Scene I
Enter ANTONY and DOLABELLA
DOLABELLA. Why would you shift it from yourself on me?
Can you not tell her, you must part?
ANTONY. I cannot.
I could pull out an eye, and bid it go, And t'other should not weep. O Dolabella, How many deaths are in this word, DEPART!
I dare not trust my tongue to tell her so:
One look of hers would thaw me into tears, And I should melt, till I were lost again.
DOLABELLA. Then let Ventidius;
He's rough by nature.
ANTONY. Oh, he'll speak too harshly;
He'll kill her with the news: Thou, only thou.
DOLABELLA. Nature has cast me in so soft a mould, That but to hear a story, feigned for pleasure, Of some sad lover's death, moistens my eyes, And robs me of my manhood. I should speak So faintly, with such fear to grieve her heart, She'd not believe it earnest.
ANTONY. Therefore,--therefore Thou only, thou art fit: Think thyself me;And when thou speak'st (but let it first be long), Take off the edge from every sharper sound, And let our parting be as gently made, As other loves begin: Wilt thou do this?
DOLABELLA. What you have said so sinks into my soul, That, if I must speak, I shall speak just so.
ANTONY. I leave you then to your sad task: Farewell.
I sent her word to meet you.
[Goes to the door, and comes back.]
I forgot;
Let her be told, I'll make her peace with mine, Her crown and dignity shall be preserved, If I have power with Caesar.--Oh, be sure To think on that.
DOLABELLA. Fear not, I will remember.
[ANTONY goes again to the door, and comes back.]
ANTONY. And tell her, too, how much I was constrained;I did not this, but with extremest force.
Desire her not to hate my memory, For I still cherish hers:--insist on that.
DOLABELLA. Trust me. I'll not forget it.
ANTONY. Then that's all.
[Goes out, and returns again.]
Wilt thou forgive my fondness this once more?
Tell her, though we shall never meet again, If I should hear she took another love, The news would break my heart.--Now I must go;For every time I have returned, I feel My soul more tender; and my next command Would be, to bid her stay, and ruin both.
[Exit.]
DOLABELLA. Men are but children of a larger growth;Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain;And yet the soul, shut up in her dark room, Viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing:
But, like a mole in earth, busy and blind, Works all her folly up, and casts it outward To the world's open view: Thus I discovered, And blamed the love of ruined Antony:
Yet wish that I were he, to be so ruined.
Enter VENTIDIUS above VENTIDIUS. Alone, and talking to himself? concerned too?
Perhaps my guess is right; he loved her once, And may pursue it still.
DOLABELLA. O friendship! friendship!
Ill canst thou answer this; and reason, worse:
Unfaithful in the attempt; hopeless to win;And if I win, undone: mere madness all.
And yet the occasion's fair. What injury To him, to wear the robe which he throws by!
VENTIDIUS. None, none at all. This happens as I wish, To ruin her yet more with Antony.
Enter CLEOPATRA talking with ALEXAS;
CHARMION, IRAS on the other side.
DOLABELLA. She comes! What charms have sorrow on that face!
Sorrow seems pleased to dwell with so much sweetness;Yet, now and then, a melancholy smile Breaks loose, like lightning in a winter's night, And shows a moment's day.
VENTIDIUS. If she should love him too! her eunuch there?
That porc'pisce bodes ill weather. Draw, draw nearer, Sweet devil, that I may hear.
ALEXAS. Believe me; try [DOLABELLA goes over to CHARMION and IRAS;seems to talk with them.]
To make him jealous; jealousy is like A polished glass held to the lips when life's in doubt;If there be breath, 'twill catch the damp, and show it.
CLEOPATRA. I grant you, jealousy's a proof of love, But 'tis a weak and unavailing medicine;It puts out the disease, and makes it show, But has no power to cure.
ALEXAS. 'Tis your last remedy, and strongest too:
And then this Dolabella, who so fit To practise on? He's handsome, valiant, young, And looks as he were laid for nature's bait, To catch weak women's eyes.
He stands already more than half suspected Of loving you: the least kind word or glance, You give this youth, will kindle him with love:
Then, like a burning vessel set adrift, You'll send him down amain before the wind, To fire the heart of jealous Antony.
CLEOPATRA. Can I do this? Ah, no, my love's so true, That I can neither hide it where it is, Nor show it where it is not. Nature meant me A wife; a silly, harmless, household dove, Fond without art, and kind without deceit;But Fortune, that has made a mistress of me, Has thrust me out to the wide world, unfurnished Of falsehood to be happy.
ALEXAS. Force yourself.
The event will be, your lover will return, Doubly desirous to possess the good Which once he feared to lose.
CLEOPATRA. I must attempt it;
But oh, with what regret!
[Exit ALEXAS. She comes up to DOLABELLA.]
VENTIDIUS. So, now the scene draws near; they're in my reach.
CLEOPATRA. [to DOLABELLA.]
Discoursing with my women! might not I
Share in your entertainment?
CHARMION. You have been The subject of it, madam.
CLEOPATRA. How! and how!
IRAS. Such praises of your beauty!
CLEOPATRA. Mere poetry.
Your Roman wits, your Gallus and Tibullus, Have taught you this from Cytheris and Delia.
DOLABELLA. Those Roman wits have never been in Egypt;Cytheris and Delia else had been unsung:
I, who have seen--had I been born a poet, Should choose a nobler name.
CLEOPATRA. You flatter me.
But, 'tis your nation's vice: All of your country Are flatterers, and all false. Your friend's like you.
I'm sure, he sent you not to speak these words.
DOLABELLA. No, madam; yet he sent me--
CLEOPATRA. Well, he sent you--
DOLABELLA. Of a less pleasing errand.
CLEOPATRA. How less pleasing?
Less to yourself, or me?
DOLABELLA. Madam, to both;
For you must mourn, and I must grieve to cause it.
CLEOPATRA. You, Charmion, and your fellow, stand at distance.--Hold up, my spirits. [Aside.]--Well, now your mournful matter;For I'm prepared, perhaps can guess it too.
