Do not abuse my master's bounty, by Cleo. Pro. I'll not sleep neither: This mortal house I'll ruin, Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt It shall content me best: be gentle to her. If you'll employ me to him. Dol. Most sovereign creature,- As plates dropp'd from his pocket. Cleopatra, Dol. But, if there be, or ever were one such, I know it. Madam, he will; Take to you no hard thoughts: The record of what injuries you did us, Though written in our flesh, we shall remember As things but done by chance. Sole sir o' the world, I cannot project? mine own cause so well To make it clear; but do confess, I have Been laden with like frailties, which before Have often sham'd our sex. Cleo. Cæs. Cleopatra, know, We will extenuate rather than enforce: Cleo. And may, through all the world: 'tis yours and we [shall Your 'scutcheons, and your signs of conquest, Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord. Cæs. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra. Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, and I am possess'd of: 'tis exactly valued; [jewels, Not petty things admitted.-Where 's Seleucus? Sel. Here, madam. [lord, Cleo. This is my treasurer; let him speak, my I had rather seel my lips, than, to my peril, Cleo, Caes. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve See, Cæsar! O, behold, is follow'd! mine will now be yours; And, should we shift estates, yours would be Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes, To one so meek, that mine own servant should [me As we greet modern + friends withal; and say, For things that others do; and, when we fall, Cleopatra, Cres. [ledg'd, Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknowPut we i' the roll of conquest; still be it yours, Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe, Cæsar's no merchant, to make prize with you Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd; [queen; Make not your thoughts your prisons: no, dear For we intend so to dispose you, as Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep: Our care and pity is so much upon you, That we remain your friend; And so adieu. Cleo. My master, and my lord! Cæs. Not so: Adieu. [Exeunt Cæs. and his Train. Cleo. He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not Be noble to myself: but hark thee, Charinian. Cleo. Hie thee again; I have spoke already, and it is provided: Go, put it to the haste. Char. Madam, I will. I your servant. Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Cæsar. Cleo. Farewell, and thanks. [Exit DoL.] Now, Iras, what think'st thou? Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shown Iras. The gods forbid! Cleo. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: Saucy lictors Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rhymers Ballad us out o' tune: the quick comedians Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Cleo. Nay, that is certain. Show me, my women, like a queen;-Go fetch Guard. [Exit IRAS. A Noise within. Enter one of the Guard. Here's a rural fellow, That will not be denied your highness' presence; He brings you figs. Cleo. Let him come in. How poor an instru- Re-enter Guard, with a Clown bringing a Basket. Clown. Truly I have him: but I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal; those that do die of it, do seldom or never recover. Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have died on 't? Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman, but something given to lie; as a woman should not do, but in the way of honesty how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt,-Truly, she makes a very good report o' the worm: But he that will believe all that they say, shall never be saved by half that they do But this is most fallible,-the worm's an odd worm. Cleo. Get thee hence; farewell. Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. Re-enter IRAS, with a Robe, Crown, &c. Have I the aspick in my lips? Dost fall? This proves me base: [To the Asp, which she applies to her Breast. With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, Be angry? and despatch. O, could'st thou speak! That I might hear thee call great Cæsar, ass Unpolicied! # Char. Cleo. O eastern star! Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse asleep? Char. O, break! O, break! [gentle, Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as O Antony!-Nay, I will take thee too : [Applying another Asp to her Arm. Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry; Act according to his nature. Enter the Guard, rushing in. 1 Guard. Where is the queen? Char. 1 Guard. Cæsar hath sentChar. Speak softly, wake her not. Too slow a messenger. [Applies the Asp. O, come; apace, despatch: I partly feel thee. 1 Guard. Approach, ho! All's not well: Cæsar's beguil'd. 2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Cæsar ;call him. [this well done? 1 Guard. What work is here?-Charmian, is Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess Descended of so many royal kings. Ah, soldier! Enter DOLABELLA. All dead. [Dies. Cæsar, thy thoughts Touch their effects in this: Thyself art coming To see performed the dreaded act, which thou So sought'st to hinder. Within. A way there; a way for Cæsar! Enter CESAR, and Attendants. Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer; That you did fear, is done. Cæs. Bravest at the last: She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal, Took her own way.-The manner of their deaths? I do not see them bleed. Who was last with them? [her figs; 1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought This was his basket. Dol. 1 Guard. O Cæsar, [spake: This Charmian lived but now; she stood, and I found her trimming up the diadem On her dead mistress; trembling she stood, And on a sudden dropp'd. Cæs. O noble weakness!If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear By external swelling: but she looks like sleep, As she would catch another Antony In her strong toil of grace.} Dol. Here, on her breast, There is a vent of blood, and something blown: The like is on her arm. 1 Guard. This is an aspick's trail; and these fig-leaves Have slime upon them, such as the aspick leaves Upon the caves of Nile. Cæs. Unpolitic to leave me to myself. [Exeunt. Enfold. ! WHILE engaged in reading Plutarch, to obtain the facts on which he founded Antony and Cleopatra, Shakespeare met with a passage which furnished him with a subject for a separate and very dissimilar tragedy. In Antony's reverse of fortune, after one of his defeats by Octavius Cæsar, he retired to a small house which he had built near Pharos, on a mound he had cast up in the sea, where he affected to live like Timon. "This Timon," says the chatty Greek biographer, "was a citizen of Athens, and lived about the time of the Peloponnesian war, as appears from the comedies of Aristophanes and Plato; in which he is exposed as the hater of mankind. Yet though he hated mankind in general, he caressed the bold and impudent boy Alcibiades; and being asked the reason of this by Apemantus, who expressed some surprise at it, he answered, it was because he foresaw that he would plague the people of Athens. Apemantus was the only one he admitted to his society, and he was his friend in point of principle. At the feast of sacrifices for the dead, these two dined by themselves; and when Apemantus observed that the feast was excellent, Timon answered, 'It would be so if you were not here.' Once, in an assembly of the people, he mounted the rostrum, and the novelty of the thing occasioned an universal silence and expectation; at length he said, 'People of Athens, there is a fig-tree in my yard, on which many worthy citizens have hanged themselves; and as I have determined to build upon the spot, I thought it necessary to give this public notice, that such as choose to have recourse to this tree for the aforesaid purpose, may repair to it before it is cut down."" From this passage Shakespeare derived that portion of his tragedy which relates to Timon, though, perhaps, he was also indebted to a manuscript play upon the same subject, which "appears to have been written, or transcribed," says Mr. Malone, "about the year 1600. There is a scene in it resembling Shakespeare's banquet given by Timon to his flatterers. Instead of warm water, he sets before them stones painted like artichokes, and afterwards beats them out of the room. then retires to the woods, attended by his faithful steward, who (like Kent in King Lear) has disguised himself to continue his services to his master; Timon, in the last act, is followed by his fickle mistress, &c., after he was reported to have discovered a hidden treasure by digging. The piece itself (though it appears to be the work of an academic) is a very wretched one." He The plot of Shakespeare's tragedy is very simple: the principal event is Timon's loss of faith in humanity, and the consequent change of the generous and unsuspecting noble, who regrets that he has not kingdoms to bestow upon his friends, into the bitter and malignant misanthrope, whose fearful denunciations of mankind strike his listeners into "strong shudders." The play is full of violent contrasts; luxury and abstemiousness, pomp and poverty, prodigality and avarice, love and hate, succeed each other rapidly. It is like a dissolving view, which melts from bright day, made lovely with natural beauties, the songs of birds, the fragrance of flowers, the rich and varied foliage, and the spray of the waterfall, gilded by the cheering sunshine-to black midnight, in which even the stars are hid. The change is abrupt, startling, and complete; and the gay, generous Timon disappears in the He bitter savage, who repudiates civilisation, and spends the residue of his life in breathing eloquent curses upon his ungrateful countrymen. Apemantus is another Diogenes-bitter and cynical by nature, naturally perverse, and loving singularity, but possessed of a keen caustic wit, and uttering many moral and wise aphorisms. He also has been called a misanthrope, though from different motives than Timon; but he rather dislikes and despises men than hates them. dwells perpetually on what is gross and evil in the world, and his ideas become oblique and one-sided. He is keen in the detection of vice or folly; and on his first entrance, we see that he knows the weakness of Timon's character, when he tells him, that "he who loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer." But Apemantus is dull and obtuse in the appreciation of virtue or loftiness of character; not understanding them, he disbelieves their existence. His gaze is fixed for ever upon the earth; he cannot look up and see the heavens. He would sooner meet with deformity than beauty, and with vice than virtue. Even to the least important characters Shakespeare has extended his fullest consideration. The poet and the painter each speaks his own peculiar language; the artist idolises his own work, and the poet describes it in elevated diction. The first speaks the language of every life, and the latter that of the study; his words remind us of the chamber and the lamp, and, like the speeches of the Roman orator Cicero, seemned studied for the occasion. Again the servants of Timon describe their master's ruin with great feeling: one says "And his poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, This is the language of a nameless character, a second servant: some authors would have given it to the hero of their play; but Shakespeare was a very Timon in respect of his lavishness of poetical beauty; exquisite thoughts appear in his pages like the smaller stars, in radiant clusters. The tragedy includes two incidents, each arising from a similar cause-the flight of Timon, and the banishment of Alcibiades; let us now turn our attention to the latter. Shakespeare also found his life in Plutarch, but the poet has not very fully elaborated the character of the Athenian general. Alcibiades was famous for his great personal beauty, his stubborn and ambitious temper, his eloquence, craftiness, and dissipation. His resolution was strongly shown even in his boyhood; for it is related, that on one occasion he was playing at dice with some other boys in the street, when a loaded waggon coming up, interrupted the game; Alcibiades called to the driver to stop, as it was his turn to throw, but the man disregarded him and drove on; while the other boys got out of the way. Alcibiades, however, was not to be so readily overcome; for, throwing himself flat upon his face directly before the waggon, he told the rustic to drive on if he pleased. Upon this the man was so startled that he instantly stopped his horses, and the resolute boy got up and had his throw with the dice. Shakespeare does not adhere to history respecting the cause of the banishment of Alcibiades. He was accused of sacrilege towards the goddesses Ceres and Proserpine, and con Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows. To an untirable and continuate + goodness: Jew. I have a jewel here. Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some To the great lord. [dedication Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i' the flint Shows not, till it be struck; our gentle flame Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies Each bound it chafes. What have you there! Pain. A picture, sir.-And when comes your book forth? Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Let's see your piece. Pain. "Tis a good piece. [lent. Poet. So 'tis: this comes off well and excelPain. Indifferent. Poet. Admirable: How this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power This eye shoots forth! how big imagination Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesOne might interpret. Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch; Is't good? Poet. [ture I'll say of it, It tutors nature: artificial strife || Enter certain Senators, and pass over. Pain. How shall I understand you? Poet. I'll unbolt to you. You see how all conditions, how all minds, |