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

soldiers to demand a reason of My actions. Why did they refuse to march?

VENTIDIUS. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra.

ANTONY. What was’t they said?

VENTIDIUS. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. Why should they fight indeed, to make her conquer, And make you more a slave? to gain you kingdoms, Which, for a kiss, at your next midnight feast, You’ll sell to her? Then she new-names her jewels, And calls this diamond such or such a tax; Each pendant in her ear shall be a province.

ANTONY. Ventidius, I allow your tongue free licence On all my other faults; but, on your life, No word of Cleopatra: she deserves More worlds than I can lose.

VENTIDIUS. Behold, you Powers, To whom you have intrusted humankind! See Europe, Afric, Asia, put in balance, And all weighed down by one light, worthless woman! I think the gods are Antonies, and give, Like prodigals, this nether world away To none but wasteful hands.

ANTONY. You grow presumptuous.

VENTIDIUS. I take the privilege of plain love to speak.

ANTONY. Plain love! plain arrogance, plain insolence! Thy men are cowards; thou, an envious traitor; Who, under seeming honesty, hast vented The burden of thy rank, o’erflowing gall. O that thou wert my equal; great in arms As the first Caesar was, that I might kill thee Without a stain to honour!

VENTIDIUS. You may kill me; You have done more already,—called me traitor.

ANTONY. Art thou not one?

VENTIDIUS. For showing you yourself, Which none else durst have done? but had I been That name, which I disdain to speak again, I needed not have sought your abject fortunes, Come to partake your fate, to die with you. What hindered me to have led my conquering eagles To fill Octavius’ bands? I could have been A traitor then, a glorious, happy traitor, And not have been so called.

ANTONY. Forgive me, soldier; I’ve been too passionate.

VENTIDIUS. You thought me false; Thought my old age betrayed you: Kill me, sir, Pray, kill me; yet you need not, your unkindness Has left your sword no work.

ANTONY. I did not think so; I said it in my rage: Pr’ythee, forgive me. Why didst thou tempt my anger, by discovery Of what I would not hear?

VENTIDIUS. No prince but you Could merit that sincerity I used, Nor durst another man have ventured it; But you, ere love misled your wandering eyes, Were sure the chief and best of human race, Framed in the very pride and boast of nature; So perfect, that the gods, who formed you, wondered At their own skill, and cried—A lucky hit Has mended our design. Their envy hindered, Else you had been immortal, and a pattern, When Heaven would work for ostentation’s sake To copy out again.

ANTONY. But Cleopatra— Go on; for I can bear it now.

VENTIDIUS. No more.

ANTONY. Thou dar’st not trust my passion, but thou may’st; Thou only lov’st, the rest have flattered me.

VENTIDIUS. Heaven’s blessing on your heart for that kind word! May I believe you love me? Speak again.

ANTONY. Indeed I do. Speak this, and this, and this. [Hugging him.] Thy praises were unjust; but, I’ll deserve them, And yet mend all. Do with me what thou wilt; Lead me to victory! thou know’st the way.

VENTIDIUS. And, will you leave this—

ANTONY. Pr’ythee, do not curse her, And I will leave her; though, Heaven knows, I love Beyond life, conquest, empire, all, but honour; But I will leave her.

VENTIDIUS. That’s my royal master; And, shall we fight?

ANTONY. I warrant thee, old soldier. Thou shalt behold me once again in iron; And at the head of our old troops, that beat The Parthians, cry aloud—Come, follow me!

VENTIDIUS. Oh, now I hear my emperor! in that word Octavius fell. Gods, let me see that day, And, if I have ten years behind, take all: I’ll thank you for the exchange.

ANTONY. O Cleopatra!

VENTIDIUS. Again?

ANTONY. I’ve done: In that last sigh she went. Caesar shall know what ‘tis to force a lover >From all he holds most dear.

VENTIDIUS. Methinks, you breathe Another soul: Your looks are more divine; You speak a hero, and you move a god.

ANTONY. Oh, thou hast fired me; my soul’s up in arms, And mans each part about me: Once again, That noble eagerness of fight has seized me; That eagerness with which I darted upward To Cassius’ camp: In vain the steepy hill Opposed my way; in vain a war of spears Sung round my head, and planted on my shield; I won the trenches, while my foremost men Lagged on the plain below.

VENTIDIUS. Ye gods, ye gods, For such another honour!

ANTONY. Come on, my soldier! Our hearts and arms are still the same: I long Once more to meet our foes; that thou and I, Like Time and Death, marching before our troops, May taste fate to them; mow them out a passage, And, entering where the foremost squadrons yield, Begin the noble harvest of the field. [Exeunt.]

 

Act II

Scene I

Enter CLEOPATRA, IRAS, and ALEXAS

CLEOPATRA. What shall I do, or whither shall I turn? Ventidius has o’ercome, and he will go.

ALEXAS. He goes to fight for you.

CLEOPATRA. Then he would see me, ere he went to fight: Flatter me not: If once he goes, he’s lost, And all my hopes destroyed.

ALEXAS. Does this weak passion Become a mighty queen?

CLEOPATRA. I am no queen: Is this to be a queen, to be besieged By yon insulting Roman, and to wait Each hour the victor’s chain? These ills are small: For Antony is lost, and I can mourn For nothing else but him. Now come, Octavius, I have no more to lose! prepare thy bands; I’m fit to be a captive: Antony Has taught my mind the fortune of a slave.

IRAS. Call reason to assist you.

CLEOPATRA. I have none, And none would have: My love’s a noble madness, Which shows the cause deserved it. Moderate sorrow Fits vulgar love, and for a vulgar man: But I have loved with such transcendent passion, I soared, at first, quite out of reason’s view, And now am lost above it. No, I’m proud ‘Tis thus: Would Antony could see me now Think you he would not sigh, though he must leave me? Sure he would sigh; for he is noble-natured, And bears a tender heart: I know him well. Ah, no, I know him not; I knew him once, But now ‘tis past.

IRAS. Let it be past with you: Forget him, madam.

CLEOPATRA. Never, never, Iras. He once was mine; and once, though now ‘tis gone, Leaves a faint image of possession still.

ALEXAS. Think him inconstant, cruel, and ungrateful.

CLEOPATRA. I cannot: If I could, those thoughts were vain. Faithless, ungrateful, cruel, though he be, I still must love him.

Enter CHARMION

Now, what news, my Charmion? Will he be kind? and will he not forsake me? Am I to live, or die?—nay, do I live? Or am I dead? for when he gave his answer, Fate took the word, and then I lived or died.

CHARMION. I found him, madam—

CLEOPATRA. A long speech preparing? If thou bring’st comfort, haste, and give it me, For never was more need.

IRAS. I know he loves you.

CLEOPATRA. Had he been kind, her eyes had told me so, Before her tongue could speak it: Now she studies, To soften what he said; but give me death, Just as he sent it, Charmion, undisguised, And in the words he spoke.

CHARMION. I found him, then, Encompassed round, I think, with iron statues; So mute, so motionless his soldiers stood, While awfully he cast his eyes about, And every leader’s hopes or fears surveyed: Methought he looked resolved, and yet not pleased. When he beheld me struggling in the crowd, He blushed, and bade make way.

ALEXAS. There’s comfort yet.

CHARMION. Ventidius fixed his eyes upon my passage Severely, as he meant to frown me back, And sullenly gave place: I told my message, Just as you gave it, broken and disordered; I numbered in it all your sighs and tears, And while I moved your pitiful request, That you but only begged a last farewell, He fetched an inward groan; and every time I named you, sighed, as if his heart were breaking, But, shunned my eyes, and guiltily looked down: He seemed not now that awful Antony, Who shook and armed assembly with his nod; But, making show as he would rub his eyes, Disguised and blotted out a falling tear.

CLEOPATRA. Did he then weep? And was I worth a tear? If what thou hast to say be not as pleasing, Tell me no more, but let me die contented.

CHARMION. He bid me say,—He knew himself so well, He could deny you nothing, if he saw you; And therefore—

CLEOPATRA. Thou wouldst say, he would not see me?

CHARMION. And therefore begged you not to use a power, Which he could ill resist; yet he should ever Respect you, as he ought.

CLEOPATRA. Is that a word For Antony to use to Cleopatra? O that faint word, RESPECT! how I disdain it! Disdain myself, for loving after it! He should have kept that word for cold Octavia. Respect is for a wife: Am I that thing, That dull, insipid lump, without desires, And without power to give them?

ALEXAS. You misjudge; You see through love, and that deludes your sight; As, what is straight, seems crooked through the water: But I, who bear my reason undisturbed, Can see this Antony, this dreaded man, A fearful slave, who fain would run away, And shuns his master’s eyes: If you pursue him, My life on’t, he still drags a chain along. That needs must clog his flight.

CLEOPATRA. Could I believe thee!—

ALEXAS. By every circumstance I know he loves. True, he’s hard prest, by interest and by honour; Yet he but doubts, and parleys, and casts out Many a long look for succour.

CLEOPATRA. He sends word, He fears to see my face.

ALEXAS. And would you more? He shows his weakness who declines the combat, And you must urge your fortune. Could he speak More plainly? To my ears, the message sounds— Come to my rescue, Cleopatra, come; Come, free me from Ventidius; from my tyrant: See me, and give me a pretence to leave him!— I hear his trumpets. This way he must pass. Please you, retire a while; I’ll work him first, That he may bend more easy.

CLEOPATRA. You shall rule me; But all, I fear, in vain. [Exit with CHARMION and IRAS.]

ALEXAS. I fear so too; Though I concealed my thoughts, to make her bold; But ‘tis our utmost means, and fate befriend it! [Withdraws.]

Enter Lictors with Fasces; one bearing the Eagle; then enter ANTONY with VENTIDIUS, followed by other Commanders

ANTONY. Octavius is the minion of blind chance, But holds from virtue nothing.

VENTIDIUS. Has he courage?

ANTONY. But just enough to season him from coward. Oh, ‘tis the coldest youth upon a charge, The most deliberate fighter! if he ventures (As in Illyria once, they say, he did, To storm a town), ‘tis when he cannot choose; When all the world have fixt their eyes upon him; And then he lives on that for seven years after; But, at a close revenge he never fails.

VENTIDIUS. I heard you challenged him.

ANTONY. I did, Ventidius. What think’st thou was his answer? ‘Twas so tame!— He said, he had more ways than one to die; I had not.

VENTIDIUS. Poor!

ANTONY. He has more ways than one; But he would choose them all before that one.

VENTIDIUS. He first would choose an ague, or a fever.

ANTONY. No; it must be an ague, not a fever; He Has