All For Love - John Dryden (rm book recommendations TXT) 📗

>From soft repose, to see his vessel sinking, And all his wealth cast over. Ungrateful woman! Who followed me, but as the swallow summer, Hatching her young ones in my kindly beams, Singing her flatteries to my morning wake: But, now my winter comes, she spreads her wings, And seeks the spring of Caesar.

ALEXAS. Think not so; Her fortunes have, in all things, mixed with yours. Had she betrayed her naval force to Rome, How easily might she have gone to Caesar, Secure by such a bribe!

VENTIDIUS. She sent it first, To be more welcome after.

ANTONY. ‘Tis too plain; Else would she have appeared, to clear herself.

ALEXAS. Too fatally she has: she could not bear To be accused by you; but shut herself Within her monument; looked down and sighed; While, from her unchanged face, the silent tears Dropt, as they had not leave, but stole their parting. Some indistinguished words she only murmured; At last, she raised her eyes; and, with such looks As dying Lucrece cast—

ANTONY. My heart forebodes—

VENTIDIUS. All for the best:—Go on.

ALEXAS. She snatched her poniard, And, ere we could prevent the fatal blow, Plunged it within her breast; then turned to me: Go, bear my lord, said she, my last farewell; And ask him, if he yet suspect my faith. More she was saying, but death rushed betwixt. She half pronounced your name with her last breath, And buried half within her.

VENTIDIUS. Heaven be praised!

ANTONY. Then art thou innocent, my poor dear love, And art thou dead? O those two words! their sound should be divided: Hadst thou been false, and died; or hadst thou lived, And hadst been true—But innocence and death! This shows not well above. Then what am I, The murderer of this truth, this innocence! Thoughts cannot form themselves in words so horrid As can express my guilt!

VENTIDIUS. Is’t come to this? The gods have been too gracious; And thus you thank them for it!

ANTONY. [to ALEXAS.] Why stayest thou here? Is it for thee to spy upon my soul, And see its inward mourning? Get thee hence; Thou art not worthy to behold, what now Becomes a Roman emperor to perform.

ALEXAS. He loves her still: His grief betrays it. Good! the joy to find She’s yet alive, completes the reconcilement. I’ve saved myself, and her. But, oh! the Romans! Fate comes too fast upon my wit, Hunts me too hard, and meets me at each double. [Aside.] [Exit.]

VENTIDIUS. Would she had died a little sooner, though! Before Octavia went, you might have treated: Now ‘twill look tame, and would not be received. Come, rouse yourself, and let’s die warm together.

ANTONY. I will not fight: there’s no more work for war. The business of my angry hours is done.

VENTIDIUS. Caesar is at your gates.

ANTONY. Why, let him enter; He’s welcome now.

VENTIDIUS. What lethargy has crept into your soul?

ANTONY. ‘Tis but a scorn of life, and just desire To free myself from bondage.

VENTIDIUS. Do it bravely.

ANTONY. I will; but not by fighting. O Ventidius! What should I fight for now?—my queen is dead. I was but great for her; my power, my empire, Were but my merchandise to buy her love; And conquered kings, my factors. Now she’s dead, Let Caesar take the world,— An empty circle, since the jewel’s gone Which made it worth my strife: my being’s nauseous; For all the bribes of life are gone away.

VENTIDIUS. Would you be taken?

ANTONY. Yes, I would be taken; But, as a Roman ought,—dead, my Ventidius: For I’ll convey my soul from Caesar’s reach, And lay down life myself. ‘Tis time the world Should have a lord, and know whom to obey. We two have kept its homage in suspense, And bent the globe, on whose each side we trod, Till it was dented inwards. Let him walk Alone upon’t: I’m weary of my part. My torch is out; and the world stands before me, Like a black desert at the approach of night: I’ll lay me down, and stray no farther on.

VENTIDIUS. I could be grieved, But that I’ll not outlive you: choose your death; For, I have seen him in such various shapes, I care not which I take: I’m only troubled, The life I bear is worn to such a rag, ‘Tis scarce worth giving. I could wish, indeed, We threw it from us with a better grace; That, like two lions taken in the toils, We might at last thrust out our paws, and wound The hunters that inclose us.

ANTONY. I have thought on it. Ventidius, you must live.

VENTIDIUS. I must not, sir.

ANTONY. Wilt thou not live, to speak some good of me? To stand by my fair fame, and guard the approaches >From the ill tongues of men?

VENTIDIUS. Who shall guard mine, For living after you?

ANTONY. Say, I command it.

VENTIDIUS. If we die well, our deaths will speak themselves And need no living witness.

ANTONY. Thou hast loved me, And fain I would reward thee. I must die; Kill me, and take the merit of my death, To make thee friends with Caesar.

VENTIDIUS. Thank your kindness. You said I loved you; and in recompense, You bid me turn a traitor: Did I think You would have used me thus?—that I should die With a hard thought of you?

ANTONY. Forgive me, Roman. Since I have heard of Cleopatra’s death, My reason bears no rule upon my tongue, But lets my thoughts break all at random out. I’ve thought better; do not deny me twice.

VENTIDIUS. By Heaven I will not. Let it not be to outlive you.

ANTONY. Kill me first, And then die thou; for ‘tis but just thou serve Thy friend, before thyself.

VENTIDIUS. Give me your hand. We soon shall meet again. Now, farewell, emperor!— [Embrace.] Methinks that word’s too cold to be my last: Since death sweeps all distinctions, farewell, friend! That’s all— I will not make a business of a trifle; And yet I cannot look on you, and kill you; Pray turn your face.

ANTONY. I do: strike home, be sure.

VENTIDIUS. Home as my sword will reach. [Kills himself.]

ANTONY. Oh, thou mistak’st; That wound was not of thine; give it me back: Thou robb’st me of my death.

VENTIDIUS. I do indeed; But think ‘tis the first time I e’er deceived you, If that may plead my pardon.—And you, gods, Forgive me, if you will; for I die perjured, Rather than kill my friend. [Dies.]

ANTONY. Farewell! Ever my leader, even in death! My queen and thou have got the start of me, And I’m the lag of honour.—Gone so soon? Is Death no more? he used him carelessly, With a familiar kindness: ere he knocked, Ran to the door, and took him in his arms, As who should say—You’re welcome at all hours, A friend need give no warning. Books had spoiled him; For all the learned are cowards by profession. ‘Tis not worth My further thought; for death, for aught I know, Is but to think no more. Here’s to be satisfied. [Falls on his sword.] I’ve missed my heart. O unperforming hand! Thou never couldst have erred in a worse time. My fortune jades me to the last; and death, Like a great man, takes state, and makes me wait For my admittance.— [Trampling within.] Some, perhaps, from Caesar: If he should find me living, and suspect That I played booty with my life! I’ll mend My work, ere they can reach me. [Rises upon his knees.]

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, and IRAS

CLEOPATRA. Where is my lord? where is he?

CHARMION. There he lies, And dead Ventidius by him.

CLEOPATRA. My tears were prophets; I am come too late. O that accursed Alexas! [Runs to him.]

ANTONY. Art thou living? Or am I dead before I knew, and thou The first kind ghost that meets me?

CLEOPATRA. Help me seat him. Send quickly, send for help! [They place him in a chair.]

ANTONY. I am answered. We live both. Sit thee down, my Cleopatra: I’ll make the most I can of life, to stay A moment more with thee.

CLEOPATRA. How is it with you?

ANTONY. ‘Tis as with a man Removing in a hurry; all packed up, But one dear jewel that his haste forgot; And he, for that, returns upon the spur: So I come back for thee.

CLEOPATRA. Too long, ye heavens, you have been cruel to me: Now show your mended faith, and give me back His fleeting life!

ANTONY. It will not be, my love; I keep my soul by force. Say but, thou art not false.

CLEOPATRA. ‘Tis now too late To say I’m true: I’ll prove it, and die with you. Unknown to me, Alexas feigned my death: Which, when I knew, I hasted to prevent This fatal consequence. My fleet betrayed Both you and me.

ANTONY. And Dolabella—

CLEOPATRA. Scarce Esteemed before he loved; but hated now.

ANTONY. Enough: my life’s not long enough for more. Thou say’st, thou wilt come after: I believe thee; For I can now believe whate’er thou sayest, That we may part more kindly.

CLEOPATRA. I will come: Doubt not, my life, I’ll come, and quickly too: Caesar shall triumph o’er no part of thee.

ANTONY. But grieve not, while thou stayest, My last disastrous times: Think we have had a clear and glorious day And Heaven did kindly to delay the storm, Just till our close of evening. Ten years’ love, And not a moment lost, but all improved To the utmost joys,—what ages have we lived? And now to die each other’s; and, so dying, While hand in hand we walk in groves below, Whole troops of lovers’ ghosts shall flock about us, And all the train be ours.

CLEOPATRA. Your words are like the notes of dying swans, Too sweet to last. Were there so many hours For your unkindness, and not one for love?

ANTONY. No, not a minute.—This one kiss—more worth Than all I leave to Caesar. [Dies.]

CLEOPATRA. O tell me so again, And take ten thousand kisses for that word. My lord, my lord! speak, if you yet have being; Sign to me, if you cannot speak; or cast One look! Do anything that shows you live.

IRAS. He’s gone too far to hear you; And this you see, a lump of senseless clay, The leavings of a soul.

CHARMION. Remember, madam, He charged you not to grieve.

CLEOPATRA. And I’ll obey him. I have not loved a Roman, not to know What should become his wife; his wife, my Charmion! For ‘tis to that high title I aspire; And now I’ll not die less. Let dull Octavia Survive, to mourn him dead: My nobler fate Shall knit our spousals with a tie, too strong For Roman laws to break.

IRAS. Will you then die?

CLEOPATRA. Why shouldst thou make that question?

IRAS. Caesar is merciful.

CLEOPATRA. Let him be so To those that want his mercy: My poor lord Made no such covenant with him, to spare me When he was dead. Yield me to Caesar’s pride? What! to be led in triumph through the streets, A spectacle to base plebeian eyes; While some dejected friend of Antony’s, Close in a corner, shakes his head, and mutters A secret curse on her who ruined him! I’ll none of that.

CHARMION. Whatever you resolve, I’ll follow, even to death.

IRAS. I only feared For you; but more should fear to live without you.

CLEOPATRA. Why, now, ‘tis as it should be. Quick, my friends, Despatch; ere this, the town’s in Caesar’s hands: My lord looks down concerned, and fears my stay, Lest I should be surprised; Keep him not waiting for his love too long. You, Charmion, bring my crown and richest jewels; With them, the wreath