Ant. O, think not on't, Ventidius; The boy pursues my ruin; he'll no peace. Ven. Have you no friend In all his army, who has power to move him? Ant. They're both too deep in Cæsar's interests. Ant. Thank thy love; But wherefore drive me from myself, to search To find a friend? The wretched have no friends: Ant. No matter where, Since he's no longer mine. He took unkindly Because I fear'd he loved her. When he departed Ven. Perhaps, He has thus long been lab'ring for your peace. Ven. Would you believe he loved I read you ? 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. Ven. I'll bring him instantly. [Exit VENTIDIUS; and Re-enters immediately, with DOLABELLA. Ant. 'Tis he himself, by holy friendship! [Runs to embrace him. Art thou return'd at last, my better half? Hast thou not seen my morning chambers fill'd Dol. Slaves to your fortune. Ant. Fortune is Cæsar's now, and what am I? Ven. What you have made yourself. I will not flatter. Ant. Is this friendly done? Dol. Yes, when his end is so; I must join with him; Indeed I must, and yet you must not chide: Why am I else your friend? Ant. Take heed, young man, How thou upbraid'st my love: The queen has eyes, And thou too hast a soul. Canst thou remember, When, swell'd with hatred, thou beheld'st her first, As accessary to thy brother's death? Dol. Spare my remembrance; 'twas a guilty day, And still the blush hangs here. Ant. To clear herself For sending him no aid, she came from Egypt. The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept time, and made As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, 2 O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see Dol. No more-I will not hear it. Ant. 'Twas Heaven, or somewhat more ; For she so charm'd all hearts, that gazing crowds Stood panting on the shore, and wanted breath To give their welcome voice. Then, Dolabella, where was then thy soul? Ven. Yes, emperor, a true one. Dol. A friend so tender, that each word I speak Stabs my own heart, before it reach your ear. O, judge me not less kind because I chide: To Cæsar I excuse you. Ant. O ye gods! Have I then lived to be excused to Cæsar! Dol. As to your equal. Ant. Well, he's but my equal: While I wear this he never shall be more. Dol. I bring conditions from him. Ant. Are they noble ? Methinks thou should'st not bring 'em else: granting this, What power was theirs, who wrought so hard a temper To honourable terms? It was my Dolabella, or some god. F |