Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

Before the Sun fhall fee's, we'll fpill the blood
That has to day escap'd. I thank you all;
For doughty-handed are you, and have fought
Not as you ferv'd the caufe, but as't had been

Each man's like mine; you've fhewn yourselves all
Hectors.

Enter the City, clip your wives, your friends,

Tell them your feats, whilft they with joyful tears.
Wafh the congealment from your wounds, and kifs
The honour'd gashes whole. Give me thy hand,

Enter Cleopatra.

To this great Faiery I'll commend thy acts,

[To Scarus.

Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o'th' world, Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness, to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing."

Cleo. Lord of Lords!

Oh, infinite virtue! com'ft thou fmiling from
The world's great fnare, uncaught?

Ant. My nightingale!

We've beat them to their beds. What! Girl, though

gray

Do fomething mingle with our younger brown, yet

ha'we

A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man,
(48) Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand;

Kifs

Queen to know of? Antony was to fight again on the morrow; and he had not yet faid a Word of marching to Alexandria, and treating his Officers in the Palace. We must restore, as Mr. Warburton likewise prescribes ;

And let the Queen know of our Gefts.

i. e. res gefta; our Feats, our glorious Actions. It is a Term, that frequently occurs in Chaucer; and, after him, in Spencer; nor did it cease to be current for fome time after our Author's Days.

(48) Commend unto his Lips thy favouring Hand] Antony is here recommending One of his Captains, who had fought valiantly, to Cleopatra; and defires, he may have the Grace of kiffing her Hand. But why, favouring Hand? He did not want his Captain to grow in Love

Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to day,
As if a God in hate of mankind had
Destroyed in such a shape.

Cleo. I'll give thee, friend,

An armour all of gold; it was a King's.

Ant. He has deferv'd it, were it carbuncled
Like holy Phœbus' Car. Give me thy hand;
Through Alexandria make a jolly March;

Bear our hackt targets, like the men that owe them.
Had our great Palace the capacity

To camp this Hoft, we all would fup together;
And drink carowses to the next day's Fate,
Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters,
With brazen din blaft you the city's ear,
Make mingle with our ratling tabourines,

That heav'n and earth may ftrike their founds together,
Applauding our approach.

SCENE changes to Cæfar's Camp.

[Exeunt.

Enter a Centry, and his Company. Enobarbus follows. Cent. F we be not reliev'd within this hour,

If we not relievo wit Court of Guard; the

Is fhiny, and, they fay, we shall embattel
By th' fecond hour i'th' morn.

I Watch. This last day was a fhrewd one to's.
Eno. Oh bear me witness, night!

2 Watch. What man is this?

Watch. Stand close, and lift him.

Eno. Be witnefs to me, O thou bleffed Moon,

When men revolted fhall upon record

Bear hateful memory; poor Enobarbus did

Before thy face repent.

[night

with his Mistress, on Account of the Flavour and Lusciousness of her Hand; but only to have a Reward of Honour from the Queen for his good Service. I therefore believe, the Poet wrote;

Commend unto his Lips thy favouring Hand.

Tho' none of the printed Copies countenance this Reading, yet nothing is more common at Prefs than for anto ufurp the place of an ƒ, and Lo vice versa.

Cent.

Cent. Enobarbus?

3 Watch. Peace; hark further.

Eno. Oh fovereign Mistress of true melancholy, The poisonous damp of night difpunge upon me, That life, a very rebel to my will,

May hang no longer on me.

Throw my heart
Against the flint and hardnefs of my fault,

Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder,
And finish all foul thoughts. Oh Antony,
Nobler than my revolt is infamous,

Forgive me in thine own particular;
But let the world rank me in register
A master-leaver, and a fugitive:
Oh Antony! oh Antony!

I Watch. Let's speak to him.

Cent. Let's hear him, for the things he speaks

May concern Cæfar.

z Watch. Let's do fo, but he fleeps.

[Dies.

Cent. Swoons rather, for fo bad a prayer as his Was never yet for sleep.

I Watch. Go we to him.

2 Watch. Awake, Sir, awake, speak to us. 1 Watch. Hear you, Sir?

Cent. The hand of death has raught him.

[Drums afar off. Hark, how the drums demurely wake the fleepers : Let's bear him to the Court of Guard; he is of note. Our hour is fully out.

z Watch. Come on then, he may recover yet.

Ant.

SCENE, between the two Camps.

[Exeunt.

Enter Antony, and Scarus, with their Army.

HEIR preparation is to day by sea,
We please them not by land.

Scar. For both, my Lord.

Ant. I would, they'd fight i'th' fire, or in the air, We'd fight there too. But this it is our foot

Upon

Upon the hills adjoyning to the City
Shall ftay with us. Order for fea is given;
They have put forth the haven: further on,
Where their appointment we may beft discover,
And look on their endeavour.

Enter Cæfar, and his Army.

[Exeunt.

Cef. But being charg'd, we will be ftill by land, Which, as I take't, we fhall; for his beft force Is forth to man his Gallies. To the vales,

And hold our best advantage.

[Exeunt.

[Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight.

Enter Antony and Scarus.

Ant. Yet they are not join'd:

Where yond pine ftands, I fhall discover all,

I'll bring thee word straight, how 'tis like to go. [Exit. Scar. Swallows have built

In Cleopatra's fails their nefts. The Augurs

Say, they know not-they cannot tell-look grimly,
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts,
His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear
Of what he has, and has not.

[Exit.

SCENE changes to the Palace in Alexandria.

Ant.

Enter Antony.

LL's loft! this foul Egyptian hath betray'd

me!

My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder
They caft their caps up, and caroufe together
Like friends long loft. Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou
Haft fold me to this Novice, and my heart
Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly:
For when I am reveng'd upon my Charm,
I have done all. Bid them all fly, be gone.

(49) Oh,

(49) Oh, Sun, thy uprife fhall I fee no more:
Fortune and Antony part here, even here

Do we shake hands-all come to this!the hearts,
(50) That pantler'd me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do dif-candy, melt their fweets
On bloffoming Cafar: and this pine is bark'd,

(49) Oh, Sun, thy Uprife shall I fee no more:] Ajax in Sophocles, when he is on the point of killing himself, addresses to the Sun in a manner not much unlike This.

(50)

Σὲ δ ̓ ὦ φαεννῆς ἡμέρας τὸ νοῦ σέλας,
Καὶ * διφράτῳ ἥλιον προσεννέπω,
Πανύςατον δὴ, κἔπολ ̓ αὖθις ὕσερον.

The Hearts,

That pannell'd me at Heels, &c.] Pannelling at Heels must mean here, following: but where was the Word ever found in fuch a Sense? Pannell fignifies but three Things, that I know, in the English Tongue, none of which will fuit with the Allufion here requifite; viz. That Roll, or Schedule of Parchment on which the Names of a Jury are enter'd, which therefore is call'd empanelling; a Pane, or Slip of Wainfcott; and a Packfaddle for Beafts of Burthen. The Text is corrupt, and Shakespeare must certainly have wrote;

That pantler'd me at Heels;

i. e. run after Me like Footmen, or Pantlers; which Word originally fignified, the Servants who have the Care of the Bread; but is afed by our Poet for a menial Servant in general, as well as in its native Acceptation.

a bafe Slave;

A Hilding for a Liv'ry, a Squire's Cloth:
A Pantler.

when my old Wife liv'd, upon

This Day She was both Pantler, Butler, Cook,
Both Dame and Servant.

Cymbeline.

Winter's Tale.

He would have made a good Pantler, he would have chip'd Bread well.

2 Henry IV. Mr. Warburton.

To ftrengthen my Friend's ingenious Emendation, I'll throw in a Paf-
fage, or two, where our Poet has exprefs'd himself in a fimilar Manner.
Gave him their Heirs; as Pages following him
Ev'n at the Heels, in golden Multitudes.

1' Henry IV. And there is another Paffage, in which, as here, he has turn'd the Subftantive into a Verb.

will thefe moift Trees,

That have out-liv'd the Eagle, page thy Heels,
And skip when thou point'ft out?

Timon of Athens.

That

« AnteriorContinua »