John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Octav. Wherein have I offended you, my lord, 460

  That I am bid to leave you? Am I false,

  Or infamous? Am I a Cleopatra?

  Were I she,

  Base as she is, you would not bid me leave you;

  But hang upon my neck, take slight excuses, 465

  And fawn upon my falsehood.

  Ant. ’Tis too much.

  Too much, Octavia; I am pressed with sorrows

  Too heavy to be borne; and you add more:

  I would retire, and recollect what’s left 470

  Of man within, to aid me.

  Octav. You would mourn,

  In private, for your love, who has betrayed you.

  You did but half return to me: your kindness

  Lingered behind with her, I hear, my lord, 475

  You make conditions for her,

  And would include her treaty. Wondrous proofs

  Of love to me!

  Ant. Are you my friend, Ventidius?

  Or are you turned a Dolabella too, 480

  And let this fury loose?

  Vent. Oh, be advised,

  Sweet madam, and retire.

  Octav. Yes, I will go; but never to return.

  You shall no more be haunted with this Fury. 485

  My lord, my lord, love will not always last,

  When urged with long unkindness and disdain:

  Take her again, whom you prefer to me;

  She stays but to be called. Poor cozened man!

  Let a feigned parting give her back your heart, 490

  Which a feigned love first got; for injured me,

  Though my just sense of wrongs forbid my stay,

  My duty shall be yours.

  To the dear pledges of our former love

  My tenderness and care shall be transferred, 495

  And they shall cheer, by turns, my widowed nights:

  So, take my last farewell; for I despair

  To have you whole, and scorn to take you half. [Exit.

  Vent. I combat Heaven, which blasts my best designs;

  My last attempt must be to win her back; 500

  But oh! I fear in vain. [Exit.

  Ant. Why was I framed with this plain, honest heart,

  Which knows not to disguise its griefs and weakness,

  But bears its workings outward to the world?

  I should have kept the mighty anguish in, 505

  And forced a smile at Cleopatra’s falsehood:

  Octavia had believed it, and had stayed.

  But I am made a shallow-forded stream,

  Seen to the bottom: all my clearness scorned,

  And all my faults exposed. — See where he comes, 510

  Enter DOLABELLA

  Who has profaned the sacred name of friend,

  And worn it into vileness!

  With how secure a brow, and specious form,

  He gilds the secret villain! Sure that face 515

  Was meant for honesty; but Heaven mismatched it,

  And furnished treason out with nature’s pomp,

  To make its work more easy.

  Dola. O my friend!

  Ant. Well, Dolabella, you performed my message? 520

  Dola. I did, unwillingly.

  Ant. Unwillingly?

  Was it so hard for you to bear our parting?

  You should have wished it.

  Dola. Why? 525

  Ant. Because you love me.

  And she received my message with as true,

  With as unfeigned a sorrow as you brought it?

  Dola. She loves you, even to madness.

  Ant. Oh, I know it. 530

  You, Dolabella, do not better know

  How much she loves me. And should I

  Forsake this beauty? This all-perfect creature?

  Dola. I could not, were she mine.

  Ant. And yet you first 535

  Persuaded me: How come you altered since?

  Dola. I said at first I was not fit to go:

  I could not hear her sighs, and see her tears,

  But pity must prevail: And so, perhaps,

  It may again with you; for I have promised, 540

  That she should take her last farewell: And, see,

  She comes to claim my word.

  Enter CLEOPATRA

  Ant. False Dolabella!

  Dola. What’s false, my lord? 545

  Ant. Why, Dolabella’s false,

  And Cleopatra’s false; both false and faithless.

  Draw near, you well-joined wickedness, you serpents,

  Whom I have in my kindly bosom warmed,

  Till I am stung to death. 550

  Dola. My lord, have I

  Deserved to be thus used?

  Cleo. Can Heaven prepare

  A newer torment? Can it find a curse

  Beyond our separation? 555

  Ant. Yes, if fate

  Be just, much greater: Heaven should be ingenious

  In punishing such crimes. The rolling stone,

  And gnawing vulture, were slight pains, invented

  When Jove was young, and no examples known 560

  Of mighty ills; but you have ripened sin,

  To such a monstrous growth, ‘twill pose the gods

  To find an equal torture. Two, two such! —

  Oh, there’s no further name, — two such! to me,

  To me, who locked my soul within your breasts, 565

  Had no desires, no joys, no life, but you;

  When half the globe was mine, I gave it you

  In dowry with my heart; I had no use,

  No fruit of all, but you: A friend and mistress

  Was what the world could give. O Cleopatra! 570

  O Dolabella! how could you betray

  This tender heart, which with an infant fondness

  Lay lulled betwixt your bosoms, and there slept,

  Secure of injured faith?

  Dola. If she has wronged you, 575

  Heaven, hell, and you revenge it.

  Ant. If she has wronged me!

  Thou wouldst evade thy part of guilt; but swear

  Thou lov’st not her.

  Dola. Not so as I love you. 580

  Ant. Not so? Swear, swear, I say, thou dost not love her.

  Dola. No more than friendship will allow.

  Ant. No more?

  Friendship allows thee nothing: Thou art perjured —

  And yet thou didst not swear thou lov’st her not; 585

  But not so much, no more. O trifling hypocrite,

  Who dar’st not own to her, thou dost not love,

  Nor own to me, thou dost! Ventidius heard it;

  Octavia saw it.

  Cleo. They are enemies. 590

  Ant. Alexas is not so: He, he confessed it;

  He, who, next hell, best knew it, he avowed it.

  Why do I seek a proof beyond yourself? [To DOLABELLA.

  You, whom I sent to bear my last farewell,

  Returned, to plead her stay. 595

  Dola. What shall I answer?

  If to have loved be guilt, then I have sinned;

  But if to have repented of that love

  Can wash away my crime, I have repented.

  Yet, if I have offended past forgiveness, 600

  Let not her suffer: She is innocent.

  Cleo. Ah, what will not a woman do, who loves?

  What means will she refuse, to keep that heart,

  Where all her joys are placed? ’Twas I encouraged,

  ’Twas I blew up the fire that scorched his soul, 605

  To make you jealous, and by that regain you.

  But all in vain; I could not counterfeit:

  In spite of all the dams my love broke o’er,

  And drowned by heart again: fate took the occasion;

  And thus one minute’s feigning has destroyed 610

  My whole life’s truth.

  Ant. Thin cobweb arts of falsehood;

  Seen, and broke through at first.


  Dola. Forgive your mistress.

  Cleo. Forgive your friend. 615

  Ant. You have convinced yourselves.

  You plead each other’s cause: What witness have you,

  That you but meant to raise my jealousy?

  Cleo. Ourselves, and Heaven.

  Ant. Guilt witnesses for guilt. Hence, love and friendship! 620

  You have no longer place in human breasts,

  These two have driven you out: Avoid my sight!

  I would not kill the man whom I have loved,

  And cannot hurt the woman; but avoid me:

  I do not know how long I can be tame; 625

  For, if I stay one minute more, to think

  How I am wronged, my justice and revenge

  Will cry so loud within me, that my pity

  Will not be heard for either.

  Dola. Heaven has but 630

  Our sorrow for our sins; and then delights

  To pardon erring man: Sweet mercy seems

  Its darling attribute, which limits justice;

  As if there were degrees in infinite,

  And infinite would rather want perfection 635

  Than punish to extent.

  Ant. I can forgive

  A foe; but not a mistress and a friend.

  Treason is there in its most horrid shape,

  Where trust is greatest; and the soul resigned, 640

  Is stabbed by its own guards: I’ll hear no more;

  Hence from my sight for ever!

  Cleo. How? for ever!

  I cannot go one moment from your sight,

  And must I go for ever? 645

  My joys, my only joys, are centred here:

  What place have I to go to? My own kingdom?

  That I have lost for you: Or to the Romans?

  They hate me for your sake: Or must I wander

  The wide world o’er, a helpless, banished woman, 650

  Banished for love of you; banished from you?

  Ay, there’s the banishment! Oh, hear me; hear me,

  With strictest justice: For I beg no favour;

  And if I have offended you, then kill me,

  But do not banish me. 655

  Ant. I must not hear you.

  I have a fool within me takes your part;

  But honour stops my ears.

  Cleo. For pity hear me!

  Would you cast off a slave who followed you? 660

  Who crouched beneath your spurn: — He has no pity!

  See, if he gives one tear to my departure;

  One look, one kind farewell: O iron heart!

  Let all the gods look down, and judge betwixt us,

  If he did ever love! 665

  Ant. No more: Alexas!

  Dola. A perjured villain!

  Ant. [to CLEO.]. Your Alexas; yours.

  Cleo. Oh, ’twas his plot; his ruinous design,

  To engage you in my love by jealousy. 670

  Hear him; confront him with me; let him speak.

  Ant. I have; I have.

  Cleo. And if he clear me not —

  Ant. Your creature! one, who hangs upon your smiles!

  Watches your eye, to say or to unsay, 675

  Whate’er you please! I am not to be moved.

  Cleo. Then must we part? Farewell, my cruel lord!

  The appearance is against me; and I go,

  Unjustified, for ever from your sight.

  How I have loved, you know; how yet I love, 680

  My only comfort is, I know myself:

  I love you more, even now you are unkind,

  Then when you loved me most; so well, so truly

  I’ll never strive against it; but die pleased,

  To think you once were mine. 685

  Ant. Good heaven, they weep at parting!

  Must I weep too? that calls them innocent.

  I must not weep; and yet I must, to think

  That I must not forgive. —

  Live, but live wretched; ’tis but just you should, 690

  Who made me so: Live from each other’s sight:

  Let me not hear you meet. Set all the earth,

  And all the seas, betwixt your sundered loves:

  View nothing common but the sun and skies.

  Now, all take several ways; 695

  And each your own sad fate, with mine, deplore;

  That you were false, and I could trust no more. [Exeunt severally.

  ACT V

  Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, and IRAS

  Char. Be juster, Heaven; such virtue punished thus,

  Will make us think that chance rules all above,

  And shuffles, with a random hand, the lots,

  Which man is forced to draw. 5

  Cleo. I could tear out these eyes, that gained his heart,

  And had not power to keep it. O the curse

  Of doting on, even when I find it dotage!

  Bear witness, gods, you heard him bid me go;

  You, whom he mocked with imprecating vows 10

  Of promised faith! — I’ll die; I will not bear it.

  You may hold me — [She pulls out her dagger, and they hold her.

  But I can keep my breath; I can die inward,

  And choke this love.

  Enter ALEXAS 15

  Iras. Help, O Alexas, help!

  The queen grows desperate; her soul struggles in her

  With all the agonies of love and rage,

  And strives to force its passage.

  Cleo. Let me go. 20

  Art thou there, traitor! — O,

  O for a little breath, to vent my rage,

  Give, give me way, and let me loose upon him.

  Alex. Yes, I deserve it, for my ill-timed truth.

  Was it for me to prop 25

  The ruins of a falling majesty?

  To place myself beneath mighty flaw,

  Thus to be crushed, and pounded into atoms,

  By its o’erwhelming weight? ’Tis too presuming

  For subjects to preserve that wilful power, 30

  Which courts its own destruction.

  Cleo. I would reason

  More calmly with you. Did not you o’errule,

  And force my plain, direct, and open love,

  Into these crooked paths of jealousy? 35

  Now, what’s the event? Octavia is removed;

  But Cleopatra’s banished. Thou, thou villain,

  Hast pushed my boat to open sea; to prove,

  At my sad cost, if thou canst steer it back.

  It cannot be; I’m lost too far; I’m ruined: 40

  Hence, thou impostor, traitor, monster, devil! —

  I can no more: Thou, and my griefs, have sunk

  Me down so low, that I want voice to curse thee.

  Alex. Suppose some shipwrecked seaman near the shore,

  Dropping and faint, with climbing up the cliff, 45

  If, from above, some charitable hand

  Pull him to safety, hazarding himself,

  To draw the other’s weight; would he look back,

  And curse him for his pains? The case is yours;

  But one step more, and you have gained the height. 50

  Cleo. Sunk, never more to rise.

  Alex. Octavia’s gone, and Dolabella banished.

  Believe me, madam, Antony is yours.

  His heart was never lost, but started off

  To jealousy, love’s last retreat and covert; 55

  Where it lies hid in shades, watchful in silence,

  And listening for the sound that calls it back.

  Some other, any man (’tis so advanced),

  May perfect this unfinished work, which I

  (Unhappy only to myself) have left 60

  So easy to his hand.

  Cleo. Look well thou do’t; else —

  Alex. Else, what your silence threatens. — Antony

  Is mounted up the Pharos; from whose turret,

  He stands surveying our Egyptian galleys, 65
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  Engaged with Cæsar’s fleet. Now death or conquest!

  If the first happen, fate acquits my promise;

  If we o’ercome, the conqueror is yours. [A distant shout within.

  Char. Have comfort, madam: Did you mark that shout? [Second shout nearer.

  Iras. Hark! they redouble it. 70

  Alex. ’Tis from the port.

  The loudness shows it near: Good news, kind heavens!

  Cleo. Osiris make it so!

  Enter SERAPION

  Serap. Where, where’s the queen? 75

  Alex. How frightfully the holy coward stares

  As if not yet recovered of the assault,

  When all his gods, and, what’s more dear to him,

  His offerings, were at stake.

  Serap. O horror, horror! 80

  Egypt has been; our latest hour has come:

  The queen of nations, from her ancient seat,

  Is sunk for ever in the dark abyss:

  Time has unrolled her glories to the last,

  And now closed up the volume. 85

  Cleo. Be more plain:

  Say, whence thou comest; though fate is in thy face,

  Which from the haggard eyes looks wildly out,

  And threatens ere thou speakest.

  Serap. I came from Pharos; 90

  From viewing (spare me, and imagine it)

  Our land’s last hope, your navy —

  Cleo. Vanquished?

  Serap. No:

  They fought not. 95

  Cleo. Then they fled.

  Serap. Nor that. I saw,

  With Antony, your well-appointed fleet

  Row out; and thrice he waved his hand on high,

  And thrice with cheerful cries they shouted back: 100

  ’Twas then false Fortune, like a fawning strumpet,

  About to leave the bankrupt prodigal,

  With a dissembled smile would kiss at parting,

  And flatter to the last; the well-timed oars,

  Now dipt from every bank, now smoothly run 105

  To meet the foe; and soon indeed they met,

  But not as foes. In few, we saw their caps

  On either side thrown up; the Egyptian galleys,

  Received like friends, passed through, and fell behind

  The Roman rear: And now, they all come forward, 110

  And ride within the port.

  Cleo. Enough, Serapion:

  I’ve heard my doom. — This needed not, you gods:

  When I lost Antony, your work was done;

  ’Tis but superfluous malice. — Where’s my lord? 115

  How bears he this last blow?

  Serap. His fury cannot be expressed by words:

  Thrice he attempted headlong to have fallen

  Full on his foes, and aimed at Cæsar’s galley:

  Withheld, he raves on you; cries, — He’s betrayed. 120

  Should he now find you —

  Alex. Shun him; seek your safety,

  Till you can clear your innocence.