Imatges de pàgina
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Tho' loyalty, well held, to fools does make
Our faith meer folly: yet he, that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord,
Do's conquer him that did his mafter conquer,
And earns a place i'th' ftory.

Enter Thyreus.

Cleo. Cafar's Will?

Thyr. Hear it apart.

Cleo. None but friends; fay boldly.
Thyr. So, haply, are they friends to Antony.
Eno. He needs as many, Sir, as Cæfar has:
Or needs not us. If Cæfar pleafe, our master
Will leap to be his friend; for as you know,
Whofe he is, we are, and that's Cæfar's.
Thyr. So.

Thus then, thou most renown'd, Cæfar intreats,
Not to confider in what cafe thou ftand'st
Further than he is Cafar.

Cleo. Go on;

right royal.

Thyr. He knows that you embrace not Antony As you did love, but as you fear'd him.

Cleo. Oh!

[Afide

Thyr. The fears upon your honour, therefore, he Do's pity, as constrained blemishes,

Not as deferv'd.

Cleo. He is a God, and knows

What is moft right. Mine honour was not yielded,

But conquer'd meerly.

Eno. To be fure of that,

I will ask Antony.

Sir, thou'rt fo leaky,

That we must leave thee to thy finking, for
Thy deareft quit thee.

[Exit Eno.

his firm Adherence to Antony;) he immediately falls into this generous Reflexion: "Tho' Loyalty, ftubbornly preferv'd to a Mafter in "his declin'd Fortunes, feems Folly in the Eyes of Fools; (i. e, Men, "who have not Honour enough to think more wifely ;) yet he, who "can be so obftinately loyal, will make as great a Figure on Record, as "the Conqueror.

Thyr.

Thyr. Shall I fay to Cefar

What you require of him? he partly begs,
To be defir'd to give. It much would please him,
That of his fortunes you would make a staff
To lean upon. But it would warm his fpirits,
To hear from me you had left Antony,

And put your felf under his shrowd, the univerfał landlord.

Cleo. What's your name?
Thyr. My name is Thyreus,

Cleo. Moft kind meffenger, (41)
Say to great Cefar this; in Deputation

I kifs his conquiring hand: tell him, I'm prompt
To lay my Crown at's feet, and there to kneel.
Tell him, that from his all-obeying breath,
I hear the doom of Egypt.

Thyr. 'Tis your nobleft courfe:
Wisdom and fortune combating together,
If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may fhake it. Give me grace to lay
My duty on your hand.

Cleo. Your Cafar's father oft,

When he hath mus'd of taking Kingdoms in,

(41) Moft kind Messenger

Say to great Cæfar this in Difputation,

I kifs his conqu'ring hand: 1

Again, the Pointing and Text must be corrected. If the Sagacious Editors can reasonably expound Difputation, here, I allow them to fee farther into a Milltone than I pretend to do. The Poet certainly wrote, (as Mr. Warburton likewife faw, we must restore;)

Moft kind Meffenger,

Say to great Cæfar this; in Deputation

I kifs his conqu'ring hand:

i. e. by Proxy; I depute you to pay him that Duty in my Name. Our Author has employ'd this Word in fev'ral other Paffages.

Lent him our Terror, dreft him with our Love,

And giv'n his Deputation all the Organs

Of our own Pow'r.

And that bis Friends by Deputation

Could not fo foon be drawn.

Of all the Farites, that the abfent King
In Deputation left behind him here.

Sometimes, great Agamemnon,
Thy topless Deputation he puts on.

Meal for Meal.

I' Henry IV.

Ibid.

Troilus, &c. &c..

Beftow'd

Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,

As it rain'd kifles.

Enter Antony, and Enobarbus.

Ant. Favours! by Jove, that thunders.

What art thou, fellow?

[Seeing Thyreus kifs her band

Thyr. One that but performs

The bidding of the fulleft man, and worthiest
To have Command obey'd.

Eno. You will be whipp'd.

Ant. Approach there ah, you kite! now, Gods
and Devils!

Authority melts from me of late.-When I cry'd, hoa!
Like boys unto a mufs, Kings would start forth,
And cry, your will? have you no ears ?

I'm Antony yet. Take hence this Jack, and whip him.
Enter Servants.

1

Eno. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,
Than with an old one dying.
Ant. Moon and ftars!

Whip him:

taries

.

Were't twenty of the greatest Tribu

That do acknowledge Cafar, fhould I find them
So fawcy with the hand of She here, (what's her name,
Since the was Cleopatra?)-whip him, fellows→→
Till, like a boy, you fee him cringe his face,

And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.
Thyr. Mark Antony

Ant. Tug him away; being whipp'd,

Bring him again: this Jack of Cæfar's fhall

Bear us an errand to him. [Exeunt with Thyrcus.
You were half blafted, ere I knew you: ha!

Have I my pillow left unpreft in Rome,
Forborn the getting of a lawful race,
And by a jem of women, to be abus'd
By one that looks on Feeders?

Cleo. Good my Lord,

Ant.

Ant. You have been a boggler ever.

But when we in our vicioufnefs grow hard,
(Oh mifery on't!) the wife Gods feal our eyes

In our own filth, drop our clear judgments, make us
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we ftrut

To our confufion.

Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?

Ant. I found you as a morfel, cold upon
Dead Cafar's trencher nay, you were a fragment
Of Cneius Pompey's; befides what hotter hours,
Unregistred in vulgar fame, you have
Luxuriously pickt out. For I am fure,

Though you can guess what temperance should be,
You know not what it is.

Cleo. Wherefore is this?

Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And fay, God quit you, be familiar with
My play-fellow, your hand; this kingly seal,
And plighter of high hearts!

O that I were
Upon the hill of Bafan, to out-roar

The horned herd, for I have favage cause!
And to proclaim it civilly, were like

A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him. Is he whipp'd?

Re-enter a Servant, with Thyreus.

Ser. Soundly, my Lord.

Ant. Cry'd he? and begg'd a' pardon?

Serv. He did ask favour.

Ant. If that thy Father live, let him repent

Thou waft not made his Daughter; and be thou forry To follow Cæfar in his Triumph, fince

Thou haft been whipp'd for following him. Henceforth,

The white hand of a Lady feaver thee,

Shake to look on't. Go get thee back to Cæfar
Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou fay,
He makes me angry with him: For he seems
Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am,

Not

Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry;
And; at this time, moft eafie 'tis to do't:
When my good ftars, that were my former guides,
Have empty left their Orbs, and fhot their fires
Into the abysm of hell. If he miflike

My speech, and what is done, tell him, he has
Hipparchus my enfranchis'd bondman, whom,
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he fhall like, to quit me. Urge it thou:
Hence with thy ftripes, be gone.

Cleo. Have you done yet?

[Exit Thyreus.

Ant. Alack, our terrene Moon is now eclips'd,
And it portends alone the Fall of Antony.
Cleo. I muft ftay his time.

Ant. To flatter Cefar, would you mingle eyes
With one that tyes his points?

Cleo. Not know me yet?

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me!
Cleo. Ah, dear, if I be fo,

From my cold heart let heaven ingender hail,
And poison't in the fource, and the first stone
Drop in my neck; as it determines, fo
Diffolve my life! the next Cefario fmite!
"Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Egyptians all,
(42) By the discandying of this pelletted storm,

Lie

(42) By the difcattering of this pelletted Storm,] This Reading we owe first, I prefume, to Mr. Rowe: and Mr. Pope has very faithfully fall'n into it. The old Folio's read, difcandering: from which Corruption both Dr. Thirlby and I faw, we must retrieve the Word with which I have reform'd the Text. Cleopatra's Wish is this; that the Gods would ingender Hail and poyfon it; and that as it fell upon her and her Subjects, and melted, their Lives might determine, as That diffolv'd and difcandied the congealing of the Water into Hail he metaphorically calls candying and it is an Image he is fond of, in several other Paffages. So, in the next Act of this very Play;

:

The Hearts,
to whom I gave

Their Wishes, do difcandy, melt their Sweets
On blooming Cæfar.

Ten Confciences, that ftand 'twixt me and Milan,
Candied be They, and melt ere they moleft.

VOL. VI.

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