Cas. The time of universal peace is near; Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world Shall bear the olive freely. Enter an OFFICER. Offi. Antony is come into the field. Cas. Go, charge Agrippa. Plant those that have revolted in the van, That Antony may seem to spend his fury Upon himself. [Exeunt. Shouts, flourishes, &c. SCENE III. The Gates of Alexandria. Flourish and Shouts from ANTONY's Party. Enter VENTIDius. Ven. Ne'er, till this hour, fought I against my will For Antony. Plague on his leave-taking! I thought how her white arms would fold him in, And mar my wholesome counsels. One hope still Remains to part him from this.-[Shouts.]-So! he comes. Enter ANTONY, with his Forces. Ant. This day is ours;-bravely thou fought'st, We have beat him to his camp. Ven. True-against odds; But still you draw supplies from one poor town, All at his beck; nations come pouring in, Ant. Nay, nay, Ventidius, No more on this theme, now.-Run one before, Not as you served the cause, but as t'had been Enter the city; clip your wives, your friends; Enter CLEOPATRA, attended. O, thou day o'the world! Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness to my heart, and there Ride on the pants in triumph. Cle. O, infinite virtue! com'st thou smiling from The world's great snare, uncaught? Ant. My nightingale, We have beat them to their beds. Behold this man; Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand. Kiss it, my warrior; he hath fought to-day, As if a god, in hate of mankind, had Destroy'd in such a shape. Cle. I'll give thee, friend, An armour all of gold; it was a king's. Ant. He has deserved it, were it carbuncled Like holy Phoebus' car. Ven. I'll none on't;-no; Not all the diamonds of the East can bribe Ventidius from his faith. Ant. Give me thy hand; [TO CLEOPATRA, Through Alexandria make a jovial march; Bear our hack'd targets like the men that own them. To camp this host, we all would drink carouses Make mingle with our rattling tambourines, That Heaven and earth may strike their sounds together, Applauding our approach. [Exeunt all but ANTONY and Ventidius. Ven. (Pulling ANTONY by the sleeve.) Emperor! Ant. 'Tis the old argument: I pr'ythee spare me. Ven. But this one hearing, Emperor. Ant. Let go My robe, or by my father, Hercules, Ven. By Hercules's father, that's yet greater,' I bring you somewhat you would wish to know. Ant. Thou see'st we are observed; attend me here, And I'll return. [Exit. As would confound their choice to punish one, Enter ANTONY. Ant. We can conquer. They look on us at distance, and, like curs, Ven. 'Tis well; and he, Who lost 'em, could have spared ten thousand more. An easier peace, while Cæsar doubts the chance Ant. O, think not on't, Ventidius; Ven. Have you no friend In all his army, who has power to move him? Ant. They're both too deep in Cæsar's interests. Ant. Thank thy love; But wherefore drive me from myself, to search To find a friend? The wretched have no friends: Ant. No matter where, Since he's no longer mine. He took unkindly Because I fear'd he loved her. When he departed He took no leave; and that confirm'd my thoughts. Ven. It argues that he loved you more than her; Else had he staid;-but he perceived you jealous, And would not grieve his friend. I know he loves you. Ant. I should have seen him then ere now. Ven. Perhaps, He has thus long been lab'ring for your peace. Ven. Would you believe he loved you? I read your answer in your eyes, you would. A messenger from Cæsar's camp, with letters. Ven. I'll bring him instantly. [Exit VENTIDIUS; and Re-enters immediately, with DOLAbella. [Runs to embrace him. Art thou return'd at last, my better half? Hast thou not seen my morning chambers fill'd Dol. Slaves to your fortune. Ant. Fortune is Cæsar's now, and what am I? Ven. What you have made yourself. I will not flatter. Ant. Is this friendly done? Dol. Yes, when his end is so; I must join with him; Indeed I must, and yet you must not chide: Why am I else your friend? Ant. Take heed, young man, How thou upbraid'st my love: The queen has eyes, And thou too hast a soul. Canst thou remember, When, swell'd with hatred, thou beheld'st her first, As accessary to thy brother's death? Dol. Spare my remembrance; 'twas a guilty day, And still the blush hangs here. Ant. To clear herself For sending him no aid, she came from Egypt. 'The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept time, and made |