles
To fill Octavius' bands? I could have been

A traitor then, a glorious happy traitor,

And not have been so called.

Ant.

I've been too passionate.

Forgive me, soldier ;

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