MYR. Why then does Antony dream out his hours, And tempts not fortune for a noble day, Which might redeem what Actium lost? ALEX. He thinks 'tis past recovery. SERAP. Yet the foe Seems not to press the siege. ALEX. Oh, there's the wonder. With Cæsar, are his foes. His wife Octavia, Yet still war seems on either side to sleep. SERAP. 'Tis strange that Antony, for some days past, Has not beheld the face of Cleopatra; But here, in Isis' temple, lives retired, And makes his heart a prey to black despair. ALEX. 'Tis true; and we much fear he hopes by absence To cure his mind of love. SERAP. If he be vanquished, Or make his peace, Egypt is doomed to be ALEX. Had I my wish, these tyrants of all nature, SERAP. How stands the queen affected? She dotes, Serapion, on this vanquished man, And makes me use all means to keep him here. Enter VENTIDIUS, talking aside with a SERAP. These Romans will o'erhear us. ALEX. Oh, 'tis Ventidius, Our emperor's great lieutenant in the East, Who first showed Rome that Parthia could be conquered. When Antony returned from Syria last, He left this man to guard the Roman frontiers. SERAP. You seem to know him well. ALEX. Too well. I saw him at Cilicia first, When Cleopatra there met Antony: A mortal foe he was to us, and Egypt. To our affairs. Withdraw to mark him better; And what's our present work. [They withdraw to a corner of the stage; and VENTIDIUS, with the other, comes forward to the front. VENT. Not see him; say you? I say, I must, and will. GENT. He has commanded, On pain of death, none should approach his presence. VENT. I bring him news will raise his drooping spirits, Give him new life. GENT. He sees not Cleopatra. VENT. Would he had never seen her! GENT. He eats not, drinks not, sleeps not, has no use Of anything, but thought; or if he talks, 'Tis to himself, and then 'tis perfect raving: VENT. Just, just his nature. Virtue's his path; but sometimes 'tis too narrow [ALEXAS and the Priests come forward. ALEX. You have your full instructions, now advance, Proclaim your orders loudly. SERAP. Romans, Egyptians, hear the queen's command. Thus Cleopatra bids: Let labour cease; To pomp and triumphs give this happy day, Live, Antony; and Cleopatra live! Be this the general voice sent up to heaven And every public place repeat this echo. VENT. Fine pageantry! SERAP. Set out before your doors The images of all your sleeping fathers, [Aside. With laurels crowned; with laurels wreath your posts, And strew with flowers the pavement; let the priests Do present sacrifice; pour out the wine, And call the gods to join with you in gladness. VENT. Curse on the tongue that bids this general joy! Can they be friends of Antony, who revel When Antony's in danger? Hide, for shame, ALEX. A love, which knows no bounds, to Antony, VENT. Would it had slept, Divided far from his; till some remote And future age had called it out, to ruin ALEX. Your emperor, Though grown unkind, would be more gentle, than VENT. Does the mute sacrifice upbraid the priest ! Oh, she has decked his ruin with her love, I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmanned him. Thou bravest soldier, and thou best of friends! Couldst thou but make new worlds, so wouldst thou give them, As bounty were thy being! rough in battle, As the first Romans when they went to war; Yet after victory more pitiful Than all their praying virgins left at home! ALEX. Would you could add, to those more shining virtues, His truth to her who loves him. VENT. Would I could not! But wherefore waste I precious hours with thee! Nor mix effeminate sounds with Roman trumpets, And keep your cowards' holiday in temples. [Exeunt ALEXAS, SERAPION. Re-enter the Gentleman of M. ANTONY 2 GENT. The emperor approaches, and commands, On pain of death, that none presume to stay. I GENT. I dare not disobey him. VENT. Well, I dare. [Going out with the other. But I'll observe him first unseen, and find Which way his humour drives: The rest I'll venture. [Withdraws. Enter ANTONY, walking with a disturbed motion before he speaks ANT. They tell me, 'tis my birthday, and I'll keep it With double pomp of sadness. 'Tis what the day deserves, which gave me breath. Why was I raised the meteor of the world, Hung in the skies, and blazing as I travelled, Till all my fires were spent; and then cast downward, VENT. [aside]. On my soul, 'Tis mournful, wondrous mournful! ANT. Count thy gains. Now, Antony, wouldst thou be born for this? Glutton of fortune, thy devouring youth |