All For Love, John Dryden [best ereader for pc .TXT] 📗

the first name of men; And, half constrained, I gave, as to a tyrant, What he would take by force.

VENTIDIUS. 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.

CLEOPATRA. 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 Caesar, Great as the first, and as the second young, Would court my love, to be refused for you!

VENTIDIUS. Words, words; but Actium, sir; remember Actium.

CLEOPATRA. 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.

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

CLEOPATRA. If, as a friend, you ask my judgment, go; If, as a lover, stay. If you must perish— ‘Tis a hard word—but stay.

VENTIDIUS. 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!

CLEOPATRA. 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.

ANTONY. 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.

CLEOPATRA. 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 anything, But only you. Oh, let me die but with you! Is that a hard request?

ANTONY. Next living with you, ‘Tis all that Heaven can give.

ALEXAS. He melts; we conquer. [Aside.]

CLEOPATRA. 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 straight your brow clears up, As I had never been.

ANTONY. Gods, ‘tis too much; too much for man to bear.

CLEOPATRA. 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.

ANTONY. 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.]

VENTIDIUS. And what’s this toy, In balance with your fortune, honour, fame?

ANTONY. What is’t, Ventidius?—it outweighs them all; Why, we have more than conquered Caesar 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.

VENTIDIUS. I’ll rather die, than take it. Will you go?

ANTONY. 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 Caesar, 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.

CLEOPATRA. 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.

VENTIDIUS. O women! women! women! all the gods Have not such power of doing good to man, As you of doing harm. [Exit.]

ANTONY. Our men are armed:— Unbar the gate that looks to Caesar’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 Caesar 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, etc., on CLEOPATRA’S. CHARMION and IRAS hold a laurel wreath betwixt them. A Dance of EGYPTIANS. After the ceremony, CLEOPATRA crowns ANTONY.

ANTONY. 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.

CLEOPATRA. 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.

ANTONY. My brighter Venus!

CLEOPATRA. O my greater Mars!

ANTONY. Thou join’st us well, my love! Suppose me come from the Phlegraean plains, Where gasping giants lay, cleft by my sword, And mountain-tops paired off each other blow, To bury those I slew. Receive me, goddess! Let Caesar spread his subtle 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 gods. 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

ALEXAS. Oh, 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.

ANTONY. 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.]

VENTIDIUS. Emperor!

ANTONY. ‘Tis the old argument; I pr’ythee, spare me. [Looking back.]

VENTIDIUS. But this one hearing, emperor.

ANTONY. Let go My robe; or, by my father Hercules—

VENTIDIUS. By Hercules’ father, that’s yet greater, I bring you somewhat you would wish to know.

ANTONY. Thou see’st we are observed; attend me here, And I’ll return. [Exit.]

VENTIDIUS. 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

ANTONY. 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.

VENTIDIUS. ‘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 Caesar doubts the chance Of arms—

ANTONY. Oh, think not on’t, Ventidius! The boy pursues my ruin, he’ll no peace; His malice is considerable in advantage. Oh, he’s the coolest murderer! so staunch, He kills, and keeps his temper.

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

ANTONY. They’re both too deep in Caesar’s interests. We’ll work it out by dint of sword, or perish.

VENTIDIUS. Fain I would find some other.

ANTONY. Thank thy love. Some four or five such victories as this Will save thy further pains.

VENTIDIUS. Expect no more; Caesar 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.

ANTONY. 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 Caesar 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.

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

ANTONY. He loved me too; I was his soul; he lived not but in me: We were so closed within each other’s 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.

VENTIDIUS. He moves as I would wish him. [Aside.]

ANTONY. After this, I need not tell his name;—‘twas Dolabella.

VENTIDIUS. He’s now in Caesar’s camp.

ANTONY. 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 confessed, 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.

VENTIDIUS. It argues, that he loved you more than her, Else he had stayed; but he perceived you jealous, And would not grieve his friend: I know he loves you.

ANTONY. I should have seen him, then, ere now.

VENTIDIUS. Perhaps He has thus long been labouring for your peace.

ANTONY. Would he were here!

VENTIDIUS. 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 Caesar’s camp, with letters.

ANTONY. Let him appear.

VENTIDIUS. I’ll bring him instantly. [Exit VENTIDIUS, and re-enters immediately with DOLABELLA.]

ANTONY. ‘Tis he himself! himself, by holy friendship! [Runs to embrace him.] Art thou returned at last, my better half? Come,