No More Learning

_ Seem not to have observed them, and go on.

_They enter. _

_Dola. _ Saw you the emperor, Ventidius?

_Vent. _ No.
I sought him; but I heard that he was private,
None with him but Hipparchus, his freedman.

_Dola. _ Know you his business?

_Vent. _ Giving him instructions,
And letters to his brother Cæsar.

_Dola. _ Well,
He must be found. [_Exeunt_ DOLA. _and_ CLEO.

_Octav. _ Most glorious impudence!

_Vent. _ She looked, methought,
As she would say,--take your old man, Octavia;
Thank you, I'm better here. --
Well, but what use
Make we of this discovery?

_Octav. _ Let it die.

_Vent. _ I pity Dolabella; but she's dangerous:
Her eyes have power beyond Thessalian charms,
To draw the moon from heaven; for eloquence,
The sea-green Syrens taught her voice their flattery;
And, while she speaks, night steals upon the day,
Unmarked of those that hear: Then she's so charming
Age buds at sight of her, and swells to youth:
The holy priests gaze on her when she smiles;
And with heaved hands, forgetting gravity,
They bless her wanton eyes: even I, who hate her,
With a malignant joy behold such beauty;
And, while I curse, desire it. Antony
Must needs have some remains of passion still,
Which may ferment into a worse relapse,
If now not fully cured. I know, this minute,
With Cæsar he's endeavouring her peace.

_Octav. _ You have prevailed:--But for a farther purpose [_Walks off. _
I'll prove how he will relish this discovery.
What, make a strumpet's peace! it swells my heart:
It must not, shall not be.

_Vent. _ His guards appear.
Let me begin, and you shall second me.

_Enter_ ANTONY.

_Ant. _ Octavia, I was looking you, my love:
What, are your letters ready? I have given
My last instructions.

_Octav. _ Mine, my lord, are written.

_Ant. _ Ventidius. [_Drawing him aside. _

_Vent. _ My lord?

_Ant. _ A word in private. --
When saw you Dolabella?

_Vent. _ Now, my lord,
He parted hence; and Cleopatra with him.

_Ant. _ Speak softly. --'Twas by my command he went,
To bear my last farewell.

_Vent. _ It looked indeed [_Aloud. _
Like your farewell.

_Ant. _ More softly. --My farewell?
What secret meaning have you in those words
Of--my farewell? He did it by my order.

_Vent. _ Then he obeyed your order. I suppose [_Aloud. _
You bid him do it with all gentleness,
All kindness, and all--love.

_Ant. _ How she mourned,
The poor forsaken creature!

_Vent. _ She took it as she ought; she bore your parting
As she did Cæsar's, as she would another's,
Were a new love to come.

_Ant. _ Thou dost belie her; [_Aloud. _
Most basely, and maliciously belie her.

_Vent. _ I thought not to displease you; I have done.

_Octav. _ You seem disturbed, my lord. [_Coming up. _

_Ant. _ A very trifle.
Retire, my love.

_Vent. _ It was indeed a trifle.
He sent--

_Ant. _ No more. Look how thou disobeyest me; [_Angrily. _
Thy life shall answer it.

_Octav. _ Then 'tis no trifle.

_Vent. _ [_To_ OCTAV. ]
'Tis less; a very nothing: You too saw it,
As well as I, and therefore 'tis no secret.

_Ant. _ She saw it!

_Vent. _ Yes: She saw young Dolabella--

_Ant. _ Young Dolabella!

_Vent. _ Young, I think him young,
And handsome too; and so do others think him.
But what of that? He went by your command,
Indeed 'tis probable, with some kind message;
For she received it graciously; she smiled;
And then he grew familiar with her hand,
Squeezed it, and worried it with ravenous kisses;
She blushed, and sighed, and smiled, and blushed again;
At last she took occasion to talk softly,
And brought her cheek up close, and leaned on his;
At which, he whispered kisses back on hers;
And then she cried aloud,--That constancy
Should be rewarded.

_Octav. _ This I saw and heard.

_Ant. _ What woman was it, whom you heard and saw
So playful with my friend!
Not Cleopatra?

_Vent. _ Even she, my lord.

_Ant. _ My Cleopatra?

_Vent. _ Your Cleopatra;
Dolabella's Cleopatra;
Every man's Cleopatra[3].

_Ant. _ Thou liest.

_Vent. _ I do not lie, my lord.
Is this so strange? Should mistresses be left,
And not provide against a time of change?
You know she's not much used to lonely nights.

_Ant. _ I'll think no more on't.
I know 'tis false, and see the plot betwixt you. --
You needed not have gone this way, Octavia.
What harms it you that Cleopatra's just?
She's mine no more. I see, and I forgive:
Urge it no farther, love.

_Octav. _ Are you concerned,
That she's found false?

_Ant. _ I should be, were it so;
For, though 'tis past, I would not that the world
Should tax my former choice, that I loved one
Of so light note; but I forgive you both.

_Vent. _ What has my age deserved, that you should think
I would abuse your ears with perjury?
If heaven be true, she's false.

_Ant. _ Though heaven and earth
Should witness it, I'll not believe her tainted.

_Vent. _ I'll bring you, then, a witness
From hell, to prove her so. --Nay, go not back;
[_Seeing_ ALEXAS _just entering, and starting back. _
For stay you must and shall.

_Alex. _ What means my lord?

_Vent. _ To make you do what most you hate,--speak truth.
You are of Cleopatra's private counsel,
Of her bed-counsel, her lascivious hours;
Are conscious of each nightly change she makes,
And watch her, as Chaldæans do the moon,
Can tell what signs she passes through, what day.

_Alex. _ My noble lord!

_Vent. _ My most illustrious pandar,
No fine set speech, no cadence, no turned periods,
But a plain home-spun truth, is what I ask:
I did, myself, o'erhear your queen make love
To Dolabella. Speak; for I will know,
By your confession, what more past betwixt them;
How near the business draws to your employment;
And when the happy hour.

_Ant. _ Speak truth, Alexas; whether it offend
Or please Ventidius, care not: Justify
Thy injured queen from malice: Dare his worst.

_Octav. _ [_Aside. _]
See, how he gives him courage! how he fears
To find her false! and shuts his eyes to truth,
Willing to be misled!

_Alex. _ As far as love may plead for woman's frailty,
Urged by desert and greatness of the lover,
So far, divine Octavia, may my queen
Stand even excused to you, for loving him,
Who is your lord: so far, from brave Ventidius,
May her past actions hope a fair report.

_Ant. _ 'Tis well, and truly spoken: mark, Ventidius.

_Alex. _ To you, most noble emperor, her strong passion
Stands not excused, but wholly justified.
Her beauty's charms alone, without her crown,
From Ind and Meroe drew the distant vows
Of sighing kings; and at her feet were laid
The sceptres of the earth, exposed on heaps,
To chuse where she would reign:
She thought a Roman only could deserve her,
And, of all Romans, only Antony;
And, to be less than wife to you, disdained
Their lawful passion.

_Ant. _ 'Tis but truth.

_Alex. _ And yet, though love, and your unmatched desert,
Have drawn her from the due regard of honour,
At last heaven opened her unwilling eyes
To see the wrongs she offered fair Octavia,
Whose holy bed she lawlessly usurped.
The sad effects of this improsperous war
Confirmed those pious thoughts.

_Vent. _ [_Aside. _] O, wheel you there?
Observe him now; the man begins to mend,
And talk substantial reason. --Fear not, eunuch;
The emperor has given thee leave to speak.

_Alex. _ Else had I never dared to offend his ears
With what the last necessity has urged
On my forsaken mistress; yet I must not
Presume to say, her heart is wholly altered.

_Ant. _ No, dare not for thy life, I charge thee dare not
Pronounce that fatal word!

_Octav. _ Must I bear this? Good heaven, afford me patience. [_Aside. _

_Vent. _ On, sweet eunuch; my dear half man, proceed.

_Alex. _ Yet Dolabella
Has loved her long; he, next my godlike lord,
Deserves her best; and should she meet his passion,
Rejected, as she is, by him she loved--

_Ant. _ Hence from my sight! for I can bear no more:
Let furies drag thee quick to hell; let all
The longer damned have rest; each torturing hand
Do thou employ, till Cleopatra comes;
Then join thou too, and help to torture her!
[_Exit_ ALEXAS, _thrust out by_ ANTONY.

_Octav. _ 'Tis not well,
Indeed, my lord, 'tis much unkind to me,
To show this passion, this extreme concernment,
For an abandoned, faithless prostitute.

_Ant. _ Octavia, leave me; I am much disordered:
Leave me, I say.

_Octav. _ My lord!

_Ant. _ I bid you leave me.

_Vent. _ Obey him, madam: best withdraw a while.
And see how this will work.

_Octav. _ Wherein have I offended you, my lord,
That I am bid to leave you?
Am I false,
Or infamous? Am I a Cleopatra?
Were I she,
Base as she is, you would not bid me leave you:
But hang upon my neck, take slight excuses,
And fawn upon my falsehood.

_Ant. _ 'Tis too much,
Too much, Octavia; I am prest with sorrows
Too heavy to be borne; and you add more:
I would retire, and recollect what's left
Of man within, to aid me.

_Octav. _ You would mourn,
In private, for your love, who has betrayed you.
You did but half return to me: your kindness
Lingered behind with her. I hear, my lord,
You make conditions for her,
And would include her treaty. Wonderous proofs
Of love to me!

_Ant. _ Are you my friend, Ventidius?
Or are you turned a Dolabella too,
And let this Fury loose?

_Vent. _ Oh, be advised,
Sweet madam, and retire.

_Octav. _ Yes, I will go; but never to return.
You shall no more be haunted with this Fury.
My lord, my lord, love will not always last,
When urged with long unkindness and disdain:
Take her again, whom you prefer to me;
She stays but to be called. Poor cozened man!
Let a feigned parting give her back your heart,
Which a feigned love first got; for injured me,
Though my just sense of wrongs forbid my stay,
My duty shall be yours.
To the dear pledges of our former love,
My tenderness and care shall be transferred,
And they shall cheer, by turns, my widowed nights:
So, take my last farewell; for I despair
To have you whole, and scorn to take you half. [_Exit. _

_Vent. _ I combat heaven, which blasts my best designs:
My last attempt must be to win her back;
But Oh, I fear in vain. [_Exit. _

_Ant. _ Why was I framed with this plain honest heart,
Which knows not to disguise its griefs and weakness.
But bears its workings outward to the world?
I should have kept the mighty anguish in,
And forced a smile at Cleopatra's falsehood:
Octavia had believed it, and had staid.
But I am made a shallow-forded stream,
Seen to the bottom: all my clearness scorned,
And all my faults exposed. --See where he comes.

_Enter_ DOLABELLA.

Who has profaned the sacred name of friend,
And worn it into vileness!
With how secure a brow, and specious form,
He gilds the secret villain! Sure that face
Was meant for honesty; but heaven mis-matched it,
And furnished treason out with Nature's pomp,
To make its work more easy.

_Dola. _ O, my friend!

_Ant. _ Well, Dolabella, you performed my message?

_Dola. _ I did, unwillingly.

_Ant. _ Unwillingly?
Was it so hard for you to bear our parting?
You should have wished it.

_Dola. _ Why?

_Ant. _ Because you love me.
And she received my message, with as true,
With as unfeigned a sorrow, as you brought it?

_Dola. _ She loves you, even to madness.

_Ant. _ Oh, I know it.
You, Dolabella, do not better know
How much she loves me. And should I
Forsake this beauty? This all-perfect creature?

_Dola. _ I could not, were she mine.

_Ant. _ And yet you first
Persuaded me: How come you altered since?

_Dola. _ I said at first I was not fit to go:
I could not bear her sighs, and see her tears,
But pity must prevail: And so, perhaps,
It may again with you; for I have promised,
That she should take her last farewell: And, see,
She comes to claim my word.

_Enter_ CLEOPATRA.

_Ant. _ False Dolabella!

_Dola. _ What's false, my lord?

_Ant. _ Why, Dolabella's false,
And Cleopatra's false; both false and faithless.
Draw near, you well-joined wickedness, you serpents
Whom I have in my kindly bosom warmed,
Till I am stung to death.

_Dola. _ My lord, have I
Deserved to be thus used?

_Cleo. _ Can heaven prepare
A newer torment? Can it find a curse
Beyond our separation?

_Ant. _ Yes, if fate
Be just, much greater: Heaven should be ingenious
In punishing such crimes. The rolling-stone,
And gnawing vulture, were slight pains, invented
When Jove was young, and no examples known
Of mighty ills; but you have ripened sin,
To such a monstrous growth, 'twill pose the gods,
To find an equal torture. Two, two such! --
Oh there's no farther name,--two such! to me,
To me, who locked my soul within your breasts,
Had no desires, no joys, no life, but you;
When half the globe was mine, I gave it you
In dowry with my heart; I had no use,
No fruit of all, but you: A friend and mistress,
Was what the world could give. Oh, Cleopatra!
Oh Dolabella! how could you betray
This tender heart, which with an infant fondness
Lay lulled betwixt your bosoms, and there slept,
Secure of injured faith?

_Dola. _ If she has wronged you,
Heaven, hell, and you, revenge it.

_Ant. _ If she has wronged me!
Thou would'st evade thy part of guilt; but swear
Thou lov'st not her.

_Dola. _ Not so as I love you.

_Ant. _ Not so! Swear, swear, I say, thou dost not love her.

_Dola. _ No more than friendship will allow.

_Ant. _ No more?
Friendship allows thee nothing: Thou art perjured--
And yet thou didst not swear thou lov'dst her not;
But not so much, no more. Oh, trifling hypocrite,
Who darest not own to her, thou dost not love,
Nor own to me, thou dost! Ventidius heard it;
Octavia saw it.

_Cleo. _ They are enemies.

_Ant. _ Alexas is not so: He, he confest it;
He, who, next hell, best knew it, he avowed it
Why do I seek a proof beyond yourself? [_To_ DOLA.
You, whom I sent to bear my last farewell,
Returned, to plead her stay.

_Dola. _ What shall I answer?
If to have loved be guilt, then I have sinned;
But if to have repented of that love,
Can wash away my crime, I have repented.
Yet, if I have offended past forgiveness,
Let her not suffer: She is innocent.

_Cleo. _ Ah, what will not a woman do, who loves!
What means will she refuse, to keep that heart,
Where all her joys are placed! 'Twas I encouraged,
'Twas I blew up the fire that scorched his soul,
To make you jealous, and by that regain you.
But all in vain; I could not counterfeit:
In spite of all the dams, my love broke o'er,
And drowned my heart again; fate took the occasion;
And thus one minute's feigning has destroyed
My whole life's truth.

_Ant. _ Thin cobweb arts of falsehood;
Seen, and broke through at first.

_Dola. _ Forgive your mistress.

_Cleo. _ Forgive your friend.

_Ant. _ You have convinced yourselves.
You plead each other's cause: What witness have you,
That you but meant to raise my jealousy?

_Cleo. _ Ourselves, and heaven.

_Ant. _ Guilt witnesses for guilt. Hence, love and friendship!
You have no longer place in human breasts,
These two have driven you out: Avoid my sight!
I would not kill the man whom I have loved,
And cannot hurt the woman; but avoid me:
I do not know how long I can be tame;
For, if I stay one minute more, to think
How I am wronged, my justice and revenge
Will cry so loud within me, that my pity
Will not be heard for either.

_Dola. _ Heaven has but
Our sorrow for our sins; and then delights
To pardon erring man: Sweet mercy seems
Its darling attribute, which limits justice;
As if there were degrees in infinite,
And infinite would rather want perfection,
Than punish to extent.

_Ant. _ I can forgive
A foe; but not a mistress, and a friend.
Treason is there in its most horrid shape,
Where trust is greatest; and the soul, resigned,
Is stabbed by its own guards: I'll hear no more;
Hence from my sight, for ever!

_Cleo. _ How? for ever!
I cannot go one moment from your sight,
And must I go for ever?
My joys, my only joys, are centered here:
What place have I to go to? My own kingdom?
That I have lost for you: Or to the Romans?
They hate me for your sake: Or must I wander
The wide world o'er, a helpless, banished woman,
Banished for love of you; banished from you?
Ay, there's the banishment! Oh hear me; hear me.
With strictest justice: For I beg no favour;
And if I have offended you, then kill me,
But do not banish me.

_Ant. _ I must not hear you.
I have a fool within me, takes your part;
But honour stops my ears.

_Cleo. _ For pity hear me!
Would you cast off a slave who followed you?
Who crouched beneath your spurn? --He has no pity!
See, if he gives one tear to my departure;
One look, one kind farewell: Oh iron heart!
Let all the gods look down, and judge betwixt us.
If he did ever love!

_Ant. _ No more: Alexas!

_Dola. _ A perjured villain!

_Ant. _ [_To_ CLEO. ] Your Alexas; yours.

_Cleo. _ O 'twas his plot; his ruinous design,
To engage you in my love by jealousy.
Hear him; confront him with me; let him speak.

_Ant. _ I have; I have.

_Cleo. _ And if he clear me not--

_Ant. _ Your creature! one, who hangs upon your smiles!
Watches your eye, to say or to unsay,
Whate'er you please! I am not to be moved.

_Cleo. _ Then must we part? Farewell, my cruel lord!
The appearance is against me; and I go,
Unjustified, for ever from your sight.
How I have loved, you know; how yet I love,
My only comfort is, I know myself:
I love you more, even now you are unkind,
Than when you loved me most; so well, so truly,
I'll never strive against it; but die pleased,
To think you once were mine.

_Ant. _ Good heaven, they weep at parting.
Must I weep too? that calls them innocent.
I must not weep; and yet I must, to think
That I must not forgive. --
Live, but live wretched; 'tis but just you should,
Who made me so: Live from each other's sight:
Let me not hear you meet. Set all the earth,
And all the seas, betwixt your sundered loves:
View nothing common but the sun and skies.
Now, all take several ways;
And each your own sad fate, with mine, deplore;
That you were false, and I could trust no more. [_Exeunt severally. _


ACT V. SCENE I.

_Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, _and_ IRAS.

_Char. _ Be juster, heaven; such virtue punished thus,
Will make us think that chance rules all above,
And shuffles, with a random hand, the lots,
Which man is forced to draw.

_Cleo. _ I could tear out these eyes, that gained his heart,
And had not power to keep it. O the curse
Of doting on, even when I find it dotage!