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Tho' loyalty, well held, to fools does make
Our faith meer folly : yet he, that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fall'n Lord,
Does conquer him that did his master conquer;
And earns a place i'th' story.
Cleo. Cæsar's will ?
Tbyr. Hear it apart.
Cleo. None but friends ; fay boldly.
Thyr. So, haply, are they friends to Antony.
Eno. He needs as many, Sir, as Cæfar has :
Or needs not us.
If Cæsar please, our master
Will leap to be his friend; for, as you know,
Whose he is, we are, and that's Cæsar's.
Thus then, thou most renown'd, Cæfar intreats,
Not to consider in what case thou stand'it
Further than he is Cæfar.
Cleo. Go on ;
Thyr. He knows, that you embrace not Antony
you did love, but as you fear'd him.
Thyr. The scars upon your honour, therefore, he
Does pity, as constrained blemishes,
Not as deferv'd.
Cleo. He is a God, and knows
What is most right. Mine honour was not yielded,
Our Faith meer Folly : &c.
If I see any thing of the Poet's Sentiment in this Passage, both the
Text and Pointing are nightly deprav'd; and, I think, I have re-
form'd both justly. After Enobarbus has faid, that his Honesty and
he begin to quarrel, (i. e. that his Reason shews him to be miftaken
in his firm Adherence to Antony ;) he immediately falls into this.
generous Reflection: “ Tho' Loyalty, stubbornly preserv'd to a
in Master in his declin'd Fortunes, seems Folly in the Eyes of
« Fools ; (i. e. Men, who have not Honour ennugh to think more
« wisely ;) yet he, who can be so obstinately loyal, will make
* as great a Figure on Record, as the Conqueror.
But conquer'd meerly.
Eno. To be sure of that,
I will ask Antony-Sir, thou’rt fo leaky,
That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for
Thy dearest quit thee.
Í byr. Shall I say to Cafar
What you require of him ? he partly begs,
To be desir'd to give. It much would please him,
That of his fortunes you would make a staff
To lean upon. But it would warm his spirits,
To hear from me you had left Antony,
And put yourfelf under his shroud, the universal landlord.
Cleo. What's your name!
Thyr. My name is Thyreus.
Cleo. Most kind mefienger, (25)
Say to great Cæfar this; in deputation
I kiss his conqu’ring hand : tell him, I'm prompt
To lay my crown at's feet, and there to kneel.
Tell him, that from his all-obeying breath
I hear the doom of Ægypt.
Thyr. 'Tis your nobleit course :
Wisdom and fortune combating together,
If that the former dare bæt what it can,
No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay
My duty on yoor hand.
Cleo. Your Cæfar's father oft,
When he hath mus'd of taking Kingdoms in,
(25) Moft kind Mefjenger;
Say to great Cæsar this in Disputation,
1 kiss bis conqu’ring band:] Again, the Pointing and Text must be corrected. If the Sagacious Editors can reasonably expound Disputation here, I allow them to see farther into a Miltone than I pretend to do. The Poet certainly wrote, (as Mr. Warburton likewise saw, we must rektore ;)
Moj kind Messenger,
Say to great Cæfar this; in Deputation.
I kiss bis conqu’ring band: i. e. by Proxy ; I depute you to pay him that Duty in my Name. 5
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
As it rain'd kisses.
Enter Antony, and Enobarbus.
Ant. Favours ! by Jove, that thunders.-
[Seeing Thyreus kiss ber band. What art thou, fellow?
Thyr. One that but performs
The bidding of the fulleit man, and worthiest
To have command obey'd.
Eno. You will be whipp'd.
Ant. Approach there ah, you kite ! now, Gods
and Devils !
Authority melts from me of late.-When I cry'd, hoa!
Like boys unto a muss, Kings would start forth,
And cry, your will have you no ears ?
I'm Antony yet. Take hence this Jack, and whip him.
Eno. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,
Than with an old one dying.
Ant. Moon and stars !
Whip him :-Were't twenty of the greatest Tributaries
That do acknowledge Cæsar, should I find them
So fawcy with the hand of She here, (what's her name,
Since she was Cleopatra?)—whip him, fellows
Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face,
And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.
Thyr. Mark Antony
Ant. Tug him away ; being whipp'd,
Bring him again : this Jack of Cæsar's shall
Bear us an errand to him. (Exeunt with Thyreus,
You were half blasted, ere I knew
Have I my pillow left unpreft in Rome,
Forborn the getting of a lawful race,
And by a jem of women, to be abus'd
By one that looks on feeders ?
Cleo. Good my Lord,
Ant. You have been a boggler ever.
But when we in our viciousness grow hard,
(Oh misery on't!) the wise Gods feal our eyes
In our own filth, drop our clear judgments, make us
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut
To our confufion.
Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?
Ant. I found you as a morfel, cold upon
Dead Casar's trencher : nay, you were a fragment
Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours,
Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have
Luxuriously pickt out. For, I am fure,
Though you can guess what temperance should be,
You know not what it is.
Cleo. Wherefore is this?
Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And say, God quit you, be familiar with
My play-fellow, your hand; this kingly feal,
And plighter of high hearts that I were
Upon the hill of Bafan, to out-roar
The horned herd, for I have favage cause !
And to proclaim it civilly, were like
A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him. Is he whipp'd ?
Re-enter a Servant, with Thyreus.
Serv. Soundly, my Lord.
Int. Cry'd her and begg'd a 'pardon ?
Serv. He did ask favour.
Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent
Thou waft not made his daughter; and be thou forry
To follow Cæfar in his triumph, fince
Thou haft been whipp'd for following him. Henceforth,
The white hand of a lady fever thee,
Shake to look on't.-Go, get thee back to Cæfar,
Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou fay,
He makes me angry with him: For he seems
Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry;
And, at this time, moft easy 'tis to do't:
When my good stars, that were my former guides,
Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires
Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike
My speech, and what is done, tell him, he has
Hipparchus my enfranchis'd bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he shall like, to quit me. Urge it thou :
Hence with thy ftripes, be gone. [Exit Thyreus.
Cleo. Have you done yet?
Ant. Alack, our terrene moon is now eclips'd, And it portends alone the fall of Antony.
Cleo. I must stay his time..
Ant. To flatter Cæfar, would you mingle eyes
With one that ties his points ?
Cleo. Not know me yet?
Ant. Cold-hearted toward me!
Cleo. Ah, dear, if I be fo,
From my cold heart let heav'n ingender hail,
And poison't in the source, and the first stone
Drop in my neck; as it determines, so
Diffolve my life! the next Cafario fmite !
'Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
Togther with my brave Ægyptians all,
(26) By the discandying of this pelletted ftorm,
Lie graveless ; 'till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey !
Ant. I'm fatisfied :
Cæfar sets down in Alexandria, where
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held;' our sever'd navy too
Have knit again, and float, threatning most sea-like.
(26) By the difcattering of this pelletted Storm, ] This Reading we owe first, I presume, to Mr. Rowe : and Mr. Pope has very faithfully fall'n into it. The old Folio's read, discandering: from whicha
: Corruption both Dr. Tbirlby and I saw, we must retrieve the Word with which I have reform'd the Text. Cleopatra's Wish is this ; that the Gods would ingender Hail, and poison it; and that as it fell upon her and her subjects, and melted, their Lives might determine, as that dissolv'd and discandied : the congealing of the Water into Hail he metaphorically calls candying: and it is an. Image he is fond of, in several other Passages.