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stricken his master; but, turning his head at one side, he thrust his sword into himself, and fell down dead at his master's foot. Then said Antonius, O noble Eros, I thank thee for this, and it is valiantly done of thee, to show me what I should do to myself, which thou couldst not do for me. Therewithal he took his sword, and thrust it into his belly, and so fell down upon a little bed. The wound he had killed him not presently, for the blood stinted a little when he was laid; and when he came somewhat to himself again, he prayed them that were about him to despatch him; but they all fled out of the chamber, and left him crying and tormenting himself, until at last there came a secretary unto him called Diomedes, who was commanded to bring him into the tomb or monument where Cleopatra was. When he heard that she was alive, he very earnestly prayed his men to carry his body thither, and so he was carried in his men's arms into the entry of the monument.— NORTH'S Plutarch.

"PLEACH'D arms"-i. e. Folded, interwoven.

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“O Charmian, I will never go from hence." Notwithstanding, Cleopatra would not open the gates, but came to the high windows, and cast out certain chains and ropes, in the which Antonius was trussed; and Cleopatra her own self, with two women only which she had suffered to come with her into these monuments, "trised" Antonius up. They that were present to behold it said they never saw so pitiful a sight; for they plucked up poor Antonius, all bloody as he was, and drawing on with pangs of death, who, holding up his hands to Cleopatra, raised up himself as well as he could. It was a hard thing for the women to do, to lift him up; but Cleopatra, stooping down with her head, putting to all her strength to her uttermost power, did lift him up with much ado, and never let go her hold, with the help of the women beneath that bade her be of good courage, and were as sorry to see her labour as she herself. So when she had gotten him in after that sort, and laid him on a bed, she rent her garments upon him, clapping her breast, and scratching her face and stomach. Then she dried up his blood that had berayed his face, and called him her lord, her husband, and emperor, forgetting her own misery and calamity for the pity and compassion she took of him. Antonius made her cease her lamenting, and called for wine, either because he was athirst, or else for that he thought thereby to hasten his death. When he had drunk he earnestly prayed her and persuaded her that she would seek to save her life, if she could possible, without reproach and dishonour, and that chiefly she should trust Proculeius above any man else about Cæsar; and, as for himself, that she should not lament nor sorrow for the miserable change of his fortune at the end of his days, but rather that she should think him the more fortunate for the former triumphs and honours he had received, considering that while he lived he was the noblest and greatest prince of the world, and that now he was overcome, not cowardly, but valiantly, a Roman by another Roman.-NORTH'S

Plutarch.

"I dare not, dear"-Cleopatra dares not come down out of the monument, to bestow the poor last kiss.

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BROOCH'D with me"-i. e. Adorned as with a brooch; a name then given to any ornamental jewel. "Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes And still CONCLUSION," etc.

"With her sedate determination, silent coolness of resolution," explains Johnson. But this meaning is hardly conveyed by the words, nor would such a temper be specially offensive to Cleopatra. I agree with Nares, (Glossary,) that she meant "deep but quiet censure, looking demure all the while." The" conclusion" is the opinion formed, by inference, from observation.

"QUICKEN with kissing"-i. e. Revive by my kiss. To "quicken," according to Baret, is "to make livelie and lustie; to make strong and sound; to refresh."

"the meanest CHARES"-A "chare," or char, is a single act, or piece of work; a turn, or bout of work, (from the Anglo-Saxon, cyran, to turn.) Hence, a charThe word, now quite obsolete in England, is still retained in the United States, in the form of chores; signifying any of the smaller work about a farm or house, in the sense here used.

woman.

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The Johnson and Stevens editors and commentators agree in pronouncing that some words or lines have been lost here, and amend in several ways; but we retain the old lines as first printed, and agree with Knight, that nothing can more forcibly express the idea of a general convulsion than that the wild beasts of the forest should have been hurled into the streets where men abide, and the inhabitants of cities as forcibly thrown into the lions' dens. Of the proposed amendments the best is that of Malone, thus:

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"Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras." Malone says, "Our author here, (as in KING HENRY VIII., act v. scene 1,) has attempted to exhibit at once the outside and inside of a building. It would be impossible to represent this scene in any way on the stage, but by making Cleopatra and her attendants speak all their speeches, till the queen is seized, within the monument." The higher interior elevation of the old Eng lish stage has already been noticed, and by its aid Cleopatra and her two attendants were exhibited in the monument above, in the rear of the stage; while the Romans appear in front below.

"—and never palates more the dung The beggar's nurse and Cæsar's." Voluntary death (says Cleopatra) is an act which bolts up change; it produces a state

Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung,
The beggar's nurse and Cæsar's;-

which has no longer need of the gross and terrene sustenance, in the use of which Cæsar and the beggar are on a level. It has been already said in this play, that— our dungy earth

Feeds man as beast.

"The Ethiopian king, (in Herodotus, book iii.,) upon hearing a description of the nature of wheat, replied, that he was not at all surprised if men, who eat nothing but dung, did not attain a longer life."

Such is the comment of Johnson and of Stevens, which gives the sense of the author, if the punctuation be as above, and as it is in the folio of 1623, referring the nurse to "dung." But if we read with another pointing

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and never palates more the dung; The beggar's nurse and Cæsar's

the common "nurse" of all men must then refer to that which "ends all other deeds," (i. e. death.) I prefer the former printing and sense.

"—pray in aid for kindness"—A phrase drawn from the technical language of the English common law :In real actions the tenant may pray in aid, or call for the assistance of another to help him plead. Thus a tenant for life may pray in aid of him that hath the reversion; that is, that he be joined in the action, and help defend," etc. (III. Blackstone's Commentaries, 300.)

"Proculeius and two of the Guard," etc.

The stage-direction is wanting in the older editions. This is added in the modern editions, from the account thus given in North's" Plutarch:"

"But Cleopatra would never put herself into Proculeius' hands, although they spoke together. For Proculeius came to the gates, that were very thick and strong, and surely barred; but yet there were some crannies through the which her voice might be heard, and so they without understood that Cleopatra demanded the kingdom of Egypt for her sons; and that Proculeius answered her that she should be of good cheer, and not be afraid to refer all unto Cæsar. After he had viewed the place very well, he came and reported her answer unto Caesar, who immediately sent Gallus to speak once again with her, and bade him purposely hold her with talk whilst Proculeius did set up a ladder against that high window by the which Antonius was 'trised' up, and came down into the monument with two of his men, hard by the gate where Cleopatra stood to hear what Gallus said unto her. One of her women which was shut in the monument with her saw Proculeius by chance as he came down, and shrieked out, O, poor Cleopatra, thou art taken! Then when she saw Proculeius behind her as she came from the gate, she thought to have stabbed herself with a short dagger she wore of purpose by her side. But Proculeius came suddenly upon her, and, taking her by both the hands, said unto her, Cleopatra, first thou shalt do thyself great wrong, and secondly unto Cæsar, to deprive him of the occasion and opportunity openly to show his bounty and mercy, and to give his enemies cause to accuse the most courteous and noble prince that ever was, and to ' appeache' him as though he were a cruel and merciless man that were not to be trusted. So, even as he spake the word, he took her dagger from her, and shook her clothes for fear of any poison hidden about her.”

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"I will eat no meat, I'll not drink”—i. e. I will not eat, and, if it will be necessary now for once to waste a moment in idle talk of my purpose, I will not sleep neither.-JOHNSON.

"My country's high PYRAMIDES"-The Latin plural of pyramid; used as a word of four syllables here, as it is by Sandys, Drayton, and other contemporary poets. "—his rear'd arm

CRESTED the world," etc.

Dr. Percy thinks that "this is an allusion to some of the old crests in heraldry, where a raised arm on a wreath was mounted on the helmet." To "crest" is to surmount.

"As PLATES dropp'd from his pocket"-Pieces of silver money were called "plates." So in Marlowe's "Jew of Malta:"

Rat'st thou this Moor but at two hundred plates? It is from the Spanish name of silver money, plata, which, about the age of Elizabeth, was introduced into English.

*

*

"Which is the queen of Egypt ?" Shortly after Caesar came himself in person to see her, and to comfort her. When Cæsar had made her lie down again, and sat by her bedside, Cleopatra began to clear and excuse herself for that she had done, laying all to the fear she had of Antonius. Cæsar, in contrary manner, reproved her in every point. Then she suddenly altered her speech, and prayed him to pardon her, as though she were afraid to die, and desirous to live. At length she gave him a brief and me

morial of all the ready money and treasure she had. But by chance there stood Seleucus by, one of her treasu rers, who, to seem a good servant, came straight to Cæ sar to disprove Cleopatra, that she had not set in all, but kept many things back of purpose. Cleopatra was in such a rage with him, that she flew upon him, and took him by the hair of the head, and boxed him well favouredly. Cæsar fell a-laughing, and parted the fray. Alas! said she, O Cæsar! is not this a great shame and reproach, that thou having vouchsafed to take the pains to come unto me, and hast done me this honour, poor wretch and caitiff creature, brought unto this pitiful and miserable estate; and that mine own servants should now come to accuse me, though it may be I have reserved some jewels and trifles meet for women, but not for me (poor soul) to set out myself withal, but meaning to give some pretty presents and gifts unto Octavia and Livia, that, they making means and intercession for me to thee, thou mightest yet extend thy favour and mercy upon me? Cæsar was glad to hear her say so, persuading himself thereby that she had yet a desire to save her life. So he made her answer, that he did not only give her that to dispose of at her pleasure which she had kept back, but further promised to use her more honourably and bountifully than she would think for: and so he took his leave of her, supposing he had deceived her, but indeed he was deceived himself.-NORTH'S Plutarch.

"I cannot PROJECT mine own cause"-To" project" is to delineate, to shape, to form. So in "Look About You," a comedy, (1600:)—

But quite dislike the project of your sute.

"MODERN friends”—i. e. Common, ordinary. "WITH one that I have bred"—"With" for by; a common old English idiom, now become merely colloquial and inelegant, if not incorrect.

"Make not your thoughts your prisons"-i. e. Be not a prisoner in imagination, when in reality you are free.JOHNSON.

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Dolabella sent her word secretly, that Cæsar deter mined to take his journey through Syria, and that within three days he would send her away before with her children. When this was told Cleopatra, she commanded they should prepare her bath, and when she had bathed and washed herself she fell to her meat, and was sumptuously served. Now, whilst she was at dinner, there came a countryman, and brought her a basket. The soldiers that warded at the gates asked him straight what he had in his basket. He opened the basket, and took out the leaves that covered the figs, and showed them that they were figs he brought. They all of them marvelled to see such goodly figs. The countryman laughed to hear them, and bade them take some if they would. They believed he told them truly, and so bade him carry them in. After Cleopatra had dined, she sent a certain table, written and sealed, unto Cæsar, and commanded them all to go out of the tombs where she was but the two women; then she shut the doors to her. Cæsar, when he received this table, and began to read her lamentation and petition, requesting him that he would let her be buried with Antonius, found straight what she meant, and thought to have gone thither him self: howbeit he sent one before him in all haste that might be to see what it was. Her death was very sud den; for those whom Cæsar sent unto her ran thither in all haste possible, and found the soldiers standing at the gate, mistrusting nothing, nor understanding of her death. But when they had opened the doors they found Cleopatra stark dead, laid upon a bed of gold. attired and arrayed in her royal robes, and one of her two women, which was called Iras, dead at her feet; and her other woman, called Charmian, half dead, and trembling, trimming the diadem which Cleopatra wore upon her head. One of the soldiers, seeing her, angrily said unto her, Is that well done, Charmian? Very well, said she

again, and meet for a princess descended from the race of so many noble kings. She said no more, but fell down dead hard by the bed. Some report that this aspic was brought unto her in the basket with figs, and that she had commanded them to hide it under the fig-leaves, that when she should think to take out the figs the aspic should bite her before she should see her. Howbeit, that, when she should have taken away the leaves from the figs, she perceived it, and said, Art thou here then? And so, her arm being naked, she put it to the aspic to be bitten. Other say again she kept it in a box, and that she did prick and thrust it with a spindle of gold, so that the aspic, being angered withal, leapt out with great fury, and bit her in the arm.-NORTH's Plutarch.

"Some squeaking Cleopatra BOY my greatness," etc. It has been already observed, that the parts of females were played by boys on our ancient stage. Nash, in his "Pierce Pennilesse," makes it a subject of exultation that "our players are not as the players beyond sea, that have whores and common courtesans to play women's parts." To obviate the impropriety of men representing women, T. Goff, in his tragedy of the " Raging Turk," (1631,) has no female character.

The fulfilment of the prophecy was not confined to the English stage, for the history of the French theatre informs us that, in the "Cleopatra" of Jodelle, one of the earliest French tragedies, the part of the heroine was performed by the author, who was fortunately young and boyish in appearance.

"SIRRAH, Iras, go"-" Sirrah" was not anciently an appellation either reproachful or injurious; being applied, with a sort of playful kindness, to children, friends, and servants, and what may seem more extraordinary, as in the present case, to women.

It is noth

ing more than the exclamation, Sir ha! and we sometimes find it in its primitive form, "A syr a, there said you wel." (Confutation of Nicholas Shaxton, 1546.) The Heus tu of Plautus is rendered by an old translator, Ha Sirra. In Beaumont and Fletcher's "Knight of Malta," one gentlewoman says to another, “Sirrah, why dost thou not marry?"

"In this WILD world"—Stevens and Dyce think that the original word was vild, the old orthography for vile; and the misprint is one often found in the old dramatists. Many modern editions have "wide world," which is clearly wrong.

This play keeps curiosity always busy, and the passions always interested. The continual hurry of the action, the variety of incidents, and the quick succession of one personage to another, call the mind forward without intermission from the first act to the last. But the power of delighting is derived principally from the frequent changes of the scene; for, except the feminine arts, some of which are too low, which distinguish Cleopatra, no character is very strongly discriminated. Upton, who did not easily miss what he desired to find, has discovered that the language of Antony is, with great skill and learning, made pompous and superb, according to his real practice. But I think his diction not distinguishable from that of others. The most tumid speech in the play is that which Cæsar makes to Octavia. The events, of which the principal are described according to history, are produced without any sort of connection or care of disposition.-JOHNSON.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA does not furnish, perhaps, So many striking beauties as JULIUS CESAR, but is at least equally redolent of the genius of Shakespeare. Antony, indeed, was given him by history, and he has but embodied, in his own vivid colours, the irregular mind of the Triumvir, ambitious and daring against all enemies but himself. In Cleopatra he had less to guide him; she is another incarnation of the same passions, more lawless and insensible to reason, as they are found in women. This character being not one that can

please, its strong and spirited delineation has not been sufficiently observed. It is, indeed, only a poetic originality: the type was in the courtesan of common life; but the resemblance is that of Michael Angelo's Sybils in a muscular woman. In this tragedy, the events that do not pass on the stage are scarcely made clear enough to one who is not previously acquainted with history; and some of the persons appear and vanish again without sufficient cause. He has, in fact, copied Plutarch too exactly.-HALLAM.

To these cold criticisms, yet not wholly unjust, of these two great names, we may put in contrast the more fervid sympathy of Coleridge, of Campbell, and of Scott:

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Shakespeare can be complimented only by comparison with himself: all other eulogies are either heterogeneous, as when they are in reference to Spenser or Milton; or they are flat truisms, as when he is gravely preferred to Corneille, Racine, or even his own immediate successors, Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger and the rest. The highest praise, or rather form of praise, of this play, which I can offer in my own mind, is the doubt which the perusal always occasions in me, whether the ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA is not, in all exhibitions of a giant power in its strength and vigour of maturity, a formidable rival of MACBETH, LEAR, HAMLET, and OTHELLO. Feliciter audax is the motto for its style comparatively with that of Shakespeare's other works, even as it is the general motto of all his works compared with those of other poets. Be it remembered, too, that this happy valiancy of style is but the representative and result of all the material excellencies so expressed.

"This play should be perused in mental contrast with ROMEO AND JULIET;-as the love of passion and appetite opposed to the love of affection and instinct. But the art displayed in the character of Cleopatra is profound; in this, especially, that the sense of criminality in her passion is lessened by our insight into its depth and energy, at the very moment that we cannot but perceive that the passion itself springs out of the habitual craving of a licentious nature, and that it is supported and reinforced by voluntary stimulus and sought-for associations, instead of blossoming out of spontaneous emotions.

"Of all Shakespeare's historical plays, ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA is by far the most wonderful. There is no one in which he has followed history so minutely, and yet there are few in which he impresses the notion of angelic strength so much;-perhaps none in which he impresses it more strongly. This is greatly owing to the manner in which the fiery force is sustained throughout, and to the numerous momentary flashes of nature counteracting the historic abstraction. As a wonderful specimen of the way in which Shakespeare lives up to the very end of this play, read the last part of the concluding scene. And if you would feel the judgment as well as the genius of Shakespeare in your heart's core. compare this astonishing drama with Dryden's All for

Love."-COLERIDGE.

"If I were to select any historical play of Shakespeare, in which he has combined an almost literal fidelity to history with an equal faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and in which he superinduces the merit of skilful dramatic management, it would be the above play. In his portraiture of Antony there is, perhaps, a flattered likeness of the original by Plutarch; but the similitude loses little of its strength by Shakespeare's softening and keeping in the shade his traits of cruelty. In Cleopatra, we can discern nothing materially different from the vouched historical sorceress; she nevertheless has a more vivid meteoric and versatile play of enchantment in Shakespeare's likeness of her, than in a dozen of other poetical copies in which the artists took much greater liberties with historical truth:-he paints her as if the gipsy herself had cast her spell over him, and given her own witchcraft to his pencil,

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"At the same time, playfully interesting to our fancy as he makes this enchantress, he keeps us far from a vicious sympathy. The asp at her bosom, that lulls its nurse asleep, has no poison for our morality. A single glance at the devoted and dignified Octavia recalis our homage to virtue; but with delicate skill he withholds the purer woman from prominent contact with the wanton queen, and does not, like Dryden, bring the two to a scolding match. The latter poet's All for Love" was regarded by himself as his master-piece, and is by no means devoid of merit; but so inferior is it to the prior drama, as to make it disgraceful to British taste for one hundred years that the former absolutely banished the latter from the stage. A French critic calls Great Britain the island of Shakespeare's idolaters; yet so it happens, in this same island, that Dryden's "All for Love" has been acted ten times oftener than Shakespeare's ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

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Dryden's Marc Antony is a weak voluptuary from first to last. Not a sentence of manly virtue is ever tered by him that seems to come from himself; and whenever he expresses a moral feeling, it appears not to have grown up in his own nature, but to have been planted there by the influence of his friend Ventidius, like a flower in a child's garden, only to wither and take no root. Shakespeare's Antony is a very different being. When he hears of the death of his first wife, Fulvia, his exclamation, There's a great spirit gone!' and his reflections on his own enthralment by Cleopatra, mark the residue of a noble mind. A queen, a siren, a Shakespeare's Cleopatra alone could have entangled Mark Antony, while an ordinary wanton could have enslaved Dryden's hero."-T. CAMPBELL.

WALTER SCOTT, in his edition of Dryden's works, has drawn an adınirable critical parallel between this play and the scarcely less splendid drama of " All for Love," written by Dryden, in professed imitation, as he himself says, ofthe divine Shakespeare;" which, that he might perform more freely, he disencumbered himself from rhyme," which he had hitherto, in conformity to the taste of his age, borrowed from France, considered indispensable to heroic dialogue. As the criticism is only to be found in Scott's edition of Dryden's complete works, which has never been reprinted in the United States, many of the readers of this edition will be gratified by finding it inserted here :

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The first point of comparison is the general conduct, or plot, of the tragedy. And here Dryden, having, to use his own language, undertaken to shoot in the bow of Ulysses, imitates the wily Antinous in using art to eke out his strength, and suppling the weapon before he attempted to bend it.

"Shakespeare, with the license peculiar to his age and character, had diffused the action of his play over Italy, Greece, and Egypt; but Dryden, who was well aware of the advantage to be derived from a simplicity and concentration of plot, has laid every scene in the city of Alexandria. By this he guarded the audience from that vague and puzzling distraction which must necessarily attend a violent change of place. It is a mistake to suppose, that the argument in favour of the unities depends upon preserving the deception of the scene; they are necessarily connected with intelligibility of the piece. It may be true, that no spectator supposes that the stage before him is actually the court of Alexandria; yet, when he has once made up his mind to let it pass as such during the representation, it is a cruel tax, not merely on his imagination, but on his powers of comprehension, if the scene be suddenly transferred to a distant country. Time is lost before he can form new associations, and reconcile their bearings with trose originally presented to him; and if he be a person of slow comprehension, or happens to lose any part of the dialogue, announcing the changes, the whole becomes unintelligible confusion. In this respect, and in discarding a number of uninteresting characters, the plan of Dryden's play must be unequivocally preferred to that of Shakespeare in point of coherence, unity, and

simplicity. It is a natural consequence of this more art. ful arrangement of the story, that Dryden contents himself with the concluding scene of Antony's history, instead of introducing the incidents of the war with Cneius Pompey, the negotiation with Lepidus, death of his first wife, and other circumstances, which, in Shakespeare, only tend to distract our attention from the main inte rest of the drama. The union of time, as necessary as that of place to the intelligibility of the drama, has, in like manner, been happily attained; and an interesting event is placed before the audience with no other change of place, and no greater lapse of time, than can be readily adapted to an ordinary imagination.

"But, having given Dryden the praise of superior address in managing the story, I fear he must be pronounced in most other respects inferior to his grand prototype. Antony, the principal character in bota plays, is incomparably grander in that of Shakespeare. The majesty and generosity of the military hero is hap pily expressed by both poets; but the awful ruin of grandeur, undermined by passion, and tottering to its fall, is far more striking in the Antony of Shakespeare, Love, it is true, is the predominant, but it is not the sole ingredient in his character. It has usurped possession of his mind, but is assailed by his original passions, ambition of power, and thirst for military fame. He is therefore, often, and it should seem naturally repre sented, as feeling for the downfall of his glory and power, even so intensely as to withdraw his thoughts from Cleopatra, unless considered as the cause of his ruin. Thus, in the scene in which he compares himself to 'black vesper's pageants,' he runs on in a train of fantastic and melancholy similes, having relation only to his fallen state, till the mention of Egypt suddenly recalls the idea of Cleopatra. But Dryden has taken a different view of Antony's character, and more closely approaching to his title of All for Love.' He seems not now that awful Antony.' His whole thoughts and being are dedicated to his fatal passion; and though a spark of resentment is occasionally struck out by the reproaches of Ventidius, he instantly relapses into lovesick melancholy. The following beautiful speech exhibits the romance of despairing love, without the deep and mingled passion of a dishonoured soldier, and dethroned emperor :—

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Ant. [Throwing himself down.]

Lie there, thou shadow of an emperor;

The place, thou pressest on thy mother earth,

Is all thy empire now: Now, it contains thee;
Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large,
When thou'rt contracted in the narrow urn,
Shrunk to a few cold ashes; then, Octavia,
For Cleopatra will not live to see it,
Octavia then will have thee all her own,
And bear thee in her widowed hand to Cæsar;
Cæsar will weep, the crocodile will weep,

To see his rival of the universe

Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more on't.
Give me some music; look that it be sad:
I'll soothe my melancholy, till I swell,
And burst myself with sighing
[Soft music.]
"Tis somewhat to my humour: Stay, I fancy
I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature;
Of all forsaken, and forsaking all;
Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene,
Stretched at my length beneath some blasted oak,
I lean my head upon the mossy bank,
And look just of a piece, as I grew from it:
My uncombed locks, matted like mistleto,

Hang o'er my hoary face; a murmuring brook
Runs at my foot.

Ven.

Myself there too.

Aut.

Methinks I fancy

The herd come jumping by me,
And, fearless, quench their thirst, while I look on,
And take me for their fellow-citizen.

Even when Antony is finally ruined, the power of jealousy is called upon to complete his despair, and he is less sensible to the idea of Cæsar's successful arms. than the risk of Dolabella's rivalling him in the affections of Cleopatra. It is true, the Antony of Shakespeare also starts into fury upon Cleopatra permitting Thyreus to kiss her hand; but this is not jealousy-it is pride offended, that she, for whom he had sacrificed his glory and empire, should already begin to court the favour of

the conqueror, and vouchsafe her hand to be saluted by a jack of Casar's.' Hence Enobarbus, the witness of the scene, alludes immediately to the fury of mortified ambition and falling power:

"Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,

Than with an old one dying.

"Having, however, adopted an idea of Antony's character, rather suitable to romance than to nature, or history, we must not deny Dryden the praise of having exquisitely brought out the picture he intended to draw. He has informed us, that this was the only play writ ten to please himself; and he has certainly exerted in it the full force of his incomparable genius. Antony is, throughout the piece, what the author meant him to be: a victim to the omnipotence of love, or rather to the infatuation of one engrossing passion.

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In the Cleopatra of Dryden, there is greatly less spirit and originality than in Shakespeare's. The preparation of the latter for death has a grandeur which puts to shame the same scene in Dryden, and serves to support the interest during the whole fifth act, although Antony has died in the conclusion of the fourth. circumstance can more highly evince the power of Shakespeare's genius, in spite of his irregularities; since the conclusion in Dryden, where both lovers die in the same scene, and after a reconciliation, is infinitely more artful and better adapted to theatrical effect.

"In the character of Ventidius, Dryden has filled up, with ability, the rude sketches, which Shakespeare has thrown off in those of Scava and Eros The rough old Roman soldier is painted with great truth; and the quarrel betwixt him and Antony, in the first act, is equal to any single scene that our author ever wrote, excepting, perhaps, that betwixt Sebastian and Dorax; an opinion in which the judgment of the critic coincides with that of the poet. It is a pity, as has often been remarked, that this dialogue occurs so early in the play, since what follows is necessarily inferior in force. Dryden, while writing this scene, had unquestionably in his recollection the quarrel betwixt Brutus and Cassius, which was justly so great a favourite in his time, and to which he had referred as inimitable in his prologue to Aureng

Zebe.'

"The inferior characters are better supported in Dryden than in Shakespeare. We have no low buffoonery in the former, such as disgraces Enobarbus, and is hardly redeemed by his affecting catastrophe. Even the Egyp tian Alexas acquires some respectability from his patriotic attachment to the interests of his country, and from his skill as a wily courtier. He expresses, by a beautiful image, the effeminate attachment to life, appropriated to his character and country:—

O, that I less could fear to lose this being, Which, like a snow-ball in my coward hand, The more 'tis grasped, the faster melts away. "The Octavia of Dryden is a much more important personage than in the ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA of Shakespeare. She is, however, more cold and unamiable: for, in the very short scenes in which the Octavia of Shakespeare appears, she is placed in rather an interesting point of view. But Dryden has himself informed us, that he was apprehensive the justice of a wife's claim upon her husband would draw the audience to her side, and lessen their interest in the lover and the mistress. He seems accordingly to have studiedly lowered the character of the injured Octavia, who, in her conduct towards her husband, shows much duty and little love; and plainly intimates, that her rectitude of conduct flows from a due regard to her own reputation, rather than from attachment to Antony's person, or sympathy with him in his misfortunes. It happens, therefore, with Octavia, as with all other very good selfish kind of people; we think it unnecessary to feel any thing for her, as she is obviously capable of taking very good care of herself. I must not omit, that her scolding scene with Cleopatra, although anxiously justified by the author in the preface, seems too coarse to be in character, and is a glaring exception to the general good taste evinced throughout the rest of the piece.

"It would be too long a task to contrast the beauties of these two great poets, in point of diction and style. But the reader will doubtless be pleased to compare the noted descriptions of the voyage of Cleopatra down the Cydnus. It is given in Shakespeare, in act i. scene 2. The parallel passage in Dryden runs thus :—

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The tackling silk, the streamers waved with gold,
The gentle winds were lodged in purple sails:
Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were placed;
Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay.

Dol. No more: I would not hear it.
Ant.

O, you must!
She lay, and leant her cheek upon her hand,
And cast a look so languishingly sweet,

As if secure of all beholders' hearts,
Neglecting she could take them: Boys, like Cupids,
Stood fanning, with their painted wings, the winds
That played about her face! But if she smiled,
A darting glory seemed to blaze abroad:
That men's desiring eyes were never wearied,
But hung upon the object: To soft flutes

The silver oars kept time; and while they played,
The hearing gave new pleasure to the sight;

And both to thought. 'Twas heaven, or somewhat more:
For she so charmed all hearts, that gazing crowds
Stood panting on the shore, and wanted breath
To give their welcome voice.

Then, Dolabella, where was then thy soul?
Was not thy fury quite disarmed with murder?
Didst thou not shrink behind me from those eyes.
And whisper in my ear, Oh, tell her not

That I accused her of my brother's death?

In judging betwixt these celebrated passages, we feel almost afraid to avow a preference of Dryden, founded partly upon the easy flow of the verse, which seems to soften with the subject, but chiefly upon the beauty of the language and imagery, which is flowery without diffusiveness, and rapturous without hyperbole. I fear Shakespeare cannot be exculpated from the latter fault; yet I am sensible, it is by sifting his beauties from his conceits that his imitator has been enabled to excel him.

"It is impossible to bestow too much praise on the beautiful passages which occur so frequently in All for Love.' Having already given several examples of happy expression of melancholy and tender feelings, I content myself with extracting the sublime and terrific description of an omen presaging the downfall of Egypt:

Serap. Last night, between the hours of twelve and one,
In a lone aisle of the temple while I walked,

A whirlwind rose, that, with a violent blast,
Shook all the dome: The doors around me clapt;
The iron wicket, that defends the vault,
Where the long race of Ptolemies is laid,
Burst open, and disclosed the mighty dead.
From out each monument, in order placed,
An armed ghost starts up: The boy-king last
Reared his inglorious head. A peal of groans
Then followed, and a lamentable voice
Cried, Egypt is no more! My blood ran back,
My shaking knees against each other knocked;
On the cold pavement down I fell entranced,
And so, unfinished, left the horrid scene.

"Having quoted so many passages of exquisite poetry, and having set this play in no unequal opposition to that of Shakespeare, it is, perhaps, unnecessary to mention by what other poets the same subject has been treated. Daniel, Mary Countess of Pembroke, May, and Sir Charles Sedley, each produced a play on the fortunes of Antony. Of these pieces I have never read the three former, and will assuredly never read the last a second time."

To this list of English poets who have, as Dryden phrases it, " tried the bow of Ulysses," Scott might have added the "False One" of Fletcher, where Cleopatra is exhibited in what Shakespeare makes her style her "sallad days," in her youthful love for Julius Cæsar. It is full of poetical beauty, but otherwise the heroine, a lovely, majestic, and lofty personage, has nothing in common with the Shakespearian Cleopatra, or much with her history.

Above thirty tragedies, in various languages, are extant, of which Cleopatra is the heroine, besides others noticed in dramatic catalogues, which have probably

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