Lys. To whom does your dread majesty be- If, by unwearied toil, I have deserved queath The empire of the world? Alex. To him that is most worthy. Perd. When will you, sacred sir, that we should give To your great memory those divine honours, Alex. When you are all most happy, and in peace. Your hands -O father, if I have discharged [Rises. The vast renown of thy adopted son, [Dies. Lys. Eumenes, cover the fallen majesty; If there be treason, let us find it out; Lysimachus stands forth to lead you on, And swears, by these most honoured dear remains, He will not taste those joys which beauty brings, Till we revenge the greatest, best of kings. [Exeunt omnes. The duty of a man to empire born; SCENE I.-The Temple of Isis. SERAPION, and MYRIS, Priests of Isis, discovered. Ser. PORTENTS and prodigies are grown so frequent, That they have lost their name. Our fruitful Flowed, ere the wonted season, with a torrent Sea-horses, floundering in the slimy mud, Tossed up their heads, and dashed the ooze about them. Enter ALEXAS behind them. Myr. Avert these omens, Heaven! Ser. Last night, between the hours of twelve and one, In a lone aisle of the temple while I walked, Even of the hinds, that watched it. Men and Shook all the dome; the doors around me clapt; beasts Were borne above the tops of trees, that grew It slipt from underneath the scaly herd: The iron wicket, that defends the vault, On the cold pavement down I fell entranced, Nor meant my words should reach your ears; but what I uttered was most true. Alex. A foolish dream, Bred from the fumes of indigested feasts Ser. I know my duty: This goes no farther. Alex. 'Tis not fit it should, Nor would the times now bear it, were it true. All southern from yon hills the Roman camp Hangs o'er us black and threatening, like a storm Just breaking on our heads. Ser. Our faint Egyptians pray for Antony, But in their servile hearts they own Octavius. Myr. Why, then, does Antony dream out his hours, And tempts not fortune for a noble day, Seems not to press the siege. Alex. Oh, there's the wonder. Has not beheld the face of Cleopatra, To cure his mind of love. Ser. If he be vanquished, Or make his peace, Egypt is doomed to be Alex. Had I my wish, these tyrants of all na Whom, would she yet forsake, yet yield him up, Enter VENTIDIUS, talking aside with a gentleman of ANTONY'S. Ser. These Romans will o'erhear us. But who's that stranger? by his warlike port, Alex. Oh, 'tis Ventidius, Our emperor's great lieutenant in the east, When Antony returned from Syria last, Ser. You seem to know him well. Alex. Too well. I saw him in Cilicia first, When Cleopatra there met Antony: A mortal foe he was to us and Egypt. But let me witness to the worth I hate; A braver Roman never drew a sword: Firm to his prince, but as a friend, not slave: He ne'er was of his pleasures, but presides O'er all his cooler hours, and morning counsels : In short, the plainness, fierceness, rugged virtue Of an old true stampt Roman lives in him. His coming bodes, I know not what, of ill To our affairs. Withdraw, to mark him better, And I'll acquaint you why I sought you here, And what is 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 pre For his vast soul, and then he starts out wide, [ALEXAS and the priests come forward. Alex. You have your full instructions; now ad vance; Proclaim your orders loudly. Ser. Romans! Egyptians! hear the queen's command. Thus Cleopatra bids: Let labour cease; pomp and triumphs give this happy day, That gave the world a lord; 'tis Antony's. Live Antony, and Cleopatra live! Be this the general voice sent up to heaven, [Aside. Ser. Set out before your doors The images of all your sleeping fathers, With laurels crowned; with laurels wreath your posts, And strew with flowers the pavement; let the priest Do present sacrifice, pour out the wine, Can they be friends to Antony, who revel Alex. A love, which knows no bounds to Antony, Would mark the day with honours; when all Laboured for him, when each propitious star Vent. Would it had slept Divided far from his, till some remote Alex. Your emperor, Tho' grown unkind, would be more gentle than To upbraid my queen for loving him too well. Vent. Does the mute sacrifice upbraid the priest? He knows him not his executioner. Oh! she has decked his ruin with her love, Led him in golden bands to gaudy slaughter, And made perdition pleasing: she has left him The blank of what he was. I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmanned him: Can any Roman see and know him now, Thou bravest soldier, and thou best of friends! As bounty were thy being. Rough in battle Than all their praying virgins left at home! His truth to her, who loves him. Vent. Would I could not! But wherefore waste I precious hours with thee? Re-enter the Gentleman of MARC ANTONY. On pain of death, that none presume to stay. 1 Gent. I dare not disobey him. [Going out with the other. Vent. Well, I dare: But I'll observe him first, unseen, and find Which way his humour drives: the rest I'll ven[Withdraws. ture. Enter ANTONY, walking with a disturbed motion before he speaks. Ant. They tell me, 'tis my birth-day; 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, To be trod out by Cæsar? Vent. [Aside] On my soul 'Tis mournful, wondrous mournful! Ant. Count thy gains Now, Antony; wouldst thou be born for this! Vent. [Aside] How sorrow shakes him! Ant. [Having thrown himself down] Lie there, thou shadow of an emperor; The place, thou pressest on thy mother earth, ין Is all thy empire now: now it contains thee; Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more Give me some music; look, that it be sad. Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene, Vent. I'll do my best. Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of See, I have caught it too. Believe me 'tis not Ant. Emperor! why that's the style of vic- The conquering soldier, red with unfelt wounds, Stretched at my length beneath some blasted Shall that sound reach my ears. oak, I lean my head upon the mossy bark, And look just of a piece as I grew from it: Vent. Methinks I fancy Myself there too. Ant. The herd come jumping by me, And fearless quench their thirst, while I look on, More of this image, more; it lulls my thoughts. Vent. I warrant you. Ant. Actium, Actium! Oh- Ant. Here, here it lies, a lump of lead by day, Vent. Out with it; give it vent. I lost a battle. Vent. So has Julius done. Ant. Thou favourest me, and speakest not half Vent. I must disturb him. oft music again. For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly; ger. can hold no lon[Stands before him. Ant. [Starting up] Art thou Ventidius? Vent. Are you Antony? I'm liker what I was than you to him I left you last. Ant. I'm angry. Vent. So am I. Ant. I would be private. Leave me. Vent. Sir, I love you, And therefore will not leave you. Ant. Will not leave me ! Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I? If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin: Ant. All that's wretched. You will not leave me then? Vent. 'Twas too presuming To say I would not; but I dare not leave you; For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough, Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew: I have not wept this forty years; but now But Antony Vent. Nay, stop not. Ant. Antony (Well, thou wilt have it) like a coward fled, Fled, while his soldiers fought; fled first, Venti Ant. I'll help thee-I have been a man, Ven- Vent. Yes, and a brave one; but Ant. I know thy meaning. But I have lost my reason, have disgraced me, And turned her loose; yet still she came again. |