If you'll employ me to him. [Exit Proculeius. Dol. Most noble Empress, you have heard of me. Cleo. I cannot tell. Dol. Affuredly, you know me. Cleo. No matter, Sir, what I have heard or known. You laugh, when boys or women tell their dreams; Is 't not your trick? Dol. I understand not, Madam. Cleo. I dreamt, there was an Emp'ror Antony; Oh fuch another fleep, that I might fee But fuch another man! 2 Dol. If it might please ye Cleo. His face was as the heav'ns; and therein stuck A Sun and Moon, which kept their courfe, and lighted The little O o' th' Earth. Dol. Moft fovereign creature; Cleo. His legs beftrid the ocean, his rear'd arm As all the tuned Spheres, when that to friends and shake the Orb, 3 For his bounty, There was no winter in 't: An Autumn 'twas, His delights Were dolphin-like, they fhew'd his back above Walk'd Crowns and Coronets, realms and islands were Dol Cleopatra Cleo. Think you, there was, or might be, fuch a man As this I dreamt of? Dol. Gentle Madam, no. Cleo. You lye, up to the hearing of the Gods. It's past the size of dreaming; Nature wants ftuff exquifite fine allufion; which carries its reafon with it too, why there was no winter in his bounty. -For his bounty, There was no Winter in 't: an 4 Autumn 'twas, That grew the more by reaping. I ought to take notice, that the ingenious Dr. Thirlby likewife ftarted this very emendation, and had mark'd it in the margin of his book, THEOBALD. -yet t' imagine An Antony wereNature's PIECE 'gainst Fancy, Condemning fadas quite.]This is a fine fentiment; but by the falfe reading and pointing become unintelligible. Though when fet right, obfcure enough to deferve a comment. ShakeSpear wrote, yet t'imagine Dol. The fenfe of which is this, Nature, in general, has not materials enough to furnish out real forms, for every model that the boundless power of the imagination can sketch out: [Nature wants matter to vie ftrange forms with Fancy.] But though this be true in general, that nature is more poor, narrow, and confined than fancy, yet it must be owned, that when nature prefents an Antony to us, she then gets the better of fancy, and makes even the imagination appear poor and narrow: Or, in our author's phrafe, [condemns shadows quite.] The word PRIZɛ, which I have reftored, is very pretty, as figu ring a contention between nature and imagination about the larger extent of their powers; and nature gaining the PRIZE by producing Antony. WARB. In this paffage I cannot difcover any temptation to critical experiments. The word piece, is R a term Dol. Hear me, good Madam. Your lofs is as yourfelf, great: and you bear it, By the rebound of yours, a grief that shoots Cleo. I thank you, Sir. Know you, what Cæfar means to do with me? Dol. Though he be honourable- knew. Enter Cæfar, Gallus, Mecænas, Proculeius, and Attendants. Caf. Which is the Queen of Egypt? Dol. It is the Emperor, Madam. Caf. Arife, you shall not kneel. I pray you, rife. Rife, Egypt. [Cleo. kneels, Will have it thus; my mafter and my Lord I must obey. Caf. Take to you no hard thoughts. Though written in our flesh, we shall remember art. Cleo. Sole Sir o' th' world, a term appropriated to works of Here Nature and Fancy produce each their piece, and the icce done by Nature had the pre ference. Antony was in reality past the fize of dreaming; he was more by Nature than Fancy could present in sleep. I cannot 5 I cannot project mine own caufe fo well Caf. Cleopatra, know, We will extenuate rather than inforce. Which tow'rds you are most gentle, you fhall find Antony's courfe, you fhall bereave yourself Cleo. And may, through all the world: 'tis yours; and we, Your fcutcheons, and your figns of Conqueft, fhall Hang in what place you pleafe. Here, my good Lord. Caf. You fhall advife me in all for Cleopatra. Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels I am poffeft of; 'tis exactly valued, 6 Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus? Sel. Here, Madam. Cleo. This is my treasurer, let him speak, my Lord, Upon his peril, that I have referv'd To myfelf nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus. Sel, Enough to purchase what you have made known. Cleo. See, Cæfar ! Oh, behold, How Pomp is follow'd; mine will now be yours, Ev'n make me wild. Oh flave, of no more trust Than love that 's hir'd-What, goeft thou back? thou fhalt Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes, Though they had wings. Slave, foul-lefs villain, dog, [Striking him. O rarely base! Caf. Good Queen, let us intreat you. Cleo. O Cafar, what a wounding fhame is this, That thou, vouchfafing here to visit me, Doing the honour of thy Lordliness To one fo meek, that mine own fervant fhould |