by John Dryden
But, at a close revenge he never fails.
Vent. I heard you challenged him.
Ant. I did, Ventidius.
What think’st thou was his answer? ’Twas so tame! —
He said, he had more ways than one to die; 145
I had not.
Vent. Poor!
Ant. He has more ways than one;
But he would choose them all before that one.
Vent. He first would choose an ague, or a fever. 150
Ant. No; it must be an ague, not a fever;
He Has not warmth enough to die by that.
Vent. Or old age and a bed.
Ant. Ay, there’s his choice,
He would live, like a lamp, to the last wink, 155
And crawl the utmost verge of life.
O Hercules! Why should a man like this,
Who dares not trust his fate for one great action,
Be all the care of Heaven? Why should he lord it
O’er fourscore thousand men, of whom each one 160
Is braver than himself?
Vent. You conquered for him:
Philippi knows it; there you shared with him
That empire, which your sword made all your own.
Ant. Fool that I was, upon my eagle’s wings 165
I bore this wren, till I was tired with soaring,
And now he mounts above me.
Good heavens, is this, — is this the man who braves me?
Who bids my age make way? Drives me before him,
To the world’s ridge, and sweeps me off like rubbish? 170
Vent. Sir, we lose time; the troops are mounted all.
Ant. Then give the word to march:
I long to leave this prison of a town,
To join thy legions; and, in open field,
Once more to show my face. Lead, my deliverer. 175
Enter ALEXAS
Alex. Great emperor,
In mighty arms renowned above mankind,
But, in soft pity to the opprest, a god;
This message sends the mournful Cleopatra 180
To her departing lord.
Vent. Smooth sycophant!
Alex. A thousand wishes, and ten thousand prayers,
Millions of blessings wait you to the wars;
Millions of sighs and tears she sends you too, 185
And would have sent
As many dear embraces to your arms,
As many parting kisses to your lips;
But those, she fears, have wearied you already.
Vent. [aside]. False crocodile! 190
Alex. And yet she begs not now, you would not leave her;
That were a wish too mighty for her hopes,
Too presuming
For her low fortune, and your ebbing love;
That were a wish for her more prosperous days, 195
Her blooming beauty, and your growing kindness.
Ant. [aside]. Well, I must man it out: — What would the queen?
Alex. First, to these noble warriors, who attend
Your daring courage in the chase of fame, —
Too daring, and too dangerous for her quiet, — 200
She humbly recommends all she holds dear,
All her own cares and fears, — the care of you.
Vent. Yes, witness Actium.
Ant. Let him speak, Ventidius.
Alex. You, when his matchless valour bears him forward, 205
With ardour too heroic, on his foes,
Fall down, as she would do, before his feet;
Lie in his way, and stop the paths of death:
Tell him, this god is not invulnerable;
That absent Cleopatra bleeds in him; 210
And, that you may remember her petition,
She begs you wear these trifles, as a pawn,
Which, at your wished return, she will redeem [Gives jewels to the Commanders.
With all the wealth of Egypt:
This to the great Ventidius she presents, 215
Whom she can never count her enemy,
Because he loves her lord.
Vent. Tell her, I’ll none on’t;
I’m not ashamed of honest poverty;
Not all the diamonds of the east can bribe 220
Ventidius from his faith. I hope to see
These and the rest of all her sparkling store,
Where they shall more deservingly be placed.
Ant. And who must wear them then?
Vent. The wronged Octavia. 225
Ant. You might have spared that word.
Vent. And he that bribe.
Ant. But have I no remembrance?
Alex. Yes, a dear one;
Your slave the queen — 230
Ant. My mistress.
Alex. Then your mistress;
Your mistress would, she says, have sent her soul,
But that you had long since; she humbly begs
This ruby bracelet, set with bleeding hearts, 235
The emblems of her own, may bind your arm. [Presenting a bracelet.
Vent. Now, my best lord, — in honour’s name, I ask you,
For manhood’s sake, and for your own dear safety, —
Touch not these poisoned gifts,
Infected by the sender; touch them not; 240
Myriads of bluest plagues lie underneath them,
And more than aconite has dipt the silk.
Ant. Nay, now you grow too cynical, Ventidius:
A lady’s favours may be worn with honour.
What, to refuse her bracelet! On my soul, 245
When I lie pensive in my tent alone,
“Twill pass the wakeful hours of winter nights,
To tell these pretty beads upon my arm,
To count for every one a soft embrace,
A melting kiss at such and such a time: 250
And now and then the fury of her love,
When —— And what harm’s in this?
Alex. None, none, my lord,
But what’s to her, that now ’tis past for ever.
Ant. [going to tie it]. We soldiers are so awkward — help me tie it. 255
Alex. In faith, my lord, we courtiers too are awkward
In these affairs: so are all men indeed:
Even I, who am not one. But shall I speak?
Ant. Yes, freely.
Alex. Then, my lord, fair hands alone 260
Are fit to tie it; she, who sent it can.
Vent. Hell, death! this eunuch pander ruins you.
You will not see her? [ALEXAS whispers an Attendant, who goes out.
Ant. But to take my leave.
Vent. Then I have washed an Æthiop. You’re undone; 265
Y’ are in the toils; y’ are taken; y’ are destroyed:
Her eyes do Cæsar’s work.
Ant. You fear too soon.
I’m constant to myself: I know my strength;
And yet she shall not think me barbarous neither 270
Born in the depths of Afric: I am a Roman,
Bred in the rules of soft humanity.
A guest, and kindly used, should bid farewell.
Vent. You do not know
How weak you are to her, how much an infant: 275
You are not proof against a smile, or glance:
A sigh will quite disarm you.
Ant. See, she comes!
Now you shall find your error. — Gods. I thank you:
I formed the danger greater than it was, 280
And now ’tis near, ’tis lessened.
Vent. Mark the end yet.
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, and IRAS
Ant. Well, madam, we are met.
Cleo. Is this a meeting? 285
Then, we must part?
Ant. We must.
Cleo. Who says we must?
Ant. Our own hard fates.
Cleo. We make those fates ourselves. 290
Ant. Yes, we have made them; we have loved each other,
&nbs
p; Into our mutual ruin.
Cleo. The gods have seen my joys with envious eyes;
I have no friends in heaven; and all the world,
As ‘twere the business of mankind to part us, 295
Is armed against my love: even you yourself
Join with the rest; you, you are armed against me.
Ant. I will be justified in all I do
To late posterity, and therefore hear me.
If I mix a lie 300
With any truth, reproach me freely with it;
Else, favour me with silence.
Cleo. You command me,
And I am dumb.
Vent. I like this well; he shows authority. 305
Ant. That I derive my ruin
From you alone —
Cleo. O heavens! I ruin you!
Ant. You promised me your silence, and you break it
Ere I have scarce begun. 310
Cleo. Well, I obey you.
Ant. When I beheld you first, it was in Egypt.
Ere Cæsar saw your eyes, you gave me love,
And were too young to know it; that I settled
Your father in his throne, was for your sake; 315
I left the acknowledgment for time to ripen.
Cæsar stept in, and, with a greedy hand,
Plucked the green fruit, ere the first blush of red.
Yet cleaving to the bough. He was my lord,
And was, beside, too great for me to rival; 320
But, I deserved you first, though he enjoyed you.
When, after, I beheld you in Cilicia,
An enemy to Rome, I pardoned you.
Cleo. I cleared myself ——
Ant. Again you break your promise. 325
I loved you still, and took your weak excuses,
Took you into my bosom, stained by Cæsar,
And not half mine: I went to Egypt with you,
And hid me from the business of the world,
Shut out inquiring nations from my sight, 330
To give whole years to you.
Vent. Yes, to your shame be’t spoken. [Aside
Ant. How I loved.
Witness, ye days and nights, and all ye hours,
That danced away with down upon your feet, 335
As all your business were to count my passion!
One day passed by, and nothing saw but love;
Another came, and still ’twas only love:
The suns were wearied out with looking on,
And I untired with loving. 340
I saw you every day, and all the day;
And every day was still but as the first,
So eager was I still to see you more.
Vent. ’Tis all too true.
Ant. Fulvia, my wife, grew jealous, 345
(As she indeed had reason) raised a war
In Italy, to call me back.
Vent. But yet
You went not.
Ant. While within your arms I lay, 350
The world fell mouldering from my hands each hour,
And left me scarce a grasp — I thank your love for’t.
Vent. Well pushed: that last was home.
Cleo. Yet may I speak?
Ant. If I have urged a falsehood, yes; else, not. 355
Your silence says, I have not. Fulvia died,
(Pardon, you gods, with my unkindness died);
To set the world at peace, I took Octavia,
This Cæsar’s sister; in her pride of youth,
And flower of beauty, did I wed that lady, 360
Whom blushing I must praise, because I left her.
You called; my love obeyed the fatal summons:
This raised the Roman arms; the cause was yours.
I would have fought by land, where I was stronger
You hindered it: yet, when I fought at sea, 365
Forsook me fighting; and (O stain to honour!
O lasting shame!) I knew not that I fled;
But fled to follow you.
Vent. What haste she made to hoist her purple sails!
And, to appear magnificent in flight, 370
Drew half our strength away.
Ant. All this you caused.
And, would you multiply more ruins on me?
This honest man, my best, my only friend,
Has gathered up the shipwreck of my fortunes; 375
Twelve legions I have left, my last recruits.
And you have watched the news, and bring your eyes
To seize them too. If you have aught to answer,
Now speak, you have free leave.
Alex. [aside]. She stands confounded: 380
Despair is in her eye as.
Vent. Now lay a sigh in the way to stop his passage:
Prepare a tear, and bid it for his legions;
’Tis like they shall be sold.
Cleo. How shall I plead my cause, when you, my judge, 385
Already have condemned me? Shall I bring
The love you bore me for my advocate?
That now is turned against me, that destroys me;
For love, once past, is, at the best, forgotten;
But oftener sours to hate: ‘twill please my lord 390
To ruin me, and therefore I’ll be guilty.
But, could I once have thought it would have pleased you,
That you would pry, with narrow searching eyes,
Into my faults, severe to my destruction,
And watching all advantages with care, 395
That serve to make me wretched? Speak, my lord,
For I end here. Though I deserved this usage,
Was it like you to give it?
Ant. Oh, you wrong me,
To think I sought this parting, or desired 400
To accuse you more than what will clear myself,
And justify this breach.
Cleo. Thus low I thank you;
And, since my innocence will not offend,
I shall not blush to own it. 405
Vent. After this,
I think she’ll blush at nothing.
Cleo. You seem grieved
(And therein you are kind) that Cæsar first
Enjoyed my love, though you deserved it better: 410
I grieve for that, my lord, much more than you;
For, had I first been yours, it would have saved
My second choice: I never had been his,
And ne’er had been but yours. But Cæsar first,
You say, possessed my love. Not so, my lord: 415
He first possessed my person; you, my love:
Cæsar loved me; but I loved Antony.
If I endured him after, ’twas because
I judged it due to the first name of men;
And, half constrained, I gave, as to a tyrant, 420
What he would take by force.
Vent. O Syren! Syren!
Yet grant that all the love she boast were true,
Has she not ruined you? I still urge that,
The fatal consequence. 425
Cleo. The consequence indeed —
For I dare challenge him, my greatest foe,
To say it was designed: ’tis true, I loved you,
And kept you far from an uneasy wife, —
Such Fulvia was. 430
Yes, but he’ll say, you left Octavia for me; —
And, can you blame me to receive that love,
Which quitted such desert, for worthless me?
How often have I wished some other Cæsar,
Great as the first, and as the second young, 435
Would court my love, to be refused for you!
Vent. Words, words; but Actium, sir; remember Actium.
Cleo. Even there, I dare his malice. True, I counselled
To fight at sea; but I betrayed you not.
I fled, but not to the enemy. ’Twas fear; 440
Would I had been a man, not to have feared!
For none would then have envied me you
r friendship,
Who envy me your love.
Ant. We are both unhappy:
If nothing else, yet our ill fortune part us. 445
Speak; would you have me perish by my stay?
Cleo. If, as a friend, you ask my judgment, go;
If, as a lover, stay. If you must perish —
’Tis a hard word — but stay.
Vent. See now the effects of her so boasted love! 450
She strives to drag you down to ruin with her;
But, could she ‘scape without you, oh, how soon
Would she let go her hold, and haste to shore,
And never look behind!
Cleo. Then judge my love by this. [Giving ANTONY a writing. 455
Could I have borne
A life or death, a happiness or woe,
From yours divided, this had given me means.
Ant. By Hercules, the writing of Octavius!
I know it well: ’tis that proscribing hand, 460
Young as it was, that led the way to mine,
And left me but the second place in murder. —
See, see, Ventidius! here he offers Egypt,
And joins all Syria to it, as a present;
So, in requital, she forsake my fortunes, 465
And join her arms with his.
Cleo. And yet you leave me!
You leave me, Antony; and yet I love you,
Indeed I do: I have refused a kingdom;
That is a trifle; 470
For I could part with life, with anything,
But only you. Oh, let me die but with you!
Is that a hard request?
Ant. Next living with you,
’Tis all that Heaven can give. 475
Alex. He melts; we conquer. [Aside.
Cleo. No; you shall go: your interest calls you hence;
Yes; your dear interest pulls too strong, for these
Weak arms to hold you here. [Takes his hand.
Go; leave me, soldier 480
(For you’re no more a lover): leave me dying:
Push me, all pale and panting, from your bosom,
And, when your march begins, let one run after,
Breathless almost for joy, and cry — She’s dead.
The soldiers shout; you then, perhaps, may sigh, 485
And muster all your Roman gravity:
Ventidius chides; and straight your brow clears up,
As I had never been.
Ant. Gods, ’tis too much; too much for man to bear.
Cleo. What is’t for me then, 490
A weak, forsaken woman, and a lover? —
Here let me breathe my last: envy me not
This minute in your arms: I’ll die apace,
As fast as e’er I can, and end your trouble.
Ant. Die! rather let me perish; loosened nature 495
Leap from its hinges, sink the props of heaven,
And fall the skies, to crush the nether world!
My eyes, my soul, my all! [Embraces her.