SCENE I.-The Temple of Isis. ACT I. SERAPION and MYRIS, Priests of Isis, discovered. Ser. Portents and prodigies are grown so fre- That they have lost their name. Our fruitful Nile Were borne above the tops of trees, that grew It slipt from underneath the scaly herd: Enter ALEXAS behind them. Myr. Avert these omens, Heaven! In a lone aisle of the temple while I walked, Alex. And dreamt you this, or did invent the story, [Shewing himself. To frighten our Egyptian boys withal, And train them up betimes in fear of priesthood? Ser. My lord, I saw you not, 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. Aler. '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. Mecenas and Agrippa, who can most With Cæsar, are his foes; his wife Octavia, Driven from his house, solicits her revenge; And Dolabella, who was once his friend, Upon some private grudge now seeks his ruin; Yet still war seems on either side to sleep. Ser. 'Tis strange, that Antony, for some days 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 Aler. Had my wish, these tyrants of all na ture, Who lord it o'er mankind, should perish, perish, Ser. How stands the queen affected? She doats, Serapion, on this vanquished mao, 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, His fierce demeanor, and erected look, 8 He is of no vulgar note. Aler. Oh, 'tis Ventidius, Our emperor's great lieutenant in the cast, Who first shewed Rome, that Parthia could be conquered. When Antony returned from Syria last, He left this man to guard the Roman frontiers. Ser. You seem to know him well. Aler. 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's 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 Of any thing but thought; or if he talks, Vent. Just, just his nature. [ALEXAS and the priests come forward. Alex. You have your full instructions; now ad Live Antony, and Cleopatra live! [Aside. Ser. Set out before your doors The images of all your sleeping fathers, With laurels crowned; with laurels wreathe 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 Aler. A love, which knows no bounds to An tony, Would mark the day with honours, when all Laboured for him, when each propitious star Vent. Would it had slept Aler. Your emperor, Though 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, I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmanned him. Thou bravest soldier, and thou best of friends! As bounty were thy being. Rough in battle, Than all their praying virgins left at home! Vent. Would I could not! But wherefore waste I precious hours with thee? Thou art her darling mischief, her chief engine, Antony's other fate. Go tell thy queen, Ventidius is arrived to end her charms. Let your Egyptian timbrels play alone, Nor mix effeminate sounds with Roman trumpets. You dare not fight for Antony; go pray, And keep your cowards' holiday in temples. [Exeunt ALEX. SER. Re-enter the Gentleman of MARC ANTONY. 2 Gent. The emperor approaches, and commands, 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 mo tion before he speaks. Ant. I would be private. Leave me. And therefore will not leave you. Ant. They tell me, 'tis my birth-day; and I'll Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I? 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, wond'rous mournful! Now, Antony; wouldst thou be born for this? Vent. [Aside] How sorrow shakes him! Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more on't Vent. My emperor; the man I love next hea ven: If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin: You're all that's good and godlike. Ant. All that's wretched. You will not leave me then? Vent. 'Twas too presuming Το say I would not; but I dare not leave you; And 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence So soon, when I so far have come to see you. Ant. Now thou hast seen me, art thou satisfied? For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough, Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew: [Weeping. I have not wept this forty years, but now My mother comes afresh into my eyes; I cannot help her softness. Ant. By heaven he weeps! Poor good old man, he weeps! The big round drops course one another down The furrows of his cheeks. Stop them, Ventidius, Or I shall blush to death; they set my shame, That caused them, full before me. Vent. I'll do my best. Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of friends; See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not For my own griefs, but thine-Nay, fatherVent. Emperor. Ant. Emperor! why that's the style of vic tory: The conquering soldier, red with unfelt wounds, Vent. I warrant you. Ant. Actium, Actium! Oh- Ant. Here, here it lies, a lump of lead by day, And, in my short distracted nightly slumbers, The hag, that rides my dreams! Vent. Out with it; give it vent. I lost a battle. You would be killed like Tully, would you? Do; But fortune calls upon us now to live, Ant. Sure thou dream'st, Ventidius. In desperate sloth, miscalled philosophy. you, Ant. I'll help thee-I have been a man, Ven- And long to call you chief: by painful journies tidius. Vent. Yes, and a brave one; but Ant. I know thy meaning. But I have lost my reason, have disgraced The name of soldier with inglorious ease; In the full vintage of my flowing honours Sat still, and saw it prest by other hands; Fortune came smiling to my youth, and wooed it, And purple greatness met my ripened years. When first I came to empire, I was borne On tides of people crowding to my triumphs, The wish of nations, and the willing world Received me as its pledge of future peace. I was so great, so happy, so beloved, Fate could not ruin me, till I took pains, And worked against my fortune, chid her from me, And turned her loose; yet still she came again. My careless days, and my luxurious nights, At length have wearied her, and now she's gone, Gone, gone, divorced for ever. Help me, soldier, To curse this madman, this industrious fool, Who laboured to be wretched. Pr'ythee curse me. Vent. No. Ant. Why? Vent. You are too sensible already Of what you have done, too conscious of your failings, And, like a scorpion, whipt by others first I led them, patient both of heat and hunger, They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates Ant. Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids, To double my despair? they are mutinous. You would make haste to head them. Vent. There's but one way shut up-How came Ant. I will not stir. Vent. They would perhaps desire A better reason. Ant. I have never used My soldiers to demand a reason of My actions. Why did they refuse to march? Vent. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra, Ant. What was't they said? Vent. They said they would not fight for Cleo patra, Why should they fight indeed to make her con See Europe, Afric, Asia, put in balance, woman! I think the gods are Antonies, and give, Ant. You grow presumptuous. Vent. I take the privilege of plain love to speak. Ant. Plain love! plain arrogance, plain inso lence! Thy men are cowards, thou an envious traitor, me: Vent. You kill may You have done more already, called me traitor. Ant. Art thou not one? Vent. For shewing you yourself, Which none else durst have done? But had I been To fill Octavia's bands? I could have been Ant. Forgive me, soldier; I have been too passionate. Vent. You thought me false, Thought my old age betrayed you. Kill me, sir, Pray kill me: yet you need not; your unkind ness Has left your sword no work. Ant. I did not think so; I said it in my rage: prithee forgive me. Vent. No prince, but you, At their own skill, and cried, a lucky hit Ant. But Cleopatra Go on, for I can bear it now. Vent. No more. Ant. Thou dar'st not trust my passion, but thou may'st: Thou only lov'st, the rest have flattered me. Vent. Heaven's blessing on your heart for that kind word! May I believe you love me? Speak again. Ant. Indeed I do. Speak this, and this, and [Embracing him this. Thy praises were unjust: but I'll deserve them, Vent. And will you leave this- And I will leave her; though, heaven knows, I love Beyond life, conquest, empire, all but honour: But I will leave her. Vent. That's my royal master!· And shall we fight? Ant. I warrant thee, old soldier; Thou shalt behold me once again in iron, And at the head of our old troops, that beat The Parthians, cry aloud, Come, follow me.' Vent. Oh, now I hear my emperor! In that word And mans each part about me. Once again Vent. Ye gods, ye gods, Ant. Come on, my soldier; Our hearts and arms are still the same: I long Once more to meet our foes, that thou and I, Like time and death, marching before our troops, May taste fate to them, mow them out a pas |