And see its inward mourning! Get thee hence! Ant. Wilt thou not live to speak some good Thou art not worthy to behold what now

of me? Becomes a Roman emperor to perform.

To stand by my fair fame, and guard the apAler. He loves her still ;

[ Aside.

proaches His grief betrays it. Good ! the joy to find From the ill tongues of men ? She's yet alive completes the reconcilement : Vent. Who shall guard mine, I have saved myself and her. But oh! the Ro- For living after you? mans !

Ant. Say, I commanded it. Fate comes too fast upon my wit,

Vent. If we die well, our deaths will speak Hunts me too hard, and meets me at each dou

themselves, ble.

(Erit. And need no living witness. Vent. Would she had died a little sooner Ant. Thou hast loved me, though,

And fain I would reward thee. " I must die; Before Octavia went; you might have treated : Kill me, and take the merit of my death, Now 'twill look tame, and would not be received. To make thee friends with Cæsar. Come, rouse yourself, and let's die warm to- Vent. Thank your kindness! gether.

You said I loved you, and in recompense Ant. I will not fight; there's no more work You bid me turn a traitor! Did I think for war;

You would have used me thus! that I should The business of my angry hours is done.

die Vent. Cæsar is at your gates.

With a hard thought of you ! Ant. Why let him enter:

Ant. Forgive me, Roman. He's welcome now.

Since I have heard of Cleopatra's death, Vent. What lethargy has crept into your soul? My reason bears no rule upon my tongue,

Ant. 'Tis but a scorn of life, and just desire But lets my thoughts break all at random out. To free myself from bondage.

I have thought better; do not deny me twice. Vent. Do it bravely.

Vent. By heaven I will not ! Ant. I will, but not by fighting. Oh, Venti- Let it not be to outlive you. dius,

Ant. Kill me first, What should I fight for now? my queen is dead: And then die thou; for

'tis but just thou serve I was but great for her: my power, my empire, Thy friend before thyself. Were but my merchandise to buy her love,

Vent. Give me your handAnd conquered kings my factors. Now she's We soon shall meet again. Now farewell, emdead,

peror !

[Embrace. Let Cæsar take the world--

Methinks that word's too cold to be my last : An empty circle, since the jewels gone, Since death sweeps all distinctions, farewell, Which made it worth my strife: my being's

friend! nauseous,

That's allFor all the bribes of life are gone away.

I will not make a business of a trifleVent. Would you be taken?

And yet I cannot look on you and kill you :
Ant. Yes, I would be taken;

Pray turn your face.
But as a Roman ought; dead, my Ventidius- Ånt. I do: strike home; be sure.
For I'll convey my soul from Cæsar's reach, Vent. Home as my sword will reach.
And lay down life myself. . 'Tis time the world

(Kills himself.
Should have a lord, and know whom to obey. Ant. Oh, thou mistak'st!
We two have kept its homage in suspense, That wound was none of thine; give it me back:
And bent the globe, on whose each side we trod, Thou robb’st me of my death.
Till it was dinted inwards. Let him walk

Vent. I do indeed; Alone upon it : I'm weary of my part.

But think, 'tis the first time I e'er deceived you, My torch is out, and the world stands before me, If that may plead my pardon. And you, gods! Like a black desert at the approach of night: Forgive me, if you will; for I die perjured, I'll lay me down and stray no farther on. Rather than kill my friend.

(Dies. Vent. I could be grieved,

Ant. Farewell ! ever my leader, even in death! But that I'll not outlive you. Chuse your death, My queen and thou have got the start of me, For I have seen him in such various shapes, And I'm the lag of honour.-Gone so soon! I care not which I take: I'm only troubled Is death no more! He used him carelessly, The life I bear is worn to such a rag,

With a familiar kindness ; ere he knocked, 'Tis scarce worth giving. I could wish indeed Ran to the door, and took him in his arms, We threw it from us with a better grace, As who should say, you're welcome at all hours, That, like two lions taken in the toils,

A friend need give no warning.--Books had spoilWe might at least thrust out our paws, and wound

ed him, The hunters, that enclose us.

For all the learned are cowards by profession. Ant. I have thought on it;

'Tis not worth Ventidius, you must live.

My further thought ; for death, for aught I know, l'ent, I inust not, sir.

Is but to think no more, Here's to be satisfied

[Falls on his sword.

I have miss'd my heart-Oh, unperforming hand! | And now to die each other's! and so dying,
Thou never couldst have erred in a worse time. While hand in hand we walk in groves below,
My fortune jades me to the last ; and death, Whole troops of lovers' ghosts shall flock about us,
Like a great man, takes state, and makes me wait And all the train be ours.
For my admittance- [Trampling within. Cleo. Your words are like the notes of dying
Some, perhaps, from Cæsar!

swans, If he should find me living, and suspect

Too sweet to last. Were there so many hours That I play'd booty with my life! I'll mend For your unkindness, and not one for love! My work ere they can reach me.

Ant. No, not a minute--this one kiss—more (Rises upon his knees.

worth
Than all I leave to Cæsar.-

[Dies.
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, and IRAS. Cleo. Oh, tell me so again,
Cleo. Where is my lord? where is he ! And take ten thousand kisses for that word!
Char. There he lies,

My lord! my lord ! speak, if you yet have being! And dead Ventidius by him.

Sign to me if you cannot speak! or cast Cleo. My fears were prophets ! I am come too One look! do any thing, that shows you live! late !

Irus. He is gone too far to hear you, Oh, that accursed Alexas ! [Runs to him. And this, you see, a lump of senseless clay, Ant. Art thou living?

The leavings of a soul. Or am I dead before I knew, and thou

Char. Remember, madam, The first kind ghost that meets me?

He charged you not to grieve. Cleo. Help me seat him !

Cleo. And I'll obey him. Send quickly, send for help!

I have not loved a Roman not to know [They place him in a chair. What should become his wife-his wife, my Ant. I am answered:

Charmion!
We live both. Sit thee down, my Cleopatra ! For 'tis to that high title I aspire ;
I'll make the most I can of life, to stay

And now I'll not die less. Let dull Octavia A moment more with thee.

Survive, to mourn him dead: my nobler fate Cleo. How is it with you?

Shall knit our spousals with a tie, too strong Ant. 'Tis, as with a man

For Roman laws to break. Removing in a hurry; all packed up

Iras. Will you then die! But one dear jewel, that his haste forgot,

Cleo. Why shouldst thou make that question? And he for that returns upon the spur;

Iras. Cæsar is most merciful.So I come back for thee.

Cleo. Let him be so Cleo. Too long, ye heavens! you have been To those, that want his merey: My poor lord cruel to me!

Made no such covenant with him to spare me, Now shew your mended faith, and give me back when he was dead. Yield me to Cæsar's pride! His fleeting life!

What? to be led in triumph through the streets, Ant. It will not be, my love!

A spectacle to base plebeian eyes, I keep my soul by force.

While some dejected friend of Antony's, Say but thou art not false!

Close in a corner, shakes his head, and mutters Cleo. 'Tis now too late

A secret curse on her, who ruined him!
To say I'm true; I'll prove it and die with you. I'll none of that.
Unknown to me Alexas feigned my death,

Char. Whatever you resolve,
Which, when I knew, I hasted to prevent I'll follow, even to death.
This fatal consequence. My fleet betrayed

Iras. I only feared
Both you and me.

For you, but more should fear to live without Ant. And DolabellaCleo. Scarce esteemed before he loved, but Cleo. Why, now 'tis as it should be. Quick, hated now.

my friends, Ant. Enough! my life's not long enough for Dispatch! ere this the town's in Cæsar's hands : more.

My lord looks down concerned, and fears my Thcu say'st, thou wilt come after: I believe thee;

stay, For I can now believe whate'er thou say'st, Lest I should be surprised: That we may part more kindly.

Keep him not waiting for his love too long. Cleo. I will come;

You, Charmion, bring my crown and richest Doubt not, my life! I'll come, and quickly too!

jewels; Cæsar shall triumph o'er no part of thee. With them the wreath of victory I made

Ant. But grieve not, while thou stay'st, (Vain augury !) for him, who now lies dead : My last disastrous times !

You, Iras, bring the cure of all our ills.
Think we have had a clear and glorious day, Iras. The aspicks, madam?
And heaven did kindly to delay the storm, Cleo. Must I bid you twice?
Just till our close of evening. Ten years love,

(Erit CHAR. and IRAs. And not a moment lost, but all improved 'Tis sweet to die, when they would force life To the utmost joys! what ages have we lived !

you.

my love,

To rush into the dark abode of death,

Coward flesh And seize him first ! If he be like my love, Wouldst thou conspire with Cæsar to betray me, He is not frightful sure !

As thou wert none of mine? I'll force thee to it, We are now alone, in secrecy and silence, And not be sent by him, And is not this like lovers? I may kiss

But bring myself, my soul, to Antony. These pale cold lips—Octavia does not see me; [Turns aside, and then shows her urm bloody. And, oh! 'tis better far to have him thus, Take hence: the work is done! Than see him in her arms !0 welcome, wel- Ser. Break ope the door,

(Within. come!

And guard the traitor well.

Char. The next is ours. Enter CHARMION and IRAs, with the aspicks,&c.

Iras. Now, Charmion, to be worthy Char. What must be done ?

Of our great queen and mistress. Cleo. Short ceremony, friends;

[They apply the aspicks. But yet it must be decent. First, this laurel Cleo. Already, Death,

I feel thee in my veins; Shall crown my hero's head: he fell not basely, I go with such a will to find my lord, Nor left his shield behind him. Only thou That we shall quickly meet. Couldst triumph o'er thyself, and thou alone A heavy numbness creeps through every limb, Wert worthy so to triumph. .,

And now 'tis at my head: my eyelids fall

, Char. To what end

And my dear love is vanished in a mist! These ensigns of your pomp and royalty? Where shall I find him, where? oh! turn me to Cleo. Dull, that thou art! why, 'tis to meet

him,

And lay me on his breast !_Cæsar, thy worst! As when I saw him first on Cydnos' bank, Now part us if thou canst.

[Dies. All sparkling like a goddess; so adorned,

[IRAS sinks down at her feet and dies ; CHARI'll find him once again; my second spousals

MION stands behind her chair, as dressing Shall match my first in glory. Haste, haste, both, her head. And dress the bride of Antony ! Char. 'Tis done.

Enter SERAPION, two Priests, ALEXAS bound, Cleo. Now seat me by my lord; I claim this

and Egyptians. place,

2 Priest. Behold, Serapion, what havoc death For I must conquer Cæsar too, like him,

has made! And win my share o'th' world. Hail, you dear Ser. 'Twas what I feared. relicks

Charmion, is this well done? Of my immortal Jove !

Chur. Yes, 'tis well done, and like a queen, Oh, let no impious hand remove you hence,

the last But rest for ever here ! let Egypt give

Of her great race. I follow her. [Sinks down. Dies. His death that peace, which it denied his life! Aler. 'Tis true, Reach me the casket.

She has done well : much better thus to die, Iras. Underneath the fruit the aspick lies. Than live to make a holiday in Rome. Cleo. Welcome, thou kind deceiver!

Ser. See how the lovers sit in state together, [Putting.aside the leaves. As they were giving laws to half mankind ! Thou best of thieves! who with an easy key The impression of a smile, left in her face, Dost open life, and, unperceived by us,

Shows she died pleased with him, for whom she Even steal us from ourselves, discharging so

lived, Death's dreadful office better than himself, And went to charm him in another world. Touching our limbs so gently into slumber, Cæsar's just entering ; grief has now no leisure, That death stands by, deceived by his own image, Secure that villain, as our pledge of safety, And thinks himself but sleep.

To grace the imperial triumph. Sleep, blest Ser. The queen, where is she? [IVithin.

pair! The town is yielded, Cæsar's at the gates.

Secure from human chance, long ages out, Cleo. He comes too late to invade the rights While all the storms of fate fly o'er your tomb : of death,

And fame to late posterity shall tell, Haste, haste, my friend, and rouse the serpent's No lovers lived so great, or died so well. fury,

(Ezeunt, [Holds out her arm, and draws it back,

EPILOGUE.

Poets, like disputants, when reasons fail, He does his best ; and if he cannot please,
Have one sure refuge left; and that's to rail. Would quietly sue out his writ of ease.
Fop, coxcomb, fool, arethunder'd through thepit; Yet, if he might his own grand jury call,
And this is all their equipage of wit.

By the fair sex, he begs to stand or fall.
We wonder how the devil this difference grows, Let Cæsar's pow'r the men's ambition move,
Betwixt our fools in verse, and your's in prose : But grace you him who lost the world for love.
For, faith, the quarrel rightly understood, Yet, if some antiquated lady say,
'Tis civil war with their own flesh and blood. The last age is not copied in his play;
The thread-bare author hates the gaudy coat, Heav'n help the man who for that face must
And swears at the gilt coach; but swears a-foot;

drudge, For 'tis observed of every scribbling man, Which only has the wrinkles of a judge. He grows a fop as fast as e'er he can;

Let not the young and beauteous join with those; Prunes up, and asks his oracle, the glass, For should you raise such numerous hosts of foes, If pink or purple best becomes his face- Young wits and sparks he to his aid must call; For our poor wretch, he neither rails nor prays; 'Tis more than one man's work to please you all. Or likes your wit just as you like his plays; He has not yet so much of Mr Bayes.

DON SEBASTIAN.

BY

DRYDEN.

PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN BY A WOMAN.

The judge remov’d, though he's no more my lord, Thus far the poet,--but his brains grow addle;
May plead at bar, or at the council-board: And all the rest is purely from this noddle.
So may cast poets write; there's no pretension, You've seen young ladies at the senate door,
To argue loss of wit from loss of pension. Prefer petitions, and your grace implore;
Your looks are cheerful; and in all this place However grave the legislators were,
I see not one, that wears a damning face. Their cause went ne'er the worse for being fair ;
The British nation is too brave to show

Reasons as weak as theirs perhaps I bring,
Ignoble vengeance, on a vanquished foe; But I could bribe you with as good a thing.
At least be civil to the wretch imploring, I heard him make advances of good nature,
And lay your paws upon him, without roaring; That he for once would sheath his cutting satire ;
Suppose our poet was your foe before,

Sign but his peace, he vows he'll ne'er again Yet now the bus'ness of the field is o'er; The sacred names of fops and beaux prophane. 'Tis time to let your civil wars alone,

Strike up the bargain quickly; for I swear,
When troops are into winter-quarters gone.

As times go now, he offers very fair.
Jove was alike to Latian and to Phrygian; Be not too hard on him with statutes neither;
And you well know, a play's of no religion. Be kind; and do not get your teeth together,

Take good advice, and please yourselves this day; To stretch the laws, as coblers do their leather.
No matter from what hands you have the play. Horses by papists are not to be ridden;
Among good fellows ev'ry health will pass, But sure the muses' horse was ne'er forbidden ;
That serves to carry round another glass : For in no rate-book, it was ever found
When, with full bowls of burgundy you dine, That Pegasus was valued at five pound:
Though at the mighty monarch you repine, Fine him to daily drudging and inditing ;
You grant him still Most Christian, in his wine. And let him pay his taxes out,-in writing.

PROLOGUE.

Sent to the Author by an unknown hand, and proposed to be spoken by Mrs Monford, dressed like

an Officer.