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Act IVPart II
Part II
Octavia With Ventidius And Mark Antony
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 Caesar he`s endeavouring her peace.
Octav. You have prevailed: - But for a further 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 Caesar`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 seemed 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 disobey`st 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.
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 further, 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.
Your 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 Chaldaeans do the moon,
Can tell what signs she passes through, what day.
Alex. My noble lord!
Vent. My most illustrious pander,
No fine set speech, no cadence, no turned periods,
But a plain homespun 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 passed 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 choose 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]. Oh, 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; mydear half - man, proceed.
Alex. Yet Dolabella
Has loved her long; he, next my god - like 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. Ibid 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 pressed 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. Wondrous 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 stayed.
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 mismatched 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 hear 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.
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