Vent. Does the mute sacrifice upbraid the priest? O, she has decked his ruin with her love, I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmann'd him: Thus alter'd from the lord of half mankind, Thou bravest soldier, and thou best of friends! Couldst thou but make new worlds, so wouldst thou give them, As bounty were thy being. Rough in battle, As the first Romans, when they went to war; Yet, after victory, more pitiful Than all their praying virgins left at home! Antony. They tell me, 'tis my birthday, and I'll keep it With double pomp of sadness. 'Tis what the day deserves, which gave me breath. Why was I rais'd the meteor of the world, Hung in the skies, and blazing as I travell❜d, Till all my fires were spent; and then cast downward To be trod out by Cæsar? Vent. [Aside.] On my soul, 'Tis mournful, wondrous mournful! Ant. Count thy gains. Now, Antony, wouldst thou be born for this? Glutton of fortune, thy devouring youth Has starv'd thy wanting age. Vent. How sorrow shakes him! So, now the tempest tears him up by th' roots, [Aside. Ant. [Having thrown himself down.] Lie there, the shadow of an emperor; The place thou pressest on thy mother earth Is all thy empire now: now it contains thee; Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large, To see his rival of the universe Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more on't. Give me some music; look that it be sad: 'Tis somewhat to my humour. Stay, I fancy Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene, [Soft music. Stretch'd at my length beneath some blasted oak, And look just of a piece, as I grew from it: My uncomb'd locks, matted like misletoe, Hang o'er my hoary face; a murm'ring brook Runs at my foot. Vent. Methinks I fancy Myself there too. Ant. The herd come jumping by me, And fearless quench their thirst, while I look on; More of this image, more; it lulls my thoughts. [Soft music again. Vent. I must disturb him; I can hold no longer. [Stands before him. Ant. starting up. Art thou Ventidius? I'm liker what I was, than you to him Ant. I'm angry. Vent. So am I. Ant. I would be private: leave me. Vent. Sir, I love you. And therefore will not leave you. Ant. Will not leave me? Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I? Vent. My emperor; the man I love next Heav'n: If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin: You're all that's good, and god-like. Ant. All that's wretched. You will not leave me then? Vent. "Twas too presuming Το say I would not; but, I dare not leave you, So soon, when I so far have come to see you. And, if a foe, too much. Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew, [Weeping. I have not wept these forty years; but now My mother comes afresh into my eyes; I cannot help her softness. Ant. By Heav'n, he weeps, poor good old man, he weeps! The big round drops course one another down The furrows of his cheeks. Stop them, Ventidius, Or I shall blush to death: they set my shame, That caused them, full before me. Vent. I'll do my best. Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of friends: See, I have caught it too; believe me, 'tis not For my own griefs, but thine. Nay, father. Vent. Emperor. F Ant. Emperor! Why, that's the style of victory, Vent. I warrant you. Ant. Actium, Actium! Oh Vent. It sits too near you. Ant. Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by day, And, in my short, distracted, nightly slumbers, The hag that rides my dreams Vent. Out with it; Ant. Urge not my I lost a battle. give it vent. shame. Vent. So has Julius done. Ant. Thou favour'st me, and speak'st not half thou think'st; For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly: But Antony Vent. Nay, stop not. Ant. Antony, (Well, thou wilt have it) like a coward, fled, Fled while his soldiers fought; fled first, Ventidius. I know thou cam'st prepared to rail. Vent. I did. Ant. I'll help thee -I have been a man, Ventidius. Vent. Yes, and a brave one; but Ant. I know thy meaning. But, I have lost my reason, have disgrac'd Receiv'd me as its pledge of future peace; Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains And work'd against my fortune, chid her from me, Ant. Why? Vent. You are too sensible already Of what you've done, too conscious of your failings, To fury, sting yourself in mad revenge. I would bring balm, and pour it in your wounds, Vent. I will. Ant. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Vent. You laugh. Ant. I do, to see officious love Give cordials to the dead. Vent. You would be lost then? Vent. I say, you are not. your fortunes. Try your fortune. Ant. I have to th' utmost. Dost thou think me desperate, Vent. Cæsar thinks not so: He'll thank you for the gift he could not take. |