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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.

Ant. Forgive me, soldier;
I've been too passionate.

Vent. 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.

Ant. 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?

Vent. 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.

Ant. But Cleopatra

Go on; for I can bear it now.

Vent. No more.

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

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

Ant. 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.
Vent. And will you leave this—

Ant. 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.

Vent. That's my royal master;

And, shall we fight?

Ant. 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!

Vent. O 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.

Ant. Oh, Cleopatra !

Vent. Again?

Ant. I've done: In that last sigh she went.
Cæsar shall know what 'tis to force a lover
From all he holds most dear.

Vent. Methinks you breathe

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

Ant. 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 all my shield;
I won the trenches, while my foremost men
Lagged on the plain below.

Vent. Ye gods, ye gods,

For such another honour !

Ant. 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.i

CLEOPATRA ON THE CYDNUS.

Her galley down the silver Cydnus rowed,

Act I. Sc. 1.

The tackling silk, the streamers waved with gold;

The gentle winds were lodged in purple sails:

Her nymphs, like Nereides, round her couch were placed;
Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay.

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She lay, and leant her cheek upon her hand,
And cast a look so languishingly' sweet,

As if, secure of all beholders' hearts,

Neglecting, she could take them; boys, like cupids,
Stood fanning, with their painted wings, the winds,
That played about her face; but if she smiled,

1 Dryden's Antony is a water-colour rival of Shakespeare's, yet he exhibits much of the animation of his original.

A darting glory seemed to blaze abroad,

That men's desiring eyes were never wearied,

But hung upon the object. To soft flutes

The silver oars kept time; and while they played,

The hearing gave new pleasure to the sight;

And both to thought. Twas heaven, or somewhat more;
For she so charmed all hearts, that gazing crowds

Stood panting on the shore, and wanted breath

To give their welcome voice.1

Act III. Sc. 1.

FROM THE TRAGEDY OF DON SEBASTIAN.2

SEBASTIAN, CAPTIVE, TO HIS CONQUEROR THE MOORISH EMPEROR, MULEY MOLUCH.

Here satiate all your fury,

Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me;
I have a soul that, like an ample shield,

Can take in all and verge enough for more.

I would have conquered you; and ventured only
A narrow neck of land for a third world,
To give my loosened subjects room to play.
Fate was not mine,

Nor am I fate's. Now I have pleased my longing,

And trod the ground which I beheld from far,
I beg no pity for this mouldering clay;

For if you give it burial, there it takes

Possession of your earth;

If burned and scattered in the air, the winds
That strew my dust, diffuse my royalty,

And spread me o'er your clime: for where one atom
Of mine shall light, know, there Sebastian reigns,

Act I. Sc. 1.

THE HAUGHTINESS OF DESPOTISM.

Emperor. What's royalty but power to please myself?
And if I dare not, then I am the slave,

And my own slaves the sovereigns ;-'tis resolved.
Weak princes flatter, when they want the power
To curb their people; tender plants must bend:

1 Compare this description with Shakespeare's Ant. and Cleop. Act II. Sc. 2. The uncertain fate of Sebastian, king of Portugal, in his expedition against the Moors in 1578, forms the groundwork of Dryden's tragedy. Upon a similar uncertainty in Spanish history, Southey has founded his Don Roderic. Sebastian's defeat at Alcazar is matter of history; Dryden claims the right of working as he chooses, the tradition of the hero's having survived the disaster; and a singularly wild tale he has woven of his imaginary fate. The Portuguese long fondly looked to the return of Sebastian as the means of retrieving their liberties from the subsequent subjugation by Spain. "Don Sebastian' has been weighed in its tragic merits against All for Love,' and one or other is universally allowed to be the first of Dryden's dramatic performances."-Scott.

But when a government is grown to strength,
Like some old oak, rough with its armed bark,
It yields not to the tug, but only nods,
And turns to sullen state.

FEMALE BEAUTY.

Her soul's the deity that lodges there,

Nor is the pile unworthy of the god.

Act II. Sc. 1.

Act II. Sc. 1.

THE PAST.

Sebastian. The joys I have possessed are ever mine, Out of thy reach; behind eternity;

Hid in the sacred treasure of the past;

But blest remembrance brings them hourly back.

Life is but air,

LIFE.

Act III. Sc. 1.

That yields a passage to the whistling wind;

And closes when 'tis gone.

Act III. Sc. 1.

SEBASTIAN'S DEATH DECREED BY THE MOORISH EMPEROR.

Emperor, Sebastian, Almeyda, &c.

Emp. Go bear the captive to a speedy death,

And set my soul at ease.

Alm. I charge you, hold, ye ministers of death —

Speak, my Sebastian!

Plead for thy life; oh ask it of the tyrant;
'Tis no dishonour; trust me, love, 'tis none.
I would die for thee, but I cannot plead ;
My haughty heart disdains it even for thee.
Still silent! Will the King of Portugal
Go to his death like a dumb sacrifice?

Beg him to save my life in saving thine.

Seb. Farewell; my life's not worth another word.
Emp. [To the Guards.] Perform your orders.
Alm. Stay, take my farewell too!

Farewell the greatness of Almeyda's soul!
Look, tyrant, what excess of love can do;

It pulls me down so low as to thy feet;

Nay, to embrace thy knees with loathing hands,

[Kneels.

Which blister when they touch thee: Yet even thus,
Thus far I can to save Sebastian's life.

Emp. A secret pleasure trickles through my veins :

It works about the inlets of my soul

To feel thy touch, and pity tempts the pass;
'Tis warmed with the soft fire not melted down.

Alm. A flood of scalding tears will make it run.
Spare him, oh spare !—can you pretend to love,
And have no pity? Love and that are twins.
Here will I grow;

Thus compass you with these supplanting cords,
And pull so long till the proud fabric falls.

Emp. Still kneel and still embrace: 'tis double pleasure

So to be hugged, and see Sebastian die.

Alm. Look, tyrant, when thou nam'st Sebastian's death, The very executioners turn pale:

Rough as they are, and hardened in their trade

Of death, they start at an anointed head,
And tremble to approach.-He hears me not,
Nor minds the impression of a god on kings;
Because no stamp of heaven was on his soul,
But the resisting mass drove back the seal.-
Say, tho' thy heart be rock of adamant,
Yet rocks are not impregnable to bribes;
Instruct me how to bribe thee: name thy price;
Lo, I resign my title to the crown;

Send me to exile with the man I love,
And banishment is empire.

Emp. Here's my claim

[Laying his hand on his sword.

And this extinguished thine; thou givest me nothing.
Alm. My father's, mother's, brother's death, I pardon :
That's somewhat sure; a mighty sum of murder,
Of innocent and kindred blood struck off.

My prayers and penance shall discount for these,
And beg of heaven to charge the bill on me.
Behold what price I offer, and how dear
To buy Sebastian's life.

Emp. Let after reckonings trouble fearful fools:
I'll stand the trial of these trivial crimes:

But since thou beggest me to prescribe my terms,

The only I can offer are thy love,

And this one day of respite to resolve.

Grant or deny; for thy next word is fate,

And fate is deaf to prayer.

Alm. May heaven be so

At thy last breath to thine !—I curse thee not;
For, who can better curse the plague or devil
Than to be what they are? That curse be thine.
Now do not speak, Sebastian, for you need not;
But die, for I resign thy life.-Look heaven,
Almeyda dooms her dear Sebastian's death!
But is there heaven? for I begin to doubt;

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