Enter ANTONY.

Ant. Why was I raised the meteor of the world, Hung in the skies, and blazing as I travell'd,

Till all my fires were spent, and then cast downward, To be trod out by Cæsar?

Ven. On my soul,

'Tis mournful; wond'rous mournful!

Ant. Count thy gains.

Now, Antony, would'st thou be born for this?
Glutton of fortune! thy devouring youth
Has starved thy wanting age.

Ven. [Aside.] How sorrow shakes him!
So, now the tempest tears him up by th' roots,
And on the ground extends the noble ruin.

[ANTONY having thrown himself on the ground.
Ant. Lie here, 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 thy 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 widow'd 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. Ven. I must disturb him; I can hold no longer.

[Standing before him.

Ant. [Starting up.] Art thou Ventidius?

Ven. Are you Antony?

I'm more like what I was, than you to him

1 left you last.

Ant. I'm angry.

Ven. So am I.

Ant. I would be private; leave me

E

Ven. Sir, I love you,

And therefore will not leave you.

Ant. Will not leave me ?

Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I?
Ven. My emperor; the man I love next Heaven:
If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin:
You're all that's good and god-like.

Ant. All that's wretched.
You will not leave me, then?

Ven. 'Twas too presuming

To 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;
And, if a foe, too much.

Ven. Look, emperor, this is no common dew;

I have not wept this forty years, but now
My mother comes afresh into my eyes;
I cannot help her softness.

[Weeping.

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 'em, Ventidius,} Or I shall blush to death: they set my shame, That caused 'em, full before me.

Ven. 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, fatherVen. Emperor.

Ant. Emperor! why, that's the stile of victory; The conqu❜ring soldier, red with unfelt wounds, Salutes his general so; but never more Shall that sound reach my ears.

Vent. I warrant you.

Ant. Actium, Actium! Oh

Ven. It sits too near you.

Ant. Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by day, And, in my short, distracted, nightly slumbers, The hag that rides my dreams.

Ven. Out with it, give it vent.
Ant. Urge not my shame.

I lost a battle.

Ven. So has Julius done.

Ant. Thou favour'st me, and speak'st not half thou
think'st;

For Julius fought it out, and lost it bravely;
But Antony

Ven. Nay, stop not.

Ant. Antony, well, thou wilt have it-like a
coward fled,

Fled while his soldiers fought; fled first, Ventidius:
Thou long'st to curse me, and I give thee leave;
I know thou camest prepared to rail.

Ven. I did.

Ant. I'll help thee. I have been a man, Ventidius.
Ven. 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.
Fortune came smiling to my youth, and woo'd it,
And purple greatness met my ripen'd years;
When first I came to empire, I was borne
On tides of people, crowding to my triumphs;
I was so great, so happy, so beloved,
Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains

And work'd against my fortune, chid her from me:
My careless days, and my luxurious nights,

At length have wearied her, and now she's gone, Gone, gone, divorced for ever.-' -'Pr'ythee, curse me. Ven. No.

Ant. Why?

Ven. I would bring balm, and pour it in your wounds.

Ant. I know thou would'st.
Ven. I will.

Ant. Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Ven. You laugh.

Ant. I do, to see officious love

Give cordials to the dead.

Ven. You would be lost, then?
Ant. I am.

Ven. I say you are not. Try your fortune.
Ant. I have to the utmost. Dost thou think me
desperate

Without just cause?-All's lost beyond repair;
I scorn the world, and think it not worth keeping.
Ven. Cæsar thinks not so;

He'll thank you for the gift he could not take.
You would be kill'd; hold out your throat to Cæsar,
And so die tamely.

Ant. I can kill myself.

Ven. I can die with you too, when time shall serve; But fortune calls upon us, now, to live;

To fight, to conquer.

Ant. Sure thou dream'st, Ventidius.

Ven. Up for your honour's sake! twelve legions wait you,

And long to call you chief. By painful journeys
I led 'em, patient both of heat and hunger,
Down from the Parthian marshes to the Nile;
'Twill do you good to see their sun-burnt faces;
Their scarr'd cheeks, and chopt hands; there's vir-
tue in 'em ;

They'll sell their mangled limbs at dearer rates
Than yon trim bands can buy.

Ant. Where left you them?

Ven. I said, on the banks o' the Nile.

Ant. Then, bring 'em hither;

There may be life in these.

Ven. They will not come;

They petition

You would make haste to head 'em.

Ant. I'm besieged.

Ven. There's but one way shut up :-How came I hither?

Ant. I will not stir.

Ven. 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?

Ven. They said, they would not fight for Cleopatra. Ant. What was't they said?

Ven. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. Why should they fight indeed to make her conquer, And make you more a slave?

Ant. Ventidius, I allow your tongue free licence On all my other faults; but, on your life, No word of Cleopatra: She deserves

More worlds than I can lose.

Ven. I take the privilege of plain love to speak. Ant. Plain love! plain arrogance! plain insolence! Thy men are cowards; thou, an envious traitor; Who, under seeming honesty, hast vented The burden of thy rank o'erflowing gall. Oh! that thou wert my equal; great in arms As the first Cæsar was, that I might kill thee, Without a stain to honour.

Ven. You may kill me;

You have done more already,-call'd me traitor.
Ant. Art thou not one?

Ven. For shewing you yourself,

Which none else durst have done? but had I been
That name, which I disdain to speak again,

I needed not have sought your abject fortunes;
Come to partake your fate, to die with you.
What hinder'd me to've led my conqu❜ring eagles
To join with Cæsar's bands? I could have been