And therefore will not leave you.
Ant. Will not leave ine? [I? Where have you learnt that answer! Who am Vent. My emperor: the man I love next Heaven. If I faid more, I think 't were fcarce a fin: You're all that's good and godlike.
Ant. All that's wretched. You will not leave me then?
Vent. 'Twas too prefuming
To fay I would not: but I dare not leave you; And 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence So foon, when I fo far have come to fee you. Ant. Now thou haft seen me, art thou fatisfied? For, if a friend, thou haft beheld enough; And, if a foe, too much.
Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew, I have not wept thefe 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!
Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not For my own griefs, but thine,-nay, father- Vent. Emperor !
Ant. Emperor! why that's the style of victory. The conqu ring foldier, red with unfelt wounds, Salutes his general fo: but never more Shall that found reach my ears.
Vent. I warrant you. Ant. A&tium, Actium! O Vent. It fits too near you.
Ant. Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by day; And in my fhort, distracted, nightly flumbers, The hag that rides my dreams
Vent. Out with it give it vent. Ant. Urge not my shame- I loft a battle.
Vent. So has Julius done." [thou think,'t; Ant. Thou favour'ft me, and fpeak'ft not half For Julius fought it out, and loft it fairly: But Antony-
Vent. Nay, ftop not.
Ant. Antony
(Well, thou wilt have it)-like a coward fled, Fled while his foldiers fought; fled firft, Ventidius. Thou long'st to curfe me, and I give thee leave. I know thou cam'st prepar'd to rail.
Ant. I'll help thee-I have been a man, Venti- Vent. Yes, and a brave one: but― [dius, Ant. I know thy meaning.
But I have loft my reafon, have difgrac'd The name of foldier, with inglorious cafe. In the full vintage of my flowing honours Sate fill, and faw it preft by other hands. Fortune came fmiling to my youth, and we'd it, And purple greatnefs met my ripen'd yea When firft I came to empire, I was borne On tides of people, crowding to my triumph; The wish of nations, and the willing world Received me as its pledge of future peace. I was fo great, fo happy, fo belov'd, Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains, And work'd against my fortune,chid her from me, And turn'd her loofe: yet still she came again. My careless days, and my luxurious nights At length have wearied her, and now he's gore Gone, gone, divorc'd for ever! Help me, foldi To curfe this madman, this industrious fool, Who labour'd to be wretched. Pry'thee curie Vent. No.
Vent. You are too fenfible already Of what you've done, too conscious of your And like a fcorpion, whipt by others firft To fury, fting yourself in mad revenge. I would bring balm, and pour it in your wor Cure your diftemper'd mind, and heal your: Ant. I know thou wouldst. Vent. I will.
Ant. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Vent. You laugh.
Ant. I do, to fee officious love Give cordials to the dead.
Vent. You would be loft then! Ant. I am.
Vent. I fay you are not. Try your forte Ant. I have to th' utmoft. Dost thou th
Without juft caufe? No, when I found all lo Beyond repair, I hid me from the world, And learnt to fcorn it here; which now I d So heartily, I think it is not worth The cost of keeping.
Vent. Cæfar thinks not fo: He'll thank you for the gift he could not tak You would be kill'd like Tully, would you Hold out your throat to Cæfar, and die tat
Ant. No, I can kill myself; and fo rele Vent. I can die with you too, when time a ferve:
But fortune calls upon us now to live, To fight, to conquer.
Ant. Sure thou dream'ft, Ventidius. Vent. No, 'tis you dream; you fleep away yo In defperate floth, mifcall'd philofophy. [ Up, up, for honour's fake; twelve legions And long to call you chief. By painful journ I led 'em, patient both of heat and hunger, Down from the Parthian marches to the Nile Twill do you good to fee their fun-burnt fac Their fearr d cheeks, and chopt hands; ther
Vent. There's but one way fhut up-how came Ant. I will not ftir.
Vent. They would perhaps defire A better reafon.
Ant. I have never us'd
My foldiers to demand a reafon of
My actions. Why did they refufe to march ? Vent. They faid they would not fight for Cleopatra.
Ant. What was 't they faid?
Vent. They faid they would not fight for Cleopatra.
Why fhould they fight, indeed, to make her [doms, And make you more a flave? to gain you king- Which for a kifs, at your next midnight feaft, You'll fell to her? Then the new names her jewels,
And calls this diamond fuch or such a tax ; Each pendant in her ear fhall be a province.
Ant. Ventidus, I allow your tongue free li. On all my other faults; but on your life, [cence No ward of Cleopatra: the deferves More worlds than I can lofe.
Vent. Behold, you pow'rs,
To whom you have entrusted human kind; See Europe, Afric, Afia put in balance; And all weigh'd down by one light worthlefs
I think the gods are Antonies, and give, Like prodigals, this nether world away To none but wafteful hands.
Ant. You grow prefumptuous.
Vent. Itake the privilege of plain love to speak. Ant. Plain love! plain arrogante, plain info-
Thy men are cowards; thou, an envious traitor; Who, under feeming honesty, haft vented The burden of thy rank o'erflowing gall. O, that thou wert my equal; great in arms As the first Cæfar was, that I might kill thee Without ftain to my honour!
Vent. You may kill me.
1 faid it in my rage: pr'ythee forgive me. Why didft thou tempt my anger, by discovery Of what I would not hear?
Vent. No prince but you Could merit that fincerity I us'd
Nor durft another man have ventur'd it: But you, ere love mifled your wand'ring eyes, Were fure the chief and beft of human race, Fram'd in the very pride and boast of nature. Ant. But Cleopatra-
Go on; for I can bear it now.
Vent. No more.
Ant. Thou dar'ft not truft my paffion; but thou mayft:
Thou only lov't, the reft have flatter'd me. Vent. Heaven's bleffing on your heart, for that kind word.
May I believe you love me? Speak again.
Ant. Indeed I do. Speak this, and this, and this Thy praises were unjust; but I'll deferve 'em, And yet mend all. Do with me what thou wilt; Lead me to victory, thou know'ft the way.
Vent. And, will you leave this-- Ant. Pr'ythee do not curfe her,
And I will leave her; tho' Heaven knows I love Beyond life, conqueft, empire, all but honour But I will leave her.
Vent. That's my royal master. And thall we fight?
Ant. I warrant thee, old foldier: Thou shalt behold me once again in irch; And, at the head of our old troops, that beat The Parthians, cry aloud, Come, follow me!
Vent. O, now I hear my emperor! In that word Octavius fell. Gods, let me fee that day; And, if I have ten years behind, take all : I'll thank you for the exchange. Ant. O, Cleopatra !
Ant. I've done. In that last figh she went Cæfar fhall know what 'tis to force a lover From all he holds most dear.
Vent. Methinks you breathe Another foul; your looks are more divine ; You fpeak a hero, and you move a god.
Ant. O, thou haft fir'd me! my foul's up in And mans each part about me. Once again [arms,
You have done more already; call'd me traitor. The noble eagerness of fight has feiz'd me;
Vent. For thewing you yourself, Which none elfe durft have done. But had I been That name, which I dffdain to speak again, I needed not have fought your abject fortunes, Come to partake your fate, to die with you.
That eagerness, with which I darted upward To Caffius' camp. In vain the fteepy hill Oppos'd my way; in vain a war of spears Sung round my head, and planted all my thield ' I won the trenches, while my foremost men Lagg'd on the plain below.
Vent. Ye gods, ye gods, For fuch another honour!
Ant. Come on, my foldier;
Our hearts and arms are ftill the fame. I long Once more to meet our foes; that thou and I, Like Time and Death, marching before our troops,
May tafte fate to 'em ; mow 'em out a paffage, And, ent'ring where the utmoft fquadrons yield, Begin the noble harvest of the field.
$30. Theodofius and Marcian.
Before I go, I'll rip the malady, And let the venom flow before your eyes, This is a debt to the great Theodofius, The grandfather of your illuftrious blood; And then farewell for ever.
Theo. Prefuming Marcian!
What canft thou urge against my innocence! Thro' the whole courfe of all my harmless youth, Ev'n to this hour, I cannot call to mind One wicked act which I have done to shame nt. Mar. This may be true: yet if you give the fway
To other hands, and your poor fubjects fuffer,
HA! what rafh thing art thou, who Your negligence to them is as the caufe.
A value on thy life, thus to presume Against the fatal orders I have given, Thus to entrench on Cæfar's folitude, And urge me to thy ruin?
Mar. Mighty Cæfar,
I have tranfgrefs'd; and for my pardon bow To thee, as to the gods, when I offend: Nor can I doubt your mercy, when you know The nature of my crime. I am commiffion'd From all the earth to give thee thanks and praises, Thou darling of mankind! whofe conqu'ring arms Already drown the glory of great Julius; Whofe deeper reach in laws and policy Makes wife Auguftus envy thee in heaven! What mean the Fates by fuch prodigious virtue? When fcarce the manly down yet fhades thy face, With conqueft thus to over-run the world, And make barbarians tremble. O ye gods! Should Destiny now end thee in the bloom, Methinks I fee thee mourn'd above the lofs Of lot'd Germanicus; thy funerals, Like his, are folemniz'd with tears and blood, Theo. How, Marcian!
Mar. Yes, the raging multitude,
Like torrents, fet no bound to their mad grief; Shave their wives' heads, and tear off their own
With wild defpair they bring their infants out, To brawl their parents' forrow in the streets: Trade is no more, all courts of juftice stopt; With tones they dash the windows of their temples, [gods; Pull down their altars, break their household And ftill the univerfal groan is this- "Conftantinople's loft, our empire's ruin'd; Since he his gone that father of his country, Since he is dead, O life, where is thy pleafure? ORome, O conquer'd world, where is thy glory!" Theo. I know thee well, thy cuftom and thy
Thou didst upbraid me; but no more of this, Not for thy life-
Mar. What's life without my honour? Could you transform yourself into a Gorgon, Or make that beardlefs face like Jupiter's, I would be heard in fpite of all your thunder: O pow'r of guilt! you fear to ftand the test Which virtue brings: like fores your vices make
Before this Roman healer, But, by the gods,
O Theodofius, credit me, who know The world, and hear how foldiers cenfure king:; In after times, if thus you fhould go on, Your memory by warriors will be fcorn'd, As much as Nero or Caligula loath'd: They will defpife your floth, and backward caft, More than they hate the other's cruelty. And what a thing, ye gods, is fcorn or pity! Heap on me, Heaven, the hate of all mankind; Load me with malice, envy, deteftation; Let me be horrid to all apprehenfion, And the world fhun me, so I scape but fcorn, Theo. Pr'ythee no more.
Mar. Nay, when the legions make compari.
And fay, Thus cruel Nero once refolv'd, On Galba's infurrection, for revenge To give all France as plunder to the army; To poifon the whole fenate at a feaft; To burn the city, turn the wild beasts out, Bears, lions, tigers, on the multitude; That, fo obftructing thofe that quench'd the ft, He might at once deftroy rebellious Rome
Theo. O cruelty! why tell'ft thou me of this' Am I of fuch a barb'rous bloody temper? Mar. Yet fome will fay, This fhew'd he had a fpirit,
However fierce avenging, and pernicious, That favour'd of a Roman: but for you, What can your partial fycophants invent, To make you room among the emperors? Whofe utmost is the smalleft part of Nero; A pretty player, one that can act a hero, And never be one. O ye immortal gods ! Is this the old Cæfarean majesty? Now in the name of our great Romulus, Why fing you not, and fiddle too, as he did? Why have you not, like Nero, a Phonafcus ! One to take care of your celestial voice? Lie on your back, my lord, and on your stomach Lay a thin plate of lead, abftain from fruits; And when the business of the stage is done, Retire with your loofe friends to coftly banquets, While the lean army groans upon the ground. Theo. Leave me, I fay, left I chaftife thee; Hence, begone, I fay-
Mar. Not till you have heard me out. Build too, like him, a palace lin'd with gold, As long and large as that of th' Efquiline: Inclofe a pool too in it, like the fea, And at the empire's soft let navies meet;
Adorn your ftarry chambers too with gems; Contrive the plated ceilings to turn round, With pipes to cast ambrofian oils upon you : Confume with this prodigious vanity, In mere perfumes and odorous diftillations, Of fefterces at once four hundred millions; Let naked virgins wait you at your table, And wanton Cupids dance and clap their wings. No matter what becomes of the poor foldiers, So they perform the drudgery they are fit for; Why let 'em starve for want of their arrears, Drop as they go, and lie like dogs in ditches. Theo. Come, you are a traitor! Mar. Go to, you are a boy—— Or by the gods
Theo. If arrogance like this,
And to the emperor's face, fhould 'fcape unpunished,
I'll write myfeif a coward; die, then, villain, A death too glorious for fo bad a man, By Theodocius' hand.
Marcian difarms him, but is rounded. Mar. Now, Sir, where are you? What, in the name of all our Roman spirits, Now charms my hand from giving thee thy fate? Has he not cut me off from all my honours? Torn my commiffions, fham'd me to the earth, Banish'd the court, a vagabond for ever?
Do not the foldiers hourly afk it from me? Sigh their own wrongs, and beg me to revenge
What hinders now, but that I mount the throne, And make, befides,this purple youth my footstool? The armies court me: and my country's caufe, The injuries of Rome and Greece, perfuade me, Shew but this Roman blood which he has drawn, They'll make me emperor whether I will or no: Did not, for lefs than this, the latter Brutus, Because he thought Rome wrong'd, in perfon Against his friend a black confpiracy, [head And ftab the majesty of all the world?
Theo. A&t as you please: I am within your pow'r. Mar. Did not the former Brutus, for the crime Of Sextus, drive old Tarquin from his kingdom? And fhall this prince too, by permitting others To act their wicked wills, and lawlefs pleafures, Ravish from the empire its dear health, Well-being, happiness, and ancient glory? Go on in this dishonourable rest?
Shall he, I fay, dream on, while the starv'd troops Lie cold and waking in the winter camp; And like pin'd birds, for want of fuftenance, Feed on the haws and berries of the fields ? O temper, temper me, ye gracious gods! Give to my hand forbearance, to my heart Its conftant loyalty! I would but shake him, Roufe him a little from this death of honour, And fhew him what he should be.
Theo. You accuse me,
As if I were fome moniter most unheard of! First, as the ruin of the army; then Of taking your commiffion: but by Heaven 1 fwear, O Marcian! this I never did, Nor ne'er intended it; nor fay I this To alter thy ftern ufage; for with what
Thou'ft faid, and done, and brought to my remembrance,
I grow already weary of my life.
Mar. My lord, I take your word: you do not know
The wounds which rage within your country's bowels ;
The horrid ufage of the suffering foldier: But why will not our Theodofius know? If you entrust the government to others That act thefe crimes, who but yourself's to blame? Be witnefs, O ye gods! of my plain dealings. Of Marcian's honefty, howe'er degraded, I thank you for my banishment: but alas! My lofs is little to what foon will follow! Reflect but on yourself and your own joys; Let not this lethargy for ever hold you. 'Twas rumour'd thro' the city, that you lov'd'; That your efpoufals fhould be folemniz'd; When on a fudden here you fend your orders That this bright favourite, the lov'd Eudofia, Should lofe her head.
Theo. O heaven and earth! What say'st thou That I have feal'd the death of my Eudofia !
Mar. 'Tis your own hand and fignet: yet I
Tho' you have given to female hands your sway, And therefore I, as well as the whole army, For ever ought to curfe all womankind; Yet when the virgin came, as she was doom'd, And on the fcaffold, for that purpose rais'd Without the walls, appear'd before the army- Theo. What; on a scaffold! ha! before the
Mar. How quickly was the tide of fury turn'd To foft compaffion, and relenting tears ! But when the axe
Sever'd the brightest beauty of the earth From that fair body-had you heard the groan, Which, like a peal of diftant thunder, ran Through all the armed hoft, you would have thought,
By the immediate darkness that fell round us, Whole nature was concern'd at such a suff`ring, And all the gods were angry.
Cruel, ambitious fifter! this must be Thy doing. O, fupport me, nobie Marcian! Now, now's the time, if thou dar 'ft ftrike: behold, I offer thee my breaft; with my last breath, I'll thank thee too, if now thou draw'ft my blood. Were I to live, thy counfel fhould direct me; But 'tis too late-
Mar. He faints! What, hoa, there! Lucius! My lord the emperor! Eudofia lives; She's here, or will be in a minute, moment! Quick as the thought, the calls you to the temple. O, Lucius, help?-I've gone too far; but fee, He breathes again.-Eudofia has awak'd him. Theo. Did you not name Eudofia? Mar. Yes, the lives:
I did but feign the story of her death, To find how near you plac'd her to your heart: And may the gods rain all their plagues upon me, If ever I rebuke you thus again!
Yet 'tis mcft certain that you fign'd her death, Not knowing what the wife Puicneria offer'd, Who left it in my band to ftartle you: But, by my life and fame, I did not think It would have touch'd your life. O pardon me, Dear prince, my lord, my emperor, roval mafter: Droop not because I utter'd fome rash words, And was a madman. By the immortal gods I love you as my foul: whate'er I faid, My thoughts were otherwife; believe thefe tears, Which do not ufe to flow: all fhall be well. I swear that there are feeds in that sweet temper, T'atone for all the crimes in this bad age. Theo. I thank thee firft for my Eudofia's life. What but my love could have call'd back that life | Which thou haft made me hate? But, O, me- thought
'Twas hard, dear Marcian, very hard, from thee, From him I ever reverenc'd as my father, To hear fo harfh a meffage! But no more; We're friends: thy hand. Nay, if thou wilt not rife,
And let me fold my arms about thy neck, I'll not believe thy love: in this forgive me. First let me wed Éudofia, and we'll out; We will, my general, and make amends For all that's paft: glory and armas, ye call, And Marcian leads me on!
Mar. Let her not reft, then; Efpoufe her ftraight: I'll ftrike you at a heat. May this great humour get large growth within you;
And be encourag'd by the embold'ning gods: O what a fight will this be to the foldier, To fee me bring you drefs'd in fhining armour, To head the fhouting fquadrons! O ye gods! Methinks I hear the echoing cries of joy, The founds of trumpets, and the beat of drums; I fee each ftarving foldier bound from earth, As if a god by miracle had rais'd him; And with beholding you, grow fat again! Nothing but gazing eyes, and opening mouths, Cheeks red with joy, and lifted hands about you; Some wiping the glad tears that trickle down With broken Io's, and with fobbing raptures ; Crying, To arms! he's come; our emperor's come To win the world! Why, is not this far better Than lolling in a lady's lap, and fleeping, Fafting or praying? Come, come, you fhall be And for Eudofia, the is yours already: [merry: Marcian has faid it, Sir; fhe fhall be yours. Theo. O Marcian! O my brother, father, all! Thou best of friends! most faithful counsellor! I'll find a match for thee too, ere I reft, To make thee love me. For, when thou art with
Believe me, the has won me much to pity her; Alas her gentle nature was not made To buffet with adverfity. I told her How worthily her cause you had befriended; How much for your good fake we meant to do That you had spoke, and a things should be well Hejt. Your highnets binds me ever to your fervice.
Gleft. You know your friendship is met patent with us,
And fhares our power. Bet of this enough, For we have other matter for your ear; The ftate is out of tune: difrafting fears, And jealous doubts, jar in our public counkek; Amidst the wealthy city murmurs rife, Lewd railings, and reproach on those that rule, With open fcorn of government; hence credit, And public truft 'twixt man and man are broke, The golden ftreams of commerce are withheld, Which fed the wants of needy hinds and artifam, Who therefore curfe the great, aud threat res bellion.
Haft. The refty knaves are over-run witheek, As plenty ever is the nurfe of faction; If in good days, like these, the headstrong herd Grow madly wanton, and repine, it is Because the reins of pow'r are held too flack, And reverend authority of late
Has worn a face of mercy more than justice. Gloft. Befhrew my heart! but you have was
Have plac'd a pageant fceptre in my hand, Barren of pow'r, and subject to controul; Scorn'd by my foes, and useless to my friends. O worthy lord! were mine the rule indeed, I think I should not fuffer rank offence At large to lord it in the commonweal; Nor would the realm be rent by difcord thus, Thus fear and doubt, betwixt difputed titles. Haft. Of this I am to learn; as not fuppong A doubt like this-
Gloft. Ay, marry, but there is; And that of much concern. Have you not herd How, on a late occafion, Doctor Shaw Has mov'd the people much about the lawta Of Edward's iffue ? by right grave authority Of learning and religion plainly proving, A baftard fcion never fhould be grafted
Gloft. My lord, y' are well encounter'd; here Upon a royal tock; from thence, at full
A fair petitioner this morning with us;
Difcourfing on my brother's former contract To Lady Elizabeth Lucy, long before
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