No More Learning

Good heavens, is this,--is this the man who braves me?
Who bids my age make way? Drives me before him,
To the world's ridge, and sweeps me off like rubbish?

_Vent. _ Sir, we lose time; the troops are mounted all.

_Ant. _ Then give the word to march:
I long to leave this prison of a town,
To join thy legions; and, in open field,
Once more to show my face. Lead, my deliverer.

_Enter_ ALEXAS.

_Alex. _ Great emperor,
In mighty arms renowned above mankind,
But, in soft pity to the opprest, a god;
This message sends the mournful Cleopatra
To her departing lord.

_Vent. _ Smooth sycophant!

_Alex. _ A thousand wishes, and ten thousand prayers,
Millions of blessings wait you to the wars;
Millions of sighs and tears she sends you too,
And would have sent
As many dear embraces to your arms,
As many parting kisses to your lips;
But those, she fears, have wearied you already.

_Vent. _ [_Aside. _] False crocodile!

_Alex. _ And yet she begs not now, you would not leave her;
That were a wish too mighty for her hopes,
Too presuming for her low fortune, and your ebbing love;
That were a wish for her more prosperous days,
Her blooming beauty, and your growing kindness.

_Ant. _ [_Aside. _] Well, I must man it out:--What would the queen?

_Alex. _ First, to these noble warriors, who attend
Your daring courage in the chase of fame,--
Too daring, and too dangerous for her quiet,--
She humbly recommends all she holds dear,
All her own cares and fears,--the care of you.

_Vent. _ Yes, witness Actium.

_Ant. _ Let him speak, Ventidius.

_Alex. _ You, when his matchless valour bears him forward,
With ardour too heroic, on his foes,
Fall down, as she would do, before his feet;
Lie in his way, and stop the paths of death;
Tell him, this god is not invulnerable;
That absent Cleopatra bleeds in him;
And, that you may remember her petition,
She begs you wear these trifles, as a pawn,
Which, at your wisht return, she will redeem
[_Gives jewels to the Commanders. _
With all the wealth of Egypt:
This to the great Ventidius she presents,
Whom she can never count her enemy,
Because he loves her lord.

_Vent. _ Tell her, I'll none on't;
I'm not ashamed of honest poverty;
Not all the diamonds of the east can bribe
Ventidius from his faith. I hope to see
These, and the rest of all her sparkling store,
Where they shall more deservingly be placed.

_Ant. _ And who must wear them then?

_Vent. _ The wronged Octavia.

_Ant. _ You might have spared that word.

_Vent. _ And he that bribe.

_Ant. _ But have I no remembrance?

_Alex. _ Yes, a dear one;
Your slave, the queen--

_Ant. _ My mistress.

_Alex. _ Then your mistress;
Your mistress would, she says, have sent her soul,
But that you had long since; she humbly begs
This ruby bracelet, set with bleeding hearts,
The emblems of her own, may bind your arm. [_Presenting a bracelet. _

_Vent. _ Now, my best lord,--in honour's name, I ask you,
For manhood's sake, and for your own dear safety,--
Touch not these poisoned gifts,
Infected by the sender; touch them not;
Myriads of bluest plagues lie underneath them,
And more than aconite has dipt the silk.

_Ant. _ Nay, now you grow too cynical, Ventidius:
A lady's favours may be worn with honour.
What, to refuse her bracelet! on my soul,
When I lie pensive in my tent alone,
'Twill pass the wakeful hours of winter nights,
To tell these pretty beads upon my arm,
To count for every one a soft embrace,
A melting kiss at such and such a time;
And now and then the fury of her love,
When--And what harm's in this?

_Alex. _ None, none, my lord,
But what's to her, that now 'tis past for ever.

_Ant. _ [_Going to tie it. _]
We soldiers are so awkward--help me tie it.

_Alex. _ In faith, my lord, we courtiers too are awkward
In these affairs: so are all men indeed:
Even I, who am not one. But shall I speak?

_Ant. _ Yes, freely.

_Alex. _ Then, my lord, fair hands alone
Are fit to tie it; she, who sent it, can.

_Vent. _ Hell, death! this eunuch pandar ruins you.
You will not see her? [ALEXAS _whispers an Attendant, who goes out. _

_Ant. _ But to take my leave.

_Vent. _ Then I have washed an Æthiop. You're undone;
You're in the toils; you're taken; you're destroyed:
Her eyes do Cæsar's work.

_Ant. _ You fear too soon.
I'm constant to myself: I know my strength;
And yet she shall not think me barbarous neither,
Born in the depths of Afric: I'm a Roman,
Bred to the rules of soft humanity.
A guest, and kindly used, should bid farewell.

_Vent. _ You do not know
How weak you are to her, how much an infant;
You are not proof against a smile, or glance;
A sigh will quite disarm you.

_Ant. _ See, she comes!
Now you shall find your error. --Gods, I thank you:
I formed the danger greater than it was,
And now 'tis near, 'tis lessened.

_Vent. _ Mark the end yet.

_Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, _and_ IRAS.

_Ant. _ Well, madam, we are met.

_Cleo. _ Is this a meeting?
Then, we must part?

_Ant. _ We must.

_Cleo. _ Who says we must?

_Ant. _ Our own hard fates.

_Cleo. _ We make those fates ourselves.

_Ant. _ Yes, we have made them; we have loved each other
In our mutual ruin.

_Cleo. _ The gods have seen my joys with envious eyes;
I have no friends in heaven; and all the world,
As 'twere the business of mankind to part us,
Is armed against my love: even you yourself
Join with the rest; you, you are armed against me.

_Ant. _ I will be justified in all I do
To late posterity, and therefore hear me.
If I mix a lie
With any truth, reproach me freely with it;
Else, favour me with silence.

_Cleo. _ You command me,
And I am dumb.

_Vent. _ I like this well: he shews authority.

_Ant. _ That I derive my ruin
From you alone--

_Cleo. _ O heavens! I ruin you!

_Ant. _ You promised me your silence, and you break it
Ere I have scarce begun.

_Cleo. _ Well, I obey you.

_Ant. _ When I beheld you first, it was in Egypt.
Ere Cæsar saw your eyes, you gave me love,
And were too young to know it; that I settled
Your father in his throne, was for your sake;
I left the acknowledgment for time to ripen.
Cæsar stept in, and, with a greedy hand,
Plucked the green fruit, ere the first blush of red,
Yet cleaving to the bough. He was my lord,
And was, beside, too great for me to rival;
But, I deserved you first, though he enjoyed you.
When, after, I beheld you in Cilicia,
An enemy to Rome, I pardoned you.

_Cleo. _ I cleared myself--

_Ant. _ Again you break your promise.
I loved you still, and took your weak excuses,
Took you into my bosom, stained by Cæsar,
And not half mine: I went to Egypt with you,
And hid me from the business of the world,
Shut out enquiring nations from my sight,
To give whole years to you.

_Vent. _ Yes, to your shame be't spoken. [_Aside. _

_Ant. _ How I loved,
Witness, ye days and nights, and all ye hours,
That danced away with down upon your feet,
As all your business were to count my passion!
One day past by, and nothing saw but love;
Another came, and still 'twas only love:
The suns were wearied out with looking on,
And I untired with loving.
I saw you every day, and all the day;
And every day was still but as the first,
So eager was I still to see you more.

_Vent. _ 'Tis all too true.

_Ant. _ Fulvia, my wife, grew jealous,
As she indeed had reason; raised a war
In Italy, to call me back.

_Vent. _ But yet
You went not.

_Ant. _ While within your arms I lay,
The world fell mouldering from my hands each hour,
And left me scarce a grasp--I thank your love for't.

_Vent. _ Well pushed: that last was home.

_Cleo. _ Yet may I speak?

_Ant. _ If I have urged a falsehood, yes; else, not.
Your silence says, I have not. Fulvia died;
(Pardon, you gods, with my unkindness died. )
To set the world at peace, I took Octavia,
This Cæsar's sister; in her pride of youth,
And flower of beauty, did I wed that lady,
Whom blushing I must praise, because I left her.
You called; my love obeyed the fatal summons:
This raised the Roman arms; the cause was yours.
I would have fought by land, where I was stronger;
You hindered it: yet, when I fought at sea,
Forsook me fighting; and (Oh stain to honour!
Oh lasting shame! ) I knew not that I fled;
But fled to follow you.

_Vent. _ What haste she made to hoist her purple sails!
And, to appear magnificent in flight,
Drew half our strength away.

_Ant. _ All this you caused.
And, would you multiply more ruins on me?
This honest man, my best, my only friend,
Has gathered up the shipwreck of my fortunes;
Twelve legions I have left, my last recruits,
And you have watched the news, and bring your eyes
To seize them too. If you have aught to answer,
Now speak, you have free leave.

_Alex. _ [_Aside. _] She stands confounded:
Despair is in her eyes.

_Vent. _ Now lay a sigh in the way to stop his passage:
Prepare a tear, and bid it for his legions;
'Tis like they shall be sold.

_Cleo. _ How shall I plead my cause, when you, my judge,
Already have condemned me? shall I bring
The love you bore me for my advocate?
That now is turned against me, that destroys me;
For love, once past, is, at the best, forgotten;
But oftener sours to hate: 'twill please my lord
To ruin me, and therefore I'll be guilty.
But, could I once have thought it would have pleased you,
That you would pry, with narrow searching eyes
Into my faults, severe to my destruction,
And watching all advantages with care,
That serve to make me wretched? Speak, my lord,
For I end here. Though I deserve this usage,
Was it like you to give it?

_Ant. _ O you wrong me,
To think I sought this parting, or desired
To accuse you more than what will clear myself,
And justify this breach.

_Cleo. _ Thus low I thank you;
And, since my innocence will not offend,
I shall not blush to own it.

_Vent. _ After this,
I think she'll blush at nothing.

_Cleo. _ You seem grieved,
(And therein you are kind) that Cæsar first
Enjoyed my love, though you deserved it better:
I grieve for that, my lord, much more than you;
For, had I first been yours, it would have saved
My second choice: I never had been his,
And ne'er had been but yours. But Cæsar first,
You say, possessed my love. Not so, my lord:
He first possessed my person; you, my love:
Cæsar loved me; but I loved Antony.
If I endured him after, 'twas because
I judged it due to the first name of men;
And, half constrained, I gave, as to a tyrant,
What he would take by force.

_Vent. _ O Syren! Syren!
Yet grant that all the love she boasts were true,
Has she not ruined you? I still urge that,
The fatal consequence.

_Cleo. _ The consequence indeed;
For I dare challenge him, my greatest foe,
To say it was designed: 'tis true, I loved you,
And kept you far from an uneasy wife,--
Such Fulvia was.
Yes, but he'll say, you left Octavia for me;--
And, can you blame me to receive that love,
Which quitted such desert, for worthless me?
How often have I wished some other Cæsar,
Great as the first, and as the second young,
Would court my love, to be refused for you!

_Vent. _ Words, words; but Actium, sir; remember Actium.

_Cleo. _ Even there, I dare his malice. True, I counselled
To fight at sea; but I betrayed you not.
I fled, but not to the enemy. 'Twas fear;
Would I had been a man, not to have feared!
For none would then have envied me your friendship,
Who envy me your love.

_Ant. _ We are both unhappy:
If nothing else, yet our ill fortune parts us.
Speak; would you have me perish by my stay?

_Cleo. _ If, as a friend, you ask my judgment, go;
If, as a lover, stay. If you must perish--
'Tis a hard word--but stay.

_Vent. _ See now the effects of her so boasted love!
She strives to drag you down to ruin with her;
But, could she 'scape without you, oh how soon
Would she let go her hold, and haste to shore,
And never look behind!

_Cleo. _ Then judge my love by this. [_Giving_ ANTONY _a writing. _
Could I have borne
A life or death, a happiness or woe,
From yours divided, this had given me means.

_Ant. _ By Hercules, the writing of Octavius!
I know it well: 'tis that proscribing hand,
Young as it was, that led the way to mine,
And left me but the second place in murder. --
See, see, Ventidius! here he offers Egypt,
And joins all Syria to it, as a present;
So, in requital, she forsake my fortunes,
And join her arms with his.

_Cleo. _ And yet you leave me!
You leave me, Antony; and yet I love you,
Indeed I do: I have refused a kingdom;
That is a trifle;
For I could part with life, with any thing,
But only you. O let me die but with you!
Is that a hard request?

_Ant. _ Next living with you,
'Tis all that heaven can give.

_Alex. _ He melts; we conquer. [_Aside. _

_Cleo. _ No; you shall go: your interest calls you hence;
Yes; your dear interest pulls too strong, for these
Weak arms to hold you here. [_Takes his hand. _
Go; leave me, soldier;
(For you're no more a lover:) leave me dying:
Push me, all pale and panting, from your bosom,
And, when your march begins, let one run after,
Breathless almost for joy, and cry--she's dead:
The soldiers shout; you then, perhaps, may sigh,
And muster all your Roman gravity:
Ventidius chides; and strait your brow clears up,
As I had never been.

_Ant. _ Gods, 'tis too much; too much for man to bear.

_Cleo. _ What is't for me then,
A weak forsaken woman, and a lover? --
Here let me breathe my last: envy me not
This minute in your arms: I'll die apace,
As fast as e'er I can; and end your trouble.

_Ant. _ Die! rather let me perish; loosened nature
Leap from its hinges, sink the props of heaven,
And fall the skies, to crush the nether world!
My eyes, my soul, my all! -- [_Embraces her. _

_Vent. _ And what's this toy,
In balance with your fortune, honour, fame?

_Ant. _ What is't, Ventidius? it out-weighs them all;
Why, we have more than conquered Cæsar now:
My queen's not only innocent, but loves me.
This, this is she, who drags me down to ruin!
But, could she 'scape without me, with what haste
Would she let slip her hold, and make to shore,
And never look behind!
Down on thy knees, blasphemer as thou art,
And ask forgiveness of wronged innocence.

_Vent. _ I'll rather die, than take it. Will you go?

_Ant. _ Go! Whither? Go from all that's excellent!
Faith, honour, virtue, all good things forbid,
That I should go from her, who sets my love
Above the price of kingdoms. Give, you gods,
Give to your boy, your Cæsar,
This rattle of a globe to play withal,
This gewgaw world, and put him cheaply off:
I'll not be pleased with less than Cleopatra.

_Cleo. _ She's wholly yours. My heart's so full of joy,
That I shall do some wild extravagance
Of love, in public; and the foolish world,
Which knows not tenderness, will think me mad.

_Vent. _ O women! women! women! all the gods
Have not such power of doing good to man,
As you of doing harm. [_Exit. _

_Ant. _ Our men are armed:--
Unbar the gate that looks to Cæsar's camp:
I would revenge the treachery he meant me;
And long security makes conquest easy.
I'm eager to return before I go;
For, all the pleasures I have known beat thick
On my remembrance. --How I long for night!
That both the sweets of mutual love may try,
And triumph once o'er Cæsar ere we die. [_Exeunt. _


ACT III. SCENE I.

_At one door, enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, IRAS, _and_ ALEXAS, _a
Train of Egyptians: at the other,_ ANTONY _and Romans. The entrance
on both sides is prepared by music; the trumpets first sounding on_
ANTONY'S _part: then answered by timbrels, &c. on_ CLEOPATRA'S.
CHARMION _and_ IRAS _hold a laurel wreath betwixt them. A Dance of
Egyptians. After the ceremony,_ CLEOPATRA _crowns_ ANTONY.

_Ant. _ I thought how those white arms would fold me in,
And strain me close, and melt me into love;
So pleased with that sweet image, I sprung forwards,
And added all my strength to every blow.

_Cleo. _ Come to me, come, my soldier, to my arms!
You've been too long away from my embraces;
But, when I have you fast, and all my own,
With broken murmurs, and with amorous sighs,
I'll say, you were unkind, and punish you,
And mark you red with many an eager kiss.

_Ant. _ My brighter Venus!

_Cleo. _ O my greater Mars!

_Ant. _ Thou join'st us well, my love!
Suppose me come from the Phlegræan plains,
Where gasping giants lay, cleft by my sword,
And mountain tops pared off each other blow,
To bury those I slew. Receive me, goddess!
Let Cæsar spread his subtile nets; like Vulcan,
In thy embraces I would be beheld
By heaven and earth at once;
And make their envy what they meant their sport.
Let those, who took us, blush; I would love on,
With awful state, regardless of their frowns,
As their superior god.
There's no satiety of love in thee:
Enjoyed, thou still art new; perpetual spring
Is in thy arms; the ripened fruit but falls,
And blossoms rise to fill its empty place;
And I grow rich by giving.

_Enter_ VENTIDIUS, _and stands apart. _

_Alex. _ O, now the danger's past, your general comes!
He joins not in your joys, nor minds your triumphs;
But, with contracted brows, looks frowning on,
As envying your success.

_Ant. _ Now, on my soul, he loves me; truly loves me:
He never flattered me in any vice,
But awes me with his virtue: even this minute,
Methinks, he has a right of chiding me.
Lead to the temple: I'll avoid his presence;
It checks too strong upon me. [_Exeunt the rest. _
[_As_ ANTONY _is going,_ VENTIDIUS _pulls him by
the robe. _

_Vent. _ Emperor!

_Ant. _ 'Tis the old argument; I pr'ythee, spare me. [_Looking back. _

_Vent. _ But this one hearing, emperor.

_Ant. _ Let go
My robe; or, by my father Hercules--

_Vent. _ By Hercules' 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. _

_Vent. _ I am waning in his favour, yet I love him;
I love this man, who runs to meet his ruin;
And sure the gods, like me, are fond of him;
His virtues lie so mingled with his crimes,
As would confound their choice to punish one,
And not reward the other.

_Enter_ ANTONY.

_Ant. _ We can conquer,
You see, without your aid.
We have dislodged their troops;
They look on us at distance, and, like curs
'Scaped from the lion's paws, they bay far off,
And lick their wounds, and faintly threaten war.
Five thousand Romans, with their faces upward,
Lie breathless on the plain.

_Vent. _ 'Tis well; and he,
Who lost them, could have spared ten thousand more.
Yet if, by this advantage, you could gain
An easier peace, while Cæsar doubts the chance
Of arms--

_Ant. _ O think not on't, Ventidius!
The boy pursues my ruin, he'll no peace;
His malice is considerate in advantage.
O, he's the coolest murderer! so staunch,
He kills, and keeps his temper.

_Vent. _ Have you no friend
In all his army, who has power to move him?
Mecænas, or Agrippa, might do much.

_Ant. _ They're both too deep in Cæsar's interests.
We'll work it out by dint of sword, or perish.

_Vent. _ Fain I would find some other.

_Ant. _ Thank thy love.
Some four or five such victories as this
Will save thy farther pains.

_Vent. _ Expect no more; Cæsar is on his guard:
I know, sir, you have conquered against odds;
But still you draw supplies from one poor town,
And of Egyptians: he has all the world,
And, at his beck, nations come pouring in,
To fill the gaps you make. Pray, think again.

_Ant. _ Why dost thou drive me from myself, to search
For foreign aids? to hunt my memory,
And range all o'er a waste and barren place,
To find a friend? the wretched have no friends.
Yet I had one, the bravest youth of Rome,
Whom Cæsar loves beyond the love of women:
He could resolve his mind, as fire does wax,
From that hard rugged image melt him down,
And mould him in what softer form he pleased.

_Vent. _ Him would I see; that man, of all the world;
Just such a one we want.

_Ant. _ He loved me too;
I was his soul; he lived not but in me:
We were so closed within each others breasts,
The rivets were not found, that joined us first.
That does not reach us yet: we were so mixt,
As meeting streams, both to ourselves were lost;
We were one mass; we could not give or take,
But from the same; for he was I, I he.

_Vent. _ He moves as I would wish him. [_Aside. _

_Ant. _ After this,
I need not tell his name;--'twas Dolabella.

_Vent. _ He's now in Cæsar's camp.

_Ant. _ No matter where,
Since he's no longer mine. He took unkindly,
That I forbade him Cleopatra's sight,
Because I feared he loved her: he confest,
He had a warmth, which, for my sake, he stifled;
For 'twere impossible that two, so one,
Should not have loved the same. When he departed,
He took no leave; and that confirmed my thoughts.

_Vent. _ It argues, that he loved you more than her,
Else he had 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.

_Vent. _ Perhaps
He has thus long been labouring for your peace.

_Ant. _ Would he were here!

_Vent. _ Would you believe he loved you?
I read your answer in your eyes, you would.
Not to conceal it longer, he has sent
A messenger from Cæsar's camp, with letters.

_Ant. _ Let him appear.

_Vent. _ I'll bring him instantly.
[_Exit_ VENTIDIUS, _and re-enters immediately with_
DOLABELLA.

_Ant. _ 'Tis he himself! himself, by holy friendship!
[_Runs to embrace him. _
Art thou returned at last, my better half?