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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of John Dryden, Volume 5 (of 18)
+by John Dryden
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Works of John Dryden, Volume 5 (of 18)
+       Amboyna; The state of Innocence; Aureng-Zebe; All for Love
+
+Author: John Dryden
+
+Editor: Walter Scott (1771-1832)
+
+Release Date: July 5, 2005 [EBook #16208]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                                WORKS
+
+                                  OF
+
+                             JOHN DRYDEN,
+
+                         NOW FIRST COLLECTED
+
+                        _IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES._
+
+
+
+                             ILLUSTRATED
+
+                             WITH NOTES,
+
+                HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY,
+
+                                 AND
+
+                        A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,
+
+                                  BY
+
+                          WALTER SCOTT, ESQ.
+
+
+
+                               VOL. V.
+
+                               LONDON:
+
+            PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET,
+
+                BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH.
+
+
+                                1808.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+                                  OF
+
+                            VOLUME FIFTH.
+
+Amboyna; or the Cruelties of the Dutch to the English Merchants, a
+  Tragedy
+        Epistle Dedicatory to Lord Clifford of Chudleigh
+
+
+The State of Innocence, and Fall of Man, an Opera
+        Epistle Dedicatory to her Royal Highness the Duchess
+        Preface.--The Author's Apology for Heroic Poetry, and Poetic
+          Licence
+
+
+Aureng-Zebe, a Tragedy
+        Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Mulgrave
+
+
+All for Love, or the World Well Lost, a Tragedy
+        Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Danby
+        Preface
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               AMBOYNA:
+
+                               OR, THE
+
+                        CRUELTIES OF THE DUTCH
+
+                                TO THE
+
+                         _ENGLISH MERCHANTS._
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               TRAGEDY.
+
+
+                    --_Manet altâ mente repostum._
+
+
+
+
+                               AMBOYNA.
+
+
+The tragedy of Amboyna, as it was justly termed by the English of the
+seventeenth century, was of itself too dreadful to be heightened by
+the mimic horrors of the stage. The reader may be reminded, that by
+three several treaties in the years 1613, 1615, and 1619, it was
+agreed betwixt England and Holland, that the English should enjoy
+one-third of the trade of the spice islands. For this purpose,
+factories were established on behalf of the English East India Company
+at the Molucca Islands, at Banda, and at Amboyna. At the latter island
+the Dutch had a castle, with a garrison, both of Europeans and
+natives. It has been always remarked, that the Dutchman, in his
+eastern settlements, loses the mercantile probity of his European
+character, while he retains its cold-blooded phlegm and avaricious
+selfishness. Of this the Amboyna government gave a notable proof.
+About the 11th of Feb. 1622, old stile, under pretence of a plot laid
+between the English of the factory and some Japanese soldiers to seize
+the castle, the former were arrested by the Dutch, and subjected to
+the most horrible tortures, to extort confession of their pretended
+guilt. Upon some they poured water into a cloth previously secured
+round their necks and shoulders, until suffocation ensued; others were
+tortured with lighted matches, and torches applied to the most tender
+and sensible parts of the body. But I will not pollute my page with
+this monstrous and disgusting detail. Upon confessions, inconsistent
+with each other, with common sense and ordinary probability, extorted
+also by torments of the mind or body, or both, Captain Gabriel
+Towerson, and nine other English merchants of consideration, were
+executed; and, to add insult to atrocity, the bloody cloth, on which
+Towerson kneeled at his death, was put down to the account of the
+English Company. The reader may find the whole history in the second
+volume of Purchas's "Pilgrim." The news of this horrible massacre
+reached King James, while he was negociating with the Dutch concerning
+the assistance which they then implored against the Spaniards; and the
+affairs of his son-in-law, the Elector Palatine, appeared to render an
+union with Holland so peremptorily necessary, that the massacre of
+Amboyna was allowed to remain unrevenged.
+
+But the Dutch war, which was declared in 1672, the object of which
+seems to have been the annihilation of the United Provinces as an
+independent state, a century sooner than Providence had decreed that
+calamitous event, met with great opposition in England, and every
+engine was put to work to satisfy the people of the truth of the Lord
+Chancellor Shaftesbury's averment, that the "States of Holland were
+England's eternal enemies, both by interest and inclination." Dryden,
+with the avowed intention of exasperating the nation against the
+Dutch, assumed from choice, or by command, the unpromising subject of
+the Amboyna massacre as the foundation of the following play.
+Exclusive of the horrible nature of the subject, the colours are laid
+on too thick to produce the desired effect. The monstrous caricatures,
+which are exhibited as just paintings of the Dutch character,
+unrelieved even by the grandeur of wickedness, and degraded into
+actual brutality, must have produced disgust, instead of an animated
+hatred and detestation. For the horrible spectacle of tortures and
+mangled limbs exhibited on the stage, the author might plead the
+custom of his age. A stage direction in Ravenscroft's alteration of
+"Titus Andronicus," bears, "A curtain drawn, discovers the heads and
+hands of Demetrius and Chiron hanging up against the wall; their
+bodies in chairs, in bloody linen." And in an interlude, called the
+"Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru," written by D'Avenant, "a doleful
+pavin is played to prepare the change of the scene, which represents a
+dark prison at a great distance; and farther to the view are discerned
+racks and other engines of torment, with which the Spaniards are
+tormenting the natives and English mariners, who may be supposed to be
+lately landed there to discover the coast. Two Spaniards are likewise
+discovered sitting in their cloaks, and appearing more solemn in
+ruffs, with rapiers and daggers by their sides; the one turning a
+spit, while the other is basting an Indian prince, who is roasted at
+an artificial fire[1]." The rape of Isabinda is stated by Langbaine to
+have been borrowed from a novel in the Decamerone of Cinthio Giraldi.
+
+This play is beneath criticism; and I can hardly hesitate to term it
+the worst production Dryden ever wrote. It was acted and printed in
+1673.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. This extraordinary kitchen scene did not escape the ridicule of the
+   wits of that merry age.
+
+         O greater cruelty yet,
+         Like a pig upon a spit;
+     Here lies one there, another boiled to jelly;
+         Just as the people stare
+         At an ox in the fair,
+     Roasted whole, with a pudding in's belly.
+
+         A little further in,
+         Hung a third by his chin,
+     And a fourth cut all in quarters.
+         O that Fox had now been living,
+         They had been sure of heaven,
+     Or, at the least, been some of his martyrs.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                                 THE
+
+                            LORD CLIFFORD
+
+                                  OF
+
+                            CHUDLEIGH[1].
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+After so many favours, and those so great, conferred on me by your
+lordship these many years,--which I may call more properly one
+continued act of your generosity and goodness,--I know not whether I
+should appear either more ungrateful in my silence, or more
+extravagantly vain in my endeavours to acknowledge them: For, since
+all acknowledgements bear a face of payment, it may be thought, that I
+have flattered myself into an opinion of being able to return some
+part of my obligements to you;--the just despair of which attempt, and
+the due veneration I have for his person, to whom I must address, have
+almost driven me to receive only with a profound submission the
+effects of that virtue, which is never to be comprehended but by
+admiration; and the greatest note of admiration is silence. It is that
+noble passion, to which poets raise their audience in highest
+subjects, and they have then gained over them the greatest victory,
+when they are ravished into a pleasure which is not to be expressed by
+words. To this pitch, my lord, the sense of my gratitude had almost
+raised me: to receive your favours, as the Jews of old received their
+law, with a mute wonder; to think, that the loudness of acclamation
+was only the praise of men to men, and that the secret homage of the
+soul was a greater mark of reverence, than an outward ceremonious joy,
+which might be counterfeit, and must be irreverent in its tumult.
+Neither, my lord, have I a particular right to pay you my
+acknowledgements: You have been a good so universal, that almost every
+man in the three nations may think me injurious to his propriety, that
+I invade your praises, in undertaking to celebrate them alone; and
+that I have assumed to myself a patron, who was no more to be
+circumscribed than the sun and elements, which are of public benefit
+to human kind.
+
+As it was much in your power to oblige all who could pretend to merit
+from the public, so it was more in your nature and inclination. If any
+went ill-satisfied from the treasury, while it was in your lordship's
+management, it proclaimed the want of desert, and not of friends: You
+distributed your master's favour with so equal hands, that justice
+herself could not have held the scales more even; but with that
+natural propensity to do good, that had that treasure been your own,
+your inclination to bounty must have ruined you. No man attended to be
+denied: No man bribed for expedition: Want and desert were pleas
+sufficient. By your own integrity, and your prudent choice of those
+whom you employed, the king gave all that he intended; and gratuities
+to his officers made not vain his bounty. This, my lord, you were in
+your public capacity of high treasurer, to which you ascended by such
+degrees, that your royal master saw your virtues still growing to his
+favours, faster than they could rise to you. Both at home and abroad,
+with your sword and with your counsel, you have served him with
+unbiassed honour, and unshaken resolution; making his greatness, and
+the true interest of your country, the standard and measure of your
+actions. Fortune may desert the wise and brave, but true virtue never
+will forsake itself[2]. It is the interest of the world, that virtuous
+men should attain to greatness, because it gives them the power of
+doing good: But when, by the iniquity of the times, they are brought
+to that extremity, that they must either quit their virtue or their
+fortune, they owe themselves so much, as to retire to the private
+exercise of their honour;--to be great within, and by the constancy of
+their resolutions, to teach the inferior world how they ought to judge
+of such principles, which are asserted with so generous and so
+unconstrained a trial.
+
+But this voluntary neglect of honours has been of rare example in the
+world[3]: Few men have frowned first upon fortune, and precipitated
+themselves from the top of her wheel, before they felt at least the
+declination of it. We read not of many emperors like Dioclesian and
+Charles the Fifth, who have preferred a garden and a cloister before a
+crowd of followers, and the troublesome glory of an active life, which
+robs the possessor of his rest and quiet, to secure the safety and
+happiness of others. Seneca, with the help of his philosophy, could
+never attain to that pitch of virtue: He only endeavoured to prevent
+his fall by descending first, and offered to resign that wealth which
+he knew he could no longer hold; he would only have made a present to
+his master of what he foresaw would become his prey; he strove to
+avoid the jealousy of a tyrant,--you dismissed yourself from the
+attendance and privacy of a gracious king. Our age has afforded us
+many examples of a contrary nature; but your lordship is the only one
+of this. It is easy to discover in all governments, those who wait so
+close on fortune, that they are never to be shaken off at any turn:
+Such who seem to have taken up a resolution of being great; to
+continue their stations on the theatre of business; to change with the
+scene, and shift the vizard for another part--these men condemn in
+their discourses that virtue which they dare not practise: But the
+sober part of this present age, and impartial posterity, will do
+right, both to your lordship and to them: And, when they read on what
+accounts, and with how much magnanimity, you quitted those honours, to
+which the highest ambition of an English subject could aspire, will
+apply to you, with much more reason, what the historian said of a
+Roman emperor, "_Multi diutius imperium tenuerunt; nemo fortius
+reliquit._"
+
+To this retirement of your lordship, I wish I could bring a better
+entertainment than this play; which, though it succeeded on the stage,
+will scarcely bear a serious perusal; it being contrived and written
+in a month, the subject barren, the persons low, and the writing not
+heightened with many laboured scenes. The consideration of these
+defects ought to have prescribed more modesty to the author, than to
+have presented it to that person in the world for whom he has the
+greatest honour, and of whose patronage the best of his endeavours had
+been unworthy: But I had not satisfied myself in staying longer, and
+could never have paid the debt with a much better play. As it is, the
+meanness of it will shew; at least, that I pretend not by it to make
+any manner of return for your favours; and that I only give you a new
+occasion of exercising your goodness to me, in pardoning the failings
+and imperfections of,
+
+  MY LORD,
+
+    Your Lordship's
+      Most humble, most obliged,
+        Most obedient servant,
+          JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Sir Thomas Clifford, just then created Lord Clifford of Chudleigh,
+   and appointed Lord High Treasurer, was one of the six ministers,
+   the initials of whose names furnished the word _Cabal_, by which
+   their junto was distinguished. He was the most virtuous and honest
+   of the junto, but a Catholic; and, what was then synonymous, a warm
+   advocate for arbitrary power. He is said to have won his promotion
+   by advising the desperate measure of shutting the Exchequer in
+   1671, the hint of which he is said to have stolen from Shaftesbury.
+   This piece may have been undertaken by his command; for, even at
+   the very time of the triple alliance, he is reported to have said,
+   "For all this, we must have another Dutch war." Upon the defection
+   of Lord Shaftesbury from the court party, and the passing of the
+   test act, Lord Clifford resigned his office, retired to the
+   country, and died in September 1673, shortly after receiving this
+   dedication.
+
+2. In this case, Dryden's praise, which did not always occur, survived
+   the temporary occasion. Even in a little satirical effusion, he
+   tells us,
+
+     Clifford was fierce and brave.
+
+   Clifford had been comptroller and treasurer of the household, and
+   one of the commissioners of the treasury; he had served in the
+   Dutch wars.
+
+3. Alluding to Lord Clifford's resignation of an office he could not
+   hold without a change of religion.
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  _This poem was written as far back as 1662, and was then termed a
+                      Satire against the Dutch._
+
+  As needy gallants in the scriveners' hands,
+  Court the rich knave that gripes their mortgaged lands,
+  The first fat buck of all the season's sent,
+  And keeper takes no fee in compliment:
+  The dotage of some Englishmen is such
+  To fawn on those who ruin them--the Dutch.
+  They shall have all, rather than make a war
+  With those who of the same religion are.
+  The Straits, the Guinea trade, the herrings too,
+  Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you.
+  Some are resolved not to find out the cheat,
+  But, cuckold like, love him who does the feat:
+  What injuries soe'er upon us fall,
+  Yet, still, The same religion, answers all:
+  Religion wheedled you to civil war,
+  Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would spare:
+  Be gulled no longer, for you'll find it true,
+  They have no more religion, faith--than you;
+  Interest's the god they worship in their state;
+  And you, I take it, have not much of that.
+  Well, monarchies may own religion's name,
+  But states are atheists in their very frame.
+  They share a sin, and such proportions fall,
+  That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all.
+  How they love England, you shall see this day;
+  No map shews Holland truer than our play:
+  Their pictures and inscriptions well we know[1];
+  We may be bold one medal sure to show.
+  View then their falsehoods, rapine, cruelty;
+  And think what once they were, they still would be:
+  But hope not either language, plot, or art;
+  'Twas writ in haste, but with an English heart:
+  And least hope wit; in Dutchmen that would be
+  As much improper, as would honesty.
+
+
+Footnote
+1. Amongst the pretexts for making war on the states of Holland were
+   alleged their striking certain satirical medals, and engraving
+   prints in ridicule of Charles II. See his proclamation of war in
+   1671-2.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+  _Captain_ GABRIEL TOWERSON.
+  _Mr_ BEAMONT, } _English Merchants, his Friends._
+  _Mr_ COLLINS, }
+  _Captain_ MIDDLETON, _an English Sea Captain._
+  PEREZ, _a Spanish Captain._
+  HARMAN _Senior, Governor of Amboyna._
+  _The Fiscal._
+  HARMAN _Junior, Son to the Governor._
+  VAN HERRING, _a Dutch Merchant._
+
+  ISABINDA, _betrothed to_ TOWERSON, _an Indian Lady._
+  JULIA, _Wife to_ PEREZ.
+  _An English Woman._
+  _Page to_ TOWERSON.
+  _A Skipper._
+  _Two Dutch Merchants._
+
+SCENE--_Amboyna._
+
+
+
+
+                               AMBOYNA.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_A Castle on the Sea._
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior, the Governor, the Fiscal, and_ VAN HERRING:
+  _Guards._
+
+_Fisc._ A happy day to our noble governor.
+
+_Har._ Morrow, Fiscal.
+
+_Van Her._ Did the last ships, which came from Holland to these parts,
+bring us no news of moment?
+
+_Fisc._ Yes, the best that ever came into Amboyna, since we set
+footing here; I mean as to our interest.
+
+_Har._ I wonder much my letters then gave me so short accounts; they
+only said the Orange party was grown strong again, since Barnevelt had
+suffered.
+
+_Van Her._ Mine inform me farther, the price of pepper, and of other
+spices, was raised of late in Europe.
+
+_Har._ I wish that news may hold; but much suspect it, while the
+English maintain their factories among us in Amboyna, or in the
+neighbouring plantations of Seran.
+
+_Fisc._ Still I have news that tickles me within; ha, ha, ha! I'faith
+it does, and will do you, and all our countrymen.
+
+_Har._ Pr'ythee do not torture us, but tell it.
+
+_Van Her._ Whence comes this news?
+
+_Fisc._ From England.
+
+_Har._ Is their East India fleet bound outward for these parts, or
+cast away, or met at sea by pirates?
+
+_Fisc._ Better, much better yet; ha, ha, ha!
+
+_Har._ Now am I famished for my part of the laughter.
+
+_Fisc._ Then, my brave governor, if you're a true Dutchman, I'll make
+your fat sides heave with the conceit on't, 'till you're blown like a
+pair of large smith's bellows; here, look upon this paper.
+
+_Har._ [_reading._] _You may remember we did endamage the English
+East-India Company the value of five hundred thousand pounds, all in
+one year; a treaty is now signed, in which the business is ta'en up
+for fourscore thousand._--This is news indeed: would I were upon the
+castle-wall, that I might throw my cap into the sea, and my gold chain
+after it! this is golden news, boys.
+
+_Van Her._ This is news would kindle a thousand bonfires, and make us
+piss them out again in Rhenish wine.
+
+_Har._ Send presently to all our factories, acquaint them with these
+blessed tidings: If we can 'scape so cheap, 'twill be no matter what
+villanies henceforth we put in practice.
+
+_Fisc._ Hum! why this now gives encouragement to a certain plot, which
+I have been long brewing, against these skellum English. I almost have
+it here in pericranio, and 'tis a sound one, 'faith; no less than to
+cut all their throats, and seize all their effects within this island.
+I warrant you we may compound again.
+
+_Van Her._ Seizing their factories I like well enough, it has some
+savour in't; but for this whoreson cutting of throats, it goes a
+little against the grain, because 'tis so notoriously known in
+Christendom, that they have preserved ours from being cut by the
+Spaniards.
+
+_Har._ Hang them, base English starts, let them e'en take their part
+of their own old proverb--Save a thief from the gallows; they would
+needs protect us rebels, and see what comes to themselves.
+
+_Fisc._ You're i'the right on't, noble Harman; their assistance, which
+was a mercy and a providence to us, shall be a judgment upon them.
+
+_Van Her._ A little favour would do well; though not that I would stop
+the current of your wit, or any other plot, to do them mischief; but
+they were first discoverers of this isle, first traded hither, and
+showed us the way.
+
+_Fisc._ I grant you that; nay more, that, by composition made after
+many long and tedious quarrels, they were to have a third part of the
+traffic, we to build forts, and they to contribute to the charge.
+
+_Har._ Which we have so increased each year upon them, we being in
+power, and therefore judges of the cost, that we exact whatever we
+please, still more than half the charge; and on pretence of their
+non-payment, or the least delay, do often stop their ships, detain
+their goods, and drag them into prisons, while our commodities go on
+before, and still forestall their markets.
+
+_Fisc._ These, I confess, are pretty tricks, but will not do our
+business; we must ourselves be ruined at long run, if they have any
+trade here; I know our charge at length will eat us out: I would not
+let these English from this isle have cloves enough to stick an orange
+with, not one to throw into their bottle-ale.
+
+_Har._ But to bring this about now, there's the cunning.
+
+_Fisc._ Let me alone awhile; I have it, as I told you, here; mean time
+we must put on a seeming kindness, call them our benefactors and dear
+brethren, pipe them within the danger of our net, and then we'll draw
+it o'er them: When they're in, no mercy, that's my maxim.
+
+_Van Her._ Nay, brother, I am not too obstinate for saving Englishmen,
+'twas but a qualm of conscience, which profit will dispel: I have as
+true a Dutch antipathy to England, as the proudest _he_ in Amsterdam;
+that's a bold word now.
+
+_Har._ We are secure of our superiors there. Well, they may give the
+king of Great Britain a verbal satisfaction, and with submissive
+fawning promises, make shew to punish us; but interest is their god as
+well as ours. To that almighty, they will sacrifice a thousand English
+lives, and break a hundred thousand oaths, ere they will punish those
+that make them rich, and pull their rivals down.
+                                                [_Guns go off within._
+
+_Van Her._ Heard you those guns?
+
+_Har._ Most plainly.
+
+_Fisc._ The sound comes from the port; some ship arrived salutes the
+castle, and I hope brings more good news from Holland.  [_Guns again._
+
+_Har._ Now they answer them from the fortress.
+
+  _Enter_ BEAMONT _and_ COLLINS.
+
+_Van Her._ Beamont and Collins, English merchants both; perhaps
+they'll certify us.
+
+_Beam._ Captain Harman van Spelt, good day to you.
+
+_Har._ Dear, kind Mr Beamont, a thousand and a thousand good days to
+you, and all our friends the English.
+
+_Fisc._ Came you from the port, gentlemen?
+
+_Col._ We did; and saw arrive, our honest, and our gallant countryman,
+brave captain Gabriel Towerson.
+
+_Beam._ Sent to these parts from our employers of the East India
+company in England, as general of the voyage.
+
+_Fisc._ Is the brave Towerson returned?
+
+_Col._ The same, sir.
+
+_Har._ He shall be nobly welcome. He has already spent twelve years
+upon, or near, these rich Molucca isles, and home returned with honour
+and great wealth.
+
+_Fisc._ The devil give him joy of both, or I will for him.   [_Aside._
+
+_Beam._ He's my particular friend; I lived with him, both at Tencrate,
+Tydore, and at Seran.
+
+_Van Her._ Did he not leave a mistress in these parts, a native of
+this island of Amboyna?
+
+_Col._ He did; I think they call her Isabinda, who received baptism
+for his sake, before he hence departed.
+
+_Har._ 'Tis much against the will of all her friends, she loves your
+countryman, but they are not disposers of her person; she's beauteous,
+rich, and young, and Towerson well deserves her.
+
+_Beam._ I think, without flattery to my friend, he does. Were I to
+chuse, of all mankind, a man, on whom I would rely for faith and
+counsel, or more, whose personal aid I would invite, in any worthy
+cause, to second me, it should be only Gabriel Towerson; daring he is,
+and thereto fortunate; yet soft, and apt to pity the distressed, and
+liberal to relieve them: I have seen him not alone to pardon foes, but
+by his bounty win them to his love: If he has any fault, 'tis only
+that to which great minds can only subject be--he thinks all honest,
+'cause himself is so, and therefore none suspects.
+
+_Fisc._ I like him well for that; this fault of his great mind, as
+Beamont calls it, may give him cause to wish he was more wary, when it
+shall be too late.                                           [_Aside._
+
+_Har._ I was in some small hope, this ship had been of our own
+country, and brought back my son; for much about this season I expect
+him. Good-morrow, gentlemen; I go to fill a brendice to my noble
+captain's health, pray tell him so; the youth of our Amboyna I'll send
+before, to welcome him.
+
+_Col._ We'll stay, and meet him here.
+                          [_Exeunt_ HARMAN, FISCAL, _and_ VAN HERRING.
+
+_Beam._ I do not like these fleering Dutchmen, they overact their
+kindness.
+
+_Col._ I know not what to think of them; that old fat governor, Harman
+van Spelt, I have known long; they say he was a cooper in his country,
+and took the measure of his hoops for tuns by his own belly: I love
+him not, he makes a jest of men in misery; the first fat merry fool I
+ever knew, that was ill-natured.
+
+_Beam._ He's absolutely governed by this Fiscal, who was, as I have
+heard, an ignorant advocate in Rotterdam, such as in England we call a
+petty-fogging rogue; one that knows nothing, but the worst part of the
+law, its tricks and snares: I fear he hates us English mortally. Pray
+heaven we feel not the effects on't.
+
+_Col._ Neither he, nor Harman, will dare to shew their malice to us,
+now Towerson is come. For though, 'tis true, we have no castle here,
+he has an awe upon them in his worth, which they both fear and
+reverence.
+
+_Beam._ I wish it so may prove; my mind is a bad prophet to me, and
+what it does forbode of ill, it seldom fails to pay me. Here he comes.
+
+_Col._ And in his company young Harman, son to our Dutch governor. I
+wonder how they met.
+
+  _Enter_ TOWERSON, HARMAN _Junior, and a Skipper._
+
+_Tow._ [_Entering, to the Skipper._] These letters see conveyed with
+speed to our plantation. This to Cambello, and to Hitto this, this
+other to Loho. Tell them, their friends in England greet them well;
+and when I left them, were in perfect health.
+
+_Skip._ Sir, you shall be obeyed.                     [_Exit Skipper._
+
+_Beam._ I heartily rejoice that our employers have chose you for this
+place: a better choice they never could have made, or for themselves,
+or me.
+
+_Col._ This I am sure of, that our English factories in all these
+parts have wished you long the man, and none could be so welcome to
+their hearts.
+
+_Har. Jun._ And let me speak for my countrymen, the Dutch; I have
+heard my father say, he's your sworn brother: And this late accident
+at sea, when you relieved me from the pirates, and brought my ship in
+safety off, I hope will well secure you of our gratitude.
+
+_Tow._ You over-rate a little courtesy: In your deliverance I did no
+more, than what I had myself from you expected: The common ties of our
+religion, and those, yet more particular, of peace and strict commerce
+betwixt us and your nation, exacted all I did, or could have done.
+[_To_ BEAMONT.] For you, my friend, let me ne'er breathe our English
+air again, but I more joy to see you, than myself to have escaped the
+storm that tossed me long, doubling the Cape, and all the sultry
+heats, in passing twice the Line: For now I have you here, methinks
+this happiness should not be bought at a less price.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I'll leave you with your friends; my duty binds me to
+hasten to receive a father's blessing.        [_Exit_ HARMAN _Junior._
+
+_Beam._ You are so much a friend, that I must tax you for being a
+slack lover. You have not yet enquired of Isabinda.
+
+_Tow._ No; I durst not, friend, I durst not. I love too well, and fear
+to know my doom; there's hope in doubt; but yet I fixed my eyes on
+yours, I looked with earnestness, and asked with them: If aught of ill
+had happened, sure I had met it there; and since, methinks, I did not,
+I have now recovered courage, and resolve to urge it from you.
+
+_Beam._ Your Isabinda then--
+
+_Tow._ You have said all in that, my Isabinda, if she still be so.
+
+_Beam._ Enjoys as much of health, as fear for you, and sorrow for your
+absence, would permit.                                [_Music within._
+
+_Col._ Hark, music I think approaching.
+
+_Beam._ 'Tis from our factory; some sudden entertainment I believe,
+designed for your return.
+
+  _Enter Amboyners, Men and Women, with Timbrels before them. A
+  Dance._
+
+  _After the Dance,_
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ HARMAN _Junior,_ FISCAL, _and_ VAN HERRING.
+
+_Har. Sen._ [_Embracing_ TOWERSON.] O my sworn brother, my dear
+captain Towerson! the man whom I love better than a stiff gale, when I
+am becalmed at sea; to whom I have received the sacrament, never to be
+false-hearted.
+
+_Tow._ You ne'er shall have occasion on my part: The like I promise
+for our factories, while I continue here: This isle yields spice
+enough for both; and Europe, ports, and chapmen, where to vend them.
+
+_Har. Sen._ It does, it does; we have enough, if we can be contented.
+
+_Tow._ And, sir, why should we not? What mean these endless jars of
+trading nations? 'Tis true, the world was never large enough for
+avarice or ambition; but those who can be pleased with moderate gain,
+may have the ends of nature, not to want: Nay, even its luxuries may
+be supplied from her o'erflowing bounties in these parts; from whence
+she yearly sends spices and gums, the food of heaven in sacrifice:
+And, besides these, her gems of the richest value, for ornament, more
+than necessity.
+
+_Har. Sen._ You are i'the right; we must be very friends, i'faith we
+must; I have an old Dutch heart, as true and trusty as your English
+oak.
+
+_Fisc._ We can never forget the patronage of your Elizabeth, of famous
+memory; when from the yoke of Spain, and Alva's pride, her potent
+succours, and her well-timed bounty, freed us, and gave us credit in
+the world.
+
+_Tow._ For this we only ask a fair commerce, and friendliness of
+conversation here: And what our several treaties bind us to, you
+shall, while Towerson lives, see so performed, as fits a subject to an
+English king.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Now, by my faith, you ask too little, friend; we must have
+more than bare commerce betwixt us: Receive me to your bosom; by this
+beard, I will never deceive you.
+
+_Beam._ I do not like his oath, there's treachery in that
+Judas-coloured beard.                                        [_Aside._
+
+_Fisc._ Pray use me as your servant.
+
+_Van Her._ And me too, captain.
+
+_Tow._ I receive you both as jewels, which I'll wear in either ear,
+and never part with you.
+
+_Har. Sen._ I cannot do enough for him, to whom I owe my son.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Nor I, till fortune send me such another brave occasion of
+fighting so for you.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Captain, very shortly we must use your head in a certain
+business; ha, ha, ha, my dear captain.
+
+_Fisc._ We must use your head, indeed, sir.
+
+_Tow._ Sir, command me, and take it as a debt I owe your love.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Talk not of debt, for I must have your heart.
+
+_Van Her._ Your heart, indeed, good captain.
+
+_Har. Sen._ You are weary now, I know, sea-beat and weary; 'tis time
+we respite further ceremony; besides, I see one coming, whom I know
+you long to embrace, and I should be unkind to keep you from her arms.
+
+  _Enter_ ISABINDA _and_ JULIA.
+
+_Isab._ Do I hold my love, do I embrace him after a tedious absence of
+three years? Are you indeed returned, are you the same? Do you still
+love your Isabinda? Speak before I ask you twenty questions more: For
+I have so much love, and so much joy, that if you don't love as well
+as I, I shall appear distracted.
+
+_Tow._ We meet then both out of ourselves, for I am nothing else but
+love and joy; and to take care of my discretion now, would make me
+much unworthy of that passion, to which you set no bounds.
+
+_Isab._ How could you be so long away?
+
+_Tow._ How can you think I was? I still was here, still with you,
+never absent in my mind.
+
+_Har. Jun._ She is a most charming creature; I wish I had not seen
+her.                                                         [_Aside._
+
+_Isab._ Now I shall love your God, because I see that he takes care of
+lovers: But, my dear Englishman, I pr'ythee let it be our last of
+absence; I cannot bear another parting from thee, nor promise thee to
+live three other years, if thou again goest hence.
+
+_Tow._ I never will without you.
+
+_Har. Sen._ I said before, we should but trouble ye.
+
+_Tow._ You make me blush; but if you ever were a lover, sir, you will
+forgive a folly, which is sweet, though, I confess, 'ts much
+extravagant.
+
+_Har. Jun._ He has but too much cause for this excess of joy; oh
+happy, happy Englishman! but I unfortunate!                  [_Aside._
+
+_Tow._ Now, when you please, lead on.
+
+_Har. Sen._ This day you shall be feasted at the castle,
+Where our great guns shall loudly speak your welcome.
+All signs of joy shall through the isle be shewn,
+Whilst in full rummers we our friendship crown.             [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT II. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ ISABINDA, _and_ HARMAN _Junior._
+
+_Isab._ This to me, from you, against your friend!
+
+_Har. Jun._ Have I not eyes? are you not fair? Why does it seem so
+strange?
+
+_Isab._ Come, it is a plot betwixt you: My Englishman is jealous, and
+has sent you to try my faith: he might have spared the experiment,
+after a three years absence; that was a proof sufficient of my
+constancy.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I heard him say he never had returned, but that his
+masters of the East India company preferred him large conditions.
+
+_Isab._ You do bely him basely.
+
+_Har. Jun._ As much as I do you, in saying you are fair; or as I do
+myself, when I declare I die for you.
+
+_Isab._ If this be earnest, you have done a most unmanly and
+ungrateful part, to court the intended wife of him, to whom you are
+most obliged.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Leave me to answer that: Assure yourself I love you
+violently, and, if you are wise, you will make some difference betwixt
+Towerson and me.
+
+_Isab._ Yes, I shall make a difference, but not to your advantage.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You must, or falsify your knowledge; an Englishman, part
+captain, and part merchant; his nation of declining interest here:
+Consider this, and weigh against that fellow, not me, but any, the
+least and meanest Dutchman in this isle.
+
+_Isab._ I do not weigh by bulk: I know your countrymen have the
+advantage there.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Hold back your hand, from firming of your faith; you will
+thank me in a little time, for staying you so kindly from embarking in
+his ruin.
+
+_Isab._ His fortune is not so contemptible as you would make it seem.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Wait but one month for the event.
+
+_Isab._ I will not wait one day, though I were sure to sink with him
+the next: So well I love my Towerson, I will not lose another sun, for
+fear he should not rise to-morrow. For yourself, pray rest assured, of
+all mankind, you should not be my choice, after an act of such
+ingratitude.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You may repent your scorn at leisure.
+
+_Isab._ Never, unless I married you.
+
+  _Enter_ TOWERSON.
+
+_Tow._ Now, my dear Isabinda, I dare pronounce myself most happy:
+Since I have gained your kindred, all difficulties cease.
+
+_Isab._ I wish we find it so.
+
+_Tow._ Why, is aught happened since I saw you last? Methinks a sadness
+dwells upon your brow, like that I saw before my last long absence.
+You do not speak: My friend dumb too? Nay then, I fear some more than
+ordinary cause produces this.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You have no reason, Towerson, to be sad; you are the happy
+man.
+
+_Tow._ If I have any, you must needs have some.
+
+_Har. Jun._ No, you are loved, and I am bid despair.
+
+_Tow._ Time and your services will perhaps make you as happy, as I am
+in my Isabinda's love.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I thought I spoke so plain, I might be understood; but
+since I did not, I must tell you, Towerson, I wear the title of your
+friend no longer, because I am your rival.
+
+_Tow._ Is this true, Isabinda?
+
+_Isab._ I should not, I confess, have told you first, because I would
+not give you that disquiet; but since he has, it is too sad a truth.
+
+_Tow._ Leave us, my dear, a little to ourselves.
+
+_Isab._ I fear you will quarrel, for he seemed incensed, and
+threatened you with ruin.                             [_To him aside._
+
+_Tow._ 'Tis to prevent an ill, which may be fatal to us both, that I
+would speak with him.
+
+_Isab._ Swear to me, by your love, you will not fight.
+
+_Tow._ Fear not, my Isabinda; things are not grown to that extremity.
+
+_Isab._ I leave you, but I doubt the consequence.        [_Exit_ ISAB.
+
+_Tow._ I want a name to call you by; friend, you declare you are not,
+and to rival, I am not yet enough accustomed.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Now I consider on it, it shall be yet in your free choice,
+to call me one or other; for, Towerson, I do not decline your
+friendship, but then yield Isabinda to me.
+
+_Tow._ Yield Isabinda to you?
+
+_Har. Jun._ Yes, and preserve the blessing of my friendship; I'll make
+my father yours; your factories shall be no more oppressed, but thrive
+in all advantages with ours; your gain shall be beyond what you could
+hope for from the treaty: In all the traffic of these eastern parts,
+ye shall--
+
+_Tow._ Hold! you mistake me, Harman, I never gave you just occasion to
+think I would make merchandize of love; Isabinda, you know, is mine,
+contracted to me ere I went for England, and must be so till death.
+
+_Har. Jun._ She must not, Towerson; you know you are not strongest in
+these parts, and it will be ill contesting with your masters.
+
+_Tow._ Our masters? Harman, you durst not once have named that word,
+in any part of Europe.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Here I both dare and will; you have no castles in Amboyna.
+
+_Tow._ Though we have not, we yet have English hearts, and courages
+not to endure affronts.
+
+_Har. Jun._ They may be tried.
+
+_Tow._ Your father sure will not maintain you in this insolence; I
+know he is too honest.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Assure yourself he will espouse my quarrel.
+
+_Tow._ We would complain to England.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Your countrymen have tried that course so often, methinks
+they should grow wiser, and desist: But now there is no need of
+troubling any others but ourselves; the sum of all is this, you either
+must resign me Isabinda, or instantly resolve to clear your title to
+her by your sword.
+
+_Tow._ I will do neither now.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Then I'll believe you dare not fight me fairly.
+
+_Tow._ You know I durst have fought, though I am not vain enough to
+boast it, nor would upbraid you with remembrance of it.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You destroy your benefit with rehearsal of it; but that
+was in a ship, backed by your men; single duel is a fairer trial of
+your courage.
+
+_Tow._ I'm not to be provoked out of my temper: Here I am a public
+person, entrusted by my king and my employers, and should I kill you,
+Harman--
+
+_Har. Jun._ Oh never think you can, sir.
+
+_Tow._ I should betray my countrymen to suffer, not only worse
+indignities than those they have already borne, but, for aught I know,
+might give them up to general imprisonment, perhaps betray them to a
+massacre.
+
+_Har. Jun._ These are but pitiful and weak excuses; I'll force you to
+confess you dare not fight; you shall have provocations.
+
+_Tow._ I will not stay to take them. Only this before I go; if you are
+truly gallant, insult not where you have power, but keep your quarrel
+secret; we may have time and place out of this island: Meanwhile, I go
+to marry Isabinda, that you shall see I dare.--No more, follow me not
+an inch beyond this place, no not an inch. Adieu.    [_Exit_ TOWERSON.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Thou goest to thy grave, or I to mine.
+                                                [_Is going after him._
+
+  _Enter_ FISCAL.
+
+_Fisc._ Whither so fast, mynheer?
+
+_Har. Jun._ After that English dog, whom I believe you saw.
+
+_Fisc._ Whom, Towerson?
+
+_Har. Jun._ Yes, let me go, I'll have his blood.
+
+_Fisc._ Let me advise you first; you young men are so violently hot.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I say I'll have his blood.
+
+_Fisc._ To have his blood is not amiss, so far I go with you; but take
+me with you further for the means: First, what's the injury?
+
+_Har. Jun._ Not to detain you with a tedious story, I love his
+mistress, courted her, was slighted; into the heat of this he came; I
+offered him the best advantages he could or to himself propose, or to
+his nation, would he quit her love.
+
+_Fisc._ So far you are prudent, for she is exceeding rich.
+
+_Har. Jun._ He refused all; then I threatened him with my father's
+power.
+
+_Fisc._ That was unwisely done; your father, underhand, may do a
+mischief, but it is too gross aboveboard.
+
+_Har. Jun._ At last, nought else prevailing, I defied him to single
+duel; this he refused, and I believe it was fear.
+
+_Fisc._ No, no, mistake him not, it is a stout whoreson. You did ill
+to press him, it will not sound well in Europe; he being here a public
+minister, having no means of 'scaping should he kill you, besides
+exposing all his countrymen to a revenge.
+
+_Har. Jun._ That's all one; I'm resolved I will pursue my course, and
+fight him.
+
+_Fisc._ Pursue your end, that's to enjoy the woman and her wealth; I
+would, like you, have Towerson despatched,--for, as I am a true
+Dutchman, I do hate him,--but I would convey him smoothly out of the
+world, and without noise; they will say we are ungrateful else in
+England, and barbarously cruel; now I could swallow down the _thing_
+ingratitude and the _thing_ murder, but the names are odious.
+
+_Har. Jun._ What would you have me do then?
+
+_Fisc._ Let him enjoy his love a little while, it will break no
+squares in the long run of a man's life; you shall have enough of her,
+and in convenient time.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I cannot bear he should enjoy her first; no, it is
+determined; I will kill him bravely.
+
+_Fisc._ Ay, a right young man's bravery, that's folly: Let me alone,
+something I'll put in practice, to rid you of this rival ere he
+marries, without your once appearing in it.
+
+_Har. Jun._ If I durst trust you now?
+
+_Fisc._ If you believe that I have wit, or love you.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Well, sir, you have prevailed; be speedy, for once I will
+rely on you. Farewell.                                 [_Exit_ HARMAN.
+
+_Fisc._ This hopeful business will be quickly spoiled, if I not take
+exceeding care of it.--Stay,--Towerson to be killed, and privately,
+that must be laid down as the groundwork, for stronger reasons than a
+young man's passion; but who shall do it? No Englishman will, and much
+I fear, no Dutchman dares attempt it.
+
+  _Enter_ PEREZ.
+
+Well said, in faith, old Devil! Let thee alone, when once a man is
+plotting villany, to find him a fit instrument. This Spanish captain,
+who commands our slaves, is bold enough, and is beside in want, and
+proud enough to think he merits wealth.
+
+_Per._ This Fiscal loves my wife; I am jealous of him, and yet must
+speak him fair to get my pay; O, there is the devil for a Castilian,
+to stoop to one of his own master's rebels, who has, or who designs to
+cuckold him.--[_Aside._]--[_To_ FISCAL.] I come to kiss your hand
+again, sir; six months I am in arrear; I must not starve, and
+Spaniards cannot beg.
+
+_Fisc._ I have been a better friend to you, than perhaps you think,
+captain.
+
+_Per._ I fear you have indeed.                               [_Aside._
+
+_Fisc._ And faithfully solicited your business; send but your wife
+to-morrow morning early, the money shall be ready.
+
+_Per._ What if I come myself?
+
+_Fisc._ Why ye may have it, if you come yourself, captain; but in case
+your occasions should call you any other way, you dare trust her to
+receive it.
+
+_Per._ She has no skill in money.
+
+_Fisc._ It shall be told into her hand, or given her upon honour, in a
+lump: but, captain, you were saying you did want; now I should think
+three hundred doubloons would do you no great harm; they will serve to
+make you merry on the watch.
+
+_Per._ Must they be told into my wife's hand, too?
+
+_Fisc._ No, those you may receive yourself, if you dare merit them.
+
+_Per._ I am a Spaniard, sir; that implies honour: I dare all that is
+possible.
+
+_Fisc._ Then you dare kill a man.
+
+_Per._ So it be fairly.
+
+_Fisc._ But what if he will not be so civil to be killed that way? He
+is a sturdy fellow, I know you stout, and do not question your valour;
+but I would make sure work, and not endanger you, who are my friend.
+
+_Per._ I fear the governor will execute me.
+
+_Fisc._ The governor will thank you; 'Tis he shall be your pay-master;
+you shall have your pardon drawn up beforehand; and remember, no
+transitory sum, three hundred quadruples in your own country gold.
+
+_Per._ Well, name your man.
+
+  _Enter_ JULIA.
+
+_Fisc._ Your wife comes, take it in whisper.          [_They whisper._
+
+_Jul._ Yonder is my master, and my Dutch servant; how lovingly they
+talk in private! if I did not know my Don's temper to be monstrously
+jealous, I should think, they were driving a secret bargain for my
+body; but _cuerpo_ is not to be digested by my Castilian. _Mi Moher_,
+my wife, and my mistress! he lays the emphasis on me, as if to cuckold
+him were a worse sin, than breaking the commandment. If my English
+lover, Beamont, my Dutch love, the Fiscal, and my Spanish husband,
+were painted in a piece, with me amongst them, they would make a
+pretty emblem of the two nations that cuckold his Catholic majesty in
+his Indies.
+
+_Fisc._ You will undertake it then?
+
+_Per._ I have served under Towerson as his lieutenant, served him
+well, and, though I say it, bravely; yet never have been rewarded,
+though he promised largely; 'tis resolved, I'll do it.
+
+_Fisc._ And swear secresy?
+
+_Per._ By this beard.
+
+_Fisc._ Go wait upon the governor from me, confer with him about it in
+my name, this seal will give you credit.        [_Gives him his seal._
+
+_Per._ I go. [_Goes a step or two, while the other approaches his
+wife._] What shall I be, before I come again?                 [_Exit._
+
+_Fisc._ Now, my fair mistress, we shall have the opportunity which I
+have long desired.                                        [_To_ JULIA.
+
+_Per._ The governor is now a-sleeping; this is his hour of afternoon's
+repose, I'll go when he is awake.                        [_Returning._
+
+_Fisc._ He slept early this afternoon; I left him newly waked.
+
+_Per._ Well, I go then, but with an aching heart.             [_Exit._
+
+_Fisc._ So, at length he's gone.
+
+_Jul._ But you may find he was jealous, by his delay.
+
+_Fisc._ If I were as you, I would give evident proofs, should cure him
+of that disease for ever after.
+
+  _Enter_ PEREZ _again._
+
+_Per._ I have considered on't, and if you would go along with me to
+the governor, it would do much better.
+
+_Fisc._ No, no, that would make the matter more suspicious. The devil
+take thee for an impertinent cuckold!                        [_Aside._
+
+_Per._ Well, I must go then.                            [_Exit_ PEREZ.
+
+_Jul._ Nay, there was never the like of him; but it shall not serve
+his turn, we'll cuckold him most furiously.
+
+  _Enter_ PEREZ _again._
+
+_Per._ I had forgot one thing; dear sweet-heart, go home quickly, and
+oversee our business; it won't go forward without one of us.
+
+_Fisc._ I warrant you, take no care of your business; leave it to me,
+I'll put it forward in your absence: Go, go, you'll lose your
+opportunity; I'll be at home before you, and sup with you to-night.
+
+_Per._ You shall be welcome, but--
+
+_Fisc._ Three hundred quadruples.
+
+_Per._ That's true, but--
+
+_Fisc._ But three hundred quadruples.
+
+_Per._ The devil take the quadruples!
+
+  _Enter_ BEAMONT.
+
+_Beam._ There's my cuckold that must be, and my fellow swaggerer, the
+Dutchman, with my mistress: my nose is wiped to-day; I must retire,
+for the Spaniard is jealous of me.
+
+_Per._ Oh, Mr Beamont, I'm to ask a favour of you.
+
+_Beam._ This is unusual; pray command it, signior.
+
+_Per._ I am going upon urgent business; pray sup with me to-night,
+and, in the meantime, bear my worthy friend here company.
+
+_Beam._ With all my heart.
+
+_Per._ So, now I am secure; though I dare not trust her with one of
+them, I may with both; they'll hinder one another, and preserve my
+honour into the bargain.                                      [_Exit._
+
+_Beam._ Now, Mr Fiscal, you are the happy man with the ladies, and
+have got the precedence of traffic here too; you've the Indies in your
+arms, yet I hope a poor Englishman may come in for a third part of the
+merchandise.
+
+_Fisc._ Oh, sir, in these commodities, here's enough for both; here's
+mace for you, and nutmeg for me, in the same fruit, and yet the owner
+has to spare for other friends too.
+
+_Jul._ My husband's plantation is like to thrive well betwixt you.
+
+_Beam._ Horn him; he deserves not so much happiness as he enjoys in
+you; he's jealous.
+
+_Jul._ 'Tis no wonder if a Spaniard looks yellow.
+
+_Beam._ Betwixt you and me, 'tis a little kind of venture that we
+make, in doing this Don's drudgery for him; for the whole nation of
+them is generally so pocky, that 'tis no longer a disease, but a
+second nature in them.
+
+_Fisc._ I have heard indeed, that 'tis incorporated among them, as
+deeply as the Moors and Jews are; there's scarce a family, but 'tis
+crept into their blood, like the new Christians.
+
+_Jul._ Come, I'll have no whispering betwixt you; I know you were
+talking of my husband, because my nose itches.
+
+_Beam._ Faith, madam, I was speaking in favour of your nation: What
+pleasant lives I have known Spaniards to live in England.
+
+_Jul._ If you love me, let me hear a little.
+
+_Beam._ We observed them to have much of the nature of our flies; they
+buzzed abroad a month or two in the summer, would venture about
+dog-days to take the air in the Park, but all the winter slept like
+dormice; and, if they ever appeared in public after Michaelmas, their
+faces shewed the difference betwixt their country and ours, for they
+look in Spain as if they were roasted, and in England as if they were
+sodden.
+
+_Jul._ I'll not believe your description.
+
+_Fisc._ Yet our observations of them in Holland are not much unlike
+it. I've known a great Don at the Hague, with the gentleman of his
+horse, his major domo, and two secretaries, all dine at four tables,
+on the quarters of a single pullet: The victuals of the under servants
+were weighed out in ounces, by the Don himself; with so much garlic in
+the other scale: A thin slice of bacon went through the family a week
+together; for it was daily put into the pot for pottage; was served in
+the midst of the dish at dinners, and taken out and weighed by the
+steward, at the end of every meal, to see how much it lost; till, at
+length, looking at it against the sun, it appeared transparent, and
+then he would have whipped it up, as his own fees, at a morsel; but
+that his lord barred the dice, and reckoned it to him for a part of
+his board wages.
+
+_Beam._ In few words, madam, the general notion we had of them, was,
+that they were very frugal of their Spanish coin, and very liberal of
+their Neapolitan.
+
+_Jul._ I see, gentlemen, you are in the way of rallying; therefore let
+me be no hinderance to your sport; do as much for one another as you
+have done for our nation. Pray, Mynheer Fiscal, what think you of the
+English?
+
+_Fisc._ Oh, I have an honour for the country.
+
+_Beam._ I beseech you, leave your ceremony; we can hear of our faults
+without choler; therefore speak of us with a true Amsterdam spirit,
+and do not spare us.
+
+_Fisc._ Since you command me, sir, 'tis said of you, I know not how
+truly, that for your fishery at home, you're like dogs in the manger,
+you will neither manage it yourselves, nor permit your neighbours; so
+that for your sovereignty of the narrow seas, if the inhabitants of
+them, the herrings, were capable of being judges, they would certainly
+award it to the English, because they were then sure to live
+undisturbed, and quiet under you.
+
+_Beam._ Very good; proceed, sir.
+
+_Fisc._ 'Tis true, you gave us aid in our time of need, but you paid
+yourselves with our cautionary towns: And, that you have since
+delivered them up, we can never give sufficient commendation, either
+to your honesty, or to your wit; for both which qualities you have
+purchased such an immortal fame, that all nations are instructed how
+to deal with you another time.
+
+_Beam._ A most grateful acknowledgment; sweet sir, go on.
+
+_Fisc._ For your trade abroad, if you should obtain it, you are so
+horribly expensive, that you would undo yourselves and all
+Christendom; for you would sink under your very profit, and the gains
+of the universal world would beggar you: You devour a voyage to the
+Indies, by the multitude of mouths with which you man your vessels:
+Providence has contrived it well, that the Indies are managed by us,
+an industrious and frugal people, who distribute its merchandise to
+the rest of Europe, and suffer it not to be consumed in England, that
+the other members might be starved, while you of Great Britain, as you
+call it, like a rickety head, would only swell and grow bigger by it.
+
+_Jul._ I have heard enough of England; have you nothing to return upon
+the Netherlands?
+
+_Beam._ Faith, very little to any purpose; he has been beforehand with
+us, as his countrymen are in their trade, and taken up so many vices
+for the use of England, that he has left almost none for the Low
+Countries.
+
+_Jul._ Come, a word, however.
+
+_Beam._ In the first place, you shewed your ambition when you began to
+be a state: For not being gentlemen, you have stolen the arms of the
+best families of Europe; and wanting a name, you made bold with the
+first of the divine attributes, and called yourselves the High and
+Mighty: though, let me tell you, that, besides the blasphemy, the
+title is ridiculous; for High is no more proper for the Netherlands,
+than Mighty is for seven little rascally provinces, no bigger in all
+than a shire in England. For my main theme, your ingratitude, you have
+in part acknowledged it, by your laughing at our easy delivery of your
+cautionary towns: The best is, we are used by you as well as your own
+princes of the house of Orange: We and they have set you up, and you
+undermine their power, and circumvent our trade.
+
+_Fisc._ And good reason, if our interest requires it.
+
+_Beam._ That leads me to your religion, which is only made up of
+interest: At home, you tolerate all worships in them who can pay for
+it; and abroad, you were lately so civil to the emperor of Pegu, as to
+do open sacrifice to his idols.
+
+_Fisc._ Yes, and by the same token, you English were such precise
+fools as to refuse it.
+
+_Beam._ For frugality in trading, we confess we cannot compare with
+you; for our merchants live like noblemen; your gentlemen, if you have
+any, live like boors. You traffic for all the rarities of the world,
+and dare use none of them yourselves; so that, in effect, you are the
+mill-horses of mankind, that labour only for the wretched provender
+you eat: A pot of butter and a pickled herring is all your riches;
+and, in short, you have a good title to cheat all Europe, because, in
+the first place, you cozen your own backs and bellies.
+
+_Fisc._ We may enjoy more whenever we please.
+
+_Beam._ Your liberty is a grosser cheat than any of the rest; for you
+are ten times more taxed than any people in Christendom: You never
+keep any league with foreign princes; you flatter our kings, and ruin
+their subjects; you never denied us satisfaction at home for injuries,
+nor ever gave it us abroad.
+
+_Fisc._ You must make yourselves more feared, when you expect it.
+
+_Beam._ And I prophecy that time will come, when some generous monarch
+of our island will undertake our quarrel, reassume the fishery of our
+seas, and make them as considerable to the English, as the Indies are
+to you.
+
+_Fisc._ Before that comes to pass, you may repent your over-lavish
+tongue.
+
+_Beam._ I was no more in earnest than you were.
+
+_Jul._ Pray let this go no further; my husband has invited both to
+supper.
+
+_Beam._ If you please, I'll fall to before he comes; or, at least,
+while he is conferring in private with the Fiscal.    [_Aside to her._
+
+_Jul._ Their private businesses let them agree;
+The Dutch for him, the Englishman for me.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT III. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ PEREZ.
+
+_Per._ True, the reward proposed is great enough, I want it too;
+besides, this Englishman has never paid me since, as his lieutenant, I
+served him once against the Turk at sea; yet he confessed I did my
+duty well, when twice I cleared our decks; he has long promised me,
+but what are promises to starving men? this is his house, he may walk
+out this morning.
+
+  _Enter a Page, and another Servant, walking by, not seeing him._
+
+These belong to him; I'll hide till they are past.
+
+_Serv._ He sleeps soundly for a man who is to be married when he
+wakes.
+
+_Page._ He does well to take his time; for he does not know, when he's
+married, whether ever he shall have a sound sleep again.
+
+_Serv._ He bid we should not wake him; but some of us, in good
+manners, should have staid, and not have left him quite alone.
+
+_Page._ In good manners, I should indeed; but I'll venture a master's
+anger at any time for a mistress, and that's my case at present.
+
+_Serv._ I'll tempt as great a danger as that comes to, for good old
+English fellowship; I am invited to a morning's draught.
+
+_Page._ Good-morrow, brother, good-morrow; by that time you have
+filled your belly, and I have emptied mine, it will be time to meet at
+home again.                                       [_Exeunt severally._
+
+_Per._ So, this makes well for my design; he's left alone, unguarded,
+and asleep: Satan, thou art a bounteous friend, and liberal of
+occasions to do mischief; my pardon I have ready, if I am taken, my
+money half beforehand: up, Perez, rouse thy Spanish courage up; if he
+should wake, I think I dare attempt him; then my revenge is nobler,
+and revenge, to injured men, is full as sweet as profit.      [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  _The_ SCENE _drawn, discovers_ TOWERSON _asleep on a Couch in his
+  Night-gown. A Table by him; Pen, Ink, and Paper on it._
+
+  _Re-enter_ PEREZ _with a Dagger._
+
+_Per._ Asleep, as I imagined, and as fast as all the plummets of
+eternal night were hung upon his temples. Oh that some courteous
+dæmon, in the other world, would let him know, 'twas Perez sent him
+thither! A paper by him too! He little thinks it is his testament; the
+last he e'er shall make: I'll read it first. [_Takes it up._] Oh, by
+the inscription, 'tis a memorial of what he means to do this day:
+What's here? My name in the first line! I'll read it. [_Reads._]
+_Memorandum, That my first action this morning shall be, to find out
+my true and valiant lieutenant, captain Perez; and, as a testimony of
+my gratitude for his honourable services, to bestow on him five
+hundred English pounds, making my just excuse, I had it not before
+within my power to reward him._ [_Lays down the paper._] And was it
+then for this I sought his life? Oh base, degenerate Spaniard! Hadst
+thou done it, thou hadst been worse than damned: Heaven took more care
+of me, than I of him, to expose this paper to my timely view. Sleep
+on, thou honourable Englishman; I'll sooner now pierce my own breast
+than thine: See, he smiles too in his slumber, as if his guardian
+angel, in a dream, told him, he was secure: I'll give him warning
+though, to prevent danger from another hand.
+        [_Writes on_ TOWERSON'S _paper, then sticks his dagger in it._
+  Stick there, that when he wakens, he may know,
+  To his own virtue he his life does owe.               [_Exit_ PEREZ.
+
+  TOWERSON _awakens._
+
+_Tow._ I have o'erslept my hour this morning, if to enjoy a pleasing
+dream can be to sleep too long. Methought my dear Isabinda and myself
+were lying in an arbour, wreathed about with myrtle and with cypress;
+my rival Harman, reconciled again to his friendship, strewed us with
+flowers, and put on each a crimson-coloured garment, in which we
+straightway mounted to the skies; and with us, many of my English
+friends, all clad in the same robes. If dreams have any meaning, sure
+this portends some good.--What's that I see! A dagger stuck into the
+paper of my memorials, and writ below--_Thy virtue saved thy life!_ It
+seems some one has been within my chamber whilst I slept: Something of
+consequence hangs upon this accident. What, ho! who waits without?
+None answer me? Are ye all dead? What, ho!
+
+  _Enter_ BEAMONT.
+
+_Beam._ How is it, friend? I thought, entering your house, I heard you
+call.
+
+_Tow._ I did, but as it seems without effect; none of my servants are
+within reach of my voice.
+
+_Beam._ You seem amazed at somewhat?
+
+_Tow._ A little discomposed: read that, and see if I have no occasion;
+that dagger was stuck there, by him who writ it.
+
+_Beam._ I must confess you have too just a cause: I am myself
+surprised at an event so strange.
+
+_Tow._ I know not who can be my enemy within this island, except my
+rival Harman; and for him, I truly did relate what passed betwixt us
+yesterday.
+
+_Beam._ You bore yourself in that as it became you, as one who was a
+witness to himself of his own courage; and while, by necessary care of
+others, you were forced to decline fighting, shewed how much you did
+despise the man who sought the quarrel: 'Twas base in him, so backed
+as he is here, to offer it, much more to press you to it.
+
+_Tow._ I may find a foot of ground in Europe to tell the insulting
+youth, he better had provoked some other man; but sure I cannot think
+'twas he who left that dagger there.
+
+_Beam._ No, for it seems too great a nobleness of spirit, for one like
+him to practise: 'Twas certainly an enemy, who came to take your
+sleeping life; but thus to leave unfinished the design, proclaims the
+act no Dutchman's.
+
+_Tow_ That time will best discover; I'll think no further of it.
+
+_Beam._ I confess you have more pleasing thoughts to employ your mind
+at present; I left your bride just ready for the temple, and came to
+call you to her.
+
+_Tow._ I'll straight attend you thither.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Sen._ FISCAL, _and_ VAN HERRING.
+
+_Fisc._ Remember, sir, what I advised you; you must seemingly make up
+the business.                                        [_To_ HAR. _Sen._
+
+_Har. Sen._ I warrant you.--What, my brave bonny bridegroom, not yet
+dressed? You are a lazy lover; I must chide you.       [_To_ TOWERSON.
+
+_Tow._ I was just preparing.
+
+_Har. Sen._ I must prevent part of the ceremony: You thought to go to
+her; she is by this time at the castle, where she is invited with our
+common friends; for you shall give me leave, if you so please, to
+entertain you both.
+
+_Tow._ I have some reasons, why I must refuse the honour you intend
+me.
+
+_Har. Sen._ You must have none: What! my old friend steal a wedding
+from me? In troth, you wrong our friendship.
+
+_Beam._ [_To him aside._] Sir, go not to the castle; you cannot, in
+honour, accept an invitation from the father, after an affront from
+the son.
+
+_Tow._ Once more I beg your pardon, sir.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Come, come, I know your reason of refusal, but it must not
+prevail: My son has been to blame; I'll not maintain him in the least
+neglect, which he should show to any Englishman, much less to you, the
+best and most esteemed of all my friends.
+
+_Tow._ I should be willing, sir, to think it was a young man's
+rashness, or perhaps the rage of a successless rival; yet he might
+have spared some words.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Friend, he shall ask your pardon, or I'll no longer own
+him; what, ungrateful to a man, whose valour has preserved him? He
+shall do it, he shall indeed; I'll make you friends upon your own
+conditions; he's at the door, pray let him be admitted; this is a day
+of general jubilee.
+
+_Tow._ You command here, you know, sir.
+
+_Fisc._ I'll call him in; I am sure he will be proud, at any rate, to
+redeem your kind opinion of him.                              [_Exit._
+
+  FISCAL _re-enters,_ with HARMAN _Junior._
+
+_Har. Jun._ Sir, my father, I hope, has in part satisfied you, that
+what I spoke was only an effect of sudden passion, of which I am now
+ashamed; and desire it may be no longer lodged in your remembrance,
+than it is now in my intention to do you any injury.
+
+_Tow._ Your father may command me to more difficult employments, than
+to receive the friendship of a man, of whom I did not willingly
+embrace an ill opinion.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Nothing henceforward shall have power to take from me that
+happiness, in which you are so generously pleased to reinstate me.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Why this is as it should be; trust me, I weep for joy.
+
+_Beam._ Towerson is easy, and too credulous. I fear 'tis all
+dissembled on their parts.                                   [_Aside._
+
+_Har. Sen._ Now set we forward to the castle; the bride is there
+before us.
+
+_Tow._ Sir, I wait you.     [_Exeunt_ HARMAN _Sen._ TOWERSON, BEAMONT,
+                             _and_ VAN HERRING.
+
+  _Enter Captain_ PEREZ.
+
+_Fisc._ Now, captain, when perform you what you promised, concerning
+Towerson's death?
+
+_Per._ Never.--There, Judas, take your hire of blood again.
+                                                [_Throws him a purse._
+
+_Har. Jun._ Your reason for this sudden change?
+
+_Per._ I cannot own the name of man, and do it.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Your head shall answer the neglect of what you were
+commanded.
+
+_Per._ If it must, I cannot shun my destiny.
+
+_Fisc._ Harman, you are too rash; pray hear his reasons first.
+
+_Per._ I have them to myself, I'll give you none.
+
+_Fisc._ None? that's hard; well, you can be secret, captain, for your
+own sake, I hope?
+
+_Per._ That I have sworn already, my oath binds me.
+
+_Fisc._ That's enough: we have now chang'd our minds, and do not wish
+his death,--at least as you shall know.                      [_Aside._
+
+_Per._ I am glad on't, for he's a brave and worthy gentleman; I would
+not for the wealth of both the Indies have had his blood upon my soul
+to answer.
+
+_Fisc._ [_Aside to_ HARMAN.] I shall find a time to take back our
+secret from him, at the price of his life, when he least dreams of it;
+meantime 'tis fit we speak him fair. [_To_ PEREZ.] Captain, a reward
+attends you, greater than you could hope; we only meant to try your
+honesty. I am more than satisfied of your reasons.
+
+_Per._ I still shall labour to deserve your kindness in any honourable
+way.                                                    [_Exit_ PEREZ.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I told you that this Spaniard had not courage enough for
+such an enterprise.
+
+_Fisc._ He rather had too much of honesty.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Oh, you have ruined me; you promised me this day the death
+of Towerson, and now, instead of that, I see him happy! I'll go and
+fight him yet; I swear he never shall enjoy her.
+
+_Fisc._ He shall not, that I swear with you; but you are too rash, the
+business can never be done your way.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I'll trust no other arm but my own with it.
+
+_Fisc._ Yes, mine you shall, I'll help you. This evening, as he goes
+from the castle, we'll find some way to meet him in the dark, and then
+make sure of him for getting maidenheads to-night; to-morrow I'll
+bestow a pill upon my Spanish Don, lest he discover what he knows.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Give me your hand, you'll help me.
+
+_Fisc._ By all my hopes I will: in the mean time, with a feigned mirth
+'tis fit we gild our faces; the truth is, that we may smile in
+earnest, when we look upon the Englishman, and think how we will use
+him.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Agreed; come to the castle.                     [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.--_The Castle._
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ TOWERSON, _and_ ISABINDA, BEAMONT, COLLINS,
+  VAN HERRING. _They seat themselves._
+
+        EPITHALAMIUM.
+
+  _The day is come, I see it rise,
+  Betwixt the bride and bridegroom's eyes;
+  That golden day they wished so long,
+  Love picked it out amidst the throng;
+  He destined to himself this sun,
+  And took the reins, and drove him on;
+  In his own beams he drest him bright,
+  Yet bid him bring a better night._
+
+  _The day you wished arrived at last,
+  You wish as much that it were past;
+  One minute more, and night will hide
+  The bridegroom and the blushing bride.
+  The virgin now to bed does go--
+  Take care, oh youth, she rise not so--
+  She pants and trembles at her doom,
+  And fears and wishes thou wouldst come._
+
+  _The bridegroom comes, he comes apace,
+  With love and fury in his face;
+  She shrinks away, he close pursues,
+  And prayers and threats at once does use.
+  She, softly sighing, begs delay,
+  And with her hand puts his away;
+  Now out aloud for help she cries,
+  And now despairing shuts her eyes._
+
+_Har. Sen._ I like this song, 'twas sprightly; it would restore me
+twenty years of youth, had I but such a bride.
+
+  _A Dance._
+
+  _After the Dance, enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL.
+
+_Beam._ Come, let me have the Sea-Fight; I like that better than a
+thousand of your wanton epithalamiums.
+
+_Har. Jun._ He means that fight, in which he freed me from the
+pirates.
+
+_Tow._ Pr'ythee, friend, oblige me, and call not for that song; 'twill
+breed ill blood.                                        [_To_ BEAMONT.
+
+_Beam._ Pr'ythee be not scrupulous, ye fought it bravely. Young Harman
+is ungrateful, if he does not acknowledge it. I say, sing me the
+Sea-Fight.
+
+        THE SEA-FIGHT.
+
+  _Who ever saw a noble sight,
+  That never viewed a brave sea-fight!
+  Hang up your bloody colours in the air,
+  Up with your fights, and your nettings prepare;
+  Your merry mates cheer, with a lusty bold spright,
+  Now each man his brindice, and then to the fight.
+  St George, St George, we cry,
+  The shouting Turks reply:
+  Oh now it begins, and the gun-room grows hot,
+  Ply it with culverin and with small shot;
+  Hark, does it not thunder? no, 'tis the guns roar,
+  The neighbouring billows are turned into gore;
+  Now each man must resolve, to die,
+  For here the coward cannot fly.
+  Drums and trumpets toll the knell,
+  And culverins the passing bell.
+  Now, now they grapple, and now board amain;
+  Blow up the hatches, they're off all again:
+  Give them a broadside, the dice run at all,
+  Down comes the mast and yard, and tacklings fall;
+  She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune's wheel,
+  She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel.
+  Who ever beheld so noble a sight,
+  As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight!_
+
+_Har. Jun._ See the insolence of these English; they cannot do a brave
+action in an age, but presently they must put it into metre, to
+upbraid us with their benefits.
+
+_Fisc._ Let them laugh, that win at last.
+
+  _Enter Captain_ MIDDLETON, _and a Woman with him, all pale and
+  weakly, and in tattered garments._
+
+_Tow._ Captain Middleton, you are arrived in a good hour, to be
+partaker of my happiness, which is as great this day, as love and
+expectation can make it.             [_Rising up to salute_ MIDDLETON.
+
+_Mid._ And may it long continue so!
+
+_Tow._ But how happens it, that, setting out with us from England, you
+came not sooner hither.
+
+_Mid._ It seems the winds favoured you with a quicker passage; you
+know I lost you in a storm on the other side of the Cape, with which
+disabled, I was forced to put into St Helen's isle; there 'twas my
+fortune to preserve the life of this our countrywoman; the rest let
+her relate.
+
+_Isab._ Alas, she seems half-starved, unfit to make relations.
+
+_Van Her._ How the devil came she off? I know her but too well, and
+fear she knows me too.
+
+_Tow._ Pray, countrywoman, speak.
+
+_Eng Wom._ Then thus in brief; in my dear husband's company, I parted
+from our sweet native isle: we to Lantore were bound, with letters
+from the States of Holland, gained for reparation of great damages
+sustained by us; when, by the insulting Dutch, our countrymen, against
+all show of right, were dispossessed, and naked sent away from that
+rich island, and from Poleroon.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Woman, you speak with too much spleen; I must not hear my
+countrymen affronted.
+
+_Eng. Wom.._ I wish they did not merit much worse of me, than I can
+say of them.--Well, we sailed forward with a merry gale, till near St
+Helen's isle we were overtaken, or rather waylaid, by a Holland
+vessel; the captain of which ship, whom here I see, the man who
+quitted us of all we had in those rich parts before, now fearing to
+restore his ill-got goods, first hailed, and then invited us on board,
+keeping himself concealed; his base lieutenant plied all our English
+mariners with wine, and when in dead of night they lay secure in
+silent sleep, most barbarously commanded they should be thrown
+overboard.
+
+_Fisc._ Sir, do not hear it out.
+
+_Har. Sen._ This is all false and scandalous.
+
+_Tow._ Pray, sir, attend the story.
+
+_Eng. Wom._ The vessel rifled, and the rich hold rummaged, they sink
+it down to rights; but first I should have told you, (grief, alas, has
+spoiled my memory) that my dear husband, wakened at the noise, before
+they reached the cabin where we lay, took me all trembling with the
+sudden fright, and leapt into the boat; we cut the cordage, and so put
+out to sea, driving at mercy of the waves and wind; so scaped we in
+the dark. To sum up all, we got to shore, and in the mountains hid us,
+until the barbarous Hollanders were gone.
+
+_Tow._ Where is your husband, countrywoman?
+
+_Eng. Wom._ Dead with grief; with these two hands I scratched him out
+a grave, on which I placed a cross, and every day wept o'er the ground
+where all my joys lay buried. The manner of my life, who can express!
+the fountain-water was my only drink; the crabbed juice and rhind of
+half-ripe lemons almost my only food, except some roots; my house, the
+widowed cave of some wild beast. In this sad state, I stood upon the
+shore, when this brave captain with his ship approached, whence
+holding up and waving both my hands, I stood, and by my actions begged
+their mercy; yet, when they nearer came, I would have fled, had I been
+able, lest they should have proved those murderous Dutch, I more than
+hunger feared.
+
+_Har. Sen._ What say you to this accusation, Van Herring?
+
+_Van Her._ 'Tis as you said, sir, false and scandalous.
+
+_Har. Sen._ I told you so; all false and scandalous.
+
+_Isab._ On my soul it is not; her heart speaks in her tongue, and were
+she silent, her habit and her face speak for her.
+
+_Beam._ Sir, you have heard the proofs.
+
+_Fisc._ Mere allegations, and no proofs. Seem not to believe it, sir.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Well, well, we'll hear it another time.
+
+_Mid._ You seem not to believe her testimony, but my whole crew can
+witness it.
+
+_Van Her._ Ay, they are all Englishmen.
+
+_Tow._ That's a nation too generous to do bad actions, and too sincere
+to justify them done; I wish their neighbours were of the same temper.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Nay, now you kindle, captain; this must not be, we are
+your friends and servants.
+
+_Mid._ 'Tis well you are by land, at sea you would be masters: there I
+myself have met with some affronts, which, though I wanted power then
+to return, I hailed the captain of the Holland ship, and told him he
+should dearly answer it, if e'er I met him in the narrow seas. His
+answer was, (mark but the insolence) If I should hang thee, Middleton,
+up at thy main yard, and sink thy ship, here's that about my neck
+(pointing to his gold chain) would answer it when I came into Holland.
+
+_Har. Jan._ Yes, this is like the other.
+
+_Tow._ I find we must complain at home; there's no redress to be had
+here.
+
+_Isab._ Come, countrywoman,--I must call you so, since he who owns my
+heart is English born,--be not dejected at your wretched fortune; my
+house is yours, my clothes shall habit you, even these I wear, rather
+than see you thus.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Come, come, no more complaints; let us go in; I have ten
+rummers ready to the bride; as many times shall our guns discharge, to
+speak the general gladness of this day. I'll lead you, lady.
+                                       [_Takes the Bride by the hand._
+
+_Tow._ A heavy omen to my nuptials!
+  My countrymen oppressed by sea and land,
+  And I not able to redress the wrong,
+  So weak are we, our enemies so strong.                    [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+SCENE I.--_A Wood._
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL, _with swords, and disguised in
+  vizards._
+
+_Har. Jun._ We are disguised enough; the evening now grows dusk.--I
+would the deed were done!
+
+  _Enter_ PEREZ _with a Soldier, and overhears them._
+
+_Fisc._ 'Twill now be suddenly, if we have courage in this wild woody
+walk, hot with the feast and plenteous bowls, the bridal company are
+walking to enjoy the cooling breeze; I spoke to Towerson, as I said I
+would, and on some private business of great moment, desired that he
+would leave the company, and meet me single here.
+
+_Har. Jan._ Where if he comes, he never shall return But Towerson
+stays too long for my revenge; I am in haste to kill him.
+
+_Fisc._ He promised me to have been here ere now; if you think
+fitting, I'll go back and bring him.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Do so, I'll wait you in this place.          [_Exit_ Fisc.
+
+_Per._ Was ever villany like this of these unknown assassins?
+Towerson, in vain I saved thy sleeping life if now I let thee lose it,
+when thou wakest; thou lately hast been bountiful to me, and this way
+I'll acknowledge it. Yet to disclose their crimes were dangerous. What
+must I do? This generous Englishman will strait be here, and
+consultation then perhaps will be too late: I am
+resolved.--Lieutenant, you have heard, as well as I, the bloody
+purpose of these men?
+
+_Sold._ I have, and tremble at the mention of it.
+
+_Per._ Dare you adventure on an action, as brave as theirs is base?
+
+_Sold._ Command my life.
+
+_Per._ No more. Help me despatch that murderer, ere his accomplice
+comes: the men I know not; but their design is treacherous and bloody.
+
+_Sold._ And he, they mean to kill, is brave himself, and of a nation I
+much love.
+
+_Per._ Come on then. [_Both draw. To_ HAR.] Villain, thou diest, thy
+conscience tells thee why; I need not urge the crime.
+                                                  [_They assault him._
+
+_Har. Jun._ Murder! I shall be basely murdered; help!
+
+  _Enter_ TOWERSON.
+
+_Tow._ Hold, villains! what unmanly odds is this? Courage, whoe'er
+thou art; I'll succour thee.      [TOWERSON _fights with_ PEREZ, _and_
+                                   HARMAN _with the Lieutenant, and
+                                   drive them off the stage._
+
+_Har. Jun._ Though, brave unknown, night takes thee from my knowledge,
+and I want time to thank thee now, take this, and wear it for my sake;
+[_Gives him a ring._] Hereafter I'll acknowledge it more largely.
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Tow._ That voice I've heard; but cannot call to mind, except it be
+young Harman's. Yet, who should put his life in danger thus? This ring
+I would not take as salary, but as a gage of his free heart who left
+it; and, when I know him, I'll restore the pledge. Sure 'twas not far
+from hence I made the appointment: I know not what this Dutchman's
+business is, yet, I believe, 'twas somewhat from my rival. It shall go
+hard, but I will find him out, and then rejoin the company.   [_Exit._
+
+  _Re-enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL.
+
+_Fisc._ The accident was wondrous strange: Did you neither know your
+assassinates, nor your deliverer?
+
+_Har. Jun._ 'Twas all a hurry; yet, upon better recollecting of
+myself, the man, who freed me, must be Towerson.
+
+_Fisc._ Hark, I hear the company walking this way; will you withdraw?
+
+_Har. Jun._ Withdraw, and Isabinda coming!
+
+_Fisc._ The wood is full of murderers; every tree, methinks, hides one
+behind it.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You have two qualities, my friend, that sort but ill
+together; as mischievous as hell could wish you, but fearful in the
+execution.
+
+_Fisc._ There is a thing within me, called a conscience which is not
+quite o'ercome; now and then it rebels a little, especially when I am
+alone, or in the dark.
+
+_Har. Jun._ The moon begins to rise, and glitters through the trees.
+
+_Isab._ [_Within._] Pray let us walk this way; that farther lawn,
+between the groves, is the most green and pleasant of any in this
+isle.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I hear my siren's voice, I cannot stir from hence.--Dear
+friend, if thou wilt e'er oblige me, divert the company a little, and
+give me opportunity a while to talk alone with her.
+
+_Fisc._ You'll get nothing of her, except it be by force.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You know not with what eloquence love may inspire my
+tongue: The guiltiest wretch, when ready for his sentence, has
+something still to say.
+
+_Fisc._ Well, they come; I'll put you in a way, and wish you good
+success; but do you hear? remember you are a man, and she a woman; a
+little force, it may be, would do well.
+
+  _Enter_ ISABINDA, BEAMONT, MIDDLETON, COLLINS, HARMAN _Senior; and_
+  JULIA.
+
+_Isab._ Who saw the bridegroom last?
+
+_Har. Sen._ He refused to pledge the last rummer; so I am out of
+charity with him.
+
+_Beam._ Come, shall we backward to the castle? I'll take care of you,
+lady.
+
+_Jul_ Oh, you have drunk so much, you are past all care.
+
+_Col._ But where can be this jolly bridegroom? Answer me that; I will
+have the bride satisfied.
+
+_Fisc._ He walked alone this way; we met him lately.
+
+_Isab._ I beseech you, sir, conduct us.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I'll bring you to him, madam.
+
+_Fisc._ [_To_ HAR. _Jun._] Remember, now's your time; if you o'erslip
+this minute, fortune perhaps will never send another.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I am resolved.
+
+_Fisc._ Come, gentlemen, I'll tell you such a pleasant accident,
+you'll think the evening short.
+
+_Jul._ I love a story, and a walk by moonshine.
+
+_Fisc._ Lend me your hand then, madam.   [_Takes her by the one hand._
+
+_Beam._ But one, I beseech you then; I must not quit her so.
+                               [_Takes her by the other hand. Exeunt._
+
+  _Re-enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ ISABINDA.
+
+_Isab._ Come, sir, which is the way? I long to see my love.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You may have your wish, and without stirring hence.
+
+_Isab._ My love so near? Sure you delight to mock me!
+
+_Har. Jun._ 'Tis you delight to torture me; behold the man who loves
+you more than his own eyes; more than the joys of earth, or hopes of
+heaven.
+
+_Isab._ When you renewed your friendship with my Towerson, I thought
+these vain desires were dead within you.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Smothered they were, not dead; your eyes can kindle no
+such petty fires, as only blaze a while, and strait go out.
+
+_Isab._ You know, when I had far less ties upon me, I would not hear
+you; therefore wonder not if I withdraw, and find the company.
+
+_Har. Jun._ That would be too much cruelty, to make me wretched, and
+then leave me so.
+
+_Isab._ Am I in fault if you are miserable? so you may call the rich
+man's wealth, the cause and object of the robber's guilt. Pray do not
+persecute me farther: You know I have a husband now, and would be loth
+to afflict his knowledge with your second folly.
+
+_Har. Jun._ What wondrous care you take to make him happy! yet I
+approve your method. Ignorance! oh, 'tis a jewel to a husband; that
+is, 'tis peace in him, 'tis virtue in his wife, 'tis honour in the
+world; he has all this, while he is ignorant.
+
+_Isab._ You pervert my meaning: I would not keep my actions from his
+knowledge; your bold attempts I would: But yet henceforth conceal your
+impious flames; I shall not ever be thus indulgent to your shame, to
+keep it from his notice.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You are a woman; have enough of love for him and me; I
+know the plenteous harvest all is his: He has so much of joy, that he
+must labour under it. In charity, you may allow some gleanings to a
+friend.
+
+_Isab._ Now you grow rude: I'll hear no more.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You must.
+
+_Imb._ Leave me.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I cannot.
+
+_Isab._ I find I must be troubled with this idle talk some minutes
+more, but 'tis your last.
+
+_Har. Jun._ And therefore I'll improve it: Pray, resolve to make me
+happy by your free consent. I do not love these half enjoyments, to
+enervate my delights with using force, and neither give myself nor you
+that full content, which two can never have, but where both join with
+equal eagerness to bless each other.
+
+_Isab._ Bless me, ye kind inhabitants of heaven, from hearing words
+like these!
+
+_Har. Jun._ You must do more than hear them. You know you were now
+going to your bridal-bed. Call your own thoughts but to a strict
+account, they'll tell you, all this day your fancy ran on nothing
+else; 'tis but the same scene still you were to act; only the person
+changed,--it may be for the better.
+
+_Isab._ You dare not, sure, attempt this villany.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Call not the act of love by that gross name; you'll give
+it a much better when 'tis done, and woo me to a second.
+
+_Isab._ Dost thou not fear a heaven?
+
+_Har. Jun._ No, I hope one in you. Do it, and do it heartily; time is
+precious; it will prepare you better for your husband. Come--
+                                                  [_Lays hold on her._
+
+_Isab._ O mercy, mercy! Oh, pity your own soul, and pity mine; think
+how you'll wish undone this horrid act, when your hot lust is slaked;
+think what will follow when my husband knows it, if shame will let me
+live to tell it him; and tremble at a Power above, who sees, and
+surely will revenge it.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I have thought!
+
+_Isab._ Then I am sure you're penitent.
+
+_Har. Jun._ No, I only gave you scope, to let you see, all you have
+urged I knew: You find 'tis to no purpose either to talk or strive.
+
+_Isab._ [_Running._] Some succour! help, oh help!
+                                               [_She breaks from him._
+
+_Har. Jun._ [_Running after her._] That too is vain, you cannot 'scape
+me.                                                           [_Exit._
+
+_Har. Jun._ [_Within._] Now you are mine; yield, or by force I'll take
+it.
+
+_Isab._ [_Within._] Oh, kill me first!
+
+_Har. Jun._ [_Within._] I'll bear you where your cries shall not be
+heard.
+
+_Isab._ [_As further off._] Succour, sweet heaven! oh succour me!
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ FISCAL, VAN HERRING, BEAMONT, COLLINS,
+  _and_ JULIA.
+
+_Beam._ You have led us here a fairy's round in the moonshine, to seek
+a bridegroom in a wood, till we have lost the bride.
+
+_Col._ I wonder what's become of her?
+
+_Har. Sen._ Got together, got together, I warrant you, before this
+time; you Englishmen are so hot, you cannot stay for ceremonies. A
+good honest Dutchman would have been plying the glass all this while,
+and drunk to the hopes of Hans in Kelder till 'twas bed-time.
+
+_Beam._ Yes, and then have rolled into the sheets, and turned o' the
+t'other side to snore, without so much as a parting blow; till about
+midnight he would have wakened in a maze, and found first he was
+married by putting forth a foot, and feeling a woman by him; and, it
+may be, then, instead of kissing, desired yough Fro to hold his head.
+
+_Col._ And by that night's work have given her a proof, what she might
+expect for ever after.
+
+_Beam._ In my conscience, you Hollanders never get your children, but
+in the spirit of brandy; you are exalted then a little above your
+natural phlegm, and only that, which can make you fight, and destroy
+men, makes you get them.
+
+_Fisc._ You may live to know, that we can kill men when we are sober.
+
+_Beam._ Then they must be drunk, and not able to defend themselves.
+
+_Jul._ Pray leave this talk, and let us try if we can surprise the
+lovers under some convenient tree: Shall we separate, and look them?
+
+_Beam._ Let you and I go together then, and if we cannot find them, we
+shall do as good, for we shall find one another.
+
+_Fisc._ Pray take that path, or that; I will pursue this.
+                                         [_Exeunt all but the_ FISCAL.
+
+_Fisc._ So, now I have diverted them from Harman, I'll look for him
+myself, and see how he speeds in his adventure.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Junior._
+
+_Har. Jun._ Who goes there?
+
+_Fisc._ A friend: I was just in quest of you, so are all the company:
+Where have you left the bride?
+
+_Har. Jun._ Tied to a tree and gagged, and--
+
+_Fisc._ And what? Why do you stare and tremble? Answer me like a man.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Oh, I have nothing left of manhood in me! I am turned
+beast or devil. Have I not horns, and tail, and leathern wings?
+Methinks I should have by my actions. Oh, I have done a deed so ill, I
+cannot name it.
+
+_Fisc._ Not name it, and yet do it? That's a fool's modesty: Come,
+I'll name it for you: You have enjoyed your mistress.
+
+_Har. Jun._ How easily so great a villany comes from thy mouth! I have
+done worse, I have ravished her.
+
+_Fisc._ That's no harm, so you have killed her afterwards.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Killed her! why thou art a worse fiend than I.
+
+_Fisc._ Those fits of conscience in another might be excusable; but in
+you, a Dutchman, who are of a race that are born rebels, and live
+every where on rapine,--would you degenerate, and have remorse? Pray,
+what makes any thing a sin but law? and, what law is there here
+against it? Is not your father chief? Will he condemn you for a petty
+rape? the woman an Amboyner, and, what's less, now married to an
+Englishman! Come, if there be a hell, 'tis but for those that sin in
+Europe, not for us in Asia; heathens have no hell. Tell me, how was't?
+Pr'ythee, the history.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I forced her. What resistance she could make she did, but
+'twas in vain; I bound her, as I told you, to a tree.
+
+_Fisc._ And she exclaimed, I warrant--
+
+_Har. Jun._ Yes; and called heaven and earth to witness.
+
+_Fisc._ Not after it was done?
+
+_Har. Jun._ More than before--desired me to have killed her. Even when
+I had not left her power to speak, she curst me with her eyes.
+
+_Fisc._ Nay, then, you did not please her; if you had, she ne'er had
+cursed you heartily. But we lose time: Since you have done this
+action, 'tis necessary you proceed; we must have no tales told.
+
+_Har. Jun._ What do you mean?
+
+_Fisc._ To dispatch her immediately; could you be so senseless to
+ravish her, and let her live? What if her husband should have found
+her? What if any other English? Come, there's no dallying; it must be
+done: My other plot is ripe, which shall destroy them all to-morrow.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I love her still to madness, and never can consent to have
+her killed. We'll thence remove her, if you please, and keep her safe
+till your intended plot shall take effect; and when her husband's
+gone, I'll win her love by every circumstance of kindness.
+
+_Fisc._ You may do so; but t'other is the safer way: But I'll not
+stand with you for one life. I could have wished that Towerson had
+been killed before I had proceeded to my plot; but since it cannot be,
+we must go on; conduct me where you left her.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Oh, that I could forget both act and place!     [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+  SCENE _drawn, discovers_ ISABINDA _bound.
+
+  Enter_ TOWERSON.
+
+_Tow._ Sure I mistook the place; I'll wait no longer:
+Something within me does forebode me ill;
+I stumbled when I entered first this wood;
+My nostrils bled three drops; then stopped the blood,
+And not one more would follow.--
+What's that, which seems to bear a mortal shape,          [_Sees_ ISA.
+Yet neither stirs nor speaks? or, is it some
+Illusion of the night? some spectre, such
+As in these Asian parts more frequently appear?
+Whate'er it be, I'll venture to approach it.             [_Goes near._
+My Isabinda bound and gagged! Ye powers,
+I tremble while I free her, and scarce dare
+Restore her liberty of speech, for fear
+Of knowing more.                       [_Unbinds her, and ungags her._
+
+_Isab._ No longer bridegroom thou, nor I a bride;
+Those names are vanished; love is now no more;
+Look on me as thou would'st on some foul leper;
+And do not touch me; I am all polluted,
+All shame, all o'er dishonour; fly my sight,
+And, for my sake, fly this detested isle,
+Where horrid ills so black and fatal dwell,
+As Indians could not guess, till Europe taught.
+
+_Tow._ Speak plainer, I am recollected now:
+I know I am a man, the sport of fate;
+Yet, oh my better half, had heaven so pleased,
+I had been more content, to suffer in myself than thee!
+
+_Isab._ What shall I say! That monster of a man,
+Harman,--now I have named him, think the rest,--
+Alone, and singled like a timorous hind
+From the full herd, by flattery drew me first,
+Then forced me to an act, so base and brutal!
+Heaven knows my innocence: But, why do I
+Call that to witness!
+Heaven saw, stood silent: Not one flash of lightning
+Shot from the conscious firmament, to shew its justice:
+Oh had it struck us both, it had saved me!
+
+_Tow._ Heaven suffered more in that, than you, or I,
+Wherefore have I been faithful to my trust,
+True to my love, and tender to the opprest?
+Am I condemned to be the second man,
+Who e'er complained he virtue served in vain?
+But dry your tears, these sufferings all are mine.
+Your breast is white, and cold as falling snow;
+You, still as fragrant as your eastern groves;
+And your whole frame as innocent, and holy,
+As if your being were all soul and spirit,
+Without the gross allay of flesh and blood.
+Come to my arms again!
+
+_Isab._ O never, never!
+I am not worthy now; my soul indeed
+Is free from sin; but the foul speckled stains
+Are from my body ne'er to be washed out,
+But in my death. Kill me, my love, or I
+Must kill myself; else you may think I was
+A black adultress in my mind, and some
+Of me consented.
+
+_Tow._ Your wish to die, shews you deserve to live.
+I have proclaimed you guiltless to myself.
+Self-homicide, which was, in heathens, honour,
+In us, is only sin.
+
+_Isab._ I thought the Eternal Mind
+Had made us masters of these mortal frames;
+You told me, he had given us wills to chuse,
+And reason to direct us in our choice;
+If so, why should he tie us up from dying,
+When death's the greater good?
+
+_Tow._ Can death, which is our greatest enemy, be good?
+Death is the dissolution of our nature;
+And nature therefore does abhor it most,
+Whose greatest law is--to preserve our beings.
+
+_Isab._ I grant, it is its great and general law:
+But as kings, who are, or should be, above laws,
+Dispense with them when levelled at themselves;
+Even so may man, without offence to heaven,
+Dispense with what concerns himself alone.
+Nor is death in itself an ill;
+Then holy martyrs sinned, who ran uncalled
+To snatch their martyrdom; and blessed virgins,
+Whom you celebrate for voluntary death,
+To free themselves from that which I have suffered.
+
+_Tow._ They did it, to prevent what might ensue;
+Your shame's already past.
+
+_Isab._ It may return,
+If I am yet so mean to live a little longer.
+
+_Tow._ You know not; heaven may give you succour yet;
+You see it sends me to you.
+
+_Isab._ 'Tis too late,
+You should have come before.
+
+_Tow._ You may live to see yourself revenged.
+Come, you shall stay for that, then I'll die with you,
+You have convinced my reason, nor am I
+Ashamed to learn from you.
+To heaven's tribunal my appeal I make;
+If as a governor he sets me here,
+To guard this weak-built citadel of life,
+When 'tis no longer to be held, I may
+With honour quit the fort. But first I'll both
+Revenge myself and you.
+
+_Isab._ Alas! you cannot take revenge; your countrymen
+Are few, and those unarmed.
+
+_Tow._ Though not on all the nation, as I would,
+Yet I at least can take it on the man.
+
+_Isab._ Leave me to heaven's revenge, for thither I
+Will go, and plead, myself, my own just cause.
+There's not an injured saint of all my sex,
+But kindly will conduct me to my judge,
+And help me tell my story.
+
+_Tow._ I'll send the offender first, though to that place
+He never can arrive: Ten thousand devils,
+Damned for less crimes than he,
+And Tarquin in their head, way-lay his soul,
+To pull him down in triumph, and to shew him
+In pomp among his countrymen; for sure
+Hell has its Netherlands, and its lowest country
+Must be their lot.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL.
+
+_Har. Jun._ 'Twas hereabout I left her tied. The rage of love renews
+again within me.
+
+_Fisc._ She'll like the effects on't better now. By this time it has
+sunk into her imagination, and given her a more pleasing idea of the
+man, who offered her so sweet a violence.
+
+_Isab._ Save me, sweet heaven! the monster comes again!
+
+_Har. Jun._ Oh, here she is.--My own fair bride,--for so you are, not
+Towerson's,--let me unbind you; I expect that you should bind yourself
+about me now, and tie me in your arms.
+
+_Tow._ [_Drawing._]
+No, villain, no! hot satyr of the woods,
+Expect another entertainment now.
+Behold revenge for injured chastity.
+This sword heaven draws against thee,
+And here has placed me like a fiery cherub,
+To guard this paradise from any second violation.
+
+_Fisc._ We must dispatch him, sir, we have the odds; And when he's
+killed, leave me t'invent the excuse.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Hold a little: As you shunned fighting formerly with me,
+so would I now with you. The mischiefs I have done are past recal.
+Yield then your useless right in her I love, since the possession is
+no longer yours; so is your honour safe, and so is hers, the husband
+only altered.
+
+_Tow._ You trifle; there's no room for treaty here:
+The shame's too open, and the wrong too great.
+Now all the saints in heaven look down to see
+The justice I shall do, for 'tis their cause;
+And all the fiends below prepare thy tortures.
+
+_Isab._ If Towerson would, think'st thou my soul so poor,
+To own thy sin, and make the base act mine,
+By chusing him who did it? Know, bad man,
+I'll die with him, but never live with thee.
+
+_Tow._ Prepare; I shall suspect you stay for further help,
+And think not this enough.
+
+_Fisc._ We are ready for you.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Stand back! I'll fight with him alone.
+
+_Fisc._ Thank you for that; so, if he kills you, I shall have him
+single upon me.                                    [_All three fight._
+
+_Isab._ Heaven assist my love!
+
+_Har. Jun._ There, Englishman, 'twas meant well to thy heart.
+                                                  [TOWERSON _wounded._
+
+_Fisc._ Oh you can bleed, I see, for all your cause.
+
+_Tow._ Wounds but awaken English courage.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Yet yield me Isabinda, and be safe.
+
+_Tow._ I'll fight myself all scarlet over first;
+Were there no love, or no revenge,
+I could not now desist, in point of honour.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Resolve me first one question:
+Did you not draw your sword this night before,
+To rescue one opprest with odds?
+
+_Tow._ Yes, in this very wood: I bear a ring,
+The badge of gratitude from him I saved.
+
+_Har. Jun._ This ring was mine; I should be loth to kill
+The frank redeemer of my life.
+
+_Tow._ I quit that obligation. But we lose time.
+Come, ravisher!     [_They fight again,_ TOW. _closes with_ HARM, _and
+                     gets him down; as he is going to kill him, the_
+                     FISC. _gets over him._
+
+_Fisc._ Hold, and let him rise; for if you kill him,
+At the same instant you die too.
+
+_Tow._ Dog, do thy worst, for I would so be killed;
+I'll carry his soul captive with me into the other world.
+                                                      [_Stabs_ HARMAN.
+
+_Har. Jun._ O mercy, mercy, heaven!                           [_Dies._
+
+_Fisc._ Take this, then; in return.
+               [_As he is going to stab him,_ ISAB. _takes hold of his
+                hand._
+
+_Isab._ Hold, hold; the weak may give some help.
+
+_Tow._ [_Rising._] Now, sir, I am for you.
+
+_Fisc._ [_Retiring._]
+Hold, sir, there is no more resistance made.
+I beg you, by the honour of your nation,
+Do not pursue my life; I tender you my sword.
+                               [_Holds his sword by the point to him._
+
+_Tow._ Base beyond example of any country, but thy own!
+
+_Isab._ Kill him, sweet love, or we shall both repent it.
+
+_Fisc._ [_Kneeling to her._] Divinest beauty! Abstract of all that's
+excellent in woman, can you be friend to murder?
+
+_Isab._ 'Tis none to kill a villain, and a Dutchman.
+
+_Fisc._ [_Kneeling to_ TOWERSON.] Noble Englishman, give me my life,
+unworthy of your taking! By all that is good and holy here I swear,
+before the governor to plead your cause; and to declare his son's
+detested crime, so to secure your lives.
+
+_Tow._ Rise, take thy life, though I can scarce believe thee;
+If for a coward it be possible, become an honest man.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ VAN HERRING, BEAMONT, COLLINS, JULIA, _the
+  Governors Guard._
+
+_Fisc._ [_To_ HAR.]
+Oh, sir, you come in time to rescue me;
+The greatest villain, who this day draws breath,
+Stands here before your eyes: behold your son,
+That worthy, sweet, unfortunate young man,
+Lies there, the last cold breath yet hovering
+Betwixt his trembling lips.
+
+_Tow._ Oh, monster of ingratitude!
+
+_Har._ Oh, my unfortunate old age, whose prop
+And only staff is gone, dead ere I die!
+These should have been his tears, and I have been
+That body to be mourned.
+
+_Beam._ I am so much amazed, I scarce believe my senses.
+
+_Fisc._ And will you let him live, who did this act?
+Shall murder, and of your own son,
+And such a son, go free; He lives too long,
+By this one minute which he stays behind him.
+
+_Isab._ Oh, sir, remember, in that place you hold,
+You are a common father to us all;
+We beg but justice of you; hearken first
+To my lamented story.
+
+_Fisc._ First hear me, sir.
+
+_Tow._ Thee, slave! thou livest but by the breath I gave thee.
+Didst thou but now plead on thy knees for life,
+And offer'dst to make known my innocence
+In Harman's injuries?
+
+_Fisc._ I offered to have cleared thy innocence,
+Who basely murdered him!--But words are needless;
+Sir, you see evidence before your eyes,
+And I the witness, on my oath to heaven,
+How clear your son, how criminal this man.
+
+_Col._ Towerson could do nothing but what was noble.
+
+_Beam._ We know his native worth.
+
+_Fisc._ His worth! Behold it on the murderer's hand;
+A robber first, he took degrees in mischief,
+And grew to what he is: Know you that diamond,
+And whose it was? See if he dares deny it.
+
+_Tow._ Sir, it was your son's, that freely I acknowledge;
+But how I came by it--
+
+_Har._ No, it is too much, I'll hear no more.
+
+_Fisc._ The devil of jealousy, and that of avarice, both, I believe,
+possest him; or your son was innocently talking with his wife, and he
+perhaps had found them; this I guess, but saw it not, because I came
+too late. I only viewed the sweet youth just expiring, and Towerson
+stooping down to take the ring; she kneeling by to help him: when he
+saw me, he would, you may be sure, have sent me after, because I was a
+witness of the fact. This on my soul is true.
+
+_Tow._ False as that soul, each word, each syllable;
+The ring he put upon my hand this night,
+When in this wood unknown, and near this place,
+Without my timely help he had been slain.
+
+_Fisc._ See this unlikely story!
+What enemies had he, who should assault him?
+Or is it probable that very man,
+Who actually did kill him afterwards,
+Should save his life so little time before?
+
+_Isab._ Base man, thou knowest the reason of his death;
+He had committed on my person, sir,
+An impious rape; first tied me to that tree,
+And there my husband found me, whose revenge
+Was such, as heaven and earth will justify.
+
+_Har._ I know not what heaven will, but earth shall not.
+
+_Beam._ Her story carries such a face of truth,
+Ye cannot but believe it.
+
+_Col._ The other, a malicious ill-patched lie.
+
+_Fisc._ Yes, you are proper judges of his crime,
+Who, with the rest of your accomplices,
+Your countrymen, and Towerson the chief,
+Whom we too kindly used, would have surprised
+The fort, and made us slaves; that shall be proved,
+More soon than you imagine; I found it out
+This evening.
+
+_Tow._ Sure the devil has lent thee all his stock of falsehood, and
+must be forced hereafter to tell truth.
+
+_Beam._ Sir, it is impossible you should believe it.
+
+_Har._ Seize them all.
+
+_Col._ You cannot be so base.
+
+_Har._ I'll be so just, 'till I can hear your plea
+Against this plot; which if not proved, and fully,
+You are quit; mean time, resistance is but vain.
+
+_Tow._ Provided that we may have equal hearing,
+I am content to yield, though I declare,
+You have no power to judge us.                     [_Gives his sword._
+
+_Beam._ Barbarous, ungrateful Dutch!
+
+_Har._ See them conveyed apart to several prisons,
+Lest they combine to forge some specious lie
+In their excuse.
+Let Towerson and that woman too be parted.
+
+_Isab._ Was ever such a sad divorce made on a bridal night!
+But we before were parted, ne'er to meet.
+Farewell, farewell, my last and only love!
+
+_Tow._ Curse on my fond credulity, to think
+There could be faith or honour in the Dutch!--
+Farewell my Isabinda, and farewell,
+My much wronged countrymen! remember yet,
+That no unmanly weakness in your sufferings
+Disgrace the native honour of our isle:
+  For you I mourn, grief for myself were vain;
+  I have lost all, and now would lose my pain.              [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+SCENE I.--_A Table set out._
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN, FISCAL, VAN HERRING, _and two Dutchmen: They sit.
+  Boy, and Waiters, Guards._
+
+_Har._ My sorrow cannot be so soon digested for losing of a son I
+loved so well; but I consider great advantages must with some loss be
+bought; as this rich trade which I this day have purchased with his
+death: yet let me lie revenged, and I shall still live on, and eat and
+drink down all my griefs. Now to the matter, Fiscal.
+
+_Fisc._ Since we may freely speak among ourselves, all I have said of
+Towerson was most false. You were consenting, sir, as well as I, that
+Perez should be hired to murder him, which he refusing when he was
+engaged, 'tis dangerous to let him longer live.
+
+_Van. Her._ Dispatch him; he will be a shrewd witness against us, if
+he returns to Europe.
+
+_Fisc._ I have thought better, if you please,--to kill him by form of
+law, as accessary to the English plot, which I have long been forging.
+
+_Har._ Send one to seize him strait. [_Exit a Messenger._] But what
+you said, that Towerson was guiltless of my son's death, I easily
+believe, and never thought otherwise, though I dissembled.
+
+_Van Her._ Nor I; but it was well done to feign that story.
+
+_1 Dutch._ The true one was too foul.
+
+_2 Dutch._ And afterwards to draw the English off from his
+concernment, to their own, I think 'twas rarely managed that.
+
+_Har._ So far, 'twas well; now to proceed, for I would gladly know,
+whether the grounds are plausible enough of this pretended plot.
+
+_Fisc._ With favour of this honourable court, give me but leave to
+smooth the way before you. Some two or three nights since, (it matters
+not,) a Japan soldier, under captain Perez, came to a centinel upon
+the guard, and in familiar talk did question him about this castle, of
+its strength, and how he thought it might be taken; this discourse the
+other told me early the next morning: I thereupon did issue private
+orders, to rack the Japanese, myself being present.
+
+_Har._ But what's this to the English?
+
+_Fisc._ You shall hear: I asked him, when his pains were strongest on
+him, if Towerson, or the English factory, had never hired him to
+betray the fort? he answered, (as it was true) they never had; nor was
+his meaning more in that discourse, than as a soldier to inform
+himself, and so to pass the time.
+
+_Van Her._ Did he confess no more?
+
+_Fisc._ You interrupt me. I told him, I was certainly informed the
+English had designs upon the castle, and if he frankly would confess
+their plot, he should not only be released from torment, but
+bounteously rewarded: Present pain and future hope, in fine, so
+wrought upon him, he yielded to subscribe whatever I pleased; and so
+he stands committed.
+
+_Har._ Well contrived; a fair way made, upon this accusation, to put
+them all to torture.
+
+_2 Dutch._ By his confession, all of them shall die, even to their
+general, Towerson.
+
+_Har._ He stands convicted of another crime, for which he is to
+suffer.
+
+_Fisc._ This does well to help it though: For Towerson is here a
+person publicly employed from England, and if he should appeal, as
+sure he will, you have no power to judge him in Amboyna.
+
+_Van Her._ But in regard of the late league and union betwixt the
+nations, how can this be answered?
+
+_1 Dutch._ To torture subjects to so great a king, a pain never heard
+of in their happy land, will sound but ill in Europe.
+
+_Fisc._ Their English laws in England have their force; and we have
+ours, different from theirs at home. It is enough, they either shall
+confess, or we will falsify their hands to make them. Then, for the
+apology, let me alone; I have it writ already to a title, of what they
+shall subscribe; this I will publish, and make our most unheard of
+cruelties to seem most just and legal.
+
+_Har._ Then, in the name of him, who put it first into thy head to
+form this damned false plot, proceed we to the execution of it. And to
+begin; first seize we their effects, rifle their chests, their boxes,
+writings, books, and take of them a seeming inventory; but all to our
+own use.--I shall grow young with thought of this, and lose my son's
+remembrance!
+
+_Fisc._ Will you not please to call the prisoners in? At least inquire
+what torments have extorted.
+
+_Har._ Go thou and bring us word. [_Exit_ FISCAL.] Boy, give me some
+tobacco, and a stoup of wine, boy.
+
+_Boy._ I shall, sir.
+
+_Har._ And a tub to leak in, boy; when was this table without a
+leaking vessel?
+
+_Van Her._ That's an omission.
+
+_1 Dutch._ A great omission. 'Tis a member of the table, I take it so.
+
+_Har._ Never any thing of moment was done at our council-table without
+a leaking tub, at least in my time; great affairs require great
+consultations, great consultations require great drinking, and great
+drinking a great leaking vessel.
+
+_Van Her._ I am even drunk with joy already, to see our godly business
+in this forwardness.
+
+  _Enter_ FISCAL.
+
+_Har._ Where are the prisoners?
+
+_Fisc._ At the door.
+
+_Har._ Bring them in; I'll try if we can face them down by impudence,
+and make them to confess.
+
+  _Enter_ BEAMONT _and_ COLLINS, _guarded._
+
+You are not ignorant of our business with you: the cries of your
+accomplices have already reached your ears; and your own consciences,
+above a thousand summons, a thousand tortures, instruct you what to
+do. No farther juggling, nothing but plain sincerity and truth to be
+delivered now; a free confession will first atone for all your sins
+above, and may do much below to gain your pardons. Let me exhort you,
+therefore, be you merciful, first to yourselves and make
+acknowledgment of your conspiracy.
+
+_Beam._ What conspiracy?
+
+_Fisc._ Why la you, that the devil should go masked with such a
+seeming honest face! I warrant you know of no such thing.
+
+_Har._ Were not you, Mr Beamont, and you, Collins both accessary to
+the horrid plot, for the surprisal of this fort and island?
+
+_Beam._ As I shall reconcile my sins to heaven, in my last article of
+life, I am innocent.
+
+_Col._ And so am I.
+
+_Har._ So, you are first upon the negative.
+
+_Beam._ And will be so till death.
+
+_Col._ What plot is this you speak of?
+
+_Fisc._ Here are impudent rogues! now after confession of two
+Japanese, these English starts dare ask what plot it is!
+
+_Har._ Not to inform your knowledge, but that law may have its course
+in every circumstance, Fiscal, sum up their accusation to them.
+
+_Fisc._ You stand accused, that new-year's day last past, there met at
+captain Towerson's house, you present, and many others of your
+factory: There, against law and justice, and all ties of friendship,
+and of partnership betwixt us, you did conspire to seize upon the
+fort, to murder this our worthy governor; and, by the help of your
+plantations near, of Jacatra, Banda, and Loho, to keep it for
+yourselves.
+
+_Beam._ What proofs have you of this?
+
+_Fisc._ The confession of two Japanese, hired by you to attempt it.
+
+_Beam._ I hear they have been forced by torture to it.
+
+_Har._ It matters not which way the truth comes out; take heed, for
+their example is before you.
+
+_Beam._ Ye have no right, ye dare not torture us; we owe you no
+subjection.
+
+_Fisc._ That, sir, must be disputed at the Hague; in the mean time we
+are in possession here.
+
+_2 Dutch._ And we can make ourselves to be obeyed.
+
+_Van Her._ In few words, gentlemen, confess. There is a beverage ready
+for you else, which you will not like to swallow.
+
+_Col._ How is this?
+
+_Har._ You shall be muffled up like ladies, with an oiled cloth put
+underneath your chins, then water poured above; which either you must
+drink, or must not breathe.
+
+_1 Dutch._ That is one way, we have others.
+
+_Har._ Yes, we have two elements at your service, fire, as well as
+water; certain things called matches to be tied to your finger-ends,
+which are as sovereign as nutmegs to quicken your short memories.
+
+_Beam._ You are inhuman, to make your cruelty your pastime: nature
+made me a man, and not a whale, to swallow down a flood.
+
+_Har._ You will grow a corpulent gentleman like me; I shall love you
+the better for it; now you are but a spare rib.
+
+_Fisc._ These things are only offered to your choice; you may avoid
+your tortures, and confess.
+
+_Col._ Kill us first; for that we know is your design at last, and
+'tis more mercy now.
+
+_Beam._ Be kind, and execute us while we bear the shapes of men, ere
+fire and water have destroyed our figures; let me go whole out of the
+world, I care not, and find my body when I rise again, so as I need
+not be ashamed of it.
+
+_Har._ 'Tis well you are merry; will you yet confess?
+
+_Beam._ Never.
+
+_Har._ Bear them away to torture.
+
+_Van. Her._ We will try your constancy.
+
+_Beam._ We will shame your cruelty; if we deserve our tortures, 'tis
+first for freeing such an infamous nation, that ought to have been
+slaves, and then for trusting them as partners, who had cast off the
+yoke of their lawful sovereign.
+
+_Har._ Away, I'll hear no more.--Now who comes the next?
+                                   [_Exeunt the English with a Guard._
+
+_Fisc._ Towerson's page, a ship-boy, and a woman.
+
+_Har._ Call them in.                              [_Exit a Messenger._
+
+_Van Her._ We shall have easy work with them.
+
+_Fisc._ Not so easy as you imagine, they have endured the beverage
+already; all masters of their pain, no one confessing.
+
+_Har._ The devil's in these English! those brave boys would prove
+stout topers if they lived.
+
+  _Enter Page, a Boy, and a Woman, led as from torture._
+
+Come hither, ye perverse imps; they say you have endured the water
+torment, we will try what fire will do with you: You, sirrah, confess;
+were not you knowing of Towerson's plot, against this fort and island?
+
+_Page._ I have told your hangman no, twelve times within this hour,
+when I was at the last gasp; and that is a time, I think, when a man
+should not dissemble.
+
+_Har._ A man! mark you that now; you English boys have learnt a trick
+of late, of growing men betimes; and doing men's work, too, before you
+come to twenty.
+
+_Van Her._ Sirrah, I will try if you are a salamander and can live in
+the fire.
+
+_Page._ Sure you think my father got me of some Dutchwoman, and that I
+am but of a half-strain courage; but you shall find that I am all over
+English as well in fire as water.
+
+_Boy._ Well, of all religions, I do not like your Dutch.
+
+_Fisc._ No? and why, young stripling?
+
+_Boy._ Because your penance comes before confession.
+
+_Har._ Do you mock us, sirrah? To the fire with him.
+
+_Boy._ Do so; all you shall get by it is this; before I answered no;
+now I'll be sullen and will talk no more.
+
+_Har._ Best cutting off these little rogues betime; if they grow men,
+they will have the spirit of revenge in them.
+
+_Page._ Yes, as your children have that of rebellion. Oh that I could
+but live to be governor here, to make your fat guts pledge me in that
+beverage I drunk, you Sir John Falstaff of Amsterdam!
+
+_Boy._ I have a little brother in England, that I intend to appear to
+when you have killed me; and if he does not promise me the death of
+ten Dutchmen in the next war, I'll haunt him instead of you.
+
+_Har._ What say you, woman? Have compassion of yourself, and confess;
+you are of a softer sex.
+
+_Wom._ But of a courage full as manly; there is no sex in souls; would
+you have English wives shew less of bravery than their children do? To
+lie by an Englishman's side, is enough to give a woman resolution.
+
+_Fisc._ Here is a hen of the game too, but we shall tame you in the
+fire.
+
+_Wom._ My innocence shall there be tried like gold, till it come out
+the purer. When you have burnt me all into one wound, cram gunpowder
+into it, and blow me up, I'll not confess one word to shame my
+country.
+
+_Har._ I think we have got here the mother of the Maccabees; away with
+them all three. [_Exeunt the English guarded._] I'll take the pains
+myself to see these tortured.
+                           [_Exeunt_ HARMAN, VAN HERRING, _and the two
+                            Dutchmen with the English: Manet_ FISCAL.
+
+  _Enter_ JULIA _to the_ FISCAL.
+
+_Jul._ Oh you have ruined me! you have undone me, in the person of my
+husband!
+
+_Fisc._ If he will needs forfeit his life to the laws, by joining with
+the English in a plot, it is not in me to save him; but, dearest
+Julia, be satisfied, you shall not want a husband.
+
+_Jul._ Do you think I'll ever come into a bed with him, who robbed me
+of my dear sweet man?
+
+_Fisc._ Dry up your tears; I am in earnest; I will marry you; i'faith
+I will; it is your destiny.
+
+_Jul._ Nay if it be my destiny--but I vow I'll never be yours but upon
+one condition.
+
+_Fisc._ Name your desire, and take it.
+
+_Jul._ Then save poor Beamont's life.
+
+_Fisc._ This is the most unkind request you could have made; it shews
+you love him better: therefore, in prudence, I should haste his death.
+
+_Jul._ Come, I'll not be denied; you shall give me his life, or I'll
+not love you; by this kiss you shall, child.
+
+_Fisc._ Pray ask some other thing.
+
+_Jul._ I have your word for this, and if you break it, how shall I
+trust you for your marrying me?
+
+_Fisc._ Well, I will do it to oblige you. But to prevent her new
+designs with him, I'll see him shipped away for England strait.
+                                                             [_Aside._
+
+_Jul._ I may build upon your promise, then?
+
+_Fisc._ Most firmly: I hear company.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN, VAN HERRING, _and the two Dutchmen, with_ TOWERSON
+  _prisoner._
+
+_Har._ Now, captain Towerson, you have had the privilege to be
+examined last; this on the score of my old friendship with you, though
+you have ill deserved it. But here you stand accused of no less crimes
+than robbery first, then murder, and last, treason: What can you say
+to clear yourself?
+
+_Tow._ You're interested in all, and therefore partial:
+I have considered on it, and will not plead,
+Because I know you have no right to judge me;
+For the last treaty betwixt our king and you
+Expressly said, that causes criminal
+Were first to be examined, and then judged,
+Not here, but by the Council of Defence;
+To whom I make appeal.
+
+_Fisc._ This court conceives that it has power to judge you, derived
+from the most high and mighty states, who in this island are supreme,
+and that as well in criminal as civil causes.
+
+_1 Dutch._ You are not to question the authority of the court, which
+is to judge you.
+
+_Tow._ Sir, by your favour, I both must, and will:
+I'll not so far betray my nation's right;
+We are not here your subjects, but your partners:
+And that supremacy of power, you claim,
+Extends but to the natives, not to us:
+Dare you, who in the British seas strike sail,
+Nay more, whose lives and freedom are our alms,
+Presume to sit and judge your benefactors?
+Your base new upstart commonwealth should blush,
+To doom the subjects of an English king,
+The meanest of whose merchants would disdain
+The narrow life, and the domestic baseness,
+Of one of those you call your Mighty States.
+
+_Fisc._ You spend your breath in railing; speak to the purpose.
+
+_Har._ Hold yet: Because you shall not call us cruel,
+Or plead I would be judge in my own cause,
+I shall accept of that appeal you make,
+Concerning my son's death; provided first,
+You clear yourself from what concerns the public;
+For that relating to our general safety,
+The judgment of it cannot be deferred,
+But with our common danger.
+
+_Tow._ Let me first
+Be bold to question you: What circumstance
+Can make this, your pretended plot, seem likely?
+The natives, first, you tortured; their confession,
+Extorted so, can prove no crime in us.
+Consider, next, the strength of this your castle;
+Its garrison above two hundred men,
+Besides as many of your city burghers,
+All ready on the least alarm, or summons,
+To reinforce the others; for ten English,
+And merchants they, not soldiers, with the aid
+Of ten Japanners, all of them unarmed,
+Except five swords, and not so many muskets,--
+The attempt had only been for fools or madmen.
+
+_Fisc._ We cannot help your want of wit; proceed.
+
+_Tow._ Grant then we had been desperate enough
+To hazard this; we must at least forecast,
+How to secure possession when we had it.
+We had no ship nor pinnace in the harbour,
+Nor could have aid from any factory:
+The nearest to us forty leagues from hence,
+And they but few in number: You, besides
+This fort, have yet three castles in this isle,
+Amply provided for, and eight tall ships
+Riding at anchor near; consider this,
+And think what all the world will judge of it.
+
+_Har._ Nothing but falsehood is to be expected
+From such a tongue, whose heart is fouled with treason.
+Give him the beverage.
+
+_Fisc._ 'Tis ready, sir.
+
+_Har._ Hold; I have some reluctance to proceed
+To that extremity: He was my friend,
+And I would have him frankly to confess:
+Push open that prison door, and set before him
+The image of his pains in other men.
+
+  _The_ SCENE _opens, and discovers the English tortured, and the
+  Dutch tormenting them._
+
+_Fisc._ Now, sir, how does the object like you?
+
+_Tow._ Are you men or devils! D'Alva, whom you
+Condemn for cruelty, did ne'er the like;
+He knew original villany was in your blood.
+Your fathers all are damned for their rebellion;
+When they rebelled, they were well used to this.
+These tortures ne'er were hatched in human breasts;
+But as your country lies confined on hell,
+Just on its marches, your black neighbours taught ye;
+And just such pains as you invent on earth,
+Hell has reserved for you.
+
+_Har._ Are you yet moved?
+
+_Tow._ But not as you would have me.
+I could weep tears of blood to view this usage;
+But you, as if not made of the same mould,
+See, with dry eyes, the miseries of men,
+As they were creatures of another kind,
+Not Christians, nor allies, nor partners with you,
+But as if beasts, transfixed on theatres,
+To make you cruel sport.
+
+_Har._ These are but vulgar objects; bring his friend,
+Let him behold his tortures; shut that door.      [_The Scene closed._
+
+  _Enter_ BEAMONT, _led with matches tied to his hands._
+
+_Tow._ [_Embracing him._]
+Oh my dear friend, now I am truly wretched!
+Even in that part which is most sensible,
+My friendship:
+How have we lived to see the English name
+The scorn of these, the vilest of mankind!
+
+_Beam._ Courage, my friend, and rather praise we heaven,
+That it has chose two, such as you and me,
+Who will not shame our country with our pains,
+But stand, like marble statues, in their fires,
+Scorched and defaced, perhaps, not melted down.
+So let them burn this tenement of earth;
+They can but burn me naked to my soul;
+That's of a nobler frame, and will stand firm,
+Upright, and unconsumed.
+
+_Fisc._ Confess; if you have kindness, save your friend.
+
+_Tow._ Yes, by my death I would, not my confession:
+He is so brave, he would not so be saved;
+But would renounce a friendship built on shame.
+
+_Har._ Bring more candles, and burn him from the wrists up to the
+elbows.
+
+_Beam._ Do; I'll enjoy the flames like Scævola;
+And, when one's roasted, give the other hand.
+
+_Tow._ Let me embrace you while you are a man.
+Now you must lose that form; be parched and rivelled,
+Like a dried mummy, or dead malefactor,
+Exposed in chains, and blown about by winds.
+
+_Beam._ Yet this I can endure.
+Go on, and weary out two elements;
+Vex fire and water with the experiments
+Of pains far worse than death.
+
+_Tow._ Oh, let me take my turn!
+You will have double pleasure; I'm ashamed
+To be the only Englishman untortured.
+
+_Van. Her._ You soon should have your wish, but that we know
+In him you suffer more.
+
+_Har._ Fill me a brim-full glass:
+Now, captain, here's to all your countrymen;
+I wish your whole East India company
+Were in this room, that we might use them thus.
+
+_Fisc._ They should have fires of cloves and cinnamon;
+We would cut down whole groves to honour them,
+And be at cost to burn them nobly.
+
+_Beam._ Barbarous villains! now you show yourselves
+
+_Har._ Boy, take that candle thence, and bring it hither;
+I am exalted, and would light my pipe
+Just where the wick is fed with English fat.
+
+_Van Her._ So would I; oh, the tobacco tastes divinely after it.
+
+_Tow._ We have friends in England, who would weep to see
+This acted on a theatre, which here
+You make your pastime.
+
+_Beam._ Oh, that this flesh were turned a cake of ice,
+That I might in an instant melt away,
+And become nothing, to escape this torment!
+There is not cold enough in all the north
+To quench my burning blood.                 [FISCAL _whispers_ HARMAN.
+
+_Har._ Do with Beamont as you please, so Towerson die.
+
+_Fisc._ You'll not confess yet, captain?
+
+_Tow._ Hangman, no;
+I would have don't before, if e'er I would:
+To do it when my friend has suffered this,
+Were to be less than he.
+
+_Fisc._ Free him.                                [_They free_ BEAMONT.
+Beamont, I have not sworn you should not suffer.
+But that you should not die; thank Julia for it.
+But on your life do not delay this hour
+To post from hence! so to your next plantation;
+I cannot suffer a loved rival near me.
+
+_Beam._ I almost question if I will receive
+My life from thee: 'Tis like a cure from witches;
+'Twill leave a sin behind it.
+
+_Fisc._ Nay, I'm not lavish of my courtesy;
+I can on easy terms resume my gift.
+
+_Har._ Captain, you're a dead man; I'll spare your torture for your
+quality; prepare for execution instantly.
+
+_Tow._ I am prepared.
+
+_Fisc._ You die in charity, I hope?
+
+_Tow._ I can forgive even thee:
+My innocence I need not name, you know it.
+One farewell kiss of my dear Isabinda,
+And all my business here on earth is done.
+
+_Har._ Call her; she's at the door.                      [_Exit_ FISC.
+
+_Tow._ [_To_ BEAM. _embracing._]
+A long and last farewell! I take my death
+With the more cheerfulness, because thou liv'st
+Behind me: Tell my friends, I died so as
+Became a Christian and a man; give to my brave
+Employers of the East India company,
+The last remembrance of my faithful service;
+Tell them, I seal that service with my blood;
+And, dying, wish to all their factories,
+And all the famous merchants of our isle,
+That wealth their generous industry deserves;
+But dare not hope it with Dutch partnership.
+Last, there's my heart, I give it in this kiss:         [_Kisses him._
+Do not answer me; friendship's a tender thing,
+And it would ill become me now to weep.
+
+_Beam._ Adieu! if I would speak, I cannot--                   [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ ISABINDA.
+
+_Isab._ Is it permitted me to see your eyes
+Once more, before eternal night shall close them?
+
+_Tow._ I summoned all I had of man to see you;
+'Twas well the time allowed for it was short;
+I could not bear it long: 'Tis dangerous,
+And would divide my love 'twixt heaven and you.
+I therefore part in haste; think I am going
+A sudden journey, and have not the leisure
+To take a ceremonious long farewell.
+
+_Isab._ Do you still love me?
+
+_Tow._ Do not suppose I do;
+'Tis for your ease, since you must stay behind me,
+To think I was unkind; you'll grieve the less.
+
+_Har._ Though I suspect you joined in my son's murder,
+Yet, since it is not proved, you have your life.
+
+_Isab._ I thank you for't, I'll make the noblest use
+Of your sad gift; that is, to die unforced:
+I'll make a present of my life to Towerson,
+To let you see, though worthless of his love,
+I would not live without him.
+
+_Tow._ I charge you, love my memory, but live.
+
+_Har._ She shall be strictly guarded from that violence
+She means against herself.
+
+_Isab._ Vain men! there are so many paths to death,
+You cannot stop them all: o'er the green turf,
+Where my love's laid, there will I mourning sit,
+And draw no air but from the damps that rise
+Out of that hallowed earth; and for my diet,
+I mean my eyes alone shall feed my mouth.
+Thus will I live, till he in pity rise,
+And the pale shade take me in his cold arms,
+And lay me kindly by him in his grave.
+
+  _Enter_ COLLINS, _and then_ PEREZ, JULIA _following him._
+
+_Har._ No more; your time's now come, you must away.
+
+_Col._ Now, devils, you have done your worst with tortures; death's a
+privation of pain, but they were a continual dying.
+
+_Jul._ Farewell, my dearest! I may have many husbands,
+But never one like thee.
+
+_Per._ As you love my soul, take hence that woman.--
+My English friends, I'm not ashamed of death,
+While I have you for partners; I know you innocent,
+And so am I, of this pretended plot;
+But I am guilty of a greater crime;
+For, being married in another country,
+The governor's persuasions, and my love
+To that ill woman, made me leave the first,
+And make this fatal choice.
+I'm justly punished; for her sake I die:
+The Fiscal, to enjoy her, has accused me.
+There is another cause;
+By his procurement I should have killed--
+
+_Fisc._ Away with him, and stop his mouth.           [_He is led off._
+
+_Tow._ I leave thee, life, with no regret at parting;
+Full of whatever thou could'st give, I rise
+From thy neglected feast, and go to sleep:
+Yet, on this brink of death, my eyes are opened,
+And heaven has bid me prophecy to you,
+The unjust contrivers of this tragic scene:--
+_An age is coming, when an English monarch
+With blood shall pay that blood which you have shed:
+To save your cities from victorious arms,
+You shall invite the waves to hide your earth[1],
+And, trembling, to the, tops of houses fly,
+While deluges invade your lower rooms:
+Then, as with waters you have swelled our bodies,
+With damps of waters shall your heads be swoln:
+Till, at the last, your sapped foundations fall,
+And universal ruin swallows all._
+                           [_He is led out with the English; the Dutch
+                            remain._
+
+_Van. Her._ Ay, ay, we'll venture both ourselves and children for such
+another pull.
+
+_1 Dutch._ Let him prophecy when his head's off.
+
+_2 Dutch._ There's ne'er a Nostradamus of them all shall fright us
+from our gain.
+
+_Fisc._ Now for a smooth apology, and then a fawning letter to the
+king of England; and our work's done.
+
+_Har._ 'Tis done as I would wish it:
+Now, brethren, at my proper cost and charges,
+Three days you are my guests; in which good time
+We will divide their greatest wealth by lots,
+While wantonly we raffle for the rest:
+Then, in full rummers, and with joyful hearts,
+We'll drink confusion to all English starts.                [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. During the French invasion of 1672, the Dutch were obliged to adopt
+   the desperate defence of cutting their dykes, and inundating the
+   country.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+
+  A poet once the Spartans led to fight,
+  And made them conquer in the muse's right;
+  So would our poet lead you on this day,
+  Showing your tortured fathers in his play.
+  To one well-born the affront is worse, and more,
+  When he's abused, and baffled by a boor:
+  With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do,
+  They've both ill-nature and ill-manners too.
+  Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation,
+  For they were bred ere manners were in fashion;
+  And their new commonwealth has set them free,
+  Only from honour and civility.
+  Venetians do not more uncouthly ride[1],
+  Than did their lubber state mankind bestride;
+  Their sway became them with as ill a mien,
+  As their own paunches swell above their chin:
+  Yet is their empire no true growth, but humour,
+  And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour[2].
+  As Cato did his Afric fruits display,
+  So we before your eyes their Indies lay:
+  All loyal English will, like him, conclude,
+  Let Cæsar live, and Carthage be subdued[3]!
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. The situation of Venice renders it impossible to bring horses into
+   the town; accordingly, the Venetians are proverbially bad riders.
+
+2. The poet alludes to the king's evil, and to the joint war of France
+   and England against Holland.
+
+3. Allusions to Cato,--who presented to the Roman Senate the rich figs
+   of Africa, and reminded them it was but three days sail to the
+   country which produced such excellent fruit,--were fashionable
+   during the Dutch war. The Lord Chancellor Shaftesbury had set the
+   example, by applying to Holland the favourite maxim of the Roman
+   philosopher, _Delenda est Carthago._ When that versatile statesman
+   afterwards fled to Holland, he petitioned to be created a burgess
+   of Amsterdam, to ensure him against being delivered up to England.
+   The magistrates conferred on him the freedom desired, with the
+   memorable words, "_Ab nostra Carthagine nondum deleta, salutem
+   accipe._"
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                         STATE OF INNOCENCE,
+
+                                 AND
+
+                             FALL OF MAN.
+
+
+                                  AN
+
+                                OPERA.
+
+
+            --_Utinam modò dicere possem
+           Carmina digna deâ: Certe est dea carmine digna._
+                                   OVID. MET.
+
+
+
+
+                     THE STATE OF INNOCENCE, &c.
+
+
+The "Paradise Lost" of Milton is a work so extraordinary in conception
+and execution, that it required a lapse of many years to reconcile the
+herd of readers, and of critics, to what was almost too sublime for
+ordinary understandings. The poets, in particular, seemed to have
+gazed on its excellencies, like the inferior animals on Dryden's
+immortal Hind; and, incapable of fully estimating a merit, which, in
+some degree, they could not help feeling, many were their absurd
+experiments to lower it to the standard of their own comprehension.
+One author, deeming the "Paradise Lost" deficient in harmony, was
+pleased painfully to turn it into rhyme; and more than one, conceiving
+the subject too serious to be treated in verse of any kind, employed
+their leisure in humbling it into prose. The names of these
+well-judging and considerate persons are preserved by Mr Todd in his
+edition of Milton's Poetical Works.
+
+But we must not confound with these effusions of gratuitous folly an
+alteration, or imitation, planned and executed by John Dryden;
+although we may be at a loss to guess the motives by which he was
+guided in hazarding such an attempt. His reverence for Milton and his
+high estimation of his poetry, had already called forth the well-known
+verses, in which he attributes to him the joint excellencies of the
+two most celebrated poets of antiquity; and if other proofs of his
+veneration were wanting, they may be found in the preface to this very
+production. Had the subject been of a nature which admitted its being
+actually represented, we might conceive, that Dryden, who was under
+engagements to the theatre, with which it was not always easy to
+comply, might have been desirous to shorten his own labour, by
+adopting the story sentiments, and language of a poem, which he so
+highly esteemed and which might probably have been new to the
+generality of his audience. But the _costume_ of our first parents,
+had there been no other objection, must have excluded the "State of
+Innocence" from the stage, and accordingly it was certainly never
+intended for representation. The probable motive, therefore, of this
+alteration, was the wish, so common to genius, to exert itself upon a
+subject in which another had already attained brilliant success, or,
+as Dryden has termed a similar attempt, the desire to shoot in the bow
+of Ulysses. Some circumstances in the history of Milton's immortal
+poem may have suggested to Dryden the precise form of the present
+attempt. It is reported by Voltaire, and seems at length to be
+admitted, that the original idea of the "Paradise Lost" was supplied
+by an Italian Mystery, or religious play, which Milton witnessed when
+abroad[1]; and it is certain, that he intended at first to mould his
+poem into a dramatic form[2]. It seems, therefore, likely, that
+Dryden, conscious of his own powers, and enthusiastically admiring
+those of Milton, was induced to make an experiment upon the forsaken
+plan of the blind bard, which, with his usual rapidity of conception
+and execution, he completed in the short space of one month. The
+spurious copies which got abroad, and perhaps the desire of testifying
+his respect for his beautiful patroness, the Duchess of York, form his
+own apology for the publication. It is reported by Mr Aubrey that the
+step was not taken without Dryden's reverence to Milton being
+testified by a personal application for his permission. The aged poet,
+conscious that the might of his versification could receive no
+addition even from the flowing numbers of Dryden, is stated to have
+answered with indifference--"Ay, you may _tag_ my verses, if you
+will."
+
+The structure and diction of this opera, as it is somewhat improperly
+termed, being rather a dramatic poem, strongly indicate the taste of
+Charles the Second's reign, for what was ingenious, acute, and
+polished, in preference to the simplicity of the true sublime. The
+judgment of that age, as has been already noticed, is always to be
+referred rather to the head than to the heart; and a poem, written to
+please mere critics, requires an introduction and display of art, to
+the exclusion of natural beauty.--This explains the extravagant
+panegyric of Lee on Dryden's play:
+
+  --Milton did the wealthy mine disclose,
+  And rudely cast what you could well dispose;
+  He roughly drew, on an old-fashioned ground,
+  A chaos; for no perfect world was found,
+  Till through the heap your mighty genius shined:
+  He was the golden ore, which you refined.
+  He first beheld the beauteous rustic maid,
+  And to a place of strength the prize conveyed:
+  You took her thence; to Court this virgin brought,
+  Dressed her with gems, new-weaved her hard-spun thought,
+  And softest language sweetest manners taught;
+  Till from a comet she a star did rise,
+  Not to affright, but please, our wondering eyes.
+
+Doubtless there were several critics of that period, who held the
+heretical opinion above expressed by Lee. And the imitation was such
+as to warrant that conclusion, considering the school in which it was
+formed. The scene of the consultation in Pandemonium, and of the
+soliloquy of Satan on his arrival in the newly-created universe, would
+possess great merit, did they not unfortunately remind us of the
+majestic simplicity of Milton. But there is often a sort of Ovidian
+point in the diction which seems misplaced. Thus, Asmodeus tells us,
+that the devils, ascending from the lake of fire,
+
+  Shake off their slumber _first_, and _next_ their fear.
+
+And, with Dryden's usual hate to the poor Dutchmen, the council of
+Pandemonium are termed,
+
+  _Most High and Mighty_ Lords, who better fell
+  From heaven, to rise _States General_ of hell.
+
+There is one inconvenience, which, as this poem was intended for
+perusal only, the author, one would have thought, might have easily
+avoided. This arises from the stage directions, which supply the place
+of the terrific and beautiful descriptions of Milton. What idea,
+except burlesque, can we form of the expulsion of the fallen angels
+from heaven, literally represented by their tumbling down upon the
+stage? or what feelings of terror can be excited by the idea of an
+opera hell, composed of pasteboard and flaming rosin? If these follies
+were not actually to be produced before our eyes, it could serve no
+good purpose to excite the image of them in our imaginations. They are
+circumstances by which we feel, that scenic deception must be rendered
+ridiculous; and ought to be avoided, even in a drama intended for
+perusal only, since they cannot be mentioned without exciting
+ludicrous combinations.--Even in describing the primitive state of our
+first parents, Dryden has displayed some of the false and corrupted
+taste of the court of Charles. Eve does not consent to her union with
+Adam without coquettish apprehensions of his infidelity, which
+circumstances rendered rather improbable; and even in the state of
+innocence, she avows the love of sway and of self, which, in a loose
+age, is thought the principal attribute of her daughters. It may be
+remembered that the Adam of Milton, when first experiencing the powers
+of slumber, thought,
+
+  I then was passing to my former state
+  Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve.
+
+The Eve of Dryden expresses the same apprehensions of annihilation
+upon a very different occasion. These passages form a contrast highly
+favourable to the simplicity and chastity of Milton's taste. The
+school logic, employed by Adam and the angels in the first scene of
+the fourth act, however misplaced, may be paralleled if not justified,
+by similar instances in the "Paradise Lost."
+
+On the other hand, the "State of Innocence" contains many passages of
+varied and happy expression peculiar to our great poet; and the speech
+of Lucfier in Paradise (Act third, scene first), approaches in
+sublimity to his prototype in Milton, Indeed, altered as this poem was
+from the original, in order to accommodate it to the taste of a
+frivolous age, it still retained too much fancy to escape the raillery
+of the men of wit and fashion, more disposed to "laugh at
+extravagance, than to sympathise with feelings of grandeur." The
+"Companion to the Theatre" mentions an objection started by the more
+nice and delicate critics, against the anachronism and absurdity of
+Lucifer conversing about the world, its form and vicissitudes, at a
+time previous to its creation, or, at least, to the possibility of his
+knowing any thing of it. But to this objection, which applies to the
+"Paradise Lost" also, it is sufficient to reply, that the measure of
+intelligence, competent to supernatural beings, being altogether
+unknown to us, leaves the poet at liberty to accommodate its extent to
+the purposes in which he employs them, without which poetic license,
+it would be in vain to introduce them. Dryden, moved by this, and
+similar objections, has prefixed to the drama, "An Apology for Heroic
+Poetry," and the use of what is technically called "the machinery"
+employed in it.
+
+Upon the whole, it may be justly questioned, whether Dryden shewed his
+judgment in the choice of a subject which compelled an immediate
+parallel betwixt Milton and himself, upon a subject so exclusively
+favourable to the powers of the former. Indeed, according to Dennis,
+notwithstanding Dryden's admiration of Milton, he evinced sufficiently
+by this undertaking, what he himself confessed twenty years
+afterwards, that he was not sensible of half the extent of his
+excellence. In the "Town and Country Mouse," Mr Bayes is made to term
+Milton "a rough unhewen fellow;" and Dryden himself, even in the
+dedication to the Translation from Juvenal, a work of his advanced
+life, alleges, that, though he found in that poet a true sublimity,
+and lofty thoughts, clothed with admirable Grecisms, he did not find
+the elegant turn of words and expression proper to the Italian poets
+and to Spenser. In the same treatise, he undertakes to excuse, but not
+to justify Milton, for his choice of blank verse, affirming that he
+possessed neither grace nor facility in rhyming. A consciousness of
+the harmony of his own numbers, and a predilection for that kind of
+verse, in which he excelled, seemed to have encouraged him to think he
+could improve the "Paradise Lost." Baker observes but too truly, that
+the "State of Innocence" recals the idea reprobated by Marvell in his
+address to Milton:
+
+  Or if a work so infinite be spanned,
+  Jealous I was, lest some less skilful hand,
+  Such as disquiet always what is well,
+  And by ill-imitating would excel,
+  Might hence presume the whole creation's day
+  To change in scenes, and shew it in a play.
+
+The "State of Innocence" seems to have been undertaken by Dryden
+during a cessation of his theatrical labours, and was first published
+in 1674, shortly after the death of Milton, which took place on the
+8th of November in the same year.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. The Adamo of Andreini; for an account of which, see Todd's Milton,
+   Vol. I. the elegant Hayley's Conjectures on the Origin of Paradise
+   Lost, and Walker's Memoir on Italian Tragedy. The Drama of Andreini
+   opens with a grand chorus of angels, who sing to this purpose:
+
+     Let the rainbow be the fiddle-stick to the fiddle of heaven,
+     Let the spheres be the strings, and the stars the musical notes;
+     Let the new-born breezes make the pauses and sharps,
+     And let time be careful to beat the measure.
+
+2. See a sketch of his plan in Johnson's Life of Milton, and in the
+   authorities above quoted.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         HER ROYAL HIGHNESS,
+
+                                 THE
+
+                             DUCHESS[1].
+
+
+MADAM,
+
+Ambition is so far from being a vice in poets, that it is almost
+impossible for them to succeed without it. Imagination must be raised,
+by a desire of fame, to a desire of pleasing; and they whom, in all
+ages, poets have endeavoured most to please, have been the beautiful
+and the great. Beauty is their deity, to which they sacrifice, and
+greatness is their guardian angel, which protects them. Both these,
+are so eminently joined in the person of your royal highness, that it
+were not easy for any but a poet to determine which of them outshines
+the other. But I confess, madam, I am already biassed in my choice. I
+can easily resign to others the praise of your illustrious family, and
+that glory which you derive from a long-continued race of princes,
+famous for their actions both in peace and war: I can give up, to the
+historians of your country, the names of so many generals and heroes
+which crowd their annals, and to our own the hopes of those which you
+are to produce for the British chronicle. I can yield, without envy,
+to the nation of poets, the family of Este, to which Ariosto and Tasso
+have owed their patronage, and to which the world has owed their
+poems. But I could not, without extreme reluctance, resign the theme
+of your beauty to another hand. Give me leave, madam, to acquaint the
+world, that I am jealous of this subject; and let it be no dishonour
+to you, that, after having raised the admiration of mankind, you have
+inspired one man to give it voice. But, with whatsoever vanity this
+new honour of being your poet has filled my mind, I confess myself too
+weak for the inspiration: the priest was always unequal to the oracle:
+the god within him was too mighty for his breast: he laboured with the
+sacred revelation, and there was more of the mystery left behind, than
+the divinity itself could enable him to express. I can but discover a
+part of your excellencies to the world; and that, too, according to
+the measure of my own weakness. Like those who have surveyed the moon
+by glasses, I can only tell of a new and shining world above us, but
+not relate the riches and glories of the place. 'Tis therefore that I
+have already waved the subject of your greatness, to resign myself to
+the contemplation of what is more peculiarly yours. Greatness is
+indeed communicated to some few of both sexes; but beauty is confined
+to a more narrow compass: 'tis only in your sex, 'tis not shared by
+many, and its supreme perfection is in you alone. And here, madam, I
+am proud that I cannot flatter; you have reconciled the differing
+judgments of mankind; for all men are equal in their judgment of what
+is eminently best. The prize of beauty was disputed only till you were
+seen; but now all pretenders have withdrawn their claims: there is no
+competition but for the second place; even the fairest of our island,
+which is famed for beauties, not daring to commit their cause against
+you to the suffrage of those, who most partially adore them. Fortune
+has, indeed, but rendered justice to so much excellence, in setting it
+so high to public view; or, rather, Providence has done justice to
+itself, in placing the most perfect workmanship of heaven, where it
+may be admired by all beholders. Had the sun and stars been seated
+lower, their glory had not been communicated to all at once, and the
+Creator had wanted so much of his praise, as he had made your
+condition more obscure: but he has placed you so near a crown, that
+you add a lustre to it by your beauty. You are joined to a prince, who
+only could deserve you; whose conduct, courage, and success in war;
+whose fidelity to his royal brother, whose love for his country, whose
+constancy to his friends, whose bounty to his servants, whose justice
+to merit, whose inviolable truth, and whose magnanimity in all his
+actions, seem to have been rewarded by heaven by the gift of you. You
+are never seen but you are blest; and I am sure you bless all those
+who see you. We think not the day is long enough when we behold you;
+and you are so much the business of our souls, that while you are in
+sight, we can neither look nor think on any else. There are no eyes
+for other beauties; you only are present, and the rest of your sex are
+but the unregarded parts that fill your triumph. Our sight is so
+intent on the object of its admiration, that our tongues have not
+leisure even to praise you: for language seems too low a thing to
+express your excellence; and our souls are speaking so much within,
+that they despise all foreign conversation. Every man, even the
+dullest, is thinking more than the most eloquent can teach him how to
+utter. Thus, madam, in the midst of crowds, you reign in solitude; and
+are adored with the deepest veneration, that of silence. 'Tis true,
+you are above all mortal wishes; no man desires impossibilities,
+because they are beyond the reach of nature. To hope to be a god, is
+folly exalted into madness; but, by the laws of our creation, we are
+obliged to adore him, and are permitted to love him too at human
+distance. 'Tis the nature of perfection to be attractive, but the
+excellency of the object refines the nature of the love. It strikes an
+impression of awful reverence; 'tis indeed that love which is more
+properly a zeal than passion. 'Tis the rapture which anchorites find
+in prayer, when a beam of the divinity shines upon them; that which
+makes them despise all worldly objects; and yet 'tis all but
+contemplation. They are seldom visited from above, but a single vision
+so transports them, that it makes up the happiness of their lives.
+Mortality cannot bear it often: it finds them in the eagerness and
+height of their devotion; they are speechless for the time that it
+continues, and prostrate and dead when it departs. That ecstacy had
+need be strong, which, without any end, but that of admiration has
+power enough to destroy all other passions. You render mankind
+insensible to other beauties, and have destroyed the empire of love in
+a court which was the seat of his dominion. You have subverted (may I
+dare to accuse you of it?) even our fundamental laws; and reign
+absolute over the hearts of a stubborn and free-born people, tenacious
+almost to madness of their liberty. The brightest and most victorious
+of our ladies make daily complaints of revolted subjects, if they may
+be said to be revolted, whose servitude is not accepted; for your
+royal highness is too great, and too just a monarch, either to want or
+to receive the homage of rebellious fugitives. Yet, if some few among
+the multitude continue stedfast to their first pretensions, 'tis an
+obedience so lukewarm and languishing, that it merits not the name of
+passion; their addresses are so faint, and their vows so hollow to
+their sovereigns, that they seem only to maintain their faith out of a
+sense of honour: they are ashamed to desist, and yet grow careless to
+obtain. Like despairing combatants, they strive against you as if they
+had beheld unveiled the magical shield of your Ariosto, which dazzled
+the beholders with too much brightness. They can no longer hold up
+their arms; they have read their destiny in your eyes:
+
+  _Splende lo scudo, a guisa di piropo;
+  E luce altra non é tanto lucente:
+  Cader in terra a lo splendor fu d'vopo,
+  Con gli occhi abbacinati, e senza mente._
+
+And yet, madam, if I could find in myself the power to leave this
+argument of your incomparable beauty, I might turn to one which would
+equally oppress me with its greatness; for your conjugal virtues have
+deserved to be set as an example, to a less degenerate, less tainted
+age. They approach so near to singularity in ours, that I can scarcely
+make a panegyric to your royal highness, without a satire on many
+others. But your person is a paradise, and your soul a cherubim
+within, to guard it. If the excellence of the outside invite the
+beholders, the majesty of your mind deters them from too bold
+approaches, and turns their admiration into religion. Moral
+perfections are raised higher by you in the softer sex; as if men were
+of too coarse a mould for heaven to work on, and that the image of
+divinity could not be cast to likeness in so harsh a metal. Your
+person is so admirable, that it can scarce receive addition, when it
+shall be glorified: and your soul, which shines through it, finds it
+of a substance so near her own, that she will be pleased to pass an
+age within it, and to be confined to such a palace.
+
+I know not how I am hurried back to my former theme; I ought and
+purposed to have celebrated those endowments and qualities of your
+mind, which were sufficient, even without the graces of your person,
+to render you, as you are, the ornament of the court, and the object
+of wonder to three kingdoms. But all my praises are but as a bull-rush
+cast upon a stream; if they sink not, 'tis because they are borne up
+by the strength of the current, which supports their lightness; but
+they are carried round again, and return on the eddy where they first
+began. I can proceed no farther than your beauty; and even on that too
+I have said so little, considering the greatness of the subject, that,
+like him who would lodge a bowl upon a precipice, either my praise
+falls back, by the weakness of the delivery, or stays not on the top,
+but rolls over, and is lost on the other side. I intended this a
+dedication; but how can I consider what belongs to myself, when I have
+been so long contemplating on you! Be pleased then, madam, to receive
+this poem, without entitling so much excellency as yours, to the
+faults and imperfections of so mean a writer; and instead of being
+favourable to the piece, which merits nothing, forgive the presumption
+of the author; who is, with all possible veneration,
+
+  Your Royal Highness's
+    Most obedient, most humble,
+      Most devoted servant,
+        JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. Mary of Este, daughter of the Duke of Modena, and second wife to
+   James Duke of York, afterwards James II. She was married to him by
+   proxy in 1673, and came over in the year following. Notwithstanding
+   her husband's unpopularity, and her own attachment to the Roman
+   Catholic religion, her youth, beauty, and innocence secured her
+   from insult and slander during all the stormy period which preceded
+   her accession to the crown. Even Burnet, reluctantly, admits the
+   force of her charms, and the inoffensiveness of her conduct. But
+   her beauty produced a more lasting effect on the young and gallant,
+   than on that austere and stubborn partizan; and its force must be
+   allowed, since it was extolled even when Mary was dethroned and
+   exiled. Granville, Lord Lansdowne, has praised her in "The Progress
+   of Beauty;" and I cannot forbear transcribing some of the verses,
+   on account of the gallant spirit of the author, who scorned to
+   change with fortune, and continued to admire and celebrate, in
+   adversity, the charms which he had worshipped in the meridian of
+   prosperity.
+
+       And now, my muse, a nobler flight prepare,
+     And sing so loud, that heaven and earth may hear.
+     Behold from Italy an awful ray
+     Of heavenly light illuminates the day;
+     Northward she bends, majestically bright,
+     And here she fixes her imperial light.
+     Be bold, be bold, my muse, nor fear to raise
+     Thy voice to her who was thy earliest praise[a].
+     What though the sullen fates refuse to shine,
+     Or frown severe on thy audacious line;
+     Keep thy bright theme within thy steady sight,
+     The clouds shall fly before thy dazzling light,
+     And everlasting day direct thy lofty flight.
+     Thou, who hast never yet put on disguise,
+     To flatter faction, or descend to vice,
+     Let no vain fear thy generous ardour tame,
+     But stand erect, and sound as loud as fame.
+       As when our eye some prospect would pursue,
+     Descending from a hill looks round to view,
+     Passes o'er lawns and meadows, till it gains
+     Some favourite spot, and fixing there remains;
+     With equal ardour my transported muse
+     Flies other objects, this bright theme to chuse.
+       Queen of our hearts, and charmer of our sight!
+     A monarch's pride, his glory and delight!
+     Princess adored and loved! if verse can give
+     A deathless name, thine shall for ever live;
+     Invoked where'er the British lion roars,
+     Extended as the seas that guard the British shores.
+     The wise immortals, in their seats above,
+     To crown their labours still appointed love;
+     Phoebus enjoyed the goddess of the sea,
+     Alcides had Omphale, James has thee.
+     O happy James! content thy mighty mind,
+     Grudge not the world, for still thy queen is kind;
+     To be but at whose feet more glory brings,
+     Than 'tis to tread on sceptres and on kings.
+     Secure of empire in that beauteous breast,
+     Who would not give their crowns to be so blest?
+     Was Helen half so fair, so formed for joy,
+     Well chose the Trojan, and well burned was Troy.
+     But ah! what strange vicissitudes of fate,
+     What chance attends on every worldly state!
+     As when the skies were sacked, the conquered gods,
+     Compelled from heaven, forsook their blessed abodes;
+     Wandering in woods, they hid from den to den,
+     And sought their safety in the shapes of men;
+     As when the winds with kindling flames conspire,
+     The blaze increases as they fan the fire;
+     From roof to roof the burning torrent pours,
+     Nor spares the palace nor the loftiest towers;
+     Or as the stately pine, erecting high
+     Her lofty branches shooting to the sky,
+     If riven by the thunderbolt of Jove,
+     Down falls at once the pride of all the grove;
+     Level with lowest shrubs lies the tall head,
+     That, reared aloft, as to the clouds was spread,
+     So--
+     But cease, my muse, thy colours are too faint;
+     Shade with a veil those griefs thou can'st not paint.
+     That sun is set!--
+
+                                   _Progress of Beauty._
+
+   The beauty, which inspired the romantic and unchanging admiration
+   of Granville, may be allowed to justify some of the flights of
+   Dryden's panegyric. I fear enough will still remain to justify the
+   stricture of Johnson, who observes, that Dryden's dedication is an
+   "attempt to mingle earth and heaven, by praising human excellence
+   in the language of religion."
+
+   At the date of this address, the Duchess of York was only in her
+   sixteenth year.
+
+   Footnote:
+   a. He had written verses to the Earl of Peterborough, on the Duke
+      of York's marriage with the Princess of Modena, before he was
+      twelve years old.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                              MR DRYDEN,
+
+                                ON HIS
+
+                          POEM OF PARADISE.
+
+
+  Forgive me, awful poet, if a muse,
+  Whom artless nature did for plainness chuse,
+  In loose attire presents her humble thought,
+  Of this best poem that you ever wrought.
+  This fairest labour of your teeming brain
+  I would embrace, but not with flatt'ry stain.
+  Something I would to your vast virtue raise,
+  But scorn to daub it with a fulsome praise;
+  That would but blot the work I would commend,
+  And shew a court-admirer, not a friend.
+  To the dead bard your fame a little owes,
+  For Milton did the wealthy mine disclose,
+  And rudely cast what you could well dispose:
+  He roughly drew, on an old fashioned ground,
+  A chaos; for no perfect world was found,
+  Till through the heap your mighty genius shined:
+  He was the golden ore, which you refined.
+  He first beheld the beauteous rustic maid,
+  And to a place of strength the prize conveyed:
+  You took her thence; to court this virgin brought,
+  Drest her with gems, new weaved her hard-spun thought,
+  And softest language sweetest manners taught;
+  Till from a comet she a star doth rise,
+  Not to affright, but please, our wondering eyes.
+  Betwixt you both is trained a nobler piece,
+  Than e'er was drawn in Italy or Greece.
+  Thou from his source of thoughts even souls dost bring,
+  As smiling gods from sullen Saturn spring.
+  When night's dull mask the face of heaven does wear,
+  'Tis doubtful light, but here and there a star,
+  Which serves the dreadful shadows to display,
+  That vanish at the rising of the day;
+  But then bright robes the meadows all adorn,
+  And the world looks as it were newly born.
+  So, when your sense his mystic reason cleared,
+  The melancholy scene all gay appeared;
+  Now light leapt up, and a new glory smiled,
+  And all throughout was mighty, all was mild.
+  Before this palace, which thy wit did build,
+  Which various fancy did so gaudy gild,
+  And judgment has with solid riches filled,
+  My humbler muse begs she may sentry stand,
+  Amongst the rest that guard this Eden land.
+  But there's no need, for ev'n thy foes conspire
+  Thy praise, and, hating thee, thy work admire.
+  On then, O mightiest of the inspired men!
+  Monarch of verse! new themes employ thy pen.
+  The troubles of majestic Charles set down;
+  Not David vanquished more to reach a crown.
+  Praise him as Cowley did that Hebrew king:
+  Thy theme's as great; do thou as greatly sing.
+  Then thou may'st boldly to his favour rise,
+  Look down, and the base serpent's hiss despise;
+  From thund'ring envy safe in laurel sit,
+  While clam'rous critics their vile heads submit,
+  Condemned for treason at the bar of wit.
+
+                                   NAT. LEE.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                           AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
+
+                                 FOR
+
+                  HEROIC POETRY, AND POETIC LICENCE.
+
+
+To satisfy the curiosity of those, who will give themselves the
+trouble of reading the ensuing poem, I think myself obliged to render
+them a reason why I publish an opera which was never acted. In the
+first place, I shall not be ashamed to own, that my chiefest motive
+was, the ambition which I acknowledged in the Epistle. I was desirous
+to lay at the feet of so beautiful and excellent a princess, a work,
+which, I confess, was unworthy her, but which, I hope, she will have
+the goodness to forgive. I was also induced to it in my own defence;
+many hundred copies of it being dispersed abroad without my knowledge,
+or consent: so that every one gathering new faults, it became at
+length a libel against me; and I saw, with some disdain, more nonsense
+than either I, or as bad a poet, could have crammed into it, at a
+month's warning; in which time it was wholly written, and not since
+revised. After this, I cannot, without injury to the deceased author
+of "Paradise Lost," but acknowledge, that this poem has received its
+entire foundation, part of the design, and many of the ornaments, from
+him. What I have borrowed will be so easily discerned from my mean
+productions, that I shall not need to point the reader to the places:
+And truly I should be sorry, for my own sake, that any one should take
+the pains to compare them together; the original being undoubtedly one
+of the greatest, most noble, and most sublime poems, which either this
+age or nation has produced. And though I could not refuse the
+partiality of my friend, who is pleased to commend me in his verses, I
+hope they will rather be esteemed the effect of his love to me, than
+of his deliberate and sober judgment. His genius is able to make
+beautiful what he pleases: Yet, as he has been too favourable to me, I
+doubt not but he will hear of his kindness from many of our
+contemporaries for we are fallen into an age of illiterate,
+censorious, and detracting people, who, thus qualified, set up for
+critics.
+
+In the first place, I must take leave to tell them, that they wholly
+mistake the nature of criticism, who think its business is principally
+to find fault. Criticism, as it was first instituted by Aristotle, was
+meant a standard of judging well; the chiefest part of which is, to
+observe those excellencies which should delight a reasonable reader.
+If the design, the conduct, the thoughts, and the expressions of a
+poem, be generally such as proceed from a true genius of poetry, the
+critic ought to pass his judgement in favour of the author. It is
+malicious and unmanly to snarl at the little lapses of a pen, from
+which Virgil himself stands not exempted. Horace acknowledges, that
+honest Homer nods sometimes: He is not equally awake in every line;
+but he leaves it also as a standing measure for our judgments,
+
+  --Non, _ubi plura nitent in carmine, paucis_
+  Offendi _maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,
+  Aut humana parùm cavit natura._--
+
+And Longinus, who was undoubtedly, after Aristotle the greatest critic
+amongst the Greeks, in his twenty-seventh chapter, [Greek: PERI
+HUPSOUS], has judiciously preferred the sublime genius that sometimes
+errs, to the middling or indifferent one, which makes few faults, but
+seldom or never rises to any excellence. He compares the first to a
+man of large possessions, who has not leisure to consider of every
+slight expence, will not debase himself to the management of every
+trifle: Particular sums are not laid out, or spared, to the greatest
+advantage in his economy; but are sometimes suffered to run to waste,
+while he is only careful of the main. On the other side, he likens the
+mediocrity of wit, to one of a mean fortune, who manages his store
+with extreme frugality, or rather parsimony; but who, with fear of
+running into profuseness, never arrives to the magnificence of living.
+This kind of genius writes indeed correctly. A wary man he is in
+grammar, very nice as to solecism or barbarism, judges to a hair of
+little decencies, knows better than any man what is not to be written,
+and never hazards himself so far as to fall, but plods on
+deliberately, and, as a grave man ought, is sure to put his staff
+before him. In short, he sets his heart upon it, and with wonderful
+care makes his business sure; that is, in plain English, neither to be
+blamed nor praised.--I could, says my author, find out some blemishes
+in Homer; and am perhaps as naturally inclined to be disgusted at a
+fault as another man; but, after all, to speak impartially, his
+failings are such, as are only marks of human frailty: they are little
+mistakes, or rather negligences, which have escaped his pen in the
+fervour of his writing; the sublimity of his spirit carries it with me
+against his carelessness; and though Apollonius his "Argonauts," and
+Theocritus his "Idyllia," are more free from errors, there is not any
+man of so false a judgment, who would chuse rather to have been
+Apollonius or Theocritus, than Homer.
+
+It is worth our consideration a little, to examine how much these
+hypercritics in English poetry differ from the opinion of the Greek
+and Latin judges of antiquity; from the Italians and French, who have
+succeeded them; and, indeed, from the general taste and approbation of
+all ages. Heroic poetry, which they condemn, has ever been esteemed,
+and ever will be, the greatest work of human nature: In that rank has
+Aristotle placed it; and Longinus is so full of the like expressions,
+that he abundantly confirms the other's testimony. Horace as plainly
+delivers his opinion, and particularly praises Homer in these verses:
+
+  _Trojani Belli scriptorem, maxime Lolli,
+  Dum tu declamas Romæ, Præneste relegi:
+  Qui quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non,
+  Plenius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit._
+
+And in another place, modestly excluding himself from the number of
+poets, because he only writ odes and satires, he tells you a poet is
+such an one,
+
+  --_Cui mens divinior, atque os
+  Magna soniturum._
+
+Quotations are superfluous in an established truth; otherwise I could
+reckon up, amongst the moderns, all the Italian commentators on
+Aristotle's book of poetry; and, amongst the French, the greatest of
+this age, Boileau and Rapin; the latter of which is alone sufficient,
+were all other critics lost, to teach anew the rules of writing. Any
+man, who will seriously consider the nature of an epic poem, how it
+agrees with that of poetry in general, which is to instruct and to
+delight, what actions it describes, and what persons they are chiefly
+whom it informs, will find it a work which indeed is full of
+difficulty in the attempt, but admirable when it is well performed. I
+write not this with the least intention to undervalue the other parts
+of poetry: for Comedy is both excellently instructive, and extremely
+pleasant; satire lashes vice into reformation, and humour represents
+folly so as to render it ridiculous. Many of our present writers are
+eminent in both these kinds; and, particularly, the author of the
+"Plain Dealer," whom I am proud to call my friend, has obliged all
+honest and virtuous men, by one of the most bold, most general, and
+most useful satires, which has ever been presented on the English
+theatre. I do not dispute the preference of Tragedy; let every man
+enjoy his taste: but it is unjust, that they, who have not the least
+notion of heroic writing, should therefore condemn the pleasure which
+others receive from it, because they cannot comprehend it. Let them
+please their appetites in eating what they like; but let them not
+force their dish on all the table. They, who would combat general
+authority with particular opinion, must first establish themselves a
+reputation of understanding better than other men. Are all the flights
+of heroic poetry to be concluded bombast, unnatural, and mere madness,
+because they are not affected with their excellencies? It is just as
+reasonable as to conclude there is no day, because a blind man cannot
+distinguish of light and colours. Ought they not rather, in modesty,
+to doubt of their own judgments, when they think this or that
+expression in Homer, Virgil, Tasso, or Milton's "Paradise," to be too
+far strained, than positively to conclude, that it is all fustian, and
+mere nonsense? It is true, there are limits to be set betwixt the
+boldness and rashness of a poet; but he must understand those limits,
+who pretends to judge as well as he who undertakes to write: and he
+who has no liking to the whole, ought, in reason, to be excluded from
+censuring of the parts. He must be a lawyer before he mounts the
+tribunal; and the judicature of one court, too, does not qualify a man
+to preside in another. He may be an excellent pleader in the Chancery,
+who is not fit to rule the Common Pleas. But I will presume for once
+to tell them, that the boldest strokes of poetry, when they are
+managed artfully, are those which most delight the reader.
+
+Virgil and Horace, the severest writers of the severest age, have made
+frequent use of the hardest metaphors, and of the strongest
+hyperboles; and in this case the best authority is the best argument;
+for generally to have pleased, and through all ages, must bear the
+force of universal tradition. And if you would appeal from thence to
+right reason, you will gain no more by it in effect, than, first, to
+set up your reason against those authors; and, secondly, against all
+those who have admired them. You must prove, why that ought not to
+have pleased, which has pleased the most learned, and the most
+judicious; and, to be thought knowing, you must first put the fool
+upon all mankind. If you can enter more deeply, than they have done,
+into the causes and resorts of that which moves pleasure in a reader,
+the field is open, you may be heard: But those springs of human nature
+are not so easily discovered by every superficial judge: It requires
+philosophy, as well as poetry, to sound the depth of all the passions;
+what they are in themselves, and how they are to be provoked: And in
+this science the best poets have excelled. Aristotle raised the fabric
+of his poetry from observation of those things, in which Euripides,
+Sophocles, and Æschylus pleased: He considered how they raised the
+passions, and thence has drawn rules for our imitation. From hence
+have sprung the tropes and figures, for which they wanted a name, who
+first practised them, and succeeded in them. Thus I grant you, that
+the knowledge of nature was the original rule; and that all poets
+ought to study her, as well as Aristotle and Horace, her interpreters.
+But then this also undeniably follows, that those things, which
+delight all ages, must have been an imitation of nature; which is all
+I contend. Therefore is rhetoric made an art; therefore the names of
+so many tropes and figures were invented; because it was observed they
+had such and such effect upon the audience. Therefore catachreses and
+hyperboles have found their place amongst them; not that they were to
+be avoided, but to be used judiciously, and placed in poetry, as
+heightenings and shadows are in painting, to make the figure bolder,
+and cause it to stand off to sight.
+
+  _Nec retia cervis
+  Ulla dolum meditantur;_
+
+says Virgil in his Eclogues: and speaking of Leander, in his Georgics,
+
+  _Nocte natat cæca serus freta, quem super ingens
+  Porta tonat cæli, et scopulis illisa reclamant
+  Æquora:_
+
+In both of these, you see, he fears not to give voice and thought to
+things inanimate.
+
+Will you arraign your master, Horace, for his hardness of expression,
+when he describes the death of Cleopatra, and says she did--_asperos
+tractare serpentes, ut atrum corpore combiberet cenenum,_--because the
+body, in that action, performs what is proper to the mouth?
+
+As for hyperboles, I will neither quote Lucan, nor Statius, men of an
+unbounded imagination, but who often wanted the poize of judgment. The
+divine Virgil was not liable to that exception; and yet he describes
+Polyphemus thus:
+
+  _--Graditurque per æquor
+  Jam medium; necdum fluctus latera ardua tinxit._
+
+In imitation of this place, our admirable Cowley thus paints Goliah:
+
+  The valley, now, this monster seemed to fill;
+  And we, methought, looked up to him from our hill:
+
+where the two words, _seemed_ and _methought_, have mollified the
+figure; and yet if they had not been there, the fright of the
+Israelites might have excused their belief of the giant's stature[1].
+
+In the eighth of the Æneids, Virgil paints the swiftness of Camilla
+thus:
+
+  _Ilia vel intactæ segetis per summa volaret
+  Gramina, nec teneras cursu læsisset aristas;
+  Vel mare per medium, fluctu suspensa tumenti,
+  Ferret iter, celeres nec tingeret æquore plantas._
+
+You are not obliged, as in history, to a literal belief of what the
+poet says; but you are pleased with the image, without being cozened
+by the fiction.
+
+Yet even in history, Longinus quotes Herodotus on this occasion of
+hyperboles. The Lacedemonians, says he, at the straits of Thermopylæ,
+defended themselves to the last extremity; and when their arms failed
+them, fought it out with their nails and teeth; till at length, (the
+Persians shooting continually upon them) they lay buried under the
+arrows of their enemies. It is not reasonable, (continues the critic)
+to believe, that men could defend themselves with their nails and
+teeth from an armed multitude; nor that they lay buried under a pile
+of darts and arrows; and yet there wants not probability for the
+figure: because the hyperbole seems not to have been made for the sake
+of the description; but rather to have been produced from the
+occasion.
+
+It is true, the boldness of the figures is to be hidden sometimes by
+the address of the poet; that they may work their effect upon the
+mind, without discovering the art which caused it. And therefore they
+are principally to be used in passion; when we speak more warmly, and
+with more precipitation than at other times: For then, _Si vis me
+flere, dolendum est primum ipsi tibi;_ the poet must put on the
+passion he endeavours to represent: A man in such an occasion is not
+cool enough, either to reason rightly, or to talk calmly. Aggravations
+are then in their proper places; interrogations, exclamations,
+hyperbata, or a disordered connection of discourse, are graceful
+there, because they are natural. The sum of all depends on what before
+I hinted, that this boldness of expression is not to be blamed, if it
+be managed by the coolness and discretion which is necessary to a
+poet.
+
+Yet before I leave this subject, I cannot but take notice how
+disingenuous our adversaries appear: All that is dull, insipid,
+languishing, and without sinews, in a poem, they call an imitation of
+nature: They only offend our most equitable judges, who think beyond
+them; and lively images and elocution are never to be forgiven.
+
+What fustian, as they call it, have I heard these gentlemen find out
+in Mr Cowley's Odes! I acknowledge myself unworthy to defend so
+excellent an author, neither have I room to do it here; only in
+general I will say, that nothing can appear more beautiful to me, than
+the strength of those images which they condemn.
+
+Imaging is, in itself, the very height and life of poetry. It is, as
+Longinus describes it, a discourse, which, by a kind of enthusiasm, or
+extraordinary emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us, that we behold
+those things which the poet paints, so as to be pleased with them, and
+to admire them.
+
+If poetry be imitation, that part of it must needs be best, which
+describes most lively our actions and passions; our virtues and our
+vices; our follies and our humours: For neither is comedy without its
+part of imaging; and they who do it best are certainly the most
+excellent in their kind. This is too plainly proved to be denied: But
+how are poetical fictions, how are hippocentaurs and chimeras, or how
+are angels and immaterial substances to be imaged; which, some of
+them, are things quite out of nature; others, such whereof we can have
+no notion? This is the last refuge of our adversaries; and more than
+any of them have yet had the wit to object against us. The answer is
+easy to the first part of it: The fiction of some beings which are not
+in nature, (second notions, as the logicians call them) has been
+founded on the conjunction of two natures, which have a real separate
+being. So hippocentaurs were imaged, by joining the natures of a man
+and horse together; as Lucretius tells us, who has used this word of
+_image_ oftener than any of the poets:
+
+  _Nam certè ex vivo centauri non fit imago,
+  Nulla fuit quoniam talis natura animai:
+  Verùm ubi equi atque hominis, casu, convenit imago,
+  Hærescit facilè extemplò,_ &c.
+
+The same reason may also be alleged for chimeras and the rest. And
+poets may be allowed the like liberty, for describing things which
+really exist not, if they are founded on popular belief. Of this
+nature are fairies, pigmies, and the extraordinary effects of magic;
+for it is still an imitation, though of other men's fancies: and thus
+are Shakespeare's "Tempest," his "Midsummer Night's Dream," and Ben
+Jonson's "Masque of Witches" to be defended. For immaterial
+substances, we are authorised by Scripture in their description: and
+herein the text accommodates itself to vulgar apprehension, in giving
+angels the likeness of beautiful young men. Thus, after the pagan
+divinity, has Homer drawn his gods with human faces: and thus we have
+notions of things above us, by describing them like other beings more
+within our knowledge.
+
+I wish I could produce any one example of excellent imaging in all
+this poem. Perhaps I cannot; but that which comes nearest it, is in
+these four lines, which have been sufficiently canvassed by my
+well-natured censors:
+
+  Seraph and cherub, careless of their charge,
+  And wanton, in full ease now live at large:
+  Unguarded leave the passes of the sky,
+  And all dissolved in hallelujahs lie.
+
+I have heard (says one of them) of anchovies _dissolved_ in sauce; but
+never of an angel _in hallelujahs._ A mighty witticism! (if you will
+pardon a new word,) but there is some difference between a laugher and
+a critic. He might have burlesqued Virgil too, from whom I took the
+image. _Invadunt urbem, somno vinoque sepultam._ A city's being
+buried, is just as proper on occasion, as an angel's being dissolved
+in ease, and songs of triumph. Mr Cowley lies as open too in many
+places:
+
+  Where their vast courts the mother waters keep, &c.
+
+For if the mass of waters be the mothers, then their daughters, the
+little streams, are bound, in all good manners, to make courtesy to
+them, and ask them blessing. How easy it is to turn into ridicule the
+best descriptions, when once a man is in the humour of laughing, till
+he wheezes at his own dull jest! but an image, which is strongly and
+beautifully set before the eyes of the reader, will still be poetry,
+when the merry fit is over, and last when the other is forgotten.
+
+I promised to say somewhat of Poetic Licence, but have in part
+anticipated my discourse already. Poetic Licence, I take to be the
+liberty which poets have assumed to themselves, in all ages, of
+speaking things in verse, which are beyond the severity of prose. It
+is that particular character, which distinguishes and sets the bounds
+betwixt _oratio soluta_, and poetry. This, as to what regards the
+thought, or imagination of a poet, consists in fiction: but then those
+thoughts must be expressed; and here arise two other branches of it;
+for if this licence be included in a single word, it admits of tropes;
+if in a sentence or proposition, of figures; both which are of a much
+larger extent, and more forcibly to be used in verse than prose. This
+is that birth-right which is derived to us from our great forefathers,
+even from Homer down to Ben; and they, who would deny it to us, have,
+in plain terms, the fox's quarrel to the grapes--they cannot reach it.
+
+How far these liberties are to be extended, I will not presume to
+determine here, since Horace does not. But it is certain that they are
+to be varied, according to the language and age in which an author
+writes. That which would be allowed to a Grecian poet, Martial tells
+you, would not be suffered in a Roman; and it is evident, that the
+English does more nearly follow the strictness of the latter, than the
+freedoms of the former. Connection of epithets, or the conjunction of
+two words in one, are frequent and elegant in the Greek, which yet Sir
+Philip Sidney, and the translator of Du Bartas, have unluckily
+attempted in the English; though this, I confess, is not so proper an
+instance of poetic licence, as it is of variety of idiom in languages.
+
+Horace a little explains himself on this subject of _Licentia
+Poetica_, in these verses:
+
+  _--Pictoribus atque Poetis
+  Quidlibet audendi semper fuit æqua potestas: ...
+  Sed non, ut placidis coeant immitia, non ut
+  Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus hædi._
+
+He would have a poem of a piece; not to begin with one thing, and end
+with another: He restrains it so far, that thoughts of an unlike
+nature ought not to be joined together. That were indeed to make a
+chaos. He taxed not Homer, nor the divine Virgil, for interesting
+their gods in the wars of Troy and Italy; neither, had he now lived,
+would he have taxed Milton, as our false critics have presumed to do,
+for his choice of a supernatural argument; but he would have blamed my
+author, who was a Christian, had he introduced into his poem heathen
+deities, as Tasso is condemned by Rapin on the like occasion; and as
+Camoëns, the author of the "Lusiads," ought to be censured by all his
+readers, when he brings in Bacchus and Christ into the same adventure
+of his fable.
+
+From that which has been said, it may be collected, that the
+definition of wit (which has been so often attempted, and ever
+unsuccessfully by many poets,) is only this: That it is a propriety of
+thoughts and words; or, in other terms, thoughts and words elegantly
+adapted to the subject. If our critics will join issue on this
+definition, that we may _convenire in aliquo tertio_; if they will
+take it as a granted principle, it will be easy to put an end to this
+dispute. No man will disagree from another's judgment concerning the
+dignity of style in heroic poetry; but all reasonable men will
+conclude it necessary, that sublime subjects ought to be adorned with
+the sublimest, and consequently often, with the most figurative
+expressions. In the mean time I will not run into their fault of
+imposing my opinions on other men, any more than I would my writings
+on their taste: I have only laid down, and that superficially enough,
+my present thoughts; and shall be glad to be taught better by those
+who pretend to reform our poetry.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. With all this mitigation, the passage seems horrible bombast.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                         STATE OF INNOCENCE,
+
+                                 AND
+
+                             FALL OF MAN.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_Represents a Chaos, or a confused Mass of Matter; the Stage
+  is almost wholly dark: A Symphony of warlike Music is heard for some
+  time; then from the Heavens, (which are opened) fall the rebellious
+  Angels, wheeling in Air, and seeming transfixed with Thunderbolts:
+  The bottom of the Stage being opened, receives the Angels, who fall
+  out of sight. Tunes of Victory are played, and an Hymn sung; Angels
+  discovered above, brandishing their Swords: The Music ceasing, and
+  the Heavens being closed, the Scene shifts, and on a sudden
+  represents Hell: Part of the Scene is a Lake of Brimstone, or
+  rolling Fire; the Earth of a burnt Colour: The fallen Angels appear
+  on the Lake, lying prostrate; a Tune of Horror and Lamentation is
+  heard._
+
+  LUCIFER, _raising himself on the Lake._
+
+_Lucif._ Is this the seat our conqueror has given?
+And this the climate we must change for heaven?
+These regions and this realm my wars have got;
+This mournful empire is the loser's lot:
+In liquid burnings, or on dry, to dwell,
+Is all the sad variety of hell.
+But see, the victor has recalled, from far,
+The avenging storms, his ministers of war:
+His shafts are spent, and his tired thunders sleep,
+Nor longer bellow through the boundless deep.
+Best take the occasion, and these waves forsake,
+While time is given.--Ho, Asmoday, awake,
+If thou art he! But ah! how changed from him,
+Companion of my arms! how wan! how dim!
+How faded all thy glories are! I see
+Myself too well, and my own change in thee.
+
+_Asm._ Prince of the thrones, who in the fields of light
+Led'st forth the embattled seraphim to fight;
+Who shook the power of heaven's eternal state,
+Had broke it too, if not upheld by fate;
+But now those hopes are fled: Thus low we lie,
+Shut from his day, and that contended sky,
+And lost, as far as heavenly forms can die;
+Yet, not all perished: We defy him still,
+And yet wage war, with our unconquered will.
+
+_Lucif._ Strength may return.
+
+_Asm._ Already of thy virtue I partake,
+Erected by thy voice.
+
+_Lucif._ See on the lake
+Our troops, like scattered leaves in autumn, lie;
+First let us raise ourselves, and seek the dry,
+Perhaps more easy dwelling.
+
+_Asm._ From the beach
+Thy well-known voice the sleeping gods will reach,
+And wake the immortal sense, which thunder's noise
+Had quelled, and lightning deep had driven within them.
+
+_Lucif._ With wings expanded wide, ourselves we'll rear,
+And fly incumbent on the dusky air.--
+Hell, thy new lord receive!
+Heaven cannot envy me an empire here.         [_Both fly to dry Land._
+
+_Asm._ Thus far we have prevailed; if that be gain,
+Which is but change of place, not change of pain.
+Now summon we the rest.
+
+_Lucif._ Dominions, Powers, ye chiefs of heaven's bright host,
+(Of heaven, once your's; but now in battle lost)
+Wake from your slumber! Are your beds of down?
+Sleep you so easy there? Or fear the frown
+Of him who threw you hence, and joys to see
+Your abject state confess his victory?
+Rise, rise, ere from his battlements he view
+Your prostrate postures, and his bolts renew,
+To strike you deeper down.
+
+_Asm._ They wake, they hear,
+Shake off their slumber first, and next their fear;
+And only for the appointed signal stay.
+
+_Lucif._ Rise from the flood, and hither wing your way.
+
+_Mol._ [_From the Lake._]
+Thine to command; our part is to obey.
+                      [_The rest of the Devils rise up, and fly to the
+                       Land._
+
+_Lucif._ So, now we are ourselves again an host,
+Fit to tempt fate, once more, for what we lost;
+To o'erleap the etherial fence, or if so high
+We cannot climb, to undermine his sky,
+And blow him up, who justly rules us now,
+Because more strong: Should he be forced to bow.
+The right were ours again: 'Tis just to win
+The highest place; to attempt, and fail, is sin.
+
+_Mol._ Changed as we are, we're yet from homage free;
+We have, by hell, at least gained liberty:
+That's worth our fall; thus low though we are driven,
+Better to rule in hell, than serve in heaven.
+
+_Lucif._ There spoke the better half of Lucifer!
+
+_Asm._ 'Tis fit in frequent senate we confer,
+And then determine how to steer our course;
+To wage new war by fraud, or open force.
+The doom's now past; submission were in vain.
+
+_Mol._ And were it not, such baseness I disdain;
+I would not stoop, to purchase all above,
+And should contemn a power, whom prayer could move,
+As one unworthy to have conquered me.
+
+_Beelzebub._ Moloch, in that all are resolved, like thee.
+The means are unproposed; but 'tis not fit
+Our dark divan in public view should sit;
+Or what we plot against the Thunderer,
+The ignoble crowd of vulgar devils hear.
+
+_Luci._ A golden palace let be raised on high;
+To imitate? No, to outshine the sky!
+All mines are ours, and gold above the rest:
+Let this be done; and quick as 'twas exprest.
+
+  _A Palace rises, where sit, as in council,_ LUCIFER, ASMODAY,
+  MOLOCH, BELIAL, BEELZEBUB, _and_ SATAN.
+
+Most high and mighty lords, who better fell
+From heaven, to rise states-general of hell,
+Nor yet repent, though ruined and undone,
+Our upper provinces already won,
+Such pride there is in souls created free,
+Such hate of universal monarchy;
+Speak, for we therefore meet:
+If peace you chuse, your suffrages declare;
+Or means propound, to carry on the war.
+
+_Mol._ My sentence is for war; that open too:
+Unskilled in stratagems, plain force I know:
+Treaties are vain to losers; nor would we,
+Should heaven grant peace, submit to sovereignty.
+We can no caution give we will adore;
+And he above is warned to trust no more.
+What then remains but battle?
+
+_Satan._ I agree
+With this brave vote; and if in hell there be
+Ten more such spirits, heaven is our own again:
+We venture nothing, and may all obtain.
+Yet who can hope but well, since even success
+Makes foes secure, and makes our danger less?
+Seraph and cherub, careless of their charge,
+And wanton, in full ease now live at large;
+Unguarded leave the passes of the sky,
+And all dissolved in hallelujahs lie.
+
+_Mol._ Grant that our hazardous attempt prove vain;
+We feel the worst, secured from greater pain:
+Perhaps we may provoke the conquering foe
+To make us nothing; yet, even then, we know,
+That not to be, is not to be in woe.
+
+_Belial._ That knowledge which, as spirits, we obtain,
+Is to be valued in the midst of pain:
+Annihilation were to lose heaven more;
+We are not quite exiled where thought can soar.
+Then cease from arms;
+Tempt him not farther to pursue his blow,
+And be content to bear those pains we know.
+If what we had, we could not keep, much less
+Can we regain what those above possess.
+
+_Beelzebub._ Heaven sleeps not; from one wink a breach would be
+In the full circle of eternity.
+Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased;
+Heaven, unprovoked, at length may be appeased.
+By war we cannot scape our wretched lot;
+And may, perhaps, not warring, be forgot.
+
+_Asm._ Could we repent, or did not heaven well know
+Rebellion, once forgiven, would greater grow,
+I should, with Belial, chuse ignoble ease;
+But neither will the conqueror give peace,
+Nor yet so lost in this low state we are,
+As to despair of a well-managed war.
+Nor need we tempt those heights which angels keep,
+Who fear no force, or ambush, from the deep.
+What if we find some easier enterprise?
+There is a place,--if ancient prophecies
+And fame in heaven not err,--the blest abode
+Of some new race, called Man, a demi-god,
+Whom, near this time, the Almighty must create;
+He swore it, shook the heavens, and made it fate.
+
+_Lucif._ I heard it; through all heaven the rumour ran,
+And much the talk of this intended Man:
+Of form divine; but less in excellence
+Than we; endued with reason lodged in sense:
+The soul pure fire, like ours, of equal force;
+But, pent in flesh, must issue by discourse:
+We see what is; to Man truth must be brought
+By sense, and drawn by a long chain of thought:
+By that faint light, to will and understand;
+For made less knowing, he's at more command.
+
+_Asm._ Though heaven be shut, that world, if it be made,
+As nearest heaven, lies open to invade:
+Man therefore must be known, his strength, his state,
+And by what tenure he holds all of fate.
+Him let us then seduce, or overthrow;
+The first is easiest, and makes heaven his foe.
+Advise, if this attempt be worth our care.
+
+_Belial._ Great is the advantage, great the hazards are.
+Some one (but who that task dares undertake?)
+Of this new creature must discovery make.
+Hell's brazen gates he first must break, then far
+Must wander through old night, and through the war
+Of antique chaos; and, when these are past,
+Meet heaven's out-guards, who scout upon the waste:
+At every station must be bid to stand,
+And forced to answer every strict demand.
+
+_Mol._ This glorious enterprise--                        [_Rising up._
+
+_Lucif._ Rash angel, stay;
+                         [_Rising, and laying his sceptre on_ MOLOCH'S
+                          _head._
+That palm is mine, which none shall take away.
+Hot braves, like thee, may fight; but know not well
+To manage this, the last great stake of hell.
+Why am I ranked in state above the rest,
+If, while I stand of sovereign power possest,
+Another dares, in danger, farther go?
+Kings are not made for ease, and pageant-show.
+Who would be conqueror, must venture all:
+He merits not to rise, who dares not fall.
+
+_Asm._ The praise, and danger, then, be all your own.
+
+_Lucif._ On this foundation I erect my throne:
+Through brazen gates, vast chaos, and old night,
+I'll force my way, and upwards steer my flight;
+Discover this new world, and newer Man;
+Make him my footstep to mount heaven again:
+Then, in the clemency of upward air,
+We'll scour our spots, and the dire thunder scar,
+With all the remnants of the unlucky war,
+And once again grow bright, and once again grow fair.
+
+_Asm._ Meantime the youth of hell strict guard may keep,
+And set their centries to the utmost deep,
+That no etherial parasite may come
+To spy our ills, and tell glad tales at home.
+
+_Lucif._ Before yon brimstone lake thrice ebb and flow,
+(Alas, that we must measure time by woe!)
+I shall return, (my mind presages well)
+And outward lead the colonies of hell.
+Your care I much approve; what time remains,
+Seek to forget, at least divert your pains
+With sports and music, in the vales and fields,
+And whate'erjoy so sad a climate yields.
+
+  _Betwixt the first Act and the second, while the Chiefs sit in the
+  palace, may be expressed the sports of the Devils; as flights, and
+  dancing in grotesque figures: And a song, expressing the change of
+  their condition; what they enjoyed before, and how they fell bravely
+  in battle, having deserved victory by their valour, and what they
+  would have done if they had conquered._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+SCENE 1.--_A Champaign Country._
+
+  ADAM, _as newly created, laid on a bed of moss and flowers, by a
+  rock._
+
+_Adam._ What am I? or from whence? For that I am            [_Rising._
+I know, because I think; but whence I came,
+Or how this frame of mine began to be,
+What other being can disclose to me?
+I move, I see, I speak, discourse, and know;
+Though now I am, I was not always so.
+Then that, from which I was, must be before,
+Whom, as my spring of being, I adore.
+How full of ornament is all I view,
+In all its parts! and seems as beautiful as new:
+O goodly-ordered work! O Power Divine,
+Of thee I am, and what I am is thine!
+
+  RAPHAEL _descends to_ ADAM, _in a cloud._
+
+_Raphael._ First of mankind, made o'er the world to reign,
+Whose fruitful loins an unborn kind contain,
+Well hast thou reasoned: Of himself is none
+But that Eternal Infinite and One,
+Who never did begin, who ne'er can end;
+On Him all beings, as their source, depend.
+We first, who of his image most partake,
+Whom he all spirit, immortal, pure, did make;
+Man next; whose race, exalted, must supply
+The place of those, who, falling, lost the sky.
+
+_Adam._ Bright minister of heaven, sent here below
+To me, who but begin to think and know;
+If such could fall from bliss, who knew and saw,
+By near admission, their creator's law,
+What hopes have I, from heaven remote so far,
+To keep those laws, unknowing when I err?
+
+_Raphael._ Right reason's law to every human heart
+The Eternal, as his image, will impart:
+This teaches to adore heaven's Majesty;
+In prayer and praise does all devotion lie:
+So doing, thou and all thy race are blest.
+
+_Adam._ Of every creeping thing, of bird, and beast,
+I see the kinds: In pairs distinct they go;
+The males their loves, their lovers females know:
+Thou nam'st a race which must proceed from me,
+Yet my whole species in myself I see:
+A barren sex, and single, of no use,
+But full of forms which I can ne'er produce.
+
+_Raphael._ Think not the Power, who made thee thus, can find
+No way like theirs to propagate thy kind:
+Meantime, live happy in thyself alone;
+Like him who, single, fills the etherial throne.
+To study nature will thy time employ:
+Knowledge and innocence are perfect joy.
+
+_Adam._ If solitude were best, the All-wise above
+Had made no creature for himself to love.
+I add not to the power he had before;
+Yet to make me, extends his goodness more.
+He would not be alone, who all things can;
+But peopled heaven with angels, earth with man.
+
+_Raphael._ As man and angels to the Deity,
+So all inferior creatures are to thee.
+Heaven's greatness no society can bear;
+Servants he made, and those thou want'st not here.
+
+_Adam._ Why did he reason in my soul implant,
+And speech, the effect of reason? To the mute,
+My speech is lost; my reason to the brute.
+Love and society more blessings bring
+To them, the slaves, than power to me, their king.
+
+_Raphael._ Thus far to try thee; but to heaven 'twas known,
+It was not best for man to be alone;
+An equal, yet thy subject, is designed,
+For thy soft hours, and to unbend thy mind.
+Thy stronger soul shall her weak reason sway;
+And thou, through love, her beauty shalt obey;
+Thou shalt secure her helpless sex from harms,
+And she thy cares shall sweeten with her charms.
+
+_Adam._ What more can heaven bestow, or man require?
+
+_Raphael._ Yes, he can give beyond thy own desire.
+A mansion is provided thee, more fair
+Than this, and worthy heaven's peculiar care:
+Not framed of common earth, nor fruits, nor flowers
+Of vulgar growth, but like celestial bowers:
+The soil luxuriant, and the fruit divine,
+Where golden apples on green branches shine,
+And purple grapes dissolve into immortal wine;
+For noon-day's heat are closer arbours made,
+And for fresh evening air the opener glade.
+Ascend; and, as we go,
+More wonders thou shalt know.
+
+_Adam._ And, as we go, let earth and heaven above
+Sound our great Maker's power, and greater love.
+                     [_They ascend to soft music, and a song is sung._
+
+  _The Scene changes, and represents, above, a Sun gloriously rising
+  and moving orbicularly: at a distance, below, is the Moon; the part
+  next the Sun enlightened, the other dark. A black Cloud comes
+  whirling from the adverse part of the Heavens, bearing_ LUCIFER _in
+  it; at his nearer approach the body of the Sun is darkened._
+
+_Lucif._ Am I become so monstrous, so disfigured,
+That nature cannot suffer my approach,
+Or look me in the face, but stands aghast;
+And that fair light which gilds this new-made orb,
+Shorn of his beams, shrinks in? accurst ambition!
+And thou, black empire of the nether world,
+How dearly have I bought you! But, 'tis past;
+I have already gone too far to stop,
+And must push on my dire revenge, in ruin
+Of this gay frame, and man, my upstart rival,
+In scorn of me created. Down, my pride,
+And all my swelling thoughts! I must forget
+Awhile I am a devil, and put on
+A smooth submissive face; else I in vain
+Have past through night and chaos, to discover
+Those envied skies again, which I have lost.
+But stay; far off I see a chariot driven,
+Flaming with beams, and in it Uriel,
+One of the seven, (I know his hated face)
+Who stands in presence of the eternal throne,
+And seems the regent of that glorious light.
+
+  _From that part of the Heavens where the Sun appears, a Chariot is
+  discovered drawn with white Horses, and in it_ URIEL, _the Regent of
+  the Sun. The Chariot moves swiftly towards_ LUCIFER, _and at_
+  URIEL'S _approach the Sun recovers his light._
+
+_Uriel._ Spirit, who art thou, and from whence arrived?
+(For I remember not thy face in heaven)
+Or by command, or hither led by choice?
+Or wander'st thou within this lucid orb,
+And, strayed from those fair fields of light above,
+Amidst this new creation want'st a guide,
+To reconduct thy steps?
+
+_Lucifer._ Bright Uriel,
+Chief of the seven! thou flaming minister,
+Who guard'st this new-created orb of light,
+(The world's eye that, and thou the eye of it)
+Thy favour and high office make thee known:
+An humble cherub I, and of less note,
+Yet bold, by thy permission, hither come,
+On high discoveries bent.
+
+_Uriel._ Speak thy design.
+
+_Lucifer._ Urged by renown of what I heard above,
+Divulged by angels nearest heaven's high King,
+Concerning this new world, I came to view
+(If worthy such a favour) and admire
+This last effect of our great Maker's power:
+Thence to my wondering fellows I shall turn,
+Full fraught with joyful tidings of these works,
+New matter of his praise, and of our songs.
+
+_Uriel._ Thy business is not what deserves my blame,
+Nor thou thyself unwelcome; see, fair spirit,
+Below yon sphere (of matter not unlike it)
+There hangs the ball of earth and water mixt,
+Self-centered and unmoved.
+
+_Lucifer._ But where dwells man?
+
+_Uriel._ On yonder mount; thou see'st it fenced with rocks,
+And round the ascent a theatre of trees,
+A sylvan scene, which, rising by degrees,
+Leads up the eye below, nor gluts the sight
+With one full prospect, but invites by many,
+To view at last the whole: There his abode,
+Thither direct thy flight.
+
+_Lucifer._ O blest be thou,
+Who to my low converse has lent thy ear,
+And favoured my request! Hail, and farewell.
+                                       [_Flies downward out of sight._
+
+_Uriel._ Not unobserved thou goest, whoe'er thou art;
+Whether some spirit on holy purpose bent,
+Or some fallen angel from below broke loose,
+Who com'st, with envious eyes and curst intent,
+To view this world and its created lord:
+Here will I watch, and, while my orb rolls on,
+Pursue from hence thy much suspected flight,
+And, if disguised, pierce through with beams of light.
+                           [_The Chariot drives forward out of sight._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_Paradise._
+
+  _Trees cut out on each side, with several Fruits upon them; a
+  Fountain in the midst: At the far end the prospect terminates in
+  Walks._
+
+_Adam._ If this be dreaming, let me never wake;
+But still the joys of that sweet sleep partake.
+Methought--but why do I my bliss delay,
+By thinking what I thought? Fair vision, stay;
+My better half, thou softer part of me,
+To whom I yield my boasted sovereignty,
+I seek myself, and find not, wanting thee.                    [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ EVE.
+
+_Eve._ Tell me, ye hills and dales, and thou fair sun,
+Who shin'st above, what am I? Whence begun?
+Like myself, I see nothing: From each tree
+The feathered kind peep down to look on me;
+And beasts with up-cast eyes forsake their shade,
+And gaze, as if I were to be obeyed.
+Sure I am somewhat which they wish to be,
+And cannot; I myself am proud of me.
+What's here? another firmament below,        [_Looks into a fountain._
+Spread wide, and other trees that downward grow!
+And now a face peeps up, and now draws near,
+With smiling looks, as pleased to see me here.
+As I advance, so that advances too,
+And seems to imitate whate'er I do:
+When I begin to speak, the lips it moves;
+Streams drown the voice, or it would say, it loves.
+Yet when I would embrace, it will not stay: [_Stoops down to embrace._
+Lost ere 'tis held; when nearest, far away.
+Ah, fair, yet false! ah, Being, formed to cheat,
+By seeming kindness, mixt with deep deceit!
+
+  _Enter_ ADAM.
+
+_Adam._ O virgin, heaven-begot, and born of man,
+Thou fairest of thy great Creator's works!
+Thee, goddess, thee the Eternal did ordain,
+His softer substitute on earth to reign;
+And, wheresoe'er thy happy footsteps tread,
+Nature in triumph after thee is led!
+Angels with pleasure view thy matchless grace,
+And love their Maker's image in thy face.
+
+_Eve._ O, only like myself,(for nothing here
+So graceful, so majestic does appear:)
+Art thou the form my longing eyes did see,
+Loosed from thy fountain, and come out to me?
+Yet sure thou art not, nor thy face the same,
+Nor thy limbs moulded in so soft a frame;
+Thou look'st more sternly, dost more strongly move,
+And more of awe thou bear'st, and less of love.
+Yet pleased I hear thee, and above the rest,
+I, next myself, admire and love thee best.
+
+_Adam._ Made to command, thus freely I obey,
+And at thy feet the whole creation lay.
+Pity that love thy beauty does beget;
+What more I shall desire, I know not yet.
+First let us locked in close embraces be,
+Thence I, perhaps, may teach myself and thee.
+
+_Eve._ Somewhat forbids me, which I cannot name;
+For, ignorant of guilt, I fear not shame:
+But some restraining thought, I know not why,
+Tells me, you long should beg, I long deny.
+
+_Adam._ In vain! my right to thee is sealed above;
+Look round and see where thou canst place thy love:
+All creatures else are much unworthy thee;
+They matched, and thou alone art left for me.
+If not to love, we both were made in vain;
+I my new empire would resign again,
+And change with my dumb slaves my nobler mind,
+Who, void of reason, more of pleasure find.
+Methinks, for me they beg; each silently
+Demands thy grace, and seems to watch thy eye.
+
+_Eve._ I well foresee, whene'er thy suit I grant,
+That I my much-loved sovereignty shall want:
+Or like myself some other may be made,
+And her new beauty may thy heart invade.
+
+_Adam._ Could heaven some greater master-piece devise,
+Set out with all the glories of the skies,
+That beauty yet in vain he should decree.
+Unless he made another heart for me.
+
+_Eve._ With how much ease I, whom I love, believe!
+Giving myself, my want of worth I grieve.
+Here, my inviolable faith I plight,
+So, thou be my defence, I, thy delight.     [_Exeunt, he leading her._
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+SCENE I.--_Paradise._
+
+  LUCIFER.
+
+_Lucif._ Fair place! yet what is this to heaven, where I
+Sat next, so almost equalled the Most High?
+I doubted, measuring both, who was more strong;
+Then, willing to forget time since so long,
+Scarce thought I was created: Vain desire
+Of empire in my thoughts still shot me higher,
+To mount above his sacred head: Ah why,
+When he so kind, was so ungrateful I?
+He bounteously bestowed unenvied good
+On me: In arbitrary grace I stood:
+To acknowledge this, was all he did exact;
+Small tribute, where the will to pay was act.
+I mourn it now, unable to repent,
+As he, who knows my hatred to relent,
+Jealous of power once questioned: Hope, farewell;
+And with hope, fear; no depth below my hell
+Can be prepared: Then, Ill, be thou my good;
+And, vast destruction, be my envy's food.
+Thus I, with heaven, divided empire gain;
+Seducing man, I make his project vain,
+And in one hour destroy his six days pain.
+They come again, I must retire.
+
+  _Enter_ ADAM _and_ EVE.
+
+_Adam._ Thus shall we live in perfect bliss, and see,
+Deathless ourselves, our numerous progeny.
+Thou young and beauteous, my desires to bless;
+I, still desiring, what I still possess.
+
+_Eve._ Heaven, from whence love, our greatest blessing, came,
+Can give no more, but still to be the same.
+Thou more of pleasure may'st with me partake;
+I, more of pride, because thy bliss I make.
+
+_Adam._ When to my arms thou brought'st thy virgin love,
+Fair angels sung our bridal hymn above:
+The Eternal, nodding, shook the firmament,
+And conscious nature gave her glad consent.
+Roses unbid, and every fragrant flower,
+Flew from their stalks, to strew thy nuptial bower:
+The furred and feathered kind the triumph did pursue,
+And fishes leaped above the streams, the passing pomp to view.
+
+_Eve._ When your kind eyes looked languishing on mine,
+And wreathing arms did soft embraces join,
+A doubtful trembling seized me first all o'er;
+Then, wishes; and a warmth, unknown before:
+What followed was all ecstasy and trance;
+Immortal pleasures round my swimming eyes did dance,
+And speechless joys, in whose sweet tumult tost,
+I thought my breath and my new being lost.
+
+_Lucif._ O death to hear! and a worse hell on earth!         [_Aside._
+What mad profusion on this clod-born birth!
+Abyss of joys, as if heaven meant to shew
+What, in base matters, such a hand could do:
+Or was his virtue spent, and he no more
+With angels could supply the exhausted store,
+Of which I swept the sky?
+And wanting subjects to his haughty will,
+On this mean work employed his trifling skill?
+
+_Eve._ Blest in ourselves, all pleasures else abound;
+Without our care behold the unlaboured ground
+Bounteous of fruit; above our shady bowers
+The creeping jessamin thrusts her fragrant flowers;
+The myrtle, orange, and the blushing rose,
+With bending heaps so nigh their blooms disclose,
+Each seems to swell the flavour which the other blows:
+By these the peach, the guava, and the pine,
+And, creeping 'twixt them all, the mantling vine
+Does round their trunks her purple clusters twine.
+
+_Adam._ All these are ours, all nature's excellence,
+Whose taste or smell can bless the feasted sense;
+One only fruit, in the mid garden placed,--
+The Tree of Knowledge,--is denied our taste;
+(Our proof of duty to our Maker's will:)
+Of disobedience, death's the threatened ill.
+
+_Eve._ Death is some harm, which, though we know not yet,
+Since threatened, we must needs imagine great:
+And sure he merits it, who disobeys
+That one command, and one of so much ease.
+
+_Lucif._ Must they then die, if they attempt to know?
+He sees they would rebel, and keeps them low.
+On this foundation I their ruin lay,
+Hope to know more shall tempt to disobey.
+I fell by this, and, since their strength is less,
+Why should not equal means give like success?
+
+_Adam._ Come, my fair love, our morning's task we lose;
+Some labour even the easiest life would chuse:
+Ours is not great: the dangling boughs to crop,
+Whose too luxuriant growth our alleys stop,
+And choke the paths: This our delight requires,
+And heaven no more of daily work desires.
+
+_Eve._ With thee to live, is paradise alone:
+Without the pleasure of thy sight, is none.
+I fear small progress will be made this day;
+So much our kisses will our task delay.                     [_Exeunt._
+
+_Lucif._ Why have not I, like these, a body too,
+Formed for the same delights which they pursue!
+I could (so variously my passions move)
+Enjoy, and blast her in the act of love.
+Unwillingly I hate such excellence;
+She wronged me not; but I revenge the offence,
+Through her, on heaven, whose thunder took away
+My birth-right skies! Live happy whilst you may,
+Blest pair; y'are not allowed another day!                    [_Exit._
+
+  GABRIEL _and_ ITHURIEL _descend, carried on bright clouds, and
+  flying cross each other, then light on the ground._
+
+_Gab._ Ithuriel, since we two commissioned are
+From heaven the guardians of this new made pair,
+Each mind his charge; for, see, the night draws on,
+And rising mists pursue the setting sun.
+
+_Ithu._ Blest is our lot to serve; our task we know:
+To watch, lest any, from the abyss below
+Broke loose, disturb their sleep with dreams; or worse,
+Assault their beings with superior force.
+                                     [URIEL _flies down from the Sun._
+
+_Uriel._ Gabriel, if now the watch be set, prepare,
+With strictest guard, to shew thy utmost care.
+This morning came a spirit, fair he seemed,
+Whom, by his face, I some young cherub deemed;
+Of man he much inquired, and where his place,
+With shews of zeal to praise his Maker's grace;
+But I, with watchful eyes, observed his flight,
+And saw him on yon steepy mount alight;
+There, as he thought, unseen, he laid aside
+His borrowed mask, and re-assumed his pride:
+I marked his looks, averse to heaven and good;
+Dusky he grew, and long revolving stood
+On some deep, dark design; thence shot with haste,
+And o'er the mounds of Paradise he past:
+By his proud port, he seemed the Prince of Hell;
+And here he lurks in shades 'till night: Search well
+Each grove and thicket, pry in every shape,
+Lest, hid in some, the arch hypocrite escape.
+
+_Gab._ If any spirit come to invade, or scout
+From hell, what earthy fence can keep him out?
+But rest secure of this, he shall be found,
+And taken, or proscribed this happy ground.
+
+_Ithu._ Thou to the east, I westward walk the round,
+And meet we in the midst.
+
+_Uriel._ Heaven your design
+Succeed; your charge requires you, and me mine.
+                    [URIEL _flies forward out of sight; the two Angels
+                     exeunt severally._
+
+  _A Night-piece of a pleasant Bower:_ ADAM _and_ EVE _asleep in it._
+
+  _Enter_ LUCIFER.
+
+_Lucif._ So, now they lie secure in love, and steep
+Their sated senses in full draughts of sleep.
+By what sure means can I their bliss invade?
+By violence? No, for they are immortal made.
+Their reason sleeps, but mimic fancy wakes,
+Supplies her part, and wild ideas takes,
+From words and things, ill sorted and misjoined;
+The anarchy of thought, and chaos of the mind:
+Hence dreams, confused and various, may arise;
+These will I set before the woman's eyes;
+The weaker she, and made my easier prey;
+Vain shows and pomp the softer sex betray.
+                    [LUCIFER _sits down by_ EVE, _and seems to whisper
+                     in her ear._
+
+  _A Vision, where a tree rises loaden with fruit; four Spirits rise
+  with it, and draw a canopy out of the tree; other Spirits dance
+  about the tree in deformed shapes; after the dance an Angel enters,
+  with a Woman, habited like_ EVE.
+
+_Angel._ [_Singing._]
+Look up, look up, and see,
+What heaven prepares for thee;
+Look up, and this fair fruit behold,
+Ruddy it smiles, and rich with streaks of gold.
+The loaded branches downward bend,
+Willing they stoop, and thy fair hand attend.
+Fair mother of mankind, make haste
+And bless, and bless thy senses with the taste.
+
+_Woman._ No, 'tis forbidden; I
+In tasting it shall die.
+
+_Angel._ Say, who enjoined this harsh command?
+
+_Woman._ 'Twas heaven; and who can heaven withstand?
+
+_Angel._ Why was it made so fair, why placed in sight?
+Heaven is too good to envy man's delight.
+See, we before thy face will try
+What thou so fearest, and will not die.
+                 [_The Angel takes the fruit, and gives to the Spirits
+                  who danced; they immediately put off their deformed
+                  shapes, and appear Angels._
+
+_Angel._ [_Singing._]
+Behold what a change on a sudden is here!
+How glorious in beauty, how bright they appear!
+Prom spirits deformed they are deities made,
+Their pinions at pleasure the clouds can invade,
+                            [_The Angel gives to the Woman, who eats._
+Till equal in honour they rise,
+With him who commands in the skies;
+Then taste without fear, and be happy and wise.
+
+_Woman._ Ah, now I believe! such a pleasure I find,
+As enlightens my eyes, and enlivens my mind.
+                     [_The Spirits, who are turned Angels, fly up when
+                      they have tasted._
+I only repent,
+I deferred my content.
+
+_Angel._ Now wiser experience has taught you to prove,
+What a folly it is,
+Out of fear to shun bliss.
+To the joy that's forbidden we eagerly move;
+It inhances the price, and increases the love.
+
+_Chorus of both._ To the joy, &c.
+
+  _Two Angels descend; they take the Woman each by the hand, and fly
+  up with her out of sight. The Angel who sung, and the Spirits who
+  held the canopy, at the same instant sink down with the tree._
+
+  _Enter_ GABRIEL _and_ ITHURIEL _to_ LUCIFER, _who remains._
+
+_Gab._ What art thou? speak thy name and thy intent.
+Why here alone? and on what errand sent?
+Not from above; no, thy wan looks betray
+Diminished light, and eyes unused to day.
+
+_Lucif._ Not to know me, argues thyself unknown:
+Time was, when, shining next the imperial throne,
+I sat in awful state; while such as thou
+Did in the ignoble crowd at distance bow.
+
+_Gab._ Think'st thou, vain spirit, thy glories are the same?
+And seest not sin obscures thy god-like frame?
+I know thee now by thy ungrateful pride,
+That shews me what thy faded looks did hide,
+Traitor to Him who made and set thee high,
+And fool, that Power which formed thee to defy.
+
+_Lucif._ Go, slaves, return, and fawn in heaven again:
+Seek thanks from him whose quarrel you maintain.
+Vile wretches! of your servitude to boast;
+You basely keep the place I bravely lost.
+
+_Ithu._ Freedom is choice of what we will and do:
+Then blame not servants, who are freely so.
+'Tis base not to acknowledge what we owe.
+
+_Lucif._ Thanks, howe'er due, proclaim subjection yet;
+I fought for power to quit the upbraided debt.
+Whoe'er expects our thanks, himself repays,
+And seems but little, who can want our praise.
+
+_Gab._ What in us duty, shews not want in him;
+Blest in himself alone,
+To whom no praise we, by good deeds, can add;
+Nor can his glory suffer from our bad.
+Made for his use; yet he has formed us so,
+We, unconstrained, what he commands us do.
+So praise we him, and serve him freely best;
+Thus thou, by choice, art fallen, and we are blest.
+
+_Ithu._ This, lest thou think thy plea, unanswered, good.
+Our question thou evad'st: How didst thou dare
+To break hell bounds, and near this human pair
+In nightly ambush lie?
+
+_Lucif._ Lives there, who would not seek to force his way,
+From pain to ease, from darkness to the day?
+Should I, who found the means to 'scape, not dare
+To change my sulphurous smoke for upper air?
+When I, in fight, sustained your Thunderer,
+And heaven on me alone spent half his war,
+Think'st thou those wounds were light? Should I not seek
+The clemency of some more temperate clime,
+To purge my gloom; and, by the sun refined,
+Bask in his beams, and bleach me in the wind?
+
+_Gab._ If pain to shun be all thy business here,
+Methinks thy fellows the same course should steer.
+Is their pain less, who yet behind thee stay?
+Or thou less hardy to endure than they?
+
+_Lucif._ Nor one, nor t'other; but, as leaders ought,
+I ventured first alone, first danger sought,
+And first explored this new-created frame,
+Which filled our dusky regions with its fame;
+In hopes my fainting troops to settle here,
+And to defend against your Thunderer,
+This spot of earth; or nearer heaven repair,
+And forage to his gates from middle air.
+
+_Ithu._ Fool! to believe thou any part canst gain
+From Him, who could'st not thy first ground maintain.
+
+_Gab._ But whether that design, or one as vain,
+To attempt the lives of these, first drew thee here,
+Avoid the place, and never more appear
+Upon this hallowed earth; else prove our might.
+
+_Lucif._ Not that I fear, do I decline the fight:
+You I disdain; let me with Him contend,
+On whom your limitary powers depend.
+More honour from the sender than the sent:
+Till then, I have accomplished my intent;
+And leave this place, which but augments my pain,
+Gazing to wish, yet hopeless to obtain.   [_Exit, they following him._
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+SCENE I.--_Paradise._
+
+  ADAM _and_ EVE.
+
+_Adam._ Strange was your dream, and full of sad portent;
+Avert it, heaven, if it from heaven were sent!
+Let on thy foes the dire presages fall;
+To us be good and easy, when we call.
+
+_Eve._ Behold from far a breaking cloud appears,
+Which in it many winged warriors bears:
+Their glory shoots upon my aching sense;
+Thou, stronger, mayest endure the flood of light,
+And while in shades I chear my fainting sight,
+Encounter the descending Excellence.                          [_Exit._
+
+  _The Cloud descends with six Angels in it, and when it is near the
+  ground, breaks, and on each side discovers six more: They descend
+  out of the Cloud._ RAPHAEL _and_ GABRIEL _discourse with_ ADAM, _the
+  rest stand at a distance._
+
+_Raph._ First of mankind, that we from heaven are sent,
+Is from heaven's care thy ruin to prevent.
+The Apostate Angel has by night been here,
+And whispered through thy sleeping consort's ear
+Delusive dreams. Thus warned by us, beware,
+And guide her frailty by thy timely care.
+
+_Gab._ These, as thy guards from outward harms, are sent;
+Ills from within thy reason must prevent.
+
+_Adam._ Natives of heaven, who in compassion deign
+To want that place where joys immortal reign,
+In care of me; what praises can I pay,
+Descended in obedience; taught to obey?
+
+_Raph._ Praise Him alone, who god-like formed thee free,
+With will unbounded as a deity;
+Who gave thee reason, as thy aid, to chuse
+Apparent good, and evil to refuse.
+Obedience is that good; this heaven exacts,
+And heaven, all-just, from man requires not acts,
+Which man wants power to do: Power then is given
+Of doing good, but not compelled by heaven.
+
+_Gab._ Made good, that thou dost to thy Maker owe;
+But to thyself, if thou continuest so.
+
+_Adam._ Freedom of will of all good things is best;
+But can it be by finite man possest?
+I know not how heaven can communicate
+What equals man to his Creator's state.
+
+_Raph._ Heaven cannot give his boundless power away,
+But boundless liberty of choice he may;
+So orbs from the first Mover motion take,
+Yet each their proper revolutions make.
+
+_Adam._ Grant heaven could once have given us liberty;
+Are we not bounded now, by firm decree,
+Since whatsoe'er is pre-ordained must be?
+Else heaven for man events might pre-ordain,
+And man's free will might make those orders vain.
+
+_Gab._ The Eternal, when he did the world create,
+All other agents did necessitate:
+So what he ordered, they by nature do;
+Thus light things mount, and heavy downward go.
+Man only boasts an arbitrary state.
+
+_Adam._ Yet causes their effects necessitate
+In willing agents: Where is freedom then?
+Or who can break the chain which limits men
+To act what is unchangeably forecast,
+Since the first cause gives motion to the last?
+
+_Raph._ Heaven, by fore-knowing what will surely be,
+Does only, first, effects in causes see,
+And finds, but does not make, necessity.
+Creation is of power and will the effect,
+Foreknowledge only of his intellect.
+His prescience makes not, but supposes things;
+Infers necessity to be, not brings.
+Thus thou art not constrained to good or ill;
+Causes, which work the effect, force not the will.
+
+_Adam._ The force unseen, and distant, I confess;
+But the long chain makes not the bondage less.
+Even man himself may to himself seem free;
+And think that choice, which is necessity.
+
+_Gab._ And who but man should judge of man's free state?
+
+_Adam._ I find that I can chuse to love or hate,
+Obey or disobey, do good or ill;
+Yet such a choice is but consent, not will.
+I can but chuse what he at first designed,
+For he, before that choice, my will confined.
+
+_Gab._ Such impious fancies, where they entrance gain,
+Make heaven, all-pure, thy crimes to pre-ordain.
+
+_Adam._ Far, far from me be banished such a thought,
+I argue only to be better taught.
+Can there be freedom, when what now seems free
+Was founded on some first necessity?
+For whate'er cause can move the will t'elect,
+Must be sufficient to produce the effect;
+And what's sufficient must effectual be:
+Then how is man, thus forced by causes, free?
+
+_Raph._ Sufficient causes only work the effect,
+When necessary agents they respect.
+Such is not man; who, though the cause suffice,
+Yet often he his free assent denies.
+
+_Adam._ What causes not, is not sufficient still.
+
+_Gab._ Sufficient in itself; not in thy will.
+
+_Raph._ When we see causes joined to effects at last,
+The chain but shews necessity that's past.
+That what's done is: (ridiculous proof of fate!)
+Tell me which part it does necessitate?
+I'll cruise the other; there I'll link the effect.
+O chain, which fools, to catch themselves, project!
+
+_Adam._ Though no constraint from heaven, or causes, be,
+Heaven may prevent that ill he does foresee;
+And, not preventing, though he does not cause,
+He seems to will that men should break his laws.
+
+_Gab._ Heaven may permit, but not to ill consent;
+For, hindering ill, he would all choice prevent.
+'Twere to unmake, to take away the will.
+
+_Adam._ Better constrained to good, than free to ill.
+
+_Raph._ But what reward or punishment could be,
+If man to neither good nor ill were free?
+The eternal justice could decree no pain
+To him whose sins itself did first ordain;
+And good, compelled, could no reward exact:
+His power would shine in goodness, not thy act.
+Our task is done: Obey; and, in that choice,
+Thou shalt be blest, and angels shall rejoice.
+                          [RAPHAEL _and_ GABRIEL _fly up in the Cloud:
+                           the other Angels go off._
+
+_Adam._ Hard state of life! since heaven foreknows my will,
+Why am I not tied up from doing ill?
+Why am I trusted with myself at large,
+When he's more able to sustain the charge?
+Since angels fell, whose strength was more than mine,
+'Twould show more grace my frailty to confine.
+Fore-knowing the success, to leave me free,
+Excuses him, and yet supports not me.
+
+  _To him_ EVE.
+
+_Eve._ Behold, my heart's dear lord, how high the sun
+Is mounted, yet our labour not begun.
+The ground, unhid, gives more than we can ask;
+But work is pleasure when we chuse our task.
+Nature, not bounteous now, but lavish grows;
+Our paths with flowers she prodigally strows;
+With pain we lift up our entangled feet,
+While cross our walks the shooting branches meet.
+
+_Adam._ Well has thy care advised; 'tis fit we haste;
+Nature's too kind, and follows us too fast;
+Leaves us no room her treasures to possess,
+But mocks our industry with her excess;
+And, wildly wanton, wears by night away
+The sign of all our labours done by day.
+
+_Eve._ Since, then, the work's so great, the hands so few,
+This day let each a several task pursue.
+By thee, my hands to labour will not move,
+But, round thy neck, employ themselves in love.
+When thou would'st work, one tender touch, one smile
+(How can I hold?) will all thy task beguile.
+
+_Adam._ So hard we are not to our labour tied,
+That smiles, and soft endearments are denied;
+Smiles, not allowed to beasts, from reason move,
+And are the privilege of human love:
+And if, sometimes, each others eyes we meet,
+Those little vacancies from toil are sweet.
+But you, by absence, would refresh your joys,
+Because perhaps my conversation cloys.
+Yet this, would prudence grant, I could permit.
+
+_Eve._ What reason makes my small request unfit?
+
+_Adam._ The fallen archangel, envious of our state,
+Pursues our beings with immortal hate;
+And, hopeless to prevail by open force,
+Seeks hid advantage to betray us worse;
+Which when asunder will not prove so hard;
+For both together are each other's guard.
+
+_Eve._ Since he, by force, is hopeless to prevail,
+He can by fraud alone our minds assail:
+And to believe his wiles my truth can move,
+Is to misdoubt my reason, or my love.
+
+_Adam._ Call it my care, and not mistrust of thee;
+Yet thou art weak, and full of art is he;
+Else how could he that host seduce to sin,
+Whose fall has left the heavenly nation thin?
+
+_Eve._ I grant him armed with subtilty and hate;
+But why should we suspect our happy state?
+Is our perfection of so frail a make,
+As every plot can undermine or shake?
+Think better both of heaven, thyself, and me:
+Who always fears, at ease can never be.
+Poor state of bliss, where so much care is shown,
+As not to dare to trust ourselves alone!
+
+_Adam._ Such is our state, as not exempt from fall;
+Yet firm, if reason to our aid we call:
+And that, in both, is stronger than in one;
+I would not,--why would'st thou, then, be alone?
+
+_Eve._ Because, thus warned, I know myself secure,
+And long my little trial to endure,
+To approve my faith, thy needless fears remove,
+Gain thy esteem, and so deserve thy love.
+If all this shake not thy obdurate will,
+Know that, even present, I am absent still:
+And then what pleasure hop'st thou in my stay,
+When I'm constrained, and wish myself away?
+
+_Adam._ Constraint does ill with love and beauty suit;
+I would persuade, but not be absolute.
+Better be much remiss, than too severe;
+If pleased in absence thou wilt still be here.
+Go; in thy native innocence proceed,
+And summon all thy reason at thy need.
+
+_Eve._ My soul, my eyes delight! in this I find
+Thou lov'st; because to love is to be kind.          [_Embracing him._
+Seeking my trial, I am still on guard:
+Trials, less sought, would find us less prepared.
+Our foe's too proud the weaker to assail,
+Or doubles his dishonour if he fail.                          [_Exit._
+
+_Adam._ In love, what use of prudence can there be?
+More perfect I, and yet more powerful she.
+Blame me not, heaven; if thou love's power hast tried,
+What could be so unjust to be denied?
+One look of hers my resolution breaks;
+Reason itself turns folly when she speaks:
+And awed by her, whom it was made to sway,
+Flatters her power, and does its own betray.                  [_Exit._
+
+  _The middle part of the Garden is represented, where four Rivers
+  meet: On the right side of the Scene is placed the Tree of Life; on
+  the left, the Tree of Knowledge._
+
+  _Enter_ LUCIFER.
+
+_Lucif._ Methinks the beauties of this place should mourn;
+The immortal fruits and flowers, at my return,
+Should hang their withered heads; for sure my breath
+Is now more poisonous, and has gathered death
+Enough, to blast the whole creation's frame.
+Swoln with despite, with sorrow, and with shame,
+Thrice have I beat the wing, and rode with night
+About the world, behind the globe of light,
+To shun the watch of heaven; such care I use:
+(What pains will malice, raised like mine, refuse?
+Not the most abject form of brutes to take.)
+Hid in the spiry volumes of the snake,
+I lurked within the covert of a brake,
+Not yet descried. But see, the woman here
+Alone! beyond my hopes! no guardian near.
+Good omen that: I must retire unseen,
+And, with my borrowed shape, the work begin.               [_Retires._
+
+  _Enter_ EVE.
+
+_Eve._ Thus far, at least, with leave; nor can it be
+A sin to look on this celestial tree:
+I would not more; to touch, a crime may prove:
+Touching is a remoter taste in love.
+Death may be there, or poison in the smell,
+(If death in any thing so fair can dwell:)
+But heaven forbids: I could be satisfied,
+Were every tree but this, but this denied.
+
+  _A Serpent enters on the Stage, and makes directly to the Tree of
+  Knowledge, on which winding himself, he plucks an Apple; then
+  descends, and carries it away._
+
+Strange sight! did then our great Creator grant
+That privilege, which we, their masters, want,
+To these inferior brings? Or was it chance?
+And was he blest with bolder ignorance?
+I saw his curling crest the trunk enfold:
+The ruddy fruit, distinguished o'er with gold.
+And smiling in its native wealth, was torn
+From the rich bough, and then in triumph borne:
+The venturous victor marched unpunished hence,
+And seemed to boast his fortunate offence.
+
+  _To her_ LUCIFER, _in a human Shape._
+
+_Lucif._ Hail, sovereign of this orb! formed to possess
+The world, and, with one look, all nature bless.
+Nature is thine; thou, empress, dost bestow
+On fruits, to blossom; and on flowers, to blow.
+They happy, yet insensible to boast
+Their bliss: More happy they who know thee most.
+Then happiest I, to human reason raised,
+And voice, with whose first accents thou art praised.
+
+_Eve._ What art thou, or from whence? For on this ground,
+Beside my lord's, ne'er heard I human sound.
+Art thou some other Adam, formed from earth,
+And comest to claim an equal share, by birth,
+In this fair field? Or sprung of heavenly race?
+
+_Lucif._ An humble native of this happy place,
+Thy vassal born, and late of lowest kind,
+Whom heaven neglecting made, and scarce designed,
+But threw me in, for number, to the rest,
+Below the mounting bird and grazing beast;
+By chance, not prudence, now superior grown.
+
+_Eve._ To make thee such, what miracle was shown?
+
+_Lucif._ Who would not tell what thou vouchsaf'st to hear?
+Sawest thou not late a speckled serpent rear
+His gilded spires to climb on yon' fair tree?
+Before this happy minute I was he.
+
+_Eve._ Thou speak'st of wonders: Make thy story plain.
+
+_Lucif._ Not wishing then, and thoughtless to obtain
+So great a bliss, but led by sense of good,
+Inborn to all, I sought my needful food:
+Then, on that heavenly tree my sight I cast;
+The colour urged my eye, the scent my taste.
+Not to detain thee long,--I took, did eat:
+Scarce had my palate touched the immortal meat,
+But, on a sudden, turned to what I am,
+God-like, and, next to thee, I fair became;
+Thought, spake, and reasoned; and, by reason found
+Thee, nature's queen, with all her graces crowned.
+
+_Eve._ Happy thy lot; but far unlike is mine:
+Forbid to eat, not daring to repine.
+'Twas heaven's command; and should we disobey,
+What raised thy being, ours must take away.
+
+_Lucif._ Sure you mistake the precept, or the tree:
+Heaven cannot envious of his blessings be.
+Some chance-born plant he might forbid your use,
+As wild, or guilty of a deadly juice;
+Not this, whose colour, scent divine, and taste,
+Proclaim the thoughtful Maker not in haste.
+
+_Eve._ By all these signs, too well I know the fruit,
+And dread a Power severe and absolute.
+
+_Lucif._ Severe, indeed; even to injustice hard;
+If death, for knowing more, be your reward:
+Knowledge of good, is good, and therefore fit;
+And to know ill, is good, for shunning it.
+
+_Eve._ What, but our good, could he design in this,
+Who gave us all, and placed in perfect bliss?
+
+_Lucif._ Excuse my zeal, fair sovereign, in your cause,
+Which dares to tax his arbitrary laws.
+'Tis all his aim to keep you blindly low,
+That servile fear from ignorance may flow:
+We scorn to worship whom too well we know.
+He knows, that, eating, you shall godlike be;
+As wise, as fit to be adored, as he.
+For his own interest he this law has given;
+Such beauty may raise factions in his heaven.
+By awing you he does possession keep,
+And is too wise to hazard partnership.
+
+_Eve._ Alas, who dares dispute with him that right?
+The Power, which formed us, must be infinite.
+
+_Luc._ Who told you how your form was first designed?
+The sun and earth produce, of every kind,
+Grass, flowers, and fruits; nay, living creatures too:
+Their mould was base; 'twas more refined in you:
+Where vital heat, in purer organs wrought,
+Produced a nobler kind raised up to thought;
+And that, perhaps, might his beginning be:
+Something was first; I question if 'twere he.
+But grant him first, yet still suppose him good,
+Not envying those he made, immortal food.
+
+_Eve._ But death our disobedience must pursue.
+
+_Lucif._ Behold, in me, what shall arrive to you.
+I tasted; yet I live: Nay, more; have got
+A state more perfect than my native lot.
+Nor fear this petty fault his wrath should raise:
+Heaven rather will your dauntless virtue praise,
+That sought, through threatened death, immortal good:
+Gods are immortal only by their food.
+Taste, and remove
+What difference does 'twixt them and you remain;
+As I gained reason, you shall godhead gain.
+
+_Eve._ He eats, and lives, in knowledge greater grown:       [_Aside._
+Was death invented then for us alone?
+Is intellectual food to man denied,
+Which brutes have with so much advantage tried?
+Nor only tried themselves, but frankly, more,
+To me have offered their unenvied store?
+
+_Lucif._ Behold, and all your needless doubts remove;
+View well this tree, (the queen of all the grove)
+How vast her hole, how wide her arms are spread,
+How high above the rest she shoots her head,
+Placed in the midst: would heaven his work disgrace,
+By planting poison in the happiest place?
+
+Haste; you lose time and godhead by delay.      [_Plucking the fruit._
+
+_Eve._ 'Tis done; I'll venture all, and disobey. [_Looking about her._
+Perhaps, far hid in heaven, he does not spy,
+And none of all his hymning guards are nigh.
+To my dear lord the lovely fruit I'll bear;
+He, to partake my bliss, my crime shall share.        [_Exit hastily._
+
+_Lucif._ She flew, and thanked me not, for haste: 'Twas hard,
+With no return such counsel to reward.
+My work is done, or much the greater part;
+She's now the tempter to ensnare his heart.
+He, whose firm faith no reason could remove,
+Will melt before that soft seducer, love.                     [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+SCENE I.--_Paradise._
+
+  EVE, _with a bough in her hand._
+
+_Eve._ Methinks I tread more lightly on the ground;
+My nimble feet from unhurt flowers rebound:
+I walk in air, and scorn this earthly seat;
+Heaven is my palace; this my base retreat.
+Take me not, heaven, too soon; 'twill be unkind
+To leave the partner of my bed behind.
+I love the wretch; but stay, shall I afford
+Him part? already he's too much my lord.
+'Tis in my power to be a sovereign now;
+And, knowing more, to make his manhood bow.
+Empire is sweet; but how if heaven has spied?
+If I should die, and He above provide
+Some other Eve, and place her in my stead?
+Shall she possess his love, when I am dead?
+No; he shall eat, and die with me, or live:
+Our equal crimes shall equal fortune give.
+
+  _Enter_ ADAM.
+
+_Adam._ What joy, without your sight, has earth, in store!
+While you were absent, Eden was no more.
+Winds murmured through the leaves your long delay,
+And fountains, o'er the pebbles, chid your stay:
+But with your presence cheered, they cease to mourn,
+And walks wear fresher green at your return.
+
+_Eve._ Henceforth you never shall have cause to chide;
+No future absence shall our joys divide:
+'Twas a short death my love ne'er tried before,
+And therefore strange; but yet the cause was more.
+
+_Adam._ My trembling heart forebodes some ill; I fear
+To ask that cause which I desire to hear.
+What means that lovely fruit? what means, alas!
+That blood, which flushes guilty in your face?
+Speak--do not--yet, at last, I must be told.
+
+_Eve._ Have courage, then: 'tis manly to be bold.
+This fruit--why dost thou shake? no death is nigh:
+'Tis what I tasted first; yet do not die.
+
+_Adam._ Is it--(I dare not ask it all at first;
+Doubt is some ease to those who fear the worst:)
+Say, 'tis not--
+
+_Eve._ 'Tis not what thou needst to fear:
+What danger does in this fair fruit appear?
+We have been cozened; and had still been so,
+Had I not ventured boldly first to know.
+Yet, not I first; I almost blush to say,
+The serpent eating taught me first the way.
+The serpent tasted, and the godlike fruit
+Gave the dumb voice; gave reason to the brute.
+
+_Adam._ O fairest of all creatures, last and best
+Of what heaven made, how art them dispossest
+Of all thy native glories! fallen! decayed!
+(Pity so rare a frame so frail was made)
+Now cause of thy own ruin; and with thine,
+(Ah, who can live without thee!) cause of mine.
+
+_Eve._ Reserve thy pity till I want it more:
+I know myself much happier than before;
+More wise, more perfect, all I wish to be,
+Were I but sure, alas! of pleasing thee.
+
+_Adam._ You've shown, how much you my content design:
+Yet, ah! would heaven's displeasure pass like mine!
+Must I without you, then, in wild woods dwell?
+Think, and but think, of what I loved so well?
+Condemned to live with subjects ever mute;
+A savage prince, unpleased, though absolute?
+
+_Eve._ Please then yourself with me, and freely taste,
+Lest I, without you, should to godhead haste:
+Lest, differing in degree, you claim too late
+Unequal love, when 'tis denied by fate.
+
+_Adam._ Cheat not yourself with dreams of deity;
+Too well, but yet too late, your crime I see:
+Nor think the fruit your knowledge does improve;
+But you have beauty still, and I have love.
+Not cozened, I with choice my life resign:
+Imprudence was your fault, but love was mine.
+                                       [_Takes the fruit and eats it._
+
+_Eve._ O wondrous power of matchless love exprest!   [_Embracing him._
+Why was this trial thine, of loving best?
+I envy thee that lot; and could it be,
+Would venture something more than death for thee.
+Not that I fear, that death the event can prove;
+Ware both immortal, while so well we love.
+
+_Adam._ Whate'er shall be the event, the lot is cast;
+Where appetites are given, what sin to taste?
+Or if a sin, 'tis but by precept such;
+The offence so small, the punishment's too much.
+To seek so soon his new-made world's decay:
+Nor we, nor that, were fashioned for a day.
+
+_Eve._ Give to the winds thy fear of death, or ill;
+And think us made but for each other's will.
+
+_Adam._ I will, at least, defer that anxious thought,
+And death, by fear, shall not be nigher brought:
+If he will come, let us to joys make haste;
+Then let him seize us when our pleasure's past.
+We'll take up all before; and death shall find
+We have drained life, and left a void behind.               [_Exeunt._
+
+  _Enter_ LUCIFER.
+
+_Lucif._ 'Tis done:
+Sick Nature, at that instant, trembled round;
+And mother Earth sighed, as she felt the wound.
+Of how short durance was this new-made state!
+How far more mighty than heaven's love, hell's hate!
+His project ruined, and his king of clay:
+He formed an empire for his foe to sway.
+Heaven let him rule, which by his arms he got;
+I'm pleased to have obtained the second lot.
+This earth is mine; whose lord I made my thrall:
+Annexing to my crown his conquered ball.
+Loosed from the lakes my regions I will lead,
+And o'er the darkened air black banners spread:
+Contagious damps, from hence, shall mount above,
+And force him to his inmost heaven's remove.
+                                        [_A clap of thunder is heard._
+He hears already, and I boast too soon;
+I dread that engine which secured his throne.
+I'll dive below his wrath, into the deep,
+And waste that empire, which I cannot keep.             [_Sinks down._
+
+  RAPHAEL _and_ GABRIEL _descend._
+
+_Raph._ As much of grief as happiness admits
+In heaven, on each celestial forehead sits:
+Kindness for man, and pity for his fate,
+May mix with bliss, and yet not violate.
+Their heavenly harps a lower strain began;
+And, in soft music, mourned the fall of man.
+
+_Gab._ I saw the angelic guards from earth ascend,
+(Grieved they must now no longer man attend:)
+The beams about their temples dimly shone;
+One would have thought the crime had been their own.
+The etherial people flocked for news in haste,
+Whom they, with down-cast looks, and scarce saluting past:
+While each did, in his pensive breast, prepare
+A sad account of their successless care.
+
+_Raph._ The Eternal yet, in majesty severe,
+And strictest justice, did mild pity bear:
+Their deaths deferred; and banishment, (their doom,)
+In penitence foreseen, leaves mercy room.
+
+_Gab._ That message is thy charge: Mine leads me hence;
+Placed at the garden's gate, for its defence,
+Lest man, returning, the blest place pollute,
+And 'scape from death, by life's immortal fruit.
+                         [_Another clap of thunder. Exeunt severally._
+
+  _Enter_ ADAM _and_ EVE, _affrighted._
+
+_Adam._ In what dark cavern shall I hide my head?
+Where seek retreat, now innocence is fled?
+Safe in that guard, I durst even hell defy;
+Without it, tremble now, when heaven is nigh.
+
+_Eve._ What shall we do? or where direct our flight?
+Eastward, as far as I could cast my sight,
+From opening heavens, I saw descending light.
+Its glittering through the trees I still behold;
+The cedar tops seem all to burn with gold.
+
+_Adam._ Some shape divine, whose beams I cannot bear!
+Would I were hid, where light could not appear.
+Deep into some thick covert would I run,
+Impenetrable to the stars or sun,
+And fenced from day, by night's eternal skreen;
+Unknown to heaven, and to myself unseen.
+
+_Eve._ In vain: What hope to shun his piercing sight,
+Who from dark chaos struck the sparks of light?
+
+_Adam._ These should have been your thoughts, when, parting hence,
+You trusted to your guideless innocence.
+See now the effects of your own wilful mind:
+Guilt walks before us; death pursues behind.
+So fatal 'twas to seek temptations out:
+Most confidence has still most cause to doubt.
+
+_Eve._ Such might have been thy hap, alone assailed;
+And so, together, might we both have failed.
+Cursed vassalage of all my future kind!
+First idolized, till love's hot fire be o'er,
+Then slaves to those who courted us before.
+
+_Adam._ I counselled you to stay; your pride refused:
+By your own lawless will you stand accused.
+
+_Eve._ Have you that privilege of only wise,
+And would you yield to her you so despise?
+You should have shown the authority you boast,
+And, sovereign-like, my headlong will have crost:
+Counsel was not enough to sway my heart;
+An absolute restraint had been your part.
+
+_Adam._ Even such returns do they deserve to find,
+When force is lawful, who are fondly kind.
+Unlike my love; for when thy guilt I knew,
+I shared the curse which did that crime pursue.
+Hard fate of love! which rigour did forbear,
+And now 'tis taxed, because 'twas not severe.
+
+_Eve._ You have yourself your kindness overpaid;
+He ceases to oblige, who can upbraid.
+
+_Adam._ On women's virtue, who too much rely,
+To boundless will give boundless liberty.
+Restraint you will not brook; but think it hard
+Your prudence is not trusted as your guard:
+And, to yourselves so left, if ill ensues,
+You first our weak indulgence will accuse.
+Curst be that hour,
+When, sated with my single happiness,
+I chose a partner, to controul my bliss!
+Who wants that reason which her will should sway,
+And knows but just enough to disobey.
+
+_Eve._ Better with brutes my humble lot had gone;
+Of reason void, accountable for none:
+The unhappiest of creation is a wife,
+Made lowest, in the highest rank of life:
+Her fellow's slave; to know, and not to chuse:
+Curst with that reason she must never use.
+
+_Adam._ Add, that she's proud, fantastic, apt to change,
+Restless at home, and ever prone to range:
+With shows delighted, and so vain is she,
+She'll meet the devil, rather than not see.
+Our wise Creator, for his choirs divine,
+Peopled his heaven with souls all masculine.--
+Ah! why must man from woman take his birth?
+Why was this sin of nature made on earth?
+This fair defect, this helpless aid, called wife;
+The bending crutch of a decrepid life?
+Posterity no pairs from you shall find,
+But such as by mistake of love are joined:
+The worthiest men their wishes ne'er shall gain;
+But see the slaves they scorn their loves obtain.
+Blind appetite shall your wild fancies rule;
+False to desert, and faithful to a fool.
+                         [_Turns in anger from her, and is going off._
+
+_Eve._ Unkind! wilt thou forsake me, in distress,         [_Kneeling._
+For that which now is past me to redress?
+I have misdone, and I endure the smart,
+Loth to acknowledge, but more loth to part.
+The blame be mine; you warned, and I refused:
+What would you more? I have myself accused.
+Was plighted faith so weakly sealed above,
+That, for one error, I must lose your love?
+Had you so erred, I should have been more kind,
+Than to add pain to an afflicted mind.
+
+_Adam._ You're grown much humbler than you were before;
+I pardon you; but see my face no more.
+
+_Eve._ Vain pardon, which includes a greater ill;
+Be still displeased, but let me see you still.
+Without your much-loved sight I cannot live;
+You more than kill me, if you so forgive.
+The beasts, since we are fallen, their lords despise;
+And, passing, look at me with glaring eyes:
+Must I then wander helpless, and alone?
+You'll pity me, too late, when I am gone.
+
+_Adam._ Your penitence does my compassion move;
+As you deserve it, I may give my love.
+
+_Eve._ On me, alone, let heaven's displeasure fall;
+You merit none, and I deserve it all.
+
+_Adam._ You all heaven's wrath! how could you bear a part,
+Who bore not mine, but with a bleeding heart?
+I was too stubborn, thus to make you sue;
+Forgive me--I am more in fault than you.
+Return to me, and to my love return;
+And, both offending, for each other mourn.
+
+  _Enter_ RAPHAEL.
+
+_Raph._ Of sin to warn thee I before was sent;
+For sin, I now pronounce thy punishment:
+Yet that much lighter than thy crimes require;
+Th' All-good does not his creatures' death desire:
+Justice must punish the rebellious deed;
+Yet punish so, as pity shall exceed.
+
+_Adam._ I neither can dispute his will, nor dare:
+Death will dismiss me from my future care,
+And lay me softly in my native dust,
+To pay the forfeit of ill-managed trust.
+
+_Eve._ Why seek you death? consider, ere you speak,
+The laws were hard, the power to keep them, weak.
+Did we solicit heaven to mould our clay?
+From darkness to produce us to the day?
+Did we concur to life, or chuse to be?
+Was it our will which formed, or was it He?
+Since 'twas his choice, not ours, which placed us here,
+The laws we did not chuse why should we bear?
+
+_Adam._ Seek not, in vain, our Maker to accuse;
+Terms were proposed; power left us to refuse.
+The good we have enjoyed from heaven's free will,
+And shall we murmur to endure the ill?
+Should we a rebel son's excuse receive,
+Because he was begot without his leave?
+Heaven's right in us is more: first, formed to serve;
+The good, we merit not; the ill, deserve.
+
+_Raph._ Death is deferred, and penitence has room
+To mitigate, if not reverse the doom:
+But, for your crime, the Eternal does ordain
+In Eden you no longer shall remain.
+Hence, to the lower world, you are exiled;
+This place with crimes shall be no more defiled.
+
+_Eve._ Must we this blissful paradise forego?
+
+_Raph._ Your lot must be where thorns and thistles grow,
+Unhid, as balm and spices did at first;
+For man, the earth, of which he was, is cursed.
+By thy own toil procured, thou food shalt eat;             [_To_ ADAM.
+And know no plenty, but from painful sweat.
+She, by a curse, of future wives abhorred,
+Shall pay obedience to her lawful lord;
+And he shall rule, and she in thraldom live,
+Desiring more of love than man can give.
+
+_Adam._ Heaven is all mercy; labour I would chuse;
+And could sustain this paradise to lose:
+The bliss, but not the place: Here, could I say,
+Heaven's winged messenger did pass the day;
+Under this pine the glorious angel staid:
+Then, show my wondering progeny the shade.
+In woods and lawns, where-e'er thou didst appear,
+Each place some monument of thee should bear.
+I, with green turfs, would grateful altars raise,
+And heaven, with gums, and offered incense, praise.
+
+_Raph._ Where-e'er thou art, He is; the Eternal Mind
+Acts through all places; is to none confined:
+Fills ocean, earth, and air, and all above,
+And through the universal mass does move.
+Thou canst be no where distant: Yet this place
+Had been thy kingly seat, and here thy race,
+From all the ends of peopled earth had come
+To reverence thee, and see their native home.
+Immortal, then; now sickness, care, and age,
+And war, and luxury's more direful rage,
+Thy crimes have brought, to shorten mortal breath,
+With all the numerous family of death.
+
+_Eve._ My spirits faint, while I these ills foreknow,
+And find myself the sad occasion too.
+But what is death?
+
+_Raph._ In vision thou shalt see his griesly face,
+The king of terrors, raging in thy face.
+That, while in future fate thou shar'st thy part,
+A kind remorse, for sin, may seize thy heart.
+
+  _The_ SCENE _shifts, and discovers deaths of several sorts. A Battle
+  at Land, and a Naval Fight._
+
+_Adam._ O wretched offspring! O unhappy state
+Of all mankind, by me betrayed to fate!
+Born, through my crime, to be offenders first;
+And, for those sins they could not shun, accurst.
+
+_Eve._ Why is life forced on man, who, might he chuse,
+Would not accept what he with pain must lose?
+Unknowing, he receives it; and when, known,
+He thinks it his, and values it, 'tis gone.
+
+_Raph._ Behold of every age; ripe manhood see,
+Decrepid years, and helpless infancy:
+Those who, by lingering sickness, lose their breath;
+And those who, by despair, suborn their death:
+See yon mad fools, who for some trivial right,
+For love, or for mistaken honour, fight:
+See those, more mad, who throw their lives away
+In needless wars; the stakes which monarchs lay,
+When for each other's provinces they play.
+Then, as if earth too narrow were for fate,
+On open seas their quarrels they debate:
+In hollow wood they floating armies bear;
+And force imprisoned winds to bring them near.
+
+_Eve._ Who would the miseries of man foreknow?
+Not knowing, we but share our part of woe:
+Now, we the fate of future ages bear,
+And, ere their birth, behold our dead appear.
+
+_Adam._ The deaths, thou show'st, are forced and full of strife,
+Cast headlong from the precipice of life.
+Is there no smooth descent? no painless way
+Of kindly mixing with our native clay?
+
+_Raph._ There is; but rarely shall that path be trod,
+Which, without horror, leads to death's abode.
+Some few, by temperance taught, approaching slow,
+To distant fate by easy journies go:
+Gently they lay them down, as evening sheep
+On their own woolly fleeces softly sleep.
+
+_Adam._ So noiseless would I live, such death to find;
+Like timely fruit, not shaken by the wind,
+But ripely dropping from the sapless bough,
+And, dying, nothing to myself would owe.
+
+_Eve._ Thus, daily changing, with a duller taste
+Of lessening joys, I, by degrees, would waste:
+Still quitting ground, by unperceived decay,
+And steal myself from life, and melt away.
+
+_Raph._ Death you have seen: Now see your race revive,
+How happy they in deathless pleasures live;
+Far more than I can show, or you can see,
+Shall crown the blest with immortality.
+
+  _Here a Heaven descends, full of Angels, and blessed Spirits, with
+  soft Music, a Song and Chorus._
+
+_Adam._ O goodness infinite! whose heavenly will
+Can so much good produce from so much ill!
+Happy their state!
+Pure, and unchanged, and needing no defence
+From sins, as did my frailer innocence.
+Their joy sincere, and with no sorrow mixt:
+Eternity stands permanent and fixt,
+And wheels no longer on the poles of time;
+Secure from fate, and more secure from crime.
+
+_Eve._ Ravished with joy, I can but half repent
+The sin, which heaven makes happy in the event.
+
+_Raph._ Thus armed, meet firmly your approaching ill;
+For see, the guards, from yon' far eastern hill,
+Already move, nor longer stay afford;
+High in the air they wave the flaming sword,
+Your signal to depart; now down amain
+They drive, and glide, like meteors, through the plain.
+
+_Adam._ Then farewell all; I will indulgent be
+To my own ease, and not look back to see.
+When what we love we ne'er must meet again,
+To lose the thought is to remove the pain.
+
+_Eve._ Farewell, you happy shades!
+Where angels first should practise hymns, and string
+Their tuneful harps, when they to heaven would sing.
+Farewell, you flowers, whose buds, with early care,
+I watched, and to the chearful sun did rear:
+Who now shall bind your stems? or, when you fall,
+With fountain streams your fainting souls recal?
+A long farewell to thee, my nuptial bower,
+Adorned with every fair and fragrant flower!
+And last, farewell, farewell my place of birth!
+I go to wander in the lower earth,
+As distant as I can; for, dispossest,
+Farthest from what I once enjoyed, is best.
+
+_Raph._ The rising winds urge the tempestuous air;
+And on their wings deformed winter bear:
+The beasts already feel the change; and hence
+They fly to deeper coverts, for defence:
+The feebler herd before the stronger run;
+For now the war of nature is begun:
+But, part you hence in peace, and, having mourned your sin,
+For outward Eden lost, find Paradise within.                [_Exeunt._
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                             AURENG-ZEBE.
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               TRAGEDY.
+
+
+             --_Sed, cum fregit subsellia versu,
+             Esurit, intactam Paridi nisi vendat Agaven._
+                                   JUV.
+
+
+
+
+                             AURENG-ZEBE.
+
+
+"Aureng-Zebe," or the Ornament of the Throne, for such is the
+interpretation of his name, was the last descendant of Timur, who
+enjoyed the plenitude of authority originally vested in the Emperor of
+India. His father, Sha-Jehan, had four sons, to each of whom he
+delegated the command of a province. Dara-Sha, the eldest,
+superintended the district of Delhi, and remained near his father's
+person; Sultan-Sujah was governor of Bengal, Aureng-Zebe of the Decan,
+and Morat Bakshi of Guzerat. It happened, that Sha-Jehan being
+exhausted by the excesses of the Haram, a report of his death became
+current in the provinces, and proved the signal for insurrection and
+discord among his children. Morat Bakshi possessed himself of Surat,
+after a long siege, and Sultan-Sujah, having declared himself
+independent in Bengal, advanced as far as Lahor, with a large army.
+Dara-Sha, the legitimate successor of the crown, was the only son of
+Sha-Jehan, who preferred filial duty to the prospect of
+aggrandisement. He dispatched an army against Sultan-Sujah, checked
+his progress, and compelled him to retreat. But Aureng-Zebe, the third
+and most wily of the brethren, had united his forces to those of Morat
+Bakshi, and advancing against Dara-Sha, totally defeated him, and
+dissipated his army. Aureng-Zebe availed himself of the military
+reputation and treasures, acquired by his success, to seduce the
+forces of Morat Bakshi, whom he had pretended to assist, and, seizing
+upon his person at a banquet, imprisoned him in a strong fortress.
+Meanwhile, he advanced towards Agra, where his father had sought
+refuge, still affecting to believe that the old emperor was dead. The
+more pains Sha-Jehan took to contradict this report, the more
+obstinate was Aureng-Zebe in refusing to believe that he was still
+alive. And, although the emperor dispatched his most confidential
+servants to assure his dutiful son that he was yet in being, the
+incredulity of Aureng-Zebe could only be removed by a personal
+interview, the issue of which was Sha-Jehan's imprisonment and speedy
+death. During these transactions Dara-Sha, who, after his defeat, had
+fled with his treasures to Lahor, again assembled an army, and
+advanced against the conqueror; but, being deserted by his allies,
+defeated by Aureng-Zebe, and betrayed by an Omrah, whom he trusted in
+his flight, he was delivered up to his brother, and by his command
+assassinated. Aureng-Zebe now assumed the throne, and advanced against
+Sultan-Sujah, his sole remaining brother; he seduced his chief
+commanders, routed the forces who remained faithful, and drove him out
+of Bengal into the Pagan countries adjacent, where, after several
+adventures, he perished miserably in the mountains. Aureng-Zebe also
+murdered one or two nephews, and a few other near relations; but, in
+expiation of his complicated crimes, renounced the use of flesh, fish,
+and wine, living only upon barley-bread vegetables, and confections,
+although scrupling no excesses by which he could extend and strengthen
+his usurped power[1].
+
+Dr Johnson has supposed, that, in assuming for his subject a living
+prince, Dryden incurred some risque; as, should Aureng-Zebe have
+learned and resented the freedom, our Indian trade was exposed to the
+consequences of his displeasure. It may, however, be safely doubted,
+whether a monarch, who had actually performed the achievements above
+narrated, would have been scandalized by those imputed to him in the
+text. In other respects, the distance and obscurity of the events gave
+a poet the same authority over them, as if they had occurred in the
+annals of past ages; a circumstance in which Dryden's age widely
+differed from ours, when so much has our intimacy increased with the
+Oriental world, that the transactions of Delhi are almost as familiar
+to us as those of Paris.
+
+The tragedy of "Aureng-Zebe" is introduced by the poet's declaration
+in the prologue, that his taste for heroic plays was now upon the
+wane:
+
+  But he has now another taste of wit;
+  And, to confess a truth, though out of time,
+  Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme.
+  Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound,
+  And nature flies him, like enchanted ground,
+  What verse can do, he has performed in this,
+  Which he presumes the most correct of his.
+
+Agreeably to what might be expected from this declaration, the verse
+used in "Aureng-Zebe" is of that kind which may be most easily applied
+to the purposes of ordinary dialogue. There is much less of ornate
+structure and emphatic swell, than occurs in the speeches of Almanzor
+and Maximin; and Dryden, though late, seems to have at length
+discovered, that the language of true passion is inconsistent with
+that regular modulation, to maintain which, the actor must mouth each
+couplet in a sort of recitative. The ease of the verse in
+"Aureng-Zebe," although managed with infinite address, did not escape
+censure. In the "just remonstrance of affronted _That_," transmitted
+to the Spectator, the offended conjunction is made to plead, "What
+great advantage was _I_ of to Mr Dryden, in his "Indian Emperor?"
+
+  You force me still to answer you in _that,_
+  To furnish out a rhime to Morat.
+
+And what a poor figure would Mr Bayes have made, without his _Egad,
+and all that_?" But, by means of this easy flow of versification in
+which the rhime is sometimes almost lost by the pause being
+transferred to the middle of the line, Dryden, in some measure
+indemnified himself for his confinement, and, at least, muffled the
+clank of his fetters. Still, however, neither the kind of verse, nor
+perhaps the poet, himself, were formed for expressing rapid and ardent
+dialogue; and the beauties of "Aureng-Zebe" will be found chiefly to
+consist in strains of didactic morality, or solemn meditation. The
+passage, descriptive of life, has been distinguished by all the
+critics, down to Dr Johnson:
+
+  _Aur._ When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat;
+  Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit;
+  Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay:
+  To-morrow's falser than the former day;
+  Lies worse; and, while it says, We shall be blest
+  With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
+  Strange cozenage! none would live past years again,
+  Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;
+  And from the dregs of life think to receive
+  What the first sprightly running could not give.
+  I'm tired with waiting for this chemic gold,
+  Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.
+
+Nor is the answer of Nourmahal inferior in beauty:
+
+  _Nour._ 'Tis not for nothing that we life pursue;
+  It pays our hopes with something still that's new;
+  Each day's a mistress, unenjoyed before;
+  Like travellers, we're pleased with seeing more.
+  Did you but know what joys your way attend,
+  You would not hurry to your journey's end.
+
+It might be difficult to point out a passage in English poetry, in
+which so common and melancholy a truth is expressed in such beautiful
+verse, varied with such just illustration. The declamation on virtue,
+also, has great merit, though, perhaps, not equal to that on the
+vanity of life:
+
+  _Aur._ How vain is virtue, which directs our ways
+  Through certain danger to uncertain praise!
+  Barren, and airy name! thee fortune flies,
+  With thy lean train, the pious and the wise.
+  Heaven takes thee at thy word, without regard;
+  And let's thee poorly be thy own reward.
+  The world is made for the bold impious man,
+  Who stops at nothing, seizes all he can.
+  Justice to merit does weak aid afford;
+  She trusts her balance, and neglects her sword.
+  Virtue is nice to take what's not her own;
+  And, while she long consults, the prize is gone.
+
+To this account may be added the following passage from Davies'
+"Dramatic Miscellanies."
+
+"Dryden's last and most perfect rhiming tragedy was 'Aureng-Zebe.' In
+this play, the passions are strongly depicted, the characters well
+discriminated, and the diction more familiar and dramatic than in any
+of his preceding pieces. Hart and Mohun greatly distinguished
+themselves in the characters of Aureng-Zebe, and the Old Emperor. Mrs
+Marshall was admired in Nourmahal, and Kynaston has been much extolled
+by Cibber, for his happy expression of the arrogant and savage
+fierceness in Morat. Booth, in some part of this character, says the
+same critical historian, was too tame, from an apprehension of raising
+the mirth of the audience improperly.
+
+"Though I pay great deference to Cibber's judgment, yet I am not sure
+whether Booth was not in the right. And I cannot help approving the
+answer which this actor gave to one, who told him, he was surprised,
+that he neglected to give a spirited turn to the passage in question:
+
+  _Nour._ 'Twill not be safe to let him live an hour.
+  _Mor._ I'll do it to shew my arbitrary power.
+
+"'Sir,' said Booth, 'it was not through negligence, but by design,
+that I gave no spirit to that ludicrous bounce of Morat. I know very
+well, that a laugh of approbation may be obtained from the
+understanding few, but there is nothing more dangerous than exciting
+the laugh of simpletons, who know not where to stop. The majority is
+not the wisest part of the audience, and therefore I will run no
+hazard.'
+
+"The court greatly encouraged the play of 'Aureng-Zebe.' The author
+tells us, in his dedication, that Charles II. altered an incident in
+the plot, and pronounced it to be the best of all Dryden's tragedies.
+It was revived at Drury-Lane about the year 1726, with the public
+approbation: The Old Emperor, Mills; Wilkes, Aureng-Zebe; Booth,
+Morat; Indamora, Mrs Oldfield; Melesinda, the first wife of Theophilus
+Cibber, a very pleasing actress, in person agreeable, and in private
+life unblemished. She died in 1733."--Vol. I. p. 157.
+
+The introduction states all that can be said in favour of the
+management of the piece; and it is somewhat amusing to see the anxiety
+which Dryden uses to justify the hazardous experiment, of ascribing to
+emperors and princesses the language of nature and of passion. He
+appears with difficulty to have satisfied himself, that the decorum of
+the scene was not as peremptory as the etiquette of a court.
+"Aureng-Zebe" was received with the applause to which it is certainly
+entitled. It was acted and printed in 1676.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. Voyages de Tavernier, seconde partie; livre seconde.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                                JOHN,
+
+                          EARL OF MULGRAVE,
+
+               GENTLEMAN OF HIS MAJESTY'S BED-CHAMBER,
+
+                  AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER
+
+                          OF THE GARTER[1].
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+It is a severe reflection which Montaigne has made on princes, that we
+ought not, in reason, to have any expectations of favour from them;
+and that it is kindness enough, if they leave us in possession of our
+own. The boldness of the censure shows the free spirit of the author:
+And the subjects of England may justly congratulate to themselves,
+that both the nature of our government, and the clemency of our king,
+secure us from any such complaint. I, in particular, who subsist
+wholly by his bounty, am obliged to give posterity a far other account
+of my royal master, than what Montaigne has left of his. Those
+accusations had been more reasonable, if they had been placed on
+inferior persons: For in all courts, there are too many, who make it
+their business to ruin wit; and Montaigne, in other places, tells us,
+what effects he found of their good natures. He describes them such,
+whose ambition, lust, or private interest, seem to be the only end of
+their creation. If good accrue to any from them, it is only in order
+to their own designs: conferred most commonly on the base and
+infamous; and never given, but only happening sometimes on
+well-deservers. Dulness has brought them to what they are; and malice
+secures them in their fortunes. But somewhat of specious they must
+have, to recommend themselves to princes, (for folly will not easily
+go down in its own natural form with discerning judges,) and diligence
+in waiting is their gilding of the pill; for that looks like love,
+though it is only interest. It is that which gains them their
+advantage over witty men; whose love of liberty and ease makes them
+willing too often to discharge their burden of attendance on these
+officious gentlemen. It is true, that the nauseousness of such company
+is enough to disgust a reasonable man; when he sees, he can hardly
+approach greatness, but as a moated castle; he must first pass through
+the mud and filth with which it is encompassed. These are they, who,
+wanting wit, affect gravity, and go by the name of solid men; and a
+solid man is, in plain English, a solid, solemn fool. Another disguise
+they have, (for fools, as well as knaves, take other names, and pass
+by an _alias_) and that is, the title of honest fellows. But this
+honesty of theirs ought to have many grains for its allowance; for
+certainly they are no farther honest, than they are silly: They are
+naturally mischievous to their power; and if they speak not
+maliciously, or sharply, of witty men, it is only because God has not
+bestowed on them the gift of utterance. They fawn and crouch to men of
+parts, whom they cannot ruin; quote their wit when they are present,
+and, when they are absent steal their jests; but to those who are
+under them, and whom they can crush with ease, they shew themselves in
+their natural antipathy; there they treat wit like the common enemy,
+and giving no more quarter, than a Dutchman would to an English vessel
+in the Indies; they strike sail where they know they shall be
+mastered, and murder where they can with safety.
+
+This, my lord, is the character of a courtier without wit; and
+therefore that which is a satire to other men, must be a panegyric to
+your lordship, who are a master of it. If the least of these
+reflections could have reached your person, no necessity of mine could
+have made me to have sought so earnestly, and so long, to have
+cultivated your kindness. As a poet, I cannot but have made some
+observations on mankind; the lowness of my fortune has not yet brought
+me to flatter vice; and it is my duty to give testimony to virtue. It
+is true, your lordship is not of that nature, which either seeks a
+commendation, or wants it. Your mind has always been above the
+wretched affectation of popularity. A popular man is, in truth, no
+better than a prostitute to common fame, and to the people. He lies
+down to every one he meets for the hire of praise; and his humility is
+only a disguised ambition. Even Cicero himself, whose eloquence
+deserved the admiration of mankind, yet, by his insatiable thirst of
+fame, he has lessened his character with succeeding ages; his action
+against Catiline may be said to have ruined the consul, when it saved
+the city; for it so swelled his soul, which was not truly great, that
+ever afterwards it was apt to be over-set with vanity. And this made
+his virtue so suspected by his friends, that Brutus, whom of all men
+he adored, refused him a place in his conspiracy. A modern wit has
+made this observation on him; that, coveting to recommend himself to
+posterity, he begged it as an alms of all his friends, the historians,
+to remember his consulship: And observe, if you please, the oddness of
+the event; all their histories are lost, and the vanity of his request
+stands yet recorded in his own writings. How much more great and manly
+in your lordship, is your contempt of popular applause, and your
+retired virtue, which shines only to a few; with whom you live so
+easily and freely, that you make it evident, you have a soul which is
+capable of all the tenderness of friendship, and that you only retire
+yourself from those, who are not capable of returning it. Your
+kindness, where you have once placed it, is inviolable; and it is to
+that only I attribute my happiness in your love. This makes me more
+easily forsake an argument, on which I could otherwise delight to
+dwell; I mean, your judgment in your choice of friends; because I have
+the honour to be one. After which I am sure you will more easily
+permit me to be silent, in the care you have taken of my fortune;
+which you have rescued, not only from the power of others, but from my
+worst of enemies, my own modesty and laziness; which favour, had it
+been employed on a more deserving subject, had been an effect of
+justice in your nature; but, as placed on me, is only charity. Yet,
+withal, it is conferred on such a man, as prefers your kindness
+itself, before any of its consequences; and who values, as the
+greatest of your favours, those of your love, and of your
+conversation. From this constancy to your friends, I might reasonably
+assume, that your resentments would be as strong and lasting, if they
+were not restrained by a nobler principle of good nature and
+generosity; for certainly, it is the same composition of mind, the
+same resolution and courage, which makes the greatest friendships, and
+the greatest enmities. And he, who is too lightly reconciled, after
+high provocations, may recommend himself to the world for a Christian,
+but I should hardly trust him for a friend. The Italians have a
+proverb to that purpose, "To forgive the first time, shows me a good
+Catholic; the second time, a fool." To this firmness in all your
+actions, though you are wanting in no other ornaments of mind and
+body, yet to this I principally ascribe the interest your merits have
+acquired you in the royal family. A prince, who is constant to
+himself, and steady in all his undertakings; one with whom that
+character of Horace will agree,
+
+  _Si fractus illabatur orbis,
+  Impavidum ferient ruinæ_[2];--
+
+such an one cannot but place an esteem, and repose a confidence on
+him, whom no adversity, no change of courts, no bribery of interests,
+or cabals of factions, or advantages of fortune, can remove from the
+solid foundations of honour and fidelity:
+
+  _Ille meos, primus qui me sibi junxit, amores
+  Abstulit; ille habeat secum, servetque sepulcro._
+
+How well your lordship will deserve that praise, I need no inspiration
+to foretell. You have already left no room for prophecy: Your early
+undertakings have been such, in the service of your king and country,
+when you offered yourself to the most dangerous employment, that of
+the sea; when you chose to abandon those delights, to which your youth
+and fortune did invite you, to undergo the hazards, and, which was
+worse, the company of common seamen, that you have made it evident,
+you will refuse no opportunity of rendering yourself useful to the
+nation, when either your courage or conduct shall be required[3]. The
+same zeal and faithfulness continue in your blood, which animated one
+of your noble ancestors to sacrifice his life in the quarrels of his
+sovereign[4]; though, I hope, both for your sake, and for the public
+tranquillity, the same occasion will never be offered to your
+lordship, and that a better destiny will attend you. But I make haste
+to consider you as abstracted from a court, which (if you will give me
+leave to use a term of logic) is only an adjunct, not a propriety of
+happiness. The academics, I confess, were willing to admit the goods
+of fortune into their notion of felicity; but I do not remember, that
+any of the sects of old philosophers did ever leave a room for
+greatness. Neither am I formed to praise a court, who admire and covet
+nothing, but the easiness and quiet of retirement. I naturally
+withdraw my sight from a precipice; and, admit the prospect be never
+so large and goodly, can take no pleasure even in looking on the
+downfal, though I am secure from the danger. Methinks, there is
+something of a malignant joy in that excellent description of
+Lucretius;
+
+  _Suave, mari magno turbantibus æquora ventis,
+  E terrâ magnum alterius spectare laborem;
+  Non quia vexari quenquam est jucunda voluptas,
+  Sed, quibus ipse malis careas, quia cernere suave est._
+
+I am sure his master Epicurus, and my better master Cowley, preferred
+the solitude of a garden, and the conversation of a friend, to any
+consideration, so much as a regard, of those unhappy people, whom, in
+our own wrong, we call the great. True greatness, if it be any where
+on earth, is in a private virtue; removed from the notion of pomp and
+vanity, confined to a contemplation of itself, and centering on
+itself:
+
+  _Omnis enim per se Divûm natura necesse est
+  Immortali ævo summâ cum pace fruatur;
+  --curâ semota, metuque,
+  Ipsa suis pollens opibus_[5].
+
+If this be not the life of a deity, because it cannot consist with
+Providence, it is, at least, a god-like life. I can be contented, (and
+I am sure I have your lordship of my opinion) with an humbler station
+in the temple of virtue, than to be set on the pinnacle of it:
+
+  _Despicere unde queas alios, passimque videre
+  Errare, atque viam palantes quærere vitæ._
+
+The truth is, the consideration of so vain a creature as man, is not
+worth our pains. I have fool enough at home, without looking for it
+abroad; and am a sufficient theatre to myself of ridiculous actions,
+without expecting company, either in a court, a town, or a play-house.
+It is on this account that I am weary with drawing the deformities of
+life, and lazars of the people, where every figure of imperfection
+more resembles me than it can do others. If I must be condemned to
+rhyme, I should find some ease in my change of punishment. I desire to
+be no longer the Sisyphus of the stage; to roll up a stone with
+endless labour, (which, to follow the proverb, gathers no moss) and
+which is perpetually falling down again. I never thought myself very
+fit for an employment, where many of my predecessors have excelled me
+in all kinds; and some of my contemporaries, even in my own partial
+judgement have outdone me in Comedy. Some little hopes I have yet
+remaining, and those too, considering my abilities, may be vain, that
+I may make the world some part of amends, for many ill plays, by an
+heroic poem. Your lordship has been long acquainted with my design;
+the subject of which you know is great, the story English, and neither
+too far distant from the present age, nor too near approaching it.
+Such it is in my opinion, that I could not have wished a nobler
+occasion to do honour by it to my king, my country, and my friends;
+most of our ancient nobility being concerned in the action[6]. And
+your lordship has one particular reason to promote this undertaking,
+because you were the first who gave me the opportunity of discoursing
+it to his majesty, and his royal highness: They were then pleased,
+both to commend the design, and to encourage it by their commands. But
+the unsettledness of my condition has hitherto put a stop to my
+thoughts concerning it. As I am no successor to Homer in his wit, so
+neither do I desire to be in his poverty. I can make no rhapsodies nor
+go a begging at the Grecian doors, while I sing the praises of their
+ancestors. The times of Virgil please me better, because he had an
+Augustus for his patron; and, to draw the allegory nearer you, I am
+sure I shall not want a Mecænas with him. It is for your lordship to
+stir up that remembrance in his majesty, which his many avocations of
+business have caused him, I fear, to lay aside; and, as himself and
+his royal brother are the heroes of the poem, to represent to them the
+images of their warlike predecessors; as Achilles is said to be roused
+to glory, with the sight of the combat before the ships. For my own
+part, I am satisfied to have offered the design, and it may be to the
+advantage of my reputation to have it refused me.
+
+In the mean time, my lord, I take the confidence to present you with a
+tragedy, the characters of which are the nearest to those of an heroic
+poem. It was dedicated to you in my heart, before it was presented on
+the stage. Some things in it have passed your approbation, and many
+your amendment. You were likewise pleased to recommend it to the
+king's perusal, before the last hand was added to it, when I received
+the favour from him, to have the most considerable event of it
+modelled by his royal pleasure. It may be some vanity in me to add his
+testimony then, and which he graciously confirmed afterwards, that it
+was the best of all my tragedies; in which he has made authentic my
+private opinion of it; at least, he has given it a value by his
+commendation, which it had not by my writing.
+
+That which was not pleasing to some of the fair ladies in the last act
+of it, as I dare not vindicate, so neither can I wholly condemn, till
+I find more reason for their censures. The procedure of Indamora and
+Melesinda seems yet, in my judgment, natural, and not unbecoming of
+their characters. If they, who arraign them, fail not more, the world
+will never blame their conduct; and I shall be glad, for the honour of
+my country, to find better images of virtue drawn to the life in their
+behaviour, than any I could feign to adorn the theatre. I confess, I
+have only represented a practical virtue, mixed with the frailties and
+imperfections of human life. I have made my heroine fearful of death,
+which neither Cassandra nor Cleopatra would have been; and they
+themselves, I doubt it not, would have outdone romance in that
+particular. Yet their Mandana (and the Cyrus was written by a lady,)
+was not altogether so hard-hearted: For she sat down on the cold
+ground by the king of Assyria, and not only pitied him, who died in
+her defence; but allowed him some favours, such, perhaps, as they
+would think, should only be permitted to her Cyrus[7]. I have made my
+Melesinda, in opposition to Nourmahal, a woman passionately loving of
+her husband, patient of injuries and contempt, and constant in her
+kindness, to the last; and in that, perhaps, I may have erred, because
+it is not a virtue much in use. Those Indian wives are loving fools,
+and may do well to keep themselves in their own country, or, at least,
+to keep company with the Arrias and Portias of old Rome: Some of our
+ladies know better things. But, it may be, I am partial to my own
+writings; yet I have laboured as much as any man, to divest myself of
+the self-opinion of an author; and am too well satisfied of my own
+weakness, to be pleased with any thing I have written. But, on the
+other side, my reason tells me, that, in probability, what I have
+seriously and long considered may be as likely to be just and natural,
+as what an ordinary judge (if there be any such among those ladies)
+will think fit, in a transient presentation, to be placed in the room
+of that which they condemn. The most judicious writer is sometimes
+mistaken, after all his care; but the hasty critic, who judges on a
+view, is full as liable to be deceived. Let him first consider all the
+arguments, which the author had, to write this, or to design the
+other, before he arraigns him of a fault; and then, perhaps, on second
+thoughts, he will find his reason oblige him to revoke his censure.
+Yet, after all, I will not be too positive. _Homo sum, humani à me
+nihil alienum puto._ As I am a man, I must be changeable; and
+sometimes the gravest of us all are so, even upon ridiculous
+accidents. Our minds are perpetually wrought on by the temperament of
+our bodies; which makes me suspect, they are nearer allied, than
+either our philosophers or school-divines will allow them to be. I
+have observed, says Montaigne, that when the body is out of order, its
+companion is seldom at his ease. An ill dream, or a cloudy day, has
+power to change this wretched creature, who is so proud of a
+reasonable soul, and make him think what he thought not yesterday. And
+Homer was of this opinion, as Cicero is pleased to translate him for
+us:
+
+  _Tales sunt hominum mentes, quali pater ipse
+  Jupiter auctiferâ lustravit lampade terras._
+
+Or, as the same author, in his "Tusculan Questions," speaks, with more
+modesty than usual, of himself: _Nos in diem vivimus; quodcunque
+animos nostros probabilitate percussit, id dicimus._ It is not
+therefore impossible but that I may alter the conclusion of my play,
+to restore myself into the good graces of my fair critics; and your
+lordship, who is so well with them, may do me the office of a friend
+and patron, to intercede with them on my promise of amendment. The
+impotent lover in Petronius, though his was a very unpardonable crime,
+yet was received to mercy on the terms I offer. _Summa excusationis
+meæ hæc est: Placebo tibi, si culpam emendare permiseris._
+
+But I am conscious to myself of offering at a greater boldness, in
+presenting to your view what my meanness can produce, than in any
+other error of my play; and therefore make haste to break off this
+tedious address, which has, I know not how, already run itself into so
+much of pedantry, with an excuse of Tully's, which he sent with his
+books "De Finibus," to his friend Brutus: _De ipsis rebus autem,
+sæpenumerò, Brute, vereor ne reprehendar, cum hæc ad te scribam, qui
+tum in poesi,_ (I change it from _philosophiâ_) _tum in optimo genere
+poeseos tantum processeris. Quod si facerem quasi te erudiens, jure
+reprehenderer. Sed ab eo plurimùm absum: Nec, ut ea cognoscas quæ tibi
+notissima sunt, ad te mitto; sed quià facillimè in nomine tuo
+acquiesco, et quia te habeo æquissimum eorum studiorum, quæ mihi
+communia tecum sunt, æstimatorem et judicem._ Which you may please, my
+lord, to apply to yourself, from him, who is,
+
+  Your Lordship's
+    Most obedient,
+      Humble servant,
+        DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. John Sheffield, earl of Mulgrave, afterwards created marquis of
+   Normanby, and at length duke of Buckingham, made a great figure
+   during the reigns of Charles II. of his unfortunate successor, of
+   William the Third, and of Queen Anne. His bravery as a soldier, and
+   abilities as a statesman, seem to have been unquestioned; but for
+   his poetical reputation, he was probably much indebted to the
+   assistance of those wits whom he relieved and patronized. As,
+   however, it has been allowed a sufficient proof of wisdom in a
+   monarch, that he could chuse able ministers, so it is no slight
+   commendation to the taste of this rhyming peer, that in youth he
+   selected Dryden to supply his own poetical deficiencies, and in age
+   became the friend and the eulogist of Pope. We may observe,
+   however, a melancholy difference betwixt the manner in which an
+   independent man of letters is treated by the great, and that in
+   which they think themselves entitled to use one to whom their
+   countenance is of consequence. In addressing Pope, Sheffield
+   contents himself with launching out into boundless panegyric, while
+   his praise of Dryden, in his "Essay on Poetry," is qualified by a
+   gentle sneer at the "Hind and Panther," our bard's most laboured
+   production. His lordship is treating of satire:
+
+     The laureat here may justly claim our praise,
+     Crowned by Mack Flecnoe with immortal bays;
+     Yet once his Pegasus has borne dead weight,
+     Rid by some lumpish minister of state.
+
+   Lord Mulgrave, to distinguish him by his earliest title, certainly
+   received considerable assistance from Dryden in "The Essay on
+   Satire," which occasioned Rochester's base revenge; and was
+   distinguished by the name of the _Rose-Alley Satire_, from the
+   place in which Dryden was way-laid and beaten by the hired bravoes
+   of that worthless profligate. It is probable, that the patronage
+   which Dryden received from Mulgrave, was not entirely of an empty
+   and fruitless nature. It is at least certain, that their friendship
+   continued uninterrupted till the death of our poet. The "Discourse
+   upon Epic Poetry" is dedicated to Lord Mulgrave, then duke of
+   Buckingham, and in high favour with Queen Anne, for whom he is
+   supposed to have long cherished a youthful passion. After the grave
+   of Dryden had remained twenty years without a memorial, this
+   nobleman had the honour to raise the present monument at his own
+   expence; being the latest, and certainly one of the most honourable
+   acts of his life.
+
+   Mr Malone, from Macky's "Secret Services," gives the following
+   character of Sheffield, duke of Buckingham:--"He is a nobleman of
+   learning and good natural parts, but of no principles. Violent for
+   the high church, yet seldom goes to it. Very proud, insolent, and
+   covetous, and takes all advantages. In paying his debts unwilling,
+   and is neither esteemed nor beloved; for notwithstanding his great
+   interest at court, it is certain he has none in either house of
+   parliament, or in the country. He is of a middle stature, of a
+   brown complexion, with a sour lofty look." Swift sanctioned this
+   severe character, by writing on the margin of his copy of Macky's
+   book, "_This character is the truest of any._" To so bitter a
+   censure, let us contrast the panegyric of Pope:
+
+     Muse, 'tis enough; at length thy labour ends,
+     And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends;
+     Let crowds of critics now my verse assail,
+     Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail,
+     This more than pays whole years of thankless pain--
+     Time, health, and fortune, are not lost in vain.
+     Sheffield approves; consenting Phoebus bends,
+     And I and Malice from this hour are friends.
+
+   It may be worth the attention of the great to consider the value of
+   that genius, which can hand them down to posterity in an
+   interesting and amiable point of view, in spite of their own
+   imbecilities, errors, and vices. While the personal character of
+   Mulgrave has nothing to recommend it, and his poetical effusions
+   are sunk into oblivion, we still venerate the friend of Pope, and
+   the protector of Dryden.
+
+   Sheffield, duke of Buckingham, marquis of Normanby, and earl of
+   Mulgrave, was born in 1649, and died in 1720. He was therefore
+   twenty-seven years old when he received this dedication.
+
+2. On perusing such ill applied flattery, I know not whether we ought
+   to feel most for Charles II. or for Dryden.
+
+3. The earl of Mulgrave, in the Dutch war of 1672, served as a
+   volunteer on board the Victory, commanded by the earl of Ossory. He
+   behaved with distinguished courage himself, and has borne witness
+   to that of his unfortunate admiral, James Duke of York. His
+   intrepid coolness appears from a passage in his Memoirs, containing
+   the observations he made during the action, on the motion of cannon
+   bullets in the recoil, and their effect when passing near the human
+   body. His bravery was rewarded by his promotion to command the
+   Katharine, the second best ship in the fleet. This vessel had been
+   captured by the Dutch during the action, but was retaken by the
+   English crew before she could be carried into harbour. Lord
+   Mulgrave had a picture of the Katherine at his house in St James's
+   Park.--See CARLETON'S _Memoirs_, p. 5.
+
+4. In 1548-9, there were insurrections in several counties of England,
+   having for their object the restoration of the Catholic religion,
+   and the redress of grievances. The insurgents in Northamptonshire
+   were 20,000 strong, headed by one Ket, a tanner, who possessed
+   himself of Norwich. The earl of Northampton, marching rashly and
+   hastily against him, at the head of a very inferior force, was
+   defeated with loss. In the rout lord Sheffield, ancestor of the
+   earl of Mulgrave, and the person alluded to in the text, fell with
+   his horse into a ditch, and was slain by a butcher with a club. The
+   rebels were afterwards defeated by the earl of Warwick.--DUGDALE'S
+   _Baron_, vol. ii. p. 386. HOLLINSHED, p. 1035.]
+
+5. The entire passage of Lucretius is somewhat different from this
+   quotation:
+
+     _Quæ bene, et eximie quamvis disposta ferantur,
+     Longe sunt tamen a verâ ratione repulsa.
+     Omnia enim per se Divum natura necesse est
+     Immortali ævo summâ cum pace fruatur,
+     Semota a nostris rebus, sejunctaque longè.
+     Nam privata dolore omni, privata periclis,
+     Ipsa suis pollens opibus, nihil indiga nostri,
+     Nec bene promeritis capitur, nec tangitur ira._
+                                   LIB. II.
+
+   Dryden ingeniously applies, to the calm of philosophical
+   retirement, the Epicurean tranquillity of the Deities of Lucretius.
+
+6. The subject of this intended poem, was probably the exploits of the
+   Black Prince. See Life.
+
+7. An incident in "Artèmenes, ou Le Grand Cyrus," a huge romance,
+   written by Madame Scuderi.
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  Our author, by experience, finds it true,
+  'Tis much more hard to please himself than you;
+  And out of no feigned modesty, this day
+  Damns his laborious trifle of a play:
+  Not that its worse than what before he writ,
+  But he has now another taste of wit;
+  And, to confess a truth, though out of time,
+  Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme.
+  Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound,
+  And nature flies him like enchanted ground:
+  What verse can do, he has performed in this,
+  Which he presumes the most correct of his;
+  But spite of all his pride, a secret shame
+  Invades his breast at Shakespeare's sacred name:
+  Awed when he hears his godlike Romans rage,
+  He, in a just despair, would quit the stage;
+  And to an age less polished, more unskilled,
+  Does, with disdain, the foremost honours yield.
+  As with the greater dead he dares not strive,
+  He would not match his verse with those who live:
+  Let him retire, betwixt two ages cast,
+  The first of this, and hindmost of the last.
+  A losing gamester, let him sneak away;
+  He bears no ready money from the play.
+  The fate, which governs poets, thought it fit
+  He should not raise his fortunes by his wit.
+  The clergy thrive, and the litigious bar;
+  Dull heroes fatten with the spoils of war:
+  All southern vices, heaven be praised, are here:
+  But wit's a luxury you think too dear.
+  When you to cultivate the plant are loth,
+  'Tis a shrewd sign 'twas never of your growth;
+  And wit in northern climates will not blow,
+  Except, like orange-trees, 'tis housed from snow.
+  There needs no care to put a playhouse down,
+  'Tis the most desart place of all the town:
+  We and our neighbours, to speak proudly, are,
+  Like monarchs, ruined with expensive war;
+  While, like wise English, unconcerned you sit,
+  And see us play the tragedy of wit.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+
+  _The Old Emperor._
+  AURENG-ZEBE, _his Son._
+  MORAT, _his younger Son._
+  ARIMANT, _Governor of Agra._
+  DIANET,     }
+  SOLYMAN,    }
+  MIR BABA,   } _Indian Lords, or Omrahs, of several
+  ABAS,       }    Factions._
+  ASAPH CHAN, }
+  FAZEL CHAN, }
+
+  NOURMAHAL, _the Empress._
+  INDAMORA, _a Captive Queen._
+  MELESINDA, _Wife to Morat._
+  ZAYDA, _favourite Slave to the Empress._
+
+
+SCENE--_Agra,_ in the year 1660.
+
+
+
+
+                             AURENG-ZEBE.
+
+
+ACT I. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ ARIMANT, ASAPH CHAN, _and_ FAZEL CHAN.
+
+_Arim._ Heaven seems the empire of the east to lay
+On the success of this important day:
+Their arms are to the last decision bent,
+And fortune labours with the vast event:
+She now has in her hand the greatest stake,
+Which for contending monarchs she can make.
+Whate'er can urge ambitious youth to fight,
+She pompously displays before their sight;
+Laws, empire, all permitted to the sword,
+And fate could ne'er an ampler scene afford.
+
+_Asaph._ Four several armies to the field are led,
+Which, high in equal hopes, four princes head:
+Indus and Ganges, our wide empire's bounds,
+Swell their dyed currents with their natives' wounds:
+Each purple river winding, as he runs,
+His bloody arms about his slaughtered sons.
+
+_Fazel._ I well remember you foretold the storm,
+When first the brothers did their factions form:
+When each, by cursed cabals of women, strove
+To draw the indulgent king to partial love.
+
+_Arim._ What heaven decrees, no prudence can prevent.
+To cure their mad ambition, they were sent
+To rule a distant province each alone:
+What could a careful father more have done?
+He made provision against all, but fate,
+While, by his health, we held our peace of state.
+The weight of seventy winters prest him down,
+He bent beneath the burden of a crown:
+Sickness, at last, did his spent body seize,
+And life almost sunk under the disease:
+Mortal 'twas thought, at least by them desired,
+Who, impiously, into his years inquired:
+As at a signal, strait the sons prepare
+For open force, and rush to sudden war:
+Meeting, like winds broke loose upon the main,
+To prove, by arms, whose fate it was to reign.
+
+_Asaph._ Rebels and parricides!
+
+_Arim._ Brand not their actions with so foul a name:
+Pity at least what we are forced to blame.
+When death's cold hand has closed the father's eye,
+You know the younger sons are doomed to die.
+Less ills are chosen greater to avoid,
+And nature's laws are by the state's destroyed.
+What courage tamely could to death consent,
+And not, by striking first, the blow prevent?
+Who falls in fight, cannot himself accuse,
+And he dies greatly, who a crown pursues.
+
+  _To them_ SOLYMAN AGA.
+
+_Solym._ A new express all Agra does affright:
+Darah and Aureng-Zebe are joined in fight;
+The press of people thickens to the court,
+The impatient crowd devouring the report.
+
+_Arim._ T' each changing news they changed affections bring,
+And servilely from fate expect a king.
+
+_Solym._ The ministers of state, who gave us law,
+In corners, with selected friends, withdraw:
+There, in deaf murmurs, solemnly are wise;
+Whispering, like winds, ere hurricanes arise.
+The most corrupt are most obsequious grown,
+And those they scorned, officiously they own.
+
+_Asaph._ In change of government,
+The rabble rule their great oppressors' fate;
+Do sovereign justice, and revenge the state.
+
+_Solym._ The little courtiers, who ne'er come to know
+The depth of factions, as in mazes go,
+Where interests meet and cross so oft, that they,
+With too much care, are wildered in their way.
+
+_Arim._ What of the emperor?
+
+_Solym._ Unmoved, and brave, he like himself appears,
+And, meriting no ill, no danger fears:
+Yet mourns his former vigour lost so far,
+To make him now spectator of a war:
+Repining that he must preserve his crown
+By any help or courage but his own:
+Wishes, each minute, he could unbeget
+Those rebel sons, who dare usurp his seat;
+To sway his empire with unequal skill,
+And mount a throne, which none but he can fill.
+
+_Arim._ Oh! had he still that character maintained,
+Of valour, which, in blooming youth, he gained!
+He promised in his east a glorious race;
+Now, sunk from his meridian, sets apace.
+But as the sun, when he from noon declines,
+And, with abated heat, less fiercely shines,
+Seems to grow milder as he goes away,
+Pleasing himself with the remains of day;
+So he, who, in his youth, for glory strove,
+Would recompense his age with ease and love.
+
+_Asaph._ The name of father hateful to him grows,
+Which, for one son, produces him three foes.
+
+_Fazel._ Darah, the eldest, bears a generous mind,
+But to implacable revenge inclined:
+Too openly does love and hatred show;
+A bounteous master, but a deadly foe.
+
+_Solym._ From Sujah's valour I should much expect,
+But he's a bigot of the Persian sect;
+And by a foreign interest seeks to reign,
+Hopeless by love the sceptre to obtain.
+
+_Asaph._ Morat's too insolent, too much a brave;
+His courage to his envy is a slave.
+What he attempts, if his endeavours fail
+To effect, he is resolved no other shall.
+
+_Arim._ But Aureng-Zebe, by no strong passion swayed,
+Except his love, more temperate is, and weighed:
+This Atlas must our sinking state uphold;
+In council cool, but in performance bold:
+He sums their virtues in himself alone,
+And adds the greatest, of a loyal son:
+His father's cause upon his sword he wears,
+And with his arms, we hope, his fortune bears.
+
+_Solym._ Two vast rewards may well his courage move,
+A parent's blessing, and a mistress' love.
+If he succeed, his recompence, we hear,
+Must be the captive queen of Cassimere.
+
+  _To them_ ABAS.
+
+_Abas._ Mischiefs on mischiefs, greater still, and more!
+The neighbouring plain with arms is covered o'er:
+The vale an iron-harvest seems to yield,
+Of thick-sprung lances in a waving field.
+The polished steel gleams terribly from far,
+And every moment nearer shows the war.
+The horses' neighing by the wind is blown,
+And castled-elephants o'er-look the town.
+
+_Arim._ If, as I fear, Morat these powers commands,
+Our empire on the brink of ruin stands:
+The ambitious empress with her son is joined,
+And, in his brother's absence, has designed
+The unprovided town to take with ease,
+And then the person of the king to seize.
+
+_Solym._ To all his former issue she has shown
+Long hate, and laboured to advance her own.
+
+_Abas._ These troops are his.
+Surat he took; and thence, preventing fame,
+By quick and painful marches hither came.
+Since his approach, he to his mother sent,
+And two long hours in close debate were spent.
+
+_Arim._ I'll to my charge, the citadel, repair,
+And show my duty by my timely care.
+
+  _To them the Emperor, with a letter in his hand: After him, an
+  Ambassador, with a train following._
+
+_Asaph._ But see, the emperor! a fiery red
+His brows and glowing temples does o'erspread;
+Morat has some displeasing message sent.
+
+_Amb._ Do not, great sir, misconstrue his intent;
+Nor call rebellion what was prudent care,
+To guard himself by necessary war:
+While he believed you living, he obeyed;
+His governments but as your viceroy swayed:
+But, when he thought you gone
+To augment the number of the blessed above,
+He deemed them legacies of royal love:
+Nor armed, his brothers' portions to invade,
+But to defend the present you had made.
+
+_Emp._ By frequent messages, and strict commands,
+He knew my pleasure to discharge his bands:
+Proof of my life my royal signet made;
+Yet still he armed, came on, and disobeyed.
+
+_Amb._ He thought the mandate forged, your death concealed;
+And but delayed, till truth should be revealed.
+
+_Emp._ News of my death from rumour he received;
+And what he wished, he easily believed:
+But long demurred, though from my hand he knew
+I lived, so loth he was to think it true.
+Since he pleads ignorance to that command,
+Now let him show his duty, and disband.
+
+_Amb._ His honour, sir, will suffer in the cause;
+He yields his arms unjust, if he withdraws:
+And begs his loyalty may be declared,
+By owning those he leads to be your guard.
+
+_Emp._ I, in myself, have all the guard I need!
+Bid the presumptuous boy draw off with speed:
+If his audacious troops one hour remain,
+My cannon from the fort shall scour the plain.
+
+_Amb._ Since you deny him entrance, he demands
+His wife, whom cruelly you hold in bands:
+Her, if unjustly you from him detain,
+He justly will, by force of arms, regain.
+
+_Emp._ O'er him and his a right from Heaven I have;
+Subject and son, he's doubly born my slave.
+But whatsoe'er his own demerits are,
+Tell him, I shall not make on women war.
+And yet I'll do her innocence the grace,
+To keep her here, as in the safer place.
+But thou, who dar'st this bold defiance bring,
+May'st feel the rage of an offended king.
+Hence, from my sight, without the least reply!
+One word, nay one look more, and thou shalt die.   [_Exit Ambassador._
+
+  _Re-enter_ ARIMANT.
+
+_Arim._ May heaven, great monarch, still augment your bliss
+With length of days, and every day like this!
+For, from the banks of Gemna news is brought,
+Your army has a bloody battle fought:
+Darah from loyal Aureng-Zebe is fled,
+And forty thousand of his men lie dead.
+To Sujah next your conquering army drew;
+Him they surprised, and easily o'erthrew.
+
+_Emp._ 'Tis well.
+
+_Arim._ But well! what more could at your wish be done,
+Than two such conquests gained by such a son?
+Your pardon, mighty sir;
+You seem not high enough your joys to rate;
+You stand indebted a vast sum to fate,
+And should large thanks for the great blessing pay.
+
+_Emp._ My fortune owes me greater every day;
+And should my joy more high for this appear,
+It would have argued me, before, of fear.
+How is heaven kind, where I have nothing won,
+And fortune only pays me with my own?
+
+_Arim._ Great Aureng-Zebe did duteous care express,
+And durst not push too far his good success;
+But, lest Morat the city should attack,
+Commanded his victorious army back;
+Which, left to march as swiftly as they may,
+Himself comes first, and will be here this day,
+Before a close-formed siege shut up his way.
+
+_Emp._ Prevent his purpose! hence, with all thy speed!
+Stop him; his entrance to the town forbid.
+
+_Arim._ How, sir? your loyal, your victorious son?
+
+_Emp._ Him would I, more than all the rebels, shun.
+
+_Arim._ Whom with your power and fortune, sir, you trust.
+Now to suspect is vain, as 'tis unjust.
+He comes not with a train to move your fear,
+But trusts himself to be a prisoner here.
+You knew him brave, you know him faithful now:
+He aims at fame, but fame from serving you.
+'Tis said, ambition in his breast does rage:
+Who would not be the hero of an age?
+All grant him prudent: Prudence interest weighs,
+And interest bids him seek your love and praise.
+I know you grateful; when he marched from hence,
+You bade him hope an ample recompence:
+He conquered in that hope; and, from your hands,
+His love, the precious pledge he left, demands.
+
+_Emp._ No more; you search too deep my wounded mind,
+And show me what I fear, and would not find.
+My son has all the debts of duty paid:
+Our prophet sends him to my present aid.
+Such virtue to distrust were base and low:
+I'm not ungrateful--or I was not so!
+Inquire no farther, stop his coming on:
+I will not, cannot, dare not, see my son.
+
+_Arim._ 'Tis now too late his entrance to prevent,
+Nor must I to your ruin give consent;
+At once your people's heart, and son's, you lose,
+And give him all, when you just things refuse.
+
+_Emp._ Thou lov'st me, sure; thy faith has oft been tried,
+In ten pitched fields not shrinking from my side,
+Yet giv'st me no advice to bring me ease.
+
+_Arim._ Can you be cured, and tell not your disease?
+I asked you, sir.
+
+_Emp._ Thou shouldst have asked again:
+There hangs a secret shame on guilty men.
+Thou shouldst have pulled the secret from my breast,
+Torn out the bearded steel, to give me rest;
+At least, thou should'st have guessed--
+Yet thou art honest, thou couldst ne'er have guessed.
+Hast thou been never base? did love ne'er bend
+Thy frailer virtue, to betray thy friend?
+Flatter me, make thy court, and say, It did;
+Kings in a crowd would have their vices hid.
+We would be kept in count'nance, saved from shame,
+And owned by others who commit the same.
+Nay, now I have confessed.
+Thou seest me naked, and without disguise:
+I look on Aureng-Zebe with rival's eyes.
+He has abroad my enemies o'ercome,
+And I have sought to ruin him at home.
+
+_Arim._ This free confession shows you long did strive;
+And virtue, though opprest, is still alive.
+But what success did your injustice find?
+
+_Emp._ What it deserved, and not what I designed.
+Unmoved she stood, and deaf to all my prayers,
+As seas and winds to sinking mariners.
+But seas grow calm, and winds are reconciled:
+Her tyrant beauty never grows more mild;
+Prayers, promises, and threats, were all in vain.
+
+_Arim._ Then cure yourself, by generous disdain.
+
+_Emp._ Virtue, disdain, despair, I oft have tried,
+And, foiled, have with new arms my foe defied.
+This made me with so little joy to hear
+The victory, when I the victor fear.
+
+_Arim._ Something you swiftly must resolve to do,
+Lest Aureng-Zebe your secret love should know.
+Morat without does for your ruin wait;
+And would you lose the buckler of your state?
+A jealous empress lies within your arms,
+Too haughty to endure neglected charms.
+
+Your son is duteous, but, as man, he's frail,
+And just revenge o'er virtue may prevail.
+
+_Emp._ Go then to Indamora; say, from me,
+Two lives depend upon her secrecy.
+Bid her conceal my passion from my son:
+Though Aureng-Zebe return a conqueror,
+Both he and she are still within my power.
+Say, I'm a father, but a lover too;
+Much to my son, more to myself I owe.
+When she receives him, to her words give law,
+And even the kindness of her glances awe.
+See, he appears!          [_After a short whisper,_ ARIMANT _departs._
+
+  _Enter_ AURENG-ZEBE, DIANET, _and_ Attendants.--AURENG-ZEBE _kneels
+  to his Father, and kisses his hand._
+
+_Aur._ My vows have been successful as my sword;
+My prayers are heard, you have your health restored.
+Once more 'tis given me to behold your face;
+The best of kings and fathers to embrace.
+Pardon my tears; 'tis joy which bids them flow,
+A joy which never was sincere till now.
+That, which my conquest gave, I could not prize;
+Or 'twas imperfect till I saw your eyes.
+
+_Emp._ Turn the discourse: I have a reason why
+I would not have you speak so tenderly.
+Knew you what shame your kind expressions bring,
+You would, in pity, spare a wretched king.
+
+_Aur._ A king! you rob me, sir, of half my due;
+You have a dearer name,--a father too.
+
+_Emp._ I had that name.
+
+_Aur._ What have I said or done,
+That I no longer must be called your son?
+'Tis in that name, heaven knows, I glory more,
+Than that of prince, or that of conqueror.
+
+_Emp._ Then you upbraid me; I am pleased to see
+You're not so perfect, but can fail, like me.
+I have no God to deal with.
+
+_Aur._ Now I find,
+Some sly court-devil has seduced your mind;
+Filled it with black suspicions not your own,
+And all my actions through false optics shown.
+I ne'er did crowns ambitiously regard;
+Honour I sought, the generous mind's reward.
+Long may you live! while you the sceptre sway,
+I shall be still most happy to obey.
+
+_Emp._ Oh, Aureng-Zebe! thy virtues shine too bright,
+They flash too fierce: I, like the bird of night,
+Shut my dull eyes, and sicken at the sight.
+Thou hast deserved more love than I can show;
+But 'tis thy fate to give, and mine to owe.
+Thou seest me much distempered in my mind;
+Pulled back, and then pushed forward to be kind.
+Virtue, and--fain I would my silence break,
+But have not yet the confidence to speak.
+Leave me, and to thy needful rest repair.
+
+_Aur._ Rest is not suiting with a lover's care.
+I have not yet my Indamora seen.                          [_Is going._
+
+_Emp._ Somewhat I had forgot; come back again:
+So weary of a father's company?
+
+_Aur._ Sir, you were pleased yourself to license me.
+
+_Emp._ You made me no relation of the fight;
+Besides, a rebel's army is in sight.
+Advise me first: Yet go--
+He goes to Indamora; I should take                           [_Aside._
+A kind of envious joy to keep him back.
+Yet to detain him makes my love appear;--
+I hate his presence, and his absence fear.                    [_Exit._
+
+_Aur._ To some new clime, or to thy native sky,
+Oh friendless and forsaken Virtue, fly!
+Thy Indian air is deadly to thee grown:
+Deceit and cankered malice rule thy throne.
+Why did my arms in battle prosperous prove,
+To gain the barren praise of filial love?
+The best of kings by women is misled,
+Charmed by the witchcraft of a second bed.
+Against myself I victories have won,
+And by my fatal absence am undone.
+
+  _To him_ INDAMORA, _with_ ARIMANT.
+
+But here she comes!
+In the calm harbour of whose gentle breast,
+My tempest-beaten soul may safely rest.
+Oh, my heart's joy! whate'er my sorrows be,
+They cease and vanish in beholding thee!
+Care shuns thy walks; as at the cheerful light,
+The groaning ghosts and birds obscene take flight.
+By this one view, all my past pains are paid;
+And all I have to come more easy made.
+
+_Ind._ Such sullen planets at my birth did shine,
+They threaten every fortune mixt with mine.
+Fly the pursuit of my disastrous love,
+And from unhappy neighbourhood remove.
+
+_Aur._ Bid the laborious hind,
+Whose hardened hands did long in tillage toil,
+Neglect the promised harvest of the soil.
+Should I, who cultivated love with blood,
+Refuse possession of approaching good?
+
+_Ind._ Love is an airy good, opinion makes;
+Which he, who only thinks he has, partakes:
+Seen by a strong imagination's beam,
+That tricks and dresses up the gaudy dream:
+Presented so, with rapture 'tis enjoyed;
+Raised by high fancy, and by low destroyed.
+
+_Aur._ If love be vision, mine has all the fire,
+Which, in first dreams, young prophets does inspire:
+I dream, in you, our promised paradise:
+An age's tumult of continued bliss.
+But you have still your happiness in doubt;
+Or else 'tis past, and you have dreamt it out.
+
+_Ind._ Perhaps not so.
+
+_Aur._ Can Indamora prove
+So altered? Is it but, perhaps you love?
+Then farewell all! I thought in you to find
+A balm, to cure my much distempered mind.
+I came to grieve a father's heart estranged;
+But little thought to find a mistress changed.
+Nature herself is changed to punish me;
+Virtue turned vice, and faith inconstancy.
+
+_Ind._ You heard me not inconstancy confess:
+'Twas but a friend's advice to love me less.
+Who knows what adverse fortune may befal?
+Arm well your mind: hope little, and fear all.
+Hope, with a goodly prospect, feeds your eye;
+Shows, from a rising ground, possession nigh;
+Shortens the distance, or o'erlooks it quite;
+So easy 'tis to travel with the sight.
+
+_Aur._ Then to despair you would my love betray,
+By taking hope, its last kind friend, away.
+You hold the glass, but turn the perspective,
+And farther off the lessened object drive.
+You bid me fear: In that your change I know;
+You would prepare me for the coming blow.
+But, to prevent you, take my last adieu;
+I'll sadly tell my self you are untrue,
+Rather than stay to hear it told by you.                     [_Going._
+
+_Ind._ Stay, Aureng-Zebe, I must not let you go,--
+And yet believe yourself your own worst foe;
+Think I am true, and seek no more to know,
+Let in my breast the fatal secret lie;
+'Tis a sad riddle, which, if known, we die.       [_Seeming to pause._
+
+_Aur._ Fair hypocrite, you seek to cheat in vain;
+Your silence argues you ask time to feign.
+Once more, farewell! The snare in sight is laid,
+'Tis my own fault if I am now betrayed.                [_Going again._
+
+_Ind._ Yet once more stay; you shall believe me true,
+Though in one fate I wrap myself and you.
+Your absence--
+
+_Arim._ Hold! you know the hard command,
+I must obey: You only can withstand
+Your own mishap. I beg you, on my knee,
+Be not unhappy by your own decree.
+
+_Aur._ Speak, madam; by (if that be yet an oath)
+Your love, I'm pleased we should be ruined both.
+Both is a sound of joy.
+In death's dark bowers our bridals we will keep;
+And his cold hand
+Shall draw the curtain, when we go to sleep.
+
+_Ind._ Know then, that man, whom both of us did trust,
+Has been to you unkind, to me unjust.
+The guardian of my faith so false did prove,
+As to solicit me with lawless love:
+Prayed, promised, threatened, all that man could do;
+Base as he's great; and need I tell you who?
+
+_Aur._ Yes; for I'll not believe my father meant:
+Speak quickly, and my impious thoughts prevent.
+
+_Ind._ You've said; I wish I could some other name!
+
+_Arim._ My duty must excuse me, sir, from blame.
+A guard there!
+
+  _Enter Guards._
+
+_Aur._ Slave, for me?
+
+_Arim._ My orders are
+To seize this princess, whom the laws of war
+Long since made prisoner.
+
+_Aur._ Villain!
+
+_Arim._ Sir, I know
+Your birth, nor durst another call me so.
+
+_Aur._ I have redeemed her; and, as mine, she's free.
+
+_Arim._ You may have right to give her liberty;
+But with your father, sir, that right dispute;
+For his commands to me were absolute,
+If she disclosed his love, to use the right
+Of war, and to secure her from your sight.
+
+_Aur._ I'll rescue her, or die.                              [_Draws._
+And you, my friends, though few, are yet too brave,
+To see your general's mistress made a slave.              [_All draw._
+
+_Ind._ Hold, my dear love! if so much power there lies,
+As once you owned, in Indamora's eyes,
+Lose not the honour you have early won,
+But stand the blameless pattern of a son.
+My love your claim inviolate secures;
+'Tis writ in fate, I can be only yours.
+My sufferings for you make your heart my due;
+Be worthy me, as I am worthy you.
+
+_Aur._ I've thought, and blessed be you who gave me time;
+                                              [_Putting up his Sword._
+My virtue was surprised into a crime.
+Strong virtue, like strong nature, struggles still;
+Exerts itself, and then throws off the ill.
+I to a son's and lover's praise aspire,
+And must fulfil the parts which both require.
+How dear the cure of jealousy has cost!
+With too much care and tenderness you're lost.
+So the fond youth from hell redeemed his prize,
+Till, looking back, she vanished from his eyes!   [_Exeunt severally._
+
+
+ACT II. SCENE I.
+
+  _Betwixt the Acts, a warlike Tune is played, shooting of Guns and
+  shouts of Soldiers are heard, as in an Assault._
+
+  AURENG-ZEBE, ARIMANT, ASAPH CHAN, FAZEL CHAN, _and_ SOLYMAN.
+
+_Aur._ What man could do, was by Morat performed;
+The fortress thrice himself in person stormed.
+Your valour bravely did the assault sustain,
+And filled the moats and ditches with the slain;
+'Till, mad with rage, into the breach he fired,
+Slew friends and foes, and in the smoke retired.
+
+_Arim._ To us you give what praises are not due;
+Morat was thrice repulsed, but thrice by you.
+High, over all, was your great conduct shown;
+You sought our safety, but forgot your own.
+
+_Asaph._ Their standard, planted on the battlement,
+Despair and death among the soldiers sent;
+You the bold Omrah tumbled from the wall,
+And shouts of victory pursued his fall.
+
+_Fazel._ To you alone we owe this prosperous day;
+Our wives and children rescued from the prey:
+Know your own interest, sir; where'er you lead,
+We jointly vow to own no other head.
+
+_Solym._ Your wrongs are known. Impose but your commands,
+This hour shall bring you twenty thousand hands.
+
+_Aur._ Let them, who truly would appear my friends,
+Employ their swords, like mine, for noble ends.
+No more: Remember you have bravely done;
+Shall treason end what loyalty begun?
+I own no wrongs; some grievance I confess;
+But kings, like gods, at their own time redress.
+Yet, some becoming boldness I may use;
+I've well deserved, nor will he now refuse.                  [_Aside._
+I'll strike my fortunes with him at a heat,
+And give him not the leisure to forget.
+                                      [_Exit, attended by the Omrahs._
+
+_Arim._ Oh! Indamora, hide these fatal eyes!
+Too deep they wound whom they too soon surprise;
+My virtue, prudence, honour, interest, all
+Before this universal monarch fall.
+Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray;
+Who can tread sure on the smooth slippery way?
+Pleased with the passage, we slide swiftly on,
+And see the dangers which we cannot shun.
+
+  _To him_ INDAMORA.
+
+_Ind._ I hope my liberty may reach thus far;
+These terrace walks within my limits are.
+I came to seek you, and to let you know,
+How much I to your generous pity owe.
+The king, when he designed you for my guard,
+Resolved he would not make my bondage hard:
+If otherwise, you have deceived his end;
+And whom he meant a guardian, made a friend.
+
+_Arim._ A guardian's title I must own with shame;
+But should be prouder of another name.
+
+_Ind._ And therefore 'twas I changed that name before;
+I called you friend, and could you wish for more?
+
+_Arim._ I dare not ask for what you would not grant.
+But wishes, madam, are extravagant;
+They are not bounded with things possible:
+I may wish more than I presume to tell.
+Desire's the vast extent of human mind;
+It mounts above, and leaves poor hope behind.
+I could wish--
+
+_Ind._ What?
+
+_Arim._ Why did you speak? you've dashed my fancy quite,
+Even in the approaching minute of delight.
+I must take breath,
+Ere I the rapture of my wish renew,
+And tell you then,--it terminates in you.
+
+_Ind._ Have you considered what the event would be?
+Or know you, Arimant, yourself, or me?
+Were I no queen, did you my beauty weigh,
+My youth in bloom, your age in its decay?
+
+_Arim._ I, my own judge, condemned myself before;
+For pity aggravate my crime no more!
+So weak I am, I with a frown am slain;
+You need have used but half so much disdain.
+
+_Ind._ I am not cruel yet to that degree;
+Have better thoughts both of yourself and me.
+Beauty a monarch is,
+Which kingly power magnificently proves,
+By crowds of slaves, and peopled empire loves:
+And such a slave as you what queen would lose?
+Above the rest, I Arimant would chuse,
+For counsel, valour, truth, and kindness too;
+All I could wish in man, I find in you.
+
+_Arim._ What lover could to greater joy be raised?
+I am, methinks, a god, by you thus praised.
+
+_Ind._ To what may not desert like yours pretend?
+You have all qualities, that fit a friend.
+
+_Arim._ So mariners mistake the promised coast;
+And, with full sails, on the blind rocks are lost.
+Think you my aged veins so faintly beat,
+They rise no higher than to friendship's heat?
+So weak your charms, that, like a winter's night,
+Twinkling with stars, they freeze me, while they light?
+
+_Ind._ Mistake me not, good Arimant; I know
+My beauty's power, and what my charms can do.
+You your own talent have not learned so well;
+But practise one, where you can ne'er excel.
+You can, at most,
+To an indifferent lover's praise pretend;
+But you would spoil an admirable friend.
+
+_Arim._ Never was amity so highly prized,
+Nor ever any love so much despised.
+Even to myself ridiculous I grow,
+And would be angry, if I knew but how.
+
+_Ind._ Do not. Your anger, like your love, is vain;
+Whene'er I please, you must be pleased again.
+Knowing what power I have your will to bend,
+I'll use it; for I need just such a friend.
+You must perform, not what you think is fit;
+But to whatever I propose submit.
+
+_Arim._ Madam, you have a strange ascendant gained;
+You use me like a courser, spurred and reined:
+If I fly out, my fierceness you command,
+Then sooth, and gently stroke me with your hand.
+Impose; but use your power of taxing well;
+When subjects cannot pay, they soon rebel.
+
+_Enter the Emperor, unseen by them._
+
+_Ind._ My rebel's punishment would easy prove;
+You know you're in my power, by making love.
+
+_Arim._ Would I, without dispute, your will obey,
+And could you, in return, my life betray?
+
+_Emp._ What danger, Arimant, is this you fear?
+Or what love-secret, which I must not hear?
+These altered looks some inward motion show:
+His cheeks are pale, and yours with blushes glow.           [_To her._
+
+_Ind._ 'Tis what, with justice, may my anger move;
+He has been bold, and talked to me of love.
+
+_Arim._ I am betrayed, and shall be doomed to die.           [_Aside._
+
+_Emp._ Did he, my slave, presume to look so high?
+That crawling insect, who from mud began,
+Warmed by my beams, and kindled into man?
+Durst he, who does but for my pleasure live,
+Intrench on love, my great prerogative?
+Print his base image on his sovereign's coin?
+'Tis treason if he stamp his love with mine.
+
+_Arim._ 'Tis true, I have been bold, but if it be
+A crime--
+
+_Ind._ He means, 'tis only so to me.
+You, sir, should praise, what I must disapprove.
+He insolently talked to me of love;
+But, sir, 'twas yours, he made it in your name;
+You, if you please, may all he said disclaim.
+
+_Emp._ I must disclaim whate'er he can express;
+His groveling sense will show my passion less:
+But stay,--if what he said my message be,
+What fear, what danger, could arrive from me?
+He said, he feared you would his life betray.
+
+_Ind._ Should he presume again, perhaps I may.
+Though in your hands he hazard not his life,
+Remember, sir, your fury of a wife;
+Who, not content to be revenged on you,
+The agents of your passion will pursue.
+
+_Emp._ If I but hear her named, I'm sick that day;
+The sound is mortal, and frights life away.--
+Forgive me, Arimant, my jealous thought:
+Distrust in lovers is the tenderest fault.
+Leave me, and tell thyself, in my excuse,
+Love, and a crown, no rivalship can bear;
+And precious things are still possessed with fear.
+                                            [_Exit_ ARIMANT, _bowing._
+This, madam, my excuse to you may plead;
+Love should forgive the faults, which love has made.
+
+_Ind._ From me, what pardon can you hope to have,
+Robbed of my love, and treated as a slave?
+
+_Emp._ Force is the last relief which lovers find;
+And 'tis the best excuse of woman-kind.
+
+_Ind._ Force never yet a generous heart did gain;
+We yield on parley, but are stormed in vain.
+Constraint in all things makes the pleasure less;
+Sweet is the love which comes with willingness.
+
+_Emp._ No; 'tis resistance that inflames desire,
+Sharpens the darts of love, and blows his fire.
+Love is disarmed, that meets with too much ease;
+He languishes, and does not care to please:
+And therefore 'tis, your golden fruit you guard
+With so much care,--to make possession hard.
+
+_Ind._ Was't not enough, you took my crown away,
+But cruelly you must my love betray?
+I was well pleased to have transferred my right,
+And better changed your claim of lawless might,
+By taking him, whom you esteemed above
+Your other sons, and taught me first to love.
+
+_Emp._ My son by my command his course must steer:
+I bade him love, I bid him now forbear.
+If you have any kindness for him still,
+Advise him not to shock a father's will.
+
+_Ind._ Must I advise?
+Then let me see him, and I'll try to obey.
+
+_Emp._ I had forgot, and dare not trust your way.
+But send him word,
+He has not here an army to command:
+Remember, he and you are in my hand.
+
+_Ind._ Yes, in a father's hand, whom he has served,
+And, with the hazard of his life, preserved.
+But piety to you, unhappy prince,
+Becomes a crime, and duty an offence;
+Against yourself you with your foes combine,
+And seem your own destruction to design.
+
+_Emp._ You may be pleased your politics to spare;
+I'm old enough, and can myself take care.
+
+_Ind._ Advice from me was, I confess, too bold:
+You're old enough; it may be, sir, too old.
+
+_Emp._ You please yourself with your contempt of age;
+But love, neglected, will convert to rage.
+If on your head my fury does not turn,
+Thank that fond dotage which so much you scorn;
+But, in another's person, you may prove,
+There's warmth for vengeance left, though not for love.
+
+  _Re-enter_ ARIMANT.
+
+_Arim._ The empress has the antichambers past,
+And this way moves with a disordered haste:
+Her brows the stormy marks of anger bear.
+
+_Emp._ Madam, retire; she must not find you here.
+                                      [_Exit_ INDAMORA _with_ ARIMANT.
+
+  _Enter_ NOURMAHAL _hastily._
+
+_Nour._ What have I done, that Nourmahal must prove
+The scorn and triumph of a rival's love?
+My eyes are still the same; each glance, each grace,
+Keep their first lustre, and maintain their place;
+Not second yet to any other face.
+
+_Emp._ What rage transports you? Are you well awake?
+Such dreams distracted minds in fevers make.
+
+_Nour._ Those fevers you have given, those dreams have bred,
+By broken faith, and an abandoned bed.
+Such visions hourly pass before my sight,
+Which from my eyes their balmy slumbers fright,
+In the severest silence of the night;
+Visions, which in this citadel are seen,--
+Bright glorious visions of a rival queen.
+
+_Emp._ Have patience,--my first flames can ne'er decay;
+These are but dreams, and soon will pass away;
+Thou know'st, my heart, my empire, all is thine.
+In thy own heaven of love serenely shine;
+Fair as the face of nature did appear,
+When flowers first peep'd, and trees did blossoms bear,
+And winter had not yet deformed the inverted year;
+Calm as the breath which fans our eastern groves,
+And bright as when thy eyes first lighted up our loves.
+Let our eternal peace be sealed by this,
+With the first ardour of a nuptial kiss.        [_Offers to kiss her._
+
+_Nour._ Me would you have,--me your faint kisses prove,
+The dregs and droppings of enervate love?
+Must I your cold long-labouring age sustain,
+And be to empty joys provoked in vain?
+Receive you, sighing after other charms,
+And take an absent husband in my arms?
+
+_Emp._ Even these reproaches I can bear from you;
+You doubted of my love, believe it true:
+Nothing but love this patience could produce,
+And I allow your rage that kind excuse.
+
+_Nour._ Call it not patience; 'tis your guilt stands mute;
+You have a cause too foul to bear dispute.
+You wrong me first, and urge my rage to rise:
+Then I must pass for mad; you, meek and wise.
+Good man! plead merit by your soft replies.
+Vain privilege poor women have of tongue;
+Men can stand silent, and resolve on wrong.
+
+_Emp._ What can I more? my friendship you refuse.
+And even my mildness, as my crime, accuse.
+
+_Nour._ Your sullen silence cheats not me, false man;
+I know you think the bloodiest things you can.
+Could you accuse me, you would raise your voice,
+Watch for my crimes, and in my guilt rejoice:
+But my known virtue is from scandal free,
+And leaves no shadow for your calumny.
+
+_Emp._ Such virtue is the plague of human life;
+A virtuous woman, but a cursed wife.
+In vain of pompous chastity you're proud;
+Virtue's adultery of the tongue, when loud.
+I, with less pain, a prostitute could bear,
+Than the shrill sound of--"_Virtue! virtue!_" hear.
+In unchaste wives
+There's yet a kind of recompensing ease;
+Vice keeps them humble, gives them care to please;
+But against clamorous virtue, what defence?
+It stops our mouths, and gives your noise pretence.
+
+_Nour._ Since virtue does your indignation raise,
+'Tis pity but you had that wife you praise:
+Your own wild appetites are prone to range,
+And then you tax our humours with your change.
+
+_Emp._ What can be sweeter than our native home?
+Thither for ease and soft repose we come:
+Home is the sacred refuge of our life;
+Secured from all approaches, but a wife.
+If thence we fly, the cause admits no doubt;
+None but an inmate foe could force us out:
+Clamours our privacies uneasy make;
+Birds leave their nests disturbed, and beasts their haunts forsake.
+
+_Nour._ Honour's my crime, that has your loathing bred;
+You take no pleasure in a virtuous bed.
+
+_Emp._ What pleasure can there be in that estate,
+Which your unquietness has made me hate?
+I shrink far off,
+Dissembling sleep, but wakeful with the fright;
+The day takes off the pleasure of the night.
+
+_Nour._ My thoughts no other joys but power pursue;
+Or, if they did, they must be lost in you.
+And yet the fault's not mine,
+Though youth and beauty cannot warmth command;
+The sun in vain shines on the barren sand.
+
+_Emp._ 'Tis true, of marriage-bands I'm weary grown;
+Love scorns all ties, but those that are his own.
+Chains, that are dragged, must needs uneasy prove,
+For there's a godlike liberty in love.
+
+_Nour._ What's love to you?
+The bloom of beauty other years demands,
+Nor will be gathered by such withered hands:
+You importune it with a false desire,
+Which sparkles out, and makes no solid fire.
+This impudence of age, whence can it spring?
+All you expect, and yet you nothing bring:
+Eager to ask, when you are past a grant;
+Nice in providing what you cannot want.
+Have conscience; give not her you love this pain;
+Solicit not yourself and her in vain:
+All other debts may compensation find;
+But love is strict, and will be paid in kind.
+
+_Emp._ Sure, of all ills, domestic are the worst;
+When most secure of blessings, we are curst.
+When we lay next us what we hold most dear,
+Like Hercules, envenomed shirts we wear,
+And cleaving mischiefs.
+
+_Nour._ What you merit, have;
+And share, at least, the miseries you gave.
+Your days I will alarm, I'll haunt your nights.
+And, worse than age, disable your delights.
+May your sick fame still languish till it die,
+All offices of power neglected lie,
+And you grow cheap in every subject's eye!
+Then, as the greatest curse that I can give,
+Unpitied be deposed, and, after, live!                   [_Going off._
+
+_Emp._ Stay, and now learn,
+How criminal soe'er we husbands are,
+'Tis not for wives to push our crimes too far.
+Had you still mistress of your temper been,
+I had been modest, and not owned my sin.
+Your fury hardens me; and whate'er wrong
+You suffer, you have cancelled by your tongue.
+A guard there!--Seize her; she shall know this hour,
+What is a husband's and a monarch's power.        [_Guard seizes her._
+
+  _Enter_ AURENG-ZEBE.
+
+_Nour._ I see for whom your charter you maintain;
+I must be fettered, and my son be slain,
+That Zelyma's ambitious race may reign.
+Not so you promised, when my beauty drew
+All Asia's vows; when, Persia left for you,
+The realm of Candahar for dower I brought;
+That long-contended prize for which you fought.
+
+_Aur._ The name of stepmother, your practised art,
+By which you have estranged my father's heart,
+All you have done against me, or design,
+Shows your aversion, but begets not mine.
+Long may my father India's empire guide,
+And may no breach your nuptial vows divide!
+
+_Emp._ Since love obliges not, I from this hour
+Assume the right of man's despotic power;
+Man is by nature formed your sex's head,
+And is himself the canon of his bed:
+In bands of iron fettered you shall be,--
+An easier yoke than what you put on me.
+
+_Aur._ Though much I fear my interest is not great,
+Let me your royal clemency intreat.                       [_Kneeling._
+Secrets of marriage still are sacred held;
+Their sweet and bitter by the wise concealed.
+Errors of wives reflect on husbands still,
+And, when divulged, proclaim you've chosen ill;
+And the mysterious power of bed and throne
+Should always be maintained, but rarely shown.
+
+_Emp._ To so perverse a sex all grace is vain;
+It gives them courage to offend again:
+For with feigned tears they penitence pretend,
+Again are pardoned, and again offend;
+Fathom our pity when they seem to grieve,
+Only to try how far we can forgive;
+Till, launching out into a sea of strife,
+They scorn all pardon, and appear all wife.
+But be it as you please; for your loved sake,
+This last and fruitless trial I will make:
+In all requests your right of merit use;
+And know, there is but one I can refuse.
+                        [_He signs to the Guards, and they remove from
+                         the Empress._
+
+_Nour._ You've done enough, for you designed my chains;
+The grace is vanished, but the affront remains.
+Nor is't a grace, or for his merit done;
+You durst no farther, for you feared my son.
+This you have gained by the rough course you prove;
+I'm past repentance, and you past my love.                    [_Exit._
+
+_Emp._ A spirit so untamed the world ne'er bore.
+
+_Aur._ And yet worse usage had incensed her more.
+But since by no obligement she is tied,
+You must betimes for your defence provide.
+I cannot idle in your danger stand,
+But beg once more I may your arms command:
+Two battles your auspicious cause has won;
+My sword can perfect what it has begun,
+And from your walls dislodge that haughty son.
+
+_Emp._ My son, your valour has this day been such,
+None can enough admire, or praise too much:
+But now, with reason, your success I doubt;
+Her faction's strong within, his arms without.
+
+_Aur._ I left the city in a panic fright;
+Lions they are in council, lambs in fight.
+But my own troops, by Mirzah led, are near;
+I, by to-morrow's dawn, expect them here:
+To favour them, I'll sally out ere day,
+And through our slaughtered foes enlarge their way.
+
+_Emp._ Age has not yet
+So shrunk my sinews, or so chilled my veins,
+But conscious virtue in my breast remains:
+But had I now
+That strength, with which my boiling youth was fraught,
+When in the vale of Balasor I fought,
+And from Bengal their captive monarch brought;
+When elephant 'gainst elephant did rear
+His trunk, and castles jostled in the air;
+My sword thy way to victory had shown,
+And owed the conquest to itself alone.
+
+_Aur._ Those fair ideas to my aid I'll call,
+And emulate my great original;
+Or, if they fail, I will invoke, in arms,
+The power of love, and Indamora's charms.
+
+_Emp._ I doubt the happy influence of your star;
+To invoke a captive's name bodes ill in war.
+
+_Aur._ Sir, give me leave to say, whatever now
+The omen prove, it boded well to you.
+Your royal promise, when I went to fight,
+Obliged me to resign a victor's right:
+Her liberty I fought for, and I won,
+And claim it, as your general, and your son.
+
+_Emp._ My ears still ring with noise; I'm vexed to death,
+Tongue-killed, and have not yet recovered breath;
+Nor will I be prescribed my time by you.
+First end the war, and then your claim renew;
+While to your conduct I my fortune trust,
+To keep this pledge of duty is but just.
+
+_Aur._ Some hidden cause your jealousy does move,
+Or you could ne'er suspect my loyal love.
+
+_Emp._ What love soever by an heir is shown,
+He waits but time to step into the throne;
+You're neither justified, nor yet accused;
+Meanwhile, the prisoner with respect is used.
+
+_Aur._ I know the kindness of her guardian such,
+I need not fear too little, but too much.
+But, how, sir, how have you from virtue swerved?
+Or what so ill return have I deserved?
+You doubt not me, nor have I spent my blood,
+To have my faith no better understood:
+Your soul's above the baseness of distrust:
+Nothing but love could make you so unjust.
+
+_Emp._ You know your rival then; and know 'tis fit,
+The son should to the father's claim submit.
+
+_Aur._ Sons may have rights which they can never quit.
+Yourself first made that title which I claim:
+First bade me love, and authorised my flame.
+
+_Emp._ The value of my gift I did not know:
+If I could give, I can resume it too.
+
+_Aur._ Recall your gift, for I your power confess.
+But first take back my life, a gift that's less.
+Long life would now but a long burthen prove:
+You're grown unkind, and I have lost your love.
+My grief lets unbecoming speeches fall:
+I should have died, and not complained at all.
+
+_Emp._ Witness, ye powers,
+How much I suffered, and how long I strove
+Against the assaults of this imperious love!
+I represented to myself the shame
+Of perjured faith, and violated fame;
+Your great deserts, how ill they were repaid;
+All arguments, in vain, I urged and weighed:
+For mighty love, who prudence does despise,
+For reason showed me Indamora's eyes.
+What would you more? my crime I sadly view,
+Acknowledge, am ashamed, and yet pursue.
+
+_Aur._ Since you can love, and yet your error see,
+The same resistless power may plead for me.
+With no less ardour I my claim pursue:
+I love, and cannot yield her even to you.
+
+_Emp._ Your elder brothers, though o'ercome, have right:
+The youngest yet in arms prepared to fight.
+But, yielding her, I firmly have decreed,
+That you alone to empire shall succeed.
+
+_Aur._ To after-ages let me stand a shame,
+When I exchange for crowns my love or fame!
+You might have found a mercenary son,
+To profit of the battles he had won.
+Had I been such, what hindered me to take
+The crown? nor had the exchange been yours to make.
+While you are living, I no right pretend;
+Wear it, and let it where you please descend.
+But from my love, 'tis sacrilege to part:
+There, there's my throne, in Indamora's heart.
+
+_Emp._ 'Tis in her heart alone that you must reign:
+You'll find her person difficult to gain.
+Give willingly what I can take by force:
+And know, obedience is your safest course.
+
+_Aur._ I'm taught, by honour's precepts, to obey:
+Fear to obedience is a slavish way.
+If aught my want of duty could beget,
+You take the most prevailing means, to threat.
+Pardon your blood, that boils within my veins;
+It rises high, and menacing disdains.
+Even death's become to me no dreadful name:
+I've often met him, and have made him tame:
+In fighting fields, where our acquaintance grew,
+I saw him, and contemned him first for you.
+
+_Emp._ Of formal duty make no more thy boast:
+Thou disobey'st where it concerns me most.
+Fool! with both hands thus to push back a crown,
+And headlong cast thyself from empire down!
+Though Nourmahal I hate, her son shall reign:
+Inglorious thou, by thy own fault, remain.
+Thy younger brother I'll admit this hour:
+So mine shall be thy mistress, his thy power.                 [_Exit._
+
+_Aur._ How vain is virtue, which directs our ways
+Through certain danger to uncertain praise!
+Barren, and airy name! thee fortune flies,
+With thy lean train, the pious and the wise.
+Heaven takes thee at thy word, without regard,
+And lets thee poorly be thy own reward.
+The world is made for the bold impious man,
+Who stops at nothing, seizes all he can.
+Justice to merit does weak aid afford;
+She trusts her balance, and neglects her sword.
+Virtue is nice to take what's not her own;
+And, while she long consults, the prize is gone.
+
+  _To him_ DIANET.
+
+_Dia._ Forgive the bearer of unhappy news:
+Your altered father openly pursues
+Your ruin; and, to compass his intent,
+For violent Morat in haste has sent.
+The gates he ordered all to be unbarred,
+And from the market-place to draw the guard.
+
+_Aur._ How look the people in this turn of state?
+
+_Dia._ They mourn your ruin as their proper fate;
+Cursing the empress: For they think it done
+By her procurement, to advance her son.
+Him too, though awed, they scarcely can forbear:
+His pride they hate, his violence they fear.
+All bent to rise, would you appear their chief,
+Till your own troops come up to your relief.
+
+_Aur._ Ill treated, and forsaken, as I am,
+I'll not betray the glory of my name:
+'Tis not for me, who have preserved a state,
+To buy an empire at so base a rate.
+
+_Dia._ The points of honour poets may produce;
+Trappings of life, for ornament, not use:
+Honour, which only does the name advance,
+Is the mere raving madness of romance.
+Pleased with a word, you may sit tamely down;
+And see your younger brother force the crown.
+
+_Aur._ I know my fortune in extremes does lie;
+The sons of Indostan must reign, or die;
+That desperate hazard courage does create,
+As he plays frankly, who has least estate;
+And that the world the coward will despise,
+When life's a blank, who pulls not for a prize.
+
+_Dia._ Of all your knowledge, this vain fruit you have,
+To walk with eyes broad open to your grave.
+
+_Aur._ From what I've said, conclude, without reply,
+I neither would usurp, nor tamely die.
+The attempt to fly, would guilt betray, or fear:
+Besides, 'twere vain; the fort's our prison here.
+Somewhat I have resolved.
+Morat, perhaps, has honour in his breast;
+And, in extremes, both counsels are the best.
+Like emp'ric remedies, they last are tried,
+And by the event condemned, or justified.
+Presence of mind, and courage in distress,
+Are more than armies, to procure success.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT III. SCENE I.
+
+  ARIMANT, _with a letter in his hand:_ INDAMORA.
+
+_Arim._ And I the messenger to him from you?
+Your empire you to tyranny pursue:
+You lay commands, both cruel and unjust,
+To serve my rival, and betray my trust.
+
+_Ind._ You first betrayed your trust, in loving me;
+And should not I my own advantage see?
+Serving my love, you may my friendship gain;
+You know the rest of your pretences vain.
+You must, my Arimant, you must be kind:
+'Tis in your nature, and your noble mind.
+
+_Arim._ I'll to the king, and straight my trust resign.
+
+_Ind._ His trust you may, but you shall never mine.
+Heaven made you love me for no other end,
+But to become my confidant and friend:
+As such, I keep no secret from your sight,
+And therefore make you judge how ill I write:
+Read it, and tell me freely then your mind;
+If 'tis indited, as I meant it, kind.
+
+_Arim._ _I ask not heaven my freedom to restore,_          [_Reading._
+_But only for your sake_--I'll read no more:
+And yet I must--
+_Less for my own, than for your sorrow sad_--              [_Reading._
+Another line, like this, would make me mad--
+Heaven! she goes on--yet more--and yet more kind!       [_As reading._
+Each sentence is a dagger to my mind.
+_See me this night_--                                      [_Reading._
+_Thank fortune, who did such a friend provide,
+For faithful Arimant shall be your guide._
+Not only to be made an instrument,
+But pre-engaged without my own consent!
+
+_Ind._ Unknown to engage you still augments my score,
+And gives you scope of meriting the more.
+
+_Arim._ The best of men
+Some interest in their actions must confess;
+None merit, but in hope they may possess.
+The fatal paper rather let me tear,
+Than, like Bellerophon, my own sentence bear.
+
+_Ind._ You may; but 'twill not be your best advice:
+'Twill only give me pains of writing twice.
+You know you must obey me, soon or late:
+Why should you vainly struggle with your fate?
+
+_Arim._ I thank thee, heaven, thou hast been wondrous kind!
+Why am I thus to slavery designed,
+And yet am cheated with a freeborn mind?
+Or make thy orders with my reason suit,
+Or let me live by sense a glorious brute--              [_She frowns._
+You frown, and I obey with speed, before
+That dreadful sentence comes, _See me no more:_
+See me no more! that sound, methinks, I hear
+Like the last trumpet thundering in my ear.
+
+  _Enter_ SOLYMAN.
+
+_Solym._ The princess Melesinda, bathed in tears,
+And tossed alternately with hopes and fears,
+If your affairs such leisure can afford,
+Would learn from you the fortunes of her lord.
+
+_Arim._ Tell her, that I some certainty may bring,
+I go this minute to attend the king.
+
+_Ind._ This lonely turtle I desire to see:
+Grief, though not cured, is eased by company.
+
+_Arim._ [_To_ SOLYM.]
+Say, if she please, she hither may repair,
+And breathe the freshness of the open air.              [_Exit_ SOLYM.
+
+_Ind._ Poor princess! how I pity her estate,
+Wrapt in the ruins of her husband's fate!
+She mourned Morat should in rebellion rise;
+Yet he offends, and she's the sacrifice.
+
+_Arim._ Not knowing his design, at court she staid;
+'Till, by command, close prisoner she was made.
+Since when,
+Her chains with Roman constancy she bore,
+But that, perhaps, an Indian wife's is more.
+
+_Ind._ Go, bring her comfort; leave me here alone.
+
+_Arim._ My love must still he in obedience shown.        [_Exit_ ARIM.
+
+  _Enter_ MELESINDA, _led by_ SOLYMAN, _who retires afterwards._
+
+_Ind._ When graceful sorrow in her pomp appears,
+Sure she is dressed in Melesinda's tears.
+Your head reclined, (as hiding grief from view)
+Droops, like a rose, surcharged with morning dew.
+
+_Mel._ Can flowers but droop in absence of the sun,
+Which waked their sweets? And mine, alas! is gone.
+But you the noblest charity express:
+For they, who shine in courts, still shun distress.
+
+_Ind._ Distressed myself, like you, confined, I live:
+And, therefore, can compassion take and give.
+We're both love's captives, but with fate so cross,
+One must be happy by the other's loss.
+Morat, or Aureng-Zebe, must fall this day.
+
+_Mel._ Too truly Tamerlane's successors they;
+Each thinks a world too little for his sway.
+Could you and I the same pretences bring,
+Mankind should with more ease receive a king:
+I would to you the narrow world resign,
+And want no empire while Morat was mine.
+
+_Ind._ Wished freedom, I presage, you soon will find;
+If heaven be just, and be to virtue kind.
+
+_Mel._ Quite otherwise my mind foretels my fate:
+Short is my life, and that unfortunate.
+Yet should I not complain, would heaven afford
+Some little time, ere death, to see my lord.
+
+_Ind._ These thoughts are but your melancholy's food;
+Raised from a lonely life, and dark abode:
+But whatsoe'er our jarring fortunes prove,
+Though our lords hate, methinks we two may love.
+
+_Mel._ Such be our loves as may not yield to fate;
+I bring a heart more true than fortunate.       [_Giving their hands._
+
+  _To them,_ ARIMANT.
+
+_Arim._ I come with haste surprising news to bring:
+In two hours time, since last I saw the king,
+The affairs of court have wholly changed their face:
+Unhappy Aureng-Zebe is in disgrace;
+And your Morat, proclaimed the successor,
+Is called, to awe the city with his power.
+Those trumpets his triumphant entry tell,
+And now the shouts waft near the citadel.
+
+_Ind._ See, madam, see the event by me foreshown:
+I envy not your chance, but grieve my own.
+
+_Mel._ A change so unexpected must surprise:
+And more, because I am unused to joys.
+
+_Ind._ May all your wishes ever prosperous be!
+But I'm too much concerned the event to see.
+My eyes too tender are,
+To view my lord become the public scorn.--
+I came to comfort, and I go to mourn.             [_Taking her leave._
+
+_Mel._ Stay, I'll not see my lord,
+Before I give your sorrow some relief;
+And pay the charity you lent my grief.
+Here he shall see me first, with you confined;
+And, if your virtue fail to move his mind,
+I'll use my interest that he may be kind.
+Fear not, I never moved him yet in vain.
+
+_Ind._ So fair a pleader any cause may gain.
+
+_Mel._ I have no taste, methinks, of coming joy;
+For black presages all my hopes destroy.
+"Die!" something whispers,--"Melesinda, die!
+Fulfil, fulfil, thy mournful destiny!"--
+Mine is a gleam of bliss, too hot to last;
+Watry it shines, and will be soon o'ercast. [IND. _and_ MEL. _retire._
+
+_Arim._ Fortune seems weary grown of Aureng-Zebe,
+While to her new-made favourite Morat,
+Her lavish hand is wastefully profuse:
+With fame and flowing honours tided in,
+Borne on a swelling current smooth beneath him.
+The king, and haughty empress, to our wonder,
+If not atoned, yet seemingly at peace,
+As fate for him that miracle reserved.
+
+  _Enter, in triumph, Emperor,_ MORAT, _and Train._
+
+_Emp._ I have confessed I love.
+As I interpret fairly your design,
+So look not with severer eyes on mine.
+Your fate has called you to the imperial seat:
+In duty be, as you in arms are, great;
+For Aureng-Zebe a hated name is grown,
+And love less bears a rival than the throne.
+
+_Mor._ To me, the cries of fighting fields are charms:
+Keen be my sabre, and of proof my arms,
+I ask no other blessing of my stars:
+No prize but fame, nor mistress but the wars.
+I scarce am pleased I tamely mount the throne:--
+Would Aureng-Zebe had all their souls in one!
+With all my elder brothers I would fight,
+And so from partial nature force my right.
+
+_Emp._ Had we but lasting youth, and time to spare,
+Some might be thrown away on fame and war;
+But youth, the perishing good, runs on too fast,
+And, unenjoyed, will spend itself to waste;
+Few know the use of life before 'tis past.
+Had I once more thy vigour to command,
+I would not let it die upon my hand:
+No hour of pleasure should pass empty by;
+Youth should watch joys, and shoot them as they fly.
+
+_Mor._ Methinks, all pleasure is in greatness found.
+Kings, like heaven's eye, should spread their beams around,
+Pleased to be seen, while glory's race they run:
+Rest is not for the chariot of the sun.
+Subjects are stiff-necked animals; they soon
+Feel slackened reins, and pitch their rider down.
+
+_Emp._ To thee that drudgery of power I give:
+Cares be thy lot: Reign thou, and let me live.
+The fort I'll keep for my security;
+Business and public state resign to thee.
+
+_Mor._ Luxurious kings are to their people lost:
+They live, like drones, upon the public cost.
+My arms from pole to pole the world shall shake,
+And, with myself, keep all mankind awake.
+
+_Emp._ Believe me, son, and needless trouble spare;
+'Tis a base world, and is not worth our care:
+The vulgar, a scarce animated clod,
+Ne'er pleased with aught above them, prince or God.
+Were I a God, the drunken globe should roll,
+The little emmetts with the human soul
+Care for themselves, while at my ease I sat,
+And second causes did the work of fate;
+Or, if I would take care, that care should be
+For wit that scorned the world, and lived like me.
+
+  _To them,_ NOURMAHAL, ZAYDA, _and Attendants._
+
+_Nour._ My dear Morat,                           [_Embracing her son._
+This day propitious to us all has been:
+You're now a monarch's heir, and I a queen.
+Your faithful father now may quit the state,
+And find the ease he sought, indulged by fate.
+Cares shall not keep him on the throne awake,
+Nor break the golden slumbers he would take.
+
+_Emp._ In vain I struggled to the gaol of life,
+While rebel-sons, and an imperious wife,
+Still dragged me backward into noise and strife.
+
+_Mor._ Be that remembrance lost; and be it my pride
+To be your pledge of peace on either side.
+
+  _To them,_ AURENG-ZEBE.
+
+_Aur._ With all the assurance innocence can bring,
+Fearless without, because secure within,
+Armed with my courage, unconcerned I see
+This pomp; a shame to you, a pride to me.
+Shame is but where with wickedness 'tis joined;
+And, while no baseness in this breast I find,
+I have not lost the birth-right of my mind.
+
+_Emp._ Children, the blind effect of love and chance,
+Formed by their sportive parents' ignorance,
+Bear from their birth the impressions of a slave;
+Whom heaven for play-games first, and then for service gave:
+One then may be displaced, and one may reign,
+And want of merit render birth-right vain.
+
+_Mor._ Comes he to upbraid us with his innocence?
+Seize him, and take the preaching Brachman hence.
+
+_Aur._ Stay, sir!--I from my years no merit plead:   [_To his Father._
+All my designs and acts to duty lead.
+Your life and glory are my only end;
+And for that prize I with Morat contend.
+
+_Mor._ Not him alone: I all mankind defy.
+Who dares adventure more for both than I?
+
+_Aur._ I know you brave, and take you at your word:
+That present service, which you vaunt, afford.
+Our two rebellious brothers are not dead:
+Though vanquished, yet again they gather head.
+I dare you, as your rival in renown,
+March out your army from the imperial town:
+Chuse whom you please, the other leave to me;
+And set our father absolutely free.
+This, if you do, to end all future strife,
+I am content to lead a private life;
+Disband my army, to secure the state,
+Nor aim at more, but leave the rest to fate.
+
+_Mor._ I'll do it.--Draw out my army on the plain!
+War is to me a pastime, peace a pain.
+
+_Emp._ Think better first.--                                [_To_ MOR.
+You see yourself enclosed beyond escape,                    [_To_ AUR.
+And, therefore, Proteus-like, you change your shape;
+Of promise prodigal, while power you want,
+And preaching in the self-denying cant.
+
+_Mor._ Plot better; for these arts too obvious are,
+Of gaming time, the master-piece of war.
+Is Aureng-Zebe so known?
+
+_Aur._ If acts like mine,
+So far from interest, profit, or design,
+Can show my heart, by those I would be known:
+I wish you could as well defend your own.
+My absent army for my father fought:
+Yours, in these walls, is to enslave him brought.
+If I come singly, you an armed guest,
+The world with ease may judge whose cause is best.
+
+_Mor._ My father saw you ill designs pursue;
+And my admission showed his fear of you.
+
+_Aur._ Himself best knows why he his love withdraws:
+I owe him more than to declare the cause.
+But still I press, our duty may be shown
+By arms.
+
+_Mor._ I'll vanquish all his foes alone.
+
+_Aur._ You speak, as if you could the fates command,
+And had no need of any other hand.
+But, since my honour you so far suspect,
+'Tis just I should on your designs reflect.
+To prove yourself a loyal son, declare
+You'll lay down arms when you conclude the war.
+
+_Mor._ No present answer your demand requires;
+The war once done, I'll do what heaven inspires;
+And while this sword this monarchy secures,
+'Tis managed by an abler arm than yours.
+
+_Emp._ Morat's design a doubtful meaning bears:              [_Aside._
+In Aureng-Zebe true loyalty appears.
+He, for my safety, does his own despise;
+Still, with his wrongs, I find his duty rise.
+I feel my virtue struggling in my soul,
+But stronger passion does its power controul.--
+Yet be advised your ruin to prevent:               [_To_ AUR. _aside._
+You might be safe, if you would give consent.
+
+_Aur._ So to your welfare I of use may be,
+My life or death are equal both to me.
+
+_Emp._ The people's hearts are yours; the fort yet mine:
+Be wise, and Indamora's love resign.
+I am observed: Remember, that I give
+This my last proof of kindness--die, or live.
+
+_Aur._ Life, with my Indamora, I would chuse;
+But, losing her, the end of living lose.
+I had considered all I ought before;
+And fear of death can make me change no more.
+The people's love so little I esteem,
+Condemned by you, I would not live by them.
+May he, who must your favour now possess,
+Much better serve you, and not love you less.
+
+_Emp._ I've heard you; and, to finish the debate,            [_Aloud._
+Commit that rebel prisoner to the state.
+
+_Mor._ The deadly draught he shall begin this day:
+And languish with insensible decay.
+
+_Aur._ I hate the lingering summons to attend;
+Death all at once would be the nobler end.
+Fate is unkind! methinks, a general
+Should warm, and at the head of armies fall;
+And my ambition did that hope pursue,
+That so I might have died in fight for you.          [_To his Father._
+
+_Mor._ Would I had been disposer of thy stars!
+Thou shouldst have had thy wish, and died in wars.
+'Tis I, not thou, have reason to repine,
+That thou shouldst fall by any hand, but mine.
+
+_Aur._ When thou wert formed, heaven did a man begin;
+But the brute soul, by chance, was shuffled in.
+In woods and wilds thy monarchy maintain,
+Where valiant beasts, by force and rapine, reign.
+In life's next scene, if transmigration be,
+Some bear, or lion, is reserved for thee.
+
+_Mor._ Take heed thou com'st not in that lion's way!
+I prophecy, thou wilt thy soul convey
+Into a lamb, and be again my prey.--
+Hence with that dreaming priest!
+
+_Nour._ Let me prepare
+The poisonous draught: His death shall be my care.
+Near my apartment let him prisoner be,
+That I his hourly ebbs of life may see.
+
+_Aur._ My life I would not ransom with a prayer:
+'Tis vile, since 'tis not worth my father's care.
+I go not, sir, indebted to my grave:
+You paid yourself, and took the life you gave.                [_Exit._
+
+_Emp._ O that I had more sense of virtue left,               [_Aside._
+Or were of that, which yet remains, bereft!
+I've just enough to know how I offend,
+And, to my shame, have not enough to mend.
+Lead to the mosque.--
+
+_Mor._ Love's pleasures, why should dull devotion stay?
+Heaven to my Melesinda's but the way.
+                                [_Exeunt Emperor,_ MORAT, _and train._
+
+_Zayd._ Sure Aureng-Zebe has somewhat of divine,
+Whose virtue through so dark a cloud can shine.
+Fortune has from Morat this day removed
+The greatest rival, and the best beloved.
+
+_Nour._ He is not yet removed.
+
+_Zayd._ He lives, 'tis true;
+But soon must die, and, what I mourn, by you.
+
+_Nour._ My Zayda, may thy words prophetic be!
+                                             [_Embracing her eagerly._
+I take the omen; let him die by me!
+He, stifled in my arms, shall lose his breath;
+And life itself shall envious be of death.
+
+_Zayd._ Bless me, you powers above!
+
+_Nour._ Why dost thou start?
+Is love so strange? Or have not I a heart?
+Could Aureng-Zebe so lovely seem to thee,
+And I want eyes that noble worth to see?
+Thy little soul was but to wonder moved:
+My sense of it was higher, and I loved.
+That man, that god-like man, so brave, so great--
+But these are thy small praises I repeat.
+I'm carried by a tide of love away:
+He's somewhat more than I myself can say,
+
+_Zayd._ Though all the ideas you can form be true,
+He must not, cannot, be possessed by you.
+If contradicting interests could be mixt,
+Nature herself has cast a bar betwixt;
+And, ere you reach to this incestuous love,
+You must divine and human rights remove.
+
+_Nour._ Count this among the wonders love has done:
+I had forgot he was my husband's son.
+
+_Zayd._ Nay, more, you have forgot who is your own:
+For whom your care so long designed the throne.
+Morat must fall, if Aureng-Zebe should rise.
+
+_Nour._ 'Tis true; but who was e'er in love, and wise?
+Why was that fatal knot of marriage tied,
+Which did, by making us too near, divide?
+Divides me from my sex! for heaven, I find,
+Excludes but me alone of womankind.
+I stand with guilt confounded, lost with shame,
+And yet made wretched only by a name.
+If names have such command on human life,
+Love sure's a name that's more divine than wife.
+That sovereign power all guilt from action takes,
+At least the stains are beautiful it makes.
+
+_Zayd._ The incroaching ill you early should oppose:
+Flattered, 'tis worse, and by indulgence grows.
+
+_Nour._ Alas! and what have I not said or done?
+I fought it to the last,--and love has won.
+A bloody conquest, which destruction brought,
+And ruined all the country where he fought.
+Whether this passion from above was sent,
+The fate of him heaven favours to prevent;
+Or as the curse of fortune in excess,
+That, stretching, would beyond its reach possess;
+And, with a taste which plenty does deprave,
+Loaths lawful good, and lawless ill does crave--
+
+_Zayd._ But yet, consider--
+
+_Nour._ No, 'tis loss of time:
+Think how to further, not divert my crime.
+My artful engines instantly I'll move,
+And chuse the soft and gentlest hour of love.
+The under-provost of the fort is mine.--
+But see, Morat! I'll whisper my design.
+
+  _Enter_ MORAT _with_ ARIMANT, _as talking: Attendants._
+
+_Arim._ And for that cause was not in public seen,
+But stays in prison with the captive queen.
+
+_Mor._ Let my attendants wait; I'll be alone:
+Where least of state, there most of love is shewn.
+
+_Nour._ My son, your business is not hard to guess;       [_To_ MORAT.
+Long absence makes you eager to possess:
+I will not importune you by my stay;
+She merits all the love which you can pay.         [_Exit with_ ZAYDA.
+
+  _Re-enter_ ARIMANT, _with_ MELESINDA; _then exit._ MORAT _runs to_
+  MELESINDA, _and embraces her._
+
+_Mor._ Should I not chide you, that you chose to stay
+In gloomy shades, and lost a glorious day?
+Lost the first fruits of joy you should possess
+In my return, and made my triumph less?
+
+_Mel._ Should I not chide, that you could stay and see
+Those joys, preferring public pomp to me?
+Through my dark cell your shouts of triumph rung:
+I heard with pleasure, but I thought them long.
+
+_Mor._ The public will in triumphs rudely share,
+And kings the rudeness of their joys must bear:
+But I made haste to set my captive free,
+And thought that work was only worthy me.
+The fame of ancient matrons you pursue,
+And stand a blameless pattern to the new.
+I have not words to praise such acts as these:
+But take my heart, and mould it as you please.
+
+_Mel._ A trial of your kindness I must make,
+Though not for mine so much as virtue's sake.
+The queen of Cassimere--
+
+_Mor._ No more, my love;
+That only suit I beg you not to move.
+That she's in bonds for Aureng-Zebe I know,
+And should, by my consent, continue so;
+The good old man, I fear, will pity shew.
+My father dotes, and let him still dote on;
+He buys his mistress dearly, with his throne.
+
+_Mel._ See her; and then be cruel if you can.
+
+_Mor._ 'Tis not with me as with a private man.
+Such may be swayed by honour, or by love;
+But monarchs only by their interest move.
+
+_Mel._ Heaven does a tribute for your power demand:
+He leaves the opprest and poor upon your hand;
+And those, who stewards of his pity prove,
+He blesses, in return, with public love:
+In his distress some miracle is shewn;
+If exiled, heaven restores him to his throne:
+He needs no guard, while any subject's near,
+Nor, like his tyrant neighbours, lives in fear:
+No plots the alarm to his retirement give:
+'Tis all mankind's concern that he should live.
+
+_Mor._ You promised friendship in your low estate,
+And should forget it in your better fate.
+Such maxims are more plausible than true;
+But somewhat must be given to love and you.
+I'll view this captive queen; to let her see,
+Prayers and complaints are lost on such as me.
+
+_Mel._ I'll bear the news: Heaven knows how much I'm pleased,
+That, by my care, the afflicted may be eased.
+
+   _As she is going off, enter_ INDAMORA.
+
+_Ind._ I'll spare your pains, and venture out alone,
+Since you, fair princess, my protection own.
+But you, brave prince, a harder task must find;
+                             [_To_ MORAT _kneeling, who takes her up._
+In saving me, you would but half be kind.
+An humble suppliant at your feet I lie;
+You have condemned my better part to die.
+Without my Aureng-Zebe I cannot live;
+Revoke his doom, or else my sentence give.
+
+_Mel._ If Melesinda in your love have part,--
+Which, to suspect, would break my tender heart,--
+If love, like mine, may for a lover plead,
+By the chaste pleasures of our nuptial bed,
+By all the interest my past sufferings make,
+And all I yet would suffer for your sake;
+By you yourself, the last and dearest tie--
+
+_Mor._ You move in vain; for Aureng-Zebe must die.
+
+_Ind._ Could that decree from any brother come?
+Nature herself is sentenced in your doom.
+Piety is no more, she sees her place
+Usurped by monsters, and a savage race.
+From her soft eastern climes you drive her forth,
+To the cold mansions of the utmost north.
+How can our prophet suffer you to reign,
+When he looks down, and sees your brother slain?
+Avenging furies will your life pursue:
+Think there's a heaven, Morat, though not for you.
+
+_Mel._ Her words imprint a terror on my mind.
+What if this death, which is for him designed,
+Had been your doom, (far be that augury!)
+And you, not Aureng-Zebe, condemned to die?
+Weigh well the various turns of human fate,
+And seek, by mercy, to secure your state.
+
+_Ind._ Had heaven the crown for Aureng-Zebe designed,
+Pity for you had pierced his generous mind.
+Pity does with a noble nature suit:
+A brother's life had suffered no dispute.
+All things have right in life; our prophet's care
+Commands the beings even of brutes to spare.
+Though interest his restraint has justified,
+Can life, and to a brother, be denied?
+
+_Mor._ All reasons, for his safety urged, are weak:
+And yet, methinks, 'tis heaven to hear you speak.
+
+_Mel._ 'Tis part of your own being to invade--
+
+_Mor._ Nay, if she fail to move, would you persuade?
+                                                   [_Turning to_ INDA.
+My brother does a glorious fate pursue;
+I envy him, that he must fall for you.
+He had been base, had he released his right:
+For such an empire none but kings should fight.
+If with a father he disputes this prize,
+My wonder ceases when I see those eyes.
+
+_Mel._ And can you, then, deny those eyes you praise?
+Can beauty wonder, and not pity raise?
+
+_Mor._ Your intercession now is needless grown;
+Retire, and let me speak with her alone.
+              [MELESINDA _retires, weeping, to the side of the Stage._
+Queen, that you may not fruitless tears employ,
+                                          [_Taking_ INDAMORA'S _hand._
+I bring you news to fill your heart with joy:
+Your lover, king of all the east shall reign;
+For Aureng-Zebe to-morrow shall be slain.
+
+_Ind._ The hopes you raised, you've blasted with a breath:
+                                                     [_Starting back._
+With triumphs you began, but end with death.
+Did you not say my lover should be king?
+
+_Mor._ I, in Morat, the best of lovers bring.
+For one, forsaken both of earth and heaven,
+Your kinder stars a nobler choice have given:
+My father, while I please, a king appears;
+His power is more declining than his years.
+An emperor and lover, but in shew;
+But you, in me, have youth and fortune too:
+As heaven did to your eyes, and form divine,
+Submit the fate of all the imperial line;
+So was it ordered by its wise decree,
+That you should find them all comprised in me.
+
+_Ind._ If, sir, I seem not discomposed with rage,
+Feed not your fancy with a false presage.
+Farther to press your courtship is but vain;
+A cold refusal carries more disdain.
+Unsettled virtue stormy may appear;
+Honour, like mine, serenely is severe;
+To scorn your person, and reject your crown,
+Disorder not my face into a frown.                  [_Turns from him._
+
+_Mor._ Your fortune you should reverently have used:
+Such offers are not twice to be refused.
+I go to Aureng-Zebe, and am in haste
+For your commands; they're like to be the last.
+
+_Ind._ Tell him,
+With my own death I would his life redeem;
+But less than honour both our lives esteem.
+
+_Mor._ Have you no more?
+
+_Ind._ What shall I do or say?
+He must not in this fury go away.--                          [_Aside._
+Tell him, I did in vain his brother move;
+And yet he falsely said, he was in love:
+Falsely; for, had he truly loved, at least
+He would have given one day to my request.
+
+_Mor._ A little yielding may my love advance:
+She darted from her eyes a sidelong glance,
+Just as she spoke; and, like her words, it flew:
+Seemed not to beg, what yet she bid me do.                   [_Aside._
+A brother, madam, cannot give a day;                        [_To her._
+A servant, and who hopes to merit, may.
+
+_Mel._ If, sir--                                     [_Coming to him._
+
+_Mor._ No more--set speeches, and a formal tale,
+With none but statesmen and grave fools prevail.
+Dry up your tears, and practice every grace,
+That fits the pageant of your royal place.                    [_Exit._
+
+_Mel._ Madam, the strange reverse of fate you see:
+I pitied you, now you may pity me.                  [_Exit after him._
+
+_Ind._ Poor princess! thy hard fate I could bemoan,
+Had I not nearer sorrows of my own.
+Beauty is seldom fortunate, when great:
+A vast estate, but overcharged with debt.
+Like those, whom want to baseness does betray,
+I'm forced to flatter him, I cannot pay.
+O would he be content to seize the throne!
+I beg the life of Aureng-Zebe alone.
+Whom heaven would bless, from pomp it will remove,
+And make their wealth in privacy and love.                    [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT IV. SCENE I.
+
+  AURENG-ZEBE _alone._
+
+Distrust, and darkness, of a future state,
+Make poor mankind so fearful of their fate.
+Death, in itself, is nothing; but we fear,
+To be we know not what, we know not where.              [_Soft music._
+This is the ceremony of my fate:
+A parting treat; and I'm to die in state.
+They lodge me, as I were the Persian King:
+And with luxuriant pomp my death they bring.
+
+  _To him,_ NOURMAHAL.
+
+_Nour._ I thought, before you drew your latest breath,
+To smooth your passage, and to soften death;
+For I would have you, when you upward move,
+Speak kindly of me, to our friends above:
+Nor name me there the occasion of our fate;
+Or what my interest does, impute to hate.
+
+_Aur._ I ask not for what end your pomp's designed;
+Whether to insult, or to compose my mind:
+I marked it not;
+But, knowing death would soon the assault begin,
+Stood firm collected in my strength within:
+To guard that breach did all my forces guide,
+And left unmanned the quiet sense's side.
+
+_Nour._ Because Morat from me his being took,
+All I can say will much suspected look:
+'Tis little to confess, your fate I grieve;
+Yet more than you would easily believe.
+
+_Aur._ Since my inevitable death you know,
+You safely unavailing pity shew:
+'Tis popular to mourn a dying foe.
+
+_Nour._ You made my liberty your late request;
+Is no return due from a grateful breast?
+I grow impatient, 'till I find some way,
+Great offices, with greater, to repay.
+
+_Aur._ When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat;
+Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit;
+Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay:
+To-morrow's falser than the former day;
+Lies worse, and, while it says, we shall be blest
+With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
+Strange cozenage! None would live past years again,
+Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;
+And, from the dregs of life, think to receive,
+What the first sprightly running could not give.
+I'm tired with waiting for this chemic gold,
+Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.
+
+_Nour._ 'Tis not for nothing that we life pursue;
+It pays our hopes with something still that's new:
+Each day's a mistress, unenjoyed before;
+Like travellers, we're pleased with seeing more.
+Did you but know what joys your way attend,
+You would not hurry to your journey's end.
+
+_Aur._ I need not haste the end of life to meet;
+The precipice is just beneath my feet.
+
+_Nour._ Think not my sense of virtue is so small:
+I'll rather leap down first, and break your fall.
+My Aureng-Zebe, (may I not call you so?)    [_Taking him by the hand._
+Behold me now no longer for your foe;
+I am not, cannot be your enemy:
+Look, is there any malice in my eye?
+Pray, sit.--                                              [_Both sit._
+That distance shews too much respect, or fear;
+You'll find no danger in approaching near.
+
+_Aur._ Forgive the amazement of my doubtful state:
+This kindness from the mother of Morat!
+Or is't some angel, pitying what I bore,
+Who takes that shape, to make my wonder more?
+
+_Nour._ Think me your better genius in disguise;
+Or any thing that more may charm your eyes.
+Your guardian angel never could excel
+In care, nor could he love his charge so well.
+
+_Aur._ Whence can proceed so wonderful a change?
+
+_Nour._ Can kindness to desert, like yours, be strange?
+Kindness by secret sympathy is tied;
+For noble souls in nature are allied.
+I saw with what a brow you braved your fate;
+Yet with what mildness bore your father's hate.
+My virtue, like a string, wound up by art
+To the same sound, when yours was touched, took part,
+At distance shook, and trembled at my heart.
+
+_Aur._ I'll not complain, my father is unkind,
+Since so much pity from a foe I find.
+Just heaven reward this act!
+
+_Nour._ 'Tis well the debt no payment does demand;
+You turn me over to another hand.
+But happy, happy she,
+And with the blessed above to be compared,
+Whom you yourself would, with yourself, reward:
+The greatest, nay, the fairest of her kind,
+Would envy her that bliss, which you designed.
+
+_Aur._ Great princes thus, when favourites they raise,
+To justify their grace, their creatures praise.
+
+_Nour._ As love the noblest passion we account,
+So to the highest object it should mount.
+It shews you brave when mean desires you shun;
+An eagle only can behold the sun:
+And so must you, if yet presage divine
+There be in dreams,--or was't a vision mine?
+
+_Aur._ Of me?
+
+_Nour._ And who could else employ my thought?
+I dreamed, your love was by love's goddess sought;
+Officious Cupids, hovering o'er your head,
+Held myrtle wreaths; beneath your feet were spread
+What sweets soe'er Sabean springs disclose,
+Our Indian jasmine, or the Syrian rose;
+The wanton ministers around you strove
+For service, and inspired their mother's love:
+Close by your side, and languishing, she lies,
+With blushing cheeks, short breath, and wishing eyes
+Upon your breast supinely lay her head,
+While on your face her famished sight she fed.
+Then, with a sigh, into these words she broke,
+(And gathered humid kisses as she spoke)
+Dull, and ungrateful! Must I offer love?
+Desired of gods, and envied even by Jove:
+And dost thou ignorance or fear pretend?
+Mean soul! and darest not gloriously offend?
+Then, pressing thus his hand--
+
+_Aur._ I'll hear no more.                                [_Rising up._
+'Twas impious to have understood before:
+And I, till now, endeavoured to mistake
+The incestuous meaning, which too plain you make.
+
+_Nour._ And why this niceness to that pleasure shewn,
+Where nature sums up all her joys in one;
+Gives all she can, and, labouring still to give,
+Makes it so great, we can but taste and live:
+So fills the senses, that the soul seems fled,
+And thought itself does, for the time, lie dead;
+Till, like a string screwed up with eager haste,
+It breaks, and is too exquisite to last?
+
+_Aur._ Heavens! can you this, without just vengeance, hear?
+When will you thunder, if it now be clear?
+Yet her alone let not your thunder seize:
+I, too, deserve to die, because I please.[1]
+
+_Nour._ Custom our native royalty does awe;
+Promiscuous love is nature's general law:
+For whosoever the first lovers were,
+Brother and sister made the second pair,
+And doubled, by their love, their piety.
+
+_Aur._ Hence, hence, and to some barbarous climate fly,
+Which only brutes in human form does yield,
+And man grows wild in nature's common field.
+Who eat their parents, piety pretend;[2]
+Yet there no sons their sacred bed ascend.
+To vail great sins, a greater crime you chuse;
+And, in your incest, your adultery lose.
+
+_Nour._ In vain this haughty fury you have shewn.
+How I adore a soul, so like my own!
+You must be mine, that you may learn to live;
+Know joys, which only she who loves can give.
+Nor think that action you upbraid, so ill;
+I am not changed, I love my husband still[3];
+But love him as he was, when youthful grace,
+And the first down began to shade his face:
+That image does my virgin-flames renew,
+And all your father shines more bright in you.
+
+_Aur._ In me a horror of myself you raise;
+Cursed by your love, and blasted by your praise.
+You find new ways to prosecute my fate;
+And your least-guilty passion was your hate.
+
+_Nour._ I beg my death, if you can love deny.
+                                             [_Offering him a dagger._
+
+_Aur._ I'll grant you nothing; no, not even to die.
+
+_Nour._ Know then, you are not half so kind as I.
+                                              [_Stamps with her foot._
+
+  _Enter Mutes, some with swords drawn, one with a cup._
+
+You've chosen, and may now repent too late.
+Behold the effect of what you wished,--my hate.
+                                     [_Taking the cup to present him._
+This cup a cure for both our ills has brought;
+You need not fear a philtre in the draught.
+
+_Aur._ All must be poison which can come from thee;
+                                             [_Receiving it from her._
+But this the least. To immortal liberty
+This first I pour, like dying Socrates;    [_Spilling a little of it._
+Grim though he be, death pleases, when he frees.
+
+  _As he is going to drink, Enter_ MORAT _attended._
+
+_Mor._ Make not such haste, you must my leisure stay;
+Your fate's deferred, you shall not die to-day.
+                                           [_Taking the cup from him._
+
+_Nour._ What foolish pity has possessed your mind,
+To alter what your prudence once designed?
+
+_Mor._ What if I please to lengthen out his date
+A day, and take a pride to cozen fate?
+
+_Nour._ 'Twill not be safe to let him live an hour.
+
+_Mor._ I'll do't, to show my arbitrary power.
+
+_Nour._ Fortune may take him from your hands again,
+And you repent the occasion lost in vain.
+
+_Mor._ I smile at what your female fear foresees;
+I'm in fate's place, and dictate her decrees.--
+Let Arimant be called.                  [_Exit one of his Attendants._
+
+_Aur._ Give me the poison, and I'll end your strife;
+I hate to keep a poor precarious life.
+Would I my safety on base terms receive,
+Know, sir, I could have lived without your leave.
+But those I could accuse, I can forgive;
+By my disdainful silence, let them live.
+
+_Nour._ What am I, that you dare to bind my hand?         [_To_ MORAT.
+So low, I've not a murder at command!
+Can you not one poor life to her afford,
+Her, who gave up whole nations to your sword?
+And from the abundance of whose soul and heat,
+The o'erflowing served to make your mind so great?
+
+_Mor._ What did that greatness in a woman's mind?
+Ill lodged, and weak to act what it designed?
+Pleasure's your portion, and your slothful ease:
+When man's at leisure, study how to please,
+Soften his angry hours with servile care,
+And, when he calls, the ready feast prepare.
+
+From wars, and from affairs of state abstain;
+Women emasculate a monarch's reign;
+And murmuring crowds, who see them shine with gold,
+That pomp, as their own ravished spoils, behold.
+
+_Nour._ Rage choaks my words: 'Tis womanly to weep:          [_Aside._
+In my swollen breast my close revenge I'll keep;
+I'll watch his tenderest part, and there strike deep.         [_Exit._
+
+_Aur._ Your strange proceeding does my wonder move;
+Yet seems not to express a brother's love.
+Say, to what cause my rescued life I owe.
+
+_Mor._ If what you ask would please, you should not know.
+But since that knowledge, more than death, will grieve,
+Know, Indamora gained you this reprieve.
+
+_Aur._ And whence had she the power to work your change?
+
+_Mor._ The power of beauty is not new or strange.
+Should she command me more, I could obey;
+But her request was bounded with a day.
+Take that; and, if you spare my farther crime,
+Be kind, and grieve to death against your time.
+
+  _Enter_ ARIMANT.
+
+Remove this prisoner to some safer place:
+He has, for Indamora's sake, found grace;
+And from my mother's rage must guarded be,
+Till you receive a new command from me.
+
+_Arim._ Thus love, and fortune, persecute me still,
+And make me slave to every rival's will.                     [_Aside._
+
+_Aur._ How I disdain a life, which I must buy
+With your contempt, and her inconstancy!
+For a few hours my whole content I pay:
+You shall not force on me another day.               [_Exit with_ ARI.
+
+  _Enter_ MELESINDA.
+
+_Mel._ I have been seeking you this hour's long space,
+And feared to find you in another place;
+But since you're here, my jealousy grows less:
+You will be kind to my unworthiness.
+What shall I say? I love to that degree,
+Each glance another way is robbed from me.
+Absence, and prisons, I could bear again;
+But sink, and die, beneath your least disdain.
+
+_Mor._ Why do you give your mind this needless care,
+And for yourself, and me, new pains prepare?
+I ne'er approved this passion in excess:
+If you would show your love, distrust me less.
+I hate to be pursued from place to place;
+Meet, at each turn, a stale domestic face.
+The approach of jealousy love cannot bear;
+He's wild, and soon on wing, if watchful eyes come near.
+
+_Mel._ From your loved presence how can I depart?
+My eyes pursue the object of my heart.
+
+_Mor._ You talk as if it were our bridal night:
+Fondness is still the effect of new delight,
+And marriage but the pleasure of a day:
+The metal's base, the gilding worn away.
+
+_Mel._ I fear I'm guilty of some great offence,
+And that has bred this cold indifference.
+
+_Mor._ The greatest in the world to flesh and blood:
+You fondly love much longer than you should.
+
+_Mel._ If that be all which makes your discontent,
+Of such a crime I never can repent.
+
+_Mor._ Would you force love upon me, which I shun?
+And bring coarse fare, when appetite is gone?
+
+_Mel._ Why did I not in prison die, before
+My fatal freedom made me suffer more?
+I had been pleased to think I died for you,
+And doubly pleased, because you then were true:
+Then I had hope; but now, alas! have none.
+
+_Mor._ You say you love me; let that love be shown.
+'Tis in your power to make my happiness.
+
+_Mel._ Speak quickly! To command me is to bless.
+
+_Mor._ To Indamora you my suit must move:
+You'll sure speak kindly of the man you love.
+
+_Mel._ Oh, rather let me perish by your hand,
+Than break my heart, by this unkind command!
+Think, 'tis the only one I could deny;
+And that 'tis harder to refuse, than die.
+Try, if you please, my rival's heart to win;
+I'll bear the pain, but not promote the sin.
+You own whate'er perfections man can boast,
+And, if she view you with my eyes, she's lost.
+
+_Mor._ Here I renounce all love, all nuptial ties:
+Henceforward live a stranger to my eyes:
+When I appear, see you avoid the place,
+And haunt me not with that unlucky face.
+
+_Mel._ Hard as it is, I this command obey,
+And haste, while I have life, to go away:
+In pity stay some hours, till I am dead,
+That blameless you may court my rival's bed.
+My hated face I'll not presume to show;
+Yet I may watch your steps where'er you go.
+Unseen, I'll gaze; and, with my latest breath,
+Bless, while I die, the author of my death.                [_Weeping._
+
+  _Enter Emperor._
+
+_Emp._ When your triumphant fortune high appears,
+What cause can draw these unbecoming tears?
+Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait,
+And give not thus the counter-time to fate.
+
+_Mel._ Fortune long frowned, and has but lately smiled:
+I doubt a foe so newly reconciled.
+You saw but sorrow in its waning form,
+A working sea remaining from a storm;
+When the now weary waves roll o'er the deep,
+And faintly murmur ere they fall asleep.
+
+_Emp._ Your inward griefs you smother in your mind;
+But fame's loud voice proclaims your lord unkind.
+
+_Mor._ Let fame be busy, where she has to do;
+Tell of fought fields, and every pompous show.
+Those tales are fit to fill the people's ears;
+Monarchs, unquestioned, move in higher spheres.
+
+_Mel._ Believe not rumour, but yourself; and see
+The kindness 'twixt my plighted lord and me.         [_Kissing_ MORAT.
+This is our state; thus happily we live;
+These are the quarrels which we take and give.
+I had no other way to force a kiss.                 [_Aside to_ MORAT.
+Forgive my last farewell to you and bliss.                    [_Exit._
+
+_Emp._ Your haughty carriage shows too much of scorn,
+And love, like hers, deserves not that return.
+
+_Mor._ You'll please to leave me judge of what I do,
+And not examine by the outward show.
+Your usage of my mother might be good:
+I judged it not.
+
+_Emp._ Nor was it fit you should.
+
+_Mor._ Then, in as equal balance weigh my deeds.
+
+_Emp._ My right, and my authority, exceeds.
+Suppose (what I'll not grant) injustice done;
+Is judging me the duty of a son?
+
+_Mor._ Not of a son, but of an emperor:
+You cancelled duty when you gave me power.
+If your own actions on your will you ground,
+Mine shall hereafter know no other bound.
+What meant you when you called me to a throne?
+Was it to please me with a name alone?
+
+_Emp._ 'Twas that I thought your gratitude would know
+What to my partial kindness you did owe;
+That what your birth did to your claim deny,
+Your merit of obedience might supply.
+
+_Mor._ To your own thoughts such hope you might propose;
+But I took empire not on terms like those.
+Of business you complained; now take your ease;
+Enjoy whate'er decrepid age can please;
+Eat, sleep, and tell long tales of what you were
+In flower of youth,--if any one will hear.
+
+_Emp._ Power, like new wine, does your weak brain surprise,
+And its mad fumes, in hot discourses, rise:
+But time these giddy vapours will remove;
+Meanwhile, I'll taste the sober joys of love.
+
+_Mor._ You cannot love nor pleasures take, or give;
+But life begin, when 'tis too late to live.
+On a tired courser you pursue delight,
+Let slip your morning, and set out at night.
+If you have lived, take thankfully the past;
+Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
+If you have not enjoyed what youth could give,
+But life sunk through you, like a leaky sieve,
+Accuse yourself, you lived not while you might;
+But, in the captive queen resign your right.
+I've now resolved to fill your useless place;
+I'll take that post, to cover your disgrace,
+And love her, for the honour of my race.
+
+_Emp._ Thou dost but try how far I can forbear,
+Nor art that monster, which thou wouldst appear;
+But do not wantonly my passion move;
+I pardon nothing that relates to love.
+My fury does, like jealous forts, pursue
+With death, even strangers who but come to view.
+
+_Mor._ I did not only view, but will invade.
+Could you shed venom from your reverend shade,
+Like trees, beneath whose arms 'tis death to sleep;
+Did rolling thunder your fenced fortress keep,
+Thence would I snatch my Semele, like Jove,
+And 'midst the dreadful wrack enjoy my love.
+
+_Emp._ Have I for this, ungrateful as thou art!
+When right, when nature, struggled in my heart;
+When heaven called on me for thy brother's claim,
+Broke all, and sullied my unspotted fame?
+Wert thou to empire, by my baseness, brought,
+And wouldst thou ravish what so dear I bought?
+Dear! for my conscience and its peace I gave;--
+Why was my reason made my passion's slave?
+I see heaven's justice; thus the powers divine
+Pay crimes with crimes, and punish mine by thine.
+
+_Mor._ Crimes let them pay, and punish as they please;
+What power makes mine, by power I mean to seize.
+Since 'tis to that they their own greatness owe
+Above, why should they question mine below?                   [_Exit._
+
+_Emp._ Prudence, thou vainly in our youth art sought,
+And, with age purchased, art too dearly bought:
+We're past the use of wit, for which we toil;
+Late fruit, and planted in too cold a soil.
+My stock of fame is lavished and decayed;
+No profit of the vast profusion made.
+Too late my folly I repent; I know
+My Aureng-Zebe would ne'er have used me so.
+But, by his ruin, I prepared my own;
+And, like a naked tree, my shelter gone,
+To winds and winter-storms must stand exposed alone.          [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ AURENG-ZEBE _and_ ARIMANT.
+
+_Arim._ Give me not thanks, which I will ne'er deserve;
+But know, 'tis for a noble price I serve.
+By Indamora's will you're hither brought:
+All my reward in her command I sought.
+The rest your letter tells you.--See, like light,
+She comes, and I must vanish, like the night.                 [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ INDAMORA.
+
+_Ind._ 'Tis now, that I begin to live again;
+Heavens, I forgive you all my fear and pain:
+Since I behold my Aureng-Zebe appear,
+I could not buy him at a price too dear.
+His name alone afforded me relief,
+Repeated as a charm to cure my grief.
+I that loved name did, as some god, invoke,
+And printed kisses on it, while I spoke.
+
+_Aur._ Short ease, but long, long pains from you I find;
+Health, to my eyes; but poison, to my mind.
+Why are you made so excellently fair?
+So much above what other beauties are,
+That, even in cursing, you new form my breath;
+And make me bless those eyes which give me death!
+
+_Ind._ What reason for your curses can you find?
+My eyes your conquest, not your death, designed.
+If they offend, 'tis that they are too kind.
+
+_Aur._ The ruins they have wrought, you will not see;
+Too kind they are, indeed, but not to me.
+
+_Ind._ Think you, base interest souls like mine can sway?
+Or that, for greatness, I can love betray?
+No, Aureng-Zebe, you merit all my heart,
+And I'm too noble but to give a part.
+Your father, and an empire! Am I known
+No more? Or have so weak a judgment shown,
+In chusing you, to change you for a throne?
+
+_Aur._ How, with a truth, you would a falsehood blind!
+'Tis not my father's love you have designed;
+Your choice is fix'd where youth and power are join'd.
+
+_Ind._ Where youth and power are joined!--has he a name?
+
+_Aur._ You would be told; you glory in your shame:
+There's music in the sound; and, to provoke
+Your pleasure more, by me it must be spoke.
+Then, then it ravishes, when your pleased ear
+The sound does from a wretched rival hear.
+Morat's the name your heart leaps up to meet,
+While Aureng-Zebe lies dying at your feet.
+
+_Ind._ Who told you this?
+
+_Aur._ Are you so lost to shame?
+Morat, Morat, Morat! You love the name
+So well, your every question ends in that;
+You force me still to answer you, Morat.
+Morat, who best could tell what you revealed;
+Morat, too proud to keep his joy concealed.
+
+_Ind._ Howe'er unjust your jealousy appear,
+It shows the loss of what you love, you fear;
+And does my pity, not my anger move:
+I'll fond it, as the forward child of love.
+To show the truth of my unaltered breast,
+Know, that your life was given at my request,
+At least reprieved. When heaven denied you aid,
+She brought it, she, whose falsehood you upbraid.
+
+_Aur._ And 'tis by that you would your falsehood hide?
+Had you not asked, how happy had I died!
+Accurst reprieve! not to prolong my breath;
+It brought a lingering, and more painful death,
+I have not lived since first I heard the news;
+The gift the guilty giver does accuse.
+You knew the price, and the request did move,
+That you might pay the ransom with your love.
+
+_Ind._ Your accusation must, I see, take place;--
+And am I guilty, infamous, and base?
+
+_Aur._ If you are false, those epithets are small;
+You're then the things, the abstract of them all.
+And you are false: You promised him your love,--
+No other price a heart so hard could move.
+Do not I know him? Could his brutal mind
+Be wrought upon? Could he be just, or kind?
+Insultingly, he made your love his boast;
+Gave me my life, and told me what it cost.
+Speak; answer. I would fain yet think you true:
+Lie; and I'll not believe myself, but you.
+Tell me you love; I'll pardon the deceit,
+And, to be fooled, myself assist the cheat.
+
+_Ind._ No; 'tis too late; I have no more to say:
+If you'll believe I have been false, you may.
+
+_Aur._ I would not; but your crimes too plain appear:
+Nay, even that I should think you true, you fear.
+Did I not tell you, I would be deceived?
+
+_Ind._ I'm not concerned to have my truth believed.
+You would be cozened! would assist the cheat!
+But I'm too plain to join in the deceit:
+I'm pleased you think me false,
+And, whatsoe'er my letter did pretend,
+I made this meeting for no other end.
+
+_Aur._ Kill me not quite, with this indifference!
+When you are guiltless, boast not an offence.
+I know you better than yourself you know:
+Your heart was true, but did some frailty shew:
+You promised him your love, that I might live;
+But promised what you never meant to give.
+Speak, was't not so? confess; I can forgive.
+
+_Ind._ Forgive! what dull excuses you prepare,
+As if your thoughts of me were worth my care!
+
+_Aur._ Ah traitress! Ah ingrate! Ah faithless mind!
+Ah sex, invented first to damn mankind!
+Nature took care to dress you up for sin;
+Adorned, without; unfinished left, within.
+Hence, by no judgment you your loves direct;
+Talk much, ne'er think, and still the wrong affect.
+So much self-love in your composure's mixed,
+That love to others still remains unfixed:
+Greatness, and noise, and shew, are your delight;
+Yet wise men love you, in their own despite:
+And finding in their native wit no ease,
+Are forced to put your folly on, to please.
+
+_Ind._ Now you shall know what cause you have to rage;
+But to increase your fury, not assuage:
+I found the way your brother's heart to move.
+Yet promised not the least return of love.
+His pride and brutal fierceness I abhor;
+But scorn your mean suspicions of me more.
+I owed my honour and my fame this care:
+Know what your folly lost you, and despair.       [_Turning from him._
+
+_Aur._ Too cruelly your innocence you tell:
+Shew heaven, and damn me to the pit of hell.
+Now I believe you; 'tis not yet too late:
+You may forgive, and put a stop to fate;
+Save me, just sinking, and no more to rise.             [_She frowns._
+How can you look with such relentless eyes?
+Or let your mind by penitence be moved,
+Or I'm resolved to think you never loved.
+You are not cleared, unless you mercy speak:
+I'll think you took the occasion thus to break.
+
+_Ind._ Small jealousies, 'tis true, inflame desire;
+Too great, not fan, but quite blow out the fire:
+Yet I did love you, till such pains I bore,
+That I dare trust myself and you no more.
+Let me not love you; but here end my pain:
+Distrust may make me wretched once again.
+Now, with full sails, into the port I move,
+And safely can unlade my breast of love;
+Quiet, and calm: Why should I then go back,
+To tempt the second hazard of a wreck?
+
+_Aur._ Behold these dying eyes, see their submissive awe;
+These tears, which fear of death could never draw:
+Heard you that sigh? from my heaved heart it past,
+And said,--"If you forgive not, 'tis my last."
+Love mounts, and rolls about my stormy mind,
+Like fire, that's borne by a tempestuous wind.
+Oh, I could stifle you, with eager haste!
+Devour your kisses with my hungry taste!
+Rush on you! eat you! wander o'er each part,
+Raving with pleasure, snatch you to my heart!
+Then hold you off, and gaze! then, with new rage,
+Invade you, till my conscious limbs presage
+Torrents of joy, which all their banks o'erflow!
+So lost, so blest, as I but then could know!
+
+_Ind._ Be no more jealous!                     [_Giving him her hand._
+
+_Aur._ Give me cause no more:
+The danger's greater after, than before;
+If I relapse, to cure my jealousy,
+Let me (for that's the easiest parting) die.
+
+_Ind._ My life!
+
+_Aur._ My soul!
+
+_Ind._ My all that heaven can give!
+Death's life with you; without you, death to live.
+
+  _To them,_ ARIMANT, _hastily._
+
+_Arim._ Oh, we are lost, beyond all human aid!
+The citadel is to Morat betrayed.
+The traitor, and the treason, known too late;
+The false Abas delivered up the gate:
+Even while I speak, we're compassed round with fate.
+The valiant cannot fight, or coward fly;
+But both in undistinguished crowds must die.
+
+_Aur._ Then my prophetic fears are come to pass:
+Morat was always bloody; now, he's base:
+And has so far in usurpation gone,
+He will by parricide secure the throne.
+
+  _To them, the Emperor._
+
+_Emp._ Am I forsaken, and betrayed, by all?
+Not one brave man dare, with a monarch, fall?
+Then, welcome death, to cover my disgrace!
+I would not live to reign o'er such a race.
+My Aureng-Zebe!                                 [_Seeing_ AURENG-ZEBE.
+But thou no more art mine; my cruelty
+Has quite destroyed the right I had in thee.
+I have been base,
+Base even to him from whom I did receive
+All that a son could to a parent give:
+Behold me punished in the self-same kind;
+The ungrateful does a more ungrateful find.
+
+_Aur._ Accuse yourself no more; you could not be
+Ungrateful; could commit no crime to me.
+I only mourn my yet uncancelled score:
+You put me past the power of paying more.
+That, that's my grief, that I can only grieve,
+And bring but pity, where I would relieve;
+For had I yet ten thousand lives to pay,
+The mighty sum should go no other way.
+
+_Emp._ Can you forgive me? 'tis not fit you should.
+Why will you be so excellently good?
+'Twill stick too black a brand upon my name:
+The sword is needless; I shall die with shame.
+What had my age to do with love's delight,
+Shut out from all enjoyments but the sight?
+
+_Arim._ Sir, you forget the danger's imminent:
+This minute is not for excuses lent.
+
+_Emp._ Disturb me not;--
+How can my latest hour be better spent?
+To reconcile myself to him is more,
+Than to regain all I possessed before.
+Empire and life are now not worth a prayer;
+His love, alone, deserves my dying care.
+
+_Aur._ Fighting for you, my death will glorious be.
+
+_Ind._ Seek to preserve yourself, and live for me.
+
+_Arim._ Lose then no farther time.
+Heaven has inspired me with a sudden thought,
+Whence your unhoped for safety may be wrought,
+Though with the hazard of my blood 'tis bought.
+But since my life can ne'er be fortunate,
+'Tis so much sorrow well redeemed from fate.
+You, madam, must retire,
+(Your beauty is its own security,)
+And leave the conduct of the rest to me.
+Glory will crown my life, if I succeed;
+If not, she may afford to love me dead.                      [_Aside._
+
+_Aur._ My father's kind, and, madam, you forgive;
+Were heaven so pleased, I now could wish to live.
+And I shall live.
+With glory and with love, at once, I burn:
+I feel the inspiring heat, and absent god return.           [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT V. SCENE I.
+
+  INDAMORA _alone._
+
+_Ind._ The night seems doubled with the fear she brings,
+And o'er the citadel new-spreads her wings.
+The morning, as mistaken, turns about,
+And all her early fires again go out.
+Shouts, cries, and groans, first pierce my ears, and then
+A flash of lightning draws the guilty scene,
+And shows me arms, and wounds, and dying men.
+Ah, should my Aureng-Zebe be fighting there,
+And envious winds, distinguished to my ear,
+His dying groans and his last accents bear!
+
+  _To her,_ MORAT, _attended._
+
+_Mor._ The bloody business of the night is done,
+And, in the citadel, an empire won.
+Our swords so wholly did the fates employ,
+That they, at length, grew weary to destroy,
+Refused the work we brought, and, out of breath,
+Made sorrow and despair attend for death.
+But what of all my conquest can I boast?
+My haughty pride, before your eyes, is lost:
+And victory but gains me to present
+That homage, which our eastern world has sent.
+
+_Ind._ Your victory, alas, begets my fears:
+Can you not then triumph without my tears?
+Resolve me; (for you know my destiny
+Is Aureng-Zebes) say, do I live or die?
+
+_Mor._ Urged by my love, by hope of empire fired,
+'Tis true, I have performed what both required:
+What fate decreed; for when great souls are given,
+They bear the marks of sovereignty from heaven.
+My elder brothers my fore-runners came;
+Rough-draughts of nature, ill designed, and lame:
+Blown off, like blossoms never made to bear;
+Till I came, finished, her last-laboured care.
+
+_Ind._ This prologue leads to your succeeding sin:
+Blood ended what ambition did begin.
+
+_Mor._ 'Twas rumour'd,--but by whom I cannot tell,--
+My father 'scaped from out the citadel;
+My brother too may live.
+
+_Ind._ He may?
+
+_Mor._ He must:
+I kill'd him not: and a less fate's unjust.
+Heaven owes it me, that I may fill his room,
+A phoenix-lover, rising from his tomb;
+In whom you'll lose your sorrows for the dead;
+More warm, more fierce, and fitter for your bed.
+
+_Ind._ Should I from Aureng-Zebe my heart divide,
+To love a monster, and a parricide?
+These names your swelling titles cannot hide.
+Severe decrees may keep our tongues in awe;
+But to our thoughts, what edict can give law?
+Even you yourself, to your own breast, shall tell
+Your crimes; and your own conscience be your hell.
+
+_Mor._ What business has my conscience with a crown?
+She sinks in pleasures, and in bowls will drown.
+If mirth should fail, I'll busy her with cares,
+Silence her clamorous voice with louder wars:
+Trumpets and drums shall fright her from the throne,
+As sounding cymbals aid the labouring moon.
+
+_Ind._ Repelled by these, more eager she will grow,
+Spring back more strongly than a Scythian bow.
+Amidst your train, this unseen judge will wait;
+Examine how you came by all your state;
+Upbraid your impious pomp; and, in your ear,
+Will hollow,--"Rebel, tyrant, murderer!"
+Your ill-got power wan looks and care shall bring,
+Known but by discontent to be a king.
+Of crowds afraid, yet anxious when alone,
+You'll sit and brood your sorrows on a throne.
+
+_Mor._ Birth-right's a vulgar road to kingly sway;
+'Tis every dull-got elder brother's way.
+Dropt from above, he lights into a throne;
+Grows of a piece with that he sits upon;
+Heaven's choice, a low, inglorious, rightful drone.
+But who by force a sceptre does obtain,
+Shows he can govern that, which he could gain.
+Right comes of course, whate'er he was before;
+Murder and usurpation are no more.
+
+_Ind._ By your own laws you such dominion make,
+As every stronger power has right to take:
+And parricide will so deform your name,
+That dispossessing you will give a claim.
+Who next usurps, will a just prince appear,
+So much your ruin will his reign endear.
+
+_Mor._ I without guilt would mount the royal seat;
+But yet 'tis necessary to be great.
+
+_Ind._ All greatness is in virtue understood:
+'Tis only necessary to be good.
+Tell me, what is't at which great spirits aim,
+What most yourself desire?
+
+_Mor._ Renown and fame,
+And power, as uncontrouled as is my will.
+
+_Ind._ How you confound desires of good and ill.
+For true renown is still with virtue joined;
+But lust of power lets loose the unbridled mind.
+Yours is a soul irregularly great,
+Which, wanting temper, yet abounds with heat,
+So strong, yet so unequal pulses beat;
+A sun, which does, through vapours, dimly shine;
+What pity 'tis, you are not all divine!
+New moulded, thorough lightened, and a breast
+So pure, to bear the last severest test;
+Fit to command an empire you should gain
+By virtue, and without a blush to reign.
+
+_Mor._ You show me somewhat I ne'er learnt before;
+But 'tis the distant prospect of a shore,
+Doubtful in mists; which, like enchanted ground,
+Flies from my sight, before 'tis fully found.
+
+_Ind._ Dare to be great, without a guilty crown;
+View it, and lay the bright temptation down:
+'Tis base to seize on all, because you may;
+That's empire, that, which I can give away:
+There's joy when to wild will you laws prescribe,
+When you bid fortune carry back her bribe:
+A joy, which none but greatest minds can taste;
+A fame, which will to endless ages last.
+
+_Mor._ Renown, and fame, in vain, I courted long,
+And still pursued them, though directed wrong.
+In hazard, and in toils, I heard they lay;
+Sailed farther than the coast, but missed my way:
+Now you have given me virtue for my guide;
+And, with true honour, ballasted my pride.
+Unjust dominion I no more pursue;
+I quit all other claims, but those to you.
+
+_Ind._ Oh be not just by halves! pay all you owe:
+Think there's a debt to Melesinda too.
+To leave no blemish on your after-life,
+Reward the virtue of a suffering wife.
+
+_Mor._ To love, once past, I cannot backward move;
+Call yesterday again, and I may love.
+'Twas not for nothing I the crown resigned;
+I still must own a mercenary mind;
+I, in this venture, double gains pursue,
+And laid out all my stock, to purchase you.
+
+  _To them,_ ASAPH CHAN.
+
+Now, what success? does Aureng-Zebe yet live?
+
+_Asaph._ Fortune has given you all that she can give.
+Your brother--
+
+_Mor._ Hold; thou showest an impious joy,
+And think'st I still take pleasure to destroy:
+Know, I am changed, and would not have him slain.
+
+_Asaph._ 'Tis past; and you desire his life in vain.
+He, prodigal of soul, rushed on the stroke
+Of lifted weapons, and did wounds provoke:
+In scorn of night, he would not be concealed;
+His soldiers, where he fought, his name revealed.
+In thickest crowds, still Aureng-Zebe did sound;
+The vaulted roofs did Aureng-Zebe rebound;
+Till late, and in his fall, the name was drowned.
+
+_Ind._ Wither that hand which brought him to his fate,
+And blasted be the tongue which did relate!
+
+_Asaph._ His body--
+
+_Mor._ Cease to enhance her misery:
+Pity the queen, and show respect to me.
+'Tis every painter's art to hide from sight,
+And cast in shades, what, seen, would not delight.--
+Your grief in me such sympathy has bred,                    [_To her._
+I mourn, and wish I could recal the dead.
+Love softens me; and blows up fires, which pass
+Through my tough heart, and melt the stubborn mass.
+
+_Ind._ Break, heart; or choak, with sobs, my hated breath!
+Do thy own work: admit no foreign death.
+Alas! why do I make this useless moan?
+I'm dead already, for my soul is gone.
+
+  _To them,_ MIR BABA.
+
+_Mir._ What tongue the terror of this night can tell,
+Within, without, and round the citadel!
+A new-formed faction does your power oppose;
+The fight's confused, and all who meet are foes:
+A second clamour, from the town, we hear;
+And the far noise so loud, it drowns the near.
+Abas, who seemed our friend, is either fled,
+Or, what we fear, our enemies does head:
+Your frighted soldiers scarce their ground maintain.
+
+_Mor._ I thank their fury; we shall fight again:
+They rouse my rage; I'm eager to subdue:
+'Tis fatal to with-hold my eyes from you. [_Exit with the two Omrahs._
+
+  _Enter_ MELESINDA.
+
+_Mel._ Can misery no place of safety know?
+The noise pursues me wheresoe'er I go,
+As fate sought only me, and, where I fled,
+Aimed all its darts at my devoted head.
+And let it; I am now past care of life;
+The last of women; an abandoned wife.
+
+_Ind._ Whether design or chance has brought you here,
+I stand obliged to fortune, or to fear:
+Weak women should, in danger, herd like deer.
+But say, from whence this new combustion springs?
+Are there yet more Morats? more fighting kings?
+
+_Mel._ Him from his mother's love your eyes divide,
+And now her arms the cruel strife decide.
+
+_Ind._ What strange misfortunes my vext life attend!
+Death will be kind, and all my sorrows end.
+If Nourmahal prevail, I know my fate.
+
+_Mel._ I pity, as my own, your hard estate:
+But what can my weak charity afford?
+I have no longer interest in my lord:
+Nor in his mother, he: she owns her hate
+Aloud, and would herself usurp the state.
+
+_Ind._ I'm stupified with sorrow, past relief
+Of tears; parched up, and withered with my grief.
+
+_Mel._ Dry mourning will decays more deadly bring,
+As a north wind burns a too forward spring.
+Give sorrow vent, and let the sluices go.
+
+_Ind._ My tears are all congealed, and will not flow.
+
+_Mel._ Have comfort; yield not to the blows of fate.
+
+_Ind._ Comfort, like cordials after death, comes late.
+Name not so vain a word; my hopes are fled:
+Think your Morat were kind, and think him dead.
+
+_Mel._ I can no more--
+Can no more arguments, for comfort, find:
+Your boding words have quite o'erwhelmed my mind.
+                                      [_Clattering of weapons within._
+
+_Ind._ The noise increases, as the billows roar,
+When rolling from afar they threat the shore.
+She comes; and feeble nature now, I find,
+Shrinks back in danger, and forsakes my mind.
+I wish to die, yet dare not death endure;
+Detest the medicine, yet desire the cure.
+I would have death; but mild, and at command:
+I dare not trust him in another's hand.
+In Nourmahal's, he would not mine appear;
+But armed with terror, and disguised with fear.
+
+_Mel._ Beyond this place you can have no retreat:
+Stay here, and I the danger will repeat.
+I fear not death, because my life I hate;
+And envious death will shun the unfortunate.
+
+_Ind._ You must not venture.
+
+_Mel._ Let me: I may do
+Myself a kindness, in obliging you.
+In your loved name, I'll seek my angry lord;
+And beg your safety from his conquering sword:
+So his protection all your fears will ease,
+And I shall see him once, and not displease.                  [_Exit._
+
+_Ind._ O wretched queen! what power thy life can save?
+A stranger, and unfriended, and a slave!
+
+  _Enter_ NOURMAHAL, ZAYDA, _and_ ABAS, _with Soldiers._
+
+Alas, she's here!                                 [INDAMORA _retires._
+
+_Nour._ Heartless they fought, and quitted soon their ground,
+While ours with easy victory were crowned.
+To you, Abas, my life and empire too,
+And, what's yet dearer, my revenge, I owe.
+
+_Abas._ The vain Morat, by his own rashness wrought,
+Too soon discovered his ambitious thought;
+Believed me his, because I spoke him fair,
+And pitched his head into the ready snare:
+Hence 'twas I did his troops at first admit;
+But such, whose numbers could no fears beget:
+By them the emperor's party first I slew,
+Then turned my arms the victors to subdue.
+
+_Nour._ Now let the head-strong boy my will controul!
+Virtue's no slave of man; no sex confines the soul:
+I, for myself, the imperial seat will gain,
+And he shall wait my leisure for his reign.--
+But Aureng-Zebe is no where to be found,
+And now, perhaps, in death's cold arms he lies!
+I fought, and conquered, yet have lost the prize.
+
+_Zayd._ The chance of war determined well the strife,
+That racked you, 'twixt the lover and the wife.
+He's dead, whose love had sullied all your reign,
+And made you empress of the world in vain.
+
+_Nour._ No; I my power and pleasure would divide:
+The drudge had quenched my flames, and then had died.
+I rage, to think without that bliss I live,
+That I could wish what fortune would not give:
+But, what love cannot, vengeance must supply;
+She, who bereaved me of his heart, shall die.
+
+_Zayd._ I'll search: far distant hence she cannot be.      [_Goes in._
+
+_Nour._ This wondrous master-piece I fain would see;
+This fatal Helen, who can wars inspire,
+Make kings her slaves, and set the world on fire.
+My husband locked his jewel from my view;
+Or durst not set the false one by the true.
+
+  _Re-enter_ ZAYDA, _leading_ INDAMORA.
+
+_Zayd._ Your frighted captive, ere she dies, receive;
+Her soul's just going else, without your leave.
+
+_Nour._ A fairer creature did my eyes ne'er see!
+Sure she was formed by heaven, in spite to me!
+Some angel copied, while I slept, each grace,
+And moulded every feature from my face.
+Such majesty does from her forehead rise,
+Her cheeks such blushes cast, such rays her eyes,
+Nor I, nor envy, can a blemish find.--
+The palace is, without, too well designed:
+Conduct me in, for I will view thy mind.                    [_To her._
+Speak, if thou hast a soul, that I may see,
+If heaven can make, throughout, another me.
+
+_Ind._ My tears and miseries must plead my cause;         [_Kneeling._
+My words, the terror of your presence awes:
+Mortals, in sight of angels, mute become;
+The nobler nature strikes the inferior dumb.
+
+_Nour._ The palm is, by the foe's confession, mine;
+But I disdain what basely you resign.
+Heaven did, by me, the outward model build;
+Its inward work, the soul, with rubbish filled.
+Yet, oh! the imperfect piece moves more delight;
+'Tis gilded o'er with youth, to catch the sight.
+The gods have poorly robbed my virgin bloom,
+And what I am, by what I was, o'ercome.
+Traitress! restore my beauty and my charms,
+Nor steal my conquest with my proper arms.
+
+_Ind._ What have I done thus to inflame your hate?
+I am not guilty, but unfortunate.
+
+_Nour._ Not guilty, when thy looks my power betray,
+Seduce mankind, my subject, from my sway,
+Take all my hearts and all my eyes away?
+My husband first; but that I could forgive;
+He only moved, and talked, but did not live.
+My Aureng-Zebe!--for I dare own the name,
+The glorious sin, and the more glorious flame,--
+Him from my beauty have thy eyes misled,
+And starved the joys of my expected bed.
+
+
+_Ind._ His love so sought, he's happy that he's dead.
+O had I courage but to meet my fate,
+That short dark passage to a future state,
+That melancholy riddle of a breath!
+
+_Nour._ That something, or that nothing, after death:
+Take this, and teach thyself.                      [_Giving a Dagger._
+
+_Ind._ Alas!
+
+_Nour._ Why dost thou shake?
+Dishonour not the vengeance I designed:
+A queen, and own a base Plebeian mind!
+Let it drink deep in thy most vital part;
+Strike home, and do me reason in thy heart.
+
+_Ind._ I dare not.
+
+_Nour._ Do't, while I stand by and see,
+At my full gust, without the drudgery.
+I love a foe, who dares my stroke prevent,
+Who gives me the full scene of my content;
+Shows me the flying soul's convulsive strife,
+And all the anguish of departing life.
+Disdain my mercy, and my rage defy;
+Curse me with thy last breath, and make me see
+A spirit, worthy to have rivalled me.
+
+_Ind._ Oh, I desire to die, but dare not yet!
+Give me some respite, I'll discharge the debt.
+Without my Aureng-Zebe I would not live.
+
+_Nour._ Thine, traitress! thine! that word has winged thy fate,
+And put me past the tedious forms of hate:
+I'll kill thee with such eagerness and haste,
+As fiends, let loose, would lay all nature waste.
+                       [INDAMORA _runs back: As_ NOURMAHAL _is running
+                        to her, clashing of swords is heard within._
+
+_Sold._ Yield, you're o'erpowered: Resistance is in vain.   [_Within._
+
+_Mor._ Then death's my choice: Submission I disdain.        [_Within._
+
+_Nour._ Retire, ye slaves! Ah, whither does he run     [_At the door._
+On pointed swords? Disarm, but save my son.
+
+  _Enter_ MORAT _staggering, and upheld by Soldiers._
+
+_Mor._ She lives! and I shall see her once again!
+I have not thrown away my life in vain.
+                     [_Catches hold of_ INDAMORA'S _gown, and falls by
+                      her: She sits._
+I can no more; yet even in death I find
+My fainting body biassed by my mind:
+I fall toward you; still my contending soul
+Points to your breast, and trembles to its pole.
+
+  _To them_ MELESINDA, _hastily casting herself on the other side of_
+  MORAT.
+
+_Mel._ Ah woe, woe, woe! the worst of woes I find!
+Live still; Oh live; live e'en to be unkind!--
+With half-shut eyes he seeks the doubtful day;
+But, ah! he bends his sight another way.
+He faints! and in that sigh his soul is gone;
+Yet heaven's unmoved, yet heaven looks careless on.
+
+_Nour._ Where are those powers which monarchs should defend?
+Or do they vain authority pretend
+O'er human fates, and their weak empire show,
+Which cannot guard their images below?
+If, as their image, he was not divine,
+They ought to have respected him as mine.
+I'll waken them with my revenge; and she,
+Their Indamora, shall my victim be,
+And helpless heaven shall mourn in vain, like me.
+                            [_As she is going to stab_ INDAMORA, MORAT
+                             _raises himself, and holds her hand._
+
+_Mor._ Ah, what are we,
+Who dare maintain with heaven this wretched strife,
+Puft with the pride of heaven's own gift, frail life?
+That blast which my ambitious spirit swelled,
+See by how weak a tenure it was held!
+I only stay to save the innocent;
+Oh envy not my soul its last content!
+
+_Ind._ No, let me die; I'm doubly summoned now;
+First by my Aureng-Zebe, and since by you.
+My soul grows hardy, and can death endure;
+Your convoy makes the dangerous way secure.
+
+_Mel._ Let me at least a funeral marriage crave,
+Nor grudge my cold embraces in the grave.
+I have too just a title in the strife;
+By me, unhappy me, he lost his life:
+I called him hither, 'twas my fatal breath,
+And I the screech-owl that proclaimed his death.      [_Shout within._
+
+_Abas._ What new alarms are these? I'll haste and see.        [_Exit._
+
+_Nour._ Look up and live; an empire shall be thine.
+
+_Mor._ That I condemned, even when I thought it mine.--
+Oh, I must yield to my hard destinies,                      [_To_ IND.
+And must for ever cease to see your eyes!
+
+_Mel._ Ah turn your sight to me, my dearest lord!
+Can you not one, one parting look afford?
+Even so unkind in death:--but 'tis in vain;
+I lose my breath, and to the winds complain.
+Yet 'tis as much in vain your cruel scorn;
+Still I can love, without this last return.
+Nor fate, nor you, can my vowed faith controul;
+Dying, I follow your disdainful soul:
+A ghost, I'll haunt your ghost; and, where you go,
+With mournful murmurs fill the plains below.
+
+_Mor._ Be happy, Melesinda; cease to grieve,
+And for a more deserving husband live:--
+Can you forgive me?
+
+_Mel._ Can I! Oh, my heart!
+Have I heard one kind word before I part?
+I can, I can forgive: Is that a task
+To love like mine? Are you so good to ask!
+One kiss--Oh, 'tis too great a blessing this!           [_Kisses him._
+I would not live to violate the bliss,
+
+  _Re-enter_ ABAS.
+
+_Abas._ Some envious devil has ruined us yet more:
+The fort's revolted to the emperor;
+The gates are opened, the portcullis drawn,
+And deluges of armies from the town
+Come pouring in: I heard the mighty flaw,
+When first it broke; the crowding ensigns saw,
+Which choked the passage; and, what least I feared,
+The waving arms of Aureng-Zebe appeared,
+Displayed with your Morat's:
+In either's flag the golden serpents bear
+Erected crests alike, like volumes rear,
+And mingle friendly hissings in the air.
+Their troops are joined, and our destruction nigh.
+
+_Neur._ 'Tis vain to fight, and I disdain to fly.
+I'll mock the triumphs which our foes intend,
+And spite of fortune, make a glorious end.
+In poisonous draughts my liberty I'll find,
+And from the nauseous world set free my mind.                 [_Exit._
+
+  _At the other end of the Stage enter_ AURENG-ZEBE, DIANET, _and
+  Attendants._ AURENG-ZEBE _turns back, and speaks entering._
+
+_Aur._ The lives of all, who cease from combat, spare;
+My brother's be your most peculiar care:
+Our impious use no longer shall obtain;
+Brothers no more by brothers shall be slain.--
+                                       [_Seeing_ INDAMORA _and_ MORAT.
+Ha! do I dream? Is this my hoped success?
+I grow a statue, stiff and motionless.
+Look, Dianet; for I dare not trust these eyes;
+They dance in mists, and dazzle with surprise.
+
+_Dia._ Sir, 'tis Morat; dying he seems, or dead;
+And Indamora's hand--
+
+_Aur._ Supports his head.                                  [_Sighing._
+Thou shalt not break yet, heart, nor shall she know
+My inward torments by my outward show:
+To let her see my weakness were too base;
+Dissembled quiet sit upon my face:
+My sorrow to my eyes no passage find,
+But let it inward sink, and drown my mind.
+Falsehood shall want its triumph: I begin
+To stagger, but I'll prop myself within.
+The specious tower no ruin shall disclose,
+Till down at once the mighty fabric goes,
+
+_Mor._ In sign that I die yours, reward my love,            [_To_ IND.
+And seal my passport to the blessed above.        [_Kissing her hand._
+
+_Ind._ Oh stay; or take me with you when you go;
+There's nothing now worth living for below.
+
+_Mor._ I leave you not; for my expanded mind
+Grows up to heaven, while it to you is joined:
+Not quitting, but enlarged! A blazing fire,
+Fed from the brand.                                           [_Dies._
+
+_Mel._ Ah me! he's gone! I die!                             [_Swoons._
+
+_Ind._ Oh, dismal day!
+Fate, thou hast ravished my last hope away!
+                          [_She turns, and sees_ AURENG-ZEBE _standing
+                           by her, and starts._
+O heaven! my Aureng-Zebe--What strange surprise!
+Or does my willing mind delude my eyes,
+And shows the figure always present there?
+Or liv'st thou? am I blessed, and see thee here?
+
+_Aur._ My brother's body see conveyed with care,
+                               [_Turning from her, to her Attendants._
+Where we may royal sepulture prepare.
+With speed to Melesinda bring relief:
+Recal her spirits, and moderate her grief--    [_Half turning to_ IND.
+I go, to take for ever from your view,
+Both the loved object, and the hated too.
+                              [_Going away after the bodies, which are
+                               carried off._
+
+_Ind._ Hear me! yet think not that I beg your stay;
+                                           [_Laying hold of him._
+I will be heard, and, after, take your way.
+Go; but your late repentance shall be vain:
+                               [_He struggles still: she lets him go._
+I'll never, never see your face again.                [_Turning away._
+
+_Aur._ Madam, I know whatever you can say:
+You might be pleased not to command my stay.
+All things are yet disordered in the fort;
+I must crave leave your audience may be short.
+
+_Ind._ You need not fear I shall detain you long:
+Yet you may tell me your pretended wrong.
+
+_Aur._ Is that the business? then my stay is vain.
+
+_Ind._ How are you injured?
+
+_Aur._ When did I complain?
+
+_Ind._ Leave off your forced respect,
+And show your rage in its most furious form:
+I'm armed with innocence to brave the storm.
+You heard, perhaps, your brother's last desire,
+And, after, saw him in my arms expire;
+Saw me, with tears, so great a loss, bemoan;
+Heard me complaining my last hopes were gone.
+
+_Aur._ "Oh stay, or take me with you when you go,
+There's nothing now worth living for below."
+Unhappy sex! whose beauty is your snare:
+Exposed to trials; made too frail to bear.
+I grow a fool, and show my rage again:
+'Tis nature's fault; and why should I complain?
+
+_Ind._ Will you yet hear me?
+
+_Aur._ Yes, till you relate
+What powerful motives did your change create.
+You thought me dead, and prudently did weigh
+Tears were but vain, and brought but youth's decay.
+Then, in Morat, your hopes a crown designed;
+And all the woman worked within your mind.--
+I rave again, and to my rage return,
+To be again subjected to your scorn.
+
+_Ind._ I wait till this long storm be over-blown.
+
+_Aur._ I'm conscious of my folly: I have done.--
+I cannot rail; but silently I'll grieve.
+How did I trust! and how did you deceive!
+Oh, Arimant, would I had died for thee!
+I dearly buy thy generosity.
+
+_Ind._ Alas, is he then dead?
+
+_Aur._ Unknown to me,
+He took my arms; and, while I forced my way
+Through troops of foes, which did our passage stay,
+My buckler o'er my aged father cast,
+Still fighting, still defending as I past,
+The noble Arimant usurped my name;
+Fought, and took from me, while he gave me, fame.
+To Aureng-Zebe, he made his soldiers cry,
+And, seeing not, where he heard danger nigh,
+Shot, like a star, through the benighted sky,
+A short, but mighty aid: At length he fell.
+My own adventures 'twere lost time to tell;
+Or how my army, entering in the night,
+Surprised our foes; The dark disordered fight:
+How my appearance, and my father shown,
+Made peace; and all the rightful monarch own.
+I've summed it briefly, since it did relate
+The unwelcome safety of the man you hate.
+
+_Ind._ As briefly will I clear my innocence:
+Your altered brother died in my defence.
+Those tears you saw, that tenderness I showed,
+Were just effects of grief and gratitude.
+He died my convert.
+
+_Aur._ But your lover too:
+I heard his words, and did your actions view;
+You seemed to mourn another lover dead:
+My sighs you gave him, and my tears you shed.
+But, worst of all,
+Your gratitude for his defence was shown:
+It proved you valued life, when I was gone.
+
+_Ind._ Not that I valued life, but feared to die:
+Think that my weakness, not inconstancy.
+
+_Aur._ Fear showed you doubted of your own intent:
+And she, who doubts, becomes less innocent.
+Tell me not you could fear;
+Fear's a large promiser; who subject live
+To that base passion, know not what they give.
+No circumstance of grief you did deny;
+And what could she give more, who durst not die?
+
+_Ind._ My love, my faith.
+
+_Aur._ Both so adulterate grown,
+When mixed with fear, they never could be known.
+I wish no ill might her I love befal;
+But she ne'er loved, who durst not venture all.
+Her life and fame should my concernment be;
+But she should only be afraid for me.
+
+_Ind._ My heart was yours; but, oh! you left it here,
+Abandoned to those tyrants, hope and fear;
+If they forced from me one kind look, or word,
+Could you not that, not that small part afford?
+
+_Aur._ If you had loved, you nothing yours could call;
+Giving the least of mine, you gave him all.
+True love's a miser; so tenacious grown,
+He weighs to the least grain of what's his own;
+More delicate than honour's nicest sense,
+Neither to give nor take the least offence.
+With, or without you, I can have no rest:
+What shall I do? you're lodged within my breast:
+Your image never will be thence displaced;
+But there it lies, stabbed, mangled, and defaced.
+
+_Ind._ Yet to restore the quiet of your heart,
+There's one way left.
+
+_Aur._ Oh, name it.
+
+_Ind._ 'Tis to part.
+Since perfect bliss with me you cannot prove,
+I scorn to bless by halves the man I love.
+
+_Aur._ Now you distract me more: Shall then the day,
+Which views my triumph, see our loves decay?
+Must I new bars to my own joy create?
+Refuse myself what I had forced from fate?
+What though I am not loved?
+Reason's nice taste does our delights destroy:
+Brutes are more blessed, who grossly feed on joy.
+
+_Ind._ Such endless jealousies your love pursue,
+I can no more be fully blessed than you.
+I therefore go, to free us both from pain:
+I prized your person, but your crown disdain.
+Nay, even my own--
+I give it you; for, since I cannot call
+Your heart my subject, I'll not reign at all.                 [_Exit._
+
+_Aur._ Go: Though thou leav'st me tortured on the rack,
+'Twixt shame and pride, I cannot call thee back.--
+She's guiltless, and I should submit; but oh!
+When she exacts it, can I stoop so low?
+Yes; for she's guiltless; but she's haughty too.
+Great souls long struggle ere they own a crime:
+She's gone; and leaves me no repenting time.
+I'll call her now; sure, if she loves, she'll stay;
+Linger at least, or not go far away.
+                                    [_Looks to the door, and returns._
+For ever lost! and I repent too late.
+My foolish pride would set my whole estate,
+Till, at one throw, I lost all back to fate.
+
+  _To him the Emperor, drawing in_ INDAMORA: _Attendants._
+
+_Emp._ It must not be, that he, by whom we live,
+Should no advantage of his gift receive.
+Should he be wholly wretched? he alone,
+In this blessed day, a day so much his own?                 [_To_ IND.
+I have not quitted yet a victor's right:
+I'll make you happy in your own despite.
+I love you still; and, if I struggle hard
+To give, it shows the worth of the reward.
+
+_Ind._ Suppose he has o'ercome; must I find place
+Among his conquered foes, and sue for grace?
+Be pardoned, and confess I loved not well?
+What though none live my innocence to tell,
+I know it: Truth may own a generous pride:
+I clear myself, and care for none beside.
+
+_Aur._ Oh, Indamora, you would break my heart!
+Could you resolve, on any terms, to part?
+I thought your love eternal: Was it tied
+So loosely, that a quarrel could divide?
+I grant that my suspicions were unjust;
+But would you leave me, for a small distrust?
+Forgive those foolish words--                      [_Kneeling to her._
+They were the froth my raging folly moved,
+When it boiled up: I knew not then I loved;
+Yet then loved most.
+
+_Ind._ [_To_ AUR.]
+You would but half be blest!              [_Giving her hand, smiling._
+
+_Aur._ Oh do but try
+My eager love: I'll give myself the lie.
+The very hope is a full happiness,
+Yet scantly measures what I shall possess.
+Fancy itself, even in enjoyment, is
+But a dumb judge, and cannot tell its bliss.
+
+_Emp._ Her eyes a secret yielding do confess,
+And promise to partake your happiness.
+May all the joys I did myself pursue,
+Be raised by her, and multiplied on you!
+
+  _A Procession of Priests, Slaves following, and, last,_ MELESINDA
+  _in white._
+
+_Ind._ Alas! what means this pomp?
+
+_Aur._ 'Tis the procession of a funeral vow,
+Which cruel laws to Indian wives allow,
+When fatally their virtue they approve;
+Cheerful in flames, and martyrs of their love.
+
+_Ind._ Oh, my foreboding heart! the event I fear:
+And see! sad Melesinda does appear.
+
+_Mel._ You wrong my love; what grief do I betray?
+This is the triumph of my nuptial day,
+My better nuptials; which, in spite of fate,
+For ever join me to my dear Morat.
+Now I am pleased; my jealousies are o'er:
+He's mine; and I can lose him now no more.
+
+_Emp._ Let no false show of fame, your reason blind.
+
+_Ind._ You have no right to die; he was not kind.
+
+_Mel._ Had he been kind, I could no love have shown:
+Each vulgar virtue would as much have done.
+My love was such, it needed no return;
+But could, though he supplied no fuel, burn.
+Rich in itself, like elemental fire,
+Whose pureness does no aliment require.
+In vain you would bereave me of my lord;
+For I will die:--Die is too base a word,
+I'll seek his breast, and, kindling by his side,
+Adorned with flames, I'll mount a glorious bride.             [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ NOURMAHAL, _distracted, with_ ZAYDA.
+
+_Zay._ She's lost, she's lost! but why do I complain,
+For her, who generously did life disdain!
+Poisoned, she raves--
+The envenomed body does the soul attack;
+The envenomed soul works its own poison back.
+
+_Nour._ I burn, I more than burn; I am all fire.
+See how my mouth and nostrils flame expire!
+I'll not come near myself--
+Now I'm a burning lake, it rolls and flows;
+I'll rush, and pour it all upon my foes.
+Pull, pull that reverend piece of timber near:
+Throw't on--'tis dry--'twill burn--
+Ha, ha! how my old husband crackles there!
+Keep him down, keep him down; turn him about:
+I know him,--he'll but whiz, and strait go out.
+Fan me, you winds: What, not one breath of air?
+I'll burn them all, and yet have flames to spare.
+Quench me: Pour on whole rivers. 'Tis in vain:
+Morat stands there to drive them back again:
+With those huge billows in his hands, he blows
+New fire into my head: My brain-pan glows.
+See! see! there's Aureng-Zebe too takes his part;
+But he blows all his fire into my heart[4].
+
+_Aur._ Alas, what fury's this?
+
+_Nour._ That's he, that's he!
+                             [_Staring upon him, and catching at him._
+I know the dear man's voice:
+And this my rival, this the cursed she.
+They kiss; into each other's arms they run:
+Close, close, close! must I see, and must have none?
+Thou art not hers: Give me that eager kiss.
+Ungrateful! have I lost Morat for this?
+Will you?--before my face?--poor helpless I
+See all, and have my hell before I die!                 [_Sinks down._
+
+_Emp._ With thy last breath thou hast thy crimes confest:
+Farewell; and take, what thou ne'er gav'st me, rest.
+But you, my son, receive it better here:
+                                      [_Giving him_ INDAMORA'S _hand._
+The just rewards of love and honour wear.
+Receive the mistress, you so long have served;
+Receive the crown, your loyalty preserved.
+Take you the reins, while I from cares remove,
+And sleep within the chariot which I drove.                 [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1.   --_Magne regnator deum,
+     Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?
+     Ecquando sæva fulmen emittes manu,
+     Si nunc serenum est?
+     --Me velox cremet,
+     Transactus ignis. Sum nocens, merui mori,
+     Placui novercæ._--Hippolitus apud Senecam.
+
+   See Langbaine, on this play.
+
+2. In Dryden's time it was believed, that some Indian tribes devoured
+   the bodies of their parents; affirming, they could shew no greater
+   mark of respect, than to incorporate their remains with their own
+   substance.
+
+3. Langbaine traces this speech also to Seneca's Hippolitus.
+
+     _--Thesei vultus amo;
+     Illos priores quos tulit quondam puer,
+     Cum prima puras barba signaret genas._
+
+4. I wish the duty of an editor had permitted me to omit this
+   extravagant and ludicrous rhapsody.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+
+  A pretty task! and so I told the fool,
+  Who needs would undertake to please by rule:
+  He thought, that if his characters were good,
+  The scenes entire, and freed from noise and blood;
+  The action great, yet circumscribed by time,
+  The words not forced, but sliding into rhyme,
+  The passions raised, and calm by just degrees,
+  As tides are swelled, and then retire to seas;
+  He thought, in hitting these, his business done,
+  Though he, perhaps, has failed in every one:
+  But, after all, a poet must confess,
+  His art's like physic, but a happy guess.
+  Your pleasure on your fancy must depend:
+  The lady's pleased, just as she likes her friend.
+  No song! no dance! no show! he fears you'll say:
+  You love all naked beauties, but a play.
+  He much mistakes your methods to delight;
+  And, like the French, abhors our target-fight:
+  But those damned dogs can ne'er be in the right.
+  True English hate your Monsieur's paltry arts,
+  For you are all silk-weavers in your hearts[1].
+  Bold Britons, at a brave Bear-Garden fray,
+  Are roused: And, clattering sticks, cry,--Play, play, play![2]
+  Meantime, your filthy foreigner will stare,
+  And mutters to himself,--_Ha! gens barbare!_
+  And, gad, 'tis well he mutters; well for him;
+  Our butchers else would tear him limb from limb.
+  'Tis true, the time may come, your sons may be
+  Infected with this French civility:
+  But this, in after ages will be done:
+  Our poet writes an hundred years too soon.
+  This age comes on too slow, or he too fast:
+  And early springs are subject to a blast!
+  Who would excel, when few can make a test
+  Betwixt indifferent writing and the best?
+  For favours, cheap and common, who would strive,
+  Which, like abandoned prostitutes, you give?
+  Yet, scattered here and there, I some behold,
+  Who can discern the tinsel from the gold:
+  To these he writes; and, if by them allowed,
+  'Tis their prerogative to rule the crowd.
+  For he more fears, like a presuming man,
+  Their votes who cannot judge, than theirs who can.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Enemies, namely, like the English silk-weavers to the manufactures
+   of France.
+
+2. Alluding to the prize-fighting with broad-swords at the
+   Bear-Garden: an amusement sufficiently degrading, yet more manly,
+   and less brutal than that of boxing, as now practised. We have
+   found, in the lowest deep, a lower still.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                            ALL FOR LOVE;
+
+                                 OR,
+
+                         THE WORLD WELL LOST.
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               TRAGEDY.
+
+
+
+
+                            ALL FOR LOVE.
+
+
+The prologue to the preceding play has already acquainted us, that
+Dryden's taste for Rhyming, or Heroic Plays, was then upon the wane;
+and, accordingly "Aureng-Zebe" was the last tragedy which he formed
+upon that once admired model. "Henceforth a series of new times
+began," for, when given up by the only writer, whose command of
+flowing and powerful numbers had rendered it impressive, that
+department of the drama was soon abandoned by the inferior class of
+play-writers, to whom it presented multiplied difficulties, without a
+single advantage. The new taste, which our author had now decidedly
+adopted, was founded upon the stile of Shakespeare, of whose works he
+appears always to have been a persevering student, and, at length, an
+ardent admirer. Accordingly, he informs us, in the introduction, that
+this play is professedly written in imitation of "the divine
+Shakespeare." As if to bring this more immediately under the eye of
+the reader, he has chosen a subject upon which his immortal original
+had already laboured; and, perhaps, the most proper introduction to
+"All for Love" may be a parallel betwixt it and Shakespeare's "Antony
+and Cleopatra."
+
+The first point of comparison is the general conduct, or plot, of the
+tragedy. And here Dryden, having, to use his own language, undertaken
+to shoot in the bow of Ulysses, imitates the wily Antinous in using
+art to eke out his strength, and suppling the weapon before he
+attempted to bend it.
+
+Shakespeare, with the license peculiar to his age and character, had
+diffused the action of his play over Italy, Greece, and Egypt; but
+Dryden, who was well aware of the advantage to be derived from a
+simplicity and concentration of plot, has laid every scene in the city
+of Alexandria. By this he guarded the audience from that vague and
+puzzling distraction which must necessarily attend a violent change of
+place. It is a mistake to suppose, that the argument in favour of the
+unities depends upon preserving the deception of the scene; they are
+necessarily connected with the intelligibility of the piece. It may be
+true, that no spectator supposes that the stage before him is actually
+the court of Alexandria; yet, when he has once made up his mind to let
+it pass as such during the representation, it is a cruel tax, not
+merely on his imagination, but on his powers of comprehension, if the
+scene be suddenly transferred to a distant country. Time is lost
+before he can form new associations, and reconcile their bearings with
+those originally presented to him, and if he be a person of slow
+comprehension, or happens to lose any part of the dialogue, announcing
+the changes, the whole becomes unintelligible confusion. In this
+respect, and in discarding a number of uninteresting characters, the
+plan of Dryden's play must be unequivocally preferred to that of
+Shakespeare in point of coherence, unity, and simplicity. It is a
+natural consequence of this more artful arrangement of the story, that
+Dryden contents himself with the concluding scene of Antony's history
+instead of introducing the incidents of the war with Cneius Pompey,
+the negociation with Lepidus, death of his first wife, and other
+circumstances, which, in Shakespeare, only tend to distract our
+attention from the main interest of the drama. The union of time, as
+necessary as that of place to the intelligibility of the drama, has,
+in like manner, been happily attained; and an interesting event is
+placed before the audience with no other change of place, and no
+greater lapse of time, than can be readily adapted to an ordinary
+imagination.
+
+But, having given Dryden the praise of superior address in managing
+the story, I fear he must be pronounced in most other respects
+inferior to his grand prototype. Antony, the principal character in
+both plays, is incomparably grander in that of Shakespeare. The
+majesty and generosity of the military hero is happily expressed by
+both poets; but the awful ruin of grandeur, undermined by passion, and
+tottering to its fall, is far more striking in the Antony of
+Shakespeare. Love, it is true, is the predominant; but it is not the
+sole ingredient in his character. It has usurped possession of his
+mind, but is assailed by his original passions, ambition of power, and
+thirst for military fame. He is, therefore, often, and it should seem
+naturally represented, as feeling for the downfall of his glory and
+power, even so intensely as to withdraw his thoughts from Cleopatra,
+unless considered as the cause of his ruin. Thus, in the scene in
+which he compares himself to "black Vesper's pageants," he runs on in
+a train of fantastic and melancholy similes, having relation only to
+his fallen state, till the mention of Egypt suddenly recalls the idea
+of Cleopatra. But Dryden has taken a different view of Antony's
+character, and more closely approaching to his title of "All for
+Love."--"He seems not now that awful Antony." His whole thoughts and
+being are dedicated to his fatal passion; and though a spark of
+resentment is occasionally struck out by the reproaches of Ventidius,
+he instantly relapses into love-sick melancholy. The following
+beautiful speech exhibits the romance of despairing love, without the
+deep and mingled passion of a dishonoured soldier, and dethroned
+emperor:
+
+  _Ant._ [_Throwing himself down._]
+  Lie there, thou shadow of an emperor;
+  The place, thou pressest on thy mother earth,
+  Is all thy empire now: Now, it contains thee;
+  Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large,
+  When thou'rt contracted in the narrow urn,
+  Shrunk to a few cold ashes; then, Octavia,
+  For Cleopatra will not live to see it,
+  Octavia then will have thee all her own,
+  And bear thee in her widowed hand to Cæsar;
+  Cæsar will weep, the crocodile will weep,
+  To see his rival of the universe
+  Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more on't.
+  Give me some music; look that it be sad:
+  I'll sooth my melancholy, 'till I swell,
+  And burst myself with sighing--                       [_Soft music._
+  'Tis somewhat to my humour: Stay, I fancy
+  I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature;
+  Of all forsaken, and forsaking all;
+  Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene,
+  Stretched at my length beneath some blasted oak,
+  I lean my head upon the mossy bark,
+  And look just of a piece, as I grew from it:
+  My uncombed locks, matted like misletoe,
+  Hang o'er my hoary face; a murmuring brook
+  Runs at my foot.
+
+  _Ven._ Methinks I fancy
+  Myself there too.
+
+  _Ant._ The herd come jumping by me,
+  And, fearless, quench their thirst, while I look on,
+  And take me for their fellow-citizen.
+
+Even when Antony is finally ruined, the power of jealousy is called
+upon to complete his despair, and he is less sensible to the idea of
+Cæsar's successful arms, than to the risque of Dolabella's rivalling
+him in the affections of Cleopatra. It is true, the Antony of
+Shakespeare also starts into fury, upon Cleopatra permitting Thyreus
+to kiss her hand; but this is not jealousy; it is pride offended, that
+she, for whom he had sacrificed his glory and empire, should already
+begin to court the favour of the conqueror, and vouchsafe her hand to
+be saluted by a "jack of Cæsars." Hence Enobarbus, the witness of the
+scene, alludes immediately to the fury of mortified ambition and
+falling power:
+
+  'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,
+  Than with an old one dying--
+
+Having, however, adopted an idea of Antony's character, rather
+suitable to romance than to nature, or history, we must not deny
+Dryden the praise of having exquisitely brought out the picture he
+intended to draw. He has informed us, that this was the only play
+written to please himself; and he has certainly exerted in it the full
+force of his incomparable genius. Antony is throughout the piece what
+the author meant him to be; a victim to the omnipotence of love, or
+rather to the infatuation of one engrossing passion[1].
+
+In the Cleopatra of Dryden, there is greatly less spirit and
+originality than in Shakespeare's. The preparation of the latter for
+death has a grandeur which puts to shame the same scene in Dryden, and
+serves to support the interest during the whole fifth act, although
+Antony has died in the conclusion of the fourth. No circumstance can
+more highly evince the power of Shakespeare's genius, in spite of his
+irregularities; since the conclusion in Dryden, where both lovers die
+in the same scene, and after a reconciliation, is infinitely more
+artful and better adapted to theatrical effect.
+
+In the character of Ventidius, Dryden has filled up, with ability, the
+rude sketches, which Shakespeare has thrown off in those of Scæva and
+Eros. The rough old Roman soldier is painted with great truth; and the
+quarrel betwixt him and Antony, in the first act, is equal to any
+single scene that our author ever wrote, excepting, perhaps, that
+betwixt Sebastian and Dorax; an opinion in which the judgment of the
+critic coincides with that of the poet. It is a pity, as has often
+been remarked, that this dialogue occurs so early in the play, since
+what follows is necessarily inferior in force. Dryden, while writing
+this scene, had unquestionably in his recollection the quarrel betwixt
+Brutus and Cassius, which was justly so great a favourite in his time,
+and to which he had referred as inimitable in his prologue to
+"Aureng-Zebe.[2]"
+
+The inferior characters are better supported in Dryden than in
+Shakespeare. We have no low buffoonery in the former, such as
+disgraces Enobarbus, and is hardly redeemed by his affecting
+catastrophe. Even the Egyptian Alexas acquires some respectability,
+from his patriotic attachment to the interests of his country, and
+from his skill as a wily courtier. He expresses, by a beautiful image,
+the effeminate attachment to life, appropriated to his character and
+country:
+
+  O, that I less could fear to lose this being,
+  Which, like a snow-ball in my coward hand,
+  The more 'tis grasped, the faster melts away.
+
+The Octavia of Dryden is a much more important personage than in the
+"Antony and Cleopatra" of Shakespeare. She is, however, more cold and
+unamiable; for, in the very short scenes in which the Octavia of
+Shakespeare appears, she is placed in rather an interesting point of
+view. But Dryden has himself informed us, that he was apprehensive the
+justice of a wife's claim upon her husband would draw the audience to
+her side, and lessen their interest in the lover and the mistress. He
+seems accordingly to have studiedly lowered the character of the
+injured Octavia, who, in her conduct towards her husband, shews much
+duty and little love; and plainly intimates, that her rectitude of
+conduct flows from a due regard to her own reputation, rather than
+from attachment to Antony's person, or sympathy with him in his
+misfortunes. It happens, therefore, with Octavia, as with all other
+very good selfish kind of people; we think it unnecessary to feel any
+thing for her, as she is obviously capable of taking very good care of
+herself. I must not omit, that her scolding scene with Cleopatra,
+although anxiously justified by the author in the preface, seems too
+coarse to be in character, and is a glaring exception to the general
+good taste evinced throughout the rest of the piece.
+
+It would be too long a task to contrast the beauties of these two
+great poets in point of diction and style. But the reader will
+doubtless be pleased to compare the noted descriptions of the voyage
+of Cleopatra down the Cydnus. It is thus given in Shakespeare:
+
+  The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
+  Burned on the water: The poop was beaten gold;
+  Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that
+  The winds were love-sick with them: The oars were silver;
+  Which, to the tune of flutes, kept stroke, and made
+  The water which they beat, to follow faster,
+  As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
+  It beggared all description: she did lie
+  In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue),
+  O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see,
+  The fancy outwork nature; on each side her,
+  Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
+  With diverse coloured fans, whose wind did seem
+  To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
+  And what they undid, did.
+  Her gentlewomen, like the Nereids,
+  So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,
+  And made their bends adornings: At the helm
+  A seeming mermaid steers: The silken tackle
+  Swells with the touches of those flower-soft hands
+  That yarely frame the office. From the barge
+  A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
+  Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
+  Her people out upon her; and Antony,
+  Enthroned in the market-place, did sit alone,
+  Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
+  Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
+  And made a gap in nature.
+                               _Antony and Cleopatra_, Act i. Scene 2.
+
+The parallel passage in Dryden runs thus:
+
+  The tackling silk, the streamers waved with gold,
+  The gentle winds were lodged in purple sails:
+  Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were placed;
+  Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay,
+
+  _Dola._ No more: I would not hear it,
+
+  _Ant._ O, you must!
+  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,
+  A darting glory secured 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.
+  Then, Dolabella, where was then thy soul?
+  Was not thy fury quite disarmed with murder?
+  Didst thou not shrink behind me from those eyes,
+  And whisper in my ear, Oh, tell her not
+  That I accused her of my brother's death?
+
+In judging betwixt these celebrated passages, we feel almost afraid to
+avow a preference of Dryden, founded partly upon the easy flow of the
+verse, which seems to soften with the subject, but chiefly upon the
+beauty of the language and imagery, which is flowery without
+diffusiveness, and rapturous without hyperbole. I fear Shakespeare
+cannot be exculpated from the latter fault; yet I am sensible, it is
+by sifting his beauties from his conceits that his imitator has been
+enabled to excel him.
+
+It is impossible to bestow too much praise on the beautiful passages
+which occur so frequently in "All for Love." Having already given
+several examples of happy expression of melancholy and tender
+feelings, I content myself with extracting the sublime and terrific
+description of an omen presaging the downfall of Egypt.
+
+  _Serap._ Last night, between the hours of twelve and one,
+  In a lone isle of the temple while I walked,
+  A whirlwind rose, that, with a violent blast,
+  Shook all the dome: The doors around me clapt;
+  The iron wicket, that defends the vault,
+  Where the long race of Ptolemies is laid,
+  Burst open, and disclosed the mighty dead.
+  From out each monument, in order placed,
+  An armed ghost starts up: The boy-king last
+  Reared his inglorious head. A peal of groans
+  Then followed, and a lamentable voice
+  Cried,--"Egypt is no more!" My blood ran back,
+  My shaking knees against each other knocked;
+  On the cold pavement down I fell entranced,
+  And so, unfinished, left the horrid scene.
+
+Having quoted so many passages of exquisite poetry, and having set
+this play in no unequal opposition to that of Shakespeare, it is,
+perhaps, unnecessary to mention by what other poets the same subject
+has been treated. Daniel, Mary countess of Pembroke, May, and Sir
+Charles Sedley, each produced a play on the fortunes of Anthony. Of
+these pieces I have never read the three former, and will assuredly
+never read the last a second time[3].
+
+"All for Love," as the most laboured performance of our author,
+received the full tribute of applause and popularity which had often
+graced his less perfect and more hurried performances. Davies gives us
+the following account of its first representation.
+
+"In Dryden's "All for Love," Booth's dignified action and forcible
+elocution, in the part of Antony, attracted the public to that heavy,
+though, in many parts, well written play, six night's successively,
+without the assistance of pantomime, or farce, which, at that time,
+was esteemed something extraordinary.--But, indeed, he was well
+supported by an Oldfield, in his Cleopatra, who, to a most harmonious
+and powerful voice, and fine person, added grace and elegance of
+gesture. When Booth and Oldfield met in the second act, their dignity
+of deportment commanded the applause and approbation of the most
+judicious critics. When Antony said to Cleopatra,
+
+  You promised me your silence, and you break it
+  Ere I have scarce begun,--
+
+this check was so well understood by Oldfield, and answered with such
+propriety of behaviour, that, in Shakespeare's phrase; her "bendings
+were adornings."
+
+"The elder Mills acted Ventidius with the true spirit of a rough and
+generous old soldier. To render the play as acceptable to the public
+as possible, Wilkes took the trifling part of Dolabella, nor did
+Colley Cibber disdain to appear in Alexas. These parts would scarcely
+be accepted now by third-rate actors. Still to add more weight to the
+performance, Octavia was a short character of a scene or two, in which
+Mrs Porter drew not only respect, but the more affecting approbation
+of tears from the audience. Since that time, "All for Love" has
+gradually sunk into forgetfulness."
+
+If this last observation be true, it is, under Mr Davies' favour, a
+striking illustration of the caprice of the public taste. The play of
+"All for Love" was first acted and printed in 1678.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Dryden has himself, in the prologue, alluded to this predominance
+   of sentiment in his hero's character.
+
+     His hero, whom you wits his bully call,
+     Bates of his mettle, and scarce rants at all;
+     He's somewhat lewd; but a well meaning mind,
+     Weeps much, fights little, but is wondrous kind.
+
+2.   But, spite of all his pride, a secret shame
+     Invades his breast at Shakespeare's sacred name:
+     Awed, when he hears his god-like Romans rage,
+     He, in a just despair, would quit the stage,
+     And, to an age less polished, more unskilled,
+     Does, with disdain, the foremost honours yield.
+
+3. Lest any reader should have anticipated better things of "Sedley's
+   noble muse," the Lisideius of our author's dialogue on dramatic
+   poetry, I subjoin a specimen, taken at hazard:
+
+     Gape, hell, and to thy dismal bottom take
+     The lost Antonius; this was our last stake:
+     Warned by my ruin, let no Roman more,
+     Set foot on the inhospitable shore.
+     Cowards and traitors filled this impious land,
+     Faithless and fearful, without heart or hand,
+     Some ran to Cæsar, like a headlong tide,
+     The rest their fear made useless on our side.
+
+   "This passion, with the death of a dear friend, would go nigh to
+   make one sad;" yet some of the authors of the day held a very
+   different doctrine. Shadwell, in his dedication to "A true Widow,"
+   tells Sedley, "You have in that Mulberry Garden shewn the true wit,
+   humour, and satire of a comedy; and, in Antony and Cleopatra, the
+   true spirit of a tragedy;  the only one, except two of Jonson's and
+   one of Shakespeare's, wherein Romans are made to speak and do like
+   Romans. There are to be found the true characters of Antony and
+   Cleopatra, as they were; whereas a French author would have made
+   the Egyptian and Roman both become French under his pen. And even
+   our English authors are too much given to make history (in these
+   plays) romantic and impossible; but, in this play, the Romans are
+   true Romans, and their style is such; and I dare affirm, that there
+   is not in any play of this age so much of the spirit of the classic
+   authors, as in your Antony and Cleopatra." I cannot help suspecting
+   that much of this hyperbolical praise of Sedley was obliquely
+   designed to mortify Dryden.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                        THOMAS, EARL OF DANBY,
+
+                VISCOUNT LATIMER, AND BARON OSBORNE OF
+                        KIVETON IN YORKSHIRE;
+
+                   LORD HIGH TREASURER OF ENGLAND,
+              ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY
+                COUNCIL, AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE
+                       ORDER OF THE GARTER[1].
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+The gratitude of poets is so troublesome a virtue to great men, that
+you are often in danger of your own benefits: For you are threatened
+with some epistle, and not suffered to do good in quiet, or to
+compound for their silence whom you have obliged. Yet, I confess, I
+neither am or ought to be surprised at this indulgence; for your
+lordship has the same right to favour poetry, which the great and
+noble have ever had:
+
+  _Carmen amat, quisquis carmine digna gerit._
+
+There is somewhat of a tie in nature betwixt those who are born for
+worthy actions, and those who can transmit them to posterity; and
+though ours be much the inferior part, it comes at least within the
+verge of alliance; nor are we unprofitable members of the
+commonwealth, when we animate others to those virtues, which we copy
+and describe from you.
+
+It is indeed their interest, who endeavour the subversion of
+governments, to discourage poets and historians; for the best which
+can happen to them, is, to be forgotten: But such who, under kings,
+are the fathers of their country, and by a just and prudent ordering
+of affairs preserve it, have the same reason to cherish the
+chroniclers of their actions, as they have to lay up in safety the
+deeds and evidences of their estates; for such records are their
+undoubted titles to the love and reverence of after-ages. Your
+lordship's administration has already taken up a considerable part of
+the English annals; and many of its most happy years are owing to it.
+His majesty, the most knowing judge of men, and the best master, has
+acknowledged the ease and benefit he receives in the incomes of his
+treasury, which you found not only disordered, but exhausted. All
+things were in the confusion of a chaos, without form or method if not
+reduced beyond it, even to annihilation; so that you had not only to
+separate the jarring elements, but (if that boldness of expression
+might be allowed me) to create them. Your enemies had so embroiled the
+management of your office, that they looked on your advancement as the
+instrument of your ruin. And as if the clogging of the revenue, and
+the confusion of accounts, which you found in your entrance, were not
+sufficient, they added their own weight of malice to the public
+calamity, by forestalling the credit which should cure it. Your
+friends on the other side were only capable of pitying, but not of
+aiding you; no farther help or counsel was remaining to you, but what
+was founded on yourself; and that indeed was your security; for your
+diligence, your constancy, and your prudence, wrought more surely
+within, when they were not disturbed by any outward motion. The
+highest virtue is best to be trusted with itself; for assistance only
+can be given by a genius superior to that which it assists; and it is
+the noblest kind of debt, when we are only obliged to God and nature.
+This then, my lord, is your just commendation, that you have wrought
+out yourself a way to glory, by those very means that were designed
+for your destruction: You have not only restored, but advanced the
+revenues of your master, without grievance to the subject; and, as if
+that were little yet, the debts of the exchequer, which lay heaviest
+both on the crown, and on private persons, have by your conduct been
+established in a certainty of satisfaction.[2] An action so much the
+more great and honourable, because the case was without the ordinary
+relief of laws; above the hopes of the afflicted, and beyond the
+narrowness of the treasury to redress, had it been managed by a less
+able hand. It is certainly the happiest, and most unenvied part of all
+your fortune, to do good to many, while you do injury to none; to
+receive at once the prayers of the subject, and the praises of the
+prince; and, by the care of your conduct, to give him means of
+exerting the chiefest (if any be the chiefest) of his royal virtues,
+his distributive justice to the deserving, and his bounty and
+compassion to the wanting. The disposition of princes towards their
+people cannot be better discovered than in the choice of their
+ministers; who, like the animal spirits betwixt the soul and body,
+participate somewhat of both natures, and make the communication which
+is betwixt them. A king, who is just and moderate in his nature, who
+rules according to the laws, whom God has made happy by forming the
+temper of his soul to the constitution of his government, and who
+makes us happy, by assuming over us no other sovereignty than that
+wherein our welfare and liberty consists; a prince, I say, of so
+excellent a character, and so suitable to the wishes of all good men,
+could not better have conveyed himself into his people's
+apprehensions, than in your lordship's person; who so lively express
+the same virtues, that you seem not so much a copy, as an emanation of
+him. Moderation is doubtless an establishment of greatness; but there
+is a steadiness of temper which is likewise requisite in a minister of
+state; so equal a mixture of both virtues, that he may stand like an
+isthmus betwixt the two encroaching seas of arbitrary power, and
+lawless anarchy. The undertaking would be difficult to any but an
+extraordinary genius, to stand at the line, and to divide the limits;
+to pay what is due to the great representative of the nation, and
+neither to enhance, nor to yield up, the undoubted prerogatives of the
+crown. These, my lord, are the proper virtues of a noble Englishman,
+as indeed they are properly English virtues; no people in the world
+being capable of using them, but we who have the happiness to be born
+under so equal, and so well poised a government;--a government which
+has all the advantages of liberty beyond a commonwealth, and all the
+marks of kingly sovereignty, without the danger of a tyranny. Both my
+nature, as I am an Englishman, and my reason, as I am a man, have bred
+in me a loathing to that specious name of a republic; that mock
+appearance of a liberty, where all who have not part in the
+government, are slaves; and slaves they are of a viler note, than such
+as are subjects to an absolute dominion. For no Christian monarchy is
+so absolute, but it is circumscribed with laws; but when the executive
+power is in the law-makers, there is no farther check upon them; and
+the people must suffer without a remedy, because they are oppressed by
+their representatives. If I must serve, the number of my masters, who
+were born my equals, would but add to the ignominy of my bondage. The
+nature of our government, above all others, is exactly suited both to
+the situation of our country, and the temper of the natives; an island
+being more proper for commerce and for defence, than for extending its
+dominions on the Continent; for what the valour of its inhabitants
+might gain, by reason of its remoteness, and the casualties of the
+seas, it could not so easily preserve: And, therefore, neither the
+arbitrary power of One, in a monarchy, nor of Many, in a commonwealth,
+could make us greater than we are. It is true, that vaster and more
+frequent taxes might be gathered, when the consent of the people was
+not asked or needed; but this were only by conquering abroad, to be
+poor at home; and the examples of our neighbours teach us, that they
+are not always the happiest subjects, whose kings extend their
+dominions farthest. Since therefore we cannot win by an offensive war,
+at least a land war, the model of our government seems naturally
+contrived for the defensive part; and the consent of a people is
+easily obtained to contribute to that power which must protect it.
+_Felices nimium, bona si sua nórint, Angligenæ!_ And yet there are not
+wanting malecontents amongst us, who, surfeiting themselves on too
+much happiness, would persuade the people that they might be happier
+by a change. It was indeed the policy of their old forefather, when
+himself was fallen from the station of glory, to seduce mankind into
+the same rebellion with him, by telling him he might yet be freer than
+he was; that is, more free than his nature would allow, or, if I may
+so say, than God could make him. We have already all the liberty which
+free-born subjects can enjoy, and all beyond it is but licence. But if
+it be liberty of conscience which they pretend, the moderation of our
+church is such, that its practice extends not to the severity of
+persecution; and its discipline is withal so easy, that it allows more
+freedom to dissenters than any of the sects would allow to it. In the
+mean time, what right can be pretended by these men to attempt
+innovation in church or state? Who made them the trustees, or, to
+speak a little nearer their own language, the keepers of the liberty
+of England? If their call be extraordinary, let them convince us by
+working miracles; for ordinary vocation they can have none, to disturb
+the government under which they were born, and which protects them. He
+who has often changed his party, and always has made his interest the
+rule of it, gives little evidence of his sincerity for the public
+good; it is manifest he changes but for himself, and takes the people
+for tools to work his fortune. Yet the experience of all ages might
+let him know, that they, who trouble the waters first, have seldom the
+benefit of fishing; as they who began the late rebellion, enjoyed not
+the fruit of their undertaking, but were crushed themselves by the
+usurpation of their own instrument. Neither is it enough for them to
+answer, that they only intend a reformation of the government, but not
+the subversion of it: on such pretence all insurrections have been
+founded; it is striking at the root of power, which is obedience.
+Every remonstrance of private men has the seed of treason in it; and
+discourses, which are couched in ambiguous terms, are therefore the
+more dangerous, because they do all the mischief of open sedition, yet
+are safe from the punishment of the laws. These, my lord, are
+considerations, which I should not pass so lightly over, had I room to
+manage them as they deserve; for no man can be so inconsiderable in a
+nation, as not to have a share in the welfare of it; and if he be a
+true Englishman, he must at the same time be fired with indignation,
+and revenge himself as he can on the disturbers of his country. And to
+whom could I more fitly apply myself than to your lordship, who have
+not only an inborn, but an hereditary loyalty? The memorable constancy
+and sufferings of your father, almost to the ruin of his estate, for
+the royal cause, were an earnest of that, which such a parent and such
+an institution would produce in the person of a son. But so unhappy an
+occasion of manifesting your own zeal, in suffering for his present
+majesty, the providence of God, and the prudence of your
+administration, will, I hope, prevent; that, as your father's fortune
+waited on the unhappiness of his sovereign, so your own may
+participate of the better fate which attends his son. The relation,
+which you have by alliance to the noble family of your lady, serves to
+confirm to you both this happy augury. For what can deserve a greater
+place in the English chronicle, than the loyalty and courage, the
+actions and death, of the general of an army, fighting for his prince
+and country? The honour and gallantry of the earl of Lindsey is so
+illustrious a subject, that it is fit to adorn an heroic poem; for he
+was the proto-martyr of the cause, and the type of his unfortunate
+royal master[3].
+
+Yet after all, my lord, if I may speak my thoughts, you are happy
+rather to us than to yourself; for the multiplicity, the cares, and
+the vexations of your employment, have betrayed you from yourself, and
+given you up into the possession of the public. You are robbed of your
+privacy and friends, and scarce any hour of your life you can call
+your own. Those, who envy your fortune, if they wanted not
+good-nature, might more justly pity it; and when they see you watched
+by a crowd of suitors, whose importunity it is impossible to avoid,
+would conclude, with reason, that you have lost much more in true
+content, than you have gained by dignity; and that a private gentleman
+is better attended by a single servant, than your lordship with so
+clamorous a train. Pardon me, my lord, if I speak like a philosopher
+on this subject; the fortune, which makes a man uneasy, cannot make
+him happy; and a wise man must think himself uneasy, when few of his
+actions are in his choice.
+
+This last consideration has brought me to another, and a very
+seasonable one for your relief; which is, that while I pity your want
+of leisure, I have impertinently detained you so long a time. I have
+put off my own business, which was my dedication, till it is so late,
+that I am now ashamed to begin it; and therefore I will say nothing of
+the poem, which I present to you, because I know not if you are like
+to have an hour, which, with a good conscience, you may throw away in
+perusing it; and for the author, I have only to beg the continuance of
+your protection to him, who is,
+
+  My Lord,
+
+    Your Lordship's most obliged,
+      Most humble, and
+        Most obedient, servant,
+          JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. The person, to whom these high titles now belonged, was Sir Thomas
+   Osburne, a Baronet of good family, and decayed estate; part of
+   which had been lost in the royal cause. He was of a bold undaunted
+   character, and stood high for the prerogative. Hence he was thought
+   worthy of being sworn into the Privy Council during the
+   administration of the famous CABAL; and when that was dissolved by
+   the secession of Shaftesbury and the resignation of Clifford, he
+   was judged a proper person to succeed the latter as Lord High
+   Treasurer. He was created Earl of Danby, and was supposed to be
+   deeply engaged in the attempt to new-model our Constitution on a
+   more arbitrary plan; having been even heard to say, when sitting in
+   judgment, that a new proclamation from the Crown was superior to an
+   old act of Parliament. Nevertheless, he was persecuted as well by
+   the faction of the Duke of York, to whom he was odious for having
+   officiously introduced the famous Popish plot to the consideration
+   of parliament, as by the popular party, who hated him as a
+   favourite minister. Accordingly, in 1678, he was impeached by a
+   vote of the House of Commons, and in consequence, notwithstanding
+   the countenance of the King, was deprived of all his offices, and
+   finally committed to the tower, where he remained for four years.
+   Sir John Reresby has these reflections on Lord Danby's greatness
+   and sudden fall: "It was but a few months before, that few things
+   were transacted at court, but with the privity or consent of this
+   great man; the King's brother, and favourite mistress, were glad to
+   be fair with him, and the general address of all men of business
+   was to him, who was not only treasurer, but prime minister also,
+   who not only kept the purse, but was the first, and greatest
+   confident in all affairs of state. But now he is neglected of
+   all, forced to hide his head as a criminal, and in danger of losing
+   all he has got, and his life therewith: His family, raised from
+   privacy to the degree of Marquis, (a patent was then actually
+   passing to invest him with that dignity) is now on the brink of
+   falling below the humble stand of a yeoman; nor would almost the
+   meanest subject change conditions with him now, whom so very lately
+   the greatest beheld with envy." _Memoirs_, p. 85.
+
+   As he was obnoxious to all parties, Lord Danby would probably have
+   been made a sacrifice, had not the disturbances, which arose from
+   the various plots of the time, turned the attention of his enemies
+   to other subjects. He was liberated in 1683-4, survived the
+   Revolution, was created Duke of Leeds, and died in 1712. His
+   character was of the most decided kind; he was fertile in
+   expedients and had always something new to substitute for those
+   which failed; a faculty highly acceptable to Charles, who loved to
+   be relieved even were it but in idea, from the labour of business,
+   and the pressure of difficulty. In other points, he was probably
+   not very scrupulous, since even Dryden found cause to say at
+   length, that
+
+     Danby's matchless impudence
+     Helped to support the knave.
+
+2. This alludes to the stop of payments in exchequer, in 1671-2; a
+   desperate measure recommended by Clifford, to secure money for the
+   war against Holland.
+
+3. The Earl of Lindsey was general in chief for King Charles I. at the
+   breaking out of the civil war. As an evil omen of the royal cause,
+   he was mortally wounded and made prisoner at the battle of
+   Edgehill, the very first which was fought betwixt the king and
+   parliament. Clarendon says, "He had very many friends, and very few
+   enemies, and died generally lamented." His son Montague Bertie,
+   Earl of Lindsey, was a sufferer in the same cause. Lord Danby was
+   married to the Lady Bridget, the second daughter of that nobleman.
+
+
+
+
+                               PREFACE.
+
+
+The death of Antony and Cleopatra is a subject which has been treated
+by the greatest wits of our nation, after Shakespeare; and by all so
+variously, that their example has given me the confidence to try
+myself in this bow of Ulysses amongst the crowd of shooters; and,
+withal, to take my own measures, in aiming at the mark. I doubt not
+but the same motive has prevailed with all of us in this attempt; I
+mean the excellency of the moral: For the chief persons represented,
+were famous patterns of unlawful love; and their end accordingly was
+unfortunate. All reasonable men have long since concluded, that the
+hero of the poem ought not to be a character of perfect virtue, for
+then he could not, without injustice, be made unhappy; nor yet
+altogether wicked, because he could not then be pitied. I have
+therefore steered the middle course; and have drawn the character of
+Antony as favourably as Plutarch, Appian, and Dion Cassius would give
+me leave; the like I have observed in Cleopatra. That which is wanting
+to work up the pity to a greater heighth, was not afforded me by the
+story; for the crimes of love, which they both committed, were not
+occasioned by any necessity, or fatal ignorance, but were wholly
+voluntary; since our passions are, or ought to be, within our power.
+The fabric of the play is regular enough, as to the inferior parts of
+it; and the unities of time, place, and action, more exactly observed,
+than perhaps the English theatre requires. Particularly, the action is
+so much one, that it is the only of the kind without episode, or
+underplot; every scene in the tragedy conducing to the main design,
+and every act concluding with a turn of it. The greatest error in the
+contrivance seems to be in the person of Octavia; for, though I might
+use the privilege of a poet, to introduce her into Alexandria, yet I
+had not enough considered, that the compassion she moved to herself
+and children, was destructive to that which I reserved for Antony and
+Cleopatra; whose mutual love being founded upon vice, must lessen the
+favour of the audience to them, when virtue and innocence were
+oppressed by it. And, though I justified Antony in some measure, by
+making Octavia's departure to proceed wholly from herself; yet the
+force of the first machine still remained; and the dividing of pity,
+like the cutting of a river into many channels, abated the strength of
+the natural stream. But this is an objection which none of my critics
+have urged against me; and therefore I might have let it pass, if I
+could have resolved to have been partial to myself. The faults my
+enemies have found, are rather cavils concerning little and not
+essential decencies; which a master of the ceremonies may decide
+betwixt us. The French poets, I confess, are strict observers of these
+punctilios: They would not, for example, have suffered Cleopatra and
+Octavia to have met; or, if they had met, there must have only passed
+betwixt them some cold civilities, but no eagerness of repartee, for
+fear of offending against the greatness of their characters, and the
+modesty of their sex. This objection I foresaw, and at the same time
+contemned; for I judged it both natural and probable, that Octavia,
+proud of her new-gained conquest, would search out Cleopatra to
+triumph over her; and that Cleopatra thus attacked, was not of a
+spirit to shun the encounter: And it is not unlikely, that two
+exasperated rivals should use such satire as I have put into their
+mouths; for, after all, though the one were a Roman, and the other a
+queen, they were both women. It is true, some actions, though natural,
+are not fit to be represented; and broad obscenities in words, ought
+in good manners to be avoided: expressions therefore are a modest
+clothing of our thoughts, as breeches and petticoats are of our
+bodies. If I have kept myself within the bounds of modesty, all beyond
+it is but nicety and affectation; which is no more but modesty
+depraved into a vice. They betray themselves, who are too quick of
+apprehension in such cases, and leave all reasonable men to imagine
+worse of them, than of the poet.
+
+Honest Montaigne goes yet farther: _Nous ne sommes que ceremonie; la
+ceremonie nous emporte, et laissons la substance des choses: Nous nous
+tenons aux branches, et abandonnons le tronc et le corps. Nous avons
+appris aux dames de rougir, oyans seulement nommer ce qu'elles ne
+craignent aucunement à faire; Nous n'esons appeller à droict nos
+membres, et ne craignons pas de les employer à toute sorte de
+debauche. La ceremonie nous defend d'exprimer par paroles les choses
+licites et naturelles, et nous l'en croyons; la raison nous defend de
+n'en faire point d'illicites et mauvaises, et personne ne l'en croit._
+My comfort is, that by this opinion my enemies are but sucking
+critics, who would fain be nibbling ere their teeth are come.
+
+Yet, in this nicety of manners does the excellency of French poetry
+consist. Their heroes are the most civil people breathing; but their
+good breeding seldom extends to a word of sense; all their wit is in
+their ceremony; they want the genius which animates our stage; and
+therefore it is but necessary, when they cannot please, that they
+should take care not to offend. But as the civillest man in the
+company is commonly the dullest, so these authors, while they are
+afraid to make you laugh or cry, out of pure good manners, make you
+sleep. They are so careful not to exasperate a critic, that they never
+leave him any work; so busy with the broom, and make so clean a
+riddance, that there is little left either for censure or for praise:
+For no part of a poem is worth our discommending, where the whole is
+insipid; as when we have once tasted of palled wine, we stay not to
+examine it glass by glass. But while they affect to shine in trifles,
+they are often careless in essentials. Thus, their Hippolitus is so
+scrupulous in point of decency, that he will rather expose himself to
+death, than accuse his step-mother to his father; and my critics I am
+sure will commend him for it: But we of grosser apprehensions are apt
+to think, that this excess of generosity is not practicable, but with
+fools and madmen. This was good manners with a vengeance; and the
+audience is like to be much concerned at the misfortunes of this
+admirable hero. But take Hippolitus out of his poetic fit, and I
+suppose he would think it a wiser part, to set the saddle on the right
+horse, and chuse rather to live with the reputation of a plain-spoken
+honest man, than to die with the infamy of an incestuous villain.[1]
+In the mean time we may take notice, that where the poet ought to have
+preserved the character as it was delivered to us by antiquity, when
+he should have given us the picture of a rough young man, of the
+Amazonian strain, a jolly huntsman, and both by his profession and his
+early rising a mortal enemy to love, he has chosen to give him the
+turn of gallantry sent him to travel from Athens to Paris, taught him
+to make love, and transformed the Hippolitus of Euripides into
+Monsieur Hippolite. I should not have troubled myself thus far with
+French poets, but that I find our _Chedreux_[2] critics wholly form
+their judgments by them. But for my part, I desire to be tried by the
+laws of my own country; for it seems unjust to me, that the French
+should prescribe here, till they have conquered. Our little
+sonetteers, who follow them, have too narrow souls to judge of poetry.
+Poets themselves are the most proper, though I conclude not the only
+critics. But till some genius, as universal as Aristotle, shall arise,
+one who can penetrate into all arts and sciences, without the practice
+of them, I shall think it reasonable that the judgment of an artificer
+in his own art should be preferable to the opinion of another man; at
+least where he is not bribed by interest, or prejudiced by malice. And
+this, I suppose, is manifest by plain inductions: For, first, the
+crowd cannot be presumed to have more than a gross instinct, of what
+pleases or displeases them: Every man will grant me this; but then, by
+a particular kindness to himself, he draws his own stake first, and
+will be distinguished from the multitude, of which other men may think
+him one. But, if I come closer to those who are allowed for witty men,
+either by the advantage of their quality, or by common fame, and
+affirm that neither are they qualified to decide sovereignly
+concerning poetry, I shall yet have a strong party of my opinion; for
+most of them severally will exclude the rest, either from the number
+of witty men, or at least of able judges. But here again they are all
+indulgent to themselves; and every one who believes himself a wit,
+that is, every man, will pretend at the same time to a right judgeing.
+But to press it yet farther, there are many witty men, but few poets;
+neither have all poets a taste of tragedy. And this is the rock on
+which they are daily splitting. Poetry, which is a picture of nature,
+must generally please; but it is not to be understood that all parts
+of it must please every man; therefore is not tragedy to be judged by
+a witty man, whose taste is only confined to comedy. Nor is every man
+who loves tragedy, a sufficient judge of it; he must understand the
+excellencies of it too, or he will only prove a blind admirer, not a
+critic. From hence it comes that so many satires on poets, and
+censures of their writings, fly abroad. Men of pleasant conversation,
+(at least esteemed so) and endued with a trifling kind of fancy,
+perhaps helped out with some smattering of Latin, are ambitious to
+distinguish themselves from the herd of gentlemen, by their poetry;
+
+  _Rarus enim fermè; sensus communis in illâ
+  Fortunâ._
+
+And is not this a wretched affectation, not to be contented with what
+fortune has done for them, and sit down quietly with their estates,
+but they must call their wits in question, and needlessly expose their
+nakedness to public view? Not considering that they are not to expect
+the same approbation from sober men, which they have found from their
+flatterers after the third bottle. If a little glittering in discourse
+has passed them on us for witty men, where was the necessity of
+undeceiving the world? Would a man who has an ill title to an estate,
+but yet is in possession of it; would he bring it of his own accord,
+to be tried at Westminster? We who write, if we want the talent, yet
+have the excuse that we do it for a poor subsistence; but what can be
+urged in their defence, who, not having the vocation of poverty to
+scribble, out of mere wantonness take pains to make themselves
+ridiculous? Horace was certainly in the right, where he said, "That no
+man is satisfied with his own condition." A poet is not pleased,
+because he is not rich; and the rich are discontented, because the
+poets will not admit them of their number. Thus the case is hard with
+writers: If they succeed not, they must starve; and if they do, some
+malicious satire is prepared to level them, for daring to please
+without their leave. But while they are so eager to destroy the fame
+of others, their ambition is manifest in their concernment; some poem
+of their own is to lie produced, and the slaves are to be laid flat
+with their faces on the ground, that the monarch may appear in the
+greater majesty[3].
+
+Dionysius and Nero had the same longing, but with all their power they
+could never bring their business well about. 'Tis true, they
+proclaimed themselves poets by sound of trumpet; and poets they were,
+upon pain of death to any man who durst call them otherwise. The
+audience had a fine time on't, you may imagine; they sat in a bodily
+fear, and looked as demurely as they could: for it was a hanging
+matter to laugh unseasonably; and the tyrants were suspicious, as they
+had reason, that their subjects had them in the wind; so, every man,
+in his own defence, set as good a face upon the business as he could.
+It was known before-hand that the monarchs were to be crowned
+laureats; but when the show was over, and an honest man was suffered
+to depart quietly, he took out his laughter which he had stifled; with
+a firm resolution never more to see an emperor's play, though he had
+been ten years a making it. In the mean time the true poets were they
+who made the best markets, for they had wit enough to yield the prize
+with a good grace, and not contend with him who had thirty legions[4].
+They were sure to be rewarded, if they confessed themselves bad
+writers, and that was somewhat better than to be martyrs for their
+reputation. Lucan's example was enough to teach them manners; and
+after he was put to death, for overcoming Nero, the emperor carried it
+without dispute for the best poet in his dominions. No man was
+ambitious of that grinning honour; for if he heard the malicious
+trumpeter proclaiming his name before his betters, he knew there was
+but one way with him. Mecænas took another course, and we know he was
+more than a great man, for he was witty too: But finding himself far
+gone in poetry, which Seneca assures us was not his talent, he thought
+it his best way to be well with Virgil and with Horace; that at least
+he might be a poet at the second hand; and we see how happily it has
+succeeded with him; for his own bad poetry is forgotten, and their
+panegyricks of him still remain. But they who should be our patrons,
+are for no such expensive ways to fame; they have much of the poetry
+of Mecænas, but little of his liberality. They are for persecuting
+Horace and Virgil, in the persons of their successors; for such is
+every man, who has any part of their soul and fire, though in a less
+degree. Some of their little zanies yet go farther; for they are
+persecutors even of Horace himself; as far as they are able, by their
+ignorant and vile imitations of him; by making an unjust use of his
+authority and turning his artillery against his friends. But how would
+he disdain to be copied by such hands! I dare answer for him, he would
+be more uneasy in their company, than he was with Crispinus, their
+forefather, in the Holy Way; and would no more have allowed them a
+place amongst the critics, than he would Demetrius the mimic, and
+Tigellius the buffoon;
+
+  --_Demetri, teque, Tigelli,
+  Discipulorum inter jubeo plorare cathedras._
+
+With what scorn would he look down on such miserable translators, who
+make doggrel of his Latin, mistake his meaning, mis-apply his
+censures, and often contradict their own? He is fixed as a landmark to
+set out the bounds of poetry:
+
+  --_Saxum antiquum, ingens,--
+  Limes agro positus, litem ut discerneret arvis._
+
+But other arms than theirs, and other sinews are required, to raise
+the weight of such an author; and when they would toss him against
+their enemies,
+
+  _Genua labant, gelidus concrevit frigore sanguis.
+  Tum lapis ipse, viri vacuum per inane volutus,
+  Nec spatium evasit totum, nec pertulit ictum_[5].
+
+For my part, I would wish no other revenge, either for myself, or the
+rest of the poets, from this rhyming judge of the twelve-penny
+gallery, this legitimate son of Sternhold, than that he would
+subscribe his name to his censure, or (not to tax him beyond his
+learning) set his mark: For, should he own himself publicly, and come
+from behind the lion's skin, they, whom he condemns, would be thankful
+to him, they, whom he praises, would chuse to be condemned; and the
+magistrates, whom he has elected, would modestly withdraw from their
+employment, to avoid the scandal of his nomination[6]. The sharpness
+of his satire, next to himself, falls most heavily on his friends, and
+they ought never to forgive him for commending them perpetually the
+wrong way, and sometimes by contraries. If he have a friend, whose
+hastiness in writing is his greatest fault, Horace would have taught
+him to have minced the matter, and to have called it readiness of
+thought, and a flowing fancy; for friendship will allow a man to
+christen an imperfection by the name of some neighbour virtue;
+
+  _Vellem in amicitiâ sic erraremus; et isti
+  Errori nomen virtus posuisset honestum._
+
+But he would never have allowed him to have called a slow man hasty,
+or a hasty writer a slow drudge[7], as Juvenal explains it:
+
+  --_Canibus pigris, scabieque vetustâ
+  Lævibus, et siccæ lambentibus ora lucernæ,
+  Nomen erit, Pardus, Tygris, Leo; si quid adhuc est
+  Quod fremit in terris violentius_[8].
+
+Yet Lucretius laughs at a foolish lover, even for excusing the
+imperfections of his mistress:
+
+  _Nigra [Greek: melichroos] est, immunda et foetida [Greek: akosmos].
+  Balba loqui non quit, [Greek: traulizei]; muta pudens est, &c._
+
+But to drive it _ad Æthiopem cygnum_ is not to be endured. I leave him
+to interpret this by the benefit of his French version on the other
+side, and without farther considering him, than I have the rest of my
+illiterate censors, whom I have disdained to answer, because they are
+not qualified for judges. It remains that I acquaint the reader, that
+I have endeavoured in this play to follow the practice of the
+ancients, who, as Mr Rymer has judiciously observed, are and ought to
+be our masters[9]. Horace likewise gives it for a rule in his art of
+poetry.
+
+  --_Vos exemplaria Græca
+  Nocturnâ versate manu, versate diurnâ._
+
+Yet, though their models are regular, they are too little for English
+tragedy; which requires to be built in a larger compass. I could give
+an instance in the "Oedipus Tyrannus," which was the master piece of
+Sophocles; but I reserve it for a more fit occasion, which I hope to
+have hereafter. In my style, I have professed to imitate the divine
+Shakespeare; which that I might perform more freely, I have
+disincumbered myself from rhyme. Not that I condemn my former way, but
+that this is more proper to my present purpose. I hope I need not to
+explain myself, that I have not copied my author servilely: Words and
+phrases must of necessity receive a change in succeeding ages; but it
+is almost a miracle that much of his language remains so pure; and
+that he who began dramatic poetry amongst us, untaught by any, and, as
+Ben Jonson tells us, without learning, should by the force of his own
+genius perform so much, that in a manner he has left no praise for any
+who come after him. The occasion is fair, and the subject would be
+pleasant to handle the difference of styles betwixt him and Fletcher,
+and wherein, and how far they are both to be imitated. But since I
+must not be over-confident of my own performance after him, it will be
+prudence in me to be silent. Yet, I hope, I may affirm, and without
+vanity, that, by imitating him, I have excelled myself throughout the
+play; and particularly, that I prefer the scene betwixt Antony and
+Ventidius in the first act, to any thing which I have written in this
+kind.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. That the reader may himself judge of the justice of Dryden's
+   censure, I subjoin the argument on this knotty point, as it is
+   stated by Hippolytus and his mistress in the 5th act of the
+   "Phedre" of Racine.
+
+                               Aricie.
+
+     _Quoi vous pouvés vous taire en ce peril extreme?
+     Vous laissés dans l'erreur un pere qui vous uime?
+     Cruel, si de mes pleurs meprisant le pouvoir,
+     Vous consentéz sans peine a ne me plus revoir,
+     Partes, separés vous de la triste Aricie,
+     Mais du moins en partaut assurés votre vie.
+     Defendés votre honneur d' un reproche honteux,
+     Et forcés votre pere a revoquer ses væux;
+     Il en est tems encore. Pourguoi, par quel caprice,
+     Laissés vous le champ libre a votre accusatrice?
+     Ecclaircissés Thesée._
+
+                              Hippolyte.
+
+                             _Hé que nai-je point dit?
+     Ai-je du mettre au jour l'opprobre de son lit?
+     Devois-je en lui faisant un recit trop sincere,
+     D'un indigne rougeur couvrir le front d'un pere?
+     Vous seul avés percé ce mystere odieux,
+     Mon coeur pour s'epancher, n'a que vous et les dieux:
+     Je n'ai pu vous cacher, jugés si je vous aime,
+     Tout ce que je voulois me cacher a moi-meme.
+     Mais songés sous quel sceau je vous l'ai révélé;
+     Oubliés, si se peut, que je vous ai parlé,
+     Madame; et que jamais une bouche si pure
+     Ne s'ouvre pour conter cette horrible avanture.
+     Sur l'equité des dieux osons nous confier,
+     Ils ont trop d'interet a me justifier,
+     Et Phédre tot ou tard de son crime punie,
+     N'en saúroit eviter la juste ignominié._
+
+2. _Chedreux_ was the name of the fashionable periwigs of the day, and
+   appears to have been derived from their maker. A French
+   _peruqirier_, in one of Shadwell's comedies, says, "You talke of de
+   Chedreux; he is no bodie to me. Dere is no man can travaille vis
+   mee. Monsieur Wildish has got my peruke on his head. Let me see,
+   here is de haire, de curie, de brucle, ver good, ver good. If dat
+   foole Chedreux make de peruke like me, I vil be hanga." Bury Fair,
+   Act I. Scene II. It appears from the letter of the literary veteran
+   in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1745, that our author, as he
+   advanced in reputation, assumed the fashionable _Chedreux_ periwig.
+
+3. This passage though, doubtless applicable to many of the men of
+   rank at the court of Charles II., was particularly levelled at Lord
+   Rochester with whom our author was now on bad terms. It is hardly
+   fair to enquire how far this description of the discourse and
+   talents of a person of wit and honour agrees with that given in the
+   dedication to Marriage a-la-Mode, when, in compliment to the same
+   nobleman, we are told, that, "Wit seems to have lodged itself more
+   nobly in this age, than in any of the former; and that his lordship
+   had but another step to make, from the patron of wit, to become its
+   tyrant." This last observation seems to have been made in the
+   spirit of prophecy.
+
+4. Such is said to have been the answer of a philosopher to a friend,
+   who upbraided him with giving up a dispute to the Emperor Adrian.
+
+5. This passage alludes to an imitation of Horace, quaintly entitled
+   an "Allusion to the Tenth Satire of his First Book" which was the
+   production of Rochester. As however it appeared without a name, it
+   may have been for a time imputed to some of the inferior wits, whom
+   his Lordship patronized. It contains a warm attack on Dryden, part
+   of which has been already quoted. Dryden probably knew the real
+   author of this satire, although he chose to impute it to one of the
+   "Zanies" of the great. At least it seems unlikely that he should
+   take Crown for the author, as has been supposed by Mr Malone; for
+   in the imitation we have these lines:
+
+     For by that rule I might as well admit
+     Crown's heavy scenes for poetry and wit.
+
+   Crown could hardly be charged as author of a poem, in which this
+   sarcasm occurred.
+
+6. Alluding probably to the concluding lines of the Satire.
+
+     I loath the rabble; 'tis enough for me
+     If Sedley, Shadwell, Shepherd, Wycherley,
+     Godolphin, Butler, Buckhurst, Buckingham,
+     And some few more whom I omit to name,
+     Approve my sense; I count their censure fame.
+
+7. Dryden alludes to the censure past on himself, where it is said,
+
+     Five hundred verses in a morning writ.
+     Prove him no more a poet than a wit.
+
+8. This refers to the characters of Shadwell and Wycherley, which
+   according to Dryden, the satirist seems to have misunderstood.
+
+     Of all our modern wits, none seems to me
+     Once to have touched upon true comedy,
+     But hasty Shadwell and slow Wycherley;
+     Shadwell's unfinished works do yet impart
+     Great proofs of force of nature, none of art.
+     With just bold strokes he dashes here and there,
+     Shewing great mastery with little care;
+     But Wycherley earns hard whate'er he gains,
+     He wants no judgment, and he spares no pains;
+     He frequently excels, and, at the least,
+     Makes fewer faults than any of the rest.
+
+9. "I have chiefly considered the fable, or plot, which all conclude
+   to be the soul of a tragedy, which, with the ancients, is all ways
+   to be found a reasonable soul, but with us, for the most part, a
+   brutish, and often worse than brutish.
+
+   "And certainly there is not required much learning, or that a man
+   must be some Aristotle and doctor of subtilties, to form a right
+   judgement in this particular; common sense suffices; and rarely
+   have I known women-judges mistaken in these points, where they have
+   patience to think; and left to their own heads, they decide with
+   their own sense. But if people are prepossessed, if they will judge
+   of Rollo by Othello, and one crooked line by another, we can never
+   have a certainty."
+
+   The tragedies of the last age considered, in a letter to Fleetwood
+   Shepherd, by Thomas Rymer, Edit. 1678, p. 4.
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  What flocks of critics hover here to-day,
+  As vultures wait on armies for their prey,
+  All gaping for the carcase of a play!
+  With croaking notes they bode some dire event,
+  And follow dying poets by the scent.
+  Ours gives himself for gone; you've watched your time:
+  He fights this day unarmed,--without his rhyme;--
+  And brings a tale which often has been told;
+  As sad as Dido's; and almost as old.
+  His hero, whom you wits his bully call,
+  Bates of his mettle, and scarce rants at all:
+  He's somewhat lewd; but a well-meaning mind;
+  Weeps much; fights little; but is wond'rous kind.
+  In short, a pattern, and companion fit,
+  For all the keeping tonies of the pit.
+  I could name more: a wife, and mistress too;
+  Both (to be plain) too good for most of you:
+  The wife well-natured, and the mistress true.
+    Now, poets, if your fame has been his care,
+  Allow him all the candour you can spare.
+  A brave man scorns to quarrel once a-day;
+  Like Hectors, in at every petty fray.
+  Let those find fault whose wit's so very small,
+  They've need to show that they can think at all;
+  Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow;
+  He who would search for pearls, must dive below.
+  Fops may have leave to level all they can;
+  As pigmies would be glad to lop a man.
+  Half-wits are fleas; so little and so light,
+  We scarce could know they live, but that they bite.
+  But, as the rich, when tired with daily feasts,
+  For change, become their next poor tenant's guests;
+  Drink hearty draughts of ale from plain brown bowls,
+  And snatch the homely rasher from the coals:
+  So you, retiring from much better cheer,
+  For once, may venture to do penance here.
+  And since that plenteous autumn now is past,
+  Whose grapes and peaches have indulged your taste,
+  Take in good part, from our poor poet's board,
+  Such rivelled fruits as winter can afford.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+
+  MARK ANTONY.
+  VENTIDIUS, _His General._
+  DOLABELLA, _his Friend._
+  ALEXAS, _the Queen's Eunuch._
+  SERAPION, _Priest of Isis._
+  MYRIS, _another Priest._
+  _Servants to_ ANTONY.
+
+  CLEOPATRA, _Queen of Ægypt._
+  OCTAVIA, ANTONY'S _Wife._
+  CHARMION,  } CLEOPATRA'S _Maids._
+  IRAS,      }
+  ANTONY'S _two little Daughters._
+
+SCENE.--_Alexandria._
+
+
+
+
+                            ALL FOR LOVE;
+
+                               OR, THE
+
+                           WORLD WELL LOST.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_The Temple of_ ISIS.
+
+  _Enter_ SERAPION, MYRIS, _Priests of_ ISIS.
+
+_Ser._ Portents and prodigies have grown so frequent,
+That they have lost their name. Our fruitful Nile
+Flowed ere the wonted season, with a torrent
+So unexpected, and so wondrous fierce,
+That the wild deluge overtook the haste
+Even of the hinds that watched it: Men and beasts
+Were borne above the tops of trees, that grew
+On the utmost margin of the water-mark.
+Then, with so swift an ebb the flood drove backward,
+It slipt from underneath the scaly herd:
+Here monstrous phocæ; panted on the shore;
+Forsaken dolphins there, with their broad tails
+Lay lashing the departing waves: hard by them,
+Sea-horses floundring in the slimy mud,
+Tossed up their heads, and dashed the ooze about them.
+
+  _Enter_ ALEXAS _behind them._
+
+_Myr._ Avert these omens, Heaven!
+
+_Ser._ Last night, between the hours of twelve and one,
+In a lone aisle of the temple while I walked,
+A whirlwind rose, that, with a violent blast,
+Shook all the dome: the doors around me clapt;
+The iron wicket, that defends the vault,
+Where the long race of Ptolemies is laid,
+Burst open, and disclosed the mighty dead.
+From out each monument, in order placed,
+An armed ghost starts up: the boy-king last
+Reared his inglorious head. A peal of groans
+Then followed, and a lamentable voice
+Cried, Egypt is no more. My blood ran back,
+My shaking knees against each other knocked;
+On the cold pavement down I fell entranced,
+And so unfinished left the horrid scene.
+
+_Alex._ And dreamed you this? or did invent the story,
+                                                   [_Shewing himself._
+To frighten our Egyptian boys withal,
+And train them up, betimes, in fear of priesthood?
+
+_Serap._ My lord, I saw you not,
+Nor meant my words should reach your ears; but what
+I uttered was most true.
+
+_Alex._ A foolish dream,
+Bred from the fumes of indigested feasts,
+And holy luxury.
+
+_Serap._ I know my duty:
+This goes no farther.
+
+_Alex._ 'Tis not fit it should;
+Nor would the times now bear it, were it true.
+All southern, from yon hills, the Roman camp
+Hangs o'er us black and threatning, like a storm
+Just breaking on our heads.
+
+_Serap._ Our faint Egyptians pray for Antony;
+But in their servile hearts they own Octavius.
+
+_Myr._ Why then does Antony dream out his hours,
+And tempts not fortune for a noble day,
+Which might redeem what Actium lost?
+
+_Alex._ He thinks 'tis past recovery.
+
+_Serap._ Yet the foe
+Seems not to press the siege.
+
+_Alex._ O, there's the wonder.
+Mecænas and Agrippa, who can most
+With Cæsar, are his foes. His wife Octavia,
+Driven from his house, solicits her revenge;
+And Dolabella, who was once his friend,
+Upon some private grudge, now seeks his ruin:
+Yet still war seems on either side to sleep.
+
+_Serap._ 'Tis strange that Antony, for some days past,
+Has not beheld the face of Cleopatra;
+But here, in Isis temple, lives retired,
+And makes his heart a prey to black despair.
+
+_Alex._ 'Tis true; and we much fear he hopes by absence
+To cure his mind of love.
+
+_Serap._ If he be vanquished,
+Or make his peace, Egypt is doomed to be
+A Roman province; and our plenteous harvests
+Must then redeem the scarceness of their soil.
+While Antony stood firm, our Alexandria
+Rivalled proud Rome, (dominion's other seat)
+And Fortune striding, like a vast Colossus,
+Could fix an equal foot of empire here.
+
+_Alex._ Had I my wish, these tyrants of all nature,
+Who lord it o'er mankind, should perish,--perish,
+Each by the other's sword; but, since our will
+Is lamely followed by our power, we must
+Depend on one; with him to rise or fall.
+
+_Serap._ How stands the queen affected?
+
+_Alex._ O she dotes,
+She dotes, Serapion, on this vanquished man,
+And winds herself about his mighty ruins;
+Whom would she yet forsake, yet yield him up,
+This hunted prey, to his pursuer's hands,
+She might preserve us all: but 'tis in vain--
+This changes my designs, this blasts my counsels,
+And makes me use all means to keep him here,
+Whom I could wish divided from her arms,
+Far as the earth's deep centre. Well, you know
+The state of things; no more of your ill omens
+And black prognostics; labour to confirm
+The people's hearts.
+
+  _Enter_ VENTIDIUS, _talking aside with a Gentleman of_ ANTONY'S.
+
+_Serap._ These Romans will o'erhear us.
+But, who's that stranger? By his warlike port,
+His fierce demeanour, and erected look,
+He's of no vulgar note.
+
+_Alex._ O 'tis Ventidius,
+Our emperor's great lieutenant in the East,
+Who first showed Rome that Parthia could be conquered.
+When Antony returned from Syria last,
+He left this man to guard the Roman frontiers.
+
+_Serap._ You seem to know him well.
+
+_Alex._ Too well. I saw him in Cilicia first,
+When Cleopatra there met Antony:
+A mortal foe he was to us, and Egypt.
+But,--let me witness to the worth I hate,--
+A braver Roman never drew a sword;
+Firm to his prince, but as a friend, not slave.
+He ne'er was of his pleasures; but presides
+O'er all his cooler hours, and morning counsels:
+In short, the plainness, fierceness, rugged virtue,
+Of an old true-stampt Roman lives in him.
+His coming bodes I know not what of ill
+To our affairs. Withdraw, to mark him better;
+And I'll acquaint you why I sought you here,
+And what's our present work.
+                        [_They withdraw to a corner of the stage; and_
+                         VENTIDIUS, _with the other, comes forward to
+                         the front._
+
+_Vent._ Not see him, say you?
+I say, I must, and will.
+
+_Gent._ He has commanded,
+On pain of death, none should approach his presence.
+
+_Vent._ I bring him news will raise his drooping spirits,
+Give him new life.
+
+_Gent._ He sees not Cleopatra.
+
+_Vent._ Would he had never seen her!
+
+_Gent._ He eats not, drinks not, sleeps not, has no use
+Of any thing, but thought; or, if he talks,
+'Tis to himself, and then 'tis perfect raving:
+Then he defies the world, and bids it pass;
+Sometimes he gnaws his lip, and curses loud
+The boy Octavius; then he draws his mouth
+Into a scornful smile, and cries,--"Take all,
+The world's not worth my care."
+
+_Vent._ Just, just his nature.
+Virtue's his path; but sometimes 'tis too narrow
+For his vast soul; and then he starts out wide,
+And bounds into a vice, that bears him far
+From his first course, and plunges him in ills:
+But, when his danger makes him find his fault,
+Quick to observe, and full of sharp remorse,
+He censures eagerly his own misdeeds,
+Judging himself with malice to himself,
+And not forgiving what as man he did,
+Because his other parts are more than man.--
+He must not thus be lost.      [ALEXAS _and the Priests come forward._
+
+_Alex._ You have your full instructions, now advance;
+Proclaim your orders loudly.
+
+_Serap._ Romans, Egyptians, hear the queen's command.
+Thus Cleopatra bids: Let labour cease;
+To pomp and triumphs give this happy day,
+That gave the world a lord: 'tis Antony's.
+Live, Antony; and Cleopatra live!
+Be this the general voice sent up to heaven,
+And every public place repeat this echo.
+
+_Vent._ Fine pageantry!                                      [_Aside._
+
+_Serap._ Set before your doors
+The images of all your sleeping fathers,
+With laurels crowned; with laurels wreath your posts,
+And strew with flowers the pavement; let the priests
+Do present sacrifice; pour out the wine,
+And call the gods to join with you in gladness.
+
+_Vent._ Curse on the tongue that bids this general joy!
+Can they be friends of Antony, who revel
+When Antony's in danger? Hide, for shame,
+You Romans, your great grandsires' images,
+For fear their souls should animate their marbles,
+To blush at their degenerate progeny.
+
+_Alex._ A love, which knows no bounds to Antony,
+Would mark the day with honours, when all heaven
+Laboured for him, when each propitious star
+Stood wakeful in his orb, to watch that hour,
+And shed his better influence. Her own birth-day
+Our queen neglected, like a vulgar fate,
+That passed obscurely by.
+
+_Vent._ Would it had slept,
+Divided far from his; till some remote
+And future age had called it out, to ruin
+Some other prince, not him!
+
+_Alex._ Your emperor,
+Though grown unkind, would be more gentle, than
+To upbraid my queen for loving him too well.
+
+_Vent._ Does the mute sacrifice upbraid the priest?
+He knows him not his executioner.
+O, she has decked his ruin with her love,
+Led him in golden bands to gaudy slaughter,
+And made perdition pleasing: She has left him
+The blank of what he was;
+I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmanned him:
+Can any Roman see, and know him now,
+Thus altered from the lord of half mankind,
+Unbent, unsinewed, made a woman's toy,
+Shrunk from the vast extent of all his honours,
+And crampt within a corner of the world?
+O, Antony!
+Thou bravest soldier, and thou best of friends!
+Bounteous as nature; next to nature's God!
+Couldst thou but make new worlds, so wouldst thou give them,
+As bounty were thy being: rough in battle,
+As the first Romans, when they went to war;
+Yet, after victory, more pitiful
+Than all their praying virgins left at home!
+
+_Alex._ Would you could add, to those more shining virtues,
+His truth to her who loves him.
+
+_Vent._ Would I could not!
+But wherefore waste I precious hours with thee?
+Thou art her darling mischief, her chief engine,
+Antony's other fate. Go, tell thy queen,
+Ventidius is arrived, to end her charms.
+Let your Egyptian timbrels play alone,
+Nor mix effeminate sounds with Roman trumpets.
+You dare not fight for Antony; go pray,
+And keep your coward's holiday in temples.      [_Exeunt_ ALEX. SERAP.
+
+  _Re-enter the Gentleman of_ M. ANTONY.
+
+_2 Gent._ The emperor approaches, and commands,
+On pain of death, that none presume to stay.
+
+_1 Gent._ I dare not disobey him.         [_Going out with the other._
+
+_Vent._ Well, I dare.
+But I'll observe him first unseen, and find
+Which way his humour drives: the rest I'll venture.      [_Withdraws._
+
+  _Enter_ ANTONY, _walking with a disturbed motion before he speaks._
+
+_Ant._ They tell me, 'tis my birth-day, and I'll keep it
+With double pomp of sadness.
+'Tis what the day deserves, which gave me breath.
+Why was I raised the meteor of the world,
+Hung in the skies, and blazing as I travelled,
+Till all my fires were spent; and then cast downward,
+To be trod out by Cæsar?
+
+_Vent._ [_Aside._] On my soul,
+'Tis mournful, wondrous mournful!
+
+_Ant._ Count thy gains.
+Now, Antony, wouldst thou be born for this!
+Glutton of fortune, thy devouring youth
+Has starved thy wanting age.
+
+_Vent._ How sorrow shakes him!                               [_Aside._
+So, now the tempest tears him up by the roots,
+And on the ground extends the noble ruin.
+                                   [ANT. _having thrown himself down._
+Lie there, thou shadow of an emperor;
+The place, thou pressest on thy mother earth,
+Is all thy empire now: now it contains thee;
+Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large.
+When thou'rt contracted in thy narrow urn,
+Shrunk to a few cold ashes; then Octavia,
+(For Cleopatra will not live to see it)
+Octavia then will have thee all her own,
+And bear thee in her widowed hand to Cæsar;
+Cæsar will weep, the crocodile will weep,
+To see his rival of the universe
+Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more on't.
+
+_Ant._ Give me some music; look that it be sad:
+I'll sooth my melancholy, till I swell,
+And burst myself with sighing.--                        [_Soft music._
+'Tis somewhat to my humour: stay, I fancy
+I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature;
+Of all forsaken, and forsaking all;
+Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene,
+Stretched at my length beneath some blasted oak,
+I lean my head upon the mossy bark,
+And look just of a piece as I grew from it;
+My uncombed locks, matted like misletoe,
+Hang o'er my hoary face; a murm'ring brook
+Runs at my foot.
+
+_Vent._ Methinks, I fancy
+Myself there too.
+
+_Ant._ The herd come jumping by me,
+And, fearless, quench their thirst, while I look on,
+And take me for their fellow-citizen.
+More of this image, more; it lulls my thoughts.   [_Soft music again._
+
+_Vent._ I must disturb him; I can hold no longer.
+                                                 [_Stands before him._
+
+_Ant._ [_Starting up._] Art thou Ventidius?
+
+_Vent._ Are you Antony?
+I'm liker what I was, than you to him
+I left you last.
+
+_Ant._ I'm angry.
+
+_Vent._ So am I.
+
+_Ant._ I would be private: leave me.
+
+_Vent._ Sir, I love you,
+And therefore will not leave you.
+
+_Ant._ Will not leave me!
+Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I?
+
+_Vent._ My emperor; the man I love next heaven:
+If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin:
+You're all that's good, and godlike.
+
+_Ant._ All that's wretched.
+You will not leave me then?
+
+_Vent._ 'Twas too presuming
+To say I would not; but I dare not leave you:
+And, 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence
+So soon, when I so far have come to see you.
+
+_Ant._ Now thou hast seen me, art thou satified?
+For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough;
+And, if a foe, too much.
+
+_Vent._ Look, emperor, this is no common dew,              [_Weeping._
+I have not wept this forty years; but now
+My mother comes afresh into my eyes;
+I cannot help her softness.
+
+_Ant._ By heaven, he weeps! poor good old man, he weeps!
+The big round drops course one another down
+The furrows of his cheeks.--Stop them, Ventidius,
+Or I shall blush to death: they set my shame,
+That caused them, full before me.
+
+_Vent._ I'll do my best.
+
+_Ant._ Sure there's contagion in the tears of friends:
+See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not
+For my own griefs, but thine.--Nay, father!
+
+_Vent._ Emperor.
+
+_Ant._ Emperor! Why, that's the style of victory;
+The conqu'ring soldier, red with unfelt wounds,
+Salutes his general so: but never more
+Shall that sound reach my ears.
+
+_Vent._ I warrant you.
+
+_Ant._ Actium, Actium! Oh!--
+
+_Vent._ It sits too near you.
+
+_Ant._ Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by day,
+And, in my short, distracted, nightly slumbers,
+The hag that rides my dreams.--
+
+_Vent._ Out with it; give it vent.
+
+_Ant._ Urge not my shame.
+I lost a battle,--
+
+_Vent._ So has Julius done.
+
+_Ant._ Thou favour'st me, and speak'st not half thou think'st;
+For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly:
+But Antony--
+
+_Vent._ Nay, stop not.
+
+_Ant._ Antony,--
+Well, thou wilt have it,--like a coward, fled,
+Fled while his soldiers fought; fled first, Ventidius.
+Thou long'st to curse me, and I give thee leave.
+I know thou cam'st prepared to rail.
+
+_Vent._ I did.
+
+_Ant._ I'll help thee.--I have been a man, Ventidius.
+
+_Vent._ Yes, and a brave one; but--
+
+_Ant._ I know thy meaning.
+But I have lost my reason, have disgraced
+The name of soldier, with inglorious ease.
+In the full vintage of my flowing honours,
+Sat still, and saw it prest by other hands.
+Fortune came smiling to my youth, and wooed it,
+And purple greatness met my ripened years.
+When first I came to empire, I was borne
+On tides of people, crowding to my triumphs;
+The wish of nations, and the willing world
+Received me as its pledge of future peace;
+I was so great, so happy, so beloved,
+Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains,
+And worked against my fortune, chid her from me,
+And turned her loose; yet still she came again.
+My careless days, and my luxurious nights,
+At length have wearied her, and now she's gone,
+Gone, gone, divorced for ever. Help me, soldier,
+To curse this madman, this industrious fool,
+Who laboured to be wretched: Pr'ythee curse me.
+
+_Vent._ No.
+
+_Ant._ Why?
+
+_Vent._ You are too sensible already
+Of what you've done, too conscious of your failings;
+And, like a scorpion, whipt by others first
+To fury, sting yourself in mad revenge.
+I would bring balm, and pour it in your wounds,
+Cure your distempered mind, and heal your fortunes.
+
+_Ant._ I know thou would'st.
+
+_Vent._ I will.
+
+_Ant._ Ha, ha, ha, ha!
+
+_Vent._ You laugh.
+
+_Ant._ I do, to see officious love
+Give cordials to the dead.
+
+_Vent._ You would be lost then?
+
+_Ant._ I am.
+
+_Vent._ I say you are not. Try your fortune.
+
+_Ant._ I have, to the utmost. Dost thou think me desperate,
+Without just cause? No, when I found all lost
+Beyond repair, I hid me from the world,
+And learnt to scorn it here; which now I do
+So heartily, I think it is not worth
+The cost of keeping.
+
+_Vent._ Cæsar thinks not so:
+He'll thank you for the gift he could not take.
+You would be killed like Tully, would you? do,
+Hold out your throat to Cæsar, and die tamely.
+
+_Ant._ No, I can kill myself; and so resolve.
+
+_Vent._ I can die with you too, when time shall serve;
+But fortune calls upon us now to live,
+To fight, to conquer.
+
+_Ant._ Sure thou dream'st, Ventidius.
+
+_Vent._ No; 'tis you dream; you sleep away your hours
+In desperate sloth, miscalled philosophy.
+Up, up, for honour's sake; twelve legions wait you,
+And long to call you chief: By painful journeys,
+I led them, patient both of heat and hunger,
+Down from the Parthian marches to the Nile.
+'Twill do you good to see their sun-burnt faces,
+Their scarred cheeks, and chopt hands: there's virtue in them.
+They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates
+Than yon trim bands can buy.
+
+_Ant._ Where left you them?
+
+_Vent._ I said in Lower Syria.
+
+_Ant._ Bring them hither;
+There may be life in these.
+
+_Vent._ They will not come.
+
+_Ant._ Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids,
+To double my despair? They're mutinous.
+
+_Vent._ Most firm and loyal.
+
+_Ant._ Yet they will not march
+To succour me. Oh trifler!
+
+_Vent._ They petition
+You would make haste to head them.
+
+_Ant._ I'm besieged.
+
+_Vent._ There's but one way shut up: How came I hither?
+
+_Ant._ I will not stir.
+
+_Vent._ They would perhaps desire
+A better reason.
+
+_Ant._ I have never used
+My soldiers to demand a reason of
+My actions. Why did they refuse to march?
+
+_Vent._ They said they would not fight for Cleopatra.
+
+_Ant._ What was't they said?
+
+_Vent._ They said they would not fight for Cleopatra.
+Why should they fight indeed, to make her conquer,
+And make you more a slave? to gain you kingdoms,
+Which, for a kiss, at your next midnight feast,
+You'll sell to her? Then she new-names her jewels,
+And calls this diamond such or such a tax;
+Each pendant in her ear shall be a province.
+
+_Ant._ Ventidius, I allow your tongue free licence
+On all my other faults; but, on your life,
+No word of Cleopatra: she deserves
+More worlds than I can lose.
+
+_Vent._ Behold, you Powers,
+To whom you have entrusted human kind!
+See Europe, Afric, Asia, put in balance,
+And all weighed down by one light, worthless woman!
+I think the Gods are Antonies, and give,
+Like prodigals, this nether world away
+To none but wasteful hands.
+
+_Ant._ You grow presumptuous.
+
+_Vent._ I take the privilege of plain love to speak.
+
+_Ant._ Plain love! plain arrogance, plain insolence!
+Thy men are cowards; thou, an envious traitor;
+Who, under seeming honesty, hast vented
+The burden of thy rank o'erflowing gall.
+O that thou wert my equal; great in arms
+As the first Cæsar was, that I might kill thee
+Without a stain to honour!
+
+_Vent._ You may kill me;
+You have done more already,--called me traitor.
+
+_Ant._ Art thou not one?
+
+_Vent._ For showing you yourself,
+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 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 me? 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._ O, 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.                     [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT II. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, IRAS, _and_ ALEXAS.
+
+_Cleo._ What shall I do, or whither shall I turn?
+Ventidius has o'ercome, and he will go.
+
+_Alex._ He goes to fight for you.
+
+_Cleo._ Then he would see me, ere he went to fight:
+Flatter me not: If once he goes, he's lost,
+And all my hopes destroyed.
+
+_Alex._ Does this weak passion
+Become a mighty queen?
+
+_Cleo._ I am no queen:
+Is this to be a queen, to be besieged
+By yon insulting Roman, and to wait
+Each hour the victor's chain? These ills are small;
+For Antony is lost, and I can mourn
+For nothing else but him. Now come, Octavius,
+I have no more to lose; prepare thy bands;
+I'm fit to be a captive: Antony
+Has taught my mind the fortune of a slave.
+
+_Iras._ Call reason to assist you.
+
+_Cleo._ I have none,
+And none would have: My love's a noble madness,
+Which shows the cause deserved it. Moderate sorrow
+Fits vulgar love, and for a vulgar man:
+But I have loved with such transcendent passion,
+I soared, at first, quite out of reason's view,
+And now am lost above it. No, I'm proud
+'Tis thus: Would Antony could see me now!
+Think you he would not sigh, though he must leave me?
+Sure he would sigh; for he is noble-natured,
+And bears a tender heart: I know him well.
+Ah, no, I know him not; I knew him once,
+But now 'tis past.
+
+_Iras._ Let it be past with you:
+Forget him, madam.
+
+_Cleo._ Never, never, Iras.
+He once was mine; and once, though now 'tis gone,
+Leaves a faint image of possession still.
+
+_Alex._ Think him inconstant, cruel, and ungrateful.
+
+_Cleo._ I cannot: If I could, those thoughts were vain.
+Faithless, ungrateful, cruel, though he be,
+I still must love him.
+
+  _Enter_ CHARMION.
+
+Now, what news, my Charmion?
+Will he be kind? and will he not forsake me?
+Am I to live, or die? nay, do I live?
+Or am I dead? for when he gave his answer,
+Fate took the word, and then I lived or died.
+
+_Char._ I found him, madam--
+
+_Cleo._ A long speech preparing?
+If thou bring'st comfort, haste, and give it me,
+For never was more need.
+
+_Iras._ I know he loves you.
+
+_Cleo._ Had he been kind, her eyes had told me so,
+Before her tongue could speak it: Now she studies,
+To soften what he said; but give me death,
+Just as he sent it, Charmion, undisguised,
+And in the words he spoke.
+
+_Char._ I found him, then,
+Encompassed round, I think, with iron statues;
+So mute, so motionless his soldiers stood,
+While awfully he cast his eyes about,
+And every leader's hopes or fears surveyed:
+Methought he looked resolved, and yet not pleased.
+When he beheld me struggling in the crowd,
+He blushed, and bade make way.
+
+_Alex._ There's comfort yet.
+
+_Char._ Ventidius fixed his eyes upon my passage,
+Severely, as he meant to frown me back,
+And sullenly gave place: I told my message,
+Just as you gave it, broken and disordered;
+I numbered in it all your sighs and tears,
+And while I moved your pitiful request,
+That you but only begged a last farewell,
+He fetched an inward groan; and every time
+I named you, sighed, as if his heart were breaking.
+But, shunned my eyes, and guiltily looked down:
+He seemed not now that awful Antony,
+Who shook an armed assembly with his nod;
+But, making show as he would rub his eyes,
+Disguised and blotted out a falling tear.
+
+_Cleo._ Did he then weep? And was I worth a tear?
+If what thou hast to say be not as pleasing,
+Tell me no more, but let me die contented.
+
+_Char._ He bid me say,--He knew himself so well,
+He could deny you nothing, if he saw you;
+And therefore--
+
+_Cleo._ Thou wouldst say, he would not see me?
+
+_Char._ And therefore begged you not to use a power,
+Which he could ill resist; yet he should ever
+Respect you, as he ought.
+
+_Cleo._ Is that a word
+For Antony to use to Cleopatra?
+Oh that faint word, _respect_! how I disdain it!
+Disdain myself, for loving after it!
+He should have kept that word for cold Octavia.
+Respect is for a wife: Am I that thing,
+That dull insipid lump, without desires,
+And without power to give them?
+
+_Alex._ You misjudge;
+You see through love, and that deludes your sight;
+As, what is straight, seems crooked through the water:
+But I, who bear my reason undisturbed,
+Can see this Antony, this dreaded man,
+A fearful slave, who fain would run away,
+And shuns his master's eyes: If you pursue him,
+My life on't, he still drags a chain along,
+That needs must clog his flight.
+
+_Cleo._ Could I believe thee!--
+
+_Alex._ By every circumstance I know he loves.
+True, he's hard prest, by interest and by honour;
+Yet he but doubts, and parleys, and casts out
+Many a long look for succour.
+
+_Cleo._ He sends word,
+He fears to see my face.
+
+_Alex._ And would you more?
+He shows his weakness, who declines the combat,
+And you must urge your fortune. Could he speak
+More plainly? To my ears, the message sounds--
+Come to my rescue, Cleopatra, come;
+Come, free me from Ventidius; from my tyrant:
+See me, and give me a pretence to leave him!--
+I hear his trumpets. This way he must pass.
+Please you, retire a while; I'll work him first,
+That he may bend more easy.
+
+_Cleo._ You shall rule me;
+But all, I fear, in vain.               [_Exit with_ CHAR. _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Alex._ I fear so too;
+Though I concealed my thoughts, to make her bold;
+But 'tis our utmost means, and fate befriend it!         [_Withdraws._
+
+  _Enter Lictors with Fasces; one bearing the Eagle; then enter_
+  ANTONY _with_ VENTIDIUS, _followed by other Commanders._
+
+_Ant._ Octavius is the minion of blind chance,
+But holds from virtue nothing.
+
+_Vent._ Has he courage?
+
+_Ant._ But just enough to season him from coward.
+O, 'tis the coldest youth upon a charge,
+The most deliberate fighter! if he ventures,
+(As in Illyria once, they say, he did,
+To storm a town) 'tis when he cannot chuse;
+When all the world have fixt their eyes upon him;
+And then he lives on that for seven years after;
+But, at a close revenge he never fails.
+
+_Vent._ I heard you challenged him.
+
+_Ant._ I did, Ventidius.
+What think'st thou was his answer? 'Twas so tame!--
+He said, he had more ways than one to die;
+I had not.
+
+_Vent._ Poor!
+
+_Ant._ He has more ways than one;
+But he would chuse them all before that one.
+
+_Vent._ He first would chuse an ague, or a fever.
+
+_Ant._ No; it must be an ague, not a fever;
+He has not warmth enough to die by that.
+
+_Vent._ Or old age and a bed.
+
+_Ant._ Ay, there's his choice.
+He would live, like a lamp, to the last wink,
+And crawl upon the utmost verge of life.
+O, Hercules! Why should a man like this,
+Who dares not trust his fate for one great action,
+Be all the care of heaven? Why should he lord it
+O'er fourscore thousand men, of whom each one
+Is braver than himself?
+
+_Vent._ You conquered for him:
+Philippi knows it; there you shared with him
+That empire, which your sword made all your own.
+
+_Ant._ Fool that I was, upon my eagle's wings
+I bore this wren, 'till I was tired with soaring,
+And now he mounts above me[1].
+Good heavens, is this,--is this the man who braves me?
+Who bids my age make way? Drives me before him,
+To the world's ridge, and sweeps me off like rubbish?
+
+_Vent._ Sir, we lose time; the troops are mounted all.
+
+_Ant._ Then give the word to march:
+I long to leave this prison of a town,
+To join thy legions; and, in open field,
+Once more to show my face. Lead, my deliverer.
+
+  _Enter_ ALEXAS.
+
+_Alex._ Great emperor,
+In mighty arms renowned above mankind,
+But, in soft pity to the opprest, a god;
+This message sends the mournful Cleopatra
+To her departing lord.
+
+_Vent._ Smooth sycophant!
+
+_Alex._ A thousand wishes, and ten thousand prayers,
+Millions of blessings wait you to the wars;
+Millions of sighs and tears she sends you too,
+And would have sent
+As many dear embraces to your arms,
+As many parting kisses to your lips;
+But those, she fears, have wearied you already.
+
+_Vent._ [_Aside._] False crocodile!
+
+_Alex._ And yet she begs not now, you would not leave her;
+That were a wish too mighty for her hopes,
+Too presuming for her low fortune, and your ebbing love;
+That were a wish for her more prosperous days,
+Her blooming beauty, and your growing kindness.
+
+_Ant._ [_Aside._] Well, I must man it out:--What would the queen?
+
+_Alex._ First, to these noble warriors, who attend
+Your daring courage in the chase of fame,--
+Too daring, and too dangerous for her quiet,--
+She humbly recommends all she holds dear,
+All her own cares and fears,--the care of you.
+
+_Vent._ Yes, witness Actium.
+
+_Ant._ Let him speak, Ventidius.
+
+_Alex._ You, when his matchless valour bears him forward,
+With ardour too heroic, on his foes,
+Fall down, as she would do, before his feet;
+Lie in his way, and stop the paths of death;
+Tell him, this god is not invulnerable;
+That absent Cleopatra bleeds in him;
+And, that you may remember her petition,
+She begs you wear these trifles, as a pawn,
+Which, at your wisht return, she will redeem
+                                    [_Gives jewels to the Commanders._
+With all the wealth of Egypt:
+This to the great Ventidius she presents,
+Whom she can never count her enemy,
+Because he loves her lord.
+
+_Vent._ Tell her, I'll none on't;
+I'm not ashamed of honest poverty;
+Not all the diamonds of the east can bribe
+Ventidius from his faith. I hope to see
+These, and the rest of all her sparkling store,
+Where they shall more deservingly be placed.
+
+_Ant._ And who must wear them then?
+
+_Vent._ The wronged Octavia.
+
+_Ant._ You might have spared that word.
+
+_Vent._ And he that bribe.
+
+_Ant._ But have I no remembrance?
+
+_Alex._ Yes, a dear one;
+Your slave, the queen--
+
+_Ant._ My mistress.
+
+_Alex._ Then your mistress;
+Your mistress would, she says, have sent her soul,
+But that you had long since; she humbly begs
+This ruby bracelet, set with bleeding hearts,
+The emblems of her own, may bind your arm.   [_Presenting a bracelet._
+
+_Vent._ Now, my best lord,--in honour's name, I ask you,
+For manhood's sake, and for your own dear safety,--
+Touch not these poisoned gifts,
+Infected by the sender; touch them not;
+Myriads of bluest plagues lie underneath them,
+And more than aconite has dipt the silk.
+
+_Ant._ Nay, now you grow too cynical, Ventidius:
+A lady's favours may be worn with honour.
+What, to refuse her bracelet! on my soul,
+When I lie pensive in my tent alone,
+'Twill pass the wakeful hours of winter nights,
+To tell these pretty beads upon my arm,
+To count for every one a soft embrace,
+A melting kiss at such and such a time;
+And now and then the fury of her love,
+When--And what harm's in this?
+
+_Alex._ None, none, my lord,
+But what's to her, that now 'tis past for ever.
+
+_Ant._ [_Going to tie it._]
+We soldiers are so awkward--help me tie it.
+
+_Alex._ In faith, my lord, we courtiers too are awkward
+In these affairs: so are all men indeed:
+Even I, who am not one. But shall I speak?
+
+_Ant._ Yes, freely.
+
+_Alex._ Then, my lord, fair hands alone
+Are fit to tie it; she, who sent it, can.
+
+_Vent._ Hell, death! this eunuch pandar ruins you.
+You will not see her?   [ALEXAS _whispers an Attendant, who goes out._
+
+_Ant._ But to take my leave.
+
+_Vent._ Then I have washed an Æthiop. You're undone;
+You're in the toils; you're taken; you're destroyed:
+Her eyes do Cæsar's work.
+
+_Ant._ You fear too soon.
+I'm constant to myself: I know my strength;
+And yet she shall not think me barbarous neither,
+Born in the depths of Afric: I'm a Roman,
+Bred to the rules of soft humanity.
+A guest, and kindly used, should bid farewell.
+
+_Vent._ You do not know
+How weak you are to her, how much an infant;
+You are not proof against a smile, or glance;
+A sigh will quite disarm you.
+
+_Ant._ See, she comes!
+Now you shall find your error.--Gods, I thank you:
+I formed the danger greater than it was,
+And now 'tis near, 'tis lessened.
+
+_Vent._ Mark the end yet.
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Ant._ Well, madam, we are met.
+
+_Cleo._ Is this a meeting?
+Then, we must part?
+
+_Ant._ We must.
+
+_Cleo._ Who says we must?
+
+_Ant._ Our own hard fates.
+
+_Cleo._ We make those fates ourselves.
+
+_Ant._ Yes, we have made them; we have loved each other
+In our mutual ruin.
+
+_Cleo._ The gods have seen my joys with envious eyes;
+I have no friends in heaven; and all the world,
+As 'twere the business of mankind to part us,
+Is armed against my love: even you yourself
+Join with the rest; you, you are armed against me.
+
+_Ant._ I will be justified in all I do
+To late posterity, and therefore hear me.
+If I mix a lie
+With any truth, reproach me freely with it;
+Else, favour me with silence.
+
+_Cleo._ You command me,
+And I am dumb.
+
+_Vent._ I like this well: he shews authority.
+
+_Ant._ That I derive my ruin
+From you alone--
+
+_Cleo._ O heavens! I ruin you!
+
+_Ant._ You promised me your silence, and you break it
+Ere I have scarce begun.
+
+_Cleo._ Well, I obey you.
+
+_Ant._ When I beheld you first, it was in Egypt.
+Ere Cæsar saw your eyes, you gave me love,
+And were too young to know it; that I settled
+Your father in his throne, was for your sake;
+I left the acknowledgment for time to ripen.
+Cæsar stept in, and, with a greedy hand,
+Plucked the green fruit, ere the first blush of red,
+Yet cleaving to the bough. He was my lord,
+And was, beside, too great for me to rival;
+But, I deserved you first, though he enjoyed you.
+When, after, I beheld you in Cilicia,
+An enemy to Rome, I pardoned you.
+
+_Cleo._ I cleared myself--
+
+_Ant._ Again you break your promise.
+I loved you still, and took your weak excuses,
+Took you into my bosom, stained by Cæsar,
+And not half mine: I went to Egypt with you,
+And hid me from the business of the world,
+Shut out enquiring nations from my sight,
+To give whole years to you.
+
+_Vent._ Yes, to your shame be't spoken.                      [_Aside._
+
+_Ant._ How I loved,
+Witness, ye days and nights, and all ye hours,
+That danced away with down upon your feet,
+As all your business were to count my passion!
+One day past by, and nothing saw but love;
+Another came, and still 'twas only love:
+The suns were wearied out with looking on,
+And I untired with loving.
+I saw you every day, and all the day;
+And every day was still but as the first,
+So eager was I still to see you more.
+
+_Vent._ 'Tis all too true.
+
+_Ant._ Fulvia, my wife, grew jealous,
+As she indeed had reason; raised a war
+In Italy, to call me back.
+
+_Vent._ But yet
+You went not.
+
+_Ant._ While within your arms I lay,
+The world fell mouldering from my hands each hour,
+And left me scarce a grasp--I thank your love for't.
+
+_Vent._ Well pushed: that last was home.
+
+_Cleo._ Yet may I speak?
+
+_Ant._ If I have urged a falsehood, yes; else, not.
+Your silence says, I have not. Fulvia died;
+(Pardon, you gods, with my unkindness died.)
+To set the world at peace, I took Octavia,
+This Cæsar's sister; in her pride of youth,
+And flower of beauty, did I wed that lady,
+Whom blushing I must praise, because I left her.
+You called; my love obeyed the fatal summons:
+This raised the Roman arms; the cause was yours.
+I would have fought by land, where I was stronger;
+You hindered it: yet, when I fought at sea,
+Forsook me fighting; and (Oh stain to honour!
+Oh lasting shame!) I knew not that I fled;
+But fled to follow you.
+
+_Vent._ What haste she made to hoist her purple sails!
+And, to appear magnificent in flight,
+Drew half our strength away.
+
+_Ant._ All this you caused.
+And, would you multiply more ruins on me?
+This honest man, my best, my only friend,
+Has gathered up the shipwreck of my fortunes;
+Twelve legions I have left, my last recruits,
+And you have watched the news, and bring your eyes
+To seize them too. If you have aught to answer,
+Now speak, you have free leave.
+
+_Alex._ [_Aside._] She stands confounded:
+Despair is in her eyes.
+
+_Vent._ Now lay a sigh in the way to stop his passage:
+Prepare a tear, and bid it for his legions;
+'Tis like they shall be sold.
+
+_Cleo._ How shall I plead my cause, when you, my judge,
+Already have condemned me? shall I bring
+The love you bore me for my advocate?
+That now is turned against me, that destroys me;
+For love, once past, is, at the best, forgotten;
+But oftener sours to hate: 'twill please my lord
+To ruin me, and therefore I'll be guilty.
+But, could I once have thought it would have pleased you,
+That you would pry, with narrow searching eyes
+Into my faults, severe to my destruction,
+And watching all advantages with care,
+That serve to make me wretched? Speak, my lord,
+For I end here. Though I deserve this usage,
+Was it like you to give it?
+
+_Ant._ O you wrong me,
+To think I sought this parting, or desired
+To accuse you more than what will clear myself,
+And justify this breach.
+
+_Cleo._ Thus low I thank you;
+And, since my innocence will not offend,
+I shall not blush to own it.
+
+_Vent._ After this,
+I think she'll blush at nothing.
+
+_Cleo._ You seem grieved,
+(And therein you are kind) that Cæsar first
+Enjoyed my love, though you deserved it better:
+I grieve for that, my lord, much more than you;
+For, had I first been yours, it would have saved
+My second choice: I never had been his,
+And ne'er had been but yours. But Cæsar first,
+You say, possessed my love. Not so, my lord:
+He first possessed my person; you, my love:
+Cæsar loved me; but I loved Antony.
+If I endured him after, 'twas because
+I judged it due to the first name of men;
+And, half constrained, I gave, as to a tyrant,
+What he would take by force.
+
+_Vent._ O Syren! Syren!
+Yet grant that all the love she boasts were true,
+Has she not ruined you? I still urge that,
+The fatal consequence.
+
+_Cleo._ The consequence indeed;
+For I dare challenge him, my greatest foe,
+To say it was designed: 'tis true, I loved you,
+And kept you far from an uneasy wife,--
+Such Fulvia was.
+Yes, but he'll say, you left Octavia for me;--
+And, can you blame me to receive that love,
+Which quitted such desert, for worthless me?
+How often have I wished some other Cæsar,
+Great as the first, and as the second young,
+Would court my love, to be refused for you!
+
+_Vent._ Words, words; but Actium, sir; remember Actium.
+
+_Cleo._ Even there, I dare his malice. True, I counselled
+To fight at sea; but I betrayed you not.
+I fled, but not to the enemy. 'Twas fear;
+Would I had been a man, not to have feared!
+For none would then have envied me your friendship,
+Who envy me your love.
+
+_Ant._ We are both unhappy:
+If nothing else, yet our ill fortune parts us.
+Speak; would you have me perish by my stay?
+
+_Cleo._ If, as a friend, you ask my judgment, go;
+If, as a lover, stay. If you must perish--
+'Tis a hard word--but stay.
+
+_Vent._ See now the effects of her so boasted love!
+She strives to drag you down to ruin with her;
+But, could she 'scape without you, oh how soon
+Would she let go her hold, and haste to shore,
+And never look behind!
+
+_Cleo._ Then judge my love by this.      [_Giving_ ANTONY _a writing._
+Could I have borne
+A life or death, a happiness or woe,
+From yours divided, this had given me means.
+
+_Ant._ By Hercules, the writing of Octavius!
+I know it well: 'tis that proscribing hand,
+Young as it was, that led the way to mine,
+And left me but the second place in murder.--
+See, see, Ventidius! here he offers Egypt,
+And joins all Syria to it, as a present;
+So, in requital, she forsake my fortunes,
+And join her arms with his.
+
+_Cleo._ And yet you leave me!
+You leave me, Antony; and yet I love you,
+Indeed I do: I have refused a kingdom;
+That is a trifle;
+For I could part with life, with any thing,
+But only you. O let me die but with you!
+Is that a hard request?
+
+_Ant._ Next living with you,
+'Tis all that heaven can give.
+
+_Alex._ He melts; we conquer.                                [_Aside._
+
+_Cleo._ No; you shall go: your interest calls you hence;
+Yes; your dear interest pulls too strong, for these
+Weak arms to hold you here.                         [_Takes his hand._
+Go; leave me, soldier;
+(For you're no more a lover:) leave me dying:
+Push me, all pale and panting, from your bosom,
+And, when your march begins, let one run after,
+Breathless almost for joy, and cry--she's dead:
+The soldiers shout; you then, perhaps, may sigh,
+And muster all your Roman gravity:
+Ventidius chides; and strait your brow clears up,
+As I had never been.
+
+_Ant._ Gods, 'tis too much; too much for man to bear.
+
+_Cleo._ What is't for me then,
+A weak forsaken woman, and a lover?--
+Here let me breathe my last: envy me not
+This minute in your arms: I'll die apace,
+As fast as e'er I can; and end your trouble.
+
+_Ant._ Die! rather let me perish; loosened nature
+Leap from its hinges, sink the props of heaven,
+And fall the skies, to crush the nether world!
+My eyes, my soul, my all!--                           [_Embraces her._
+
+_Vent._ And what's this toy,
+In balance with your fortune, honour, fame?
+
+_Ant._ What is't, Ventidius? it out-weighs them all;
+Why, we have more than conquered Cæsar now:
+My queen's not only innocent, but loves me.
+This, this is she, who drags me down to ruin!
+But, could she 'scape without me, with what haste
+Would she let slip her hold, and make to shore,
+And never look behind!
+Down on thy knees, blasphemer as thou art,
+And ask forgiveness of wronged innocence.
+
+_Vent._ I'll rather die, than take it. Will you go?
+
+_Ant._ Go! Whither? Go from all that's excellent!
+Faith, honour, virtue, all good things forbid,
+That I should go from her, who sets my love
+Above the price of kingdoms. Give, you gods,
+Give to your boy, your Cæsar,
+This rattle of a globe to play withal,
+This gewgaw world, and put him cheaply off:
+I'll not be pleased with less than Cleopatra.
+
+_Cleo._ She's wholly yours. My heart's so full of joy,
+That I shall do some wild extravagance
+Of love, in public; and the foolish world,
+Which knows not tenderness, will think me mad.
+
+_Vent._ O women! women! women! all the gods
+Have not such power of doing good to man,
+As you of doing harm.                                         [_Exit._
+
+_Ant._ Our men are armed:--
+Unbar the gate that looks to Cæsar's camp:
+I would revenge the treachery he meant me;
+And long security makes conquest easy.
+I'm eager to return before I go;
+For, all the pleasures I have known beat thick
+On my remembrance.--How I long for night!
+That both the sweets of mutual love may try,
+And triumph once o'er Cæsar ere we die.                     [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT III. SCENE I.
+
+  _At one door, enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, IRAS, _and_ ALEXAS, _a
+  Train of Egyptians: at the other,_ ANTONY _and Romans. The entrance
+  on both sides is prepared by music; the trumpets first sounding on_
+  ANTONY'S _part: then answered by timbrels, &c. on_ CLEOPATRA'S.
+  CHARMION _and_ IRAS _hold a laurel wreath betwixt them. A Dance of
+  Egyptians. After the ceremony,_ CLEOPATRA _crowns_ ANTONY.
+
+_Ant._ I thought how those white arms would fold me in,
+And strain me close, and melt me into love;
+So pleased with that sweet image, I sprung forwards,
+And added all my strength to every blow.
+
+_Cleo._ Come to me, come, my soldier, to my arms!
+You've been too long away from my embraces;
+But, when I have you fast, and all my own,
+With broken murmurs, and with amorous sighs,
+I'll say, you were unkind, and punish you,
+And mark you red with many an eager kiss.
+
+_Ant._ My brighter Venus!
+
+_Cleo._ O my greater Mars!
+
+_Ant._ Thou join'st us well, my love!
+Suppose me come from the Phlegræan plains,
+Where gasping giants lay, cleft by my sword,
+And mountain tops pared off each other blow,
+To bury those I slew. Receive me, goddess!
+Let Cæsar spread his subtile nets; like Vulcan,
+In thy embraces I would be beheld
+By heaven and earth at once;
+And make their envy what they meant their sport.
+Let those, who took us, blush; I would love on,
+With awful state, regardless of their frowns,
+As their superior god.
+There's no satiety of love in thee:
+Enjoyed, thou still art new; perpetual spring
+Is in thy arms; the ripened fruit but falls,
+And blossoms rise to fill its empty place;
+And I grow rich by giving.
+
+  _Enter_ VENTIDIUS, _and stands apart._
+
+_Alex._ O, now the danger's past, your general comes!
+He joins not in your joys, nor minds your triumphs;
+But, with contracted brows, looks frowning on,
+As envying your success.
+
+_Ant._ Now, on my soul, he loves me; truly loves me:
+He never flattered me in any vice,
+But awes me with his virtue: even this minute,
+Methinks, he has a right of chiding me.
+Lead to the temple: I'll avoid his presence;
+It checks too strong upon me.                      [_Exeunt the rest._
+                      [_As_ ANTONY _is going,_ VENTIDIUS _pulls him by
+                       the robe._
+
+_Vent._ Emperor!
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis the old argument; I pr'ythee, spare me.   [_Looking back._
+
+_Vent._ But this one hearing, emperor.
+
+_Ant._ Let go
+My robe; or, by my father Hercules--
+
+_Vent._ By Hercules' father, that's yet greater,
+I bring you somewhat you would wish to know.
+
+_Ant._ Thou see'st we are observed; attend me here,
+And I'll return.                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Vent._ I am waning in his favour, yet I love him;
+I love this man, who runs to meet his ruin;
+And sure the gods, like me, are fond of him;
+His virtues lie so mingled with his crimes,
+As would confound their choice to punish one,
+And not reward the other.
+
+  _Enter_ ANTONY.
+
+_Ant._ We can conquer,
+You see, without your aid.
+We have dislodged their troops;
+They look on us at distance, and, like curs
+'Scaped from the lion's paws, they bay far off,
+And lick their wounds, and faintly threaten war.
+Five thousand Romans, with their faces upward,
+Lie breathless on the plain.
+
+_Vent._ 'Tis well; and he,
+Who lost them, could have spared ten thousand more.
+Yet if, by this advantage, you could gain
+An easier peace, while Cæsar doubts the chance
+Of arms--
+
+_Ant._ O think not on't, Ventidius!
+The boy pursues my ruin, he'll no peace;
+His malice is considerate in advantage.
+O, he's the coolest murderer! so staunch,
+He kills, and keeps his temper.
+
+_Vent._ Have you no friend
+In all his army, who has power to move him?
+Mecænas, or Agrippa, might do much.
+
+_Ant._ They're both too deep in Cæsar's interests.
+We'll work it out by dint of sword, or perish.
+
+_Vent._ Fain I would find some other.
+
+_Ant._ Thank thy love.
+Some four or five such victories as this
+Will save thy farther pains.
+
+_Vent._ Expect no more; Cæsar is on his guard:
+I know, sir, you have conquered against odds;
+But still you draw supplies from one poor town,
+And of Egyptians: he has all the world,
+And, at his beck, nations come pouring in,
+To fill the gaps you make. Pray, think again.
+
+_Ant._ Why dost thou drive me from myself, to search
+For foreign aids? to hunt my memory,
+And range all o'er a waste and barren place,
+To find a friend? the wretched have no friends.
+Yet I had one, the bravest youth of Rome,
+Whom Cæsar loves beyond the love of women:
+He could resolve his mind, as fire does wax,
+From that hard rugged image melt him down,
+And mould him in what softer form he pleased.
+
+_Vent._ Him would I see; that man, of all the world;
+Just such a one we want.
+
+_Ant._ He loved me too;
+I was his soul; he lived not but in me:
+We were so closed within each others breasts,
+The rivets were not found, that joined us first.
+That does not reach us yet: we were so mixt,
+As meeting streams, both to ourselves were lost;
+We were one mass; we could not give or take,
+But from the same; for he was I, I he.
+
+_Vent._ He moves as I would wish him.                        [_Aside._
+
+_Ant._ After this,
+I need not tell his name;--'twas Dolabella.
+
+_Vent._ He's now in Cæsar's camp.
+
+_Ant._ No matter where,
+Since he's no longer mine. He took unkindly,
+That I forbade him Cleopatra's sight,
+Because I feared he loved her: he confest,
+He had a warmth, which, for my sake, he stifled;
+For 'twere impossible that two, so one,
+Should not have loved the same. When he departed,
+He took no leave; and that confirmed my thoughts.
+
+_Vent._ It argues, that he loved you more than her,
+Else he had staid; but he perceived you jealous,
+And would not grieve his friend: I know he loves you.
+
+_Ant._ I should have seen him, then, ere now.
+
+_Vent._ Perhaps
+He has thus long been labouring for your peace.
+
+_Ant._ Would he were here!
+
+_Vent._ Would you believe he loved you?
+I read your answer in your eyes, you would.
+Not to conceal it longer, he has sent
+A messenger from Cæsar's camp, with letters.
+
+_Ant._ Let him appear.
+
+_Vent._ I'll bring him instantly.
+                   [_Exit_ VENTIDIUS, _and re-enters immediately with_
+                    DOLABELLA.
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis he himself! himself, by holy friendship!
+                                               [_Runs to embrace him._
+Art thou returned at last, my better half?
+Come, give me all myself!
+Let me not live,
+If the young bridegroom, longing for his night,
+Was ever half so fond.
+
+_Dola._ I must be silent, for my soul is busy
+About a noble work: she's new come home,
+Like a long-absent man, and wanders o'er
+Each room, a stranger to her own, to look
+If all be safe.
+
+_Ant._ Thou hast what's left of me;
+For I am now so sunk from what I was,
+Thou find'st me at my lowest water-mark.
+The rivers that ran in, and raised my fortunes,
+Are all dried up, or take another course:
+What I have left is from my native spring;
+I've still a heart that swells, in scorn of fate,
+And lifts me to my banks.
+
+_Dola._ Still you are lord of all the world to me.
+
+_Ant._ Why, then I yet am so; for thou art all.
+If I had any joy when thou wert absent,
+I grudged it to myself; methought I robbed
+Thee of thy part. But, oh, my Dolabella!
+Thou hast beheld me other than I am.
+Hast thou not seen my morning chambers filled
+With sceptered slaves, who waited to salute me?
+With eastern monarchs, who forgot the sun,
+To worship my uprising? menial kings
+Ran coursing up and down my palace-yard,
+Stood silent in my presence, watched my eyes,
+And, at my least command, all started out,
+Like racers to the goal[2].
+
+_Dola._ Slaves to your fortune.
+
+_Ant._ Fortune is Cæsar's now; and what am I?
+
+_Vent._ What you have made yourself; I will not flatter.
+
+_Ant._ Is this friendly done?
+
+_Dola._ Yes; when his end is so, I must join with him;
+Indeed I must, and yet you must not chide:
+Why am I else your friend?
+
+_Ant._ Take heed, young man,
+How thou upbraid'st my love: The queen has eyes,
+And thou too hast a soul. Canst thou remember,
+When, swelled with hatred, thou beheld'st her first
+As accessary to thy brother's death?
+
+_Dola._ Spare my remembrance; 'twas a guilty day,
+And still the blush hangs here.
+
+_Ant._ To clear herself,
+For sending him no aid, she came from Egypt.
+Her galley down the silver Cydnos rowed,
+The tackling silk, the streamers waved with gold;
+The gentle winds were lodged in purple sails:
+Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were placed;
+Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay.
+
+_Dola._ No more: I would not hear it.
+
+_Ant._ O, you must!
+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,
+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.
+Then, Dolabella, where was then thy soul?
+Was not thy fury quite disarmed with wonder?
+Didst thou not shrink behind me from those eyes
+And whisper in my ear,--Oh, tell her not
+That I accused her of my brother's death?
+
+_Dola._ And should my weakness be a plea for yours?
+Mine was an age when love might be excused,
+When kindly warmth, and when my springing youth
+Made it a debt to nature. Yours--
+
+_Vent._ Speak boldly.
+Yours, he would say, in your declining age,
+When no more heat was left but what you forced,
+When all the sap was needful for the trunk,
+When it went down, then you constrained the course,
+And robbed from nature, to supply desire;
+In you (I would not use so harsh a word)
+'Tis but plain dotage.
+
+_Ant._ Ha!
+
+_Dola._ 'Twas urged too home.--
+But yet the loss was private, that I made;
+'Twas but myself I lost: I lost no legions;
+I had no world to lose, no people's love.
+
+_Ant._ This from a friend?
+
+_Dola._ Yes, Antony, a true one;
+A friend so tender, that each word I speak
+Stabs my own heart, before it reach your ear.
+O, judge me not less kind, because I chide!
+To Cæsar I excuse you.
+
+_Ant._ O ye gods!
+Have I then lived to be excused to Cæsar?
+
+_Dola._ As to your equal.
+
+_Ant._ Well, he's but my equal:
+While I wear this, he never shall be more.
+
+_Dola._ I bring conditions from him.
+
+_Ant._ Are they noble?
+Methinks thou shouldst not bring them else; yet he
+Is full of deep dissembling; knows no honour
+Divided from his interest. Fate mistook him;
+For nature meant him for an usurer:
+He's fit indeed to buy, not conquer kingdoms.
+
+_Vent._ Then, granting this,
+What power was theirs, who wrought so hard a temper
+To honourable terms?
+
+_Ant._ It was my Dolabella, or some god.
+
+_Dola._ Not I; nor yet Mecænas, nor Agrippa:
+They were your enemies; and I, a friend,
+Too weak alone; yet 'twas a Roman's deed.
+
+_Ant._ 'Twas like a Roman done: show me that man,
+Who has preserved my life, my love, my honour;
+Let me but see his face.
+
+_Vent._ That task is mine,
+And, heaven, thou know'st how pleasing.                  [_Exit_ VENT.
+
+_Dola._ You'll remember
+To whom you stand obliged?
+
+_Ant._ When I forget it,
+Be thou unkind, and that's my greatest curse.
+My queen shall thank him too.
+
+_Dola._ I fear she will not.
+
+_Ant._ But she shall do it: The queen, my Dolabella!
+Hast thou not still some grudgings of thy fever?
+
+_Dola._ I would not see her lost.
+
+_Ant._ When I forsake her,
+Leave me, my better stars! for she has truth
+Beyond her beauty. Cæsar tempted her,
+At no less price than kingdoms, to betray me;
+But she resisted all: and yet thou chidest me
+For loving her too well. Could I do so?
+
+_Dola._ Yes; there's my reason.
+
+  _Re-enter_ VENTIDIUS, _with_ OCTAVIA, _leading_ ANTONY'S _two little
+  Daughters._
+
+_Ant._ Where?--Octavia there!                        [_Starting back._
+
+_Vent._ What, is she poison to you? a disease?
+Look on her, view her well, and those she brings:
+Are they all strangers to your eyes? has nature
+No secret call, no whisper they are yours?
+
+_Dola._ For shame, my lord, if not for love, receive them
+With kinder eyes. If you confess a man,
+Meet them, embrace them, bid them welcome to you.
+Your arms should open, even without your knowledge,
+To clasp them in; your feet should turn to wings,
+To bear you to them; and your eyes dart out,
+And aim a kiss, ere you could reach the lips.
+
+_Ant._ I stood amazed, to think how they came hither.
+
+_Vent._ I sent for them; I brought them in, unknown.
+To Cleopatra's guards.
+
+_Dola._ Yet, are you cold?
+
+_Octav._ Thus long I have attended for my welcome;
+Which, as a stranger, sure I might expect.
+Who am I?
+
+_Ant._ Cæsar's sister.
+
+_Octav._ That's unkind.
+Had I been nothing more than Cæsar's sister,
+Know, I had still remained in Cæsar's camp:
+But your Octavia, your much injured wife,
+Though banished from your bed, driven from your house,
+In spite of Cæsar's sister, still is yours.
+'Tis true, I have a heart disdains your coldness,
+And prompts me not to seek what you should offer;
+But a wife's virtue still surmounts that pride.
+I come to claim you as my own; to show
+My duty first; to ask, nay beg, your kindness:
+Your hand, my lord; 'tis mine, and I will have it. [_Taking his hand._
+
+_Vent._ Do, take it; thou deserv'st it.
+
+_Dola._ On my soul,
+And so she does: she's neither too submissive,
+Nor yet too haughty; but so just a mean
+Shows, as it ought, a wife and Roman too.
+
+_Ant._ I fear, Octavia, you have begged my life.
+
+_Octav._ Begged it, my lord?
+
+_Ant._ Yes, begged it, my ambassadress;
+Poorly and basely begged it of your brother.
+
+_Octav._ Poorly and basely I could never beg:
+Nor could my brother grant.
+
+_Ant._ Shall I, who, to my kneeling slave, could say,
+Rise up, and be a king; shall I fall down
+And cry,--forgive me, Cæsar! shall I set
+A man, my equal, in the place of Jove,
+As he could give me being? No; that word,
+Forgive, would choke me up,
+And die upon my tongue.
+
+_Dola._ You shall not need it.
+
+_Ant._ I will not need it. Come, you've all betrayed me,--
+My friend too!--to receive some vile conditions.
+My wife has bought me, with her prayers and tears;
+And now I must become her branded slave.
+In every peevish mood, she will upbraid
+The life she gave: if I but look awry,
+She cries,--I'll tell my brother.
+
+_Octav._ My hard fortune
+Subjects me still to your unkind mistakes.
+But the conditions I have brought are such,
+You need not blush to take: I love your honour,
+Because 'tis mine; it never shall be said,
+Octavia's husband was her brother's slave.
+Sir, you are free; free, even from her you loath;
+For, though my brother bargains for your love,
+Makes me the price and cement of your peace,
+I have a soul like yours; I cannot take
+Your love as alms, nor beg what I deserve.
+I'll tell my brother we are reconciled;
+He shall draw back his troops, and you shall march
+To rule the East: I may be dropt at Athens;
+No matter where. I never will complain,
+But only keep the barren name of wife,
+And rid you of the trouble.
+
+_Vent._ Was ever such a strife of sullen honour!          }
+Both scorn to be obliged.                                 }
+                                                          }
+_Dola._ O, she has touched him in the tenderest part;     }
+See how he reddens with despite and shame,                } _Apart._
+To be out-done in generosity!                             }
+                                                          }
+_Vent._ See, how he winks! how he dries up a tear,        }
+That fain would fall!                                     }
+
+_Ant._ Octavia, I have heard you, and must praise
+The greatness of your soul;
+But cannot yield to what you have proposed:
+For I can ne'er be conquered but by love;
+And you do all for duty. You would free me,
+And would be dropt at Athens; was't not so?
+
+_Octav._ It was, my lord.
+
+_Ant._ Then I must be obliged
+To one who loves me not; who, to herself,
+May call me thankless and ungrateful man:--
+I'll not endure it; no.
+
+_Vent._ I am glad it pinches there.                          [_Aside._
+
+_Octav._ Would you triumph o'er poor Octavia's virtue?
+That pride was all I had to bear me up;
+That you might think you owed me for your life,
+And owed it to my duty, not my love.
+I have been injured, and my haughty soul
+Could brook but ill the man, who slights my bed.
+
+_Ant._ Therefore you love me not.
+
+_Octav._ Therefore, my lord,
+I should not love you.
+
+_Ant._ Therefore you would leave me?
+
+_Octav._ And therefore I should leave you--if I could.
+
+_Dola._ Her soul's too great, after such injuries,
+To say she loves; and yet she lets you see it.
+Her modesty and silence plead her cause.
+
+_Ant._ O, Dolabella, which way shall I turn?
+I find a secret yielding in my soul;
+But Cleopatra, who would die with me,
+Must she be left? pity pleads for Octavia;
+But does it not plead more for Cleopatra?
+
+_Vent._ Justice and pity both plead for Octavia;
+For Cleopatra, neither.
+One would be ruined with you; but she first
+Had ruined you: The other, you have ruined,
+And yet she would preserve you.
+In every thing their merits are unequal.
+
+_Ant._ O, my distracted soul!
+
+_Octav._ Sweet heaven compose it!--
+Come, come, my lord, if I can pardon you,
+Methinks you should accept it. Look on these;
+Are they not yours? or stand they thus neglected,
+As they are mine? go to him, children, go;
+Kneel to him, take him by the hand, speak to him;
+For you may speak, and he may own you too,
+Without a blush; and so he cannot all
+His children: go, I say, and pull him to me,
+And pull him to yourselves, from that bad woman.
+You, Agrippina, hang upon his arms;
+And you, Antonia, clasp about his waist:
+If he will shake you off, if he will dash you
+Against the pavement, you must bear it, children;
+For you are mine, and I was born to suffer.
+                                   [_Here the Children go to him, &c._
+
+_Vent._ Was ever sight so moving?--Emperor!
+
+_Dola._ Friend!
+
+_Octav._ Husband!
+
+_Both Child._ Father!
+
+_Ant._ I am vanquished: take me,
+Octavia; take me, children; share me all.           [_Embracing them._
+I've been a thriftless debtor to your loves,
+And run out much, in riot, from your stock;
+But all shall be amended.
+
+_Octav._ O blest hour!
+
+_Dola._ O happy change!
+
+_Vent._ My joy stops at my tongue;
+But it has found two channels here for one,
+And bubbles out above.
+
+_Ant._ [_To_ OCTAV.]
+This is thy triumph; lead me where thou wilt;
+Even to thy brother's camp.
+
+_Octav._ All there are yours.
+
+  _Enter_ ALEXAS _hastily._
+
+_Alex._ The queen, my mistress, sir, and yours--
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis past.--Octavia, you shall stay this night;
+To-morrow, Cæsar and we are one.
+                 [_Ex. leading_ OCTAV. DOL. _and the Children follow._
+
+_Vent._ There's news for you; run, my officious eunuch,
+Be sure to be the first; haste forward:
+Haste, my dear eunuch, haste.                                 [_Exit._
+
+_Alex._ This downright fighting fool, this thick-skulled hero,
+This blunt unthinking instrument of death,
+With plain dull virtue has out-gone my wit.
+Pleasure forsook my earliest infancy;
+The luxury of others robbed my cradle,
+And ravished thence the promise of a man
+Cast out from nature, disinherited
+Of what her meanest children claim by kind,
+Yet greatness kept me from contempt: that's gone:
+Had Cleopatra followed my advice,
+Then he had been betrayed, who now forsakes.
+She dies for love; but she has known its joys:
+Gods, is this just, that I, who know no joys,
+Must die, because she loves?
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, IRAS, _and Train._
+
+Oh, madam, I have seen what blasts my eyes!
+Octavia's here.
+
+_Cleo._ Peace with that raven's note.
+I know it too; and now am in
+The pangs of death.
+
+_Alex._ You are no more a queen;
+Egypt is lost.
+
+_Cleo._ What tell'st thou me of Egypt?
+My life, my soul is lost! Octavia has him!--
+O fatal name to Cleopatra's love!
+My kisses, my embraces now are hers;
+While I--But thou hast seen my rival; speak.
+Does she deserve this blessing? Is she fair?
+Bright as a goddess? and is all perfection
+Confined to her? It is. Poor I was made
+Of that coarse matter, which, when she was finished,
+The gods threw by for rubbish.
+
+_Alex._ She's indeed a very miracle.
+
+_Cleo._ Death to my hopes, a miracle!
+
+_Alex._ A miracle;                                          [_Bowing._
+I mean of goodness; for in beauty, madam,
+You make all wonders cease.
+
+_Cleo._ I was too rash:
+Take this in part of recompense. But, oh,            [_Giving a ring._
+I fear thou flatterest me.
+
+_Char._ She comes! she's here!
+
+_Iras._ Fly, madam, Cæsar's sister!
+
+_Cleo._ Were she the sister of the thunderer Jove,
+And bore her brother's lightning in her eyes,
+Thus would I face my rival.
+
+  _Meets_ OCTAVIA _with_ VENTIDIUS. OCTAVIA _bears up to her. Their
+  Trains come up on either side._
+
+_Octav._ I need not ask if you are Cleopatra;
+Your haughty carriage--
+
+_Cleo._ Shows I am a queen:
+Nor need I ask you, who you are.
+
+_Octav._ A Roman:
+A name, that makes and can unmake a queen.
+
+_Cleo._ Your lord, the man who serves me, is a Roman.
+
+_Octav._ He was a Roman, till he lost that name,
+To be a slave in Egypt; but I come
+To free him thence.
+
+_Cleo._ Peace, peace, my lover's Juno.
+When he grew weary of that household-clog,
+He chose my easier bonds.
+
+_Octav._ I wonder not
+Your bonds are easy; you have long been practised
+In that lascivious art: He's not the first,
+For whom you spread your snares: Let Cæsar witness.
+
+_Cleo._ I loved not Cæsar; 'twas but gratitude
+I paid his love: The worst your malice can,
+Is but to say, the greatest of mankind
+Has been my slave. The next, but far above him
+In my esteem, is he whom law calls yours,
+But whom his love made mine.
+
+_Octav._ I would view nearer                [_Coming up close to her._
+That face, which has so long usurped my right,
+To find the inevitable charms, that catch
+Mankind so sure, that ruined my dear lord.
+
+_Cleo._ O, you do well to search; for had you known
+But half these charms, you had not lost his heart.
+
+_Octav._ Far be their knowledge from a Roman lady,
+Far from a modest wife! Shame of your sex,
+Dost thou not blush, to own those black endearments,
+That make sin pleasing?
+
+_Cleo._ You may blush, who want them.
+If bounteous nature, if indulgent heaven
+Have given me charms to please the bravest man,
+Should I not thank them? should I be ashamed,
+And not be proud? I am, that he has loved me;
+And, when I love not him, heaven change this face
+For one like that.
+
+_Octav._ Thou lov'st him not so well.
+
+_Cleo._ I love him better, and deserve him more.
+
+_Octav._ You do not; cannot: You have been his ruin.
+Who made him cheap at Rome, but Cleopatra?
+Who made him scorned abroad, but Cleopatra?
+At Actium, who betrayed him? Cleopatra.
+Who made his children orphans, and poor me
+A wretched widow? only Cleopatra.
+
+_Cleo._ Yet she, who loves him best, is Cleopatra.
+If you have suffered, I have suffered more.
+You bear the specious title of a wife,
+To gild your cause, and draw the pitying world
+To favour it: the world condemns poor me;
+For I have lost my honour, lost my fame,
+And stained the glory of my royal house,
+And all to bear the branded name of mistress.
+There wants but life, and that too I would lose
+For him I love.
+
+_Octav._ Be't so then; take thy wish.          [_Exit with her Train._
+
+_Cleo._ And 'tis my wish,
+Now he is lost for whom alone I lived.
+My sight grows dim, and every object dances,
+And swims before me, in the maze of death.
+My spirits, while they were opposed, kept up;
+They could not sink beneath a rival's scorn:
+But now she's gone, they faint.
+
+_Alex._ Mine have had leisure
+To recollect their strength, and furnish counsel,
+To ruin her, who else must ruin you.
+
+_Cleo._ Vain promiser!
+Lead me, my Charmion; nay, your hand too, Iras.
+My grief has weight enough to sink you both.
+Conduct me to some solitary chamber,
+And draw the curtains round;
+Then leave me to myself, to take alone
+My fill of grief:
+  There I till death will his unkindness weep;
+  As harmless infants moan themselves asleep.               [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT IV. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ ANTONY _and_ DOLABELLA.
+
+_Dola._ Why would you shift it from yourself, on me?
+Can you not tell her, you must part?
+
+_Ant._ I cannot.
+I could pull out an eye, and bid it go,
+And t'other should not weep. Oh, 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.
+
+_Dola._ Then let Ventidius;
+He's rough by nature.
+
+_Ant._ Oh, he'll speak too harshly;
+He'll kill her with the news: Thou, only thou.
+
+_Dola._ 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.
+
+_Ant._ 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 he as gently made,
+As other loves begin: Wilt thou do this?
+
+_Dola._ What you have said, so sinks into my soul,
+That, if I must speak, I shall speak just so.
+
+_Ant._ 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 Cæsar.--O, be sure
+To think on that.
+
+_Dola._ Fear not, I will remember.
+                     [ANTONY _goes again to the door, and comes back._
+
+_Ant._ 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.
+
+_Dola._ Trust me, I'll not forget it.
+
+_Ant._ 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._
+
+_Dola._ 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._
+
+_Vent._ Alone, and talking to himself? concerned too?
+Perhaps my guess is right; he loved her once,
+And may pursue it still.
+
+_Dola._ 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?
+
+_Vent._ 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._
+
+_Dola._ 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.
+
+_Vent._ If she should love him too! her eunuch there!
+That porc'pisce bodes ill weather. Draw, draw nearer,
+Sweet devil, that I may hear.
+
+_Alex._ 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.
+
+_Cleo._ 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.
+
+_Alex._ '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 woman'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.
+
+_Cleo._ 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.
+
+_Alex._ Force yourself.
+The event will be, your lover will return,
+Doubly desirous to possess the good,
+Which once he feared to lose.
+
+_Cleo._ I must attempt it;
+But oh with what regret!    [_Exit_ ALEX. _She comes up to_ DOLABELLA.
+
+_Vent._ So, now the scene draws near; they're in my reach.
+
+_Cleo._ [_To_ DOL.]
+Discoursing with my women! might not I
+Share in your entertainment?
+
+_Char._ You have been
+The subject of it, madam.
+
+_Cleo._ How! and how?
+
+_Iras._ Such praises of your beauty!
+
+_Cleo._ Mere poetry.
+Your Roman wits, your Gallus and Tibullus,
+Have taught you this from Cytheris and Delia.
+
+_Dola._ 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.
+
+_Cleo._ 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.
+
+_Dola._ No, madam; yet he sent me--
+
+_Cleo._ Well, he sent you--
+
+_Dola._ Of a less pleasing errand.
+
+_Cleo._ How less pleasing?
+Less to yourself, or me?
+
+_Dola._ Madam, to both;
+For you must mourn, and I must grieve to cause it.
+
+_Cleo._ 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.
+
+_Dola._ I wish you would; for 'tis a thankless office,
+To tell ill news: And I, of all your sex,
+Most fear displeasing you.
+
+_Cleo._ Of all your sex,
+I soonest could forgive you, if you should.
+
+_Vent._ Most delicate advances! woman! woman!
+Dear, damned, inconstant sex!
+
+_Cleo._ In the first place,
+I am to be forsaken; is't not so?
+
+_Dola._ I wish I could not answer to that question.
+
+_Cleo._ Then pass it o'er, because it troubles you:
+I should have been more grieved another time.
+Next, I'm to lose my kingdom--farewell, Egypt.
+Yet, is there any more?
+
+_Dola._ Madam, I fear
+Your too deep sense of grief has turned your reason.
+
+_Cleo._ No, no, I'm not run mad; I can bear fortune:
+And love may be expelled by other love,
+As poisons are by poisons.
+
+_Dola._ You o'erjoy me, madam,
+To find your griefs so moderately borne.
+You've heard the worst; all are not false like him.
+
+_Cleo._ No; heaven forbid they should.
+
+_Dola._ Some men are constant.
+
+_Cleo._ And constancy deserves reward, that's certain.
+
+_Dola._ Deserves it not; but give it leave to hope.
+
+_Vent._ I'll swear thou hast my leave.  I have enough:
+But how to manage this! Well, I'll consider.                  [_Exit._
+
+_Dola._ I came prepared
+To tell you heavy news; news, which I thought
+Would fright the blood from your pale cheeks to hear:
+But you have met it with a cheerfulness,
+That makes my task more easy; and my tongue,
+Which on another's message was employed,
+Would gladly speak its own.
+
+_Cleo._ Hold, Dolabella.
+First tell me, were you chosen by my lord?
+Or sought you this employment?
+
+_Dola._ He picked me out; and, as his bosom-friend,
+He charged me with his words.
+
+_Cleo._ The message then
+I know was tender, and each accent smooth,
+To mollify that rugged word, _depart_.
+
+_Dola._ Oh, you mistake: He chose the harshest words;
+With fiery eyes, and with contracted brows,
+He coined his face in the severest stamp;
+And fury shook his fabric, like an earthquake;
+He heaved for vent, and burst like bellowing Ætna,
+In sounds scarce human,--Hence away for ever!
+Let her begone, the blot of my renown,
+And bane of all my hopes!
+                      [_All the time of this speech,_ CLEOPATRA _seems
+                       more and more concerned, till she sinks quite
+                       down._
+Let her be driven, as far as men can think,
+From man's commerce! she'll poison to the center.
+
+_Cleo._ Oh, I can bear no more!
+
+_Dola._ Help, help:--Oh wretch! O cursed, cursed wretch!
+What have I done!
+
+_Char._ Help, chafe her temples, Iras.
+
+_Iras._ Bend, bend her forward quickly.
+
+_Char._ Heaven be praised,
+She comes again.
+
+_Cleo._ O let him not approach me.
+Why have you brought me back to this loathed being,
+The abode of falsehood, violated vows,
+And injured love? For pity, let me go;
+For, if there be a place of long repose,
+I'm sure I want it. My disdainful lord
+Can never break that quiet; nor awake
+The sleeping soul, with hollowing in my tomb
+Such words as fright her hence.--Unkind, unkind!
+
+_Dola._ Believe me, 'tis against myself I speak;          [_Kneeling._
+That sure desires belief; I injured him:
+My friend ne'er spoke those words. Oh, had you seen
+How often he came back, and every time
+With something more obliging and more kind,
+To add to what he said; what dear farewells;
+How almost vanquished by his love he parted,
+And leaned to what unwillingly he left!
+I, traitor as I was, for love of you,
+(But what can you not do, who made me false!)
+I forged that lie; for whose forgiveness kneels
+This self-accused, self-punished criminal.
+
+_Cleo._ With how much ease believe we what we wish!
+Rise, Dolabella; if you have been guilty,
+I have contributed, and too much love
+Has made me guilty too.
+The advance of kindness, which I made, was feigned,
+To call back fleeting love by jealousy;
+But 'twould not last. Oh, rather let me lose,
+Than so ignobly trifle with his heart.
+
+_Dola._ I find your breast fenced round from human reach,
+Transparent as a rock of solid crystal;
+Seen through, but never pierced. My friend, my friend!
+What endless treasure hast thou thrown away;
+And scattered, like an infant, in the ocean,
+Vain sums of wealth, which none can gather thence!
+
+_Cleo._ Could you not beg
+An hour's admittance to his private ear?
+Like one, who wanders through long barren wilds;
+And yet foreknows no hospitable inn
+Is near to succour hunger,
+Eats his fill, before his painful march:
+So would I feed a while my famished eyes
+Before we part; for I have far to go,
+If death be far, and never must return.
+
+  VENTIDIUS, _with_ OCTAVIA, _behind._
+
+_Vent._ From hence you may discover--Oh, sweet, sweet!
+Would you indeed? the pretty hand in earnest?
+
+_Dola._ I will, for this reward.                    [_Takes her hand._
+Draw it not back,
+'Tis all I e'er will beg.
+
+_Vent._ They turn upon us.
+
+_Octav._ What quick eyes has guilt!
+
+_Vent._ Seem not to have observed them, and go on.
+
+  _They enter._
+
+_Dola._ Saw you the emperor, Ventidius?
+
+_Vent._ No.
+I sought him; but I heard that he was private,
+None with him but Hipparchus, his freedman.
+
+_Dola._ Know you his business?
+
+_Vent._ Giving him instructions,
+And letters to his brother Cæsar.
+
+_Dola._ Well,
+He must be found.                          [_Exeunt_ DOLA. _and_ CLEO.
+
+_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 Cæsar he's endeavouring her peace.
+
+_Octav._ You have prevailed:--But for a farther 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 Cæsar'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 seem 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 disobeyest 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[3].
+
+_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 farther, 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.
+You 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 Chaldæans do the moon,
+Can tell what signs she passes through, what day.
+
+_Alex._ My noble lord!
+
+_Vent._ My most illustrious pandar,
+No fine set speech, no cadence, no turned periods,
+But a plain home-spun 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 past 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 chuse 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._] O, 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; my dear half man, proceed.
+
+_Alex._ Yet Dolabella
+Has loved her long; he, next my godlike 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._ I bid 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 prest 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. Wonderous 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 staid.
+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 mis-matched 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 bear 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.
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA.
+
+_Ant._ False Dolabella!
+
+_Dola._ What's false, my lord?
+
+_Ant._ Why, Dolabella's false,
+And Cleopatra's false; both false and faithless.
+Draw near, you well-joined wickedness, you serpents
+Whom I have in my kindly bosom warmed,
+Till I am stung to death.
+
+_Dola._ My lord, have I
+Deserved to be thus used?
+
+_Cleo._ Can heaven prepare
+A newer torment? Can it find a curse
+Beyond our separation?
+
+_Ant._ Yes, if fate
+Be just, much greater: Heaven should be ingenious
+In punishing such crimes. The rolling-stone,
+And gnawing vulture, were slight pains, invented
+When Jove was young, and no examples known
+Of mighty ills; but you have ripened sin,
+To such a monstrous growth, 'twill pose the gods,
+To find an equal torture. Two, two such!--
+Oh there's no farther name,--two such! to me,
+To me, who locked my soul within your breasts,
+Had no desires, no joys, no life, but you;
+When half the globe was mine, I gave it you
+In dowry with my heart; I had no use,
+No fruit of all, but you: A friend and mistress,
+Was what the world could give. Oh, Cleopatra!
+Oh Dolabella! how could you betray
+This tender heart, which with an infant fondness
+Lay lulled betwixt your bosoms, and there slept,
+Secure of injured faith?
+
+_Dola._ If she has wronged you,
+Heaven, hell, and you, revenge it.
+
+_Ant._ If she has wronged me!
+Thou would'st evade thy part of guilt; but swear
+Thou lov'st not her.
+
+_Dola._ Not so as I love you.
+
+_Ant._ Not so! Swear, swear, I say, thou dost not love her.
+
+_Dola._ No more than friendship will allow.
+
+_Ant._ No more?
+Friendship allows thee nothing: Thou art perjured--
+And yet thou didst not swear thou lov'dst her not;
+But not so much, no more. Oh, trifling hypocrite,
+Who darest not own to her, thou dost not love,
+Nor own to me, thou dost! Ventidius heard it;
+Octavia saw it.
+
+_Cleo._ They are enemies.
+
+_Ant._ Alexas is not so: He, he confest it;
+He, who, next hell, best knew it, he avowed it
+Why do I seek a proof beyond yourself?                     [_To_ DOLA.
+You, whom I sent to bear my last farewell,
+Returned, to plead her stay.
+
+_Dola._ What shall I answer?
+If to have loved be guilt, then I have sinned;
+But if to have repented of that love,
+Can wash away my crime, I have repented.
+Yet, if I have offended past forgiveness,
+Let her not suffer: She is innocent.
+
+_Cleo._ Ah, what will not a woman do, who loves!
+What means will she refuse, to keep that heart,
+Where all her joys are placed! 'Twas I encouraged,
+'Twas I blew up the fire that scorched his soul,
+To make you jealous, and by that regain you.
+But all in vain; I could not counterfeit:
+In spite of all the dams, my love broke o'er,
+And drowned my heart again; fate took the occasion;
+And thus one minute's feigning has destroyed
+My whole life's truth.
+
+_Ant._ Thin cobweb arts of falsehood;
+Seen, and broke through at first.
+
+_Dola._ Forgive your mistress.
+
+_Cleo._ Forgive your friend.
+
+_Ant._ You have convinced yourselves.
+You plead each other's cause: What witness have you,
+That you but meant to raise my jealousy?
+
+_Cleo._ Ourselves, and heaven.
+
+_Ant._ Guilt witnesses for guilt. Hence, love and friendship!
+You have no longer place in human breasts,
+These two have driven you out: Avoid my sight!
+I would not kill the man whom I have loved,
+And cannot hurt the woman; but avoid me:
+I do not know how long I can be tame;
+For, if I stay one minute more, to think
+How I am wronged, my justice and revenge
+Will cry so loud within me, that my pity
+Will not be heard for either.
+
+_Dola._ Heaven has but
+Our sorrow for our sins; and then delights
+To pardon erring man: Sweet mercy seems
+Its darling attribute, which limits justice;
+As if there were degrees in infinite,
+And infinite would rather want perfection,
+Than punish to extent.
+
+_Ant._ I can forgive
+A foe; but not a mistress, and a friend.
+Treason is there in its most horrid shape,
+Where trust is greatest; and the soul, resigned,
+Is stabbed by its own guards: I'll hear no more;
+Hence from my sight, for ever!
+
+_Cleo._ How? for ever!
+I cannot go one moment from your sight,
+And must I go for ever?
+My joys, my only joys, are centered here:
+What place have I to go to? My own kingdom?
+That I have lost for you: Or to the Romans?
+They hate me for your sake: Or must I wander
+The wide world o'er, a helpless, banished woman,
+Banished for love of you; banished from you?
+Ay, there's the banishment! Oh hear me; hear me.
+With strictest justice: For I beg no favour;
+And if I have offended you, then kill me,
+But do not banish me.
+
+_Ant._ I must not hear you.
+I have a fool within me, takes your part;
+But honour stops my ears.
+
+_Cleo._ For pity hear me!
+Would you cast off a slave who followed you?
+Who crouched beneath your spurn?--He has no pity!
+See, if he gives one tear to my departure;
+One look, one kind farewell: Oh iron heart!
+Let all the gods look down, and judge betwixt us.
+If he did ever love!
+
+_Ant._ No more: Alexas!
+
+_Dola._ A perjured villain!
+
+_Ant._ [_To_ CLEO.] Your Alexas; yours.
+
+_Cleo._ O 'twas his plot; his ruinous design,
+To engage you in my love by jealousy.
+Hear him; confront him with me; let him speak.
+
+_Ant._ I have; I have.
+
+_Cleo._ And if he clear me not--
+
+_Ant._ Your creature! one, who hangs upon your smiles!
+Watches your eye, to say or to unsay,
+Whate'er you please! I am not to be moved.
+
+_Cleo._ Then must we part? Farewell, my cruel lord!
+The appearance is against me; and I go,
+Unjustified, for ever from your sight.
+How I have loved, you know; how yet I love,
+My only comfort is, I know myself:
+I love you more, even now you are unkind,
+Than when you loved me most; so well, so truly,
+I'll never strive against it; but die pleased,
+To think you once were mine.
+
+_Ant._ Good heaven, they weep at parting.
+Must I weep too? that calls them innocent.
+I must not weep; and yet I must, to think
+That I must not forgive.--
+Live, but live wretched; 'tis but just you should,
+Who made me so: Live from each other's sight:
+Let me not hear you meet. Set all the earth,
+And all the seas, betwixt your sundered loves:
+View nothing common but the sun and skies.
+Now, all take several ways;
+  And each your own sad fate, with mine, deplore;
+  That you were false, and I could trust no more. [_Exeunt severally._
+
+
+ACT V. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Char._ Be juster, heaven; such virtue punished thus,
+Will make us think that chance rules all above,
+And shuffles, with a random hand, the lots,
+Which man is forced to draw.
+
+_Cleo._ I could tear out these eyes, that gained his heart,
+And had not power to keep it. O the curse
+Of doting on, even when I find it dotage!
+Bear witness, gods, you heard him bid me go;
+You, whom he mocked with imprecating vows
+Of promised faith!--I'll die; I will not bear it.
+You may hold me--      [_She pulls out her Dagger, and they hold her._
+But I can keep my breath; I can die inward,
+And choke this love.
+
+  _Enter_ ALEXAS.
+
+_Iras._ Help, O Alexas, help!
+The queen grows desperate; her soul struggles in her,
+With all the agonies of love and rage,
+And strives to force its passage.
+
+_Cleo._ Let me go.
+Art thou there, traitor!--O,
+O for a little breath, to vent my rage!
+Give, give me way, and let me loose upon him.
+
+_Alex._ Yes, I deserve it, for my ill-timed truth.
+Was it for me to prop
+The ruins of a falling majesty?
+To place myself beneath the mighty flaw,
+Thus to be crushed, and pounded into atoms,
+By its o'erwhelming weight? 'Tis too presuming
+For subjects to preserve that wilful power,
+Which courts its own destruction.
+
+_Cleo._ I would reason
+More calmly with you. Did not you o'er-rule,
+And force my plain, direct, and open love,
+Into these crooked paths of jealousy?
+Now, what's the event? Octavia is removed;
+But Cleopatra's banished. Thou, thou villain,
+Hast pushed my boat to open sea; to prove,
+At my sad cost, if thou canst steer it back.
+It cannot be; I'm lost too far; I'm ruined:
+Hence, thou impostor, traitor, monster, devil!--
+I can no more: Thou, and my griefs, have sunk
+Me down so low, that I want voice to curse thee.
+
+_Alex._ Suppose some shipwrecked seaman near the shore,
+Dropping and faint, with climbing up the cliff,
+If, from above, some charitable hand
+Pull him to safety, hazarding himself,
+To draw the other's weight; would he look back,
+And curse him for his pains? The case is yours;
+But one step more, and you have gained the height.
+
+_Cleo._ Sunk, never more to rise.
+
+_Alex._ Octavia's gone, and Dolabella banished.
+Believe me, madam, Antony is yours.
+His heart was never lost; but started off
+To jealousy, love's last retreat and covert;
+Where it lies hid in shades, watchful in silence,
+And listening for the sound that calls it back.
+Some other, any man, ('tis so advanced)
+May perfect this unfinished work, which I
+(Unhappy only to myself) have left
+So easy to his hand.
+
+_Cleo._ Look well thou do't; else--
+
+_Alex._ Else, what your silence threatens.--Antony
+Is mounted up the Pharos; from whose turret,
+He stands surveying our Egyptian gallies,
+Engaged with Cæsar's fleet. Now death or conquest!
+If the first happen, fate acquits my promise;
+If we o'ercome, the conqueror is yours.     [_A distant shout within._
+
+_Char._ Have comfort, madam: Did you mark that shout?
+                                               [_Second shout nearer._
+
+_Iras._ Hark! they redouble it.
+
+_Alex._ 'Tis from the port.
+The loudness shows it near: Good news, kind heavens!
+
+_Cleo._ Osiris make it so!
+
+  _Enter_ SERAPION.
+
+_Serap._ Where, where's the queen?
+
+_Alex._ How frightfully the holy coward stares!
+As if not yet recovered of the assault,
+When all his gods, and, what's more dear to him,
+His offerings, were at stake.
+
+_Serap._ O horror, horror!
+Egypt has been; our latest hour is come:
+The queen of nations, from her ancient seat,
+Is sunk for ever in the dark abyss:
+Time has unrolled her glories to the last,
+And now closed up the volume.
+
+_Cleo._ Be more plain:
+Say, whence thou comest; though fate is in thy face,
+Which from thy hagard eyes looks wildly out,
+And threatens ere thou speakest.
+
+_Serap._ I came from Pharos;
+From viewing (spare me, and imagine it)
+Our land's last hope, your navy--
+
+_Cleo._ Vanquished?
+
+_Serap._ No;
+They fought not.
+
+_Cleo._ Then they fled.
+
+_Serap._ Nor that. I saw,
+With Antony, your well-appointed fleet
+Row out; and thrice he waved his hand on high,
+And thrice with cheerful cries they shouted back:
+'Twas then false Fortune, like a fawning strumpet,
+About to leave the bankrupt prodigal,
+With a dissembled smile would kiss at parting,
+And flatter to the last; the well-timed oars
+Now dipt from every bank, now smoothly run
+To meet the foe; and soon indeed they met,
+But not as foes. In few, we saw their caps
+On either side thrown up; the Egyptian gallies,
+Received like friends, past through, and fell behind
+The Roman rear: And now, they all come forward,
+And ride within the port,
+
+_Cleo._ Enough, Serapion:
+I've heard my doom.--This needed not, you gods:
+When I lost Antony, your work was done;
+'Tis but superfluous malice.--Where's my lord?
+How bears he this last blow?
+
+_Serap._ His fury cannot be expressed by words:
+Thrice he attempted headlong to have fallen
+Full on his foes, and aimed at Cæsar's galley:
+With-held, he raves on you; cries,--He's betrayed.
+Should he now find you--
+
+_Alex._ Shun him; seek your safety,
+Till you can clear your innocence.
+
+_Cleo._ I'll stay.
+
+_Alex._ You must not; haste you to your monument,
+While I make speed to Cæsar.
+
+_Cleo._ Cæsar! No,
+I have no business with him.
+
+_Alex._ I can work him
+To spare your life, and let this madman perish.
+
+_Cleo._ Base fawning wretch! would'st thou betray him too?
+Hence from my sight! I will not hear a traitor;
+'Twas thy design brought all this ruin on us.--
+Serapion, thou art honest; counsel me:
+But haste, each moment's precious.
+
+_Serap._ Retire; you must not yet see Antony.
+He who began this mischief,
+'Tis just he tempt the danger; let him clear you:
+And, since he offered you his servile tongue,
+To gain a poor precarious life from Cæsar,
+Let him expose that fawning eloquence,
+And speak to Antony.
+
+_Alex._ O heavens! I dare not;
+I meet my certain death.
+
+_Cleo._ Slave, thou deservest it,--
+Not that I fear my lord, will I avoid him;
+I know him noble: when he banished me,
+And thought me false, he scorned to take my life;
+But I'll be justified, and then die with him.
+
+_Alex._ O pity me, and let me follow you.
+
+_Cleo._ To death, if thou stir hence. Speak, if thou canst,
+Now for thy life, which basely thou wouldst save;
+While mine I prize at this. Come, good Serapion.
+                              [_Exeunt_ CLEO. SERAP. CHAR. _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Alex._ O that I less could fear to lose this being,
+Which, like a snow-ball in my coward hand,
+The more 'tis grasped, the faster melts away.
+Poor reason! what a wretched aid art thou!
+For still, in spite of thee,
+These two long lovers, soul and body, dread
+Their final separation. Let me think:
+What can I say, to save myself from death?
+No matter what becomes of Cleopatra.
+
+_Ant._ Which way? where?                                    [_Within._
+
+_Vent._ This leads to the monument.                         [_Within._
+
+_Alex._ Ah me! I hear him; yet I'm unprepared:
+My gift of lying's gone;
+And this court-devil, which I so oft have raised,
+Forsakes me at my need. I dare not stay;
+Yet cannot far go hence.                                      [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ ANTONY _and_ VENTIDIUS.
+
+_Ant._ O happy Cæsar! thou hast men to lead:
+Think not 'tis thou hast conquered Antony;
+But Rome has conquered Egypt. I'm betrayed.
+
+_Vent._ Curse on this treacherous train!
+Their soil and heaven infect them all with baseness:
+And their young souls come tainted to the world
+With the first breath they draw.
+
+_Ant._ The original villain sure no God created;
+He was a bastard of the sun, by Nile,
+Aped into man; with all his mother's mud
+Crusted about his soul.
+
+_Vent._ The nation is
+One universal traitor; and their queen
+The very spirit and extract of them all.
+
+_Ant._ Is there yet left
+A possibility of aid from valour?
+Is there one god unsworn to my destruction?
+The least unmortgaged hope? for, if there be,
+Methinks I cannot fall beneath the fate
+Of such a boy as Cæsar.
+The world's one half is yet in Antony;
+And from each limb of it, that's hewed away,
+The soul comes back to me.
+
+_Vent._ There yet remain
+Three legions in the town. The last assault
+Lopt off the rest: if death be your design,--
+As I must wish it now,--these are sufficient
+To make a heap about us of dead foes,
+An honest pile for burial.
+
+_Ant._ They are enough.
+We'll not divide our stars; but, side by side,
+Fight emulous, and with malicious eyes
+Survey each other's acts: So every death
+Thou giv'st, I'll take on me, as a just debt,
+And pay thee back a soul.
+
+_Vent._ Now you shall see I love you. Not a word
+Of chiding more. By my few hours of life,
+I am so pleased with this brave Roman fate,
+That I would not be Cæsar, to outlive you.
+When we put off this flesh, and mount together,
+I shall be shown to all the etherial crowd,--
+Lo, this is he who died with Antony!
+
+_Ant._ Who knows, but we may pierce through all their troops,
+And reach my veterans yet? 'tis worth the tempting,
+To o'erleap this gulph of fate,
+And leave our wandering destinies behind.
+
+  _Enter_ ALEXAS, _trembling._
+
+_Vent._ See, see, that villain!
+See Cleopatra stampt upon that face,
+With all her cunning, all her arts of falsehood!
+How she looks out through those dissembling eyes!
+How he sets his countenance for deceit,
+And promises a lie, before he speaks!
+Let me dispatch him first.                                 [_Drawing._
+
+_Alex._ O spare me, spare me!
+
+_Ant._ Hold; he's not worth your killing.--On thy life,
+Which thou may'st keep, because I scorn to take it,
+No syllable to justify thy queen;
+Save thy base tongue its office.
+
+_Alex._ Sir, she is gone,
+Where she shall never be molested more
+By love, or you.
+
+_Ant._ Fled to her Dolabella!
+Die, traitor! I revoke my promise; die!          [_Going to kill him._
+
+_Alex._ O hold! she is not fled.
+
+_Ant._ She is: my eyes
+Are open to her falsehood; my whole life
+Has been a golden dream of love and friendship;
+But, now I wake, I'm like a merchant, roused
+From soft repose, to see his vessel sinking,
+And all his wealth cast over. Ungrateful woman!
+Who followed me, but as the swallow summer,
+Hatching her young ones in my kindly beams,
+Singing her flatteries to my morning wake:
+But, now my winter comes, she spreads her wings
+And seeks the spring of Cæsar.
+
+_Alex._ Think not so:
+Her fortunes have, in all things, mixt with yours.
+Had she betrayed her naval force to Rome,
+How easily might she have gone to Cæsar,
+Secure by such a bribe!
+
+_Vent._ She sent it first,
+To be more welcome after.
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis too plain;
+Else would she have appeared, to clear herself.
+
+_Alex._ Too fatally she has: she could not bear
+To be accused by you; but shut herself
+Within her monument; looked down and sighed;
+While, from her unchanged face, the silent tears
+Dropt, as they had not leave, but stole their parting.
+Some undistinguished words she inly murmured;
+At last, she rais'd her eyes; and, with such looks
+As dying Lucrece cast--
+
+_Ant._ My heart forebodes--
+
+_Vent._ All for the best:--Go on.
+
+_Alex._ She snatched her poniard,
+And, ere we could prevent the fatal blow,
+Plunged it within her breast; then turned to me:
+Go, bear my lord, said she, my last farewell;
+And ask him, if he yet suspect my faith.
+More she was saying, but death rushed betwixt.
+She half pronounced your name with her last breath,
+And buried half within her.
+
+_Vent._ Heaven be praised!
+
+_Ant._ Then art thou innocent, my poor dear love?
+And art thou dead?
+O those two words! their sound should be divided:
+Hadst thou been false, and died; or hadst thou lived,
+And hadst been true--But innocence and death!
+This shows not well above. Then what am I,
+The murderer of this truth, this innocence!
+Thoughts cannot form themselves in words so horrid
+As can express my guilt!
+
+_Vent._ Is't come to this? the gods have been too gracious;
+And thus you thank them for it!
+
+_Ant._ [_To_ ALEX.] Why stayest thou here?
+Is it for thee to spy upon my soul,
+And see its inward mourning? Get thee hence;
+Thou art not worthy to behold, what now
+Becomes a Roman emperor to perform.
+
+_Alex._ He loves her still:
+His grief betrays it. Good! the joy to find
+She's yet alive, completes the reconcilement.
+I've saved myself, and her. But, oh! the Romans!
+Fate comes too fast upon my wit,
+Hunts me too hard, and meets me at each double.        [_Aside. Exit._
+
+_Vent._ Would she had died a little sooner though!
+Before Octavia went, you might have treated:
+Now 'twill look tame, and would not be received.
+Come, rouse yourself, and let's die warm together.
+
+_Ant._ I will not fight: there's no more work for war.
+The business of my angry hours is done.
+
+_Vent._ Cæsar is at your gates.
+
+_Ant._ Why, let him enter;
+He's welcome now.
+
+_Vent._ What lethargy has crept into your soul?
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis but a scorn of life, and just desire
+To free myself from bondage.
+
+_Vent._ Do it bravely.
+
+_Ant._ I will; but not by fighting. O, Ventidius!
+What should I fight for now? my queen is dead.
+I was but great for her; my power, my empire,
+Were but my merchandise to buy her love;
+And conquered kings, my factors. Now she's dead,
+Let Cæsar, take the world,--
+An empty circle, since the jewel's gone
+Which made it worth my strife: my being's nauseous;
+For all the bribes of life are gone away.
+
+_Vent._ Would you be taken?
+
+_Ant._ Yes, I would be taken;
+But, as a Roman ought,--dead, my Ventidius:
+For I'll convey my soul from Cæsar's reach,
+And lay down life myself. 'Tis time the world
+Should have a lord, and know whom to obey.
+We two have kept its homage in suspence,
+And bent the globe, on whose each side we trod,
+Till it was dented inwards. Let him walk
+Alone upon't: I'm weary of my part.
+My torch is out; and the world stands before me,
+Like a black desert at the approach of night:
+I'll lay me down, and stray no farther on.
+
+_Vent._ I could be grieved,
+But that I'll not out-live you: chuse your death;
+For, I have seen him in such various shapes,
+I care not which I take: I'm only troubled,
+The life I bear is worn to such a rag,
+'Tis scarce worth giving. I could wish, indeed,
+We threw it from us with a better grace;
+That, like two lions taken in the toils,
+We might at last thrust out our paws, and wound
+The hunters that inclose us.
+
+_Ant._ I have thought on it.
+Ventidius, you must live.
+
+_Vent._ I must not, sir.
+
+_Ant._ Wilt thou not live, to speak some good of me?
+To stand by my fair fame, and guard the approaches
+From the ill tongues of men?
+
+_Vent._ Who shall guard mine,
+For living after you?
+
+_Ant._ Say, I command it.
+
+_Vent._ If we die well, our deaths will speak themselves,
+And need no living witness.
+
+_Ant._ Thou hast loved me,
+And fain I would reward thee. I must die;
+Kill me, and take the merit of my death,
+To make thee friends with Cæsar.
+
+_Vent._ Thank your kindness.
+You said I loved you; and, in recompence,
+You bid me turn a traitor:--Did I think
+You would have used me thus? that I should die
+With a hard thought of you?
+
+_Ant._ Forgive me, Roman.
+Since I have heard of Cleopatra's death,
+My reason bears no rule upon my tongue,
+But lets my thoughts break all at random out.
+I've thought better; do not deny me twice.
+
+_Vent._ By heaven I will not.
+Let it not be to out-live you.
+
+_Ant._ Kill me first,
+And then die thou; for 'tis but just thou serve
+Thy friend, before thyself.
+
+_Vent._ Give me your hand.
+We soon shall meet again. Now, farewell, emperor!--        [_Embrace._
+Methinks that word's too cold to be my last:
+Since death sweeps all distinctions, farewell, friend!
+That's all--
+I will not make a business of a trifle:
+And yet I cannot look on you, and kill you;
+Pray turn your face.
+
+_Ant._ I do: strike home, be sure.
+
+_Vent._ Home, as my sword will reach.                [_Kills himself._
+
+_Ant._ O thou mistak'st;
+That wound was none of thine: give it me back:
+Thou robb'st me of my death.
+
+_Vent._ I do indeed;
+But think 'tis the first time I e'er deceived you,
+If that may plead my pardon.--And you, gods,
+Forgive me, if you will; for I die perjured,
+Rather than kill my friend.                                   [_Dies._
+
+_Ant._ Farewell! Ever my leader, even in death!
+My queen and thou have got the start of me,
+And I'm the lag of honour.--Gone so soon?
+Is death no more? he used him carelessly,
+With a familiar kindness: ere he knocked,
+Ran to the door, and took him in his arms,
+As who should say--You're welcome at all hours,
+A friend need give no warning. Books had spoiled him;
+For all the learned are cowards by profession.
+'Tis not worth
+My farther thought; for death, for aught I know,
+Is but to think no more. Here's to be satisfied.
+                                                [_Falls on his sword._
+I've mist my heart. O unperforming hand!
+Thou never could'st have erred in a worse time.
+My fortune jades me to the last; and death,
+Like a great man, takes state, and makes me wait
+For my admittance.--                              [_Trampling within._
+Some, perhaps, from Cæsar:
+If he should find me living, and suspect
+That I played booty with my life! I'll mend
+My work, ere they can reach me.               [_Rises upon his knees._
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Cleo._ Where is my lord? where is he?
+
+_Char._ There he lies,
+And dead Ventidius by him.
+
+_Cleo._ My fears were prophets; I am come too late.
+O that accursed Alexas!                                [_Runs to him._
+
+_Ant._ Art thou living?
+Or am I dead before I knew, and thou
+The first kind ghost that meets me?
+
+_Cleo._ Help me seat him.
+Send quickly, send for help!             [_They place him in a chair._
+
+_Ant._ I am answered.
+We live both. Sit thee down, my Cleopatra:
+I'll make the most I can of life, to stay
+A moment more with thee.
+
+_Cleo._ How is it with you?
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis as with a man
+Removing in a hurry; all packed up,
+But one dear jewel that his haste forgot;
+And he, for that, returns upon the spur:
+So I come back for thee.
+
+_Cleo._ Too long, ye heavens, you have been cruel to me:
+Now show your mended faith, and give me back
+His fleeting life!
+
+_Ant._ It will not be, my love;
+I keep my soul by force.
+Say but, thou art not false.
+
+_Cleo._ 'Tis now too late
+To say I'm true: I'll prove it, and die with you.
+Unknown to me, Alexas feigned my death:
+Which, when I knew, I hasted to prevent
+This fatal consequence. My fleet betrayed
+Both you and me.
+
+_Ant._ And Dolabella--
+
+_Cleo._ Scarce esteemed before he loved; but hated now.
+
+_Ant._ Enough: my life's not long enough for more.
+Thou say'st, thou wilt come after: I believe thee;
+For I can now believe whate'er thou sayest,
+That we may part more kindly.
+
+_Cleo._ I will come:
+Doubt not, my life, I'll come, and quickly too:
+Cæsar shall triumph o'er no part of thee.
+
+_Ant._ But grieve not, while thou stayest,
+My last disastrous times:
+Think we have had a clear and glorious day;
+And heaven did kindly to delay the storm,
+Just till our close of evening. Ten years love,
+And not a moment lost, but all improved
+To the utmost joys,--what ages have we liv'd?
+And now to die each others; and, so dying,
+While hand in hand we walk in groves below,
+Whole troops of lovers' ghosts shall flock about us,
+And all the train be ours.
+
+_Cleo._ Your words are like the notes of dying swans,
+Too sweet to last. Were there so many hours
+For your unkindness, and not one for love?
+
+_Ant._ No, not a minute.--This one kiss--more worth
+Than all I leave to Cæsar.                                    [_Dies._
+
+_Cleo._ O, tell me so again,
+And take ten thousand kisses for that word.
+My lord, my lord! speak, if you yet have being;
+Sign to me, if you cannot speak; or cast
+One look! Do any thing, that shows you live.
+
+_Iras._ He's gone too far to hear you;
+And this you see, a lump of senseless clay,
+The leavings of a soul.
+
+_Char._ Remember, madam,
+He charged you not to grieve.
+
+_Cleo._ And I'll obey him.
+I have not loved a Roman, not to know
+What should become his wife; his wife, my Charmion!
+For 'tis to that high title I aspire;
+And now I'll not die less. Let dull Octavia
+Survive, to mourn him dead: My nobler fate
+Shall knit our spousals with a tie, too strong
+For Roman laws to break.
+
+_Iras._ Will you then die?
+
+_Cleo._ Why should'st thou make that question?
+
+_Iras._ Cæsar is most merciful.
+
+_Cleo._ Let him be so
+To those that want his mercy: My poor lord
+Made no such covenant with him, to spare me
+When he was dead. Yield me to Cæsar's pride?
+What! to be led in triumph through the streets,
+A spectacle to base plebeian eyes;
+While some dejected friend of Antony's,
+Close in a corner, shakes his head, and mutters
+A secret curse on her, who ruined him!
+I'll none of that.
+
+_Char._ Whatever you resolve,
+I'll follow, even to death.
+
+_Iras._ I only feared
+For you; but more should fear to live without you.
+
+_Cleo._ Why, now, 'tis as it should be. Quick, my friends,
+Despatch; ere this, the town's in Cæsar's hands:
+My lord looks down concerned, and fears my stay,
+Lest I should be surprised;
+Keep him not waiting for his love too long.
+You, Charmion, bring my crown and richest jewels;
+With them, the wreath of victory I made
+(Vain augury!) for him, who now lies dead:
+You, Iras, bring the cure of all our ills.
+
+_Iras._ The aspicks, madam?
+
+_Cleo._ Must I bid you twice?                 [_Ex._ CHAR. _and_ IRAS.
+'Tis sweet to die, when they would force life on me,
+To rush into the dark abode of death,
+And seize him first; if he be like my love,
+He is not frightful, sure.
+We're now alone, in secresy and silence;
+And is not this like lovers? I may kiss
+These pale, cold lips; Octavia does not see me:
+And, oh! 'tis better far to have him thus,
+Than see him in her arms.--O welcome, welcome!
+
+  _Enter_ CHARMION _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Char._ What must be done?
+
+_Cleo._ Short ceremony, friends;
+But yet it must be decent. First, this laurel
+Shall crown my hero's head: he fell not basely,
+Nor left his shield behind him.--Only thou
+Could'st triumph o'er thyself; and thou alone
+Wert worthy so to triumph.
+
+_Char._ To what end
+These ensigns of your pomp and royalty?
+
+_Cleo._ Dull, that thou art! why,'tis to meet my love;
+As when I saw him first, on Cydnos' bank,
+All sparkling, like a goddess: so adorned,
+I'll find him once again; my second spousals
+Shall match my first in glory. Haste, haste, both,
+And dress the bride of Antony.
+
+_Char._ 'Tis done.
+
+_Cleo._ Now seat me by my lord. I claim this place;
+For I must conquer Cæsar too, like him,
+And win my share of the world.--Hail, you dear relicks
+Of my immortal love!
+O let no impious hand remove you hence;
+But rest for ever here! Let Egypt give
+His death that peace, which it denied his life.--
+Reach me the casket.
+
+_Iras._ Underneath the fruit the aspick lies.
+
+_Cleo._ Welcome, thou kind deceiver!      [_Putting aside the leaves._
+Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key,
+Dost open life, and, unperceived by us,
+Even steal us from ourselves; discharging so
+Death's dreadful office, better than himself;
+Touching our limbs so gently into slumber,
+That death stands by, deceived by his own image,
+And thinks himself but sleep.
+
+_Serap._ The queen, where is she?                           [_Within._
+The town is yielded, Cæsar's at the gates.
+
+_Cleo._ He comes too late to invade the rights of death.
+Haste, bare my arm, and rouse the serpent's fury.
+                              [_Holds out her arm, and draws it back._
+Coward flesh,
+Would'st thou conspire with Cæsar to betray me,
+As thou wert none of mine? I'll force thee to it,
+And not be sent by him,
+But bring myself, my soul, to Antony.
+                        [_Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody._
+Take hence; the work is done.
+
+_Serap._ Break ope the door,                                [_Within._
+And guard the traitor well.
+
+_Char._ The next is ours.
+
+_Iras._ Now, Charmion, to be worthy
+Of our great queen and mistress.            [_They apply the aspicks._
+
+_Cleo._ Already, death, I feel thee in my veins:
+I go with such a will to find my lord,
+That we shall quickly meet.
+A heavy numbness creeps through every limb,
+And now 'tis at my head: My eye-lids fall,
+And my dear love is vanished in a mist.
+Where shall I find him, where? O turn me to him,
+And lay me on his breast!--Cæsar, thy worst;
+Now part us, if thou canst.                                   [_Dies._
+                    [IRAS _sinks down at her feet, and dies;_ CHARMION
+                     _stands behind her chair, as dressing her head._
+
+  _Enter_ SERAPION, _two Priests,_ ALEXAS _bound, Egyptians._
+
+_Priest._ Behold, Serapion, what havock death has made!
+
+_Serap._ 'Twas what I feared.--
+Charmion, is this well done?
+
+_Char._ Yes, 'tis well done, and like a queen, the last
+Of her great race: I follow her.                  [_Sinks down; dies._
+
+_Alex._ 'Tis true,
+She has done well: Much better thus to die,
+Than live to make a holiday in Rome.
+
+_Serap._ See, how the lovers sit in state together,
+As they were giving laws to half mankind!
+The impression of a smile, left in her face,
+Shows she died pleased with him for whom she lived.
+And went to charm him in another
+Cæsar's just entering: grief has now no leisure.
+Secure that villain, as our pledge of safety,
+To grace the imperial triumph.--Sleep, blest pair,
+Secure from human chance, long ages out,
+While all the storms of fate fly o'er your tomb;
+  And fame to late posterity shall tell,
+  No lovers lived so great, or died so well.                [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. There was anciently some foolish idea about a wren soaring on an
+   eagle's back. Colley Cibber, as Dr Johnson observed, converted the
+   wren into a linnet:
+
+     Perched on the eagle's towering wing,
+     The lowly linnet loves to sing.
+
+2.   Approach there--Ay, you kite!--
+     --Now, gods and devils!
+     Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried ho!
+     Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth
+     And cry, your will.--Have you no ears?
+     I am Antony yet.--
+
+   The same idea, which bursts from Shakespeare's Antony in a
+   transport of passion, is used by Dryden's hero. The one is goaded
+   by the painful feeling of lost power; to the other, absorbed in his
+   sentimental distresses, it only occurs as a subject of melancholy,
+   but not of agitating reflection.
+
+3. Imitated, or rather copied, from Shakespeare.
+
+   _Don John._ I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shortened
+   (for she hath been too long a talking of) the lady is disloyal.
+
+   _Claudia._ Who? Hero?
+
+   _Don John._ Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero.
+
+
+
+
+                              EPILOGUE.
+
+
+  Poets, like disputants, when reasons fail,
+  Have one sure refuge left--and that's to rail.
+  Fop, coxcomb, fool, are thundered through the pit;
+  And this is all their equipage of wit.
+  We wonder how the devil this difference grows,
+  Betwixt our fools in verse, and yours in prose:
+  For, 'faith, the quarrel rightly understood,
+  'Tis civil war with their own flesh and blood.
+  The thread-bare author hates the gaudy coat;
+  And swears at the gilt coach, but swears a-foot;
+  For 'tis observed of every scribbling man,
+  He grows a fop as fast as e'er he can;
+  Prunes up, and asks his oracle, the glass,
+  If pink and purple best become his face.
+  For our poor wretch, he neither rails nor prays;
+  Nor likes your wit just as you like his plays;
+  He has not yet so much of Mr Bayes.
+  He does his best; and if he cannot please,
+  Would quietly sue out his _writ of ease_.
+  Yet, if he might his own grand jury call,
+  By the fair sex he begs to stand or fall.
+  Let Cæsar's power the men's ambition move,
+  But grace you him, who lost the world for love!
+  Yet if some antiquated lady say,
+  The last age is not copied in his play;
+  Heaven help the man who for that face must drudge,
+  Which only has the wrinkles of a judge.
+  Let not the young and beauteous join with those;
+  For should you raise such numerous hosts of foes,
+  Young wits and sparks he to his aid must call;
+  'Tis more than one man's work to please you all.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                       END OF THE FIFTH VOLUME.
+
+
+                              Edinburgh:
+
+                     Printed by James Ballantyne & Co.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of John Dryden, Volume 5 (of
+18), by John Dryden
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of John Dryden, Volume 5 (of 18)
+by John Dryden
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Works of John Dryden, Volume 5 (of 18)
+       Amboyna; The state of Innocence; Aureng-Zebe; All for Love
+
+Author: John Dryden
+
+Editor: Walter Scott (1771-1832)
+
+Release Date: July 5, 2005 [EBook #16208]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE</p>
+<h1 class="nomarg">WORKS</h1>
+<p class="ctr">OF</p>
+<h2 class="nomarg">JOHN DRYDEN,</h2>
+<p class="ctr">NOW FIRST COLLECTED</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg"><i>IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES.</i></h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />ILLUSTRATED</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">WITH NOTES,</h3>
+<p class="ctr">HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY,</p>
+<p class="ctr">AND</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,</h3>
+<p class="ctr">BY</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">WALTER SCOTT, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span></h3>
+
+<h3>VOL. V.</h3>
+<h3>LONDON:</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr">PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET,<br />
+BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH.</p>
+
+<h3>1808.</h3>
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<p class="ctr">OF</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">VOLUME FIFTH.</h3>
+
+<div><ul class="toc">
+<li><a href="#page_001">Amboyna; or the Cruelties of the Dutch to the English Merchants, a Tragedy</a></li>
+<li><ul class="toc">
+<li><a href="#page_005">Epistle Dedicatory to Lord Clifford of Chudleigh</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_010">[Text of the play]</a></li>
+</ul></li>
+
+<li style="margin-top: 1em;"><a href="#page_089">The State of Innocence, and Fall of Man, an Opera</a></li>
+<li><ul class="toc">
+<li><a href="#page_095">Epistle Dedicatory to her Royal Highness the Duchess</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_105">Preface.&mdash;The Author's Apology for Heroic Poetry, and Poetic Licence</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_119">[Text of the play]</a></li>
+</ul></li>
+
+<li style="margin-top: 1em;"><a href="#page_167">Aureng-Zebe, a Tragedy</a></li>
+<li><ul class="toc">
+<li><a href="#page_174">Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Mulgrave</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_188">[Text of the play]</a></li>
+</ul></li>
+
+<li style="margin-top: 1em;"><a href="#page_285">All for Love, or the World Well Lost, a Tragedy</a></li>
+<li><ul class="toc">
+<li><a href="#page_296">Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Danby</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_306">Preface</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page_321">[Text of the play]</a></li>
+</ul></li>
+</ul></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></div>
+
+<h2 class="chap">AMBOYNA:</h2>
+<p class="ctr">OR, THE</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">CRUELTIES OF THE DUTCH</h3>
+<p class="ctr">TO THE</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg"><i>ENGLISH MERCHANTS.</i></h3>
+
+<h3>A TRAGEDY.</h3>
+
+<div class="ctr">
+<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram">
+<tr><td><p class="epigram">&mdash;<i>Manet alt&acirc; mente repostum.</i></p></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_003" name="page_003"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">AMBOYNA.</h3>
+
+<p>The tragedy of Amboyna, as it was justly termed by the English
+of the seventeenth century, was of itself too dreadful to be
+heightened by the mimic horrors of the stage. The reader may
+be reminded, that by three several treaties in the years 1613, 1615,
+and 1619, it was agreed betwixt England and Holland, that the
+English should enjoy one-third of the trade of the spice islands.
+For this purpose, factories were established on behalf of the English
+East India Company at the Molucca Islands, at Banda, and
+at Amboyna. At the latter island the Dutch had a castle, with
+a garrison, both of Europeans and natives. It has been always
+remarked, that the Dutchman, in his eastern settlements, loses
+the mercantile probity of his European character, while he retains
+its cold-blooded phlegm and avaricious selfishness. Of this the Amboyna
+government gave a notable proof. About the 11th of Feb.
+1622, old stile, under pretence of a plot laid between the English
+of the factory and some Japanese soldiers to seize the castle, the former
+were arrested by the Dutch, and subjected to the most horrible
+tortures, to extort confession of their pretended guilt. Upon some
+they poured water into a cloth previously secured round their
+necks and shoulders, until suffocation ensued; others were tortured
+with lighted matches, and torches applied to the most tender
+and sensible parts of the body. But I will not pollute my page
+with this monstrous and disgusting detail. Upon confessions, inconsistent
+with each other, with common sense and ordinary probability,
+extorted also by torments of the mind or body, or both,
+Captain Gabriel Towerson, and nine other English merchants of
+consideration, were executed; and, to add insult to atrocity, the
+bloody cloth, on which Towerson kneeled at his death, was put
+down to the account of the English Company. The reader may
+find the whole history in the second volume of Purchas's "Pilgrim."
+The news of this horrible massacre reached King James, while he
+was negociating with the Dutch concerning the assistance which
+they then implored against the Spaniards; and the affairs of his son-in-law,
+the Elector Palatine, appeared to render an union with Holland
+so peremptorily necessary, that the massacre of Amboyna
+was allowed to remain unrevenged.</p>
+
+<p>But the Dutch war, which was declared in 1672, the object
+of which seems to have been the annihilation of the United
+Provinces as an independent state, a century sooner than Providence
+had decreed that calamitous event, met with great opposition
+in England, and every engine was put to work to satisfy the people
+of the truth of the Lord Chancellor Shaftesbury's averment, that
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_004" name="page_004"></a>
+the "States of Holland were England's eternal enemies, both by interest
+and inclination." Dryden, with the avowed intention of exasperating
+the nation against the Dutch, assumed from choice, or
+by command, the unpromising subject of the Amboyna massacre
+as the foundation of the following play. Exclusive of the horrible
+nature of the subject, the colours are laid on too thick to produce
+the desired effect. The monstrous caricatures, which are exhibited
+as just paintings of the Dutch character, unrelieved even by
+the grandeur of wickedness, and degraded into actual brutality,
+must have produced disgust, instead of an animated hatred and
+detestation. For the horrible spectacle of tortures and mangled
+limbs exhibited on the stage, the author might plead the custom
+of his age. A stage direction in Ravenscroft's alteration of "Titus
+Andronicus," bears, "A curtain drawn, discovers the heads
+and hands of Demetrius and Chiron hanging up against the wall;
+their bodies in chairs, in bloody linen." And in an interlude,
+called the "Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru," written by D'Avenant,
+"a doleful pavin is played to prepare the change of the
+scene, which represents a dark prison at a great distance; and
+farther to the view are discerned racks and other engines of torment,
+with which the Spaniards are tormenting the natives and English
+mariners, who may be supposed to be lately landed there to discover
+the coast. Two Spaniards are likewise discovered sitting in their
+cloaks, and appearing more solemn in ruffs, with rapiers and daggers
+by their sides; the one turning a spit, while the other is basting
+an Indian prince, who is roasted at an artificial fire<a class="ftnt" href="#Amboy_1-1">[1]</a>." The
+rape of Isabinda is stated by Langbaine to have been borrowed
+from a novel in the Decamerone of Cinthio Giraldi.</p>
+
+<p>This play is beneath criticism; and I can hardly hesitate to
+term it the worst production Dryden ever wrote. It was acted
+and printed in 1673.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Amboy_1-1" name="Amboy_1-1"></a>This extraordinary kitchen scene did not escape the ridicule of the wits
+of that merry age.
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">O greater cruelty yet,</p>
+<p class="i2">Like a pig upon a spit;</p>
+<p>Here lies one there, another boiled to jelly;</p>
+<p class="i2">Just as the people stare</p>
+<p class="i2">At an ox in the fair,</p>
+<p>Roasted whole, with a pudding in's belly.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">A little further in,</p>
+<p class="i2">Hung a third by his chin,</p>
+<p>And a fourth cut all in quarters.</p>
+<p class="i2">O that Fox had now been living,</p>
+<p class="i2">They had been sure of heaven,</p>
+<p>Or, at the least, been some of his martyrs.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_005" name="page_005"></a></div>
+
+
+
+
+<h3 class="chap">TO
+THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+THE
+LORD CLIFFORD
+OF
+CHUDLEIGH<a class="ftnt" href="#Amboy_2-1">[1]</a>.</h3>
+
+
+<p class="smcap noind">My Lord,</p>
+
+<p>After so many favours, and those so great, conferred
+on me by your lordship these many years,&mdash;which
+I may call more properly one continued act
+of your generosity and goodness,&mdash;I know not whether
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_006" name="page_006"></a>
+I should appear either more ungrateful in my
+silence, or more extravagantly vain in my endeavours
+to acknowledge them: For, since all acknowledgements
+bear a face of payment, it may be
+thought, that I have flattered myself into an opinion
+of being able to return some part of my obligements
+to you;&mdash;the just despair of which attempt,
+and the due veneration I have for his person, to
+whom I must address, have almost driven me to receive
+only with a profound submission the effects of
+that virtue, which is never to be comprehended but
+by admiration; and the greatest note of admiration
+is silence. It is that noble passion, to which
+poets raise their audience in highest subjects, and
+they have then gained over them the greatest victory,
+when they are ravished into a pleasure which
+is not to be expressed by words. To this pitch,
+my lord, the sense of my gratitude had almost raised
+me: to receive your favours, as the Jews of old
+received their law, with a mute wonder; to think,
+that the loudness of acclamation was only the praise
+of men to men, and that the secret homage of the
+soul was a greater mark of reverence, than an outward
+ceremonious joy, which might be counterfeit,
+and must be irreverent in its tumult. Neither, my
+lord, have I a particular right to pay you my acknowledgements:
+You have been a good so universal,
+that almost every man in the three nations may
+think me injurious to his propriety, that I invade
+your praises, in undertaking to celebrate them alone;
+and that I have assumed to myself a patron, who
+was no more to be circumscribed than the sun and
+elements, which are of public benefit to human
+kind.</p>
+
+<p>As it was much in your power to oblige all who
+could pretend to merit from the public, so it was
+more in your nature and inclination. If any went
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_007" name="page_007"></a>
+ill-satisfied from the treasury, while it was in your
+lordship's management, it proclaimed the want of
+desert, and not of friends: You distributed your
+master's favour with so equal hands, that justice
+herself could not have held the scales more even;
+but with that natural propensity to do good, that
+had that treasure been your own, your inclination
+to bounty must have ruined you. No man attended
+to be denied: No man bribed for expedition:
+Want and desert were pleas sufficient. By your
+own integrity, and your prudent choice of those
+whom you employed, the king gave all that he intended;
+and gratuities to his officers made not vain
+his bounty. This, my lord, you were in your public
+capacity of high treasurer, to which you ascended
+by such degrees, that your royal master saw
+your virtues still growing to his favours, faster
+than they could rise to you. Both at home and
+abroad, with your sword and with your counsel,
+you have served him with unbiassed honour, and
+unshaken resolution; making his greatness, and the
+true interest of your country, the standard and measure
+of your actions. Fortune may desert the wise
+and brave, but true virtue never will forsake itself<a class="ftnt" href="#Amboy_2-2">[2]</a>.
+It is the interest of the world, that virtuous men
+should attain to greatness, because it gives them the
+power of doing good: But when, by the iniquity of
+the times, they are brought to that extremity, that
+they must either quit their virtue or their fortune,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_008" name="page_008"></a>
+they owe themselves so much, as to retire to the
+private exercise of their honour;&mdash;to be great within,
+and by the constancy of their resolutions, to
+teach the inferior world how they ought to judge
+of such principles, which are asserted with so generous
+and so unconstrained a trial.</p>
+
+<p>But this voluntary neglect of honours has been of
+rare example in the world<a class="ftnt" href="#Amboy_2-3">[3]</a>: Few men have frowned
+first upon fortune, and precipitated themselves
+from the top of her wheel, before they felt at least
+the declination of it. We read not of many emperors
+like Dioclesian and Charles the Fifth, who
+have preferred a garden and a cloister before a
+crowd of followers, and the troublesome glory of an
+active life, which robs the possessor of his rest and
+quiet, to secure the safety and happiness of others.
+Seneca, with the help of his philosophy, could never
+attain to that pitch of virtue: He only endeavoured
+to prevent his fall by descending first, and offered
+to resign that wealth which he knew he could no
+longer hold; he would only have made a present
+to his master of what he foresaw would become his
+prey; he strove to avoid the jealousy of a tyrant,&mdash;you
+dismissed yourself from the attendance and privacy
+of a gracious king. Our age has afforded us
+many examples of a contrary nature; but your lordship
+is the only one of this. It is easy to discover
+in all governments, those who wait so close on fortune,
+that they are never to be shaken off at any
+turn: Such who seem to have taken up a resolution
+of being great; to continue their stations on the
+theatre of business; to change with the scene, and
+shift the vizard for another part&mdash;these men condemn
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_009" name="page_009"></a>
+in their discourses that virtue which they
+dare not practise: But the sober part of this present
+age, and impartial posterity, will do right, both to
+your lordship and to them: And, when they read
+on what accounts, and with how much magnanimity,
+you quitted those honours, to which the highest
+ambition of an English subject could aspire, will
+apply to you, with much more reason, what the
+historian said of a Roman emperor, "<i>Multi diutius
+imperium tenuerunt; nemo fortius reliquit.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>To this retirement of your lordship, I wish I
+could bring a better entertainment than this play;
+which, though it succeeded on the stage, will scarcely
+bear a serious perusal; it being contrived and
+written in a month, the subject barren, the persons
+low, and the writing not heightened with many laboured
+scenes. The consideration of these defects
+ought to have prescribed more modesty to the author,
+than to have presented it to that person in
+the world for whom he has the greatest honour,
+and of whose patronage the best of his endeavours
+had been unworthy: But I had not satisfied myself
+in staying longer, and could never have paid the
+debt with a much better play. As it is, the meanness
+of it will shew; at least, that I pretend not by
+it to make any manner of return for your favours;
+and that I only give you a new occasion of exercising
+your goodness to me, in pardoning the failings
+and imperfections of,</p>
+
+<p class="sig i1 smcap">My Lord,</p>
+<p class="sig i2">Your Lordship's</p>
+<p class="sig i3">Most humble, most obliged,</p>
+<p class="sig i4">Most obedient servant,</p>
+<p class="sig i5 smcap">John Dryden.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Amboy_2-1" name="Amboy_2-1"></a>Sir Thomas Clifford, just then created Lord Clifford of Chudleigh,
+and appointed Lord High Treasurer, was one of the six ministers,
+the initials of whose names furnished the word <i>Cabal</i>, by
+which their junto was distinguished. He was the most virtuous
+and honest of the junto, but a Catholic; and, what was then synonymous,
+a warm advocate for arbitrary power. He is said to
+have won his promotion by advising the desperate measure of shutting
+the Exchequer in 1671, the hint of which he is said to have
+stolen from Shaftesbury. This piece may have been undertaken
+by his command; for, even at the very time of the triple alliance,
+he is reported to have said, "For all this, we must have another
+Dutch war." Upon the defection of Lord Shaftesbury from the
+court party, and the passing of the test act, Lord Clifford resigned
+his office, retired to the country, and died in September 1673,
+shortly after receiving this dedication.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Amboy_2-2" name="Amboy_2-2"></a>In this case, Dryden's praise, which did not always occur,
+survived the temporary occasion. Even in a little satirical effusion,
+he tells us,
+
+<div class="poem" style="margin-top: 1em;">
+<p>Clifford was fierce and brave.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Clifford had been comptroller and treasurer of the household,
+and one of the commissioners of the treasury; he had served in the
+Dutch wars.</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="Amboy_2-3" name="Amboy_2-3"></a>Alluding to Lord Clifford's resignation of an office he could
+not hold without a change of religion.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_010" name="page_010"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE.</h3>
+
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>This poem was written as far back as 1662, and was then
+termed a Satire against the Dutch.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>As needy gallants in the scriveners' hands,</p>
+<p>Court the rich knave that gripes their mortgaged lands,</p>
+<p>The first fat buck of all the season's sent,</p>
+<p>And keeper takes no fee in compliment:</p>
+<p>The dotage of some Englishmen is such</p>
+<p>To fawn on those who ruin them&mdash;the Dutch.</p>
+<p>They shall have all, rather than make a war</p>
+<p>With those who of the same religion are.</p>
+<p>The Straits, the Guinea trade, the herrings too,</p>
+<p>Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you.</p>
+<p>Some are resolved not to find out the cheat,</p>
+<p>But, cuckold like, love him who does the feat:</p>
+<p>What injuries soe'er upon us fall,</p>
+<p>Yet, still, The same religion, answers all:</p>
+<p>Religion wheedled you to civil war,</p>
+<p>Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would spare:</p>
+<p>Be gulled no longer, for you'll find it true,</p>
+<p>They have no more religion, faith&mdash;than you;</p>
+<p>Interest's the god they worship in their state;</p>
+<p>And you, I take it, have not much of that.</p>
+<p>Well, monarchies may own religion's name,</p>
+<p>But states are atheists in their very frame.</p>
+<p>They share a sin, and such proportions fall,</p>
+<p>That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all.</p>
+<p>How they love England, you shall see this day;</p>
+<p>No map shews Holland truer than our play:</p>
+<p>Their pictures and inscriptions well we know<a class="ftnt" href="#Amboy_3-1">[1]</a>;</p>
+<p>We may be bold one medal sure to show.</p>
+<p>View then their falsehoods, rapine, cruelty;</p>
+<p>And think what once they were, they still would be:</p>
+<p>But hope not either language, plot, or art;</p>
+<p>'Twas writ in haste, but with an English heart:</p>
+<p>And least hope wit; in Dutchmen that would be</p>
+<p>As much improper, as would honesty.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Amboy_3-1" name="Amboy_3-1"></a>Amongst the pretexts for making war on the states of Holland were alleged
+their striking certain satirical medals, and engraving prints in ridicule
+of Charles II. See his proclamation of war in 1671-2.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_012" name="page_012"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">DRAMATIS PERSON&AElig;.</h3>
+
+<p class="noind" style="margin-bottom: 0;"><i>Captain</i> <span class="smcap">Gabriel Towerson.</span></p>
+<table class="dpgrp" summary="Beamont and Collins">
+<tr><td><i>Mr</i> <span class="smcap">Beamont,</span><br />
+<i>Mr</i> <span class="smcap">Collins,</span></td>
+<td>}<br />
+}</td>
+<td><i>English Merchants, his Friends.</i></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p class="noind" style="margin-top: 0;"><i>Captain</i> <span class="smcap">Middleton,</span> <i>an English Sea Captain.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Perez,</span> <i>a Spanish Captain.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Harman</span> <i>Senior, Governor of Amboyna.</i><br />
+<i>The Fiscal.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Harman</span> <i>Junior, Son to the Governor.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Van Herring,</span> <i>a Dutch Merchant.</i></p>
+
+<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Isabinda,</span> <i>betrothed to</i> <span class="smcap">Towerson,</span> <i>an Indian Lady.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Julia,</span> <i>Wife to</i> <span class="smcap">Perez.</span><br />
+<i>An English Woman.</i><br />
+<i>Page to</i> <span class="smcap">Towerson.</span><br />
+<i>A Skipper.</i><br />
+<i>Two Dutch Merchants.</i></p>
+
+<p>SCENE&mdash;<i>Amboyna.</i></p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_013" name="page_013"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">AMBOYNA.</h3>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT I.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>A Castle on the Sea.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Senior, the Governor, the Fiscal,
+and <span class="cnm">Van Herring:</span> Guards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> A happy day to our noble governor.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Morrow, Fiscal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Did the last ships, which came from
+Holland to these parts, bring us no news of moment?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Yes, the best that ever came into Amboyna,
+since we set footing here; I mean as to our interest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> I wonder much my letters then gave me so
+short accounts; they only said the Orange party
+was grown strong again, since Barnevelt had suffered.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Mine inform me farther, the price of
+pepper, and of other spices, was raised of late in
+Europe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> I wish that news may hold; but much suspect
+it, while the English maintain their factories
+among us in Amboyna, or in the neighbouring plantations
+of Seran.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_014" name="page_014"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Still I have news that tickles me within;
+ha, ha, ha! I'faith it does, and will do you, and all
+our countrymen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Pr'ythee do not torture us, but tell it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Whence comes this news?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> From England.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Is their East India fleet bound outward for
+these parts, or cast away, or met at sea by pirates?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Better, much better yet; ha, ha, ha!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Now am I famished for my part of the
+laughter.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Then, my brave governor, if you're a true
+Dutchman, I'll make your fat sides heave with the
+conceit on't, 'till you're blown like a pair of large
+smith's bellows; here, look upon this paper.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> [<span class="sdm">reading.</span>] <i>You may remember we did endamage
+the English East-India Company the value of five
+hundred thousand pounds, all in one year; a treaty is now
+signed, in which the business is ta'en up for fourscore
+thousand.</i>&mdash;This is news indeed: would I were upon
+the castle-wall, that I might throw my cap into
+the sea, and my gold chain after it! this is golden
+news, boys.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> This is news would kindle a thousand
+bonfires, and make us piss them out again in Rhenish
+wine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Send presently to all our factories, acquaint
+them with these blessed tidings: If we can 'scape
+so cheap, 'twill be no matter what villanies henceforth
+we put in practice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Hum! why this now gives encouragement
+to a certain plot, which I have been long brewing,
+against these skellum English. I almost have it here
+in pericranio, and 'tis a sound one, 'faith; no less
+than to cut all their throats, and seize all their effects
+within this island. I warrant you we may
+compound again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_015" name="page_015"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Seizing their factories I like well enough,
+it has some savour in't; but for this whoreson cutting
+of throats, it goes a little against the grain, because
+'tis so notoriously known in Christendom, that they
+have preserved ours from being cut by the Spaniards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Hang them, base English starts, let them
+e'en take their part of their own old proverb&mdash;Save a
+thief from the gallows; they would needs protect
+us rebels, and see what comes to themselves.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You're i'the right on't, noble Harman; their
+assistance, which was a mercy and a providence to
+us, shall be a judgment upon them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> A little favour would do well; though
+not that I would stop the current of your wit, or
+any other plot, to do them mischief; but they were
+first discoverers of this isle, first traded hither, and
+showed us the way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> I grant you that; nay more, that, by composition
+made after many long and tedious quarrels,
+they were to have a third part of the traffic, we to
+build forts, and they to contribute to the charge.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Which we have so increased each year upon
+them, we being in power, and therefore judges of
+the cost, that we exact whatever we please, still
+more than half the charge; and on pretence of their
+non-payment, or the least delay, do often stop their
+ships, detain their goods, and drag them into prisons,
+while our commodities go on before, and still forestall
+their markets.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> These, I confess, are pretty tricks, but will not
+do our business; we must ourselves be ruined at
+long run, if they have any trade here; I know our
+charge at length will eat us out: I would not let
+these English from this isle have cloves enough to
+stick an orange with, not one to throw into their
+bottle-ale.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> But to bring this about now, there's the
+cunning.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_016" name="page_016"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Let me alone awhile; I have it, as I told you,
+here; mean time we must put on a seeming kindness,
+call them our benefactors and dear brethren, pipe
+them within the danger of our net, and then we'll
+draw it o'er them: When they're in, no mercy, that's
+my maxim.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Nay, brother, I am not too obstinate
+for saving Englishmen, 'twas but a qualm of conscience,
+which profit will dispel: I have as true a
+Dutch antipathy to England, as the proudest <i>he</i> in
+Amsterdam; that's a bold word now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> We are secure of our superiors there. Well,
+they may give the king of Great Britain a verbal
+satisfaction, and with submissive fawning promises,
+make shew to punish us; but interest is their god
+as well as ours. To that almighty, they will sacrifice
+a thousand English lives, and break a hundred thousand
+oaths, ere they will punish those that make them
+rich, and pull their rivals down.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Guns go off within.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Heard you those guns?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Most plainly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> The sound comes from the port; some ship
+arrived salutes the castle, and I hope brings more
+good news from Holland.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Guns again.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Now they answer them from the fortress.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Beamont</span> and <span class="cnm">Collins.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Beamont and Collins, English merchants
+both; perhaps they'll certify us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Captain Harman van Spelt, good day to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Dear, kind Mr Beamont, a thousand and a
+thousand good days to you, and all our friends the
+English.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Came you from the port, gentlemen?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> We did; and saw arrive, our honest, and our
+gallant countryman, brave captain Gabriel Towerson.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Sent to these parts from our employers of
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_017" name="page_017"></a>
+the East India company in England, as general of
+the voyage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Is the brave Towerson returned?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> The same, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> He shall be nobly welcome. He has already
+spent twelve years upon, or near, these rich Molucca
+isles, and home returned with honour and great
+wealth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> The devil give him joy of both, or I will for
+him.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> He's my particular friend; I lived with him,
+both at Tencrate, Tydore, and at Seran.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Did he not leave a mistress in these
+parts, a native of this island of Amboyna?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> He did; I think they call her Isabinda, who
+received baptism for his sake, before he hence departed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> 'Tis much against the will of all her friends,
+she loves your countryman, but they are not disposers
+of her person; she's beauteous, rich, and young,
+and Towerson well deserves her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I think, without flattery to my friend, he
+does. Were I to chuse, of all mankind, a man, on
+whom I would rely for faith and counsel, or more,
+whose personal aid I would invite, in any worthy
+cause, to second me, it should be only Gabriel Towerson;
+daring he is, and thereto fortunate; yet soft,
+and apt to pity the distressed, and liberal to relieve
+them: I have seen him not alone to pardon foes,
+but by his bounty win them to his love: If he has
+any fault, 'tis only that to which great minds can
+only subject be&mdash;he thinks all honest, 'cause himself
+is so, and therefore none suspects.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> I like him well for that; this fault of his
+great mind, as Beamont calls it, may give him cause
+to wish he was more wary, when it shall be too late.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> I was in some small hope, this ship had
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_018" name="page_018"></a>
+been of our own country, and brought back my son;
+for much about this season I expect him. Good-morrow,
+gentlemen; I go to fill a brendice to my
+noble captain's health, pray tell him so; the youth
+of our Amboyna I'll send before, to welcome him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> We'll stay, and meet him here.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Harman, Fiscal,</span> and <span class="cnm">Van Herring.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I do not like these fleering Dutchmen,
+they overact their kindness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> I know not what to think of them; that old
+fat governor, Harman van Spelt, I have known long;
+they say he was a cooper in his country, and took
+the measure of his hoops for tuns by his own belly:
+I love him not, he makes a jest of men in misery;
+the first fat merry fool I ever knew, that was ill-natured.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> He's absolutely governed by this Fiscal,
+who was, as I have heard, an ignorant advocate in
+Rotterdam, such as in England we call a petty-fogging
+rogue; one that knows nothing, but the worst
+part of the law, its tricks and snares: I fear he hates
+us English mortally. Pray heaven we feel not the
+effects on't.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> Neither he, nor Harman, will dare to shew their
+malice to us, now Towerson is come. For though,
+'tis true, we have no castle here, he has an awe upon
+them in his worth, which they both fear and reverence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I wish it so may prove; my mind is a bad
+prophet to me, and what it does forbode of ill, it
+seldom fails to pay me. Here he comes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> And in his company young Harman, son to
+our Dutch governor. I wonder how they met.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Towerson, Harman</span> Junior, and a Skipper.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> [<span class="sdm">Entering, to the Skipper.</span>] These letters see
+conveyed with speed to our plantation. This to
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_019" name="page_019"></a>
+Cambello, and to Hitto this, this other to Loho. Tell
+them, their friends in England greet them well; and
+when I left them, were in perfect health.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Skip.</span> Sir, you shall be obeyed.<span class="sdr">[Exit Skipper.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I heartily rejoice that our employers have
+chose you for this place: a better choice they never
+could have made, or for themselves, or me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> This I am sure of, that our English factories
+in all these parts have wished you long the man, and
+none could be so welcome to their hearts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> And let me speak for my countrymen,
+the Dutch; I have heard my father say, he's your
+sworn brother: And this late accident at sea, when
+you relieved me from the pirates, and brought my
+ship in safety off, I hope will well secure you of our
+gratitude.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> You over-rate a little courtesy: In your deliverance
+I did no more, than what I had myself
+from you expected: The common ties of our religion,
+and those, yet more particular, of peace and
+strict commerce betwixt us and your nation, exacted
+all I did, or could have done. [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Beamont.</span></span>]
+For you, my friend, let me ne'er breathe our English
+air again, but I more joy to see you, than myself to
+have escaped the storm that tossed me long, doubling
+the Cape, and all the sultry heats, in passing twice
+the Line: For now I have you here, methinks this
+happiness should not be bought at a less price.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I'll leave you with your friends; my
+duty binds me to hasten to receive a father's blessing.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Junior.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> You are so much a friend, that I must tax
+you for being a slack lover. You have not yet enquired
+of Isabinda.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> No; I durst not, friend, I durst not. I love
+too well, and fear to know my doom; there's hope
+in doubt; but yet I fixed my eyes on yours, I looked
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_020" name="page_020"></a>
+with earnestness, and asked with them: If aught
+of ill had happened, sure I had met it there; and
+since, methinks, I did not, I have now recovered
+courage, and resolve to urge it from you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Your Isabinda then&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> You have said all in that, my Isabinda, if
+she still be so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Enjoys as much of health, as fear for you,
+and sorrow for your absence, would permit.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Music within.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> Hark, music I think approaching.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> 'Tis from our factory; some sudden entertainment
+I believe, designed for your return.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Amboyners, Men and Women, with Timbrels
+before them. A Dance.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">After the Dance,</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Senior, <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Junior, <span class="cnm">Fiscal,</span>
+and <span class="cnm">Van Herring.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> [<span class="sdm">Embracing <span class="cnm">Towerson.</span></span>] O my sworn
+brother, my dear captain Towerson! the man whom
+I love better than a stiff gale, when I am becalmed
+at sea; to whom I have received the sacrament,
+never to be false-hearted.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> You ne'er shall have occasion on my part:
+The like I promise for our factories, while I continue
+here: This isle yields spice enough for both; and
+Europe, ports, and chapmen, where to vend them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> It does, it does; we have enough, if we
+can be contented.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> And, sir, why should we not? What mean
+these endless jars of trading nations? 'Tis true, the
+world was never large enough for avarice or ambition;
+but those who can be pleased with moderate
+gain, may have the ends of nature, not to want:
+Nay, even its luxuries may be supplied from her
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_021" name="page_021"></a>
+o'erflowing bounties in these parts; from whence
+she yearly sends spices and gums, the food of
+heaven in sacrifice: And, besides these, her gems of
+the richest value, for ornament, more than necessity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> You are i'the right; we must be very
+friends, i'faith we must; I have an old Dutch heart,
+as true and trusty as your English oak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> We can never forget the patronage of your
+Elizabeth, of famous memory; when from the yoke
+of Spain, and Alva's pride, her potent succours, and
+her well-timed bounty, freed us, and gave us credit
+in the world.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> For this we only ask a fair commerce, and
+friendliness of conversation here: And what our several
+treaties bind us to, you shall, while Towerson
+lives, see so performed, as fits a subject to an English
+king.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Now, by my faith, you ask too little,
+friend; we must have more than bare commerce
+betwixt us: Receive me to your bosom; by this
+beard, I will never deceive you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I do not like his oath, there's treachery in
+that Judas-coloured beard.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Pray use me as your servant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> And me too, captain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I receive you both as jewels, which I'll wear
+in either ear, and never part with you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> I cannot do enough for him, to whom
+I owe my son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Nor I, till fortune send me such another
+brave occasion of fighting so for you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Captain, very shortly we must use your
+head in a certain business; ha, ha, ha, my dear captain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> We must use your head, indeed, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Sir, command me, and take it as a debt I
+owe your love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_022" name="page_022"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Talk not of debt, for I must have your
+heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Your heart, indeed, good captain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> You are weary now, I know, sea-beat
+and weary; 'tis time we respite further ceremony;
+besides, I see one coming, whom I know you long
+to embrace, and I should be unkind to keep you
+from her arms.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Isabinda</span> and <span class="cnm">Julia.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Do I hold my love, do I embrace him after
+a tedious absence of three years? Are you indeed returned,
+are you the same? Do you still love your
+Isabinda? Speak before I ask you twenty questions
+more: For I have so much love, and so much joy,
+that if you don't love as well as I, I shall appear
+distracted.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> We meet then both out of ourselves, for I
+am nothing else but love and joy; and to take care
+of my discretion now, would make me much unworthy
+of that passion, to which you set no bounds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> How could you be so long away?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> How can you think I was? I still was here,
+still with you, never absent in my mind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> She is a most charming creature; I
+wish I had not seen her.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Now I shall love your God, because I see
+that he takes care of lovers: But, my dear Englishman,
+I pr'ythee let it be our last of absence; I cannot
+bear another parting from thee, nor promise
+thee to live three other years, if thou again goest
+hence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I never will without you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> I said before, we should but trouble ye.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> You make me blush; but if you ever were
+a lover, sir, you will forgive a folly, which is sweet,
+though, I confess, 'ts much extravagant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_023" name="page_023"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> He has but too much cause for this
+excess of joy; oh happy, happy Englishman! but I
+unfortunate!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Now, when you please, lead on.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> This day you shall be feasted at the castle,<br />
+Where our great guns shall loudly speak your welcome.<br />
+All signs of joy shall through the isle be shewn,<br />
+Whilst in full rummers we our friendship crown.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT II. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Isabinda,</span> and <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Junior.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> This to me, from you, against your friend!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Have I not eyes? are you not fair?
+Why does it seem so strange?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Come, it is a plot betwixt you: My Englishman
+is jealous, and has sent you to try my faith:
+he might have spared the experiment, after a three
+years absence; that was a proof sufficient of my
+constancy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I heard him say he never had returned,
+but that his masters of the East India company
+preferred him large conditions.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> You do bely him basely.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> As much as I do you, in saying you
+are fair; or as I do myself, when I declare I die for
+you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> If this be earnest, you have done a most
+unmanly and ungrateful part, to court the intended
+wife of him, to whom you are most obliged.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Leave me to answer that: Assure
+yourself I love you violently, and, if you are wise,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_024" name="page_024"></a>
+you will make some difference betwixt Towerson
+and me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Yes, I shall make a difference, but not to
+your advantage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> You must, or falsify your knowledge;
+an Englishman, part captain, and part merchant;
+his nation of declining interest here: Consider
+this, and weigh against that fellow, not me,
+but any, the least and meanest Dutchman in this
+isle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I do not weigh by bulk: I know your
+countrymen have the advantage there.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Hold back your hand, from firming
+of your faith; you will thank me in a little time,
+for staying you so kindly from embarking in his
+ruin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> His fortune is not so contemptible as you
+would make it seem.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Wait but one month for the event.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I will not wait one day, though I were
+sure to sink with him the next: So well I love my
+Towerson, I will not lose another sun, for fear he
+should not rise to-morrow. For yourself, pray rest
+assured, of all mankind, you should not be my
+choice, after an act of such ingratitude.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> You may repent your scorn at leisure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Never, unless I married you.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Towerson.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Now, my dear Isabinda, I dare pronounce
+myself most happy: Since I have gained your kindred,
+all difficulties cease.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I wish we find it so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Why, is aught happened since I saw you
+last? Methinks a sadness dwells upon your brow,
+like that I saw before my last long absence. You
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_025" name="page_025"></a>
+do not speak: My friend dumb too? Nay then, I
+fear some more than ordinary cause produces this.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> You have no reason, Towerson, to
+be sad; you are the happy man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> If I have any, you must needs have some.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> No, you are loved, and I am bid
+despair.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Time and your services will perhaps make
+you as happy, as I am in my Isabinda's love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I thought I spoke so plain, I might be
+understood; but since I did not, I must tell you,
+Towerson, I wear the title of your friend no longer,
+because I am your rival.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Is this true, Isabinda?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I should not, I confess, have told you first,
+because I would not give you that disquiet; but
+since he has, it is too sad a truth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Leave us, my dear, a little to ourselves.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I fear you will quarrel, for he seemed incensed,
+and threatened you with ruin. <span class="sdr">[To him aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> 'Tis to prevent an ill, which may be fatal
+to us both, that I would speak with him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Swear to me, by your love, you will not fight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Fear not, my Isabinda; things are not
+grown to that extremity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I leave you, but I doubt the consequence.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Isab.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I want a name to call you by; friend, you
+declare you are not, and to rival, I am not yet
+enough accustomed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Now I consider on it, it shall be yet
+in your free choice, to call me one or other; for,
+Towerson, I do not decline your friendship, but
+then yield Isabinda to me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Yield Isabinda to you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Yes, and preserve the blessing of my
+friendship; I'll make my father yours; your factories
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_026" name="page_026"></a>
+shall be no more oppressed, but thrive in all advantages
+with ours; your gain shall be beyond
+what you could hope for from the treaty: In all
+the traffic of these eastern parts, ye shall&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Hold! you mistake me, Harman, I never
+gave you just occasion to think I would make merchandize
+of love; Isabinda, you know, is mine, contracted
+to me ere I went for England, and must be
+so till death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> She must not, Towerson; you know
+you are not strongest in these parts, and it will be
+ill contesting with your masters.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Our masters? Harman, you durst not once
+have named that word, in any part of Europe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Here I both dare and will; you have no
+castles in Amboyna.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Though we have not, we yet have English
+hearts, and courages not to endure affronts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> They may be tried.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Your father sure will not maintain you in
+this insolence; I know he is too honest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Assure yourself he will espouse my
+quarrel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> We would complain to England.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Your countrymen have tried that
+course so often, methinks they should grow wiser,
+and desist: But now there is no need of troubling
+any others but ourselves; the sum of all is this, you
+either must resign me Isabinda, or instantly resolve
+to clear your title to her by your sword.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I will do neither now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Then I'll believe you dare not fight me
+fairly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> You know I durst have fought, though I
+am not vain enough to boast it, nor would upbraid
+you with remembrance of it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> You destroy your benefit with rehearsal
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_027" name="page_027"></a>
+of it; but that was in a ship, backed by your
+men; single duel is a fairer trial of your courage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I'm not to be provoked out of my temper:
+Here I am a public person, entrusted by my king
+and my employers, and should I kill you, Harman&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Oh never think you can, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I should betray my countrymen to suffer,
+not only worse indignities than those they have already
+borne, but, for aught I know, might give them
+up to general imprisonment, perhaps betray them
+to a massacre.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> These are but pitiful and weak excuses;
+I'll force you to confess you dare not fight; you shall
+have provocations.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I will not stay to take them. Only this before
+I go; if you are truly gallant, insult not where
+you have power, but keep your quarrel secret; we
+may have time and place out of this island: Meanwhile,
+I go to marry Isabinda, that you shall see
+I dare.&mdash;No more, follow me not an inch beyond
+this place, no not an inch. Adieu.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Towerson.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Thou goest to thy grave, or I to mine.
+<span class="sdr">[Is going after him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Fiscal.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Whither so fast, mynheer?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> After that English dog, whom I believe
+you saw.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Whom, Towerson?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Yes, let me go, I'll have his blood.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Let me advise you first; you young men
+are so violently hot.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I say I'll have his blood.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> To have his blood is not amiss, so far I go
+with you; but take me with you further for the
+means: First, what's the injury?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Not to detain you with a tedious
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_028" name="page_028"></a>
+story, I love his mistress, courted her, was slighted;
+into the heat of this he came; I offered him the
+best advantages he could or to himself propose, or
+to his nation, would he quit her love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> So far you are prudent, for she is exceeding
+rich.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> He refused all; then I threatened him
+with my father's power.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> That was unwisely done; your father, underhand,
+may do a mischief, but it is too gross aboveboard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> At last, nought else prevailing, I defied
+him to single duel; this he refused, and I believe
+it was fear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> No, no, mistake him not, it is a stout whoreson.
+You did ill to press him, it will not sound well
+in Europe; he being here a public minister, having
+no means of 'scaping should he kill you, besides exposing
+all his countrymen to a revenge.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> That's all one; I'm resolved I will
+pursue my course, and fight him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Pursue your end, that's to enjoy the woman
+and her wealth; I would, like you, have Towerson
+despatched,&mdash;for, as I am a true Dutchman, I
+do hate him,&mdash;but I would convey him smoothly out
+of the world, and without noise; they will say we
+are ungrateful else in England, and barbarously
+cruel; now I could swallow down the <i>thing</i> ingratitude
+and the <i>thing</i> murder, but the names are
+odious.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> What would you have me do then?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Let him enjoy his love a little while, it will
+break no squares in the long run of a man's life;
+you shall have enough of her, and in convenient time.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I cannot bear he should enjoy her
+first; no, it is determined; I will kill him bravely.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Ay, a right young man's bravery, that's
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_029" name="page_029"></a>
+folly: Let me alone, something I'll put in practice,
+to rid you of this rival ere he marries, without your
+once appearing in it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> If I durst trust you now?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> If you believe that I have wit, or love you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Well, sir, you have prevailed; be
+speedy, for once I will rely on you. Farewell.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Harman.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> This hopeful business will be quickly spoiled,
+if I not take exceeding care of it.&mdash;Stay,&mdash;Towerson
+to be killed, and privately, that must be laid
+down as the groundwork, for stronger reasons than
+a young man's passion; but who shall do it? No
+Englishman will, and much I fear, no Dutchman
+dares attempt it.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Perez.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Well said, in faith, old Devil! Let thee alone, when
+once a man is plotting villany, to find him a fit
+instrument. This Spanish captain, who commands
+our slaves, is bold enough, and is beside in want,
+and proud enough to think he merits wealth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> This Fiscal loves my wife; I am jealous of
+him, and yet must speak him fair to get my pay;
+O, there is the devil for a Castilian, to stoop to one
+of his own master's rebels, who has, or who designs
+to cuckold him.&mdash;[<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]&mdash;[<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Fiscal.</span></span>] I come to
+kiss your hand again, sir; six months I am in arrear;
+I must not starve, and Spaniards cannot beg.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> I have been a better friend to you, than perhaps
+you think, captain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I fear you have indeed.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> And faithfully solicited your business; send
+but your wife to-morrow morning early, the money
+shall be ready.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> What if I come myself?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Why ye may have it, if you come yourself,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_030" name="page_030"></a>
+captain; but in case your occasions should call you
+any other way, you dare trust her to receive it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> She has no skill in money.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> It shall be told into her hand, or given her
+upon honour, in a lump: but, captain, you were
+saying you did want; now I should think three
+hundred doubloons would do you no great harm;
+they will serve to make you merry on the watch.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> Must they be told into my wife's hand, too?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> No, those you may receive yourself, if you
+dare merit them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I am a Spaniard, sir; that implies honour: I
+dare all that is possible.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Then you dare kill a man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> So it be fairly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> But what if he will not be so civil to be
+killed that way? He is a sturdy fellow, I know you
+stout, and do not question your valour; but I would
+make sure work, and not endanger you, who are my
+friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I fear the governor will execute me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> The governor will thank you; 'Tis he shall
+be your pay-master; you shall have your pardon
+drawn up beforehand; and remember, no transitory
+sum, three hundred quadruples in your own country
+gold.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> Well, name your man.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Julia.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Your wife comes, take it in whisper.
+<span class="sdr">[They whisper.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Yonder is my master, and my Dutch servant;
+how lovingly they talk in private! if I did
+not know my Don's temper to be monstrously jealous,
+I should think, they were driving a secret bargain
+for my body; but <i>cuerpo</i> is not to be digested by
+my Castilian. <i>Mi Moher</i>, my wife, and my mistress!
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_031" name="page_031"></a>
+he lays the emphasis on me, as if to cuckold him
+were a worse sin, than breaking the commandment.
+If my English lover, Beamont, my Dutch love, the
+Fiscal, and my Spanish husband, were painted in a
+piece, with me amongst them, they would make a
+pretty emblem of the two nations that cuckold his
+Catholic majesty in his Indies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You will undertake it then?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I have served under Towerson as his lieutenant,
+served him well, and, though I say it, bravely;
+yet never have been rewarded, though he promised
+largely; 'tis resolved, I'll do it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> And swear secresy?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> By this beard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Go wait upon the governor from me, confer
+with him about it in my name, this seal will give
+you credit.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Gives him his seal.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I go. [<span class="sdm">Goes a step or two, while the other approaches
+his wife.</span>] What shall I be, before I come
+again?<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Now, my fair mistress, we shall have the
+opportunity which I have long desired.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Julia.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> The governor is now a-sleeping; this is his
+hour of afternoon's repose, I'll go when he is awake.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Returning.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> He slept early this afternoon; I left him
+newly waked.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> Well, I go then, but with an aching heart.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> So, at length he's gone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> But you may find he was jealous, by his delay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> If I were as you, I would give evident
+proofs, should cure him of that disease for ever
+after.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_032" name="page_032"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Perez</span> again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I have considered on't, and if you would
+go along with me to the governor, it would do
+much better.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> No, no, that would make the matter more
+suspicious. The devil take thee for an impertinent
+cuckold!<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> Well, I must go then.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Perez.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Nay, there was never the like of him; but it
+shall not serve his turn, we'll cuckold him most furiously.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Perez</span> again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I had forgot one thing; dear sweet-heart,
+go home quickly, and oversee our business; it won't
+go forward without one of us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> I warrant you, take no care of your business;
+leave it to me, I'll put it forward in your absence:
+Go, go, you'll lose your opportunity; I'll be
+at home before you, and sup with you to-night.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> You shall be welcome, but&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Three hundred quadruples.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> That's true, but&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> But three hundred quadruples.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> The devil take the quadruples!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Beamont.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> There's my cuckold that must be, and my
+fellow swaggerer, the Dutchman, with my mistress:
+my nose is wiped to-day; I must retire, for the Spaniard
+is jealous of me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> Oh, Mr Beamont, I'm to ask a favour of
+you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> This is unusual; pray command it, signior.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I am going upon urgent business; pray sup
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_033" name="page_033"></a>
+with me to-night, and, in the meantime, bear my
+worthy friend here company.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> With all my heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> So, now I am secure; though I dare not
+trust her with one of them, I may with both;
+they'll hinder one another, and preserve my honour
+into the bargain.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Now, Mr Fiscal, you are the happy man
+with the ladies, and have got the precedence of
+traffic here too; you've the Indies in your arms,
+yet I hope a poor Englishman may come in for a
+third part of the merchandise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Oh, sir, in these commodities, here's enough
+for both; here's mace for you, and nutmeg for me, in
+the same fruit, and yet the owner has to spare for
+other friends too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> My husband's plantation is like to thrive well
+betwixt you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Horn him; he deserves not so much happiness
+as he enjoys in you; he's jealous.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> 'Tis no wonder if a Spaniard looks yellow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Betwixt you and me, 'tis a little kind of
+venture that we make, in doing this Don's drudgery
+for him; for the whole nation of them is generally
+so pocky, that 'tis no longer a disease, but a second
+nature in them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> I have heard indeed, that 'tis incorporated
+among them, as deeply as the Moors and Jews are;
+there's scarce a family, but 'tis crept into their blood,
+like the new Christians.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Come, I'll have no whispering betwixt you;
+I know you were talking of my husband, because
+my nose itches.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Faith, madam, I was speaking in favour
+of your nation: What pleasant lives I have known
+Spaniards to live in England.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> If you love me, let me hear a little.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_034" name="page_034"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Beam.</span> We observed them to have much of the
+nature of our flies; they buzzed abroad a month
+or two in the summer, would venture about dog-days
+to take the air in the Park, but all the winter
+slept like dormice; and, if they ever appeared in public
+after Michaelmas, their faces shewed the difference
+betwixt their country and ours, for they look
+in Spain as if they were roasted, and in England as
+if they were sodden.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> I'll not believe your description.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Yet our observations of them in Holland
+are not much unlike it. I've known a great Don at
+the Hague, with the gentleman of his horse, his major
+domo, and two secretaries, all dine at four tables,
+on the quarters of a single pullet: The victuals
+of the under servants were weighed out in
+ounces, by the Don himself; with so much garlic
+in the other scale: A thin slice of bacon went
+through the family a week together; for it was
+daily put into the pot for pottage; was served in
+the midst of the dish at dinners, and taken out and
+weighed by the steward, at the end of every meal,
+to see how much it lost; till, at length, looking at
+it against the sun, it appeared transparent, and then
+he would have whipped it up, as his own fees, at a
+morsel; but that his lord barred the dice, and reckoned
+it to him for a part of his board wages.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> In few words, madam, the general notion
+we had of them, was, that they were very frugal of
+their Spanish coin, and very liberal of their Neapolitan.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> I see, gentlemen, you are in the way of rallying;
+therefore let me be no hinderance to your
+sport; do as much for one another as you have done
+for our nation. Pray, Mynheer Fiscal, what think
+you of the English?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Oh, I have an honour for the country.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_035" name="page_035"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I beseech you, leave your ceremony; we
+can hear of our faults without choler; therefore
+speak of us with a true Amsterdam spirit, and do
+not spare us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Since you command me, sir, 'tis said of
+you, I know not how truly, that for your fishery at
+home, you're like dogs in the manger, you will neither
+manage it yourselves, nor permit your neighbours;
+so that for your sovereignty of the narrow
+seas, if the inhabitants of them, the herrings, were
+capable of being judges, they would certainly award
+it to the English, because they were then sure to
+live undisturbed, and quiet under you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Very good; proceed, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> 'Tis true, you gave us aid in our time of need,
+but you paid yourselves with our cautionary towns:
+And, that you have since delivered them up, we
+can never give sufficient commendation, either to
+your honesty, or to your wit; for both which qualities
+you have purchased such an immortal fame,
+that all nations are instructed how to deal with you
+another time.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> A most grateful acknowledgment; sweet
+sir, go on.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> For your trade abroad, if you should obtain
+it, you are so horribly expensive, that you would
+undo yourselves and all Christendom; for you
+would sink under your very profit, and the gains
+of the universal world would beggar you: You devour
+a voyage to the Indies, by the multitude of
+mouths with which you man your vessels: Providence
+has contrived it well, that the Indies are managed
+by us, an industrious and frugal people, who
+distribute its merchandise to the rest of Europe,
+and suffer it not to be consumed in England, that
+the other members might be starved, while you of
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_036" name="page_036"></a>
+Great Britain, as you call it, like a rickety head,
+would only swell and grow bigger by it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> I have heard enough of England; have you
+nothing to return upon the Netherlands?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Faith, very little to any purpose; he has
+been beforehand with us, as his countrymen are in
+their trade, and taken up so many vices for the use
+of England, that he has left almost none for the
+Low Countries.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Come, a word, however.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> In the first place, you shewed your ambition
+when you began to be a state: For not
+being gentlemen, you have stolen the arms of the
+best families of Europe; and wanting a name, you
+made bold with the first of the divine attributes,
+and called yourselves the High and Mighty: though,
+let me tell you, that, besides the blasphemy, the title
+is ridiculous; for High is no more proper for the
+Netherlands, than Mighty is for seven little rascally
+provinces, no bigger in all than a shire in England.
+For my main theme, your ingratitude, you have in
+part acknowledged it, by your laughing at our easy
+delivery of your cautionary towns: The best is, we
+are used by you as well as your own princes of the
+house of Orange: We and they have set you up,
+and you undermine their power, and circumvent our
+trade.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> And good reason, if our interest requires it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> That leads me to your religion, which is
+only made up of interest: At home, you tolerate
+all worships in them who can pay for it; and
+abroad, you were lately so civil to the emperor of
+Pegu, as to do open sacrifice to his idols.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Yes, and by the same token, you English
+were such precise fools as to refuse it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> For frugality in trading, we confess we
+cannot compare with you; for our merchants live
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_037" name="page_037"></a>
+like noblemen; your gentlemen, if you have any,
+live like boors. You traffic for all the rarities of the
+world, and dare use none of them yourselves; so
+that, in effect, you are the mill-horses of mankind,
+that labour only for the wretched provender you
+eat: A pot of butter and a pickled herring is all
+your riches; and, in short, you have a good title to
+cheat all Europe, because, in the first place, you cozen
+your own backs and bellies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> We may enjoy more whenever we please.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Your liberty is a grosser cheat than any
+of the rest; for you are ten times more taxed than
+any people in Christendom: You never keep any
+league with foreign princes; you flatter our kings,
+and ruin their subjects; you never denied us satisfaction
+at home for injuries, nor ever gave it us
+abroad.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You must make yourselves more feared,
+when you expect it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> And I prophecy that time will come, when
+some generous monarch of our island will undertake
+our quarrel, reassume the fishery of our seas,
+and make them as considerable to the English, as
+the Indies are to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Before that comes to pass, you may repent
+your over-lavish tongue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I was no more in earnest than you were.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Pray let this go no further; my husband has
+invited both to supper.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> If you please, I'll fall to before he comes;
+or, at least, while he is conferring in private with
+the Fiscal.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside to her.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Their private businesses let them agree;<br />
+The Dutch for him, the Englishman for me.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_038" name="page_038"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT III. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Perez.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> True, the reward proposed is great enough,
+I want it too; besides, this Englishman has never
+paid me since, as his lieutenant, I served him once
+against the Turk at sea; yet he confessed I did my
+duty well, when twice I cleared our decks; he has
+long promised me, but what are promises to starving
+men? this is his house, he may walk out this
+morning.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter a Page, and another Servant, walking by, not
+seeing him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">These belong to him; I'll hide till they are past.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serv.</span> He sleeps soundly for a man who is to be
+married when he wakes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Page.</span> He does well to take his time; for he does
+not know, when he's married, whether ever he shall
+have a sound sleep again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serv.</span> He bid we should not wake him; but some
+of us, in good manners, should have staid, and not
+have left him quite alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Page.</span> In good manners, I should indeed; but
+I'll venture a master's anger at any time for a mistress,
+and that's my case at present.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serv.</span> I'll tempt as great a danger as that comes
+to, for good old English fellowship; I am invited
+to a morning's draught.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Page.</span> Good-morrow, brother, good-morrow; by
+that time you have filled your belly, and I have
+emptied mine, it will be time to meet at home again.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_039" name="page_039"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Per.</span> So, this makes well for my design; he's left
+alone, unguarded, and asleep: Satan, thou art a
+bounteous friend, and liberal of occasions to do
+mischief; my pardon I have ready, if I am taken,
+my money half beforehand: up, Perez, rouse thy
+Spanish courage up; if he should wake, I think I
+dare attempt him; then my revenge is nobler, and
+revenge, to injured men, is full as sweet as profit.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">The <span class="cnm">Scene</span> drawn, discovers <span class="cnm">Towerson</span> asleep on a
+Couch in his Night-gown. A Table by him; Pen,
+Ink, and Paper on it.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Perez</span> with a Dagger.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> Asleep, as I imagined, and as fast as all the
+plummets of eternal night were hung upon his
+temples. Oh that some courteous d&aelig;mon, in the
+other world, would let him know, 'twas Perez sent
+him thither! A paper by him too! He little thinks
+it is his testament; the last he e'er shall make: I'll
+read it first. [<span class="sdm">Takes it up.</span>] Oh, by the inscription,
+'tis a memorial of what he means to do this day:
+What's here? My name in the first line! I'll read it.
+[<span class="sdm">Reads.</span>] <i>Memorandum, That my first action this
+morning shall be, to find out my true and valiant lieutenant,
+captain Perez; and, as a testimony of my gratitude
+for his honourable services, to bestow on him five
+hundred English pounds, making my just excuse, I had
+it not before within my power to reward him.</i> [<span class="sdm">Lays
+down the paper.</span>] And was it then for this I sought
+his life? Oh base, degenerate Spaniard! Hadst thou
+done it, thou hadst been worse than damned: Heaven
+took more care of me, than I of him, to expose
+this paper to my timely view. Sleep on, thou honourable
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_040" name="page_040"></a>
+Englishman; I'll sooner now pierce my
+own breast than thine: See, he smiles too in his
+slumber, as if his guardian angel, in a dream, told
+him, he was secure: I'll give him warning though,
+to prevent danger from another hand.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Writes on <span class="cnm">Towerson's</span> paper, then sticks his
+dagger in it.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="i1">Stick there, that when he wakens, he may know,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">To his own virtue he his life does owe.</span><span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Perez.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Towerson</span> awakens.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I have o'erslept my hour this morning, if
+to enjoy a pleasing dream can be to sleep too long.
+Methought my dear Isabinda and myself were lying
+in an arbour, wreathed about with myrtle and
+with cypress; my rival Harman, reconciled again
+to his friendship, strewed us with flowers, and put
+on each a crimson-coloured garment, in which we
+straightway mounted to the skies; and with us,
+many of my English friends, all clad in the same
+robes. If dreams have any meaning, sure this portends
+some good.&mdash;What's that I see! A dagger
+stuck into the paper of my memorials, and writ below&mdash;<i>Thy
+virtue saved thy life!</i> It seems some one
+has been within my chamber whilst I slept: Something
+of consequence hangs upon this accident.
+What, ho! who waits without? None answer me?
+Are ye all dead? What, ho!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Beamont.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> How is it, friend? I thought, entering
+your house, I heard you call.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I did, but as it seems without effect; none
+of my servants are within reach of my voice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> You seem amazed at somewhat?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> A little discomposed: read that, and see if
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_041" name="page_041"></a>
+I have no occasion; that dagger was stuck there,
+by him who writ it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I must confess you have too just a cause:
+I am myself surprised at an event so strange.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I know not who can be my enemy within
+this island, except my rival Harman; and for him,
+I truly did relate what passed betwixt us yesterday.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> You bore yourself in that as it became
+you, as one who was a witness to himself of his own
+courage; and while, by necessary care of others,
+you were forced to decline fighting, shewed how
+much you did despise the man who sought the
+quarrel: 'Twas base in him, so backed as he is here,
+to offer it, much more to press you to it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I may find a foot of ground in Europe to
+tell the insulting youth, he better had provoked
+some other man; but sure I cannot think 'twas he
+who left that dagger there.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> No, for it seems too great a nobleness of
+spirit, for one like him to practise: 'Twas certainly
+an enemy, who came to take your sleeping life;
+but thus to leave unfinished the design, proclaims
+the act no Dutchman's.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow</span> That time will best discover; I'll think no
+further of it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I confess you have more pleasing thoughts
+to employ your mind at present; I left your bride
+just ready for the temple, and came to call you to
+her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I'll straight attend you thither.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Sen. <span class="cnm">Fiscal,</span> and <span class="cnm">Van Herring.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Remember, sir, what I advised you; you
+must seemingly make up the business.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Har.</span> Sen.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> I warrant you.&mdash;What, my brave bonny
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_042" name="page_042"></a>
+bridegroom, not yet dressed? You are a lazy lover;
+I must chide you.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Towerson.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I was just preparing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> I must prevent part of the ceremony:
+You thought to go to her; she is by this time at
+the castle, where she is invited with our common
+friends; for you shall give me leave, if you so
+please, to entertain you both.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I have some reasons, why I must refuse the
+honour you intend me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> You must have none: What! my old
+friend steal a wedding from me? In troth, you
+wrong our friendship.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> [<span class="sdm">To him aside.</span>] Sir, go not to the castle;
+you cannot, in honour, accept an invitation from
+the father, after an affront from the son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Once more I beg your pardon, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Come, come, I know your reason of
+refusal, but it must not prevail: My son has been
+to blame; I'll not maintain him in the least neglect,
+which he should show to any Englishman,
+much less to you, the best and most esteemed of all
+my friends.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I should be willing, sir, to think it was a
+young man's rashness, or perhaps the rage of a successless
+rival; yet he might have spared some words.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Friend, he shall ask your pardon, or
+I'll no longer own him; what, ungrateful to a man,
+whose valour has preserved him? He shall do it, he
+shall indeed; I'll make you friends upon your own
+conditions; he's at the door, pray let him be admitted;
+this is a day of general jubilee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> You command here, you know, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> I'll call him in; I am sure he will be proud,
+at any rate, to redeem your kind opinion of him.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_043" name="page_043"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Fiscal</span> re-enters, with <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Junior.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Sir, my father, I hope, has in part satisfied
+you, that what I spoke was only an effect of
+sudden passion, of which I am now ashamed; and
+desire it may be no longer lodged in your remembrance,
+than it is now in my intention to do you
+any injury.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Your father may command me to more difficult
+employments, than to receive the friendship
+of a man, of whom I did not willingly embrace an
+ill opinion.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Nothing henceforward shall have power
+to take from me that happiness, in which you are so
+generously pleased to reinstate me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Why this is as it should be; trust me,
+I weep for joy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Towerson is easy, and too credulous. I
+fear 'tis all dissembled on their parts.
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Now set we forward to the castle; the
+bride is there before us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Sir, I wait you.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Sen. <span class="cnm">Towerson, Beamont,</span>
+and <span class="cnm">Van Herring.</span></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Captain <span class="cnm">Perez.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Now, captain, when perform you what you
+promised, concerning Towerson's death?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> Never.&mdash;There, Judas, take your hire of
+blood again.<span class="sdr">[Throws him a purse.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Your reason for this sudden change?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I cannot own the name of man, and do it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Your head shall answer the neglect of
+what you were commanded.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> If it must, I cannot shun my destiny.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Harman, you are too rash; pray hear his
+reasons first.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_044" name="page_044"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Per.</span> I have them to myself, I'll give you none.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> None? that's hard; well, you can be secret,
+captain, for your own sake, I hope?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> That I have sworn already, my oath binds me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> That's enough: we have now chang'd our
+minds, and do not wish his death,&mdash;at least as you
+shall know.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I am glad on't, for he's a brave and worthy
+gentleman; I would not for the wealth of both the
+Indies have had his blood upon my soul to answer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside to <span class="cnm">Harman.</span></span>] I shall find a time to
+take back our secret from him, at the price of his
+life, when he least dreams of it; meantime 'tis fit
+we speak him fair. [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Perez.</span></span>] Captain, a reward
+attends you, greater than you could hope; we only
+meant to try your honesty. I am more than satisfied
+of your reasons.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> I still shall labour to deserve your kindness
+in any honourable way.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Perez.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I told you that this Spaniard had not
+courage enough for such an enterprise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> He rather had too much of honesty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Oh, you have ruined me; you promised
+me this day the death of Towerson, and now, instead
+of that, I see him happy! I'll go and fight him
+yet; I swear he never shall enjoy her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> He shall not, that I swear with you; but you
+are too rash, the business can never be done your
+way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I'll trust no other arm but my own
+with it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Yes, mine you shall, I'll help you. This
+evening, as he goes from the castle, we'll find some
+way to meet him in the dark, and then make sure
+of him for getting maidenheads to-night; to-morrow
+I'll bestow a pill upon my Spanish Don, lest he discover
+what he knows.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Give me your hand, you'll help me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_045" name="page_045"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> By all my hopes I will: in the mean time,
+with a feigned mirth 'tis fit we gild our faces; the
+truth is, that we may smile in earnest, when we
+look upon the Englishman, and think how we will
+use him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Agreed; come to the castle.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.&mdash;<i>The Castle.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Senior, <span class="cnm">Towerson,</span> and <span class="cnm">Isabinda,
+Beamont, Collins, Van Herring.</span> They seat
+themselves.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<h4>EPITHALAMIUM.</h4>
+
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>The day is come, I see it rise,</p>
+<p>Betwixt the bride and bridegroom's eyes;</p>
+<p>That golden day they wished so long,</p>
+<p>Love picked it out amidst the throng;</p>
+<p>He destined to himself this sun,</p>
+<p>And took the reins, and drove him on;</p>
+<p>In his own beams he drest him bright,</p>
+<p>Yet bid him bring a better night.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>The day you wished arrived at last,</p>
+<p>You wish as much that it were past;</p>
+<p>One minute more, and night will hide</p>
+<p>The bridegroom and the blushing bride.</p>
+<p>The virgin now to bed does go&mdash;</p>
+<p>Take care, oh youth, she rise not so&mdash;</p>
+<p>She pants and trembles at her doom,</p>
+<p>And fears and wishes thou wouldst come.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>The bridegroom comes, he comes apace,</p>
+<p>With love and fury in his face;</p>
+<p>She shrinks away, he close pursues,</p>
+<p>And prayers and threats at once does use.</p>
+<p>She, softly sighing, begs delay,</p>
+<p>And with her hand puts his away;</p>
+<p><a class="pgnm" id="page_046" name="page_046"></a>
+Now out aloud for help she cries,</p>
+<p>And now despairing shuts her eyes.</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> I like this song, 'twas sprightly; it
+would restore me twenty years of youth, had I but
+such a bride.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">A Dance.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">After the Dance, enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Junior, and <span class="cnm">Fiscal.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Come, let me have the Sea-Fight; I like
+that better than a thousand of your wanton epithalamiums.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> He means that fight, in which he freed
+me from the pirates.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Pr'ythee, friend, oblige me, and call not for
+that song; 'twill breed ill blood.
+<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Beamont.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Pr'ythee be not scrupulous, ye fought it
+bravely. Young Harman is ungrateful, if he does
+not acknowledge it. I say, sing me the Sea-Fight.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<h4>THE SEA-FIGHT.</h4>
+
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>Who ever saw a noble sight,</p>
+<p>That never viewed a brave sea-fight!</p>
+<p>Hang up your bloody colours in the air,</p>
+<p>Up with your fights, and your nettings prepare;</p>
+<p>Your merry mates cheer, with a lusty bold spright,</p>
+<p>Now each man his brindice, and then to the fight.</p>
+<p>St George, St George, we cry,</p>
+<p>The shouting Turks reply:</p>
+<p>Oh now it begins, and the gun-room grows hot,</p>
+<p>Ply it with culverin and with small shot;</p>
+<p>Hark, does it not thunder? no, 'tis the guns roar,</p>
+<p>The neighbouring billows are turned into gore;</p>
+<p>Now each man must resolve, to die,</p>
+<p>For here the coward cannot fly.</p>
+<p>Drums and trumpets toll the knell,</p>
+<p>And culverins the passing bell.</p>
+<p><a class="pgnm" id="page_047" name="page_047"></a>
+Now, now they grapple, and now board amain;</p>
+<p>Blow up the hatches, they're off all again:</p>
+<p>Give them a broadside, the dice run at all,</p>
+<p>Down comes the mast and yard, and tacklings fall;</p>
+<p>She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune's wheel,</p>
+<p>She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel.</p>
+<p>Who ever beheld so noble a sight,</p>
+<p>As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight!</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> See the insolence of these English;
+they cannot do a brave action in an age, but presently
+they must put it into metre, to upbraid us
+with their benefits.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Let them laugh, that win at last.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Captain <span class="cnm">Middleton,</span> and a Woman with him,
+all pale and weakly, and in tattered garments.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Captain Middleton, you are arrived in a good
+hour, to be partaker of my happiness, which is as
+great this day, as love and expectation can make it.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Rising up to salute <span class="cnm">Middleton.</span></span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mid.</span> And may it long continue so!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> But how happens it, that, setting out with
+us from England, you came not sooner hither.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mid.</span> It seems the winds favoured you with a
+quicker passage; you know I lost you in a storm
+on the other side of the Cape, with which disabled,
+I was forced to put into St Helen's isle; there 'twas
+my fortune to preserve the life of this our countrywoman;
+the rest let her relate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Alas, she seems half-starved, unfit to make
+relations.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> How the devil came she off? I know
+her but too well, and fear she knows me too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Pray, countrywoman, speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eng Wom.</span> Then thus in brief; in my dear husband's
+company, I parted from our sweet native isle:
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_048" name="page_048"></a>
+we to Lantore were bound, with letters from the
+States of Holland, gained for reparation of great
+damages sustained by us; when, by the insulting
+Dutch, our countrymen, against all show of right,
+were dispossessed, and naked sent away from that
+rich island, and from Poleroon.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Woman, you speak with too much
+spleen; I must not hear my countrymen affronted.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eng. Wom..</span> I wish they did not merit much worse
+of me, than I can say of them.&mdash;Well, we sailed
+forward with a merry gale, till near St Helen's isle
+we were overtaken, or rather waylaid, by a Holland
+vessel; the captain of which ship, whom here I see,
+the man who quitted us of all we had in those rich
+parts before, now fearing to restore his ill-got goods,
+first hailed, and then invited us on board, keeping
+himself concealed; his base lieutenant plied all our
+English mariners with wine, and when in dead of
+night they lay secure in silent sleep, most barbarously
+commanded they should be thrown overboard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Sir, do not hear it out.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> This is all false and scandalous.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Pray, sir, attend the story.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eng. Wom.</span> The vessel rifled, and the rich hold
+rummaged, they sink it down to rights; but first I
+should have told you, (grief, alas, has spoiled my
+memory) that my dear husband, wakened at the
+noise, before they reached the cabin where we lay,
+took me all trembling with the sudden fright, and
+leapt into the boat; we cut the cordage, and so put
+out to sea, driving at mercy of the waves and wind;
+so scaped we in the dark. To sum up all, we got to
+shore, and in the mountains hid us, until the barbarous
+Hollanders were gone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Where is your husband, countrywoman?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eng. Wom.</span> Dead with grief; with these two
+hands I scratched him out a grave, on which I placed
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_049" name="page_049"></a>
+a cross, and every day wept o'er the ground where
+all my joys lay buried. The manner of my life, who
+can express! the fountain-water was my only drink;
+the crabbed juice and rhind of half-ripe lemons
+almost my only food, except some roots; my house,
+the widowed cave of some wild beast. In this sad
+state, I stood upon the shore, when this brave captain
+with his ship approached, whence holding up and
+waving both my hands, I stood, and by my actions
+begged their mercy; yet, when they nearer came, I
+would have fled, had I been able, lest they should
+have proved those murderous Dutch, I more than
+hunger feared.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> What say you to this accusation, Van
+Herring?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> 'Tis as you said, sir, false and scandalous.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> I told you so; all false and scandalous.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> On my soul it is not; her heart speaks in
+her tongue, and were she silent, her habit and her
+face speak for her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Sir, you have heard the proofs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Mere allegations, and no proofs. Seem not
+to believe it, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Well, well, we'll hear it another time.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mid.</span> You seem not to believe her testimony, but
+my whole crew can witness it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Ay, they are all Englishmen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> That's a nation too generous to do bad actions,
+and too sincere to justify them done; I wish
+their neighbours were of the same temper.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Nay, now you kindle, captain; this must
+not be, we are your friends and servants.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mid.</span> 'Tis well you are by land, at sea you would
+be masters: there I myself have met with some
+affronts, which, though I wanted power then to return,
+I hailed the captain of the Holland ship, and
+told him he should dearly answer it, if e'er I met
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_050" name="page_050"></a>
+him in the narrow seas. His answer was, (mark but
+the insolence) If I should hang thee, Middleton, up
+at thy main yard, and sink thy ship, here's that
+about my neck (pointing to his gold chain) would
+answer it when I came into Holland.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jan.</span> Yes, this is like the other.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I find we must complain at home; there's
+no redress to be had here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Come, countrywoman,&mdash;I must call you so,
+since he who owns my heart is English born,&mdash;be
+not dejected at your wretched fortune; my house is
+yours, my clothes shall habit you, even these I wear,
+rather than see you thus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Come, come, no more complaints; let
+us go in; I have ten rummers ready to the bride;
+as many times shall our guns discharge, to speak
+the general gladness of this day. I'll lead you,
+lady.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Takes the Bride by the hand.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> A heavy omen to my nuptials!<br />
+<span class="i1">My countrymen oppressed by sea and land,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">And I not able to redress the wrong,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">So weak are we, our enemies so strong.</span><span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT IV.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>A Wood.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Junior, and <span class="cnm">Fiscal,</span> with swords,
+and disguised in vizards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> We are disguised enough; the evening
+now grows dusk.&mdash;I would the deed were done!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Perez</span> with a Soldier, and overhears them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> 'Twill now be suddenly, if we have courage
+in this wild woody walk, hot with the feast
+and plenteous bowls, the bridal company are walking
+to enjoy the cooling breeze; I spoke to Towerson,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_051" name="page_051"></a>
+as I said I would, and on some private business
+of great moment, desired that he would leave the
+company, and meet me single here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jan.</span> Where if he comes, he never shall return
+But Towerson stays too long for my revenge;
+I am in haste to kill him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> He promised me to have been here ere now;
+if you think fitting, I'll go back and bring him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Do so, I'll wait you in this place.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Fisc.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> Was ever villany like this of these unknown
+assassins? Towerson, in vain I saved thy sleeping
+life if now I let thee lose it, when thou wakest;
+thou lately hast been bountiful to me, and this way
+I'll acknowledge it. Yet to disclose their crimes
+were dangerous. What must I do? This generous
+Englishman will strait be here, and consultation
+then perhaps will be too late: I am resolved.&mdash;Lieutenant,
+you have heard, as well as I, the bloody purpose
+of these men?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Sold.</span> I have, and tremble at the mention of it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> Dare you adventure on an action, as brave
+as theirs is base?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Sold.</span> Command my life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> No more. Help me despatch that murderer,
+ere his accomplice comes: the men I know not;
+but their design is treacherous and bloody.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Sold.</span> And he, they mean to kill, is brave himself,
+and of a nation I much love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> Come on then. [<span class="sdm">Both draw. To <span class="cnm">Har.</span></span>]
+Villain, thou diest, thy conscience tells thee why;
+I need not urge the crime.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[They assault him.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Murder! I shall be basely murdered;
+help!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_052" name="page_052"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Towerson.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Hold, villains! what unmanly odds is this?
+Courage, whoe'er thou art; I'll succour thee.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Towerson</span> fights with <span class="cnm">Perez,</span> and <span class="cnm">Harman</span>
+with the Lieutenant, and drive them off the
+stage.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Though, brave unknown, night takes
+thee from my knowledge, and I want time to thank
+thee now, take this, and wear it for my sake;
+[<span class="sdm">Gives him a ring.</span>] Hereafter I'll acknowledge it
+more largely.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> That voice I've heard; but cannot call to
+mind, except it be young Harman's. Yet, who
+should put his life in danger thus? This ring I
+would not take as salary, but as a gage of his free
+heart who left it; and, when I know him, I'll restore
+the pledge. Sure 'twas not far from hence I
+made the appointment: I know not what this
+Dutchman's business is, yet, I believe, 'twas somewhat
+from my rival. It shall go hard, but I will
+find him out, and then rejoin the company.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Junior, and <span class="cnm">Fiscal.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> The accident was wondrous strange: Did
+you neither know your assassinates, nor your deliverer?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> 'Twas all a hurry; yet, upon better
+recollecting of myself, the man, who freed me, must
+be Towerson.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Hark, I hear the company walking this
+way; will you withdraw?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Withdraw, and Isabinda coming!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> The wood is full of murderers; every tree,
+methinks, hides one behind it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> You have two qualities, my friend,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_053" name="page_053"></a>
+that sort but ill together; as mischievous as hell
+could wish you, but fearful in the execution.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> There is a thing within me, called a conscience
+which is not quite o'ercome; now and then
+it rebels a little, especially when I am alone, or in
+the dark.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> The moon begins to rise, and glitters
+through the trees.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] Pray let us walk this way; that
+farther lawn, between the groves, is the most green
+and pleasant of any in this isle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I hear my siren's voice, I cannot stir
+from hence.&mdash;Dear friend, if thou wilt e'er oblige
+me, divert the company a little, and give me opportunity
+a while to talk alone with her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You'll get nothing of her, except it be by
+force.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> You know not with what eloquence
+love may inspire my tongue: The guiltiest wretch,
+when ready for his sentence, has something still to
+say.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Well, they come; I'll put you in a way, and
+wish you good success; but do you hear? remember
+you are a man, and she a woman; a little force, it
+may be, would do well.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Isabinda, Beamont, Middleton, Collins,
+Harman</span> Senior; and <span class="cnm">Julia.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Who saw the bridegroom last?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> He refused to pledge the last rummer;
+so I am out of charity with him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Come, shall we backward to the castle?
+I'll take care of you, lady.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul</span> Oh, you have drunk so much, you are past
+all care.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> But where can be this jolly bridegroom?
+Answer me that; I will have the bride satisfied.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_054" name="page_054"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> He walked alone this way; we met him
+lately.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I beseech you, sir, conduct us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I'll bring you to him, madam.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Har.</span> Jun.</span>] Remember, now's your
+time; if you o'erslip this minute, fortune perhaps
+will never send another.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I am resolved.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Come, gentlemen, I'll tell you such a pleasant
+accident, you'll think the evening short.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> I love a story, and a walk by moonshine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Lend me your hand then, madam.
+<span class="sdr">[Takes her by the one hand.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> But one, I beseech you then; I must not
+quit her so.<span class="sdr">[Takes her by the other hand. Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Junior, and <span class="cnm">Isabinda.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Come, sir, which is the way? I long to see
+my love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> You may have your wish, and without
+stirring hence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> My love so near? Sure you delight to
+mock me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> 'Tis you delight to torture me; behold
+the man who loves you more than his own
+eyes; more than the joys of earth, or hopes of heaven.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> When you renewed your friendship with
+my Towerson, I thought these vain desires were
+dead within you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Smothered they were, not dead; your
+eyes can kindle no such petty fires, as only blaze a
+while, and strait go out.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> You know, when I had far less ties upon
+me, I would not hear you; therefore wonder not if
+I withdraw, and find the company.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_055" name="page_055"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> That would be too much cruelty, to
+make me wretched, and then leave me so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Am I in fault if you are miserable? so you
+may call the rich man's wealth, the cause and object
+of the robber's guilt. Pray do not persecute
+me farther: You know I have a husband now, and
+would be loth to afflict his knowledge with your second
+folly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> What wondrous care you take to
+make him happy! yet I approve your method. Ignorance!
+oh, 'tis a jewel to a husband; that is, 'tis
+peace in him, 'tis virtue in his wife, 'tis honour in
+the world; he has all this, while he is ignorant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> You pervert my meaning: I would not
+keep my actions from his knowledge; your bold attempts
+I would: But yet henceforth conceal your
+impious flames; I shall not ever be thus indulgent
+to your shame, to keep it from his notice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> You are a woman; have enough of
+love for him and me; I know the plenteous harvest
+all is his: He has so much of joy, that he must labour
+under it. In charity, you may allow some
+gleanings to a friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Now you grow rude: I'll hear no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> You must.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Imb.</span> Leave me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I cannot.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I find I must be troubled with this idle
+talk some minutes more, but 'tis your last.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> And therefore I'll improve it: Pray,
+resolve to make me happy by your free consent. I
+do not love these half enjoyments, to enervate my
+delights with using force, and neither give myself
+nor you that full content, which two can never
+have, but where both join with equal eagerness to
+bless each other.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_056" name="page_056"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Bless me, ye kind inhabitants of heaven,
+from hearing words like these!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> You must do more than hear them.
+You know you were now going to your bridal-bed.
+Call your own thoughts but to a strict account,
+they'll tell you, all this day your fancy ran on nothing
+else; 'tis but the same scene still you were
+to act; only the person changed,&mdash;it may be for the
+better.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> You dare not, sure, attempt this villany.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Call not the act of love by that gross
+name; you'll give it a much better when 'tis done,
+and woo me to a second.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Dost thou not fear a heaven?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> No, I hope one in you. Do it, and do
+it heartily; time is precious; it will prepare you better
+for your husband. Come&mdash;<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Lays hold on her.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> O mercy, mercy! Oh, pity your own soul,
+and pity mine; think how you'll wish undone this
+horrid act, when your hot lust is slaked; think what
+will follow when my husband knows it, if shame
+will let me live to tell it him; and tremble at a
+Power above, who sees, and surely will revenge it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I have thought!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Then I am sure you're penitent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> No, I only gave you scope, to let you
+see, all you have urged I knew: You find 'tis to no
+purpose either to talk or strive.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> [<span class="sdm">Running.</span>] Some succour! help, oh help!
+<span class="sdr">[She breaks from him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> [<span class="sdm">Running after her.</span>] That too is vain,
+you cannot 'scape me.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] Now you are mine; yield,
+or by force I'll take it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] Oh, kill me first!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> [<span class="sdm">Within.</span>] I'll bear you where your cries
+shall not be heard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_057" name="page_057"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Isab.</span> [<span class="sdm">As further off.</span>] Succour, sweet heaven! oh
+succour me!</p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Senior, <span class="cnm">Fiscal, Van Herring,
+Beamont, Collins,</span> and <span class="cnm">Julia.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> You have led us here a fairy's round in the
+moonshine, to seek a bridegroom in a wood, till we
+have lost the bride.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> I wonder what's become of her?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Sen.</span> Got together, got together, I warrant
+you, before this time; you Englishmen are so hot,
+you cannot stay for ceremonies. A good honest
+Dutchman would have been plying the glass all this
+while, and drunk to the hopes of Hans in Kelder
+till 'twas bed-time.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Yes, and then have rolled into the sheets,
+and turned o' the t'other side to snore, without so
+much as a parting blow; till about midnight he would
+have wakened in a maze, and found first he was
+married by putting forth a foot, and feeling a woman
+by him; and, it may be, then, instead of kissing,
+desired yough Fro to hold his head.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> And by that night's work have given her a
+proof, what she might expect for ever after.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> In my conscience, you Hollanders never
+get your children, but in the spirit of brandy; you
+are exalted then a little above your natural phlegm,
+and only that, which can make you fight, and destroy
+men, makes you get them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You may live to know, that we can kill men
+when we are sober.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Then they must be drunk, and not able to
+defend themselves.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Pray leave this talk, and let us try if we can
+surprise the lovers under some convenient tree: Shall
+we separate, and look them?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_058" name="page_058"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Let you and I go together then, and if
+we cannot find them, we shall do as good, for we
+shall find one another.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Pray take that path, or that; I will pursue
+this.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt all but the <span class="cnm">Fiscal.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> So, now I have diverted them from Harman,
+I'll look for him myself, and see how he speeds
+in his adventure.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Junior.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Who goes there?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> A friend: I was just in quest of you, so are
+all the company: Where have you left the bride?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Tied to a tree and gagged, and&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> And what? Why do you stare and tremble?
+Answer me like a man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Oh, I have nothing left of manhood
+in me! I am turned beast or devil. Have I not horns,
+and tail, and leathern wings? Methinks I should have
+by my actions. Oh, I have done a deed so ill, I cannot
+name it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Not name it, and yet do it? That's a fool's
+modesty: Come, I'll name it for you: You have
+enjoyed your mistress.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> How easily so great a villany comes
+from thy mouth! I have done worse, I have ravished
+her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> That's no harm, so you have killed her afterwards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Killed her! why thou art a worse fiend
+than I.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Those fits of conscience in another might be
+excusable; but in you, a Dutchman, who are of a
+race that are born rebels, and live every where on
+rapine,&mdash;would you degenerate, and have remorse?
+Pray, what makes any thing a sin but law? and,
+what law is there here against it? Is not your father
+chief? Will he condemn you for a petty rape?
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_059" name="page_059"></a>
+the woman an Amboyner, and, what's less, now
+married to an Englishman! Come, if there be a hell,
+'tis but for those that sin in Europe, not for us in
+Asia; heathens have no hell. Tell me, how was't?
+Pr'ythee, the history.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I forced her. What resistance she could
+make she did, but 'twas in vain; I bound her, as I
+told you, to a tree.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> And she exclaimed, I warrant&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Yes; and called heaven and earth to
+witness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Not after it was done?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> More than before&mdash;desired me to
+have killed her. Even when I had not left her
+power to speak, she curst me with her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Nay, then, you did not please her; if you
+had, she ne'er had cursed you heartily. But we lose
+time: Since you have done this action, 'tis necessary
+you proceed; we must have no tales told.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> What do you mean?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> To dispatch her immediately; could you be
+so senseless to ravish her, and let her live? What if
+her husband should have found her? What if any
+other English? Come, there's no dallying; it must
+be done: My other plot is ripe, which shall destroy
+them all to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> I love her still to madness, and never
+can consent to have her killed. We'll thence remove
+her, if you please, and keep her safe till your intended
+plot shall take effect; and when her husband's
+gone, I'll win her love by every circumstance of
+kindness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You may do so; but t'other is the safer
+way: But I'll not stand with you for one life. I
+could have wished that Towerson had been killed before
+I had proceeded to my plot; but since it cannot
+be, we must go on; conduct me where you left her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_060" name="page_060"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Oh, that I could forget both act and
+place!<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE III.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Scene</span> drawn, discovers <span class="cnm">Isabinda</span> bound.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Towerson.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Sure I mistook the place; I'll wait no longer:<br />
+Something within me does forebode me ill;<br />
+I stumbled when I entered first this wood;<br />
+My nostrils bled three drops; then stopped the blood,<br />
+And not one more would follow.&mdash;<br />
+What's that, which seems to bear a mortal shape,<span class="sdr">[Sees <span class="cnm">Isa.</span></span><br />
+Yet neither stirs nor speaks? or, is it some<br />
+Illusion of the night? some spectre, such<br />
+As in these Asian parts more frequently appear?<br />
+Whate'er it be, I'll venture to approach it.<span class="sdr">[Goes near.</span><br />
+My Isabinda bound and gagged! Ye powers,<br />
+I tremble while I free her, and scarce dare<br />
+Restore her liberty of speech, for fear<br />
+Of knowing more.<span class="sdr">[Unbinds her, and ungags her.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> No longer bridegroom thou, nor I a bride;<br />
+Those names are vanished; love is now no more;<br />
+Look on me as thou would'st on some foul leper;<br />
+And do not touch me; I am all polluted,<br />
+All shame, all o'er dishonour; fly my sight,<br />
+And, for my sake, fly this detested isle,<br />
+Where horrid ills so black and fatal dwell,<br />
+As Indians could not guess, till Europe taught.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Speak plainer, I am recollected now:<br />
+I know I am a man, the sport of fate;<br />
+Yet, oh my better half, had heaven so pleased,<br />
+I had been more content, to suffer in myself than thee!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> What shall I say! That monster of a man,<br />
+Harman,&mdash;now I have named him, think the rest,&mdash;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_061" name="page_061"></a>
+Alone, and singled like a timorous hind<br />
+From the full herd, by flattery drew me first,<br />
+Then forced me to an act, so base and brutal!<br />
+Heaven knows my innocence: But, why do I<br />
+Call that to witness!<br />
+Heaven saw, stood silent: Not one flash of lightning<br />
+Shot from the conscious firmament, to shew its justice:<br />
+Oh had it struck us both, it had saved me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Heaven suffered more in that, than you, or I,<br />
+Wherefore have I been faithful to my trust,<br />
+True to my love, and tender to the opprest?<br />
+Am I condemned to be the second man,<br />
+Who e'er complained he virtue served in vain?<br />
+But dry your tears, these sufferings all are mine.<br />
+Your breast is white, and cold as falling snow;<br />
+You, still as fragrant as your eastern groves;<br />
+And your whole frame as innocent, and holy,<br />
+As if your being were all soul and spirit,<br />
+Without the gross allay of flesh and blood.<br />
+Come to my arms again!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> O never, never!<br />
+I am not worthy now; my soul indeed<br />
+Is free from sin; but the foul speckled stains<br />
+Are from my body ne'er to be washed out,<br />
+But in my death. Kill me, my love, or I<br />
+Must kill myself; else you may think I was<br />
+A black adultress in my mind, and some<br />
+Of me consented.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Your wish to die, shews you deserve to live.<br />
+I have proclaimed you guiltless to myself.<br />
+Self-homicide, which was, in heathens, honour,<br />
+In us, is only sin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I thought the Eternal Mind<br />
+Had made us masters of these mortal frames;<br />
+You told me, he had given us wills to chuse,<br />
+And reason to direct us in our choice;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_062" name="page_062"></a>
+If so, why should he tie us up from dying,<br />
+When death's the greater good?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Can death, which is our greatest enemy, be good?<br />
+Death is the dissolution of our nature;<br />
+And nature therefore does abhor it most,<br />
+Whose greatest law is&mdash;to preserve our beings.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I grant, it is its great and general law:<br />
+But as kings, who are, or should be, above laws,<br />
+Dispense with them when levelled at themselves;<br />
+Even so may man, without offence to heaven,<br />
+Dispense with what concerns himself alone.<br />
+Nor is death in itself an ill;<br />
+Then holy martyrs sinned, who ran uncalled<br />
+To snatch their martyrdom; and blessed virgins,<br />
+Whom you celebrate for voluntary death,<br />
+To free themselves from that which I have suffered.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> They did it, to prevent what might ensue;<br />
+Your shame's already past.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> It may return,<br />
+If I am yet so mean to live a little longer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> You know not; heaven may give you succour yet;<br />
+You see it sends me to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> 'Tis too late,<br />
+You should have come before.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> You may live to see yourself revenged.<br />
+Come, you shall stay for that, then I'll die with you,<br />
+You have convinced my reason, nor am I<br />
+Ashamed to learn from you.<br />
+To heaven's tribunal my appeal I make;<br />
+If as a governor he sets me here,<br />
+To guard this weak-built citadel of life,<br />
+When 'tis no longer to be held, I may<br />
+With honour quit the fort. But first I'll both<br />
+Revenge myself and you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_063" name="page_063"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Alas! you cannot take revenge; your countrymen<br />
+Are few, and those unarmed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Though not on all the nation, as I would,<br />
+Yet I at least can take it on the man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Leave me to heaven's revenge, for thither I<br />
+Will go, and plead, myself, my own just cause.<br />
+There's not an injured saint of all my sex,<br />
+But kindly will conduct me to my judge,<br />
+And help me tell my story.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I'll send the offender first, though to that place<br />
+He never can arrive: Ten thousand devils,<br />
+Damned for less crimes than he,<br />
+And Tarquin in their head, way-lay his soul,<br />
+To pull him down in triumph, and to shew him<br />
+In pomp among his countrymen; for sure<br />
+Hell has its Netherlands, and its lowest country<br />
+Must be their lot.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Junior, and <span class="cnm">Fiscal.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> 'Twas hereabout I left her tied. The
+rage of love renews again within me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> She'll like the effects on't better now. By
+this time it has sunk into her imagination, and given
+her a more pleasing idea of the man, who offered
+her so sweet a violence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Save me, sweet heaven! the monster comes
+again!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Oh, here she is.&mdash;My own fair bride,&mdash;for
+so you are, not Towerson's,&mdash;let me unbind you;
+I expect that you should bind yourself about me
+now, and tie me in your arms.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> [<span class="sdm">Drawing.</span>]<br />
+No, villain, no! hot satyr of the woods,<br />
+Expect another entertainment now.<br />
+Behold revenge for injured chastity.<br />
+This sword heaven draws against thee,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_064" name="page_064"></a>
+And here has placed me like a fiery cherub,<br />
+To guard this paradise from any second violation.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> We must dispatch him, sir, we have the odds;
+And when he's killed, leave me t'invent the excuse.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Hold a little: As you shunned fighting
+formerly with me, so would I now with you.
+The mischiefs I have done are past recal. Yield
+then your useless right in her I love, since the possession
+is no longer yours; so is your honour safe,
+and so is hers, the husband only altered.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> You trifle; there's no room for treaty here:<br />
+The shame's too open, and the wrong too great.<br />
+Now all the saints in heaven look down to see<br />
+The justice I shall do, for 'tis their cause;<br />
+And all the fiends below prepare thy tortures.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> If Towerson would, think'st thou my soul so poor,<br />
+To own thy sin, and make the base act mine,<br />
+By chusing him who did it? Know, bad man,<br />
+I'll die with him, but never live with thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Prepare; I shall suspect you stay for further help,<br />
+And think not this enough.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> We are ready for you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Stand back! I'll fight with him alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Thank you for that; so, if he kills you, I
+shall have him single upon me.<span class="sdr">[All three fight.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Heaven assist my love!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> There, Englishman, 'twas meant well
+to thy heart.<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Towerson</span> wounded.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Oh you can bleed, I see, for all your cause.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Wounds but awaken English courage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Yet yield me Isabinda, and be safe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I'll fight myself all scarlet over first;<br />
+Were there no love, or no revenge,<br />
+I could not now desist, in point of honour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> Resolve me first one question:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_065" name="page_065"></a>
+Did you not draw your sword this night before,<br />
+To rescue one opprest with odds?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Yes, in this very wood: I bear a ring,<br />
+The badge of gratitude from him I saved.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> This ring was mine; I should be loth to kill<br />
+The frank redeemer of my life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I quit that obligation. But we lose time.<br />
+Come, ravisher!
+<span class="sdr">[They fight again, <span class="cnm">Tow.</span> closes with <span class="cnm">Harm,</span> and
+gets him down; as he is going to kill him, the
+<span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> gets over him.</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Hold, and let him rise; for if you kill him,<br />
+At the same instant you die too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Dog, do thy worst, for I would so be killed;<br />
+I'll carry his soul captive with me into the other world.
+<span class="sdr">[Stabs <span class="cnm">Harman.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har. Jun.</span> O mercy, mercy, heaven!<span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Take this, then; in return.
+<span class="sdr">[As he is going to stab him, <span class="cnm">Isab.</span> takes hold of his
+hand.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Hold, hold; the weak may give some help.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> [<span class="sdm">Rising.</span>] Now, sir, I am for you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> [<span class="sdm">Retiring.</span>]<br />
+Hold, sir, there is no more resistance made.<br />
+I beg you, by the honour of your nation,<br />
+Do not pursue my life; I tender you my sword.
+<span class="sdr">[Holds his sword by the point to him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Base beyond example of any country, but
+thy own!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Kill him, sweet love, or we shall both repent
+it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> [<span class="sdm">Kneeling to her.</span>] Divinest beauty! Abstract
+of all that's excellent in woman, can you be friend
+to murder?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> 'Tis none to kill a villain, and a Dutchman.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> [<span class="sdm">Kneeling to <span class="cnm">Towerson.</span></span>] Noble Englishman,
+give me my life, unworthy of your taking! By all
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_066" name="page_066"></a>
+that is good and holy here I swear, before the governor
+to plead your cause; and to declare his son's
+detested crime, so to secure your lives.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Rise, take thy life, though I can scarce believe thee;<br />
+If for a coward it be possible, become an honest man.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman</span> Senior, <span class="cnm">Van Herring, Beamont,
+Collins, Julia,</span> the Governors Guard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Har.</span></span>]<br />
+Oh, sir, you come in time to rescue me;<br />
+The greatest villain, who this day draws breath,<br />
+Stands here before your eyes: behold your son,<br />
+That worthy, sweet, unfortunate young man,<br />
+Lies there, the last cold breath yet hovering<br />
+Betwixt his trembling lips.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Oh, monster of ingratitude!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Oh, my unfortunate old age, whose prop<br />
+And only staff is gone, dead ere I die!<br />
+These should have been his tears, and I have been<br />
+That body to be mourned.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I am so much amazed, I scarce believe my senses.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> And will you let him live, who did this act?<br />
+Shall murder, and of your own son,<br />
+And such a son, go free; He lives too long,<br />
+By this one minute which he stays behind him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Oh, sir, remember, in that place you hold,<br />
+You are a common father to us all;<br />
+We beg but justice of you; hearken first<br />
+To my lamented story.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> First hear me, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Thee, slave! thou livest but by the breath I gave thee.<br />
+Didst thou but now plead on thy knees for life,<br />
+And offer'dst to make known my innocence<br />
+In Harman's injuries?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_067" name="page_067"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> I offered to have cleared thy innocence,<br />
+Who basely murdered him!&mdash;But words are needless;<br />
+Sir, you see evidence before your eyes,<br />
+And I the witness, on my oath to heaven,<br />
+How clear your son, how criminal this man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> Towerson could do nothing but what was noble.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> We know his native worth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> His worth! Behold it on the murderer's hand;<br />
+A robber first, he took degrees in mischief,<br />
+And grew to what he is: Know you that diamond,<br />
+And whose it was? See if he dares deny it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Sir, it was your son's, that freely I acknowledge;<br />
+But how I came by it&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> No, it is too much, I'll hear no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> The devil of jealousy, and that of avarice,
+both, I believe, possest him; or your son was innocently
+talking with his wife, and he perhaps had
+found them; this I guess, but saw it not, because
+I came too late. I only viewed the sweet youth
+just expiring, and Towerson stooping down to take
+the ring; she kneeling by to help him: when he
+saw me, he would, you may be sure, have sent me
+after, because I was a witness of the fact. This on
+my soul is true.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> False as that soul, each word, each syllable;<br />
+The ring he put upon my hand this night,<br />
+When in this wood unknown, and near this place,<br />
+Without my timely help he had been slain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> See this unlikely story!<br />
+What enemies had he, who should assault him?<br />
+Or is it probable that very man,<br />
+Who actually did kill him afterwards,<br />
+Should save his life so little time before?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Base man, thou knowest the reason of his death;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_068" name="page_068"></a>
+He had committed on my person, sir,<br />
+An impious rape; first tied me to that tree,<br />
+And there my husband found me, whose revenge<br />
+Was such, as heaven and earth will justify.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> I know not what heaven will, but earth shall not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Her story carries such a face of truth,<br />
+Ye cannot but believe it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> The other, a malicious ill-patched lie.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Yes, you are proper judges of his crime,<br />
+Who, with the rest of your accomplices,<br />
+Your countrymen, and Towerson the chief,<br />
+Whom we too kindly used, would have surprised<br />
+The fort, and made us slaves; that shall be proved,<br />
+More soon than you imagine; I found it out<br />
+This evening.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Sure the devil has lent thee all his stock of
+falsehood, and must be forced hereafter to tell truth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Sir, it is impossible you should believe it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Seize them all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> You cannot be so base.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> I'll be so just, 'till I can hear your plea<br />
+Against this plot; which if not proved, and fully,<br />
+You are quit; mean time, resistance is but vain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Provided that we may have equal hearing,<br />
+I am content to yield, though I declare,<br />
+You have no power to judge us.<span class="sdr">[Gives his sword.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Barbarous, ungrateful Dutch!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> See them conveyed apart to several prisons,<br />
+Lest they combine to forge some specious lie<br />
+In their excuse.<br />
+Let Towerson and that woman too be parted.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Was ever such a sad divorce made on a bridal night!<br />
+But we before were parted, ne'er to meet.<br />
+Farewell, farewell, my last and only love!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Curse on my fond credulity, to think<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_069" name="page_069"></a>
+There could be faith or honour in the Dutch!&mdash;<br />
+Farewell my Isabinda, and farewell,<br />
+My much wronged countrymen! remember yet,<br />
+That no unmanly weakness in your sufferings<br />
+Disgrace the native honour of our isle:<br />
+<span class="i1">For you I mourn, grief for myself were vain;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">I have lost all, and now would lose my pain.</span><span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT V.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>A Table set out.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman, Fiscal, Van Herring,</span> and two
+Dutchmen: They sit. Boy, and Waiters, Guards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> My sorrow cannot be so soon digested for
+losing of a son I loved so well; but I consider great
+advantages must with some loss be bought; as
+this rich trade which I this day have purchased
+with his death: yet let me lie revenged, and I shall
+still live on, and eat and drink down all my griefs.
+Now to the matter, Fiscal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Since we may freely speak among ourselves,
+all I have said of Towerson was most false. You
+were consenting, sir, as well as I, that Perez should
+be hired to murder him, which he refusing when
+he was engaged, 'tis dangerous to let him longer live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van. Her.</span> Dispatch him; he will be a shrewd witness
+against us, if he returns to Europe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> I have thought better, if you please,&mdash;to kill
+him by form of law, as accessary to the English
+plot, which I have long been forging.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Send one to seize him strait. [<span class="sdm">Exit a Messenger.</span>]
+But what you said, that Towerson was
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_070" name="page_070"></a>
+guiltless of my son's death, I easily believe, and
+never thought otherwise, though I dissembled.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Nor I; but it was well done to feign
+that story.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Dutch.</span> The true one was too foul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Dutch.</span> And afterwards to draw the English off
+from his concernment, to their own, I think 'twas
+rarely managed that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> So far, 'twas well; now to proceed, for I
+would gladly know, whether the grounds are plausible
+enough of this pretended plot.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> With favour of this honourable court, give
+me but leave to smooth the way before you. Some
+two or three nights since, (it matters not,) a Japan
+soldier, under captain Perez, came to a centinel upon
+the guard, and in familiar talk did question
+him about this castle, of its strength, and how he
+thought it might be taken; this discourse the other
+told me early the next morning: I thereupon did
+issue private orders, to rack the Japanese, myself
+being present.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> But what's this to the English?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You shall hear: I asked him, when his pains
+were strongest on him, if Towerson, or the English
+factory, had never hired him to betray the fort? he
+answered, (as it was true) they never had; nor was
+his meaning more in that discourse, than as a soldier
+to inform himself, and so to pass the time.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Did he confess no more?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You interrupt me. I told him, I was certainly
+informed the English had designs upon the
+castle, and if he frankly would confess their plot,
+he should not only be released from torment, but
+bounteously rewarded: Present pain and future
+hope, in fine, so wrought upon him, he yielded to
+subscribe whatever I pleased; and so he stands
+committed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_071" name="page_071"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Har.</span> Well contrived; a fair way made, upon this
+accusation, to put them all to torture.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Dutch.</span> By his confession, all of them shall die,
+even to their general, Towerson.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> He stands convicted of another crime, for
+which he is to suffer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> This does well to help it though: For
+Towerson is here a person publicly employed from
+England, and if he should appeal, as sure he will,
+you have no power to judge him in Amboyna.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> But in regard of the late league and
+union betwixt the nations, how can this be answered?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Dutch.</span> To torture subjects to so great a king,
+a pain never heard of in their happy land, will sound
+but ill in Europe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Their English laws in England have their
+force; and we have ours, different from theirs at
+home. It is enough, they either shall confess, or we
+will falsify their hands to make them. Then, for
+the apology, let me alone; I have it writ already to
+a title, of what they shall subscribe; this I will
+publish, and make our most unheard of cruelties to
+seem most just and legal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Then, in the name of him, who put it first
+into thy head to form this damned false plot, proceed
+we to the execution of it. And to begin;
+first seize we their effects, rifle their chests, their
+boxes, writings, books, and take of them a seeming inventory;
+but all to our own use.&mdash;I shall grow young
+with thought of this, and lose my son's remembrance!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Will you not please to call the prisoners in?
+At least inquire what torments have extorted.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Go thou and bring us word. [<span class="sdm">Exit <span class="cnm">Fiscal.</span></span>]
+Boy, give me some tobacco, and a stoup of wine, boy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boy.</span> I shall, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> And a tub to leak in, boy; when was this
+table without a leaking vessel?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_072" name="page_072"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> That's an omission.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Dutch.</span> A great omission. 'Tis a member of
+the table, I take it so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Never any thing of moment was done at
+our council-table without a leaking tub, at least in
+my time; great affairs require great consultations,
+great consultations require great drinking, and great
+drinking a great leaking vessel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> I am even drunk with joy already, to
+see our godly business in this forwardness.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Fiscal.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Where are the prisoners?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> At the door.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Bring them in; I'll try if we can face them
+down by impudence, and make them to confess.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Beamont</span> and <span class="cnm">Collins,</span> guarded.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">You are not ignorant of our business with you: the
+cries of your accomplices have already reached your
+ears; and your own consciences, above a thousand
+summons, a thousand tortures, instruct you what to
+do. No farther juggling, nothing but plain sincerity
+and truth to be delivered now; a free confession
+will first atone for all your sins above, and may
+do much below to gain your pardons. Let me exhort
+you, therefore, be you merciful, first to yourselves
+and make acknowledgment of your conspiracy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> What conspiracy?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Why la you, that the devil should go masked
+with such a seeming honest face! I warrant you
+know of no such thing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Were not you, Mr Beamont, and you, Collins
+both accessary to the horrid plot, for the surprisal
+of this fort and island?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_073" name="page_073"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Beam.</span> As I shall reconcile my sins to heaven, in
+my last article of life, I am innocent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> And so am I.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> So, you are first upon the negative.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> And will be so till death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> What plot is this you speak of?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Here are impudent rogues! now after confession
+of two Japanese, these English starts dare
+ask what plot it is!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Not to inform your knowledge, but that
+law may have its course in every circumstance,
+Fiscal, sum up their accusation to them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You stand accused, that new-year's day last
+past, there met at captain Towerson's house, you
+present, and many others of your factory: There,
+against law and justice, and all ties of friendship,
+and of partnership betwixt us, you did conspire to
+seize upon the fort, to murder this our worthy governor;
+and, by the help of your plantations near, of
+Jacatra, Banda, and Loho, to keep it for yourselves.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> What proofs have you of this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> The confession of two Japanese, hired by
+you to attempt it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I hear they have been forced by torture
+to it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> It matters not which way the truth comes
+out; take heed, for their example is before you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Ye have no right, ye dare not torture us;
+we owe you no subjection.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> That, sir, must be disputed at the Hague;
+in the mean time we are in possession here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Dutch.</span> And we can make ourselves to be obeyed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> In few words, gentlemen, confess.
+There is a beverage ready for you else, which you
+will not like to swallow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> How is this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> You shall be muffled up like ladies, with
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_074" name="page_074"></a>
+an oiled cloth put underneath your chins, then water
+poured above; which either you must drink, or
+must not breathe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Dutch.</span> That is one way, we have others.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Yes, we have two elements at your service,
+fire, as well as water; certain things called matches
+to be tied to your finger-ends, which are as sovereign
+as nutmegs to quicken your short memories.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> You are inhuman, to make your cruelty
+your pastime: nature made me a man, and not a
+whale, to swallow down a flood.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> You will grow a corpulent gentleman like
+me; I shall love you the better for it; now you are
+but a spare rib.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> These things are only offered to your choice;
+you may avoid your tortures, and confess.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> Kill us first; for that we know is your design
+at last, and 'tis more mercy now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Be kind, and execute us while we bear
+the shapes of men, ere fire and water have destroyed
+our figures; let me go whole out of the world,
+I care not, and find my body when I rise again, so
+as I need not be ashamed of it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> 'Tis well you are merry; will you yet confess?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Never.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Bear them away to torture.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van. Her.</span> We will try your constancy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> We will shame your cruelty; if we deserve
+our tortures, 'tis first for freeing such an infamous
+nation, that ought to have been slaves, and
+then for trusting them as partners, who had cast
+off the yoke of their lawful sovereign.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Away, I'll hear no more.&mdash;Now who comes
+the next?<span class="sdr">[Exeunt the English with a Guard.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Towerson's page, a ship-boy, and a woman.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Call them in.<span class="sdr">[Exit a Messenger.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_075" name="page_075"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> We shall have easy work with them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Not so easy as you imagine, they have endured
+the beverage already; all masters of their
+pain, no one confessing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> The devil's in these English! those brave
+boys would prove stout topers if they lived.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Page, a Boy, and a Woman, led as from torture.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Come hither, ye perverse imps; they say you have
+endured the water torment, we will try what fire
+will do with you: You, sirrah, confess; were not you
+knowing of Towerson's plot, against this fort and
+island?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Page.</span> I have told your hangman no, twelve times
+within this hour, when I was at the last gasp; and
+that is a time, I think, when a man should not dissemble.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> A man! mark you that now; you English
+boys have learnt a trick of late, of growing men
+betimes; and doing men's work, too, before you come
+to twenty.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> Sirrah, I will try if you are a salamander
+and can live in the fire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Page.</span> Sure you think my father got me of some
+Dutchwoman, and that I am but of a half-strain
+courage; but you shall find that I am all over English
+as well in fire as water.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boy.</span> Well, of all religions, I do not like your
+Dutch.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> No? and why, young stripling?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boy.</span> Because your penance comes before confession.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Do you mock us, sirrah? To the fire with him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boy.</span> Do so; all you shall get by it is this; before
+I answered no; now I'll be sullen and will talk
+no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Best cutting off these little rogues betime;
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_076" name="page_076"></a>
+if they grow men, they will have the spirit of revenge
+in them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Page.</span> Yes, as your children have that of rebellion.
+Oh that I could but live to be governor here,
+to make your fat guts pledge me in that beverage
+I drunk, you Sir John Falstaff of Amsterdam!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Boy.</span> I have a little brother in England, that I
+intend to appear to when you have killed me; and
+if he does not promise me the death of ten Dutchmen
+in the next war, I'll haunt him instead of you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> What say you, woman? Have compassion
+of yourself, and confess; you are of a softer sex.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wom.</span> But of a courage full as manly; there is
+no sex in souls; would you have English wives
+shew less of bravery than their children do? To lie
+by an Englishman's side, is enough to give a woman
+resolution.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Here is a hen of the game too, but we shall
+tame you in the fire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Wom.</span> My innocence shall there be tried like gold,
+till it come out the purer. When you have burnt
+me all into one wound, cram gunpowder into it,
+and blow me up, I'll not confess one word to shame
+my country.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> I think we have got here the mother of the
+Maccabees; away with them all three. [<span class="sdm">Exeunt
+the English guarded.</span>] I'll take the pains myself to
+see these tortured.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Harman, Van Herring,</span> and the two
+Dutchmen with the English: Manet <span class="cnm">Fiscal.</span></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Julia</span> to the <span class="cnm">Fiscal.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Oh you have ruined me! you have undone
+me, in the person of my husband!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> If he will needs forfeit his life to the laws,
+by joining with the English in a plot, it is not in
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_077" name="page_077"></a>
+me to save him; but, dearest Julia, be satisfied, you
+shall not want a husband.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Do you think I'll ever come into a bed with
+him, who robbed me of my dear sweet man?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Dry up your tears; I am in earnest; I will
+marry you; i'faith I will; it is your destiny.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Nay if it be my destiny&mdash;but I vow I'll never
+be yours but upon one condition.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Name your desire, and take it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Then save poor Beamont's life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> This is the most unkind request you could
+have made; it shews you love him better: therefore,
+in prudence, I should haste his death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Come, I'll not be denied; you shall give me
+his life, or I'll not love you; by this kiss you shall,
+child.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Pray ask some other thing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> I have your word for this, and if you break
+it, how shall I trust you for your marrying me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Well, I will do it to oblige you. But to
+prevent her new designs with him, I'll see him shipped
+away for England strait.<br />
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Jul.</span> I may build upon your promise, then?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Most firmly: I hear company.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Harman, Van Herring,</span> and the two Dutchmen,
+with <span class="cnm">Towerson</span> prisoner.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Now, captain Towerson, you have had the
+privilege to be examined last; this on the score of
+my old friendship with you, though you have ill
+deserved it. But here you stand accused of no
+less crimes than robbery first, then murder, and last,
+treason: What can you say to clear yourself?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> You're interested in all, and therefore partial:<br />
+I have considered on it, and will not plead,<br />
+Because I know you have no right to judge me;<br />
+For the last treaty betwixt our king and you<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_078" name="page_078"></a>
+Expressly said, that causes criminal<br />
+Were first to be examined, and then judged,<br />
+Not here, but by the Council of Defence;<br />
+To whom I make appeal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> This court conceives that it has power to
+judge you, derived from the most high and mighty
+states, who in this island are supreme, and that as
+well in criminal as civil causes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Dutch.</span> You are not to question the authority
+of the court, which is to judge you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Sir, by your favour, I both must, and will:<br />
+I'll not so far betray my nation's right;<br />
+We are not here your subjects, but your partners:<br />
+And that supremacy of power, you claim,<br />
+Extends but to the natives, not to us:<br />
+Dare you, who in the British seas strike sail,<br />
+Nay more, whose lives and freedom are our alms,<br />
+Presume to sit and judge your benefactors?<br />
+Your base new upstart commonwealth should blush,<br />
+To doom the subjects of an English king,<br />
+The meanest of whose merchants would disdain<br />
+The narrow life, and the domestic baseness,<br />
+Of one of those you call your Mighty States.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You spend your breath in railing; speak to
+the purpose.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Hold yet: Because you shall not call us cruel,<br />
+Or plead I would be judge in my own cause,<br />
+I shall accept of that appeal you make,<br />
+Concerning my son's death; provided first,<br />
+You clear yourself from what concerns the public;<br />
+For that relating to our general safety,<br />
+The judgment of it cannot be deferred,<br />
+But with our common danger.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Let me first<br />
+Be bold to question you: What circumstance<br />
+Can make this, your pretended plot, seem likely?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_079" name="page_079"></a>
+The natives, first, you tortured; their confession,<br />
+Extorted so, can prove no crime in us.<br />
+Consider, next, the strength of this your castle;<br />
+Its garrison above two hundred men,<br />
+Besides as many of your city burghers,<br />
+All ready on the least alarm, or summons,<br />
+To reinforce the others; for ten English,<br />
+And merchants they, not soldiers, with the aid<br />
+Of ten Japanners, all of them unarmed,<br />
+Except five swords, and not so many muskets,&mdash;<br />
+The attempt had only been for fools or madmen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> We cannot help your want of wit; proceed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Grant then we had been desperate enough<br />
+To hazard this; we must at least forecast,<br />
+How to secure possession when we had it.<br />
+We had no ship nor pinnace in the harbour,<br />
+Nor could have aid from any factory:<br />
+The nearest to us forty leagues from hence,<br />
+And they but few in number: You, besides<br />
+This fort, have yet three castles in this isle,<br />
+Amply provided for, and eight tall ships<br />
+Riding at anchor near; consider this,<br />
+And think what all the world will judge of it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Nothing but falsehood is to be expected<br />
+From such a tongue, whose heart is fouled with treason.<br />
+Give him the beverage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> 'Tis ready, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Hold; I have some reluctance to proceed<br />
+To that extremity: He was my friend,<br />
+And I would have him frankly to confess:<br />
+Push open that prison door, and set before him<br />
+The image of his pains in other men.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">The <span class="cnm">Scene</span> opens, and discovers the English tortured,
+and the Dutch tormenting them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Now, sir, how does the object like you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_080" name="page_080"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Are you men or devils! D'Alva, whom you<br />
+Condemn for cruelty, did ne'er the like;<br />
+He knew original villany was in your blood.<br />
+Your fathers all are damned for their rebellion;<br />
+When they rebelled, they were well used to this.<br />
+These tortures ne'er were hatched in human breasts;<br />
+But as your country lies confined on hell,<br />
+Just on its marches, your black neighbours taught ye;<br />
+And just such pains as you invent on earth,<br />
+Hell has reserved for you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Are you yet moved?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> But not as you would have me.<br />
+I could weep tears of blood to view this usage;<br />
+But you, as if not made of the same mould,<br />
+See, with dry eyes, the miseries of men,<br />
+As they were creatures of another kind,<br />
+Not Christians, nor allies, nor partners with you,<br />
+But as if beasts, transfixed on theatres,<br />
+To make you cruel sport.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> These are but vulgar objects; bring his friend,<br />
+Let him behold his tortures; shut that door.<span class="sdr">[The Scene closed.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Beamont,</span> led with matches tied to his hands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> [<span class="sdm">Embracing him.</span>]<br />
+Oh my dear friend, now I am truly wretched!<br />
+Even in that part which is most sensible,<br />
+My friendship:<br />
+How have we lived to see the English name<br />
+The scorn of these, the vilest of mankind!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Courage, my friend, and rather praise we heaven,<br />
+That it has chose two, such as you and me,<br />
+Who will not shame our country with our pains,<br />
+But stand, like marble statues, in their fires,<br />
+Scorched and defaced, perhaps, not melted down.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_081" name="page_081"></a>
+So let them burn this tenement of earth;<br />
+They can but burn me naked to my soul;<br />
+That's of a nobler frame, and will stand firm,<br />
+Upright, and unconsumed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Confess; if you have kindness, save your friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Yes, by my death I would, not my confession:<br />
+He is so brave, he would not so be saved;<br />
+But would renounce a friendship built on shame.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Bring more candles, and burn him from the
+wrists up to the elbows.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Do; I'll enjoy the flames like Sc&aelig;vola;<br />
+And, when one's roasted, give the other hand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Let me embrace you while you are a man.<br />
+Now you must lose that form; be parched and rivelled,<br />
+Like a dried mummy, or dead malefactor,<br />
+Exposed in chains, and blown about by winds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Yet this I can endure.<br />
+Go on, and weary out two elements;<br />
+Vex fire and water with the experiments<br />
+Of pains far worse than death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Oh, let me take my turn!<br />
+You will have double pleasure; I'm ashamed<br />
+To be the only Englishman untortured.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van. Her.</span> You soon should have your wish, but that we know<br />
+In him you suffer more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Fill me a brim-full glass:<br />
+Now, captain, here's to all your countrymen;<br />
+I wish your whole East India company<br />
+Were in this room, that we might use them thus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> They should have fires of cloves and cinnamon;<br />
+We would cut down whole groves to honour them,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_082" name="page_082"></a>
+And be at cost to burn them nobly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Barbarous villains! now you show yourselves</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Boy, take that candle thence, and bring it hither;<br />
+I am exalted, and would light my pipe<br />
+Just where the wick is fed with English fat.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van Her.</span> So would I; oh, the tobacco tastes divinely
+after it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> We have friends in England, who would weep to see<br />
+This acted on a theatre, which here<br />
+You make your pastime.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Oh, that this flesh were turned a cake of ice,<br />
+That I might in an instant melt away,<br />
+And become nothing, to escape this torment!<br />
+There is not cold enough in all the north<br />
+To quench my burning blood.<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Fiscal</span> whispers <span class="cnm">Harman.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Do with Beamont as you please, so Towerson die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You'll not confess yet, captain?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Hangman, no;<br />
+I would have don't before, if e'er I would:<br />
+To do it when my friend has suffered this,<br />
+Were to be less than he.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Free him.<span class="sdr">[They free <span class="cnm">Beamont.</span></span><br />
+Beamont, I have not sworn you should not suffer.<br />
+But that you should not die; thank Julia for it.<br />
+But on your life do not delay this hour<br />
+To post from hence! so to your next plantation;<br />
+I cannot suffer a loved rival near me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> I almost question if I will receive<br />
+My life from thee: 'Tis like a cure from witches;<br />
+'Twill leave a sin behind it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Nay, I'm not lavish of my courtesy;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_083" name="page_083"></a>
+I can on easy terms resume my gift.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Captain, you're a dead man; I'll spare your
+torture for your quality; prepare for execution instantly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I am prepared.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> You die in charity, I hope?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I can forgive even thee:<br />
+My innocence I need not name, you know it.<br />
+One farewell kiss of my dear Isabinda,<br />
+And all my business here on earth is done.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Call her; she's at the door.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Fisc.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Beam.</span> embracing.</span>]<br />
+A long and last farewell! I take my death<br />
+With the more cheerfulness, because thou liv'st<br />
+Behind me: Tell my friends, I died so as<br />
+Became a Christian and a man; give to my brave<br />
+Employers of the East India company,<br />
+The last remembrance of my faithful service;<br />
+Tell them, I seal that service with my blood;<br />
+And, dying, wish to all their factories,<br />
+And all the famous merchants of our isle,<br />
+That wealth their generous industry deserves;<br />
+But dare not hope it with Dutch partnership.<br />
+Last, there's my heart, I give it in this kiss:<span class="sdr">[Kisses him.</span><br />
+Do not answer me; friendship's a tender thing,<br />
+And it would ill become me now to weep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beam.</span> Adieu! if I would speak, I cannot&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Isabinda.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Is it permitted me to see your eyes<br />
+Once more, before eternal night shall close them?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I summoned all I had of man to see you;<br />
+'Twas well the time allowed for it was short;<br />
+I could not bear it long: 'Tis dangerous,<br />
+And would divide my love 'twixt heaven and you.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_084" name="page_084"></a>
+I therefore part in haste; think I am going<br />
+A sudden journey, and have not the leisure<br />
+To take a ceremonious long farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Do you still love me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> Do not suppose I do;<br />
+'Tis for your ease, since you must stay behind me,<br />
+To think I was unkind; you'll grieve the less.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> Though I suspect you joined in my son's murder,<br />
+Yet, since it is not proved, you have your life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> I thank you for't, I'll make the noblest use<br />
+Of your sad gift; that is, to die unforced:<br />
+I'll make a present of my life to Towerson,<br />
+To let you see, though worthless of his love,<br />
+I would not live without him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I charge you, love my memory, but live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> She shall be strictly guarded from that violence<br />
+She means against herself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Isab.</span> Vain men! there are so many paths to death,<br />
+You cannot stop them all: o'er the green turf,<br />
+Where my love's laid, there will I mourning sit,<br />
+And draw no air but from the damps that rise<br />
+Out of that hallowed earth; and for my diet,<br />
+I mean my eyes alone shall feed my mouth.<br />
+Thus will I live, till he in pity rise,<br />
+And the pale shade take me in his cold arms,<br />
+And lay me kindly by him in his grave.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Collins,</span> and then <span class="cnm">Perez, Julia</span> following
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> No more; your time's now come, you must
+away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Col.</span> Now, devils, you have done your worst with
+tortures; death's a privation of pain, but they were
+a continual dying.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_085" name="page_085"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Jul.</span> Farewell, my dearest! I may have many husbands,<br />
+But never one like thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Per.</span> As you love my soul, take hence that woman.&mdash;<br />
+My English friends, I'm not ashamed of death,<br />
+While I have you for partners; I know you innocent,<br />
+And so am I, of this pretended plot;<br />
+But I am guilty of a greater crime;<br />
+For, being married in another country,<br />
+The governor's persuasions, and my love<br />
+To that ill woman, made me leave the first,<br />
+And make this fatal choice.<br />
+I'm justly punished; for her sake I die:<br />
+The Fiscal, to enjoy her, has accused me.<br />
+There is another cause;<br />
+By his procurement I should have killed&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Away with him, and stop his mouth.<span class="sdr">[He is led off.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Tow.</span> I leave thee, life, with no regret at parting;<br />
+Full of whatever thou could'st give, I rise<br />
+From thy neglected feast, and go to sleep:<br />
+Yet, on this brink of death, my eyes are opened,<br />
+And heaven has bid me prophecy to you,<br />
+The unjust contrivers of this tragic scene:&mdash;<br />
+<i>An age is coming, when an English monarch<br />
+With blood shall pay that blood which you have shed:<br />
+To save your cities from victorious arms,<br />
+You shall invite the waves to hide your earth<a class="ftnt" href="#Amboy_4-1">[1]</a>,<br />
+And, trembling, to the, tops of houses fly,<br />
+While deluges invade your lower rooms:<br />
+Then, as with waters you have swelled our bodies,<br />
+With damps of waters shall your heads be swoln:</i><br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_086" name="page_086"></a>
+<i>Till, at the last, your sapped foundations fall,<br />
+And universal ruin swallows all.</i>
+<span class="sdr">[He is led out with the English; the Dutch
+remain.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Van. Her.</span> Ay, ay, we'll venture both ourselves
+and children for such another pull.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Dutch.</span> Let him prophecy when his head's off.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Dutch.</span> There's ne'er a Nostradamus of them
+all shall fright us from our gain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fisc.</span> Now for a smooth apology, and then a
+fawning letter to the king of England; and our
+work's done.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Har.</span> 'Tis done as I would wish it:<br />
+Now, brethren, at my proper cost and charges,<br />
+Three days you are my guests; in which good time<br />
+We will divide their greatest wealth by lots,<br />
+While wantonly we raffle for the rest:<br />
+Then, in full rummers, and with joyful hearts,<br />
+We'll drink confusion to all English starts.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Amboy_4-1" name="Amboy_4-1"></a>During the French invasion of 1672, the Dutch were obliged
+to adopt the desperate defence of cutting their dykes, and inundating
+the country.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_087" name="page_087"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>A poet once the Spartans led to fight,</p>
+<p>And made them conquer in the muse's right;</p>
+<p>So would our poet lead you on this day,</p>
+<p>Showing your tortured fathers in his play.</p>
+<p>To one well-born the affront is worse, and more,</p>
+<p>When he's abused, and baffled by a boor:</p>
+<p>With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do,</p>
+<p>They've both ill-nature and ill-manners too.</p>
+<p>Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation,</p>
+<p>For they were bred ere manners were in fashion;</p>
+<p>And their new commonwealth has set them free,</p>
+<p>Only from honour and civility.</p>
+<p>Venetians do not more uncouthly ride<a class="ftnt" href="#Amboy_5-1">[1]</a>,</p>
+<p>Than did their lubber state mankind bestride;</p>
+<p>Their sway became them with as ill a mien,</p>
+<p>As their own paunches swell above their chin:</p>
+<p>Yet is their empire no true growth, but humour,</p>
+<p>And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour<a class="ftnt" href="#Amboy_5-2">[2]</a>.</p>
+<p>As Cato did his Afric fruits display,</p>
+<p>So we before your eyes their Indies lay:</p>
+<p>All loyal English will, like him, conclude,</p>
+<p>Let C&aelig;sar live, and Carthage be subdued<a class="ftnt" href="#Amboy_5-3">[3]</a>!</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Amboy_5-1" name="Amboy_5-1"></a>The situation of Venice renders it impossible to bring horses into the
+town; accordingly, the Venetians are proverbially bad riders.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Amboy_5-2" name="Amboy_5-2"></a>The poet alludes to the king's evil, and to the joint war of France and
+England against Holland.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Amboy_5-3" name="Amboy_5-3"></a>Allusions to Cato,&mdash;who presented to the Roman Senate the rich figs of
+Africa, and reminded them it was but three days sail to the country which
+produced such excellent fruit,&mdash;were fashionable during the Dutch war. The
+Lord Chancellor Shaftesbury had set the example, by applying to Holland the
+favourite maxim of the Roman philosopher, <i>Delenda est Carthago.</i> When
+that versatile statesman afterwards fled to Holland, he petitioned to be created
+a burgess of Amsterdam, to ensure him against being delivered up to England.
+The magistrates conferred on him the freedom desired, with the memorable
+words, "<i>Ab nostra Carthagine nondum deleta, salutem accipe.</i>"</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_089" name="page_089"></a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr" style="margin-top: 4em">THE</p>
+<h2 class="nomarg">STATE OF INNOCENCE,</h2>
+<p class="ctr">AND</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">FALL OF MAN.</h3>
+
+<h3>AN<br />
+OPERA.</h3>
+
+<div class="ctr">
+<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram">
+<tr><td><p class="epigram">&mdash;<i>Utinam mod&ograve; dicere possem<br />
+Carmina digna de&acirc;: Certe est dea carmine digna.</i></p>
+<p class="citation smcap">Ovid. Met.</p></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_091" name="page_091"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">THE STATE OF INNOCENCE, &amp;c.</h3>
+
+<p>The "Paradise Lost" of Milton is a work so extraordinary
+in conception and execution, that it required a lapse of many years
+to reconcile the herd of readers, and of critics, to what was almost
+too sublime for ordinary understandings. The poets, in particular,
+seemed to have gazed on its excellencies, like the inferior animals
+on Dryden's immortal Hind; and, incapable of fully estimating
+a merit, which, in some degree, they could not help feeling,
+many were their absurd experiments to lower it to the standard
+of their own comprehension. One author, deeming the "Paradise
+Lost" deficient in harmony, was pleased painfully to turn
+it into rhyme; and more than one, conceiving the subject too serious
+to be treated in verse of any kind, employed their leisure in
+humbling it into prose. The names of these well-judging and
+considerate persons are preserved by Mr Todd in his edition of
+Milton's Poetical Works.</p>
+
+<p>But we must not confound with these effusions of gratuitous folly
+an alteration, or imitation, planned and executed by John Dryden;
+although we may be at a loss to guess the motives by which
+he was guided in hazarding such an attempt. His reverence for Milton
+and his high estimation of his poetry, had already called forth the
+well-known verses, in which he attributes to him the joint excellencies
+of the two most celebrated poets of antiquity; and if other
+proofs of his veneration were wanting, they may be found in
+the preface to this very production. Had the subject been
+of a nature which admitted its being actually represented, we
+might conceive, that Dryden, who was under engagements to the
+theatre, with which it was not always easy to comply, might
+have been desirous to shorten his own labour, by adopting the story
+sentiments, and language of a poem, which he so highly esteemed
+and which might probably have been new to the generality
+of his audience. But the <i>costume</i> of our first parents, had
+there been no other objection, must have excluded the "State of
+Innocence" from the stage, and accordingly it was certainly never
+intended for representation. The probable motive, therefore, of
+this alteration, was the wish, so common to genius, to exert itself upon
+a subject in which another had already attained brilliant success,
+or, as Dryden has termed a similar attempt, the desire to shoot in the
+bow of Ulysses. Some circumstances in the history of Milton's immortal
+poem may have suggested to Dryden the precise form of the
+present attempt. It is reported by Voltaire, and seems at length to
+be admitted, that the original idea of the "Paradise Lost" was supplied
+by an Italian Mystery, or religious play, which Milton witnessed
+when abroad<a class="ftnt" href="#State_1-1">[1]</a>; and it is certain, that he intended at first to mould
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_092" name="page_092"></a>
+his poem into a dramatic form<a class="ftnt" href="#State_1-2">[2]</a>. It seems, therefore, likely, that
+Dryden, conscious of his own powers, and enthusiastically admiring
+those of Milton, was induced to make an experiment upon the forsaken
+plan of the blind bard, which, with his usual rapidity of conception
+and execution, he completed in the short space of one month.
+The spurious copies which got abroad, and perhaps the desire of testifying
+his respect for his beautiful patroness, the Duchess of York,
+form his own apology for the publication. It is reported by Mr Aubrey
+that the step was not taken without Dryden's reverence to Milton
+being testified by a personal application for his permission. The
+aged poet, conscious that the might of his versification could receive
+no addition even from the flowing numbers of Dryden, is
+stated to have answered with indifference&mdash;"Ay, you may <i>tag</i> my
+verses, if you will."</p>
+
+<p>The structure and diction of this opera, as it is somewhat improperly
+termed, being rather a dramatic poem, strongly indicate
+the taste of Charles the Second's reign, for what was ingenious,
+acute, and polished, in preference to the simplicity of the true sublime.
+The judgment of that age, as has been already noticed, is
+always to be referred rather to the head than to the heart; and
+a poem, written to please mere critics, requires an introduction
+and display of art, to the exclusion of natural beauty.&mdash;This
+explains the extravagant panegyric of Lee on Dryden's play:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>&mdash;Milton did the wealthy mine disclose,</p>
+<p>And rudely cast what you could well dispose;</p>
+<p>He roughly drew, on an old-fashioned ground,</p>
+<p>A chaos; for no perfect world was found,</p>
+<p>Till through the heap your mighty genius shined:</p>
+<p>He was the golden ore, which you refined.</p>
+<p>He first beheld the beauteous rustic maid,</p>
+<p>And to a place of strength the prize conveyed:</p>
+<p>You took her thence; to Court this virgin brought,</p>
+<p>Dressed her with gems, new-weaved her hard-spun thought,</p>
+<p>And softest language sweetest manners taught;</p>
+<p>Till from a comet she a star did rise,</p>
+<p>Not to affright, but please, our wondering eyes.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Doubtless there were several critics of that period, who
+held the heretical opinion above expressed by Lee. And the
+imitation was such as to warrant that conclusion, considering
+the school in which it was formed. The scene of the consultation
+in Pandemonium, and of the soliloquy of Satan on his
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_093" name="page_093"></a>
+arrival in the newly-created universe, would possess great merit,
+did they not unfortunately remind us of the majestic simplicity
+of Milton. But there is often a sort of Ovidian point in the diction
+which seems misplaced. Thus, Asmodeus tells us, that the
+devils, ascending from the lake of fire,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Shake off their slumber <i>first</i>, and <i>next</i> their fear.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And, with Dryden's usual hate to the poor Dutchmen, the council
+of Pandemonium are termed,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p><i>Most High and Mighty</i> Lords, who better fell</p>
+<p>From heaven, to rise <i>States General</i> of hell.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>There is one inconvenience, which, as this poem was intended
+for perusal only, the author, one would have thought, might
+have easily avoided. This arises from the stage directions, which
+supply the place of the terrific and beautiful descriptions of Milton.
+What idea, except burlesque, can we form of the expulsion
+of the fallen angels from heaven, literally represented by their tumbling
+down upon the stage? or what feelings of terror can be excited
+by the idea of an opera hell, composed of pasteboard and flaming
+rosin? If these follies were not actually to be produced before our
+eyes, it could serve no good purpose to excite the image of them in
+our imaginations. They are circumstances by which we feel, that
+scenic deception must be rendered ridiculous; and ought to be
+avoided, even in a drama intended for perusal only, since they
+cannot be mentioned without exciting ludicrous combinations.&mdash;Even
+in describing the primitive state of our first parents, Dryden
+has displayed some of the false and corrupted taste of the court
+of Charles. Eve does not consent to her union with Adam without
+coquettish apprehensions of his infidelity, which circumstances
+rendered rather improbable; and even in the state of innocence,
+she avows the love of sway and of self, which, in a loose age, is
+thought the principal attribute of her daughters. It may be remembered
+that the Adam of Milton, when first experiencing the
+powers of slumber, thought,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>I then was passing to my former state</p>
+<p>Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">The Eve of Dryden expresses the same apprehensions of annihilation
+upon a very different occasion. These passages form a contrast
+highly favourable to the simplicity and chastity of Milton's
+taste. The school logic, employed by Adam and the angels in the
+first scene of the fourth act, however misplaced, may be paralleled
+if not justified, by similar instances in the "Paradise Lost."</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, the "State of Innocence" contains many
+passages of varied and happy expression peculiar to our great poet;
+and the speech of Lucfier in Paradise (Act third, scene first), approaches
+in sublimity to his prototype in Milton, Indeed, altered
+as this poem was from the original, in order to accommodate it
+to the taste of a frivolous age, it still retained too much fancy to
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_094" name="page_094"></a>
+escape the raillery of the men of wit and fashion, more disposed
+to "laugh at extravagance, than to sympathise with feelings of
+grandeur." The "Companion to the Theatre" mentions an objection
+started by the more nice and delicate critics, against the
+anachronism and absurdity of Lucifer conversing about the world,
+its form and vicissitudes, at a time previous to its creation, or, at
+least, to the possibility of his knowing any thing of it. But to this
+objection, which applies to the "Paradise Lost" also, it is sufficient to
+reply, that the measure of intelligence, competent to supernatural
+beings, being altogether unknown to us, leaves the poet at liberty
+to accommodate its extent to the purposes in which he employs
+them, without which poetic license, it would be in vain to introduce
+them. Dryden, moved by this, and similar objections, has
+prefixed to the drama, "An Apology for Heroic Poetry," and the
+use of what is technically called "the machinery" employed in it.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the whole, it may be justly questioned, whether Dryden
+shewed his judgment in the choice of a subject which compelled
+an immediate parallel betwixt Milton and himself, upon a subject
+so exclusively favourable to the powers of the former. Indeed,
+according to Dennis, notwithstanding Dryden's admiration of
+Milton, he evinced sufficiently by this undertaking, what he
+himself confessed twenty years afterwards, that he was not sensible
+of half the extent of his excellence. In the "Town and Country
+Mouse," Mr Bayes is made to term Milton "a rough unhewen
+fellow;" and Dryden himself, even in the dedication to the Translation
+from Juvenal, a work of his advanced life, alleges, that,
+though he found in that poet a true sublimity, and lofty thoughts,
+clothed with admirable Grecisms, he did not find the elegant turn
+of words and expression proper to the Italian poets and to Spenser.
+In the same treatise, he undertakes to excuse, but not to
+justify Milton, for his choice of blank verse, affirming that he possessed
+neither grace nor facility in rhyming. A consciousness of
+the harmony of his own numbers, and a predilection for that kind
+of verse, in which he excelled, seemed to have encouraged him to
+think he could improve the "Paradise Lost." Baker observes but
+too truly, that the "State of Innocence" recals the idea reprobated
+by Marvell in his address to Milton:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Or if a work so infinite be spanned,</p>
+<p>Jealous I was, lest some less skilful hand,</p>
+<p>Such as disquiet always what is well,</p>
+<p>And by ill-imitating would excel,</p>
+<p>Might hence presume the whole creation's day</p>
+<p>To change in scenes, and shew it in a play.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The "State of Innocence" seems to have been undertaken by Dryden
+during a cessation of his theatrical labours, and was first published
+in 1674, shortly after the death of Milton, which took place
+on the 8th of November in the same year.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="State_1-1" name="State_1-1"></a>The Adamo of Andreini; for an account of which, see Todd's Milton,
+Vol. I. the elegant Hayley's Conjectures on the Origin of Paradise Lost,
+and Walker's Memoir on Italian Tragedy. The Drama of Andreini opens
+with a grand chorus of angels, who sing to this purpose:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Let the rainbow be the fiddle-stick to the fiddle of heaven,</p>
+<p>Let the spheres be the strings, and the stars the musical notes;</p>
+<p>Let the new-born breezes make the pauses and sharps,</p>
+<p>And let time be careful to beat the measure.</p>
+</div></li>
+
+<li><a id="State_1-2" name="State_1-2"></a>See a sketch of his plan in Johnson's Life of Milton, and in the authorities
+above quoted.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_095" name="page_095"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">TO
+HER ROYAL HIGHNESS,
+THE
+DUCHESS<a class="ftnt" href="#State_2-1">[1]</a>.</h3>
+
+<p class="noind smcap">Madam,</p>
+
+<p>Ambition is so far from being a vice in poets,
+that it is almost impossible for them to succeed without
+it. Imagination must be raised, by a desire of
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_096" name="page_096"></a>
+fame, to a desire of pleasing; and they whom, in all
+ages, poets have endeavoured most to please, have
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_097" name="page_097"></a>
+been the beautiful and the great. Beauty is their
+deity, to which they sacrifice, and greatness is their
+guardian angel, which protects them. Both these,
+are so eminently joined in the person of your royal
+highness, that it were not easy for any but a poet
+to determine which of them outshines the other.
+But I confess, madam, I am already biassed in my
+choice. I can easily resign to others the praise of
+your illustrious family, and that glory which you
+derive from a long-continued race of princes, famous
+for their actions both in peace and war: I
+can give up, to the historians of your country, the
+names of so many generals and heroes which crowd
+their annals, and to our own the hopes of those
+which you are to produce for the British chronicle.
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_098" name="page_098"></a>
+I can yield, without envy, to the nation of
+poets, the family of Este, to which Ariosto and
+Tasso have owed their patronage, and to which the
+world has owed their poems. But I could not, without
+extreme reluctance, resign the theme of your
+beauty to another hand. Give me leave, madam,
+to acquaint the world, that I am jealous of this
+subject; and let it be no dishonour to you, that, after
+having raised the admiration of mankind, you
+have inspired one man to give it voice. But, with
+whatsoever vanity this new honour of being your
+poet has filled my mind, I confess myself too weak
+for the inspiration: the priest was always unequal
+to the oracle: the god within him was too mighty
+for his breast: he laboured with the sacred revelation,
+and there was more of the mystery left behind,
+than the divinity itself could enable him to express.
+I can but discover a part of your excellencies to the
+world; and that, too, according to the measure of
+my own weakness. Like those who have surveyed
+the moon by glasses, I can only tell of a new and
+shining world above us, but not relate the riches
+and glories of the place. 'Tis therefore that I have
+already waved the subject of your greatness, to resign
+myself to the contemplation of what is more
+peculiarly yours. Greatness is indeed communicated
+to some few of both sexes; but beauty is confined
+to a more narrow compass: 'tis only in your sex,
+'tis not shared by many, and its supreme perfection
+is in you alone. And here, madam, I am proud that
+I cannot flatter; you have reconciled the differing
+judgments of mankind; for all men are equal in
+their judgment of what is eminently best. The
+prize of beauty was disputed only till you were seen;
+but now all pretenders have withdrawn their claims:
+there is no competition but for the second place;
+even the fairest of our island, which is famed for
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_099" name="page_099"></a>
+beauties, not daring to commit their cause against
+you to the suffrage of those, who most partially
+adore them. Fortune has, indeed, but rendered
+justice to so much excellence, in setting it so high
+to public view; or, rather, Providence has done
+justice to itself, in placing the most perfect workmanship
+of heaven, where it may be admired by all
+beholders. Had the sun and stars been seated
+lower, their glory had not been communicated to
+all at once, and the Creator had wanted so much of
+his praise, as he had made your condition more obscure:
+but he has placed you so near a crown, that
+you add a lustre to it by your beauty. You are
+joined to a prince, who only could deserve you;
+whose conduct, courage, and success in war; whose
+fidelity to his royal brother, whose love for his
+country, whose constancy to his friends, whose
+bounty to his servants, whose justice to merit, whose
+inviolable truth, and whose magnanimity in all his
+actions, seem to have been rewarded by heaven by
+the gift of you. You are never seen but you are
+blest; and I am sure you bless all those who see
+you. We think not the day is long enough when
+we behold you; and you are so much the business
+of our souls, that while you are in sight, we can
+neither look nor think on any else. There are no
+eyes for other beauties; you only are present, and
+the rest of your sex are but the unregarded parts
+that fill your triumph. Our sight is so intent on
+the object of its admiration, that our tongues have
+not leisure even to praise you: for language seems
+too low a thing to express your excellence; and our
+souls are speaking so much within, that they despise
+all foreign conversation. Every man, even
+the dullest, is thinking more than the most eloquent
+can teach him how to utter. Thus, madam, in the
+midst of crowds, you reign in solitude; and are
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_100" name="page_100"></a>
+adored with the deepest veneration, that of silence.
+'Tis true, you are above all mortal wishes; no man
+desires impossibilities, because they are beyond the
+reach of nature. To hope to be a god, is folly exalted
+into madness; but, by the laws of our creation,
+we are obliged to adore him, and are permitted to
+love him too at human distance. 'Tis the nature of
+perfection to be attractive, but the excellency of the
+object refines the nature of the love. It strikes an
+impression of awful reverence; 'tis indeed that love
+which is more properly a zeal than passion. 'Tis
+the rapture which anchorites find in prayer, when a
+beam of the divinity shines upon them; that which
+makes them despise all worldly objects; and yet 'tis
+all but contemplation. They are seldom visited
+from above, but a single vision so transports them,
+that it makes up the happiness of their lives. Mortality
+cannot bear it often: it finds them in the eagerness
+and height of their devotion; they are speechless
+for the time that it continues, and prostrate
+and dead when it departs. That ecstacy had need
+be strong, which, without any end, but that of admiration
+has power enough to destroy all other
+passions. You render mankind insensible to other
+beauties, and have destroyed the empire of love in
+a court which was the seat of his dominion. You
+have subverted (may I dare to accuse you of it?)
+even our fundamental laws; and reign absolute over
+the hearts of a stubborn and free-born people, tenacious
+almost to madness of their liberty. The
+brightest and most victorious of our ladies make
+daily complaints of revolted subjects, if they may
+be said to be revolted, whose servitude is not accepted;
+for your royal highness is too great, and
+too just a monarch, either to want or to receive the
+homage of rebellious fugitives. Yet, if some few
+among the multitude continue stedfast to their first
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_101" name="page_101"></a>
+pretensions, 'tis an obedience so lukewarm and
+languishing, that it merits not the name of passion;
+their addresses are so faint, and their vows so hollow
+to their sovereigns, that they seem only to
+maintain their faith out of a sense of honour: they
+are ashamed to desist, and yet grow careless to obtain.
+Like despairing combatants, they strive
+against you as if they had beheld unveiled the magical
+shield of your Ariosto, which dazzled the beholders
+with too much brightness. They can no
+longer hold up their arms; they have read their destiny
+in your eyes:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Splende lo scudo, a guisa di piropo;</p>
+<p>E luce altra non &eacute; tanto lucente:</p>
+<p>Cader in terra a lo splendor fu d'vopo,</p>
+<p>Con gli occhi abbacinati, e senza mente.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">And yet, madam, if I could find in myself the power
+to leave this argument of your incomparable beauty,
+I might turn to one which would equally oppress
+me with its greatness; for your conjugal virtues
+have deserved to be set as an example, to a less degenerate,
+less tainted age. They approach so near
+to singularity in ours, that I can scarcely make a
+panegyric to your royal highness, without a satire
+on many others. But your person is a paradise, and
+your soul a cherubim within, to guard it. If the
+excellence of the outside invite the beholders, the
+majesty of your mind deters them from too bold
+approaches, and turns their admiration into religion.
+Moral perfections are raised higher by you in the
+softer sex; as if men were of too coarse a mould for
+heaven to work on, and that the image of divinity
+could not be cast to likeness in so harsh a metal.
+Your person is so admirable, that it can scarce receive
+addition, when it shall be glorified: and your
+soul, which shines through it, finds it of a substance
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_102" name="page_102"></a>
+so near her own, that she will be pleased to pass an
+age within it, and to be confined to such a palace.</p>
+
+<p>I know not how I am hurried back to my former
+theme; I ought and purposed to have celebrated
+those endowments and qualities of your mind, which
+were sufficient, even without the graces of your
+person, to render you, as you are, the ornament of
+the court, and the object of wonder to three kingdoms.
+But all my praises are but as a bull-rush
+cast upon a stream; if they sink not, 'tis because
+they are borne up by the strength of the current,
+which supports their lightness; but they are carried
+round again, and return on the eddy where they
+first began. I can proceed no farther than your
+beauty; and even on that too I have said so little,
+considering the greatness of the subject, that, like
+him who would lodge a bowl upon a precipice,
+either my praise falls back, by the weakness of the
+delivery, or stays not on the top, but rolls over, and
+is lost on the other side. I intended this a dedication;
+but how can I consider what belongs to myself,
+when I have been so long contemplating on you!
+Be pleased then, madam, to receive this poem, without
+entitling so much excellency as yours, to the
+faults and imperfections of so mean a writer; and
+instead of being favourable to the piece, which merits
+nothing, forgive the presumption of the author;
+who is, with all possible veneration,</p>
+
+<p class="sig i1">Your Royal Highness's</p>
+<p class="sig i2">Most obedient, most humble,</p>
+<p class="sig i3">Most devoted servant,</p>
+<p class="sig i4 smcap">John Dryden.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="State_2-1" name="State_2-1"></a>Mary of Este, daughter of the Duke of Modena, and second
+wife to James Duke of York, afterwards James II. She was married
+to him by proxy in 1673, and came over in the year following.
+Notwithstanding her husband's unpopularity, and her own attachment
+to the Roman Catholic religion, her youth, beauty, and innocence
+secured her from insult and slander during all the stormy
+period which preceded her accession to the crown. Even Burnet,
+reluctantly, admits the force of her charms, and the inoffensiveness
+of her conduct. But her beauty produced a more lasting effect on
+the young and gallant, than on that austere and stubborn partizan;
+and its force must be allowed, since it was extolled even when Mary
+was dethroned and exiled. Granville, Lord Lansdowne, has praised
+her in "The Progress of Beauty;" and I cannot forbear transcribing
+some of the verses, on account of the gallant spirit of the
+author, who scorned to change with fortune, and continued to admire
+and celebrate, in adversity, the charms which he had worshipped
+in the meridian of prosperity.<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="i1">And now, my muse, a nobler flight prepare,</p>
+<p>And sing so loud, that heaven and earth may hear.</p>
+<p>Behold from Italy an awful ray</p>
+<p>Of heavenly light illuminates the day;</p>
+<p>Northward she bends, majestically bright,</p>
+<p>And here she fixes her imperial light.</p>
+<p>Be bold, be bold, my muse, nor fear to raise</p>
+<p>Thy voice to her who was thy earliest praise<a class="ftnt" href="#State_2-a">[a]</a>.</p>
+<p>What though the sullen fates refuse to shine,</p>
+<p>Or frown severe on thy audacious line;</p>
+<p>Keep thy bright theme within thy steady sight,</p>
+<p>The clouds shall fly before thy dazzling light,</p>
+<p>And everlasting day direct thy lofty flight.</p>
+<p>Thou, who hast never yet put on disguise,</p>
+<p>To flatter faction, or descend to vice,</p>
+<p>Let no vain fear thy generous ardour tame,</p>
+<p>But stand erect, and sound as loud as fame.</p>
+<p class="i1">As when our eye some prospect would pursue,</p>
+<p>Descending from a hill looks round to view,</p>
+<p>Passes o'er lawns and meadows, till it gains</p>
+<p>Some favourite spot, and fixing there remains;</p>
+<p>With equal ardour my transported muse</p>
+<p>Flies other objects, this bright theme to chuse.</p>
+<p class="i1">Queen of our hearts, and charmer of our sight!</p>
+<p>A monarch's pride, his glory and delight!</p>
+<p>Princess adored and loved! if verse can give</p>
+<p>A deathless name, thine shall for ever live;</p>
+<p>Invoked where'er the British lion roars,</p>
+<p>Extended as the seas that guard the British shores.</p>
+<p>The wise immortals, in their seats above,</p>
+<p>To crown their labours still appointed love;</p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;bus enjoyed the goddess of the sea,</p>
+<p>Alcides had Omphale, James has thee.</p>
+<p>O happy James! content thy mighty mind,</p>
+<p>Grudge not the world, for still thy queen is kind;</p>
+<p>To be but at whose feet more glory brings,</p>
+<p>Than 'tis to tread on sceptres and on kings.</p>
+<p>Secure of empire in that beauteous breast,</p>
+<p>Who would not give their crowns to be so blest?</p>
+<p>Was Helen half so fair, so formed for joy,</p>
+<p>Well chose the Trojan, and well burned was Troy.</p>
+<p>But ah! what strange vicissitudes of fate,</p>
+<p>What chance attends on every worldly state!</p>
+<p>As when the skies were sacked, the conquered gods,</p>
+<p>Compelled from heaven, forsook their blessed abodes;</p>
+<p>Wandering in woods, they hid from den to den,</p>
+<p>And sought their safety in the shapes of men;</p>
+<p>As when the winds with kindling flames conspire,</p>
+<p>The blaze increases as they fan the fire;</p>
+<p>From roof to roof the burning torrent pours,</p>
+<p>Nor spares the palace nor the loftiest towers;</p>
+<p>Or as the stately pine, erecting high</p>
+<p>Her lofty branches shooting to the sky,</p>
+<p>If riven by the thunderbolt of Jove,</p>
+<p>Down falls at once the pride of all the grove;</p>
+<p>Level with lowest shrubs lies the tall head,</p>
+<p>That, reared aloft, as to the clouds was spread,</p>
+<p>So&mdash;</p>
+<p>But cease, my muse, thy colours are too faint;</p>
+<p>Shade with a veil those griefs thou can'st not paint.</p>
+<p>That sun is set!&mdash;</p>
+<p class="citation"><i>Progress of Beauty.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The beauty, which inspired the romantic and unchanging admiration
+of Granville, may be allowed to justify some of the flights
+of Dryden's panegyric. I fear enough will still remain to justify
+the stricture of Johnson, who observes, that Dryden's dedication
+is an "attempt to mingle earth and heaven, by praising human
+excellence in the language of religion."</p>
+
+<p>At the date of this address, the Duchess of York was only in
+her sixteenth year.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol style="list-style-type: lower-alpha">
+<li id="State_2-a">He had written verses to the Earl of Peterborough, on the Duke of
+York's marriage with the Princess of Modena, before he was twelve years old.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_103" name="page_103"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">TO
+MR DRYDEN,
+ON HIS
+POEM OF PARADISE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Forgive me, awful poet, if a muse,</p>
+<p>Whom artless nature did for plainness chuse,</p>
+<p>In loose attire presents her humble thought,</p>
+<p>Of this best poem that you ever wrought.</p>
+<p>This fairest labour of your teeming brain</p>
+<p>I would embrace, but not with flatt'ry stain.</p>
+<p>Something I would to your vast virtue raise,</p>
+<p>But scorn to daub it with a fulsome praise;</p>
+<p>That would but blot the work I would commend,</p>
+<p>And shew a court-admirer, not a friend.</p>
+<p>To the dead bard your fame a little owes,</p>
+<p>For Milton did the wealthy mine disclose,</p>
+<p>And rudely cast what you could well dispose:</p>
+<p>He roughly drew, on an old fashioned ground,</p>
+<p>A chaos; for no perfect world was found,</p>
+<p>Till through the heap your mighty genius shined:</p>
+<p>He was the golden ore, which you refined.</p>
+<p>He first beheld the beauteous rustic maid,</p>
+<p>And to a place of strength the prize conveyed:</p>
+<p>You took her thence; to court this virgin brought,</p>
+<p>Drest her with gems, new weaved her hard-spun thought,</p>
+<p>And softest language sweetest manners taught;</p>
+<p>Till from a comet she a star doth rise,</p>
+<p>Not to affright, but please, our wondering eyes.</p>
+<p>Betwixt you both is trained a nobler piece,</p>
+<p>Than e'er was drawn in Italy or Greece.</p>
+<p>Thou from his source of thoughts even souls dost bring,</p>
+<p>As smiling gods from sullen Saturn spring.</p>
+<p>When night's dull mask the face of heaven does wear,</p>
+<p>'Tis doubtful light, but here and there a star,</p>
+<p><a class="pgnm" id="page_104" name="page_104"></a>
+Which serves the dreadful shadows to display,</p>
+<p>That vanish at the rising of the day;</p>
+<p>But then bright robes the meadows all adorn,</p>
+<p>And the world looks as it were newly born.</p>
+<p>So, when your sense his mystic reason cleared,</p>
+<p>The melancholy scene all gay appeared;</p>
+<p>Now light leapt up, and a new glory smiled,</p>
+<p>And all throughout was mighty, all was mild.</p>
+<p>Before this palace, which thy wit did build,</p>
+<p>Which various fancy did so gaudy gild,</p>
+<p>And judgment has with solid riches filled,</p>
+<p>My humbler muse begs she may sentry stand,</p>
+<p>Amongst the rest that guard this Eden land.</p>
+<p>But there's no need, for ev'n thy foes conspire</p>
+<p>Thy praise, and, hating thee, thy work admire.</p>
+<p>On then, O mightiest of the inspired men!</p>
+<p>Monarch of verse! new themes employ thy pen.</p>
+<p>The troubles of majestic Charles set down;</p>
+<p>Not David vanquished more to reach a crown.</p>
+<p>Praise him as Cowley did that Hebrew king:</p>
+<p>Thy theme's as great; do thou as greatly sing.</p>
+<p>Then thou may'st boldly to his favour rise,</p>
+<p>Look down, and the base serpent's hiss despise;</p>
+<p>From thund'ring envy safe in laurel sit,</p>
+<p>While clam'rous critics their vile heads submit,</p>
+<p>Condemned for treason at the bar of wit.</p>
+<p class="citation smcap">Nat. Lee.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_105" name="page_105"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">THE
+AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
+FOR
+HEROIC POETRY, AND POETIC LICENCE.</h3>
+
+<p>To satisfy the curiosity of those, who will give
+themselves the trouble of reading the ensuing poem,
+I think myself obliged to render them a reason why
+I publish an opera which was never acted. In the
+first place, I shall not be ashamed to own, that my
+chiefest motive was, the ambition which I acknowledged
+in the Epistle. I was desirous to lay at the
+feet of so beautiful and excellent a princess, a work,
+which, I confess, was unworthy her, but which, I
+hope, she will have the goodness to forgive. I was
+also induced to it in my own defence; many hundred
+copies of it being dispersed abroad without
+my knowledge, or consent: so that every one gathering
+new faults, it became at length a libel
+against me; and I saw, with some disdain, more
+nonsense than either I, or as bad a poet, could have
+crammed into it, at a month's warning; in which
+time it was wholly written, and not since revised.
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_106" name="page_106"></a>
+After this, I cannot, without injury to the deceased
+author of "Paradise Lost," but acknowledge, that
+this poem has received its entire foundation, part of
+the design, and many of the ornaments, from him.
+What I have borrowed will be so easily discerned
+from my mean productions, that I shall not need to
+point the reader to the places: And truly I should
+be sorry, for my own sake, that any one should take
+the pains to compare them together; the original
+being undoubtedly one of the greatest, most noble,
+and most sublime poems, which either this age or
+nation has produced. And though I could not refuse
+the partiality of my friend, who is pleased to
+commend me in his verses, I hope they will rather
+be esteemed the effect of his love to me, than of
+his deliberate and sober judgment. His genius is
+able to make beautiful what he pleases: Yet, as he
+has been too favourable to me, I doubt not but he
+will hear of his kindness from many of our contemporaries
+for we are fallen into an age of illiterate,
+censorious, and detracting people, who, thus qualified,
+set up for critics.</p>
+
+<p>In the first place, I must take leave to tell them,
+that they wholly mistake the nature of criticism,
+who think its business is principally to find fault.
+Criticism, as it was first instituted by Aristotle, was
+meant a standard of judging well; the chiefest part
+of which is, to observe those excellencies which
+should delight a reasonable reader. If the design,
+the conduct, the thoughts, and the expressions of a
+poem, be generally such as proceed from a true genius
+of poetry, the critic ought to pass his judgement
+in favour of the author. It is malicious and
+unmanly to snarl at the little lapses of a pen, from
+which Virgil himself stands not exempted. Horace
+acknowledges, that honest Homer nods sometimes:
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_107" name="page_107"></a>
+He is not equally awake in every line; but he leaves
+it also as a standing measure for our judgments,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>&mdash;Non, <i>ubi plura nitent in carmine, paucis</i></p>
+<p>Offendi <i>maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,</i></p>
+<p><i>Aut humana par&ugrave;m cavit natura.</i>&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">And Longinus, who was undoubtedly, after Aristotle
+the greatest critic amongst the Greeks, in his
+twenty-seventh chapter,
+<span class="Greek" title="PERI HUPSOUS">
+&Pi;&Epsilon;&Rho;&Iota;
+'&Upsilon;&Psi;&Sigma;&Omicron;&Upsilon;&Sigma;
+</span>,
+has judiciously
+preferred the sublime genius that sometimes errs,
+to the middling or indifferent one, which makes
+few faults, but seldom or never rises to any excellence.
+He compares the first to a man of large
+possessions, who has not leisure to consider of every
+slight expence, will not debase himself to the management
+of every trifle: Particular sums are not
+laid out, or spared, to the greatest advantage in his
+economy; but are sometimes suffered to run to
+waste, while he is only careful of the main. On the
+other side, he likens the mediocrity of wit, to one
+of a mean fortune, who manages his store with extreme
+frugality, or rather parsimony; but who, with
+fear of running into profuseness, never arrives to
+the magnificence of living. This kind of genius
+writes indeed correctly. A wary man he is in grammar,
+very nice as to solecism or barbarism, judges
+to a hair of little decencies, knows better than any
+man what is not to be written, and never hazards
+himself so far as to fall, but plods on deliberately,
+and, as a grave man ought, is sure to put his staff
+before him. In short, he sets his heart upon it,
+and with wonderful care makes his business sure;
+that is, in plain English, neither to be blamed nor
+praised.&mdash;I could, says my author, find out some
+blemishes in Homer; and am perhaps as naturally
+inclined to be disgusted at a fault as another man;
+but, after all, to speak impartially, his failings are
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_108" name="page_108"></a>
+such, as are only marks of human frailty: they are
+little mistakes, or rather negligences, which have
+escaped his pen in the fervour of his writing; the
+sublimity of his spirit carries it with me against his
+carelessness; and though Apollonius his "Argonauts,"
+and Theocritus his "Idyllia," are more free
+from errors, there is not any man of so false a
+judgment, who would chuse rather to have been
+Apollonius or Theocritus, than Homer.</p>
+
+<p>It is worth our consideration a little, to examine
+how much these hypercritics in English poetry differ
+from the opinion of the Greek and Latin judges
+of antiquity; from the Italians and French, who
+have succeeded them; and, indeed, from the general
+taste and approbation of all ages. Heroic poetry,
+which they condemn, has ever been esteemed,
+and ever will be, the greatest work of human nature:
+In that rank has Aristotle placed it; and Longinus
+is so full of the like expressions, that he abundantly
+confirms the other's testimony. Horace as
+plainly delivers his opinion, and particularly praises
+Homer in these verses:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Trojani Belli scriptorem, maxime Lolli,</p>
+<p>Dum tu declamas Rom&aelig;, Pr&aelig;neste relegi:</p>
+<p>Qui quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non,</p>
+<p>Plenius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">And in another place, modestly excluding himself
+from the number of poets, because he only writ
+odes and satires, he tells you a poet is such an one,</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>&mdash;Cui mens divinior, atque os</p>
+<p>Magna soniturum.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">Quotations are superfluous in an established truth;
+otherwise I could reckon up, amongst the moderns,
+all the Italian commentators on Aristotle's book of
+poetry; and, amongst the French, the greatest of
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_109" name="page_109"></a>
+this age, Boileau and Rapin; the latter of which is
+alone sufficient, were all other critics lost, to teach
+anew the rules of writing. Any man, who will seriously
+consider the nature of an epic poem, how it
+agrees with that of poetry in general, which is to
+instruct and to delight, what actions it describes,
+and what persons they are chiefly whom it informs,
+will find it a work which indeed is full of difficulty
+in the attempt, but admirable when it is well performed.
+I write not this with the least intention
+to undervalue the other parts of poetry: for Comedy
+is both excellently instructive, and extremely
+pleasant; satire lashes vice into reformation, and
+humour represents folly so as to render it ridiculous.
+Many of our present writers are eminent in
+both these kinds; and, particularly, the author of
+the "Plain Dealer," whom I am proud to call my
+friend, has obliged all honest and virtuous men, by
+one of the most bold, most general, and most useful
+satires, which has ever been presented on the
+English theatre. I do not dispute the preference
+of Tragedy; let every man enjoy his taste: but it is
+unjust, that they, who have not the least notion of
+heroic writing, should therefore condemn the pleasure
+which others receive from it, because they
+cannot comprehend it. Let them please their appetites
+in eating what they like; but let them not
+force their dish on all the table. They, who would
+combat general authority with particular opinion,
+must first establish themselves a reputation of understanding
+better than other men. Are all the
+flights of heroic poetry to be concluded bombast,
+unnatural, and mere madness, because they are not
+affected with their excellencies? It is just as reasonable
+as to conclude there is no day, because a
+blind man cannot distinguish of light and colours.
+Ought they not rather, in modesty, to doubt of
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_110" name="page_110"></a>
+their own judgments, when they think this or that
+expression in Homer, Virgil, Tasso, or Milton's
+"Paradise," to be too far strained, than positively
+to conclude, that it is all fustian, and mere nonsense?
+It is true, there are limits to be set betwixt
+the boldness and rashness of a poet; but he must
+understand those limits, who pretends to judge as
+well as he who undertakes to write: and he who
+has no liking to the whole, ought, in reason, to be
+excluded from censuring of the parts. He must be
+a lawyer before he mounts the tribunal; and the
+judicature of one court, too, does not qualify a man
+to preside in another. He may be an excellent
+pleader in the Chancery, who is not fit to rule the
+Common Pleas. But I will presume for once to
+tell them, that the boldest strokes of poetry, when
+they are managed artfully, are those which most
+delight the reader.</p>
+
+<p>Virgil and Horace, the severest writers of the severest
+age, have made frequent use of the hardest
+metaphors, and of the strongest hyperboles; and in
+this case the best authority is the best argument;
+for generally to have pleased, and through all ages,
+must bear the force of universal tradition. And if
+you would appeal from thence to right reason, you
+will gain no more by it in effect, than, first, to set
+up your reason against those authors; and, secondly,
+against all those who have admired them. You
+must prove, why that ought not to have pleased,
+which has pleased the most learned, and the most
+judicious; and, to be thought knowing, you must
+first put the fool upon all mankind. If you can
+enter more deeply, than they have done, into the
+causes and resorts of that which moves pleasure in
+a reader, the field is open, you may be heard: But
+those springs of human nature are not so easily discovered
+by every superficial judge: It requires philosophy,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_111" name="page_111"></a>
+as well as poetry, to sound the depth of all
+the passions; what they are in themselves, and how
+they are to be provoked: And in this science the
+best poets have excelled. Aristotle raised the fabric
+of his poetry from observation of those things,
+in which Euripides, Sophocles, and &AElig;schylus pleased:
+He considered how they raised the passions,
+and thence has drawn rules for our imitation. From
+hence have sprung the tropes and figures, for which
+they wanted a name, who first practised them, and
+succeeded in them. Thus I grant you, that the
+knowledge of nature was the original rule; and that
+all poets ought to study her, as well as Aristotle and
+Horace, her interpreters. But then this also undeniably
+follows, that those things, which delight all
+ages, must have been an imitation of nature; which
+is all I contend. Therefore is rhetoric made an
+art; therefore the names of so many tropes and
+figures were invented; because it was observed
+they had such and such effect upon the audience.
+Therefore catachreses and hyperboles have found
+their place amongst them; not that they were to
+be avoided, but to be used judiciously, and placed in
+poetry, as heightenings and shadows are in painting,
+to make the figure bolder, and cause it to stand off
+to sight.</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Nec retia cervis</p>
+<p>Ulla dolum meditantur;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">says Virgil in his Eclogues: and speaking of Leander,
+in his Georgics,</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Nocte natat c&aelig;ca serus freta, quem super ingens</p>
+<p>Porta tonat c&aelig;li, et scopulis illisa reclamant</p>
+<p>&AElig;quora:</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">In both of these, you see, he fears not to give voice
+and thought to things inanimate.</p>
+
+<p>Will you arraign your master, Horace, for his hardness
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_112" name="page_112"></a>
+of expression, when he describes the death of
+Cleopatra, and says she did&mdash;<i>asperos tractare serpentes,
+ut atrum corpore combiberet cenenum,</i>&mdash;because
+the body, in that action, performs what is proper to
+the mouth?</p>
+
+<p>As for hyperboles, I will neither quote Lucan, nor
+Statius, men of an unbounded imagination, but who
+often wanted the poize of judgment. The divine
+Virgil was not liable to that exception; and yet he
+describes Polyphemus thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>&mdash;Graditurque per &aelig;quor</p>
+<p>Jam medium; necdum fluctus latera ardua tinxit.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>In imitation of this place, our admirable Cowley
+thus paints Goliah:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>The valley, now, this monster seemed to fill;</p>
+<p>And we, methought, looked up to him from our hill:</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">where the two words, <i>seemed</i> and <i>methought</i>, have
+mollified the figure; and yet if they had not been
+there, the fright of the Israelites might have excused
+their belief of the giant's stature<a class="ftnt" href="#State_3-1">[1]</a>.</p>
+
+<p>In the eighth of the &AElig;neids, Virgil paints the
+swiftness of Camilla thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Ilia vel intact&aelig; segetis per summa volaret</p>
+<p>Gramina, nec teneras cursu l&aelig;sisset aristas;</p>
+<p>Vel mare per medium, fluctu suspensa tumenti,</p>
+<p>Ferret iter, celeres nec tingeret &aelig;quore plantas.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>You are not obliged, as in history, to a literal belief
+of what the poet says; but you are pleased with
+the image, without being cozened by the fiction.</p>
+
+<p>Yet even in history, Longinus quotes Herodotus on
+this occasion of hyperboles. The Lacedemonians,
+says he, at the straits of Thermopyl&aelig;, defended themselves
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_113" name="page_113"></a>
+to the last extremity; and when their arms
+failed them, fought it out with their nails and teeth;
+till at length, (the Persians shooting continually
+upon them) they lay buried under the arrows of
+their enemies. It is not reasonable, (continues the
+critic) to believe, that men could defend themselves
+with their nails and teeth from an armed multitude;
+nor that they lay buried under a pile of darts and
+arrows; and yet there wants not probability for the
+figure: because the hyperbole seems not to have
+been made for the sake of the description; but rather
+to have been produced from the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>It is true, the boldness of the figures is to be hidden
+sometimes by the address of the poet; that they may
+work their effect upon the mind, without discovering
+the art which caused it. And therefore they
+are principally to be used in passion; when we
+speak more warmly, and with more precipitation than
+at other times: For then, <i>Si vis me flere, dolendum
+est primum ipsi tibi;</i> the poet must put on the passion
+he endeavours to represent: A man in such an
+occasion is not cool enough, either to reason rightly,
+or to talk calmly. Aggravations are then in their
+proper places; interrogations, exclamations, hyperbata,
+or a disordered connection of discourse, are
+graceful there, because they are natural. The sum
+of all depends on what before I hinted, that this
+boldness of expression is not to be blamed, if it be
+managed by the coolness and discretion which is
+necessary to a poet.</p>
+
+<p>Yet before I leave this subject, I cannot but take
+notice how disingenuous our adversaries appear: All
+that is dull, insipid, languishing, and without sinews,
+in a poem, they call an imitation of nature: They
+only offend our most equitable judges, who think
+beyond them; and lively images and elocution are
+never to be forgiven.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" id="page_114" name="page_114"></a>
+What fustian, as they call it, have I heard these
+gentlemen find out in Mr Cowley's Odes! I acknowledge
+myself unworthy to defend so excellent
+an author, neither have I room to do it here; only
+in general I will say, that nothing can appear more
+beautiful to me, than the strength of those images
+which they condemn.</p>
+
+<p>Imaging is, in itself, the very height and life of
+poetry. It is, as Longinus describes it, a discourse,
+which, by a kind of enthusiasm, or extraordinary
+emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us, that we
+behold those things which the poet paints, so as to
+be pleased with them, and to admire them.</p>
+
+<p>If poetry be imitation, that part of it must needs
+be best, which describes most lively our actions and
+passions; our virtues and our vices; our follies and
+our humours: For neither is comedy without its
+part of imaging; and they who do it best are certainly
+the most excellent in their kind. This is too
+plainly proved to be denied: But how are poetical
+fictions, how are hippocentaurs and chimeras, or
+how are angels and immaterial substances to be imaged;
+which, some of them, are things quite out
+of nature; others, such whereof we can have no notion?
+This is the last refuge of our adversaries; and
+more than any of them have yet had the wit to object
+against us. The answer is easy to the first part
+of it: The fiction of some beings which are not in
+nature, (second notions, as the logicians call them)
+has been founded on the conjunction of two natures,
+which have a real separate being. So hippocentaurs
+were imaged, by joining the natures of a man and
+horse together; as Lucretius tells us, who has used
+this word of <i>image</i> oftener than any of the poets:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Nam cert&egrave; ex vivo centauri non fit imago,</p>
+<p>Nulla fuit quoniam talis natura animai:</p>
+<p>Ver&ugrave;m ubi equi atque hominis, casu, convenit imago,</p>
+<p>H&aelig;rescit facil&egrave; extempl&ograve;, <span style="font-style: normal">&amp;c.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" id="page_115" name="page_115"></a>
+The same reason may also be alleged for chimeras
+and the rest. And poets may be allowed the like
+liberty, for describing things which really exist not,
+if they are founded on popular belief. Of this nature
+are fairies, pigmies, and the extraordinary effects
+of magic; for it is still an imitation, though of other
+men's fancies: and thus are Shakespeare's "Tempest,"
+his "Midsummer Night's Dream," and Ben Jonson's
+"Masque of Witches" to be defended. For immaterial
+substances, we are authorised by Scripture in their
+description: and herein the text accommodates itself
+to vulgar apprehension, in giving angels the
+likeness of beautiful young men. Thus, after the
+pagan divinity, has Homer drawn his gods with human
+faces: and thus we have notions of things
+above us, by describing them like other beings more
+within our knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>I wish I could produce any one example of excellent
+imaging in all this poem. Perhaps I cannot;
+but that which comes nearest it, is in these four
+lines, which have been sufficiently canvassed by my
+well-natured censors:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Seraph and cherub, careless of their charge,</p>
+<p>And wanton, in full ease now live at large:</p>
+<p>Unguarded leave the passes of the sky,</p>
+<p>And all dissolved in hallelujahs lie.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>I have heard (says one of them) of anchovies <i>dissolved</i>
+in sauce; but never of an angel <i>in hallelujahs.</i>
+A mighty witticism! (if you will pardon a
+new word,) but there is some difference between a
+laugher and a critic. He might have burlesqued
+Virgil too, from whom I took the image. <i>Invadunt
+urbem, somno vinoque sepultam.</i> A city's being buried,
+is just as proper on occasion, as an angel's being dissolved
+in ease, and songs of triumph. Mr Cowley
+lies as open too in many places:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Where their vast courts the mother waters keep, &amp;c.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind"><a class="pgnm" id="page_116" name="page_116"></a>
+For if the mass of waters be the mothers, then their
+daughters, the little streams, are bound, in all good
+manners, to make courtesy to them, and ask them
+blessing. How easy it is to turn into ridicule the best
+descriptions, when once a man is in the humour of
+laughing, till he wheezes at his own dull jest! but
+an image, which is strongly and beautifully set before
+the eyes of the reader, will still be poetry, when
+the merry fit is over, and last when the other is
+forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>I promised to say somewhat of Poetic Licence, but
+have in part anticipated my discourse already. Poetic
+Licence, I take to be the liberty which poets have
+assumed to themselves, in all ages, of speaking things
+in verse, which are beyond the severity of prose.
+It is that particular character, which distinguishes
+and sets the bounds betwixt <i>oratio soluta</i>, and
+poetry. This, as to what regards the thought, or
+imagination of a poet, consists in fiction: but then
+those thoughts must be expressed; and here arise
+two other branches of it; for if this licence be included
+in a single word, it admits of tropes; if in a
+sentence or proposition, of figures; both which are
+of a much larger extent, and more forcibly to be
+used in verse than prose. This is that birth-right
+which is derived to us from our great forefathers,
+even from Homer down to Ben; and they, who
+would deny it to us, have, in plain terms, the fox's
+quarrel to the grapes&mdash;they cannot reach it.</p>
+
+<p>How far these liberties are to be extended, I will
+not presume to determine here, since Horace does
+not. But it is certain that they are to be varied, according
+to the language and age in which an author
+writes. That which would be allowed to a Grecian
+poet, Martial tells you, would not be suffered in a
+Roman; and it is evident, that the English does
+more nearly follow the strictness of the latter, than
+the freedoms of the former. Connection of epithets,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_117" name="page_117"></a>
+or the conjunction of two words in one, are frequent
+and elegant in the Greek, which yet Sir Philip Sidney,
+and the translator of Du Bartas, have unluckily
+attempted in the English; though this, I confess,
+is not so proper an instance of poetic licence, as it
+is of variety of idiom in languages.</p>
+
+<p>Horace a little explains himself on this subject of
+<i>Licentia Poetica</i>, in these verses:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>&mdash;Pictoribus atque Poetis</p>
+<p>Quidlibet audendi semper fuit &aelig;qua potestas: ...</p>
+<p>Sed non, ut placidis coeant immitia, non ut</p>
+<p>Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus h&aelig;di.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">He would have a poem of a piece; not to begin
+with one thing, and end with another: He restrains
+it so far, that thoughts of an unlike nature ought
+not to be joined together. That were indeed to make
+a chaos. He taxed not Homer, nor the divine Virgil,
+for interesting their gods in the wars of Troy
+and Italy; neither, had he now lived, would he
+have taxed Milton, as our false critics have presumed
+to do, for his choice of a supernatural argument;
+but he would have blamed my author, who was a
+Christian, had he introduced into his poem heathen
+deities, as Tasso is condemned by Rapin on the like
+occasion; and as Camo&euml;ns, the author of the "Lusiads,"
+ought to be censured by all his readers, when
+he brings in Bacchus and Christ into the same adventure
+of his fable.</p>
+
+<p>From that which has been said, it may be
+collected, that the definition of wit (which has
+been so often attempted, and ever unsuccessfully
+by many poets,) is only this: That it is a propriety
+of thoughts and words; or, in other terms,
+thoughts and words elegantly adapted to the subject.
+If our critics will join issue on this definition,
+that we may <i>convenire in aliquo tertio</i>; if they
+will take it as a granted principle, it will be easy to
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_118" name="page_118"></a>
+put an end to this dispute. No man will disagree
+from another's judgment concerning the dignity of
+style in heroic poetry; but all reasonable men will
+conclude it necessary, that sublime subjects ought
+to be adorned with the sublimest, and consequently
+often, with the most figurative expressions. In the
+mean time I will not run into their fault of imposing
+my opinions on other men, any more than I
+would my writings on their taste: I have only laid
+down, and that superficially enough, my present
+thoughts; and shall be glad to be taught better by
+those who pretend to reform our poetry.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="State_3-1" name="State_3-1"></a>With all this mitigation, the passage seems horrible bombast.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_119" name="page_119"></a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr"  style="margin-top: 4em">THE</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">STATE OF INNOCENCE,</h3>
+<p class="ctr">AND</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">FALL OF MAN.</h3>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT I.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>Represents a Chaos, or a confused Mass
+of Matter; the Stage is almost wholly dark: A
+Symphony of warlike Music is heard for some time;
+then from the Heavens, (which are opened) fall the
+rebellious Angels, wheeling in Air, and seeming transfixed
+with Thunderbolts: The bottom of the Stage
+being opened, receives the Angels, who fall out of
+sight. Tunes of Victory are played, and an Hymn
+sung; Angels discovered above, brandishing their
+Swords: The Music ceasing, and the Heavens being
+closed, the Scene shifts, and on a sudden represents
+Hell: Part of the Scene is a Lake of Brimstone, or
+rolling Fire; the Earth of a burnt Colour: The
+fallen Angels appear on the Lake, lying prostrate;
+a Tune of Horror and Lamentation is heard.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Lucifer,</span> raising himself on the Lake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Is this the seat our conqueror has given?<br />
+And this the climate we must change for heaven?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_120" name="page_120"></a>
+These regions and this realm my wars have got;<br />
+This mournful empire is the loser's lot:<br />
+In liquid burnings, or on dry, to dwell,<br />
+Is all the sad variety of hell.<br />
+But see, the victor has recalled, from far,<br />
+The avenging storms, his ministers of war:<br />
+His shafts are spent, and his tired thunders sleep,<br />
+Nor longer bellow through the boundless deep.<br />
+Best take the occasion, and these waves forsake,<br />
+While time is given.&mdash;Ho, Asmoday, awake,<br />
+If thou art he! But ah! how changed from him,<br />
+Companion of my arms! how wan! how dim!<br />
+How faded all thy glories are! I see<br />
+Myself too well, and my own change in thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asm.</span> Prince of the thrones, who in the fields of light<br />
+Led'st forth the embattled seraphim to fight;<br />
+Who shook the power of heaven's eternal state,<br />
+Had broke it too, if not upheld by fate;<br />
+But now those hopes are fled: Thus low we lie,<br />
+Shut from his day, and that contended sky,<br />
+And lost, as far as heavenly forms can die;<br />
+Yet, not all perished: We defy him still,<br />
+And yet wage war, with our unconquered will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Strength may return.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asm.</span> Already of thy virtue I partake,<br />
+Erected by thy voice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> See on the lake<br />
+Our troops, like scattered leaves in autumn, lie;<br />
+First let us raise ourselves, and seek the dry,<br />
+Perhaps more easy dwelling.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asm.</span> From the beach<br />
+Thy well-known voice the sleeping gods will reach,<br />
+And wake the immortal sense, which thunder's noise<br />
+Had quelled, and lightning deep had driven within them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_121" name="page_121"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> With wings expanded wide, ourselves we'll rear,<br />
+And fly incumbent on the dusky air.&mdash;<br />
+Hell, thy new lord receive!<br />
+Heaven cannot envy me an empire here.<span class="sdr">[Both fly to dry Land.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asm.</span> Thus far we have prevailed; if that be gain,<br />
+Which is but change of place, not change of pain.<br />
+Now summon we the rest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Dominions, Powers, ye chiefs of heaven's bright host,<br />
+(Of heaven, once your's; but now in battle lost)<br />
+Wake from your slumber! Are your beds of down?<br />
+Sleep you so easy there? Or fear the frown<br />
+Of him who threw you hence, and joys to see<br />
+Your abject state confess his victory?<br />
+Rise, rise, ere from his battlements he view<br />
+Your prostrate postures, and his bolts renew,<br />
+To strike you deeper down.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asm.</span> They wake, they hear,<br />
+Shake off their slumber first, and next their fear;<br />
+And only for the appointed signal stay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Rise from the flood, and hither wing your way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mol.</span> [<span class="sdm">From the Lake.</span>]<br />
+Thine to command; our part is to obey.
+<span class="sdr">[The rest of the Devils rise up, and fly to the
+Land.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> So, now we are ourselves again an host,<br />
+Fit to tempt fate, once more, for what we lost;<br />
+To o'erleap the etherial fence, or if so high<br />
+We cannot climb, to undermine his sky,<br />
+And blow him up, who justly rules us now,<br />
+Because more strong: Should he be forced to bow.<br />
+The right were ours again: 'Tis just to win<br />
+The highest place; to attempt, and fail, is sin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_122" name="page_122"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Mol.</span> Changed as we are, we're yet from homage free;<br />
+We have, by hell, at least gained liberty:<br />
+That's worth our fall; thus low though we are driven,<br />
+Better to rule in hell, than serve in heaven.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> There spoke the better half of Lucifer!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asm.</span> 'Tis fit in frequent senate we confer,<br />
+And then determine how to steer our course;<br />
+To wage new war by fraud, or open force.<br />
+The doom's now past; submission were in vain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mol.</span> And were it not, such baseness I disdain;<br />
+I would not stoop, to purchase all above,<br />
+And should contemn a power, whom prayer could move,<br />
+As one unworthy to have conquered me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beelzebub.</span> Moloch, in that all are resolved, like thee.<br />
+The means are unproposed; but 'tis not fit<br />
+Our dark divan in public view should sit;<br />
+Or what we plot against the Thunderer,<br />
+The ignoble crowd of vulgar devils hear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luci.</span> A golden palace let be raised on high;<br />
+To imitate? No, to outshine the sky!<br />
+All mines are ours, and gold above the rest:<br />
+Let this be done; and quick as 'twas exprest.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">A Palace rises, where sit, as in council, <span class="cnm">Lucifer,
+Asmoday, Moloch, Belial, Beelzebub,</span> and
+<span class="cnm">Satan.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Most high and mighty lords, who better fell<br />
+From heaven, to rise states-general of hell,<br />
+Nor yet repent, though ruined and undone,<br />
+Our upper provinces already won,<br />
+Such pride there is in souls created free,<br />
+Such hate of universal monarchy;<br />
+Speak, for we therefore meet:<br />
+If peace you chuse, your suffrages declare;<br />
+Or means propound, to carry on the war.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_123" name="page_123"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Mol.</span> My sentence is for war; that open too:<br />
+Unskilled in stratagems, plain force I know:<br />
+Treaties are vain to losers; nor would we,<br />
+Should heaven grant peace, submit to sovereignty.<br />
+We can no caution give we will adore;<br />
+And he above is warned to trust no more.<br />
+What then remains but battle?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Satan.</span> I agree<br />
+With this brave vote; and if in hell there be<br />
+Ten more such spirits, heaven is our own again:<br />
+We venture nothing, and may all obtain.<br />
+Yet who can hope but well, since even success<br />
+Makes foes secure, and makes our danger less?<br />
+Seraph and cherub, careless of their charge,<br />
+And wanton, in full ease now live at large;<br />
+Unguarded leave the passes of the sky,<br />
+And all dissolved in hallelujahs lie.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mol.</span> Grant that our hazardous attempt prove vain;<br />
+We feel the worst, secured from greater pain:<br />
+Perhaps we may provoke the conquering foe<br />
+To make us nothing; yet, even then, we know,<br />
+That not to be, is not to be in woe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Belial.</span> That knowledge which, as spirits, we obtain,<br />
+Is to be valued in the midst of pain:<br />
+Annihilation were to lose heaven more;<br />
+We are not quite exiled where thought can soar.<br />
+Then cease from arms;<br />
+Tempt him not farther to pursue his blow,<br />
+And be content to bear those pains we know.<br />
+If what we had, we could not keep, much less<br />
+Can we regain what those above possess.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Beelzebub.</span> Heaven sleeps not; from one wink a breach would be<br />
+In the full circle of eternity.<br />
+Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_124" name="page_124"></a>
+Heaven, unprovoked, at length may be appeased.<br />
+By war we cannot scape our wretched lot;<br />
+And may, perhaps, not warring, be forgot.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asm.</span> Could we repent, or did not heaven well know<br />
+Rebellion, once forgiven, would greater grow,<br />
+I should, with Belial, chuse ignoble ease;<br />
+But neither will the conqueror give peace,<br />
+Nor yet so lost in this low state we are,<br />
+As to despair of a well-managed war.<br />
+Nor need we tempt those heights which angels keep,<br />
+Who fear no force, or ambush, from the deep.<br />
+What if we find some easier enterprise?<br />
+There is a place,&mdash;if ancient prophecies<br />
+And fame in heaven not err,&mdash;the blest abode<br />
+Of some new race, called Man, a demi-god,<br />
+Whom, near this time, the Almighty must create;<br />
+He swore it, shook the heavens, and made it fate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> I heard it; through all heaven the rumour ran,<br />
+And much the talk of this intended Man:<br />
+Of form divine; but less in excellence<br />
+Than we; endued with reason lodged in sense:<br />
+The soul pure fire, like ours, of equal force;<br />
+But, pent in flesh, must issue by discourse:<br />
+We see what is; to Man truth must be brought<br />
+By sense, and drawn by a long chain of thought:<br />
+By that faint light, to will and understand;<br />
+For made less knowing, he's at more command.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asm.</span> Though heaven be shut, that world, if it be made,<br />
+As nearest heaven, lies open to invade:<br />
+Man therefore must be known, his strength, his state,<br />
+And by what tenure he holds all of fate.<br />
+Him let us then seduce, or overthrow;<br />
+The first is easiest, and makes heaven his foe.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_125" name="page_125"></a>
+Advise, if this attempt be worth our care.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Belial.</span> Great is the advantage, great the hazards are.<br />
+Some one (but who that task dares undertake?)<br />
+Of this new creature must discovery make.<br />
+Hell's brazen gates he first must break, then far<br />
+Must wander through old night, and through the war<br />
+Of antique chaos; and, when these are past,<br />
+Meet heaven's out-guards, who scout upon the waste:<br />
+At every station must be bid to stand,<br />
+And forced to answer every strict demand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mol.</span> This glorious enterprise&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Rising up.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Rash angel, stay;
+<span class="sdr">[Rising, and laying his sceptre on <span class="cnm">Moloch's</span>
+head.</span><br />
+That palm is mine, which none shall take away.<br />
+Hot braves, like thee, may fight; but know not well<br />
+To manage this, the last great stake of hell.<br />
+Why am I ranked in state above the rest,<br />
+If, while I stand of sovereign power possest,<br />
+Another dares, in danger, farther go?<br />
+Kings are not made for ease, and pageant-show.<br />
+Who would be conqueror, must venture all:<br />
+He merits not to rise, who dares not fall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asm.</span> The praise, and danger, then, be all your own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> On this foundation I erect my throne:<br />
+Through brazen gates, vast chaos, and old night,<br />
+I'll force my way, and upwards steer my flight;<br />
+Discover this new world, and newer Man;<br />
+Make him my footstep to mount heaven again:<br />
+Then, in the clemency of upward air,<br />
+We'll scour our spots, and the dire thunder scar,<br />
+With all the remnants of the unlucky war,<br />
+And once again grow bright, and once again grow fair.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_126" name="page_126"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Asm.</span> Meantime the youth of hell strict guard may keep,<br />
+And set their centries to the utmost deep,<br />
+That no etherial parasite may come<br />
+To spy our ills, and tell glad tales at home.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Before yon brimstone lake thrice ebb and flow,<br />
+(Alas, that we must measure time by woe!)<br />
+I shall return, (my mind presages well)<br />
+And outward lead the colonies of hell.<br />
+Your care I much approve; what time remains,<br />
+Seek to forget, at least divert your pains<br />
+With sports and music, in the vales and fields,<br />
+And whate'erjoy so sad a climate yields.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Betwixt the first Act and the second, while the Chiefs
+sit in the palace, may be expressed the sports of the
+Devils; as flights, and dancing in grotesque figures:
+And a song, expressing the change of their
+condition; what they enjoyed before, and how they
+fell bravely in battle, having deserved victory by
+their valour, and what they would have done if they
+had conquered.</p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT II.<br />
+SCENE 1.&mdash;<i>A Champaign Country.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Adam,</span> as newly created, laid on a bed of moss and
+flowers, by a rock.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> What am I? or from whence? For that I am<span class="sdr">[Rising.</span><br />
+I know, because I think; but whence I came,<br />
+Or how this frame of mine began to be,<br />
+What other being can disclose to me?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_127" name="page_127"></a>
+I move, I see, I speak, discourse, and know;<br />
+Though now I am, I was not always so.<br />
+Then that, from which I was, must be before,<br />
+Whom, as my spring of being, I adore.<br />
+How full of ornament is all I view,<br />
+In all its parts! and seems as beautiful as new:<br />
+O goodly-ordered work! O Power Divine,<br />
+Of thee I am, and what I am is thine!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Raphael</span> descends to <span class="cnm">Adam,</span> in a cloud.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raphael.</span> First of mankind, made o'er the world to reign,<br />
+Whose fruitful loins an unborn kind contain,<br />
+Well hast thou reasoned: Of himself is none<br />
+But that Eternal Infinite and One,<br />
+Who never did begin, who ne'er can end;<br />
+On Him all beings, as their source, depend.<br />
+We first, who of his image most partake,<br />
+Whom he all spirit, immortal, pure, did make;<br />
+Man next; whose race, exalted, must supply<br />
+The place of those, who, falling, lost the sky.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Bright minister of heaven, sent here below<br />
+To me, who but begin to think and know;<br />
+If such could fall from bliss, who knew and saw,<br />
+By near admission, their creator's law,<br />
+What hopes have I, from heaven remote so far,<br />
+To keep those laws, unknowing when I err?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raphael.</span> Right reason's law to every human heart<br />
+The Eternal, as his image, will impart:<br />
+This teaches to adore heaven's Majesty;<br />
+In prayer and praise does all devotion lie:<br />
+So doing, thou and all thy race are blest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Of every creeping thing, of bird, and beast,<br />
+I see the kinds: In pairs distinct they go;<br />
+The males their loves, their lovers females know:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_128" name="page_128"></a>
+Thou nam'st a race which must proceed from me,<br />
+Yet my whole species in myself I see:<br />
+A barren sex, and single, of no use,<br />
+But full of forms which I can ne'er produce.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raphael.</span> Think not the Power, who made thee thus, can find<br />
+No way like theirs to propagate thy kind:<br />
+Meantime, live happy in thyself alone;<br />
+Like him who, single, fills the etherial throne.<br />
+To study nature will thy time employ:<br />
+Knowledge and innocence are perfect joy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> If solitude were best, the All-wise above<br />
+Had made no creature for himself to love.<br />
+I add not to the power he had before;<br />
+Yet to make me, extends his goodness more.<br />
+He would not be alone, who all things can;<br />
+But peopled heaven with angels, earth with man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raphael.</span> As man and angels to the Deity,<br />
+So all inferior creatures are to thee.<br />
+Heaven's greatness no society can bear;<br />
+Servants he made, and those thou want'st not here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Why did he reason in my soul implant,<br />
+And speech, the effect of reason? To the mute,<br />
+My speech is lost; my reason to the brute.<br />
+Love and society more blessings bring<br />
+To them, the slaves, than power to me, their king.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raphael.</span> Thus far to try thee; but to heaven 'twas known,<br />
+It was not best for man to be alone;<br />
+An equal, yet thy subject, is designed,<br />
+For thy soft hours, and to unbend thy mind.<br />
+Thy stronger soul shall her weak reason sway;<br />
+And thou, through love, her beauty shalt obey;<br />
+Thou shalt secure her helpless sex from harms,<br />
+And she thy cares shall sweeten with her charms.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_129" name="page_129"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Adam.</span> What more can heaven bestow, or man require?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raphael.</span> Yes, he can give beyond thy own desire.<br />
+A mansion is provided thee, more fair<br />
+Than this, and worthy heaven's peculiar care:<br />
+Not framed of common earth, nor fruits, nor flowers<br />
+Of vulgar growth, but like celestial bowers:<br />
+The soil luxuriant, and the fruit divine,<br />
+Where golden apples on green branches shine,<br />
+And purple grapes dissolve into immortal wine;<br />
+For noon-day's heat are closer arbours made,<br />
+And for fresh evening air the opener glade.<br />
+Ascend; and, as we go,<br />
+More wonders thou shalt know.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> And, as we go, let earth and heaven above<br />
+Sound our great Maker's power, and greater love.
+<span class="sdr">[They ascend to soft music, and a song is sung.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">The Scene changes, and represents, above, a Sun gloriously
+rising and moving orbicularly: at a distance,
+below, is the Moon; the part next the Sun enlightened,
+the other dark. A black Cloud comes whirling
+from the adverse part of the Heavens, bearing <span class="cnm">Lucifer</span>
+in it; at his nearer approach the body of the
+Sun is darkened.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Am I become so monstrous, so disfigured,<br />
+That nature cannot suffer my approach,<br />
+Or look me in the face, but stands aghast;<br />
+And that fair light which gilds this new-made orb,<br />
+Shorn of his beams, shrinks in? accurst ambition!<br />
+And thou, black empire of the nether world,<br />
+How dearly have I bought you! But, 'tis past;<br />
+I have already gone too far to stop,<br />
+And must push on my dire revenge, in ruin<br />
+Of this gay frame, and man, my upstart rival,<br />
+In scorn of me created. Down, my pride,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_130" name="page_130"></a>
+And all my swelling thoughts! I must forget<br />
+Awhile I am a devil, and put on<br />
+A smooth submissive face; else I in vain<br />
+Have past through night and chaos, to discover<br />
+Those envied skies again, which I have lost.<br />
+But stay; far off I see a chariot driven,<br />
+Flaming with beams, and in it Uriel,<br />
+One of the seven, (I know his hated face)<br />
+Who stands in presence of the eternal throne,<br />
+And seems the regent of that glorious light.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">From that part of the Heavens where the Sun appears,
+a Chariot is discovered drawn with white
+Horses, and in it <span class="cnm">Uriel,</span> the Regent of the Sun.
+The Chariot moves swiftly towards <span class="cnm">Lucifer,</span> and at
+<span class="cnm">Uriel's</span> approach the Sun recovers his light.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Uriel.</span> Spirit, who art thou, and from whence arrived?<br />
+(For I remember not thy face in heaven)<br />
+Or by command, or hither led by choice?<br />
+Or wander'st thou within this lucid orb,<br />
+And, strayed from those fair fields of light above,<br />
+Amidst this new creation want'st a guide,<br />
+To reconduct thy steps?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucifer.</span> Bright Uriel,<br />
+Chief of the seven! thou flaming minister,<br />
+Who guard'st this new-created orb of light,<br />
+(The world's eye that, and thou the eye of it)<br />
+Thy favour and high office make thee known:<br />
+An humble cherub I, and of less note,<br />
+Yet bold, by thy permission, hither come,<br />
+On high discoveries bent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Uriel.</span> Speak thy design.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucifer.</span> Urged by renown of what I heard above,<br />
+Divulged by angels nearest heaven's high King,<br />
+Concerning this new world, I came to view<br />
+(If worthy such a favour) and admire<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_131" name="page_131"></a>
+This last effect of our great Maker's power:<br />
+Thence to my wondering fellows I shall turn,<br />
+Full fraught with joyful tidings of these works,<br />
+New matter of his praise, and of our songs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Uriel.</span> Thy business is not what deserves my blame,<br />
+Nor thou thyself unwelcome; see, fair spirit,<br />
+Below yon sphere (of matter not unlike it)<br />
+There hangs the ball of earth and water mixt,<br />
+Self-centered and unmoved.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucifer.</span> But where dwells man?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Uriel.</span> On yonder mount; thou see'st it fenced with rocks,<br />
+And round the ascent a theatre of trees,<br />
+A sylvan scene, which, rising by degrees,<br />
+Leads up the eye below, nor gluts the sight<br />
+With one full prospect, but invites by many,<br />
+To view at last the whole: There his abode,<br />
+Thither direct thy flight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucifer.</span> O blest be thou,<br />
+Who to my low converse has lent thy ear,<br />
+And favoured my request! Hail, and farewell.
+<span class="sdr">[Flies downward out of sight.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Uriel.</span> Not unobserved thou goest, whoe'er thou art;<br />
+Whether some spirit on holy purpose bent,<br />
+Or some fallen angel from below broke loose,<br />
+Who com'st, with envious eyes and curst intent,<br />
+To view this world and its created lord:<br />
+Here will I watch, and, while my orb rolls on,<br />
+Pursue from hence thy much suspected flight,<br />
+And, if disguised, pierce through with beams of light.
+<span class="sdr">[The Chariot drives forward out of sight.</span></p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_132" name="page_132"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">SCENE II.&mdash;<i>Paradise.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Trees cut out on each side, with several Fruits upon
+them; a Fountain in the midst: At the far end the
+prospect terminates in Walks.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> If this be dreaming, let me never wake;<br />
+But still the joys of that sweet sleep partake.<br />
+Methought&mdash;but why do I my bliss delay,<br />
+By thinking what I thought? Fair vision, stay;<br />
+My better half, thou softer part of me,<br />
+To whom I yield my boasted sovereignty,<br />
+I seek myself, and find not, wanting thee.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Eve.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Tell me, ye hills and dales, and thou fair sun,<br />
+Who shin'st above, what am I? Whence begun?<br />
+Like myself, I see nothing: From each tree<br />
+The feathered kind peep down to look on me;<br />
+And beasts with up-cast eyes forsake their shade,<br />
+And gaze, as if I were to be obeyed.<br />
+Sure I am somewhat which they wish to be,<br />
+And cannot; I myself am proud of me.<br />
+What's here? another firmament below,<span class="sdr">[Looks into a fountain.</span><br />
+Spread wide, and other trees that downward grow!<br />
+And now a face peeps up, and now draws near,<br />
+With smiling looks, as pleased to see me here.<br />
+As I advance, so that advances too,<br />
+And seems to imitate whate'er I do:<br />
+When I begin to speak, the lips it moves;<br />
+Streams drown the voice, or it would say, it loves.<br />
+Yet when I would embrace, it will not stay:
+<span class="sdr">[Stoops down to embrace.</span><br />
+Lost ere 'tis held; when nearest, far away.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_133" name="page_133"></a>
+Ah, fair, yet false! ah, Being, formed to cheat,<br />
+By seeming kindness, mixt with deep deceit!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Adam.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> O virgin, heaven-begot, and born of man,<br />
+Thou fairest of thy great Creator's works!<br />
+Thee, goddess, thee the Eternal did ordain,<br />
+His softer substitute on earth to reign;<br />
+And, wheresoe'er thy happy footsteps tread,<br />
+Nature in triumph after thee is led!<br />
+Angels with pleasure view thy matchless grace,<br />
+And love their Maker's image in thy face.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> O, only like myself,(for nothing here<br />
+So graceful, so majestic does appear:)<br />
+Art thou the form my longing eyes did see,<br />
+Loosed from thy fountain, and come out to me?<br />
+Yet sure thou art not, nor thy face the same,<br />
+Nor thy limbs moulded in so soft a frame;<br />
+Thou look'st more sternly, dost more strongly move,<br />
+And more of awe thou bear'st, and less of love.<br />
+Yet pleased I hear thee, and above the rest,<br />
+I, next myself, admire and love thee best.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Made to command, thus freely I obey,<br />
+And at thy feet the whole creation lay.<br />
+Pity that love thy beauty does beget;<br />
+What more I shall desire, I know not yet.<br />
+First let us locked in close embraces be,<br />
+Thence I, perhaps, may teach myself and thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Somewhat forbids me, which I cannot name;<br />
+For, ignorant of guilt, I fear not shame:<br />
+But some restraining thought, I know not why,<br />
+Tells me, you long should beg, I long deny.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> In vain! my right to thee is sealed above;<br />
+Look round and see where thou canst place thy love:<br />
+All creatures else are much unworthy thee;<br />
+They matched, and thou alone art left for me.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_134" name="page_134"></a>
+If not to love, we both were made in vain;<br />
+I my new empire would resign again,<br />
+And change with my dumb slaves my nobler mind,<br />
+Who, void of reason, more of pleasure find.<br />
+Methinks, for me they beg; each silently<br />
+Demands thy grace, and seems to watch thy eye.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> I well foresee, whene'er thy suit I grant,<br />
+That I my much-loved sovereignty shall want:<br />
+Or like myself some other may be made,<br />
+And her new beauty may thy heart invade.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Could heaven some greater master-piece devise,<br />
+Set out with all the glories of the skies,<br />
+That beauty yet in vain he should decree.<br />
+Unless he made another heart for me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> With how much ease I, whom I love, believe!<br />
+Giving myself, my want of worth I grieve.<br />
+Here, my inviolable faith I plight,<br />
+So, thou be my defence, I, thy delight.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt, he leading her.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT III.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>Paradise.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Lucifer.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Fair place! yet what is this to heaven, where I<br />
+Sat next, so almost equalled the Most High?<br />
+I doubted, measuring both, who was more strong;<br />
+Then, willing to forget time since so long,<br />
+Scarce thought I was created: Vain desire<br />
+Of empire in my thoughts still shot me higher,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_135" name="page_135"></a>
+To mount above his sacred head: Ah why,<br />
+When he so kind, was so ungrateful I?<br />
+He bounteously bestowed unenvied good<br />
+On me: In arbitrary grace I stood:<br />
+To acknowledge this, was all he did exact;<br />
+Small tribute, where the will to pay was act.<br />
+I mourn it now, unable to repent,<br />
+As he, who knows my hatred to relent,<br />
+Jealous of power once questioned: Hope, farewell;<br />
+And with hope, fear; no depth below my hell<br />
+Can be prepared: Then, Ill, be thou my good;<br />
+And, vast destruction, be my envy's food.<br />
+Thus I, with heaven, divided empire gain;<br />
+Seducing man, I make his project vain,<br />
+And in one hour destroy his six days pain.<br />
+They come again, I must retire.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Adam</span> and <span class="cnm">Eve.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Thus shall we live in perfect bliss, and see,<br />
+Deathless ourselves, our numerous progeny.<br />
+Thou young and beauteous, my desires to bless;<br />
+I, still desiring, what I still possess.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Heaven, from whence love, our greatest blessing, came,<br />
+Can give no more, but still to be the same.<br />
+Thou more of pleasure may'st with me partake;<br />
+I, more of pride, because thy bliss I make.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> When to my arms thou brought'st thy virgin love,<br />
+Fair angels sung our bridal hymn above:<br />
+The Eternal, nodding, shook the firmament,<br />
+And conscious nature gave her glad consent.<br />
+Roses unbid, and every fragrant flower,<br />
+Flew from their stalks, to strew thy nuptial bower:<br />
+The furred and feathered kind the triumph did pursue,<br />
+And fishes leaped above the streams, the passing pomp to view.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_136" name="page_136"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Eve.</span> When your kind eyes looked languishing on mine,<br />
+And wreathing arms did soft embraces join,<br />
+A doubtful trembling seized me first all o'er;<br />
+Then, wishes; and a warmth, unknown before:<br />
+What followed was all ecstasy and trance;<br />
+Immortal pleasures round my swimming eyes did dance,<br />
+And speechless joys, in whose sweet tumult tost,<br />
+I thought my breath and my new being lost.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> O death to hear! and a worse hell on earth!
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+What mad profusion on this clod-born birth!<br />
+Abyss of joys, as if heaven meant to shew<br />
+What, in base matters, such a hand could do:<br />
+Or was his virtue spent, and he no more<br />
+With angels could supply the exhausted store,<br />
+Of which I swept the sky?<br />
+And wanting subjects to his haughty will,<br />
+On this mean work employed his trifling skill?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Blest in ourselves, all pleasures else abound;<br />
+Without our care behold the unlaboured ground<br />
+Bounteous of fruit; above our shady bowers<br />
+The creeping jessamin thrusts her fragrant flowers;<br />
+The myrtle, orange, and the blushing rose,<br />
+With bending heaps so nigh their blooms disclose,<br />
+Each seems to swell the flavour which the other blows:<br />
+By these the peach, the guava, and the pine,<br />
+And, creeping 'twixt them all, the mantling vine<br />
+Does round their trunks her purple clusters twine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> All these are ours, all nature's excellence,<br />
+Whose taste or smell can bless the feasted sense;<br />
+One only fruit, in the mid garden placed,&mdash;<br />
+The Tree of Knowledge,&mdash;is denied our taste;<br />
+(Our proof of duty to our Maker's will:)<br />
+Of disobedience, death's the threatened ill.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_137" name="page_137"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Death is some harm, which, though we know not yet,<br />
+Since threatened, we must needs imagine great:<br />
+And sure he merits it, who disobeys<br />
+That one command, and one of so much ease.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Must they then die, if they attempt to know?<br />
+He sees they would rebel, and keeps them low.<br />
+On this foundation I their ruin lay,<br />
+Hope to know more shall tempt to disobey.<br />
+I fell by this, and, since their strength is less,<br />
+Why should not equal means give like success?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Come, my fair love, our morning's task we lose;<br />
+Some labour even the easiest life would chuse:<br />
+Ours is not great: the dangling boughs to crop,<br />
+Whose too luxuriant growth our alleys stop,<br />
+And choke the paths: This our delight requires,<br />
+And heaven no more of daily work desires.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> With thee to live, is paradise alone:<br />
+Without the pleasure of thy sight, is none.<br />
+I fear small progress will be made this day;<br />
+So much our kisses will our task delay.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Why have not I, like these, a body too,<br />
+Formed for the same delights which they pursue!<br />
+I could (so variously my passions move)<br />
+Enjoy, and blast her in the act of love.<br />
+Unwillingly I hate such excellence;<br />
+She wronged me not; but I revenge the offence,<br />
+Through her, on heaven, whose thunder took away<br />
+My birth-right skies! Live happy whilst you may,<br />
+Blest pair; y'are not allowed another day!<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Gabriel</span> and <span class="cnm">Ithuriel</span> descend, carried on bright
+clouds, and flying cross each other, then light on the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> Ithuriel, since we two commissioned are<br />
+From heaven the guardians of this new made pair,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_138" name="page_138"></a>
+Each mind his charge; for, see, the night draws on,<br />
+And rising mists pursue the setting sun.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ithu.</span> Blest is our lot to serve; our task we know:<br />
+To watch, lest any, from the abyss below<br />
+Broke loose, disturb their sleep with dreams; or worse,<br />
+Assault their beings with superior force.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Uriel</span> flies down from the Sun.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Uriel.</span> Gabriel, if now the watch be set, prepare,<br />
+With strictest guard, to shew thy utmost care.<br />
+This morning came a spirit, fair he seemed,<br />
+Whom, by his face, I some young cherub deemed;<br />
+Of man he much inquired, and where his place,<br />
+With shews of zeal to praise his Maker's grace;<br />
+But I, with watchful eyes, observed his flight,<br />
+And saw him on yon steepy mount alight;<br />
+There, as he thought, unseen, he laid aside<br />
+His borrowed mask, and re-assumed his pride:<br />
+I marked his looks, averse to heaven and good;<br />
+Dusky he grew, and long revolving stood<br />
+On some deep, dark design; thence shot with haste,<br />
+And o'er the mounds of Paradise he past:<br />
+By his proud port, he seemed the Prince of Hell;<br />
+And here he lurks in shades 'till night: Search well<br />
+Each grove and thicket, pry in every shape,<br />
+Lest, hid in some, the arch hypocrite escape.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> If any spirit come to invade, or scout<br />
+From hell, what earthy fence can keep him out?<br />
+But rest secure of this, he shall be found,<br />
+And taken, or proscribed this happy ground.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ithu.</span> Thou to the east, I westward walk the round,<br />
+And meet we in the midst.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Uriel.</span> Heaven your design<br />
+Succeed; your charge requires you, and me mine.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Uriel</span> flies forward out of sight; the two Angels
+exeunt severally.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_139" name="page_139"></a>
+A Night-piece of a pleasant Bower: <span class="cnm">Adam</span> and <span class="cnm">Eve</span>
+asleep in it.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lucifer.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> So, now they lie secure in love, and steep<br />
+Their sated senses in full draughts of sleep.<br />
+By what sure means can I their bliss invade?<br />
+By violence? No, for they are immortal made.<br />
+Their reason sleeps, but mimic fancy wakes,<br />
+Supplies her part, and wild ideas takes,<br />
+From words and things, ill sorted and misjoined;<br />
+The anarchy of thought, and chaos of the mind:<br />
+Hence dreams, confused and various, may arise;<br />
+These will I set before the woman's eyes;<br />
+The weaker she, and made my easier prey;<br />
+Vain shows and pomp the softer sex betray.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Lucifer</span> sits down by <span class="cnm">Eve,</span> and seems to whisper
+in her ear.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">A Vision, where a tree rises loaden with fruit; four
+Spirits rise with it, and draw a canopy out of the
+tree; other Spirits dance about the tree in deformed
+shapes; after the dance an Angel enters, with a
+Woman, habited like <span class="cnm">Eve.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Angel.</span> [<span class="sdm">Singing.</span>]<br />
+Look up, look up, and see,<br />
+What heaven prepares for thee;<br />
+Look up, and this fair fruit behold,<br />
+Ruddy it smiles, and rich with streaks of gold.<br />
+The loaded branches downward bend,<br />
+Willing they stoop, and thy fair hand attend.<br />
+Fair mother of mankind, make haste<br />
+And bless, and bless thy senses with the taste.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Woman.</span> No, 'tis forbidden; I<br />
+In tasting it shall die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Angel.</span> Say, who enjoined this harsh command?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_140" name="page_140"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Woman.</span> 'Twas heaven; and who can heaven withstand?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Angel.</span> Why was it made so fair, why placed in sight?<br />
+Heaven is too good to envy man's delight.<br />
+See, we before thy face will try<br />
+What thou so fearest, and will not die.
+<span class="sdr">[The Angel takes the fruit, and gives to the Spirits
+who danced; they immediately put off their deformed
+shapes, and appear Angels.</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Angel.</span> [<span class="sdm">Singing.</span>]<br />
+Behold what a change on a sudden is here!<br />
+How glorious in beauty, how bright they appear!<br />
+Prom spirits deformed they are deities made,<br />
+Their pinions at pleasure the clouds can invade,
+<span class="sdr">[The Angel gives to the Woman, who eats.</span><br />
+Till equal in honour they rise,<br />
+With him who commands in the skies;<br />
+Then taste without fear, and be happy and wise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Woman.</span> Ah, now I believe! such a pleasure I find,<br />
+As enlightens my eyes, and enlivens my mind.
+<span class="sdr">[The Spirits, who are turned Angels, fly up when
+they have tasted.</span><br />
+I only repent,<br />
+I deferred my content.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Angel.</span> Now wiser experience has taught you to prove,<br />
+What a folly it is,<br />
+Out of fear to shun bliss.<br />
+To the joy that's forbidden we eagerly move;<br />
+It inhances the price, and increases the love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Chorus of both.</span> To the joy, &amp;c.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Two Angels descend; they take the Woman each by the
+hand, and fly up with her out of sight. The Angel
+who sung, and the Spirits who held the canopy,
+at the same instant sink down with the tree.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_141" name="page_141"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Gabriel</span> and <span class="cnm">Ithuriel</span> to <span class="cnm">Lucifer,</span> who
+remains.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> What art thou? speak thy name and thy intent.<br />
+Why here alone? and on what errand sent?<br />
+Not from above; no, thy wan looks betray<br />
+Diminished light, and eyes unused to day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Not to know me, argues thyself unknown:<br />
+Time was, when, shining next the imperial throne,<br />
+I sat in awful state; while such as thou<br />
+Did in the ignoble crowd at distance bow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> Think'st thou, vain spirit, thy glories are the same?<br />
+And seest not sin obscures thy god-like frame?<br />
+I know thee now by thy ungrateful pride,<br />
+That shews me what thy faded looks did hide,<br />
+Traitor to Him who made and set thee high,<br />
+And fool, that Power which formed thee to defy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Go, slaves, return, and fawn in heaven again:<br />
+Seek thanks from him whose quarrel you maintain.<br />
+Vile wretches! of your servitude to boast;<br />
+You basely keep the place I bravely lost.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ithu.</span> Freedom is choice of what we will and do:<br />
+Then blame not servants, who are freely so.<br />
+'Tis base not to acknowledge what we owe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Thanks, howe'er due, proclaim subjection yet;<br />
+I fought for power to quit the upbraided debt.<br />
+Whoe'er expects our thanks, himself repays,<br />
+And seems but little, who can want our praise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> What in us duty, shews not want in him;<br />
+Blest in himself alone,<br />
+To whom no praise we, by good deeds, can add;<br />
+Nor can his glory suffer from our bad.<br />
+Made for his use; yet he has formed us so,<br />
+We, unconstrained, what he commands us do.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_142" name="page_142"></a>
+So praise we him, and serve him freely best;<br />
+Thus thou, by choice, art fallen, and we are blest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ithu.</span> This, lest thou think thy plea, unanswered, good.<br />
+Our question thou evad'st: How didst thou dare<br />
+To break hell bounds, and near this human pair<br />
+In nightly ambush lie?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Lives there, who would not seek to force his way,<br />
+From pain to ease, from darkness to the day?<br />
+Should I, who found the means to 'scape, not dare<br />
+To change my sulphurous smoke for upper air?<br />
+When I, in fight, sustained your Thunderer,<br />
+And heaven on me alone spent half his war,<br />
+Think'st thou those wounds were light? Should I not seek<br />
+The clemency of some more temperate clime,<br />
+To purge my gloom; and, by the sun refined,<br />
+Bask in his beams, and bleach me in the wind?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> If pain to shun be all thy business here,<br />
+Methinks thy fellows the same course should steer.<br />
+Is their pain less, who yet behind thee stay?<br />
+Or thou less hardy to endure than they?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Nor one, nor t'other; but, as leaders ought,<br />
+I ventured first alone, first danger sought,<br />
+And first explored this new-created frame,<br />
+Which filled our dusky regions with its fame;<br />
+In hopes my fainting troops to settle here,<br />
+And to defend against your Thunderer,<br />
+This spot of earth; or nearer heaven repair,<br />
+And forage to his gates from middle air.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ithu.</span> Fool! to believe thou any part canst gain<br />
+From Him, who could'st not thy first ground maintain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> But whether that design, or one as vain,<br />
+To attempt the lives of these, first drew thee here,<br />
+Avoid the place, and never more appear<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_143" name="page_143"></a>
+Upon this hallowed earth; else prove our might.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Not that I fear, do I decline the fight:<br />
+You I disdain; let me with Him contend,<br />
+On whom your limitary powers depend.<br />
+More honour from the sender than the sent:<br />
+Till then, I have accomplished my intent;<br />
+And leave this place, which but augments my pain,<br />
+Gazing to wish, yet hopeless to obtain.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit, they following him.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT IV.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>Paradise.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Adam</span> and <span class="cnm">Eve.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Strange was your dream, and full of sad portent;<br />
+Avert it, heaven, if it from heaven were sent!<br />
+Let on thy foes the dire presages fall;<br />
+To us be good and easy, when we call.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Behold from far a breaking cloud appears,<br />
+Which in it many winged warriors bears:<br />
+Their glory shoots upon my aching sense;<br />
+Thou, stronger, mayest endure the flood of light,<br />
+And while in shades I chear my fainting sight,<br />
+Encounter the descending Excellence.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">The Cloud descends with six Angels in it, and when
+it is near the ground, breaks, and on each side discovers
+six more: They descend out of the Cloud.
+<span class="cnm">Raphael</span> and <span class="cnm">Gabriel</span> discourse with <span class="cnm">Adam,</span> the
+rest stand at a distance.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> First of mankind, that we from heaven are sent,<br />
+Is from heaven's care thy ruin to prevent.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_144" name="page_144"></a>
+The Apostate Angel has by night been here,<br />
+And whispered through thy sleeping consort's ear<br />
+Delusive dreams. Thus warned by us, beware,<br />
+And guide her frailty by thy timely care.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> These, as thy guards from outward harms, are sent;<br />
+Ills from within thy reason must prevent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Natives of heaven, who in compassion deign<br />
+To want that place where joys immortal reign,<br />
+In care of me; what praises can I pay,<br />
+Descended in obedience; taught to obey?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Praise Him alone, who god-like formed thee free,<br />
+With will unbounded as a deity;<br />
+Who gave thee reason, as thy aid, to chuse<br />
+Apparent good, and evil to refuse.<br />
+Obedience is that good; this heaven exacts,<br />
+And heaven, all-just, from man requires not acts,<br />
+Which man wants power to do: Power then is given<br />
+Of doing good, but not compelled by heaven.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> Made good, that thou dost to thy Maker owe;<br />
+But to thyself, if thou continuest so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Freedom of will of all good things is best;<br />
+But can it be by finite man possest?<br />
+I know not how heaven can communicate<br />
+What equals man to his Creator's state.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Heaven cannot give his boundless power away,<br />
+But boundless liberty of choice he may;<br />
+So orbs from the first Mover motion take,<br />
+Yet each their proper revolutions make.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Grant heaven could once have given us liberty;<br />
+Are we not bounded now, by firm decree,<br />
+Since whatsoe'er is pre-ordained must be?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_145" name="page_145"></a>
+Else heaven for man events might pre-ordain,<br />
+And man's free will might make those orders vain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> The Eternal, when he did the world create,<br />
+All other agents did necessitate:<br />
+So what he ordered, they by nature do;<br />
+Thus light things mount, and heavy downward go.<br />
+Man only boasts an arbitrary state.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Yet causes their effects necessitate<br />
+In willing agents: Where is freedom then?<br />
+Or who can break the chain which limits men<br />
+To act what is unchangeably forecast,<br />
+Since the first cause gives motion to the last?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Heaven, by fore-knowing what will surely be,<br />
+Does only, first, effects in causes see,<br />
+And finds, but does not make, necessity.<br />
+Creation is of power and will the effect,<br />
+Foreknowledge only of his intellect.<br />
+His prescience makes not, but supposes things;<br />
+Infers necessity to be, not brings.<br />
+Thus thou art not constrained to good or ill;<br />
+Causes, which work the effect, force not the will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> The force unseen, and distant, I confess;<br />
+But the long chain makes not the bondage less.<br />
+Even man himself may to himself seem free;<br />
+And think that choice, which is necessity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> And who but man should judge of man's free state?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> I find that I can chuse to love or hate,<br />
+Obey or disobey, do good or ill;<br />
+Yet such a choice is but consent, not will.<br />
+I can but chuse what he at first designed,<br />
+For he, before that choice, my will confined.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> Such impious fancies, where they entrance gain,<br />
+Make heaven, all-pure, thy crimes to pre-ordain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Far, far from me be banished such a thought,<br />
+I argue only to be better taught.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_146" name="page_146"></a>
+Can there be freedom, when what now seems free<br />
+Was founded on some first necessity?<br />
+For whate'er cause can move the will t'elect,<br />
+Must be sufficient to produce the effect;<br />
+And what's sufficient must effectual be:<br />
+Then how is man, thus forced by causes, free?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Sufficient causes only work the effect,<br />
+When necessary agents they respect.<br />
+Such is not man; who, though the cause suffice,<br />
+Yet often he his free assent denies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> What causes not, is not sufficient still.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> Sufficient in itself; not in thy will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> When we see causes joined to effects at last,<br />
+The chain but shews necessity that's past.<br />
+That what's done is: (ridiculous proof of fate!)<br />
+Tell me which part it does necessitate?<br />
+I'll cruise the other; there I'll link the effect.<br />
+O chain, which fools, to catch themselves, project!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Though no constraint from heaven, or causes, be,<br />
+Heaven may prevent that ill he does foresee;<br />
+And, not preventing, though he does not cause,<br />
+He seems to will that men should break his laws.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> Heaven may permit, but not to ill consent;<br />
+For, hindering ill, he would all choice prevent.<br />
+'Twere to unmake, to take away the will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Better constrained to good, than free to ill.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> But what reward or punishment could be,<br />
+If man to neither good nor ill were free?<br />
+The eternal justice could decree no pain<br />
+To him whose sins itself did first ordain;<br />
+And good, compelled, could no reward exact:<br />
+His power would shine in goodness, not thy act.<br />
+Our task is done: Obey; and, in that choice,<br />
+Thou shalt be blest, and angels shall rejoice.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Raphael</span> and <span class="cnm">Gabriel</span> fly up in the Cloud:
+the other Angels go off.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_147" name="page_147"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Hard state of life! since heaven foreknows my will,<br />
+Why am I not tied up from doing ill?<br />
+Why am I trusted with myself at large,<br />
+When he's more able to sustain the charge?<br />
+Since angels fell, whose strength was more than mine,<br />
+'Twould show more grace my frailty to confine.<br />
+Fore-knowing the success, to leave me free,<br />
+Excuses him, and yet supports not me.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To him <span class="cnm">Eve</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Behold, my heart's dear lord, how high the sun<br />
+Is mounted, yet our labour not begun.<br />
+The ground, unhid, gives more than we can ask;<br />
+But work is pleasure when we chuse our task.<br />
+Nature, not bounteous now, but lavish grows;<br />
+Our paths with flowers she prodigally strows;<br />
+With pain we lift up our entangled feet,<br />
+While cross our walks the shooting branches meet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Well has thy care advised; 'tis fit we haste;<br />
+Nature's too kind, and follows us too fast;<br />
+Leaves us no room her treasures to possess,<br />
+But mocks our industry with her excess;<br />
+And, wildly wanton, wears by night away<br />
+The sign of all our labours done by day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Since, then, the work's so great, the hands so few,<br />
+This day let each a several task pursue.<br />
+By thee, my hands to labour will not move,<br />
+But, round thy neck, employ themselves in love.<br />
+When thou would'st work, one tender touch, one smile<br />
+(How can I hold?) will all thy task beguile.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> So hard we are not to our labour tied,<br />
+That smiles, and soft endearments are denied;<br />
+Smiles, not allowed to beasts, from reason move,<br />
+And are the privilege of human love:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_148" name="page_148"></a>
+And if, sometimes, each others eyes we meet,<br />
+Those little vacancies from toil are sweet.<br />
+But you, by absence, would refresh your joys,<br />
+Because perhaps my conversation cloys.<br />
+Yet this, would prudence grant, I could permit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> What reason makes my small request unfit?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> The fallen archangel, envious of our state,<br />
+Pursues our beings with immortal hate;<br />
+And, hopeless to prevail by open force,<br />
+Seeks hid advantage to betray us worse;<br />
+Which when asunder will not prove so hard;<br />
+For both together are each other's guard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Since he, by force, is hopeless to prevail,<br />
+He can by fraud alone our minds assail:<br />
+And to believe his wiles my truth can move,<br />
+Is to misdoubt my reason, or my love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Call it my care, and not mistrust of thee;<br />
+Yet thou art weak, and full of art is he;<br />
+Else how could he that host seduce to sin,<br />
+Whose fall has left the heavenly nation thin?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> I grant him armed with subtilty and hate;<br />
+But why should we suspect our happy state?<br />
+Is our perfection of so frail a make,<br />
+As every plot can undermine or shake?<br />
+Think better both of heaven, thyself, and me:<br />
+Who always fears, at ease can never be.<br />
+Poor state of bliss, where so much care is shown,<br />
+As not to dare to trust ourselves alone!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Such is our state, as not exempt from fall;<br />
+Yet firm, if reason to our aid we call:<br />
+And that, in both, is stronger than in one;<br />
+I would not,&mdash;why would'st thou, then, be alone?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Because, thus warned, I know myself secure,<br />
+And long my little trial to endure,<br />
+To approve my faith, thy needless fears remove,<br />
+Gain thy esteem, and so deserve thy love.<br />
+If all this shake not thy obdurate will,<br />
+Know that, even present, I am absent still:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_149" name="page_149"></a>
+And then what pleasure hop'st thou in my stay,<br />
+When I'm constrained, and wish myself away?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Constraint does ill with love and beauty suit;<br />
+I would persuade, but not be absolute.<br />
+Better be much remiss, than too severe;<br />
+If pleased in absence thou wilt still be here.<br />
+Go; in thy native innocence proceed,<br />
+And summon all thy reason at thy need.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> My soul, my eyes delight! in this I find<br />
+Thou lov'st; because to love is to be kind.<span class="sdr">[Embracing him.</span><br />
+Seeking my trial, I am still on guard:<br />
+Trials, less sought, would find us less prepared.<br />
+Our foe's too proud the weaker to assail,<br />
+Or doubles his dishonour if he fail.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> In love, what use of prudence can there be?<br />
+More perfect I, and yet more powerful she.<br />
+Blame me not, heaven; if thou love's power hast tried,<br />
+What could be so unjust to be denied?<br />
+One look of hers my resolution breaks;<br />
+Reason itself turns folly when she speaks:<br />
+And awed by her, whom it was made to sway,<br />
+Flatters her power, and does its own betray.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">The middle part of the Garden is represented, where
+four Rivers meet: On the right side of the Scene
+is placed the Tree of Life; on the left, the Tree of
+Knowledge.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lucifer.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Methinks the beauties of this place should mourn;<br />
+The immortal fruits and flowers, at my return,<br />
+Should hang their withered heads; for sure my breath<br />
+Is now more poisonous, and has gathered death<br />
+Enough, to blast the whole creation's frame.<br />
+Swoln with despite, with sorrow, and with shame,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_150" name="page_150"></a>
+Thrice have I beat the wing, and rode with night<br />
+About the world, behind the globe of light,<br />
+To shun the watch of heaven; such care I use:<br />
+(What pains will malice, raised like mine, refuse?<br />
+Not the most abject form of brutes to take.)<br />
+Hid in the spiry volumes of the snake,<br />
+I lurked within the covert of a brake,<br />
+Not yet descried. But see, the woman here<br />
+Alone! beyond my hopes! no guardian near.<br />
+Good omen that: I must retire unseen,<br />
+And, with my borrowed shape, the work begin.<span class="sdr">[Retires.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Eve.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Thus far, at least, with leave; nor can it be<br />
+A sin to look on this celestial tree:<br />
+I would not more; to touch, a crime may prove:<br />
+Touching is a remoter taste in love.<br />
+Death may be there, or poison in the smell,<br />
+(If death in any thing so fair can dwell:)<br />
+But heaven forbids: I could be satisfied,<br />
+Were every tree but this, but this denied.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">A Serpent enters on the Stage, and makes directly to
+the Tree of Knowledge, on which winding himself,
+he plucks an Apple; then descends, and carries it
+away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Strange sight! did then our great Creator grant
+That privilege, which we, their masters, want,<br />
+To these inferior brings? Or was it chance?<br />
+And was he blest with bolder ignorance?<br />
+I saw his curling crest the trunk enfold:<br />
+The ruddy fruit, distinguished o'er with gold.<br />
+And smiling in its native wealth, was torn<br />
+From the rich bough, and then in triumph borne:<br />
+The venturous victor marched unpunished hence,<br />
+And seemed to boast his fortunate offence.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_151" name="page_151"></a>
+To her <span class="cnm">Lucifer,</span> in a human Shape.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Hail, sovereign of this orb! formed to possess<br />
+The world, and, with one look, all nature bless.<br />
+Nature is thine; thou, empress, dost bestow<br />
+On fruits, to blossom; and on flowers, to blow.<br />
+They happy, yet insensible to boast<br />
+Their bliss: More happy they who know thee most.<br />
+Then happiest I, to human reason raised,<br />
+And voice, with whose first accents thou art praised.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> What art thou, or from whence? For on this ground,<br />
+Beside my lord's, ne'er heard I human sound.<br />
+Art thou some other Adam, formed from earth,<br />
+And comest to claim an equal share, by birth,<br />
+In this fair field? Or sprung of heavenly race?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> An humble native of this happy place,<br />
+Thy vassal born, and late of lowest kind,<br />
+Whom heaven neglecting made, and scarce designed,<br />
+But threw me in, for number, to the rest,<br />
+Below the mounting bird and grazing beast;<br />
+By chance, not prudence, now superior grown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> To make thee such, what miracle was shown?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Who would not tell what thou vouchsaf'st to hear?<br />
+Sawest thou not late a speckled serpent rear<br />
+His gilded spires to climb on yon' fair tree?<br />
+Before this happy minute I was he.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Thou speak'st of wonders: Make thy story plain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Not wishing then, and thoughtless to obtain<br />
+So great a bliss, but led by sense of good,<br />
+Inborn to all, I sought my needful food:<br />
+Then, on that heavenly tree my sight I cast;<br />
+The colour urged my eye, the scent my taste.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_152" name="page_152"></a>
+Not to detain thee long,&mdash;I took, did eat:<br />
+Scarce had my palate touched the immortal meat,<br />
+But, on a sudden, turned to what I am,<br />
+God-like, and, next to thee, I fair became;<br />
+Thought, spake, and reasoned; and, by reason found<br />
+Thee, nature's queen, with all her graces crowned.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Happy thy lot; but far unlike is mine:<br />
+Forbid to eat, not daring to repine.<br />
+'Twas heaven's command; and should we disobey,<br />
+What raised thy being, ours must take away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Sure you mistake the precept, or the tree:<br />
+Heaven cannot envious of his blessings be.<br />
+Some chance-born plant he might forbid your use,<br />
+As wild, or guilty of a deadly juice;<br />
+Not this, whose colour, scent divine, and taste,<br />
+Proclaim the thoughtful Maker not in haste.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> By all these signs, too well I know the fruit,<br />
+And dread a Power severe and absolute.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Severe, indeed; even to injustice hard;<br />
+If death, for knowing more, be your reward:<br />
+Knowledge of good, is good, and therefore fit;<br />
+And to know ill, is good, for shunning it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> What, but our good, could he design in this,<br />
+Who gave us all, and placed in perfect bliss?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Excuse my zeal, fair sovereign, in your cause,<br />
+Which dares to tax his arbitrary laws.<br />
+'Tis all his aim to keep you blindly low,<br />
+That servile fear from ignorance may flow:<br />
+We scorn to worship whom too well we know.<br />
+He knows, that, eating, you shall godlike be;<br />
+As wise, as fit to be adored, as he.<br />
+For his own interest he this law has given;<br />
+Such beauty may raise factions in his heaven.<br />
+By awing you he does possession keep,<br />
+And is too wise to hazard partnership.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_153" name="page_153"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Alas, who dares dispute with him that right?<br />
+The Power, which formed us, must be infinite.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Luc.</span> Who told you how your form was first designed?<br />
+The sun and earth produce, of every kind,<br />
+Grass, flowers, and fruits; nay, living creatures too:<br />
+Their mould was base; 'twas more refined in you:<br />
+Where vital heat, in purer organs wrought,<br />
+Produced a nobler kind raised up to thought;<br />
+And that, perhaps, might his beginning be:<br />
+Something was first; I question if 'twere he.<br />
+But grant him first, yet still suppose him good,<br />
+Not envying those he made, immortal food.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> But death our disobedience must pursue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Behold, in me, what shall arrive to you.<br />
+I tasted; yet I live: Nay, more; have got<br />
+A state more perfect than my native lot.<br />
+Nor fear this petty fault his wrath should raise:<br />
+Heaven rather will your dauntless virtue praise,<br />
+That sought, through threatened death, immortal good:<br />
+Gods are immortal only by their food.<br />
+Taste, and remove<br />
+What difference does 'twixt them and you remain;<br />
+As I gained reason, you shall godhead gain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> He eats, and lives, in knowledge greater grown:
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+Was death invented then for us alone?<br />
+Is intellectual food to man denied,<br />
+Which brutes have with so much advantage tried?<br />
+Nor only tried themselves, but frankly, more,<br />
+To me have offered their unenvied store?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> Behold, and all your needless doubts remove;<br />
+View well this tree, (the queen of all the grove)<br />
+How vast her hole, how wide her arms are spread,<br />
+How high above the rest she shoots her head,<br />
+Placed in the midst: would heaven his work disgrace,<br />
+By planting poison in the happiest place?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_154" name="page_154"></a>
+Haste; you lose time and godhead by delay.<span class="sdr">[Plucking the fruit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> 'Tis done; I'll venture all, and disobey.
+<span class="sdr">[Looking about her.</span><br />
+Perhaps, far hid in heaven, he does not spy,<br />
+And none of all his hymning guards are nigh.<br />
+To my dear lord the lovely fruit I'll bear;<br />
+He, to partake my bliss, my crime shall share.<span class="sdr">[Exit hastily.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> She flew, and thanked me not, for haste: 'Twas hard,<br />
+With no return such counsel to reward.<br />
+My work is done, or much the greater part;<br />
+She's now the tempter to ensnare his heart.<br />
+He, whose firm faith no reason could remove,<br />
+Will melt before that soft seducer, love.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT V.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>Paradise.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Eve,</span> with a bough in her hand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Methinks I tread more lightly on the ground;<br />
+My nimble feet from unhurt flowers rebound:<br />
+I walk in air, and scorn this earthly seat;<br />
+Heaven is my palace; this my base retreat.<br />
+Take me not, heaven, too soon; 'twill be unkind<br />
+To leave the partner of my bed behind.<br />
+I love the wretch; but stay, shall I afford<br />
+Him part? already he's too much my lord.<br />
+'Tis in my power to be a sovereign now;<br />
+And, knowing more, to make his manhood bow.<br />
+Empire is sweet; but how if heaven has spied?<br />
+If I should die, and He above provide<br />
+Some other Eve, and place her in my stead?<br />
+Shall she possess his love, when I am dead?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_155" name="page_155"></a>
+No; he shall eat, and die with me, or live:<br />
+Our equal crimes shall equal fortune give.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Adam.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> What joy, without your sight, has earth, in store!<br />
+While you were absent, Eden was no more.<br />
+Winds murmured through the leaves your long delay,<br />
+And fountains, o'er the pebbles, chid your stay:<br />
+But with your presence cheered, they cease to mourn,<br />
+And walks wear fresher green at your return.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Henceforth you never shall have cause to chide;<br />
+No future absence shall our joys divide:<br />
+'Twas a short death my love ne'er tried before,<br />
+And therefore strange; but yet the cause was more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> My trembling heart forebodes some ill; I fear<br />
+To ask that cause which I desire to hear.<br />
+What means that lovely fruit? what means, alas!<br />
+That blood, which flushes guilty in your face?<br />
+Speak&mdash;do not&mdash;yet, at last, I must be told.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Have courage, then: 'tis manly to be bold.<br />
+This fruit&mdash;why dost thou shake? no death is nigh:<br />
+'Tis what I tasted first; yet do not die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Is it&mdash;(I dare not ask it all at first;<br />
+Doubt is some ease to those who fear the worst:)<br />
+Say, 'tis not&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> 'Tis not what thou needst to fear:<br />
+What danger does in this fair fruit appear?<br />
+We have been cozened; and had still been so,<br />
+Had I not ventured boldly first to know.<br />
+Yet, not I first; I almost blush to say,<br />
+The serpent eating taught me first the way.<br />
+The serpent tasted, and the godlike fruit<br />
+Gave the dumb voice; gave reason to the brute.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> O fairest of all creatures, last and best<br />
+Of what heaven made, how art them dispossest<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_156" name="page_156"></a>
+Of all thy native glories! fallen! decayed!<br />
+(Pity so rare a frame so frail was made)<br />
+Now cause of thy own ruin; and with thine,<br />
+(Ah, who can live without thee!) cause of mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Reserve thy pity till I want it more:<br />
+I know myself much happier than before;<br />
+More wise, more perfect, all I wish to be,<br />
+Were I but sure, alas! of pleasing thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> You've shown, how much you my content design:<br />
+Yet, ah! would heaven's displeasure pass like mine!<br />
+Must I without you, then, in wild woods dwell?<br />
+Think, and but think, of what I loved so well?<br />
+Condemned to live with subjects ever mute;<br />
+A savage prince, unpleased, though absolute?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Please then yourself with me, and freely taste,<br />
+Lest I, without you, should to godhead haste:<br />
+Lest, differing in degree, you claim too late<br />
+Unequal love, when 'tis denied by fate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Cheat not yourself with dreams of deity;<br />
+Too well, but yet too late, your crime I see:<br />
+Nor think the fruit your knowledge does improve;<br />
+But you have beauty still, and I have love.<br />
+Not cozened, I with choice my life resign:<br />
+Imprudence was your fault, but love was mine.
+<span class="sdr">[Takes the fruit and eats it.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> O wondrous power of matchless love exprest!
+<span class="sdr">[Embracing him.</span><br />
+Why was this trial thine, of loving best?<br />
+I envy thee that lot; and could it be,<br />
+Would venture something more than death for thee.<br />
+Not that I fear, that death the event can prove;<br />
+Ware both immortal, while so well we love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Whate'er shall be the event, the lot is cast;<br />
+Where appetites are given, what sin to taste?<br />
+Or if a sin, 'tis but by precept such;<br />
+The offence so small, the punishment's too much.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_157" name="page_157"></a>
+To seek so soon his new-made world's decay:<br />
+Nor we, nor that, were fashioned for a day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Give to the winds thy fear of death, or ill;<br />
+And think us made but for each other's will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> I will, at least, defer that anxious thought,<br />
+And death, by fear, shall not be nigher brought:<br />
+If he will come, let us to joys make haste;<br />
+Then let him seize us when our pleasure's past.<br />
+We'll take up all before; and death shall find<br />
+We have drained life, and left a void behind.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Lucifer.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Lucif.</span> 'Tis done:<br />
+Sick Nature, at that instant, trembled round;<br />
+And mother Earth sighed, as she felt the wound.<br />
+Of how short durance was this new-made state!<br />
+How far more mighty than heaven's love, hell's hate!<br />
+His project ruined, and his king of clay:<br />
+He formed an empire for his foe to sway.<br />
+Heaven let him rule, which by his arms he got;<br />
+I'm pleased to have obtained the second lot.<br />
+This earth is mine; whose lord I made my thrall:<br />
+Annexing to my crown his conquered ball.<br />
+Loosed from the lakes my regions I will lead,<br />
+And o'er the darkened air black banners spread:<br />
+Contagious damps, from hence, shall mount above,<br />
+And force him to his inmost heaven's remove.
+<span class="sdr">[A clap of thunder is heard.</span><br />
+He hears already, and I boast too soon;<br />
+I dread that engine which secured his throne.<br />
+I'll dive below his wrath, into the deep,<br />
+And waste that empire, which I cannot keep.<span class="sdr">[Sinks down.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Raphael</span> and <span class="cnm">Gabriel</span> descend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> As much of grief as happiness admits<br />
+In heaven, on each celestial forehead sits:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_158" name="page_158"></a>
+Kindness for man, and pity for his fate,<br />
+May mix with bliss, and yet not violate.<br />
+Their heavenly harps a lower strain began;<br />
+And, in soft music, mourned the fall of man.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> I saw the angelic guards from earth ascend,<br />
+(Grieved they must now no longer man attend:)<br />
+The beams about their temples dimly shone;<br />
+One would have thought the crime had been their own.<br />
+The etherial people flocked for news in haste,<br />
+Whom they, with down-cast looks, and scarce saluting past:<br />
+While each did, in his pensive breast, prepare<br />
+A sad account of their successless care.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> The Eternal yet, in majesty severe,<br />
+And strictest justice, did mild pity bear:<br />
+Their deaths deferred; and banishment, (their doom,)<br />
+In penitence foreseen, leaves mercy room.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gab.</span> That message is thy charge: Mine leads me hence;<br />
+Placed at the garden's gate, for its defence,<br />
+Lest man, returning, the blest place pollute,<br />
+And 'scape from death, by life's immortal fruit.
+<span class="sdr">[Another clap of thunder. Exeunt severally.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Adam</span> and <span class="cnm">Eve,</span> affrighted.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> In what dark cavern shall I hide my head?<br />
+Where seek retreat, now innocence is fled?<br />
+Safe in that guard, I durst even hell defy;<br />
+Without it, tremble now, when heaven is nigh.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> What shall we do? or where direct our flight?<br />
+Eastward, as far as I could cast my sight,<br />
+From opening heavens, I saw descending light.<br />
+Its glittering through the trees I still behold;<br />
+The cedar tops seem all to burn with gold.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_159" name="page_159"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Some shape divine, whose beams I cannot bear!<br />
+Would I were hid, where light could not appear.<br />
+Deep into some thick covert would I run,<br />
+Impenetrable to the stars or sun,<br />
+And fenced from day, by night's eternal skreen;<br />
+Unknown to heaven, and to myself unseen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> In vain: What hope to shun his piercing sight,<br />
+Who from dark chaos struck the sparks of light?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> These should have been your thoughts, when, parting hence,<br />
+You trusted to your guideless innocence.<br />
+See now the effects of your own wilful mind:<br />
+Guilt walks before us; death pursues behind.<br />
+So fatal 'twas to seek temptations out:<br />
+Most confidence has still most cause to doubt.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Such might have been thy hap, alone assailed;<br />
+And so, together, might we both have failed.<br />
+Cursed vassalage of all my future kind!<br />
+First idolized, till love's hot fire be o'er,<br />
+Then slaves to those who courted us before.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> I counselled you to stay; your pride refused:<br />
+By your own lawless will you stand accused.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Have you that privilege of only wise,<br />
+And would you yield to her you so despise?<br />
+You should have shown the authority you boast,<br />
+And, sovereign-like, my headlong will have crost:<br />
+Counsel was not enough to sway my heart;<br />
+An absolute restraint had been your part.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Even such returns do they deserve to find,<br />
+When force is lawful, who are fondly kind.<br />
+Unlike my love; for when thy guilt I knew,<br />
+I shared the curse which did that crime pursue.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_160" name="page_160"></a>
+Hard fate of love! which rigour did forbear,<br />
+And now 'tis taxed, because 'twas not severe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> You have yourself your kindness overpaid;<br />
+He ceases to oblige, who can upbraid.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> On women's virtue, who too much rely,<br />
+To boundless will give boundless liberty.<br />
+Restraint you will not brook; but think it hard<br />
+Your prudence is not trusted as your guard:<br />
+And, to yourselves so left, if ill ensues,<br />
+You first our weak indulgence will accuse.<br />
+Curst be that hour,<br />
+When, sated with my single happiness,<br />
+I chose a partner, to controul my bliss!<br />
+Who wants that reason which her will should sway,<br />
+And knows but just enough to disobey.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Better with brutes my humble lot had gone;<br />
+Of reason void, accountable for none:<br />
+The unhappiest of creation is a wife,<br />
+Made lowest, in the highest rank of life:<br />
+Her fellow's slave; to know, and not to chuse:<br />
+Curst with that reason she must never use.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Add, that she's proud, fantastic, apt to change,<br />
+Restless at home, and ever prone to range:<br />
+With shows delighted, and so vain is she,<br />
+She'll meet the devil, rather than not see.<br />
+Our wise Creator, for his choirs divine,<br />
+Peopled his heaven with souls all masculine.&mdash;<br />
+Ah! why must man from woman take his birth?<br />
+Why was this sin of nature made on earth?<br />
+This fair defect, this helpless aid, called wife;<br />
+The bending crutch of a decrepid life?<br />
+Posterity no pairs from you shall find,<br />
+But such as by mistake of love are joined:<br />
+The worthiest men their wishes ne'er shall gain;<br />
+But see the slaves they scorn their loves obtain.
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_161" name="page_161"></a><br />
+Blind appetite shall your wild fancies rule;<br />
+False to desert, and faithful to a fool.
+<span class="sdr">[Turns in anger from her, and is going off.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Unkind! wilt thou forsake me, in distress,
+<span class="sdr">[Kneeling.</span><br />
+For that which now is past me to redress?<br />
+I have misdone, and I endure the smart,<br />
+Loth to acknowledge, but more loth to part.<br />
+The blame be mine; you warned, and I refused:<br />
+What would you more? I have myself accused.<br />
+Was plighted faith so weakly sealed above,<br />
+That, for one error, I must lose your love?<br />
+Had you so erred, I should have been more kind,<br />
+Than to add pain to an afflicted mind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> You're grown much humbler than you were before;<br />
+I pardon you; but see my face no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Vain pardon, which includes a greater ill;<br />
+Be still displeased, but let me see you still.<br />
+Without your much-loved sight I cannot live;<br />
+You more than kill me, if you so forgive.<br />
+The beasts, since we are fallen, their lords despise;<br />
+And, passing, look at me with glaring eyes:<br />
+Must I then wander helpless, and alone?<br />
+You'll pity me, too late, when I am gone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Your penitence does my compassion move;<br />
+As you deserve it, I may give my love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> On me, alone, let heaven's displeasure fall;<br />
+You merit none, and I deserve it all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> You all heaven's wrath! how could you bear a part,<br />
+Who bore not mine, but with a bleeding heart?<br />
+I was too stubborn, thus to make you sue;<br />
+Forgive me&mdash;I am more in fault than you.<br />
+Return to me, and to my love return;<br />
+And, both offending, for each other mourn.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_162" name="page_162"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Raphael.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Of sin to warn thee I before was sent;<br />
+For sin, I now pronounce thy punishment:<br />
+Yet that much lighter than thy crimes require;<br />
+Th' All-good does not his creatures' death desire:<br />
+Justice must punish the rebellious deed;<br />
+Yet punish so, as pity shall exceed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> I neither can dispute his will, nor dare:<br />
+Death will dismiss me from my future care,<br />
+And lay me softly in my native dust,<br />
+To pay the forfeit of ill-managed trust.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Why seek you death? consider, ere you speak,<br />
+The laws were hard, the power to keep them, weak.<br />
+Did we solicit heaven to mould our clay?<br />
+From darkness to produce us to the day?<br />
+Did we concur to life, or chuse to be?<br />
+Was it our will which formed, or was it He?<br />
+Since 'twas his choice, not ours, which placed us here,<br />
+The laws we did not chuse why should we bear?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Seek not, in vain, our Maker to accuse;<br />
+Terms were proposed; power left us to refuse.<br />
+The good we have enjoyed from heaven's free will,<br />
+And shall we murmur to endure the ill?<br />
+Should we a rebel son's excuse receive,<br />
+Because he was begot without his leave?<br />
+Heaven's right in us is more: first, formed to serve;<br />
+The good, we merit not; the ill, deserve.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Death is deferred, and penitence has room<br />
+To mitigate, if not reverse the doom:<br />
+But, for your crime, the Eternal does ordain<br />
+In Eden you no longer shall remain.<br />
+Hence, to the lower world, you are exiled;<br />
+This place with crimes shall be no more defiled.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Must we this blissful paradise forego?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Your lot must be where thorns and thistles grow,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_163" name="page_163"></a>
+Unhid, as balm and spices did at first;<br />
+For man, the earth, of which he was, is cursed.<br />
+By thy own toil procured, thou food shalt eat;<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Adam.</span></span><br />
+And know no plenty, but from painful sweat.<br />
+She, by a curse, of future wives abhorred,<br />
+Shall pay obedience to her lawful lord;<br />
+And he shall rule, and she in thraldom live,<br />
+Desiring more of love than man can give.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Heaven is all mercy; labour I would chuse;<br />
+And could sustain this paradise to lose:<br />
+The bliss, but not the place: Here, could I say,<br />
+Heaven's winged messenger did pass the day;<br />
+Under this pine the glorious angel staid:<br />
+Then, show my wondering progeny the shade.<br />
+In woods and lawns, where-e'er thou didst appear,<br />
+Each place some monument of thee should bear.<br />
+I, with green turfs, would grateful altars raise,<br />
+And heaven, with gums, and offered incense, praise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Where-e'er thou art, He is; the Eternal Mind<br />
+Acts through all places; is to none confined:<br />
+Fills ocean, earth, and air, and all above,<br />
+And through the universal mass does move.<br />
+Thou canst be no where distant: Yet this place<br />
+Had been thy kingly seat, and here thy race,<br />
+From all the ends of peopled earth had come<br />
+To reverence thee, and see their native home.<br />
+Immortal, then; now sickness, care, and age,<br />
+And war, and luxury's more direful rage,<br />
+Thy crimes have brought, to shorten mortal breath,<br />
+With all the numerous family of death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> My spirits faint, while I these ills foreknow,<br />
+And find myself the sad occasion too.<br />
+But what is death?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> In vision thou shalt see his griesly face,<br />
+The king of terrors, raging in thy face.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_164" name="page_164"></a>
+That, while in future fate thou shar'st thy part,<br />
+A kind remorse, for sin, may seize thy heart.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">The <span class="cnm">Scene</span> shifts, and discovers deaths of several sorts.
+A Battle at Land, and a Naval Fight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> O wretched offspring! O unhappy state<br />
+Of all mankind, by me betrayed to fate!<br />
+Born, through my crime, to be offenders first;<br />
+And, for those sins they could not shun, accurst.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Why is life forced on man, who, might he chuse,<br />
+Would not accept what he with pain must lose?<br />
+Unknowing, he receives it; and when, known,<br />
+He thinks it his, and values it, 'tis gone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Behold of every age; ripe manhood see,<br />
+Decrepid years, and helpless infancy:<br />
+Those who, by lingering sickness, lose their breath;<br />
+And those who, by despair, suborn their death:<br />
+See yon mad fools, who for some trivial right,<br />
+For love, or for mistaken honour, fight:<br />
+See those, more mad, who throw their lives away<br />
+In needless wars; the stakes which monarchs lay,<br />
+When for each other's provinces they play.<br />
+Then, as if earth too narrow were for fate,<br />
+On open seas their quarrels they debate:<br />
+In hollow wood they floating armies bear;<br />
+And force imprisoned winds to bring them near.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Who would the miseries of man foreknow?<br />
+Not knowing, we but share our part of woe:<br />
+Now, we the fate of future ages bear,<br />
+And, ere their birth, behold our dead appear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> The deaths, thou show'st, are forced and full of strife,<br />
+Cast headlong from the precipice of life.<br />
+Is there no smooth descent? no painless way<br />
+Of kindly mixing with our native clay?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_165" name="page_165"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Raph.</span> There is; but rarely shall that path be trod,<br />
+Which, without horror, leads to death's abode.<br />
+Some few, by temperance taught, approaching slow,<br />
+To distant fate by easy journies go:<br />
+Gently they lay them down, as evening sheep<br />
+On their own woolly fleeces softly sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> So noiseless would I live, such death to find;<br />
+Like timely fruit, not shaken by the wind,<br />
+But ripely dropping from the sapless bough,<br />
+And, dying, nothing to myself would owe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Thus, daily changing, with a duller taste<br />
+Of lessening joys, I, by degrees, would waste:<br />
+Still quitting ground, by unperceived decay,<br />
+And steal myself from life, and melt away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Death you have seen: Now see your race revive,<br />
+How happy they in deathless pleasures live;<br />
+Far more than I can show, or you can see,<br />
+Shall crown the blest with immortality.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Here a Heaven descends, full of Angels, and blessed
+Spirits, with soft Music, a Song and Chorus.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> O goodness infinite! whose heavenly will<br />
+Can so much good produce from so much ill!<br />
+Happy their state!<br />
+Pure, and unchanged, and needing no defence<br />
+From sins, as did my frailer innocence.<br />
+Their joy sincere, and with no sorrow mixt:<br />
+Eternity stands permanent and fixt,<br />
+And wheels no longer on the poles of time;<br />
+Secure from fate, and more secure from crime.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Ravished with joy, I can but half repent<br />
+The sin, which heaven makes happy in the event.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> Thus armed, meet firmly your approaching ill;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_166" name="page_166"></a>
+For see, the guards, from yon' far eastern hill,<br />
+Already move, nor longer stay afford;<br />
+High in the air they wave the flaming sword,<br />
+Your signal to depart; now down amain<br />
+They drive, and glide, like meteors, through the plain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Adam.</span> Then farewell all; I will indulgent be<br />
+To my own ease, and not look back to see.<br />
+When what we love we ne'er must meet again,<br />
+To lose the thought is to remove the pain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Eve.</span> Farewell, you happy shades!<br />
+Where angels first should practise hymns, and string<br />
+Their tuneful harps, when they to heaven would sing.<br />
+Farewell, you flowers, whose buds, with early care,<br />
+I watched, and to the chearful sun did rear:<br />
+Who now shall bind your stems? or, when you fall,<br />
+With fountain streams your fainting souls recal?<br />
+A long farewell to thee, my nuptial bower,<br />
+Adorned with every fair and fragrant flower!<br />
+And last, farewell, farewell my place of birth!<br />
+I go to wander in the lower earth,<br />
+As distant as I can; for, dispossest,<br />
+Farthest from what I once enjoyed, is best.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Raph.</span> The rising winds urge the tempestuous air;<br />
+And on their wings deformed winter bear:<br />
+The beasts already feel the change; and hence<br />
+They fly to deeper coverts, for defence:<br />
+The feebler herd before the stronger run;<br />
+For now the war of nature is begun:<br />
+But, part you hence in peace, and, having mourned your sin,<br />
+For outward Eden lost, find Paradise within.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<hr class="large"/>
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_167" name="page_167"></a></div>
+
+<h2 class="chap">AURENG-ZEBE.</h2>
+
+<h3>A<br />
+TRAGEDY.</h3>
+
+<div class="ctr">
+<table class="ctr" summary="Epigram">
+<tr><td><p class="epigram">&mdash;<i>Sed, cum fregit subsellia versu,<br />
+Esurit, intactam Paridi nisi vendat Agaven.</i></p>
+<p class="citation smcap">Juv.</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+</div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_169" name="page_169"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">AURENG-ZEBE.</h3>
+
+<p>"Aureng-Zebe," or the Ornament of the Throne, for such
+is the interpretation of his name, was the last descendant of Timur,
+who enjoyed the plenitude of authority originally vested in the Emperor
+of India. His father, Sha-Jehan, had four sons, to each of
+whom he delegated the command of a province. Dara-Sha, the eldest,
+superintended the district of Delhi, and remained near his father's
+person; Sultan-Sujah was governor of Bengal, Aureng-Zebe of
+the Decan, and Morat Bakshi of Guzerat. It happened, that
+Sha-Jehan being exhausted by the excesses of the Haram, a report
+of his death became current in the provinces, and proved
+the signal for insurrection and discord among his children. Morat
+Bakshi possessed himself of Surat, after a long siege, and Sultan-Sujah,
+having declared himself independent in Bengal, advanced
+as far as Lahor, with a large army. Dara-Sha, the legitimate
+successor of the crown, was the only son of Sha-Jehan, who preferred
+filial duty to the prospect of aggrandisement. He dispatched
+an army against Sultan-Sujah, checked his progress, and
+compelled him to retreat. But Aureng-Zebe, the third and most
+wily of the brethren, had united his forces to those of Morat Bakshi,
+and advancing against Dara-Sha, totally defeated him, and dissipated
+his army. Aureng-Zebe availed himself of the military reputation
+and treasures, acquired by his success, to seduce the
+forces of Morat Bakshi, whom he had pretended to assist, and, seizing
+upon his person at a banquet, imprisoned him in a strong
+fortress. Meanwhile, he advanced towards Agra, where his father
+had sought refuge, still affecting to believe that the old emperor
+was dead. The more pains Sha-Jehan took to contradict
+this report, the more obstinate was Aureng-Zebe in refusing to
+believe that he was still alive. And, although the emperor dispatched
+his most confidential servants to assure his dutiful son
+that he was yet in being, the incredulity of Aureng-Zebe could
+only be removed by a personal interview, the issue of which was
+Sha-Jehan's imprisonment and speedy death. During these transactions
+Dara-Sha, who, after his defeat, had fled with his treasures
+to Lahor, again assembled an army, and advanced against the
+conqueror; but, being deserted by his allies, defeated by Aureng-Zebe,
+and betrayed by an Omrah, whom he trusted in his flight,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_170" name="page_170"></a>
+he was delivered up to his brother, and by his command assassinated.
+Aureng-Zebe now assumed the throne, and advanced against
+Sultan-Sujah, his sole remaining brother; he seduced his chief
+commanders, routed the forces who remained faithful, and drove
+him out of Bengal into the Pagan countries adjacent, where, after
+several adventures, he perished miserably in the mountains.
+Aureng-Zebe also murdered one or two nephews, and a few
+other near relations; but, in expiation of his complicated crimes,
+renounced the use of flesh, fish, and wine, living only upon barley-bread
+vegetables, and confections, although scrupling no excesses
+by which he could extend and strengthen his usurped power<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_1-1">[1]</a>.</p>
+
+<p>Dr Johnson has supposed, that, in assuming for his subject a living
+prince, Dryden incurred some risque; as, should Aureng-Zebe
+have learned and resented the freedom, our Indian trade was
+exposed to the consequences of his displeasure. It may, however, be
+safely doubted, whether a monarch, who had actually performed
+the achievements above narrated, would have been scandalized
+by those imputed to him in the text. In other respects, the distance
+and obscurity of the events gave a poet the same authority
+over them, as if they had occurred in the annals of past ages; a
+circumstance in which Dryden's age widely differed from ours, when
+so much has our intimacy increased with the Oriental world, that
+the transactions of Delhi are almost as familiar to us as those of
+Paris.</p>
+
+<p>The tragedy of "Aureng-Zebe" is introduced by the poet's declaration
+in the prologue, that his taste for heroic plays was now
+upon the wane:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>But he has now another taste of wit;</p>
+<p>And, to confess a truth, though out of time,</p>
+<p>Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme.</p>
+<p>Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound,</p>
+<p>And nature flies him, like enchanted ground,</p>
+<p>What verse can do, he has performed in this,</p>
+<p>Which he presumes the most correct of his.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Agreeably to what might be expected from this declaration, the
+verse used in "Aureng-Zebe" is of that kind which may be most
+easily applied to the purposes of ordinary dialogue. There is
+much less of ornate structure and emphatic swell, than occurs in
+the speeches of Almanzor and Maximin; and Dryden, though
+late, seems to have at length discovered, that the language of true
+passion is inconsistent with that regular modulation, to maintain
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_171" name="page_171"></a>
+which, the actor must mouth each couplet in a sort of recitative.
+The ease of the verse in "Aureng-Zebe," although managed with
+infinite address, did not escape censure. In the "just remonstrance
+of affronted <i>That</i>," transmitted to the Spectator, the offended
+conjunction is made to plead, "What great advantage was <i>I</i> of
+to Mr Dryden, in his "Indian Emperor?"</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>You force me still to answer you in <i>that,</i></p>
+<p>To furnish out a rhime to Morat.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">And what a poor figure would Mr Bayes have made, without his
+<i>Egad, and all that</i>?" But, by means of this easy flow of versification
+in which the rhime is sometimes almost lost by the pause
+being transferred to the middle of the line, Dryden, in some measure
+indemnified himself for his confinement, and, at least, muffled
+the clank of his fetters. Still, however, neither the kind of verse,
+nor perhaps the poet, himself, were formed for expressing rapid
+and ardent dialogue; and the beauties of "Aureng-Zebe" will be
+found chiefly to consist in strains of didactic morality, or solemn
+meditation. The passage, descriptive of life, has been distinguished
+by all the critics, down to Dr Johnson:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat;<br />
+Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit;<br />
+Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay:<br />
+To-morrow's falser than the former day;<br />
+Lies worse; and, while it says, We shall be blest<br />
+With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.<br />
+Strange cozenage! none would live past years again,<br />
+Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;<br />
+And from the dregs of life think to receive<br />
+What the first sprightly running could not give.<br />
+I'm tired with waiting for this chemic gold,<br />
+Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Nor is the answer of Nourmahal inferior in beauty:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> 'Tis not for nothing that we life pursue;<br />
+It pays our hopes with something still that's new;<br />
+Each day's a mistress, unenjoyed before;<br />
+Like travellers, we're pleased with seeing more.<br />
+Did you but know what joys your way attend,<br />
+You would not hurry to your journey's end.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It might be difficult to point out a passage in English poetry,
+in which so common and melancholy a truth is expressed in such
+beautiful verse, varied with such just illustration. The declamation
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_172" name="page_172"></a>
+on virtue, also, has great merit, though, perhaps, not equal to
+that on the vanity of life:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> How vain is virtue, which directs our ways<br />
+Through certain danger to uncertain praise!<br />
+Barren, and airy name! thee fortune flies,<br />
+With thy lean train, the pious and the wise.<br />
+Heaven takes thee at thy word, without regard;<br />
+And let's thee poorly be thy own reward.<br />
+The world is made for the bold impious man,<br />
+Who stops at nothing, seizes all he can.<br />
+Justice to merit does weak aid afford;<br />
+She trusts her balance, and neglects her sword.<br />
+Virtue is nice to take what's not her own;<br />
+And, while she long consults, the prize is gone.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>To this account may be added the following passage from Davies'
+"Dramatic Miscellanies."</p>
+
+<p>"Dryden's last and most perfect rhiming tragedy was 'Aureng-Zebe.'
+In this play, the passions are strongly depicted, the characters
+well discriminated, and the diction more familiar and dramatic
+than in any of his preceding pieces. Hart and Mohun greatly
+distinguished themselves in the characters of Aureng-Zebe, and the
+Old Emperor. Mrs Marshall was admired in Nourmahal, and
+Kynaston has been much extolled by Cibber, for his happy expression
+of the arrogant and savage fierceness in Morat. Booth, in
+some part of this character, says the same critical historian, was
+too tame, from an apprehension of raising the mirth of the audience
+improperly.</p>
+
+<p>"Though I pay great deference to Cibber's judgment, yet I am
+not sure whether Booth was not in the right. And I cannot help
+approving the answer which this actor gave to one, who told him,
+he was surprised, that he neglected to give a spirited turn to the
+passage in question:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> 'Twill not be safe to let him live an hour.</p>
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> I'll do it to shew my arbitrary power.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"'Sir,' said Booth, 'it was not through negligence, but by
+design, that I gave no spirit to that ludicrous bounce of Morat. I
+know very well, that a laugh of approbation may be obtained from
+the understanding few, but there is nothing more dangerous than
+exciting the laugh of simpletons, who know not where to stop.
+The majority is not the wisest part of the audience, and therefore
+I will run no hazard.'</p>
+
+<p>"The court greatly encouraged the play of 'Aureng-Zebe.'
+The author tells us, in his dedication, that Charles II. altered an
+incident in the plot, and pronounced it to be the best of all Dryden's
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_173" name="page_173"></a>
+tragedies. It was revived at Drury-Lane about the year
+1726, with the public approbation: The Old Emperor, Mills;
+Wilkes, Aureng-Zebe; Booth, Morat; Indamora, Mrs Oldfield;
+Melesinda, the first wife of Theophilus Cibber, a very pleasing actress,
+in person agreeable, and in private life unblemished. She
+died in 1733."&mdash;Vol. I. p. 157.</p>
+
+<p>The introduction states all that can be said in favour of the
+management of the piece; and it is somewhat amusing to see the
+anxiety which Dryden uses to justify the hazardous experiment, of
+ascribing to emperors and princesses the language of nature and of
+passion. He appears with difficulty to have satisfied himself, that
+the decorum of the scene was not as peremptory as the etiquette of
+a court. "Aureng-Zebe" was received with the applause to which
+it is certainly entitled. It was acted and printed in 1676.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnote:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Auren_1-1" name="Auren_1-1"></a>Voyages de Tavernier, seconde partie; livre seconde.</li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_174" name="page_174"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">TO
+THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+JOHN,<br />
+EARL OF MULGRAVE,<br />
+GENTLEMAN OF HIS MAJESTY'S BED-CHAMBER,<br />
+AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER
+OF THE GARTER<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_2-1">[1]</a>.</h3>
+
+<p class="noind smcap">My Lord,</p>
+
+<p>It is a severe reflection which Montaigne has made
+on princes, that we ought not, in reason, to have
+any expectations of favour from them; and that it is
+kindness enough, if they leave us in possession of
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_175" name="page_175"></a>
+our own. The boldness of the censure shows the
+free spirit of the author: And the subjects of England
+may justly congratulate to themselves, that both
+the nature of our government, and the clemency of
+our king, secure us from any such complaint. I, in
+particular, who subsist wholly by his bounty, am
+obliged to give posterity a far other account of my
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_176" name="page_176"></a>
+royal master, than what Montaigne has left of his.
+Those accusations had been more reasonable, if they
+had been placed on inferior persons: For in all
+courts, there are too many, who make it their business
+to ruin wit; and Montaigne, in other places,
+tells us, what effects he found of their good natures.
+He describes them such, whose ambition, lust, or
+private interest, seem to be the only end of their
+creation. If good accrue to any from them, it is
+only in order to their own designs: conferred most
+commonly on the base and infamous; and never
+given, but only happening sometimes on well-deservers.
+Dulness has brought them to what they
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_177" name="page_177"></a>
+are; and malice secures them in their fortunes.
+But somewhat of specious they must have, to recommend
+themselves to princes, (for folly will not
+easily go down in its own natural form with discerning
+judges,) and diligence in waiting is their
+gilding of the pill; for that looks like love, though
+it is only interest. It is that which gains them
+their advantage over witty men; whose love of liberty
+and ease makes them willing too often to discharge
+their burden of attendance on these officious
+gentlemen. It is true, that the nauseousness
+of such company is enough to disgust a reasonable
+man; when he sees, he can hardly approach
+greatness, but as a moated castle; he must first
+pass through the mud and filth with which it is
+encompassed. These are they, who, wanting wit,
+affect gravity, and go by the name of solid men;
+and a solid man is, in plain English, a solid, solemn
+fool. Another disguise they have, (for fools,
+as well as knaves, take other names, and pass by
+an <i>alias</i>) and that is, the title of honest fellows.
+But this honesty of theirs ought to have many
+grains for its allowance; for certainly they are no
+farther honest, than they are silly: They are naturally
+mischievous to their power; and if they
+speak not maliciously, or sharply, of witty men,
+it is only because God has not bestowed on them
+the gift of utterance. They fawn and crouch to
+men of parts, whom they cannot ruin; quote their
+wit when they are present, and, when they are absent
+steal their jests; but to those who are under
+them, and whom they can crush with ease, they
+shew themselves in their natural antipathy; there
+they treat wit like the common enemy, and giving
+no more quarter, than a Dutchman would to an
+English vessel in the Indies; they strike sail where
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_178" name="page_178"></a>
+they know they shall be mastered, and murder where
+they can with safety.</p>
+
+<p>This, my lord, is the character of a courtier without
+wit; and therefore that which is a satire to other
+men, must be a panegyric to your lordship, who
+are a master of it. If the least of these reflections
+could have reached your person, no necessity of
+mine could have made me to have sought so earnestly,
+and so long, to have cultivated your kindness.
+As a poet, I cannot but have made some observations
+on mankind; the lowness of my fortune has
+not yet brought me to flatter vice; and it is my duty
+to give testimony to virtue. It is true, your lordship
+is not of that nature, which either seeks a commendation,
+or wants it. Your mind has always
+been above the wretched affectation of popularity.
+A popular man is, in truth, no better than a prostitute
+to common fame, and to the people. He lies
+down to every one he meets for the hire of praise;
+and his humility is only a disguised ambition. Even
+Cicero himself, whose eloquence deserved the admiration
+of mankind, yet, by his insatiable thirst
+of fame, he has lessened his character with succeeding
+ages; his action against Catiline may be said
+to have ruined the consul, when it saved the city;
+for it so swelled his soul, which was not truly great,
+that ever afterwards it was apt to be over-set with
+vanity. And this made his virtue so suspected by
+his friends, that Brutus, whom of all men he adored,
+refused him a place in his conspiracy. A modern
+wit has made this observation on him; that, coveting
+to recommend himself to posterity, he begged
+it as an alms of all his friends, the historians, to remember
+his consulship: And observe, if you please,
+the oddness of the event; all their histories are
+lost, and the vanity of his request stands yet recorded
+in his own writings. How much more great and
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_179" name="page_179"></a>
+manly in your lordship, is your contempt of popular
+applause, and your retired virtue, which shines only
+to a few; with whom you live so easily and freely,
+that you make it evident, you have a soul which is
+capable of all the tenderness of friendship, and that
+you only retire yourself from those, who are not
+capable of returning it. Your kindness, where you
+have once placed it, is inviolable; and it is to that
+only I attribute my happiness in your love. This
+makes me more easily forsake an argument, on
+which I could otherwise delight to dwell; I mean,
+your judgment in your choice of friends; because I
+have the honour to be one. After which I am sure
+you will more easily permit me to be silent, in the
+care you have taken of my fortune; which you have
+rescued, not only from the power of others, but
+from my worst of enemies, my own modesty and
+laziness; which favour, had it been employed on
+a more deserving subject, had been an effect of justice
+in your nature; but, as placed on me, is only
+charity. Yet, withal, it is conferred on such a man,
+as prefers your kindness itself, before any of its consequences;
+and who values, as the greatest of your
+favours, those of your love, and of your conversation.
+From this constancy to your friends, I might
+reasonably assume, that your resentments would be
+as strong and lasting, if they were not restrained by
+a nobler principle of good nature and generosity;
+for certainly, it is the same composition of mind,
+the same resolution and courage, which makes the
+greatest friendships, and the greatest enmities.
+And he, who is too lightly reconciled, after high
+provocations, may recommend himself to the world
+for a Christian, but I should hardly trust him for
+a friend. The Italians have a proverb to that purpose,
+"To forgive the first time, shows me a good
+Catholic; the second time, a fool." To this firmness
+in all your actions, though you are wanting in no
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_180" name="page_180"></a>
+other ornaments of mind and body, yet to this I
+principally ascribe the interest your merits have acquired
+you in the royal family. A prince, who is
+constant to himself, and steady in all his undertakings;
+one with whom that character of Horace will
+agree,</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Si fractus illabatur orbis,</p>
+<p>Impavidum ferient ruin&aelig;<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_2-2">[2]</a>;&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">such an one cannot but place an esteem, and repose
+a confidence on him, whom no adversity, no change
+of courts, no bribery of interests, or cabals of factions,
+or advantages of fortune, can remove from the
+solid foundations of honour and fidelity:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Ille meos, primus qui me sibi junxit, amores</p>
+<p>Abstulit; ille habeat secum, servetque sepulcro.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>How well your lordship will deserve that praise,
+I need no inspiration to foretell. You have already
+left no room for prophecy: Your early undertakings
+have been such, in the service of your king and
+country, when you offered yourself to the most
+dangerous employment, that of the sea; when you
+chose to abandon those delights, to which your
+youth and fortune did invite you, to undergo the
+hazards, and, which was worse, the company of common
+seamen, that you have made it evident, you
+will refuse no opportunity of rendering yourself useful
+to the nation, when either your courage or conduct
+shall be required<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_2-3">[3]</a>. The same zeal and faithfulness
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_181" name="page_181"></a>
+continue in your blood, which animated one
+of your noble ancestors to sacrifice his life in the
+quarrels of his sovereign<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_2-4">[4]</a>; though, I hope, both for
+your sake, and for the public tranquillity, the same
+occasion will never be offered to your lordship, and
+that a better destiny will attend you. But I make
+haste to consider you as abstracted from a court,
+which (if you will give me leave to use a term of
+logic) is only an adjunct, not a propriety of happiness.
+The academics, I confess, were willing to admit
+the goods of fortune into their notion of felicity;
+but I do not remember, that any of the sects of
+old philosophers did ever leave a room for greatness.
+Neither am I formed to praise a court, who admire
+and covet nothing, but the easiness and quiet of
+retirement. I naturally withdraw my sight from a
+precipice; and, admit the prospect be never so large
+and goodly, can take no pleasure even in looking on
+the downfal, though I am secure from the danger.
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_182" name="page_182"></a>
+Methinks, there is something of a malignant joy in
+that excellent description of Lucretius;</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Suave, mari magno turbantibus &aelig;quora ventis,</p>
+<p>E terr&acirc; magnum alterius spectare laborem;</p>
+<p>Non quia vexari quenquam est jucunda voluptas,</p>
+<p>Sed, quibus ipse malis careas, quia cernere suave est.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">I am sure his master Epicurus, and my better master
+Cowley, preferred the solitude of a garden, and
+the conversation of a friend, to any consideration,
+so much as a regard, of those unhappy people, whom,
+in our own wrong, we call the great. True greatness,
+if it be any where on earth, is in a private virtue;
+removed from the notion of pomp and vanity, confined
+to a contemplation of itself, and centering on
+itself:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Omnis enim per se Div&ucirc;m natura necesse est</p>
+<p>Immortali &aelig;vo summ&acirc; cum pace fruatur;</p>
+<p>&mdash;cur&acirc; semota, metuque,</p>
+<p>Ipsa suis pollens opibus<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_2-5">[5]</a>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">If this be not the life of a deity, because it cannot
+consist with Providence, it is, at least, a god-like
+life. I can be contented, (and I am sure I have your
+lordship of my opinion) with an humbler station in
+the temple of virtue, than to be set on the pinnacle
+of it:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_183" name="page_183"></a>
+<p>Despicere unde queas alios, passimque videre</p>
+<p>Errare, atque viam palantes qu&aelig;rere vit&aelig;.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">The truth is, the consideration of so vain a creature
+as man, is not worth our pains. I have fool enough
+at home, without looking for it abroad; and am a
+sufficient theatre to myself of ridiculous actions,
+without expecting company, either in a court, a
+town, or a play-house. It is on this account that I
+am weary with drawing the deformities of life, and
+lazars of the people, where every figure of imperfection
+more resembles me than it can do others.
+If I must be condemned to rhyme, I should find
+some ease in my change of punishment. I desire
+to be no longer the Sisyphus of the stage; to roll
+up a stone with endless labour, (which, to follow
+the proverb, gathers no moss) and which is perpetually
+falling down again. I never thought myself
+very fit for an employment, where many of my predecessors
+have excelled me in all kinds; and some
+of my contemporaries, even in my own partial judgement
+have outdone me in Comedy. Some little
+hopes I have yet remaining, and those too, considering
+my abilities, may be vain, that I may make
+the world some part of amends, for many ill plays,
+by an heroic poem. Your lordship has been long
+acquainted with my design; the subject of which
+you know is great, the story English, and neither
+too far distant from the present age, nor too near
+approaching it. Such it is in my opinion, that I
+could not have wished a nobler occasion to do honour
+by it to my king, my country, and my friends;
+most of our ancient nobility being concerned in the
+action<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_2-6">[6]</a>. And your lordship has one particular reason
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_184" name="page_184"></a>
+to promote this undertaking, because you were
+the first who gave me the opportunity of discoursing
+it to his majesty, and his royal highness: They
+were then pleased, both to commend the design,
+and to encourage it by their commands. But the
+unsettledness of my condition has hitherto put a
+stop to my thoughts concerning it. As I am no
+successor to Homer in his wit, so neither do I desire
+to be in his poverty. I can make no rhapsodies
+nor go a begging at the Grecian doors, while
+I sing the praises of their ancestors. The times of
+Virgil please me better, because he had an Augustus
+for his patron; and, to draw the allegory nearer
+you, I am sure I shall not want a Mec&aelig;nas with
+him. It is for your lordship to stir up that remembrance
+in his majesty, which his many avocations
+of business have caused him, I fear, to lay aside;
+and, as himself and his royal brother are the heroes
+of the poem, to represent to them the images of
+their warlike predecessors; as Achilles is said to be
+roused to glory, with the sight of the combat before
+the ships. For my own part, I am satisfied to
+have offered the design, and it may be to the advantage
+of my reputation to have it refused me.</p>
+
+<p>In the mean time, my lord, I take the confidence
+to present you with a tragedy, the characters of
+which are the nearest to those of an heroic poem.
+It was dedicated to you in my heart, before it was
+presented on the stage. Some things in it have
+passed your approbation, and many your amendment.
+You were likewise pleased to recommend
+it to the king's perusal, before the last hand was added
+to it, when I received the favour from him, to
+have the most considerable event of it modelled by
+his royal pleasure. It may be some vanity in me
+to add his testimony then, and which he graciously
+confirmed afterwards, that it was the best of all my
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_185" name="page_185"></a>
+tragedies; in which he has made authentic my private
+opinion of it; at least, he has given it a value
+by his commendation, which it had not by my writing.</p>
+
+<p>That which was not pleasing to some of the fair
+ladies in the last act of it, as I dare not vindicate,
+so neither can I wholly condemn, till I find more
+reason for their censures. The procedure of Indamora
+and Melesinda seems yet, in my judgment,
+natural, and not unbecoming of their characters.
+If they, who arraign them, fail not more, the world
+will never blame their conduct; and I shall be
+glad, for the honour of my country, to find better
+images of virtue drawn to the life in their behaviour,
+than any I could feign to adorn the theatre. I
+confess, I have only represented a practical virtue,
+mixed with the frailties and imperfections of human
+life. I have made my heroine fearful of death,
+which neither Cassandra nor Cleopatra would have
+been; and they themselves, I doubt it not, would
+have outdone romance in that particular. Yet their
+Mandana (and the Cyrus was written by a lady,)
+was not altogether so hard-hearted: For she sat
+down on the cold ground by the king of Assyria,
+and not only pitied him, who died in her defence;
+but allowed him some favours, such, perhaps, as
+they would think, should only be permitted to her
+Cyrus<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_2-7">[7]</a>. I have made my Melesinda, in opposition
+to Nourmahal, a woman passionately loving of her
+husband, patient of injuries and contempt, and constant
+in her kindness, to the last; and in that, perhaps,
+I may have erred, because it is not a virtue
+much in use. Those Indian wives are loving fools,
+and may do well to keep themselves in their own
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_186" name="page_186"></a>
+country, or, at least, to keep company with the Arrias
+and Portias of old Rome: Some of our ladies
+know better things. But, it may be, I am partial
+to my own writings; yet I have laboured as much
+as any man, to divest myself of the self-opinion of
+an author; and am too well satisfied of my own
+weakness, to be pleased with any thing I have written.
+But, on the other side, my reason tells me, that,
+in probability, what I have seriously and long considered
+may be as likely to be just and natural, as
+what an ordinary judge (if there be any such among
+those ladies) will think fit, in a transient presentation,
+to be placed in the room of that which they
+condemn. The most judicious writer is sometimes
+mistaken, after all his care; but the hasty critic,
+who judges on a view, is full as liable to be deceived.
+Let him first consider all the arguments,
+which the author had, to write this, or to design
+the other, before he arraigns him of a fault; and
+then, perhaps, on second thoughts, he will find his
+reason oblige him to revoke his censure. Yet,
+after all, I will not be too positive. <i>Homo sum, humani
+&agrave; me nihil alienum puto.</i> As I am a man, I
+must be changeable; and sometimes the gravest of
+us all are so, even upon ridiculous accidents. Our
+minds are perpetually wrought on by the temperament
+of our bodies; which makes me suspect, they
+are nearer allied, than either our philosophers or
+school-divines will allow them to be. I have observed,
+says Montaigne, that when the body is out
+of order, its companion is seldom at his ease. An
+ill dream, or a cloudy day, has power to change this
+wretched creature, who is so proud of a reasonable
+soul, and make him think what he thought not yesterday.
+And Homer was of this opinion, as Cicero
+is pleased to translate him for us:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Tales sunt hominum mentes, quali pater ipse</p>
+<p>Jupiter auctifer&acirc; lustravit lampade terras.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind"><a class="pgnm" id="page_187" name="page_187"></a>
+Or, as the same author, in his "Tusculan Questions,"
+speaks, with more modesty than usual, of himself:
+<i>Nos in diem vivimus; quodcunque animos nostros probabilitate
+percussit, id dicimus.</i> It is not therefore impossible
+but that I may alter the conclusion of my
+play, to restore myself into the good graces of my
+fair critics; and your lordship, who is so well with
+them, may do me the office of a friend and patron,
+to intercede with them on my promise of amendment.
+The impotent lover in Petronius, though his
+was a very unpardonable crime, yet was received to
+mercy on the terms I offer. <i>Summa excusationis
+me&aelig; h&aelig;c est: Placebo tibi, si culpam emendare permiseris.</i></p>
+
+<p>But I am conscious to myself of offering at a
+greater boldness, in presenting to your view what
+my meanness can produce, than in any other error of
+my play; and therefore make haste to break off this
+tedious address, which has, I know not how, already
+run itself into so much of pedantry, with an excuse of
+Tully's, which he sent with his books "De Finibus,"
+to his friend Brutus: <i>De ipsis rebus autem, s&aelig;penumer&ograve;,
+Brute, vereor ne reprehendar, cum h&aelig;c ad te
+scribam, qui tum in poesi,</i> (I change it from <i>philosophi&acirc;</i>)
+<i>tum in optimo genere poeseos tantum processeris.
+Quod si facerem quasi te erudiens, jure reprehenderer.
+Sed ab eo plurim&ugrave;m absum: Nec, ut ea cognoscas qu&aelig;
+tibi notissima sunt, ad te mitto; sed qui&agrave; facillim&egrave; in
+nomine tuo acquiesco, et quia te habeo &aelig;quissimum eorum
+studiorum, qu&aelig; mihi communia tecum sunt, &aelig;stimatorem
+et judicem.</i> Which you may please, my
+lord, to apply to yourself, from him, who is,</p>
+
+<p class="sig i1">Your Lordship's</p>
+<p class="sig i2">Most obedient,</p>
+<p class="sig i3">Humble servant,</p>
+<p class="sig i4 smcap">Dryden.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Auren_2-1" name="Auren_2-1"></a>John Sheffield, earl of Mulgrave, afterwards created marquis
+of Normanby, and at length duke of Buckingham, made a great
+figure during the reigns of Charles II. of his unfortunate successor,
+of William the Third, and of Queen Anne. His bravery as a soldier,
+and abilities as a statesman, seem to have been unquestioned;
+but for his poetical reputation, he was probably much indebted
+to the assistance of those wits whom he relieved and patronized.
+As, however, it has been allowed a sufficient proof of wisdom in a
+monarch, that he could chuse able ministers, so it is no slight commendation
+to the taste of this rhyming peer, that in youth he selected
+Dryden to supply his own poetical deficiencies, and in age
+became the friend and the eulogist of Pope. We may observe,
+however, a melancholy difference betwixt the manner in which an
+independent man of letters is treated by the great, and that in
+which they think themselves entitled to use one to whom their
+countenance is of consequence. In addressing Pope, Sheffield contents
+himself with launching out into boundless panegyric, while
+his praise of Dryden, in his "Essay on Poetry," is qualified by a
+gentle sneer at the "Hind and Panther," our bard's most laboured
+production. His lordship is treating of satire:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>The laureat here may justly claim our praise,</p>
+<p>Crowned by Mack Flecnoe with immortal bays;</p>
+<p>Yet once his Pegasus has borne dead weight,</p>
+<p>Rid by some lumpish minister of state.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Lord Mulgrave, to distinguish him by his earliest title, certainly
+received considerable assistance from Dryden in "The Essay on
+Satire," which occasioned Rochester's base revenge; and was distinguished
+by the name of the <i>Rose-Alley Satire</i>, from the place
+in which Dryden was way-laid and beaten by the hired bravoes of
+that worthless profligate. It is probable, that the patronage which
+Dryden received from Mulgrave, was not entirely of an empty and
+fruitless nature. It is at least certain, that their friendship continued
+uninterrupted till the death of our poet. The "Discourse
+upon Epic Poetry" is dedicated to Lord Mulgrave, then duke of
+Buckingham, and in high favour with Queen Anne, for whom he
+is supposed to have long cherished a youthful passion. After the
+grave of Dryden had remained twenty years without a memorial,
+this nobleman had the honour to raise the present monument at
+his own expence; being the latest, and certainly one of the most
+honourable acts of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Malone, from Macky's "Secret Services," gives the following
+character of Sheffield, duke of Buckingham:&mdash;"He is a nobleman
+of learning and good natural parts, but of no principles.
+Violent for the high church, yet seldom goes to it. Very proud,
+insolent, and covetous, and takes all advantages. In paying his
+debts unwilling, and is neither esteemed nor beloved; for notwithstanding
+his great interest at court, it is certain he has none in either
+house of parliament, or in the country. He is of a middle
+stature, of a brown complexion, with a sour lofty look." Swift
+sanctioned this severe character, by writing on the margin of his
+copy of Macky's book, "<i>This character is the truest of any.</i>" To
+so bitter a censure, let us contrast the panegyric of Pope:<br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Muse, 'tis enough; at length thy labour ends,</p>
+<p>And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends;</p>
+<p>Let crowds of critics now my verse assail,</p>
+<p>Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail,</p>
+<p>This more than pays whole years of thankless pain&mdash;</p>
+<p>Time, health, and fortune, are not lost in vain.</p>
+<p>Sheffield approves; consenting Ph&oelig;bus bends,</p>
+<p>And I and Malice from this hour are friends.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It may be worth the attention of the great to consider the value
+of that genius, which can hand them down to posterity in an interesting
+and amiable point of view, in spite of their own imbecilities,
+errors, and vices. While the personal character of Mulgrave
+has nothing to recommend it, and his poetical effusions are
+sunk into oblivion, we still venerate the friend of Pope, and the
+protector of Dryden.</p>
+
+<p>Sheffield, duke of Buckingham, marquis of Normanby, and earl
+of Mulgrave, was born in 1649, and died in 1720. He was therefore
+twenty-seven years old when he received this dedication.</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="Auren_2-2" name="Auren_2-2"></a>On perusing such ill applied flattery, I know not whether we
+ought to feel most for Charles II. or for Dryden.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Auren_2-3" name="Auren_2-3"></a>The earl of Mulgrave, in the Dutch war of 1672, served as
+a volunteer on board the Victory, commanded by the earl of Ossory.
+He behaved with distinguished courage himself, and has
+borne witness to that of his unfortunate admiral, James Duke of
+York. His intrepid coolness appears from a passage in his Memoirs,
+containing the observations he made during the action,
+on the motion of cannon bullets in the recoil, and their effect
+when passing near the human body. His bravery was rewarded
+by his promotion to command the Katharine, the second best ship
+in the fleet. This vessel had been captured by the Dutch during
+the action, but was retaken by the English crew before she could
+be carried into harbour. Lord Mulgrave had a picture of the
+Katherine at his house in St James's Park.&mdash;See CARLETON'S
+<i>Memoirs</i>, p. 5.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Auren_2-4" name="Auren_2-4"></a>In 1548-9, there were insurrections in several counties of England,
+having for their object the restoration of the Catholic religion,
+and the redress of grievances. The insurgents in Northamptonshire
+were 20,000 strong, headed by one Ket, a tanner, who possessed
+himself of Norwich. The earl of Northampton, marching
+rashly and hastily against him, at the head of a very inferior force,
+was defeated with loss. In the rout lord Sheffield, ancestor of the
+earl of Mulgrave, and the person alluded to in the text, fell with his
+horse into a ditch, and was slain by a butcher with a club. The
+rebels were afterwards defeated by the earl of Warwick.&mdash;DUGDALE'S
+<i>Baron</i>, vol. ii. p. 386. HOLLINSHED, p. 1035.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Auren_2-5" name="Auren_2-5"></a>The entire passage of Lucretius is somewhat different from
+this quotation:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Qu&aelig; bene, et eximie quamvis disposta ferantur,</p>
+<p>Longe sunt tamen a ver&acirc; ratione repulsa.</p>
+<p>Omnia enim per se Divum natura necesse est</p>
+<p>Immortali &aelig;vo summ&acirc; cum pace fruatur,</p>
+<p>Semota a nostris rebus, sejunctaque long&egrave;.</p>
+<p>Nam privata dolore omni, privata periclis,</p>
+<p>Ipsa suis pollens opibus, nihil indiga nostri,</p>
+<p>Nec bene promeritis capitur, nec tangitur ira.</p>
+<p class="citation smcap">Lib. II.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Dryden ingeniously applies, to the calm of philosophical retirement,
+the Epicurean tranquillity of the Deities of Lucretius.</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="Auren_2-6" name="Auren_2-6"></a>The subject of this intended poem, was probably the exploits
+of the Black Prince. See Life.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Auren_2-7" name="Auren_2-7"></a>An incident in "Art&egrave;menes, ou Le Grand Cyrus," a huge romance,
+written by Madame Scuderi.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_188" name="page_188"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Our author, by experience, finds it true,</p>
+<p>'Tis much more hard to please himself than you;</p>
+<p>And out of no feigned modesty, this day</p>
+<p>Damns his laborious trifle of a play:</p>
+<p>Not that its worse than what before he writ,</p>
+<p>But he has now another taste of wit;</p>
+<p>And, to confess a truth, though out of time,</p>
+<p>Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme.</p>
+<p>Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound,</p>
+<p>And nature flies him like enchanted ground:</p>
+<p>What verse can do, he has performed in this,</p>
+<p>Which he presumes the most correct of his;</p>
+<p>But spite of all his pride, a secret shame</p>
+<p>Invades his breast at Shakespeare's sacred name:</p>
+<p>Awed when he hears his godlike Romans rage,</p>
+<p>He, in a just despair, would quit the stage;</p>
+<p>And to an age less polished, more unskilled,</p>
+<p>Does, with disdain, the foremost honours yield.</p>
+<p>As with the greater dead he dares not strive,</p>
+<p>He would not match his verse with those who live:</p>
+<p>Let him retire, betwixt two ages cast,</p>
+<p>The first of this, and hindmost of the last.</p>
+<p>A losing gamester, let him sneak away;</p>
+<p>He bears no ready money from the play.</p>
+<p>The fate, which governs poets, thought it fit</p>
+<p>He should not raise his fortunes by his wit.</p>
+<p>The clergy thrive, and the litigious bar;</p>
+<p>Dull heroes fatten with the spoils of war:</p>
+<p>All southern vices, heaven be praised, are here:</p>
+<p>But wit's a luxury you think too dear.</p>
+<p>When you to cultivate the plant are loth,</p>
+<p>'Tis a shrewd sign 'twas never of your growth;</p>
+<p>And wit in northern climates will not blow,</p>
+<p>Except, like orange-trees, 'tis housed from snow.</p>
+<p>There needs no care to put a playhouse down,</p>
+<p>'Tis the most desart place of all the town:</p>
+<p>We and our neighbours, to speak proudly, are,</p>
+<p>Like monarchs, ruined with expensive war;</p>
+<p>While, like wise English, unconcerned you sit,</p>
+<p>And see us play the tragedy of wit.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_190" name="page_190"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">DRAMATIS PERSON&AElig;.</h3>
+
+<p class="noind" style="margin-bottom: 0;"><i>The Old Emperor.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Aureng-Zebe,</span> <i>his Son.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Morat,</span> <i>his younger Son.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Arimant,</span> <i>Governor of Agra.</i></p>
+<table class="dpgrp" summary="Omrahs">
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Dianet,<br />
+Solyman,<br />
+Mir Baba,<br />
+Abas,<br />
+Asaph Chan,<br />
+Fazel Chan,</span></td>
+<td>}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}</td>
+<td><i>Indian Lords, or Omrahs, of several
+Factions.</i></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Nourmahal,</span> <i>the Empress.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Indamora,</span> <i>a Captive Queen.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Melesinda,</span> <i>Wife to Morat.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Zayda,</span> <i>favourite Slave to the Empress.</i></p>
+
+<p>SCENE&mdash;<i>Agra,</i> in the year 1660.</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_191" name="page_191"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">AURENG-ZEBE.</h3>
+
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT I. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Arimant, Asaph Chan,</span> and <span class="cnm">Fazel Chan.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Heaven seems the empire of the east to lay<br />
+On the success of this important day:<br />
+Their arms are to the last decision bent,<br />
+And fortune labours with the vast event:<br />
+She now has in her hand the greatest stake,<br />
+Which for contending monarchs she can make.<br />
+Whate'er can urge ambitious youth to fight,<br />
+She pompously displays before their sight;<br />
+Laws, empire, all permitted to the sword,<br />
+And fate could ne'er an ampler scene afford.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asaph.</span> Four several armies to the field are led,<br />
+Which, high in equal hopes, four princes head:<br />
+Indus and Ganges, our wide empire's bounds,<br />
+Swell their dyed currents with their natives' wounds:<br />
+Each purple river winding, as he runs,<br />
+His bloody arms about his slaughtered sons.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fazel.</span> I well remember you foretold the storm,<br />
+When first the brothers did their factions form:<br />
+When each, by cursed cabals of women, strove<br />
+To draw the indulgent king to partial love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_192" name="page_192"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Arim.</span> What heaven decrees, no prudence can prevent.<br />
+To cure their mad ambition, they were sent<br />
+To rule a distant province each alone:<br />
+What could a careful father more have done?<br />
+He made provision against all, but fate,<br />
+While, by his health, we held our peace of state.<br />
+The weight of seventy winters prest him down,<br />
+He bent beneath the burden of a crown:<br />
+Sickness, at last, did his spent body seize,<br />
+And life almost sunk under the disease:<br />
+Mortal 'twas thought, at least by them desired,<br />
+Who, impiously, into his years inquired:<br />
+As at a signal, strait the sons prepare<br />
+For open force, and rush to sudden war:<br />
+Meeting, like winds broke loose upon the main,<br />
+To prove, by arms, whose fate it was to reign.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asaph.</span> Rebels and parricides!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Brand not their actions with so foul a name:<br />
+Pity at least what we are forced to blame.<br />
+When death's cold hand has closed the father's eye,<br />
+You know the younger sons are doomed to die.<br />
+Less ills are chosen greater to avoid,<br />
+And nature's laws are by the state's destroyed.<br />
+What courage tamely could to death consent,<br />
+And not, by striking first, the blow prevent?<br />
+Who falls in fight, cannot himself accuse,<br />
+And he dies greatly, who a crown pursues.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Solyman Aga.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Solym.</span> A new express all Agra does affright:<br />
+Darah and Aureng-Zebe are joined in fight;<br />
+The press of people thickens to the court,<br />
+The impatient crowd devouring the report.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> T' each changing news they changed affections bring,<br />
+And servilely from fate expect a king.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_193" name="page_193"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Solym.</span> The ministers of state, who gave us law,<br />
+In corners, with selected friends, withdraw:<br />
+There, in deaf murmurs, solemnly are wise;<br />
+Whispering, like winds, ere hurricanes arise.<br />
+The most corrupt are most obsequious grown,<br />
+And those they scorned, officiously they own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asaph.</span> In change of government,<br />
+The rabble rule their great oppressors' fate;<br />
+Do sovereign justice, and revenge the state.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Solym.</span> The little courtiers, who ne'er come to know<br />
+The depth of factions, as in mazes go,<br />
+Where interests meet and cross so oft, that they,<br />
+With too much care, are wildered in their way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> What of the emperor?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Solym.</span> Unmoved, and brave, he like himself appears,<br />
+And, meriting no ill, no danger fears:<br />
+Yet mourns his former vigour lost so far,<br />
+To make him now spectator of a war:<br />
+Repining that he must preserve his crown<br />
+By any help or courage but his own:<br />
+Wishes, each minute, he could unbeget<br />
+Those rebel sons, who dare usurp his seat;<br />
+To sway his empire with unequal skill,<br />
+And mount a throne, which none but he can fill.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Oh! had he still that character maintained,<br />
+Of valour, which, in blooming youth, he gained!<br />
+He promised in his east a glorious race;<br />
+Now, sunk from his meridian, sets apace.<br />
+But as the sun, when he from noon declines,<br />
+And, with abated heat, less fiercely shines,<br />
+Seems to grow milder as he goes away,<br />
+Pleasing himself with the remains of day;<br />
+So he, who, in his youth, for glory strove,<br />
+Would recompense his age with ease and love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_194" name="page_194"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Asaph.</span> The name of father hateful to him grows,<br />
+Which, for one son, produces him three foes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fazel.</span> Darah, the eldest, bears a generous mind,<br />
+But to implacable revenge inclined:<br />
+Too openly does love and hatred show;<br />
+A bounteous master, but a deadly foe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Solym.</span> From Sujah's valour I should much expect,<br />
+But he's a bigot of the Persian sect;<br />
+And by a foreign interest seeks to reign,<br />
+Hopeless by love the sceptre to obtain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asaph.</span> Morat's too insolent, too much a brave;<br />
+His courage to his envy is a slave.<br />
+What he attempts, if his endeavours fail<br />
+To effect, he is resolved no other shall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> But Aureng-Zebe, by no strong passion swayed,<br />
+Except his love, more temperate is, and weighed:<br />
+This Atlas must our sinking state uphold;<br />
+In council cool, but in performance bold:<br />
+He sums their virtues in himself alone,<br />
+And adds the greatest, of a loyal son:<br />
+His father's cause upon his sword he wears,<br />
+And with his arms, we hope, his fortune bears.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Solym.</span> Two vast rewards may well his courage move,<br />
+A parent's blessing, and a mistress' love.<br />
+If he succeed, his recompence, we hear,<br />
+Must be the captive queen of Cassimere.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Abas.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abas.</span> Mischiefs on mischiefs, greater still, and more!<br />
+The neighbouring plain with arms is covered o'er:<br />
+The vale an iron-harvest seems to yield,<br />
+Of thick-sprung lances in a waving field.<br />
+The polished steel gleams terribly from far,<br />
+And every moment nearer shows the war.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_195" name="page_195"></a>
+The horses' neighing by the wind is blown,<br />
+And castled-elephants o'er-look the town.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> If, as I fear, Morat these powers commands,<br />
+Our empire on the brink of ruin stands:<br />
+The ambitious empress with her son is joined,<br />
+And, in his brother's absence, has designed<br />
+The unprovided town to take with ease,<br />
+And then the person of the king to seize.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Solym.</span> To all his former issue she has shown<br />
+Long hate, and laboured to advance her own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abas.</span> These troops are his.<br />
+Surat he took; and thence, preventing fame,<br />
+By quick and painful marches hither came.<br />
+Since his approach, he to his mother sent,<br />
+And two long hours in close debate were spent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> I'll to my charge, the citadel, repair,<br />
+And show my duty by my timely care.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them the Emperor, with a letter in his hand: After
+him, an Ambassador, with a train following.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asaph.</span> But see, the emperor! a fiery red<br />
+His brows and glowing temples does o'erspread;<br />
+Morat has some displeasing message sent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amb.</span> Do not, great sir, misconstrue his intent;<br />
+Nor call rebellion what was prudent care,<br />
+To guard himself by necessary war:<br />
+While he believed you living, he obeyed;<br />
+His governments but as your viceroy swayed:<br />
+But, when he thought you gone<br />
+To augment the number of the blessed above,<br />
+He deemed them legacies of royal love:<br />
+Nor armed, his brothers' portions to invade,<br />
+But to defend the present you had made.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> By frequent messages, and strict commands,<br />
+He knew my pleasure to discharge his bands:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_196" name="page_196"></a>
+Proof of my life my royal signet made;<br />
+Yet still he armed, came on, and disobeyed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amb.</span> He thought the mandate forged, your death concealed;<br />
+And but delayed, till truth should be revealed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> News of my death from rumour he received;<br />
+And what he wished, he easily believed:<br />
+But long demurred, though from my hand he knew<br />
+I lived, so loth he was to think it true.<br />
+Since he pleads ignorance to that command,<br />
+Now let him show his duty, and disband.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amb.</span> His honour, sir, will suffer in the cause;<br />
+He yields his arms unjust, if he withdraws:<br />
+And begs his loyalty may be declared,<br />
+By owning those he leads to be your guard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> I, in myself, have all the guard I need!<br />
+Bid the presumptuous boy draw off with speed:<br />
+If his audacious troops one hour remain,<br />
+My cannon from the fort shall scour the plain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Amb.</span> Since you deny him entrance, he demands<br />
+His wife, whom cruelly you hold in bands:<br />
+Her, if unjustly you from him detain,<br />
+He justly will, by force of arms, regain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> O'er him and his a right from Heaven I have;<br />
+Subject and son, he's doubly born my slave.<br />
+But whatsoe'er his own demerits are,<br />
+Tell him, I shall not make on women war.<br />
+And yet I'll do her innocence the grace,<br />
+To keep her here, as in the safer place.<br />
+But thou, who dar'st this bold defiance bring,<br />
+May'st feel the rage of an offended king.<br />
+Hence, from my sight, without the least reply!<br />
+One word, nay one look more, and thou shalt die.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit Ambassador.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_197" name="page_197"></a>
+Re-enter <span class="cnm">Arimant.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> May heaven, great monarch, still augment your bliss<br />
+With length of days, and every day like this!<br />
+For, from the banks of Gemna news is brought,<br />
+Your army has a bloody battle fought:<br />
+Darah from loyal Aureng-Zebe is fled,<br />
+And forty thousand of his men lie dead.<br />
+To Sujah next your conquering army drew;<br />
+Him they surprised, and easily o'erthrew.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> 'Tis well.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> But well! what more could at your wish be done,<br />
+Than two such conquests gained by such a son?<br />
+Your pardon, mighty sir;<br />
+You seem not high enough your joys to rate;<br />
+You stand indebted a vast sum to fate,<br />
+And should large thanks for the great blessing pay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> My fortune owes me greater every day;<br />
+And should my joy more high for this appear,<br />
+It would have argued me, before, of fear.<br />
+How is heaven kind, where I have nothing won,<br />
+And fortune only pays me with my own?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Great Aureng-Zebe did duteous care express,<br />
+And durst not push too far his good success;<br />
+But, lest Morat the city should attack,<br />
+Commanded his victorious army back;<br />
+Which, left to march as swiftly as they may,<br />
+Himself comes first, and will be here this day,<br />
+Before a close-formed siege shut up his way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Prevent his purpose! hence, with all thy speed!<br />
+Stop him; his entrance to the town forbid.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> How, sir? your loyal, your victorious son?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Him would I, more than all the rebels, shun.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_198" name="page_198"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Whom with your power and fortune, sir, you trust.<br />
+Now to suspect is vain, as 'tis unjust.<br />
+He comes not with a train to move your fear,<br />
+But trusts himself to be a prisoner here.<br />
+You knew him brave, you know him faithful now:<br />
+He aims at fame, but fame from serving you.<br />
+'Tis said, ambition in his breast does rage:<br />
+Who would not be the hero of an age?<br />
+All grant him prudent: Prudence interest weighs,<br />
+And interest bids him seek your love and praise.<br />
+I know you grateful; when he marched from hence,<br />
+You bade him hope an ample recompence:<br />
+He conquered in that hope; and, from your hands,<br />
+His love, the precious pledge he left, demands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> No more; you search too deep my wounded mind,<br />
+And show me what I fear, and would not find.<br />
+My son has all the debts of duty paid:<br />
+Our prophet sends him to my present aid.<br />
+Such virtue to distrust were base and low:<br />
+I'm not ungrateful&mdash;or I was not so!<br />
+Inquire no farther, stop his coming on:<br />
+I will not, cannot, dare not, see my son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> 'Tis now too late his entrance to prevent,<br />
+Nor must I to your ruin give consent;<br />
+At once your people's heart, and son's, you lose,<br />
+And give him all, when you just things refuse.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Thou lov'st me, sure; thy faith has oft been tried,<br />
+In ten pitched fields not shrinking from my side,<br />
+Yet giv'st me no advice to bring me ease.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Can you be cured, and tell not your disease?<br />
+I asked you, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Thou shouldst have asked again:<br />
+There hangs a secret shame on guilty men.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_199" name="page_199"></a>
+Thou shouldst have pulled the secret from my breast,<br />
+Torn out the bearded steel, to give me rest;<br />
+At least, thou should'st have guessed&mdash;<br />
+Yet thou art honest, thou couldst ne'er have guessed.<br />
+Hast thou been never base? did love ne'er bend<br />
+Thy frailer virtue, to betray thy friend?<br />
+Flatter me, make thy court, and say, It did;<br />
+Kings in a crowd would have their vices hid.<br />
+We would be kept in count'nance, saved from shame,<br />
+And owned by others who commit the same.<br />
+Nay, now I have confessed.<br />
+Thou seest me naked, and without disguise:<br />
+I look on Aureng-Zebe with rival's eyes.<br />
+He has abroad my enemies o'ercome,<br />
+And I have sought to ruin him at home.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> This free confession shows you long did strive;<br />
+And virtue, though opprest, is still alive.<br />
+But what success did your injustice find?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> What it deserved, and not what I designed.<br />
+Unmoved she stood, and deaf to all my prayers,<br />
+As seas and winds to sinking mariners.<br />
+But seas grow calm, and winds are reconciled:<br />
+Her tyrant beauty never grows more mild;<br />
+Prayers, promises, and threats, were all in vain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Then cure yourself, by generous disdain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Virtue, disdain, despair, I oft have tried,<br />
+And, foiled, have with new arms my foe defied.<br />
+This made me with so little joy to hear<br />
+The victory, when I the victor fear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Something you swiftly must resolve to do,<br />
+Lest Aureng-Zebe your secret love should know.<br />
+Morat without does for your ruin wait;<br />
+And would you lose the buckler of your state?<br />
+A jealous empress lies within your arms,<br />
+Too haughty to endure neglected charms.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_200" name="page_200"></a>
+Your son is duteous, but, as man, he's frail,<br />
+And just revenge o'er virtue may prevail.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Go then to Indamora; say, from me,<br />
+Two lives depend upon her secrecy.<br />
+Bid her conceal my passion from my son:<br />
+Though Aureng-Zebe return a conqueror,<br />
+Both he and she are still within my power.<br />
+Say, I'm a father, but a lover too;<br />
+Much to my son, more to myself I owe.<br />
+When she receives him, to her words give law,<br />
+And even the kindness of her glances awe.<br />
+See, he appears!
+<span class="sdr">[After a short whisper, <span class="cnm">Arimant</span> departs.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe, Dianet,</span> and Attendants.&mdash;<span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe</span>
+kneels to his Father, and kisses his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> My vows have been successful as my sword;<br />
+My prayers are heard, you have your health restored.<br />
+Once more 'tis given me to behold your face;<br />
+The best of kings and fathers to embrace.<br />
+Pardon my tears; 'tis joy which bids them flow,<br />
+A joy which never was sincere till now.<br />
+That, which my conquest gave, I could not prize;<br />
+Or 'twas imperfect till I saw your eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Turn the discourse: I have a reason why<br />
+I would not have you speak so tenderly.<br />
+Knew you what shame your kind expressions bring,<br />
+You would, in pity, spare a wretched king.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> A king! you rob me, sir, of half my due;<br />
+You have a dearer name,&mdash;a father too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> I had that name.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> What have I said or done,<br />
+That I no longer must be called your son?<br />
+'Tis in that name, heaven knows, I glory more,<br />
+Than that of prince, or that of conqueror.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_201" name="page_201"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Then you upbraid me; I am pleased to see<br />
+You're not so perfect, but can fail, like me.<br />
+I have no God to deal with.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Now I find,<br />
+Some sly court-devil has seduced your mind;<br />
+Filled it with black suspicions not your own,<br />
+And all my actions through false optics shown.<br />
+I ne'er did crowns ambitiously regard;<br />
+Honour I sought, the generous mind's reward.<br />
+Long may you live! while you the sceptre sway,<br />
+I shall be still most happy to obey.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Oh, Aureng-Zebe! thy virtues shine too bright,<br />
+They flash too fierce: I, like the bird of night,<br />
+Shut my dull eyes, and sicken at the sight.<br />
+Thou hast deserved more love than I can show;<br />
+But 'tis thy fate to give, and mine to owe.<br />
+Thou seest me much distempered in my mind;<br />
+Pulled back, and then pushed forward to be kind.<br />
+Virtue, and&mdash;fain I would my silence break,<br />
+But have not yet the confidence to speak.<br />
+Leave me, and to thy needful rest repair.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Rest is not suiting with a lover's care.<br />
+I have not yet my Indamora seen.<span class="sdr">[Is going.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Somewhat I had forgot; come back again:<br />
+So weary of a father's company?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Sir, you were pleased yourself to license me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> You made me no relation of the fight;<br />
+Besides, a rebel's army is in sight.<br />
+Advise me first: Yet go&mdash;<br />
+He goes to Indamora; I should take<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+A kind of envious joy to keep him back.<br />
+Yet to detain him makes my love appear;&mdash;<br />
+I hate his presence, and his absence fear.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> To some new clime, or to thy native sky,<br />
+Oh friendless and forsaken Virtue, fly!<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_202" name="page_202"></a>
+Thy Indian air is deadly to thee grown:<br />
+Deceit and cankered malice rule thy throne.<br />
+Why did my arms in battle prosperous prove,<br />
+To gain the barren praise of filial love?<br />
+The best of kings by women is misled,<br />
+Charmed by the witchcraft of a second bed.<br />
+Against myself I victories have won,<br />
+And by my fatal absence am undone.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To him <span class="cnm">Indamora,</span> with <span class="cnm">Arimant.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">But here she comes!<br />
+In the calm harbour of whose gentle breast,<br />
+My tempest-beaten soul may safely rest.<br />
+Oh, my heart's joy! whate'er my sorrows be,<br />
+They cease and vanish in beholding thee!<br />
+Care shuns thy walks; as at the cheerful light,<br />
+The groaning ghosts and birds obscene take flight.<br />
+By this one view, all my past pains are paid;<br />
+And all I have to come more easy made.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Such sullen planets at my birth did shine,<br />
+They threaten every fortune mixt with mine.<br />
+Fly the pursuit of my disastrous love,<br />
+And from unhappy neighbourhood remove.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Bid the laborious hind,<br />
+Whose hardened hands did long in tillage toil,<br />
+Neglect the promised harvest of the soil.<br />
+Should I, who cultivated love with blood,<br />
+Refuse possession of approaching good?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Love is an airy good, opinion makes;<br />
+Which he, who only thinks he has, partakes:<br />
+Seen by a strong imagination's beam,<br />
+That tricks and dresses up the gaudy dream:<br />
+Presented so, with rapture 'tis enjoyed;<br />
+Raised by high fancy, and by low destroyed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> If love be vision, mine has all the fire,<br />
+Which, in first dreams, young prophets does inspire:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_203" name="page_203"></a>
+I dream, in you, our promised paradise:<br />
+An age's tumult of continued bliss.<br />
+But you have still your happiness in doubt;<br />
+Or else 'tis past, and you have dreamt it out.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Perhaps not so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Can Indamora prove<br />
+So altered? Is it but, perhaps you love?<br />
+Then farewell all! I thought in you to find<br />
+A balm, to cure my much distempered mind.<br />
+I came to grieve a father's heart estranged;<br />
+But little thought to find a mistress changed.<br />
+Nature herself is changed to punish me;<br />
+Virtue turned vice, and faith inconstancy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> You heard me not inconstancy confess:<br />
+'Twas but a friend's advice to love me less.<br />
+Who knows what adverse fortune may befal?<br />
+Arm well your mind: hope little, and fear all.<br />
+Hope, with a goodly prospect, feeds your eye;<br />
+Shows, from a rising ground, possession nigh;<br />
+Shortens the distance, or o'erlooks it quite;<br />
+So easy 'tis to travel with the sight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Then to despair you would my love betray,<br />
+By taking hope, its last kind friend, away.<br />
+You hold the glass, but turn the perspective,<br />
+And farther off the lessened object drive.<br />
+You bid me fear: In that your change I know;<br />
+You would prepare me for the coming blow.<br />
+But, to prevent you, take my last adieu;<br />
+I'll sadly tell my self you are untrue,<br />
+Rather than stay to hear it told by you.<span class="sdr">[Going.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Stay, Aureng-Zebe, I must not let you go,&mdash;<br />
+And yet believe yourself your own worst foe;<br />
+Think I am true, and seek no more to know,<br />
+Let in my breast the fatal secret lie;<br />
+'Tis a sad riddle, which, if known, we die.<span class="sdr">[Seeming to pause.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_204" name="page_204"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Fair hypocrite, you seek to cheat in vain;<br />
+Your silence argues you ask time to feign.<br />
+Once more, farewell! The snare in sight is laid,<br />
+'Tis my own fault if I am now betrayed.<span class="sdr">[Going again.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Yet once more stay; you shall believe me true,<br />
+Though in one fate I wrap myself and you.<br />
+Your absence&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Hold! you know the hard command,<br />
+I must obey: You only can withstand<br />
+Your own mishap. I beg you, on my knee,<br />
+Be not unhappy by your own decree.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Speak, madam; by (if that be yet an oath)<br />
+Your love, I'm pleased we should be ruined both.<br />
+Both is a sound of joy.<br />
+In death's dark bowers our bridals we will keep;<br />
+And his cold hand<br />
+Shall draw the curtain, when we go to sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Know then, that man, whom both of us did trust,<br />
+Has been to you unkind, to me unjust.<br />
+The guardian of my faith so false did prove,<br />
+As to solicit me with lawless love:<br />
+Prayed, promised, threatened, all that man could do;<br />
+Base as he's great; and need I tell you who?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Yes; for I'll not believe my father meant:<br />
+Speak quickly, and my impious thoughts prevent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> You've said; I wish I could some other name!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> My duty must excuse me, sir, from blame.<br />
+A guard there!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Guards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Slave, for me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> My orders are<br />
+To seize this princess, whom the laws of war<br />
+Long since made prisoner.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_205" name="page_205"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Villain!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Sir, I know<br />
+Your birth, nor durst another call me so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I have redeemed her; and, as mine, she's free.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> You may have right to give her liberty;<br />
+But with your father, sir, that right dispute;<br />
+For his commands to me were absolute,<br />
+If she disclosed his love, to use the right<br />
+Of war, and to secure her from your sight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I'll rescue her, or die.<span class="sdr">[Draws.</span><br />
+And you, my friends, though few, are yet too brave,<br />
+To see your general's mistress made a slave.<span class="sdr">[All draw.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Hold, my dear love! if so much power there lies,<br />
+As once you owned, in Indamora's eyes,<br />
+Lose not the honour you have early won,<br />
+But stand the blameless pattern of a son.<br />
+My love your claim inviolate secures;<br />
+'Tis writ in fate, I can be only yours.<br />
+My sufferings for you make your heart my due;<br />
+Be worthy me, as I am worthy you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I've thought, and blessed be you who gave me time;
+<span class="sdr">[Putting up his Sword.</span><br />
+My virtue was surprised into a crime.<br />
+Strong virtue, like strong nature, struggles still;<br />
+Exerts itself, and then throws off the ill.<br />
+I to a son's and lover's praise aspire,<br />
+And must fulfil the parts which both require.<br />
+How dear the cure of jealousy has cost!<br />
+With too much care and tenderness you're lost.<br />
+So the fond youth from hell redeemed his prize,<br />
+Till, looking back, she vanished from his eyes!
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally.</span></p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_206" name="page_206"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT II. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Betwixt the Acts, a warlike Tune is played, shooting
+of Guns and shouts of Soldiers are heard, as in
+an Assault.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe, Arimant, Asaph Chan, Fazel
+Chan,</span> and <span class="cnm">Solyman.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> What man could do, was by Morat performed;<br />
+The fortress thrice himself in person stormed.<br />
+Your valour bravely did the assault sustain,<br />
+And filled the moats and ditches with the slain;<br />
+'Till, mad with rage, into the breach he fired,<br />
+Slew friends and foes, and in the smoke retired.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> To us you give what praises are not due;<br />
+Morat was thrice repulsed, but thrice by you.<br />
+High, over all, was your great conduct shown;<br />
+You sought our safety, but forgot your own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asaph.</span> Their standard, planted on the battlement,<br />
+Despair and death among the soldiers sent;<br />
+You the bold Omrah tumbled from the wall,<br />
+And shouts of victory pursued his fall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Fazel.</span> To you alone we owe this prosperous day;<br />
+Our wives and children rescued from the prey:<br />
+Know your own interest, sir; where'er you lead,<br />
+We jointly vow to own no other head.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Solym.</span> Your wrongs are known. Impose but your commands,<br />
+This hour shall bring you twenty thousand hands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Let them, who truly would appear my friends,<br />
+Employ their swords, like mine, for noble ends.<br />
+No more: Remember you have bravely done;<br />
+Shall treason end what loyalty begun?<br />
+I own no wrongs; some grievance I confess;<br />
+But kings, like gods, at their own time redress.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_207" name="page_207"></a>
+Yet, some becoming boldness I may use;<br />
+I've well deserved, nor will he now refuse.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+I'll strike my fortunes with him at a heat,<br />
+And give him not the leisure to forget.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit, attended by the Omrahs.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Oh! Indamora, hide these fatal eyes!<br />
+Too deep they wound whom they too soon surprise;<br />
+My virtue, prudence, honour, interest, all<br />
+Before this universal monarch fall.<br />
+Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray;<br />
+Who can tread sure on the smooth slippery way?<br />
+Pleased with the passage, we slide swiftly on,<br />
+And see the dangers which we cannot shun.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To him <span class="cnm">Indamora.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> I hope my liberty may reach thus far;<br />
+These terrace walks within my limits are.<br />
+I came to seek you, and to let you know,<br />
+How much I to your generous pity owe.<br />
+The king, when he designed you for my guard,<br />
+Resolved he would not make my bondage hard:<br />
+If otherwise, you have deceived his end;<br />
+And whom he meant a guardian, made a friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> A guardian's title I must own with shame;<br />
+But should be prouder of another name.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> And therefore 'twas I changed that name before;<br />
+I called you friend, and could you wish for more?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> I dare not ask for what you would not grant.<br />
+But wishes, madam, are extravagant;<br />
+They are not bounded with things possible:<br />
+I may wish more than I presume to tell.<br />
+Desire's the vast extent of human mind;<br />
+It mounts above, and leaves poor hope behind.<br />
+I could wish&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> What?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_208" name="page_208"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Why did you speak? you've dashed my fancy quite,<br />
+Even in the approaching minute of delight.<br />
+I must take breath,<br />
+Ere I the rapture of my wish renew,<br />
+And tell you then,&mdash;it terminates in you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Have you considered what the event would be?<br />
+Or know you, Arimant, yourself, or me?<br />
+Were I no queen, did you my beauty weigh,<br />
+My youth in bloom, your age in its decay?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> I, my own judge, condemned myself before;<br />
+For pity aggravate my crime no more!<br />
+So weak I am, I with a frown am slain;<br />
+You need have used but half so much disdain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> I am not cruel yet to that degree;<br />
+Have better thoughts both of yourself and me.<br />
+Beauty a monarch is,<br />
+Which kingly power magnificently proves,<br />
+By crowds of slaves, and peopled empire loves:<br />
+And such a slave as you what queen would lose?<br />
+Above the rest, I Arimant would chuse,<br />
+For counsel, valour, truth, and kindness too;<br />
+All I could wish in man, I find in you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> What lover could to greater joy be raised?<br />
+I am, methinks, a god, by you thus praised.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> To what may not desert like yours pretend?<br />
+You have all qualities, that fit a friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> So mariners mistake the promised coast;<br />
+And, with full sails, on the blind rocks are lost.<br />
+Think you my aged veins so faintly beat,<br />
+They rise no higher than to friendship's heat?<br />
+So weak your charms, that, like a winter's night,<br />
+Twinkling with stars, they freeze me, while they light?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Mistake me not, good Arimant; I know<br />
+My beauty's power, and what my charms can do.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_209" name="page_209"></a>
+You your own talent have not learned so well;<br />
+But practise one, where you can ne'er excel.<br />
+You can, at most,<br />
+To an indifferent lover's praise pretend;<br />
+But you would spoil an admirable friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Never was amity so highly prized,<br />
+Nor ever any love so much despised.<br />
+Even to myself ridiculous I grow,<br />
+And would be angry, if I knew but how.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Do not. Your anger, like your love, is vain;<br />
+Whene'er I please, you must be pleased again.<br />
+Knowing what power I have your will to bend,<br />
+I'll use it; for I need just such a friend.<br />
+You must perform, not what you think is fit;<br />
+But to whatever I propose submit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Madam, you have a strange ascendant gained;<br />
+You use me like a courser, spurred and reined:<br />
+If I fly out, my fierceness you command,<br />
+Then sooth, and gently stroke me with your hand.<br />
+Impose; but use your power of taxing well;<br />
+When subjects cannot pay, they soon rebel.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter the Emperor, unseen by them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> My rebel's punishment would easy prove;<br />
+You know you're in my power, by making love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Would I, without dispute, your will obey,<br />
+And could you, in return, my life betray?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> What danger, Arimant, is this you fear?<br />
+Or what love-secret, which I must not hear?<br />
+These altered looks some inward motion show:<br />
+His cheeks are pale, and yours with blushes glow.<span class="sdr">[To her.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> 'Tis what, with justice, may my anger move;<br />
+He has been bold, and talked to me of love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> I am betrayed, and shall be doomed to die.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Did he, my slave, presume to look so high?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_210" name="page_210"></a>
+That crawling insect, who from mud began,<br />
+Warmed by my beams, and kindled into man?<br />
+Durst he, who does but for my pleasure live,<br />
+Intrench on love, my great prerogative?<br />
+Print his base image on his sovereign's coin?<br />
+'Tis treason if he stamp his love with mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> 'Tis true, I have been bold, but if it be<br />
+A crime&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> He means, 'tis only so to me.<br />
+You, sir, should praise, what I must disapprove.<br />
+He insolently talked to me of love;<br />
+But, sir, 'twas yours, he made it in your name;<br />
+You, if you please, may all he said disclaim.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> I must disclaim whate'er he can express;<br />
+His groveling sense will show my passion less:<br />
+But stay,&mdash;if what he said my message be,<br />
+What fear, what danger, could arrive from me?<br />
+He said, he feared you would his life betray.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Should he presume again, perhaps I may.<br />
+Though in your hands he hazard not his life,<br />
+Remember, sir, your fury of a wife;<br />
+Who, not content to be revenged on you,<br />
+The agents of your passion will pursue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> If I but hear her named, I'm sick that day;<br />
+The sound is mortal, and frights life away.&mdash;<br />
+Forgive me, Arimant, my jealous thought:<br />
+Distrust in lovers is the tenderest fault.<br />
+Leave me, and tell thyself, in my excuse,<br />
+Love, and a crown, no rivalship can bear;<br />
+And precious things are still possessed with fear.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Arimant,</span> bowing.</span><br />
+This, madam, my excuse to you may plead;<br />
+Love should forgive the faults, which love has made.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> From me, what pardon can you hope to have,<br />
+Robbed of my love, and treated as a slave?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Force is the last relief which lovers find;<br />
+And 'tis the best excuse of woman-kind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_211" name="page_211"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Force never yet a generous heart did gain;<br />
+We yield on parley, but are stormed in vain.<br />
+Constraint in all things makes the pleasure less;<br />
+Sweet is the love which comes with willingness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> No; 'tis resistance that inflames desire,<br />
+Sharpens the darts of love, and blows his fire.<br />
+Love is disarmed, that meets with too much ease;<br />
+He languishes, and does not care to please:<br />
+And therefore 'tis, your golden fruit you guard<br />
+With so much care,&mdash;to make possession hard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Was't not enough, you took my crown away,<br />
+But cruelly you must my love betray?<br />
+I was well pleased to have transferred my right,<br />
+And better changed your claim of lawless might,<br />
+By taking him, whom you esteemed above<br />
+Your other sons, and taught me first to love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> My son by my command his course must steer:<br />
+I bade him love, I bid him now forbear.<br />
+If you have any kindness for him still,<br />
+Advise him not to shock a father's will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Must I advise?<br />
+Then let me see him, and I'll try to obey.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> I had forgot, and dare not trust your way.<br />
+But send him word,<br />
+He has not here an army to command:<br />
+Remember, he and you are in my hand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Yes, in a father's hand, whom he has served,<br />
+And, with the hazard of his life, preserved.<br />
+But piety to you, unhappy prince,<br />
+Becomes a crime, and duty an offence;<br />
+Against yourself you with your foes combine,<br />
+And seem your own destruction to design.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> You may be pleased your politics to spare;<br />
+I'm old enough, and can myself take care.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Advice from me was, I confess, too bold:<br />
+You're old enough; it may be, sir, too old.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_212" name="page_212"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Emp.</span> You please yourself with your contempt of age;<br />
+But love, neglected, will convert to rage.<br />
+If on your head my fury does not turn,<br />
+Thank that fond dotage which so much you scorn;<br />
+But, in another's person, you may prove,<br />
+There's warmth for vengeance left, though not for love.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Arimant.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> The empress has the antichambers past,<br />
+And this way moves with a disordered haste:<br />
+Her brows the stormy marks of anger bear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Madam, retire; she must not find you here.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Indamora</span> with <span class="cnm">Arimant.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Nourmahal</span> hastily.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> What have I done, that Nourmahal must prove<br />
+The scorn and triumph of a rival's love?<br />
+My eyes are still the same; each glance, each grace,<br />
+Keep their first lustre, and maintain their place;<br />
+Not second yet to any other face.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> What rage transports you? Are you well awake?<br />
+Such dreams distracted minds in fevers make.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Those fevers you have given, those dreams have bred,<br />
+By broken faith, and an abandoned bed.<br />
+Such visions hourly pass before my sight,<br />
+Which from my eyes their balmy slumbers fright,<br />
+In the severest silence of the night;<br />
+Visions, which in this citadel are seen,&mdash;<br />
+Bright glorious visions of a rival queen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Have patience,&mdash;my first flames can ne'er decay;<br />
+These are but dreams, and soon will pass away;<br />
+Thou know'st, my heart, my empire, all is thine.<br />
+In thy own heaven of love serenely shine;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_213" name="page_213"></a>
+Fair as the face of nature did appear,<br />
+When flowers first peep'd, and trees did blossoms bear,<br />
+And winter had not yet deformed the inverted year;<br />
+Calm as the breath which fans our eastern groves,<br />
+And bright as when thy eyes first lighted up our loves.<br />
+Let our eternal peace be sealed by this,<br />
+With the first ardour of a nuptial kiss.<span class="sdr">[Offers to kiss her.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Me would you have,&mdash;me your faint kisses prove,<br />
+The dregs and droppings of enervate love?<br />
+Must I your cold long-labouring age sustain,<br />
+And be to empty joys provoked in vain?<br />
+Receive you, sighing after other charms,<br />
+And take an absent husband in my arms?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Even these reproaches I can bear from you;<br />
+You doubted of my love, believe it true:<br />
+Nothing but love this patience could produce,<br />
+And I allow your rage that kind excuse.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Call it not patience; 'tis your guilt stands mute;<br />
+You have a cause too foul to bear dispute.<br />
+You wrong me first, and urge my rage to rise:<br />
+Then I must pass for mad; you, meek and wise.<br />
+Good man! plead merit by your soft replies.<br />
+Vain privilege poor women have of tongue;<br />
+Men can stand silent, and resolve on wrong.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> What can I more? my friendship you refuse.<br />
+And even my mildness, as my crime, accuse.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Your sullen silence cheats not me, false man;<br />
+I know you think the bloodiest things you can.<br />
+Could you accuse me, you would raise your voice,<br />
+Watch for my crimes, and in my guilt rejoice:<br />
+But my known virtue is from scandal free,<br />
+And leaves no shadow for your calumny.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Such virtue is the plague of human life;<br />
+A virtuous woman, but a cursed wife.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_214" name="page_214"></a>
+In vain of pompous chastity you're proud;<br />
+Virtue's adultery of the tongue, when loud.<br />
+I, with less pain, a prostitute could bear,<br />
+Than the shrill sound of&mdash;"<i>Virtue! virtue!</i>" hear.<br />
+In unchaste wives<br />
+There's yet a kind of recompensing ease;<br />
+Vice keeps them humble, gives them care to please;<br />
+But against clamorous virtue, what defence?<br />
+It stops our mouths, and gives your noise pretence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Since virtue does your indignation raise,<br />
+'Tis pity but you had that wife you praise:<br />
+Your own wild appetites are prone to range,<br />
+And then you tax our humours with your change.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> What can be sweeter than our native home?<br />
+Thither for ease and soft repose we come:<br />
+Home is the sacred refuge of our life;<br />
+Secured from all approaches, but a wife.<br />
+If thence we fly, the cause admits no doubt;<br />
+None but an inmate foe could force us out:<br />
+Clamours our privacies uneasy make;<br />
+Birds leave their nests disturbed, and beasts their haunts forsake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Honour's my crime, that has your loathing bred;<br />
+You take no pleasure in a virtuous bed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> What pleasure can there be in that estate,<br />
+Which your unquietness has made me hate?<br />
+I shrink far off,<br />
+Dissembling sleep, but wakeful with the fright;<br />
+The day takes off the pleasure of the night.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> My thoughts no other joys but power pursue;<br />
+Or, if they did, they must be lost in you.<br />
+And yet the fault's not mine,<br />
+Though youth and beauty cannot warmth command;<br />
+The sun in vain shines on the barren sand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_215" name="page_215"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Emp.</span> 'Tis true, of marriage-bands I'm weary grown;<br />
+Love scorns all ties, but those that are his own.<br />
+Chains, that are dragged, must needs uneasy prove,<br />
+For there's a godlike liberty in love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> What's love to you?<br />
+The bloom of beauty other years demands,<br />
+Nor will be gathered by such withered hands:<br />
+You importune it with a false desire,<br />
+Which sparkles out, and makes no solid fire.<br />
+This impudence of age, whence can it spring?<br />
+All you expect, and yet you nothing bring:<br />
+Eager to ask, when you are past a grant;<br />
+Nice in providing what you cannot want.<br />
+Have conscience; give not her you love this pain;<br />
+Solicit not yourself and her in vain:<br />
+All other debts may compensation find;<br />
+But love is strict, and will be paid in kind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Sure, of all ills, domestic are the worst;<br />
+When most secure of blessings, we are curst.<br />
+When we lay next us what we hold most dear,<br />
+Like Hercules, envenomed shirts we wear,<br />
+And cleaving mischiefs.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> What you merit, have;<br />
+And share, at least, the miseries you gave.<br />
+Your days I will alarm, I'll haunt your nights.<br />
+And, worse than age, disable your delights.<br />
+May your sick fame still languish till it die,<br />
+All offices of power neglected lie,<br />
+And you grow cheap in every subject's eye!<br />
+Then, as the greatest curse that I can give,<br />
+Unpitied be deposed, and, after, live!<span class="sdr">[Going off.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Stay, and now learn,<br />
+How criminal soe'er we husbands are,<br />
+'Tis not for wives to push our crimes too far.<br />
+Had you still mistress of your temper been,<br />
+I had been modest, and not owned my sin.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_216" name="page_216"></a>
+Your fury hardens me; and whate'er wrong<br />
+You suffer, you have cancelled by your tongue.<br />
+A guard there!&mdash;Seize her; she shall know this hour,<br />
+What is a husband's and a monarch's power.<span class="sdr">[Guard seizes her.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> I see for whom your charter you maintain;<br />
+I must be fettered, and my son be slain,<br />
+That Zelyma's ambitious race may reign.<br />
+Not so you promised, when my beauty drew<br />
+All Asia's vows; when, Persia left for you,<br />
+The realm of Candahar for dower I brought;<br />
+That long-contended prize for which you fought.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> The name of stepmother, your practised art,<br />
+By which you have estranged my father's heart,<br />
+All you have done against me, or design,<br />
+Shows your aversion, but begets not mine.<br />
+Long may my father India's empire guide,<br />
+And may no breach your nuptial vows divide!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Since love obliges not, I from this hour<br />
+Assume the right of man's despotic power;<br />
+Man is by nature formed your sex's head,<br />
+And is himself the canon of his bed:<br />
+In bands of iron fettered you shall be,&mdash;<br />
+An easier yoke than what you put on me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Though much I fear my interest is not great,<br />
+Let me your royal clemency intreat.<span class="sdr">[Kneeling.</span><br />
+Secrets of marriage still are sacred held;<br />
+Their sweet and bitter by the wise concealed.<br />
+Errors of wives reflect on husbands still,<br />
+And, when divulged, proclaim you've chosen ill;<br />
+And the mysterious power of bed and throne<br />
+Should always be maintained, but rarely shown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> To so perverse a sex all grace is vain;<br />
+It gives them courage to offend again:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_217" name="page_217"></a>
+For with feigned tears they penitence pretend,<br />
+Again are pardoned, and again offend;<br />
+Fathom our pity when they seem to grieve,<br />
+Only to try how far we can forgive;<br />
+Till, launching out into a sea of strife,<br />
+They scorn all pardon, and appear all wife.<br />
+But be it as you please; for your loved sake,<br />
+This last and fruitless trial I will make:<br />
+In all requests your right of merit use;<br />
+And know, there is but one I can refuse.
+<span class="sdr">[He signs to the Guards, and they remove from
+the Empress.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> You've done enough, for you designed my chains;<br />
+The grace is vanished, but the affront remains.<br />
+Nor is't a grace, or for his merit done;<br />
+You durst no farther, for you feared my son.<br />
+This you have gained by the rough course you prove;<br />
+I'm past repentance, and you past my love.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> A spirit so untamed the world ne'er bore.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> And yet worse usage had incensed her more.<br />
+But since by no obligement she is tied,<br />
+You must betimes for your defence provide.<br />
+I cannot idle in your danger stand,<br />
+But beg once more I may your arms command:<br />
+Two battles your auspicious cause has won;<br />
+My sword can perfect what it has begun,<br />
+And from your walls dislodge that haughty son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> My son, your valour has this day been such,<br />
+None can enough admire, or praise too much:<br />
+But now, with reason, your success I doubt;<br />
+Her faction's strong within, his arms without.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I left the city in a panic fright;<br />
+Lions they are in council, lambs in fight.<br />
+But my own troops, by Mirzah led, are near;<br />
+I, by to-morrow's dawn, expect them here:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_218" name="page_218"></a>
+To favour them, I'll sally out ere day,<br />
+And through our slaughtered foes enlarge their way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Age has not yet<br />
+So shrunk my sinews, or so chilled my veins,<br />
+But conscious virtue in my breast remains:<br />
+But had I now<br />
+That strength, with which my boiling youth was fraught,<br />
+When in the vale of Balasor I fought,<br />
+And from Bengal their captive monarch brought;<br />
+When elephant 'gainst elephant did rear<br />
+His trunk, and castles jostled in the air;<br />
+My sword thy way to victory had shown,<br />
+And owed the conquest to itself alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Those fair ideas to my aid I'll call,<br />
+And emulate my great original;<br />
+Or, if they fail, I will invoke, in arms,<br />
+The power of love, and Indamora's charms.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> I doubt the happy influence of your star;<br />
+To invoke a captive's name bodes ill in war.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Sir, give me leave to say, whatever now<br />
+The omen prove, it boded well to you.<br />
+Your royal promise, when I went to fight,<br />
+Obliged me to resign a victor's right:<br />
+Her liberty I fought for, and I won,<br />
+And claim it, as your general, and your son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> My ears still ring with noise; I'm vexed to death,<br />
+Tongue-killed, and have not yet recovered breath;<br />
+Nor will I be prescribed my time by you.<br />
+First end the war, and then your claim renew;<br />
+While to your conduct I my fortune trust,<br />
+To keep this pledge of duty is but just.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Some hidden cause your jealousy does move,<br />
+Or you could ne'er suspect my loyal love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> What love soever by an heir is shown,<br />
+He waits but time to step into the throne;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_219" name="page_219"></a>
+You're neither justified, nor yet accused;<br />
+Meanwhile, the prisoner with respect is used.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I know the kindness of her guardian such,<br />
+I need not fear too little, but too much.<br />
+But, how, sir, how have you from virtue swerved?<br />
+Or what so ill return have I deserved?<br />
+You doubt not me, nor have I spent my blood,<br />
+To have my faith no better understood:<br />
+Your soul's above the baseness of distrust:<br />
+Nothing but love could make you so unjust.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> You know your rival then; and know 'tis fit,<br />
+The son should to the father's claim submit.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Sons may have rights which they can never quit.<br />
+Yourself first made that title which I claim:<br />
+First bade me love, and authorised my flame.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> The value of my gift I did not know:<br />
+If I could give, I can resume it too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Recall your gift, for I your power confess.<br />
+But first take back my life, a gift that's less.<br />
+Long life would now but a long burthen prove:<br />
+You're grown unkind, and I have lost your love.<br />
+My grief lets unbecoming speeches fall:<br />
+I should have died, and not complained at all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Witness, ye powers,<br />
+How much I suffered, and how long I strove<br />
+Against the assaults of this imperious love!<br />
+I represented to myself the shame<br />
+Of perjured faith, and violated fame;<br />
+Your great deserts, how ill they were repaid;<br />
+All arguments, in vain, I urged and weighed:<br />
+For mighty love, who prudence does despise,<br />
+For reason showed me Indamora's eyes.<br />
+What would you more? my crime I sadly view,<br />
+Acknowledge, am ashamed, and yet pursue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_220" name="page_220"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Since you can love, and yet your error see,<br />
+The same resistless power may plead for me.<br />
+With no less ardour I my claim pursue:<br />
+I love, and cannot yield her even to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Your elder brothers, though o'ercome, have right:<br />
+The youngest yet in arms prepared to fight.<br />
+But, yielding her, I firmly have decreed,<br />
+That you alone to empire shall succeed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> To after-ages let me stand a shame,<br />
+When I exchange for crowns my love or fame!<br />
+You might have found a mercenary son,<br />
+To profit of the battles he had won.<br />
+Had I been such, what hindered me to take<br />
+The crown? nor had the exchange been yours to make.<br />
+While you are living, I no right pretend;<br />
+Wear it, and let it where you please descend.<br />
+But from my love, 'tis sacrilege to part:<br />
+There, there's my throne, in Indamora's heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> 'Tis in her heart alone that you must reign:<br />
+You'll find her person difficult to gain.<br />
+Give willingly what I can take by force:<br />
+And know, obedience is your safest course.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I'm taught, by honour's precepts, to obey:<br />
+Fear to obedience is a slavish way.<br />
+If aught my want of duty could beget,<br />
+You take the most prevailing means, to threat.<br />
+Pardon your blood, that boils within my veins;<br />
+It rises high, and menacing disdains.<br />
+Even death's become to me no dreadful name:<br />
+I've often met him, and have made him tame:<br />
+In fighting fields, where our acquaintance grew,<br />
+I saw him, and contemned him first for you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Of formal duty make no more thy boast:<br />
+Thou disobey'st where it concerns me most.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_221" name="page_221"></a>
+Fool! with both hands thus to push back a crown,<br />
+And headlong cast thyself from empire down!<br />
+Though Nourmahal I hate, her son shall reign:<br />
+Inglorious thou, by thy own fault, remain.<br />
+Thy younger brother I'll admit this hour:<br />
+So mine shall be thy mistress, his thy power.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> How vain is virtue, which directs our ways<br />
+Through certain danger to uncertain praise!<br />
+Barren, and airy name! thee fortune flies,<br />
+With thy lean train, the pious and the wise.<br />
+Heaven takes thee at thy word, without regard,<br />
+And lets thee poorly be thy own reward.<br />
+The world is made for the bold impious man,<br />
+Who stops at nothing, seizes all he can.<br />
+Justice to merit does weak aid afford;<br />
+She trusts her balance, and neglects her sword.<br />
+Virtue is nice to take what's not her own;<br />
+And, while she long consults, the prize is gone.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To him <span class="cnm">Dianet.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dia.</span> Forgive the bearer of unhappy news:<br />
+Your altered father openly pursues<br />
+Your ruin; and, to compass his intent,<br />
+For violent Morat in haste has sent.<br />
+The gates he ordered all to be unbarred,<br />
+And from the market-place to draw the guard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> How look the people in this turn of state?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dia.</span> They mourn your ruin as their proper fate;<br />
+Cursing the empress: For they think it done<br />
+By her procurement, to advance her son.<br />
+Him too, though awed, they scarcely can forbear:<br />
+His pride they hate, his violence they fear.<br />
+All bent to rise, would you appear their chief,<br />
+Till your own troops come up to your relief.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Ill treated, and forsaken, as I am,<br />
+I'll not betray the glory of my name:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_222" name="page_222"></a>
+'Tis not for me, who have preserved a state,<br />
+To buy an empire at so base a rate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dia.</span> The points of honour poets may produce;<br />
+Trappings of life, for ornament, not use:<br />
+Honour, which only does the name advance,<br />
+Is the mere raving madness of romance.<br />
+Pleased with a word, you may sit tamely down;<br />
+And see your younger brother force the crown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I know my fortune in extremes does lie;<br />
+The sons of Indostan must reign, or die;<br />
+That desperate hazard courage does create,<br />
+As he plays frankly, who has least estate;<br />
+And that the world the coward will despise,<br />
+When life's a blank, who pulls not for a prize.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dia.</span> Of all your knowledge, this vain fruit you have,<br />
+To walk with eyes broad open to your grave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> From what I've said, conclude, without reply,<br />
+I neither would usurp, nor tamely die.<br />
+The attempt to fly, would guilt betray, or fear:<br />
+Besides, 'twere vain; the fort's our prison here.<br />
+Somewhat I have resolved.<br />
+Morat, perhaps, has honour in his breast;<br />
+And, in extremes, both counsels are the best.<br />
+Like emp'ric remedies, they last are tried,<br />
+And by the event condemned, or justified.<br />
+Presence of mind, and courage in distress,<br />
+Are more than armies, to procure success.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_223" name="page_223"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT III. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Arimant,</span> with a letter in his hand: <span class="cnm">Indamora.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> And I the messenger to him from you?<br />
+Your empire you to tyranny pursue:<br />
+You lay commands, both cruel and unjust,<br />
+To serve my rival, and betray my trust.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> You first betrayed your trust, in loving me;<br />
+And should not I my own advantage see?<br />
+Serving my love, you may my friendship gain;<br />
+You know the rest of your pretences vain.<br />
+You must, my Arimant, you must be kind:<br />
+'Tis in your nature, and your noble mind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> I'll to the king, and straight my trust resign.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> His trust you may, but you shall never mine.<br />
+Heaven made you love me for no other end,<br />
+But to become my confidant and friend:<br />
+As such, I keep no secret from your sight,<br />
+And therefore make you judge how ill I write:<br />
+Read it, and tell me freely then your mind;<br />
+If 'tis indited, as I meant it, kind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> <i>I ask not heaven my freedom to restore,</i>
+<span class="sdr">[Reading.</span><br />
+<i>But only for your sake</i>&mdash;I'll read no more:<br />
+And yet I must&mdash;<br />
+<i>Less for my own, than for your sorrow sad</i>&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Reading.</span><br />
+Another line, like this, would make me mad&mdash;<br />
+Heaven! she goes on&mdash;yet more&mdash;and yet more kind!<span class="sdr">[As reading.</span><br />
+Each sentence is a dagger to my mind.<br />
+<i>See me this night</i>&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Reading.</span><br />
+<i>Thank fortune, who did such a friend provide,<br />
+For faithful Arimant shall be your guide.</i><br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_224" name="page_224"></a>
+Not only to be made an instrument,<br />
+But pre-engaged without my own consent!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Unknown to engage you still augments my score,<br />
+And gives you scope of meriting the more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> The best of men<br />
+Some interest in their actions must confess;<br />
+None merit, but in hope they may possess.<br />
+The fatal paper rather let me tear,<br />
+Than, like Bellerophon, my own sentence bear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> You may; but 'twill not be your best advice:<br />
+'Twill only give me pains of writing twice.<br />
+You know you must obey me, soon or late:<br />
+Why should you vainly struggle with your fate?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> I thank thee, heaven, thou hast been wondrous kind!<br />
+Why am I thus to slavery designed,<br />
+And yet am cheated with a freeborn mind?<br />
+Or make thy orders with my reason suit,<br />
+Or let me live by sense a glorious brute&mdash;<span class="sdr">[She frowns.</span><br />
+You frown, and I obey with speed, before<br />
+That dreadful sentence comes, <i>See me no more:</i><br />
+See me no more! that sound, methinks, I hear<br />
+Like the last trumpet thundering in my ear.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Solyman.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Solym.</span> The princess Melesinda, bathed in tears,<br />
+And tossed alternately with hopes and fears,<br />
+If your affairs such leisure can afford,<br />
+Would learn from you the fortunes of her lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Tell her, that I some certainty may bring,<br />
+I go this minute to attend the king.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> This lonely turtle I desire to see:<br />
+Grief, though not cured, is eased by company.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_225" name="page_225"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Arim.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Solym.</span></span>]<br />
+Say, if she please, she hither may repair,<br />
+And breathe the freshness of the open air.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Solym.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Poor princess! how I pity her estate,<br />
+Wrapt in the ruins of her husband's fate!<br />
+She mourned Morat should in rebellion rise;<br />
+Yet he offends, and she's the sacrifice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Not knowing his design, at court she staid;<br />
+'Till, by command, close prisoner she was made.<br />
+Since when,<br />
+Her chains with Roman constancy she bore,<br />
+But that, perhaps, an Indian wife's is more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Go, bring her comfort; leave me here alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> My love must still he in obedience shown.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Arim.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Melesinda,</span> led by <span class="cnm">Solyman,</span> who retires
+afterwards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> When graceful sorrow in her pomp appears,<br />
+Sure she is dressed in Melesinda's tears.<br />
+Your head reclined, (as hiding grief from view)<br />
+Droops, like a rose, surcharged with morning dew.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Can flowers but droop in absence of the sun,<br />
+Which waked their sweets? And mine, alas! is gone.<br />
+But you the noblest charity express:<br />
+For they, who shine in courts, still shun distress.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Distressed myself, like you, confined, I live:<br />
+And, therefore, can compassion take and give.<br />
+We're both love's captives, but with fate so cross,<br />
+One must be happy by the other's loss.<br />
+Morat, or Aureng-Zebe, must fall this day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Too truly Tamerlane's successors they;<br />
+Each thinks a world too little for his sway.<br />
+Could you and I the same pretences bring,<br />
+Mankind should with more ease receive a king:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_226" name="page_226"></a>
+I would to you the narrow world resign,<br />
+And want no empire while Morat was mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Wished freedom, I presage, you soon will find;<br />
+If heaven be just, and be to virtue kind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Quite otherwise my mind foretels my fate:<br />
+Short is my life, and that unfortunate.<br />
+Yet should I not complain, would heaven afford<br />
+Some little time, ere death, to see my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> These thoughts are but your melancholy's food;<br />
+Raised from a lonely life, and dark abode:<br />
+But whatsoe'er our jarring fortunes prove,<br />
+Though our lords hate, methinks we two may love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Such be our loves as may not yield to fate;<br />
+I bring a heart more true than fortunate.<span class="sdr">[Giving their hands.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them, <span class="cnm">Arimant.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> I come with haste surprising news to bring:<br />
+In two hours time, since last I saw the king,<br />
+The affairs of court have wholly changed their face:<br />
+Unhappy Aureng-Zebe is in disgrace;<br />
+And your Morat, proclaimed the successor,<br />
+Is called, to awe the city with his power.<br />
+Those trumpets his triumphant entry tell,<br />
+And now the shouts waft near the citadel.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> See, madam, see the event by me foreshown:<br />
+I envy not your chance, but grieve my own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> A change so unexpected must surprise:<br />
+And more, because I am unused to joys.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> May all your wishes ever prosperous be!<br />
+But I'm too much concerned the event to see.<br />
+My eyes too tender are,<br />
+To view my lord become the public scorn.&mdash;<br />
+I came to comfort, and I go to mourn.<span class="sdr">[Taking her leave.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Stay, I'll not see my lord,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_227" name="page_227"></a>
+Before I give your sorrow some relief;<br />
+And pay the charity you lent my grief.<br />
+Here he shall see me first, with you confined;<br />
+And, if your virtue fail to move his mind,<br />
+I'll use my interest that he may be kind.<br />
+Fear not, I never moved him yet in vain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> So fair a pleader any cause may gain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I have no taste, methinks, of coming joy;<br />
+For black presages all my hopes destroy.<br />
+"Die!" something whispers,&mdash;"Melesinda, die!<br />
+Fulfil, fulfil, thy mournful destiny!"&mdash;<br />
+Mine is a gleam of bliss, too hot to last;<br />
+Watry it shines, and will be soon o'ercast.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Ind.</span> and <span class="cnm">Mel.</span> retire.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Fortune seems weary grown of Aureng-Zebe,<br />
+While to her new-made favourite Morat,<br />
+Her lavish hand is wastefully profuse:<br />
+With fame and flowing honours tided in,<br />
+Borne on a swelling current smooth beneath him.<br />
+The king, and haughty empress, to our wonder,<br />
+If not atoned, yet seemingly at peace,<br />
+As fate for him that miracle reserved.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter, in triumph, Emperor, <span class="cnm">Morat,</span> and Train.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> I have confessed I love.<br />
+As I interpret fairly your design,<br />
+So look not with severer eyes on mine.<br />
+Your fate has called you to the imperial seat:<br />
+In duty be, as you in arms are, great;<br />
+For Aureng-Zebe a hated name is grown,<br />
+And love less bears a rival than the throne.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> To me, the cries of fighting fields are charms:<br />
+Keen be my sabre, and of proof my arms,<br />
+I ask no other blessing of my stars:<br />
+No prize but fame, nor mistress but the wars.<br />
+I scarce am pleased I tamely mount the throne:&mdash;<br />
+Would Aureng-Zebe had all their souls in one!<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_228" name="page_228"></a>
+With all my elder brothers I would fight,<br />
+And so from partial nature force my right.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Had we but lasting youth, and time to spare,<br />
+Some might be thrown away on fame and war;<br />
+But youth, the perishing good, runs on too fast,<br />
+And, unenjoyed, will spend itself to waste;<br />
+Few know the use of life before 'tis past.<br />
+Had I once more thy vigour to command,<br />
+I would not let it die upon my hand:<br />
+No hour of pleasure should pass empty by;<br />
+Youth should watch joys, and shoot them as they fly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Methinks, all pleasure is in greatness found.<br />
+Kings, like heaven's eye, should spread their beams around,<br />
+Pleased to be seen, while glory's race they run:<br />
+Rest is not for the chariot of the sun.<br />
+Subjects are stiff-necked animals; they soon<br />
+Feel slackened reins, and pitch their rider down.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> To thee that drudgery of power I give:<br />
+Cares be thy lot: Reign thou, and let me live.<br />
+The fort I'll keep for my security;<br />
+Business and public state resign to thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Luxurious kings are to their people lost:<br />
+They live, like drones, upon the public cost.<br />
+My arms from pole to pole the world shall shake,<br />
+And, with myself, keep all mankind awake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Believe me, son, and needless trouble spare;<br />
+'Tis a base world, and is not worth our care:<br />
+The vulgar, a scarce animated clod,<br />
+Ne'er pleased with aught above them, prince or God.<br />
+Were I a God, the drunken globe should roll,<br />
+The little emmetts with the human soul<br />
+Care for themselves, while at my ease I sat,<br />
+And second causes did the work of fate;<br />
+Or, if I would take care, that care should be<br />
+For wit that scorned the world, and lived like me.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_229" name="page_229"></a>
+To them, <span class="cnm">Nourmahal, Zayda,</span> and Attendants.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> My dear Morat,<span class="sdr">[Embracing her son.</span><br />
+This day propitious to us all has been:<br />
+You're now a monarch's heir, and I a queen.<br />
+Your faithful father now may quit the state,<br />
+And find the ease he sought, indulged by fate.<br />
+Cares shall not keep him on the throne awake,<br />
+Nor break the golden slumbers he would take.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> In vain I struggled to the gaol of life,<br />
+While rebel-sons, and an imperious wife,<br />
+Still dragged me backward into noise and strife.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Be that remembrance lost; and be it my pride<br />
+To be your pledge of peace on either side.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them, <span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> With all the assurance innocence can bring,<br />
+Fearless without, because secure within,<br />
+Armed with my courage, unconcerned I see<br />
+This pomp; a shame to you, a pride to me.<br />
+Shame is but where with wickedness 'tis joined;<br />
+And, while no baseness in this breast I find,<br />
+I have not lost the birth-right of my mind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Children, the blind effect of love and chance,<br />
+Formed by their sportive parents' ignorance,<br />
+Bear from their birth the impressions of a slave;<br />
+Whom heaven for play-games first, and then for service gave:<br />
+One then may be displaced, and one may reign,<br />
+And want of merit render birth-right vain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Comes he to upbraid us with his innocence?<br />
+Seize him, and take the preaching Brachman hence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Stay, sir!&mdash;I from my years no merit plead:
+<span class="sdr">[To his Father.</span><br />
+All my designs and acts to duty lead.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_230" name="page_230"></a>
+Your life and glory are my only end;<br />
+And for that prize I with Morat contend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Not him alone: I all mankind defy.<br />
+Who dares adventure more for both than I?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I know you brave, and take you at your word:<br />
+That present service, which you vaunt, afford.<br />
+Our two rebellious brothers are not dead:<br />
+Though vanquished, yet again they gather head.<br />
+I dare you, as your rival in renown,<br />
+March out your army from the imperial town:<br />
+Chuse whom you please, the other leave to me;<br />
+And set our father absolutely free.<br />
+This, if you do, to end all future strife,<br />
+I am content to lead a private life;<br />
+Disband my army, to secure the state,<br />
+Nor aim at more, but leave the rest to fate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> I'll do it.&mdash;Draw out my army on the plain!<br />
+War is to me a pastime, peace a pain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Think better first.&mdash;<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Mor.</span></span><br />
+You see yourself enclosed beyond escape,<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Aur.</span></span><br />
+And, therefore, Proteus-like, you change your shape;<br />
+Of promise prodigal, while power you want,<br />
+And preaching in the self-denying cant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Plot better; for these arts too obvious are,<br />
+Of gaming time, the master-piece of war.<br />
+Is Aureng-Zebe so known?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> If acts like mine,<br />
+So far from interest, profit, or design,<br />
+Can show my heart, by those I would be known:<br />
+I wish you could as well defend your own.<br />
+My absent army for my father fought:<br />
+Yours, in these walls, is to enslave him brought.<br />
+If I come singly, you an armed guest,<br />
+The world with ease may judge whose cause is best.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> My father saw you ill designs pursue;<br />
+And my admission showed his fear of you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_231" name="page_231"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Himself best knows why he his love withdraws:<br />
+I owe him more than to declare the cause.<br />
+But still I press, our duty may be shown<br />
+By arms.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> I'll vanquish all his foes alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> You speak, as if you could the fates command,<br />
+And had no need of any other hand.<br />
+But, since my honour you so far suspect,<br />
+'Tis just I should on your designs reflect.<br />
+To prove yourself a loyal son, declare<br />
+You'll lay down arms when you conclude the war.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> No present answer your demand requires;<br />
+The war once done, I'll do what heaven inspires;<br />
+And while this sword this monarchy secures,<br />
+'Tis managed by an abler arm than yours.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Morat's design a doubtful meaning bears:<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+In Aureng-Zebe true loyalty appears.<br />
+He, for my safety, does his own despise;<br />
+Still, with his wrongs, I find his duty rise.<br />
+I feel my virtue struggling in my soul,<br />
+But stronger passion does its power controul.&mdash;<br />
+Yet be advised your ruin to prevent:<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Aur.</span> aside.</span><br />
+You might be safe, if you would give consent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> So to your welfare I of use may be,<br />
+My life or death are equal both to me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> The people's hearts are yours; the fort yet mine:<br />
+Be wise, and Indamora's love resign.<br />
+I am observed: Remember, that I give<br />
+This my last proof of kindness&mdash;die, or live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Life, with my Indamora, I would chuse;<br />
+But, losing her, the end of living lose.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_232" name="page_232"></a>
+I had considered all I ought before;<br />
+And fear of death can make me change no more.<br />
+The people's love so little I esteem,<br />
+Condemned by you, I would not live by them.<br />
+May he, who must your favour now possess,<br />
+Much better serve you, and not love you less.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> I've heard you; and, to finish the debate,<span class="sdr">[Aloud.</span><br />
+Commit that rebel prisoner to the state.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> The deadly draught he shall begin this day:<br />
+And languish with insensible decay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I hate the lingering summons to attend;<br />
+Death all at once would be the nobler end.<br />
+Fate is unkind! methinks, a general<br />
+Should warm, and at the head of armies fall;<br />
+And my ambition did that hope pursue,<br />
+That so I might have died in fight for you.<span class="sdr">[To his Father.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Would I had been disposer of thy stars!<br />
+Thou shouldst have had thy wish, and died in wars.<br />
+'Tis I, not thou, have reason to repine,<br />
+That thou shouldst fall by any hand, but mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> When thou wert formed, heaven did a man begin;<br />
+But the brute soul, by chance, was shuffled in.<br />
+In woods and wilds thy monarchy maintain,<br />
+Where valiant beasts, by force and rapine, reign.<br />
+In life's next scene, if transmigration be,<br />
+Some bear, or lion, is reserved for thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Take heed thou com'st not in that lion's way!<br />
+I prophecy, thou wilt thy soul convey<br />
+Into a lamb, and be again my prey.&mdash;<br />
+Hence with that dreaming priest!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Let me prepare<br />
+The poisonous draught: His death shall be my care.<br />
+Near my apartment let him prisoner be,<br />
+That I his hourly ebbs of life may see.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_233" name="page_233"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> My life I would not ransom with a prayer:<br />
+'Tis vile, since 'tis not worth my father's care.<br />
+I go not, sir, indebted to my grave:<br />
+You paid yourself, and took the life you gave.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> O that I had more sense of virtue left,<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+Or were of that, which yet remains, bereft!<br />
+I've just enough to know how I offend,<br />
+And, to my shame, have not enough to mend.<br />
+Lead to the mosque.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Love's pleasures, why should dull devotion stay?<br />
+Heaven to my Melesinda's but the way.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt Emperor, <span class="cnm">Morat,</span> and train.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zayd.</span> Sure Aureng-Zebe has somewhat of divine,<br />
+Whose virtue through so dark a cloud can shine.<br />
+Fortune has from Morat this day removed<br />
+The greatest rival, and the best beloved.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> He is not yet removed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zayd.</span> He lives, 'tis true;<br />
+But soon must die, and, what I mourn, by you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> My Zayda, may thy words prophetic be!
+<span class="sdr">[Embracing her eagerly.</span><br />
+I take the omen; let him die by me!<br />
+He, stifled in my arms, shall lose his breath;<br />
+And life itself shall envious be of death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zayd.</span> Bless me, you powers above!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Why dost thou start?<br />
+Is love so strange? Or have not I a heart?<br />
+Could Aureng-Zebe so lovely seem to thee,<br />
+And I want eyes that noble worth to see?<br />
+Thy little soul was but to wonder moved:<br />
+My sense of it was higher, and I loved.<br />
+That man, that god-like man, so brave, so great&mdash;<br />
+But these are thy small praises I repeat.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_234" name="page_234"></a>
+I'm carried by a tide of love away:<br />
+He's somewhat more than I myself can say,</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zayd.</span> Though all the ideas you can form be true,<br />
+He must not, cannot, be possessed by you.<br />
+If contradicting interests could be mixt,<br />
+Nature herself has cast a bar betwixt;<br />
+And, ere you reach to this incestuous love,<br />
+You must divine and human rights remove.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Count this among the wonders love has done:<br />
+I had forgot he was my husband's son.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zayd.</span> Nay, more, you have forgot who is your own:<br />
+For whom your care so long designed the throne.<br />
+Morat must fall, if Aureng-Zebe should rise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> 'Tis true; but who was e'er in love, and wise?<br />
+Why was that fatal knot of marriage tied,<br />
+Which did, by making us too near, divide?<br />
+Divides me from my sex! for heaven, I find,<br />
+Excludes but me alone of womankind.<br />
+I stand with guilt confounded, lost with shame,<br />
+And yet made wretched only by a name.<br />
+If names have such command on human life,<br />
+Love sure's a name that's more divine than wife.<br />
+That sovereign power all guilt from action takes,<br />
+At least the stains are beautiful it makes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zayd.</span> The incroaching ill you early should oppose:<br />
+Flattered, 'tis worse, and by indulgence grows.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Alas! and what have I not said or done?<br />
+I fought it to the last,&mdash;and love has won.<br />
+A bloody conquest, which destruction brought,<br />
+And ruined all the country where he fought.<br />
+Whether this passion from above was sent,<br />
+The fate of him heaven favours to prevent;<br />
+Or as the curse of fortune in excess,<br />
+That, stretching, would beyond its reach possess;<br />
+And, with a taste which plenty does deprave,<br />
+Loaths lawful good, and lawless ill does crave&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zayd.</span> But yet, consider&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_235" name="page_235"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Nour.</span> No, 'tis loss of time:<br />
+Think how to further, not divert my crime.<br />
+My artful engines instantly I'll move,<br />
+And chuse the soft and gentlest hour of love.<br />
+The under-provost of the fort is mine.&mdash;<br />
+But see, Morat! I'll whisper my design.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Morat</span> with <span class="cnm">Arimant,</span> as talking:
+Attendants.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> And for that cause was not in public seen,<br />
+But stays in prison with the captive queen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Let my attendants wait; I'll be alone:<br />
+Where least of state, there most of love is shewn.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> My son, your business is not hard to guess;
+<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Morat.</span></span><br />
+Long absence makes you eager to possess:<br />
+I will not importune you by my stay;<br />
+She merits all the love which you can pay.<span class="sdr">[Exit with <span class="cnm">Zayda.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Arimant,</span> with <span class="cnm">Melesinda;</span> then exit.
+<span class="cnm">Morat</span> runs to <span class="cnm">Melesinda,</span> and embraces her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Should I not chide you, that you chose to stay<br />
+In gloomy shades, and lost a glorious day?<br />
+Lost the first fruits of joy you should possess<br />
+In my return, and made my triumph less?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Should I not chide, that you could stay and see<br />
+Those joys, preferring public pomp to me?<br />
+Through my dark cell your shouts of triumph rung:<br />
+I heard with pleasure, but I thought them long.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> The public will in triumphs rudely share,<br />
+And kings the rudeness of their joys must bear:<br />
+But I made haste to set my captive free,<br />
+And thought that work was only worthy me.<br />
+The fame of ancient matrons you pursue,<br />
+And stand a blameless pattern to the new.
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_236" name="page_236"></a><br />
+I have not words to praise such acts as these:<br />
+But take my heart, and mould it as you please.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> A trial of your kindness I must make,<br />
+Though not for mine so much as virtue's sake.<br />
+The queen of Cassimere&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> No more, my love;<br />
+That only suit I beg you not to move.<br />
+That she's in bonds for Aureng-Zebe I know,<br />
+And should, by my consent, continue so;<br />
+The good old man, I fear, will pity shew.<br />
+My father dotes, and let him still dote on;<br />
+He buys his mistress dearly, with his throne.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> See her; and then be cruel if you can.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> 'Tis not with me as with a private man.<br />
+Such may be swayed by honour, or by love;<br />
+But monarchs only by their interest move.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Heaven does a tribute for your power demand:<br />
+He leaves the opprest and poor upon your hand;<br />
+And those, who stewards of his pity prove,<br />
+He blesses, in return, with public love:<br />
+In his distress some miracle is shewn;<br />
+If exiled, heaven restores him to his throne:<br />
+He needs no guard, while any subject's near,<br />
+Nor, like his tyrant neighbours, lives in fear:<br />
+No plots the alarm to his retirement give:<br />
+'Tis all mankind's concern that he should live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> You promised friendship in your low estate,<br />
+And should forget it in your better fate.<br />
+Such maxims are more plausible than true;<br />
+But somewhat must be given to love and you.<br />
+I'll view this captive queen; to let her see,<br />
+Prayers and complaints are lost on such as me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I'll bear the news: Heaven knows how much I'm pleased,<br />
+That, by my care, the afflicted may be eased.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_237" name="page_237"></a>
+As she is going off, enter <span class="cnm">Indamora.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> I'll spare your pains, and venture out alone,<br />
+Since you, fair princess, my protection own.<br />
+But you, brave prince, a harder task must find;
+<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Morat</span> kneeling, who takes her up.</span><br />
+In saving me, you would but half be kind.<br />
+An humble suppliant at your feet I lie;<br />
+You have condemned my better part to die.<br />
+Without my Aureng-Zebe I cannot live;<br />
+Revoke his doom, or else my sentence give.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> If Melesinda in your love have part,&mdash;<br />
+Which, to suspect, would break my tender heart,&mdash;<br />
+If love, like mine, may for a lover plead,<br />
+By the chaste pleasures of our nuptial bed,<br />
+By all the interest my past sufferings make,<br />
+And all I yet would suffer for your sake;<br />
+By you yourself, the last and dearest tie&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> You move in vain; for Aureng-Zebe must die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Could that decree from any brother come?<br />
+Nature herself is sentenced in your doom.<br />
+Piety is no more, she sees her place<br />
+Usurped by monsters, and a savage race.<br />
+From her soft eastern climes you drive her forth,<br />
+To the cold mansions of the utmost north.<br />
+How can our prophet suffer you to reign,<br />
+When he looks down, and sees your brother slain?<br />
+Avenging furies will your life pursue:<br />
+Think there's a heaven, Morat, though not for you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Her words imprint a terror on my mind.<br />
+What if this death, which is for him designed,<br />
+Had been your doom, (far be that augury!)<br />
+And you, not Aureng-Zebe, condemned to die?<br />
+Weigh well the various turns of human fate,<br />
+And seek, by mercy, to secure your state.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Had heaven the crown for Aureng-Zebe designed,<br />
+Pity for you had pierced his generous mind.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_238" name="page_238"></a>
+Pity does with a noble nature suit:<br />
+A brother's life had suffered no dispute.<br />
+All things have right in life; our prophet's care<br />
+Commands the beings even of brutes to spare.<br />
+Though interest his restraint has justified,<br />
+Can life, and to a brother, be denied?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> All reasons, for his safety urged, are weak:<br />
+And yet, methinks, 'tis heaven to hear you speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> 'Tis part of your own being to invade&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Nay, if she fail to move, would you persuade?
+<span class="sdr">[Turning to <span class="cnm">Inda.</span></span><br />
+My brother does a glorious fate pursue;<br />
+I envy him, that he must fall for you.<br />
+He had been base, had he released his right:<br />
+For such an empire none but kings should fight.<br />
+If with a father he disputes this prize,<br />
+My wonder ceases when I see those eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> And can you, then, deny those eyes you praise?<br />
+Can beauty wonder, and not pity raise?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Your intercession now is needless grown;<br />
+Retire, and let me speak with her alone.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Melesinda</span> retires, weeping, to the side of the Stage.</span><br /><br />
+Queen, that you may not fruitless tears employ,
+<span class="sdr">[Taking <span class="cnm">Indamora's</span> hand.</span><br />
+I bring you news to fill your heart with joy:<br />
+Your lover, king of all the east shall reign;<br />
+For Aureng-Zebe to-morrow shall be slain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> The hopes you raised, you've blasted with a breath:
+<span class="sdr">[Starting back.</span><br />
+With triumphs you began, but end with death.<br />
+Did you not say my lover should be king?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> I, in Morat, the best of lovers bring.<br />
+For one, forsaken both of earth and heaven,<br />
+Your kinder stars a nobler choice have given:<br />
+My father, while I please, a king appears;<br />
+His power is more declining than his years.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_239" name="page_239"></a>
+An emperor and lover, but in shew;<br />
+But you, in me, have youth and fortune too:<br />
+As heaven did to your eyes, and form divine,<br />
+Submit the fate of all the imperial line;<br />
+So was it ordered by its wise decree,<br />
+That you should find them all comprised in me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> If, sir, I seem not discomposed with rage,<br />
+Feed not your fancy with a false presage.<br />
+Farther to press your courtship is but vain;<br />
+A cold refusal carries more disdain.<br />
+Unsettled virtue stormy may appear;<br />
+Honour, like mine, serenely is severe;<br />
+To scorn your person, and reject your crown,<br />
+Disorder not my face into a frown.<span class="sdr">[Turns from him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Your fortune you should reverently have used:<br />
+Such offers are not twice to be refused.<br />
+I go to Aureng-Zebe, and am in haste<br />
+For your commands; they're like to be the last.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Tell him,<br />
+With my own death I would his life redeem;<br />
+But less than honour both our lives esteem.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Have you no more?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> What shall I do or say?<br />
+He must not in this fury go away.&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+Tell him, I did in vain his brother move;<br />
+And yet he falsely said, he was in love:<br />
+Falsely; for, had he truly loved, at least<br />
+He would have given one day to my request.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> A little yielding may my love advance:<br />
+She darted from her eyes a sidelong glance,<br />
+Just as she spoke; and, like her words, it flew:<br />
+Seemed not to beg, what yet she bid me do.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+A brother, madam, cannot give a day;<span class="sdr">[To her.</span><br />
+A servant, and who hopes to merit, may.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> If, sir&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Coming to him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> No more&mdash;set speeches, and a formal tale,<br />
+With none but statesmen and grave fools prevail.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_240" name="page_240"></a>
+Dry up your tears, and practice every grace,<br />
+That fits the pageant of your royal place.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Madam, the strange reverse of fate you see:<br />
+I pitied you, now you may pity me.<span class="sdr">[Exit after him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Poor princess! thy hard fate I could bemoan,<br />
+Had I not nearer sorrows of my own.<br />
+Beauty is seldom fortunate, when great:<br />
+A vast estate, but overcharged with debt.<br />
+Like those, whom want to baseness does betray,<br />
+I'm forced to flatter him, I cannot pay.<br />
+O would he be content to seize the throne!<br />
+I beg the life of Aureng-Zebe alone.<br />
+Whom heaven would bless, from pomp it will remove,<br />
+And make their wealth in privacy and love.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT IV. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe</span> alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Distrust, and darkness, of a future state,<br />
+Make poor mankind so fearful of their fate.<br />
+Death, in itself, is nothing; but we fear,<br />
+To be we know not what, we know not where.<span class="sdr">[Soft music.</span><br />
+This is the ceremony of my fate:<br />
+A parting treat; and I'm to die in state.<br />
+They lodge me, as I were the Persian King:<br />
+And with luxuriant pomp my death they bring.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To him, <span class="cnm">Nourmahal.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> I thought, before you drew your latest breath,<br />
+To smooth your passage, and to soften death;<br />
+For I would have you, when you upward move,<br />
+Speak kindly of me, to our friends above:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_241" name="page_241"></a>
+Nor name me there the occasion of our fate;<br />
+Or what my interest does, impute to hate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I ask not for what end your pomp's designed;<br />
+Whether to insult, or to compose my mind:<br />
+I marked it not;<br />
+But, knowing death would soon the assault begin,<br />
+Stood firm collected in my strength within:<br />
+To guard that breach did all my forces guide,<br />
+And left unmanned the quiet sense's side.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Because Morat from me his being took,<br />
+All I can say will much suspected look:<br />
+'Tis little to confess, your fate I grieve;<br />
+Yet more than you would easily believe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Since my inevitable death you know,<br />
+You safely unavailing pity shew:<br />
+'Tis popular to mourn a dying foe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> You made my liberty your late request;<br />
+Is no return due from a grateful breast?<br />
+I grow impatient, 'till I find some way,<br />
+Great offices, with greater, to repay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat;<br />
+Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit;<br />
+Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay:<br />
+To-morrow's falser than the former day;<br />
+Lies worse, and, while it says, we shall be blest<br />
+With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.<br />
+Strange cozenage! None would live past years again,<br />
+Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;<br />
+And, from the dregs of life, think to receive,<br />
+What the first sprightly running could not give.<br />
+I'm tired with waiting for this chemic gold,<br />
+Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> 'Tis not for nothing that we life pursue;<br />
+It pays our hopes with something still that's new:<br />
+Each day's a mistress, unenjoyed before;<br />
+Like travellers, we're pleased with seeing more.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_242" name="page_242"></a>
+Did you but know what joys your way attend,<br />
+You would not hurry to your journey's end.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I need not haste the end of life to meet;<br />
+The precipice is just beneath my feet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Think not my sense of virtue is so small:<br />
+I'll rather leap down first, and break your fall.<br />
+My Aureng-Zebe, (may I not call you so?)
+<span class="sdr">[Taking him by the hand.</span><br />
+Behold me now no longer for your foe;<br />
+I am not, cannot be your enemy:<br />
+Look, is there any malice in my eye?<br />
+Pray, sit.&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Both sit.</span><br />
+That distance shews too much respect, or fear;<br />
+You'll find no danger in approaching near.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Forgive the amazement of my doubtful state:<br />
+This kindness from the mother of Morat!<br />
+Or is't some angel, pitying what I bore,<br />
+Who takes that shape, to make my wonder more?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Think me your better genius in disguise;<br />
+Or any thing that more may charm your eyes.<br />
+Your guardian angel never could excel<br />
+In care, nor could he love his charge so well.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Whence can proceed so wonderful a change?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Can kindness to desert, like yours, be strange?<br />
+Kindness by secret sympathy is tied;<br />
+For noble souls in nature are allied.<br />
+I saw with what a brow you braved your fate;<br />
+Yet with what mildness bore your father's hate.<br />
+My virtue, like a string, wound up by art<br />
+To the same sound, when yours was touched, took part,<br />
+At distance shook, and trembled at my heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I'll not complain, my father is unkind,<br />
+Since so much pity from a foe I find.<br />
+Just heaven reward this act!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> 'Tis well the debt no payment does demand;<br />
+You turn me over to another hand.<br />
+But happy, happy she,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_243" name="page_243"></a>
+And with the blessed above to be compared,<br />
+Whom you yourself would, with yourself, reward:<br />
+The greatest, nay, the fairest of her kind,<br />
+Would envy her that bliss, which you designed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Great princes thus, when favourites they raise,<br />
+To justify their grace, their creatures praise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> As love the noblest passion we account,<br />
+So to the highest object it should mount.<br />
+It shews you brave when mean desires you shun;<br />
+An eagle only can behold the sun:<br />
+And so must you, if yet presage divine<br />
+There be in dreams,&mdash;or was't a vision mine?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Of me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> And who could else employ my thought?<br />
+I dreamed, your love was by love's goddess sought;<br />
+Officious Cupids, hovering o'er your head,<br />
+Held myrtle wreaths; beneath your feet were spread<br />
+What sweets soe'er Sabean springs disclose,<br />
+Our Indian jasmine, or the Syrian rose;<br />
+The wanton ministers around you strove<br />
+For service, and inspired their mother's love:<br />
+Close by your side, and languishing, she lies,<br />
+With blushing cheeks, short breath, and wishing eyes<br />
+Upon your breast supinely lay her head,<br />
+While on your face her famished sight she fed.<br />
+Then, with a sigh, into these words she broke,<br />
+(And gathered humid kisses as she spoke)<br />
+Dull, and ungrateful! Must I offer love?<br />
+Desired of gods, and envied even by Jove:<br />
+And dost thou ignorance or fear pretend?<br />
+Mean soul! and darest not gloriously offend?<br />
+Then, pressing thus his hand&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I'll hear no more.<span class="sdr">[Rising up.</span><br />
+'Twas impious to have understood before:<br />
+And I, till now, endeavoured to mistake<br />
+The incestuous meaning, which too plain you make.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> And why this niceness to that pleasure shewn,<br />
+Where nature sums up all her joys in one;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_244" name="page_244"></a>
+Gives all she can, and, labouring still to give,<br />
+Makes it so great, we can but taste and live:<br />
+So fills the senses, that the soul seems fled,<br />
+And thought itself does, for the time, lie dead;<br />
+Till, like a string screwed up with eager haste,<br />
+It breaks, and is too exquisite to last?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Heavens! can you this, without just vengeance, hear?<br />
+When will you thunder, if it now be clear?<br />
+Yet her alone let not your thunder seize:<br />
+I, too, deserve to die, because I please.<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_3-1">[1]</a></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Custom our native royalty does awe;<br />
+Promiscuous love is nature's general law:<br />
+For whosoever the first lovers were,<br />
+Brother and sister made the second pair,<br />
+And doubled, by their love, their piety.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Hence, hence, and to some barbarous climate fly,<br />
+Which only brutes in human form does yield,<br />
+And man grows wild in nature's common field.<br />
+Who eat their parents, piety pretend;<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_3-2">[2]</a><br />
+Yet there no sons their sacred bed ascend.<br />
+To vail great sins, a greater crime you chuse;<br />
+And, in your incest, your adultery lose.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_245" name="page_245"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Nour.</span> In vain this haughty fury you have shewn.<br />
+How I adore a soul, so like my own!<br />
+You must be mine, that you may learn to live;<br />
+Know joys, which only she who loves can give.<br />
+Nor think that action you upbraid, so ill;<br />
+I am not changed, I love my husband still<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_3-3">[3]</a>;<br />
+But love him as he was, when youthful grace,<br />
+And the first down began to shade his face:<br />
+That image does my virgin-flames renew,<br />
+And all your father shines more bright in you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> In me a horror of myself you raise;<br />
+Cursed by your love, and blasted by your praise.<br />
+You find new ways to prosecute my fate;<br />
+And your least-guilty passion was your hate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> I beg my death, if you can love deny.
+<span class="sdr">[Offering him a dagger.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I'll grant you nothing; no, not even to die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Know then, you are not half so kind as I.
+<span class="sdr">[Stamps with her foot.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Mutes, some with swords drawn, one with a cup.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">You've chosen, and may now repent too late.<br />
+Behold the effect of what you wished,&mdash;my hate.
+<span class="sdr">[Taking the cup to present him.</span><br />
+This cup a cure for both our ills has brought;<br />
+You need not fear a philtre in the draught.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> All must be poison which can come from thee;
+<span class="sdr">[Receiving it from her.</span><br />
+But this the least. To immortal liberty<br />
+This first I pour, like dying Socrates;
+<span class="sdr">[Spilling a little of it.</span><br />
+Grim though he be, death pleases, when he frees.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_246" name="page_246"></a>
+As he is going to drink, Enter <span class="cnm">Morat</span> attended.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Make not such haste, you must my leisure stay;<br />
+Your fate's deferred, you shall not die to-day.
+<span class="sdr">[Taking the cup from him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> What foolish pity has possessed your mind,<br />
+To alter what your prudence once designed?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> What if I please to lengthen out his date<br />
+A day, and take a pride to cozen fate?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> 'Twill not be safe to let him live an hour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> I'll do't, to show my arbitrary power.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Fortune may take him from your hands again,<br />
+And you repent the occasion lost in vain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> I smile at what your female fear foresees;<br />
+I'm in fate's place, and dictate her decrees.&mdash;<br />
+Let Arimant be called.<span class="sdr">[Exit one of his Attendants.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Give me the poison, and I'll end your strife;<br />
+I hate to keep a poor precarious life.<br />
+Would I my safety on base terms receive,<br />
+Know, sir, I could have lived without your leave.<br />
+But those I could accuse, I can forgive;<br />
+By my disdainful silence, let them live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> What am I, that you dare to bind my hand?
+<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Morat.</span></span><br />
+So low, I've not a murder at command!<br />
+Can you not one poor life to her afford,<br />
+Her, who gave up whole nations to your sword?<br />
+And from the abundance of whose soul and heat,<br />
+The o'erflowing served to make your mind so great?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> What did that greatness in a woman's mind?<br />
+Ill lodged, and weak to act what it designed?<br />
+Pleasure's your portion, and your slothful ease:<br />
+When man's at leisure, study how to please,<br />
+Soften his angry hours with servile care,<br />
+And, when he calls, the ready feast prepare.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_247" name="page_247"></a>
+From wars, and from affairs of state abstain;<br />
+Women emasculate a monarch's reign;<br />
+And murmuring crowds, who see them shine with gold,<br />
+That pomp, as their own ravished spoils, behold.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Rage choaks my words: 'Tis womanly to weep:
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+In my swollen breast my close revenge I'll keep;<br />
+I'll watch his tenderest part, and there strike deep.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Your strange proceeding does my wonder move;<br />
+Yet seems not to express a brother's love.<br />
+Say, to what cause my rescued life I owe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> If what you ask would please, you should not know.<br />
+But since that knowledge, more than death, will grieve,<br />
+Know, Indamora gained you this reprieve.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> And whence had she the power to work your change?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> The power of beauty is not new or strange.<br />
+Should she command me more, I could obey;<br />
+But her request was bounded with a day.<br />
+Take that; and, if you spare my farther crime,<br />
+Be kind, and grieve to death against your time.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Arimant.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Remove this prisoner to some safer place:<br />
+He has, for Indamora's sake, found grace;<br />
+And from my mother's rage must guarded be,<br />
+Till you receive a new command from me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Thus love, and fortune, persecute me still,<br />
+And make me slave to every rival's will.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> How I disdain a life, which I must buy<br />
+With your contempt, and her inconstancy!<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_248" name="page_248"></a>
+For a few hours my whole content I pay:<br />
+You shall not force on me another day.<span class="sdr">[Exit with <span class="cnm">Ari.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Melesinda.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I have been seeking you this hour's long space,<br />
+And feared to find you in another place;<br />
+But since you're here, my jealousy grows less:<br />
+You will be kind to my unworthiness.<br />
+What shall I say? I love to that degree,<br />
+Each glance another way is robbed from me.<br />
+Absence, and prisons, I could bear again;<br />
+But sink, and die, beneath your least disdain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Why do you give your mind this needless care,<br />
+And for yourself, and me, new pains prepare?<br />
+I ne'er approved this passion in excess:<br />
+If you would show your love, distrust me less.<br />
+I hate to be pursued from place to place;<br />
+Meet, at each turn, a stale domestic face.<br />
+The approach of jealousy love cannot bear;<br />
+He's wild, and soon on wing, if watchful eyes come near.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> From your loved presence how can I depart?<br />
+My eyes pursue the object of my heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> You talk as if it were our bridal night:<br />
+Fondness is still the effect of new delight,<br />
+And marriage but the pleasure of a day:<br />
+The metal's base, the gilding worn away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I fear I'm guilty of some great offence,<br />
+And that has bred this cold indifference.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> The greatest in the world to flesh and blood:<br />
+You fondly love much longer than you should.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> If that be all which makes your discontent,<br />
+Of such a crime I never can repent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Would you force love upon me, which I shun?<br />
+And bring coarse fare, when appetite is gone?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_249" name="page_249"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Why did I not in prison die, before<br />
+My fatal freedom made me suffer more?<br />
+I had been pleased to think I died for you,<br />
+And doubly pleased, because you then were true:<br />
+Then I had hope; but now, alas! have none.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> You say you love me; let that love be shown.<br />
+'Tis in your power to make my happiness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Speak quickly! To command me is to bless.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> To Indamora you my suit must move:<br />
+You'll sure speak kindly of the man you love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Oh, rather let me perish by your hand,<br />
+Than break my heart, by this unkind command!<br />
+Think, 'tis the only one I could deny;<br />
+And that 'tis harder to refuse, than die.<br />
+Try, if you please, my rival's heart to win;<br />
+I'll bear the pain, but not promote the sin.<br />
+You own whate'er perfections man can boast,<br />
+And, if she view you with my eyes, she's lost.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Here I renounce all love, all nuptial ties:<br />
+Henceforward live a stranger to my eyes:<br />
+When I appear, see you avoid the place,<br />
+And haunt me not with that unlucky face.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Hard as it is, I this command obey,<br />
+And haste, while I have life, to go away:<br />
+In pity stay some hours, till I am dead,<br />
+That blameless you may court my rival's bed.<br />
+My hated face I'll not presume to show;<br />
+Yet I may watch your steps where'er you go.<br />
+Unseen, I'll gaze; and, with my latest breath,<br />
+Bless, while I die, the author of my death.<span class="sdr">[Weeping.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Emperor.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> When your triumphant fortune high appears,<br />
+What cause can draw these unbecoming tears?<br />
+Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait,<br />
+And give not thus the counter-time to fate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_250" name="page_250"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Fortune long frowned, and has but lately smiled:<br />
+I doubt a foe so newly reconciled.<br />
+You saw but sorrow in its waning form,<br />
+A working sea remaining from a storm;<br />
+When the now weary waves roll o'er the deep,<br />
+And faintly murmur ere they fall asleep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Your inward griefs you smother in your mind;<br />
+But fame's loud voice proclaims your lord unkind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Let fame be busy, where she has to do;<br />
+Tell of fought fields, and every pompous show.<br />
+Those tales are fit to fill the people's ears;<br />
+Monarchs, unquestioned, move in higher spheres.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Believe not rumour, but yourself; and see<br />
+The kindness 'twixt my plighted lord and me.<span class="sdr">[Kissing <span class="cnm">Morat.</span></span><br />
+This is our state; thus happily we live;<br />
+These are the quarrels which we take and give.<br />
+I had no other way to force a kiss.<span class="sdr">[Aside to <span class="cnm">Morat.</span></span><br />
+Forgive my last farewell to you and bliss.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Your haughty carriage shows too much of scorn,<br />
+And love, like hers, deserves not that return.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> You'll please to leave me judge of what I do,<br />
+And not examine by the outward show.<br />
+Your usage of my mother might be good:<br />
+I judged it not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Nor was it fit you should.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Then, in as equal balance weigh my deeds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> My right, and my authority, exceeds.<br />
+Suppose (what I'll not grant) injustice done;<br />
+Is judging me the duty of a son?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Not of a son, but of an emperor:<br />
+You cancelled duty when you gave me power.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_251" name="page_251"></a>
+If your own actions on your will you ground,<br />
+Mine shall hereafter know no other bound.<br />
+What meant you when you called me to a throne?<br />
+Was it to please me with a name alone?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> 'Twas that I thought your gratitude would know<br />
+What to my partial kindness you did owe;<br />
+That what your birth did to your claim deny,<br />
+Your merit of obedience might supply.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> To your own thoughts such hope you might propose;<br />
+But I took empire not on terms like those.<br />
+Of business you complained; now take your ease;<br />
+Enjoy whate'er decrepid age can please;<br />
+Eat, sleep, and tell long tales of what you were<br />
+In flower of youth,&mdash;if any one will hear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Power, like new wine, does your weak brain surprise,<br />
+And its mad fumes, in hot discourses, rise:<br />
+But time these giddy vapours will remove;<br />
+Meanwhile, I'll taste the sober joys of love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> You cannot love nor pleasures take, or give;<br />
+But life begin, when 'tis too late to live.<br />
+On a tired courser you pursue delight,<br />
+Let slip your morning, and set out at night.<br />
+If you have lived, take thankfully the past;<br />
+Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.<br />
+If you have not enjoyed what youth could give,<br />
+But life sunk through you, like a leaky sieve,<br />
+Accuse yourself, you lived not while you might;<br />
+But, in the captive queen resign your right.<br />
+I've now resolved to fill your useless place;<br />
+I'll take that post, to cover your disgrace,<br />
+And love her, for the honour of my race.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Thou dost but try how far I can forbear,<br />
+Nor art that monster, which thou wouldst appear;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_252" name="page_252"></a>
+But do not wantonly my passion move;<br />
+I pardon nothing that relates to love.<br />
+My fury does, like jealous forts, pursue<br />
+With death, even strangers who but come to view.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> I did not only view, but will invade.<br />
+Could you shed venom from your reverend shade,<br />
+Like trees, beneath whose arms 'tis death to sleep;<br />
+Did rolling thunder your fenced fortress keep,<br />
+Thence would I snatch my Semele, like Jove,<br />
+And 'midst the dreadful wrack enjoy my love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Have I for this, ungrateful as thou art!<br />
+When right, when nature, struggled in my heart;<br />
+When heaven called on me for thy brother's claim,<br />
+Broke all, and sullied my unspotted fame?<br />
+Wert thou to empire, by my baseness, brought,<br />
+And wouldst thou ravish what so dear I bought?<br />
+Dear! for my conscience and its peace I gave;&mdash;<br />
+Why was my reason made my passion's slave?<br />
+I see heaven's justice; thus the powers divine<br />
+Pay crimes with crimes, and punish mine by thine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Crimes let them pay, and punish as they please;<br />
+What power makes mine, by power I mean to seize.<br />
+Since 'tis to that they their own greatness owe<br />
+Above, why should they question mine below?<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Prudence, thou vainly in our youth art sought,<br />
+And, with age purchased, art too dearly bought:<br />
+We're past the use of wit, for which we toil;<br />
+Late fruit, and planted in too cold a soil.<br />
+My stock of fame is lavished and decayed;<br />
+No profit of the vast profusion made.<br />
+Too late my folly I repent; I know<br />
+My Aureng-Zebe would ne'er have used me so.<br />
+But, by his ruin, I prepared my own;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_253" name="page_253"></a>
+And, like a naked tree, my shelter gone,<br />
+To winds and winter-storms must stand exposed alone.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe</span> and <span class="cnm">Arimant.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Give me not thanks, which I will ne'er deserve;<br />
+But know, 'tis for a noble price I serve.<br />
+By Indamora's will you're hither brought:<br />
+All my reward in her command I sought.<br />
+The rest your letter tells you.&mdash;See, like light,<br />
+She comes, and I must vanish, like the night.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Indamora.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> 'Tis now, that I begin to live again;<br />
+Heavens, I forgive you all my fear and pain:<br />
+Since I behold my Aureng-Zebe appear,<br />
+I could not buy him at a price too dear.<br />
+His name alone afforded me relief,<br />
+Repeated as a charm to cure my grief.<br />
+I that loved name did, as some god, invoke,<br />
+And printed kisses on it, while I spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Short ease, but long, long pains from you I find;<br />
+Health, to my eyes; but poison, to my mind.<br />
+Why are you made so excellently fair?<br />
+So much above what other beauties are,<br />
+That, even in cursing, you new form my breath;<br />
+And make me bless those eyes which give me death!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> What reason for your curses can you find?<br />
+My eyes your conquest, not your death, designed.<br />
+If they offend, 'tis that they are too kind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> The ruins they have wrought, you will not see;<br />
+Too kind they are, indeed, but not to me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Think you, base interest souls like mine can sway?<br />
+Or that, for greatness, I can love betray?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_254" name="page_254"></a>
+No, Aureng-Zebe, you merit all my heart,<br />
+And I'm too noble but to give a part.<br />
+Your father, and an empire! Am I known<br />
+No more? Or have so weak a judgment shown,<br />
+In chusing you, to change you for a throne?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> How, with a truth, you would a falsehood blind!<br />
+'Tis not my father's love you have designed;<br />
+Your choice is fix'd where youth and power are join'd.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Where youth and power are joined!&mdash;has he a name?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> You would be told; you glory in your shame:<br />
+There's music in the sound; and, to provoke<br />
+Your pleasure more, by me it must be spoke.<br />
+Then, then it ravishes, when your pleased ear<br />
+The sound does from a wretched rival hear.<br />
+Morat's the name your heart leaps up to meet,<br />
+While Aureng-Zebe lies dying at your feet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Who told you this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Are you so lost to shame?<br />
+Morat, Morat, Morat! You love the name<br />
+So well, your every question ends in that;<br />
+You force me still to answer you, Morat.<br />
+Morat, who best could tell what you revealed;<br />
+Morat, too proud to keep his joy concealed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Howe'er unjust your jealousy appear,<br />
+It shows the loss of what you love, you fear;<br />
+And does my pity, not my anger move:<br />
+I'll fond it, as the forward child of love.<br />
+To show the truth of my unaltered breast,<br />
+Know, that your life was given at my request,<br />
+At least reprieved. When heaven denied you aid,<br />
+She brought it, she, whose falsehood you upbraid.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> And 'tis by that you would your falsehood hide?<br />
+Had you not asked, how happy had I died!<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_255" name="page_255"></a>
+Accurst reprieve! not to prolong my breath;<br />
+It brought a lingering, and more painful death,<br />
+I have not lived since first I heard the news;<br />
+The gift the guilty giver does accuse.<br />
+You knew the price, and the request did move,<br />
+That you might pay the ransom with your love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Your accusation must, I see, take place;&mdash;<br />
+And am I guilty, infamous, and base?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> If you are false, those epithets are small;<br />
+You're then the things, the abstract of them all.<br />
+And you are false: You promised him your love,&mdash;<br />
+No other price a heart so hard could move.<br />
+Do not I know him? Could his brutal mind<br />
+Be wrought upon? Could he be just, or kind?<br />
+Insultingly, he made your love his boast;<br />
+Gave me my life, and told me what it cost.<br />
+Speak; answer. I would fain yet think you true:<br />
+Lie; and I'll not believe myself, but you.<br />
+Tell me you love; I'll pardon the deceit,<br />
+And, to be fooled, myself assist the cheat.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> No; 'tis too late; I have no more to say:<br />
+If you'll believe I have been false, you may.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I would not; but your crimes too plain appear:<br />
+Nay, even that I should think you true, you fear.<br />
+Did I not tell you, I would be deceived?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> I'm not concerned to have my truth believed.<br />
+You would be cozened! would assist the cheat!<br />
+But I'm too plain to join in the deceit:<br />
+I'm pleased you think me false,<br />
+And, whatsoe'er my letter did pretend,<br />
+I made this meeting for no other end.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Kill me not quite, with this indifference!<br />
+When you are guiltless, boast not an offence.<br />
+I know you better than yourself you know:<br />
+Your heart was true, but did some frailty shew:<br />
+You promised him your love, that I might live;<br />
+But promised what you never meant to give.<br />
+Speak, was't not so? confess; I can forgive.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_256" name="page_256"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Forgive! what dull excuses you prepare,<br />
+As if your thoughts of me were worth my care!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Ah traitress! Ah ingrate! Ah faithless mind!<br />
+Ah sex, invented first to damn mankind!<br />
+Nature took care to dress you up for sin;<br />
+Adorned, without; unfinished left, within.<br />
+Hence, by no judgment you your loves direct;<br />
+Talk much, ne'er think, and still the wrong affect.<br />
+So much self-love in your composure's mixed,<br />
+That love to others still remains unfixed:<br />
+Greatness, and noise, and shew, are your delight;<br />
+Yet wise men love you, in their own despite:<br />
+And finding in their native wit no ease,<br />
+Are forced to put your folly on, to please.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Now you shall know what cause you have to rage;<br />
+But to increase your fury, not assuage:<br />
+I found the way your brother's heart to move.<br />
+Yet promised not the least return of love.<br />
+His pride and brutal fierceness I abhor;<br />
+But scorn your mean suspicions of me more.<br />
+I owed my honour and my fame this care:<br />
+Know what your folly lost you, and despair.<span class="sdr">[Turning from him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Too cruelly your innocence you tell:<br />
+Shew heaven, and damn me to the pit of hell.<br />
+Now I believe you; 'tis not yet too late:<br />
+You may forgive, and put a stop to fate;<br />
+Save me, just sinking, and no more to rise.<span class="sdr">[She frowns.</span><br />
+How can you look with such relentless eyes?<br />
+Or let your mind by penitence be moved,<br />
+Or I'm resolved to think you never loved.<br />
+You are not cleared, unless you mercy speak:<br />
+I'll think you took the occasion thus to break.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Small jealousies, 'tis true, inflame desire;<br />
+Too great, not fan, but quite blow out the fire:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_257" name="page_257"></a>
+Yet I did love you, till such pains I bore,<br />
+That I dare trust myself and you no more.<br />
+Let me not love you; but here end my pain:<br />
+Distrust may make me wretched once again.<br />
+Now, with full sails, into the port I move,<br />
+And safely can unlade my breast of love;<br />
+Quiet, and calm: Why should I then go back,<br />
+To tempt the second hazard of a wreck?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Behold these dying eyes, see their submissive awe;<br />
+These tears, which fear of death could never draw:<br />
+Heard you that sigh? from my heaved heart it past,<br />
+And said,&mdash;"If you forgive not, 'tis my last."<br />
+Love mounts, and rolls about my stormy mind,<br />
+Like fire, that's borne by a tempestuous wind.<br />
+Oh, I could stifle you, with eager haste!<br />
+Devour your kisses with my hungry taste!<br />
+Rush on you! eat you! wander o'er each part,<br />
+Raving with pleasure, snatch you to my heart!<br />
+Then hold you off, and gaze! then, with new rage,<br />
+Invade you, till my conscious limbs presage<br />
+Torrents of joy, which all their banks o'erflow!<br />
+So lost, so blest, as I but then could know!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Be no more jealous!<span class="sdr">[Giving him her hand.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Give me cause no more:<br />
+The danger's greater after, than before;<br />
+If I relapse, to cure my jealousy,<br />
+Let me (for that's the easiest parting) die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> My life!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> My soul!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> My all that heaven can give!<br />
+Death's life with you; without you, death to live.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them, <span class="cnm">Arimant,</span> hastily.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Oh, we are lost, beyond all human aid!<br />
+The citadel is to Morat betrayed.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_258" name="page_258"></a>
+The traitor, and the treason, known too late;<br />
+The false Abas delivered up the gate:<br />
+Even while I speak, we're compassed round with fate.<br />
+The valiant cannot fight, or coward fly;<br />
+But both in undistinguished crowds must die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Then my prophetic fears are come to pass:<br />
+Morat was always bloody; now, he's base:<br />
+And has so far in usurpation gone,<br />
+He will by parricide secure the throne.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them, the Emperor.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Am I forsaken, and betrayed, by all?<br />
+Not one brave man dare, with a monarch, fall?<br />
+Then, welcome death, to cover my disgrace!<br />
+I would not live to reign o'er such a race.<br />
+My Aureng-Zebe!<span class="sdr">[Seeing <span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe.</span></span><br />
+But thou no more art mine; my cruelty<br />
+Has quite destroyed the right I had in thee.<br />
+I have been base,<br />
+Base even to him from whom I did receive<br />
+All that a son could to a parent give:<br />
+Behold me punished in the self-same kind;<br />
+The ungrateful does a more ungrateful find.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Accuse yourself no more; you could not be<br />
+Ungrateful; could commit no crime to me.<br />
+I only mourn my yet uncancelled score:<br />
+You put me past the power of paying more.<br />
+That, that's my grief, that I can only grieve,<br />
+And bring but pity, where I would relieve;<br />
+For had I yet ten thousand lives to pay,<br />
+The mighty sum should go no other way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Can you forgive me? 'tis not fit you should.<br />
+Why will you be so excellently good?<br />
+'Twill stick too black a brand upon my name:<br />
+The sword is needless; I shall die with shame.<br />
+What had my age to do with love's delight,<br />
+Shut out from all enjoyments but the sight?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_259" name="page_259"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Sir, you forget the danger's imminent:<br />
+This minute is not for excuses lent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Disturb me not;&mdash;<br />
+How can my latest hour be better spent?<br />
+To reconcile myself to him is more,<br />
+Than to regain all I possessed before.<br />
+Empire and life are now not worth a prayer;<br />
+His love, alone, deserves my dying care.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Fighting for you, my death will glorious be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Seek to preserve yourself, and live for me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Arim.</span> Lose then no farther time.<br />
+Heaven has inspired me with a sudden thought,<br />
+Whence your unhoped for safety may be wrought,<br />
+Though with the hazard of my blood 'tis bought.<br />
+But since my life can ne'er be fortunate,<br />
+'Tis so much sorrow well redeemed from fate.<br />
+You, madam, must retire,<br />
+(Your beauty is its own security,)<br />
+And leave the conduct of the rest to me.<br />
+Glory will crown my life, if I succeed;<br />
+If not, she may afford to love me dead.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> My father's kind, and, madam, you forgive;<br />
+Were heaven so pleased, I now could wish to live.<br />
+And I shall live.<br />
+With glory and with love, at once, I burn:<br />
+I feel the inspiring heat, and absent god return.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT V. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Indamora</span> alone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> The night seems doubled with the fear she brings,<br />
+And o'er the citadel new-spreads her wings.<br />
+The morning, as mistaken, turns about,<br />
+And all her early fires again go out.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_260" name="page_260"></a>
+Shouts, cries, and groans, first pierce my ears, and then<br />
+A flash of lightning draws the guilty scene,<br />
+And shows me arms, and wounds, and dying men.<br />
+Ah, should my Aureng-Zebe be fighting there,<br />
+And envious winds, distinguished to my ear,<br />
+His dying groans and his last accents bear!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To her, <span class="cnm">Morat,</span> attended.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> The bloody business of the night is done,<br />
+And, in the citadel, an empire won.<br />
+Our swords so wholly did the fates employ,<br />
+That they, at length, grew weary to destroy,<br />
+Refused the work we brought, and, out of breath,<br />
+Made sorrow and despair attend for death.<br />
+But what of all my conquest can I boast?<br />
+My haughty pride, before your eyes, is lost:<br />
+And victory but gains me to present<br />
+That homage, which our eastern world has sent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Your victory, alas, begets my fears:<br />
+Can you not then triumph without my tears?<br />
+Resolve me; (for you know my destiny<br />
+Is Aureng-Zebes) say, do I live or die?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Urged by my love, by hope of empire fired,<br />
+'Tis true, I have performed what both required:<br />
+What fate decreed; for when great souls are given,<br />
+They bear the marks of sovereignty from heaven.<br />
+My elder brothers my fore-runners came;<br />
+Rough-draughts of nature, ill designed, and lame:<br />
+Blown off, like blossoms never made to bear;<br />
+Till I came, finished, her last-laboured care.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> This prologue leads to your succeeding sin:<br />
+Blood ended what ambition did begin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> 'Twas rumour'd,&mdash;but by whom I cannot tell,&mdash;<br />
+My father 'scaped from out the citadel;<br />
+My brother too may live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_261" name="page_261"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ind.</span> He may?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> He must:<br />
+I kill'd him not: and a less fate's unjust.<br />
+Heaven owes it me, that I may fill his room,<br />
+A ph&oelig;nix-lover, rising from his tomb;<br />
+In whom you'll lose your sorrows for the dead;<br />
+More warm, more fierce, and fitter for your bed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Should I from Aureng-Zebe my heart divide,<br />
+To love a monster, and a parricide?<br />
+These names your swelling titles cannot hide.<br />
+Severe decrees may keep our tongues in awe;<br />
+But to our thoughts, what edict can give law?<br />
+Even you yourself, to your own breast, shall tell<br />
+Your crimes; and your own conscience be your hell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> What business has my conscience with a crown?<br />
+She sinks in pleasures, and in bowls will drown.<br />
+If mirth should fail, I'll busy her with cares,<br />
+Silence her clamorous voice with louder wars:<br />
+Trumpets and drums shall fright her from the throne,<br />
+As sounding cymbals aid the labouring moon.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Repelled by these, more eager she will grow,<br />
+Spring back more strongly than a Scythian bow.<br />
+Amidst your train, this unseen judge will wait;<br />
+Examine how you came by all your state;<br />
+Upbraid your impious pomp; and, in your ear,<br />
+Will hollow,&mdash;"Rebel, tyrant, murderer!"<br />
+Your ill-got power wan looks and care shall bring,<br />
+Known but by discontent to be a king.<br />
+Of crowds afraid, yet anxious when alone,<br />
+You'll sit and brood your sorrows on a throne.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Birth-right's a vulgar road to kingly sway;<br />
+'Tis every dull-got elder brother's way.<br />
+Dropt from above, he lights into a throne;<br />
+Grows of a piece with that he sits upon;<br />
+Heaven's choice, a low, inglorious, rightful drone.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_262" name="page_262"></a>
+But who by force a sceptre does obtain,<br />
+Shows he can govern that, which he could gain.<br />
+Right comes of course, whate'er he was before;<br />
+Murder and usurpation are no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> By your own laws you such dominion make,<br />
+As every stronger power has right to take:<br />
+And parricide will so deform your name,<br />
+That dispossessing you will give a claim.<br />
+Who next usurps, will a just prince appear,<br />
+So much your ruin will his reign endear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> I without guilt would mount the royal seat;<br />
+But yet 'tis necessary to be great.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> All greatness is in virtue understood:<br />
+'Tis only necessary to be good.<br />
+Tell me, what is't at which great spirits aim,<br />
+What most yourself desire?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Renown and fame,<br />
+And power, as uncontrouled as is my will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> How you confound desires of good and ill.<br />
+For true renown is still with virtue joined;<br />
+But lust of power lets loose the unbridled mind.<br />
+Yours is a soul irregularly great,<br />
+Which, wanting temper, yet abounds with heat,<br />
+So strong, yet so unequal pulses beat;<br />
+A sun, which does, through vapours, dimly shine;<br />
+What pity 'tis, you are not all divine!<br />
+New moulded, thorough lightened, and a breast<br />
+So pure, to bear the last severest test;<br />
+Fit to command an empire you should gain<br />
+By virtue, and without a blush to reign.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> You show me somewhat I ne'er learnt before;<br />
+But 'tis the distant prospect of a shore,<br />
+Doubtful in mists; which, like enchanted ground,<br />
+Flies from my sight, before 'tis fully found.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Dare to be great, without a guilty crown;<br />
+View it, and lay the bright temptation down:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_263" name="page_263"></a>
+'Tis base to seize on all, because you may;<br />
+That's empire, that, which I can give away:<br />
+There's joy when to wild will you laws prescribe,<br />
+When you bid fortune carry back her bribe:<br />
+A joy, which none but greatest minds can taste;<br />
+A fame, which will to endless ages last.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Renown, and fame, in vain, I courted long,<br />
+And still pursued them, though directed wrong.<br />
+In hazard, and in toils, I heard they lay;<br />
+Sailed farther than the coast, but missed my way:<br />
+Now you have given me virtue for my guide;<br />
+And, with true honour, ballasted my pride.<br />
+Unjust dominion I no more pursue;<br />
+I quit all other claims, but those to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Oh be not just by halves! pay all you owe:<br />
+Think there's a debt to Melesinda too.<br />
+To leave no blemish on your after-life,<br />
+Reward the virtue of a suffering wife.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> To love, once past, I cannot backward move;<br />
+Call yesterday again, and I may love.<br />
+'Twas not for nothing I the crown resigned;<br />
+I still must own a mercenary mind;<br />
+I, in this venture, double gains pursue,<br />
+And laid out all my stock, to purchase you.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them, <span class="cnm">Asaph Chan.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Now, what success? does Aureng-Zebe yet live?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asaph.</span> Fortune has given you all that she can give.<br />
+Your brother&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Hold; thou showest an impious joy,<br />
+And think'st I still take pleasure to destroy:<br />
+Know, I am changed, and would not have him slain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asaph.</span> 'Tis past; and you desire his life in vain.<br />
+He, prodigal of soul, rushed on the stroke<br />
+Of lifted weapons, and did wounds provoke:<br />
+In scorn of night, he would not be concealed;<br />
+His soldiers, where he fought, his name revealed.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_264" name="page_264"></a>
+In thickest crowds, still Aureng-Zebe did sound;<br />
+The vaulted roofs did Aureng-Zebe rebound;<br />
+Till late, and in his fall, the name was drowned.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Wither that hand which brought him to his fate,<br />
+And blasted be the tongue which did relate!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Asaph.</span> His body&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Cease to enhance her misery:<br />
+Pity the queen, and show respect to me.<br />
+'Tis every painter's art to hide from sight,<br />
+And cast in shades, what, seen, would not delight.&mdash;<br />
+Your grief in me such sympathy has bred,<span class="sdr">[To her.</span><br />
+I mourn, and wish I could recal the dead.<br />
+Love softens me; and blows up fires, which pass<br />
+Through my tough heart, and melt the stubborn mass.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Break, heart; or choak, with sobs, my hated breath!<br />
+Do thy own work: admit no foreign death.<br />
+Alas! why do I make this useless moan?<br />
+I'm dead already, for my soul is gone.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them, <span class="cnm">Mir Baba.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mir.</span> What tongue the terror of this night can tell,<br />
+Within, without, and round the citadel!<br />
+A new-formed faction does your power oppose;<br />
+The fight's confused, and all who meet are foes:<br />
+A second clamour, from the town, we hear;<br />
+And the far noise so loud, it drowns the near.<br />
+Abas, who seemed our friend, is either fled,<br />
+Or, what we fear, our enemies does head:<br />
+Your frighted soldiers scarce their ground maintain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> I thank their fury; we shall fight again:<br />
+They rouse my rage; I'm eager to subdue:<br />
+'Tis fatal to with-hold my eyes from you.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit with the two Omrahs.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_265" name="page_265"></a>
+Enter <span class="cnm">Melesinda.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Can misery no place of safety know?<br />
+The noise pursues me wheresoe'er I go,<br />
+As fate sought only me, and, where I fled,<br />
+Aimed all its darts at my devoted head.<br />
+And let it; I am now past care of life;<br />
+The last of women; an abandoned wife.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Whether design or chance has brought you here,<br />
+I stand obliged to fortune, or to fear:<br />
+Weak women should, in danger, herd like deer.<br />
+But say, from whence this new combustion springs?<br />
+Are there yet more Morats? more fighting kings?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Him from his mother's love your eyes divide,<br />
+And now her arms the cruel strife decide.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> What strange misfortunes my vext life attend!<br />
+Death will be kind, and all my sorrows end.<br />
+If Nourmahal prevail, I know my fate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I pity, as my own, your hard estate:<br />
+But what can my weak charity afford?<br />
+I have no longer interest in my lord:<br />
+Nor in his mother, he: she owns her hate<br />
+Aloud, and would herself usurp the state.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> I'm stupified with sorrow, past relief<br />
+Of tears; parched up, and withered with my grief.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Dry mourning will decays more deadly bring,<br />
+As a north wind burns a too forward spring.<br />
+Give sorrow vent, and let the sluices go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> My tears are all congealed, and will not flow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Have comfort; yield not to the blows of fate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Comfort, like cordials after death, comes late.<br />
+Name not so vain a word; my hopes are fled:<br />
+Think your Morat were kind, and think him dead.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> I can no more&mdash;<br />
+Can no more arguments, for comfort, find:<br />
+Your boding words have quite o'erwhelmed my mind.
+<span class="sdr">[Clattering of weapons within.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_266" name="page_266"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ind.</span> The noise increases, as the billows roar,<br />
+When rolling from afar they threat the shore.<br />
+She comes; and feeble nature now, I find,<br />
+Shrinks back in danger, and forsakes my mind.<br />
+I wish to die, yet dare not death endure;<br />
+Detest the medicine, yet desire the cure.<br />
+I would have death; but mild, and at command:<br />
+I dare not trust him in another's hand.<br />
+In Nourmahal's, he would not mine appear;<br />
+But armed with terror, and disguised with fear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Beyond this place you can have no retreat:<br />
+Stay here, and I the danger will repeat.<br />
+I fear not death, because my life I hate;<br />
+And envious death will shun the unfortunate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> You must not venture.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Let me: I may do<br />
+Myself a kindness, in obliging you.<br />
+In your loved name, I'll seek my angry lord;<br />
+And beg your safety from his conquering sword:<br />
+So his protection all your fears will ease,<br />
+And I shall see him once, and not displease.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> O wretched queen! what power thy life can save?<br />
+A stranger, and unfriended, and a slave!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Nourmahal, Zayda,</span> and <span class="cnm">Abas,</span> with Soldiers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Alas, she's here!<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Indamora</span> retires.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Heartless they fought, and quitted soon their ground,<br />
+While ours with easy victory were crowned.<br />
+To you, Abas, my life and empire too,<br />
+And, what's yet dearer, my revenge, I owe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abas.</span> The vain Morat, by his own rashness wrought,<br />
+Too soon discovered his ambitious thought;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_267" name="page_267"></a>
+Believed me his, because I spoke him fair,<br />
+And pitched his head into the ready snare:<br />
+Hence 'twas I did his troops at first admit;<br />
+But such, whose numbers could no fears beget:<br />
+By them the emperor's party first I slew,<br />
+Then turned my arms the victors to subdue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Now let the head-strong boy my will controul!<br />
+Virtue's no slave of man; no sex confines the soul:<br />
+I, for myself, the imperial seat will gain,<br />
+And he shall wait my leisure for his reign.&mdash;<br />
+But Aureng-Zebe is no where to be found,<br />
+And now, perhaps, in death's cold arms he lies!<br />
+I fought, and conquered, yet have lost the prize.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zayd.</span> The chance of war determined well the strife,<br />
+That racked you, 'twixt the lover and the wife.<br />
+He's dead, whose love had sullied all your reign,<br />
+And made you empress of the world in vain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> No; I my power and pleasure would divide:<br />
+The drudge had quenched my flames, and then had died.<br />
+I rage, to think without that bliss I live,<br />
+That I could wish what fortune would not give:<br />
+But, what love cannot, vengeance must supply;<br />
+She, who bereaved me of his heart, shall die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zayd.</span> I'll search: far distant hence she cannot be.
+<span class="sdr">[Goes in.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> This wondrous master-piece I fain would see;<br />
+This fatal Helen, who can wars inspire,<br />
+Make kings her slaves, and set the world on fire.<br />
+My husband locked his jewel from my view;<br />
+Or durst not set the false one by the true.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Zayda,</span> leading <span class="cnm">Indamora.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zayd.</span> Your frighted captive, ere she dies, receive;<br />
+Her soul's just going else, without your leave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_268" name="page_268"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Nour.</span> A fairer creature did my eyes ne'er see!<br />
+Sure she was formed by heaven, in spite to me!<br />
+Some angel copied, while I slept, each grace,<br />
+And moulded every feature from my face.<br />
+Such majesty does from her forehead rise,<br />
+Her cheeks such blushes cast, such rays her eyes,<br />
+Nor I, nor envy, can a blemish find.&mdash;<br />
+The palace is, without, too well designed:<br />
+Conduct me in, for I will view thy mind.<span class="sdr">[To her.</span><br />
+Speak, if thou hast a soul, that I may see,<br />
+If heaven can make, throughout, another me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> My tears and miseries must plead my cause;
+<span class="sdr">[Kneeling.</span><br />
+My words, the terror of your presence awes:<br />
+Mortals, in sight of angels, mute become;<br />
+The nobler nature strikes the inferior dumb.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> The palm is, by the foe's confession, mine;<br />
+But I disdain what basely you resign.<br />
+Heaven did, by me, the outward model build;<br />
+Its inward work, the soul, with rubbish filled.<br />
+Yet, oh! the imperfect piece moves more delight;<br />
+'Tis gilded o'er with youth, to catch the sight.<br />
+The gods have poorly robbed my virgin bloom,<br />
+And what I am, by what I was, o'ercome.<br />
+Traitress! restore my beauty and my charms,<br />
+Nor steal my conquest with my proper arms.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> What have I done thus to inflame your hate?<br />
+I am not guilty, but unfortunate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Not guilty, when thy looks my power betray,<br />
+Seduce mankind, my subject, from my sway,<br />
+Take all my hearts and all my eyes away?<br />
+My husband first; but that I could forgive;<br />
+He only moved, and talked, but did not live.<br />
+My Aureng-Zebe!&mdash;for I dare own the name,<br />
+The glorious sin, and the more glorious flame,&mdash;<br />
+Him from my beauty have thy eyes misled,<br />
+And starved the joys of my expected bed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_269" name="page_269"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ind.</span> His love so sought, he's happy that he's dead.<br />
+O had I courage but to meet my fate,<br />
+That short dark passage to a future state,<br />
+That melancholy riddle of a breath!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> That something, or that nothing, after death:<br />
+Take this, and teach thyself.<span class="sdr">[Giving a Dagger.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Alas!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Why dost thou shake?<br />
+Dishonour not the vengeance I designed:<br />
+A queen, and own a base Plebeian mind!<br />
+Let it drink deep in thy most vital part;<br />
+Strike home, and do me reason in thy heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> I dare not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Do't, while I stand by and see,<br />
+At my full gust, without the drudgery.<br />
+I love a foe, who dares my stroke prevent,<br />
+Who gives me the full scene of my content;<br />
+Shows me the flying soul's convulsive strife,<br />
+And all the anguish of departing life.<br />
+Disdain my mercy, and my rage defy;<br />
+Curse me with thy last breath, and make me see<br />
+A spirit, worthy to have rivalled me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Oh, I desire to die, but dare not yet!<br />
+Give me some respite, I'll discharge the debt.<br />
+Without my Aureng-Zebe I would not live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Thine, traitress! thine! that word has winged thy fate,<br />
+And put me past the tedious forms of hate:<br />
+I'll kill thee with such eagerness and haste,<br />
+As fiends, let loose, would lay all nature waste.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Indamora</span> runs back: As <span class="cnm">Nourmahal</span> is running
+to her, clashing of swords is heard within.</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Sold.</span> Yield, you're o'erpowered: Resistance is in vain.
+<span class="sdr">[Within.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Then death's my choice: Submission I disdain.
+<span class="sdr">[Within.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_270" name="page_270"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Retire, ye slaves! Ah, whither does he run
+<span class="sdr">[At the door.</span><br />
+On pointed swords? Disarm, but save my son.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Morat</span> staggering, and upheld by Soldiers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> She lives! and I shall see her once again!<br />
+I have not thrown away my life in vain.
+<span class="sdr">[Catches hold of <span class="cnm">Indamora's</span> gown, and falls by
+her: She sits.</span><br />
+I can no more; yet even in death I find<br />
+My fainting body biassed by my mind:<br />
+I fall toward you; still my contending soul<br />
+Points to your breast, and trembles to its pole.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To them <span class="cnm">Melesinda,</span> hastily casting herself on the
+other side of <span class="cnm">Morat.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Ah woe, woe, woe! the worst of woes I find!<br />
+Live still; Oh live; live e'en to be unkind!&mdash;<br />
+With half-shut eyes he seeks the doubtful day;<br />
+But, ah! he bends his sight another way.<br />
+He faints! and in that sigh his soul is gone;<br />
+Yet heaven's unmoved, yet heaven looks careless on.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Where are those powers which monarchs should defend?<br />
+Or do they vain authority pretend<br />
+O'er human fates, and their weak empire show,<br />
+Which cannot guard their images below?<br />
+If, as their image, he was not divine,<br />
+They ought to have respected him as mine.<br />
+I'll waken them with my revenge; and she,<br />
+Their Indamora, shall my victim be,<br />
+And helpless heaven shall mourn in vain, like me.
+<span class="sdr">[As she is going to stab <span class="cnm">Indamora, Morat</span>
+raises himself, and holds her hand.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Ah, what are we,<br />
+Who dare maintain with heaven this wretched strife,<br />
+Puft with the pride of heaven's own gift, frail life?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_271" name="page_271"></a>
+That blast which my ambitious spirit swelled,<br />
+See by how weak a tenure it was held!<br />
+I only stay to save the innocent;<br />
+Oh envy not my soul its last content!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> No, let me die; I'm doubly summoned now;<br />
+First by my Aureng-Zebe, and since by you.<br />
+My soul grows hardy, and can death endure;<br />
+Your convoy makes the dangerous way secure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Let me at least a funeral marriage crave,<br />
+Nor grudge my cold embraces in the grave.<br />
+I have too just a title in the strife;<br />
+By me, unhappy me, he lost his life:<br />
+I called him hither, 'twas my fatal breath,<br />
+And I the screech-owl that proclaimed his death.<span class="sdr">[Shout within.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abas.</span> What new alarms are these? I'll haste and see.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> Look up and live; an empire shall be thine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> That I condemned, even when I thought it mine.&mdash;<br />
+Oh, I must yield to my hard destinies,<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Ind.</span></span><br />
+And must for ever cease to see your eyes!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Ah turn your sight to me, my dearest lord!<br />
+Can you not one, one parting look afford?<br />
+Even so unkind in death:&mdash;but 'tis in vain;<br />
+I lose my breath, and to the winds complain.<br />
+Yet 'tis as much in vain your cruel scorn;<br />
+Still I can love, without this last return.<br />
+Nor fate, nor you, can my vowed faith controul;<br />
+Dying, I follow your disdainful soul:<br />
+A ghost, I'll haunt your ghost; and, where you go,<br />
+With mournful murmurs fill the plains below.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> Be happy, Melesinda; cease to grieve,<br />
+And for a more deserving husband live:&mdash;<br />
+Can you forgive me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Can I! Oh, my heart!<br />
+Have I heard one kind word before I part?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_272" name="page_272"></a>
+I can, I can forgive: Is that a task<br />
+To love like mine? Are you so good to ask!<br />
+One kiss&mdash;Oh, 'tis too great a blessing this!<span class="sdr">[Kisses him.</span><br />
+I would not live to violate the bliss,</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Abas.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Abas.</span> Some envious devil has ruined us yet more:<br />
+The fort's revolted to the emperor;<br />
+The gates are opened, the portcullis drawn,<br />
+And deluges of armies from the town<br />
+Come pouring in: I heard the mighty flaw,<br />
+When first it broke; the crowding ensigns saw,<br />
+Which choked the passage; and, what least I feared,<br />
+The waving arms of Aureng-Zebe appeared,<br />
+Displayed with your Morat's:<br />
+In either's flag the golden serpents bear<br />
+Erected crests alike, like volumes rear,<br />
+And mingle friendly hissings in the air.<br />
+Their troops are joined, and our destruction nigh.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Neur.</span> 'Tis vain to fight, and I disdain to fly.<br />
+I'll mock the triumphs which our foes intend,<br />
+And spite of fortune, make a glorious end.<br />
+In poisonous draughts my liberty I'll find,<br />
+And from the nauseous world set free my mind.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">At the other end of the Stage enter <span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe,
+Dianet,</span> and Attendants. <span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe</span> turns
+back, and speaks entering.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> The lives of all, who cease from combat, spare;<br />
+My brother's be your most peculiar care:<br />
+Our impious use no longer shall obtain;<br />
+Brothers no more by brothers shall be slain.&mdash;
+<span class="sdr">[Seeing <span class="cnm">Indamora</span> and <span class="cnm">Morat.</span></span><br />
+Ha! do I dream? Is this my hoped success?<br />
+I grow a statue, stiff and motionless.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_273" name="page_273"></a>
+Look, Dianet; for I dare not trust these eyes;<br />
+They dance in mists, and dazzle with surprise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dia.</span> Sir, 'tis Morat; dying he seems, or dead;<br />
+And Indamora's hand&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Supports his head.<span class="sdr">[Sighing.</span><br />
+Thou shalt not break yet, heart, nor shall she know<br />
+My inward torments by my outward show:<br />
+To let her see my weakness were too base;<br />
+Dissembled quiet sit upon my face:<br />
+My sorrow to my eyes no passage find,<br />
+But let it inward sink, and drown my mind.<br />
+Falsehood shall want its triumph: I begin<br />
+To stagger, but I'll prop myself within.<br />
+The specious tower no ruin shall disclose,<br />
+Till down at once the mighty fabric goes,</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> In sign that I die yours, reward my love,<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Ind.</span></span><br />
+And seal my passport to the blessed above.<span class="sdr">[Kissing her hand.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Oh stay; or take me with you when you go;<br />
+There's nothing now worth living for below.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mor.</span> I leave you not; for my expanded mind<br />
+Grows up to heaven, while it to you is joined:<br />
+Not quitting, but enlarged! A blazing fire,<br />
+Fed from the brand.<span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Ah me! he's gone! I die!<span class="sdr">[Swoons.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Oh, dismal day!<br />
+Fate, thou hast ravished my last hope away!
+<span class="sdr">[She turns, and sees <span class="cnm">Aureng-Zebe</span> standing
+by her, and starts.</span><br />
+O heaven! my Aureng-Zebe&mdash;What strange surprise!<br />
+Or does my willing mind delude my eyes,<br />
+And shows the figure always present there?<br />
+Or liv'st thou? am I blessed, and see thee here?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> My brother's body see conveyed with care,
+<span class="sdr">[Turning from her, to her Attendants.</span><br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_274" name="page_274"></a>
+Where we may royal sepulture prepare.<br />
+With speed to Melesinda bring relief:<br />
+Recal her spirits, and moderate her grief&mdash;
+<span class="sdr">[Half turning to <span class="cnm">Ind.</span></span><br />
+I go, to take for ever from your view,<br />
+Both the loved object, and the hated too.
+<span class="sdr">[Going away after the bodies, which are
+carried off.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Hear me! yet think not that I beg your stay;
+<span class="sdr">[Laying hold of him.</span><br />
+I will be heard, and, after, take your way.<br />
+Go; but your late repentance shall be vain:
+<span class="sdr">[He struggles still: she lets him go.</span><br />
+I'll never, never see your face again.<span class="sdr">[Turning away.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Madam, I know whatever you can say:<br />
+You might be pleased not to command my stay.<br />
+All things are yet disordered in the fort;<br />
+I must crave leave your audience may be short.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> You need not fear I shall detain you long:<br />
+Yet you may tell me your pretended wrong.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Is that the business? then my stay is vain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> How are you injured?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> When did I complain?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Leave off your forced respect,<br />
+And show your rage in its most furious form:<br />
+I'm armed with innocence to brave the storm.<br />
+You heard, perhaps, your brother's last desire,<br />
+And, after, saw him in my arms expire;<br />
+Saw me, with tears, so great a loss, bemoan;<br />
+Heard me complaining my last hopes were gone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> "Oh stay, or take me with you when you go,<br />
+There's nothing now worth living for below."<br />
+Unhappy sex! whose beauty is your snare:<br />
+Exposed to trials; made too frail to bear.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_275" name="page_275"></a>
+I grow a fool, and show my rage again:<br />
+'Tis nature's fault; and why should I complain?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Will you yet hear me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Yes, till you relate<br />
+What powerful motives did your change create.<br />
+You thought me dead, and prudently did weigh<br />
+Tears were but vain, and brought but youth's decay.<br />
+Then, in Morat, your hopes a crown designed;<br />
+And all the woman worked within your mind.&mdash;<br />
+I rave again, and to my rage return,<br />
+To be again subjected to your scorn.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> I wait till this long storm be over-blown.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> I'm conscious of my folly: I have done.&mdash;<br />
+I cannot rail; but silently I'll grieve.<br />
+How did I trust! and how did you deceive!<br />
+Oh, Arimant, would I had died for thee!<br />
+I dearly buy thy generosity.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Alas, is he then dead?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Unknown to me,<br />
+He took my arms; and, while I forced my way<br />
+Through troops of foes, which did our passage stay,<br />
+My buckler o'er my aged father cast,<br />
+Still fighting, still defending as I past,<br />
+The noble Arimant usurped my name;<br />
+Fought, and took from me, while he gave me, fame.<br />
+To Aureng-Zebe, he made his soldiers cry,<br />
+And, seeing not, where he heard danger nigh,<br />
+Shot, like a star, through the benighted sky,<br />
+A short, but mighty aid: At length he fell.<br />
+My own adventures 'twere lost time to tell;<br />
+Or how my army, entering in the night,<br />
+Surprised our foes; The dark disordered fight:<br />
+How my appearance, and my father shown,<br />
+Made peace; and all the rightful monarch own.<br />
+I've summed it briefly, since it did relate<br />
+The unwelcome safety of the man you hate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_276" name="page_276"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ind.</span> As briefly will I clear my innocence:<br />
+Your altered brother died in my defence.<br />
+Those tears you saw, that tenderness I showed,<br />
+Were just effects of grief and gratitude.<br />
+He died my convert.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> But your lover too:<br />
+I heard his words, and did your actions view;<br />
+You seemed to mourn another lover dead:<br />
+My sighs you gave him, and my tears you shed.<br />
+But, worst of all,<br />
+Your gratitude for his defence was shown:<br />
+It proved you valued life, when I was gone.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Not that I valued life, but feared to die:<br />
+Think that my weakness, not inconstancy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Fear showed you doubted of your own intent:<br />
+And she, who doubts, becomes less innocent.<br />
+Tell me not you could fear;<br />
+Fear's a large promiser; who subject live<br />
+To that base passion, know not what they give.<br />
+No circumstance of grief you did deny;<br />
+And what could she give more, who durst not die?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> My love, my faith.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Both so adulterate grown,<br />
+When mixed with fear, they never could be known.<br />
+I wish no ill might her I love befal;<br />
+But she ne'er loved, who durst not venture all.<br />
+Her life and fame should my concernment be;<br />
+But she should only be afraid for me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> My heart was yours; but, oh! you left it here,<br />
+Abandoned to those tyrants, hope and fear;<br />
+If they forced from me one kind look, or word,<br />
+Could you not that, not that small part afford?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> If you had loved, you nothing yours could call;<br />
+Giving the least of mine, you gave him all.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_277" name="page_277"></a>
+True love's a miser; so tenacious grown,<br />
+He weighs to the least grain of what's his own;<br />
+More delicate than honour's nicest sense,<br />
+Neither to give nor take the least offence.<br />
+With, or without you, I can have no rest:<br />
+What shall I do? you're lodged within my breast:<br />
+Your image never will be thence displaced;<br />
+But there it lies, stabbed, mangled, and defaced.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Yet to restore the quiet of your heart,<br />
+There's one way left.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Oh, name it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> 'Tis to part.<br />
+Since perfect bliss with me you cannot prove,<br />
+I scorn to bless by halves the man I love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Now you distract me more: Shall then the day,<br />
+Which views my triumph, see our loves decay?<br />
+Must I new bars to my own joy create?<br />
+Refuse myself what I had forced from fate?<br />
+What though I am not loved?<br />
+Reason's nice taste does our delights destroy:<br />
+Brutes are more blessed, who grossly feed on joy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Such endless jealousies your love pursue,<br />
+I can no more be fully blessed than you.<br />
+I therefore go, to free us both from pain:<br />
+I prized your person, but your crown disdain.<br />
+Nay, even my own&mdash;<br />
+I give it you; for, since I cannot call<br />
+Your heart my subject, I'll not reign at all.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Go: Though thou leav'st me tortured on the rack,<br />
+'Twixt shame and pride, I cannot call thee back.&mdash;<br />
+She's guiltless, and I should submit; but oh!<br />
+When she exacts it, can I stoop so low?<br />
+Yes; for she's guiltless; but she's haughty too.<br />
+Great souls long struggle ere they own a crime:<br />
+She's gone; and leaves me no repenting time.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_278" name="page_278"></a>
+I'll call her now; sure, if she loves, she'll stay;<br />
+Linger at least, or not go far away.
+<span class="sdr">[Looks to the door, and returns.</span><br />
+For ever lost! and I repent too late.<br />
+My foolish pride would set my whole estate,<br />
+Till, at one throw, I lost all back to fate.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">To him the Emperor, drawing in <span class="cnm">Indamora:</span>
+Attendants.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> It must not be, that he, by whom we live,<br />
+Should no advantage of his gift receive.<br />
+Should he be wholly wretched? he alone,<br />
+In this blessed day, a day so much his own?<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Ind.</span></span><br />
+I have not quitted yet a victor's right:<br />
+I'll make you happy in your own despite.<br />
+I love you still; and, if I struggle hard<br />
+To give, it shows the worth of the reward.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Suppose he has o'ercome; must I find place<br />
+Among his conquered foes, and sue for grace?<br />
+Be pardoned, and confess I loved not well?<br />
+What though none live my innocence to tell,<br />
+I know it: Truth may own a generous pride:<br />
+I clear myself, and care for none beside.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Oh, Indamora, you would break my heart!<br />
+Could you resolve, on any terms, to part?<br />
+I thought your love eternal: Was it tied<br />
+So loosely, that a quarrel could divide?<br />
+I grant that my suspicions were unjust;<br />
+But would you leave me, for a small distrust?<br />
+Forgive those foolish words&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Kneeling to her.</span><br />
+They were the froth my raging folly moved,<br />
+When it boiled up: I knew not then I loved;<br />
+Yet then loved most.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Aur.</span></span>]<br />
+You would but half be blest!<span class="sdr">[Giving her hand, smiling.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_279" name="page_279"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Oh do but try<br />
+My eager love: I'll give myself the lie.<br />
+The very hope is a full happiness,<br />
+Yet scantly measures what I shall possess.<br />
+Fancy itself, even in enjoyment, is<br />
+But a dumb judge, and cannot tell its bliss.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Her eyes a secret yielding do confess,<br />
+And promise to partake your happiness.<br />
+May all the joys I did myself pursue,<br />
+Be raised by her, and multiplied on you!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">A Procession of Priests, Slaves following, and, last,
+<span class="cnm">Melesinda</span> in white.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Alas! what means this pomp?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> 'Tis the procession of a funeral vow,<br />
+Which cruel laws to Indian wives allow,<br />
+When fatally their virtue they approve;<br />
+Cheerful in flames, and martyrs of their love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> Oh, my foreboding heart! the event I fear:<br />
+And see! sad Melesinda does appear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> You wrong my love; what grief do I betray?<br />
+This is the triumph of my nuptial day,<br />
+My better nuptials; which, in spite of fate,<br />
+For ever join me to my dear Morat.<br />
+Now I am pleased; my jealousies are o'er:<br />
+He's mine; and I can lose him now no more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> Let no false show of fame, your reason blind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ind.</span> You have no right to die; he was not kind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Mel.</span> Had he been kind, I could no love have shown:<br />
+Each vulgar virtue would as much have done.<br />
+My love was such, it needed no return;<br />
+But could, though he supplied no fuel, burn.<br />
+Rich in itself, like elemental fire,<br />
+Whose pureness does no aliment require.<br />
+In vain you would bereave me of my lord;<br />
+For I will die:&mdash;Die is too base a word,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_280" name="page_280"></a>
+I'll seek his breast, and, kindling by his side,<br />
+Adorned with flames, I'll mount a glorious bride.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Nourmahal,</span> distracted, with <span class="cnm">Zayda.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Zay.</span> She's lost, she's lost! but why do I complain,<br />
+For her, who generously did life disdain!<br />
+Poisoned, she raves&mdash;<br />
+The envenomed body does the soul attack;<br />
+The envenomed soul works its own poison back.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> I burn, I more than burn; I am all fire.<br />
+See how my mouth and nostrils flame expire!<br />
+I'll not come near myself&mdash;<br />
+Now I'm a burning lake, it rolls and flows;<br />
+I'll rush, and pour it all upon my foes.<br />
+Pull, pull that reverend piece of timber near:<br />
+Throw't on&mdash;'tis dry&mdash;'twill burn&mdash;<br />
+Ha, ha! how my old husband crackles there!<br />
+Keep him down, keep him down; turn him about:<br />
+I know him,&mdash;he'll but whiz, and strait go out.<br />
+Fan me, you winds: What, not one breath of air?<br />
+I'll burn them all, and yet have flames to spare.<br />
+Quench me: Pour on whole rivers. 'Tis in vain:<br />
+Morat stands there to drive them back again:<br />
+With those huge billows in his hands, he blows<br />
+New fire into my head: My brain-pan glows.<br />
+See! see! there's Aureng-Zebe too takes his part;<br />
+But he blows all his fire into my heart<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_3-4">[4]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Aur.</span> Alas, what fury's this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Nour.</span> That's he, that's he!
+<span class="sdr">[Staring upon him, and catching at him.</span><br />
+I know the dear man's voice:<br />
+And this my rival, this the cursed she.<br />
+They kiss; into each other's arms they run:<br />
+Close, close, close! must I see, and must have none?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_281" name="page_281"></a>
+Thou art not hers: Give me that eager kiss.<br />
+Ungrateful! have I lost Morat for this?<br />
+Will you?&mdash;before my face?&mdash;poor helpless I<br />
+See all, and have my hell before I die!<span class="sdr">[Sinks down.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Emp.</span> With thy last breath thou hast thy crimes confest:<br />
+Farewell; and take, what thou ne'er gav'st me, rest.<br />
+But you, my son, receive it better here:
+<span class="sdr">[Giving him <span class="cnm">Indamora's</span> hand.</span><br />
+The just rewards of love and honour wear.<br />
+Receive the mistress, you so long have served;<br />
+Receive the crown, your loyalty preserved.<br />
+Take you the reins, while I from cares remove,<br />
+And sleep within the chariot which I drove.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Auren_3-1" name="Auren_3-1"></a>
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>&mdash;Magne regnator deum,</p>
+<p>Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?</p>
+<p>Ecquando s&aelig;va fulmen emittes manu,</p>
+<p>Si nunc serenum est?</p>
+<p>&mdash;Me velox cremet,</p>
+<p>Transactus ignis. Sum nocens, merui mori,</p>
+<p>Placui noverc&aelig;.</p>
+<p class="citation">&mdash;Hippolitus apud Senecam.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>See Langbaine, on this play.</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="Auren_3-2" name="Auren_3-2"></a>In Dryden's time it was believed, that some Indian tribes devoured
+the bodies of their parents; affirming, they could shew no
+greater mark of respect, than to incorporate their remains with
+their own substance.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Auren_3-3" name="Auren_3-3"></a>Langbaine traces this speech also to Seneca's Hippolitus.<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>&mdash;Thesei vultus amo;</p>
+<p>Illos priores quos tulit quondam puer,</p>
+<p>Cum prima puras barba signaret genas.</p>
+</div></li>
+
+<li><a id="Auren_3-4" name="Auren_3-4"></a>I wish the duty of an editor had permitted me to omit this
+extravagant and ludicrous rhapsody.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_282" name="page_282"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>A pretty task! and so I told the fool,</p>
+<p>Who needs would undertake to please by rule:</p>
+<p>He thought, that if his characters were good,</p>
+<p>The scenes entire, and freed from noise and blood;</p>
+<p>The action great, yet circumscribed by time,</p>
+<p>The words not forced, but sliding into rhyme,</p>
+<p>The passions raised, and calm by just degrees,</p>
+<p>As tides are swelled, and then retire to seas;</p>
+<p>He thought, in hitting these, his business done,</p>
+<p>Though he, perhaps, has failed in every one:</p>
+<p>But, after all, a poet must confess,</p>
+<p>His art's like physic, but a happy guess.</p>
+<p>Your pleasure on your fancy must depend:</p>
+<p>The lady's pleased, just as she likes her friend.</p>
+<p>No song! no dance! no show! he fears you'll say:</p>
+<p>You love all naked beauties, but a play.</p>
+<p>He much mistakes your methods to delight;</p>
+<p>And, like the French, abhors our target-fight:</p>
+<p>But those damned dogs can ne'er be in the right.</p>
+<p>True English hate your Monsieur's paltry arts,</p>
+<p>For you are all silk-weavers in your hearts<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_4-1">[1]</a>.</p>
+<p>Bold Britons, at a brave Bear-Garden fray,</p>
+<p>Are roused: And, clattering sticks, cry,&mdash;Play, play, play!<a class="ftnt" href="#Auren_4-2">[2]</a></p>
+<p>Meantime, your filthy foreigner will stare,</p>
+<p>And mutters to himself,&mdash;<i>Ha! gens barbare!</i></p>
+<p>And, gad, 'tis well he mutters; well for him;</p>
+<p>Our butchers else would tear him limb from limb.</p>
+<p>'Tis true, the time may come, your sons may be</p>
+<p>Infected with this French civility:</p>
+<p>But this, in after ages will be done:</p>
+<p>Our poet writes an hundred years too soon.</p>
+<p>This age comes on too slow, or he too fast:</p>
+<p>And early springs are subject to a blast!</p>
+<p><a class="pgnm" id="page_283" name="page_283"></a>
+Who would excel, when few can make a test</p>
+<p>Betwixt indifferent writing and the best?</p>
+<p>For favours, cheap and common, who would strive,</p>
+<p>Which, like abandoned prostitutes, you give?</p>
+<p>Yet, scattered here and there, I some behold,</p>
+<p>Who can discern the tinsel from the gold:</p>
+<p>To these he writes; and, if by them allowed,</p>
+<p>'Tis their prerogative to rule the crowd.</p>
+<p>For he more fears, like a presuming man,</p>
+<p>Their votes who cannot judge, than theirs who can.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="Auren_4-1" name="Auren_4-1"></a>Enemies, namely, like the English silk-weavers to the manufactures of
+France.</li>
+
+<li><a id="Auren_4-2" name="Auren_4-2"></a>Alluding to the prize-fighting with broad-swords at the Bear-Garden: an
+amusement sufficiently degrading, yet more manly, and less brutal than that
+of boxing, as now practised. We have found, in the lowest deep, a lower still.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_285" name="page_285"></a></div>
+
+<h2 class="chap">ALL FOR LOVE;</h2>
+
+<p class="ctr">OR,</p>
+
+<h3 class="nomarg">THE WORLD WELL LOST.</h3>
+
+<h3>A<br />
+TRAGEDY.</h3>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_287" name="page_287"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">ALL FOR LOVE.</h3>
+
+<p>The prologue to the preceding play has already acquainted us,
+that Dryden's taste for Rhyming, or Heroic Plays, was then upon
+the wane; and, accordingly "Aureng-Zebe" was the last tragedy
+which he formed upon that once admired model. "Henceforth
+a series of new times began," for, when given up by the only writer,
+whose command of flowing and powerful numbers had rendered it
+impressive, that department of the drama was soon abandoned by
+the inferior class of play-writers, to whom it presented multiplied
+difficulties, without a single advantage. The new taste, which our
+author had now decidedly adopted, was founded upon the stile of
+Shakespeare, of whose works he appears always to have been a persevering
+student, and, at length, an ardent admirer. Accordingly,
+he informs us, in the introduction, that this play is professedly
+written in imitation of "the divine Shakespeare." As if to bring
+this more immediately under the eye of the reader, he has chosen a
+subject upon which his immortal original had already laboured;
+and, perhaps, the most proper introduction to "All for Love"
+may be a parallel betwixt it and Shakespeare's "Antony and Cleopatra."</p>
+
+<p>The first point of comparison is the general conduct, or plot, of
+the tragedy. And here Dryden, having, to use his own language,
+undertaken to shoot in the bow of Ulysses, imitates the wily Antinous
+in using art to eke out his strength, and suppling the weapon
+before he attempted to bend it.</p>
+
+<p>Shakespeare, with the license peculiar to his age and character,
+had diffused the action of his play over Italy, Greece, and
+Egypt; but Dryden, who was well aware of the advantage to be
+derived from a simplicity and concentration of plot, has laid every
+scene in the city of Alexandria. By this he guarded the audience
+from that vague and puzzling distraction which must necessarily attend
+a violent change of place. It is a mistake to suppose, that the
+argument in favour of the unities depends upon preserving the deception
+of the scene; they are necessarily connected with the intelligibility
+of the piece. It may be true, that no spectator supposes
+that the stage before him is actually the court of Alexandria;
+yet, when he has once made up his mind to let it pass as such during
+the representation, it is a cruel tax, not merely on his imagination,
+but on his powers of comprehension, if the scene be suddenly
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_288" name="page_288"></a>
+transferred to a distant country. Time is lost before he can form
+new associations, and reconcile their bearings with those originally
+presented to him, and if he be a person of slow comprehension,
+or happens to lose any part of the dialogue, announcing the changes,
+the whole becomes unintelligible confusion. In this respect,
+and in discarding a number of uninteresting characters, the plan
+of Dryden's play must be unequivocally preferred to that of Shakespeare
+in point of coherence, unity, and simplicity. It is a natural
+consequence of this more artful arrangement of the story, that
+Dryden contents himself with the concluding scene of Antony's history
+instead of introducing the incidents of the war with Cneius
+Pompey, the negociation with Lepidus, death of his first wife, and
+other circumstances, which, in Shakespeare, only tend to distract
+our attention from the main interest of the drama. The union of
+time, as necessary as that of place to the intelligibility of the
+drama, has, in like manner, been happily attained; and an interesting
+event is placed before the audience with no other change of
+place, and no greater lapse of time, than can be readily adapted to
+an ordinary imagination.</p>
+
+<p>But, having given Dryden the praise of superior address in managing
+the story, I fear he must be pronounced in most other respects
+inferior to his grand prototype. Antony, the principal character
+in both plays, is incomparably grander in that of Shakespeare.
+The majesty and generosity of the military hero is happily expressed
+by both poets; but the awful ruin of grandeur, undermined
+by passion, and tottering to its fall, is far more striking in the
+Antony of Shakespeare. Love, it is true, is the predominant;
+but it is not the sole ingredient in his character. It has usurped
+possession of his mind, but is assailed by his original passions, ambition
+of power, and thirst for military fame. He is, therefore,
+often, and it should seem naturally represented, as feeling for the
+downfall of his glory and power, even so intensely as to withdraw
+his thoughts from Cleopatra, unless considered as the cause of his
+ruin. Thus, in the scene in which he compares himself to "black
+Vesper's pageants," he runs on in a train of fantastic and melancholy
+similes, having relation only to his fallen state, till the mention
+of Egypt suddenly recalls the idea of Cleopatra. But Dryden has
+taken a different view of Antony's character, and more closely approaching
+to his title of "All for Love."&mdash;"He seems not now
+that awful Antony." His whole thoughts and being are dedicated
+to his fatal passion; and though a spark of resentment is occasionally
+struck out by the reproaches of Ventidius, he instantly
+relapses into love-sick melancholy. The following beautiful
+speech exhibits the romance of despairing love, without the deep
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_289" name="page_289"></a>
+and mingled passion of a dishonoured soldier, and dethroned emperor:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> [<span class="sdm">Throwing himself down.</span>]<br />
+Lie there, thou shadow of an emperor;<br />
+The place, thou pressest on thy mother earth,<br />
+Is all thy empire now: Now, it contains thee;<br />
+Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large,<br />
+When thou'rt contracted in the narrow urn,<br />
+Shrunk to a few cold ashes; then, Octavia,<br />
+For Cleopatra will not live to see it,<br />
+Octavia then will have thee all her own,<br />
+And bear thee in her widowed hand to C&aelig;sar;<br />
+C&aelig;sar will weep, the crocodile will weep,<br />
+To see his rival of the universe<br />
+Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more on't.<br />
+Give me some music; look that it be sad:<br />
+I'll sooth my melancholy, 'till I swell,<br />
+And burst myself with sighing&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Soft music.</span><br />
+'Tis somewhat to my humour: Stay, I fancy<br />
+I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature;<br />
+Of all forsaken, and forsaking all;<br />
+Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene,<br />
+Stretched at my length beneath some blasted oak,<br />
+I lean my head upon the mossy bark,<br />
+And look just of a piece, as I grew from it:<br />
+My uncombed locks, matted like misletoe,<br />
+Hang o'er my hoary face; a murmuring brook<br />
+Runs at my foot.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ven.</span> Methinks I fancy<br />
+Myself there too.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> The herd come jumping by me,<br />
+And, fearless, quench their thirst, while I look on,<br />
+And take me for their fellow-citizen.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Even when Antony is finally ruined, the power of jealousy is
+called upon to complete his despair, and he is less sensible to the
+idea of C&aelig;sar's successful arms, than to the risque of Dolabella's
+rivalling him in the affections of Cleopatra. It is true, the
+Antony of Shakespeare also starts into fury, upon Cleopatra permitting
+Thyreus to kiss her hand; but this is not jealousy; it is
+pride offended, that she, for whom he had sacrificed his glory and
+empire, should already begin to court the favour of the conqueror,
+and vouchsafe her hand to be saluted by a "jack of C&aelig;sars."
+Hence Enobarbus, the witness of the scene, alludes immediately to
+the fury of mortified ambition and falling power:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,</p>
+<p>Than with an old one dying&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Having, however, adopted an idea of Antony's character, rather
+suitable to romance than to nature, or history, we must not deny
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_290" name="page_290"></a>
+Dryden the praise of having exquisitely brought out the picture he
+intended to draw. He has informed us, that this was the only
+play written to please himself; and he has certainly exerted in it
+the full force of his incomparable genius. Antony is throughout
+the piece what the author meant him to be; a victim to the omnipotence
+of love, or rather to the infatuation of one engrossing
+passion<a class="ftnt" href="#All_1-1">[1]</a>.</p>
+
+<p>In the Cleopatra of Dryden, there is greatly less spirit and originality
+than in Shakespeare's. The preparation of the latter for
+death has a grandeur which puts to shame the same scene in Dryden,
+and serves to support the interest during the whole fifth act,
+although Antony has died in the conclusion of the fourth. No
+circumstance can more highly evince the power of Shakespeare's
+genius, in spite of his irregularities; since the conclusion in Dryden,
+where both lovers die in the same scene, and after a reconciliation,
+is infinitely more artful and better adapted to theatrical
+effect.</p>
+
+<p>In the character of Ventidius, Dryden has filled up, with ability,
+the rude sketches, which Shakespeare has thrown off in those
+of Sc&aelig;va and Eros. The rough old Roman soldier is painted with
+great truth; and the quarrel betwixt him and Antony, in the
+first act, is equal to any single scene that our author ever wrote,
+excepting, perhaps, that betwixt Sebastian and Dorax; an opinion
+in which the judgment of the critic coincides with that of the
+poet. It is a pity, as has often been remarked, that this dialogue
+occurs so early in the play, since what follows is necessarily inferior
+in force. Dryden, while writing this scene, had unquestionably
+in his recollection the quarrel betwixt Brutus and Cassius,
+which was justly so great a favourite in his time, and to which he
+had referred as inimitable in his prologue to "Aureng-Zebe.<a class="ftnt" href="#All_1-2">[2]</a>"</p>
+
+<p>The inferior characters are better supported in Dryden than in
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_291" name="page_291"></a>
+Shakespeare. We have no low buffoonery in the former, such as
+disgraces Enobarbus, and is hardly redeemed by his affecting catastrophe.
+Even the Egyptian Alexas acquires some respectability,
+from his patriotic attachment to the interests of his country,
+and from his skill as a wily courtier. He expresses, by a beautiful
+image, the effeminate attachment to life, appropriated to his character and country:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>O, that I less could fear to lose this being,</p>
+<p>Which, like a snow-ball in my coward hand,</p>
+<p>The more 'tis grasped, the faster melts away.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Octavia of Dryden is a much more important personage
+than in the "Antony and Cleopatra" of Shakespeare. She is, however,
+more cold and unamiable; for, in the very short scenes in
+which the Octavia of Shakespeare appears, she is placed in rather
+an interesting point of view. But Dryden has himself informed
+us, that he was apprehensive the justice of a wife's claim upon her
+husband would draw the audience to her side, and lessen their interest
+in the lover and the mistress. He seems accordingly to
+have studiedly lowered the character of the injured Octavia, who,
+in her conduct towards her husband, shews much duty and little
+love; and plainly intimates, that her rectitude of conduct flows
+from a due regard to her own reputation, rather than from attachment
+to Antony's person, or sympathy with him in his misfortunes.
+It happens, therefore, with Octavia, as with all other very
+good selfish kind of people; we think it unnecessary to feel any
+thing for her, as she is obviously capable of taking very good care
+of herself. I must not omit, that her scolding scene with Cleopatra,
+although anxiously justified by the author in the preface,
+seems too coarse to be in character, and is a glaring exception to
+the general good taste evinced throughout the rest of the piece.</p>
+
+<p>It would be too long a task to contrast the beauties of these
+two great poets in point of diction and style. But the reader will
+doubtless be pleased to compare the noted descriptions of the voyage
+of Cleopatra down the Cydnus. It is thus given in Shakespeare:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,</p>
+<p>Burned on the water: The poop was beaten gold;</p>
+<p>Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that</p>
+<p>The winds were love-sick with them: The oars were silver;</p>
+<p>Which, to the tune of flutes, kept stroke, and made</p>
+<p>The water which they beat, to follow faster,</p>
+<p>As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,</p>
+<p>It beggared all description: she did lie</p>
+<p>In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue),</p>
+<p><a class="pgnm" id="page_292" name="page_292"></a>
+O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see,</p>
+<p>The fancy outwork nature; on each side her,</p>
+<p>Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,</p>
+<p>With diverse coloured fans, whose wind did seem</p>
+<p>To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,</p>
+<p>And what they undid, did.</p>
+<p>Her gentlewomen, like the Nereids,</p>
+<p>So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,</p>
+<p>And made their bends adornings: At the helm</p>
+<p>A seeming mermaid steers: The silken tackle</p>
+<p>Swells with the touches of those flower-soft hands</p>
+<p>That yarely frame the office. From the barge</p>
+<p>A strange invisible perfume hits the sense</p>
+<p>Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast</p>
+<p>Her people out upon her; and Antony,</p>
+<p>Enthroned in the market-place, did sit alone,</p>
+<p>Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,</p>
+<p>Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,</p>
+<p>And made a gap in nature.</p>
+<p class="citation"><i>Antony and Cleopatra</i>, Act i. Scene 2.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The parallel passage in Dryden runs thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="dlg">The tackling silk, the streamers waved with gold,<br />
+The gentle winds were lodged in purple sails:<br />
+Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were placed;<br />
+Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> No more: I would not hear it,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> O, you must!<br />
+She lay, and leant her cheek upon her hand,<br />
+And cast a look so languishingly sweet,<br />
+As if secure of all beholders hearts,<br />
+Neglecting she could take them: Boys, like Cupids,<br />
+Stood fanning, with their painted wings, the winds<br />
+That played about her face! But if she smiled,<br />
+A darting glory secured to blaze abroad:<br />
+That men's desiring eyes were never wearied,<br />
+But hung upon the object: To soft flutes<br />
+The silver oars kept time; and while they played,<br />
+The hearing gave new pleasure to the sight;<br />
+And both to thought. 'Twas heaven, or somewhat more;<br />
+For she so charmed all hearts, that gazing crowds<br />
+Stood panting on the shore, and wanted breath<br />
+To give their welcome voice.<br />
+Then, Dolabella, where was then thy soul?<br />
+Was not thy fury quite disarmed with murder?<br />
+Didst thou not shrink behind me from those eyes,<br />
+And whisper in my ear, Oh, tell her not<br />
+That I accused her of my brother's death?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>In judging betwixt these celebrated passages, we feel almost
+afraid to avow a preference of Dryden, founded partly upon the
+easy flow of the verse, which seems to soften with the subject,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_293" name="page_293"></a>
+but chiefly upon the beauty of the language and imagery, which
+is flowery without diffusiveness, and rapturous without hyperbole.
+I fear Shakespeare cannot be exculpated from the latter fault;
+yet I am sensible, it is by sifting his beauties from his conceits
+that his imitator has been enabled to excel him.</p>
+
+<p>It is impossible to bestow too much praise on the beautiful passages
+which occur so frequently in "All for Love." Having already
+given several examples of happy expression of melancholy
+and tender feelings, I content myself with extracting the sublime
+and terrific description of an omen presaging the downfall of
+Egypt.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> Last night, between the hours of twelve and one,<br />
+In a lone isle of the temple while I walked,<br />
+A whirlwind rose, that, with a violent blast,<br />
+Shook all the dome: The doors around me clapt;<br />
+The iron wicket, that defends the vault,<br />
+Where the long race of Ptolemies is laid,<br />
+Burst open, and disclosed the mighty dead.<br />
+From out each monument, in order placed,<br />
+An armed ghost starts up: The boy-king last<br />
+Reared his inglorious head. A peal of groans<br />
+Then followed, and a lamentable voice<br />
+Cried,&mdash;"Egypt is no more!" My blood ran back,<br />
+My shaking knees against each other knocked;<br />
+On the cold pavement down I fell entranced,<br />
+And so, unfinished, left the horrid scene.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Having quoted so many passages of exquisite poetry, and having
+set this play in no unequal opposition to that of Shakespeare,
+it is, perhaps, unnecessary to mention by what other poets the
+same subject has been treated. Daniel, Mary countess of Pembroke,
+May, and Sir Charles Sedley, each produced a play on
+the fortunes of Anthony. Of these pieces I have never read the
+three former, and will assuredly never read the last a second
+time<a class="ftnt" href="#All_1-3">[3]</a>.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" id="page_294" name="page_294"></a>
+"All for Love," as the most laboured performance of our author,
+received the full tribute of applause and popularity which
+had often graced his less perfect and more hurried performances.
+Davies gives us the following account of its first representation.</p>
+
+<p>"In Dryden's "All for Love," Booth's dignified action and
+forcible elocution, in the part of Antony, attracted the public to
+that heavy, though, in many parts, well written play, six night's
+successively, without the assistance of pantomime, or farce,
+which, at that time, was esteemed something extraordinary.&mdash;But,
+indeed, he was well supported by an Oldfield, in his Cleopatra,
+who, to a most harmonious and powerful voice, and fine
+person, added grace and elegance of gesture. When Booth and
+Oldfield met in the second act, their dignity of deportment commanded
+the applause and approbation of the most judicious critics.
+When Antony said to Cleopatra,</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>You promised me your silence, and you break it</p>
+<p>Ere I have scarce begun,&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">this check was so well understood by Oldfield, and answered with
+such propriety of behaviour, that, in Shakespeare's phrase; her
+"bendings were adornings."</p>
+
+<p>"The elder Mills acted Ventidius with the true spirit of a rough
+and generous old soldier. To render the play as acceptable to
+the public as possible, Wilkes took the trifling part of Dolabella,
+nor did Colley Cibber disdain to appear in Alexas. These parts
+would scarcely be accepted now by third-rate actors. Still to
+add more weight to the performance, Octavia was a short character
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_295" name="page_295"></a>
+of a scene or two, in which Mrs Porter drew not only respect,
+but the more affecting approbation of tears from the audience.
+Since that time, "All for Love" has gradually sunk into forgetfulness."</p>
+
+<p>If this last observation be true, it is, under Mr Davies' favour, a
+striking illustration of the caprice of the public taste. The play
+of "All for Love" was first acted and printed in 1678.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="All_1-1" name="All_1-1"></a>Dryden has himself, in the prologue, alluded to this predominance of sentiment
+in his hero's character.<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>His hero, whom you wits his bully call,</p>
+<p>Bates of his metal, and scarce rants at all;</p>
+<p>He's somewhat lewd; but a well meaning mind,</p>
+<p>Weeps much, fights little, but is wondrous kind.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_1-2" name="All_1-2"></a>
+<div class="poem">
+<p>But, spite of all his pride, a secret shame</p>
+<p>Invades his breast at Shakespeare's sacred name:</p>
+<p>Awed, when he hears his god-like Romans rage,</p>
+<p>He, in a just despair, would quit the stage,</p>
+<p>And, to an age less polished, more unskilled,</p>
+<p>Does, with disdain, the foremost honours yield.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_1-3" name="All_1-3"></a>Lest any reader should have anticipated better things of "Sedley's noble
+muse," the Lisideius of our author's dialogue on dramatic poetry, I subjoin
+a specimen, taken at hazard:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Gape, hell, and to thy dismal bottom take</p>
+<p>The lost Antonius; this was our last stake:</p>
+<p>Warned by my ruin, let no Roman more,</p>
+<p>Set foot on the inhospitable shore.</p>
+<p>Cowards and traitors filled this impious land,</p>
+<p>Faithless and fearful, without heart or hand,</p>
+<p>Some ran to C&aelig;sar, like a headlong tide,</p>
+<p>The rest their fear made useless on our side.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"This passion, with the death of a dear friend, would go nigh to make one
+sad;" yet some of the authors of the day held a very different doctrine.
+Shadwell, in his dedication to "A true Widow," tells Sedley, "You have
+in that Mulberry Garden shewn the true wit, humour, and satire of a comedy;
+and, in Antony and Cleopatra, the true spirit of a tragedy;  the only one,
+except two of Jonson's and one of Shakespeare's, wherein Romans are made
+to speak and do like Romans. There are to be found the true characters of
+Antony and Cleopatra, as they were; whereas a French author would have
+made the Egyptian and Roman both become French under his pen. And
+even our English authors are too much given to make history (in these plays)
+romantic and impossible; but, in this play, the Romans are true Romans,
+and their style is such; and I dare affirm, that there is not in any play of
+this age so much of the spirit of the classic authors, as in your Antony and
+Cleopatra." I cannot help suspecting that much of this hyperbolical praise
+of Sedley was obliquely designed to mortify Dryden.</p></li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_296" name="page_296"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">TO
+THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+THOMAS,<br />
+EARL OF DANBY,
+VISCOUNT LATIMER, AND BARON OSBORNE OF
+KIVETON IN YORKSHIRE;<br />
+LORD HIGH TREASURER OF ENGLAND,
+ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY
+COUNCIL, AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE
+ORDER OF THE GARTER<a class="ftnt" href="#All_2-1">[1]</a>.</h3>
+
+<p class="noind smcap">My Lord,</p>
+
+<p>The gratitude of poets is so troublesome a virtue
+to great men, that you are often in danger of your
+own benefits: For you are threatened with some
+epistle, and not suffered to do good in quiet, or to
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_297" name="page_297"></a>
+compound for their silence whom you have obliged.
+Yet, I confess, I neither am or ought to be surprised
+at this indulgence; for your lordship has the same
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_298" name="page_298"></a>
+right to favour poetry, which the great and noble
+have ever had:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Carmen amat, quisquis carmine digna gerit.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>There is somewhat of a tie in nature betwixt
+those who are born for worthy actions, and those
+who can transmit them to posterity; and though
+ours be much the inferior part, it comes at least
+within the verge of alliance; nor are we unprofitable
+members of the commonwealth, when we animate
+others to those virtues, which we copy and
+describe from you.</p>
+
+<p>It is indeed their interest, who endeavour the subversion
+of governments, to discourage poets and historians;
+for the best which can happen to them, is, to
+be forgotten: But such who, under kings, are the
+fathers of their country, and by a just and prudent
+ordering of affairs preserve it, have the same reason
+to cherish the chroniclers of their actions, as they
+have to lay up in safety the deeds and evidences of
+their estates; for such records are their undoubted
+titles to the love and reverence of after-ages. Your
+lordship's administration has already taken up a considerable
+part of the English annals; and many of
+its most happy years are owing to it. His majesty,
+the most knowing judge of men, and the best master,
+has acknowledged the ease and benefit he receives
+in the incomes of his treasury, which you found
+not only disordered, but exhausted. All things were
+in the confusion of a chaos, without form or method
+if not reduced beyond it, even to annihilation;
+so that you had not only to separate the jarring elements,
+but (if that boldness of expression might be
+allowed me) to create them. Your enemies had so
+embroiled the management of your office, that they
+looked on your advancement as the instrument of
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_299" name="page_299"></a>
+your ruin. And as if the clogging of the revenue,
+and the confusion of accounts, which you found in
+your entrance, were not sufficient, they added their
+own weight of malice to the public calamity, by
+forestalling the credit which should cure it. Your
+friends on the other side were only capable of pitying,
+but not of aiding you; no farther help or counsel
+was remaining to you, but what was founded on
+yourself; and that indeed was your security; for
+your diligence, your constancy, and your prudence,
+wrought more surely within, when they were not
+disturbed by any outward motion. The highest
+virtue is best to be trusted with itself; for assistance
+only can be given by a genius superior to that
+which it assists; and it is the noblest kind of debt,
+when we are only obliged to God and nature. This
+then, my lord, is your just commendation, that you
+have wrought out yourself a way to glory, by those
+very means that were designed for your destruction:
+You have not only restored, but advanced the revenues
+of your master, without grievance to the
+subject; and, as if that were little yet, the debts of
+the exchequer, which lay heaviest both on the crown,
+and on private persons, have by your conduct been
+established in a certainty of satisfaction.<a class="ftnt" href="#All_2-2">[2]</a> An action
+so much the more great and honourable, because
+the case was without the ordinary relief of
+laws; above the hopes of the afflicted, and beyond
+the narrowness of the treasury to redress, had it
+been managed by a less able hand. It is certainly
+the happiest, and most unenvied part of all your
+fortune, to do good to many, while you do injury
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_300" name="page_300"></a>
+to none; to receive at once the prayers of the subject,
+and the praises of the prince; and, by the care
+of your conduct, to give him means of exerting the
+chiefest (if any be the chiefest) of his royal virtues,
+his distributive justice to the deserving, and his
+bounty and compassion to the wanting. The disposition
+of princes towards their people cannot be
+better discovered than in the choice of their ministers;
+who, like the animal spirits betwixt the soul
+and body, participate somewhat of both natures,
+and make the communication which is betwixt them.
+A king, who is just and moderate in his nature, who
+rules according to the laws, whom God has made happy
+by forming the temper of his soul to the constitution
+of his government, and who makes us happy,
+by assuming over us no other sovereignty than that
+wherein our welfare and liberty consists; a prince,
+I say, of so excellent a character, and so suitable
+to the wishes of all good men, could not better have
+conveyed himself into his people's apprehensions, than
+in your lordship's person; who so lively express the
+same virtues, that you seem not so much a copy, as
+an emanation of him. Moderation is doubtless an
+establishment of greatness; but there is a steadiness
+of temper which is likewise requisite in a minister
+of state; so equal a mixture of both virtues,
+that he may stand like an isthmus betwixt the two
+encroaching seas of arbitrary power, and lawless
+anarchy. The undertaking would be difficult to any
+but an extraordinary genius, to stand at the line,
+and to divide the limits; to pay what is due to the
+great representative of the nation, and neither to
+enhance, nor to yield up, the undoubted prerogatives
+of the crown. These, my lord, are the proper virtues
+of a noble Englishman, as indeed they are
+properly English virtues; no people in the world
+being capable of using them, but we who have the
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_301" name="page_301"></a>
+happiness to be born under so equal, and so well
+poised a government;&mdash;a government which has
+all the advantages of liberty beyond a commonwealth,
+and all the marks of kingly sovereignty,
+without the danger of a tyranny. Both my nature,
+as I am an Englishman, and my reason, as I am a
+man, have bred in me a loathing to that specious
+name of a republic; that mock appearance of a liberty,
+where all who have not part in the government,
+are slaves; and slaves they are of a viler
+note, than such as are subjects to an absolute dominion.
+For no Christian monarchy is so absolute,
+but it is circumscribed with laws; but when the
+executive power is in the law-makers, there is no
+farther check upon them; and the people must suffer
+without a remedy, because they are oppressed
+by their representatives. If I must serve, the number
+of my masters, who were born my equals, would
+but add to the ignominy of my bondage. The nature
+of our government, above all others, is exactly
+suited both to the situation of our country, and the
+temper of the natives; an island being more proper
+for commerce and for defence, than for extending
+its dominions on the Continent; for what the
+valour of its inhabitants might gain, by reason of
+its remoteness, and the casualties of the seas, it
+could not so easily preserve: And, therefore, neither
+the arbitrary power of One, in a monarchy, nor of
+Many, in a commonwealth, could make us greater
+than we are. It is true, that vaster and more frequent
+taxes might be gathered, when the consent
+of the people was not asked or needed; but this were
+only by conquering abroad, to be poor at home; and
+the examples of our neighbours teach us, that they
+are not always the happiest subjects, whose kings extend
+their dominions farthest. Since therefore we
+cannot win by an offensive war, at least a land war,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_302" name="page_302"></a>
+the model of our government seems naturally contrived
+for the defensive part; and the consent of a
+people is easily obtained to contribute to that power
+which must protect it. <i>Felices nimium, bona si sua
+n&oacute;rint, Angligen&aelig;!</i> And yet there are not wanting
+malecontents amongst us, who, surfeiting themselves
+on too much happiness, would persuade the
+people that they might be happier by a change. It
+was indeed the policy of their old forefather, when
+himself was fallen from the station of glory, to seduce
+mankind into the same rebellion with him, by
+telling him he might yet be freer than he was; that
+is, more free than his nature would allow, or, if I
+may so say, than God could make him. We have
+already all the liberty which free-born subjects can
+enjoy, and all beyond it is but licence. But if it be
+liberty of conscience which they pretend, the moderation
+of our church is such, that its practice extends
+not to the severity of persecution; and its
+discipline is withal so easy, that it allows more freedom
+to dissenters than any of the sects would allow
+to it. In the mean time, what right can be
+pretended by these men to attempt innovation in
+church or state? Who made them the trustees, or,
+to speak a little nearer their own language, the
+keepers of the liberty of England? If their call be
+extraordinary, let them convince us by working miracles;
+for ordinary vocation they can have none,
+to disturb the government under which they were
+born, and which protects them. He who has often
+changed his party, and always has made his interest
+the rule of it, gives little evidence of his sincerity
+for the public good; it is manifest he changes but
+for himself, and takes the people for tools to work
+his fortune. Yet the experience of all ages might
+let him know, that they, who trouble the waters
+first, have seldom the benefit of fishing; as they
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_303" name="page_303"></a>
+who began the late rebellion, enjoyed not the fruit
+of their undertaking, but were crushed themselves
+by the usurpation of their own instrument. Neither
+is it enough for them to answer, that they only
+intend a reformation of the government, but not
+the subversion of it: on such pretence all insurrections
+have been founded; it is striking at the
+root of power, which is obedience. Every remonstrance
+of private men has the seed of treason in it;
+and discourses, which are couched in ambiguous
+terms, are therefore the more dangerous, because
+they do all the mischief of open sedition, yet are
+safe from the punishment of the laws. These, my
+lord, are considerations, which I should not pass so
+lightly over, had I room to manage them as they
+deserve; for no man can be so inconsiderable in a
+nation, as not to have a share in the welfare of it;
+and if he be a true Englishman, he must at the
+same time be fired with indignation, and revenge
+himself as he can on the disturbers of his country.
+And to whom could I more fitly apply myself than
+to your lordship, who have not only an inborn, but
+an hereditary loyalty? The memorable constancy
+and sufferings of your father, almost to the ruin of
+his estate, for the royal cause, were an earnest of that,
+which such a parent and such an institution would
+produce in the person of a son. But so unhappy an
+occasion of manifesting your own zeal, in suffering
+for his present majesty, the providence of God, and
+the prudence of your administration, will, I hope,
+prevent; that, as your father's fortune waited on
+the unhappiness of his sovereign, so your own may
+participate of the better fate which attends his son.
+The relation, which you have by alliance to the
+noble family of your lady, serves to confirm to you
+both this happy augury. For what can deserve a
+greater place in the English chronicle, than the
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_304" name="page_304"></a>
+loyalty and courage, the actions and death, of the
+general of an army, fighting for his prince and country?
+The honour and gallantry of the earl of Lindsey
+is so illustrious a subject, that it is fit to adorn
+an heroic poem; for he was the proto-martyr of the
+cause, and the type of his unfortunate royal master<a class="ftnt" href="#All_2-3">[3]</a>.</p>
+
+<p>Yet after all, my lord, if I may speak my thoughts,
+you are happy rather to us than to yourself; for the
+multiplicity, the cares, and the vexations of your
+employment, have betrayed you from yourself, and
+given you up into the possession of the public.
+You are robbed of your privacy and friends, and
+scarce any hour of your life you can call your own.
+Those, who envy your fortune, if they wanted not
+good-nature, might more justly pity it; and when
+they see you watched by a crowd of suitors, whose
+importunity it is impossible to avoid, would conclude,
+with reason, that you have lost much more
+in true content, than you have gained by dignity;
+and that a private gentleman is better attended by
+a single servant, than your lordship with so clamorous
+a train. Pardon me, my lord, if I speak like a
+philosopher on this subject; the fortune, which
+makes a man uneasy, cannot make him happy; and
+a wise man must think himself uneasy, when few
+of his actions are in his choice.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" id="page_305" name="page_305"></a>
+This last consideration has brought me to another,
+and a very seasonable one for your relief;
+which is, that while I pity your want of leisure, I
+have impertinently detained you so long a time. I
+have put off my own business, which was my dedication,
+till it is so late, that I am now ashamed to
+begin it; and therefore I will say nothing of the
+poem, which I present to you, because I know not
+if you are like to have an hour, which, with a good
+conscience, you may throw away in perusing it;
+and for the author, I have only to beg the continuance
+of your protection to him, who is,</p>
+
+<p class="sig i1">My Lord,</p>
+<p class="sig i2">Your Lordship's most obliged,</p>
+<p class="sig i3">Most humble, and</p>
+<p class="sig i4">Most obedient, servant,</p>
+<p class="sig i5 smcap">John Dryden.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="All_2-1" name="All_2-1"></a><p>The person, to whom these high titles now belonged, was Sir
+Thomas Osburne, a Baronet of good family, and decayed estate;
+part of which had been lost in the royal cause. He was of a bold
+undaunted character, and stood high for the prerogative. Hence
+he was thought worthy of being sworn into the Privy Council
+during the administration of the famous CABAL; and when that
+was dissolved by the secession of Shaftesbury and the resignation
+of Clifford, he was judged a proper person to succeed the latter
+as Lord High Treasurer. He was created Earl of Danby, and
+was supposed to be deeply engaged in the attempt to new-model
+our Constitution on a more arbitrary plan; having been even heard
+to say, when sitting in judgment, that a new proclamation from
+the Crown was superior to an old act of Parliament. Nevertheless,
+he was persecuted as well by the faction of the Duke of York, to
+whom he was odious for having officiously introduced the famous Popish
+plot to the consideration of parliament, as by the popular party,
+who hated him as a favourite minister. Accordingly, in 1678, he was
+impeached by a vote of the House of Commons, and in consequence,
+notwithstanding the countenance of the King, was deprived of all
+his offices, and finally committed to the tower, where he remained for
+four years. Sir John Reresby has these reflections on Lord Danby's
+greatness and sudden fall: "It was but a few months before, that
+few things were transacted at court, but with the privity or consent
+of this great man; the King's brother, and favourite mistress,
+were glad to be fair with him, and the general address of all men
+of business was to him, who was not only treasurer, but prime
+minister also, who not only kept the purse, but was the first, and
+greatest confident in all affairs of state. But now he is neglected
+of all, forced to hide his head as a criminal, and in danger of losing
+all he has got, and his life therewith: His family, raised from privacy
+to the degree of Marquis, (a patent was then actually passing
+to invest him with that dignity) is now on the brink of falling below
+the humble stand of a yeoman; nor would almost the meanest
+subject change conditions with him now, whom so very lately the
+greatest beheld with envy." <i>Memoirs</i>, p. 85.</p>
+
+<p>As he was obnoxious to all parties, Lord Danby would probably
+have been made a sacrifice, had not the disturbances, which
+arose from the various plots of the time, turned the attention of
+his enemies to other subjects. He was liberated in 1683-4, survived
+the Revolution, was created Duke of Leeds, and died in 1712.
+His character was of the most decided kind; he was fertile in expedients
+and had always something new to substitute for those which
+failed; a faculty highly acceptable to Charles, who loved to be relieved
+even were it but in idea, from the labour of business, and the
+pressure of difficulty. In other points, he was probably not very
+scrupulous, since even Dryden found cause to say at length, that<br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Danby's matchless impudence</p>
+<p>Helped to support the knave.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_2-2" name="All_2-2"></a>This alludes to the stop of payments in exchequer, in 1671-2;
+a desperate measure recommended by Clifford, to secure money for
+the war against Holland.</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_2-3" name="All_2-3"></a>The Earl of Lindsey was general in chief for King Charles I.
+at the breaking out of the civil war. As an evil omen of the royal
+cause, he was mortally wounded and made prisoner at the battle
+of Edgehill, the very first which was fought betwixt the king and
+parliament. Clarendon says, "He had very many friends, and
+very few enemies, and died generally lamented." His son Montague
+Bertie, Earl of Lindsey, was a sufferer in the same cause.
+Lord Danby was married to the Lady Bridget, the second daughter
+of that nobleman.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_306" name="page_306"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">PREFACE.</h3>
+
+<p>The death of Antony and Cleopatra is a subject
+which has been treated by the greatest wits of
+our nation, after Shakespeare; and by all so variously,
+that their example has given me the confidence
+to try myself in this bow of Ulysses amongst the
+crowd of shooters; and, withal, to take my own
+measures, in aiming at the mark. I doubt not but
+the same motive has prevailed with all of us in this
+attempt; I mean the excellency of the moral: For
+the chief persons represented, were famous patterns
+of unlawful love; and their end accordingly was unfortunate.
+All reasonable men have long since concluded,
+that the hero of the poem ought not to be
+a character of perfect virtue, for then he could not,
+without injustice, be made unhappy; nor yet altogether
+wicked, because he could not then be pitied.
+I have therefore steered the middle course; and have
+drawn the character of Antony as favourably as
+Plutarch, Appian, and Dion Cassius would give me
+leave; the like I have observed in Cleopatra. That
+which is wanting to work up the pity to a greater
+heighth, was not afforded me by the story; for the
+crimes of love, which they both committed, were
+not occasioned by any necessity, or fatal ignorance,
+but were wholly voluntary; since our passions are,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_307" name="page_307"></a>
+or ought to be, within our power. The fabric of
+the play is regular enough, as to the inferior parts
+of it; and the unities of time, place, and action,
+more exactly observed, than perhaps the English
+theatre requires. Particularly, the action is so much
+one, that it is the only of the kind without episode,
+or underplot; every scene in the tragedy conducing
+to the main design, and every act concluding with
+a turn of it. The greatest error in the contrivance
+seems to be in the person of Octavia; for, though
+I might use the privilege of a poet, to introduce her
+into Alexandria, yet I had not enough considered,
+that the compassion she moved to herself and children,
+was destructive to that which I reserved for
+Antony and Cleopatra; whose mutual love being
+founded upon vice, must lessen the favour of the
+audience to them, when virtue and innocence were
+oppressed by it. And, though I justified Antony in
+some measure, by making Octavia's departure to
+proceed wholly from herself; yet the force of the
+first machine still remained; and the dividing of
+pity, like the cutting of a river into many channels,
+abated the strength of the natural stream. But this
+is an objection which none of my critics have urged
+against me; and therefore I might have let it pass,
+if I could have resolved to have been partial to myself.
+The faults my enemies have found, are rather
+cavils concerning little and not essential decencies;
+which a master of the ceremonies may decide betwixt
+us. The French poets, I confess, are strict observers
+of these punctilios: They would not, for example,
+have suffered Cleopatra and Octavia to have met; or,
+if they had met, there must have only passed betwixt
+them some cold civilities, but no eagerness of repartee,
+for fear of offending against the greatness
+of their characters, and the modesty of their sex.
+This objection I foresaw, and at the same time contemned;
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_308" name="page_308"></a>
+for I judged it both natural and probable,
+that Octavia, proud of her new-gained conquest,
+would search out Cleopatra to triumph over her;
+and that Cleopatra thus attacked, was not of a spirit
+to shun the encounter: And it is not unlikely,
+that two exasperated rivals should use such satire as
+I have put into their mouths; for, after all, though
+the one were a Roman, and the other a queen, they
+were both women. It is true, some actions, though
+natural, are not fit to be represented; and broad obscenities
+in words, ought in good manners to be
+avoided: expressions therefore are a modest clothing
+of our thoughts, as breeches and petticoats are
+of our bodies. If I have kept myself within the
+bounds of modesty, all beyond it is but nicety and
+affectation; which is no more but modesty depraved
+into a vice. They betray themselves, who are too
+quick of apprehension in such cases, and leave all
+reasonable men to imagine worse of them, than of
+the poet.</p>
+
+<p>Honest Montaigne goes yet farther: <i>Nous ne
+sommes que ceremonie; la ceremonie nous emporte, et
+laissons la substance des choses: Nous nous tenons aux
+branches, et abandonnons le tronc et le corps. Nous
+avons appris aux dames de rougir, oyans seulement
+nommer ce qu'elles ne craignent aucunement &agrave; faire;
+Nous n'esons appeller &agrave; droict nos membres, et ne craignons
+pas de les employer &agrave; toute sorte de debauche. La
+ceremonie nous defend d'exprimer par paroles les choses
+licites et naturelles, et nous l'en croyons; la raison nous
+defend de n'en faire point d'illicites et mauvaises, et
+personne ne l'en croit.</i> My comfort is, that by this
+opinion my enemies are but sucking critics, who
+would fain be nibbling ere their teeth are come.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, in this nicety of manners does the excellency
+of French poetry consist. Their heroes are the
+most civil people breathing; but their good breeding
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_309" name="page_309"></a>
+seldom extends to a word of sense; all their
+wit is in their ceremony; they want the genius
+which animates our stage; and therefore it is but
+necessary, when they cannot please, that they should
+take care not to offend. But as the civillest man
+in the company is commonly the dullest, so these
+authors, while they are afraid to make you laugh or
+cry, out of pure good manners, make you sleep.
+They are so careful not to exasperate a critic, that
+they never leave him any work; so busy with the
+broom, and make so clean a riddance, that there is
+little left either for censure or for praise: For no
+part of a poem is worth our discommending, where
+the whole is insipid; as when we have once tasted
+of palled wine, we stay not to examine it glass by
+glass. But while they affect to shine in trifles, they
+are often careless in essentials. Thus, their Hippolitus
+is so scrupulous in point of decency, that he
+will rather expose himself to death, than accuse his
+step-mother to his father; and my critics I am sure
+will commend him for it: But we of grosser apprehensions
+are apt to think, that this excess of generosity
+is not practicable, but with fools and madmen.
+This was good manners with a vengeance;
+and the audience is like to be much concerned at
+the misfortunes of this admirable hero. But take
+Hippolitus out of his poetic fit, and I suppose he
+would think it a wiser part, to set the saddle on the
+right horse, and chuse rather to live with the reputation
+of a plain-spoken honest man, than to die
+with the infamy of an incestuous villain.<a class="ftnt" href="#All_3-1">[1]</a> In the
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_310" name="page_310"></a>
+mean time we may take notice, that where the poet
+ought to have preserved the character as it was delivered
+to us by antiquity, when he should have
+given us the picture of a rough young man, of the
+Amazonian strain, a jolly huntsman, and both by
+his profession and his early rising a mortal enemy
+to love, he has chosen to give him the turn of gallantry
+sent him to travel from Athens to Paris,
+taught him to make love, and transformed the Hippolitus
+of Euripides into Monsieur Hippolite. I should
+not have troubled myself thus far with French poets,
+but that I find our <i>Chedreux</i><a class="ftnt" href="#All_3-2">[2]</a> critics wholly form
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_311" name="page_311"></a>
+their judgments by them. But for my part, I desire
+to be tried by the laws of my own country; for
+it seems unjust to me, that the French should prescribe
+here, till they have conquered. Our little
+sonetteers, who follow them, have too narrow souls
+to judge of poetry. Poets themselves are the most
+proper, though I conclude not the only critics. But
+till some genius, as universal as Aristotle, shall arise,
+one who can penetrate into all arts and sciences,
+without the practice of them, I shall think it reasonable
+that the judgment of an artificer in his own
+art should be preferable to the opinion of another
+man; at least where he is not bribed by interest,
+or prejudiced by malice. And this, I suppose, is manifest
+by plain inductions: For, first, the crowd cannot
+be presumed to have more than a gross instinct,
+of what pleases or displeases them: Every man will
+grant me this; but then, by a particular kindness
+to himself, he draws his own stake first, and will be
+distinguished from the multitude, of which other
+men may think him one. But, if I come closer to
+those who are allowed for witty men, either by the
+advantage of their quality, or by common fame,
+and affirm that neither are they qualified to decide
+sovereignly concerning poetry, I shall yet have a
+strong party of my opinion; for most of them severally
+will exclude the rest, either from the number
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_312" name="page_312"></a>
+of witty men, or at least of able judges. But here
+again they are all indulgent to themselves; and
+every one who believes himself a wit, that is, every
+man, will pretend at the same time to a right judgeing.
+But to press it yet farther, there are many
+witty men, but few poets; neither have all poets a
+taste of tragedy. And this is the rock on which they
+are daily splitting. Poetry, which is a picture of nature,
+must generally please; but it is not to be understood
+that all parts of it must please every man; therefore
+is not tragedy to be judged by a witty man, whose
+taste is only confined to comedy. Nor is every man
+who loves tragedy, a sufficient judge of it; he must
+understand the excellencies of it too, or he will
+only prove a blind admirer, not a critic. From hence
+it comes that so many satires on poets, and censures
+of their writings, fly abroad. Men of pleasant conversation,
+(at least esteemed so) and endued with a
+trifling kind of fancy, perhaps helped out with
+some smattering of Latin, are ambitious to distinguish
+themselves from the herd of gentlemen,
+by their poetry;</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Rarus enim ferm&egrave;; sensus communis in ill&acirc;</p>
+<p>Fortun&acirc;.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>And is not this a wretched affectation, not to be
+contented with what fortune has done for them, and
+sit down quietly with their estates, but they must
+call their wits in question, and needlessly expose
+their nakedness to public view? Not considering
+that they are not to expect the same approbation
+from sober men, which they have found from their
+flatterers after the third bottle. If a little glittering
+in discourse has passed them on us for witty men,
+where was the necessity of undeceiving the world?
+Would a man who has an ill title to an estate, but
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_313" name="page_313"></a>
+yet is in possession of it; would he bring it of his
+own accord, to be tried at Westminster? We who
+write, if we want the talent, yet have the excuse
+that we do it for a poor subsistence; but what can
+be urged in their defence, who, not having the vocation
+of poverty to scribble, out of mere wantonness
+take pains to make themselves ridiculous? Horace
+was certainly in the right, where he said, "That
+no man is satisfied with his own condition." A poet
+is not pleased, because he is not rich; and the rich
+are discontented, because the poets will not admit
+them of their number. Thus the case is hard with
+writers: If they succeed not, they must starve; and
+if they do, some malicious satire is prepared to level
+them, for daring to please without their leave. But
+while they are so eager to destroy the fame of others,
+their ambition is manifest in their concernment;
+some poem of their own is to lie produced, and the
+slaves are to be laid flat with their faces on the
+ground, that the monarch may appear in the greater
+majesty<a class="ftnt" href="#All_3-3">[3]</a>.</p>
+
+<p>Dionysius and Nero had the same longing, but with
+all their power they could never bring their business
+well about. 'Tis true, they proclaimed themselves
+poets by sound of trumpet; and poets they were, upon
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_314" name="page_314"></a>
+pain of death to any man who durst call them otherwise.
+The audience had a fine time on't, you may
+imagine; they sat in a bodily fear, and looked as
+demurely as they could: for it was a hanging matter
+to laugh unseasonably; and the tyrants were suspicious,
+as they had reason, that their subjects had them
+in the wind; so, every man, in his own defence, set
+as good a face upon the business as he could. It was
+known before-hand that the monarchs were to be
+crowned laureats; but when the show was over,
+and an honest man was suffered to depart quietly,
+he took out his laughter which he had stifled; with
+a firm resolution never more to see an emperor's
+play, though he had been ten years a making it. In
+the mean time the true poets were they who made
+the best markets, for they had wit enough to yield
+the prize with a good grace, and not contend with
+him who had thirty legions<a class="ftnt" href="#All_3-4">[4]</a>. They were sure to
+be rewarded, if they confessed themselves bad writers,
+and that was somewhat better than to be martyrs
+for their reputation. Lucan's example was enough
+to teach them manners; and after he was put to
+death, for overcoming Nero, the emperor carried it
+without dispute for the best poet in his dominions.
+No man was ambitious of that grinning honour;
+for if he heard the malicious trumpeter proclaiming
+his name before his betters, he knew there was but
+one way with him. Mec&aelig;nas took another course,
+and we know he was more than a great man, for
+he was witty too: But finding himself far gone in
+poetry, which Seneca assures us was not his talent,
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_315" name="page_315"></a>
+he thought it his best way to be well with Virgil
+and with Horace; that at least he might be a poet
+at the second hand; and we see how happily it has
+succeeded with him; for his own bad poetry is forgotten,
+and their panegyricks of him still remain.
+But they who should be our patrons, are for no such
+expensive ways to fame; they have much of the
+poetry of Mec&aelig;nas, but little of his liberality. They
+are for persecuting Horace and Virgil, in the persons
+of their successors; for such is every man, who has
+any part of their soul and fire, though in a less degree.
+Some of their little zanies yet go farther;
+for they are persecutors even of Horace himself; as
+far as they are able, by their ignorant and vile imitations
+of him; by making an unjust use of his authority
+and turning his artillery against his friends.
+But how would he disdain to be copied by such
+hands! I dare answer for him, he would be more
+uneasy in their company, than he was with Crispinus,
+their forefather, in the Holy Way; and would no
+more have allowed them a place amongst the critics,
+than he would Demetrius the mimic, and Tigellius
+the buffoon;</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>&mdash;Demetri, teque, Tigelli,</p>
+<p>Discipulorum inter jubeo plorare cathedras.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>With what scorn would he look down on such miserable
+translators, who make doggrel of his Latin,
+mistake his meaning, mis-apply his censures, and
+often contradict their own? He is fixed as a landmark
+to set out the bounds of poetry:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>&mdash;Saxum antiquum, ingens,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Limes agro positus, litem ut discerneret arvis.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But other arms than theirs, and other sinews
+are required, to raise the weight of such an author;
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_316" name="page_316"></a>
+and when they would toss him against their
+enemies,</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Genua labant, gelidus concrevit frigore sanguis.</p>
+<p>Tum lapis ipse, viri vacuum per inane volutus,</p>
+<p>Nec spatium evasit totum, nec pertulit ictum<a class="ftnt" href="#All_3-5">[5]</a>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>For my part, I would wish no other revenge, either
+for myself, or the rest of the poets, from this rhyming
+judge of the twelve-penny gallery, this legitimate
+son of Sternhold, than that he would subscribe
+his name to his censure, or (not to tax him beyond
+his learning) set his mark: For, should he own himself
+publicly, and come from behind the lion's skin,
+they, whom he condemns, would be thankful to him,
+they, whom he praises, would chuse to be condemned;
+and the magistrates, whom he has elected, would
+modestly withdraw from their employment, to avoid
+the scandal of his nomination<a class="ftnt" href="#All_3-6">[6]</a>. The sharpness of
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_317" name="page_317"></a>
+his satire, next to himself, falls most heavily on his
+friends, and they ought never to forgive him for
+commending them perpetually the wrong way, and
+sometimes by contraries. If he have a friend, whose
+hastiness in writing is his greatest fault, Horace
+would have taught him to have minced the matter,
+and to have called it readiness of thought, and a
+flowing fancy; for friendship will allow a man to
+christen an imperfection by the name of some neighbour
+virtue;</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Vellem in amiciti&acirc; sic erraremus; et isti</p>
+<p>Errori nomen virtus posuisset honestum.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind">But he would never have allowed him to have called
+a slow man hasty, or a hasty writer a slow drudge<a class="ftnt" href="#All_3-7">[7]</a>,
+as Juvenal explains it:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>&mdash;Canibus pigris, scabieque vetust&acirc;</p>
+<p>L&aelig;vibus, et sicc&aelig; lambentibus ora lucern&aelig;,</p>
+<p>Nomen erit, Pardus, Tygris, Leo; si quid adhuc est</p>
+<p>Quod fremit in terris violentius<a class="ftnt" href="#All_3-8">[8]</a>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noind"><a class="pgnm" id="page_318" name="page_318"></a>
+Yet Lucretius laughs at a foolish lover, even for excusing
+the imperfections of his mistress:</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>Nigra
+<span class="Greek" title="melichroos">
+&mu;&epsilon;&lambda;&iota;&chi;&rho;&omicron;&omicron;&sigmaf;
+</span>
+est, immunda et f&oelig;tida
+<span class="Greek" title="akosmos">
+&alpha;&kappa;&omicron;&sigma;&mu;&omicron;&sigmaf;
+</span>.</p>
+<p>Balba loqui non quit,
+<span class="Greek" title="traulizei">
+&tau;&rho;&alpha;&upsilon;&lambda;&iota;&zeta;&epsilon;&iota;
+</span>;
+muta pudens est, &amp;c.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>But to drive it <i>ad &AElig;thiopem cygnum</i> is not to be
+endured. I leave him to interpret this by the benefit
+of his French version on the other side, and
+without farther considering him, than I have the
+rest of my illiterate censors, whom I have disdained
+to answer, because they are not qualified for
+judges. It remains that I acquaint the reader, that
+I have endeavoured in this play to follow the practice
+of the ancients, who, as Mr Rymer has judiciously
+observed, are and ought to be our masters<a class="ftnt" href="#All_3-9">[9]</a>.
+Horace likewise gives it for a rule in his art of
+poetry.</p>
+
+<div class="poem pi">
+<p>&mdash;Vos exemplaria Gr&aelig;ca</p>
+<p>Nocturn&acirc; versate manu, versate diurn&acirc;.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Yet, though their models are regular, they are
+too little for English tragedy; which requires to
+be built in a larger compass. I could give an instance
+in the "Oedipus Tyrannus," which was the
+master piece of Sophocles; but I reserve it for a
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_319" name="page_319"></a>
+more fit occasion, which I hope to have hereafter.
+In my style, I have professed to imitate
+the divine Shakespeare; which that I might perform
+more freely, I have disincumbered myself
+from rhyme. Not that I condemn my former
+way, but that this is more proper to my present
+purpose. I hope I need not to explain myself,
+that I have not copied my author servilely: Words
+and phrases must of necessity receive a change in
+succeeding ages; but it is almost a miracle that much
+of his language remains so pure; and that he who
+began dramatic poetry amongst us, untaught by
+any, and, as Ben Jonson tells us, without learning,
+should by the force of his own genius perform so
+much, that in a manner he has left no praise for any
+who come after him. The occasion is fair, and the
+subject would be pleasant to handle the difference
+of styles betwixt him and Fletcher, and wherein,
+and how far they are both to be imitated. But
+since I must not be over-confident of my own performance
+after him, it will be prudence in me to
+be silent. Yet, I hope, I may affirm, and without
+vanity, that, by imitating him, I have excelled myself
+throughout the play; and particularly, that I
+prefer the scene betwixt Antony and Ventidius in
+the first act, to any thing which I have written in
+this kind.</p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="All_3-1" name="All_3-1"></a>That the reader may himself judge of the justice of Dryden's
+censure, I subjoin the argument on this knotty point, as it is
+stated by Hippolytus and his mistress in the 5th act of the "Phedre"
+of Racine.<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p class="i6"><b>Aricie.</b></p>
+
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p>Quoi vous pouv&eacute;s vous taire en ce peril extreme?</p>
+<p>Vous laiss&eacute;s dans l'erreur un pere qui vous uime?</p>
+<p>Cruel, si de mes pleurs meprisant le pouvoir,</p>
+<p>Vous consent&eacute;z sans peine a ne me plus revoir,</p>
+<p>Partes, separ&eacute;s vous de la triste Aricie,</p>
+<p>Mais du moins en partaut assur&eacute;s votre vie.</p>
+<p>Defend&eacute;s votre honneur d' un reproche honteux,</p>
+<p>Et forc&eacute;s votre pere a revoquer ses v&aelig;ux;</p>
+<p>Il en est tems encore. Pourguoi, par quel caprice,</p>
+<p>Laiss&eacute;s vous le champ libre a votre accusatrice?</p>
+<p>Ecclairciss&eacute;s Thes&eacute;e.<br /><br /></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="i6"><b>Hippolyte.</b></p>
+
+<div class="stanza pi">
+<p class="i9">H&eacute; que nai-je point dit?</p>
+<p>Ai-je du mettre au jour l'opprobre de son lit?</p>
+<p>Devois-je en lui faisant un recit trop sincere,</p>
+<p>D'un indigne rougeur couvrir le front d'un pere?</p>
+<p>Vous seul av&eacute;s perc&eacute; ce mystere odieux,</p>
+<p>Mon c&oelig;ur pour s'epancher, n'a que vous et les dieux:</p>
+<p>Je n'ai pu vous cacher, jug&eacute;s si je vous aime,</p>
+<p>Tout ce que je voulois me cacher a moi-meme.</p>
+<p>Mais song&eacute;s sous quel sceau je vous l'ai r&eacute;v&eacute;l&eacute;;</p>
+<p>Oubli&eacute;s, si se peut, que je vous ai parl&eacute;,</p>
+<p>Madame; et que jamais une bouche si pure</p>
+<p>Ne s'ouvre pour conter cette horrible avanture.</p>
+<p>Sur l'equit&eacute; des dieux osons nous confier,</p>
+<p>Ils ont trop d'interet a me justifier,</p>
+<p>Et Ph&eacute;dre tot ou tard de son crime punie,</p>
+<p>N'en sa&uacute;roit eviter la juste ignomini&eacute;.</p>
+</div>
+</div></li>
+
+<li><a id="All_3-2" name="All_3-2"></a><i>Chedreux</i> was the name of the fashionable periwigs of the
+day, and appears to have been derived from their maker. A
+French <i>peruqirier</i>, in one of Shadwell's comedies, says, "You
+talke of de Chedreux; he is no bodie to me. Dere is no man can
+travaille vis mee. Monsieur Wildish has got my peruke on his
+head. Let me see, here is de haire, de curie, de brucle, ver
+good, ver good. If dat foole Chedreux make de peruke like me,
+I vil be hanga." Bury Fair, Act I. Scene II. It appears from
+the letter of the literary veteran in the Gentleman's Magazine for
+1745, that our author, as he advanced in reputation, assumed
+the fashionable <i>Chedreux</i> periwig.</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_3-3" name="All_3-3"></a>This passage though, doubtless applicable to many of the men
+of rank at the court of Charles II., was particularly levelled
+at Lord Rochester with whom our author was now on bad
+terms. It is hardly fair to enquire how far this description of the
+discourse and talents of a person of wit and honour agrees with
+that given in the dedication to Marriage a-la-Mode, when, in
+compliment to the same nobleman, we are told, that, "Wit seems
+to have lodged itself more nobly in this age, than in any of the
+former; and that his lordship had but another step to make,
+from the patron of wit, to become its tyrant." This last observation
+seems to have been made in the spirit of prophecy.</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_3-4" name="All_3-4"></a>Such is said to have been the answer of a philosopher to a
+friend, who upbraided him with giving up a dispute to the Emperor
+Adrian.</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_3-5" name="All_3-5"></a>This passage alludes to an imitation of Horace, quaintly entitled
+an "Allusion to the Tenth Satire of his First Book" which was the
+production of Rochester. As however it appeared without a name,
+it may have been for a time imputed to some of the inferior wits,
+whom his Lordship patronized. It contains a warm attack on
+Dryden, part of which has been already quoted. Dryden probably
+knew the real author of this satire, although he chose to impute
+it to one of the "Zanies" of the great. At least it seems
+unlikely that he should take Crown for the author, as has been supposed
+by Mr Malone; for in the imitation we have these lines:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>For by that rule I might as well admit</p>
+<p>Crown's heavy scenes for poetry and wit.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Crown could hardly be charged as author of a poem, in which
+this sarcasm occurred.</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="All_3-6" name="All_3-6"></a>Alluding probably to the concluding lines of the Satire.<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>I loath the rabble; 'tis enough for me</p>
+<p>If Sedley, Shadwell, Shepherd, Wycherley,</p>
+<p>Godolphin, Butler, Buckhurst, Buckingham,</p>
+<p>And some few more whom I omit to name,</p>
+<p>Approve my sense; I count their censure fame.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_3-7" name="All_3-7"></a>Dryden alludes to the censure past on himself, where it is
+said,<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Five hundred verses in a morning writ.</p>
+<p>Prove him no more a poet than a wit.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_3-8" name="All_3-8"></a>This refers to the characters of Shadwell and Wycherley, which
+according to Dryden, the satirist seems to have misunderstood.<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Of all our modern wits, none seems to me</p>
+<p>Once to have touched upon true comedy,</p>
+<p>But hasty Shadwell and slow Wycherley;</p>
+<p>Shadwell's unfinished works do yet impart</p>
+<p>Great proofs of force of nature, none of art.</p>
+<p>With just bold strokes he dashes here and there,</p>
+<p>Shewing great mastery with little care;</p>
+<p>But Wycherley earns hard whate'er he gains,</p>
+<p>He wants no judgment, and he spares no pains;</p>
+<p>He frequently excels, and, at the least,</p>
+<p>Makes fewer faults than any of the rest.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_3-9" name="All_3-9"></a>"I have chiefly considered the fable, or plot, which all conclude
+to be the soul of a tragedy, which, with the ancients, is all
+ways to be found a reasonable soul, but with us, for the most
+part, a brutish, and often worse than brutish.
+
+<p>"And certainly there is not required much learning, or that a
+man must be some Aristotle and doctor of subtilties, to form a
+right judgement in this particular; common sense suffices; and
+rarely have I known women-judges mistaken in these points, where
+they have patience to think; and left to their own heads, they decide
+with their own sense. But if people are prepossessed, if they
+will judge of Rollo by Othello, and one crooked line by another,
+we can never have a certainty."</p>
+
+<p>The tragedies of the last age considered, in a letter to Fleetwood
+Shepherd, by Thomas Rymer, Edit. 1678, p. 4.</p></li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_321" name="page_321"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">PROLOGUE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>What flocks of critics hover here to-day,</p>
+<p>As vultures wait on armies for their prey,</p>
+<p>All gaping for the carcase of a play!</p>
+<p>With croaking notes they bode some dire event,</p>
+<p>And follow dying poets by the scent.</p>
+<p>Ours gives himself for gone; you've watched your time:</p>
+<p>He fights this day unarmed,&mdash;without his rhyme;&mdash;</p>
+<p>And brings a tale which often has been told;</p>
+<p>As sad as Dido's; and almost as old.</p>
+<p>His hero, whom you wits his bully call,</p>
+<p>Bates of his mettle, and scarce rants at all:</p>
+<p>He's somewhat lewd; but a well-meaning mind;</p>
+<p>Weeps much; fights little; but is wond'rous kind.</p>
+<p>In short, a pattern, and companion fit,</p>
+<p>For all the keeping tonies of the pit.</p>
+<p>I could name more: a wife, and mistress too;</p>
+<p>Both (to be plain) too good for most of you:</p>
+<p>The wife well-natured, and the mistress true.</p>
+<p>  Now, poets, if your fame has been his care,</p>
+<p>Allow him all the candour you can spare.</p>
+<p>A brave man scorns to quarrel once a-day;</p>
+<p>Like Hectors, in at every petty fray.</p>
+<p>Let those find fault whose wit's so very small,</p>
+<p>They've need to show that they can think at all;</p>
+<p>Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow;</p>
+<p>He who would search for pearls, must dive below.</p>
+<p>Fops may have leave to level all they can;</p>
+<p>As pigmies would be glad to lop a man.</p>
+<p>Half-wits are fleas; so little and so light,</p>
+<p>We scarce could know they live, but that they bite.</p>
+<p>But, as the rich, when tired with daily feasts,</p>
+<p>For change, become their next poor tenant's guests;</p>
+<p>Drink hearty draughts of ale from plain brown bowls,</p>
+<p>And snatch the homely rasher from the coals:</p>
+<p>So you, retiring from much better cheer,</p>
+<p>For once, may venture to do penance here.</p>
+<p>And since that plenteous autumn now is past,</p>
+<p>Whose grapes and peaches have indulged your taste,</p>
+<p>Take in good part, from our poor poet's board,</p>
+<p>Such rivelled fruits as winter can afford.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_322" name="page_322"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">DRAMATIS PERSON&AElig;.</h3>
+
+
+<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Mark Antony.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Ventidius,</span> <i>His General.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Dolabella,</span> <i>his Friend.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Alexas,</span> <i>the Queen's Eunuch.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Serapion,</span> <i>Priest of Isis.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Myris,</span> <i>another Priest.</i><br />
+<i>Servants to</i> <span class="">Antony.</span></p>
+
+<p class="noind" style="margin-bottom: 0;"><span class="smcap">Cleopatra,</span> <i>Queen of &AElig;gypt.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Octavia, Antony's</span> <i>Wife.</i></p>
+<table class="dpgrp" summary="Charmion and Iras">
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Charmion,<br />
+Iras,</span></td>
+<td>}<br />
+}</td>
+<td><span class="smcap">Cleopatra's</span> <i>Maids.</i></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p class="noind" style="margin-top: 0;"><span class="smcap">Antony's</span> <i>two little Daughters.</i></p>
+
+<p>SCENE.&mdash;<i>Alexandria.</i></p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_323" name="page_323"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">ALL FOR LOVE;</h3>
+<p class="ctr">OR, THE</p>
+<h3 class="nomarg">WORLD WELL LOST.</h3>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT I.<br />
+SCENE I.&mdash;<i>The Temple of</i> <span class="smcap">Isis.</span></h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Serapion, Myris,</span> Priests of <span class="cnm">Isis.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ser.</span> Portents and prodigies have grown so frequent,<br />
+That they have lost their name. Our fruitful Nile<br />
+Flowed ere the wonted season, with a torrent<br />
+So unexpected, and so wondrous fierce,<br />
+That the wild deluge overtook the haste<br />
+Even of the hinds that watched it: Men and beasts<br />
+Were borne above the tops of trees, that grew<br />
+On the utmost margin of the water-mark.<br />
+Then, with so swift an ebb the flood drove backward,<br />
+It slipt from underneath the scaly herd:<br />
+Here monstrous phoc&aelig;; panted on the shore;<br />
+Forsaken dolphins there, with their broad tails<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_324" name="page_324"></a>
+Lay lashing the departing waves: hard by them,<br />
+Sea-horses floundring in the slimy mud,<br />
+Tossed up their heads, and dashed the ooze about them.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Alexas</span> behind them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Myr.</span> Avert these omens, Heaven!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ser.</span> Last night, between the hours of twelve and one,<br />
+In a lone aisle of the temple while I walked,<br />
+A whirlwind rose, that, with a violent blast,<br />
+Shook all the dome: the doors around me clapt;<br />
+The iron wicket, that defends the vault,<br />
+Where the long race of Ptolemies is laid,<br />
+Burst open, and disclosed the mighty dead.<br />
+From out each monument, in order placed,<br />
+An armed ghost starts up: the boy-king last<br />
+Reared his inglorious head. A peal of groans<br />
+Then followed, and a lamentable voice<br />
+Cried, Egypt is no more. My blood ran back,<br />
+My shaking knees against each other knocked;<br />
+On the cold pavement down I fell entranced,<br />
+And so unfinished left the horrid scene.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> And dreamed you this? or did invent the story,
+<span class="sdr">[Shewing himself.</span><br />
+To frighten our Egyptian boys withal,<br />
+And train them up, betimes, in fear of priesthood?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> My lord, I saw you not,<br />
+Nor meant my words should reach your ears; but what<br />
+I uttered was most true.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> A foolish dream,<br />
+Bred from the fumes of indigested feasts,<br />
+And holy luxury.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> I know my duty:<br />
+This goes no farther.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> 'Tis not fit it should;<br />
+Nor would the times now bear it, were it true.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_325" name="page_325"></a>
+All southern, from yon hills, the Roman camp<br />
+Hangs o'er us black and threatning, like a storm<br />
+Just breaking on our heads.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> Our faint Egyptians pray for Antony;<br />
+But in their servile hearts they own Octavius.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Myr.</span> Why then does Antony dream out his hours,<br />
+And tempts not fortune for a noble day,<br />
+Which might redeem what Actium lost?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> He thinks 'tis past recovery.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> Yet the foe<br />
+Seems not to press the siege.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> O, there's the wonder.<br />
+Mec&aelig;nas and Agrippa, who can most<br />
+With C&aelig;sar, are his foes. His wife Octavia,<br />
+Driven from his house, solicits her revenge;<br />
+And Dolabella, who was once his friend,<br />
+Upon some private grudge, now seeks his ruin:<br />
+Yet still war seems on either side to sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> 'Tis strange that Antony, for some days past,<br />
+Has not beheld the face of Cleopatra;<br />
+But here, in Isis temple, lives retired,<br />
+And makes his heart a prey to black despair.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> 'Tis true; and we much fear he hopes by absence<br />
+To cure his mind of love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> If he be vanquished,<br />
+Or make his peace, Egypt is doomed to be<br />
+A Roman province; and our plenteous harvests<br />
+Must then redeem the scarceness of their soil.<br />
+While Antony stood firm, our Alexandria<br />
+Rivalled proud Rome, (dominion's other seat)<br />
+And Fortune striding, like a vast Colossus,<br />
+Could fix an equal foot of empire here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Had I my wish, these tyrants of all nature,<br />
+Who lord it o'er mankind, should perish,&mdash;perish,<br />
+Each by the other's sword; but, since our will<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_326" name="page_326"></a>
+Is lamely followed by our power, we must<br />
+Depend on one; with him to rise or fall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> How stands the queen affected?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> O she dotes,<br />
+She dotes, Serapion, on this vanquished man,<br />
+And winds herself about his mighty ruins;<br />
+Whom would she yet forsake, yet yield him up,<br />
+This hunted prey, to his pursuer's hands,<br />
+She might preserve us all: but 'tis in vain&mdash;<br />
+This changes my designs, this blasts my counsels,<br />
+And makes me use all means to keep him here,<br />
+Whom I could wish divided from her arms,<br />
+Far as the earth's deep centre. Well, you know<br />
+The state of things; no more of your ill omens<br />
+And black prognostics; labour to confirm<br />
+The people's hearts.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Ventidius,</span> talking aside with a Gentleman of
+<span class="cnm">Antony's.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> These Romans will o'erhear us.<br />
+But, who's that stranger? By his warlike port,<br />
+His fierce demeanour, and erected look,<br />
+He's of no vulgar note.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> O 'tis Ventidius,<br />
+Our emperor's great lieutenant in the East,<br />
+Who first showed Rome that Parthia could be conquered.<br />
+When Antony returned from Syria last,<br />
+He left this man to guard the Roman frontiers.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> You seem to know him well.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Too well. I saw him in Cilicia first,<br />
+When Cleopatra there met Antony:<br />
+A mortal foe he was to us, and Egypt.<br />
+But,&mdash;let me witness to the worth I hate,&mdash;<br />
+A braver Roman never drew a sword;<br />
+Firm to his prince, but as a friend, not slave.<br />
+He ne'er was of his pleasures; but presides<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_327" name="page_327"></a>
+O'er all his cooler hours, and morning counsels:<br />
+In short, the plainness, fierceness, rugged virtue,<br />
+Of an old true-stampt Roman lives in him.<br />
+His coming bodes I know not what of ill<br />
+To our affairs. Withdraw, to mark him better;<br />
+And I'll acquaint you why I sought you here,<br />
+And what's our present work.
+<span class="sdr">[They withdraw to a corner of the stage; and
+<span class="cnm">Ventidius,</span> with the other, comes forward to
+the front.</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Not see him, say you?<br />
+I say, I must, and will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gent.</span> He has commanded,<br />
+On pain of death, none should approach his presence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I bring him news will raise his drooping spirits,<br />
+Give him new life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gent.</span> He sees not Cleopatra.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Would he had never seen her!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Gent.</span> He eats not, drinks not, sleeps not, has no use<br />
+Of any thing, but thought; or, if he talks,<br />
+'Tis to himself, and then 'tis perfect raving:<br />
+Then he defies the world, and bids it pass;<br />
+Sometimes he gnaws his lip, and curses loud<br />
+The boy Octavius; then he draws his mouth<br />
+Into a scornful smile, and cries,&mdash;"Take all,<br />
+The world's not worth my care."</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Just, just his nature.<br />
+Virtue's his path; but sometimes 'tis too narrow<br />
+For his vast soul; and then he starts out wide,<br />
+And bounds into a vice, that bears him far<br />
+From his first course, and plunges him in ills:<br />
+But, when his danger makes him find his fault,<br />
+Quick to observe, and full of sharp remorse,<br />
+He censures eagerly his own misdeeds,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_328" name="page_328"></a>
+Judging himself with malice to himself,<br />
+And not forgiving what as man he did,<br />
+Because his other parts are more than man.&mdash;<br />
+He must not thus be lost.<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Alexas</span> and the Priests come forward.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> You have your full instructions, now advance;<br />
+Proclaim your orders loudly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> Romans, Egyptians, hear the queen's command.<br />
+Thus Cleopatra bids: Let labour cease;<br />
+To pomp and triumphs give this happy day,<br />
+That gave the world a lord: 'tis Antony's.<br />
+Live, Antony; and Cleopatra live!<br />
+Be this the general voice sent up to heaven,<br />
+And every public place repeat this echo.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Fine pageantry!<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> Set before your doors<br />
+The images of all your sleeping fathers,<br />
+With laurels crowned; with laurels wreath your posts,<br />
+And strew with flowers the pavement; let the priests<br />
+Do present sacrifice; pour out the wine,<br />
+And call the gods to join with you in gladness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Curse on the tongue that bids this general joy!<br />
+Can they be friends of Antony, who revel<br />
+When Antony's in danger? Hide, for shame,<br />
+You Romans, your great grandsires' images,<br />
+For fear their souls should animate their marbles,<br />
+To blush at their degenerate progeny.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> A love, which knows no bounds to Antony,<br />
+Would mark the day with honours, when all heaven<br />
+Laboured for him, when each propitious star<br />
+Stood wakeful in his orb, to watch that hour,<br />
+And shed his better influence. Her own birth-day<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_329" name="page_329"></a>
+Our queen neglected, like a vulgar fate,<br />
+That passed obscurely by.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Would it had slept,<br />
+Divided far from his; till some remote<br />
+And future age had called it out, to ruin<br />
+Some other prince, not him!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Your emperor,<br />
+Though grown unkind, would be more gentle, than<br />
+To upbraid my queen for loving him too well.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Does the mute sacrifice upbraid the priest?<br />
+He knows him not his executioner.<br />
+O, she has decked his ruin with her love,<br />
+Led him in golden bands to gaudy slaughter,<br />
+And made perdition pleasing: She has left him<br />
+The blank of what he was;<br />
+I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmanned him:<br />
+Can any Roman see, and know him now,<br />
+Thus altered from the lord of half mankind,<br />
+Unbent, unsinewed, made a woman's toy,<br />
+Shrunk from the vast extent of all his honours,<br />
+And crampt within a corner of the world?<br />
+O, Antony!<br />
+Thou bravest soldier, and thou best of friends!<br />
+Bounteous as nature; next to nature's God!<br />
+Couldst thou but make new worlds, so wouldst thou give them,<br />
+As bounty were thy being: rough in battle,<br />
+As the first Romans, when they went to war;<br />
+Yet, after victory, more pitiful<br />
+Than all their praying virgins left at home!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Would you could add, to those more shining virtues,<br />
+His truth to her who loves him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Would I could not!<br />
+But wherefore waste I precious hours with thee?<br />
+Thou art her darling mischief, her chief engine,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_330" name="page_330"></a>
+Antony's other fate. Go, tell thy queen,<br />
+Ventidius is arrived, to end her charms.<br />
+Let your Egyptian timbrels play alone,<br />
+Nor mix effeminate sounds with Roman trumpets.<br />
+You dare not fight for Antony; go pray,<br />
+And keep your coward's holiday in temples.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Alex. Serap.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter the Gentleman of <span class="cnm">M. Antony.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">2 Gent.</span> The emperor approaches, and commands,<br />
+On pain of death, that none presume to stay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">1 Gent.</span> I dare not disobey him.
+<span class="sdr">[Going out with the other.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Well, I dare.<br />
+But I'll observe him first unseen, and find<br />
+Which way his humour drives: the rest I'll venture.<span class="sdr">[Withdraws.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Antony,</span> walking with a disturbed motion before
+he speaks.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> They tell me, 'tis my birth-day, and I'll keep it<br />
+With double pomp of sadness.<br />
+'Tis what the day deserves, which gave me breath.<br />
+Why was I raised the meteor of the world,<br />
+Hung in the skies, and blazing as I travelled,<br />
+Till all my fires were spent; and then cast downward,<br />
+To be trod out by C&aelig;sar?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] On my soul,<br />
+'Tis mournful, wondrous mournful!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Count thy gains.<br />
+Now, Antony, wouldst thou be born for this!<br />
+Glutton of fortune, thy devouring youth<br />
+Has starved thy wanting age.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> How sorrow shakes him!<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span><br />
+So, now the tempest tears him up by the roots,<br />
+And on the ground extends the noble ruin.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Ant.</span> having thrown himself down.</span><br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_331" name="page_331"></a>
+Lie there, thou shadow of an emperor;<br />
+The place, thou pressest on thy mother earth,<br />
+Is all thy empire now: now it contains thee;<br />
+Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large.<br />
+When thou'rt contracted in thy narrow urn,<br />
+Shrunk to a few cold ashes; then Octavia,<br />
+(For Cleopatra will not live to see it)<br />
+Octavia then will have thee all her own,<br />
+And bear thee in her widowed hand to C&aelig;sar;<br />
+C&aelig;sar will weep, the crocodile will weep,<br />
+To see his rival of the universe<br />
+Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more on't.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Give me some music; look that it be sad:<br />
+I'll sooth my melancholy, till I swell,<br />
+And burst myself with sighing.&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Soft music.</span><br />
+'Tis somewhat to my humour: stay, I fancy<br />
+I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature;<br />
+Of all forsaken, and forsaking all;<br />
+Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene,<br />
+Stretched at my length beneath some blasted oak,<br />
+I lean my head upon the mossy bark,<br />
+And look just of a piece as I grew from it;<br />
+My uncombed locks, matted like misletoe,<br />
+Hang o'er my hoary face; a murm'ring brook<br />
+Runs at my foot.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Methinks, I fancy<br />
+Myself there too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> The herd come jumping by me,<br />
+And, fearless, quench their thirst, while I look on,<br />
+And take me for their fellow-citizen.<br />
+More of this image, more; it lulls my thoughts.
+<span class="sdr">[Soft music again.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I must disturb him; I can hold no longer.
+<span class="sdr">[Stands before him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> [<span class="sdm">Starting up.</span>] Art thou Ventidius?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Are you Antony?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_332" name="page_332"></a>
+I'm liker what I was, than you to him<br />
+I left you last.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I'm angry.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> So am I.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I would be private: leave me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Sir, I love you,<br />
+And therefore will not leave you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Will not leave me!<br />
+Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> My emperor; the man I love next heaven:<br />
+If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin:<br />
+You're all that's good, and godlike.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> All that's wretched.<br />
+You will not leave me then?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> 'Twas too presuming<br />
+To say I would not; but I dare not leave you:<br />
+And, 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence<br />
+So soon, when I so far have come to see you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Now thou hast seen me, art thou satified?<br />
+For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough;<br />
+And, if a foe, too much.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Look, emperor, this is no common dew,<span class="sdr">[Weeping.</span><br />
+I have not wept this forty years; but now<br />
+My mother comes afresh into my eyes;<br />
+I cannot help her softness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> By heaven, he weeps! poor good old man, he weeps!<br />
+The big round drops course one another down<br />
+The furrows of his cheeks.&mdash;Stop them, Ventidius,<br />
+Or I shall blush to death: they set my shame,<br />
+That caused them, full before me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I'll do my best.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Sure there's contagion in the tears of friends:<br />
+See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not<br />
+For my own griefs, but thine.&mdash;Nay, father!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Emperor.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_333" name="page_333"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Emperor! Why, that's the style of victory;<br />
+The conqu'ring soldier, red with unfelt wounds,<br />
+Salutes his general so: but never more<br />
+Shall that sound reach my ears.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I warrant you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Actium, Actium! Oh!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> It sits too near you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by day,<br />
+And, in my short, distracted, nightly slumbers,<br />
+The hag that rides my dreams.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Out with it; give it vent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Urge not my shame.<br />
+I lost a battle,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> So has Julius done.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Thou favour'st me, and speak'st not half thou think'st;<br />
+For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly:<br />
+But Antony&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Nay, stop not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Antony,&mdash;<br />
+Well, thou wilt have it,&mdash;like a coward, fled,<br />
+Fled while his soldiers fought; fled first, Ventidius.<br />
+Thou long'st to curse me, and I give thee leave.<br />
+I know thou cam'st prepared to rail.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I did.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I'll help thee.&mdash;I have been a man, Ventidius.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Yes, and a brave one; but&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I know thy meaning.<br />
+But I have lost my reason, have disgraced<br />
+The name of soldier, with inglorious ease.<br />
+In the full vintage of my flowing honours,<br />
+Sat still, and saw it prest by other hands.<br />
+Fortune came smiling to my youth, and wooed it,<br />
+And purple greatness met my ripened years.<br />
+When first I came to empire, I was borne<br />
+On tides of people, crowding to my triumphs;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_334" name="page_334"></a>
+The wish of nations, and the willing world<br />
+Received me as its pledge of future peace;<br />
+I was so great, so happy, so beloved,<br />
+Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains,<br />
+And worked against my fortune, chid her from me,<br />
+And turned her loose; yet still she came again.<br />
+My careless days, and my luxurious nights,<br />
+At length have wearied her, and now she's gone,<br />
+Gone, gone, divorced for ever. Help me, soldier,<br />
+To curse this madman, this industrious fool,<br />
+Who laboured to be wretched: Pr'ythee curse me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> No.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Why?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> You are too sensible already<br />
+Of what you've done, too conscious of your failings;<br />
+And, like a scorpion, whipt by others first<br />
+To fury, sting yourself in mad revenge.<br />
+I would bring balm, and pour it in your wounds,<br />
+Cure your distempered mind, and heal your fortunes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I know thou would'st.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I will.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Ha, ha, ha, ha!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> You laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I do, to see officious love<br />
+Give cordials to the dead.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> You would be lost then?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I am.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I say you are not. Try your fortune.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I have, to the utmost. Dost thou think me desperate,<br />
+Without just cause? No, when I found all lost<br />
+Beyond repair, I hid me from the world,<br />
+And learnt to scorn it here; which now I do<br />
+So heartily, I think it is not worth<br />
+The cost of keeping.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> C&aelig;sar thinks not so:<br />
+He'll thank you for the gift he could not take.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_335" name="page_335"></a>
+You would be killed like Tully, would you? do,<br />
+Hold out your throat to C&aelig;sar, and die tamely.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> No, I can kill myself; and so resolve.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I can die with you too, when time shall serve;<br />
+But fortune calls upon us now to live,<br />
+To fight, to conquer.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Sure thou dream'st, Ventidius.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> No; 'tis you dream; you sleep away your hours<br />
+In desperate sloth, miscalled philosophy.<br />
+Up, up, for honour's sake; twelve legions wait you,<br />
+And long to call you chief: By painful journeys,<br />
+I led them, patient both of heat and hunger,<br />
+Down from the Parthian marches to the Nile.<br />
+'Twill do you good to see their sun-burnt faces,<br />
+Their scarred cheeks, and chopt hands: there's virtue in them.<br />
+They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates<br />
+Than yon trim bands can buy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Where left you them?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I said in Lower Syria.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Bring them hither;<br />
+There may be life in these.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> They will not come.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids,<br />
+To double my despair? They're mutinous.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Most firm and loyal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Yet they will not march<br />
+To succour me. Oh trifler!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> They petition<br />
+You would make haste to head them.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I'm besieged.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> There's but one way shut up: How came I hither?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I will not stir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_336" name="page_336"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Vent.</span> They would perhaps desire<br />
+A better reason.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I have never used<br />
+My soldiers to demand a reason of<br />
+My actions. Why did they refuse to march?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> They said they would not fight for Cleopatra.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> What was't they said?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> They said they would not fight for Cleopatra.<br />
+Why should they fight indeed, to make her conquer,<br />
+And make you more a slave? to gain you kingdoms,<br />
+Which, for a kiss, at your next midnight feast,<br />
+You'll sell to her? Then she new-names her jewels,<br />
+And calls this diamond such or such a tax;<br />
+Each pendant in her ear shall be a province.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Ventidius, I allow your tongue free licence<br />
+On all my other faults; but, on your life,<br />
+No word of Cleopatra: she deserves<br />
+More worlds than I can lose.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Behold, you Powers,<br />
+To whom you have entrusted human kind!<br />
+See Europe, Afric, Asia, put in balance,<br />
+And all weighed down by one light, worthless woman!<br />
+I think the Gods are Antonies, and give,<br />
+Like prodigals, this nether world away<br />
+To none but wasteful hands.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> You grow presumptuous.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I take the privilege of plain love to speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Plain love! plain arrogance, plain insolence!<br />
+Thy men are cowards; thou, an envious traitor;<br />
+Who, under seeming honesty, hast vented<br />
+The burden of thy rank o'erflowing gall.<br />
+O that thou wert my equal; great in arms<br />
+As the first C&aelig;sar was, that I might kill thee<br />
+Without a stain to honour!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_337" name="page_337"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Vent.</span> You may kill me;<br />
+You have done more already,&mdash;called me traitor.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Art thou not one?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> For showing you yourself,<br />
+Which none else durst have done? but had I been<br />
+That name, which I disdain to speak again,<br />
+I needed not have sought your abject fortunes,<br />
+Come to partake your fate, to die with you.<br />
+What hindered me to have led my conquering eagles<br />
+To fill Octavius' bands? I could have been<br />
+A traitor then, a glorious, happy traitor,<br />
+And not have been so called.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Forgive me, soldier;<br />
+I've been too passionate.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> You thought me false;<br />
+Thought my old age betrayed you: Kill me, sir,<br />
+Pray, kill me; yet you need not, your unkindness<br />
+Has left your sword no work.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I did not think so;<br />
+I said it in my rage: Pr'ythee, forgive me:<br />
+Why didst thou tempt my anger, by discovery<br />
+Of what I would not hear?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> No prince but you<br />
+Could merit that sincerity I used,<br />
+Nor durst another man have ventured it;<br />
+But you, ere love misled your wandering eyes,<br />
+Were sure the chief and best of human race,<br />
+Framed in the very pride and boast of nature;<br />
+So perfect, that the gods, who formed you, wondered<br />
+At their own skill, and cried,&mdash;A lucky hit<br />
+Has mended our design. Their envy hindered,<br />
+Else you had been immortal, and a pattern,<br />
+When heaven would work for ostentation sake,<br />
+To copy out again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> But Cleopatra&mdash;<br />
+Go on; for I can bear it now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> No more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_338" name="page_338"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Thou dar'st not trust my passion, but thou may'st;<br />
+Thou only lov'st, the rest have flattered me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Heaven's blessing on your heart for that kind word!<br />
+May I believe you love me? Speak again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Indeed I do. Speak this, and this, and this.
+<span class="sdr">[Hugging him.</span><br />
+Thy praises were unjust; but, I'll deserve them,<br />
+And yet mend all. Do with me what thou wilt;<br />
+Lead me to victory! thou know'st the way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> And, will you leave this&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Pr'ythee, do not curse her,<br />
+And I will leave her; though, heaven knows, I love<br />
+Beyond life, conquest, empire; all, but honour:<br />
+But I will leave her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> That's my royal master;<br />
+And, shall we fight?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I warrant thee, old soldier.<br />
+Thou shalt behold me once again in iron;<br />
+And at the head of our old troops, that beat<br />
+The Parthians, cry aloud&mdash;Come, follow me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> O now I hear my emperor! in that word<br />
+Octavius fell. Gods, let me see that day,<br />
+And, if I have ten years behind, take all:<br />
+I'll thank you for the exchange.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Oh, Cleopatra!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Again?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I've done: In that last sigh, she went.<br />
+C&aelig;sar shall know what 'tis to force a lover<br />
+From all he holds most dear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Methinks, you breathe<br />
+Another soul: Your looks are more divine;<br />
+You speak a hero, and you move a god.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> O, thou hast fired me; my soul's up in arms,<br />
+And mans each part about me: Once again,<br />
+That noble eagerness of fight has seized me;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_339" name="page_339"></a>
+That eagerness, with which I darted upward<br />
+To Cassius' camp: In vain the steepy hill<br />
+Opposed my way; in vain a war of spears<br />
+Sung round my head, and planted all my shield;<br />
+I won the trenches, while my foremost men<br />
+Lagged on the plain below.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Ye gods, ye gods,<br />
+For such another honour!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Come on, my soldier!<br />
+Our hearts and arms are still the same: I long<br />
+Once more to meet our foes; that thou and I,<br />
+Like time and death, marching before our troops,<br />
+May taste fate to them; mow them out a passage,<br />
+<span class="i1">And, entering where the foremost squadrons yield,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">Begin the noble harvest of the field.</span><span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT II. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Cleopatra, Iras,</span> and <span class="cnm">Alexas.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> What shall I do, or whither shall I turn?<br />
+Ventidius has o'ercome, and he will go.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> He goes to fight for you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Then he would see me, ere he went to fight:<br />
+Flatter me not: If once he goes, he's lost,<br />
+And all my hopes destroyed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Does this weak passion<br />
+Become a mighty queen?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I am no queen:<br />
+Is this to be a queen, to be besieged<br />
+By yon insulting Roman, and to wait<br />
+Each hour the victor's chain? These ills are small;<br />
+For Antony is lost, and I can mourn<br />
+For nothing else but him. Now come, Octavius,<br />
+I have no more to lose; prepare thy bands;<br />
+I'm fit to be a captive: Antony<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_340" name="page_340"></a>
+Has taught my mind the fortune of a slave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> Call reason to assist you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I have none,<br />
+And none would have: My love's a noble madness,<br />
+Which shows the cause deserved it. Moderate sorrow<br />
+Fits vulgar love, and for a vulgar man:<br />
+But I have loved with such transcendent passion,<br />
+I soared, at first, quite out of reason's view,<br />
+And now am lost above it. No, I'm proud<br />
+'Tis thus: Would Antony could see me now!<br />
+Think you he would not sigh, though he must leave me?<br />
+Sure he would sigh; for he is noble-natured,<br />
+And bears a tender heart: I know him well.<br />
+Ah, no, I know him not; I knew him once,<br />
+But now 'tis past.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> Let it be past with you:<br />
+Forget him, madam.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Never, never, Iras.<br />
+He once was mine; and once, though now 'tis gone,<br />
+Leaves a faint image of possession still.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Think him inconstant, cruel, and ungrateful.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I cannot: If I could, those thoughts were vain.<br />
+Faithless, ungrateful, cruel, though he be,<br />
+I still must love him.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Charmion.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Now, what news, my Charmion?<br />
+Will he be kind? and will he not forsake me?<br />
+Am I to live, or die? nay, do I live?<br />
+Or am I dead? for when he gave his answer,<br />
+Fate took the word, and then I lived or died.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> I found him, madam&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> A long speech preparing?<br />
+If thou bring'st comfort, haste, and give it me,<br />
+For never was more need.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_341" name="page_341"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Iras.</span> I know he loves you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Had he been kind, her eyes had told me so,<br />
+Before her tongue could speak it: Now she studies,<br />
+To soften what he said; but give me death,<br />
+Just as he sent it, Charmion, undisguised,<br />
+And in the words he spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> I found him, then,<br />
+Encompassed round, I think, with iron statues;<br />
+So mute, so motionless his soldiers stood,<br />
+While awfully he cast his eyes about,<br />
+And every leader's hopes or fears surveyed:<br />
+Methought he looked resolved, and yet not pleased.<br />
+When he beheld me struggling in the crowd,<br />
+He blushed, and bade make way.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> There's comfort yet.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> Ventidius fixed his eyes upon my passage,<br />
+Severely, as he meant to frown me back,<br />
+And sullenly gave place: I told my message,<br />
+Just as you gave it, broken and disordered;<br />
+I numbered in it all your sighs and tears,<br />
+And while I moved your pitiful request,<br />
+That you but only begged a last farewell,<br />
+He fetched an inward groan; and every time<br />
+I named you, sighed, as if his heart were breaking.<br />
+But, shunned my eyes, and guiltily looked down:<br />
+He seemed not now that awful Antony,<br />
+Who shook an armed assembly with his nod;<br />
+But, making show as he would rub his eyes,<br />
+Disguised and blotted out a falling tear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Did he then weep? And was I worth a tear?<br />
+If what thou hast to say be not as pleasing,<br />
+Tell me no more, but let me die contented.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> He bid me say,&mdash;He knew himself so well,<br />
+He could deny you nothing, if he saw you;<br />
+And therefore&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Thou wouldst say, he would not see me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_342" name="page_342"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Char.</span> And therefore begged you not to use a power,<br />
+Which he could ill resist; yet he should ever<br />
+Respect you, as he ought.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Is that a word<br />
+For Antony to use to Cleopatra?<br />
+Oh that faint word, <i>respect</i>! how I disdain it!<br />
+Disdain myself, for loving after it!<br />
+He should have kept that word for cold Octavia.<br />
+Respect is for a wife: Am I that thing,<br />
+That dull insipid lump, without desires,<br />
+And without power to give them?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> You misjudge;<br />
+You see through love, and that deludes your sight;<br />
+As, what is straight, seems crooked through the water:<br />
+But I, who bear my reason undisturbed,<br />
+Can see this Antony, this dreaded man,<br />
+A fearful slave, who fain would run away,<br />
+And shuns his master's eyes: If you pursue him,<br />
+My life on't, he still drags a chain along,<br />
+That needs must clog his flight.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Could I believe thee!&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> By every circumstance I know he loves.<br />
+True, he's hard prest, by interest and by honour;<br />
+Yet he but doubts, and parleys, and casts out<br />
+Many a long look for succour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> He sends word,<br />
+He fears to see my face.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> And would you more?<br />
+He shows his weakness, who declines the combat,<br />
+And you must urge your fortune. Could he speak<br />
+More plainly? To my ears, the message sounds&mdash;<br />
+Come to my rescue, Cleopatra, come;<br />
+Come, free me from Ventidius; from my tyrant:<br />
+See me, and give me a pretence to leave him!&mdash;<br />
+I hear his trumpets. This way he must pass.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_343" name="page_343"></a>
+Please you, retire a while; I'll work him first,<br />
+That he may bend more easy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> You shall rule me;<br />
+But all, I fear, in vain.<span class="sdr">[Exit with <span class="cnm">Char.</span> and <span class="cnm">Iras.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> I fear so too;<br />
+Though I concealed my thoughts, to make her bold;<br />
+But 'tis our utmost means, and fate befriend it!<span class="sdr">[Withdraws.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter Lictors with Fasces; one bearing the Eagle;
+then enter <span class="cnm">Antony</span> with <span class="cnm">Ventidius,</span> followed by
+other Commanders.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Octavius is the minion of blind chance,<br />
+But holds from virtue nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Has he courage?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> But just enough to season him from coward.<br />
+O, 'tis the coldest youth upon a charge,<br />
+The most deliberate fighter! if he ventures,<br />
+(As in Illyria once, they say, he did,<br />
+To storm a town) 'tis when he cannot chuse;<br />
+When all the world have fixt their eyes upon him;<br />
+And then he lives on that for seven years after;<br />
+But, at a close revenge he never fails.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I heard you challenged him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I did, Ventidius.<br />
+What think'st thou was his answer? 'Twas so tame!&mdash;<br />
+He said, he had more ways than one to die;<br />
+I had not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Poor!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> He has more ways than one;<br />
+But he would chuse them all before that one.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> He first would chuse an ague, or a fever.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> No; it must be an ague, not a fever;<br />
+He has not warmth enough to die by that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Or old age and a bed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Ay, there's his choice.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_344" name="page_344"></a>
+He would live, like a lamp, to the last wink,<br />
+And crawl upon the utmost verge of life.<br />
+O, Hercules! Why should a man like this,<br />
+Who dares not trust his fate for one great action,<br />
+Be all the care of heaven? Why should he lord it<br />
+O'er fourscore thousand men, of whom each one<br />
+Is braver than himself?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> You conquered for him:<br />
+Philippi knows it; there you shared with him<br />
+That empire, which your sword made all your own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Fool that I was, upon my eagle's wings<br />
+I bore this wren, 'till I was tired with soaring,<br />
+And now he mounts above me<a class="ftnt" href="#All_4-1">[1]</a>.<br />
+Good heavens, is this,&mdash;is this the man who braves me?<br />
+Who bids my age make way? Drives me before him,<br />
+To the world's ridge, and sweeps me off like rubbish?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Sir, we lose time; the troops are mounted all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Then give the word to march:<br />
+I long to leave this prison of a town,<br />
+To join thy legions; and, in open field,<br />
+Once more to show my face. Lead, my deliverer.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Alexas.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Great emperor,<br />
+In mighty arms renowned above mankind,<br />
+But, in soft pity to the opprest, a god;<br />
+This message sends the mournful Cleopatra<br />
+To her departing lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_345" name="page_345"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Smooth sycophant!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> A thousand wishes, and ten thousand prayers,<br />
+Millions of blessings wait you to the wars;<br />
+Millions of sighs and tears she sends you too,<br />
+And would have sent<br />
+As many dear embraces to your arms,<br />
+As many parting kisses to your lips;<br />
+But those, she fears, have wearied you already.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] False crocodile!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> And yet she begs not now, you would not leave her;<br />
+That were a wish too mighty for her hopes,<br />
+Too presuming for her low fortune, and your ebbing love;<br />
+That were a wish for her more prosperous days,<br />
+Her blooming beauty, and your growing kindness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] Well, I must man it out:&mdash;What would the queen?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> First, to these noble warriors, who attend<br />
+Your daring courage in the chase of fame,&mdash;<br />
+Too daring, and too dangerous for her quiet,&mdash;<br />
+She humbly recommends all she holds dear,<br />
+All her own cares and fears,&mdash;the care of you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Yes, witness Actium.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Let him speak, Ventidius.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> You, when his matchless valour bears him forward,<br />
+With ardour too heroic, on his foes,<br />
+Fall down, as she would do, before his feet;<br />
+Lie in his way, and stop the paths of death;<br />
+Tell him, this god is not invulnerable;<br />
+That absent Cleopatra bleeds in him;<br />
+And, that you may remember her petition,<br />
+She begs you wear these trifles, as a pawn,<br />
+Which, at your wisht return, she will redeem
+<span class="sdr">[Gives jewels to the Commanders.</span><br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_346" name="page_346"></a>
+With all the wealth of Egypt:<br />
+This to the great Ventidius she presents,<br />
+Whom she can never count her enemy,<br />
+Because he loves her lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Tell her, I'll none on't;<br />
+I'm not ashamed of honest poverty;<br />
+Not all the diamonds of the east can bribe<br />
+Ventidius from his faith. I hope to see<br />
+These, and the rest of all her sparkling store,<br />
+Where they shall more deservingly be placed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> And who must wear them then?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> The wronged Octavia.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> You might have spared that word.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> And he that bribe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> But have I no remembrance?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Yes, a dear one;<br />
+Your slave, the queen&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> My mistress.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Then your mistress;<br />
+Your mistress would, she says, have sent her soul,<br />
+But that you had long since; she humbly begs<br />
+This ruby bracelet, set with bleeding hearts,<br />
+The emblems of her own, may bind your arm.
+<span class="sdr">[Presenting a bracelet.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Now, my best lord,&mdash;in honour's name, I ask you,<br />
+For manhood's sake, and for your own dear safety,&mdash;<br />
+Touch not these poisoned gifts,<br />
+Infected by the sender; touch them not;<br />
+Myriads of bluest plagues lie underneath them,<br />
+And more than aconite has dipt the silk.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Nay, now you grow too cynical, Ventidius:<br />
+A lady's favours may be worn with honour.<br />
+What, to refuse her bracelet! on my soul,<br />
+When I lie pensive in my tent alone,<br />
+'Twill pass the wakeful hours of winter nights,<br />
+To tell these pretty beads upon my arm,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_347" name="page_347"></a>
+To count for every one a soft embrace,<br />
+A melting kiss at such and such a time;<br />
+And now and then the fury of her love,<br />
+When&mdash;And what harm's in this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> None, none, my lord,<br />
+But what's to her, that now 'tis past for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> [<span class="sdm">Going to tie it.</span>]<br />
+We soldiers are so awkward&mdash;help me tie it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> In faith, my lord, we courtiers too are awkward<br />
+In these affairs: so are all men indeed:<br />
+Even I, who am not one. But shall I speak?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Yes, freely.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Then, my lord, fair hands alone<br />
+Are fit to tie it; she, who sent it, can.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Hell, death! this eunuch pandar ruins you.<br />
+You will not see her?
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Alexas</span> whispers an Attendant, who goes out.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> But to take my leave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Then I have washed an &AElig;thiop. You're undone;<br />
+You're in the toils; you're taken; you're destroyed:<br />
+Her eyes do C&aelig;sar's work.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> You fear too soon.<br />
+I'm constant to myself: I know my strength;<br />
+And yet she shall not think me barbarous neither,<br />
+Born in the depths of Afric: I'm a Roman,<br />
+Bred to the rules of soft humanity.<br />
+A guest, and kindly used, should bid farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> You do not know<br />
+How weak you are to her, how much an infant;<br />
+You are not proof against a smile, or glance;<br />
+A sigh will quite disarm you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> See, she comes!<br />
+Now you shall find your error.&mdash;Gods, I thank you:<br />
+I formed the danger greater than it was,<br />
+And now 'tis near, 'tis lessened.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_348" name="page_348"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Mark the end yet.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Cleopatra, Charmion,</span> and <span class="cnm">Iras.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Well, madam, we are met.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Is this a meeting?<br />
+Then, we must part?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> We must.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Who says we must?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Our own hard fates.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> We make those fates ourselves.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Yes, we have made them; we have loved each other<br />
+In our mutual ruin.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> The gods have seen my joys with envious eyes;<br />
+I have no friends in heaven; and all the world,<br />
+As 'twere the business of mankind to part us,<br />
+Is armed against my love: even you yourself<br />
+Join with the rest; you, you are armed against me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I will be justified in all I do<br />
+To late posterity, and therefore hear me.<br />
+If I mix a lie<br />
+With any truth, reproach me freely with it;<br />
+Else, favour me with silence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> You command me,<br />
+And I am dumb.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I like this well: he shews authority.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> That I derive my ruin<br />
+From you alone&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> O heavens! I ruin you!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> You promised me your silence, and you break it<br />
+Ere I have scarce begun.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Well, I obey you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> When I beheld you first, it was in Egypt.<br />
+Ere C&aelig;sar saw your eyes, you gave me love,<br />
+And were too young to know it; that I settled<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_349" name="page_349"></a>
+Your father in his throne, was for your sake;<br />
+I left the acknowledgment for time to ripen.<br />
+C&aelig;sar stept in, and, with a greedy hand,<br />
+Plucked the green fruit, ere the first blush of red,<br />
+Yet cleaving to the bough. He was my lord,<br />
+And was, beside, too great for me to rival;<br />
+But, I deserved you first, though he enjoyed you.<br />
+When, after, I beheld you in Cilicia,<br />
+An enemy to Rome, I pardoned you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I cleared myself&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Again you break your promise.<br />
+I loved you still, and took your weak excuses,<br />
+Took you into my bosom, stained by C&aelig;sar,<br />
+And not half mine: I went to Egypt with you,<br />
+And hid me from the business of the world,<br />
+Shut out enquiring nations from my sight,<br />
+To give whole years to you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Yes, to your shame be't spoken.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> How I loved,<br />
+Witness, ye days and nights, and all ye hours,<br />
+That danced away with down upon your feet,<br />
+As all your business were to count my passion!<br />
+One day past by, and nothing saw but love;<br />
+Another came, and still 'twas only love:<br />
+The suns were wearied out with looking on,<br />
+And I untired with loving.<br />
+I saw you every day, and all the day;<br />
+And every day was still but as the first,<br />
+So eager was I still to see you more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> 'Tis all too true.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Fulvia, my wife, grew jealous,<br />
+As she indeed had reason; raised a war<br />
+In Italy, to call me back.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> But yet<br />
+You went not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> While within your arms I lay,<br />
+The world fell mouldering from my hands each hour,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_350" name="page_350"></a>
+And left me scarce a grasp&mdash;I thank your love for't.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Well pushed: that last was home.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Yet may I speak?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> If I have urged a falsehood, yes; else, not.<br />
+Your silence says, I have not. Fulvia died;<br />
+(Pardon, you gods, with my unkindness died.)<br />
+To set the world at peace, I took Octavia,<br />
+This C&aelig;sar's sister; in her pride of youth,<br />
+And flower of beauty, did I wed that lady,<br />
+Whom blushing I must praise, because I left her.<br />
+You called; my love obeyed the fatal summons:<br />
+This raised the Roman arms; the cause was yours.<br />
+I would have fought by land, where I was stronger;<br />
+You hindered it: yet, when I fought at sea,<br />
+Forsook me fighting; and (Oh stain to honour!<br />
+Oh lasting shame!) I knew not that I fled;<br />
+But fled to follow you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> What haste she made to hoist her purple sails!<br />
+And, to appear magnificent in flight,<br />
+Drew half our strength away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> All this you caused.<br />
+And, would you multiply more ruins on me?<br />
+This honest man, my best, my only friend,<br />
+Has gathered up the shipwreck of my fortunes;<br />
+Twelve legions I have left, my last recruits,<br />
+And you have watched the news, and bring your eyes<br />
+To seize them too. If you have aught to answer,<br />
+Now speak, you have free leave.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] She stands confounded:<br />
+Despair is in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Now lay a sigh in the way to stop his passage:<br />
+Prepare a tear, and bid it for his legions;<br />
+'Tis like they shall be sold.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> How shall I plead my cause, when you, my judge,<br />
+Already have condemned me? shall I bring<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_351" name="page_351"></a>
+The love you bore me for my advocate?<br />
+That now is turned against me, that destroys me;<br />
+For love, once past, is, at the best, forgotten;<br />
+But oftener sours to hate: 'twill please my lord<br />
+To ruin me, and therefore I'll be guilty.<br />
+But, could I once have thought it would have pleased you,<br />
+That you would pry, with narrow searching eyes<br />
+Into my faults, severe to my destruction,<br />
+And watching all advantages with care,<br />
+That serve to make me wretched? Speak, my lord,<br />
+For I end here. Though I deserve this usage,<br />
+Was it like you to give it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> O you wrong me,<br />
+To think I sought this parting, or desired<br />
+To accuse you more than what will clear myself,<br />
+And justify this breach.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Thus low I thank you;<br />
+And, since my innocence will not offend,<br />
+I shall not blush to own it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> After this,<br />
+I think she'll blush at nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> You seem grieved,<br />
+(And therein you are kind) that C&aelig;sar first<br />
+Enjoyed my love, though you deserved it better:<br />
+I grieve for that, my lord, much more than you;<br />
+For, had I first been yours, it would have saved<br />
+My second choice: I never had been his,<br />
+And ne'er had been but yours. But C&aelig;sar first,<br />
+You say, possessed my love. Not so, my lord:<br />
+He first possessed my person; you, my love:<br />
+C&aelig;sar loved me; but I loved Antony.<br />
+If I endured him after, 'twas because<br />
+I judged it due to the first name of men;<br />
+And, half constrained, I gave, as to a tyrant,<br />
+What he would take by force.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> O Syren! Syren!<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_352" name="page_352"></a>
+Yet grant that all the love she boasts were true,<br />
+Has she not ruined you? I still urge that,<br />
+The fatal consequence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> The consequence indeed;<br />
+For I dare challenge him, my greatest foe,<br />
+To say it was designed: 'tis true, I loved you,<br />
+And kept you far from an uneasy wife,&mdash;<br />
+Such Fulvia was.<br />
+Yes, but he'll say, you left Octavia for me;&mdash;<br />
+And, can you blame me to receive that love,<br />
+Which quitted such desert, for worthless me?<br />
+How often have I wished some other C&aelig;sar,<br />
+Great as the first, and as the second young,<br />
+Would court my love, to be refused for you!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Words, words; but Actium, sir; remember Actium.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Even there, I dare his malice. True, I counselled<br />
+To fight at sea; but I betrayed you not.<br />
+I fled, but not to the enemy. 'Twas fear;<br />
+Would I had been a man, not to have feared!<br />
+For none would then have envied me your friendship,<br />
+Who envy me your love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> We are both unhappy:<br />
+If nothing else, yet our ill fortune parts us.<br />
+Speak; would you have me perish by my stay?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> If, as a friend, you ask my judgment, go;<br />
+If, as a lover, stay. If you must perish&mdash;<br />
+'Tis a hard word&mdash;but stay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> See now the effects of her so boasted love!<br />
+She strives to drag you down to ruin with her;<br />
+But, could she 'scape without you, oh how soon<br />
+Would she let go her hold, and haste to shore,<br />
+And never look behind!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Then judge my love by this.
+<span class="sdr">[Giving <span class="cnm">Antony</span> a writing.</span><br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_353" name="page_353"></a>
+Could I have borne<br />
+A life or death, a happiness or woe,<br />
+From yours divided, this had given me means.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> By Hercules, the writing of Octavius!<br />
+I know it well: 'tis that proscribing hand,<br />
+Young as it was, that led the way to mine,<br />
+And left me but the second place in murder.&mdash;<br />
+See, see, Ventidius! here he offers Egypt,<br />
+And joins all Syria to it, as a present;<br />
+So, in requital, she forsake my fortunes,<br />
+And join her arms with his.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> And yet you leave me!<br />
+You leave me, Antony; and yet I love you,<br />
+Indeed I do: I have refused a kingdom;<br />
+That is a trifle;<br />
+For I could part with life, with any thing,<br />
+But only you. O let me die but with you!<br />
+Is that a hard request?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Next living with you,<br />
+'Tis all that heaven can give.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> He melts; we conquer.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> No; you shall go: your interest calls you hence;<br />
+Yes; your dear interest pulls too strong, for these<br />
+Weak arms to hold you here.<span class="sdr">[Takes his hand.</span><br />
+Go; leave me, soldier;<br />
+(For you're no more a lover:) leave me dying:<br />
+Push me, all pale and panting, from your bosom,<br />
+And, when your march begins, let one run after,<br />
+Breathless almost for joy, and cry&mdash;she's dead:<br />
+The soldiers shout; you then, perhaps, may sigh,<br />
+And muster all your Roman gravity:<br />
+Ventidius chides; and strait your brow clears up,<br />
+As I had never been.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Gods, 'tis too much; too much for man to bear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> What is't for me then,<br />
+A weak forsaken woman, and a lover?&mdash;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_354" name="page_354"></a>
+Here let me breathe my last: envy me not<br />
+This minute in your arms: I'll die apace,<br />
+As fast as e'er I can; and end your trouble.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Die! rather let me perish; loosened nature<br />
+Leap from its hinges, sink the props of heaven,<br />
+And fall the skies, to crush the nether world!<br />
+My eyes, my soul, my all!&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Embraces her.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> And what's this toy,<br />
+In balance with your fortune, honour, fame?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> What is't, Ventidius? it out-weighs them all;<br />
+Why, we have more than conquered C&aelig;sar now:<br />
+My queen's not only innocent, but loves me.<br />
+This, this is she, who drags me down to ruin!<br />
+But, could she 'scape without me, with what haste<br />
+Would she let slip her hold, and make to shore,<br />
+And never look behind!<br />
+Down on thy knees, blasphemer as thou art,<br />
+And ask forgiveness of wronged innocence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I'll rather die, than take it. Will you go?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Go! Whither? Go from all that's excellent!<br />
+Faith, honour, virtue, all good things forbid,<br />
+That I should go from her, who sets my love<br />
+Above the price of kingdoms. Give, you gods,<br />
+Give to your boy, your C&aelig;sar,<br />
+This rattle of a globe to play withal,<br />
+This gewgaw world, and put him cheaply off:<br />
+I'll not be pleased with less than Cleopatra.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> She's wholly yours. My heart's so full of joy,<br />
+That I shall do some wild extravagance<br />
+Of love, in public; and the foolish world,<br />
+Which knows not tenderness, will think me mad.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> O women! women! women! all the gods<br />
+Have not such power of doing good to man,<br />
+As you of doing harm.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Our men are armed:&mdash;<br />
+Unbar the gate that looks to C&aelig;sar's camp:<br />
+I would revenge the treachery he meant me;<br />
+And long security makes conquest easy.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_355" name="page_355"></a>
+I'm eager to return before I go;<br />
+For, all the pleasures I have known beat thick<br />
+On my remembrance.&mdash;How I long for night!<br />
+That both the sweets of mutual love may try,<br />
+And triumph once o'er C&aelig;sar ere we die.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT III. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">At one door, enter <span class="cnm">Cleopatra, Charmion, Iras,</span>
+and <span class="cnm">Alexas,</span> a Train of Egyptians: at the other,
+<span class="cnm">Antony</span> and Romans. The entrance on both sides
+is prepared by music; the trumpets first sounding
+on <span class="cnm">Antony's</span> part: then answered by timbrels, &amp;c.
+on <span class="cnm">Cleopatra's. Charmion</span> and <span class="cnm">Iras</span> hold a
+laurel wreath betwixt them. A Dance of Egyptians.
+After the ceremony, <span class="cnm">Cleopatra</span> crowns <span class="cnm">Antony.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I thought how those white arms would fold me in,<br />
+And strain me close, and melt me into love;<br />
+So pleased with that sweet image, I sprung forwards,<br />
+And added all my strength to every blow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Come to me, come, my soldier, to my arms!<br />
+You've been too long away from my embraces;<br />
+But, when I have you fast, and all my own,<br />
+With broken murmurs, and with amorous sighs,<br />
+I'll say, you were unkind, and punish you,<br />
+And mark you red with many an eager kiss.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> My brighter Venus!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> O my greater Mars!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Thou join'st us well, my love!<br />
+Suppose me come from the Phlegr&aelig;an plains,<br />
+Where gasping giants lay, cleft by my sword,<br />
+And mountain tops pared off each other blow,<br />
+To bury those I slew. Receive me, goddess!<br />
+Let C&aelig;sar spread his subtile nets; like Vulcan,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_356" name="page_356"></a>
+In thy embraces I would be beheld<br />
+By heaven and earth at once;<br />
+And make their envy what they meant their sport.<br />
+Let those, who took us, blush; I would love on,<br />
+With awful state, regardless of their frowns,<br />
+As their superior god.<br />
+There's no satiety of love in thee:<br />
+Enjoyed, thou still art new; perpetual spring<br />
+Is in thy arms; the ripened fruit but falls,<br />
+And blossoms rise to fill its empty place;<br />
+And I grow rich by giving.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Ventidius,</span> and stands apart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> O, now the danger's past, your general comes!<br />
+He joins not in your joys, nor minds your triumphs;<br />
+But, with contracted brows, looks frowning on,<br />
+As envying your success.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Now, on my soul, he loves me; truly loves me:<br />
+He never flattered me in any vice,<br />
+But awes me with his virtue: even this minute,<br />
+Methinks, he has a right of chiding me.<br />
+Lead to the temple: I'll avoid his presence;<br />
+It checks too strong upon me.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt the rest.</span><br />
+<span class="sdr">[As <span class="cnm">Antony</span> is going, <span class="cnm">Ventidius</span> pulls him by
+the robe.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Emperor!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> 'Tis the old argument; I pr'ythee, spare me.
+<span class="sdr">[Looking back.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> But this one hearing, emperor.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Let go<br />
+My robe; or, by my father Hercules&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> By Hercules' father, that's yet greater,<br />
+I bring you somewhat you would wish to know.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Thou see'st we are observed; attend me here,<br />
+And I'll return.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I am waning in his favour, yet I love him;<br />
+I love this man, who runs to meet his ruin;<br />
+And sure the gods, like me, are fond of him;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_357" name="page_357"></a>
+His virtues lie so mingled with his crimes,<br />
+As would confound their choice to punish one,<br />
+And not reward the other.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Antony.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> We can conquer,<br />
+You see, without your aid.<br />
+We have dislodged their troops;<br />
+They look on us at distance, and, like curs<br />
+'Scaped from the lion's paws, they bay far off,<br />
+And lick their wounds, and faintly threaten war.<br />
+Five thousand Romans, with their faces upward,<br />
+Lie breathless on the plain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> 'Tis well; and he,<br />
+Who lost them, could have spared ten thousand more.<br />
+Yet if, by this advantage, you could gain<br />
+An easier peace, while C&aelig;sar doubts the chance<br />
+Of arms&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> O think not on't, Ventidius!<br />
+The boy pursues my ruin, he'll no peace;<br />
+His malice is considerate in advantage.<br />
+O, he's the coolest murderer! so staunch,<br />
+He kills, and keeps his temper.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Have you no friend<br />
+In all his army, who has power to move him?<br />
+Mec&aelig;nas, or Agrippa, might do much.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> They're both too deep in C&aelig;sar's interests.<br />
+We'll work it out by dint of sword, or perish.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Fain I would find some other.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Thank thy love.<br />
+Some four or five such victories as this<br />
+Will save thy farther pains.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Expect no more; C&aelig;sar is on his guard:<br />
+I know, sir, you have conquered against odds;<br />
+But still you draw supplies from one poor town,<br />
+And of Egyptians: he has all the world,<br />
+And, at his beck, nations come pouring in,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_358" name="page_358"></a>
+To fill the gaps you make. Pray, think again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Why dost thou drive me from myself, to search<br />
+For foreign aids? to hunt my memory,<br />
+And range all o'er a waste and barren place,<br />
+To find a friend? the wretched have no friends.<br />
+Yet I had one, the bravest youth of Rome,<br />
+Whom C&aelig;sar loves beyond the love of women:<br />
+He could resolve his mind, as fire does wax,<br />
+From that hard rugged image melt him down,<br />
+And mould him in what softer form he pleased.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Him would I see; that man, of all the world;<br />
+Just such a one we want.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> He loved me too;<br />
+I was his soul; he lived not but in me:<br />
+We were so closed within each others breasts,<br />
+The rivets were not found, that joined us first.<br />
+That does not reach us yet: we were so mixt,<br />
+As meeting streams, both to ourselves were lost;<br />
+We were one mass; we could not give or take,<br />
+But from the same; for he was I, I he.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> He moves as I would wish him.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> After this,<br />
+I need not tell his name;&mdash;'twas Dolabella.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> He's now in C&aelig;sar's camp.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> No matter where,<br />
+Since he's no longer mine. He took unkindly,<br />
+That I forbade him Cleopatra's sight,<br />
+Because I feared he loved her: he confest,<br />
+He had a warmth, which, for my sake, he stifled;<br />
+For 'twere impossible that two, so one,<br />
+Should not have loved the same. When he departed,<br />
+He took no leave; and that confirmed my thoughts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> It argues, that he loved you more than her,<br />
+Else he had staid; but he perceived you jealous,<br />
+And would not grieve his friend: I know he loves you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I should have seen him, then, ere now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Perhaps<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_359" name="page_359"></a>
+He has thus long been labouring for your peace.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Would he were here!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Would you believe he loved you?<br />
+I read your answer in your eyes, you would.<br />
+Not to conceal it longer, he has sent<br />
+A messenger from C&aelig;sar's camp, with letters.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Let him appear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I'll bring him instantly.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Ventidius,</span> and re-enters immediately with
+<span class="cnm">Dolabella.</span></span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> 'Tis he himself! himself, by holy friendship!
+<span class="sdr">[Runs to embrace him.</span><br />
+Art thou returned at last, my better half?<br />
+Come, give me all myself!<br />
+Let me not live,<br />
+If the young bridegroom, longing for his night,<br />
+Was ever half so fond.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I must be silent, for my soul is busy<br />
+About a noble work: she's new come home,<br />
+Like a long-absent man, and wanders o'er<br />
+Each room, a stranger to her own, to look<br />
+If all be safe.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Thou hast what's left of me;<br />
+For I am now so sunk from what I was,<br />
+Thou find'st me at my lowest water-mark.<br />
+The rivers that ran in, and raised my fortunes,<br />
+Are all dried up, or take another course:<br />
+What I have left is from my native spring;<br />
+I've still a heart that swells, in scorn of fate,<br />
+And lifts me to my banks.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Still you are lord of all the world to me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Why, then I yet am so; for thou art all.<br />
+If I had any joy when thou wert absent,<br />
+I grudged it to myself; methought I robbed<br />
+Thee of thy part. But, oh, my Dolabella!<br />
+Thou hast beheld me other than I am.<br />
+Hast thou not seen my morning chambers filled<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_360" name="page_360"></a>
+With sceptered slaves, who waited to salute me?<br />
+With eastern monarchs, who forgot the sun,<br />
+To worship my uprising? menial kings<br />
+Ran coursing up and down my palace-yard,<br />
+Stood silent in my presence, watched my eyes,<br />
+And, at my least command, all started out,<br />
+Like racers to the goal<a class="ftnt" href="#All_4-2">[2]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Slaves to your fortune.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Fortune is C&aelig;sar's now; and what am I?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> What you have made yourself; I will not flatter.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Is this friendly done?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Yes; when his end is so, I must join with him;<br />
+Indeed I must, and yet you must not chide:<br />
+Why am I else your friend?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Take heed, young man,<br />
+How thou upbraid'st my love: The queen has eyes,<br />
+And thou too hast a soul. Canst thou remember,<br />
+When, swelled with hatred, thou beheld'st her first<br />
+As accessary to thy brother's death?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Spare my remembrance; 'twas a guilty day,<br />
+And still the blush hangs here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> To clear herself,<br />
+For sending him no aid, she came from Egypt.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_361" name="page_361"></a>
+Her galley down the silver Cydnos rowed,<br />
+The tackling silk, the streamers waved with gold;<br />
+The gentle winds were lodged in purple sails:<br />
+Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were placed;<br />
+Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> No more: I would not hear it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> O, you must!<br />
+She lay, and leant her cheek upon her hand,<br />
+And cast a look so languishingly sweet,<br />
+As if, secure of all beholders' hearts,<br />
+Neglecting, she could take them: boys, like Cupids,<br />
+Stood fanning, with their painted wings, the winds,<br />
+That played about her face: but if she smiled,<br />
+A darting glory seemed to blaze abroad,<br />
+That men's desiring eyes were never wearied,<br />
+But hung upon the object: To soft flutes<br />
+The silver oars kept time; and while they played,<br />
+The hearing gave new pleasure to the sight;<br />
+And both to thought. 'Twas heaven, or somewhat more:<br />
+For she so charmed all hearts, that gazing crowds<br />
+Stood panting on the shore, and wanted breath<br />
+To give their welcome voice.<br />
+Then, Dolabella, where was then thy soul?<br />
+Was not thy fury quite disarmed with wonder?<br />
+Didst thou not shrink behind me from those eyes<br />
+And whisper in my ear,&mdash;Oh, tell her not<br />
+That I accused her of my brother's death?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> And should my weakness be a plea for yours?<br />
+Mine was an age when love might be excused,<br />
+When kindly warmth, and when my springing youth<br />
+Made it a debt to nature. Yours&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Speak boldly.<br />
+Yours, he would say, in your declining age,<br />
+When no more heat was left but what you forced,<br />
+When all the sap was needful for the trunk,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_362" name="page_362"></a>
+When it went down, then you constrained the course,<br />
+And robbed from nature, to supply desire;<br />
+In you (I would not use so harsh a word)<br />
+'Tis but plain dotage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Ha!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> 'Twas urged too home.&mdash;<br />
+But yet the loss was private, that I made;<br />
+'Twas but myself I lost: I lost no legions;<br />
+I had no world to lose, no people's love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> This from a friend?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Yes, Antony, a true one;<br />
+A friend so tender, that each word I speak<br />
+Stabs my own heart, before it reach your ear.<br />
+O, judge me not less kind, because I chide!<br />
+To C&aelig;sar I excuse you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> O ye gods!<br />
+Have I then lived to be excused to C&aelig;sar?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> As to your equal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Well, he's but my equal:<br />
+While I wear this, he never shall be more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I bring conditions from him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Are they noble?<br />
+Methinks thou shouldst not bring them else; yet he<br />
+Is full of deep dissembling; knows no honour<br />
+Divided from his interest. Fate mistook him;<br />
+For nature meant him for an usurer:<br />
+He's fit indeed to buy, not conquer kingdoms.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Then, granting this,<br />
+What power was theirs, who wrought so hard a temper<br />
+To honourable terms?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> It was my Dolabella, or some god.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Not I; nor yet Mec&aelig;nas, nor Agrippa:<br />
+They were your enemies; and I, a friend,<br />
+Too weak alone; yet 'twas a Roman's deed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> 'Twas like a Roman done: show me that man,<br />
+Who has preserved my life, my love, my honour;<br />
+Let me but see his face.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_363" name="page_363"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Vent.</span> That task is mine,<br />
+And, heaven, thou know'st how pleasing.<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Vent.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> You'll remember<br />
+To whom you stand obliged?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> When I forget it,<br />
+Be thou unkind, and that's my greatest curse.<br />
+My queen shall thank him too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I fear she will not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> But she shall do it: The queen, my Dolabella!<br />
+Hast thou not still some grudgings of thy fever?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I would not see her lost.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> When I forsake her,<br />
+Leave me, my better stars! for she has truth<br />
+Beyond her beauty. C&aelig;sar tempted her,<br />
+At no less price than kingdoms, to betray me;<br />
+But she resisted all: and yet thou chidest me<br />
+For loving her too well. Could I do so?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Yes; there's my reason.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Re-enter <span class="cnm">Ventidius,</span> with <span class="cnm">Octavia,</span> leading <span class="cnm">Antony's</span>
+two little Daughters.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Where?&mdash;Octavia there!<span class="sdr">[Starting back.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> What, is she poison to you? a disease?<br />
+Look on her, view her well, and those she brings:<br />
+Are they all strangers to your eyes? has nature<br />
+No secret call, no whisper they are yours?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> For shame, my lord, if not for love, receive them<br />
+With kinder eyes. If you confess a man,<br />
+Meet them, embrace them, bid them welcome to you.<br />
+Your arms should open, even without your knowledge,<br />
+To clasp them in; your feet should turn to wings,<br />
+To bear you to them; and your eyes dart out,<br />
+And aim a kiss, ere you could reach the lips.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I stood amazed, to think how they came hither.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I sent for them; I brought them in, unknown.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_364" name="page_364"></a>
+To Cleopatra's guards.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Yet, are you cold?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Thus long I have attended for my welcome;<br />
+Which, as a stranger, sure I might expect.<br />
+Who am I?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> C&aelig;sar's sister.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> That's unkind.<br />
+Had I been nothing more than C&aelig;sar's sister,<br />
+Know, I had still remained in C&aelig;sar's camp:<br />
+But your Octavia, your much injured wife,<br />
+Though banished from your bed, driven from your house,<br />
+In spite of C&aelig;sar's sister, still is yours.<br />
+'Tis true, I have a heart disdains your coldness,<br />
+And prompts me not to seek what you should offer;<br />
+But a wife's virtue still surmounts that pride.<br />
+I come to claim you as my own; to show<br />
+My duty first; to ask, nay beg, your kindness:<br />
+Your hand, my lord; 'tis mine, and I will have it.
+<span class="sdr">[Taking his hand.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Do, take it; thou deserv'st it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> On my soul,<br />
+And so she does: she's neither too submissive,<br />
+Nor yet too haughty; but so just a mean<br />
+Shows, as it ought, a wife and Roman too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I fear, Octavia, you have begged my life.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Begged it, my lord?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Yes, begged it, my ambassadress;<br />
+Poorly and basely begged it of your brother.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Poorly and basely I could never beg:<br />
+Nor could my brother grant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Shall I, who, to my kneeling slave, could say,<br />
+Rise up, and be a king; shall I fall down<br />
+And cry,&mdash;forgive me, C&aelig;sar! shall I set<br />
+A man, my equal, in the place of Jove,<br />
+As he could give me being? No; that word,<br />
+Forgive, would choke me up,<br />
+And die upon my tongue.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_365" name="page_365"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Dola.</span> You shall not need it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I will not need it. Come, you've all betrayed me,&mdash;<br />
+My friend too!&mdash;to receive some vile conditions.<br />
+My wife has bought me, with her prayers and tears;<br />
+And now I must become her branded slave.<br />
+In every peevish mood, she will upbraid<br />
+The life she gave: if I but look awry,<br />
+She cries,&mdash;I'll tell my brother.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> My hard fortune<br />
+Subjects me still to your unkind mistakes.<br />
+But the conditions I have brought are such,<br />
+You need not blush to take: I love your honour,<br />
+Because 'tis mine; it never shall be said,<br />
+Octavia's husband was her brother's slave.<br />
+Sir, you are free; free, even from her you loath;<br />
+For, though my brother bargains for your love,<br />
+Makes me the price and cement of your peace,<br />
+I have a soul like yours; I cannot take<br />
+Your love as alms, nor beg what I deserve.<br />
+I'll tell my brother we are reconciled;<br />
+He shall draw back his troops, and you shall march<br />
+To rule the East: I may be dropt at Athens;<br />
+No matter where. I never will complain,<br />
+But only keep the barren name of wife,<br />
+And rid you of the trouble.</p>
+
+<table summary="Speeches apart" style="border-collapse: collapse;">
+<tr>
+<td><p class="dlg" style="margin-top: 0;"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Was ever such a strife of sullen honour!<br />
+Both scorn to be obliged.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> O, she has touched him in the tenderest part;<br />
+See how he reddens with despite and shame,<br />
+To be out-done in generosity!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg" style="margin-bottom: 0;"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> See, how he winks! how he dries up a tear,<br />
+That fain would fall!</p></td>
+
+<td>}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}<br />
+}</td>
+
+<td><i>Apart.</i></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Octavia, I have heard you, and must praise<br />
+The greatness of your soul;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_366" name="page_366"></a>
+But cannot yield to what you have proposed:<br />
+For I can ne'er be conquered but by love;<br />
+And you do all for duty. You would free me,<br />
+And would be dropt at Athens; was't not so?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> It was, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Then I must be obliged<br />
+To one who loves me not; who, to herself,<br />
+May call me thankless and ungrateful man:&mdash;<br />
+I'll not endure it; no.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I am glad it pinches there.<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Would you triumph o'er poor Octavia's virtue?<br />
+That pride was all I had to bear me up;<br />
+That you might think you owed me for your life,<br />
+And owed it to my duty, not my love.<br />
+I have been injured, and my haughty soul<br />
+Could brook but ill the man, who slights my bed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Therefore you love me not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Therefore, my lord,<br />
+I should not love you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Therefore you would leave me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> And therefore I should leave you&mdash;if I could.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Her soul's too great, after such injuries,<br />
+To say she loves; and yet she lets you see it.<br />
+Her modesty and silence plead her cause.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> O, Dolabella, which way shall I turn?<br />
+I find a secret yielding in my soul;<br />
+But Cleopatra, who would die with me,<br />
+Must she be left? pity pleads for Octavia;<br />
+But does it not plead more for Cleopatra?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Justice and pity both plead for Octavia;<br />
+For Cleopatra, neither.<br />
+One would be ruined with you; but she first<br />
+Had ruined you: The other, you have ruined,<br />
+And yet she would preserve you.<br />
+In every thing their merits are unequal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> O, my distracted soul!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Sweet heaven compose it!&mdash;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_367" name="page_367"></a>
+Come, come, my lord, if I can pardon you,<br />
+Methinks you should accept it. Look on these;<br />
+Are they not yours? or stand they thus neglected,<br />
+As they are mine? go to him, children, go;<br />
+Kneel to him, take him by the hand, speak to him;<br />
+For you may speak, and he may own you too,<br />
+Without a blush; and so he cannot all<br />
+His children: go, I say, and pull him to me,<br />
+And pull him to yourselves, from that bad woman.<br />
+You, Agrippina, hang upon his arms;<br />
+And you, Antonia, clasp about his waist:<br />
+If he will shake you off, if he will dash you<br />
+Against the pavement, you must bear it, children;<br />
+For you are mine, and I was born to suffer.
+<span class="sdr">[Here the Children go to him, &amp;c.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Was ever sight so moving?&mdash;Emperor!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Friend!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Husband!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Both Child.</span> Father!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I am vanquished: take me,<br />
+Octavia; take me, children; share me all.<span class="sdr">[Embracing them.</span><br />
+I've been a thriftless debtor to your loves,<br />
+And run out much, in riot, from your stock;<br />
+But all shall be amended.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> O blest hour!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> O happy change!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> My joy stops at my tongue;<br />
+But it has found two channels here for one,<br />
+And bubbles out above.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Octav.</span></span>]<br />
+This is thy triumph; lead me where thou wilt;<br />
+Even to thy brother's camp.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> All there are yours.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Alexas</span> hastily.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> The queen, my mistress, sir, and yours&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_368" name="page_368"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ant.</span> 'Tis past.&mdash;Octavia, you shall stay this night;<br />
+To-morrow, C&aelig;sar and we are one.
+<span class="sdr">[Ex. leading <span class="cnm">Octav. Dol.</span> and the Children follow.</span><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> There's news for you; run, my officious eunuch,<br />
+Be sure to be the first; haste forward:<br />
+Haste, my dear eunuch, haste.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> This downright fighting fool, this thick-skulled hero,<br />
+This blunt unthinking instrument of death,<br />
+With plain dull virtue has out-gone my wit.<br />
+Pleasure forsook my earliest infancy;<br />
+The luxury of others robbed my cradle,<br />
+And ravished thence the promise of a man<br />
+Cast out from nature, disinherited<br />
+Of what her meanest children claim by kind,<br />
+Yet greatness kept me from contempt: that's gone:<br />
+Had Cleopatra followed my advice,<br />
+Then he had been betrayed, who now forsakes.<br />
+She dies for love; but she has known its joys:<br />
+Gods, is this just, that I, who know no joys,<br />
+Must die, because she loves?</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Cleopatra, Charmion, Iras,</span> and Train.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Oh, madam, I have seen what blasts my eyes!<br />
+Octavia's here.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Peace with that raven's note.<br />
+I know it too; and now am in<br />
+The pangs of death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> You are no more a queen;<br />
+Egypt is lost.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> What tell'st thou me of Egypt?<br />
+My life, my soul is lost! Octavia has him!&mdash;<br />
+O fatal name to Cleopatra's love!<br />
+My kisses, my embraces now are hers;<br />
+While I&mdash;But thou hast seen my rival; speak.<br />
+Does she deserve this blessing? Is she fair?<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_369" name="page_369"></a>
+Bright as a goddess? and is all perfection<br />
+Confined to her? It is. Poor I was made<br />
+Of that coarse matter, which, when she was finished,<br />
+The gods threw by for rubbish.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> She's indeed a very miracle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Death to my hopes, a miracle!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> A miracle;<span class="sdr">[Bowing.</span><br />
+I mean of goodness; for in beauty, madam,<br />
+You make all wonders cease.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I was too rash:<br />
+Take this in part of recompense. But, oh,<span class="sdr">[Giving a ring.</span><br />
+I fear thou flatterest me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> She comes! she's here!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> Fly, madam, C&aelig;sar's sister!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Were she the sister of the thunderer Jove,<br />
+And bore her brother's lightning in her eyes,<br />
+Thus would I face my rival.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Meets <span class="cnm">Octavia</span> with <span class="cnm">Ventidius. Octavia</span> bears
+up to her. Their Trains come up on either side.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> I need not ask if you are Cleopatra;<br />
+Your haughty carriage&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Shows I am a queen:<br />
+Nor need I ask you, who you are.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> A Roman:<br />
+A name, that makes and can unmake a queen.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Your lord, the man who serves me, is a Roman.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> He was a Roman, till he lost that name,<br />
+To be a slave in Egypt; but I come<br />
+To free him thence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Peace, peace, my lover's Juno.<br />
+When he grew weary of that household-clog,<br />
+He chose my easier bonds.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> I wonder not<br />
+Your bonds are easy; you have long been practised<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_370" name="page_370"></a>
+In that lascivious art: He's not the first,<br />
+For whom you spread your snares: Let C&aelig;sar witness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I loved not C&aelig;sar; 'twas but gratitude<br />
+I paid his love: The worst your malice can,<br />
+Is but to say, the greatest of mankind<br />
+Has been my slave. The next, but far above him<br />
+In my esteem, is he whom law calls yours,<br />
+But whom his love made mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> I would view nearer<span class="sdr">[Coming up close to her.</span><br />
+That face, which has so long usurped my right,<br />
+To find the inevitable charms, that catch<br />
+Mankind so sure, that ruined my dear lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> O, you do well to search; for had you known<br />
+But half these charms, you had not lost his heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Far be their knowledge from a Roman lady,<br />
+Far from a modest wife! Shame of your sex,<br />
+Dost thou not blush, to own those black endearments,<br />
+That make sin pleasing?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> You may blush, who want them.<br />
+If bounteous nature, if indulgent heaven<br />
+Have given me charms to please the bravest man,<br />
+Should I not thank them? should I be ashamed,<br />
+And not be proud? I am, that he has loved me;<br />
+And, when I love not him, heaven change this face<br />
+For one like that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Thou lov'st him not so well.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I love him better, and deserve him more.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> You do not; cannot: You have been his ruin.<br />
+Who made him cheap at Rome, but Cleopatra?<br />
+Who made him scorned abroad, but Cleopatra?<br />
+At Actium, who betrayed him? Cleopatra.<br />
+Who made his children orphans, and poor me<br />
+A wretched widow? only Cleopatra.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Yet she, who loves him best, is Cleopatra.<br />
+If you have suffered, I have suffered more.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_371" name="page_371"></a>
+You bear the specious title of a wife,<br />
+To gild your cause, and draw the pitying world<br />
+To favour it: the world condemns poor me;<br />
+For I have lost my honour, lost my fame,<br />
+And stained the glory of my royal house,<br />
+And all to bear the branded name of mistress.<br />
+There wants but life, and that too I would lose<br />
+For him I love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Be't so then; take thy wish.
+<span class="sdr">[Exit with her Train.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> And 'tis my wish,<br />
+Now he is lost for whom alone I lived.<br />
+My sight grows dim, and every object dances,<br />
+And swims before me, in the maze of death.<br />
+My spirits, while they were opposed, kept up;<br />
+They could not sink beneath a rival's scorn:<br />
+But now she's gone, they faint.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Mine have had leisure<br />
+To recollect their strength, and furnish counsel,<br />
+To ruin her, who else must ruin you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Vain promiser!<br />
+Lead me, my Charmion; nay, your hand too, Iras.<br />
+My grief has weight enough to sink you both.<br />
+Conduct me to some solitary chamber,<br />
+And draw the curtains round;<br />
+Then leave me to myself, to take alone<br />
+My fill of grief:<br />
+<span class="i1">There I till death will his unkindness weep;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">As harmless infants moan themselves asleep.</span><span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_372" name="page_372"></a></div>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT IV. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Antony</span> and <span class="cnm">Dolabella.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Why would you shift it from yourself, on me?<br />
+Can you not tell her, you must part?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I cannot.<br />
+I could pull out an eye, and bid it go,<br />
+And t'other should not weep. Oh, Dolabella,<br />
+How many deaths are in this word, <i>depart</i>!<br />
+I dare not trust my tongue to tell her so:<br />
+One look of hers would thaw me into tears,<br />
+And I should melt, till I were lost again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Then let Ventidius;<br />
+He's rough by nature.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Oh, he'll speak too harshly;<br />
+He'll kill her with the news: Thou, only thou.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Nature has cast me in so soft a mould,<br />
+That but to hear a story, feigned for pleasure,<br />
+Of some sad lover's death, moistens my eyes,<br />
+And robs me of my manhood. I should speak<br />
+So faintly, with such fear to grieve her heart,<br />
+She'd not believe it earnest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Therefore,&mdash;therefore<br />
+Thou only, thou art fit: Think thyself me;<br />
+And when thou speak'st, (but let it first be long)<br />
+Take off the edge from every sharper sound,<br />
+And let our parting he as gently made,<br />
+As other loves begin: Wilt thou do this?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> What you have said, so sinks into my soul,<br />
+That, if I must speak, I shall speak just so.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I leave you then to your sad task: Farewell.<br />
+I sent her word to meet you.<span class="sdr">[Goes to the door, and comes back.</span><br />
+I forgot;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_373" name="page_373"></a>
+Let her be told, I'll make her peace with mine:<br />
+Her crown and dignity shall be preserved,<br />
+If I have power with C&aelig;sar.&mdash;O, be sure<br />
+To think on that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Fear not, I will remember.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Antony</span> goes again to the door, and comes back.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> And tell her, too, how much I was constrained;<br />
+I did not this, but with extremest force:<br />
+Desire her not to hate my memory,<br />
+For I still cherish hers;&mdash;insist on that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Trust me, I'll not forget it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Then that's all.<span class="sdr">[Goes out, and returns again.</span><br />
+Wilt thou forgive my fondness this once more?<br />
+Tell her, though we shall never meet again,<br />
+If I should hear she took another love,<br />
+The news would break my heart.&mdash;Now I must go;<br />
+For every time I have returned, I feel<br />
+My soul more tender; and my next command<br />
+Would be, to bid her stay, and ruin both.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Men are but children of a larger growth;<br />
+Our appetites as apt to change as theirs,<br />
+And full as craving too, and full as vain;<br />
+And yet the soul, shut up in her dark room,<br />
+Viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing;<br />
+But, like a mole in earth, busy and blind,<br />
+Works all her folly up, and casts it outward<br />
+To the world's open view: Thus I discovered,<br />
+And blamed the love of ruined Antony;<br />
+Yet wish that I were he, to be so ruined.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Ventidius</span> above.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Alone, and talking to himself? concerned too?<br />
+Perhaps my guess is right; he loved her once,<br />
+And may pursue it still.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_374" name="page_374"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Dola.</span> O friendship! friendship!<br />
+Ill canst thou answer this; and reason, worse:<br />
+Unfaithful in the attempt; hopeless to win;<br />
+And, if I win, undone: mere madness all.<br />
+And yet the occasion's fair. What injury<br />
+To him, to wear the robe which he throws by?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> None, none at all. This happens as I wish,<br />
+To ruin her yet more with Antony.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Cleopatra,</span> talking with <span class="cnm">Alexas; Charmion,
+Iras</span> on the other side.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> She comes! What charms have sorrow on that face!<br />
+Sorrow seems pleased to dwell with so much sweetness;<br />
+Yet, now and then, a melancholy smile<br />
+Breaks loose, like lightning in a winter's night,<br />
+And shows a moment's day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> If she should love him too! her eunuch there!<br />
+That porc'pisce bodes ill weather. Draw, draw nearer,<br />
+Sweet devil, that I may hear.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Believe me; try.
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Dolabella</span> goes over to <span class="cnm">Charmion</span> and <span class="cnm">Iras;</span>
+seems to talk with them.</span><br />
+To make him jealous; jealousy is like<br />
+A polished glass held to the lips when life's in doubt;<br />
+If there be breath, 'twill catch the damp, and show it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I grant you, jealousy's a proof of love,<br />
+But 'tis a weak and unavailing medicine;<br />
+It puts out the disease, and makes it show,<br />
+But has no power to cure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> 'Tis your last remedy, and strongest too:<br />
+And then this Dolabella, who so fit<br />
+To practise on? He's handsome, valiant, young,<br />
+And looks as he were laid for nature's bait,<br />
+To catch weak woman's eyes.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_375" name="page_375"></a>
+He stands already more than half suspected<br />
+Of loving you: the least kind word or glance,<br />
+You give this youth, will kindle him with love:<br />
+Then, like a burning vessel set adrift,<br />
+You'll send him down amain before the wind,<br />
+To fire the heart of jealous Antony.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Can I do this? Ah, no; my love's so true,<br />
+That I can neither hide it where it is,<br />
+Nor show it where it is not. Nature meant me<br />
+A wife; a silly, harmless, household dove,<br />
+Fond without art, and kind without deceit;<br />
+But Fortune, that has made a mistress of me,<br />
+Has thrust me out to the wide world, unfurnished<br />
+Of falsehood to be happy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Force yourself.<br />
+The event will be, your lover will return,<br />
+Doubly desirous to possess the good,<br />
+Which once he feared to lose.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I must attempt it;<br />
+But oh with what regret!
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Alex.</span> She comes up to <span class="cnm">Dolabella.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> So, now the scene draws near; they're in my reach.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Dol.</span></span>]<br />
+Discoursing with my women! might not I<br />
+Share in your entertainment?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> You have been<br />
+The subject of it, madam.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> How! and how?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> Such praises of your beauty!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Mere poetry.<br />
+Your Roman wits, your Gallus and Tibullus,<br />
+Have taught you this from Cytheris and Delia.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Those Roman wits have never been in Egypt;<br />
+Cytheris and Delia else had been unsung:<br />
+I, who have seen&mdash;had I been born a poet,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_376" name="page_376"></a>
+Should choose a nobler name.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> You flatter me.<br />
+But, 'tis your nation's vice: All of your country<br />
+Are flatterers, and all false. Your friend's like you.<br />
+I'm sure, he sent you not to speak these words.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> No, madam; yet he sent me&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Well, he sent you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Of a less pleasing errand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> How less pleasing?<br />
+Less to yourself, or me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Madam, to both;<br />
+For you must mourn, and I must grieve to cause it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> You, Charmion, and your fellow, stand at distance.&mdash;<br />
+Hold up my spirits. [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]&mdash;Well, now your mournful matter;<br />
+For I'm prepared, perhaps can guess it too.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I wish you would; for 'tis a thankless office,<br />
+To tell ill news: And I, of all your sex,<br />
+Most fear displeasing you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Of all your sex,<br />
+I soonest could forgive you, if you should.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Most delicate advances! woman! woman!<br />
+Dear, damned, inconstant sex!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> In the first place,<br />
+I am to be forsaken; is't not so?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I wish I could not answer to that question.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Then pass it o'er, because it troubles you:<br />
+I should have been more grieved another time.<br />
+Next, I'm to lose my kingdom&mdash;farewell, Egypt.<br />
+Yet, is there any more?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Madam, I fear<br />
+Your too deep sense of grief has turned your reason.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> No, no, I'm not run mad; I can bear fortune:<br />
+And love may be expelled by other love,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_377" name="page_377"></a>
+As poisons are by poisons.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> You o'erjoy me, madam,<br />
+To find your griefs so moderately borne.<br />
+You've heard the worst; all are not false like him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> No; heaven forbid they should.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Some men are constant.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> And constancy deserves reward, that's certain.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Deserves it not; but give it leave to hope.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I'll swear thou hast my leave.  I have enough:<br />
+But how to manage this! Well, I'll consider.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I came prepared<br />
+To tell you heavy news; news, which I thought<br />
+Would fright the blood from your pale cheeks to hear:<br />
+But you have met it with a cheerfulness,<br />
+That makes my task more easy; and my tongue,<br />
+Which on another's message was employed,<br />
+Would gladly speak its own.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Hold, Dolabella.<br />
+First tell me, were you chosen by my lord?<br />
+Or sought you this employment?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> He picked me out; and, as his bosom-friend,<br />
+He charged me with his words.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> The message then<br />
+I know was tender, and each accent smooth,<br />
+To mollify that rugged word, <i>depart</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Oh, you mistake: He chose the harshest words;<br />
+With fiery eyes, and with contracted brows,<br />
+He coined his face in the severest stamp;<br />
+And fury shook his fabric, like an earthquake;<br />
+He heaved for vent, and burst like bellowing &AElig;tna,<br />
+In sounds scarce human,&mdash;Hence away for ever!<br />
+Let her begone, the blot of my renown,<br />
+And bane of all my hopes!
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_378" name="page_378"></a>
+<span class="sdr">[All the time of this speech, <span class="cnm">Cleopatra</span> seems
+more and more concerned, till she sinks quite
+down.</span><br />
+Let her be driven, as far as men can think,<br />
+From man's commerce! she'll poison to the center.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Oh, I can bear no more!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Help, help:&mdash;Oh wretch! O cursed, cursed wretch!<br />
+What have I done!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> Help, chafe her temples, Iras.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> Bend, bend her forward quickly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> Heaven be praised,<br />
+She comes again.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> O let him not approach me.<br />
+Why have you brought me back to this loathed being,<br />
+The abode of falsehood, violated vows,<br />
+And injured love? For pity, let me go;<br />
+For, if there be a place of long repose,<br />
+I'm sure I want it. My disdainful lord<br />
+Can never break that quiet; nor awake<br />
+The sleeping soul, with hollowing in my tomb<br />
+Such words as fright her hence.&mdash;Unkind, unkind!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Believe me, 'tis against myself I speak;
+<span class="sdr">[Kneeling.</span><br />
+That sure desires belief; I injured him:<br />
+My friend ne'er spoke those words. Oh, had you seen<br />
+How often he came back, and every time<br />
+With something more obliging and more kind,<br />
+To add to what he said; what dear farewells;<br />
+How almost vanquished by his love he parted,<br />
+And leaned to what unwillingly he left!<br />
+I, traitor as I was, for love of you,<br />
+(But what can you not do, who made me false!)<br />
+I forged that lie; for whose forgiveness kneels<br />
+This self-accused, self-punished criminal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_379" name="page_379"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> With how much ease believe we what we wish!<br />
+Rise, Dolabella; if you have been guilty,<br />
+I have contributed, and too much love<br />
+Has made me guilty too.<br />
+The advance of kindness, which I made, was feigned,<br />
+To call back fleeting love by jealousy;<br />
+But 'twould not last. Oh, rather let me lose,<br />
+Than so ignobly trifle with his heart.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I find your breast fenced round from human reach,<br />
+Transparent as a rock of solid crystal;<br />
+Seen through, but never pierced. My friend, my friend!<br />
+What endless treasure hast thou thrown away;<br />
+And scattered, like an infant, in the ocean,<br />
+Vain sums of wealth, which none can gather thence!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Could you not beg<br />
+An hour's admittance to his private ear?<br />
+Like one, who wanders through long barren wilds;<br />
+And yet foreknows no hospitable inn<br />
+Is near to succour hunger,<br />
+Eats his fill, before his painful march:<br />
+So would I feed a while my famished eyes<br />
+Before we part; for I have far to go,<br />
+If death be far, and never must return.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><span class="cnm">Ventidius,</span> with <span class="cnm">Octavia,</span> behind.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> From hence you may discover&mdash;Oh, sweet, sweet!<br />
+Would you indeed? the pretty hand in earnest?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I will, for this reward.<span class="sdr">[Takes her hand.</span><br />
+Draw it not back,<br />
+'Tis all I e'er will beg.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> They turn upon us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> What quick eyes has guilt!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Seem not to have observed them, and go on.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn"><a class="pgnm" id="page_380" name="page_380"></a>
+They enter.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Saw you the emperor, Ventidius?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> No.<br />
+I sought him; but I heard that he was private,<br />
+None with him but Hipparchus, his freedman.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Know you his business?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Giving him instructions,<br />
+And letters to his brother C&aelig;sar.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Well,<br />
+He must be found.<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Dola.</span> and <span class="cnm">Cleo.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Most glorious impudence!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> She looked, methought,<br />
+As she would say,&mdash;take your old man, Octavia;<br />
+Thank you, I'm better here.&mdash;<br />
+Well, but what use<br />
+Make we of this discovery?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Let it die.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I pity Dolabella; but she's dangerous:<br />
+Her eyes have power beyond Thessalian charms,<br />
+To draw the moon from heaven; for eloquence,<br />
+The sea-green Syrens taught her voice their flattery;<br />
+And, while she speaks, night steals upon the day,<br />
+Unmarked of those that hear: Then she's so charming<br />
+Age buds at sight of her, and swells to youth:<br />
+The holy priests gaze on her when she smiles;<br />
+And with heaved hands, forgetting gravity,<br />
+They bless her wanton eyes: even I, who hate her,<br />
+With a malignant joy behold such beauty;<br />
+And, while I curse, desire it. Antony<br />
+Must needs have some remains of passion still,<br />
+Which may ferment into a worse relapse,<br />
+If now not fully cured. I know, this minute,<br />
+With C&aelig;sar he's endeavouring her peace.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> You have prevailed:&mdash;But for a farther purpose
+<span class="sdr">[Walks off.</span><br />
+I'll prove how he will relish this discovery.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_381" name="page_381"></a>
+What, make a strumpet's peace! it swells my heart:<br />
+It must not, shall not be.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> His guards appear.<br />
+Let me begin, and you shall second me.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Antony.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Octavia, I was looking you, my love:<br />
+What, are your letters ready? I have given<br />
+My last instructions.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Mine, my lord, are written.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Ventidius.<span class="sdr">[Drawing him aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> My lord?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> A word in private.&mdash;<br />
+When saw you Dolabella?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Now, my lord,<br />
+He parted hence; and Cleopatra with him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Speak softly.&mdash;'Twas by my command he went,<br />
+To bear my last farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> It looked indeed<span class="sdr">[Aloud.</span><br />
+Like your farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> More softly.&mdash;My farewell?<br />
+What secret meaning have you in those words<br />
+Of&mdash;my farewell? He did it by my order.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Then he obeyed your order. I suppose<span class="sdr">[Aloud.</span><br />
+You bid him do it with all gentleness,<br />
+All kindness, and all&mdash;love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> How she mourned,<br />
+The poor forsaken creature!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> She took it as she ought; she bore your parting<br />
+As she did C&aelig;sar's, as she would another's,<br />
+Were a new love to come.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Thou dost belie her;<span class="sdr">[Aloud.</span><br />
+Most basely, and maliciously belie her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I thought not to displease you; I have done.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_382" name="page_382"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Octav.</span> You seem disturbed, my lord.<span class="sdr">[Coming up.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> A very trifle.<br />
+Retire, my love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> It was indeed a trifle.<br />
+He sent&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> No more. Look how thou disobeyest me;<span class="sdr">[Angrily.</span><br />
+Thy life shall answer it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Then 'tis no trifle.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Octav.</span></span>]<br />
+'Tis less; a very nothing: You too saw it,<br />
+As well as I, and therefore 'tis no secret.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> She saw it!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Yes: She saw young Dolabella&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Young Dolabella!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Young, I think him young,<br />
+And handsome too; and so do others think him.<br />
+But what of that? He went by your command,<br />
+Indeed 'tis probable, with some kind message;<br />
+For she received it graciously; she smiled;<br />
+And then he grew familiar with her hand,<br />
+Squeezed it, and worried it with ravenous kisses;<br />
+She blushed, and sighed, and smiled, and blushed again;<br />
+At last she took occasion to talk softly,<br />
+And brought her cheek up close, and leaned on his;<br />
+At which, he whispered kisses back on hers;<br />
+And then she cried aloud,&mdash;That constancy<br />
+Should be rewarded.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> This I saw and heard.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> What woman was it, whom you heard and saw<br />
+So playful with my friend!<br />
+Not Cleopatra?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Even she, my lord.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> My Cleopatra?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Your Cleopatra;<br />
+Dolabella's Cleopatra;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_383" name="page_383"></a>
+Every man's Cleopatra<a class="ftnt" href="#All_4-3">[3]</a>.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Thou liest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I do not lie, my lord.<br />
+Is this so strange? Should mistresses be left,<br />
+And not provide against a time of change?<br />
+You know she's not much used to lonely nights.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I'll think no more on't.<br />
+I know 'tis false, and see the plot betwixt you.&mdash;<br />
+You needed not have gone this way, Octavia.<br />
+What harms it you that Cleopatra's just?<br />
+She's mine no more. I see, and I forgive:<br />
+Urge it no farther, love.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Are you concerned,<br />
+That she's found false?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I should be, were it so;<br />
+For, though 'tis past, I would not that the world<br />
+Should tax my former choice, that I loved one<br />
+Of so light note; but I forgive you both.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> What has my age deserved, that you should think<br />
+I would abuse your ears with perjury?<br />
+If heaven be true, she's false.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Though heaven and earth<br />
+Should witness it, I'll not believe her tainted.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I'll bring you, then, a witness<br />
+From hell, to prove her so.&mdash;Nay, go not back;
+<span class="sdr">[Seeing <span class="cnm">Alexas</span> just entering, and starting back.</span><br />
+For stay you must and shall.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> What means my lord?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_384" name="page_384"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Vent.</span> To make you do what most you hate,&mdash;speak truth.<br />
+You are of Cleopatra's private counsel,<br />
+Of her bed-counsel, her lascivious hours;<br />
+Are conscious of each nightly change she makes,<br />
+And watch her, as Chald&aelig;ans do the moon,<br />
+Can tell what signs she passes through, what day.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> My noble lord!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> My most illustrious pandar,<br />
+No fine set speech, no cadence, no turned periods,<br />
+But a plain home-spun truth, is what I ask:<br />
+I did, myself, o'erhear your queen make love<br />
+To Dolabella. Speak; for I will know,<br />
+By your confession, what more past betwixt them;<br />
+How near the business draws to your employment;<br />
+And when the happy hour.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Speak truth, Alexas; whether it offend<br />
+Or please Ventidius, care not: Justify<br />
+Thy injured queen from malice: Dare his worst.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>]<br />
+See, how he gives him courage! how he fears<br />
+To find her false! and shuts his eyes to truth,<br />
+Willing to be misled!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> As far as love may plead for woman's frailty,<br />
+Urged by desert and greatness of the lover,<br />
+So far, divine Octavia, may my queen<br />
+Stand even excused to you, for loving him,<br />
+Who is your lord: so far, from brave Ventidius,<br />
+May her past actions hope a fair report.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> 'Tis well, and truly spoken: mark, Ventidius.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> To you, most noble emperor, her strong passion<br />
+Stands not excused, but wholly justified.<br />
+Her beauty's charms alone, without her crown,<br />
+From Ind and Meroe drew the distant vows<br />
+Of sighing kings; and at her feet were laid<br />
+The sceptres of the earth, exposed on heaps,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_385" name="page_385"></a>
+To chuse where she would reign:<br />
+She thought a Roman only could deserve her,<br />
+And, of all Romans, only Antony;<br />
+And, to be less than wife to you, disdained<br />
+Their lawful passion.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> 'Tis but truth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> And yet, though love, and your unmatched desert,<br />
+Have drawn her from the due regard of honour,<br />
+At last heaven opened her unwilling eyes<br />
+To see the wrongs she offered fair Octavia,<br />
+Whose holy bed she lawlessly usurped.<br />
+The sad effects of this improsperous war<br />
+Confirmed those pious thoughts.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> [<span class="sdm">Aside.</span>] O, wheel you there?<br />
+Observe him now; the man begins to mend,<br />
+And talk substantial reason.&mdash;Fear not, eunuch;<br />
+The emperor has given thee leave to speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Else had I never dared to offend his ears<br />
+With what the last necessity has urged<br />
+On my forsaken mistress; yet I must not<br />
+Presume to say, her heart is wholly altered.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> No, dare not for thy life, I charge thee dare not<br />
+Pronounce that fatal word!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Must I bear this? Good heaven, afford me patience.
+<span class="sdr">[Aside.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> On, sweet eunuch; my dear half man, proceed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Yet Dolabella<br />
+Has loved her long; he, next my godlike lord,<br />
+Deserves her best; and should she meet his passion,<br />
+Rejected, as she is, by him she loved&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Hence from my sight! for I can bear no more:<br />
+Let furies drag thee quick to hell; let all<br />
+The longer damned have rest; each torturing hand<br />
+Do thou employ, till Cleopatra comes;<br />
+Then join thou too, and help to torture her!
+<span class="sdr">[Exit <span class="cnm">Alexas,</span> thrust out by <span class="cnm">Antony.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_386" name="page_386"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Octav.</span> 'Tis not well,<br />
+Indeed, my lord, 'tis much unkind to me,<br />
+To show this passion, this extreme concernment,<br />
+For an abandoned, faithless prostitute.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Octavia, leave me; I am much disordered:<br />
+Leave me, I say.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> My lord!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I bid you leave me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Obey him, madam: best withdraw a while.<br />
+And see how this will work.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Wherein have I offended you, my lord,<br />
+That I am bid to leave you? Am I false,<br />
+Or infamous? Am I a Cleopatra?<br />
+Were I she,<br />
+Base as she is, you would not bid me leave you:<br />
+But hang upon my neck, take slight excuses,<br />
+And fawn upon my falsehood.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> 'Tis too much,<br />
+Too much, Octavia; I am prest with sorrows<br />
+Too heavy to be borne; and you add more:<br />
+I would retire, and recollect what's left<br />
+Of man within, to aid me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> You would mourn,<br />
+In private, for your love, who has betrayed you.<br />
+You did but half return to me: your kindness<br />
+Lingered behind with her. I hear, my lord,<br />
+You make conditions for her,<br />
+And would include her treaty. Wonderous proofs<br />
+Of love to me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Are you my friend, Ventidius?<br />
+Or are you turned a Dolabella too,<br />
+And let this Fury loose?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Oh, be advised,<br />
+Sweet madam, and retire.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Octav.</span> Yes, I will go; but never to return.<br />
+You shall no more be haunted with this Fury.<br />
+My lord, my lord, love will not always last,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_387" name="page_387"></a>
+When urged with long unkindness and disdain:<br />
+Take her again, whom you prefer to me;<br />
+She stays but to be called. Poor cozened man!<br />
+Let a feigned parting give her back your heart,<br />
+Which a feigned love first got; for injured me,<br />
+Though my just sense of wrongs forbid my stay,<br />
+My duty shall be yours.<br />
+To the dear pledges of our former love,<br />
+My tenderness and care shall be transferred,<br />
+And they shall cheer, by turns, my widowed nights:<br />
+So, take my last farewell; for I despair<br />
+To have you whole, and scorn to take you half.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I combat heaven, which blasts my best designs:<br />
+My last attempt must be to win her back;<br />
+But Oh, I fear in vain.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Why was I framed with this plain honest heart,<br />
+Which knows not to disguise its griefs and weakness.<br />
+But bears its workings outward to the world?<br />
+I should have kept the mighty anguish in,<br />
+And forced a smile at Cleopatra's falsehood:<br />
+Octavia had believed it, and had staid.<br />
+But I am made a shallow-forded stream,<br />
+Seen to the bottom: all my clearness scorned,<br />
+And all my faults exposed.&mdash;See where he comes.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Dolabella.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg">Who has profaned the sacred name of friend,<br />
+And worn it into vileness!<br />
+With how secure a brow, and specious form,<br />
+He gilds the secret villain! Sure that face<br />
+Was meant for honesty; but heaven mis-matched it,<br />
+And furnished treason out with Nature's pomp,<br />
+To make its work more easy.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> O, my friend!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Well, Dolabella, you performed my message?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I did, unwillingly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_388" name="page_388"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Unwillingly?<br />
+Was it so hard for you to bear our parting?<br />
+You should have wished it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Why?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Because you love me.<br />
+And she received my message, with as true,<br />
+With as unfeigned a sorrow, as you brought it?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> She loves you, even to madness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Oh, I know it.<br />
+You, Dolabella, do not better know<br />
+How much she loves me. And should I<br />
+Forsake this beauty? This all-perfect creature?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I could not, were she mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> And yet you first<br />
+Persuaded me: How come you altered since?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> I said at first I was not fit to go:<br />
+I could not bear her sighs, and see her tears,<br />
+But pity must prevail: And so, perhaps,<br />
+It may again with you; for I have promised,<br />
+That she should take her last farewell: And, see,<br />
+She comes to claim my word.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Cleopatra.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> False Dolabella!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> What's false, my lord?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Why, Dolabella's false,<br />
+And Cleopatra's false; both false and faithless.<br />
+Draw near, you well-joined wickedness, you serpents<br />
+Whom I have in my kindly bosom warmed,<br />
+Till I am stung to death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> My lord, have I<br />
+Deserved to be thus used?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Can heaven prepare<br />
+A newer torment? Can it find a curse<br />
+Beyond our separation?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Yes, if fate<br />
+Be just, much greater: Heaven should be ingenious<br />
+In punishing such crimes. The rolling-stone,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_389" name="page_389"></a>
+And gnawing vulture, were slight pains, invented<br />
+When Jove was young, and no examples known<br />
+Of mighty ills; but you have ripened sin,<br />
+To such a monstrous growth, 'twill pose the gods,<br />
+To find an equal torture. Two, two such!&mdash;<br />
+Oh there's no farther name,&mdash;two such! to me,<br />
+To me, who locked my soul within your breasts,<br />
+Had no desires, no joys, no life, but you;<br />
+When half the globe was mine, I gave it you<br />
+In dowry with my heart; I had no use,<br />
+No fruit of all, but you: A friend and mistress,<br />
+Was what the world could give. Oh, Cleopatra!<br />
+Oh Dolabella! how could you betray<br />
+This tender heart, which with an infant fondness<br />
+Lay lulled betwixt your bosoms, and there slept,<br />
+Secure of injured faith?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> If she has wronged you,<br />
+Heaven, hell, and you, revenge it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> If she has wronged me!<br />
+Thou would'st evade thy part of guilt; but swear<br />
+Thou lov'st not her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Not so as I love you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Not so! Swear, swear, I say, thou dost not love her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> No more than friendship will allow.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> No more?<br />
+Friendship allows thee nothing: Thou art perjured&mdash;<br />
+And yet thou didst not swear thou lov'dst her not;<br />
+But not so much, no more. Oh, trifling hypocrite,<br />
+Who darest not own to her, thou dost not love,<br />
+Nor own to me, thou dost! Ventidius heard it;<br />
+Octavia saw it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> They are enemies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Alexas is not so: He, he confest it;<br />
+He, who, next hell, best knew it, he avowed it<br />
+Why do I seek a proof beyond yourself?<span class="sdr">[To <span class="cnm">Dola.</span></span><br />
+You, whom I sent to bear my last farewell,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_390" name="page_390"></a>
+Returned, to plead her stay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> What shall I answer?<br />
+If to have loved be guilt, then I have sinned;<br />
+But if to have repented of that love,<br />
+Can wash away my crime, I have repented.<br />
+Yet, if I have offended past forgiveness,<br />
+Let her not suffer: She is innocent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Ah, what will not a woman do, who loves!<br />
+What means will she refuse, to keep that heart,<br />
+Where all her joys are placed! 'Twas I encouraged,<br />
+'Twas I blew up the fire that scorched his soul,<br />
+To make you jealous, and by that regain you.<br />
+But all in vain; I could not counterfeit:<br />
+In spite of all the dams, my love broke o'er,<br />
+And drowned my heart again; fate took the occasion;<br />
+And thus one minute's feigning has destroyed<br />
+My whole life's truth.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Thin cobweb arts of falsehood;<br />
+Seen, and broke through at first.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Forgive your mistress.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Forgive your friend.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> You have convinced yourselves.<br />
+You plead each other's cause: What witness have you,<br />
+That you but meant to raise my jealousy?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Ourselves, and heaven.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Guilt witnesses for guilt. Hence, love and friendship!<br />
+You have no longer place in human breasts,<br />
+These two have driven you out: Avoid my sight!<br />
+I would not kill the man whom I have loved,<br />
+And cannot hurt the woman; but avoid me:<br />
+I do not know how long I can be tame;<br />
+For, if I stay one minute more, to think<br />
+How I am wronged, my justice and revenge<br />
+Will cry so loud within me, that my pity<br />
+Will not be heard for either.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> Heaven has but<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_391" name="page_391"></a>
+Our sorrow for our sins; and then delights<br />
+To pardon erring man: Sweet mercy seems<br />
+Its darling attribute, which limits justice;<br />
+As if there were degrees in infinite,<br />
+And infinite would rather want perfection,<br />
+Than punish to extent.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I can forgive<br />
+A foe; but not a mistress, and a friend.<br />
+Treason is there in its most horrid shape,<br />
+Where trust is greatest; and the soul, resigned,<br />
+Is stabbed by its own guards: I'll hear no more;<br />
+Hence from my sight, for ever!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> How? for ever!<br />
+I cannot go one moment from your sight,<br />
+And must I go for ever?<br />
+My joys, my only joys, are centered here:<br />
+What place have I to go to? My own kingdom?<br />
+That I have lost for you: Or to the Romans?<br />
+They hate me for your sake: Or must I wander<br />
+The wide world o'er, a helpless, banished woman,<br />
+Banished for love of you; banished from you?<br />
+Ay, there's the banishment! Oh hear me; hear me.<br />
+With strictest justice: For I beg no favour;<br />
+And if I have offended you, then kill me,<br />
+But do not banish me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I must not hear you.<br />
+I have a fool within me, takes your part;<br />
+But honour stops my ears.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> For pity hear me!<br />
+Would you cast off a slave who followed you?<br />
+Who crouched beneath your spurn?&mdash;He has no pity!<br />
+See, if he gives one tear to my departure;<br />
+One look, one kind farewell: Oh iron heart!<br />
+Let all the gods look down, and judge betwixt us.<br />
+If he did ever love!</p>
+<p class="dlg">
+<span class="cnm">Ant.</span> No more: Alexas!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Dola.</span> A perjured villain!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_392" name="page_392"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ant.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Cleo.</span></span>] Your Alexas; yours.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> O 'twas his plot; his ruinous design,<br />
+To engage you in my love by jealousy.<br />
+Hear him; confront him with me; let him speak.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I have; I have.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> And if he clear me not&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Your creature! one, who hangs upon your smiles!<br />
+Watches your eye, to say or to unsay,<br />
+Whate'er you please! I am not to be moved.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Then must we part? Farewell, my cruel lord!<br />
+The appearance is against me; and I go,<br />
+Unjustified, for ever from your sight.<br />
+How I have loved, you know; how yet I love,<br />
+My only comfort is, I know myself:<br />
+I love you more, even now you are unkind,<br />
+Than when you loved me most; so well, so truly,<br />
+I'll never strive against it; but die pleased,<br />
+To think you once were mine.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Good heaven, they weep at parting.<br />
+Must I weep too? that calls them innocent.<br />
+I must not weep; and yet I must, to think<br />
+That I must not forgive.&mdash;<br />
+Live, but live wretched; 'tis but just you should,<br />
+Who made me so: Live from each other's sight:<br />
+Let me not hear you meet. Set all the earth,<br />
+And all the seas, betwixt your sundered loves:<br />
+View nothing common but the sun and skies.<br />
+Now, all take several ways;<br />
+<span class="i1">And each your own sad fate, with mine, deplore;</span><br />
+<span class="i1">That you were false, and I could trust no more.</span>
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt severally.</span></p>
+
+<h4 class="scn">ACT V. SCENE I.</h4>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Cleopatra, Charmion,</span> and <span class="cnm">Iras.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> Be juster, heaven; such virtue punished thus,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_393" name="page_393"></a>
+Will make us think that chance rules all above,<br />
+And shuffles, with a random hand, the lots,<br />
+Which man is forced to draw.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I could tear out these eyes, that gained his heart,<br />
+And had not power to keep it. O the curse<br />
+Of doting on, even when I find it dotage!<br />
+Bear witness, gods, you heard him bid me go;<br />
+You, whom he mocked with imprecating vows<br />
+Of promised faith!&mdash;I'll die; I will not bear it.<br />
+You may hold me&mdash;<span class="sdr">[She pulls out her Dagger, and they hold her.</span><br />
+But I can keep my breath; I can die inward,<br />
+And choke this love.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Alexas.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> Help, O Alexas, help!<br />
+The queen grows desperate; her soul struggles in her,<br />
+With all the agonies of love and rage,<br />
+And strives to force its passage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Let me go.<br />
+Art thou there, traitor!&mdash;O,<br />
+O for a little breath, to vent my rage!<br />
+Give, give me way, and let me loose upon him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Yes, I deserve it, for my ill-timed truth.<br />
+Was it for me to prop<br />
+The ruins of a falling majesty?<br />
+To place myself beneath the mighty flaw,<br />
+Thus to be crushed, and pounded into atoms,<br />
+By its o'erwhelming weight? 'Tis too presuming<br />
+For subjects to preserve that wilful power,<br />
+Which courts its own destruction.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I would reason<br />
+More calmly with you. Did not you o'er-rule,<br />
+And force my plain, direct, and open love,<br />
+Into these crooked paths of jealousy?<br />
+Now, what's the event? Octavia is removed;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_394" name="page_394"></a>
+But Cleopatra's banished. Thou, thou villain,<br />
+Hast pushed my boat to open sea; to prove,<br />
+At my sad cost, if thou canst steer it back.<br />
+It cannot be; I'm lost too far; I'm ruined:<br />
+Hence, thou impostor, traitor, monster, devil!&mdash;<br />
+I can no more: Thou, and my griefs, have sunk<br />
+Me down so low, that I want voice to curse thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Suppose some shipwrecked seaman near the shore,<br />
+Dropping and faint, with climbing up the cliff,<br />
+If, from above, some charitable hand<br />
+Pull him to safety, hazarding himself,<br />
+To draw the other's weight; would he look back,<br />
+And curse him for his pains? The case is yours;<br />
+But one step more, and you have gained the height.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Sunk, never more to rise.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Octavia's gone, and Dolabella banished.<br />
+Believe me, madam, Antony is yours.<br />
+His heart was never lost; but started off<br />
+To jealousy, love's last retreat and covert;<br />
+Where it lies hid in shades, watchful in silence,<br />
+And listening for the sound that calls it back.<br />
+Some other, any man, ('tis so advanced)<br />
+May perfect this unfinished work, which I<br />
+(Unhappy only to myself) have left<br />
+So easy to his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Look well thou do't; else&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Else, what your silence threatens.&mdash;Antony<br />
+Is mounted up the Pharos; from whose turret,<br />
+He stands surveying our Egyptian gallies,<br />
+Engaged with C&aelig;sar's fleet. Now death or conquest!<br />
+If the first happen, fate acquits my promise;<br />
+If we o'ercome, the conqueror is yours.
+<span class="sdr">[A distant shout within.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> Have comfort, madam: Did you mark that shout?
+<span class="sdr">[Second shout nearer.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> Hark! they redouble it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_395" name="page_395"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Alex.</span> 'Tis from the port.<br />
+The loudness shows it near: Good news, kind heavens!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Osiris make it so!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Serapion.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> Where, where's the queen?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> How frightfully the holy coward stares!<br />
+As if not yet recovered of the assault,<br />
+When all his gods, and, what's more dear to him,<br />
+His offerings, were at stake.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> O horror, horror!<br />
+Egypt has been; our latest hour is come:<br />
+The queen of nations, from her ancient seat,<br />
+Is sunk for ever in the dark abyss:<br />
+Time has unrolled her glories to the last,<br />
+And now closed up the volume.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Be more plain:<br />
+Say, whence thou comest; though fate is in thy face,<br />
+Which from thy hagard eyes looks wildly out,<br />
+And threatens ere thou speakest.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> I came from Pharos;<br />
+From viewing (spare me, and imagine it)<br />
+Our land's last hope, your navy&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Vanquished?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> No;<br />
+They fought not.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Then they fled.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> Nor that. I saw,<br />
+With Antony, your well-appointed fleet<br />
+Row out; and thrice he waved his hand on high,<br />
+And thrice with cheerful cries they shouted back:<br />
+'Twas then false Fortune, like a fawning strumpet,<br />
+About to leave the bankrupt prodigal,<br />
+With a dissembled smile would kiss at parting,<br />
+And flatter to the last; the well-timed oars<br />
+Now dipt from every bank, now smoothly run<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_396" name="page_396"></a>
+To meet the foe; and soon indeed they met,<br />
+But not as foes. In few, we saw their caps<br />
+On either side thrown up; the Egyptian gallies,<br />
+Received like friends, past through, and fell behind<br />
+The Roman rear: And now, they all come forward,<br />
+And ride within the port,</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Enough, Serapion:<br />
+I've heard my doom.&mdash;This needed not, you gods:<br />
+When I lost Antony, your work was done;<br />
+'Tis but superfluous malice.&mdash;Where's my lord?<br />
+How bears he this last blow?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> His fury cannot be expressed by words:<br />
+Thrice he attempted headlong to have fallen<br />
+Full on his foes, and aimed at C&aelig;sar's galley:<br />
+With-held, he raves on you; cries,&mdash;He's betrayed.<br />
+Should he now find you&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Shun him; seek your safety,<br />
+Till you can clear your innocence.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I'll stay.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> You must not; haste you to your monument,<br />
+While I make speed to C&aelig;sar.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> C&aelig;sar! No,<br />
+I have no business with him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> I can work him<br />
+To spare your life, and let this madman perish.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Base fawning wretch! would'st thou betray him too?<br />
+Hence from my sight! I will not hear a traitor;<br />
+'Twas thy design brought all this ruin on us.&mdash;<br />
+Serapion, thou art honest; counsel me:<br />
+But haste, each moment's precious.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> Retire; you must not yet see Antony.<br />
+He who began this mischief,<br />
+'Tis just he tempt the danger; let him clear you:<br />
+And, since he offered you his servile tongue,<br />
+To gain a poor precarious life from C&aelig;sar,<br />
+Let him expose that fawning eloquence,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_397" name="page_397"></a>
+And speak to Antony.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> O heavens! I dare not;<br />
+I meet my certain death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Slave, thou deservest it,&mdash;<br />
+Not that I fear my lord, will I avoid him;<br />
+I know him noble: when he banished me,<br />
+And thought me false, he scorned to take my life;<br />
+But I'll be justified, and then die with him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> O pity me, and let me follow you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> To death, if thou stir hence. Speak, if thou canst,<br />
+Now for thy life, which basely thou wouldst save;<br />
+While mine I prize at this. Come, good Serapion.
+<span class="sdr">[Exeunt <span class="cnm">Cleo. Serap. Char.</span> and <span class="cnm">Iras.</span></span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> O that I less could fear to lose this being,<br />
+Which, like a snow-ball in my coward hand,<br />
+The more 'tis grasped, the faster melts away.<br />
+Poor reason! what a wretched aid art thou!<br />
+For still, in spite of thee,<br />
+These two long lovers, soul and body, dread<br />
+Their final separation. Let me think:<br />
+What can I say, to save myself from death?<br />
+No matter what becomes of Cleopatra.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Which way? where?<span class="sdr">[Within.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> This leads to the monument.<span class="sdr">[Within.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Ah me! I hear him; yet I'm unprepared:<br />
+My gift of lying's gone;<br />
+And this court-devil, which I so oft have raised,<br />
+Forsakes me at my need. I dare not stay;<br />
+Yet cannot far go hence.<span class="sdr">[Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Antony</span> and <span class="cnm">Ventidius.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> O happy C&aelig;sar! thou hast men to lead:<br />
+Think not 'tis thou hast conquered Antony;<br />
+But Rome has conquered Egypt. I'm betrayed.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Curse on this treacherous train!<br />
+Their soil and heaven infect them all with baseness:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_398" name="page_398"></a>
+And their young souls come tainted to the world<br />
+With the first breath they draw.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> The original villain sure no God created;<br />
+He was a bastard of the sun, by Nile,<br />
+Aped into man; with all his mother's mud<br />
+Crusted about his soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> The nation is<br />
+One universal traitor; and their queen<br />
+The very spirit and extract of them all.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Is there yet left<br />
+A possibility of aid from valour?<br />
+Is there one god unsworn to my destruction?<br />
+The least unmortgaged hope? for, if there be,<br />
+Methinks I cannot fall beneath the fate<br />
+Of such a boy as C&aelig;sar.<br />
+The world's one half is yet in Antony;<br />
+And from each limb of it, that's hewed away,<br />
+The soul comes back to me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> There yet remain<br />
+Three legions in the town. The last assault<br />
+Lopt off the rest: if death be your design,&mdash;<br />
+As I must wish it now,&mdash;these are sufficient<br />
+To make a heap about us of dead foes,<br />
+An honest pile for burial.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> They are enough.<br />
+We'll not divide our stars; but, side by side,<br />
+Fight emulous, and with malicious eyes<br />
+Survey each other's acts: So every death<br />
+Thou giv'st, I'll take on me, as a just debt,<br />
+And pay thee back a soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Now you shall see I love you. Not a word<br />
+Of chiding more. By my few hours of life,<br />
+I am so pleased with this brave Roman fate,<br />
+That I would not be C&aelig;sar, to outlive you.<br />
+When we put off this flesh, and mount together,<br />
+I shall be shown to all the etherial crowd,&mdash;<br />
+Lo, this is he who died with Antony!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_399" name="page_399"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Who knows, but we may pierce through all their troops,<br />
+And reach my veterans yet? 'tis worth the tempting,<br />
+To o'erleap this gulph of fate,<br />
+And leave our wandering destinies behind.</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Alexas,</span> trembling.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> See, see, that villain!<br />
+See Cleopatra stampt upon that face,<br />
+With all her cunning, all her arts of falsehood!<br />
+How she looks out through those dissembling eyes!<br />
+How he sets his countenance for deceit,<br />
+And promises a lie, before he speaks!<br />
+Let me dispatch him first.<span class="sdr">[Drawing.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> O spare me, spare me!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Hold; he's not worth your killing.&mdash;On thy life,<br />
+Which thou may'st keep, because I scorn to take it,<br />
+No syllable to justify thy queen;<br />
+Save thy base tongue its office.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Sir, she is gone,<br />
+Where she shall never be molested more<br />
+By love, or you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Fled to her Dolabella!<br />
+Die, traitor! I revoke my promise; die!<span class="sdr">[Going to kill him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> O hold! she is not fled.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> She is: my eyes<br />
+Are open to her falsehood; my whole life<br />
+Has been a golden dream of love and friendship;<br />
+But, now I wake, I'm like a merchant, roused<br />
+From soft repose, to see his vessel sinking,<br />
+And all his wealth cast over. Ungrateful woman!<br />
+Who followed me, but as the swallow summer,<br />
+Hatching her young ones in my kindly beams,<br />
+Singing her flatteries to my morning wake:<br />
+But, now my winter comes, she spreads her wings<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_400" name="page_400"></a>
+And seeks the spring of C&aelig;sar.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Think not so:<br />
+Her fortunes have, in all things, mixt with yours.<br />
+Had she betrayed her naval force to Rome,<br />
+How easily might she have gone to C&aelig;sar,<br />
+Secure by such a bribe!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> She sent it first,<br />
+To be more welcome after.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> 'Tis too plain;<br />
+Else would she have appeared, to clear herself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> Too fatally she has: she could not bear<br />
+To be accused by you; but shut herself<br />
+Within her monument; looked down and sighed;<br />
+While, from her unchanged face, the silent tears<br />
+Dropt, as they had not leave, but stole their parting.<br />
+Some undistinguished words she inly murmured;<br />
+At last, she rais'd her eyes; and, with such looks<br />
+As dying Lucrece cast&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> My heart forebodes&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> All for the best:&mdash;Go on.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> She snatched her poniard,<br />
+And, ere we could prevent the fatal blow,<br />
+Plunged it within her breast; then turned to me:<br />
+Go, bear my lord, said she, my last farewell;<br />
+And ask him, if he yet suspect my faith.<br />
+More she was saying, but death rushed betwixt.<br />
+She half pronounced your name with her last breath,<br />
+And buried half within her.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Heaven be praised!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Then art thou innocent, my poor dear love?<br />
+And art thou dead?<br />
+O those two words! their sound should be divided:<br />
+Hadst thou been false, and died; or hadst thou lived,<br />
+And hadst been true&mdash;But innocence and death!<br />
+This shows not well above. Then what am I,<br />
+The murderer of this truth, this innocence!<br />
+Thoughts cannot form themselves in words so horrid<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_401" name="page_401"></a>
+As can express my guilt!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Is't come to this? the gods have been too gracious;<br />
+And thus you thank them for it!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> [<span class="sdm">To <span class="cnm">Alex.</span></span>] Why stayest thou here?<br />
+Is it for thee to spy upon my soul,<br />
+And see its inward mourning? Get thee hence;<br />
+Thou art not worthy to behold, what now<br />
+Becomes a Roman emperor to perform.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> He loves her still:<br />
+His grief betrays it. Good! the joy to find<br />
+She's yet alive, completes the reconcilement.<br />
+I've saved myself, and her. But, oh! the Romans!<br />
+Fate comes too fast upon my wit,<br />
+Hunts me too hard, and meets me at each double.<span class="sdr">[Aside. Exit.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Would she had died a little sooner though!<br />
+Before Octavia went, you might have treated:<br />
+Now 'twill look tame, and would not be received.<br />
+Come, rouse yourself, and let's die warm together.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I will not fight: there's no more work for war.<br />
+The business of my angry hours is done.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> C&aelig;sar is at your gates.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Why, let him enter;<br />
+He's welcome now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> What lethargy has crept into your soul?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> 'Tis but a scorn of life, and just desire<br />
+To free myself from bondage.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Do it bravely.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I will; but not by fighting. O, Ventidius!<br />
+What should I fight for now? my queen is dead.<br />
+I was but great for her; my power, my empire,<br />
+Were but my merchandise to buy her love;<br />
+And conquered kings, my factors. Now she's dead,<br />
+Let C&aelig;sar, take the world,&mdash;<br />
+An empty circle, since the jewel's gone<br />
+Which made it worth my strife: my being's nauseous;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_402" name="page_402"></a>
+For all the bribes of life are gone away.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Would you be taken?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Yes, I would be taken;<br />
+But, as a Roman ought,&mdash;dead, my Ventidius:<br />
+For I'll convey my soul from C&aelig;sar's reach,<br />
+And lay down life myself. 'Tis time the world<br />
+Should have a lord, and know whom to obey.<br />
+We two have kept its homage in suspence,<br />
+And bent the globe, on whose each side we trod,<br />
+Till it was dented inwards. Let him walk<br />
+Alone upon't: I'm weary of my part.<br />
+My torch is out; and the world stands before me,<br />
+Like a black desert at the approach of night:<br />
+I'll lay me down, and stray no farther on.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I could be grieved,<br />
+But that I'll not out-live you: chuse your death;<br />
+For, I have seen him in such various shapes,<br />
+I care not which I take: I'm only troubled,<br />
+The life I bear is worn to such a rag,<br />
+'Tis scarce worth giving. I could wish, indeed,<br />
+We threw it from us with a better grace;<br />
+That, like two lions taken in the toils,<br />
+We might at last thrust out our paws, and wound<br />
+The hunters that inclose us.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I have thought on it.<br />
+Ventidius, you must live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I must not, sir.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Wilt thou not live, to speak some good of me?<br />
+To stand by my fair fame, and guard the approaches<br />
+From the ill tongues of men?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Who shall guard mine,<br />
+For living after you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Say, I command it.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> If we die well, our deaths will speak themselves,<br />
+And need no living witness.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Thou hast loved me,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_403" name="page_403"></a>
+And fain I would reward thee. I must die;<br />
+Kill me, and take the merit of my death,<br />
+To make thee friends with C&aelig;sar.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Thank your kindness.<br />
+You said I loved you; and, in recompence,<br />
+You bid me turn a traitor:&mdash;Did I think<br />
+You would have used me thus? that I should die<br />
+With a hard thought of you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Forgive me, Roman.<br />
+Since I have heard of Cleopatra's death,<br />
+My reason bears no rule upon my tongue,<br />
+But lets my thoughts break all at random out.<br />
+I've thought better; do not deny me twice.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> By heaven I will not.<br />
+Let it not be to out-live you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Kill me first,<br />
+And then die thou; for 'tis but just thou serve<br />
+Thy friend, before thyself.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Give me your hand.<br />
+We soon shall meet again. Now, farewell, emperor!&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Embrace.</span><br />
+Methinks that word's too cold to be my last:<br />
+Since death sweeps all distinctions, farewell, friend!<br />
+That's all&mdash;<br />
+I will not make a business of a trifle:<br />
+And yet I cannot look on you, and kill you;<br />
+Pray turn your face.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I do: strike home, be sure.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> Home, as my sword will reach.<span class="sdr">[Kills himself.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> O thou mistak'st;<br />
+That wound was none of thine: give it me back:<br />
+Thou robb'st me of my death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Vent.</span> I do indeed;<br />
+But think 'tis the first time I e'er deceived you,<br />
+If that may plead my pardon.&mdash;And you, gods,<br />
+Forgive me, if you will; for I die perjured,<br />
+Rather than kill my friend.<span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><a class="pgnm" id="page_404" name="page_404"></a>
+<span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Farewell! Ever my leader, even in death!<br />
+My queen and thou have got the start of me,<br />
+And I'm the lag of honour.&mdash;Gone so soon?<br />
+Is death no more? he used him carelessly,<br />
+With a familiar kindness: ere he knocked,<br />
+Ran to the door, and took him in his arms,<br />
+As who should say&mdash;You're welcome at all hours,<br />
+A friend need give no warning. Books had spoiled him;<br />
+For all the learned are cowards by profession.<br />
+'Tis not worth<br />
+My farther thought; for death, for aught I know,<br />
+Is but to think no more. Here's to be satisfied.
+<span class="sdr">[Falls on his sword.</span><br />
+I've mist my heart. O unperforming hand!<br />
+Thou never could'st have erred in a worse time.<br />
+My fortune jades me to the last; and death,<br />
+Like a great man, takes state, and makes me wait<br />
+For my admittance.&mdash;<span class="sdr">[Trampling within.</span><br />
+Some, perhaps, from C&aelig;sar:<br />
+If he should find me living, and suspect<br />
+That I played booty with my life! I'll mend<br />
+My work, ere they can reach me.<span class="sdr">[Rises upon his knees.</span></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Cleopatra, Charmion,</span> and <span class="cnm">Iras.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Where is my lord? where is he?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> There he lies,<br />
+And dead Ventidius by him.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> My fears were prophets; I am come too late.<br />
+O that accursed Alexas!<span class="sdr">[Runs to him.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Art thou living?<br />
+Or am I dead before I knew, and thou<br />
+The first kind ghost that meets me?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Help me seat him.<br />
+Send quickly, send for help!<span class="sdr">[They place him in a chair.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> I am answered.<br />
+We live both. Sit thee down, my Cleopatra:<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_405" name="page_405"></a>
+I'll make the most I can of life, to stay<br />
+A moment more with thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> How is it with you?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> 'Tis as with a man<br />
+Removing in a hurry; all packed up,<br />
+But one dear jewel that his haste forgot;<br />
+And he, for that, returns upon the spur:<br />
+So I come back for thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Too long, ye heavens, you have been cruel to me:<br />
+Now show your mended faith, and give me back<br />
+His fleeting life!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> It will not be, my love;<br />
+I keep my soul by force.<br />
+Say but, thou art not false.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> 'Tis now too late<br />
+To say I'm true: I'll prove it, and die with you.<br />
+Unknown to me, Alexas feigned my death:<br />
+Which, when I knew, I hasted to prevent<br />
+This fatal consequence. My fleet betrayed<br />
+Both you and me.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> And Dolabella&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Scarce esteemed before he loved; but hated now.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> Enough: my life's not long enough for more.<br />
+Thou say'st, thou wilt come after: I believe thee;<br />
+For I can now believe whate'er thou sayest,<br />
+That we may part more kindly.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> I will come:<br />
+Doubt not, my life, I'll come, and quickly too:<br />
+C&aelig;sar shall triumph o'er no part of thee.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> But grieve not, while thou stayest,<br />
+My last disastrous times:<br />
+Think we have had a clear and glorious day;<br />
+And heaven did kindly to delay the storm,<br />
+Just till our close of evening. Ten years love,<br />
+And not a moment lost, but all improved<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_406" name="page_406"></a>
+To the utmost joys,&mdash;what ages have we liv'd?<br />
+And now to die each others; and, so dying,<br />
+While hand in hand we walk in groves below,<br />
+Whole troops of lovers' ghosts shall flock about us,<br />
+And all the train be ours.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Your words are like the notes of dying swans,<br />
+Too sweet to last. Were there so many hours<br />
+For your unkindness, and not one for love?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Ant.</span> No, not a minute.&mdash;This one kiss&mdash;more worth<br />
+Than all I leave to C&aelig;sar.<span class="sdr">[Dies.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> O, tell me so again,<br />
+And take ten thousand kisses for that word.<br />
+My lord, my lord! speak, if you yet have being;<br />
+Sign to me, if you cannot speak; or cast<br />
+One look! Do any thing, that shows you live.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> He's gone too far to hear you;<br />
+And this you see, a lump of senseless clay,<br />
+The leavings of a soul.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> Remember, madam,<br />
+He charged you not to grieve.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> And I'll obey him.<br />
+I have not loved a Roman, not to know<br />
+What should become his wife; his wife, my Charmion!<br />
+For 'tis to that high title I aspire;<br />
+And now I'll not die less. Let dull Octavia<br />
+Survive, to mourn him dead: My nobler fate<br />
+Shall knit our spousals with a tie, too strong<br />
+For Roman laws to break.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> Will you then die?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Why should'st thou make that question?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> C&aelig;sar is most merciful.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Let him be so<br />
+To those that want his mercy: My poor lord<br />
+Made no such covenant with him, to spare me<br />
+When he was dead. Yield me to C&aelig;sar's pride?<br />
+What! to be led in triumph through the streets,<br />
+A spectacle to base plebeian eyes;<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_407" name="page_407"></a>
+While some dejected friend of Antony's,<br />
+Close in a corner, shakes his head, and mutters<br />
+A secret curse on her, who ruined him!<br />
+I'll none of that.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> Whatever you resolve,<br />
+I'll follow, even to death.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> I only feared<br />
+For you; but more should fear to live without you.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Why, now, 'tis as it should be. Quick, my friends,<br />
+Despatch; ere this, the town's in C&aelig;sar's hands:<br />
+My lord looks down concerned, and fears my stay,<br />
+Lest I should be surprised;<br />
+Keep him not waiting for his love too long.<br />
+You, Charmion, bring my crown and richest jewels;<br />
+With them, the wreath of victory I made<br />
+(Vain augury!) for him, who now lies dead:<br />
+You, Iras, bring the cure of all our ills.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> The aspicks, madam?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Must I bid you twice?<span class="sdr">[Ex. <span class="cnm">Char.</span> and <span class="cnm">Iras.</span></span><br />
+'Tis sweet to die, when they would force life on me,<br />
+To rush into the dark abode of death,<br />
+And seize him first; if he be like my love,<br />
+He is not frightful, sure.<br />
+We're now alone, in secresy and silence;<br />
+And is not this like lovers? I may kiss<br />
+These pale, cold lips; Octavia does not see me:<br />
+And, oh! 'tis better far to have him thus,<br />
+Than see him in her arms.&mdash;O welcome, welcome!</p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Charmion</span> and <span class="cnm">Iras.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> What must be done?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Short ceremony, friends;<br />
+But yet it must be decent. First, this laurel<br />
+Shall crown my hero's head: he fell not basely,<br />
+Nor left his shield behind him.&mdash;Only thou<br />
+Could'st triumph o'er thyself; and thou alone<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_408" name="page_408"></a>
+Wert worthy so to triumph.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> To what end<br />
+These ensigns of your pomp and royalty?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Dull, that thou art! why,'tis to meet my love;<br />
+As when I saw him first, on Cydnos' bank,<br />
+All sparkling, like a goddess: so adorned,<br />
+I'll find him once again; my second spousals<br />
+Shall match my first in glory. Haste, haste, both,<br />
+And dress the bride of Antony.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> 'Tis done.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Now seat me by my lord. I claim this place;<br />
+For I must conquer C&aelig;sar too, like him,<br />
+And win my share of the world.&mdash;Hail, you dear relicks<br />
+Of my immortal love!<br />
+O let no impious hand remove you hence;<br />
+But rest for ever here! Let Egypt give<br />
+His death that peace, which it denied his life.&mdash;<br />
+Reach me the casket.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> Underneath the fruit the aspick lies.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Welcome, thou kind deceiver!
+<span class="sdr">[Putting aside the leaves.</span><br />
+Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key,<br />
+Dost open life, and, unperceived by us,<br />
+Even steal us from ourselves; discharging so<br />
+Death's dreadful office, better than himself;<br />
+Touching our limbs so gently into slumber,<br />
+That death stands by, deceived by his own image,<br />
+And thinks himself but sleep.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> The queen, where is she?<span class="sdr">[Within.</span><br />
+The town is yielded, C&aelig;sar's at the gates.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> He comes too late to invade the rights of death.<br />
+Haste, bare my arm, and rouse the serpent's fury.
+<span class="sdr">[Holds out her arm, and draws it back.</span><br />
+Coward flesh,<br />
+Would'st thou conspire with C&aelig;sar to betray me,<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_409" name="page_409"></a>
+As thou wert none of mine? I'll force thee to it,<br />
+And not be sent by him,<br />
+But bring myself, my soul, to Antony.
+<span class="sdr">[Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody.</span><br />
+Take hence; the work is done.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> Break ope the door,<span class="sdr">[Within.</span><br />
+And guard the traitor well.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> The next is ours.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Iras.</span> Now, Charmion, to be worthy<br />
+Of our great queen and mistress.<span class="sdr">[They apply the aspicks.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Cleo.</span> Already, death, I feel thee in my veins:<br />
+I go with such a will to find my lord,<br />
+That we shall quickly meet.<br />
+A heavy numbness creeps through every limb,<br />
+And now 'tis at my head: My eye-lids fall,<br />
+And my dear love is vanished in a mist.<br />
+Where shall I find him, where? O turn me to him,<br />
+And lay me on his breast!&mdash;C&aelig;sar, thy worst;<br />
+Now part us, if thou canst.<span class="sdr">[Dies.</span><br />
+<span class="sdr">[<span class="cnm">Iras</span> sinks down at her feet, and dies; <span class="cnm">Charmion</span>
+stands behind her chair, as dressing her head.</span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="sdn">Enter <span class="cnm">Serapion,</span> two Priests, <span class="cnm">Alexas</span> bound, Egyptians.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Priest.</span> Behold, Serapion, what havock death has made!</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> 'Twas what I feared.&mdash;<br />
+Charmion, is this well done?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Char.</span> Yes, 'tis well done, and like a queen, the last<br />
+Of her great race: I follow her.<span class="sdr">[Sinks down; dies.</span></p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Alex.</span> 'Tis true,<br />
+She has done well: Much better thus to die,<br />
+Than live to make a holiday in Rome.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Serap.</span> See, how the lovers sit in state together,<br />
+As they were giving laws to half mankind!<br />
+The impression of a smile, left in her face,<br />
+Shows she died pleased with him for whom she lived.<br />
+<a class="pgnm" id="page_410" name="page_410"></a>
+And went to charm him in another<br />
+C&aelig;sar's just entering: grief has now no leisure.<br />
+Secure that villain, as our pledge of safety,<br />
+To grace the imperial triumph.&mdash;Sleep, blest pair,<br />
+Secure from human chance, long ages out,<br />
+While all the storms of fate fly o'er your tomb;<br />
+<span class="i1">And fame to late posterity shall tell,</span><br />
+<span class="i1">No lovers lived so great, or died so well.</span><span class="sdr">[Exeunt.</span></p>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a id="All_4-1" name="All_4-1"></a>There was anciently some foolish idea about a wren soaring
+on an eagle's back. Colley Cibber, as Dr Johnson observed, converted
+the wren into a linnet:<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Perched on the eagle's towering wing,</p>
+<p>The lowly linnet loves to sing.</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li><a id="All_4-2" name="All_4-2"></a>
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Approach there&mdash;Ay, you kite!&mdash;</p>
+<p>&mdash;Now, gods and devils!</p>
+<p>Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried ho!</p>
+<p>Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth</p>
+<p>And cry, your will.&mdash;Have you no ears?</p>
+<p>I am Antony yet.&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The same idea, which bursts from Shakespeare's Antony in a
+transport of passion, is used by Dryden's hero. The one is goaded
+by the painful feeling of lost power; to the other, absorbed in
+his sentimental distresses, it only occurs as a subject of melancholy,
+but not of agitating reflection.</p></li>
+
+<li><a id="All_4-3" name="All_4-3"></a>Imitated, or rather copied, from Shakespeare.
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Don John.</span> I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shortened
+(for she hath been too long a talking of) the lady is disloyal.</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Claudia.</span> Who? Hero?</p>
+
+<p class="dlg"><span class="cnm">Don John.</span> Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero.</p></li>
+</ol></div>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" id="page_411" name="page_411"></a></div>
+
+<h3 class="chap">EPILOGUE.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<p>Poets, like disputants, when reasons fail,</p>
+<p>Have one sure refuge left&mdash;and that's to rail.</p>
+<p>Fop, coxcomb, fool, are thundered through the pit;</p>
+<p>And this is all their equipage of wit.</p>
+<p>We wonder how the devil this difference grows,</p>
+<p>Betwixt our fools in verse, and yours in prose:</p>
+<p>For, 'faith, the quarrel rightly understood,</p>
+<p>'Tis civil war with their own flesh and blood.</p>
+<p>The thread-bare author hates the gaudy coat;</p>
+<p>And swears at the gilt coach, but swears a-foot;</p>
+<p>For 'tis observed of every scribbling man,</p>
+<p>He grows a fop as fast as e'er he can;</p>
+<p>Prunes up, and asks his oracle, the glass,</p>
+<p>If pink and purple best become his face.</p>
+<p>For our poor wretch, he neither rails nor prays;</p>
+<p>Nor likes your wit just as you like his plays;</p>
+<p>He has not yet so much of Mr Bayes.</p>
+<p>He does his best; and if he cannot please,</p>
+<p>Would quietly sue out his <i>writ of ease</i>.</p>
+<p>Yet, if he might his own grand jury call,</p>
+<p>By the fair sex he begs to stand or fall.</p>
+<p>Let C&aelig;sar's power the men's ambition move,</p>
+<p>But grace you him, who lost the world for love!</p>
+<p>Yet if some antiquated lady say,</p>
+<p>The last age is not copied in his play;</p>
+<p>Heaven help the man who for that face must drudge,</p>
+<p>Which only has the wrinkles of a judge.</p>
+<p>Let not the young and beauteous join with those;</p>
+<p>For should you raise such numerous hosts of foes,</p>
+<p>Young wits and sparks he to his aid must call;</p>
+<p>'Tis more than one man's work to please you all.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h3>END OF THE FIFTH VOLUME.</h3>
+
+<p>Edinburgh:<br />
+Printed by James Ballantyne &amp; Co.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of John Dryden, Volume 5 (of
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of John Dryden, Volume 5 (of 18)
+by John Dryden
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Works of John Dryden, Volume 5 (of 18)
+       Amboyna; The state of Innocence; Aureng-Zebe; All for Love
+
+Author: John Dryden
+
+Editor: Walter Scott (1771-1832)
+
+Release Date: July 5, 2005 [EBook #16208]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Fred Robinson and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                                WORKS
+
+                                  OF
+
+                             JOHN DRYDEN,
+
+                         NOW FIRST COLLECTED
+
+                        _IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES._
+
+
+
+                             ILLUSTRATED
+
+                             WITH NOTES,
+
+                HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY,
+
+                                 AND
+
+                        A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,
+
+                                  BY
+
+                          WALTER SCOTT, ESQ.
+
+
+
+                               VOL. V.
+
+                               LONDON:
+
+            PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET,
+
+                BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH.
+
+
+                                1808.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+                                  OF
+
+                            VOLUME FIFTH.
+
+Amboyna; or the Cruelties of the Dutch to the English Merchants, a
+  Tragedy
+        Epistle Dedicatory to Lord Clifford of Chudleigh
+
+
+The State of Innocence, and Fall of Man, an Opera
+        Epistle Dedicatory to her Royal Highness the Duchess
+        Preface.--The Author's Apology for Heroic Poetry, and Poetic
+          Licence
+
+
+Aureng-Zebe, a Tragedy
+        Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Mulgrave
+
+
+All for Love, or the World Well Lost, a Tragedy
+        Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Danby
+        Preface
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               AMBOYNA:
+
+                               OR, THE
+
+                        CRUELTIES OF THE DUTCH
+
+                                TO THE
+
+                         _ENGLISH MERCHANTS._
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               TRAGEDY.
+
+
+                    --_Manet alta mente repostum._
+
+
+
+
+                               AMBOYNA.
+
+
+The tragedy of Amboyna, as it was justly termed by the English of the
+seventeenth century, was of itself too dreadful to be heightened by
+the mimic horrors of the stage. The reader may be reminded, that by
+three several treaties in the years 1613, 1615, and 1619, it was
+agreed betwixt England and Holland, that the English should enjoy
+one-third of the trade of the spice islands. For this purpose,
+factories were established on behalf of the English East India Company
+at the Molucca Islands, at Banda, and at Amboyna. At the latter island
+the Dutch had a castle, with a garrison, both of Europeans and
+natives. It has been always remarked, that the Dutchman, in his
+eastern settlements, loses the mercantile probity of his European
+character, while he retains its cold-blooded phlegm and avaricious
+selfishness. Of this the Amboyna government gave a notable proof.
+About the 11th of Feb. 1622, old stile, under pretence of a plot laid
+between the English of the factory and some Japanese soldiers to seize
+the castle, the former were arrested by the Dutch, and subjected to
+the most horrible tortures, to extort confession of their pretended
+guilt. Upon some they poured water into a cloth previously secured
+round their necks and shoulders, until suffocation ensued; others were
+tortured with lighted matches, and torches applied to the most tender
+and sensible parts of the body. But I will not pollute my page with
+this monstrous and disgusting detail. Upon confessions, inconsistent
+with each other, with common sense and ordinary probability, extorted
+also by torments of the mind or body, or both, Captain Gabriel
+Towerson, and nine other English merchants of consideration, were
+executed; and, to add insult to atrocity, the bloody cloth, on which
+Towerson kneeled at his death, was put down to the account of the
+English Company. The reader may find the whole history in the second
+volume of Purchas's "Pilgrim." The news of this horrible massacre
+reached King James, while he was negociating with the Dutch concerning
+the assistance which they then implored against the Spaniards; and the
+affairs of his son-in-law, the Elector Palatine, appeared to render an
+union with Holland so peremptorily necessary, that the massacre of
+Amboyna was allowed to remain unrevenged.
+
+But the Dutch war, which was declared in 1672, the object of which
+seems to have been the annihilation of the United Provinces as an
+independent state, a century sooner than Providence had decreed that
+calamitous event, met with great opposition in England, and every
+engine was put to work to satisfy the people of the truth of the Lord
+Chancellor Shaftesbury's averment, that the "States of Holland were
+England's eternal enemies, both by interest and inclination." Dryden,
+with the avowed intention of exasperating the nation against the
+Dutch, assumed from choice, or by command, the unpromising subject of
+the Amboyna massacre as the foundation of the following play.
+Exclusive of the horrible nature of the subject, the colours are laid
+on too thick to produce the desired effect. The monstrous caricatures,
+which are exhibited as just paintings of the Dutch character,
+unrelieved even by the grandeur of wickedness, and degraded into
+actual brutality, must have produced disgust, instead of an animated
+hatred and detestation. For the horrible spectacle of tortures and
+mangled limbs exhibited on the stage, the author might plead the
+custom of his age. A stage direction in Ravenscroft's alteration of
+"Titus Andronicus," bears, "A curtain drawn, discovers the heads and
+hands of Demetrius and Chiron hanging up against the wall; their
+bodies in chairs, in bloody linen." And in an interlude, called the
+"Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru," written by D'Avenant, "a doleful
+pavin is played to prepare the change of the scene, which represents a
+dark prison at a great distance; and farther to the view are discerned
+racks and other engines of torment, with which the Spaniards are
+tormenting the natives and English mariners, who may be supposed to be
+lately landed there to discover the coast. Two Spaniards are likewise
+discovered sitting in their cloaks, and appearing more solemn in
+ruffs, with rapiers and daggers by their sides; the one turning a
+spit, while the other is basting an Indian prince, who is roasted at
+an artificial fire[1]." The rape of Isabinda is stated by Langbaine to
+have been borrowed from a novel in the Decamerone of Cinthio Giraldi.
+
+This play is beneath criticism; and I can hardly hesitate to term it
+the worst production Dryden ever wrote. It was acted and printed in
+1673.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. This extraordinary kitchen scene did not escape the ridicule of the
+   wits of that merry age.
+
+         O greater cruelty yet,
+         Like a pig upon a spit;
+     Here lies one there, another boiled to jelly;
+         Just as the people stare
+         At an ox in the fair,
+     Roasted whole, with a pudding in's belly.
+
+         A little further in,
+         Hung a third by his chin,
+     And a fourth cut all in quarters.
+         O that Fox had now been living,
+         They had been sure of heaven,
+     Or, at the least, been some of his martyrs.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                                 THE
+
+                            LORD CLIFFORD
+
+                                  OF
+
+                            CHUDLEIGH[1].
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+After so many favours, and those so great, conferred on me by your
+lordship these many years,--which I may call more properly one
+continued act of your generosity and goodness,--I know not whether I
+should appear either more ungrateful in my silence, or more
+extravagantly vain in my endeavours to acknowledge them: For, since
+all acknowledgements bear a face of payment, it may be thought, that I
+have flattered myself into an opinion of being able to return some
+part of my obligements to you;--the just despair of which attempt, and
+the due veneration I have for his person, to whom I must address, have
+almost driven me to receive only with a profound submission the
+effects of that virtue, which is never to be comprehended but by
+admiration; and the greatest note of admiration is silence. It is that
+noble passion, to which poets raise their audience in highest
+subjects, and they have then gained over them the greatest victory,
+when they are ravished into a pleasure which is not to be expressed by
+words. To this pitch, my lord, the sense of my gratitude had almost
+raised me: to receive your favours, as the Jews of old received their
+law, with a mute wonder; to think, that the loudness of acclamation
+was only the praise of men to men, and that the secret homage of the
+soul was a greater mark of reverence, than an outward ceremonious joy,
+which might be counterfeit, and must be irreverent in its tumult.
+Neither, my lord, have I a particular right to pay you my
+acknowledgements: You have been a good so universal, that almost every
+man in the three nations may think me injurious to his propriety, that
+I invade your praises, in undertaking to celebrate them alone; and
+that I have assumed to myself a patron, who was no more to be
+circumscribed than the sun and elements, which are of public benefit
+to human kind.
+
+As it was much in your power to oblige all who could pretend to merit
+from the public, so it was more in your nature and inclination. If any
+went ill-satisfied from the treasury, while it was in your lordship's
+management, it proclaimed the want of desert, and not of friends: You
+distributed your master's favour with so equal hands, that justice
+herself could not have held the scales more even; but with that
+natural propensity to do good, that had that treasure been your own,
+your inclination to bounty must have ruined you. No man attended to be
+denied: No man bribed for expedition: Want and desert were pleas
+sufficient. By your own integrity, and your prudent choice of those
+whom you employed, the king gave all that he intended; and gratuities
+to his officers made not vain his bounty. This, my lord, you were in
+your public capacity of high treasurer, to which you ascended by such
+degrees, that your royal master saw your virtues still growing to his
+favours, faster than they could rise to you. Both at home and abroad,
+with your sword and with your counsel, you have served him with
+unbiassed honour, and unshaken resolution; making his greatness, and
+the true interest of your country, the standard and measure of your
+actions. Fortune may desert the wise and brave, but true virtue never
+will forsake itself[2]. It is the interest of the world, that virtuous
+men should attain to greatness, because it gives them the power of
+doing good: But when, by the iniquity of the times, they are brought
+to that extremity, that they must either quit their virtue or their
+fortune, they owe themselves so much, as to retire to the private
+exercise of their honour;--to be great within, and by the constancy of
+their resolutions, to teach the inferior world how they ought to judge
+of such principles, which are asserted with so generous and so
+unconstrained a trial.
+
+But this voluntary neglect of honours has been of rare example in the
+world[3]: Few men have frowned first upon fortune, and precipitated
+themselves from the top of her wheel, before they felt at least the
+declination of it. We read not of many emperors like Dioclesian and
+Charles the Fifth, who have preferred a garden and a cloister before a
+crowd of followers, and the troublesome glory of an active life, which
+robs the possessor of his rest and quiet, to secure the safety and
+happiness of others. Seneca, with the help of his philosophy, could
+never attain to that pitch of virtue: He only endeavoured to prevent
+his fall by descending first, and offered to resign that wealth which
+he knew he could no longer hold; he would only have made a present to
+his master of what he foresaw would become his prey; he strove to
+avoid the jealousy of a tyrant,--you dismissed yourself from the
+attendance and privacy of a gracious king. Our age has afforded us
+many examples of a contrary nature; but your lordship is the only one
+of this. It is easy to discover in all governments, those who wait so
+close on fortune, that they are never to be shaken off at any turn:
+Such who seem to have taken up a resolution of being great; to
+continue their stations on the theatre of business; to change with the
+scene, and shift the vizard for another part--these men condemn in
+their discourses that virtue which they dare not practise: But the
+sober part of this present age, and impartial posterity, will do
+right, both to your lordship and to them: And, when they read on what
+accounts, and with how much magnanimity, you quitted those honours, to
+which the highest ambition of an English subject could aspire, will
+apply to you, with much more reason, what the historian said of a
+Roman emperor, "_Multi diutius imperium tenuerunt; nemo fortius
+reliquit._"
+
+To this retirement of your lordship, I wish I could bring a better
+entertainment than this play; which, though it succeeded on the stage,
+will scarcely bear a serious perusal; it being contrived and written
+in a month, the subject barren, the persons low, and the writing not
+heightened with many laboured scenes. The consideration of these
+defects ought to have prescribed more modesty to the author, than to
+have presented it to that person in the world for whom he has the
+greatest honour, and of whose patronage the best of his endeavours had
+been unworthy: But I had not satisfied myself in staying longer, and
+could never have paid the debt with a much better play. As it is, the
+meanness of it will shew; at least, that I pretend not by it to make
+any manner of return for your favours; and that I only give you a new
+occasion of exercising your goodness to me, in pardoning the failings
+and imperfections of,
+
+  MY LORD,
+
+    Your Lordship's
+      Most humble, most obliged,
+        Most obedient servant,
+          JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Sir Thomas Clifford, just then created Lord Clifford of Chudleigh,
+   and appointed Lord High Treasurer, was one of the six ministers,
+   the initials of whose names furnished the word _Cabal_, by which
+   their junto was distinguished. He was the most virtuous and honest
+   of the junto, but a Catholic; and, what was then synonymous, a warm
+   advocate for arbitrary power. He is said to have won his promotion
+   by advising the desperate measure of shutting the Exchequer in
+   1671, the hint of which he is said to have stolen from Shaftesbury.
+   This piece may have been undertaken by his command; for, even at
+   the very time of the triple alliance, he is reported to have said,
+   "For all this, we must have another Dutch war." Upon the defection
+   of Lord Shaftesbury from the court party, and the passing of the
+   test act, Lord Clifford resigned his office, retired to the
+   country, and died in September 1673, shortly after receiving this
+   dedication.
+
+2. In this case, Dryden's praise, which did not always occur, survived
+   the temporary occasion. Even in a little satirical effusion, he
+   tells us,
+
+     Clifford was fierce and brave.
+
+   Clifford had been comptroller and treasurer of the household, and
+   one of the commissioners of the treasury; he had served in the
+   Dutch wars.
+
+3. Alluding to Lord Clifford's resignation of an office he could not
+   hold without a change of religion.
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  _This poem was written as far back as 1662, and was then termed a
+                      Satire against the Dutch._
+
+  As needy gallants in the scriveners' hands,
+  Court the rich knave that gripes their mortgaged lands,
+  The first fat buck of all the season's sent,
+  And keeper takes no fee in compliment:
+  The dotage of some Englishmen is such
+  To fawn on those who ruin them--the Dutch.
+  They shall have all, rather than make a war
+  With those who of the same religion are.
+  The Straits, the Guinea trade, the herrings too,
+  Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you.
+  Some are resolved not to find out the cheat,
+  But, cuckold like, love him who does the feat:
+  What injuries soe'er upon us fall,
+  Yet, still, The same religion, answers all:
+  Religion wheedled you to civil war,
+  Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would spare:
+  Be gulled no longer, for you'll find it true,
+  They have no more religion, faith--than you;
+  Interest's the god they worship in their state;
+  And you, I take it, have not much of that.
+  Well, monarchies may own religion's name,
+  But states are atheists in their very frame.
+  They share a sin, and such proportions fall,
+  That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all.
+  How they love England, you shall see this day;
+  No map shews Holland truer than our play:
+  Their pictures and inscriptions well we know[1];
+  We may be bold one medal sure to show.
+  View then their falsehoods, rapine, cruelty;
+  And think what once they were, they still would be:
+  But hope not either language, plot, or art;
+  'Twas writ in haste, but with an English heart:
+  And least hope wit; in Dutchmen that would be
+  As much improper, as would honesty.
+
+
+Footnote
+1. Amongst the pretexts for making war on the states of Holland were
+   alleged their striking certain satirical medals, and engraving
+   prints in ridicule of Charles II. See his proclamation of war in
+   1671-2.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+  _Captain_ GABRIEL TOWERSON.
+  _Mr_ BEAMONT, } _English Merchants, his Friends._
+  _Mr_ COLLINS, }
+  _Captain_ MIDDLETON, _an English Sea Captain._
+  PEREZ, _a Spanish Captain._
+  HARMAN _Senior, Governor of Amboyna._
+  _The Fiscal._
+  HARMAN _Junior, Son to the Governor._
+  VAN HERRING, _a Dutch Merchant._
+
+  ISABINDA, _betrothed to_ TOWERSON, _an Indian Lady._
+  JULIA, _Wife to_ PEREZ.
+  _An English Woman._
+  _Page to_ TOWERSON.
+  _A Skipper._
+  _Two Dutch Merchants._
+
+SCENE--_Amboyna._
+
+
+
+
+                               AMBOYNA.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_A Castle on the Sea._
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior, the Governor, the Fiscal, and_ VAN HERRING:
+  _Guards._
+
+_Fisc._ A happy day to our noble governor.
+
+_Har._ Morrow, Fiscal.
+
+_Van Her._ Did the last ships, which came from Holland to these parts,
+bring us no news of moment?
+
+_Fisc._ Yes, the best that ever came into Amboyna, since we set
+footing here; I mean as to our interest.
+
+_Har._ I wonder much my letters then gave me so short accounts; they
+only said the Orange party was grown strong again, since Barnevelt had
+suffered.
+
+_Van Her._ Mine inform me farther, the price of pepper, and of other
+spices, was raised of late in Europe.
+
+_Har._ I wish that news may hold; but much suspect it, while the
+English maintain their factories among us in Amboyna, or in the
+neighbouring plantations of Seran.
+
+_Fisc._ Still I have news that tickles me within; ha, ha, ha! I'faith
+it does, and will do you, and all our countrymen.
+
+_Har._ Pr'ythee do not torture us, but tell it.
+
+_Van Her._ Whence comes this news?
+
+_Fisc._ From England.
+
+_Har._ Is their East India fleet bound outward for these parts, or
+cast away, or met at sea by pirates?
+
+_Fisc._ Better, much better yet; ha, ha, ha!
+
+_Har._ Now am I famished for my part of the laughter.
+
+_Fisc._ Then, my brave governor, if you're a true Dutchman, I'll make
+your fat sides heave with the conceit on't, 'till you're blown like a
+pair of large smith's bellows; here, look upon this paper.
+
+_Har._ [_reading._] _You may remember we did endamage the English
+East-India Company the value of five hundred thousand pounds, all in
+one year; a treaty is now signed, in which the business is ta'en up
+for fourscore thousand._--This is news indeed: would I were upon the
+castle-wall, that I might throw my cap into the sea, and my gold chain
+after it! this is golden news, boys.
+
+_Van Her._ This is news would kindle a thousand bonfires, and make us
+piss them out again in Rhenish wine.
+
+_Har._ Send presently to all our factories, acquaint them with these
+blessed tidings: If we can 'scape so cheap, 'twill be no matter what
+villanies henceforth we put in practice.
+
+_Fisc._ Hum! why this now gives encouragement to a certain plot, which
+I have been long brewing, against these skellum English. I almost have
+it here in pericranio, and 'tis a sound one, 'faith; no less than to
+cut all their throats, and seize all their effects within this island.
+I warrant you we may compound again.
+
+_Van Her._ Seizing their factories I like well enough, it has some
+savour in't; but for this whoreson cutting of throats, it goes a
+little against the grain, because 'tis so notoriously known in
+Christendom, that they have preserved ours from being cut by the
+Spaniards.
+
+_Har._ Hang them, base English starts, let them e'en take their part
+of their own old proverb--Save a thief from the gallows; they would
+needs protect us rebels, and see what comes to themselves.
+
+_Fisc._ You're i'the right on't, noble Harman; their assistance, which
+was a mercy and a providence to us, shall be a judgment upon them.
+
+_Van Her._ A little favour would do well; though not that I would stop
+the current of your wit, or any other plot, to do them mischief; but
+they were first discoverers of this isle, first traded hither, and
+showed us the way.
+
+_Fisc._ I grant you that; nay more, that, by composition made after
+many long and tedious quarrels, they were to have a third part of the
+traffic, we to build forts, and they to contribute to the charge.
+
+_Har._ Which we have so increased each year upon them, we being in
+power, and therefore judges of the cost, that we exact whatever we
+please, still more than half the charge; and on pretence of their
+non-payment, or the least delay, do often stop their ships, detain
+their goods, and drag them into prisons, while our commodities go on
+before, and still forestall their markets.
+
+_Fisc._ These, I confess, are pretty tricks, but will not do our
+business; we must ourselves be ruined at long run, if they have any
+trade here; I know our charge at length will eat us out: I would not
+let these English from this isle have cloves enough to stick an orange
+with, not one to throw into their bottle-ale.
+
+_Har._ But to bring this about now, there's the cunning.
+
+_Fisc._ Let me alone awhile; I have it, as I told you, here; mean time
+we must put on a seeming kindness, call them our benefactors and dear
+brethren, pipe them within the danger of our net, and then we'll draw
+it o'er them: When they're in, no mercy, that's my maxim.
+
+_Van Her._ Nay, brother, I am not too obstinate for saving Englishmen,
+'twas but a qualm of conscience, which profit will dispel: I have as
+true a Dutch antipathy to England, as the proudest _he_ in Amsterdam;
+that's a bold word now.
+
+_Har._ We are secure of our superiors there. Well, they may give the
+king of Great Britain a verbal satisfaction, and with submissive
+fawning promises, make shew to punish us; but interest is their god as
+well as ours. To that almighty, they will sacrifice a thousand English
+lives, and break a hundred thousand oaths, ere they will punish those
+that make them rich, and pull their rivals down.
+                                                [_Guns go off within._
+
+_Van Her._ Heard you those guns?
+
+_Har._ Most plainly.
+
+_Fisc._ The sound comes from the port; some ship arrived salutes the
+castle, and I hope brings more good news from Holland.  [_Guns again._
+
+_Har._ Now they answer them from the fortress.
+
+  _Enter_ BEAMONT _and_ COLLINS.
+
+_Van Her._ Beamont and Collins, English merchants both; perhaps
+they'll certify us.
+
+_Beam._ Captain Harman van Spelt, good day to you.
+
+_Har._ Dear, kind Mr Beamont, a thousand and a thousand good days to
+you, and all our friends the English.
+
+_Fisc._ Came you from the port, gentlemen?
+
+_Col._ We did; and saw arrive, our honest, and our gallant countryman,
+brave captain Gabriel Towerson.
+
+_Beam._ Sent to these parts from our employers of the East India
+company in England, as general of the voyage.
+
+_Fisc._ Is the brave Towerson returned?
+
+_Col._ The same, sir.
+
+_Har._ He shall be nobly welcome. He has already spent twelve years
+upon, or near, these rich Molucca isles, and home returned with honour
+and great wealth.
+
+_Fisc._ The devil give him joy of both, or I will for him.   [_Aside._
+
+_Beam._ He's my particular friend; I lived with him, both at Tencrate,
+Tydore, and at Seran.
+
+_Van Her._ Did he not leave a mistress in these parts, a native of
+this island of Amboyna?
+
+_Col._ He did; I think they call her Isabinda, who received baptism
+for his sake, before he hence departed.
+
+_Har._ 'Tis much against the will of all her friends, she loves your
+countryman, but they are not disposers of her person; she's beauteous,
+rich, and young, and Towerson well deserves her.
+
+_Beam._ I think, without flattery to my friend, he does. Were I to
+chuse, of all mankind, a man, on whom I would rely for faith and
+counsel, or more, whose personal aid I would invite, in any worthy
+cause, to second me, it should be only Gabriel Towerson; daring he is,
+and thereto fortunate; yet soft, and apt to pity the distressed, and
+liberal to relieve them: I have seen him not alone to pardon foes, but
+by his bounty win them to his love: If he has any fault, 'tis only
+that to which great minds can only subject be--he thinks all honest,
+'cause himself is so, and therefore none suspects.
+
+_Fisc._ I like him well for that; this fault of his great mind, as
+Beamont calls it, may give him cause to wish he was more wary, when it
+shall be too late.                                           [_Aside._
+
+_Har._ I was in some small hope, this ship had been of our own
+country, and brought back my son; for much about this season I expect
+him. Good-morrow, gentlemen; I go to fill a brendice to my noble
+captain's health, pray tell him so; the youth of our Amboyna I'll send
+before, to welcome him.
+
+_Col._ We'll stay, and meet him here.
+                          [_Exeunt_ HARMAN, FISCAL, _and_ VAN HERRING.
+
+_Beam._ I do not like these fleering Dutchmen, they overact their
+kindness.
+
+_Col._ I know not what to think of them; that old fat governor, Harman
+van Spelt, I have known long; they say he was a cooper in his country,
+and took the measure of his hoops for tuns by his own belly: I love
+him not, he makes a jest of men in misery; the first fat merry fool I
+ever knew, that was ill-natured.
+
+_Beam._ He's absolutely governed by this Fiscal, who was, as I have
+heard, an ignorant advocate in Rotterdam, such as in England we call a
+petty-fogging rogue; one that knows nothing, but the worst part of the
+law, its tricks and snares: I fear he hates us English mortally. Pray
+heaven we feel not the effects on't.
+
+_Col._ Neither he, nor Harman, will dare to shew their malice to us,
+now Towerson is come. For though, 'tis true, we have no castle here,
+he has an awe upon them in his worth, which they both fear and
+reverence.
+
+_Beam._ I wish it so may prove; my mind is a bad prophet to me, and
+what it does forbode of ill, it seldom fails to pay me. Here he comes.
+
+_Col._ And in his company young Harman, son to our Dutch governor. I
+wonder how they met.
+
+  _Enter_ TOWERSON, HARMAN _Junior, and a Skipper._
+
+_Tow._ [_Entering, to the Skipper._] These letters see conveyed with
+speed to our plantation. This to Cambello, and to Hitto this, this
+other to Loho. Tell them, their friends in England greet them well;
+and when I left them, were in perfect health.
+
+_Skip._ Sir, you shall be obeyed.                     [_Exit Skipper._
+
+_Beam._ I heartily rejoice that our employers have chose you for this
+place: a better choice they never could have made, or for themselves,
+or me.
+
+_Col._ This I am sure of, that our English factories in all these
+parts have wished you long the man, and none could be so welcome to
+their hearts.
+
+_Har. Jun._ And let me speak for my countrymen, the Dutch; I have
+heard my father say, he's your sworn brother: And this late accident
+at sea, when you relieved me from the pirates, and brought my ship in
+safety off, I hope will well secure you of our gratitude.
+
+_Tow._ You over-rate a little courtesy: In your deliverance I did no
+more, than what I had myself from you expected: The common ties of our
+religion, and those, yet more particular, of peace and strict commerce
+betwixt us and your nation, exacted all I did, or could have done.
+[_To_ BEAMONT.] For you, my friend, let me ne'er breathe our English
+air again, but I more joy to see you, than myself to have escaped the
+storm that tossed me long, doubling the Cape, and all the sultry
+heats, in passing twice the Line: For now I have you here, methinks
+this happiness should not be bought at a less price.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I'll leave you with your friends; my duty binds me to
+hasten to receive a father's blessing.        [_Exit_ HARMAN _Junior._
+
+_Beam._ You are so much a friend, that I must tax you for being a
+slack lover. You have not yet enquired of Isabinda.
+
+_Tow._ No; I durst not, friend, I durst not. I love too well, and fear
+to know my doom; there's hope in doubt; but yet I fixed my eyes on
+yours, I looked with earnestness, and asked with them: If aught of ill
+had happened, sure I had met it there; and since, methinks, I did not,
+I have now recovered courage, and resolve to urge it from you.
+
+_Beam._ Your Isabinda then--
+
+_Tow._ You have said all in that, my Isabinda, if she still be so.
+
+_Beam._ Enjoys as much of health, as fear for you, and sorrow for your
+absence, would permit.                                [_Music within._
+
+_Col._ Hark, music I think approaching.
+
+_Beam._ 'Tis from our factory; some sudden entertainment I believe,
+designed for your return.
+
+  _Enter Amboyners, Men and Women, with Timbrels before them. A
+  Dance._
+
+  _After the Dance,_
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ HARMAN _Junior,_ FISCAL, _and_ VAN HERRING.
+
+_Har. Sen._ [_Embracing_ TOWERSON.] O my sworn brother, my dear
+captain Towerson! the man whom I love better than a stiff gale, when I
+am becalmed at sea; to whom I have received the sacrament, never to be
+false-hearted.
+
+_Tow._ You ne'er shall have occasion on my part: The like I promise
+for our factories, while I continue here: This isle yields spice
+enough for both; and Europe, ports, and chapmen, where to vend them.
+
+_Har. Sen._ It does, it does; we have enough, if we can be contented.
+
+_Tow._ And, sir, why should we not? What mean these endless jars of
+trading nations? 'Tis true, the world was never large enough for
+avarice or ambition; but those who can be pleased with moderate gain,
+may have the ends of nature, not to want: Nay, even its luxuries may
+be supplied from her o'erflowing bounties in these parts; from whence
+she yearly sends spices and gums, the food of heaven in sacrifice:
+And, besides these, her gems of the richest value, for ornament, more
+than necessity.
+
+_Har. Sen._ You are i'the right; we must be very friends, i'faith we
+must; I have an old Dutch heart, as true and trusty as your English
+oak.
+
+_Fisc._ We can never forget the patronage of your Elizabeth, of famous
+memory; when from the yoke of Spain, and Alva's pride, her potent
+succours, and her well-timed bounty, freed us, and gave us credit in
+the world.
+
+_Tow._ For this we only ask a fair commerce, and friendliness of
+conversation here: And what our several treaties bind us to, you
+shall, while Towerson lives, see so performed, as fits a subject to an
+English king.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Now, by my faith, you ask too little, friend; we must have
+more than bare commerce betwixt us: Receive me to your bosom; by this
+beard, I will never deceive you.
+
+_Beam._ I do not like his oath, there's treachery in that
+Judas-coloured beard.                                        [_Aside._
+
+_Fisc._ Pray use me as your servant.
+
+_Van Her._ And me too, captain.
+
+_Tow._ I receive you both as jewels, which I'll wear in either ear,
+and never part with you.
+
+_Har. Sen._ I cannot do enough for him, to whom I owe my son.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Nor I, till fortune send me such another brave occasion of
+fighting so for you.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Captain, very shortly we must use your head in a certain
+business; ha, ha, ha, my dear captain.
+
+_Fisc._ We must use your head, indeed, sir.
+
+_Tow._ Sir, command me, and take it as a debt I owe your love.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Talk not of debt, for I must have your heart.
+
+_Van Her._ Your heart, indeed, good captain.
+
+_Har. Sen._ You are weary now, I know, sea-beat and weary; 'tis time
+we respite further ceremony; besides, I see one coming, whom I know
+you long to embrace, and I should be unkind to keep you from her arms.
+
+  _Enter_ ISABINDA _and_ JULIA.
+
+_Isab._ Do I hold my love, do I embrace him after a tedious absence of
+three years? Are you indeed returned, are you the same? Do you still
+love your Isabinda? Speak before I ask you twenty questions more: For
+I have so much love, and so much joy, that if you don't love as well
+as I, I shall appear distracted.
+
+_Tow._ We meet then both out of ourselves, for I am nothing else but
+love and joy; and to take care of my discretion now, would make me
+much unworthy of that passion, to which you set no bounds.
+
+_Isab._ How could you be so long away?
+
+_Tow._ How can you think I was? I still was here, still with you,
+never absent in my mind.
+
+_Har. Jun._ She is a most charming creature; I wish I had not seen
+her.                                                         [_Aside._
+
+_Isab._ Now I shall love your God, because I see that he takes care of
+lovers: But, my dear Englishman, I pr'ythee let it be our last of
+absence; I cannot bear another parting from thee, nor promise thee to
+live three other years, if thou again goest hence.
+
+_Tow._ I never will without you.
+
+_Har. Sen._ I said before, we should but trouble ye.
+
+_Tow._ You make me blush; but if you ever were a lover, sir, you will
+forgive a folly, which is sweet, though, I confess, 'ts much
+extravagant.
+
+_Har. Jun._ He has but too much cause for this excess of joy; oh
+happy, happy Englishman! but I unfortunate!                  [_Aside._
+
+_Tow._ Now, when you please, lead on.
+
+_Har. Sen._ This day you shall be feasted at the castle,
+Where our great guns shall loudly speak your welcome.
+All signs of joy shall through the isle be shewn,
+Whilst in full rummers we our friendship crown.             [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT II. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ ISABINDA, _and_ HARMAN _Junior._
+
+_Isab._ This to me, from you, against your friend!
+
+_Har. Jun._ Have I not eyes? are you not fair? Why does it seem so
+strange?
+
+_Isab._ Come, it is a plot betwixt you: My Englishman is jealous, and
+has sent you to try my faith: he might have spared the experiment,
+after a three years absence; that was a proof sufficient of my
+constancy.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I heard him say he never had returned, but that his
+masters of the East India company preferred him large conditions.
+
+_Isab._ You do bely him basely.
+
+_Har. Jun._ As much as I do you, in saying you are fair; or as I do
+myself, when I declare I die for you.
+
+_Isab._ If this be earnest, you have done a most unmanly and
+ungrateful part, to court the intended wife of him, to whom you are
+most obliged.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Leave me to answer that: Assure yourself I love you
+violently, and, if you are wise, you will make some difference betwixt
+Towerson and me.
+
+_Isab._ Yes, I shall make a difference, but not to your advantage.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You must, or falsify your knowledge; an Englishman, part
+captain, and part merchant; his nation of declining interest here:
+Consider this, and weigh against that fellow, not me, but any, the
+least and meanest Dutchman in this isle.
+
+_Isab._ I do not weigh by bulk: I know your countrymen have the
+advantage there.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Hold back your hand, from firming of your faith; you will
+thank me in a little time, for staying you so kindly from embarking in
+his ruin.
+
+_Isab._ His fortune is not so contemptible as you would make it seem.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Wait but one month for the event.
+
+_Isab._ I will not wait one day, though I were sure to sink with him
+the next: So well I love my Towerson, I will not lose another sun, for
+fear he should not rise to-morrow. For yourself, pray rest assured, of
+all mankind, you should not be my choice, after an act of such
+ingratitude.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You may repent your scorn at leisure.
+
+_Isab._ Never, unless I married you.
+
+  _Enter_ TOWERSON.
+
+_Tow._ Now, my dear Isabinda, I dare pronounce myself most happy:
+Since I have gained your kindred, all difficulties cease.
+
+_Isab._ I wish we find it so.
+
+_Tow._ Why, is aught happened since I saw you last? Methinks a sadness
+dwells upon your brow, like that I saw before my last long absence.
+You do not speak: My friend dumb too? Nay then, I fear some more than
+ordinary cause produces this.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You have no reason, Towerson, to be sad; you are the happy
+man.
+
+_Tow._ If I have any, you must needs have some.
+
+_Har. Jun._ No, you are loved, and I am bid despair.
+
+_Tow._ Time and your services will perhaps make you as happy, as I am
+in my Isabinda's love.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I thought I spoke so plain, I might be understood; but
+since I did not, I must tell you, Towerson, I wear the title of your
+friend no longer, because I am your rival.
+
+_Tow._ Is this true, Isabinda?
+
+_Isab._ I should not, I confess, have told you first, because I would
+not give you that disquiet; but since he has, it is too sad a truth.
+
+_Tow._ Leave us, my dear, a little to ourselves.
+
+_Isab._ I fear you will quarrel, for he seemed incensed, and
+threatened you with ruin.                             [_To him aside._
+
+_Tow._ 'Tis to prevent an ill, which may be fatal to us both, that I
+would speak with him.
+
+_Isab._ Swear to me, by your love, you will not fight.
+
+_Tow._ Fear not, my Isabinda; things are not grown to that extremity.
+
+_Isab._ I leave you, but I doubt the consequence.        [_Exit_ ISAB.
+
+_Tow._ I want a name to call you by; friend, you declare you are not,
+and to rival, I am not yet enough accustomed.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Now I consider on it, it shall be yet in your free choice,
+to call me one or other; for, Towerson, I do not decline your
+friendship, but then yield Isabinda to me.
+
+_Tow._ Yield Isabinda to you?
+
+_Har. Jun._ Yes, and preserve the blessing of my friendship; I'll make
+my father yours; your factories shall be no more oppressed, but thrive
+in all advantages with ours; your gain shall be beyond what you could
+hope for from the treaty: In all the traffic of these eastern parts,
+ye shall--
+
+_Tow._ Hold! you mistake me, Harman, I never gave you just occasion to
+think I would make merchandize of love; Isabinda, you know, is mine,
+contracted to me ere I went for England, and must be so till death.
+
+_Har. Jun._ She must not, Towerson; you know you are not strongest in
+these parts, and it will be ill contesting with your masters.
+
+_Tow._ Our masters? Harman, you durst not once have named that word,
+in any part of Europe.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Here I both dare and will; you have no castles in Amboyna.
+
+_Tow._ Though we have not, we yet have English hearts, and courages
+not to endure affronts.
+
+_Har. Jun._ They may be tried.
+
+_Tow._ Your father sure will not maintain you in this insolence; I
+know he is too honest.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Assure yourself he will espouse my quarrel.
+
+_Tow._ We would complain to England.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Your countrymen have tried that course so often, methinks
+they should grow wiser, and desist: But now there is no need of
+troubling any others but ourselves; the sum of all is this, you either
+must resign me Isabinda, or instantly resolve to clear your title to
+her by your sword.
+
+_Tow._ I will do neither now.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Then I'll believe you dare not fight me fairly.
+
+_Tow._ You know I durst have fought, though I am not vain enough to
+boast it, nor would upbraid you with remembrance of it.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You destroy your benefit with rehearsal of it; but that
+was in a ship, backed by your men; single duel is a fairer trial of
+your courage.
+
+_Tow._ I'm not to be provoked out of my temper: Here I am a public
+person, entrusted by my king and my employers, and should I kill you,
+Harman--
+
+_Har. Jun._ Oh never think you can, sir.
+
+_Tow._ I should betray my countrymen to suffer, not only worse
+indignities than those they have already borne, but, for aught I know,
+might give them up to general imprisonment, perhaps betray them to a
+massacre.
+
+_Har. Jun._ These are but pitiful and weak excuses; I'll force you to
+confess you dare not fight; you shall have provocations.
+
+_Tow._ I will not stay to take them. Only this before I go; if you are
+truly gallant, insult not where you have power, but keep your quarrel
+secret; we may have time and place out of this island: Meanwhile, I go
+to marry Isabinda, that you shall see I dare.--No more, follow me not
+an inch beyond this place, no not an inch. Adieu.    [_Exit_ TOWERSON.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Thou goest to thy grave, or I to mine.
+                                                [_Is going after him._
+
+  _Enter_ FISCAL.
+
+_Fisc._ Whither so fast, mynheer?
+
+_Har. Jun._ After that English dog, whom I believe you saw.
+
+_Fisc._ Whom, Towerson?
+
+_Har. Jun._ Yes, let me go, I'll have his blood.
+
+_Fisc._ Let me advise you first; you young men are so violently hot.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I say I'll have his blood.
+
+_Fisc._ To have his blood is not amiss, so far I go with you; but take
+me with you further for the means: First, what's the injury?
+
+_Har. Jun._ Not to detain you with a tedious story, I love his
+mistress, courted her, was slighted; into the heat of this he came; I
+offered him the best advantages he could or to himself propose, or to
+his nation, would he quit her love.
+
+_Fisc._ So far you are prudent, for she is exceeding rich.
+
+_Har. Jun._ He refused all; then I threatened him with my father's
+power.
+
+_Fisc._ That was unwisely done; your father, underhand, may do a
+mischief, but it is too gross aboveboard.
+
+_Har. Jun._ At last, nought else prevailing, I defied him to single
+duel; this he refused, and I believe it was fear.
+
+_Fisc._ No, no, mistake him not, it is a stout whoreson. You did ill
+to press him, it will not sound well in Europe; he being here a public
+minister, having no means of 'scaping should he kill you, besides
+exposing all his countrymen to a revenge.
+
+_Har. Jun._ That's all one; I'm resolved I will pursue my course, and
+fight him.
+
+_Fisc._ Pursue your end, that's to enjoy the woman and her wealth; I
+would, like you, have Towerson despatched,--for, as I am a true
+Dutchman, I do hate him,--but I would convey him smoothly out of the
+world, and without noise; they will say we are ungrateful else in
+England, and barbarously cruel; now I could swallow down the _thing_
+ingratitude and the _thing_ murder, but the names are odious.
+
+_Har. Jun._ What would you have me do then?
+
+_Fisc._ Let him enjoy his love a little while, it will break no
+squares in the long run of a man's life; you shall have enough of her,
+and in convenient time.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I cannot bear he should enjoy her first; no, it is
+determined; I will kill him bravely.
+
+_Fisc._ Ay, a right young man's bravery, that's folly: Let me alone,
+something I'll put in practice, to rid you of this rival ere he
+marries, without your once appearing in it.
+
+_Har. Jun._ If I durst trust you now?
+
+_Fisc._ If you believe that I have wit, or love you.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Well, sir, you have prevailed; be speedy, for once I will
+rely on you. Farewell.                                 [_Exit_ HARMAN.
+
+_Fisc._ This hopeful business will be quickly spoiled, if I not take
+exceeding care of it.--Stay,--Towerson to be killed, and privately,
+that must be laid down as the groundwork, for stronger reasons than a
+young man's passion; but who shall do it? No Englishman will, and much
+I fear, no Dutchman dares attempt it.
+
+  _Enter_ PEREZ.
+
+Well said, in faith, old Devil! Let thee alone, when once a man is
+plotting villany, to find him a fit instrument. This Spanish captain,
+who commands our slaves, is bold enough, and is beside in want, and
+proud enough to think he merits wealth.
+
+_Per._ This Fiscal loves my wife; I am jealous of him, and yet must
+speak him fair to get my pay; O, there is the devil for a Castilian,
+to stoop to one of his own master's rebels, who has, or who designs to
+cuckold him.--[_Aside._]--[_To_ FISCAL.] I come to kiss your hand
+again, sir; six months I am in arrear; I must not starve, and
+Spaniards cannot beg.
+
+_Fisc._ I have been a better friend to you, than perhaps you think,
+captain.
+
+_Per._ I fear you have indeed.                               [_Aside._
+
+_Fisc._ And faithfully solicited your business; send but your wife
+to-morrow morning early, the money shall be ready.
+
+_Per._ What if I come myself?
+
+_Fisc._ Why ye may have it, if you come yourself, captain; but in case
+your occasions should call you any other way, you dare trust her to
+receive it.
+
+_Per._ She has no skill in money.
+
+_Fisc._ It shall be told into her hand, or given her upon honour, in a
+lump: but, captain, you were saying you did want; now I should think
+three hundred doubloons would do you no great harm; they will serve to
+make you merry on the watch.
+
+_Per._ Must they be told into my wife's hand, too?
+
+_Fisc._ No, those you may receive yourself, if you dare merit them.
+
+_Per._ I am a Spaniard, sir; that implies honour: I dare all that is
+possible.
+
+_Fisc._ Then you dare kill a man.
+
+_Per._ So it be fairly.
+
+_Fisc._ But what if he will not be so civil to be killed that way? He
+is a sturdy fellow, I know you stout, and do not question your valour;
+but I would make sure work, and not endanger you, who are my friend.
+
+_Per._ I fear the governor will execute me.
+
+_Fisc._ The governor will thank you; 'Tis he shall be your pay-master;
+you shall have your pardon drawn up beforehand; and remember, no
+transitory sum, three hundred quadruples in your own country gold.
+
+_Per._ Well, name your man.
+
+  _Enter_ JULIA.
+
+_Fisc._ Your wife comes, take it in whisper.          [_They whisper._
+
+_Jul._ Yonder is my master, and my Dutch servant; how lovingly they
+talk in private! if I did not know my Don's temper to be monstrously
+jealous, I should think, they were driving a secret bargain for my
+body; but _cuerpo_ is not to be digested by my Castilian. _Mi Moher_,
+my wife, and my mistress! he lays the emphasis on me, as if to cuckold
+him were a worse sin, than breaking the commandment. If my English
+lover, Beamont, my Dutch love, the Fiscal, and my Spanish husband,
+were painted in a piece, with me amongst them, they would make a
+pretty emblem of the two nations that cuckold his Catholic majesty in
+his Indies.
+
+_Fisc._ You will undertake it then?
+
+_Per._ I have served under Towerson as his lieutenant, served him
+well, and, though I say it, bravely; yet never have been rewarded,
+though he promised largely; 'tis resolved, I'll do it.
+
+_Fisc._ And swear secresy?
+
+_Per._ By this beard.
+
+_Fisc._ Go wait upon the governor from me, confer with him about it in
+my name, this seal will give you credit.        [_Gives him his seal._
+
+_Per._ I go. [_Goes a step or two, while the other approaches his
+wife._] What shall I be, before I come again?                 [_Exit._
+
+_Fisc._ Now, my fair mistress, we shall have the opportunity which I
+have long desired.                                        [_To_ JULIA.
+
+_Per._ The governor is now a-sleeping; this is his hour of afternoon's
+repose, I'll go when he is awake.                        [_Returning._
+
+_Fisc._ He slept early this afternoon; I left him newly waked.
+
+_Per._ Well, I go then, but with an aching heart.             [_Exit._
+
+_Fisc._ So, at length he's gone.
+
+_Jul._ But you may find he was jealous, by his delay.
+
+_Fisc._ If I were as you, I would give evident proofs, should cure him
+of that disease for ever after.
+
+  _Enter_ PEREZ _again._
+
+_Per._ I have considered on't, and if you would go along with me to
+the governor, it would do much better.
+
+_Fisc._ No, no, that would make the matter more suspicious. The devil
+take thee for an impertinent cuckold!                        [_Aside._
+
+_Per._ Well, I must go then.                            [_Exit_ PEREZ.
+
+_Jul._ Nay, there was never the like of him; but it shall not serve
+his turn, we'll cuckold him most furiously.
+
+  _Enter_ PEREZ _again._
+
+_Per._ I had forgot one thing; dear sweet-heart, go home quickly, and
+oversee our business; it won't go forward without one of us.
+
+_Fisc._ I warrant you, take no care of your business; leave it to me,
+I'll put it forward in your absence: Go, go, you'll lose your
+opportunity; I'll be at home before you, and sup with you to-night.
+
+_Per._ You shall be welcome, but--
+
+_Fisc._ Three hundred quadruples.
+
+_Per._ That's true, but--
+
+_Fisc._ But three hundred quadruples.
+
+_Per._ The devil take the quadruples!
+
+  _Enter_ BEAMONT.
+
+_Beam._ There's my cuckold that must be, and my fellow swaggerer, the
+Dutchman, with my mistress: my nose is wiped to-day; I must retire,
+for the Spaniard is jealous of me.
+
+_Per._ Oh, Mr Beamont, I'm to ask a favour of you.
+
+_Beam._ This is unusual; pray command it, signior.
+
+_Per._ I am going upon urgent business; pray sup with me to-night,
+and, in the meantime, bear my worthy friend here company.
+
+_Beam._ With all my heart.
+
+_Per._ So, now I am secure; though I dare not trust her with one of
+them, I may with both; they'll hinder one another, and preserve my
+honour into the bargain.                                      [_Exit._
+
+_Beam._ Now, Mr Fiscal, you are the happy man with the ladies, and
+have got the precedence of traffic here too; you've the Indies in your
+arms, yet I hope a poor Englishman may come in for a third part of the
+merchandise.
+
+_Fisc._ Oh, sir, in these commodities, here's enough for both; here's
+mace for you, and nutmeg for me, in the same fruit, and yet the owner
+has to spare for other friends too.
+
+_Jul._ My husband's plantation is like to thrive well betwixt you.
+
+_Beam._ Horn him; he deserves not so much happiness as he enjoys in
+you; he's jealous.
+
+_Jul._ 'Tis no wonder if a Spaniard looks yellow.
+
+_Beam._ Betwixt you and me, 'tis a little kind of venture that we
+make, in doing this Don's drudgery for him; for the whole nation of
+them is generally so pocky, that 'tis no longer a disease, but a
+second nature in them.
+
+_Fisc._ I have heard indeed, that 'tis incorporated among them, as
+deeply as the Moors and Jews are; there's scarce a family, but 'tis
+crept into their blood, like the new Christians.
+
+_Jul._ Come, I'll have no whispering betwixt you; I know you were
+talking of my husband, because my nose itches.
+
+_Beam._ Faith, madam, I was speaking in favour of your nation: What
+pleasant lives I have known Spaniards to live in England.
+
+_Jul._ If you love me, let me hear a little.
+
+_Beam._ We observed them to have much of the nature of our flies; they
+buzzed abroad a month or two in the summer, would venture about
+dog-days to take the air in the Park, but all the winter slept like
+dormice; and, if they ever appeared in public after Michaelmas, their
+faces shewed the difference betwixt their country and ours, for they
+look in Spain as if they were roasted, and in England as if they were
+sodden.
+
+_Jul._ I'll not believe your description.
+
+_Fisc._ Yet our observations of them in Holland are not much unlike
+it. I've known a great Don at the Hague, with the gentleman of his
+horse, his major domo, and two secretaries, all dine at four tables,
+on the quarters of a single pullet: The victuals of the under servants
+were weighed out in ounces, by the Don himself; with so much garlic in
+the other scale: A thin slice of bacon went through the family a week
+together; for it was daily put into the pot for pottage; was served in
+the midst of the dish at dinners, and taken out and weighed by the
+steward, at the end of every meal, to see how much it lost; till, at
+length, looking at it against the sun, it appeared transparent, and
+then he would have whipped it up, as his own fees, at a morsel; but
+that his lord barred the dice, and reckoned it to him for a part of
+his board wages.
+
+_Beam._ In few words, madam, the general notion we had of them, was,
+that they were very frugal of their Spanish coin, and very liberal of
+their Neapolitan.
+
+_Jul._ I see, gentlemen, you are in the way of rallying; therefore let
+me be no hinderance to your sport; do as much for one another as you
+have done for our nation. Pray, Mynheer Fiscal, what think you of the
+English?
+
+_Fisc._ Oh, I have an honour for the country.
+
+_Beam._ I beseech you, leave your ceremony; we can hear of our faults
+without choler; therefore speak of us with a true Amsterdam spirit,
+and do not spare us.
+
+_Fisc._ Since you command me, sir, 'tis said of you, I know not how
+truly, that for your fishery at home, you're like dogs in the manger,
+you will neither manage it yourselves, nor permit your neighbours; so
+that for your sovereignty of the narrow seas, if the inhabitants of
+them, the herrings, were capable of being judges, they would certainly
+award it to the English, because they were then sure to live
+undisturbed, and quiet under you.
+
+_Beam._ Very good; proceed, sir.
+
+_Fisc._ 'Tis true, you gave us aid in our time of need, but you paid
+yourselves with our cautionary towns: And, that you have since
+delivered them up, we can never give sufficient commendation, either
+to your honesty, or to your wit; for both which qualities you have
+purchased such an immortal fame, that all nations are instructed how
+to deal with you another time.
+
+_Beam._ A most grateful acknowledgment; sweet sir, go on.
+
+_Fisc._ For your trade abroad, if you should obtain it, you are so
+horribly expensive, that you would undo yourselves and all
+Christendom; for you would sink under your very profit, and the gains
+of the universal world would beggar you: You devour a voyage to the
+Indies, by the multitude of mouths with which you man your vessels:
+Providence has contrived it well, that the Indies are managed by us,
+an industrious and frugal people, who distribute its merchandise to
+the rest of Europe, and suffer it not to be consumed in England, that
+the other members might be starved, while you of Great Britain, as you
+call it, like a rickety head, would only swell and grow bigger by it.
+
+_Jul._ I have heard enough of England; have you nothing to return upon
+the Netherlands?
+
+_Beam._ Faith, very little to any purpose; he has been beforehand with
+us, as his countrymen are in their trade, and taken up so many vices
+for the use of England, that he has left almost none for the Low
+Countries.
+
+_Jul._ Come, a word, however.
+
+_Beam._ In the first place, you shewed your ambition when you began to
+be a state: For not being gentlemen, you have stolen the arms of the
+best families of Europe; and wanting a name, you made bold with the
+first of the divine attributes, and called yourselves the High and
+Mighty: though, let me tell you, that, besides the blasphemy, the
+title is ridiculous; for High is no more proper for the Netherlands,
+than Mighty is for seven little rascally provinces, no bigger in all
+than a shire in England. For my main theme, your ingratitude, you have
+in part acknowledged it, by your laughing at our easy delivery of your
+cautionary towns: The best is, we are used by you as well as your own
+princes of the house of Orange: We and they have set you up, and you
+undermine their power, and circumvent our trade.
+
+_Fisc._ And good reason, if our interest requires it.
+
+_Beam._ That leads me to your religion, which is only made up of
+interest: At home, you tolerate all worships in them who can pay for
+it; and abroad, you were lately so civil to the emperor of Pegu, as to
+do open sacrifice to his idols.
+
+_Fisc._ Yes, and by the same token, you English were such precise
+fools as to refuse it.
+
+_Beam._ For frugality in trading, we confess we cannot compare with
+you; for our merchants live like noblemen; your gentlemen, if you have
+any, live like boors. You traffic for all the rarities of the world,
+and dare use none of them yourselves; so that, in effect, you are the
+mill-horses of mankind, that labour only for the wretched provender
+you eat: A pot of butter and a pickled herring is all your riches;
+and, in short, you have a good title to cheat all Europe, because, in
+the first place, you cozen your own backs and bellies.
+
+_Fisc._ We may enjoy more whenever we please.
+
+_Beam._ Your liberty is a grosser cheat than any of the rest; for you
+are ten times more taxed than any people in Christendom: You never
+keep any league with foreign princes; you flatter our kings, and ruin
+their subjects; you never denied us satisfaction at home for injuries,
+nor ever gave it us abroad.
+
+_Fisc._ You must make yourselves more feared, when you expect it.
+
+_Beam._ And I prophecy that time will come, when some generous monarch
+of our island will undertake our quarrel, reassume the fishery of our
+seas, and make them as considerable to the English, as the Indies are
+to you.
+
+_Fisc._ Before that comes to pass, you may repent your over-lavish
+tongue.
+
+_Beam._ I was no more in earnest than you were.
+
+_Jul._ Pray let this go no further; my husband has invited both to
+supper.
+
+_Beam._ If you please, I'll fall to before he comes; or, at least,
+while he is conferring in private with the Fiscal.    [_Aside to her._
+
+_Jul._ Their private businesses let them agree;
+The Dutch for him, the Englishman for me.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT III. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ PEREZ.
+
+_Per._ True, the reward proposed is great enough, I want it too;
+besides, this Englishman has never paid me since, as his lieutenant, I
+served him once against the Turk at sea; yet he confessed I did my
+duty well, when twice I cleared our decks; he has long promised me,
+but what are promises to starving men? this is his house, he may walk
+out this morning.
+
+  _Enter a Page, and another Servant, walking by, not seeing him._
+
+These belong to him; I'll hide till they are past.
+
+_Serv._ He sleeps soundly for a man who is to be married when he
+wakes.
+
+_Page._ He does well to take his time; for he does not know, when he's
+married, whether ever he shall have a sound sleep again.
+
+_Serv._ He bid we should not wake him; but some of us, in good
+manners, should have staid, and not have left him quite alone.
+
+_Page._ In good manners, I should indeed; but I'll venture a master's
+anger at any time for a mistress, and that's my case at present.
+
+_Serv._ I'll tempt as great a danger as that comes to, for good old
+English fellowship; I am invited to a morning's draught.
+
+_Page._ Good-morrow, brother, good-morrow; by that time you have
+filled your belly, and I have emptied mine, it will be time to meet at
+home again.                                       [_Exeunt severally._
+
+_Per._ So, this makes well for my design; he's left alone, unguarded,
+and asleep: Satan, thou art a bounteous friend, and liberal of
+occasions to do mischief; my pardon I have ready, if I am taken, my
+money half beforehand: up, Perez, rouse thy Spanish courage up; if he
+should wake, I think I dare attempt him; then my revenge is nobler,
+and revenge, to injured men, is full as sweet as profit.      [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  _The_ SCENE _drawn, discovers_ TOWERSON _asleep on a Couch in his
+  Night-gown. A Table by him; Pen, Ink, and Paper on it._
+
+  _Re-enter_ PEREZ _with a Dagger._
+
+_Per._ Asleep, as I imagined, and as fast as all the plummets of
+eternal night were hung upon his temples. Oh that some courteous
+daemon, in the other world, would let him know, 'twas Perez sent him
+thither! A paper by him too! He little thinks it is his testament; the
+last he e'er shall make: I'll read it first. [_Takes it up._] Oh, by
+the inscription, 'tis a memorial of what he means to do this day:
+What's here? My name in the first line! I'll read it. [_Reads._]
+_Memorandum, That my first action this morning shall be, to find out
+my true and valiant lieutenant, captain Perez; and, as a testimony of
+my gratitude for his honourable services, to bestow on him five
+hundred English pounds, making my just excuse, I had it not before
+within my power to reward him._ [_Lays down the paper._] And was it
+then for this I sought his life? Oh base, degenerate Spaniard! Hadst
+thou done it, thou hadst been worse than damned: Heaven took more care
+of me, than I of him, to expose this paper to my timely view. Sleep
+on, thou honourable Englishman; I'll sooner now pierce my own breast
+than thine: See, he smiles too in his slumber, as if his guardian
+angel, in a dream, told him, he was secure: I'll give him warning
+though, to prevent danger from another hand.
+        [_Writes on_ TOWERSON'S _paper, then sticks his dagger in it._
+  Stick there, that when he wakens, he may know,
+  To his own virtue he his life does owe.               [_Exit_ PEREZ.
+
+  TOWERSON _awakens._
+
+_Tow._ I have o'erslept my hour this morning, if to enjoy a pleasing
+dream can be to sleep too long. Methought my dear Isabinda and myself
+were lying in an arbour, wreathed about with myrtle and with cypress;
+my rival Harman, reconciled again to his friendship, strewed us with
+flowers, and put on each a crimson-coloured garment, in which we
+straightway mounted to the skies; and with us, many of my English
+friends, all clad in the same robes. If dreams have any meaning, sure
+this portends some good.--What's that I see! A dagger stuck into the
+paper of my memorials, and writ below--_Thy virtue saved thy life!_ It
+seems some one has been within my chamber whilst I slept: Something of
+consequence hangs upon this accident. What, ho! who waits without?
+None answer me? Are ye all dead? What, ho!
+
+  _Enter_ BEAMONT.
+
+_Beam._ How is it, friend? I thought, entering your house, I heard you
+call.
+
+_Tow._ I did, but as it seems without effect; none of my servants are
+within reach of my voice.
+
+_Beam._ You seem amazed at somewhat?
+
+_Tow._ A little discomposed: read that, and see if I have no occasion;
+that dagger was stuck there, by him who writ it.
+
+_Beam._ I must confess you have too just a cause: I am myself
+surprised at an event so strange.
+
+_Tow._ I know not who can be my enemy within this island, except my
+rival Harman; and for him, I truly did relate what passed betwixt us
+yesterday.
+
+_Beam._ You bore yourself in that as it became you, as one who was a
+witness to himself of his own courage; and while, by necessary care of
+others, you were forced to decline fighting, shewed how much you did
+despise the man who sought the quarrel: 'Twas base in him, so backed
+as he is here, to offer it, much more to press you to it.
+
+_Tow._ I may find a foot of ground in Europe to tell the insulting
+youth, he better had provoked some other man; but sure I cannot think
+'twas he who left that dagger there.
+
+_Beam._ No, for it seems too great a nobleness of spirit, for one like
+him to practise: 'Twas certainly an enemy, who came to take your
+sleeping life; but thus to leave unfinished the design, proclaims the
+act no Dutchman's.
+
+_Tow_ That time will best discover; I'll think no further of it.
+
+_Beam._ I confess you have more pleasing thoughts to employ your mind
+at present; I left your bride just ready for the temple, and came to
+call you to her.
+
+_Tow._ I'll straight attend you thither.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Sen._ FISCAL, _and_ VAN HERRING.
+
+_Fisc._ Remember, sir, what I advised you; you must seemingly make up
+the business.                                        [_To_ HAR. _Sen._
+
+_Har. Sen._ I warrant you.--What, my brave bonny bridegroom, not yet
+dressed? You are a lazy lover; I must chide you.       [_To_ TOWERSON.
+
+_Tow._ I was just preparing.
+
+_Har. Sen._ I must prevent part of the ceremony: You thought to go to
+her; she is by this time at the castle, where she is invited with our
+common friends; for you shall give me leave, if you so please, to
+entertain you both.
+
+_Tow._ I have some reasons, why I must refuse the honour you intend
+me.
+
+_Har. Sen._ You must have none: What! my old friend steal a wedding
+from me? In troth, you wrong our friendship.
+
+_Beam._ [_To him aside._] Sir, go not to the castle; you cannot, in
+honour, accept an invitation from the father, after an affront from
+the son.
+
+_Tow._ Once more I beg your pardon, sir.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Come, come, I know your reason of refusal, but it must not
+prevail: My son has been to blame; I'll not maintain him in the least
+neglect, which he should show to any Englishman, much less to you, the
+best and most esteemed of all my friends.
+
+_Tow._ I should be willing, sir, to think it was a young man's
+rashness, or perhaps the rage of a successless rival; yet he might
+have spared some words.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Friend, he shall ask your pardon, or I'll no longer own
+him; what, ungrateful to a man, whose valour has preserved him? He
+shall do it, he shall indeed; I'll make you friends upon your own
+conditions; he's at the door, pray let him be admitted; this is a day
+of general jubilee.
+
+_Tow._ You command here, you know, sir.
+
+_Fisc._ I'll call him in; I am sure he will be proud, at any rate, to
+redeem your kind opinion of him.                              [_Exit._
+
+  FISCAL _re-enters,_ with HARMAN _Junior._
+
+_Har. Jun._ Sir, my father, I hope, has in part satisfied you, that
+what I spoke was only an effect of sudden passion, of which I am now
+ashamed; and desire it may be no longer lodged in your remembrance,
+than it is now in my intention to do you any injury.
+
+_Tow._ Your father may command me to more difficult employments, than
+to receive the friendship of a man, of whom I did not willingly
+embrace an ill opinion.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Nothing henceforward shall have power to take from me that
+happiness, in which you are so generously pleased to reinstate me.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Why this is as it should be; trust me, I weep for joy.
+
+_Beam._ Towerson is easy, and too credulous. I fear 'tis all
+dissembled on their parts.                                   [_Aside._
+
+_Har. Sen._ Now set we forward to the castle; the bride is there
+before us.
+
+_Tow._ Sir, I wait you.     [_Exeunt_ HARMAN _Sen._ TOWERSON, BEAMONT,
+                             _and_ VAN HERRING.
+
+  _Enter Captain_ PEREZ.
+
+_Fisc._ Now, captain, when perform you what you promised, concerning
+Towerson's death?
+
+_Per._ Never.--There, Judas, take your hire of blood again.
+                                                [_Throws him a purse._
+
+_Har. Jun._ Your reason for this sudden change?
+
+_Per._ I cannot own the name of man, and do it.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Your head shall answer the neglect of what you were
+commanded.
+
+_Per._ If it must, I cannot shun my destiny.
+
+_Fisc._ Harman, you are too rash; pray hear his reasons first.
+
+_Per._ I have them to myself, I'll give you none.
+
+_Fisc._ None? that's hard; well, you can be secret, captain, for your
+own sake, I hope?
+
+_Per._ That I have sworn already, my oath binds me.
+
+_Fisc._ That's enough: we have now chang'd our minds, and do not wish
+his death,--at least as you shall know.                      [_Aside._
+
+_Per._ I am glad on't, for he's a brave and worthy gentleman; I would
+not for the wealth of both the Indies have had his blood upon my soul
+to answer.
+
+_Fisc._ [_Aside to_ HARMAN.] I shall find a time to take back our
+secret from him, at the price of his life, when he least dreams of it;
+meantime 'tis fit we speak him fair. [_To_ PEREZ.] Captain, a reward
+attends you, greater than you could hope; we only meant to try your
+honesty. I am more than satisfied of your reasons.
+
+_Per._ I still shall labour to deserve your kindness in any honourable
+way.                                                    [_Exit_ PEREZ.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I told you that this Spaniard had not courage enough for
+such an enterprise.
+
+_Fisc._ He rather had too much of honesty.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Oh, you have ruined me; you promised me this day the death
+of Towerson, and now, instead of that, I see him happy! I'll go and
+fight him yet; I swear he never shall enjoy her.
+
+_Fisc._ He shall not, that I swear with you; but you are too rash, the
+business can never be done your way.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I'll trust no other arm but my own with it.
+
+_Fisc._ Yes, mine you shall, I'll help you. This evening, as he goes
+from the castle, we'll find some way to meet him in the dark, and then
+make sure of him for getting maidenheads to-night; to-morrow I'll
+bestow a pill upon my Spanish Don, lest he discover what he knows.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Give me your hand, you'll help me.
+
+_Fisc._ By all my hopes I will: in the mean time, with a feigned mirth
+'tis fit we gild our faces; the truth is, that we may smile in
+earnest, when we look upon the Englishman, and think how we will use
+him.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Agreed; come to the castle.                     [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.--_The Castle._
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ TOWERSON, _and_ ISABINDA, BEAMONT, COLLINS,
+  VAN HERRING. _They seat themselves._
+
+        EPITHALAMIUM.
+
+  _The day is come, I see it rise,
+  Betwixt the bride and bridegroom's eyes;
+  That golden day they wished so long,
+  Love picked it out amidst the throng;
+  He destined to himself this sun,
+  And took the reins, and drove him on;
+  In his own beams he drest him bright,
+  Yet bid him bring a better night._
+
+  _The day you wished arrived at last,
+  You wish as much that it were past;
+  One minute more, and night will hide
+  The bridegroom and the blushing bride.
+  The virgin now to bed does go--
+  Take care, oh youth, she rise not so--
+  She pants and trembles at her doom,
+  And fears and wishes thou wouldst come._
+
+  _The bridegroom comes, he comes apace,
+  With love and fury in his face;
+  She shrinks away, he close pursues,
+  And prayers and threats at once does use.
+  She, softly sighing, begs delay,
+  And with her hand puts his away;
+  Now out aloud for help she cries,
+  And now despairing shuts her eyes._
+
+_Har. Sen._ I like this song, 'twas sprightly; it would restore me
+twenty years of youth, had I but such a bride.
+
+  _A Dance._
+
+  _After the Dance, enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL.
+
+_Beam._ Come, let me have the Sea-Fight; I like that better than a
+thousand of your wanton epithalamiums.
+
+_Har. Jun._ He means that fight, in which he freed me from the
+pirates.
+
+_Tow._ Pr'ythee, friend, oblige me, and call not for that song; 'twill
+breed ill blood.                                        [_To_ BEAMONT.
+
+_Beam._ Pr'ythee be not scrupulous, ye fought it bravely. Young Harman
+is ungrateful, if he does not acknowledge it. I say, sing me the
+Sea-Fight.
+
+        THE SEA-FIGHT.
+
+  _Who ever saw a noble sight,
+  That never viewed a brave sea-fight!
+  Hang up your bloody colours in the air,
+  Up with your fights, and your nettings prepare;
+  Your merry mates cheer, with a lusty bold spright,
+  Now each man his brindice, and then to the fight.
+  St George, St George, we cry,
+  The shouting Turks reply:
+  Oh now it begins, and the gun-room grows hot,
+  Ply it with culverin and with small shot;
+  Hark, does it not thunder? no, 'tis the guns roar,
+  The neighbouring billows are turned into gore;
+  Now each man must resolve, to die,
+  For here the coward cannot fly.
+  Drums and trumpets toll the knell,
+  And culverins the passing bell.
+  Now, now they grapple, and now board amain;
+  Blow up the hatches, they're off all again:
+  Give them a broadside, the dice run at all,
+  Down comes the mast and yard, and tacklings fall;
+  She grows giddy now, like blind Fortune's wheel,
+  She sinks there, she sinks, she turns up her keel.
+  Who ever beheld so noble a sight,
+  As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight!_
+
+_Har. Jun._ See the insolence of these English; they cannot do a brave
+action in an age, but presently they must put it into metre, to
+upbraid us with their benefits.
+
+_Fisc._ Let them laugh, that win at last.
+
+  _Enter Captain_ MIDDLETON, _and a Woman with him, all pale and
+  weakly, and in tattered garments._
+
+_Tow._ Captain Middleton, you are arrived in a good hour, to be
+partaker of my happiness, which is as great this day, as love and
+expectation can make it.             [_Rising up to salute_ MIDDLETON.
+
+_Mid._ And may it long continue so!
+
+_Tow._ But how happens it, that, setting out with us from England, you
+came not sooner hither.
+
+_Mid._ It seems the winds favoured you with a quicker passage; you
+know I lost you in a storm on the other side of the Cape, with which
+disabled, I was forced to put into St Helen's isle; there 'twas my
+fortune to preserve the life of this our countrywoman; the rest let
+her relate.
+
+_Isab._ Alas, she seems half-starved, unfit to make relations.
+
+_Van Her._ How the devil came she off? I know her but too well, and
+fear she knows me too.
+
+_Tow._ Pray, countrywoman, speak.
+
+_Eng Wom._ Then thus in brief; in my dear husband's company, I parted
+from our sweet native isle: we to Lantore were bound, with letters
+from the States of Holland, gained for reparation of great damages
+sustained by us; when, by the insulting Dutch, our countrymen, against
+all show of right, were dispossessed, and naked sent away from that
+rich island, and from Poleroon.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Woman, you speak with too much spleen; I must not hear my
+countrymen affronted.
+
+_Eng. Wom.._ I wish they did not merit much worse of me, than I can
+say of them.--Well, we sailed forward with a merry gale, till near St
+Helen's isle we were overtaken, or rather waylaid, by a Holland
+vessel; the captain of which ship, whom here I see, the man who
+quitted us of all we had in those rich parts before, now fearing to
+restore his ill-got goods, first hailed, and then invited us on board,
+keeping himself concealed; his base lieutenant plied all our English
+mariners with wine, and when in dead of night they lay secure in
+silent sleep, most barbarously commanded they should be thrown
+overboard.
+
+_Fisc._ Sir, do not hear it out.
+
+_Har. Sen._ This is all false and scandalous.
+
+_Tow._ Pray, sir, attend the story.
+
+_Eng. Wom._ The vessel rifled, and the rich hold rummaged, they sink
+it down to rights; but first I should have told you, (grief, alas, has
+spoiled my memory) that my dear husband, wakened at the noise, before
+they reached the cabin where we lay, took me all trembling with the
+sudden fright, and leapt into the boat; we cut the cordage, and so put
+out to sea, driving at mercy of the waves and wind; so scaped we in
+the dark. To sum up all, we got to shore, and in the mountains hid us,
+until the barbarous Hollanders were gone.
+
+_Tow._ Where is your husband, countrywoman?
+
+_Eng. Wom._ Dead with grief; with these two hands I scratched him out
+a grave, on which I placed a cross, and every day wept o'er the ground
+where all my joys lay buried. The manner of my life, who can express!
+the fountain-water was my only drink; the crabbed juice and rhind of
+half-ripe lemons almost my only food, except some roots; my house, the
+widowed cave of some wild beast. In this sad state, I stood upon the
+shore, when this brave captain with his ship approached, whence
+holding up and waving both my hands, I stood, and by my actions begged
+their mercy; yet, when they nearer came, I would have fled, had I been
+able, lest they should have proved those murderous Dutch, I more than
+hunger feared.
+
+_Har. Sen._ What say you to this accusation, Van Herring?
+
+_Van Her._ 'Tis as you said, sir, false and scandalous.
+
+_Har. Sen._ I told you so; all false and scandalous.
+
+_Isab._ On my soul it is not; her heart speaks in her tongue, and were
+she silent, her habit and her face speak for her.
+
+_Beam._ Sir, you have heard the proofs.
+
+_Fisc._ Mere allegations, and no proofs. Seem not to believe it, sir.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Well, well, we'll hear it another time.
+
+_Mid._ You seem not to believe her testimony, but my whole crew can
+witness it.
+
+_Van Her._ Ay, they are all Englishmen.
+
+_Tow._ That's a nation too generous to do bad actions, and too sincere
+to justify them done; I wish their neighbours were of the same temper.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Nay, now you kindle, captain; this must not be, we are
+your friends and servants.
+
+_Mid._ 'Tis well you are by land, at sea you would be masters: there I
+myself have met with some affronts, which, though I wanted power then
+to return, I hailed the captain of the Holland ship, and told him he
+should dearly answer it, if e'er I met him in the narrow seas. His
+answer was, (mark but the insolence) If I should hang thee, Middleton,
+up at thy main yard, and sink thy ship, here's that about my neck
+(pointing to his gold chain) would answer it when I came into Holland.
+
+_Har. Jan._ Yes, this is like the other.
+
+_Tow._ I find we must complain at home; there's no redress to be had
+here.
+
+_Isab._ Come, countrywoman,--I must call you so, since he who owns my
+heart is English born,--be not dejected at your wretched fortune; my
+house is yours, my clothes shall habit you, even these I wear, rather
+than see you thus.
+
+_Har. Sen._ Come, come, no more complaints; let us go in; I have ten
+rummers ready to the bride; as many times shall our guns discharge, to
+speak the general gladness of this day. I'll lead you, lady.
+                                       [_Takes the Bride by the hand._
+
+_Tow._ A heavy omen to my nuptials!
+  My countrymen oppressed by sea and land,
+  And I not able to redress the wrong,
+  So weak are we, our enemies so strong.                    [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+SCENE I.--_A Wood._
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL, _with swords, and disguised in
+  vizards._
+
+_Har. Jun._ We are disguised enough; the evening now grows dusk.--I
+would the deed were done!
+
+  _Enter_ PEREZ _with a Soldier, and overhears them._
+
+_Fisc._ 'Twill now be suddenly, if we have courage in this wild woody
+walk, hot with the feast and plenteous bowls, the bridal company are
+walking to enjoy the cooling breeze; I spoke to Towerson, as I said I
+would, and on some private business of great moment, desired that he
+would leave the company, and meet me single here.
+
+_Har. Jan._ Where if he comes, he never shall return But Towerson
+stays too long for my revenge; I am in haste to kill him.
+
+_Fisc._ He promised me to have been here ere now; if you think
+fitting, I'll go back and bring him.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Do so, I'll wait you in this place.          [_Exit_ Fisc.
+
+_Per._ Was ever villany like this of these unknown assassins?
+Towerson, in vain I saved thy sleeping life if now I let thee lose it,
+when thou wakest; thou lately hast been bountiful to me, and this way
+I'll acknowledge it. Yet to disclose their crimes were dangerous. What
+must I do? This generous Englishman will strait be here, and
+consultation then perhaps will be too late: I am
+resolved.--Lieutenant, you have heard, as well as I, the bloody
+purpose of these men?
+
+_Sold._ I have, and tremble at the mention of it.
+
+_Per._ Dare you adventure on an action, as brave as theirs is base?
+
+_Sold._ Command my life.
+
+_Per._ No more. Help me despatch that murderer, ere his accomplice
+comes: the men I know not; but their design is treacherous and bloody.
+
+_Sold._ And he, they mean to kill, is brave himself, and of a nation I
+much love.
+
+_Per._ Come on then. [_Both draw. To_ HAR.] Villain, thou diest, thy
+conscience tells thee why; I need not urge the crime.
+                                                  [_They assault him._
+
+_Har. Jun._ Murder! I shall be basely murdered; help!
+
+  _Enter_ TOWERSON.
+
+_Tow._ Hold, villains! what unmanly odds is this? Courage, whoe'er
+thou art; I'll succour thee.      [TOWERSON _fights with_ PEREZ, _and_
+                                   HARMAN _with the Lieutenant, and
+                                   drive them off the stage._
+
+_Har. Jun._ Though, brave unknown, night takes thee from my knowledge,
+and I want time to thank thee now, take this, and wear it for my sake;
+[_Gives him a ring._] Hereafter I'll acknowledge it more largely.
+                                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Tow._ That voice I've heard; but cannot call to mind, except it be
+young Harman's. Yet, who should put his life in danger thus? This ring
+I would not take as salary, but as a gage of his free heart who left
+it; and, when I know him, I'll restore the pledge. Sure 'twas not far
+from hence I made the appointment: I know not what this Dutchman's
+business is, yet, I believe, 'twas somewhat from my rival. It shall go
+hard, but I will find him out, and then rejoin the company.   [_Exit._
+
+  _Re-enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL.
+
+_Fisc._ The accident was wondrous strange: Did you neither know your
+assassinates, nor your deliverer?
+
+_Har. Jun._ 'Twas all a hurry; yet, upon better recollecting of
+myself, the man, who freed me, must be Towerson.
+
+_Fisc._ Hark, I hear the company walking this way; will you withdraw?
+
+_Har. Jun._ Withdraw, and Isabinda coming!
+
+_Fisc._ The wood is full of murderers; every tree, methinks, hides one
+behind it.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You have two qualities, my friend, that sort but ill
+together; as mischievous as hell could wish you, but fearful in the
+execution.
+
+_Fisc._ There is a thing within me, called a conscience which is not
+quite o'ercome; now and then it rebels a little, especially when I am
+alone, or in the dark.
+
+_Har. Jun._ The moon begins to rise, and glitters through the trees.
+
+_Isab._ [_Within._] Pray let us walk this way; that farther lawn,
+between the groves, is the most green and pleasant of any in this
+isle.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I hear my siren's voice, I cannot stir from hence.--Dear
+friend, if thou wilt e'er oblige me, divert the company a little, and
+give me opportunity a while to talk alone with her.
+
+_Fisc._ You'll get nothing of her, except it be by force.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You know not with what eloquence love may inspire my
+tongue: The guiltiest wretch, when ready for his sentence, has
+something still to say.
+
+_Fisc._ Well, they come; I'll put you in a way, and wish you good
+success; but do you hear? remember you are a man, and she a woman; a
+little force, it may be, would do well.
+
+  _Enter_ ISABINDA, BEAMONT, MIDDLETON, COLLINS, HARMAN _Senior; and_
+  JULIA.
+
+_Isab._ Who saw the bridegroom last?
+
+_Har. Sen._ He refused to pledge the last rummer; so I am out of
+charity with him.
+
+_Beam._ Come, shall we backward to the castle? I'll take care of you,
+lady.
+
+_Jul_ Oh, you have drunk so much, you are past all care.
+
+_Col._ But where can be this jolly bridegroom? Answer me that; I will
+have the bride satisfied.
+
+_Fisc._ He walked alone this way; we met him lately.
+
+_Isab._ I beseech you, sir, conduct us.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I'll bring you to him, madam.
+
+_Fisc._ [_To_ HAR. _Jun._] Remember, now's your time; if you o'erslip
+this minute, fortune perhaps will never send another.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I am resolved.
+
+_Fisc._ Come, gentlemen, I'll tell you such a pleasant accident,
+you'll think the evening short.
+
+_Jul._ I love a story, and a walk by moonshine.
+
+_Fisc._ Lend me your hand then, madam.   [_Takes her by the one hand._
+
+_Beam._ But one, I beseech you then; I must not quit her so.
+                               [_Takes her by the other hand. Exeunt._
+
+  _Re-enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ ISABINDA.
+
+_Isab._ Come, sir, which is the way? I long to see my love.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You may have your wish, and without stirring hence.
+
+_Isab._ My love so near? Sure you delight to mock me!
+
+_Har. Jun._ 'Tis you delight to torture me; behold the man who loves
+you more than his own eyes; more than the joys of earth, or hopes of
+heaven.
+
+_Isab._ When you renewed your friendship with my Towerson, I thought
+these vain desires were dead within you.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Smothered they were, not dead; your eyes can kindle no
+such petty fires, as only blaze a while, and strait go out.
+
+_Isab._ You know, when I had far less ties upon me, I would not hear
+you; therefore wonder not if I withdraw, and find the company.
+
+_Har. Jun._ That would be too much cruelty, to make me wretched, and
+then leave me so.
+
+_Isab._ Am I in fault if you are miserable? so you may call the rich
+man's wealth, the cause and object of the robber's guilt. Pray do not
+persecute me farther: You know I have a husband now, and would be loth
+to afflict his knowledge with your second folly.
+
+_Har. Jun._ What wondrous care you take to make him happy! yet I
+approve your method. Ignorance! oh, 'tis a jewel to a husband; that
+is, 'tis peace in him, 'tis virtue in his wife, 'tis honour in the
+world; he has all this, while he is ignorant.
+
+_Isab._ You pervert my meaning: I would not keep my actions from his
+knowledge; your bold attempts I would: But yet henceforth conceal your
+impious flames; I shall not ever be thus indulgent to your shame, to
+keep it from his notice.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You are a woman; have enough of love for him and me; I
+know the plenteous harvest all is his: He has so much of joy, that he
+must labour under it. In charity, you may allow some gleanings to a
+friend.
+
+_Isab._ Now you grow rude: I'll hear no more.
+
+_Har. Jun._ You must.
+
+_Imb._ Leave me.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I cannot.
+
+_Isab._ I find I must be troubled with this idle talk some minutes
+more, but 'tis your last.
+
+_Har. Jun._ And therefore I'll improve it: Pray, resolve to make me
+happy by your free consent. I do not love these half enjoyments, to
+enervate my delights with using force, and neither give myself nor you
+that full content, which two can never have, but where both join with
+equal eagerness to bless each other.
+
+_Isab._ Bless me, ye kind inhabitants of heaven, from hearing words
+like these!
+
+_Har. Jun._ You must do more than hear them. You know you were now
+going to your bridal-bed. Call your own thoughts but to a strict
+account, they'll tell you, all this day your fancy ran on nothing
+else; 'tis but the same scene still you were to act; only the person
+changed,--it may be for the better.
+
+_Isab._ You dare not, sure, attempt this villany.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Call not the act of love by that gross name; you'll give
+it a much better when 'tis done, and woo me to a second.
+
+_Isab._ Dost thou not fear a heaven?
+
+_Har. Jun._ No, I hope one in you. Do it, and do it heartily; time is
+precious; it will prepare you better for your husband. Come--
+                                                  [_Lays hold on her._
+
+_Isab._ O mercy, mercy! Oh, pity your own soul, and pity mine; think
+how you'll wish undone this horrid act, when your hot lust is slaked;
+think what will follow when my husband knows it, if shame will let me
+live to tell it him; and tremble at a Power above, who sees, and
+surely will revenge it.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I have thought!
+
+_Isab._ Then I am sure you're penitent.
+
+_Har. Jun._ No, I only gave you scope, to let you see, all you have
+urged I knew: You find 'tis to no purpose either to talk or strive.
+
+_Isab._ [_Running._] Some succour! help, oh help!
+                                               [_She breaks from him._
+
+_Har. Jun._ [_Running after her._] That too is vain, you cannot 'scape
+me.                                                           [_Exit._
+
+_Har. Jun._ [_Within._] Now you are mine; yield, or by force I'll take
+it.
+
+_Isab._ [_Within._] Oh, kill me first!
+
+_Har. Jun._ [_Within._] I'll bear you where your cries shall not be
+heard.
+
+_Isab._ [_As further off._] Succour, sweet heaven! oh succour me!
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ FISCAL, VAN HERRING, BEAMONT, COLLINS,
+  _and_ JULIA.
+
+_Beam._ You have led us here a fairy's round in the moonshine, to seek
+a bridegroom in a wood, till we have lost the bride.
+
+_Col._ I wonder what's become of her?
+
+_Har. Sen._ Got together, got together, I warrant you, before this
+time; you Englishmen are so hot, you cannot stay for ceremonies. A
+good honest Dutchman would have been plying the glass all this while,
+and drunk to the hopes of Hans in Kelder till 'twas bed-time.
+
+_Beam._ Yes, and then have rolled into the sheets, and turned o' the
+t'other side to snore, without so much as a parting blow; till about
+midnight he would have wakened in a maze, and found first he was
+married by putting forth a foot, and feeling a woman by him; and, it
+may be, then, instead of kissing, desired yough Fro to hold his head.
+
+_Col._ And by that night's work have given her a proof, what she might
+expect for ever after.
+
+_Beam._ In my conscience, you Hollanders never get your children, but
+in the spirit of brandy; you are exalted then a little above your
+natural phlegm, and only that, which can make you fight, and destroy
+men, makes you get them.
+
+_Fisc._ You may live to know, that we can kill men when we are sober.
+
+_Beam._ Then they must be drunk, and not able to defend themselves.
+
+_Jul._ Pray leave this talk, and let us try if we can surprise the
+lovers under some convenient tree: Shall we separate, and look them?
+
+_Beam._ Let you and I go together then, and if we cannot find them, we
+shall do as good, for we shall find one another.
+
+_Fisc._ Pray take that path, or that; I will pursue this.
+                                         [_Exeunt all but the_ FISCAL.
+
+_Fisc._ So, now I have diverted them from Harman, I'll look for him
+myself, and see how he speeds in his adventure.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Junior._
+
+_Har. Jun._ Who goes there?
+
+_Fisc._ A friend: I was just in quest of you, so are all the company:
+Where have you left the bride?
+
+_Har. Jun._ Tied to a tree and gagged, and--
+
+_Fisc._ And what? Why do you stare and tremble? Answer me like a man.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Oh, I have nothing left of manhood in me! I am turned
+beast or devil. Have I not horns, and tail, and leathern wings?
+Methinks I should have by my actions. Oh, I have done a deed so ill, I
+cannot name it.
+
+_Fisc._ Not name it, and yet do it? That's a fool's modesty: Come,
+I'll name it for you: You have enjoyed your mistress.
+
+_Har. Jun._ How easily so great a villany comes from thy mouth! I have
+done worse, I have ravished her.
+
+_Fisc._ That's no harm, so you have killed her afterwards.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Killed her! why thou art a worse fiend than I.
+
+_Fisc._ Those fits of conscience in another might be excusable; but in
+you, a Dutchman, who are of a race that are born rebels, and live
+every where on rapine,--would you degenerate, and have remorse? Pray,
+what makes any thing a sin but law? and, what law is there here
+against it? Is not your father chief? Will he condemn you for a petty
+rape? the woman an Amboyner, and, what's less, now married to an
+Englishman! Come, if there be a hell, 'tis but for those that sin in
+Europe, not for us in Asia; heathens have no hell. Tell me, how was't?
+Pr'ythee, the history.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I forced her. What resistance she could make she did, but
+'twas in vain; I bound her, as I told you, to a tree.
+
+_Fisc._ And she exclaimed, I warrant--
+
+_Har. Jun._ Yes; and called heaven and earth to witness.
+
+_Fisc._ Not after it was done?
+
+_Har. Jun._ More than before--desired me to have killed her. Even when
+I had not left her power to speak, she curst me with her eyes.
+
+_Fisc._ Nay, then, you did not please her; if you had, she ne'er had
+cursed you heartily. But we lose time: Since you have done this
+action, 'tis necessary you proceed; we must have no tales told.
+
+_Har. Jun._ What do you mean?
+
+_Fisc._ To dispatch her immediately; could you be so senseless to
+ravish her, and let her live? What if her husband should have found
+her? What if any other English? Come, there's no dallying; it must be
+done: My other plot is ripe, which shall destroy them all to-morrow.
+
+_Har. Jun._ I love her still to madness, and never can consent to have
+her killed. We'll thence remove her, if you please, and keep her safe
+till your intended plot shall take effect; and when her husband's
+gone, I'll win her love by every circumstance of kindness.
+
+_Fisc._ You may do so; but t'other is the safer way: But I'll not
+stand with you for one life. I could have wished that Towerson had
+been killed before I had proceeded to my plot; but since it cannot be,
+we must go on; conduct me where you left her.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Oh, that I could forget both act and place!     [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+  SCENE _drawn, discovers_ ISABINDA _bound.
+
+  Enter_ TOWERSON.
+
+_Tow._ Sure I mistook the place; I'll wait no longer:
+Something within me does forebode me ill;
+I stumbled when I entered first this wood;
+My nostrils bled three drops; then stopped the blood,
+And not one more would follow.--
+What's that, which seems to bear a mortal shape,          [_Sees_ ISA.
+Yet neither stirs nor speaks? or, is it some
+Illusion of the night? some spectre, such
+As in these Asian parts more frequently appear?
+Whate'er it be, I'll venture to approach it.             [_Goes near._
+My Isabinda bound and gagged! Ye powers,
+I tremble while I free her, and scarce dare
+Restore her liberty of speech, for fear
+Of knowing more.                       [_Unbinds her, and ungags her._
+
+_Isab._ No longer bridegroom thou, nor I a bride;
+Those names are vanished; love is now no more;
+Look on me as thou would'st on some foul leper;
+And do not touch me; I am all polluted,
+All shame, all o'er dishonour; fly my sight,
+And, for my sake, fly this detested isle,
+Where horrid ills so black and fatal dwell,
+As Indians could not guess, till Europe taught.
+
+_Tow._ Speak plainer, I am recollected now:
+I know I am a man, the sport of fate;
+Yet, oh my better half, had heaven so pleased,
+I had been more content, to suffer in myself than thee!
+
+_Isab._ What shall I say! That monster of a man,
+Harman,--now I have named him, think the rest,--
+Alone, and singled like a timorous hind
+From the full herd, by flattery drew me first,
+Then forced me to an act, so base and brutal!
+Heaven knows my innocence: But, why do I
+Call that to witness!
+Heaven saw, stood silent: Not one flash of lightning
+Shot from the conscious firmament, to shew its justice:
+Oh had it struck us both, it had saved me!
+
+_Tow._ Heaven suffered more in that, than you, or I,
+Wherefore have I been faithful to my trust,
+True to my love, and tender to the opprest?
+Am I condemned to be the second man,
+Who e'er complained he virtue served in vain?
+But dry your tears, these sufferings all are mine.
+Your breast is white, and cold as falling snow;
+You, still as fragrant as your eastern groves;
+And your whole frame as innocent, and holy,
+As if your being were all soul and spirit,
+Without the gross allay of flesh and blood.
+Come to my arms again!
+
+_Isab._ O never, never!
+I am not worthy now; my soul indeed
+Is free from sin; but the foul speckled stains
+Are from my body ne'er to be washed out,
+But in my death. Kill me, my love, or I
+Must kill myself; else you may think I was
+A black adultress in my mind, and some
+Of me consented.
+
+_Tow._ Your wish to die, shews you deserve to live.
+I have proclaimed you guiltless to myself.
+Self-homicide, which was, in heathens, honour,
+In us, is only sin.
+
+_Isab._ I thought the Eternal Mind
+Had made us masters of these mortal frames;
+You told me, he had given us wills to chuse,
+And reason to direct us in our choice;
+If so, why should he tie us up from dying,
+When death's the greater good?
+
+_Tow._ Can death, which is our greatest enemy, be good?
+Death is the dissolution of our nature;
+And nature therefore does abhor it most,
+Whose greatest law is--to preserve our beings.
+
+_Isab._ I grant, it is its great and general law:
+But as kings, who are, or should be, above laws,
+Dispense with them when levelled at themselves;
+Even so may man, without offence to heaven,
+Dispense with what concerns himself alone.
+Nor is death in itself an ill;
+Then holy martyrs sinned, who ran uncalled
+To snatch their martyrdom; and blessed virgins,
+Whom you celebrate for voluntary death,
+To free themselves from that which I have suffered.
+
+_Tow._ They did it, to prevent what might ensue;
+Your shame's already past.
+
+_Isab._ It may return,
+If I am yet so mean to live a little longer.
+
+_Tow._ You know not; heaven may give you succour yet;
+You see it sends me to you.
+
+_Isab._ 'Tis too late,
+You should have come before.
+
+_Tow._ You may live to see yourself revenged.
+Come, you shall stay for that, then I'll die with you,
+You have convinced my reason, nor am I
+Ashamed to learn from you.
+To heaven's tribunal my appeal I make;
+If as a governor he sets me here,
+To guard this weak-built citadel of life,
+When 'tis no longer to be held, I may
+With honour quit the fort. But first I'll both
+Revenge myself and you.
+
+_Isab._ Alas! you cannot take revenge; your countrymen
+Are few, and those unarmed.
+
+_Tow._ Though not on all the nation, as I would,
+Yet I at least can take it on the man.
+
+_Isab._ Leave me to heaven's revenge, for thither I
+Will go, and plead, myself, my own just cause.
+There's not an injured saint of all my sex,
+But kindly will conduct me to my judge,
+And help me tell my story.
+
+_Tow._ I'll send the offender first, though to that place
+He never can arrive: Ten thousand devils,
+Damned for less crimes than he,
+And Tarquin in their head, way-lay his soul,
+To pull him down in triumph, and to shew him
+In pomp among his countrymen; for sure
+Hell has its Netherlands, and its lowest country
+Must be their lot.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL.
+
+_Har. Jun._ 'Twas hereabout I left her tied. The rage of love renews
+again within me.
+
+_Fisc._ She'll like the effects on't better now. By this time it has
+sunk into her imagination, and given her a more pleasing idea of the
+man, who offered her so sweet a violence.
+
+_Isab._ Save me, sweet heaven! the monster comes again!
+
+_Har. Jun._ Oh, here she is.--My own fair bride,--for so you are, not
+Towerson's,--let me unbind you; I expect that you should bind yourself
+about me now, and tie me in your arms.
+
+_Tow._ [_Drawing._]
+No, villain, no! hot satyr of the woods,
+Expect another entertainment now.
+Behold revenge for injured chastity.
+This sword heaven draws against thee,
+And here has placed me like a fiery cherub,
+To guard this paradise from any second violation.
+
+_Fisc._ We must dispatch him, sir, we have the odds; And when he's
+killed, leave me t'invent the excuse.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Hold a little: As you shunned fighting formerly with me,
+so would I now with you. The mischiefs I have done are past recal.
+Yield then your useless right in her I love, since the possession is
+no longer yours; so is your honour safe, and so is hers, the husband
+only altered.
+
+_Tow._ You trifle; there's no room for treaty here:
+The shame's too open, and the wrong too great.
+Now all the saints in heaven look down to see
+The justice I shall do, for 'tis their cause;
+And all the fiends below prepare thy tortures.
+
+_Isab._ If Towerson would, think'st thou my soul so poor,
+To own thy sin, and make the base act mine,
+By chusing him who did it? Know, bad man,
+I'll die with him, but never live with thee.
+
+_Tow._ Prepare; I shall suspect you stay for further help,
+And think not this enough.
+
+_Fisc._ We are ready for you.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Stand back! I'll fight with him alone.
+
+_Fisc._ Thank you for that; so, if he kills you, I shall have him
+single upon me.                                    [_All three fight._
+
+_Isab._ Heaven assist my love!
+
+_Har. Jun._ There, Englishman, 'twas meant well to thy heart.
+                                                  [TOWERSON _wounded._
+
+_Fisc._ Oh you can bleed, I see, for all your cause.
+
+_Tow._ Wounds but awaken English courage.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Yet yield me Isabinda, and be safe.
+
+_Tow._ I'll fight myself all scarlet over first;
+Were there no love, or no revenge,
+I could not now desist, in point of honour.
+
+_Har. Jun._ Resolve me first one question:
+Did you not draw your sword this night before,
+To rescue one opprest with odds?
+
+_Tow._ Yes, in this very wood: I bear a ring,
+The badge of gratitude from him I saved.
+
+_Har. Jun._ This ring was mine; I should be loth to kill
+The frank redeemer of my life.
+
+_Tow._ I quit that obligation. But we lose time.
+Come, ravisher!     [_They fight again,_ TOW. _closes with_ HARM, _and
+                     gets him down; as he is going to kill him, the_
+                     FISC. _gets over him._
+
+_Fisc._ Hold, and let him rise; for if you kill him,
+At the same instant you die too.
+
+_Tow._ Dog, do thy worst, for I would so be killed;
+I'll carry his soul captive with me into the other world.
+                                                      [_Stabs_ HARMAN.
+
+_Har. Jun._ O mercy, mercy, heaven!                           [_Dies._
+
+_Fisc._ Take this, then; in return.
+               [_As he is going to stab him,_ ISAB. _takes hold of his
+                hand._
+
+_Isab._ Hold, hold; the weak may give some help.
+
+_Tow._ [_Rising._] Now, sir, I am for you.
+
+_Fisc._ [_Retiring._]
+Hold, sir, there is no more resistance made.
+I beg you, by the honour of your nation,
+Do not pursue my life; I tender you my sword.
+                               [_Holds his sword by the point to him._
+
+_Tow._ Base beyond example of any country, but thy own!
+
+_Isab._ Kill him, sweet love, or we shall both repent it.
+
+_Fisc._ [_Kneeling to her._] Divinest beauty! Abstract of all that's
+excellent in woman, can you be friend to murder?
+
+_Isab._ 'Tis none to kill a villain, and a Dutchman.
+
+_Fisc._ [_Kneeling to_ TOWERSON.] Noble Englishman, give me my life,
+unworthy of your taking! By all that is good and holy here I swear,
+before the governor to plead your cause; and to declare his son's
+detested crime, so to secure your lives.
+
+_Tow._ Rise, take thy life, though I can scarce believe thee;
+If for a coward it be possible, become an honest man.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN _Senior,_ VAN HERRING, BEAMONT, COLLINS, JULIA, _the
+  Governors Guard._
+
+_Fisc._ [_To_ HAR.]
+Oh, sir, you come in time to rescue me;
+The greatest villain, who this day draws breath,
+Stands here before your eyes: behold your son,
+That worthy, sweet, unfortunate young man,
+Lies there, the last cold breath yet hovering
+Betwixt his trembling lips.
+
+_Tow._ Oh, monster of ingratitude!
+
+_Har._ Oh, my unfortunate old age, whose prop
+And only staff is gone, dead ere I die!
+These should have been his tears, and I have been
+That body to be mourned.
+
+_Beam._ I am so much amazed, I scarce believe my senses.
+
+_Fisc._ And will you let him live, who did this act?
+Shall murder, and of your own son,
+And such a son, go free; He lives too long,
+By this one minute which he stays behind him.
+
+_Isab._ Oh, sir, remember, in that place you hold,
+You are a common father to us all;
+We beg but justice of you; hearken first
+To my lamented story.
+
+_Fisc._ First hear me, sir.
+
+_Tow._ Thee, slave! thou livest but by the breath I gave thee.
+Didst thou but now plead on thy knees for life,
+And offer'dst to make known my innocence
+In Harman's injuries?
+
+_Fisc._ I offered to have cleared thy innocence,
+Who basely murdered him!--But words are needless;
+Sir, you see evidence before your eyes,
+And I the witness, on my oath to heaven,
+How clear your son, how criminal this man.
+
+_Col._ Towerson could do nothing but what was noble.
+
+_Beam._ We know his native worth.
+
+_Fisc._ His worth! Behold it on the murderer's hand;
+A robber first, he took degrees in mischief,
+And grew to what he is: Know you that diamond,
+And whose it was? See if he dares deny it.
+
+_Tow._ Sir, it was your son's, that freely I acknowledge;
+But how I came by it--
+
+_Har._ No, it is too much, I'll hear no more.
+
+_Fisc._ The devil of jealousy, and that of avarice, both, I believe,
+possest him; or your son was innocently talking with his wife, and he
+perhaps had found them; this I guess, but saw it not, because I came
+too late. I only viewed the sweet youth just expiring, and Towerson
+stooping down to take the ring; she kneeling by to help him: when he
+saw me, he would, you may be sure, have sent me after, because I was a
+witness of the fact. This on my soul is true.
+
+_Tow._ False as that soul, each word, each syllable;
+The ring he put upon my hand this night,
+When in this wood unknown, and near this place,
+Without my timely help he had been slain.
+
+_Fisc._ See this unlikely story!
+What enemies had he, who should assault him?
+Or is it probable that very man,
+Who actually did kill him afterwards,
+Should save his life so little time before?
+
+_Isab._ Base man, thou knowest the reason of his death;
+He had committed on my person, sir,
+An impious rape; first tied me to that tree,
+And there my husband found me, whose revenge
+Was such, as heaven and earth will justify.
+
+_Har._ I know not what heaven will, but earth shall not.
+
+_Beam._ Her story carries such a face of truth,
+Ye cannot but believe it.
+
+_Col._ The other, a malicious ill-patched lie.
+
+_Fisc._ Yes, you are proper judges of his crime,
+Who, with the rest of your accomplices,
+Your countrymen, and Towerson the chief,
+Whom we too kindly used, would have surprised
+The fort, and made us slaves; that shall be proved,
+More soon than you imagine; I found it out
+This evening.
+
+_Tow._ Sure the devil has lent thee all his stock of falsehood, and
+must be forced hereafter to tell truth.
+
+_Beam._ Sir, it is impossible you should believe it.
+
+_Har._ Seize them all.
+
+_Col._ You cannot be so base.
+
+_Har._ I'll be so just, 'till I can hear your plea
+Against this plot; which if not proved, and fully,
+You are quit; mean time, resistance is but vain.
+
+_Tow._ Provided that we may have equal hearing,
+I am content to yield, though I declare,
+You have no power to judge us.                     [_Gives his sword._
+
+_Beam._ Barbarous, ungrateful Dutch!
+
+_Har._ See them conveyed apart to several prisons,
+Lest they combine to forge some specious lie
+In their excuse.
+Let Towerson and that woman too be parted.
+
+_Isab._ Was ever such a sad divorce made on a bridal night!
+But we before were parted, ne'er to meet.
+Farewell, farewell, my last and only love!
+
+_Tow._ Curse on my fond credulity, to think
+There could be faith or honour in the Dutch!--
+Farewell my Isabinda, and farewell,
+My much wronged countrymen! remember yet,
+That no unmanly weakness in your sufferings
+Disgrace the native honour of our isle:
+  For you I mourn, grief for myself were vain;
+  I have lost all, and now would lose my pain.              [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+SCENE I.--_A Table set out._
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN, FISCAL, VAN HERRING, _and two Dutchmen: They sit.
+  Boy, and Waiters, Guards._
+
+_Har._ My sorrow cannot be so soon digested for losing of a son I
+loved so well; but I consider great advantages must with some loss be
+bought; as this rich trade which I this day have purchased with his
+death: yet let me lie revenged, and I shall still live on, and eat and
+drink down all my griefs. Now to the matter, Fiscal.
+
+_Fisc._ Since we may freely speak among ourselves, all I have said of
+Towerson was most false. You were consenting, sir, as well as I, that
+Perez should be hired to murder him, which he refusing when he was
+engaged, 'tis dangerous to let him longer live.
+
+_Van. Her._ Dispatch him; he will be a shrewd witness against us, if
+he returns to Europe.
+
+_Fisc._ I have thought better, if you please,--to kill him by form of
+law, as accessary to the English plot, which I have long been forging.
+
+_Har._ Send one to seize him strait. [_Exit a Messenger._] But what
+you said, that Towerson was guiltless of my son's death, I easily
+believe, and never thought otherwise, though I dissembled.
+
+_Van Her._ Nor I; but it was well done to feign that story.
+
+_1 Dutch._ The true one was too foul.
+
+_2 Dutch._ And afterwards to draw the English off from his
+concernment, to their own, I think 'twas rarely managed that.
+
+_Har._ So far, 'twas well; now to proceed, for I would gladly know,
+whether the grounds are plausible enough of this pretended plot.
+
+_Fisc._ With favour of this honourable court, give me but leave to
+smooth the way before you. Some two or three nights since, (it matters
+not,) a Japan soldier, under captain Perez, came to a centinel upon
+the guard, and in familiar talk did question him about this castle, of
+its strength, and how he thought it might be taken; this discourse the
+other told me early the next morning: I thereupon did issue private
+orders, to rack the Japanese, myself being present.
+
+_Har._ But what's this to the English?
+
+_Fisc._ You shall hear: I asked him, when his pains were strongest on
+him, if Towerson, or the English factory, had never hired him to
+betray the fort? he answered, (as it was true) they never had; nor was
+his meaning more in that discourse, than as a soldier to inform
+himself, and so to pass the time.
+
+_Van Her._ Did he confess no more?
+
+_Fisc._ You interrupt me. I told him, I was certainly informed the
+English had designs upon the castle, and if he frankly would confess
+their plot, he should not only be released from torment, but
+bounteously rewarded: Present pain and future hope, in fine, so
+wrought upon him, he yielded to subscribe whatever I pleased; and so
+he stands committed.
+
+_Har._ Well contrived; a fair way made, upon this accusation, to put
+them all to torture.
+
+_2 Dutch._ By his confession, all of them shall die, even to their
+general, Towerson.
+
+_Har._ He stands convicted of another crime, for which he is to
+suffer.
+
+_Fisc._ This does well to help it though: For Towerson is here a
+person publicly employed from England, and if he should appeal, as
+sure he will, you have no power to judge him in Amboyna.
+
+_Van Her._ But in regard of the late league and union betwixt the
+nations, how can this be answered?
+
+_1 Dutch._ To torture subjects to so great a king, a pain never heard
+of in their happy land, will sound but ill in Europe.
+
+_Fisc._ Their English laws in England have their force; and we have
+ours, different from theirs at home. It is enough, they either shall
+confess, or we will falsify their hands to make them. Then, for the
+apology, let me alone; I have it writ already to a title, of what they
+shall subscribe; this I will publish, and make our most unheard of
+cruelties to seem most just and legal.
+
+_Har._ Then, in the name of him, who put it first into thy head to
+form this damned false plot, proceed we to the execution of it. And to
+begin; first seize we their effects, rifle their chests, their boxes,
+writings, books, and take of them a seeming inventory; but all to our
+own use.--I shall grow young with thought of this, and lose my son's
+remembrance!
+
+_Fisc._ Will you not please to call the prisoners in? At least inquire
+what torments have extorted.
+
+_Har._ Go thou and bring us word. [_Exit_ FISCAL.] Boy, give me some
+tobacco, and a stoup of wine, boy.
+
+_Boy._ I shall, sir.
+
+_Har._ And a tub to leak in, boy; when was this table without a
+leaking vessel?
+
+_Van Her._ That's an omission.
+
+_1 Dutch._ A great omission. 'Tis a member of the table, I take it so.
+
+_Har._ Never any thing of moment was done at our council-table without
+a leaking tub, at least in my time; great affairs require great
+consultations, great consultations require great drinking, and great
+drinking a great leaking vessel.
+
+_Van Her._ I am even drunk with joy already, to see our godly business
+in this forwardness.
+
+  _Enter_ FISCAL.
+
+_Har._ Where are the prisoners?
+
+_Fisc._ At the door.
+
+_Har._ Bring them in; I'll try if we can face them down by impudence,
+and make them to confess.
+
+  _Enter_ BEAMONT _and_ COLLINS, _guarded._
+
+You are not ignorant of our business with you: the cries of your
+accomplices have already reached your ears; and your own consciences,
+above a thousand summons, a thousand tortures, instruct you what to
+do. No farther juggling, nothing but plain sincerity and truth to be
+delivered now; a free confession will first atone for all your sins
+above, and may do much below to gain your pardons. Let me exhort you,
+therefore, be you merciful, first to yourselves and make
+acknowledgment of your conspiracy.
+
+_Beam._ What conspiracy?
+
+_Fisc._ Why la you, that the devil should go masked with such a
+seeming honest face! I warrant you know of no such thing.
+
+_Har._ Were not you, Mr Beamont, and you, Collins both accessary to
+the horrid plot, for the surprisal of this fort and island?
+
+_Beam._ As I shall reconcile my sins to heaven, in my last article of
+life, I am innocent.
+
+_Col._ And so am I.
+
+_Har._ So, you are first upon the negative.
+
+_Beam._ And will be so till death.
+
+_Col._ What plot is this you speak of?
+
+_Fisc._ Here are impudent rogues! now after confession of two
+Japanese, these English starts dare ask what plot it is!
+
+_Har._ Not to inform your knowledge, but that law may have its course
+in every circumstance, Fiscal, sum up their accusation to them.
+
+_Fisc._ You stand accused, that new-year's day last past, there met at
+captain Towerson's house, you present, and many others of your
+factory: There, against law and justice, and all ties of friendship,
+and of partnership betwixt us, you did conspire to seize upon the
+fort, to murder this our worthy governor; and, by the help of your
+plantations near, of Jacatra, Banda, and Loho, to keep it for
+yourselves.
+
+_Beam._ What proofs have you of this?
+
+_Fisc._ The confession of two Japanese, hired by you to attempt it.
+
+_Beam._ I hear they have been forced by torture to it.
+
+_Har._ It matters not which way the truth comes out; take heed, for
+their example is before you.
+
+_Beam._ Ye have no right, ye dare not torture us; we owe you no
+subjection.
+
+_Fisc._ That, sir, must be disputed at the Hague; in the mean time we
+are in possession here.
+
+_2 Dutch._ And we can make ourselves to be obeyed.
+
+_Van Her._ In few words, gentlemen, confess. There is a beverage ready
+for you else, which you will not like to swallow.
+
+_Col._ How is this?
+
+_Har._ You shall be muffled up like ladies, with an oiled cloth put
+underneath your chins, then water poured above; which either you must
+drink, or must not breathe.
+
+_1 Dutch._ That is one way, we have others.
+
+_Har._ Yes, we have two elements at your service, fire, as well as
+water; certain things called matches to be tied to your finger-ends,
+which are as sovereign as nutmegs to quicken your short memories.
+
+_Beam._ You are inhuman, to make your cruelty your pastime: nature
+made me a man, and not a whale, to swallow down a flood.
+
+_Har._ You will grow a corpulent gentleman like me; I shall love you
+the better for it; now you are but a spare rib.
+
+_Fisc._ These things are only offered to your choice; you may avoid
+your tortures, and confess.
+
+_Col._ Kill us first; for that we know is your design at last, and
+'tis more mercy now.
+
+_Beam._ Be kind, and execute us while we bear the shapes of men, ere
+fire and water have destroyed our figures; let me go whole out of the
+world, I care not, and find my body when I rise again, so as I need
+not be ashamed of it.
+
+_Har._ 'Tis well you are merry; will you yet confess?
+
+_Beam._ Never.
+
+_Har._ Bear them away to torture.
+
+_Van. Her._ We will try your constancy.
+
+_Beam._ We will shame your cruelty; if we deserve our tortures, 'tis
+first for freeing such an infamous nation, that ought to have been
+slaves, and then for trusting them as partners, who had cast off the
+yoke of their lawful sovereign.
+
+_Har._ Away, I'll hear no more.--Now who comes the next?
+                                   [_Exeunt the English with a Guard._
+
+_Fisc._ Towerson's page, a ship-boy, and a woman.
+
+_Har._ Call them in.                              [_Exit a Messenger._
+
+_Van Her._ We shall have easy work with them.
+
+_Fisc._ Not so easy as you imagine, they have endured the beverage
+already; all masters of their pain, no one confessing.
+
+_Har._ The devil's in these English! those brave boys would prove
+stout topers if they lived.
+
+  _Enter Page, a Boy, and a Woman, led as from torture._
+
+Come hither, ye perverse imps; they say you have endured the water
+torment, we will try what fire will do with you: You, sirrah, confess;
+were not you knowing of Towerson's plot, against this fort and island?
+
+_Page._ I have told your hangman no, twelve times within this hour,
+when I was at the last gasp; and that is a time, I think, when a man
+should not dissemble.
+
+_Har._ A man! mark you that now; you English boys have learnt a trick
+of late, of growing men betimes; and doing men's work, too, before you
+come to twenty.
+
+_Van Her._ Sirrah, I will try if you are a salamander and can live in
+the fire.
+
+_Page._ Sure you think my father got me of some Dutchwoman, and that I
+am but of a half-strain courage; but you shall find that I am all over
+English as well in fire as water.
+
+_Boy._ Well, of all religions, I do not like your Dutch.
+
+_Fisc._ No? and why, young stripling?
+
+_Boy._ Because your penance comes before confession.
+
+_Har._ Do you mock us, sirrah? To the fire with him.
+
+_Boy._ Do so; all you shall get by it is this; before I answered no;
+now I'll be sullen and will talk no more.
+
+_Har._ Best cutting off these little rogues betime; if they grow men,
+they will have the spirit of revenge in them.
+
+_Page._ Yes, as your children have that of rebellion. Oh that I could
+but live to be governor here, to make your fat guts pledge me in that
+beverage I drunk, you Sir John Falstaff of Amsterdam!
+
+_Boy._ I have a little brother in England, that I intend to appear to
+when you have killed me; and if he does not promise me the death of
+ten Dutchmen in the next war, I'll haunt him instead of you.
+
+_Har._ What say you, woman? Have compassion of yourself, and confess;
+you are of a softer sex.
+
+_Wom._ But of a courage full as manly; there is no sex in souls; would
+you have English wives shew less of bravery than their children do? To
+lie by an Englishman's side, is enough to give a woman resolution.
+
+_Fisc._ Here is a hen of the game too, but we shall tame you in the
+fire.
+
+_Wom._ My innocence shall there be tried like gold, till it come out
+the purer. When you have burnt me all into one wound, cram gunpowder
+into it, and blow me up, I'll not confess one word to shame my
+country.
+
+_Har._ I think we have got here the mother of the Maccabees; away with
+them all three. [_Exeunt the English guarded._] I'll take the pains
+myself to see these tortured.
+                           [_Exeunt_ HARMAN, VAN HERRING, _and the two
+                            Dutchmen with the English: Manet_ FISCAL.
+
+  _Enter_ JULIA _to the_ FISCAL.
+
+_Jul._ Oh you have ruined me! you have undone me, in the person of my
+husband!
+
+_Fisc._ If he will needs forfeit his life to the laws, by joining with
+the English in a plot, it is not in me to save him; but, dearest
+Julia, be satisfied, you shall not want a husband.
+
+_Jul._ Do you think I'll ever come into a bed with him, who robbed me
+of my dear sweet man?
+
+_Fisc._ Dry up your tears; I am in earnest; I will marry you; i'faith
+I will; it is your destiny.
+
+_Jul._ Nay if it be my destiny--but I vow I'll never be yours but upon
+one condition.
+
+_Fisc._ Name your desire, and take it.
+
+_Jul._ Then save poor Beamont's life.
+
+_Fisc._ This is the most unkind request you could have made; it shews
+you love him better: therefore, in prudence, I should haste his death.
+
+_Jul._ Come, I'll not be denied; you shall give me his life, or I'll
+not love you; by this kiss you shall, child.
+
+_Fisc._ Pray ask some other thing.
+
+_Jul._ I have your word for this, and if you break it, how shall I
+trust you for your marrying me?
+
+_Fisc._ Well, I will do it to oblige you. But to prevent her new
+designs with him, I'll see him shipped away for England strait.
+                                                             [_Aside._
+
+_Jul._ I may build upon your promise, then?
+
+_Fisc._ Most firmly: I hear company.
+
+  _Enter_ HARMAN, VAN HERRING, _and the two Dutchmen, with_ TOWERSON
+  _prisoner._
+
+_Har._ Now, captain Towerson, you have had the privilege to be
+examined last; this on the score of my old friendship with you, though
+you have ill deserved it. But here you stand accused of no less crimes
+than robbery first, then murder, and last, treason: What can you say
+to clear yourself?
+
+_Tow._ You're interested in all, and therefore partial:
+I have considered on it, and will not plead,
+Because I know you have no right to judge me;
+For the last treaty betwixt our king and you
+Expressly said, that causes criminal
+Were first to be examined, and then judged,
+Not here, but by the Council of Defence;
+To whom I make appeal.
+
+_Fisc._ This court conceives that it has power to judge you, derived
+from the most high and mighty states, who in this island are supreme,
+and that as well in criminal as civil causes.
+
+_1 Dutch._ You are not to question the authority of the court, which
+is to judge you.
+
+_Tow._ Sir, by your favour, I both must, and will:
+I'll not so far betray my nation's right;
+We are not here your subjects, but your partners:
+And that supremacy of power, you claim,
+Extends but to the natives, not to us:
+Dare you, who in the British seas strike sail,
+Nay more, whose lives and freedom are our alms,
+Presume to sit and judge your benefactors?
+Your base new upstart commonwealth should blush,
+To doom the subjects of an English king,
+The meanest of whose merchants would disdain
+The narrow life, and the domestic baseness,
+Of one of those you call your Mighty States.
+
+_Fisc._ You spend your breath in railing; speak to the purpose.
+
+_Har._ Hold yet: Because you shall not call us cruel,
+Or plead I would be judge in my own cause,
+I shall accept of that appeal you make,
+Concerning my son's death; provided first,
+You clear yourself from what concerns the public;
+For that relating to our general safety,
+The judgment of it cannot be deferred,
+But with our common danger.
+
+_Tow._ Let me first
+Be bold to question you: What circumstance
+Can make this, your pretended plot, seem likely?
+The natives, first, you tortured; their confession,
+Extorted so, can prove no crime in us.
+Consider, next, the strength of this your castle;
+Its garrison above two hundred men,
+Besides as many of your city burghers,
+All ready on the least alarm, or summons,
+To reinforce the others; for ten English,
+And merchants they, not soldiers, with the aid
+Of ten Japanners, all of them unarmed,
+Except five swords, and not so many muskets,--
+The attempt had only been for fools or madmen.
+
+_Fisc._ We cannot help your want of wit; proceed.
+
+_Tow._ Grant then we had been desperate enough
+To hazard this; we must at least forecast,
+How to secure possession when we had it.
+We had no ship nor pinnace in the harbour,
+Nor could have aid from any factory:
+The nearest to us forty leagues from hence,
+And they but few in number: You, besides
+This fort, have yet three castles in this isle,
+Amply provided for, and eight tall ships
+Riding at anchor near; consider this,
+And think what all the world will judge of it.
+
+_Har._ Nothing but falsehood is to be expected
+From such a tongue, whose heart is fouled with treason.
+Give him the beverage.
+
+_Fisc._ 'Tis ready, sir.
+
+_Har._ Hold; I have some reluctance to proceed
+To that extremity: He was my friend,
+And I would have him frankly to confess:
+Push open that prison door, and set before him
+The image of his pains in other men.
+
+  _The_ SCENE _opens, and discovers the English tortured, and the
+  Dutch tormenting them._
+
+_Fisc._ Now, sir, how does the object like you?
+
+_Tow._ Are you men or devils! D'Alva, whom you
+Condemn for cruelty, did ne'er the like;
+He knew original villany was in your blood.
+Your fathers all are damned for their rebellion;
+When they rebelled, they were well used to this.
+These tortures ne'er were hatched in human breasts;
+But as your country lies confined on hell,
+Just on its marches, your black neighbours taught ye;
+And just such pains as you invent on earth,
+Hell has reserved for you.
+
+_Har._ Are you yet moved?
+
+_Tow._ But not as you would have me.
+I could weep tears of blood to view this usage;
+But you, as if not made of the same mould,
+See, with dry eyes, the miseries of men,
+As they were creatures of another kind,
+Not Christians, nor allies, nor partners with you,
+But as if beasts, transfixed on theatres,
+To make you cruel sport.
+
+_Har._ These are but vulgar objects; bring his friend,
+Let him behold his tortures; shut that door.      [_The Scene closed._
+
+  _Enter_ BEAMONT, _led with matches tied to his hands._
+
+_Tow._ [_Embracing him._]
+Oh my dear friend, now I am truly wretched!
+Even in that part which is most sensible,
+My friendship:
+How have we lived to see the English name
+The scorn of these, the vilest of mankind!
+
+_Beam._ Courage, my friend, and rather praise we heaven,
+That it has chose two, such as you and me,
+Who will not shame our country with our pains,
+But stand, like marble statues, in their fires,
+Scorched and defaced, perhaps, not melted down.
+So let them burn this tenement of earth;
+They can but burn me naked to my soul;
+That's of a nobler frame, and will stand firm,
+Upright, and unconsumed.
+
+_Fisc._ Confess; if you have kindness, save your friend.
+
+_Tow._ Yes, by my death I would, not my confession:
+He is so brave, he would not so be saved;
+But would renounce a friendship built on shame.
+
+_Har._ Bring more candles, and burn him from the wrists up to the
+elbows.
+
+_Beam._ Do; I'll enjoy the flames like Scaevola;
+And, when one's roasted, give the other hand.
+
+_Tow._ Let me embrace you while you are a man.
+Now you must lose that form; be parched and rivelled,
+Like a dried mummy, or dead malefactor,
+Exposed in chains, and blown about by winds.
+
+_Beam._ Yet this I can endure.
+Go on, and weary out two elements;
+Vex fire and water with the experiments
+Of pains far worse than death.
+
+_Tow._ Oh, let me take my turn!
+You will have double pleasure; I'm ashamed
+To be the only Englishman untortured.
+
+_Van. Her._ You soon should have your wish, but that we know
+In him you suffer more.
+
+_Har._ Fill me a brim-full glass:
+Now, captain, here's to all your countrymen;
+I wish your whole East India company
+Were in this room, that we might use them thus.
+
+_Fisc._ They should have fires of cloves and cinnamon;
+We would cut down whole groves to honour them,
+And be at cost to burn them nobly.
+
+_Beam._ Barbarous villains! now you show yourselves
+
+_Har._ Boy, take that candle thence, and bring it hither;
+I am exalted, and would light my pipe
+Just where the wick is fed with English fat.
+
+_Van Her._ So would I; oh, the tobacco tastes divinely after it.
+
+_Tow._ We have friends in England, who would weep to see
+This acted on a theatre, which here
+You make your pastime.
+
+_Beam._ Oh, that this flesh were turned a cake of ice,
+That I might in an instant melt away,
+And become nothing, to escape this torment!
+There is not cold enough in all the north
+To quench my burning blood.                 [FISCAL _whispers_ HARMAN.
+
+_Har._ Do with Beamont as you please, so Towerson die.
+
+_Fisc._ You'll not confess yet, captain?
+
+_Tow._ Hangman, no;
+I would have don't before, if e'er I would:
+To do it when my friend has suffered this,
+Were to be less than he.
+
+_Fisc._ Free him.                                [_They free_ BEAMONT.
+Beamont, I have not sworn you should not suffer.
+But that you should not die; thank Julia for it.
+But on your life do not delay this hour
+To post from hence! so to your next plantation;
+I cannot suffer a loved rival near me.
+
+_Beam._ I almost question if I will receive
+My life from thee: 'Tis like a cure from witches;
+'Twill leave a sin behind it.
+
+_Fisc._ Nay, I'm not lavish of my courtesy;
+I can on easy terms resume my gift.
+
+_Har._ Captain, you're a dead man; I'll spare your torture for your
+quality; prepare for execution instantly.
+
+_Tow._ I am prepared.
+
+_Fisc._ You die in charity, I hope?
+
+_Tow._ I can forgive even thee:
+My innocence I need not name, you know it.
+One farewell kiss of my dear Isabinda,
+And all my business here on earth is done.
+
+_Har._ Call her; she's at the door.                      [_Exit_ FISC.
+
+_Tow._ [_To_ BEAM. _embracing._]
+A long and last farewell! I take my death
+With the more cheerfulness, because thou liv'st
+Behind me: Tell my friends, I died so as
+Became a Christian and a man; give to my brave
+Employers of the East India company,
+The last remembrance of my faithful service;
+Tell them, I seal that service with my blood;
+And, dying, wish to all their factories,
+And all the famous merchants of our isle,
+That wealth their generous industry deserves;
+But dare not hope it with Dutch partnership.
+Last, there's my heart, I give it in this kiss:         [_Kisses him._
+Do not answer me; friendship's a tender thing,
+And it would ill become me now to weep.
+
+_Beam._ Adieu! if I would speak, I cannot--                   [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ ISABINDA.
+
+_Isab._ Is it permitted me to see your eyes
+Once more, before eternal night shall close them?
+
+_Tow._ I summoned all I had of man to see you;
+'Twas well the time allowed for it was short;
+I could not bear it long: 'Tis dangerous,
+And would divide my love 'twixt heaven and you.
+I therefore part in haste; think I am going
+A sudden journey, and have not the leisure
+To take a ceremonious long farewell.
+
+_Isab._ Do you still love me?
+
+_Tow._ Do not suppose I do;
+'Tis for your ease, since you must stay behind me,
+To think I was unkind; you'll grieve the less.
+
+_Har._ Though I suspect you joined in my son's murder,
+Yet, since it is not proved, you have your life.
+
+_Isab._ I thank you for't, I'll make the noblest use
+Of your sad gift; that is, to die unforced:
+I'll make a present of my life to Towerson,
+To let you see, though worthless of his love,
+I would not live without him.
+
+_Tow._ I charge you, love my memory, but live.
+
+_Har._ She shall be strictly guarded from that violence
+She means against herself.
+
+_Isab._ Vain men! there are so many paths to death,
+You cannot stop them all: o'er the green turf,
+Where my love's laid, there will I mourning sit,
+And draw no air but from the damps that rise
+Out of that hallowed earth; and for my diet,
+I mean my eyes alone shall feed my mouth.
+Thus will I live, till he in pity rise,
+And the pale shade take me in his cold arms,
+And lay me kindly by him in his grave.
+
+  _Enter_ COLLINS, _and then_ PEREZ, JULIA _following him._
+
+_Har._ No more; your time's now come, you must away.
+
+_Col._ Now, devils, you have done your worst with tortures; death's a
+privation of pain, but they were a continual dying.
+
+_Jul._ Farewell, my dearest! I may have many husbands,
+But never one like thee.
+
+_Per._ As you love my soul, take hence that woman.--
+My English friends, I'm not ashamed of death,
+While I have you for partners; I know you innocent,
+And so am I, of this pretended plot;
+But I am guilty of a greater crime;
+For, being married in another country,
+The governor's persuasions, and my love
+To that ill woman, made me leave the first,
+And make this fatal choice.
+I'm justly punished; for her sake I die:
+The Fiscal, to enjoy her, has accused me.
+There is another cause;
+By his procurement I should have killed--
+
+_Fisc._ Away with him, and stop his mouth.           [_He is led off._
+
+_Tow._ I leave thee, life, with no regret at parting;
+Full of whatever thou could'st give, I rise
+From thy neglected feast, and go to sleep:
+Yet, on this brink of death, my eyes are opened,
+And heaven has bid me prophecy to you,
+The unjust contrivers of this tragic scene:--
+_An age is coming, when an English monarch
+With blood shall pay that blood which you have shed:
+To save your cities from victorious arms,
+You shall invite the waves to hide your earth[1],
+And, trembling, to the, tops of houses fly,
+While deluges invade your lower rooms:
+Then, as with waters you have swelled our bodies,
+With damps of waters shall your heads be swoln:
+Till, at the last, your sapped foundations fall,
+And universal ruin swallows all._
+                           [_He is led out with the English; the Dutch
+                            remain._
+
+_Van. Her._ Ay, ay, we'll venture both ourselves and children for such
+another pull.
+
+_1 Dutch._ Let him prophecy when his head's off.
+
+_2 Dutch._ There's ne'er a Nostradamus of them all shall fright us
+from our gain.
+
+_Fisc._ Now for a smooth apology, and then a fawning letter to the
+king of England; and our work's done.
+
+_Har._ 'Tis done as I would wish it:
+Now, brethren, at my proper cost and charges,
+Three days you are my guests; in which good time
+We will divide their greatest wealth by lots,
+While wantonly we raffle for the rest:
+Then, in full rummers, and with joyful hearts,
+We'll drink confusion to all English starts.                [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. During the French invasion of 1672, the Dutch were obliged to adopt
+   the desperate defence of cutting their dykes, and inundating the
+   country.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+
+  A poet once the Spartans led to fight,
+  And made them conquer in the muse's right;
+  So would our poet lead you on this day,
+  Showing your tortured fathers in his play.
+  To one well-born the affront is worse, and more,
+  When he's abused, and baffled by a boor:
+  With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do,
+  They've both ill-nature and ill-manners too.
+  Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation,
+  For they were bred ere manners were in fashion;
+  And their new commonwealth has set them free,
+  Only from honour and civility.
+  Venetians do not more uncouthly ride[1],
+  Than did their lubber state mankind bestride;
+  Their sway became them with as ill a mien,
+  As their own paunches swell above their chin:
+  Yet is their empire no true growth, but humour,
+  And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour[2].
+  As Cato did his Afric fruits display,
+  So we before your eyes their Indies lay:
+  All loyal English will, like him, conclude,
+  Let Caesar live, and Carthage be subdued[3]!
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. The situation of Venice renders it impossible to bring horses into
+   the town; accordingly, the Venetians are proverbially bad riders.
+
+2. The poet alludes to the king's evil, and to the joint war of France
+   and England against Holland.
+
+3. Allusions to Cato,--who presented to the Roman Senate the rich figs
+   of Africa, and reminded them it was but three days sail to the
+   country which produced such excellent fruit,--were fashionable
+   during the Dutch war. The Lord Chancellor Shaftesbury had set the
+   example, by applying to Holland the favourite maxim of the Roman
+   philosopher, _Delenda est Carthago._ When that versatile statesman
+   afterwards fled to Holland, he petitioned to be created a burgess
+   of Amsterdam, to ensure him against being delivered up to England.
+   The magistrates conferred on him the freedom desired, with the
+   memorable words, "_Ab nostra Carthagine nondum deleta, salutem
+   accipe._"
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                         STATE OF INNOCENCE,
+
+                                 AND
+
+                             FALL OF MAN.
+
+
+                                  AN
+
+                                OPERA.
+
+
+            --_Utinam modo dicere possem
+           Carmina digna dea: Certe est dea carmine digna._
+                                   OVID. MET.
+
+
+
+
+                     THE STATE OF INNOCENCE, &c.
+
+
+The "Paradise Lost" of Milton is a work so extraordinary in conception
+and execution, that it required a lapse of many years to reconcile the
+herd of readers, and of critics, to what was almost too sublime for
+ordinary understandings. The poets, in particular, seemed to have
+gazed on its excellencies, like the inferior animals on Dryden's
+immortal Hind; and, incapable of fully estimating a merit, which, in
+some degree, they could not help feeling, many were their absurd
+experiments to lower it to the standard of their own comprehension.
+One author, deeming the "Paradise Lost" deficient in harmony, was
+pleased painfully to turn it into rhyme; and more than one, conceiving
+the subject too serious to be treated in verse of any kind, employed
+their leisure in humbling it into prose. The names of these
+well-judging and considerate persons are preserved by Mr Todd in his
+edition of Milton's Poetical Works.
+
+But we must not confound with these effusions of gratuitous folly an
+alteration, or imitation, planned and executed by John Dryden;
+although we may be at a loss to guess the motives by which he was
+guided in hazarding such an attempt. His reverence for Milton and his
+high estimation of his poetry, had already called forth the well-known
+verses, in which he attributes to him the joint excellencies of the
+two most celebrated poets of antiquity; and if other proofs of his
+veneration were wanting, they may be found in the preface to this very
+production. Had the subject been of a nature which admitted its being
+actually represented, we might conceive, that Dryden, who was under
+engagements to the theatre, with which it was not always easy to
+comply, might have been desirous to shorten his own labour, by
+adopting the story sentiments, and language of a poem, which he so
+highly esteemed and which might probably have been new to the
+generality of his audience. But the _costume_ of our first parents,
+had there been no other objection, must have excluded the "State of
+Innocence" from the stage, and accordingly it was certainly never
+intended for representation. The probable motive, therefore, of this
+alteration, was the wish, so common to genius, to exert itself upon a
+subject in which another had already attained brilliant success, or,
+as Dryden has termed a similar attempt, the desire to shoot in the bow
+of Ulysses. Some circumstances in the history of Milton's immortal
+poem may have suggested to Dryden the precise form of the present
+attempt. It is reported by Voltaire, and seems at length to be
+admitted, that the original idea of the "Paradise Lost" was supplied
+by an Italian Mystery, or religious play, which Milton witnessed when
+abroad[1]; and it is certain, that he intended at first to mould his
+poem into a dramatic form[2]. It seems, therefore, likely, that
+Dryden, conscious of his own powers, and enthusiastically admiring
+those of Milton, was induced to make an experiment upon the forsaken
+plan of the blind bard, which, with his usual rapidity of conception
+and execution, he completed in the short space of one month. The
+spurious copies which got abroad, and perhaps the desire of testifying
+his respect for his beautiful patroness, the Duchess of York, form his
+own apology for the publication. It is reported by Mr Aubrey that the
+step was not taken without Dryden's reverence to Milton being
+testified by a personal application for his permission. The aged poet,
+conscious that the might of his versification could receive no
+addition even from the flowing numbers of Dryden, is stated to have
+answered with indifference--"Ay, you may _tag_ my verses, if you
+will."
+
+The structure and diction of this opera, as it is somewhat improperly
+termed, being rather a dramatic poem, strongly indicate the taste of
+Charles the Second's reign, for what was ingenious, acute, and
+polished, in preference to the simplicity of the true sublime. The
+judgment of that age, as has been already noticed, is always to be
+referred rather to the head than to the heart; and a poem, written to
+please mere critics, requires an introduction and display of art, to
+the exclusion of natural beauty.--This explains the extravagant
+panegyric of Lee on Dryden's play:
+
+  --Milton did the wealthy mine disclose,
+  And rudely cast what you could well dispose;
+  He roughly drew, on an old-fashioned ground,
+  A chaos; for no perfect world was found,
+  Till through the heap your mighty genius shined:
+  He was the golden ore, which you refined.
+  He first beheld the beauteous rustic maid,
+  And to a place of strength the prize conveyed:
+  You took her thence; to Court this virgin brought,
+  Dressed her with gems, new-weaved her hard-spun thought,
+  And softest language sweetest manners taught;
+  Till from a comet she a star did rise,
+  Not to affright, but please, our wondering eyes.
+
+Doubtless there were several critics of that period, who held the
+heretical opinion above expressed by Lee. And the imitation was such
+as to warrant that conclusion, considering the school in which it was
+formed. The scene of the consultation in Pandemonium, and of the
+soliloquy of Satan on his arrival in the newly-created universe, would
+possess great merit, did they not unfortunately remind us of the
+majestic simplicity of Milton. But there is often a sort of Ovidian
+point in the diction which seems misplaced. Thus, Asmodeus tells us,
+that the devils, ascending from the lake of fire,
+
+  Shake off their slumber _first_, and _next_ their fear.
+
+And, with Dryden's usual hate to the poor Dutchmen, the council of
+Pandemonium are termed,
+
+  _Most High and Mighty_ Lords, who better fell
+  From heaven, to rise _States General_ of hell.
+
+There is one inconvenience, which, as this poem was intended for
+perusal only, the author, one would have thought, might have easily
+avoided. This arises from the stage directions, which supply the place
+of the terrific and beautiful descriptions of Milton. What idea,
+except burlesque, can we form of the expulsion of the fallen angels
+from heaven, literally represented by their tumbling down upon the
+stage? or what feelings of terror can be excited by the idea of an
+opera hell, composed of pasteboard and flaming rosin? If these follies
+were not actually to be produced before our eyes, it could serve no
+good purpose to excite the image of them in our imaginations. They are
+circumstances by which we feel, that scenic deception must be rendered
+ridiculous; and ought to be avoided, even in a drama intended for
+perusal only, since they cannot be mentioned without exciting
+ludicrous combinations.--Even in describing the primitive state of our
+first parents, Dryden has displayed some of the false and corrupted
+taste of the court of Charles. Eve does not consent to her union with
+Adam without coquettish apprehensions of his infidelity, which
+circumstances rendered rather improbable; and even in the state of
+innocence, she avows the love of sway and of self, which, in a loose
+age, is thought the principal attribute of her daughters. It may be
+remembered that the Adam of Milton, when first experiencing the powers
+of slumber, thought,
+
+  I then was passing to my former state
+  Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve.
+
+The Eve of Dryden expresses the same apprehensions of annihilation
+upon a very different occasion. These passages form a contrast highly
+favourable to the simplicity and chastity of Milton's taste. The
+school logic, employed by Adam and the angels in the first scene of
+the fourth act, however misplaced, may be paralleled if not justified,
+by similar instances in the "Paradise Lost."
+
+On the other hand, the "State of Innocence" contains many passages of
+varied and happy expression peculiar to our great poet; and the speech
+of Lucfier in Paradise (Act third, scene first), approaches in
+sublimity to his prototype in Milton, Indeed, altered as this poem was
+from the original, in order to accommodate it to the taste of a
+frivolous age, it still retained too much fancy to escape the raillery
+of the men of wit and fashion, more disposed to "laugh at
+extravagance, than to sympathise with feelings of grandeur." The
+"Companion to the Theatre" mentions an objection started by the more
+nice and delicate critics, against the anachronism and absurdity of
+Lucifer conversing about the world, its form and vicissitudes, at a
+time previous to its creation, or, at least, to the possibility of his
+knowing any thing of it. But to this objection, which applies to the
+"Paradise Lost" also, it is sufficient to reply, that the measure of
+intelligence, competent to supernatural beings, being altogether
+unknown to us, leaves the poet at liberty to accommodate its extent to
+the purposes in which he employs them, without which poetic license,
+it would be in vain to introduce them. Dryden, moved by this, and
+similar objections, has prefixed to the drama, "An Apology for Heroic
+Poetry," and the use of what is technically called "the machinery"
+employed in it.
+
+Upon the whole, it may be justly questioned, whether Dryden shewed his
+judgment in the choice of a subject which compelled an immediate
+parallel betwixt Milton and himself, upon a subject so exclusively
+favourable to the powers of the former. Indeed, according to Dennis,
+notwithstanding Dryden's admiration of Milton, he evinced sufficiently
+by this undertaking, what he himself confessed twenty years
+afterwards, that he was not sensible of half the extent of his
+excellence. In the "Town and Country Mouse," Mr Bayes is made to term
+Milton "a rough unhewen fellow;" and Dryden himself, even in the
+dedication to the Translation from Juvenal, a work of his advanced
+life, alleges, that, though he found in that poet a true sublimity,
+and lofty thoughts, clothed with admirable Grecisms, he did not find
+the elegant turn of words and expression proper to the Italian poets
+and to Spenser. In the same treatise, he undertakes to excuse, but not
+to justify Milton, for his choice of blank verse, affirming that he
+possessed neither grace nor facility in rhyming. A consciousness of
+the harmony of his own numbers, and a predilection for that kind of
+verse, in which he excelled, seemed to have encouraged him to think he
+could improve the "Paradise Lost." Baker observes but too truly, that
+the "State of Innocence" recals the idea reprobated by Marvell in his
+address to Milton:
+
+  Or if a work so infinite be spanned,
+  Jealous I was, lest some less skilful hand,
+  Such as disquiet always what is well,
+  And by ill-imitating would excel,
+  Might hence presume the whole creation's day
+  To change in scenes, and shew it in a play.
+
+The "State of Innocence" seems to have been undertaken by Dryden
+during a cessation of his theatrical labours, and was first published
+in 1674, shortly after the death of Milton, which took place on the
+8th of November in the same year.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. The Adamo of Andreini; for an account of which, see Todd's Milton,
+   Vol. I. the elegant Hayley's Conjectures on the Origin of Paradise
+   Lost, and Walker's Memoir on Italian Tragedy. The Drama of Andreini
+   opens with a grand chorus of angels, who sing to this purpose:
+
+     Let the rainbow be the fiddle-stick to the fiddle of heaven,
+     Let the spheres be the strings, and the stars the musical notes;
+     Let the new-born breezes make the pauses and sharps,
+     And let time be careful to beat the measure.
+
+2. See a sketch of his plan in Johnson's Life of Milton, and in the
+   authorities above quoted.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         HER ROYAL HIGHNESS,
+
+                                 THE
+
+                             DUCHESS[1].
+
+
+MADAM,
+
+Ambition is so far from being a vice in poets, that it is almost
+impossible for them to succeed without it. Imagination must be raised,
+by a desire of fame, to a desire of pleasing; and they whom, in all
+ages, poets have endeavoured most to please, have been the beautiful
+and the great. Beauty is their deity, to which they sacrifice, and
+greatness is their guardian angel, which protects them. Both these,
+are so eminently joined in the person of your royal highness, that it
+were not easy for any but a poet to determine which of them outshines
+the other. But I confess, madam, I am already biassed in my choice. I
+can easily resign to others the praise of your illustrious family, and
+that glory which you derive from a long-continued race of princes,
+famous for their actions both in peace and war: I can give up, to the
+historians of your country, the names of so many generals and heroes
+which crowd their annals, and to our own the hopes of those which you
+are to produce for the British chronicle. I can yield, without envy,
+to the nation of poets, the family of Este, to which Ariosto and Tasso
+have owed their patronage, and to which the world has owed their
+poems. But I could not, without extreme reluctance, resign the theme
+of your beauty to another hand. Give me leave, madam, to acquaint the
+world, that I am jealous of this subject; and let it be no dishonour
+to you, that, after having raised the admiration of mankind, you have
+inspired one man to give it voice. But, with whatsoever vanity this
+new honour of being your poet has filled my mind, I confess myself too
+weak for the inspiration: the priest was always unequal to the oracle:
+the god within him was too mighty for his breast: he laboured with the
+sacred revelation, and there was more of the mystery left behind, than
+the divinity itself could enable him to express. I can but discover a
+part of your excellencies to the world; and that, too, according to
+the measure of my own weakness. Like those who have surveyed the moon
+by glasses, I can only tell of a new and shining world above us, but
+not relate the riches and glories of the place. 'Tis therefore that I
+have already waved the subject of your greatness, to resign myself to
+the contemplation of what is more peculiarly yours. Greatness is
+indeed communicated to some few of both sexes; but beauty is confined
+to a more narrow compass: 'tis only in your sex, 'tis not shared by
+many, and its supreme perfection is in you alone. And here, madam, I
+am proud that I cannot flatter; you have reconciled the differing
+judgments of mankind; for all men are equal in their judgment of what
+is eminently best. The prize of beauty was disputed only till you were
+seen; but now all pretenders have withdrawn their claims: there is no
+competition but for the second place; even the fairest of our island,
+which is famed for beauties, not daring to commit their cause against
+you to the suffrage of those, who most partially adore them. Fortune
+has, indeed, but rendered justice to so much excellence, in setting it
+so high to public view; or, rather, Providence has done justice to
+itself, in placing the most perfect workmanship of heaven, where it
+may be admired by all beholders. Had the sun and stars been seated
+lower, their glory had not been communicated to all at once, and the
+Creator had wanted so much of his praise, as he had made your
+condition more obscure: but he has placed you so near a crown, that
+you add a lustre to it by your beauty. You are joined to a prince, who
+only could deserve you; whose conduct, courage, and success in war;
+whose fidelity to his royal brother, whose love for his country, whose
+constancy to his friends, whose bounty to his servants, whose justice
+to merit, whose inviolable truth, and whose magnanimity in all his
+actions, seem to have been rewarded by heaven by the gift of you. You
+are never seen but you are blest; and I am sure you bless all those
+who see you. We think not the day is long enough when we behold you;
+and you are so much the business of our souls, that while you are in
+sight, we can neither look nor think on any else. There are no eyes
+for other beauties; you only are present, and the rest of your sex are
+but the unregarded parts that fill your triumph. Our sight is so
+intent on the object of its admiration, that our tongues have not
+leisure even to praise you: for language seems too low a thing to
+express your excellence; and our souls are speaking so much within,
+that they despise all foreign conversation. Every man, even the
+dullest, is thinking more than the most eloquent can teach him how to
+utter. Thus, madam, in the midst of crowds, you reign in solitude; and
+are adored with the deepest veneration, that of silence. 'Tis true,
+you are above all mortal wishes; no man desires impossibilities,
+because they are beyond the reach of nature. To hope to be a god, is
+folly exalted into madness; but, by the laws of our creation, we are
+obliged to adore him, and are permitted to love him too at human
+distance. 'Tis the nature of perfection to be attractive, but the
+excellency of the object refines the nature of the love. It strikes an
+impression of awful reverence; 'tis indeed that love which is more
+properly a zeal than passion. 'Tis the rapture which anchorites find
+in prayer, when a beam of the divinity shines upon them; that which
+makes them despise all worldly objects; and yet 'tis all but
+contemplation. They are seldom visited from above, but a single vision
+so transports them, that it makes up the happiness of their lives.
+Mortality cannot bear it often: it finds them in the eagerness and
+height of their devotion; they are speechless for the time that it
+continues, and prostrate and dead when it departs. That ecstacy had
+need be strong, which, without any end, but that of admiration has
+power enough to destroy all other passions. You render mankind
+insensible to other beauties, and have destroyed the empire of love in
+a court which was the seat of his dominion. You have subverted (may I
+dare to accuse you of it?) even our fundamental laws; and reign
+absolute over the hearts of a stubborn and free-born people, tenacious
+almost to madness of their liberty. The brightest and most victorious
+of our ladies make daily complaints of revolted subjects, if they may
+be said to be revolted, whose servitude is not accepted; for your
+royal highness is too great, and too just a monarch, either to want or
+to receive the homage of rebellious fugitives. Yet, if some few among
+the multitude continue stedfast to their first pretensions, 'tis an
+obedience so lukewarm and languishing, that it merits not the name of
+passion; their addresses are so faint, and their vows so hollow to
+their sovereigns, that they seem only to maintain their faith out of a
+sense of honour: they are ashamed to desist, and yet grow careless to
+obtain. Like despairing combatants, they strive against you as if they
+had beheld unveiled the magical shield of your Ariosto, which dazzled
+the beholders with too much brightness. They can no longer hold up
+their arms; they have read their destiny in your eyes:
+
+  _Splende lo scudo, a guisa di piropo;
+  E luce altra non e tanto lucente:
+  Cader in terra a lo splendor fu d'vopo,
+  Con gli occhi abbacinati, e senza mente._
+
+And yet, madam, if I could find in myself the power to leave this
+argument of your incomparable beauty, I might turn to one which would
+equally oppress me with its greatness; for your conjugal virtues have
+deserved to be set as an example, to a less degenerate, less tainted
+age. They approach so near to singularity in ours, that I can scarcely
+make a panegyric to your royal highness, without a satire on many
+others. But your person is a paradise, and your soul a cherubim
+within, to guard it. If the excellence of the outside invite the
+beholders, the majesty of your mind deters them from too bold
+approaches, and turns their admiration into religion. Moral
+perfections are raised higher by you in the softer sex; as if men were
+of too coarse a mould for heaven to work on, and that the image of
+divinity could not be cast to likeness in so harsh a metal. Your
+person is so admirable, that it can scarce receive addition, when it
+shall be glorified: and your soul, which shines through it, finds it
+of a substance so near her own, that she will be pleased to pass an
+age within it, and to be confined to such a palace.
+
+I know not how I am hurried back to my former theme; I ought and
+purposed to have celebrated those endowments and qualities of your
+mind, which were sufficient, even without the graces of your person,
+to render you, as you are, the ornament of the court, and the object
+of wonder to three kingdoms. But all my praises are but as a bull-rush
+cast upon a stream; if they sink not, 'tis because they are borne up
+by the strength of the current, which supports their lightness; but
+they are carried round again, and return on the eddy where they first
+began. I can proceed no farther than your beauty; and even on that too
+I have said so little, considering the greatness of the subject, that,
+like him who would lodge a bowl upon a precipice, either my praise
+falls back, by the weakness of the delivery, or stays not on the top,
+but rolls over, and is lost on the other side. I intended this a
+dedication; but how can I consider what belongs to myself, when I have
+been so long contemplating on you! Be pleased then, madam, to receive
+this poem, without entitling so much excellency as yours, to the
+faults and imperfections of so mean a writer; and instead of being
+favourable to the piece, which merits nothing, forgive the presumption
+of the author; who is, with all possible veneration,
+
+  Your Royal Highness's
+    Most obedient, most humble,
+      Most devoted servant,
+        JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. Mary of Este, daughter of the Duke of Modena, and second wife to
+   James Duke of York, afterwards James II. She was married to him by
+   proxy in 1673, and came over in the year following. Notwithstanding
+   her husband's unpopularity, and her own attachment to the Roman
+   Catholic religion, her youth, beauty, and innocence secured her
+   from insult and slander during all the stormy period which preceded
+   her accession to the crown. Even Burnet, reluctantly, admits the
+   force of her charms, and the inoffensiveness of her conduct. But
+   her beauty produced a more lasting effect on the young and gallant,
+   than on that austere and stubborn partizan; and its force must be
+   allowed, since it was extolled even when Mary was dethroned and
+   exiled. Granville, Lord Lansdowne, has praised her in "The Progress
+   of Beauty;" and I cannot forbear transcribing some of the verses,
+   on account of the gallant spirit of the author, who scorned to
+   change with fortune, and continued to admire and celebrate, in
+   adversity, the charms which he had worshipped in the meridian of
+   prosperity.
+
+       And now, my muse, a nobler flight prepare,
+     And sing so loud, that heaven and earth may hear.
+     Behold from Italy an awful ray
+     Of heavenly light illuminates the day;
+     Northward she bends, majestically bright,
+     And here she fixes her imperial light.
+     Be bold, be bold, my muse, nor fear to raise
+     Thy voice to her who was thy earliest praise[a].
+     What though the sullen fates refuse to shine,
+     Or frown severe on thy audacious line;
+     Keep thy bright theme within thy steady sight,
+     The clouds shall fly before thy dazzling light,
+     And everlasting day direct thy lofty flight.
+     Thou, who hast never yet put on disguise,
+     To flatter faction, or descend to vice,
+     Let no vain fear thy generous ardour tame,
+     But stand erect, and sound as loud as fame.
+       As when our eye some prospect would pursue,
+     Descending from a hill looks round to view,
+     Passes o'er lawns and meadows, till it gains
+     Some favourite spot, and fixing there remains;
+     With equal ardour my transported muse
+     Flies other objects, this bright theme to chuse.
+       Queen of our hearts, and charmer of our sight!
+     A monarch's pride, his glory and delight!
+     Princess adored and loved! if verse can give
+     A deathless name, thine shall for ever live;
+     Invoked where'er the British lion roars,
+     Extended as the seas that guard the British shores.
+     The wise immortals, in their seats above,
+     To crown their labours still appointed love;
+     Phoebus enjoyed the goddess of the sea,
+     Alcides had Omphale, James has thee.
+     O happy James! content thy mighty mind,
+     Grudge not the world, for still thy queen is kind;
+     To be but at whose feet more glory brings,
+     Than 'tis to tread on sceptres and on kings.
+     Secure of empire in that beauteous breast,
+     Who would not give their crowns to be so blest?
+     Was Helen half so fair, so formed for joy,
+     Well chose the Trojan, and well burned was Troy.
+     But ah! what strange vicissitudes of fate,
+     What chance attends on every worldly state!
+     As when the skies were sacked, the conquered gods,
+     Compelled from heaven, forsook their blessed abodes;
+     Wandering in woods, they hid from den to den,
+     And sought their safety in the shapes of men;
+     As when the winds with kindling flames conspire,
+     The blaze increases as they fan the fire;
+     From roof to roof the burning torrent pours,
+     Nor spares the palace nor the loftiest towers;
+     Or as the stately pine, erecting high
+     Her lofty branches shooting to the sky,
+     If riven by the thunderbolt of Jove,
+     Down falls at once the pride of all the grove;
+     Level with lowest shrubs lies the tall head,
+     That, reared aloft, as to the clouds was spread,
+     So--
+     But cease, my muse, thy colours are too faint;
+     Shade with a veil those griefs thou can'st not paint.
+     That sun is set!--
+
+                                   _Progress of Beauty._
+
+   The beauty, which inspired the romantic and unchanging admiration
+   of Granville, may be allowed to justify some of the flights of
+   Dryden's panegyric. I fear enough will still remain to justify the
+   stricture of Johnson, who observes, that Dryden's dedication is an
+   "attempt to mingle earth and heaven, by praising human excellence
+   in the language of religion."
+
+   At the date of this address, the Duchess of York was only in her
+   sixteenth year.
+
+   Footnote:
+   a. He had written verses to the Earl of Peterborough, on the Duke
+      of York's marriage with the Princess of Modena, before he was
+      twelve years old.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                              MR DRYDEN,
+
+                                ON HIS
+
+                          POEM OF PARADISE.
+
+
+  Forgive me, awful poet, if a muse,
+  Whom artless nature did for plainness chuse,
+  In loose attire presents her humble thought,
+  Of this best poem that you ever wrought.
+  This fairest labour of your teeming brain
+  I would embrace, but not with flatt'ry stain.
+  Something I would to your vast virtue raise,
+  But scorn to daub it with a fulsome praise;
+  That would but blot the work I would commend,
+  And shew a court-admirer, not a friend.
+  To the dead bard your fame a little owes,
+  For Milton did the wealthy mine disclose,
+  And rudely cast what you could well dispose:
+  He roughly drew, on an old fashioned ground,
+  A chaos; for no perfect world was found,
+  Till through the heap your mighty genius shined:
+  He was the golden ore, which you refined.
+  He first beheld the beauteous rustic maid,
+  And to a place of strength the prize conveyed:
+  You took her thence; to court this virgin brought,
+  Drest her with gems, new weaved her hard-spun thought,
+  And softest language sweetest manners taught;
+  Till from a comet she a star doth rise,
+  Not to affright, but please, our wondering eyes.
+  Betwixt you both is trained a nobler piece,
+  Than e'er was drawn in Italy or Greece.
+  Thou from his source of thoughts even souls dost bring,
+  As smiling gods from sullen Saturn spring.
+  When night's dull mask the face of heaven does wear,
+  'Tis doubtful light, but here and there a star,
+  Which serves the dreadful shadows to display,
+  That vanish at the rising of the day;
+  But then bright robes the meadows all adorn,
+  And the world looks as it were newly born.
+  So, when your sense his mystic reason cleared,
+  The melancholy scene all gay appeared;
+  Now light leapt up, and a new glory smiled,
+  And all throughout was mighty, all was mild.
+  Before this palace, which thy wit did build,
+  Which various fancy did so gaudy gild,
+  And judgment has with solid riches filled,
+  My humbler muse begs she may sentry stand,
+  Amongst the rest that guard this Eden land.
+  But there's no need, for ev'n thy foes conspire
+  Thy praise, and, hating thee, thy work admire.
+  On then, O mightiest of the inspired men!
+  Monarch of verse! new themes employ thy pen.
+  The troubles of majestic Charles set down;
+  Not David vanquished more to reach a crown.
+  Praise him as Cowley did that Hebrew king:
+  Thy theme's as great; do thou as greatly sing.
+  Then thou may'st boldly to his favour rise,
+  Look down, and the base serpent's hiss despise;
+  From thund'ring envy safe in laurel sit,
+  While clam'rous critics their vile heads submit,
+  Condemned for treason at the bar of wit.
+
+                                   NAT. LEE.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                           AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
+
+                                 FOR
+
+                  HEROIC POETRY, AND POETIC LICENCE.
+
+
+To satisfy the curiosity of those, who will give themselves the
+trouble of reading the ensuing poem, I think myself obliged to render
+them a reason why I publish an opera which was never acted. In the
+first place, I shall not be ashamed to own, that my chiefest motive
+was, the ambition which I acknowledged in the Epistle. I was desirous
+to lay at the feet of so beautiful and excellent a princess, a work,
+which, I confess, was unworthy her, but which, I hope, she will have
+the goodness to forgive. I was also induced to it in my own defence;
+many hundred copies of it being dispersed abroad without my knowledge,
+or consent: so that every one gathering new faults, it became at
+length a libel against me; and I saw, with some disdain, more nonsense
+than either I, or as bad a poet, could have crammed into it, at a
+month's warning; in which time it was wholly written, and not since
+revised. After this, I cannot, without injury to the deceased author
+of "Paradise Lost," but acknowledge, that this poem has received its
+entire foundation, part of the design, and many of the ornaments, from
+him. What I have borrowed will be so easily discerned from my mean
+productions, that I shall not need to point the reader to the places:
+And truly I should be sorry, for my own sake, that any one should take
+the pains to compare them together; the original being undoubtedly one
+of the greatest, most noble, and most sublime poems, which either this
+age or nation has produced. And though I could not refuse the
+partiality of my friend, who is pleased to commend me in his verses, I
+hope they will rather be esteemed the effect of his love to me, than
+of his deliberate and sober judgment. His genius is able to make
+beautiful what he pleases: Yet, as he has been too favourable to me, I
+doubt not but he will hear of his kindness from many of our
+contemporaries for we are fallen into an age of illiterate,
+censorious, and detracting people, who, thus qualified, set up for
+critics.
+
+In the first place, I must take leave to tell them, that they wholly
+mistake the nature of criticism, who think its business is principally
+to find fault. Criticism, as it was first instituted by Aristotle, was
+meant a standard of judging well; the chiefest part of which is, to
+observe those excellencies which should delight a reasonable reader.
+If the design, the conduct, the thoughts, and the expressions of a
+poem, be generally such as proceed from a true genius of poetry, the
+critic ought to pass his judgement in favour of the author. It is
+malicious and unmanly to snarl at the little lapses of a pen, from
+which Virgil himself stands not exempted. Horace acknowledges, that
+honest Homer nods sometimes: He is not equally awake in every line;
+but he leaves it also as a standing measure for our judgments,
+
+  --Non, _ubi plura nitent in carmine, paucis_
+  Offendi _maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,
+  Aut humana parum cavit natura._--
+
+And Longinus, who was undoubtedly, after Aristotle the greatest critic
+amongst the Greeks, in his twenty-seventh chapter, [Greek: PERI
+HUPSOUS], has judiciously preferred the sublime genius that sometimes
+errs, to the middling or indifferent one, which makes few faults, but
+seldom or never rises to any excellence. He compares the first to a
+man of large possessions, who has not leisure to consider of every
+slight expence, will not debase himself to the management of every
+trifle: Particular sums are not laid out, or spared, to the greatest
+advantage in his economy; but are sometimes suffered to run to waste,
+while he is only careful of the main. On the other side, he likens the
+mediocrity of wit, to one of a mean fortune, who manages his store
+with extreme frugality, or rather parsimony; but who, with fear of
+running into profuseness, never arrives to the magnificence of living.
+This kind of genius writes indeed correctly. A wary man he is in
+grammar, very nice as to solecism or barbarism, judges to a hair of
+little decencies, knows better than any man what is not to be written,
+and never hazards himself so far as to fall, but plods on
+deliberately, and, as a grave man ought, is sure to put his staff
+before him. In short, he sets his heart upon it, and with wonderful
+care makes his business sure; that is, in plain English, neither to be
+blamed nor praised.--I could, says my author, find out some blemishes
+in Homer; and am perhaps as naturally inclined to be disgusted at a
+fault as another man; but, after all, to speak impartially, his
+failings are such, as are only marks of human frailty: they are little
+mistakes, or rather negligences, which have escaped his pen in the
+fervour of his writing; the sublimity of his spirit carries it with me
+against his carelessness; and though Apollonius his "Argonauts," and
+Theocritus his "Idyllia," are more free from errors, there is not any
+man of so false a judgment, who would chuse rather to have been
+Apollonius or Theocritus, than Homer.
+
+It is worth our consideration a little, to examine how much these
+hypercritics in English poetry differ from the opinion of the Greek
+and Latin judges of antiquity; from the Italians and French, who have
+succeeded them; and, indeed, from the general taste and approbation of
+all ages. Heroic poetry, which they condemn, has ever been esteemed,
+and ever will be, the greatest work of human nature: In that rank has
+Aristotle placed it; and Longinus is so full of the like expressions,
+that he abundantly confirms the other's testimony. Horace as plainly
+delivers his opinion, and particularly praises Homer in these verses:
+
+  _Trojani Belli scriptorem, maxime Lolli,
+  Dum tu declamas Romae, Praeneste relegi:
+  Qui quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non,
+  Plenius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit._
+
+And in another place, modestly excluding himself from the number of
+poets, because he only writ odes and satires, he tells you a poet is
+such an one,
+
+  --_Cui mens divinior, atque os
+  Magna soniturum._
+
+Quotations are superfluous in an established truth; otherwise I could
+reckon up, amongst the moderns, all the Italian commentators on
+Aristotle's book of poetry; and, amongst the French, the greatest of
+this age, Boileau and Rapin; the latter of which is alone sufficient,
+were all other critics lost, to teach anew the rules of writing. Any
+man, who will seriously consider the nature of an epic poem, how it
+agrees with that of poetry in general, which is to instruct and to
+delight, what actions it describes, and what persons they are chiefly
+whom it informs, will find it a work which indeed is full of
+difficulty in the attempt, but admirable when it is well performed. I
+write not this with the least intention to undervalue the other parts
+of poetry: for Comedy is both excellently instructive, and extremely
+pleasant; satire lashes vice into reformation, and humour represents
+folly so as to render it ridiculous. Many of our present writers are
+eminent in both these kinds; and, particularly, the author of the
+"Plain Dealer," whom I am proud to call my friend, has obliged all
+honest and virtuous men, by one of the most bold, most general, and
+most useful satires, which has ever been presented on the English
+theatre. I do not dispute the preference of Tragedy; let every man
+enjoy his taste: but it is unjust, that they, who have not the least
+notion of heroic writing, should therefore condemn the pleasure which
+others receive from it, because they cannot comprehend it. Let them
+please their appetites in eating what they like; but let them not
+force their dish on all the table. They, who would combat general
+authority with particular opinion, must first establish themselves a
+reputation of understanding better than other men. Are all the flights
+of heroic poetry to be concluded bombast, unnatural, and mere madness,
+because they are not affected with their excellencies? It is just as
+reasonable as to conclude there is no day, because a blind man cannot
+distinguish of light and colours. Ought they not rather, in modesty,
+to doubt of their own judgments, when they think this or that
+expression in Homer, Virgil, Tasso, or Milton's "Paradise," to be too
+far strained, than positively to conclude, that it is all fustian, and
+mere nonsense? It is true, there are limits to be set betwixt the
+boldness and rashness of a poet; but he must understand those limits,
+who pretends to judge as well as he who undertakes to write: and he
+who has no liking to the whole, ought, in reason, to be excluded from
+censuring of the parts. He must be a lawyer before he mounts the
+tribunal; and the judicature of one court, too, does not qualify a man
+to preside in another. He may be an excellent pleader in the Chancery,
+who is not fit to rule the Common Pleas. But I will presume for once
+to tell them, that the boldest strokes of poetry, when they are
+managed artfully, are those which most delight the reader.
+
+Virgil and Horace, the severest writers of the severest age, have made
+frequent use of the hardest metaphors, and of the strongest
+hyperboles; and in this case the best authority is the best argument;
+for generally to have pleased, and through all ages, must bear the
+force of universal tradition. And if you would appeal from thence to
+right reason, you will gain no more by it in effect, than, first, to
+set up your reason against those authors; and, secondly, against all
+those who have admired them. You must prove, why that ought not to
+have pleased, which has pleased the most learned, and the most
+judicious; and, to be thought knowing, you must first put the fool
+upon all mankind. If you can enter more deeply, than they have done,
+into the causes and resorts of that which moves pleasure in a reader,
+the field is open, you may be heard: But those springs of human nature
+are not so easily discovered by every superficial judge: It requires
+philosophy, as well as poetry, to sound the depth of all the passions;
+what they are in themselves, and how they are to be provoked: And in
+this science the best poets have excelled. Aristotle raised the fabric
+of his poetry from observation of those things, in which Euripides,
+Sophocles, and AEschylus pleased: He considered how they raised the
+passions, and thence has drawn rules for our imitation. From hence
+have sprung the tropes and figures, for which they wanted a name, who
+first practised them, and succeeded in them. Thus I grant you, that
+the knowledge of nature was the original rule; and that all poets
+ought to study her, as well as Aristotle and Horace, her interpreters.
+But then this also undeniably follows, that those things, which
+delight all ages, must have been an imitation of nature; which is all
+I contend. Therefore is rhetoric made an art; therefore the names of
+so many tropes and figures were invented; because it was observed they
+had such and such effect upon the audience. Therefore catachreses and
+hyperboles have found their place amongst them; not that they were to
+be avoided, but to be used judiciously, and placed in poetry, as
+heightenings and shadows are in painting, to make the figure bolder,
+and cause it to stand off to sight.
+
+  _Nec retia cervis
+  Ulla dolum meditantur;_
+
+says Virgil in his Eclogues: and speaking of Leander, in his Georgics,
+
+  _Nocte natat caeca serus freta, quem super ingens
+  Porta tonat caeli, et scopulis illisa reclamant
+  AEquora:_
+
+In both of these, you see, he fears not to give voice and thought to
+things inanimate.
+
+Will you arraign your master, Horace, for his hardness of expression,
+when he describes the death of Cleopatra, and says she did--_asperos
+tractare serpentes, ut atrum corpore combiberet cenenum,_--because the
+body, in that action, performs what is proper to the mouth?
+
+As for hyperboles, I will neither quote Lucan, nor Statius, men of an
+unbounded imagination, but who often wanted the poize of judgment. The
+divine Virgil was not liable to that exception; and yet he describes
+Polyphemus thus:
+
+  _--Graditurque per aequor
+  Jam medium; necdum fluctus latera ardua tinxit._
+
+In imitation of this place, our admirable Cowley thus paints Goliah:
+
+  The valley, now, this monster seemed to fill;
+  And we, methought, looked up to him from our hill:
+
+where the two words, _seemed_ and _methought_, have mollified the
+figure; and yet if they had not been there, the fright of the
+Israelites might have excused their belief of the giant's stature[1].
+
+In the eighth of the AEneids, Virgil paints the swiftness of Camilla
+thus:
+
+  _Ilia vel intactae segetis per summa volaret
+  Gramina, nec teneras cursu laesisset aristas;
+  Vel mare per medium, fluctu suspensa tumenti,
+  Ferret iter, celeres nec tingeret aequore plantas._
+
+You are not obliged, as in history, to a literal belief of what the
+poet says; but you are pleased with the image, without being cozened
+by the fiction.
+
+Yet even in history, Longinus quotes Herodotus on this occasion of
+hyperboles. The Lacedemonians, says he, at the straits of Thermopylae,
+defended themselves to the last extremity; and when their arms failed
+them, fought it out with their nails and teeth; till at length, (the
+Persians shooting continually upon them) they lay buried under the
+arrows of their enemies. It is not reasonable, (continues the critic)
+to believe, that men could defend themselves with their nails and
+teeth from an armed multitude; nor that they lay buried under a pile
+of darts and arrows; and yet there wants not probability for the
+figure: because the hyperbole seems not to have been made for the sake
+of the description; but rather to have been produced from the
+occasion.
+
+It is true, the boldness of the figures is to be hidden sometimes by
+the address of the poet; that they may work their effect upon the
+mind, without discovering the art which caused it. And therefore they
+are principally to be used in passion; when we speak more warmly, and
+with more precipitation than at other times: For then, _Si vis me
+flere, dolendum est primum ipsi tibi;_ the poet must put on the
+passion he endeavours to represent: A man in such an occasion is not
+cool enough, either to reason rightly, or to talk calmly. Aggravations
+are then in their proper places; interrogations, exclamations,
+hyperbata, or a disordered connection of discourse, are graceful
+there, because they are natural. The sum of all depends on what before
+I hinted, that this boldness of expression is not to be blamed, if it
+be managed by the coolness and discretion which is necessary to a
+poet.
+
+Yet before I leave this subject, I cannot but take notice how
+disingenuous our adversaries appear: All that is dull, insipid,
+languishing, and without sinews, in a poem, they call an imitation of
+nature: They only offend our most equitable judges, who think beyond
+them; and lively images and elocution are never to be forgiven.
+
+What fustian, as they call it, have I heard these gentlemen find out
+in Mr Cowley's Odes! I acknowledge myself unworthy to defend so
+excellent an author, neither have I room to do it here; only in
+general I will say, that nothing can appear more beautiful to me, than
+the strength of those images which they condemn.
+
+Imaging is, in itself, the very height and life of poetry. It is, as
+Longinus describes it, a discourse, which, by a kind of enthusiasm, or
+extraordinary emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us, that we behold
+those things which the poet paints, so as to be pleased with them, and
+to admire them.
+
+If poetry be imitation, that part of it must needs be best, which
+describes most lively our actions and passions; our virtues and our
+vices; our follies and our humours: For neither is comedy without its
+part of imaging; and they who do it best are certainly the most
+excellent in their kind. This is too plainly proved to be denied: But
+how are poetical fictions, how are hippocentaurs and chimeras, or how
+are angels and immaterial substances to be imaged; which, some of
+them, are things quite out of nature; others, such whereof we can have
+no notion? This is the last refuge of our adversaries; and more than
+any of them have yet had the wit to object against us. The answer is
+easy to the first part of it: The fiction of some beings which are not
+in nature, (second notions, as the logicians call them) has been
+founded on the conjunction of two natures, which have a real separate
+being. So hippocentaurs were imaged, by joining the natures of a man
+and horse together; as Lucretius tells us, who has used this word of
+_image_ oftener than any of the poets:
+
+  _Nam certe ex vivo centauri non fit imago,
+  Nulla fuit quoniam talis natura animai:
+  Verum ubi equi atque hominis, casu, convenit imago,
+  Haerescit facile extemplo,_ &c.
+
+The same reason may also be alleged for chimeras and the rest. And
+poets may be allowed the like liberty, for describing things which
+really exist not, if they are founded on popular belief. Of this
+nature are fairies, pigmies, and the extraordinary effects of magic;
+for it is still an imitation, though of other men's fancies: and thus
+are Shakespeare's "Tempest," his "Midsummer Night's Dream," and Ben
+Jonson's "Masque of Witches" to be defended. For immaterial
+substances, we are authorised by Scripture in their description: and
+herein the text accommodates itself to vulgar apprehension, in giving
+angels the likeness of beautiful young men. Thus, after the pagan
+divinity, has Homer drawn his gods with human faces: and thus we have
+notions of things above us, by describing them like other beings more
+within our knowledge.
+
+I wish I could produce any one example of excellent imaging in all
+this poem. Perhaps I cannot; but that which comes nearest it, is in
+these four lines, which have been sufficiently canvassed by my
+well-natured censors:
+
+  Seraph and cherub, careless of their charge,
+  And wanton, in full ease now live at large:
+  Unguarded leave the passes of the sky,
+  And all dissolved in hallelujahs lie.
+
+I have heard (says one of them) of anchovies _dissolved_ in sauce; but
+never of an angel _in hallelujahs._ A mighty witticism! (if you will
+pardon a new word,) but there is some difference between a laugher and
+a critic. He might have burlesqued Virgil too, from whom I took the
+image. _Invadunt urbem, somno vinoque sepultam._ A city's being
+buried, is just as proper on occasion, as an angel's being dissolved
+in ease, and songs of triumph. Mr Cowley lies as open too in many
+places:
+
+  Where their vast courts the mother waters keep, &c.
+
+For if the mass of waters be the mothers, then their daughters, the
+little streams, are bound, in all good manners, to make courtesy to
+them, and ask them blessing. How easy it is to turn into ridicule the
+best descriptions, when once a man is in the humour of laughing, till
+he wheezes at his own dull jest! but an image, which is strongly and
+beautifully set before the eyes of the reader, will still be poetry,
+when the merry fit is over, and last when the other is forgotten.
+
+I promised to say somewhat of Poetic Licence, but have in part
+anticipated my discourse already. Poetic Licence, I take to be the
+liberty which poets have assumed to themselves, in all ages, of
+speaking things in verse, which are beyond the severity of prose. It
+is that particular character, which distinguishes and sets the bounds
+betwixt _oratio soluta_, and poetry. This, as to what regards the
+thought, or imagination of a poet, consists in fiction: but then those
+thoughts must be expressed; and here arise two other branches of it;
+for if this licence be included in a single word, it admits of tropes;
+if in a sentence or proposition, of figures; both which are of a much
+larger extent, and more forcibly to be used in verse than prose. This
+is that birth-right which is derived to us from our great forefathers,
+even from Homer down to Ben; and they, who would deny it to us, have,
+in plain terms, the fox's quarrel to the grapes--they cannot reach it.
+
+How far these liberties are to be extended, I will not presume to
+determine here, since Horace does not. But it is certain that they are
+to be varied, according to the language and age in which an author
+writes. That which would be allowed to a Grecian poet, Martial tells
+you, would not be suffered in a Roman; and it is evident, that the
+English does more nearly follow the strictness of the latter, than the
+freedoms of the former. Connection of epithets, or the conjunction of
+two words in one, are frequent and elegant in the Greek, which yet Sir
+Philip Sidney, and the translator of Du Bartas, have unluckily
+attempted in the English; though this, I confess, is not so proper an
+instance of poetic licence, as it is of variety of idiom in languages.
+
+Horace a little explains himself on this subject of _Licentia
+Poetica_, in these verses:
+
+  _--Pictoribus atque Poetis
+  Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas: ...
+  Sed non, ut placidis coeant immitia, non ut
+  Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus haedi._
+
+He would have a poem of a piece; not to begin with one thing, and end
+with another: He restrains it so far, that thoughts of an unlike
+nature ought not to be joined together. That were indeed to make a
+chaos. He taxed not Homer, nor the divine Virgil, for interesting
+their gods in the wars of Troy and Italy; neither, had he now lived,
+would he have taxed Milton, as our false critics have presumed to do,
+for his choice of a supernatural argument; but he would have blamed my
+author, who was a Christian, had he introduced into his poem heathen
+deities, as Tasso is condemned by Rapin on the like occasion; and as
+Camoens, the author of the "Lusiads," ought to be censured by all his
+readers, when he brings in Bacchus and Christ into the same adventure
+of his fable.
+
+From that which has been said, it may be collected, that the
+definition of wit (which has been so often attempted, and ever
+unsuccessfully by many poets,) is only this: That it is a propriety of
+thoughts and words; or, in other terms, thoughts and words elegantly
+adapted to the subject. If our critics will join issue on this
+definition, that we may _convenire in aliquo tertio_; if they will
+take it as a granted principle, it will be easy to put an end to this
+dispute. No man will disagree from another's judgment concerning the
+dignity of style in heroic poetry; but all reasonable men will
+conclude it necessary, that sublime subjects ought to be adorned with
+the sublimest, and consequently often, with the most figurative
+expressions. In the mean time I will not run into their fault of
+imposing my opinions on other men, any more than I would my writings
+on their taste: I have only laid down, and that superficially enough,
+my present thoughts; and shall be glad to be taught better by those
+who pretend to reform our poetry.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. With all this mitigation, the passage seems horrible bombast.
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                         STATE OF INNOCENCE,
+
+                                 AND
+
+                             FALL OF MAN.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_Represents a Chaos, or a confused Mass of Matter; the Stage
+  is almost wholly dark: A Symphony of warlike Music is heard for some
+  time; then from the Heavens, (which are opened) fall the rebellious
+  Angels, wheeling in Air, and seeming transfixed with Thunderbolts:
+  The bottom of the Stage being opened, receives the Angels, who fall
+  out of sight. Tunes of Victory are played, and an Hymn sung; Angels
+  discovered above, brandishing their Swords: The Music ceasing, and
+  the Heavens being closed, the Scene shifts, and on a sudden
+  represents Hell: Part of the Scene is a Lake of Brimstone, or
+  rolling Fire; the Earth of a burnt Colour: The fallen Angels appear
+  on the Lake, lying prostrate; a Tune of Horror and Lamentation is
+  heard._
+
+  LUCIFER, _raising himself on the Lake._
+
+_Lucif._ Is this the seat our conqueror has given?
+And this the climate we must change for heaven?
+These regions and this realm my wars have got;
+This mournful empire is the loser's lot:
+In liquid burnings, or on dry, to dwell,
+Is all the sad variety of hell.
+But see, the victor has recalled, from far,
+The avenging storms, his ministers of war:
+His shafts are spent, and his tired thunders sleep,
+Nor longer bellow through the boundless deep.
+Best take the occasion, and these waves forsake,
+While time is given.--Ho, Asmoday, awake,
+If thou art he! But ah! how changed from him,
+Companion of my arms! how wan! how dim!
+How faded all thy glories are! I see
+Myself too well, and my own change in thee.
+
+_Asm._ Prince of the thrones, who in the fields of light
+Led'st forth the embattled seraphim to fight;
+Who shook the power of heaven's eternal state,
+Had broke it too, if not upheld by fate;
+But now those hopes are fled: Thus low we lie,
+Shut from his day, and that contended sky,
+And lost, as far as heavenly forms can die;
+Yet, not all perished: We defy him still,
+And yet wage war, with our unconquered will.
+
+_Lucif._ Strength may return.
+
+_Asm._ Already of thy virtue I partake,
+Erected by thy voice.
+
+_Lucif._ See on the lake
+Our troops, like scattered leaves in autumn, lie;
+First let us raise ourselves, and seek the dry,
+Perhaps more easy dwelling.
+
+_Asm._ From the beach
+Thy well-known voice the sleeping gods will reach,
+And wake the immortal sense, which thunder's noise
+Had quelled, and lightning deep had driven within them.
+
+_Lucif._ With wings expanded wide, ourselves we'll rear,
+And fly incumbent on the dusky air.--
+Hell, thy new lord receive!
+Heaven cannot envy me an empire here.         [_Both fly to dry Land._
+
+_Asm._ Thus far we have prevailed; if that be gain,
+Which is but change of place, not change of pain.
+Now summon we the rest.
+
+_Lucif._ Dominions, Powers, ye chiefs of heaven's bright host,
+(Of heaven, once your's; but now in battle lost)
+Wake from your slumber! Are your beds of down?
+Sleep you so easy there? Or fear the frown
+Of him who threw you hence, and joys to see
+Your abject state confess his victory?
+Rise, rise, ere from his battlements he view
+Your prostrate postures, and his bolts renew,
+To strike you deeper down.
+
+_Asm._ They wake, they hear,
+Shake off their slumber first, and next their fear;
+And only for the appointed signal stay.
+
+_Lucif._ Rise from the flood, and hither wing your way.
+
+_Mol._ [_From the Lake._]
+Thine to command; our part is to obey.
+                      [_The rest of the Devils rise up, and fly to the
+                       Land._
+
+_Lucif._ So, now we are ourselves again an host,
+Fit to tempt fate, once more, for what we lost;
+To o'erleap the etherial fence, or if so high
+We cannot climb, to undermine his sky,
+And blow him up, who justly rules us now,
+Because more strong: Should he be forced to bow.
+The right were ours again: 'Tis just to win
+The highest place; to attempt, and fail, is sin.
+
+_Mol._ Changed as we are, we're yet from homage free;
+We have, by hell, at least gained liberty:
+That's worth our fall; thus low though we are driven,
+Better to rule in hell, than serve in heaven.
+
+_Lucif._ There spoke the better half of Lucifer!
+
+_Asm._ 'Tis fit in frequent senate we confer,
+And then determine how to steer our course;
+To wage new war by fraud, or open force.
+The doom's now past; submission were in vain.
+
+_Mol._ And were it not, such baseness I disdain;
+I would not stoop, to purchase all above,
+And should contemn a power, whom prayer could move,
+As one unworthy to have conquered me.
+
+_Beelzebub._ Moloch, in that all are resolved, like thee.
+The means are unproposed; but 'tis not fit
+Our dark divan in public view should sit;
+Or what we plot against the Thunderer,
+The ignoble crowd of vulgar devils hear.
+
+_Luci._ A golden palace let be raised on high;
+To imitate? No, to outshine the sky!
+All mines are ours, and gold above the rest:
+Let this be done; and quick as 'twas exprest.
+
+  _A Palace rises, where sit, as in council,_ LUCIFER, ASMODAY,
+  MOLOCH, BELIAL, BEELZEBUB, _and_ SATAN.
+
+Most high and mighty lords, who better fell
+From heaven, to rise states-general of hell,
+Nor yet repent, though ruined and undone,
+Our upper provinces already won,
+Such pride there is in souls created free,
+Such hate of universal monarchy;
+Speak, for we therefore meet:
+If peace you chuse, your suffrages declare;
+Or means propound, to carry on the war.
+
+_Mol._ My sentence is for war; that open too:
+Unskilled in stratagems, plain force I know:
+Treaties are vain to losers; nor would we,
+Should heaven grant peace, submit to sovereignty.
+We can no caution give we will adore;
+And he above is warned to trust no more.
+What then remains but battle?
+
+_Satan._ I agree
+With this brave vote; and if in hell there be
+Ten more such spirits, heaven is our own again:
+We venture nothing, and may all obtain.
+Yet who can hope but well, since even success
+Makes foes secure, and makes our danger less?
+Seraph and cherub, careless of their charge,
+And wanton, in full ease now live at large;
+Unguarded leave the passes of the sky,
+And all dissolved in hallelujahs lie.
+
+_Mol._ Grant that our hazardous attempt prove vain;
+We feel the worst, secured from greater pain:
+Perhaps we may provoke the conquering foe
+To make us nothing; yet, even then, we know,
+That not to be, is not to be in woe.
+
+_Belial._ That knowledge which, as spirits, we obtain,
+Is to be valued in the midst of pain:
+Annihilation were to lose heaven more;
+We are not quite exiled where thought can soar.
+Then cease from arms;
+Tempt him not farther to pursue his blow,
+And be content to bear those pains we know.
+If what we had, we could not keep, much less
+Can we regain what those above possess.
+
+_Beelzebub._ Heaven sleeps not; from one wink a breach would be
+In the full circle of eternity.
+Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased;
+Heaven, unprovoked, at length may be appeased.
+By war we cannot scape our wretched lot;
+And may, perhaps, not warring, be forgot.
+
+_Asm._ Could we repent, or did not heaven well know
+Rebellion, once forgiven, would greater grow,
+I should, with Belial, chuse ignoble ease;
+But neither will the conqueror give peace,
+Nor yet so lost in this low state we are,
+As to despair of a well-managed war.
+Nor need we tempt those heights which angels keep,
+Who fear no force, or ambush, from the deep.
+What if we find some easier enterprise?
+There is a place,--if ancient prophecies
+And fame in heaven not err,--the blest abode
+Of some new race, called Man, a demi-god,
+Whom, near this time, the Almighty must create;
+He swore it, shook the heavens, and made it fate.
+
+_Lucif._ I heard it; through all heaven the rumour ran,
+And much the talk of this intended Man:
+Of form divine; but less in excellence
+Than we; endued with reason lodged in sense:
+The soul pure fire, like ours, of equal force;
+But, pent in flesh, must issue by discourse:
+We see what is; to Man truth must be brought
+By sense, and drawn by a long chain of thought:
+By that faint light, to will and understand;
+For made less knowing, he's at more command.
+
+_Asm._ Though heaven be shut, that world, if it be made,
+As nearest heaven, lies open to invade:
+Man therefore must be known, his strength, his state,
+And by what tenure he holds all of fate.
+Him let us then seduce, or overthrow;
+The first is easiest, and makes heaven his foe.
+Advise, if this attempt be worth our care.
+
+_Belial._ Great is the advantage, great the hazards are.
+Some one (but who that task dares undertake?)
+Of this new creature must discovery make.
+Hell's brazen gates he first must break, then far
+Must wander through old night, and through the war
+Of antique chaos; and, when these are past,
+Meet heaven's out-guards, who scout upon the waste:
+At every station must be bid to stand,
+And forced to answer every strict demand.
+
+_Mol._ This glorious enterprise--                        [_Rising up._
+
+_Lucif._ Rash angel, stay;
+                         [_Rising, and laying his sceptre on_ MOLOCH'S
+                          _head._
+That palm is mine, which none shall take away.
+Hot braves, like thee, may fight; but know not well
+To manage this, the last great stake of hell.
+Why am I ranked in state above the rest,
+If, while I stand of sovereign power possest,
+Another dares, in danger, farther go?
+Kings are not made for ease, and pageant-show.
+Who would be conqueror, must venture all:
+He merits not to rise, who dares not fall.
+
+_Asm._ The praise, and danger, then, be all your own.
+
+_Lucif._ On this foundation I erect my throne:
+Through brazen gates, vast chaos, and old night,
+I'll force my way, and upwards steer my flight;
+Discover this new world, and newer Man;
+Make him my footstep to mount heaven again:
+Then, in the clemency of upward air,
+We'll scour our spots, and the dire thunder scar,
+With all the remnants of the unlucky war,
+And once again grow bright, and once again grow fair.
+
+_Asm._ Meantime the youth of hell strict guard may keep,
+And set their centries to the utmost deep,
+That no etherial parasite may come
+To spy our ills, and tell glad tales at home.
+
+_Lucif._ Before yon brimstone lake thrice ebb and flow,
+(Alas, that we must measure time by woe!)
+I shall return, (my mind presages well)
+And outward lead the colonies of hell.
+Your care I much approve; what time remains,
+Seek to forget, at least divert your pains
+With sports and music, in the vales and fields,
+And whate'erjoy so sad a climate yields.
+
+  _Betwixt the first Act and the second, while the Chiefs sit in the
+  palace, may be expressed the sports of the Devils; as flights, and
+  dancing in grotesque figures: And a song, expressing the change of
+  their condition; what they enjoyed before, and how they fell bravely
+  in battle, having deserved victory by their valour, and what they
+  would have done if they had conquered._
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+SCENE 1.--_A Champaign Country._
+
+  ADAM, _as newly created, laid on a bed of moss and flowers, by a
+  rock._
+
+_Adam._ What am I? or from whence? For that I am            [_Rising._
+I know, because I think; but whence I came,
+Or how this frame of mine began to be,
+What other being can disclose to me?
+I move, I see, I speak, discourse, and know;
+Though now I am, I was not always so.
+Then that, from which I was, must be before,
+Whom, as my spring of being, I adore.
+How full of ornament is all I view,
+In all its parts! and seems as beautiful as new:
+O goodly-ordered work! O Power Divine,
+Of thee I am, and what I am is thine!
+
+  RAPHAEL _descends to_ ADAM, _in a cloud._
+
+_Raphael._ First of mankind, made o'er the world to reign,
+Whose fruitful loins an unborn kind contain,
+Well hast thou reasoned: Of himself is none
+But that Eternal Infinite and One,
+Who never did begin, who ne'er can end;
+On Him all beings, as their source, depend.
+We first, who of his image most partake,
+Whom he all spirit, immortal, pure, did make;
+Man next; whose race, exalted, must supply
+The place of those, who, falling, lost the sky.
+
+_Adam._ Bright minister of heaven, sent here below
+To me, who but begin to think and know;
+If such could fall from bliss, who knew and saw,
+By near admission, their creator's law,
+What hopes have I, from heaven remote so far,
+To keep those laws, unknowing when I err?
+
+_Raphael._ Right reason's law to every human heart
+The Eternal, as his image, will impart:
+This teaches to adore heaven's Majesty;
+In prayer and praise does all devotion lie:
+So doing, thou and all thy race are blest.
+
+_Adam._ Of every creeping thing, of bird, and beast,
+I see the kinds: In pairs distinct they go;
+The males their loves, their lovers females know:
+Thou nam'st a race which must proceed from me,
+Yet my whole species in myself I see:
+A barren sex, and single, of no use,
+But full of forms which I can ne'er produce.
+
+_Raphael._ Think not the Power, who made thee thus, can find
+No way like theirs to propagate thy kind:
+Meantime, live happy in thyself alone;
+Like him who, single, fills the etherial throne.
+To study nature will thy time employ:
+Knowledge and innocence are perfect joy.
+
+_Adam._ If solitude were best, the All-wise above
+Had made no creature for himself to love.
+I add not to the power he had before;
+Yet to make me, extends his goodness more.
+He would not be alone, who all things can;
+But peopled heaven with angels, earth with man.
+
+_Raphael._ As man and angels to the Deity,
+So all inferior creatures are to thee.
+Heaven's greatness no society can bear;
+Servants he made, and those thou want'st not here.
+
+_Adam._ Why did he reason in my soul implant,
+And speech, the effect of reason? To the mute,
+My speech is lost; my reason to the brute.
+Love and society more blessings bring
+To them, the slaves, than power to me, their king.
+
+_Raphael._ Thus far to try thee; but to heaven 'twas known,
+It was not best for man to be alone;
+An equal, yet thy subject, is designed,
+For thy soft hours, and to unbend thy mind.
+Thy stronger soul shall her weak reason sway;
+And thou, through love, her beauty shalt obey;
+Thou shalt secure her helpless sex from harms,
+And she thy cares shall sweeten with her charms.
+
+_Adam._ What more can heaven bestow, or man require?
+
+_Raphael._ Yes, he can give beyond thy own desire.
+A mansion is provided thee, more fair
+Than this, and worthy heaven's peculiar care:
+Not framed of common earth, nor fruits, nor flowers
+Of vulgar growth, but like celestial bowers:
+The soil luxuriant, and the fruit divine,
+Where golden apples on green branches shine,
+And purple grapes dissolve into immortal wine;
+For noon-day's heat are closer arbours made,
+And for fresh evening air the opener glade.
+Ascend; and, as we go,
+More wonders thou shalt know.
+
+_Adam._ And, as we go, let earth and heaven above
+Sound our great Maker's power, and greater love.
+                     [_They ascend to soft music, and a song is sung._
+
+  _The Scene changes, and represents, above, a Sun gloriously rising
+  and moving orbicularly: at a distance, below, is the Moon; the part
+  next the Sun enlightened, the other dark. A black Cloud comes
+  whirling from the adverse part of the Heavens, bearing_ LUCIFER _in
+  it; at his nearer approach the body of the Sun is darkened._
+
+_Lucif._ Am I become so monstrous, so disfigured,
+That nature cannot suffer my approach,
+Or look me in the face, but stands aghast;
+And that fair light which gilds this new-made orb,
+Shorn of his beams, shrinks in? accurst ambition!
+And thou, black empire of the nether world,
+How dearly have I bought you! But, 'tis past;
+I have already gone too far to stop,
+And must push on my dire revenge, in ruin
+Of this gay frame, and man, my upstart rival,
+In scorn of me created. Down, my pride,
+And all my swelling thoughts! I must forget
+Awhile I am a devil, and put on
+A smooth submissive face; else I in vain
+Have past through night and chaos, to discover
+Those envied skies again, which I have lost.
+But stay; far off I see a chariot driven,
+Flaming with beams, and in it Uriel,
+One of the seven, (I know his hated face)
+Who stands in presence of the eternal throne,
+And seems the regent of that glorious light.
+
+  _From that part of the Heavens where the Sun appears, a Chariot is
+  discovered drawn with white Horses, and in it_ URIEL, _the Regent of
+  the Sun. The Chariot moves swiftly towards_ LUCIFER, _and at_
+  URIEL'S _approach the Sun recovers his light._
+
+_Uriel._ Spirit, who art thou, and from whence arrived?
+(For I remember not thy face in heaven)
+Or by command, or hither led by choice?
+Or wander'st thou within this lucid orb,
+And, strayed from those fair fields of light above,
+Amidst this new creation want'st a guide,
+To reconduct thy steps?
+
+_Lucifer._ Bright Uriel,
+Chief of the seven! thou flaming minister,
+Who guard'st this new-created orb of light,
+(The world's eye that, and thou the eye of it)
+Thy favour and high office make thee known:
+An humble cherub I, and of less note,
+Yet bold, by thy permission, hither come,
+On high discoveries bent.
+
+_Uriel._ Speak thy design.
+
+_Lucifer._ Urged by renown of what I heard above,
+Divulged by angels nearest heaven's high King,
+Concerning this new world, I came to view
+(If worthy such a favour) and admire
+This last effect of our great Maker's power:
+Thence to my wondering fellows I shall turn,
+Full fraught with joyful tidings of these works,
+New matter of his praise, and of our songs.
+
+_Uriel._ Thy business is not what deserves my blame,
+Nor thou thyself unwelcome; see, fair spirit,
+Below yon sphere (of matter not unlike it)
+There hangs the ball of earth and water mixt,
+Self-centered and unmoved.
+
+_Lucifer._ But where dwells man?
+
+_Uriel._ On yonder mount; thou see'st it fenced with rocks,
+And round the ascent a theatre of trees,
+A sylvan scene, which, rising by degrees,
+Leads up the eye below, nor gluts the sight
+With one full prospect, but invites by many,
+To view at last the whole: There his abode,
+Thither direct thy flight.
+
+_Lucifer._ O blest be thou,
+Who to my low converse has lent thy ear,
+And favoured my request! Hail, and farewell.
+                                       [_Flies downward out of sight._
+
+_Uriel._ Not unobserved thou goest, whoe'er thou art;
+Whether some spirit on holy purpose bent,
+Or some fallen angel from below broke loose,
+Who com'st, with envious eyes and curst intent,
+To view this world and its created lord:
+Here will I watch, and, while my orb rolls on,
+Pursue from hence thy much suspected flight,
+And, if disguised, pierce through with beams of light.
+                           [_The Chariot drives forward out of sight._
+
+
+SCENE II.--_Paradise._
+
+  _Trees cut out on each side, with several Fruits upon them; a
+  Fountain in the midst: At the far end the prospect terminates in
+  Walks._
+
+_Adam._ If this be dreaming, let me never wake;
+But still the joys of that sweet sleep partake.
+Methought--but why do I my bliss delay,
+By thinking what I thought? Fair vision, stay;
+My better half, thou softer part of me,
+To whom I yield my boasted sovereignty,
+I seek myself, and find not, wanting thee.                    [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ EVE.
+
+_Eve._ Tell me, ye hills and dales, and thou fair sun,
+Who shin'st above, what am I? Whence begun?
+Like myself, I see nothing: From each tree
+The feathered kind peep down to look on me;
+And beasts with up-cast eyes forsake their shade,
+And gaze, as if I were to be obeyed.
+Sure I am somewhat which they wish to be,
+And cannot; I myself am proud of me.
+What's here? another firmament below,        [_Looks into a fountain._
+Spread wide, and other trees that downward grow!
+And now a face peeps up, and now draws near,
+With smiling looks, as pleased to see me here.
+As I advance, so that advances too,
+And seems to imitate whate'er I do:
+When I begin to speak, the lips it moves;
+Streams drown the voice, or it would say, it loves.
+Yet when I would embrace, it will not stay: [_Stoops down to embrace._
+Lost ere 'tis held; when nearest, far away.
+Ah, fair, yet false! ah, Being, formed to cheat,
+By seeming kindness, mixt with deep deceit!
+
+  _Enter_ ADAM.
+
+_Adam._ O virgin, heaven-begot, and born of man,
+Thou fairest of thy great Creator's works!
+Thee, goddess, thee the Eternal did ordain,
+His softer substitute on earth to reign;
+And, wheresoe'er thy happy footsteps tread,
+Nature in triumph after thee is led!
+Angels with pleasure view thy matchless grace,
+And love their Maker's image in thy face.
+
+_Eve._ O, only like myself,(for nothing here
+So graceful, so majestic does appear:)
+Art thou the form my longing eyes did see,
+Loosed from thy fountain, and come out to me?
+Yet sure thou art not, nor thy face the same,
+Nor thy limbs moulded in so soft a frame;
+Thou look'st more sternly, dost more strongly move,
+And more of awe thou bear'st, and less of love.
+Yet pleased I hear thee, and above the rest,
+I, next myself, admire and love thee best.
+
+_Adam._ Made to command, thus freely I obey,
+And at thy feet the whole creation lay.
+Pity that love thy beauty does beget;
+What more I shall desire, I know not yet.
+First let us locked in close embraces be,
+Thence I, perhaps, may teach myself and thee.
+
+_Eve._ Somewhat forbids me, which I cannot name;
+For, ignorant of guilt, I fear not shame:
+But some restraining thought, I know not why,
+Tells me, you long should beg, I long deny.
+
+_Adam._ In vain! my right to thee is sealed above;
+Look round and see where thou canst place thy love:
+All creatures else are much unworthy thee;
+They matched, and thou alone art left for me.
+If not to love, we both were made in vain;
+I my new empire would resign again,
+And change with my dumb slaves my nobler mind,
+Who, void of reason, more of pleasure find.
+Methinks, for me they beg; each silently
+Demands thy grace, and seems to watch thy eye.
+
+_Eve._ I well foresee, whene'er thy suit I grant,
+That I my much-loved sovereignty shall want:
+Or like myself some other may be made,
+And her new beauty may thy heart invade.
+
+_Adam._ Could heaven some greater master-piece devise,
+Set out with all the glories of the skies,
+That beauty yet in vain he should decree.
+Unless he made another heart for me.
+
+_Eve._ With how much ease I, whom I love, believe!
+Giving myself, my want of worth I grieve.
+Here, my inviolable faith I plight,
+So, thou be my defence, I, thy delight.     [_Exeunt, he leading her._
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+SCENE I.--_Paradise._
+
+  LUCIFER.
+
+_Lucif._ Fair place! yet what is this to heaven, where I
+Sat next, so almost equalled the Most High?
+I doubted, measuring both, who was more strong;
+Then, willing to forget time since so long,
+Scarce thought I was created: Vain desire
+Of empire in my thoughts still shot me higher,
+To mount above his sacred head: Ah why,
+When he so kind, was so ungrateful I?
+He bounteously bestowed unenvied good
+On me: In arbitrary grace I stood:
+To acknowledge this, was all he did exact;
+Small tribute, where the will to pay was act.
+I mourn it now, unable to repent,
+As he, who knows my hatred to relent,
+Jealous of power once questioned: Hope, farewell;
+And with hope, fear; no depth below my hell
+Can be prepared: Then, Ill, be thou my good;
+And, vast destruction, be my envy's food.
+Thus I, with heaven, divided empire gain;
+Seducing man, I make his project vain,
+And in one hour destroy his six days pain.
+They come again, I must retire.
+
+  _Enter_ ADAM _and_ EVE.
+
+_Adam._ Thus shall we live in perfect bliss, and see,
+Deathless ourselves, our numerous progeny.
+Thou young and beauteous, my desires to bless;
+I, still desiring, what I still possess.
+
+_Eve._ Heaven, from whence love, our greatest blessing, came,
+Can give no more, but still to be the same.
+Thou more of pleasure may'st with me partake;
+I, more of pride, because thy bliss I make.
+
+_Adam._ When to my arms thou brought'st thy virgin love,
+Fair angels sung our bridal hymn above:
+The Eternal, nodding, shook the firmament,
+And conscious nature gave her glad consent.
+Roses unbid, and every fragrant flower,
+Flew from their stalks, to strew thy nuptial bower:
+The furred and feathered kind the triumph did pursue,
+And fishes leaped above the streams, the passing pomp to view.
+
+_Eve._ When your kind eyes looked languishing on mine,
+And wreathing arms did soft embraces join,
+A doubtful trembling seized me first all o'er;
+Then, wishes; and a warmth, unknown before:
+What followed was all ecstasy and trance;
+Immortal pleasures round my swimming eyes did dance,
+And speechless joys, in whose sweet tumult tost,
+I thought my breath and my new being lost.
+
+_Lucif._ O death to hear! and a worse hell on earth!         [_Aside._
+What mad profusion on this clod-born birth!
+Abyss of joys, as if heaven meant to shew
+What, in base matters, such a hand could do:
+Or was his virtue spent, and he no more
+With angels could supply the exhausted store,
+Of which I swept the sky?
+And wanting subjects to his haughty will,
+On this mean work employed his trifling skill?
+
+_Eve._ Blest in ourselves, all pleasures else abound;
+Without our care behold the unlaboured ground
+Bounteous of fruit; above our shady bowers
+The creeping jessamin thrusts her fragrant flowers;
+The myrtle, orange, and the blushing rose,
+With bending heaps so nigh their blooms disclose,
+Each seems to swell the flavour which the other blows:
+By these the peach, the guava, and the pine,
+And, creeping 'twixt them all, the mantling vine
+Does round their trunks her purple clusters twine.
+
+_Adam._ All these are ours, all nature's excellence,
+Whose taste or smell can bless the feasted sense;
+One only fruit, in the mid garden placed,--
+The Tree of Knowledge,--is denied our taste;
+(Our proof of duty to our Maker's will:)
+Of disobedience, death's the threatened ill.
+
+_Eve._ Death is some harm, which, though we know not yet,
+Since threatened, we must needs imagine great:
+And sure he merits it, who disobeys
+That one command, and one of so much ease.
+
+_Lucif._ Must they then die, if they attempt to know?
+He sees they would rebel, and keeps them low.
+On this foundation I their ruin lay,
+Hope to know more shall tempt to disobey.
+I fell by this, and, since their strength is less,
+Why should not equal means give like success?
+
+_Adam._ Come, my fair love, our morning's task we lose;
+Some labour even the easiest life would chuse:
+Ours is not great: the dangling boughs to crop,
+Whose too luxuriant growth our alleys stop,
+And choke the paths: This our delight requires,
+And heaven no more of daily work desires.
+
+_Eve._ With thee to live, is paradise alone:
+Without the pleasure of thy sight, is none.
+I fear small progress will be made this day;
+So much our kisses will our task delay.                     [_Exeunt._
+
+_Lucif._ Why have not I, like these, a body too,
+Formed for the same delights which they pursue!
+I could (so variously my passions move)
+Enjoy, and blast her in the act of love.
+Unwillingly I hate such excellence;
+She wronged me not; but I revenge the offence,
+Through her, on heaven, whose thunder took away
+My birth-right skies! Live happy whilst you may,
+Blest pair; y'are not allowed another day!                    [_Exit._
+
+  GABRIEL _and_ ITHURIEL _descend, carried on bright clouds, and
+  flying cross each other, then light on the ground._
+
+_Gab._ Ithuriel, since we two commissioned are
+From heaven the guardians of this new made pair,
+Each mind his charge; for, see, the night draws on,
+And rising mists pursue the setting sun.
+
+_Ithu._ Blest is our lot to serve; our task we know:
+To watch, lest any, from the abyss below
+Broke loose, disturb their sleep with dreams; or worse,
+Assault their beings with superior force.
+                                     [URIEL _flies down from the Sun._
+
+_Uriel._ Gabriel, if now the watch be set, prepare,
+With strictest guard, to shew thy utmost care.
+This morning came a spirit, fair he seemed,
+Whom, by his face, I some young cherub deemed;
+Of man he much inquired, and where his place,
+With shews of zeal to praise his Maker's grace;
+But I, with watchful eyes, observed his flight,
+And saw him on yon steepy mount alight;
+There, as he thought, unseen, he laid aside
+His borrowed mask, and re-assumed his pride:
+I marked his looks, averse to heaven and good;
+Dusky he grew, and long revolving stood
+On some deep, dark design; thence shot with haste,
+And o'er the mounds of Paradise he past:
+By his proud port, he seemed the Prince of Hell;
+And here he lurks in shades 'till night: Search well
+Each grove and thicket, pry in every shape,
+Lest, hid in some, the arch hypocrite escape.
+
+_Gab._ If any spirit come to invade, or scout
+From hell, what earthy fence can keep him out?
+But rest secure of this, he shall be found,
+And taken, or proscribed this happy ground.
+
+_Ithu._ Thou to the east, I westward walk the round,
+And meet we in the midst.
+
+_Uriel._ Heaven your design
+Succeed; your charge requires you, and me mine.
+                    [URIEL _flies forward out of sight; the two Angels
+                     exeunt severally._
+
+  _A Night-piece of a pleasant Bower:_ ADAM _and_ EVE _asleep in it._
+
+  _Enter_ LUCIFER.
+
+_Lucif._ So, now they lie secure in love, and steep
+Their sated senses in full draughts of sleep.
+By what sure means can I their bliss invade?
+By violence? No, for they are immortal made.
+Their reason sleeps, but mimic fancy wakes,
+Supplies her part, and wild ideas takes,
+From words and things, ill sorted and misjoined;
+The anarchy of thought, and chaos of the mind:
+Hence dreams, confused and various, may arise;
+These will I set before the woman's eyes;
+The weaker she, and made my easier prey;
+Vain shows and pomp the softer sex betray.
+                    [LUCIFER _sits down by_ EVE, _and seems to whisper
+                     in her ear._
+
+  _A Vision, where a tree rises loaden with fruit; four Spirits rise
+  with it, and draw a canopy out of the tree; other Spirits dance
+  about the tree in deformed shapes; after the dance an Angel enters,
+  with a Woman, habited like_ EVE.
+
+_Angel._ [_Singing._]
+Look up, look up, and see,
+What heaven prepares for thee;
+Look up, and this fair fruit behold,
+Ruddy it smiles, and rich with streaks of gold.
+The loaded branches downward bend,
+Willing they stoop, and thy fair hand attend.
+Fair mother of mankind, make haste
+And bless, and bless thy senses with the taste.
+
+_Woman._ No, 'tis forbidden; I
+In tasting it shall die.
+
+_Angel._ Say, who enjoined this harsh command?
+
+_Woman._ 'Twas heaven; and who can heaven withstand?
+
+_Angel._ Why was it made so fair, why placed in sight?
+Heaven is too good to envy man's delight.
+See, we before thy face will try
+What thou so fearest, and will not die.
+                 [_The Angel takes the fruit, and gives to the Spirits
+                  who danced; they immediately put off their deformed
+                  shapes, and appear Angels._
+
+_Angel._ [_Singing._]
+Behold what a change on a sudden is here!
+How glorious in beauty, how bright they appear!
+Prom spirits deformed they are deities made,
+Their pinions at pleasure the clouds can invade,
+                            [_The Angel gives to the Woman, who eats._
+Till equal in honour they rise,
+With him who commands in the skies;
+Then taste without fear, and be happy and wise.
+
+_Woman._ Ah, now I believe! such a pleasure I find,
+As enlightens my eyes, and enlivens my mind.
+                     [_The Spirits, who are turned Angels, fly up when
+                      they have tasted._
+I only repent,
+I deferred my content.
+
+_Angel._ Now wiser experience has taught you to prove,
+What a folly it is,
+Out of fear to shun bliss.
+To the joy that's forbidden we eagerly move;
+It inhances the price, and increases the love.
+
+_Chorus of both._ To the joy, &c.
+
+  _Two Angels descend; they take the Woman each by the hand, and fly
+  up with her out of sight. The Angel who sung, and the Spirits who
+  held the canopy, at the same instant sink down with the tree._
+
+  _Enter_ GABRIEL _and_ ITHURIEL _to_ LUCIFER, _who remains._
+
+_Gab._ What art thou? speak thy name and thy intent.
+Why here alone? and on what errand sent?
+Not from above; no, thy wan looks betray
+Diminished light, and eyes unused to day.
+
+_Lucif._ Not to know me, argues thyself unknown:
+Time was, when, shining next the imperial throne,
+I sat in awful state; while such as thou
+Did in the ignoble crowd at distance bow.
+
+_Gab._ Think'st thou, vain spirit, thy glories are the same?
+And seest not sin obscures thy god-like frame?
+I know thee now by thy ungrateful pride,
+That shews me what thy faded looks did hide,
+Traitor to Him who made and set thee high,
+And fool, that Power which formed thee to defy.
+
+_Lucif._ Go, slaves, return, and fawn in heaven again:
+Seek thanks from him whose quarrel you maintain.
+Vile wretches! of your servitude to boast;
+You basely keep the place I bravely lost.
+
+_Ithu._ Freedom is choice of what we will and do:
+Then blame not servants, who are freely so.
+'Tis base not to acknowledge what we owe.
+
+_Lucif._ Thanks, howe'er due, proclaim subjection yet;
+I fought for power to quit the upbraided debt.
+Whoe'er expects our thanks, himself repays,
+And seems but little, who can want our praise.
+
+_Gab._ What in us duty, shews not want in him;
+Blest in himself alone,
+To whom no praise we, by good deeds, can add;
+Nor can his glory suffer from our bad.
+Made for his use; yet he has formed us so,
+We, unconstrained, what he commands us do.
+So praise we him, and serve him freely best;
+Thus thou, by choice, art fallen, and we are blest.
+
+_Ithu._ This, lest thou think thy plea, unanswered, good.
+Our question thou evad'st: How didst thou dare
+To break hell bounds, and near this human pair
+In nightly ambush lie?
+
+_Lucif._ Lives there, who would not seek to force his way,
+From pain to ease, from darkness to the day?
+Should I, who found the means to 'scape, not dare
+To change my sulphurous smoke for upper air?
+When I, in fight, sustained your Thunderer,
+And heaven on me alone spent half his war,
+Think'st thou those wounds were light? Should I not seek
+The clemency of some more temperate clime,
+To purge my gloom; and, by the sun refined,
+Bask in his beams, and bleach me in the wind?
+
+_Gab._ If pain to shun be all thy business here,
+Methinks thy fellows the same course should steer.
+Is their pain less, who yet behind thee stay?
+Or thou less hardy to endure than they?
+
+_Lucif._ Nor one, nor t'other; but, as leaders ought,
+I ventured first alone, first danger sought,
+And first explored this new-created frame,
+Which filled our dusky regions with its fame;
+In hopes my fainting troops to settle here,
+And to defend against your Thunderer,
+This spot of earth; or nearer heaven repair,
+And forage to his gates from middle air.
+
+_Ithu._ Fool! to believe thou any part canst gain
+From Him, who could'st not thy first ground maintain.
+
+_Gab._ But whether that design, or one as vain,
+To attempt the lives of these, first drew thee here,
+Avoid the place, and never more appear
+Upon this hallowed earth; else prove our might.
+
+_Lucif._ Not that I fear, do I decline the fight:
+You I disdain; let me with Him contend,
+On whom your limitary powers depend.
+More honour from the sender than the sent:
+Till then, I have accomplished my intent;
+And leave this place, which but augments my pain,
+Gazing to wish, yet hopeless to obtain.   [_Exit, they following him._
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+SCENE I.--_Paradise._
+
+  ADAM _and_ EVE.
+
+_Adam._ Strange was your dream, and full of sad portent;
+Avert it, heaven, if it from heaven were sent!
+Let on thy foes the dire presages fall;
+To us be good and easy, when we call.
+
+_Eve._ Behold from far a breaking cloud appears,
+Which in it many winged warriors bears:
+Their glory shoots upon my aching sense;
+Thou, stronger, mayest endure the flood of light,
+And while in shades I chear my fainting sight,
+Encounter the descending Excellence.                          [_Exit._
+
+  _The Cloud descends with six Angels in it, and when it is near the
+  ground, breaks, and on each side discovers six more: They descend
+  out of the Cloud._ RAPHAEL _and_ GABRIEL _discourse with_ ADAM, _the
+  rest stand at a distance._
+
+_Raph._ First of mankind, that we from heaven are sent,
+Is from heaven's care thy ruin to prevent.
+The Apostate Angel has by night been here,
+And whispered through thy sleeping consort's ear
+Delusive dreams. Thus warned by us, beware,
+And guide her frailty by thy timely care.
+
+_Gab._ These, as thy guards from outward harms, are sent;
+Ills from within thy reason must prevent.
+
+_Adam._ Natives of heaven, who in compassion deign
+To want that place where joys immortal reign,
+In care of me; what praises can I pay,
+Descended in obedience; taught to obey?
+
+_Raph._ Praise Him alone, who god-like formed thee free,
+With will unbounded as a deity;
+Who gave thee reason, as thy aid, to chuse
+Apparent good, and evil to refuse.
+Obedience is that good; this heaven exacts,
+And heaven, all-just, from man requires not acts,
+Which man wants power to do: Power then is given
+Of doing good, but not compelled by heaven.
+
+_Gab._ Made good, that thou dost to thy Maker owe;
+But to thyself, if thou continuest so.
+
+_Adam._ Freedom of will of all good things is best;
+But can it be by finite man possest?
+I know not how heaven can communicate
+What equals man to his Creator's state.
+
+_Raph._ Heaven cannot give his boundless power away,
+But boundless liberty of choice he may;
+So orbs from the first Mover motion take,
+Yet each their proper revolutions make.
+
+_Adam._ Grant heaven could once have given us liberty;
+Are we not bounded now, by firm decree,
+Since whatsoe'er is pre-ordained must be?
+Else heaven for man events might pre-ordain,
+And man's free will might make those orders vain.
+
+_Gab._ The Eternal, when he did the world create,
+All other agents did necessitate:
+So what he ordered, they by nature do;
+Thus light things mount, and heavy downward go.
+Man only boasts an arbitrary state.
+
+_Adam._ Yet causes their effects necessitate
+In willing agents: Where is freedom then?
+Or who can break the chain which limits men
+To act what is unchangeably forecast,
+Since the first cause gives motion to the last?
+
+_Raph._ Heaven, by fore-knowing what will surely be,
+Does only, first, effects in causes see,
+And finds, but does not make, necessity.
+Creation is of power and will the effect,
+Foreknowledge only of his intellect.
+His prescience makes not, but supposes things;
+Infers necessity to be, not brings.
+Thus thou art not constrained to good or ill;
+Causes, which work the effect, force not the will.
+
+_Adam._ The force unseen, and distant, I confess;
+But the long chain makes not the bondage less.
+Even man himself may to himself seem free;
+And think that choice, which is necessity.
+
+_Gab._ And who but man should judge of man's free state?
+
+_Adam._ I find that I can chuse to love or hate,
+Obey or disobey, do good or ill;
+Yet such a choice is but consent, not will.
+I can but chuse what he at first designed,
+For he, before that choice, my will confined.
+
+_Gab._ Such impious fancies, where they entrance gain,
+Make heaven, all-pure, thy crimes to pre-ordain.
+
+_Adam._ Far, far from me be banished such a thought,
+I argue only to be better taught.
+Can there be freedom, when what now seems free
+Was founded on some first necessity?
+For whate'er cause can move the will t'elect,
+Must be sufficient to produce the effect;
+And what's sufficient must effectual be:
+Then how is man, thus forced by causes, free?
+
+_Raph._ Sufficient causes only work the effect,
+When necessary agents they respect.
+Such is not man; who, though the cause suffice,
+Yet often he his free assent denies.
+
+_Adam._ What causes not, is not sufficient still.
+
+_Gab._ Sufficient in itself; not in thy will.
+
+_Raph._ When we see causes joined to effects at last,
+The chain but shews necessity that's past.
+That what's done is: (ridiculous proof of fate!)
+Tell me which part it does necessitate?
+I'll cruise the other; there I'll link the effect.
+O chain, which fools, to catch themselves, project!
+
+_Adam._ Though no constraint from heaven, or causes, be,
+Heaven may prevent that ill he does foresee;
+And, not preventing, though he does not cause,
+He seems to will that men should break his laws.
+
+_Gab._ Heaven may permit, but not to ill consent;
+For, hindering ill, he would all choice prevent.
+'Twere to unmake, to take away the will.
+
+_Adam._ Better constrained to good, than free to ill.
+
+_Raph._ But what reward or punishment could be,
+If man to neither good nor ill were free?
+The eternal justice could decree no pain
+To him whose sins itself did first ordain;
+And good, compelled, could no reward exact:
+His power would shine in goodness, not thy act.
+Our task is done: Obey; and, in that choice,
+Thou shalt be blest, and angels shall rejoice.
+                          [RAPHAEL _and_ GABRIEL _fly up in the Cloud:
+                           the other Angels go off._
+
+_Adam._ Hard state of life! since heaven foreknows my will,
+Why am I not tied up from doing ill?
+Why am I trusted with myself at large,
+When he's more able to sustain the charge?
+Since angels fell, whose strength was more than mine,
+'Twould show more grace my frailty to confine.
+Fore-knowing the success, to leave me free,
+Excuses him, and yet supports not me.
+
+  _To him_ EVE.
+
+_Eve._ Behold, my heart's dear lord, how high the sun
+Is mounted, yet our labour not begun.
+The ground, unhid, gives more than we can ask;
+But work is pleasure when we chuse our task.
+Nature, not bounteous now, but lavish grows;
+Our paths with flowers she prodigally strows;
+With pain we lift up our entangled feet,
+While cross our walks the shooting branches meet.
+
+_Adam._ Well has thy care advised; 'tis fit we haste;
+Nature's too kind, and follows us too fast;
+Leaves us no room her treasures to possess,
+But mocks our industry with her excess;
+And, wildly wanton, wears by night away
+The sign of all our labours done by day.
+
+_Eve._ Since, then, the work's so great, the hands so few,
+This day let each a several task pursue.
+By thee, my hands to labour will not move,
+But, round thy neck, employ themselves in love.
+When thou would'st work, one tender touch, one smile
+(How can I hold?) will all thy task beguile.
+
+_Adam._ So hard we are not to our labour tied,
+That smiles, and soft endearments are denied;
+Smiles, not allowed to beasts, from reason move,
+And are the privilege of human love:
+And if, sometimes, each others eyes we meet,
+Those little vacancies from toil are sweet.
+But you, by absence, would refresh your joys,
+Because perhaps my conversation cloys.
+Yet this, would prudence grant, I could permit.
+
+_Eve._ What reason makes my small request unfit?
+
+_Adam._ The fallen archangel, envious of our state,
+Pursues our beings with immortal hate;
+And, hopeless to prevail by open force,
+Seeks hid advantage to betray us worse;
+Which when asunder will not prove so hard;
+For both together are each other's guard.
+
+_Eve._ Since he, by force, is hopeless to prevail,
+He can by fraud alone our minds assail:
+And to believe his wiles my truth can move,
+Is to misdoubt my reason, or my love.
+
+_Adam._ Call it my care, and not mistrust of thee;
+Yet thou art weak, and full of art is he;
+Else how could he that host seduce to sin,
+Whose fall has left the heavenly nation thin?
+
+_Eve._ I grant him armed with subtilty and hate;
+But why should we suspect our happy state?
+Is our perfection of so frail a make,
+As every plot can undermine or shake?
+Think better both of heaven, thyself, and me:
+Who always fears, at ease can never be.
+Poor state of bliss, where so much care is shown,
+As not to dare to trust ourselves alone!
+
+_Adam._ Such is our state, as not exempt from fall;
+Yet firm, if reason to our aid we call:
+And that, in both, is stronger than in one;
+I would not,--why would'st thou, then, be alone?
+
+_Eve._ Because, thus warned, I know myself secure,
+And long my little trial to endure,
+To approve my faith, thy needless fears remove,
+Gain thy esteem, and so deserve thy love.
+If all this shake not thy obdurate will,
+Know that, even present, I am absent still:
+And then what pleasure hop'st thou in my stay,
+When I'm constrained, and wish myself away?
+
+_Adam._ Constraint does ill with love and beauty suit;
+I would persuade, but not be absolute.
+Better be much remiss, than too severe;
+If pleased in absence thou wilt still be here.
+Go; in thy native innocence proceed,
+And summon all thy reason at thy need.
+
+_Eve._ My soul, my eyes delight! in this I find
+Thou lov'st; because to love is to be kind.          [_Embracing him._
+Seeking my trial, I am still on guard:
+Trials, less sought, would find us less prepared.
+Our foe's too proud the weaker to assail,
+Or doubles his dishonour if he fail.                          [_Exit._
+
+_Adam._ In love, what use of prudence can there be?
+More perfect I, and yet more powerful she.
+Blame me not, heaven; if thou love's power hast tried,
+What could be so unjust to be denied?
+One look of hers my resolution breaks;
+Reason itself turns folly when she speaks:
+And awed by her, whom it was made to sway,
+Flatters her power, and does its own betray.                  [_Exit._
+
+  _The middle part of the Garden is represented, where four Rivers
+  meet: On the right side of the Scene is placed the Tree of Life; on
+  the left, the Tree of Knowledge._
+
+  _Enter_ LUCIFER.
+
+_Lucif._ Methinks the beauties of this place should mourn;
+The immortal fruits and flowers, at my return,
+Should hang their withered heads; for sure my breath
+Is now more poisonous, and has gathered death
+Enough, to blast the whole creation's frame.
+Swoln with despite, with sorrow, and with shame,
+Thrice have I beat the wing, and rode with night
+About the world, behind the globe of light,
+To shun the watch of heaven; such care I use:
+(What pains will malice, raised like mine, refuse?
+Not the most abject form of brutes to take.)
+Hid in the spiry volumes of the snake,
+I lurked within the covert of a brake,
+Not yet descried. But see, the woman here
+Alone! beyond my hopes! no guardian near.
+Good omen that: I must retire unseen,
+And, with my borrowed shape, the work begin.               [_Retires._
+
+  _Enter_ EVE.
+
+_Eve._ Thus far, at least, with leave; nor can it be
+A sin to look on this celestial tree:
+I would not more; to touch, a crime may prove:
+Touching is a remoter taste in love.
+Death may be there, or poison in the smell,
+(If death in any thing so fair can dwell:)
+But heaven forbids: I could be satisfied,
+Were every tree but this, but this denied.
+
+  _A Serpent enters on the Stage, and makes directly to the Tree of
+  Knowledge, on which winding himself, he plucks an Apple; then
+  descends, and carries it away._
+
+Strange sight! did then our great Creator grant
+That privilege, which we, their masters, want,
+To these inferior brings? Or was it chance?
+And was he blest with bolder ignorance?
+I saw his curling crest the trunk enfold:
+The ruddy fruit, distinguished o'er with gold.
+And smiling in its native wealth, was torn
+From the rich bough, and then in triumph borne:
+The venturous victor marched unpunished hence,
+And seemed to boast his fortunate offence.
+
+  _To her_ LUCIFER, _in a human Shape._
+
+_Lucif._ Hail, sovereign of this orb! formed to possess
+The world, and, with one look, all nature bless.
+Nature is thine; thou, empress, dost bestow
+On fruits, to blossom; and on flowers, to blow.
+They happy, yet insensible to boast
+Their bliss: More happy they who know thee most.
+Then happiest I, to human reason raised,
+And voice, with whose first accents thou art praised.
+
+_Eve._ What art thou, or from whence? For on this ground,
+Beside my lord's, ne'er heard I human sound.
+Art thou some other Adam, formed from earth,
+And comest to claim an equal share, by birth,
+In this fair field? Or sprung of heavenly race?
+
+_Lucif._ An humble native of this happy place,
+Thy vassal born, and late of lowest kind,
+Whom heaven neglecting made, and scarce designed,
+But threw me in, for number, to the rest,
+Below the mounting bird and grazing beast;
+By chance, not prudence, now superior grown.
+
+_Eve._ To make thee such, what miracle was shown?
+
+_Lucif._ Who would not tell what thou vouchsaf'st to hear?
+Sawest thou not late a speckled serpent rear
+His gilded spires to climb on yon' fair tree?
+Before this happy minute I was he.
+
+_Eve._ Thou speak'st of wonders: Make thy story plain.
+
+_Lucif._ Not wishing then, and thoughtless to obtain
+So great a bliss, but led by sense of good,
+Inborn to all, I sought my needful food:
+Then, on that heavenly tree my sight I cast;
+The colour urged my eye, the scent my taste.
+Not to detain thee long,--I took, did eat:
+Scarce had my palate touched the immortal meat,
+But, on a sudden, turned to what I am,
+God-like, and, next to thee, I fair became;
+Thought, spake, and reasoned; and, by reason found
+Thee, nature's queen, with all her graces crowned.
+
+_Eve._ Happy thy lot; but far unlike is mine:
+Forbid to eat, not daring to repine.
+'Twas heaven's command; and should we disobey,
+What raised thy being, ours must take away.
+
+_Lucif._ Sure you mistake the precept, or the tree:
+Heaven cannot envious of his blessings be.
+Some chance-born plant he might forbid your use,
+As wild, or guilty of a deadly juice;
+Not this, whose colour, scent divine, and taste,
+Proclaim the thoughtful Maker not in haste.
+
+_Eve._ By all these signs, too well I know the fruit,
+And dread a Power severe and absolute.
+
+_Lucif._ Severe, indeed; even to injustice hard;
+If death, for knowing more, be your reward:
+Knowledge of good, is good, and therefore fit;
+And to know ill, is good, for shunning it.
+
+_Eve._ What, but our good, could he design in this,
+Who gave us all, and placed in perfect bliss?
+
+_Lucif._ Excuse my zeal, fair sovereign, in your cause,
+Which dares to tax his arbitrary laws.
+'Tis all his aim to keep you blindly low,
+That servile fear from ignorance may flow:
+We scorn to worship whom too well we know.
+He knows, that, eating, you shall godlike be;
+As wise, as fit to be adored, as he.
+For his own interest he this law has given;
+Such beauty may raise factions in his heaven.
+By awing you he does possession keep,
+And is too wise to hazard partnership.
+
+_Eve._ Alas, who dares dispute with him that right?
+The Power, which formed us, must be infinite.
+
+_Luc._ Who told you how your form was first designed?
+The sun and earth produce, of every kind,
+Grass, flowers, and fruits; nay, living creatures too:
+Their mould was base; 'twas more refined in you:
+Where vital heat, in purer organs wrought,
+Produced a nobler kind raised up to thought;
+And that, perhaps, might his beginning be:
+Something was first; I question if 'twere he.
+But grant him first, yet still suppose him good,
+Not envying those he made, immortal food.
+
+_Eve._ But death our disobedience must pursue.
+
+_Lucif._ Behold, in me, what shall arrive to you.
+I tasted; yet I live: Nay, more; have got
+A state more perfect than my native lot.
+Nor fear this petty fault his wrath should raise:
+Heaven rather will your dauntless virtue praise,
+That sought, through threatened death, immortal good:
+Gods are immortal only by their food.
+Taste, and remove
+What difference does 'twixt them and you remain;
+As I gained reason, you shall godhead gain.
+
+_Eve._ He eats, and lives, in knowledge greater grown:       [_Aside._
+Was death invented then for us alone?
+Is intellectual food to man denied,
+Which brutes have with so much advantage tried?
+Nor only tried themselves, but frankly, more,
+To me have offered their unenvied store?
+
+_Lucif._ Behold, and all your needless doubts remove;
+View well this tree, (the queen of all the grove)
+How vast her hole, how wide her arms are spread,
+How high above the rest she shoots her head,
+Placed in the midst: would heaven his work disgrace,
+By planting poison in the happiest place?
+
+Haste; you lose time and godhead by delay.      [_Plucking the fruit._
+
+_Eve._ 'Tis done; I'll venture all, and disobey. [_Looking about her._
+Perhaps, far hid in heaven, he does not spy,
+And none of all his hymning guards are nigh.
+To my dear lord the lovely fruit I'll bear;
+He, to partake my bliss, my crime shall share.        [_Exit hastily._
+
+_Lucif._ She flew, and thanked me not, for haste: 'Twas hard,
+With no return such counsel to reward.
+My work is done, or much the greater part;
+She's now the tempter to ensnare his heart.
+He, whose firm faith no reason could remove,
+Will melt before that soft seducer, love.                     [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+SCENE I.--_Paradise._
+
+  EVE, _with a bough in her hand._
+
+_Eve._ Methinks I tread more lightly on the ground;
+My nimble feet from unhurt flowers rebound:
+I walk in air, and scorn this earthly seat;
+Heaven is my palace; this my base retreat.
+Take me not, heaven, too soon; 'twill be unkind
+To leave the partner of my bed behind.
+I love the wretch; but stay, shall I afford
+Him part? already he's too much my lord.
+'Tis in my power to be a sovereign now;
+And, knowing more, to make his manhood bow.
+Empire is sweet; but how if heaven has spied?
+If I should die, and He above provide
+Some other Eve, and place her in my stead?
+Shall she possess his love, when I am dead?
+No; he shall eat, and die with me, or live:
+Our equal crimes shall equal fortune give.
+
+  _Enter_ ADAM.
+
+_Adam._ What joy, without your sight, has earth, in store!
+While you were absent, Eden was no more.
+Winds murmured through the leaves your long delay,
+And fountains, o'er the pebbles, chid your stay:
+But with your presence cheered, they cease to mourn,
+And walks wear fresher green at your return.
+
+_Eve._ Henceforth you never shall have cause to chide;
+No future absence shall our joys divide:
+'Twas a short death my love ne'er tried before,
+And therefore strange; but yet the cause was more.
+
+_Adam._ My trembling heart forebodes some ill; I fear
+To ask that cause which I desire to hear.
+What means that lovely fruit? what means, alas!
+That blood, which flushes guilty in your face?
+Speak--do not--yet, at last, I must be told.
+
+_Eve._ Have courage, then: 'tis manly to be bold.
+This fruit--why dost thou shake? no death is nigh:
+'Tis what I tasted first; yet do not die.
+
+_Adam._ Is it--(I dare not ask it all at first;
+Doubt is some ease to those who fear the worst:)
+Say, 'tis not--
+
+_Eve._ 'Tis not what thou needst to fear:
+What danger does in this fair fruit appear?
+We have been cozened; and had still been so,
+Had I not ventured boldly first to know.
+Yet, not I first; I almost blush to say,
+The serpent eating taught me first the way.
+The serpent tasted, and the godlike fruit
+Gave the dumb voice; gave reason to the brute.
+
+_Adam._ O fairest of all creatures, last and best
+Of what heaven made, how art them dispossest
+Of all thy native glories! fallen! decayed!
+(Pity so rare a frame so frail was made)
+Now cause of thy own ruin; and with thine,
+(Ah, who can live without thee!) cause of mine.
+
+_Eve._ Reserve thy pity till I want it more:
+I know myself much happier than before;
+More wise, more perfect, all I wish to be,
+Were I but sure, alas! of pleasing thee.
+
+_Adam._ You've shown, how much you my content design:
+Yet, ah! would heaven's displeasure pass like mine!
+Must I without you, then, in wild woods dwell?
+Think, and but think, of what I loved so well?
+Condemned to live with subjects ever mute;
+A savage prince, unpleased, though absolute?
+
+_Eve._ Please then yourself with me, and freely taste,
+Lest I, without you, should to godhead haste:
+Lest, differing in degree, you claim too late
+Unequal love, when 'tis denied by fate.
+
+_Adam._ Cheat not yourself with dreams of deity;
+Too well, but yet too late, your crime I see:
+Nor think the fruit your knowledge does improve;
+But you have beauty still, and I have love.
+Not cozened, I with choice my life resign:
+Imprudence was your fault, but love was mine.
+                                       [_Takes the fruit and eats it._
+
+_Eve._ O wondrous power of matchless love exprest!   [_Embracing him._
+Why was this trial thine, of loving best?
+I envy thee that lot; and could it be,
+Would venture something more than death for thee.
+Not that I fear, that death the event can prove;
+Ware both immortal, while so well we love.
+
+_Adam._ Whate'er shall be the event, the lot is cast;
+Where appetites are given, what sin to taste?
+Or if a sin, 'tis but by precept such;
+The offence so small, the punishment's too much.
+To seek so soon his new-made world's decay:
+Nor we, nor that, were fashioned for a day.
+
+_Eve._ Give to the winds thy fear of death, or ill;
+And think us made but for each other's will.
+
+_Adam._ I will, at least, defer that anxious thought,
+And death, by fear, shall not be nigher brought:
+If he will come, let us to joys make haste;
+Then let him seize us when our pleasure's past.
+We'll take up all before; and death shall find
+We have drained life, and left a void behind.               [_Exeunt._
+
+  _Enter_ LUCIFER.
+
+_Lucif._ 'Tis done:
+Sick Nature, at that instant, trembled round;
+And mother Earth sighed, as she felt the wound.
+Of how short durance was this new-made state!
+How far more mighty than heaven's love, hell's hate!
+His project ruined, and his king of clay:
+He formed an empire for his foe to sway.
+Heaven let him rule, which by his arms he got;
+I'm pleased to have obtained the second lot.
+This earth is mine; whose lord I made my thrall:
+Annexing to my crown his conquered ball.
+Loosed from the lakes my regions I will lead,
+And o'er the darkened air black banners spread:
+Contagious damps, from hence, shall mount above,
+And force him to his inmost heaven's remove.
+                                        [_A clap of thunder is heard._
+He hears already, and I boast too soon;
+I dread that engine which secured his throne.
+I'll dive below his wrath, into the deep,
+And waste that empire, which I cannot keep.             [_Sinks down._
+
+  RAPHAEL _and_ GABRIEL _descend._
+
+_Raph._ As much of grief as happiness admits
+In heaven, on each celestial forehead sits:
+Kindness for man, and pity for his fate,
+May mix with bliss, and yet not violate.
+Their heavenly harps a lower strain began;
+And, in soft music, mourned the fall of man.
+
+_Gab._ I saw the angelic guards from earth ascend,
+(Grieved they must now no longer man attend:)
+The beams about their temples dimly shone;
+One would have thought the crime had been their own.
+The etherial people flocked for news in haste,
+Whom they, with down-cast looks, and scarce saluting past:
+While each did, in his pensive breast, prepare
+A sad account of their successless care.
+
+_Raph._ The Eternal yet, in majesty severe,
+And strictest justice, did mild pity bear:
+Their deaths deferred; and banishment, (their doom,)
+In penitence foreseen, leaves mercy room.
+
+_Gab._ That message is thy charge: Mine leads me hence;
+Placed at the garden's gate, for its defence,
+Lest man, returning, the blest place pollute,
+And 'scape from death, by life's immortal fruit.
+                         [_Another clap of thunder. Exeunt severally._
+
+  _Enter_ ADAM _and_ EVE, _affrighted._
+
+_Adam._ In what dark cavern shall I hide my head?
+Where seek retreat, now innocence is fled?
+Safe in that guard, I durst even hell defy;
+Without it, tremble now, when heaven is nigh.
+
+_Eve._ What shall we do? or where direct our flight?
+Eastward, as far as I could cast my sight,
+From opening heavens, I saw descending light.
+Its glittering through the trees I still behold;
+The cedar tops seem all to burn with gold.
+
+_Adam._ Some shape divine, whose beams I cannot bear!
+Would I were hid, where light could not appear.
+Deep into some thick covert would I run,
+Impenetrable to the stars or sun,
+And fenced from day, by night's eternal skreen;
+Unknown to heaven, and to myself unseen.
+
+_Eve._ In vain: What hope to shun his piercing sight,
+Who from dark chaos struck the sparks of light?
+
+_Adam._ These should have been your thoughts, when, parting hence,
+You trusted to your guideless innocence.
+See now the effects of your own wilful mind:
+Guilt walks before us; death pursues behind.
+So fatal 'twas to seek temptations out:
+Most confidence has still most cause to doubt.
+
+_Eve._ Such might have been thy hap, alone assailed;
+And so, together, might we both have failed.
+Cursed vassalage of all my future kind!
+First idolized, till love's hot fire be o'er,
+Then slaves to those who courted us before.
+
+_Adam._ I counselled you to stay; your pride refused:
+By your own lawless will you stand accused.
+
+_Eve._ Have you that privilege of only wise,
+And would you yield to her you so despise?
+You should have shown the authority you boast,
+And, sovereign-like, my headlong will have crost:
+Counsel was not enough to sway my heart;
+An absolute restraint had been your part.
+
+_Adam._ Even such returns do they deserve to find,
+When force is lawful, who are fondly kind.
+Unlike my love; for when thy guilt I knew,
+I shared the curse which did that crime pursue.
+Hard fate of love! which rigour did forbear,
+And now 'tis taxed, because 'twas not severe.
+
+_Eve._ You have yourself your kindness overpaid;
+He ceases to oblige, who can upbraid.
+
+_Adam._ On women's virtue, who too much rely,
+To boundless will give boundless liberty.
+Restraint you will not brook; but think it hard
+Your prudence is not trusted as your guard:
+And, to yourselves so left, if ill ensues,
+You first our weak indulgence will accuse.
+Curst be that hour,
+When, sated with my single happiness,
+I chose a partner, to controul my bliss!
+Who wants that reason which her will should sway,
+And knows but just enough to disobey.
+
+_Eve._ Better with brutes my humble lot had gone;
+Of reason void, accountable for none:
+The unhappiest of creation is a wife,
+Made lowest, in the highest rank of life:
+Her fellow's slave; to know, and not to chuse:
+Curst with that reason she must never use.
+
+_Adam._ Add, that she's proud, fantastic, apt to change,
+Restless at home, and ever prone to range:
+With shows delighted, and so vain is she,
+She'll meet the devil, rather than not see.
+Our wise Creator, for his choirs divine,
+Peopled his heaven with souls all masculine.--
+Ah! why must man from woman take his birth?
+Why was this sin of nature made on earth?
+This fair defect, this helpless aid, called wife;
+The bending crutch of a decrepid life?
+Posterity no pairs from you shall find,
+But such as by mistake of love are joined:
+The worthiest men their wishes ne'er shall gain;
+But see the slaves they scorn their loves obtain.
+Blind appetite shall your wild fancies rule;
+False to desert, and faithful to a fool.
+                         [_Turns in anger from her, and is going off._
+
+_Eve._ Unkind! wilt thou forsake me, in distress,         [_Kneeling._
+For that which now is past me to redress?
+I have misdone, and I endure the smart,
+Loth to acknowledge, but more loth to part.
+The blame be mine; you warned, and I refused:
+What would you more? I have myself accused.
+Was plighted faith so weakly sealed above,
+That, for one error, I must lose your love?
+Had you so erred, I should have been more kind,
+Than to add pain to an afflicted mind.
+
+_Adam._ You're grown much humbler than you were before;
+I pardon you; but see my face no more.
+
+_Eve._ Vain pardon, which includes a greater ill;
+Be still displeased, but let me see you still.
+Without your much-loved sight I cannot live;
+You more than kill me, if you so forgive.
+The beasts, since we are fallen, their lords despise;
+And, passing, look at me with glaring eyes:
+Must I then wander helpless, and alone?
+You'll pity me, too late, when I am gone.
+
+_Adam._ Your penitence does my compassion move;
+As you deserve it, I may give my love.
+
+_Eve._ On me, alone, let heaven's displeasure fall;
+You merit none, and I deserve it all.
+
+_Adam._ You all heaven's wrath! how could you bear a part,
+Who bore not mine, but with a bleeding heart?
+I was too stubborn, thus to make you sue;
+Forgive me--I am more in fault than you.
+Return to me, and to my love return;
+And, both offending, for each other mourn.
+
+  _Enter_ RAPHAEL.
+
+_Raph._ Of sin to warn thee I before was sent;
+For sin, I now pronounce thy punishment:
+Yet that much lighter than thy crimes require;
+Th' All-good does not his creatures' death desire:
+Justice must punish the rebellious deed;
+Yet punish so, as pity shall exceed.
+
+_Adam._ I neither can dispute his will, nor dare:
+Death will dismiss me from my future care,
+And lay me softly in my native dust,
+To pay the forfeit of ill-managed trust.
+
+_Eve._ Why seek you death? consider, ere you speak,
+The laws were hard, the power to keep them, weak.
+Did we solicit heaven to mould our clay?
+From darkness to produce us to the day?
+Did we concur to life, or chuse to be?
+Was it our will which formed, or was it He?
+Since 'twas his choice, not ours, which placed us here,
+The laws we did not chuse why should we bear?
+
+_Adam._ Seek not, in vain, our Maker to accuse;
+Terms were proposed; power left us to refuse.
+The good we have enjoyed from heaven's free will,
+And shall we murmur to endure the ill?
+Should we a rebel son's excuse receive,
+Because he was begot without his leave?
+Heaven's right in us is more: first, formed to serve;
+The good, we merit not; the ill, deserve.
+
+_Raph._ Death is deferred, and penitence has room
+To mitigate, if not reverse the doom:
+But, for your crime, the Eternal does ordain
+In Eden you no longer shall remain.
+Hence, to the lower world, you are exiled;
+This place with crimes shall be no more defiled.
+
+_Eve._ Must we this blissful paradise forego?
+
+_Raph._ Your lot must be where thorns and thistles grow,
+Unhid, as balm and spices did at first;
+For man, the earth, of which he was, is cursed.
+By thy own toil procured, thou food shalt eat;             [_To_ ADAM.
+And know no plenty, but from painful sweat.
+She, by a curse, of future wives abhorred,
+Shall pay obedience to her lawful lord;
+And he shall rule, and she in thraldom live,
+Desiring more of love than man can give.
+
+_Adam._ Heaven is all mercy; labour I would chuse;
+And could sustain this paradise to lose:
+The bliss, but not the place: Here, could I say,
+Heaven's winged messenger did pass the day;
+Under this pine the glorious angel staid:
+Then, show my wondering progeny the shade.
+In woods and lawns, where-e'er thou didst appear,
+Each place some monument of thee should bear.
+I, with green turfs, would grateful altars raise,
+And heaven, with gums, and offered incense, praise.
+
+_Raph._ Where-e'er thou art, He is; the Eternal Mind
+Acts through all places; is to none confined:
+Fills ocean, earth, and air, and all above,
+And through the universal mass does move.
+Thou canst be no where distant: Yet this place
+Had been thy kingly seat, and here thy race,
+From all the ends of peopled earth had come
+To reverence thee, and see their native home.
+Immortal, then; now sickness, care, and age,
+And war, and luxury's more direful rage,
+Thy crimes have brought, to shorten mortal breath,
+With all the numerous family of death.
+
+_Eve._ My spirits faint, while I these ills foreknow,
+And find myself the sad occasion too.
+But what is death?
+
+_Raph._ In vision thou shalt see his griesly face,
+The king of terrors, raging in thy face.
+That, while in future fate thou shar'st thy part,
+A kind remorse, for sin, may seize thy heart.
+
+  _The_ SCENE _shifts, and discovers deaths of several sorts. A Battle
+  at Land, and a Naval Fight._
+
+_Adam._ O wretched offspring! O unhappy state
+Of all mankind, by me betrayed to fate!
+Born, through my crime, to be offenders first;
+And, for those sins they could not shun, accurst.
+
+_Eve._ Why is life forced on man, who, might he chuse,
+Would not accept what he with pain must lose?
+Unknowing, he receives it; and when, known,
+He thinks it his, and values it, 'tis gone.
+
+_Raph._ Behold of every age; ripe manhood see,
+Decrepid years, and helpless infancy:
+Those who, by lingering sickness, lose their breath;
+And those who, by despair, suborn their death:
+See yon mad fools, who for some trivial right,
+For love, or for mistaken honour, fight:
+See those, more mad, who throw their lives away
+In needless wars; the stakes which monarchs lay,
+When for each other's provinces they play.
+Then, as if earth too narrow were for fate,
+On open seas their quarrels they debate:
+In hollow wood they floating armies bear;
+And force imprisoned winds to bring them near.
+
+_Eve._ Who would the miseries of man foreknow?
+Not knowing, we but share our part of woe:
+Now, we the fate of future ages bear,
+And, ere their birth, behold our dead appear.
+
+_Adam._ The deaths, thou show'st, are forced and full of strife,
+Cast headlong from the precipice of life.
+Is there no smooth descent? no painless way
+Of kindly mixing with our native clay?
+
+_Raph._ There is; but rarely shall that path be trod,
+Which, without horror, leads to death's abode.
+Some few, by temperance taught, approaching slow,
+To distant fate by easy journies go:
+Gently they lay them down, as evening sheep
+On their own woolly fleeces softly sleep.
+
+_Adam._ So noiseless would I live, such death to find;
+Like timely fruit, not shaken by the wind,
+But ripely dropping from the sapless bough,
+And, dying, nothing to myself would owe.
+
+_Eve._ Thus, daily changing, with a duller taste
+Of lessening joys, I, by degrees, would waste:
+Still quitting ground, by unperceived decay,
+And steal myself from life, and melt away.
+
+_Raph._ Death you have seen: Now see your race revive,
+How happy they in deathless pleasures live;
+Far more than I can show, or you can see,
+Shall crown the blest with immortality.
+
+  _Here a Heaven descends, full of Angels, and blessed Spirits, with
+  soft Music, a Song and Chorus._
+
+_Adam._ O goodness infinite! whose heavenly will
+Can so much good produce from so much ill!
+Happy their state!
+Pure, and unchanged, and needing no defence
+From sins, as did my frailer innocence.
+Their joy sincere, and with no sorrow mixt:
+Eternity stands permanent and fixt,
+And wheels no longer on the poles of time;
+Secure from fate, and more secure from crime.
+
+_Eve._ Ravished with joy, I can but half repent
+The sin, which heaven makes happy in the event.
+
+_Raph._ Thus armed, meet firmly your approaching ill;
+For see, the guards, from yon' far eastern hill,
+Already move, nor longer stay afford;
+High in the air they wave the flaming sword,
+Your signal to depart; now down amain
+They drive, and glide, like meteors, through the plain.
+
+_Adam._ Then farewell all; I will indulgent be
+To my own ease, and not look back to see.
+When what we love we ne'er must meet again,
+To lose the thought is to remove the pain.
+
+_Eve._ Farewell, you happy shades!
+Where angels first should practise hymns, and string
+Their tuneful harps, when they to heaven would sing.
+Farewell, you flowers, whose buds, with early care,
+I watched, and to the chearful sun did rear:
+Who now shall bind your stems? or, when you fall,
+With fountain streams your fainting souls recal?
+A long farewell to thee, my nuptial bower,
+Adorned with every fair and fragrant flower!
+And last, farewell, farewell my place of birth!
+I go to wander in the lower earth,
+As distant as I can; for, dispossest,
+Farthest from what I once enjoyed, is best.
+
+_Raph._ The rising winds urge the tempestuous air;
+And on their wings deformed winter bear:
+The beasts already feel the change; and hence
+They fly to deeper coverts, for defence:
+The feebler herd before the stronger run;
+For now the war of nature is begun:
+But, part you hence in peace, and, having mourned your sin,
+For outward Eden lost, find Paradise within.                [_Exeunt._
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                             AURENG-ZEBE.
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               TRAGEDY.
+
+
+             --_Sed, cum fregit subsellia versu,
+             Esurit, intactam Paridi nisi vendat Agaven._
+                                   JUV.
+
+
+
+
+                             AURENG-ZEBE.
+
+
+"Aureng-Zebe," or the Ornament of the Throne, for such is the
+interpretation of his name, was the last descendant of Timur, who
+enjoyed the plenitude of authority originally vested in the Emperor of
+India. His father, Sha-Jehan, had four sons, to each of whom he
+delegated the command of a province. Dara-Sha, the eldest,
+superintended the district of Delhi, and remained near his father's
+person; Sultan-Sujah was governor of Bengal, Aureng-Zebe of the Decan,
+and Morat Bakshi of Guzerat. It happened, that Sha-Jehan being
+exhausted by the excesses of the Haram, a report of his death became
+current in the provinces, and proved the signal for insurrection and
+discord among his children. Morat Bakshi possessed himself of Surat,
+after a long siege, and Sultan-Sujah, having declared himself
+independent in Bengal, advanced as far as Lahor, with a large army.
+Dara-Sha, the legitimate successor of the crown, was the only son of
+Sha-Jehan, who preferred filial duty to the prospect of
+aggrandisement. He dispatched an army against Sultan-Sujah, checked
+his progress, and compelled him to retreat. But Aureng-Zebe, the third
+and most wily of the brethren, had united his forces to those of Morat
+Bakshi, and advancing against Dara-Sha, totally defeated him, and
+dissipated his army. Aureng-Zebe availed himself of the military
+reputation and treasures, acquired by his success, to seduce the
+forces of Morat Bakshi, whom he had pretended to assist, and, seizing
+upon his person at a banquet, imprisoned him in a strong fortress.
+Meanwhile, he advanced towards Agra, where his father had sought
+refuge, still affecting to believe that the old emperor was dead. The
+more pains Sha-Jehan took to contradict this report, the more
+obstinate was Aureng-Zebe in refusing to believe that he was still
+alive. And, although the emperor dispatched his most confidential
+servants to assure his dutiful son that he was yet in being, the
+incredulity of Aureng-Zebe could only be removed by a personal
+interview, the issue of which was Sha-Jehan's imprisonment and speedy
+death. During these transactions Dara-Sha, who, after his defeat, had
+fled with his treasures to Lahor, again assembled an army, and
+advanced against the conqueror; but, being deserted by his allies,
+defeated by Aureng-Zebe, and betrayed by an Omrah, whom he trusted in
+his flight, he was delivered up to his brother, and by his command
+assassinated. Aureng-Zebe now assumed the throne, and advanced against
+Sultan-Sujah, his sole remaining brother; he seduced his chief
+commanders, routed the forces who remained faithful, and drove him out
+of Bengal into the Pagan countries adjacent, where, after several
+adventures, he perished miserably in the mountains. Aureng-Zebe also
+murdered one or two nephews, and a few other near relations; but, in
+expiation of his complicated crimes, renounced the use of flesh, fish,
+and wine, living only upon barley-bread vegetables, and confections,
+although scrupling no excesses by which he could extend and strengthen
+his usurped power[1].
+
+Dr Johnson has supposed, that, in assuming for his subject a living
+prince, Dryden incurred some risque; as, should Aureng-Zebe have
+learned and resented the freedom, our Indian trade was exposed to the
+consequences of his displeasure. It may, however, be safely doubted,
+whether a monarch, who had actually performed the achievements above
+narrated, would have been scandalized by those imputed to him in the
+text. In other respects, the distance and obscurity of the events gave
+a poet the same authority over them, as if they had occurred in the
+annals of past ages; a circumstance in which Dryden's age widely
+differed from ours, when so much has our intimacy increased with the
+Oriental world, that the transactions of Delhi are almost as familiar
+to us as those of Paris.
+
+The tragedy of "Aureng-Zebe" is introduced by the poet's declaration
+in the prologue, that his taste for heroic plays was now upon the
+wane:
+
+  But he has now another taste of wit;
+  And, to confess a truth, though out of time,
+  Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme.
+  Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound,
+  And nature flies him, like enchanted ground,
+  What verse can do, he has performed in this,
+  Which he presumes the most correct of his.
+
+Agreeably to what might be expected from this declaration, the verse
+used in "Aureng-Zebe" is of that kind which may be most easily applied
+to the purposes of ordinary dialogue. There is much less of ornate
+structure and emphatic swell, than occurs in the speeches of Almanzor
+and Maximin; and Dryden, though late, seems to have at length
+discovered, that the language of true passion is inconsistent with
+that regular modulation, to maintain which, the actor must mouth each
+couplet in a sort of recitative. The ease of the verse in
+"Aureng-Zebe," although managed with infinite address, did not escape
+censure. In the "just remonstrance of affronted _That_," transmitted
+to the Spectator, the offended conjunction is made to plead, "What
+great advantage was _I_ of to Mr Dryden, in his "Indian Emperor?"
+
+  You force me still to answer you in _that,_
+  To furnish out a rhime to Morat.
+
+And what a poor figure would Mr Bayes have made, without his _Egad,
+and all that_?" But, by means of this easy flow of versification in
+which the rhime is sometimes almost lost by the pause being
+transferred to the middle of the line, Dryden, in some measure
+indemnified himself for his confinement, and, at least, muffled the
+clank of his fetters. Still, however, neither the kind of verse, nor
+perhaps the poet, himself, were formed for expressing rapid and ardent
+dialogue; and the beauties of "Aureng-Zebe" will be found chiefly to
+consist in strains of didactic morality, or solemn meditation. The
+passage, descriptive of life, has been distinguished by all the
+critics, down to Dr Johnson:
+
+  _Aur._ When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat;
+  Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit;
+  Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay:
+  To-morrow's falser than the former day;
+  Lies worse; and, while it says, We shall be blest
+  With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
+  Strange cozenage! none would live past years again,
+  Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;
+  And from the dregs of life think to receive
+  What the first sprightly running could not give.
+  I'm tired with waiting for this chemic gold,
+  Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.
+
+Nor is the answer of Nourmahal inferior in beauty:
+
+  _Nour._ 'Tis not for nothing that we life pursue;
+  It pays our hopes with something still that's new;
+  Each day's a mistress, unenjoyed before;
+  Like travellers, we're pleased with seeing more.
+  Did you but know what joys your way attend,
+  You would not hurry to your journey's end.
+
+It might be difficult to point out a passage in English poetry, in
+which so common and melancholy a truth is expressed in such beautiful
+verse, varied with such just illustration. The declamation on virtue,
+also, has great merit, though, perhaps, not equal to that on the
+vanity of life:
+
+  _Aur._ How vain is virtue, which directs our ways
+  Through certain danger to uncertain praise!
+  Barren, and airy name! thee fortune flies,
+  With thy lean train, the pious and the wise.
+  Heaven takes thee at thy word, without regard;
+  And let's thee poorly be thy own reward.
+  The world is made for the bold impious man,
+  Who stops at nothing, seizes all he can.
+  Justice to merit does weak aid afford;
+  She trusts her balance, and neglects her sword.
+  Virtue is nice to take what's not her own;
+  And, while she long consults, the prize is gone.
+
+To this account may be added the following passage from Davies'
+"Dramatic Miscellanies."
+
+"Dryden's last and most perfect rhiming tragedy was 'Aureng-Zebe.' In
+this play, the passions are strongly depicted, the characters well
+discriminated, and the diction more familiar and dramatic than in any
+of his preceding pieces. Hart and Mohun greatly distinguished
+themselves in the characters of Aureng-Zebe, and the Old Emperor. Mrs
+Marshall was admired in Nourmahal, and Kynaston has been much extolled
+by Cibber, for his happy expression of the arrogant and savage
+fierceness in Morat. Booth, in some part of this character, says the
+same critical historian, was too tame, from an apprehension of raising
+the mirth of the audience improperly.
+
+"Though I pay great deference to Cibber's judgment, yet I am not sure
+whether Booth was not in the right. And I cannot help approving the
+answer which this actor gave to one, who told him, he was surprised,
+that he neglected to give a spirited turn to the passage in question:
+
+  _Nour._ 'Twill not be safe to let him live an hour.
+  _Mor._ I'll do it to shew my arbitrary power.
+
+"'Sir,' said Booth, 'it was not through negligence, but by design,
+that I gave no spirit to that ludicrous bounce of Morat. I know very
+well, that a laugh of approbation may be obtained from the
+understanding few, but there is nothing more dangerous than exciting
+the laugh of simpletons, who know not where to stop. The majority is
+not the wisest part of the audience, and therefore I will run no
+hazard.'
+
+"The court greatly encouraged the play of 'Aureng-Zebe.' The author
+tells us, in his dedication, that Charles II. altered an incident in
+the plot, and pronounced it to be the best of all Dryden's tragedies.
+It was revived at Drury-Lane about the year 1726, with the public
+approbation: The Old Emperor, Mills; Wilkes, Aureng-Zebe; Booth,
+Morat; Indamora, Mrs Oldfield; Melesinda, the first wife of Theophilus
+Cibber, a very pleasing actress, in person agreeable, and in private
+life unblemished. She died in 1733."--Vol. I. p. 157.
+
+The introduction states all that can be said in favour of the
+management of the piece; and it is somewhat amusing to see the anxiety
+which Dryden uses to justify the hazardous experiment, of ascribing to
+emperors and princesses the language of nature and of passion. He
+appears with difficulty to have satisfied himself, that the decorum of
+the scene was not as peremptory as the etiquette of a court.
+"Aureng-Zebe" was received with the applause to which it is certainly
+entitled. It was acted and printed in 1676.
+
+
+Footnote:
+1. Voyages de Tavernier, seconde partie; livre seconde.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                                JOHN,
+
+                          EARL OF MULGRAVE,
+
+               GENTLEMAN OF HIS MAJESTY'S BED-CHAMBER,
+
+                  AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER
+
+                          OF THE GARTER[1].
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+It is a severe reflection which Montaigne has made on princes, that we
+ought not, in reason, to have any expectations of favour from them;
+and that it is kindness enough, if they leave us in possession of our
+own. The boldness of the censure shows the free spirit of the author:
+And the subjects of England may justly congratulate to themselves,
+that both the nature of our government, and the clemency of our king,
+secure us from any such complaint. I, in particular, who subsist
+wholly by his bounty, am obliged to give posterity a far other account
+of my royal master, than what Montaigne has left of his. Those
+accusations had been more reasonable, if they had been placed on
+inferior persons: For in all courts, there are too many, who make it
+their business to ruin wit; and Montaigne, in other places, tells us,
+what effects he found of their good natures. He describes them such,
+whose ambition, lust, or private interest, seem to be the only end of
+their creation. If good accrue to any from them, it is only in order
+to their own designs: conferred most commonly on the base and
+infamous; and never given, but only happening sometimes on
+well-deservers. Dulness has brought them to what they are; and malice
+secures them in their fortunes. But somewhat of specious they must
+have, to recommend themselves to princes, (for folly will not easily
+go down in its own natural form with discerning judges,) and diligence
+in waiting is their gilding of the pill; for that looks like love,
+though it is only interest. It is that which gains them their
+advantage over witty men; whose love of liberty and ease makes them
+willing too often to discharge their burden of attendance on these
+officious gentlemen. It is true, that the nauseousness of such company
+is enough to disgust a reasonable man; when he sees, he can hardly
+approach greatness, but as a moated castle; he must first pass through
+the mud and filth with which it is encompassed. These are they, who,
+wanting wit, affect gravity, and go by the name of solid men; and a
+solid man is, in plain English, a solid, solemn fool. Another disguise
+they have, (for fools, as well as knaves, take other names, and pass
+by an _alias_) and that is, the title of honest fellows. But this
+honesty of theirs ought to have many grains for its allowance; for
+certainly they are no farther honest, than they are silly: They are
+naturally mischievous to their power; and if they speak not
+maliciously, or sharply, of witty men, it is only because God has not
+bestowed on them the gift of utterance. They fawn and crouch to men of
+parts, whom they cannot ruin; quote their wit when they are present,
+and, when they are absent steal their jests; but to those who are
+under them, and whom they can crush with ease, they shew themselves in
+their natural antipathy; there they treat wit like the common enemy,
+and giving no more quarter, than a Dutchman would to an English vessel
+in the Indies; they strike sail where they know they shall be
+mastered, and murder where they can with safety.
+
+This, my lord, is the character of a courtier without wit; and
+therefore that which is a satire to other men, must be a panegyric to
+your lordship, who are a master of it. If the least of these
+reflections could have reached your person, no necessity of mine could
+have made me to have sought so earnestly, and so long, to have
+cultivated your kindness. As a poet, I cannot but have made some
+observations on mankind; the lowness of my fortune has not yet brought
+me to flatter vice; and it is my duty to give testimony to virtue. It
+is true, your lordship is not of that nature, which either seeks a
+commendation, or wants it. Your mind has always been above the
+wretched affectation of popularity. A popular man is, in truth, no
+better than a prostitute to common fame, and to the people. He lies
+down to every one he meets for the hire of praise; and his humility is
+only a disguised ambition. Even Cicero himself, whose eloquence
+deserved the admiration of mankind, yet, by his insatiable thirst of
+fame, he has lessened his character with succeeding ages; his action
+against Catiline may be said to have ruined the consul, when it saved
+the city; for it so swelled his soul, which was not truly great, that
+ever afterwards it was apt to be over-set with vanity. And this made
+his virtue so suspected by his friends, that Brutus, whom of all men
+he adored, refused him a place in his conspiracy. A modern wit has
+made this observation on him; that, coveting to recommend himself to
+posterity, he begged it as an alms of all his friends, the historians,
+to remember his consulship: And observe, if you please, the oddness of
+the event; all their histories are lost, and the vanity of his request
+stands yet recorded in his own writings. How much more great and manly
+in your lordship, is your contempt of popular applause, and your
+retired virtue, which shines only to a few; with whom you live so
+easily and freely, that you make it evident, you have a soul which is
+capable of all the tenderness of friendship, and that you only retire
+yourself from those, who are not capable of returning it. Your
+kindness, where you have once placed it, is inviolable; and it is to
+that only I attribute my happiness in your love. This makes me more
+easily forsake an argument, on which I could otherwise delight to
+dwell; I mean, your judgment in your choice of friends; because I have
+the honour to be one. After which I am sure you will more easily
+permit me to be silent, in the care you have taken of my fortune;
+which you have rescued, not only from the power of others, but from my
+worst of enemies, my own modesty and laziness; which favour, had it
+been employed on a more deserving subject, had been an effect of
+justice in your nature; but, as placed on me, is only charity. Yet,
+withal, it is conferred on such a man, as prefers your kindness
+itself, before any of its consequences; and who values, as the
+greatest of your favours, those of your love, and of your
+conversation. From this constancy to your friends, I might reasonably
+assume, that your resentments would be as strong and lasting, if they
+were not restrained by a nobler principle of good nature and
+generosity; for certainly, it is the same composition of mind, the
+same resolution and courage, which makes the greatest friendships, and
+the greatest enmities. And he, who is too lightly reconciled, after
+high provocations, may recommend himself to the world for a Christian,
+but I should hardly trust him for a friend. The Italians have a
+proverb to that purpose, "To forgive the first time, shows me a good
+Catholic; the second time, a fool." To this firmness in all your
+actions, though you are wanting in no other ornaments of mind and
+body, yet to this I principally ascribe the interest your merits have
+acquired you in the royal family. A prince, who is constant to
+himself, and steady in all his undertakings; one with whom that
+character of Horace will agree,
+
+  _Si fractus illabatur orbis,
+  Impavidum ferient ruinae_[2];--
+
+such an one cannot but place an esteem, and repose a confidence on
+him, whom no adversity, no change of courts, no bribery of interests,
+or cabals of factions, or advantages of fortune, can remove from the
+solid foundations of honour and fidelity:
+
+  _Ille meos, primus qui me sibi junxit, amores
+  Abstulit; ille habeat secum, servetque sepulcro._
+
+How well your lordship will deserve that praise, I need no inspiration
+to foretell. You have already left no room for prophecy: Your early
+undertakings have been such, in the service of your king and country,
+when you offered yourself to the most dangerous employment, that of
+the sea; when you chose to abandon those delights, to which your youth
+and fortune did invite you, to undergo the hazards, and, which was
+worse, the company of common seamen, that you have made it evident,
+you will refuse no opportunity of rendering yourself useful to the
+nation, when either your courage or conduct shall be required[3]. The
+same zeal and faithfulness continue in your blood, which animated one
+of your noble ancestors to sacrifice his life in the quarrels of his
+sovereign[4]; though, I hope, both for your sake, and for the public
+tranquillity, the same occasion will never be offered to your
+lordship, and that a better destiny will attend you. But I make haste
+to consider you as abstracted from a court, which (if you will give me
+leave to use a term of logic) is only an adjunct, not a propriety of
+happiness. The academics, I confess, were willing to admit the goods
+of fortune into their notion of felicity; but I do not remember, that
+any of the sects of old philosophers did ever leave a room for
+greatness. Neither am I formed to praise a court, who admire and covet
+nothing, but the easiness and quiet of retirement. I naturally
+withdraw my sight from a precipice; and, admit the prospect be never
+so large and goodly, can take no pleasure even in looking on the
+downfal, though I am secure from the danger. Methinks, there is
+something of a malignant joy in that excellent description of
+Lucretius;
+
+  _Suave, mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis,
+  E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem;
+  Non quia vexari quenquam est jucunda voluptas,
+  Sed, quibus ipse malis careas, quia cernere suave est._
+
+I am sure his master Epicurus, and my better master Cowley, preferred
+the solitude of a garden, and the conversation of a friend, to any
+consideration, so much as a regard, of those unhappy people, whom, in
+our own wrong, we call the great. True greatness, if it be any where
+on earth, is in a private virtue; removed from the notion of pomp and
+vanity, confined to a contemplation of itself, and centering on
+itself:
+
+  _Omnis enim per se Divum natura necesse est
+  Immortali aevo summa cum pace fruatur;
+  --cura semota, metuque,
+  Ipsa suis pollens opibus_[5].
+
+If this be not the life of a deity, because it cannot consist with
+Providence, it is, at least, a god-like life. I can be contented, (and
+I am sure I have your lordship of my opinion) with an humbler station
+in the temple of virtue, than to be set on the pinnacle of it:
+
+  _Despicere unde queas alios, passimque videre
+  Errare, atque viam palantes quaerere vitae._
+
+The truth is, the consideration of so vain a creature as man, is not
+worth our pains. I have fool enough at home, without looking for it
+abroad; and am a sufficient theatre to myself of ridiculous actions,
+without expecting company, either in a court, a town, or a play-house.
+It is on this account that I am weary with drawing the deformities of
+life, and lazars of the people, where every figure of imperfection
+more resembles me than it can do others. If I must be condemned to
+rhyme, I should find some ease in my change of punishment. I desire to
+be no longer the Sisyphus of the stage; to roll up a stone with
+endless labour, (which, to follow the proverb, gathers no moss) and
+which is perpetually falling down again. I never thought myself very
+fit for an employment, where many of my predecessors have excelled me
+in all kinds; and some of my contemporaries, even in my own partial
+judgement have outdone me in Comedy. Some little hopes I have yet
+remaining, and those too, considering my abilities, may be vain, that
+I may make the world some part of amends, for many ill plays, by an
+heroic poem. Your lordship has been long acquainted with my design;
+the subject of which you know is great, the story English, and neither
+too far distant from the present age, nor too near approaching it.
+Such it is in my opinion, that I could not have wished a nobler
+occasion to do honour by it to my king, my country, and my friends;
+most of our ancient nobility being concerned in the action[6]. And
+your lordship has one particular reason to promote this undertaking,
+because you were the first who gave me the opportunity of discoursing
+it to his majesty, and his royal highness: They were then pleased,
+both to commend the design, and to encourage it by their commands. But
+the unsettledness of my condition has hitherto put a stop to my
+thoughts concerning it. As I am no successor to Homer in his wit, so
+neither do I desire to be in his poverty. I can make no rhapsodies nor
+go a begging at the Grecian doors, while I sing the praises of their
+ancestors. The times of Virgil please me better, because he had an
+Augustus for his patron; and, to draw the allegory nearer you, I am
+sure I shall not want a Mecaenas with him. It is for your lordship to
+stir up that remembrance in his majesty, which his many avocations of
+business have caused him, I fear, to lay aside; and, as himself and
+his royal brother are the heroes of the poem, to represent to them the
+images of their warlike predecessors; as Achilles is said to be roused
+to glory, with the sight of the combat before the ships. For my own
+part, I am satisfied to have offered the design, and it may be to the
+advantage of my reputation to have it refused me.
+
+In the mean time, my lord, I take the confidence to present you with a
+tragedy, the characters of which are the nearest to those of an heroic
+poem. It was dedicated to you in my heart, before it was presented on
+the stage. Some things in it have passed your approbation, and many
+your amendment. You were likewise pleased to recommend it to the
+king's perusal, before the last hand was added to it, when I received
+the favour from him, to have the most considerable event of it
+modelled by his royal pleasure. It may be some vanity in me to add his
+testimony then, and which he graciously confirmed afterwards, that it
+was the best of all my tragedies; in which he has made authentic my
+private opinion of it; at least, he has given it a value by his
+commendation, which it had not by my writing.
+
+That which was not pleasing to some of the fair ladies in the last act
+of it, as I dare not vindicate, so neither can I wholly condemn, till
+I find more reason for their censures. The procedure of Indamora and
+Melesinda seems yet, in my judgment, natural, and not unbecoming of
+their characters. If they, who arraign them, fail not more, the world
+will never blame their conduct; and I shall be glad, for the honour of
+my country, to find better images of virtue drawn to the life in their
+behaviour, than any I could feign to adorn the theatre. I confess, I
+have only represented a practical virtue, mixed with the frailties and
+imperfections of human life. I have made my heroine fearful of death,
+which neither Cassandra nor Cleopatra would have been; and they
+themselves, I doubt it not, would have outdone romance in that
+particular. Yet their Mandana (and the Cyrus was written by a lady,)
+was not altogether so hard-hearted: For she sat down on the cold
+ground by the king of Assyria, and not only pitied him, who died in
+her defence; but allowed him some favours, such, perhaps, as they
+would think, should only be permitted to her Cyrus[7]. I have made my
+Melesinda, in opposition to Nourmahal, a woman passionately loving of
+her husband, patient of injuries and contempt, and constant in her
+kindness, to the last; and in that, perhaps, I may have erred, because
+it is not a virtue much in use. Those Indian wives are loving fools,
+and may do well to keep themselves in their own country, or, at least,
+to keep company with the Arrias and Portias of old Rome: Some of our
+ladies know better things. But, it may be, I am partial to my own
+writings; yet I have laboured as much as any man, to divest myself of
+the self-opinion of an author; and am too well satisfied of my own
+weakness, to be pleased with any thing I have written. But, on the
+other side, my reason tells me, that, in probability, what I have
+seriously and long considered may be as likely to be just and natural,
+as what an ordinary judge (if there be any such among those ladies)
+will think fit, in a transient presentation, to be placed in the room
+of that which they condemn. The most judicious writer is sometimes
+mistaken, after all his care; but the hasty critic, who judges on a
+view, is full as liable to be deceived. Let him first consider all the
+arguments, which the author had, to write this, or to design the
+other, before he arraigns him of a fault; and then, perhaps, on second
+thoughts, he will find his reason oblige him to revoke his censure.
+Yet, after all, I will not be too positive. _Homo sum, humani a me
+nihil alienum puto._ As I am a man, I must be changeable; and
+sometimes the gravest of us all are so, even upon ridiculous
+accidents. Our minds are perpetually wrought on by the temperament of
+our bodies; which makes me suspect, they are nearer allied, than
+either our philosophers or school-divines will allow them to be. I
+have observed, says Montaigne, that when the body is out of order, its
+companion is seldom at his ease. An ill dream, or a cloudy day, has
+power to change this wretched creature, who is so proud of a
+reasonable soul, and make him think what he thought not yesterday. And
+Homer was of this opinion, as Cicero is pleased to translate him for
+us:
+
+  _Tales sunt hominum mentes, quali pater ipse
+  Jupiter auctifera lustravit lampade terras._
+
+Or, as the same author, in his "Tusculan Questions," speaks, with more
+modesty than usual, of himself: _Nos in diem vivimus; quodcunque
+animos nostros probabilitate percussit, id dicimus._ It is not
+therefore impossible but that I may alter the conclusion of my play,
+to restore myself into the good graces of my fair critics; and your
+lordship, who is so well with them, may do me the office of a friend
+and patron, to intercede with them on my promise of amendment. The
+impotent lover in Petronius, though his was a very unpardonable crime,
+yet was received to mercy on the terms I offer. _Summa excusationis
+meae haec est: Placebo tibi, si culpam emendare permiseris._
+
+But I am conscious to myself of offering at a greater boldness, in
+presenting to your view what my meanness can produce, than in any
+other error of my play; and therefore make haste to break off this
+tedious address, which has, I know not how, already run itself into so
+much of pedantry, with an excuse of Tully's, which he sent with his
+books "De Finibus," to his friend Brutus: _De ipsis rebus autem,
+saepenumero, Brute, vereor ne reprehendar, cum haec ad te scribam, qui
+tum in poesi,_ (I change it from _philosophia_) _tum in optimo genere
+poeseos tantum processeris. Quod si facerem quasi te erudiens, jure
+reprehenderer. Sed ab eo plurimum absum: Nec, ut ea cognoscas quae tibi
+notissima sunt, ad te mitto; sed quia facillime in nomine tuo
+acquiesco, et quia te habeo aequissimum eorum studiorum, quae mihi
+communia tecum sunt, aestimatorem et judicem._ Which you may please, my
+lord, to apply to yourself, from him, who is,
+
+  Your Lordship's
+    Most obedient,
+      Humble servant,
+        DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. John Sheffield, earl of Mulgrave, afterwards created marquis of
+   Normanby, and at length duke of Buckingham, made a great figure
+   during the reigns of Charles II. of his unfortunate successor, of
+   William the Third, and of Queen Anne. His bravery as a soldier, and
+   abilities as a statesman, seem to have been unquestioned; but for
+   his poetical reputation, he was probably much indebted to the
+   assistance of those wits whom he relieved and patronized. As,
+   however, it has been allowed a sufficient proof of wisdom in a
+   monarch, that he could chuse able ministers, so it is no slight
+   commendation to the taste of this rhyming peer, that in youth he
+   selected Dryden to supply his own poetical deficiencies, and in age
+   became the friend and the eulogist of Pope. We may observe,
+   however, a melancholy difference betwixt the manner in which an
+   independent man of letters is treated by the great, and that in
+   which they think themselves entitled to use one to whom their
+   countenance is of consequence. In addressing Pope, Sheffield
+   contents himself with launching out into boundless panegyric, while
+   his praise of Dryden, in his "Essay on Poetry," is qualified by a
+   gentle sneer at the "Hind and Panther," our bard's most laboured
+   production. His lordship is treating of satire:
+
+     The laureat here may justly claim our praise,
+     Crowned by Mack Flecnoe with immortal bays;
+     Yet once his Pegasus has borne dead weight,
+     Rid by some lumpish minister of state.
+
+   Lord Mulgrave, to distinguish him by his earliest title, certainly
+   received considerable assistance from Dryden in "The Essay on
+   Satire," which occasioned Rochester's base revenge; and was
+   distinguished by the name of the _Rose-Alley Satire_, from the
+   place in which Dryden was way-laid and beaten by the hired bravoes
+   of that worthless profligate. It is probable, that the patronage
+   which Dryden received from Mulgrave, was not entirely of an empty
+   and fruitless nature. It is at least certain, that their friendship
+   continued uninterrupted till the death of our poet. The "Discourse
+   upon Epic Poetry" is dedicated to Lord Mulgrave, then duke of
+   Buckingham, and in high favour with Queen Anne, for whom he is
+   supposed to have long cherished a youthful passion. After the grave
+   of Dryden had remained twenty years without a memorial, this
+   nobleman had the honour to raise the present monument at his own
+   expence; being the latest, and certainly one of the most honourable
+   acts of his life.
+
+   Mr Malone, from Macky's "Secret Services," gives the following
+   character of Sheffield, duke of Buckingham:--"He is a nobleman of
+   learning and good natural parts, but of no principles. Violent for
+   the high church, yet seldom goes to it. Very proud, insolent, and
+   covetous, and takes all advantages. In paying his debts unwilling,
+   and is neither esteemed nor beloved; for notwithstanding his great
+   interest at court, it is certain he has none in either house of
+   parliament, or in the country. He is of a middle stature, of a
+   brown complexion, with a sour lofty look." Swift sanctioned this
+   severe character, by writing on the margin of his copy of Macky's
+   book, "_This character is the truest of any._" To so bitter a
+   censure, let us contrast the panegyric of Pope:
+
+     Muse, 'tis enough; at length thy labour ends,
+     And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends;
+     Let crowds of critics now my verse assail,
+     Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail,
+     This more than pays whole years of thankless pain--
+     Time, health, and fortune, are not lost in vain.
+     Sheffield approves; consenting Phoebus bends,
+     And I and Malice from this hour are friends.
+
+   It may be worth the attention of the great to consider the value of
+   that genius, which can hand them down to posterity in an
+   interesting and amiable point of view, in spite of their own
+   imbecilities, errors, and vices. While the personal character of
+   Mulgrave has nothing to recommend it, and his poetical effusions
+   are sunk into oblivion, we still venerate the friend of Pope, and
+   the protector of Dryden.
+
+   Sheffield, duke of Buckingham, marquis of Normanby, and earl of
+   Mulgrave, was born in 1649, and died in 1720. He was therefore
+   twenty-seven years old when he received this dedication.
+
+2. On perusing such ill applied flattery, I know not whether we ought
+   to feel most for Charles II. or for Dryden.
+
+3. The earl of Mulgrave, in the Dutch war of 1672, served as a
+   volunteer on board the Victory, commanded by the earl of Ossory. He
+   behaved with distinguished courage himself, and has borne witness
+   to that of his unfortunate admiral, James Duke of York. His
+   intrepid coolness appears from a passage in his Memoirs, containing
+   the observations he made during the action, on the motion of cannon
+   bullets in the recoil, and their effect when passing near the human
+   body. His bravery was rewarded by his promotion to command the
+   Katharine, the second best ship in the fleet. This vessel had been
+   captured by the Dutch during the action, but was retaken by the
+   English crew before she could be carried into harbour. Lord
+   Mulgrave had a picture of the Katherine at his house in St James's
+   Park.--See CARLETON'S _Memoirs_, p. 5.
+
+4. In 1548-9, there were insurrections in several counties of England,
+   having for their object the restoration of the Catholic religion,
+   and the redress of grievances. The insurgents in Northamptonshire
+   were 20,000 strong, headed by one Ket, a tanner, who possessed
+   himself of Norwich. The earl of Northampton, marching rashly and
+   hastily against him, at the head of a very inferior force, was
+   defeated with loss. In the rout lord Sheffield, ancestor of the
+   earl of Mulgrave, and the person alluded to in the text, fell with
+   his horse into a ditch, and was slain by a butcher with a club. The
+   rebels were afterwards defeated by the earl of Warwick.--DUGDALE'S
+   _Baron_, vol. ii. p. 386. HOLLINSHED, p. 1035.]
+
+5. The entire passage of Lucretius is somewhat different from this
+   quotation:
+
+     _Quae bene, et eximie quamvis disposta ferantur,
+     Longe sunt tamen a vera ratione repulsa.
+     Omnia enim per se Divum natura necesse est
+     Immortali aevo summa cum pace fruatur,
+     Semota a nostris rebus, sejunctaque longe.
+     Nam privata dolore omni, privata periclis,
+     Ipsa suis pollens opibus, nihil indiga nostri,
+     Nec bene promeritis capitur, nec tangitur ira._
+                                   LIB. II.
+
+   Dryden ingeniously applies, to the calm of philosophical
+   retirement, the Epicurean tranquillity of the Deities of Lucretius.
+
+6. The subject of this intended poem, was probably the exploits of the
+   Black Prince. See Life.
+
+7. An incident in "Artemenes, ou Le Grand Cyrus," a huge romance,
+   written by Madame Scuderi.
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  Our author, by experience, finds it true,
+  'Tis much more hard to please himself than you;
+  And out of no feigned modesty, this day
+  Damns his laborious trifle of a play:
+  Not that its worse than what before he writ,
+  But he has now another taste of wit;
+  And, to confess a truth, though out of time,
+  Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme.
+  Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound,
+  And nature flies him like enchanted ground:
+  What verse can do, he has performed in this,
+  Which he presumes the most correct of his;
+  But spite of all his pride, a secret shame
+  Invades his breast at Shakespeare's sacred name:
+  Awed when he hears his godlike Romans rage,
+  He, in a just despair, would quit the stage;
+  And to an age less polished, more unskilled,
+  Does, with disdain, the foremost honours yield.
+  As with the greater dead he dares not strive,
+  He would not match his verse with those who live:
+  Let him retire, betwixt two ages cast,
+  The first of this, and hindmost of the last.
+  A losing gamester, let him sneak away;
+  He bears no ready money from the play.
+  The fate, which governs poets, thought it fit
+  He should not raise his fortunes by his wit.
+  The clergy thrive, and the litigious bar;
+  Dull heroes fatten with the spoils of war:
+  All southern vices, heaven be praised, are here:
+  But wit's a luxury you think too dear.
+  When you to cultivate the plant are loth,
+  'Tis a shrewd sign 'twas never of your growth;
+  And wit in northern climates will not blow,
+  Except, like orange-trees, 'tis housed from snow.
+  There needs no care to put a playhouse down,
+  'Tis the most desart place of all the town:
+  We and our neighbours, to speak proudly, are,
+  Like monarchs, ruined with expensive war;
+  While, like wise English, unconcerned you sit,
+  And see us play the tragedy of wit.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+
+  _The Old Emperor._
+  AURENG-ZEBE, _his Son._
+  MORAT, _his younger Son._
+  ARIMANT, _Governor of Agra._
+  DIANET,     }
+  SOLYMAN,    }
+  MIR BABA,   } _Indian Lords, or Omrahs, of several
+  ABAS,       }    Factions._
+  ASAPH CHAN, }
+  FAZEL CHAN, }
+
+  NOURMAHAL, _the Empress._
+  INDAMORA, _a Captive Queen._
+  MELESINDA, _Wife to Morat._
+  ZAYDA, _favourite Slave to the Empress._
+
+
+SCENE--_Agra,_ in the year 1660.
+
+
+
+
+                             AURENG-ZEBE.
+
+
+ACT I. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ ARIMANT, ASAPH CHAN, _and_ FAZEL CHAN.
+
+_Arim._ Heaven seems the empire of the east to lay
+On the success of this important day:
+Their arms are to the last decision bent,
+And fortune labours with the vast event:
+She now has in her hand the greatest stake,
+Which for contending monarchs she can make.
+Whate'er can urge ambitious youth to fight,
+She pompously displays before their sight;
+Laws, empire, all permitted to the sword,
+And fate could ne'er an ampler scene afford.
+
+_Asaph._ Four several armies to the field are led,
+Which, high in equal hopes, four princes head:
+Indus and Ganges, our wide empire's bounds,
+Swell their dyed currents with their natives' wounds:
+Each purple river winding, as he runs,
+His bloody arms about his slaughtered sons.
+
+_Fazel._ I well remember you foretold the storm,
+When first the brothers did their factions form:
+When each, by cursed cabals of women, strove
+To draw the indulgent king to partial love.
+
+_Arim._ What heaven decrees, no prudence can prevent.
+To cure their mad ambition, they were sent
+To rule a distant province each alone:
+What could a careful father more have done?
+He made provision against all, but fate,
+While, by his health, we held our peace of state.
+The weight of seventy winters prest him down,
+He bent beneath the burden of a crown:
+Sickness, at last, did his spent body seize,
+And life almost sunk under the disease:
+Mortal 'twas thought, at least by them desired,
+Who, impiously, into his years inquired:
+As at a signal, strait the sons prepare
+For open force, and rush to sudden war:
+Meeting, like winds broke loose upon the main,
+To prove, by arms, whose fate it was to reign.
+
+_Asaph._ Rebels and parricides!
+
+_Arim._ Brand not their actions with so foul a name:
+Pity at least what we are forced to blame.
+When death's cold hand has closed the father's eye,
+You know the younger sons are doomed to die.
+Less ills are chosen greater to avoid,
+And nature's laws are by the state's destroyed.
+What courage tamely could to death consent,
+And not, by striking first, the blow prevent?
+Who falls in fight, cannot himself accuse,
+And he dies greatly, who a crown pursues.
+
+  _To them_ SOLYMAN AGA.
+
+_Solym._ A new express all Agra does affright:
+Darah and Aureng-Zebe are joined in fight;
+The press of people thickens to the court,
+The impatient crowd devouring the report.
+
+_Arim._ T' each changing news they changed affections bring,
+And servilely from fate expect a king.
+
+_Solym._ The ministers of state, who gave us law,
+In corners, with selected friends, withdraw:
+There, in deaf murmurs, solemnly are wise;
+Whispering, like winds, ere hurricanes arise.
+The most corrupt are most obsequious grown,
+And those they scorned, officiously they own.
+
+_Asaph._ In change of government,
+The rabble rule their great oppressors' fate;
+Do sovereign justice, and revenge the state.
+
+_Solym._ The little courtiers, who ne'er come to know
+The depth of factions, as in mazes go,
+Where interests meet and cross so oft, that they,
+With too much care, are wildered in their way.
+
+_Arim._ What of the emperor?
+
+_Solym._ Unmoved, and brave, he like himself appears,
+And, meriting no ill, no danger fears:
+Yet mourns his former vigour lost so far,
+To make him now spectator of a war:
+Repining that he must preserve his crown
+By any help or courage but his own:
+Wishes, each minute, he could unbeget
+Those rebel sons, who dare usurp his seat;
+To sway his empire with unequal skill,
+And mount a throne, which none but he can fill.
+
+_Arim._ Oh! had he still that character maintained,
+Of valour, which, in blooming youth, he gained!
+He promised in his east a glorious race;
+Now, sunk from his meridian, sets apace.
+But as the sun, when he from noon declines,
+And, with abated heat, less fiercely shines,
+Seems to grow milder as he goes away,
+Pleasing himself with the remains of day;
+So he, who, in his youth, for glory strove,
+Would recompense his age with ease and love.
+
+_Asaph._ The name of father hateful to him grows,
+Which, for one son, produces him three foes.
+
+_Fazel._ Darah, the eldest, bears a generous mind,
+But to implacable revenge inclined:
+Too openly does love and hatred show;
+A bounteous master, but a deadly foe.
+
+_Solym._ From Sujah's valour I should much expect,
+But he's a bigot of the Persian sect;
+And by a foreign interest seeks to reign,
+Hopeless by love the sceptre to obtain.
+
+_Asaph._ Morat's too insolent, too much a brave;
+His courage to his envy is a slave.
+What he attempts, if his endeavours fail
+To effect, he is resolved no other shall.
+
+_Arim._ But Aureng-Zebe, by no strong passion swayed,
+Except his love, more temperate is, and weighed:
+This Atlas must our sinking state uphold;
+In council cool, but in performance bold:
+He sums their virtues in himself alone,
+And adds the greatest, of a loyal son:
+His father's cause upon his sword he wears,
+And with his arms, we hope, his fortune bears.
+
+_Solym._ Two vast rewards may well his courage move,
+A parent's blessing, and a mistress' love.
+If he succeed, his recompence, we hear,
+Must be the captive queen of Cassimere.
+
+  _To them_ ABAS.
+
+_Abas._ Mischiefs on mischiefs, greater still, and more!
+The neighbouring plain with arms is covered o'er:
+The vale an iron-harvest seems to yield,
+Of thick-sprung lances in a waving field.
+The polished steel gleams terribly from far,
+And every moment nearer shows the war.
+The horses' neighing by the wind is blown,
+And castled-elephants o'er-look the town.
+
+_Arim._ If, as I fear, Morat these powers commands,
+Our empire on the brink of ruin stands:
+The ambitious empress with her son is joined,
+And, in his brother's absence, has designed
+The unprovided town to take with ease,
+And then the person of the king to seize.
+
+_Solym._ To all his former issue she has shown
+Long hate, and laboured to advance her own.
+
+_Abas._ These troops are his.
+Surat he took; and thence, preventing fame,
+By quick and painful marches hither came.
+Since his approach, he to his mother sent,
+And two long hours in close debate were spent.
+
+_Arim._ I'll to my charge, the citadel, repair,
+And show my duty by my timely care.
+
+  _To them the Emperor, with a letter in his hand: After him, an
+  Ambassador, with a train following._
+
+_Asaph._ But see, the emperor! a fiery red
+His brows and glowing temples does o'erspread;
+Morat has some displeasing message sent.
+
+_Amb._ Do not, great sir, misconstrue his intent;
+Nor call rebellion what was prudent care,
+To guard himself by necessary war:
+While he believed you living, he obeyed;
+His governments but as your viceroy swayed:
+But, when he thought you gone
+To augment the number of the blessed above,
+He deemed them legacies of royal love:
+Nor armed, his brothers' portions to invade,
+But to defend the present you had made.
+
+_Emp._ By frequent messages, and strict commands,
+He knew my pleasure to discharge his bands:
+Proof of my life my royal signet made;
+Yet still he armed, came on, and disobeyed.
+
+_Amb._ He thought the mandate forged, your death concealed;
+And but delayed, till truth should be revealed.
+
+_Emp._ News of my death from rumour he received;
+And what he wished, he easily believed:
+But long demurred, though from my hand he knew
+I lived, so loth he was to think it true.
+Since he pleads ignorance to that command,
+Now let him show his duty, and disband.
+
+_Amb._ His honour, sir, will suffer in the cause;
+He yields his arms unjust, if he withdraws:
+And begs his loyalty may be declared,
+By owning those he leads to be your guard.
+
+_Emp._ I, in myself, have all the guard I need!
+Bid the presumptuous boy draw off with speed:
+If his audacious troops one hour remain,
+My cannon from the fort shall scour the plain.
+
+_Amb._ Since you deny him entrance, he demands
+His wife, whom cruelly you hold in bands:
+Her, if unjustly you from him detain,
+He justly will, by force of arms, regain.
+
+_Emp._ O'er him and his a right from Heaven I have;
+Subject and son, he's doubly born my slave.
+But whatsoe'er his own demerits are,
+Tell him, I shall not make on women war.
+And yet I'll do her innocence the grace,
+To keep her here, as in the safer place.
+But thou, who dar'st this bold defiance bring,
+May'st feel the rage of an offended king.
+Hence, from my sight, without the least reply!
+One word, nay one look more, and thou shalt die.   [_Exit Ambassador._
+
+  _Re-enter_ ARIMANT.
+
+_Arim._ May heaven, great monarch, still augment your bliss
+With length of days, and every day like this!
+For, from the banks of Gemna news is brought,
+Your army has a bloody battle fought:
+Darah from loyal Aureng-Zebe is fled,
+And forty thousand of his men lie dead.
+To Sujah next your conquering army drew;
+Him they surprised, and easily o'erthrew.
+
+_Emp._ 'Tis well.
+
+_Arim._ But well! what more could at your wish be done,
+Than two such conquests gained by such a son?
+Your pardon, mighty sir;
+You seem not high enough your joys to rate;
+You stand indebted a vast sum to fate,
+And should large thanks for the great blessing pay.
+
+_Emp._ My fortune owes me greater every day;
+And should my joy more high for this appear,
+It would have argued me, before, of fear.
+How is heaven kind, where I have nothing won,
+And fortune only pays me with my own?
+
+_Arim._ Great Aureng-Zebe did duteous care express,
+And durst not push too far his good success;
+But, lest Morat the city should attack,
+Commanded his victorious army back;
+Which, left to march as swiftly as they may,
+Himself comes first, and will be here this day,
+Before a close-formed siege shut up his way.
+
+_Emp._ Prevent his purpose! hence, with all thy speed!
+Stop him; his entrance to the town forbid.
+
+_Arim._ How, sir? your loyal, your victorious son?
+
+_Emp._ Him would I, more than all the rebels, shun.
+
+_Arim._ Whom with your power and fortune, sir, you trust.
+Now to suspect is vain, as 'tis unjust.
+He comes not with a train to move your fear,
+But trusts himself to be a prisoner here.
+You knew him brave, you know him faithful now:
+He aims at fame, but fame from serving you.
+'Tis said, ambition in his breast does rage:
+Who would not be the hero of an age?
+All grant him prudent: Prudence interest weighs,
+And interest bids him seek your love and praise.
+I know you grateful; when he marched from hence,
+You bade him hope an ample recompence:
+He conquered in that hope; and, from your hands,
+His love, the precious pledge he left, demands.
+
+_Emp._ No more; you search too deep my wounded mind,
+And show me what I fear, and would not find.
+My son has all the debts of duty paid:
+Our prophet sends him to my present aid.
+Such virtue to distrust were base and low:
+I'm not ungrateful--or I was not so!
+Inquire no farther, stop his coming on:
+I will not, cannot, dare not, see my son.
+
+_Arim._ 'Tis now too late his entrance to prevent,
+Nor must I to your ruin give consent;
+At once your people's heart, and son's, you lose,
+And give him all, when you just things refuse.
+
+_Emp._ Thou lov'st me, sure; thy faith has oft been tried,
+In ten pitched fields not shrinking from my side,
+Yet giv'st me no advice to bring me ease.
+
+_Arim._ Can you be cured, and tell not your disease?
+I asked you, sir.
+
+_Emp._ Thou shouldst have asked again:
+There hangs a secret shame on guilty men.
+Thou shouldst have pulled the secret from my breast,
+Torn out the bearded steel, to give me rest;
+At least, thou should'st have guessed--
+Yet thou art honest, thou couldst ne'er have guessed.
+Hast thou been never base? did love ne'er bend
+Thy frailer virtue, to betray thy friend?
+Flatter me, make thy court, and say, It did;
+Kings in a crowd would have their vices hid.
+We would be kept in count'nance, saved from shame,
+And owned by others who commit the same.
+Nay, now I have confessed.
+Thou seest me naked, and without disguise:
+I look on Aureng-Zebe with rival's eyes.
+He has abroad my enemies o'ercome,
+And I have sought to ruin him at home.
+
+_Arim._ This free confession shows you long did strive;
+And virtue, though opprest, is still alive.
+But what success did your injustice find?
+
+_Emp._ What it deserved, and not what I designed.
+Unmoved she stood, and deaf to all my prayers,
+As seas and winds to sinking mariners.
+But seas grow calm, and winds are reconciled:
+Her tyrant beauty never grows more mild;
+Prayers, promises, and threats, were all in vain.
+
+_Arim._ Then cure yourself, by generous disdain.
+
+_Emp._ Virtue, disdain, despair, I oft have tried,
+And, foiled, have with new arms my foe defied.
+This made me with so little joy to hear
+The victory, when I the victor fear.
+
+_Arim._ Something you swiftly must resolve to do,
+Lest Aureng-Zebe your secret love should know.
+Morat without does for your ruin wait;
+And would you lose the buckler of your state?
+A jealous empress lies within your arms,
+Too haughty to endure neglected charms.
+
+Your son is duteous, but, as man, he's frail,
+And just revenge o'er virtue may prevail.
+
+_Emp._ Go then to Indamora; say, from me,
+Two lives depend upon her secrecy.
+Bid her conceal my passion from my son:
+Though Aureng-Zebe return a conqueror,
+Both he and she are still within my power.
+Say, I'm a father, but a lover too;
+Much to my son, more to myself I owe.
+When she receives him, to her words give law,
+And even the kindness of her glances awe.
+See, he appears!          [_After a short whisper,_ ARIMANT _departs._
+
+  _Enter_ AURENG-ZEBE, DIANET, _and_ Attendants.--AURENG-ZEBE _kneels
+  to his Father, and kisses his hand._
+
+_Aur._ My vows have been successful as my sword;
+My prayers are heard, you have your health restored.
+Once more 'tis given me to behold your face;
+The best of kings and fathers to embrace.
+Pardon my tears; 'tis joy which bids them flow,
+A joy which never was sincere till now.
+That, which my conquest gave, I could not prize;
+Or 'twas imperfect till I saw your eyes.
+
+_Emp._ Turn the discourse: I have a reason why
+I would not have you speak so tenderly.
+Knew you what shame your kind expressions bring,
+You would, in pity, spare a wretched king.
+
+_Aur._ A king! you rob me, sir, of half my due;
+You have a dearer name,--a father too.
+
+_Emp._ I had that name.
+
+_Aur._ What have I said or done,
+That I no longer must be called your son?
+'Tis in that name, heaven knows, I glory more,
+Than that of prince, or that of conqueror.
+
+_Emp._ Then you upbraid me; I am pleased to see
+You're not so perfect, but can fail, like me.
+I have no God to deal with.
+
+_Aur._ Now I find,
+Some sly court-devil has seduced your mind;
+Filled it with black suspicions not your own,
+And all my actions through false optics shown.
+I ne'er did crowns ambitiously regard;
+Honour I sought, the generous mind's reward.
+Long may you live! while you the sceptre sway,
+I shall be still most happy to obey.
+
+_Emp._ Oh, Aureng-Zebe! thy virtues shine too bright,
+They flash too fierce: I, like the bird of night,
+Shut my dull eyes, and sicken at the sight.
+Thou hast deserved more love than I can show;
+But 'tis thy fate to give, and mine to owe.
+Thou seest me much distempered in my mind;
+Pulled back, and then pushed forward to be kind.
+Virtue, and--fain I would my silence break,
+But have not yet the confidence to speak.
+Leave me, and to thy needful rest repair.
+
+_Aur._ Rest is not suiting with a lover's care.
+I have not yet my Indamora seen.                          [_Is going._
+
+_Emp._ Somewhat I had forgot; come back again:
+So weary of a father's company?
+
+_Aur._ Sir, you were pleased yourself to license me.
+
+_Emp._ You made me no relation of the fight;
+Besides, a rebel's army is in sight.
+Advise me first: Yet go--
+He goes to Indamora; I should take                           [_Aside._
+A kind of envious joy to keep him back.
+Yet to detain him makes my love appear;--
+I hate his presence, and his absence fear.                    [_Exit._
+
+_Aur._ To some new clime, or to thy native sky,
+Oh friendless and forsaken Virtue, fly!
+Thy Indian air is deadly to thee grown:
+Deceit and cankered malice rule thy throne.
+Why did my arms in battle prosperous prove,
+To gain the barren praise of filial love?
+The best of kings by women is misled,
+Charmed by the witchcraft of a second bed.
+Against myself I victories have won,
+And by my fatal absence am undone.
+
+  _To him_ INDAMORA, _with_ ARIMANT.
+
+But here she comes!
+In the calm harbour of whose gentle breast,
+My tempest-beaten soul may safely rest.
+Oh, my heart's joy! whate'er my sorrows be,
+They cease and vanish in beholding thee!
+Care shuns thy walks; as at the cheerful light,
+The groaning ghosts and birds obscene take flight.
+By this one view, all my past pains are paid;
+And all I have to come more easy made.
+
+_Ind._ Such sullen planets at my birth did shine,
+They threaten every fortune mixt with mine.
+Fly the pursuit of my disastrous love,
+And from unhappy neighbourhood remove.
+
+_Aur._ Bid the laborious hind,
+Whose hardened hands did long in tillage toil,
+Neglect the promised harvest of the soil.
+Should I, who cultivated love with blood,
+Refuse possession of approaching good?
+
+_Ind._ Love is an airy good, opinion makes;
+Which he, who only thinks he has, partakes:
+Seen by a strong imagination's beam,
+That tricks and dresses up the gaudy dream:
+Presented so, with rapture 'tis enjoyed;
+Raised by high fancy, and by low destroyed.
+
+_Aur._ If love be vision, mine has all the fire,
+Which, in first dreams, young prophets does inspire:
+I dream, in you, our promised paradise:
+An age's tumult of continued bliss.
+But you have still your happiness in doubt;
+Or else 'tis past, and you have dreamt it out.
+
+_Ind._ Perhaps not so.
+
+_Aur._ Can Indamora prove
+So altered? Is it but, perhaps you love?
+Then farewell all! I thought in you to find
+A balm, to cure my much distempered mind.
+I came to grieve a father's heart estranged;
+But little thought to find a mistress changed.
+Nature herself is changed to punish me;
+Virtue turned vice, and faith inconstancy.
+
+_Ind._ You heard me not inconstancy confess:
+'Twas but a friend's advice to love me less.
+Who knows what adverse fortune may befal?
+Arm well your mind: hope little, and fear all.
+Hope, with a goodly prospect, feeds your eye;
+Shows, from a rising ground, possession nigh;
+Shortens the distance, or o'erlooks it quite;
+So easy 'tis to travel with the sight.
+
+_Aur._ Then to despair you would my love betray,
+By taking hope, its last kind friend, away.
+You hold the glass, but turn the perspective,
+And farther off the lessened object drive.
+You bid me fear: In that your change I know;
+You would prepare me for the coming blow.
+But, to prevent you, take my last adieu;
+I'll sadly tell my self you are untrue,
+Rather than stay to hear it told by you.                     [_Going._
+
+_Ind._ Stay, Aureng-Zebe, I must not let you go,--
+And yet believe yourself your own worst foe;
+Think I am true, and seek no more to know,
+Let in my breast the fatal secret lie;
+'Tis a sad riddle, which, if known, we die.       [_Seeming to pause._
+
+_Aur._ Fair hypocrite, you seek to cheat in vain;
+Your silence argues you ask time to feign.
+Once more, farewell! The snare in sight is laid,
+'Tis my own fault if I am now betrayed.                [_Going again._
+
+_Ind._ Yet once more stay; you shall believe me true,
+Though in one fate I wrap myself and you.
+Your absence--
+
+_Arim._ Hold! you know the hard command,
+I must obey: You only can withstand
+Your own mishap. I beg you, on my knee,
+Be not unhappy by your own decree.
+
+_Aur._ Speak, madam; by (if that be yet an oath)
+Your love, I'm pleased we should be ruined both.
+Both is a sound of joy.
+In death's dark bowers our bridals we will keep;
+And his cold hand
+Shall draw the curtain, when we go to sleep.
+
+_Ind._ Know then, that man, whom both of us did trust,
+Has been to you unkind, to me unjust.
+The guardian of my faith so false did prove,
+As to solicit me with lawless love:
+Prayed, promised, threatened, all that man could do;
+Base as he's great; and need I tell you who?
+
+_Aur._ Yes; for I'll not believe my father meant:
+Speak quickly, and my impious thoughts prevent.
+
+_Ind._ You've said; I wish I could some other name!
+
+_Arim._ My duty must excuse me, sir, from blame.
+A guard there!
+
+  _Enter Guards._
+
+_Aur._ Slave, for me?
+
+_Arim._ My orders are
+To seize this princess, whom the laws of war
+Long since made prisoner.
+
+_Aur._ Villain!
+
+_Arim._ Sir, I know
+Your birth, nor durst another call me so.
+
+_Aur._ I have redeemed her; and, as mine, she's free.
+
+_Arim._ You may have right to give her liberty;
+But with your father, sir, that right dispute;
+For his commands to me were absolute,
+If she disclosed his love, to use the right
+Of war, and to secure her from your sight.
+
+_Aur._ I'll rescue her, or die.                              [_Draws._
+And you, my friends, though few, are yet too brave,
+To see your general's mistress made a slave.              [_All draw._
+
+_Ind._ Hold, my dear love! if so much power there lies,
+As once you owned, in Indamora's eyes,
+Lose not the honour you have early won,
+But stand the blameless pattern of a son.
+My love your claim inviolate secures;
+'Tis writ in fate, I can be only yours.
+My sufferings for you make your heart my due;
+Be worthy me, as I am worthy you.
+
+_Aur._ I've thought, and blessed be you who gave me time;
+                                              [_Putting up his Sword._
+My virtue was surprised into a crime.
+Strong virtue, like strong nature, struggles still;
+Exerts itself, and then throws off the ill.
+I to a son's and lover's praise aspire,
+And must fulfil the parts which both require.
+How dear the cure of jealousy has cost!
+With too much care and tenderness you're lost.
+So the fond youth from hell redeemed his prize,
+Till, looking back, she vanished from his eyes!   [_Exeunt severally._
+
+
+ACT II. SCENE I.
+
+  _Betwixt the Acts, a warlike Tune is played, shooting of Guns and
+  shouts of Soldiers are heard, as in an Assault._
+
+  AURENG-ZEBE, ARIMANT, ASAPH CHAN, FAZEL CHAN, _and_ SOLYMAN.
+
+_Aur._ What man could do, was by Morat performed;
+The fortress thrice himself in person stormed.
+Your valour bravely did the assault sustain,
+And filled the moats and ditches with the slain;
+'Till, mad with rage, into the breach he fired,
+Slew friends and foes, and in the smoke retired.
+
+_Arim._ To us you give what praises are not due;
+Morat was thrice repulsed, but thrice by you.
+High, over all, was your great conduct shown;
+You sought our safety, but forgot your own.
+
+_Asaph._ Their standard, planted on the battlement,
+Despair and death among the soldiers sent;
+You the bold Omrah tumbled from the wall,
+And shouts of victory pursued his fall.
+
+_Fazel._ To you alone we owe this prosperous day;
+Our wives and children rescued from the prey:
+Know your own interest, sir; where'er you lead,
+We jointly vow to own no other head.
+
+_Solym._ Your wrongs are known. Impose but your commands,
+This hour shall bring you twenty thousand hands.
+
+_Aur._ Let them, who truly would appear my friends,
+Employ their swords, like mine, for noble ends.
+No more: Remember you have bravely done;
+Shall treason end what loyalty begun?
+I own no wrongs; some grievance I confess;
+But kings, like gods, at their own time redress.
+Yet, some becoming boldness I may use;
+I've well deserved, nor will he now refuse.                  [_Aside._
+I'll strike my fortunes with him at a heat,
+And give him not the leisure to forget.
+                                      [_Exit, attended by the Omrahs._
+
+_Arim._ Oh! Indamora, hide these fatal eyes!
+Too deep they wound whom they too soon surprise;
+My virtue, prudence, honour, interest, all
+Before this universal monarch fall.
+Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray;
+Who can tread sure on the smooth slippery way?
+Pleased with the passage, we slide swiftly on,
+And see the dangers which we cannot shun.
+
+  _To him_ INDAMORA.
+
+_Ind._ I hope my liberty may reach thus far;
+These terrace walks within my limits are.
+I came to seek you, and to let you know,
+How much I to your generous pity owe.
+The king, when he designed you for my guard,
+Resolved he would not make my bondage hard:
+If otherwise, you have deceived his end;
+And whom he meant a guardian, made a friend.
+
+_Arim._ A guardian's title I must own with shame;
+But should be prouder of another name.
+
+_Ind._ And therefore 'twas I changed that name before;
+I called you friend, and could you wish for more?
+
+_Arim._ I dare not ask for what you would not grant.
+But wishes, madam, are extravagant;
+They are not bounded with things possible:
+I may wish more than I presume to tell.
+Desire's the vast extent of human mind;
+It mounts above, and leaves poor hope behind.
+I could wish--
+
+_Ind._ What?
+
+_Arim._ Why did you speak? you've dashed my fancy quite,
+Even in the approaching minute of delight.
+I must take breath,
+Ere I the rapture of my wish renew,
+And tell you then,--it terminates in you.
+
+_Ind._ Have you considered what the event would be?
+Or know you, Arimant, yourself, or me?
+Were I no queen, did you my beauty weigh,
+My youth in bloom, your age in its decay?
+
+_Arim._ I, my own judge, condemned myself before;
+For pity aggravate my crime no more!
+So weak I am, I with a frown am slain;
+You need have used but half so much disdain.
+
+_Ind._ I am not cruel yet to that degree;
+Have better thoughts both of yourself and me.
+Beauty a monarch is,
+Which kingly power magnificently proves,
+By crowds of slaves, and peopled empire loves:
+And such a slave as you what queen would lose?
+Above the rest, I Arimant would chuse,
+For counsel, valour, truth, and kindness too;
+All I could wish in man, I find in you.
+
+_Arim._ What lover could to greater joy be raised?
+I am, methinks, a god, by you thus praised.
+
+_Ind._ To what may not desert like yours pretend?
+You have all qualities, that fit a friend.
+
+_Arim._ So mariners mistake the promised coast;
+And, with full sails, on the blind rocks are lost.
+Think you my aged veins so faintly beat,
+They rise no higher than to friendship's heat?
+So weak your charms, that, like a winter's night,
+Twinkling with stars, they freeze me, while they light?
+
+_Ind._ Mistake me not, good Arimant; I know
+My beauty's power, and what my charms can do.
+You your own talent have not learned so well;
+But practise one, where you can ne'er excel.
+You can, at most,
+To an indifferent lover's praise pretend;
+But you would spoil an admirable friend.
+
+_Arim._ Never was amity so highly prized,
+Nor ever any love so much despised.
+Even to myself ridiculous I grow,
+And would be angry, if I knew but how.
+
+_Ind._ Do not. Your anger, like your love, is vain;
+Whene'er I please, you must be pleased again.
+Knowing what power I have your will to bend,
+I'll use it; for I need just such a friend.
+You must perform, not what you think is fit;
+But to whatever I propose submit.
+
+_Arim._ Madam, you have a strange ascendant gained;
+You use me like a courser, spurred and reined:
+If I fly out, my fierceness you command,
+Then sooth, and gently stroke me with your hand.
+Impose; but use your power of taxing well;
+When subjects cannot pay, they soon rebel.
+
+_Enter the Emperor, unseen by them._
+
+_Ind._ My rebel's punishment would easy prove;
+You know you're in my power, by making love.
+
+_Arim._ Would I, without dispute, your will obey,
+And could you, in return, my life betray?
+
+_Emp._ What danger, Arimant, is this you fear?
+Or what love-secret, which I must not hear?
+These altered looks some inward motion show:
+His cheeks are pale, and yours with blushes glow.           [_To her._
+
+_Ind._ 'Tis what, with justice, may my anger move;
+He has been bold, and talked to me of love.
+
+_Arim._ I am betrayed, and shall be doomed to die.           [_Aside._
+
+_Emp._ Did he, my slave, presume to look so high?
+That crawling insect, who from mud began,
+Warmed by my beams, and kindled into man?
+Durst he, who does but for my pleasure live,
+Intrench on love, my great prerogative?
+Print his base image on his sovereign's coin?
+'Tis treason if he stamp his love with mine.
+
+_Arim._ 'Tis true, I have been bold, but if it be
+A crime--
+
+_Ind._ He means, 'tis only so to me.
+You, sir, should praise, what I must disapprove.
+He insolently talked to me of love;
+But, sir, 'twas yours, he made it in your name;
+You, if you please, may all he said disclaim.
+
+_Emp._ I must disclaim whate'er he can express;
+His groveling sense will show my passion less:
+But stay,--if what he said my message be,
+What fear, what danger, could arrive from me?
+He said, he feared you would his life betray.
+
+_Ind._ Should he presume again, perhaps I may.
+Though in your hands he hazard not his life,
+Remember, sir, your fury of a wife;
+Who, not content to be revenged on you,
+The agents of your passion will pursue.
+
+_Emp._ If I but hear her named, I'm sick that day;
+The sound is mortal, and frights life away.--
+Forgive me, Arimant, my jealous thought:
+Distrust in lovers is the tenderest fault.
+Leave me, and tell thyself, in my excuse,
+Love, and a crown, no rivalship can bear;
+And precious things are still possessed with fear.
+                                            [_Exit_ ARIMANT, _bowing._
+This, madam, my excuse to you may plead;
+Love should forgive the faults, which love has made.
+
+_Ind._ From me, what pardon can you hope to have,
+Robbed of my love, and treated as a slave?
+
+_Emp._ Force is the last relief which lovers find;
+And 'tis the best excuse of woman-kind.
+
+_Ind._ Force never yet a generous heart did gain;
+We yield on parley, but are stormed in vain.
+Constraint in all things makes the pleasure less;
+Sweet is the love which comes with willingness.
+
+_Emp._ No; 'tis resistance that inflames desire,
+Sharpens the darts of love, and blows his fire.
+Love is disarmed, that meets with too much ease;
+He languishes, and does not care to please:
+And therefore 'tis, your golden fruit you guard
+With so much care,--to make possession hard.
+
+_Ind._ Was't not enough, you took my crown away,
+But cruelly you must my love betray?
+I was well pleased to have transferred my right,
+And better changed your claim of lawless might,
+By taking him, whom you esteemed above
+Your other sons, and taught me first to love.
+
+_Emp._ My son by my command his course must steer:
+I bade him love, I bid him now forbear.
+If you have any kindness for him still,
+Advise him not to shock a father's will.
+
+_Ind._ Must I advise?
+Then let me see him, and I'll try to obey.
+
+_Emp._ I had forgot, and dare not trust your way.
+But send him word,
+He has not here an army to command:
+Remember, he and you are in my hand.
+
+_Ind._ Yes, in a father's hand, whom he has served,
+And, with the hazard of his life, preserved.
+But piety to you, unhappy prince,
+Becomes a crime, and duty an offence;
+Against yourself you with your foes combine,
+And seem your own destruction to design.
+
+_Emp._ You may be pleased your politics to spare;
+I'm old enough, and can myself take care.
+
+_Ind._ Advice from me was, I confess, too bold:
+You're old enough; it may be, sir, too old.
+
+_Emp._ You please yourself with your contempt of age;
+But love, neglected, will convert to rage.
+If on your head my fury does not turn,
+Thank that fond dotage which so much you scorn;
+But, in another's person, you may prove,
+There's warmth for vengeance left, though not for love.
+
+  _Re-enter_ ARIMANT.
+
+_Arim._ The empress has the antichambers past,
+And this way moves with a disordered haste:
+Her brows the stormy marks of anger bear.
+
+_Emp._ Madam, retire; she must not find you here.
+                                      [_Exit_ INDAMORA _with_ ARIMANT.
+
+  _Enter_ NOURMAHAL _hastily._
+
+_Nour._ What have I done, that Nourmahal must prove
+The scorn and triumph of a rival's love?
+My eyes are still the same; each glance, each grace,
+Keep their first lustre, and maintain their place;
+Not second yet to any other face.
+
+_Emp._ What rage transports you? Are you well awake?
+Such dreams distracted minds in fevers make.
+
+_Nour._ Those fevers you have given, those dreams have bred,
+By broken faith, and an abandoned bed.
+Such visions hourly pass before my sight,
+Which from my eyes their balmy slumbers fright,
+In the severest silence of the night;
+Visions, which in this citadel are seen,--
+Bright glorious visions of a rival queen.
+
+_Emp._ Have patience,--my first flames can ne'er decay;
+These are but dreams, and soon will pass away;
+Thou know'st, my heart, my empire, all is thine.
+In thy own heaven of love serenely shine;
+Fair as the face of nature did appear,
+When flowers first peep'd, and trees did blossoms bear,
+And winter had not yet deformed the inverted year;
+Calm as the breath which fans our eastern groves,
+And bright as when thy eyes first lighted up our loves.
+Let our eternal peace be sealed by this,
+With the first ardour of a nuptial kiss.        [_Offers to kiss her._
+
+_Nour._ Me would you have,--me your faint kisses prove,
+The dregs and droppings of enervate love?
+Must I your cold long-labouring age sustain,
+And be to empty joys provoked in vain?
+Receive you, sighing after other charms,
+And take an absent husband in my arms?
+
+_Emp._ Even these reproaches I can bear from you;
+You doubted of my love, believe it true:
+Nothing but love this patience could produce,
+And I allow your rage that kind excuse.
+
+_Nour._ Call it not patience; 'tis your guilt stands mute;
+You have a cause too foul to bear dispute.
+You wrong me first, and urge my rage to rise:
+Then I must pass for mad; you, meek and wise.
+Good man! plead merit by your soft replies.
+Vain privilege poor women have of tongue;
+Men can stand silent, and resolve on wrong.
+
+_Emp._ What can I more? my friendship you refuse.
+And even my mildness, as my crime, accuse.
+
+_Nour._ Your sullen silence cheats not me, false man;
+I know you think the bloodiest things you can.
+Could you accuse me, you would raise your voice,
+Watch for my crimes, and in my guilt rejoice:
+But my known virtue is from scandal free,
+And leaves no shadow for your calumny.
+
+_Emp._ Such virtue is the plague of human life;
+A virtuous woman, but a cursed wife.
+In vain of pompous chastity you're proud;
+Virtue's adultery of the tongue, when loud.
+I, with less pain, a prostitute could bear,
+Than the shrill sound of--"_Virtue! virtue!_" hear.
+In unchaste wives
+There's yet a kind of recompensing ease;
+Vice keeps them humble, gives them care to please;
+But against clamorous virtue, what defence?
+It stops our mouths, and gives your noise pretence.
+
+_Nour._ Since virtue does your indignation raise,
+'Tis pity but you had that wife you praise:
+Your own wild appetites are prone to range,
+And then you tax our humours with your change.
+
+_Emp._ What can be sweeter than our native home?
+Thither for ease and soft repose we come:
+Home is the sacred refuge of our life;
+Secured from all approaches, but a wife.
+If thence we fly, the cause admits no doubt;
+None but an inmate foe could force us out:
+Clamours our privacies uneasy make;
+Birds leave their nests disturbed, and beasts their haunts forsake.
+
+_Nour._ Honour's my crime, that has your loathing bred;
+You take no pleasure in a virtuous bed.
+
+_Emp._ What pleasure can there be in that estate,
+Which your unquietness has made me hate?
+I shrink far off,
+Dissembling sleep, but wakeful with the fright;
+The day takes off the pleasure of the night.
+
+_Nour._ My thoughts no other joys but power pursue;
+Or, if they did, they must be lost in you.
+And yet the fault's not mine,
+Though youth and beauty cannot warmth command;
+The sun in vain shines on the barren sand.
+
+_Emp._ 'Tis true, of marriage-bands I'm weary grown;
+Love scorns all ties, but those that are his own.
+Chains, that are dragged, must needs uneasy prove,
+For there's a godlike liberty in love.
+
+_Nour._ What's love to you?
+The bloom of beauty other years demands,
+Nor will be gathered by such withered hands:
+You importune it with a false desire,
+Which sparkles out, and makes no solid fire.
+This impudence of age, whence can it spring?
+All you expect, and yet you nothing bring:
+Eager to ask, when you are past a grant;
+Nice in providing what you cannot want.
+Have conscience; give not her you love this pain;
+Solicit not yourself and her in vain:
+All other debts may compensation find;
+But love is strict, and will be paid in kind.
+
+_Emp._ Sure, of all ills, domestic are the worst;
+When most secure of blessings, we are curst.
+When we lay next us what we hold most dear,
+Like Hercules, envenomed shirts we wear,
+And cleaving mischiefs.
+
+_Nour._ What you merit, have;
+And share, at least, the miseries you gave.
+Your days I will alarm, I'll haunt your nights.
+And, worse than age, disable your delights.
+May your sick fame still languish till it die,
+All offices of power neglected lie,
+And you grow cheap in every subject's eye!
+Then, as the greatest curse that I can give,
+Unpitied be deposed, and, after, live!                   [_Going off._
+
+_Emp._ Stay, and now learn,
+How criminal soe'er we husbands are,
+'Tis not for wives to push our crimes too far.
+Had you still mistress of your temper been,
+I had been modest, and not owned my sin.
+Your fury hardens me; and whate'er wrong
+You suffer, you have cancelled by your tongue.
+A guard there!--Seize her; she shall know this hour,
+What is a husband's and a monarch's power.        [_Guard seizes her._
+
+  _Enter_ AURENG-ZEBE.
+
+_Nour._ I see for whom your charter you maintain;
+I must be fettered, and my son be slain,
+That Zelyma's ambitious race may reign.
+Not so you promised, when my beauty drew
+All Asia's vows; when, Persia left for you,
+The realm of Candahar for dower I brought;
+That long-contended prize for which you fought.
+
+_Aur._ The name of stepmother, your practised art,
+By which you have estranged my father's heart,
+All you have done against me, or design,
+Shows your aversion, but begets not mine.
+Long may my father India's empire guide,
+And may no breach your nuptial vows divide!
+
+_Emp._ Since love obliges not, I from this hour
+Assume the right of man's despotic power;
+Man is by nature formed your sex's head,
+And is himself the canon of his bed:
+In bands of iron fettered you shall be,--
+An easier yoke than what you put on me.
+
+_Aur._ Though much I fear my interest is not great,
+Let me your royal clemency intreat.                       [_Kneeling._
+Secrets of marriage still are sacred held;
+Their sweet and bitter by the wise concealed.
+Errors of wives reflect on husbands still,
+And, when divulged, proclaim you've chosen ill;
+And the mysterious power of bed and throne
+Should always be maintained, but rarely shown.
+
+_Emp._ To so perverse a sex all grace is vain;
+It gives them courage to offend again:
+For with feigned tears they penitence pretend,
+Again are pardoned, and again offend;
+Fathom our pity when they seem to grieve,
+Only to try how far we can forgive;
+Till, launching out into a sea of strife,
+They scorn all pardon, and appear all wife.
+But be it as you please; for your loved sake,
+This last and fruitless trial I will make:
+In all requests your right of merit use;
+And know, there is but one I can refuse.
+                        [_He signs to the Guards, and they remove from
+                         the Empress._
+
+_Nour._ You've done enough, for you designed my chains;
+The grace is vanished, but the affront remains.
+Nor is't a grace, or for his merit done;
+You durst no farther, for you feared my son.
+This you have gained by the rough course you prove;
+I'm past repentance, and you past my love.                    [_Exit._
+
+_Emp._ A spirit so untamed the world ne'er bore.
+
+_Aur._ And yet worse usage had incensed her more.
+But since by no obligement she is tied,
+You must betimes for your defence provide.
+I cannot idle in your danger stand,
+But beg once more I may your arms command:
+Two battles your auspicious cause has won;
+My sword can perfect what it has begun,
+And from your walls dislodge that haughty son.
+
+_Emp._ My son, your valour has this day been such,
+None can enough admire, or praise too much:
+But now, with reason, your success I doubt;
+Her faction's strong within, his arms without.
+
+_Aur._ I left the city in a panic fright;
+Lions they are in council, lambs in fight.
+But my own troops, by Mirzah led, are near;
+I, by to-morrow's dawn, expect them here:
+To favour them, I'll sally out ere day,
+And through our slaughtered foes enlarge their way.
+
+_Emp._ Age has not yet
+So shrunk my sinews, or so chilled my veins,
+But conscious virtue in my breast remains:
+But had I now
+That strength, with which my boiling youth was fraught,
+When in the vale of Balasor I fought,
+And from Bengal their captive monarch brought;
+When elephant 'gainst elephant did rear
+His trunk, and castles jostled in the air;
+My sword thy way to victory had shown,
+And owed the conquest to itself alone.
+
+_Aur._ Those fair ideas to my aid I'll call,
+And emulate my great original;
+Or, if they fail, I will invoke, in arms,
+The power of love, and Indamora's charms.
+
+_Emp._ I doubt the happy influence of your star;
+To invoke a captive's name bodes ill in war.
+
+_Aur._ Sir, give me leave to say, whatever now
+The omen prove, it boded well to you.
+Your royal promise, when I went to fight,
+Obliged me to resign a victor's right:
+Her liberty I fought for, and I won,
+And claim it, as your general, and your son.
+
+_Emp._ My ears still ring with noise; I'm vexed to death,
+Tongue-killed, and have not yet recovered breath;
+Nor will I be prescribed my time by you.
+First end the war, and then your claim renew;
+While to your conduct I my fortune trust,
+To keep this pledge of duty is but just.
+
+_Aur._ Some hidden cause your jealousy does move,
+Or you could ne'er suspect my loyal love.
+
+_Emp._ What love soever by an heir is shown,
+He waits but time to step into the throne;
+You're neither justified, nor yet accused;
+Meanwhile, the prisoner with respect is used.
+
+_Aur._ I know the kindness of her guardian such,
+I need not fear too little, but too much.
+But, how, sir, how have you from virtue swerved?
+Or what so ill return have I deserved?
+You doubt not me, nor have I spent my blood,
+To have my faith no better understood:
+Your soul's above the baseness of distrust:
+Nothing but love could make you so unjust.
+
+_Emp._ You know your rival then; and know 'tis fit,
+The son should to the father's claim submit.
+
+_Aur._ Sons may have rights which they can never quit.
+Yourself first made that title which I claim:
+First bade me love, and authorised my flame.
+
+_Emp._ The value of my gift I did not know:
+If I could give, I can resume it too.
+
+_Aur._ Recall your gift, for I your power confess.
+But first take back my life, a gift that's less.
+Long life would now but a long burthen prove:
+You're grown unkind, and I have lost your love.
+My grief lets unbecoming speeches fall:
+I should have died, and not complained at all.
+
+_Emp._ Witness, ye powers,
+How much I suffered, and how long I strove
+Against the assaults of this imperious love!
+I represented to myself the shame
+Of perjured faith, and violated fame;
+Your great deserts, how ill they were repaid;
+All arguments, in vain, I urged and weighed:
+For mighty love, who prudence does despise,
+For reason showed me Indamora's eyes.
+What would you more? my crime I sadly view,
+Acknowledge, am ashamed, and yet pursue.
+
+_Aur._ Since you can love, and yet your error see,
+The same resistless power may plead for me.
+With no less ardour I my claim pursue:
+I love, and cannot yield her even to you.
+
+_Emp._ Your elder brothers, though o'ercome, have right:
+The youngest yet in arms prepared to fight.
+But, yielding her, I firmly have decreed,
+That you alone to empire shall succeed.
+
+_Aur._ To after-ages let me stand a shame,
+When I exchange for crowns my love or fame!
+You might have found a mercenary son,
+To profit of the battles he had won.
+Had I been such, what hindered me to take
+The crown? nor had the exchange been yours to make.
+While you are living, I no right pretend;
+Wear it, and let it where you please descend.
+But from my love, 'tis sacrilege to part:
+There, there's my throne, in Indamora's heart.
+
+_Emp._ 'Tis in her heart alone that you must reign:
+You'll find her person difficult to gain.
+Give willingly what I can take by force:
+And know, obedience is your safest course.
+
+_Aur._ I'm taught, by honour's precepts, to obey:
+Fear to obedience is a slavish way.
+If aught my want of duty could beget,
+You take the most prevailing means, to threat.
+Pardon your blood, that boils within my veins;
+It rises high, and menacing disdains.
+Even death's become to me no dreadful name:
+I've often met him, and have made him tame:
+In fighting fields, where our acquaintance grew,
+I saw him, and contemned him first for you.
+
+_Emp._ Of formal duty make no more thy boast:
+Thou disobey'st where it concerns me most.
+Fool! with both hands thus to push back a crown,
+And headlong cast thyself from empire down!
+Though Nourmahal I hate, her son shall reign:
+Inglorious thou, by thy own fault, remain.
+Thy younger brother I'll admit this hour:
+So mine shall be thy mistress, his thy power.                 [_Exit._
+
+_Aur._ How vain is virtue, which directs our ways
+Through certain danger to uncertain praise!
+Barren, and airy name! thee fortune flies,
+With thy lean train, the pious and the wise.
+Heaven takes thee at thy word, without regard,
+And lets thee poorly be thy own reward.
+The world is made for the bold impious man,
+Who stops at nothing, seizes all he can.
+Justice to merit does weak aid afford;
+She trusts her balance, and neglects her sword.
+Virtue is nice to take what's not her own;
+And, while she long consults, the prize is gone.
+
+  _To him_ DIANET.
+
+_Dia._ Forgive the bearer of unhappy news:
+Your altered father openly pursues
+Your ruin; and, to compass his intent,
+For violent Morat in haste has sent.
+The gates he ordered all to be unbarred,
+And from the market-place to draw the guard.
+
+_Aur._ How look the people in this turn of state?
+
+_Dia._ They mourn your ruin as their proper fate;
+Cursing the empress: For they think it done
+By her procurement, to advance her son.
+Him too, though awed, they scarcely can forbear:
+His pride they hate, his violence they fear.
+All bent to rise, would you appear their chief,
+Till your own troops come up to your relief.
+
+_Aur._ Ill treated, and forsaken, as I am,
+I'll not betray the glory of my name:
+'Tis not for me, who have preserved a state,
+To buy an empire at so base a rate.
+
+_Dia._ The points of honour poets may produce;
+Trappings of life, for ornament, not use:
+Honour, which only does the name advance,
+Is the mere raving madness of romance.
+Pleased with a word, you may sit tamely down;
+And see your younger brother force the crown.
+
+_Aur._ I know my fortune in extremes does lie;
+The sons of Indostan must reign, or die;
+That desperate hazard courage does create,
+As he plays frankly, who has least estate;
+And that the world the coward will despise,
+When life's a blank, who pulls not for a prize.
+
+_Dia._ Of all your knowledge, this vain fruit you have,
+To walk with eyes broad open to your grave.
+
+_Aur._ From what I've said, conclude, without reply,
+I neither would usurp, nor tamely die.
+The attempt to fly, would guilt betray, or fear:
+Besides, 'twere vain; the fort's our prison here.
+Somewhat I have resolved.
+Morat, perhaps, has honour in his breast;
+And, in extremes, both counsels are the best.
+Like emp'ric remedies, they last are tried,
+And by the event condemned, or justified.
+Presence of mind, and courage in distress,
+Are more than armies, to procure success.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT III. SCENE I.
+
+  ARIMANT, _with a letter in his hand:_ INDAMORA.
+
+_Arim._ And I the messenger to him from you?
+Your empire you to tyranny pursue:
+You lay commands, both cruel and unjust,
+To serve my rival, and betray my trust.
+
+_Ind._ You first betrayed your trust, in loving me;
+And should not I my own advantage see?
+Serving my love, you may my friendship gain;
+You know the rest of your pretences vain.
+You must, my Arimant, you must be kind:
+'Tis in your nature, and your noble mind.
+
+_Arim._ I'll to the king, and straight my trust resign.
+
+_Ind._ His trust you may, but you shall never mine.
+Heaven made you love me for no other end,
+But to become my confidant and friend:
+As such, I keep no secret from your sight,
+And therefore make you judge how ill I write:
+Read it, and tell me freely then your mind;
+If 'tis indited, as I meant it, kind.
+
+_Arim._ _I ask not heaven my freedom to restore,_          [_Reading._
+_But only for your sake_--I'll read no more:
+And yet I must--
+_Less for my own, than for your sorrow sad_--              [_Reading._
+Another line, like this, would make me mad--
+Heaven! she goes on--yet more--and yet more kind!       [_As reading._
+Each sentence is a dagger to my mind.
+_See me this night_--                                      [_Reading._
+_Thank fortune, who did such a friend provide,
+For faithful Arimant shall be your guide._
+Not only to be made an instrument,
+But pre-engaged without my own consent!
+
+_Ind._ Unknown to engage you still augments my score,
+And gives you scope of meriting the more.
+
+_Arim._ The best of men
+Some interest in their actions must confess;
+None merit, but in hope they may possess.
+The fatal paper rather let me tear,
+Than, like Bellerophon, my own sentence bear.
+
+_Ind._ You may; but 'twill not be your best advice:
+'Twill only give me pains of writing twice.
+You know you must obey me, soon or late:
+Why should you vainly struggle with your fate?
+
+_Arim._ I thank thee, heaven, thou hast been wondrous kind!
+Why am I thus to slavery designed,
+And yet am cheated with a freeborn mind?
+Or make thy orders with my reason suit,
+Or let me live by sense a glorious brute--              [_She frowns._
+You frown, and I obey with speed, before
+That dreadful sentence comes, _See me no more:_
+See me no more! that sound, methinks, I hear
+Like the last trumpet thundering in my ear.
+
+  _Enter_ SOLYMAN.
+
+_Solym._ The princess Melesinda, bathed in tears,
+And tossed alternately with hopes and fears,
+If your affairs such leisure can afford,
+Would learn from you the fortunes of her lord.
+
+_Arim._ Tell her, that I some certainty may bring,
+I go this minute to attend the king.
+
+_Ind._ This lonely turtle I desire to see:
+Grief, though not cured, is eased by company.
+
+_Arim._ [_To_ SOLYM.]
+Say, if she please, she hither may repair,
+And breathe the freshness of the open air.              [_Exit_ SOLYM.
+
+_Ind._ Poor princess! how I pity her estate,
+Wrapt in the ruins of her husband's fate!
+She mourned Morat should in rebellion rise;
+Yet he offends, and she's the sacrifice.
+
+_Arim._ Not knowing his design, at court she staid;
+'Till, by command, close prisoner she was made.
+Since when,
+Her chains with Roman constancy she bore,
+But that, perhaps, an Indian wife's is more.
+
+_Ind._ Go, bring her comfort; leave me here alone.
+
+_Arim._ My love must still he in obedience shown.        [_Exit_ ARIM.
+
+  _Enter_ MELESINDA, _led by_ SOLYMAN, _who retires afterwards._
+
+_Ind._ When graceful sorrow in her pomp appears,
+Sure she is dressed in Melesinda's tears.
+Your head reclined, (as hiding grief from view)
+Droops, like a rose, surcharged with morning dew.
+
+_Mel._ Can flowers but droop in absence of the sun,
+Which waked their sweets? And mine, alas! is gone.
+But you the noblest charity express:
+For they, who shine in courts, still shun distress.
+
+_Ind._ Distressed myself, like you, confined, I live:
+And, therefore, can compassion take and give.
+We're both love's captives, but with fate so cross,
+One must be happy by the other's loss.
+Morat, or Aureng-Zebe, must fall this day.
+
+_Mel._ Too truly Tamerlane's successors they;
+Each thinks a world too little for his sway.
+Could you and I the same pretences bring,
+Mankind should with more ease receive a king:
+I would to you the narrow world resign,
+And want no empire while Morat was mine.
+
+_Ind._ Wished freedom, I presage, you soon will find;
+If heaven be just, and be to virtue kind.
+
+_Mel._ Quite otherwise my mind foretels my fate:
+Short is my life, and that unfortunate.
+Yet should I not complain, would heaven afford
+Some little time, ere death, to see my lord.
+
+_Ind._ These thoughts are but your melancholy's food;
+Raised from a lonely life, and dark abode:
+But whatsoe'er our jarring fortunes prove,
+Though our lords hate, methinks we two may love.
+
+_Mel._ Such be our loves as may not yield to fate;
+I bring a heart more true than fortunate.       [_Giving their hands._
+
+  _To them,_ ARIMANT.
+
+_Arim._ I come with haste surprising news to bring:
+In two hours time, since last I saw the king,
+The affairs of court have wholly changed their face:
+Unhappy Aureng-Zebe is in disgrace;
+And your Morat, proclaimed the successor,
+Is called, to awe the city with his power.
+Those trumpets his triumphant entry tell,
+And now the shouts waft near the citadel.
+
+_Ind._ See, madam, see the event by me foreshown:
+I envy not your chance, but grieve my own.
+
+_Mel._ A change so unexpected must surprise:
+And more, because I am unused to joys.
+
+_Ind._ May all your wishes ever prosperous be!
+But I'm too much concerned the event to see.
+My eyes too tender are,
+To view my lord become the public scorn.--
+I came to comfort, and I go to mourn.             [_Taking her leave._
+
+_Mel._ Stay, I'll not see my lord,
+Before I give your sorrow some relief;
+And pay the charity you lent my grief.
+Here he shall see me first, with you confined;
+And, if your virtue fail to move his mind,
+I'll use my interest that he may be kind.
+Fear not, I never moved him yet in vain.
+
+_Ind._ So fair a pleader any cause may gain.
+
+_Mel._ I have no taste, methinks, of coming joy;
+For black presages all my hopes destroy.
+"Die!" something whispers,--"Melesinda, die!
+Fulfil, fulfil, thy mournful destiny!"--
+Mine is a gleam of bliss, too hot to last;
+Watry it shines, and will be soon o'ercast. [IND. _and_ MEL. _retire._
+
+_Arim._ Fortune seems weary grown of Aureng-Zebe,
+While to her new-made favourite Morat,
+Her lavish hand is wastefully profuse:
+With fame and flowing honours tided in,
+Borne on a swelling current smooth beneath him.
+The king, and haughty empress, to our wonder,
+If not atoned, yet seemingly at peace,
+As fate for him that miracle reserved.
+
+  _Enter, in triumph, Emperor,_ MORAT, _and Train._
+
+_Emp._ I have confessed I love.
+As I interpret fairly your design,
+So look not with severer eyes on mine.
+Your fate has called you to the imperial seat:
+In duty be, as you in arms are, great;
+For Aureng-Zebe a hated name is grown,
+And love less bears a rival than the throne.
+
+_Mor._ To me, the cries of fighting fields are charms:
+Keen be my sabre, and of proof my arms,
+I ask no other blessing of my stars:
+No prize but fame, nor mistress but the wars.
+I scarce am pleased I tamely mount the throne:--
+Would Aureng-Zebe had all their souls in one!
+With all my elder brothers I would fight,
+And so from partial nature force my right.
+
+_Emp._ Had we but lasting youth, and time to spare,
+Some might be thrown away on fame and war;
+But youth, the perishing good, runs on too fast,
+And, unenjoyed, will spend itself to waste;
+Few know the use of life before 'tis past.
+Had I once more thy vigour to command,
+I would not let it die upon my hand:
+No hour of pleasure should pass empty by;
+Youth should watch joys, and shoot them as they fly.
+
+_Mor._ Methinks, all pleasure is in greatness found.
+Kings, like heaven's eye, should spread their beams around,
+Pleased to be seen, while glory's race they run:
+Rest is not for the chariot of the sun.
+Subjects are stiff-necked animals; they soon
+Feel slackened reins, and pitch their rider down.
+
+_Emp._ To thee that drudgery of power I give:
+Cares be thy lot: Reign thou, and let me live.
+The fort I'll keep for my security;
+Business and public state resign to thee.
+
+_Mor._ Luxurious kings are to their people lost:
+They live, like drones, upon the public cost.
+My arms from pole to pole the world shall shake,
+And, with myself, keep all mankind awake.
+
+_Emp._ Believe me, son, and needless trouble spare;
+'Tis a base world, and is not worth our care:
+The vulgar, a scarce animated clod,
+Ne'er pleased with aught above them, prince or God.
+Were I a God, the drunken globe should roll,
+The little emmetts with the human soul
+Care for themselves, while at my ease I sat,
+And second causes did the work of fate;
+Or, if I would take care, that care should be
+For wit that scorned the world, and lived like me.
+
+  _To them,_ NOURMAHAL, ZAYDA, _and Attendants._
+
+_Nour._ My dear Morat,                           [_Embracing her son._
+This day propitious to us all has been:
+You're now a monarch's heir, and I a queen.
+Your faithful father now may quit the state,
+And find the ease he sought, indulged by fate.
+Cares shall not keep him on the throne awake,
+Nor break the golden slumbers he would take.
+
+_Emp._ In vain I struggled to the gaol of life,
+While rebel-sons, and an imperious wife,
+Still dragged me backward into noise and strife.
+
+_Mor._ Be that remembrance lost; and be it my pride
+To be your pledge of peace on either side.
+
+  _To them,_ AURENG-ZEBE.
+
+_Aur._ With all the assurance innocence can bring,
+Fearless without, because secure within,
+Armed with my courage, unconcerned I see
+This pomp; a shame to you, a pride to me.
+Shame is but where with wickedness 'tis joined;
+And, while no baseness in this breast I find,
+I have not lost the birth-right of my mind.
+
+_Emp._ Children, the blind effect of love and chance,
+Formed by their sportive parents' ignorance,
+Bear from their birth the impressions of a slave;
+Whom heaven for play-games first, and then for service gave:
+One then may be displaced, and one may reign,
+And want of merit render birth-right vain.
+
+_Mor._ Comes he to upbraid us with his innocence?
+Seize him, and take the preaching Brachman hence.
+
+_Aur._ Stay, sir!--I from my years no merit plead:   [_To his Father._
+All my designs and acts to duty lead.
+Your life and glory are my only end;
+And for that prize I with Morat contend.
+
+_Mor._ Not him alone: I all mankind defy.
+Who dares adventure more for both than I?
+
+_Aur._ I know you brave, and take you at your word:
+That present service, which you vaunt, afford.
+Our two rebellious brothers are not dead:
+Though vanquished, yet again they gather head.
+I dare you, as your rival in renown,
+March out your army from the imperial town:
+Chuse whom you please, the other leave to me;
+And set our father absolutely free.
+This, if you do, to end all future strife,
+I am content to lead a private life;
+Disband my army, to secure the state,
+Nor aim at more, but leave the rest to fate.
+
+_Mor._ I'll do it.--Draw out my army on the plain!
+War is to me a pastime, peace a pain.
+
+_Emp._ Think better first.--                                [_To_ MOR.
+You see yourself enclosed beyond escape,                    [_To_ AUR.
+And, therefore, Proteus-like, you change your shape;
+Of promise prodigal, while power you want,
+And preaching in the self-denying cant.
+
+_Mor._ Plot better; for these arts too obvious are,
+Of gaming time, the master-piece of war.
+Is Aureng-Zebe so known?
+
+_Aur._ If acts like mine,
+So far from interest, profit, or design,
+Can show my heart, by those I would be known:
+I wish you could as well defend your own.
+My absent army for my father fought:
+Yours, in these walls, is to enslave him brought.
+If I come singly, you an armed guest,
+The world with ease may judge whose cause is best.
+
+_Mor._ My father saw you ill designs pursue;
+And my admission showed his fear of you.
+
+_Aur._ Himself best knows why he his love withdraws:
+I owe him more than to declare the cause.
+But still I press, our duty may be shown
+By arms.
+
+_Mor._ I'll vanquish all his foes alone.
+
+_Aur._ You speak, as if you could the fates command,
+And had no need of any other hand.
+But, since my honour you so far suspect,
+'Tis just I should on your designs reflect.
+To prove yourself a loyal son, declare
+You'll lay down arms when you conclude the war.
+
+_Mor._ No present answer your demand requires;
+The war once done, I'll do what heaven inspires;
+And while this sword this monarchy secures,
+'Tis managed by an abler arm than yours.
+
+_Emp._ Morat's design a doubtful meaning bears:              [_Aside._
+In Aureng-Zebe true loyalty appears.
+He, for my safety, does his own despise;
+Still, with his wrongs, I find his duty rise.
+I feel my virtue struggling in my soul,
+But stronger passion does its power controul.--
+Yet be advised your ruin to prevent:               [_To_ AUR. _aside._
+You might be safe, if you would give consent.
+
+_Aur._ So to your welfare I of use may be,
+My life or death are equal both to me.
+
+_Emp._ The people's hearts are yours; the fort yet mine:
+Be wise, and Indamora's love resign.
+I am observed: Remember, that I give
+This my last proof of kindness--die, or live.
+
+_Aur._ Life, with my Indamora, I would chuse;
+But, losing her, the end of living lose.
+I had considered all I ought before;
+And fear of death can make me change no more.
+The people's love so little I esteem,
+Condemned by you, I would not live by them.
+May he, who must your favour now possess,
+Much better serve you, and not love you less.
+
+_Emp._ I've heard you; and, to finish the debate,            [_Aloud._
+Commit that rebel prisoner to the state.
+
+_Mor._ The deadly draught he shall begin this day:
+And languish with insensible decay.
+
+_Aur._ I hate the lingering summons to attend;
+Death all at once would be the nobler end.
+Fate is unkind! methinks, a general
+Should warm, and at the head of armies fall;
+And my ambition did that hope pursue,
+That so I might have died in fight for you.          [_To his Father._
+
+_Mor._ Would I had been disposer of thy stars!
+Thou shouldst have had thy wish, and died in wars.
+'Tis I, not thou, have reason to repine,
+That thou shouldst fall by any hand, but mine.
+
+_Aur._ When thou wert formed, heaven did a man begin;
+But the brute soul, by chance, was shuffled in.
+In woods and wilds thy monarchy maintain,
+Where valiant beasts, by force and rapine, reign.
+In life's next scene, if transmigration be,
+Some bear, or lion, is reserved for thee.
+
+_Mor._ Take heed thou com'st not in that lion's way!
+I prophecy, thou wilt thy soul convey
+Into a lamb, and be again my prey.--
+Hence with that dreaming priest!
+
+_Nour._ Let me prepare
+The poisonous draught: His death shall be my care.
+Near my apartment let him prisoner be,
+That I his hourly ebbs of life may see.
+
+_Aur._ My life I would not ransom with a prayer:
+'Tis vile, since 'tis not worth my father's care.
+I go not, sir, indebted to my grave:
+You paid yourself, and took the life you gave.                [_Exit._
+
+_Emp._ O that I had more sense of virtue left,               [_Aside._
+Or were of that, which yet remains, bereft!
+I've just enough to know how I offend,
+And, to my shame, have not enough to mend.
+Lead to the mosque.--
+
+_Mor._ Love's pleasures, why should dull devotion stay?
+Heaven to my Melesinda's but the way.
+                                [_Exeunt Emperor,_ MORAT, _and train._
+
+_Zayd._ Sure Aureng-Zebe has somewhat of divine,
+Whose virtue through so dark a cloud can shine.
+Fortune has from Morat this day removed
+The greatest rival, and the best beloved.
+
+_Nour._ He is not yet removed.
+
+_Zayd._ He lives, 'tis true;
+But soon must die, and, what I mourn, by you.
+
+_Nour._ My Zayda, may thy words prophetic be!
+                                             [_Embracing her eagerly._
+I take the omen; let him die by me!
+He, stifled in my arms, shall lose his breath;
+And life itself shall envious be of death.
+
+_Zayd._ Bless me, you powers above!
+
+_Nour._ Why dost thou start?
+Is love so strange? Or have not I a heart?
+Could Aureng-Zebe so lovely seem to thee,
+And I want eyes that noble worth to see?
+Thy little soul was but to wonder moved:
+My sense of it was higher, and I loved.
+That man, that god-like man, so brave, so great--
+But these are thy small praises I repeat.
+I'm carried by a tide of love away:
+He's somewhat more than I myself can say,
+
+_Zayd._ Though all the ideas you can form be true,
+He must not, cannot, be possessed by you.
+If contradicting interests could be mixt,
+Nature herself has cast a bar betwixt;
+And, ere you reach to this incestuous love,
+You must divine and human rights remove.
+
+_Nour._ Count this among the wonders love has done:
+I had forgot he was my husband's son.
+
+_Zayd._ Nay, more, you have forgot who is your own:
+For whom your care so long designed the throne.
+Morat must fall, if Aureng-Zebe should rise.
+
+_Nour._ 'Tis true; but who was e'er in love, and wise?
+Why was that fatal knot of marriage tied,
+Which did, by making us too near, divide?
+Divides me from my sex! for heaven, I find,
+Excludes but me alone of womankind.
+I stand with guilt confounded, lost with shame,
+And yet made wretched only by a name.
+If names have such command on human life,
+Love sure's a name that's more divine than wife.
+That sovereign power all guilt from action takes,
+At least the stains are beautiful it makes.
+
+_Zayd._ The incroaching ill you early should oppose:
+Flattered, 'tis worse, and by indulgence grows.
+
+_Nour._ Alas! and what have I not said or done?
+I fought it to the last,--and love has won.
+A bloody conquest, which destruction brought,
+And ruined all the country where he fought.
+Whether this passion from above was sent,
+The fate of him heaven favours to prevent;
+Or as the curse of fortune in excess,
+That, stretching, would beyond its reach possess;
+And, with a taste which plenty does deprave,
+Loaths lawful good, and lawless ill does crave--
+
+_Zayd._ But yet, consider--
+
+_Nour._ No, 'tis loss of time:
+Think how to further, not divert my crime.
+My artful engines instantly I'll move,
+And chuse the soft and gentlest hour of love.
+The under-provost of the fort is mine.--
+But see, Morat! I'll whisper my design.
+
+  _Enter_ MORAT _with_ ARIMANT, _as talking: Attendants._
+
+_Arim._ And for that cause was not in public seen,
+But stays in prison with the captive queen.
+
+_Mor._ Let my attendants wait; I'll be alone:
+Where least of state, there most of love is shewn.
+
+_Nour._ My son, your business is not hard to guess;       [_To_ MORAT.
+Long absence makes you eager to possess:
+I will not importune you by my stay;
+She merits all the love which you can pay.         [_Exit with_ ZAYDA.
+
+  _Re-enter_ ARIMANT, _with_ MELESINDA; _then exit._ MORAT _runs to_
+  MELESINDA, _and embraces her._
+
+_Mor._ Should I not chide you, that you chose to stay
+In gloomy shades, and lost a glorious day?
+Lost the first fruits of joy you should possess
+In my return, and made my triumph less?
+
+_Mel._ Should I not chide, that you could stay and see
+Those joys, preferring public pomp to me?
+Through my dark cell your shouts of triumph rung:
+I heard with pleasure, but I thought them long.
+
+_Mor._ The public will in triumphs rudely share,
+And kings the rudeness of their joys must bear:
+But I made haste to set my captive free,
+And thought that work was only worthy me.
+The fame of ancient matrons you pursue,
+And stand a blameless pattern to the new.
+I have not words to praise such acts as these:
+But take my heart, and mould it as you please.
+
+_Mel._ A trial of your kindness I must make,
+Though not for mine so much as virtue's sake.
+The queen of Cassimere--
+
+_Mor._ No more, my love;
+That only suit I beg you not to move.
+That she's in bonds for Aureng-Zebe I know,
+And should, by my consent, continue so;
+The good old man, I fear, will pity shew.
+My father dotes, and let him still dote on;
+He buys his mistress dearly, with his throne.
+
+_Mel._ See her; and then be cruel if you can.
+
+_Mor._ 'Tis not with me as with a private man.
+Such may be swayed by honour, or by love;
+But monarchs only by their interest move.
+
+_Mel._ Heaven does a tribute for your power demand:
+He leaves the opprest and poor upon your hand;
+And those, who stewards of his pity prove,
+He blesses, in return, with public love:
+In his distress some miracle is shewn;
+If exiled, heaven restores him to his throne:
+He needs no guard, while any subject's near,
+Nor, like his tyrant neighbours, lives in fear:
+No plots the alarm to his retirement give:
+'Tis all mankind's concern that he should live.
+
+_Mor._ You promised friendship in your low estate,
+And should forget it in your better fate.
+Such maxims are more plausible than true;
+But somewhat must be given to love and you.
+I'll view this captive queen; to let her see,
+Prayers and complaints are lost on such as me.
+
+_Mel._ I'll bear the news: Heaven knows how much I'm pleased,
+That, by my care, the afflicted may be eased.
+
+   _As she is going off, enter_ INDAMORA.
+
+_Ind._ I'll spare your pains, and venture out alone,
+Since you, fair princess, my protection own.
+But you, brave prince, a harder task must find;
+                             [_To_ MORAT _kneeling, who takes her up._
+In saving me, you would but half be kind.
+An humble suppliant at your feet I lie;
+You have condemned my better part to die.
+Without my Aureng-Zebe I cannot live;
+Revoke his doom, or else my sentence give.
+
+_Mel._ If Melesinda in your love have part,--
+Which, to suspect, would break my tender heart,--
+If love, like mine, may for a lover plead,
+By the chaste pleasures of our nuptial bed,
+By all the interest my past sufferings make,
+And all I yet would suffer for your sake;
+By you yourself, the last and dearest tie--
+
+_Mor._ You move in vain; for Aureng-Zebe must die.
+
+_Ind._ Could that decree from any brother come?
+Nature herself is sentenced in your doom.
+Piety is no more, she sees her place
+Usurped by monsters, and a savage race.
+From her soft eastern climes you drive her forth,
+To the cold mansions of the utmost north.
+How can our prophet suffer you to reign,
+When he looks down, and sees your brother slain?
+Avenging furies will your life pursue:
+Think there's a heaven, Morat, though not for you.
+
+_Mel._ Her words imprint a terror on my mind.
+What if this death, which is for him designed,
+Had been your doom, (far be that augury!)
+And you, not Aureng-Zebe, condemned to die?
+Weigh well the various turns of human fate,
+And seek, by mercy, to secure your state.
+
+_Ind._ Had heaven the crown for Aureng-Zebe designed,
+Pity for you had pierced his generous mind.
+Pity does with a noble nature suit:
+A brother's life had suffered no dispute.
+All things have right in life; our prophet's care
+Commands the beings even of brutes to spare.
+Though interest his restraint has justified,
+Can life, and to a brother, be denied?
+
+_Mor._ All reasons, for his safety urged, are weak:
+And yet, methinks, 'tis heaven to hear you speak.
+
+_Mel._ 'Tis part of your own being to invade--
+
+_Mor._ Nay, if she fail to move, would you persuade?
+                                                   [_Turning to_ INDA.
+My brother does a glorious fate pursue;
+I envy him, that he must fall for you.
+He had been base, had he released his right:
+For such an empire none but kings should fight.
+If with a father he disputes this prize,
+My wonder ceases when I see those eyes.
+
+_Mel._ And can you, then, deny those eyes you praise?
+Can beauty wonder, and not pity raise?
+
+_Mor._ Your intercession now is needless grown;
+Retire, and let me speak with her alone.
+              [MELESINDA _retires, weeping, to the side of the Stage._
+Queen, that you may not fruitless tears employ,
+                                          [_Taking_ INDAMORA'S _hand._
+I bring you news to fill your heart with joy:
+Your lover, king of all the east shall reign;
+For Aureng-Zebe to-morrow shall be slain.
+
+_Ind._ The hopes you raised, you've blasted with a breath:
+                                                     [_Starting back._
+With triumphs you began, but end with death.
+Did you not say my lover should be king?
+
+_Mor._ I, in Morat, the best of lovers bring.
+For one, forsaken both of earth and heaven,
+Your kinder stars a nobler choice have given:
+My father, while I please, a king appears;
+His power is more declining than his years.
+An emperor and lover, but in shew;
+But you, in me, have youth and fortune too:
+As heaven did to your eyes, and form divine,
+Submit the fate of all the imperial line;
+So was it ordered by its wise decree,
+That you should find them all comprised in me.
+
+_Ind._ If, sir, I seem not discomposed with rage,
+Feed not your fancy with a false presage.
+Farther to press your courtship is but vain;
+A cold refusal carries more disdain.
+Unsettled virtue stormy may appear;
+Honour, like mine, serenely is severe;
+To scorn your person, and reject your crown,
+Disorder not my face into a frown.                  [_Turns from him._
+
+_Mor._ Your fortune you should reverently have used:
+Such offers are not twice to be refused.
+I go to Aureng-Zebe, and am in haste
+For your commands; they're like to be the last.
+
+_Ind._ Tell him,
+With my own death I would his life redeem;
+But less than honour both our lives esteem.
+
+_Mor._ Have you no more?
+
+_Ind._ What shall I do or say?
+He must not in this fury go away.--                          [_Aside._
+Tell him, I did in vain his brother move;
+And yet he falsely said, he was in love:
+Falsely; for, had he truly loved, at least
+He would have given one day to my request.
+
+_Mor._ A little yielding may my love advance:
+She darted from her eyes a sidelong glance,
+Just as she spoke; and, like her words, it flew:
+Seemed not to beg, what yet she bid me do.                   [_Aside._
+A brother, madam, cannot give a day;                        [_To her._
+A servant, and who hopes to merit, may.
+
+_Mel._ If, sir--                                     [_Coming to him._
+
+_Mor._ No more--set speeches, and a formal tale,
+With none but statesmen and grave fools prevail.
+Dry up your tears, and practice every grace,
+That fits the pageant of your royal place.                    [_Exit._
+
+_Mel._ Madam, the strange reverse of fate you see:
+I pitied you, now you may pity me.                  [_Exit after him._
+
+_Ind._ Poor princess! thy hard fate I could bemoan,
+Had I not nearer sorrows of my own.
+Beauty is seldom fortunate, when great:
+A vast estate, but overcharged with debt.
+Like those, whom want to baseness does betray,
+I'm forced to flatter him, I cannot pay.
+O would he be content to seize the throne!
+I beg the life of Aureng-Zebe alone.
+Whom heaven would bless, from pomp it will remove,
+And make their wealth in privacy and love.                    [_Exit._
+
+
+ACT IV. SCENE I.
+
+  AURENG-ZEBE _alone._
+
+Distrust, and darkness, of a future state,
+Make poor mankind so fearful of their fate.
+Death, in itself, is nothing; but we fear,
+To be we know not what, we know not where.              [_Soft music._
+This is the ceremony of my fate:
+A parting treat; and I'm to die in state.
+They lodge me, as I were the Persian King:
+And with luxuriant pomp my death they bring.
+
+  _To him,_ NOURMAHAL.
+
+_Nour._ I thought, before you drew your latest breath,
+To smooth your passage, and to soften death;
+For I would have you, when you upward move,
+Speak kindly of me, to our friends above:
+Nor name me there the occasion of our fate;
+Or what my interest does, impute to hate.
+
+_Aur._ I ask not for what end your pomp's designed;
+Whether to insult, or to compose my mind:
+I marked it not;
+But, knowing death would soon the assault begin,
+Stood firm collected in my strength within:
+To guard that breach did all my forces guide,
+And left unmanned the quiet sense's side.
+
+_Nour._ Because Morat from me his being took,
+All I can say will much suspected look:
+'Tis little to confess, your fate I grieve;
+Yet more than you would easily believe.
+
+_Aur._ Since my inevitable death you know,
+You safely unavailing pity shew:
+'Tis popular to mourn a dying foe.
+
+_Nour._ You made my liberty your late request;
+Is no return due from a grateful breast?
+I grow impatient, 'till I find some way,
+Great offices, with greater, to repay.
+
+_Aur._ When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat;
+Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit;
+Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay:
+To-morrow's falser than the former day;
+Lies worse, and, while it says, we shall be blest
+With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
+Strange cozenage! None would live past years again,
+Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;
+And, from the dregs of life, think to receive,
+What the first sprightly running could not give.
+I'm tired with waiting for this chemic gold,
+Which fools us young, and beggars us when old.
+
+_Nour._ 'Tis not for nothing that we life pursue;
+It pays our hopes with something still that's new:
+Each day's a mistress, unenjoyed before;
+Like travellers, we're pleased with seeing more.
+Did you but know what joys your way attend,
+You would not hurry to your journey's end.
+
+_Aur._ I need not haste the end of life to meet;
+The precipice is just beneath my feet.
+
+_Nour._ Think not my sense of virtue is so small:
+I'll rather leap down first, and break your fall.
+My Aureng-Zebe, (may I not call you so?)    [_Taking him by the hand._
+Behold me now no longer for your foe;
+I am not, cannot be your enemy:
+Look, is there any malice in my eye?
+Pray, sit.--                                              [_Both sit._
+That distance shews too much respect, or fear;
+You'll find no danger in approaching near.
+
+_Aur._ Forgive the amazement of my doubtful state:
+This kindness from the mother of Morat!
+Or is't some angel, pitying what I bore,
+Who takes that shape, to make my wonder more?
+
+_Nour._ Think me your better genius in disguise;
+Or any thing that more may charm your eyes.
+Your guardian angel never could excel
+In care, nor could he love his charge so well.
+
+_Aur._ Whence can proceed so wonderful a change?
+
+_Nour._ Can kindness to desert, like yours, be strange?
+Kindness by secret sympathy is tied;
+For noble souls in nature are allied.
+I saw with what a brow you braved your fate;
+Yet with what mildness bore your father's hate.
+My virtue, like a string, wound up by art
+To the same sound, when yours was touched, took part,
+At distance shook, and trembled at my heart.
+
+_Aur._ I'll not complain, my father is unkind,
+Since so much pity from a foe I find.
+Just heaven reward this act!
+
+_Nour._ 'Tis well the debt no payment does demand;
+You turn me over to another hand.
+But happy, happy she,
+And with the blessed above to be compared,
+Whom you yourself would, with yourself, reward:
+The greatest, nay, the fairest of her kind,
+Would envy her that bliss, which you designed.
+
+_Aur._ Great princes thus, when favourites they raise,
+To justify their grace, their creatures praise.
+
+_Nour._ As love the noblest passion we account,
+So to the highest object it should mount.
+It shews you brave when mean desires you shun;
+An eagle only can behold the sun:
+And so must you, if yet presage divine
+There be in dreams,--or was't a vision mine?
+
+_Aur._ Of me?
+
+_Nour._ And who could else employ my thought?
+I dreamed, your love was by love's goddess sought;
+Officious Cupids, hovering o'er your head,
+Held myrtle wreaths; beneath your feet were spread
+What sweets soe'er Sabean springs disclose,
+Our Indian jasmine, or the Syrian rose;
+The wanton ministers around you strove
+For service, and inspired their mother's love:
+Close by your side, and languishing, she lies,
+With blushing cheeks, short breath, and wishing eyes
+Upon your breast supinely lay her head,
+While on your face her famished sight she fed.
+Then, with a sigh, into these words she broke,
+(And gathered humid kisses as she spoke)
+Dull, and ungrateful! Must I offer love?
+Desired of gods, and envied even by Jove:
+And dost thou ignorance or fear pretend?
+Mean soul! and darest not gloriously offend?
+Then, pressing thus his hand--
+
+_Aur._ I'll hear no more.                                [_Rising up._
+'Twas impious to have understood before:
+And I, till now, endeavoured to mistake
+The incestuous meaning, which too plain you make.
+
+_Nour._ And why this niceness to that pleasure shewn,
+Where nature sums up all her joys in one;
+Gives all she can, and, labouring still to give,
+Makes it so great, we can but taste and live:
+So fills the senses, that the soul seems fled,
+And thought itself does, for the time, lie dead;
+Till, like a string screwed up with eager haste,
+It breaks, and is too exquisite to last?
+
+_Aur._ Heavens! can you this, without just vengeance, hear?
+When will you thunder, if it now be clear?
+Yet her alone let not your thunder seize:
+I, too, deserve to die, because I please.[1]
+
+_Nour._ Custom our native royalty does awe;
+Promiscuous love is nature's general law:
+For whosoever the first lovers were,
+Brother and sister made the second pair,
+And doubled, by their love, their piety.
+
+_Aur._ Hence, hence, and to some barbarous climate fly,
+Which only brutes in human form does yield,
+And man grows wild in nature's common field.
+Who eat their parents, piety pretend;[2]
+Yet there no sons their sacred bed ascend.
+To vail great sins, a greater crime you chuse;
+And, in your incest, your adultery lose.
+
+_Nour._ In vain this haughty fury you have shewn.
+How I adore a soul, so like my own!
+You must be mine, that you may learn to live;
+Know joys, which only she who loves can give.
+Nor think that action you upbraid, so ill;
+I am not changed, I love my husband still[3];
+But love him as he was, when youthful grace,
+And the first down began to shade his face:
+That image does my virgin-flames renew,
+And all your father shines more bright in you.
+
+_Aur._ In me a horror of myself you raise;
+Cursed by your love, and blasted by your praise.
+You find new ways to prosecute my fate;
+And your least-guilty passion was your hate.
+
+_Nour._ I beg my death, if you can love deny.
+                                             [_Offering him a dagger._
+
+_Aur._ I'll grant you nothing; no, not even to die.
+
+_Nour._ Know then, you are not half so kind as I.
+                                              [_Stamps with her foot._
+
+  _Enter Mutes, some with swords drawn, one with a cup._
+
+You've chosen, and may now repent too late.
+Behold the effect of what you wished,--my hate.
+                                     [_Taking the cup to present him._
+This cup a cure for both our ills has brought;
+You need not fear a philtre in the draught.
+
+_Aur._ All must be poison which can come from thee;
+                                             [_Receiving it from her._
+But this the least. To immortal liberty
+This first I pour, like dying Socrates;    [_Spilling a little of it._
+Grim though he be, death pleases, when he frees.
+
+  _As he is going to drink, Enter_ MORAT _attended._
+
+_Mor._ Make not such haste, you must my leisure stay;
+Your fate's deferred, you shall not die to-day.
+                                           [_Taking the cup from him._
+
+_Nour._ What foolish pity has possessed your mind,
+To alter what your prudence once designed?
+
+_Mor._ What if I please to lengthen out his date
+A day, and take a pride to cozen fate?
+
+_Nour._ 'Twill not be safe to let him live an hour.
+
+_Mor._ I'll do't, to show my arbitrary power.
+
+_Nour._ Fortune may take him from your hands again,
+And you repent the occasion lost in vain.
+
+_Mor._ I smile at what your female fear foresees;
+I'm in fate's place, and dictate her decrees.--
+Let Arimant be called.                  [_Exit one of his Attendants._
+
+_Aur._ Give me the poison, and I'll end your strife;
+I hate to keep a poor precarious life.
+Would I my safety on base terms receive,
+Know, sir, I could have lived without your leave.
+But those I could accuse, I can forgive;
+By my disdainful silence, let them live.
+
+_Nour._ What am I, that you dare to bind my hand?         [_To_ MORAT.
+So low, I've not a murder at command!
+Can you not one poor life to her afford,
+Her, who gave up whole nations to your sword?
+And from the abundance of whose soul and heat,
+The o'erflowing served to make your mind so great?
+
+_Mor._ What did that greatness in a woman's mind?
+Ill lodged, and weak to act what it designed?
+Pleasure's your portion, and your slothful ease:
+When man's at leisure, study how to please,
+Soften his angry hours with servile care,
+And, when he calls, the ready feast prepare.
+
+From wars, and from affairs of state abstain;
+Women emasculate a monarch's reign;
+And murmuring crowds, who see them shine with gold,
+That pomp, as their own ravished spoils, behold.
+
+_Nour._ Rage choaks my words: 'Tis womanly to weep:          [_Aside._
+In my swollen breast my close revenge I'll keep;
+I'll watch his tenderest part, and there strike deep.         [_Exit._
+
+_Aur._ Your strange proceeding does my wonder move;
+Yet seems not to express a brother's love.
+Say, to what cause my rescued life I owe.
+
+_Mor._ If what you ask would please, you should not know.
+But since that knowledge, more than death, will grieve,
+Know, Indamora gained you this reprieve.
+
+_Aur._ And whence had she the power to work your change?
+
+_Mor._ The power of beauty is not new or strange.
+Should she command me more, I could obey;
+But her request was bounded with a day.
+Take that; and, if you spare my farther crime,
+Be kind, and grieve to death against your time.
+
+  _Enter_ ARIMANT.
+
+Remove this prisoner to some safer place:
+He has, for Indamora's sake, found grace;
+And from my mother's rage must guarded be,
+Till you receive a new command from me.
+
+_Arim._ Thus love, and fortune, persecute me still,
+And make me slave to every rival's will.                     [_Aside._
+
+_Aur._ How I disdain a life, which I must buy
+With your contempt, and her inconstancy!
+For a few hours my whole content I pay:
+You shall not force on me another day.               [_Exit with_ ARI.
+
+  _Enter_ MELESINDA.
+
+_Mel._ I have been seeking you this hour's long space,
+And feared to find you in another place;
+But since you're here, my jealousy grows less:
+You will be kind to my unworthiness.
+What shall I say? I love to that degree,
+Each glance another way is robbed from me.
+Absence, and prisons, I could bear again;
+But sink, and die, beneath your least disdain.
+
+_Mor._ Why do you give your mind this needless care,
+And for yourself, and me, new pains prepare?
+I ne'er approved this passion in excess:
+If you would show your love, distrust me less.
+I hate to be pursued from place to place;
+Meet, at each turn, a stale domestic face.
+The approach of jealousy love cannot bear;
+He's wild, and soon on wing, if watchful eyes come near.
+
+_Mel._ From your loved presence how can I depart?
+My eyes pursue the object of my heart.
+
+_Mor._ You talk as if it were our bridal night:
+Fondness is still the effect of new delight,
+And marriage but the pleasure of a day:
+The metal's base, the gilding worn away.
+
+_Mel._ I fear I'm guilty of some great offence,
+And that has bred this cold indifference.
+
+_Mor._ The greatest in the world to flesh and blood:
+You fondly love much longer than you should.
+
+_Mel._ If that be all which makes your discontent,
+Of such a crime I never can repent.
+
+_Mor._ Would you force love upon me, which I shun?
+And bring coarse fare, when appetite is gone?
+
+_Mel._ Why did I not in prison die, before
+My fatal freedom made me suffer more?
+I had been pleased to think I died for you,
+And doubly pleased, because you then were true:
+Then I had hope; but now, alas! have none.
+
+_Mor._ You say you love me; let that love be shown.
+'Tis in your power to make my happiness.
+
+_Mel._ Speak quickly! To command me is to bless.
+
+_Mor._ To Indamora you my suit must move:
+You'll sure speak kindly of the man you love.
+
+_Mel._ Oh, rather let me perish by your hand,
+Than break my heart, by this unkind command!
+Think, 'tis the only one I could deny;
+And that 'tis harder to refuse, than die.
+Try, if you please, my rival's heart to win;
+I'll bear the pain, but not promote the sin.
+You own whate'er perfections man can boast,
+And, if she view you with my eyes, she's lost.
+
+_Mor._ Here I renounce all love, all nuptial ties:
+Henceforward live a stranger to my eyes:
+When I appear, see you avoid the place,
+And haunt me not with that unlucky face.
+
+_Mel._ Hard as it is, I this command obey,
+And haste, while I have life, to go away:
+In pity stay some hours, till I am dead,
+That blameless you may court my rival's bed.
+My hated face I'll not presume to show;
+Yet I may watch your steps where'er you go.
+Unseen, I'll gaze; and, with my latest breath,
+Bless, while I die, the author of my death.                [_Weeping._
+
+  _Enter Emperor._
+
+_Emp._ When your triumphant fortune high appears,
+What cause can draw these unbecoming tears?
+Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait,
+And give not thus the counter-time to fate.
+
+_Mel._ Fortune long frowned, and has but lately smiled:
+I doubt a foe so newly reconciled.
+You saw but sorrow in its waning form,
+A working sea remaining from a storm;
+When the now weary waves roll o'er the deep,
+And faintly murmur ere they fall asleep.
+
+_Emp._ Your inward griefs you smother in your mind;
+But fame's loud voice proclaims your lord unkind.
+
+_Mor._ Let fame be busy, where she has to do;
+Tell of fought fields, and every pompous show.
+Those tales are fit to fill the people's ears;
+Monarchs, unquestioned, move in higher spheres.
+
+_Mel._ Believe not rumour, but yourself; and see
+The kindness 'twixt my plighted lord and me.         [_Kissing_ MORAT.
+This is our state; thus happily we live;
+These are the quarrels which we take and give.
+I had no other way to force a kiss.                 [_Aside to_ MORAT.
+Forgive my last farewell to you and bliss.                    [_Exit._
+
+_Emp._ Your haughty carriage shows too much of scorn,
+And love, like hers, deserves not that return.
+
+_Mor._ You'll please to leave me judge of what I do,
+And not examine by the outward show.
+Your usage of my mother might be good:
+I judged it not.
+
+_Emp._ Nor was it fit you should.
+
+_Mor._ Then, in as equal balance weigh my deeds.
+
+_Emp._ My right, and my authority, exceeds.
+Suppose (what I'll not grant) injustice done;
+Is judging me the duty of a son?
+
+_Mor._ Not of a son, but of an emperor:
+You cancelled duty when you gave me power.
+If your own actions on your will you ground,
+Mine shall hereafter know no other bound.
+What meant you when you called me to a throne?
+Was it to please me with a name alone?
+
+_Emp._ 'Twas that I thought your gratitude would know
+What to my partial kindness you did owe;
+That what your birth did to your claim deny,
+Your merit of obedience might supply.
+
+_Mor._ To your own thoughts such hope you might propose;
+But I took empire not on terms like those.
+Of business you complained; now take your ease;
+Enjoy whate'er decrepid age can please;
+Eat, sleep, and tell long tales of what you were
+In flower of youth,--if any one will hear.
+
+_Emp._ Power, like new wine, does your weak brain surprise,
+And its mad fumes, in hot discourses, rise:
+But time these giddy vapours will remove;
+Meanwhile, I'll taste the sober joys of love.
+
+_Mor._ You cannot love nor pleasures take, or give;
+But life begin, when 'tis too late to live.
+On a tired courser you pursue delight,
+Let slip your morning, and set out at night.
+If you have lived, take thankfully the past;
+Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
+If you have not enjoyed what youth could give,
+But life sunk through you, like a leaky sieve,
+Accuse yourself, you lived not while you might;
+But, in the captive queen resign your right.
+I've now resolved to fill your useless place;
+I'll take that post, to cover your disgrace,
+And love her, for the honour of my race.
+
+_Emp._ Thou dost but try how far I can forbear,
+Nor art that monster, which thou wouldst appear;
+But do not wantonly my passion move;
+I pardon nothing that relates to love.
+My fury does, like jealous forts, pursue
+With death, even strangers who but come to view.
+
+_Mor._ I did not only view, but will invade.
+Could you shed venom from your reverend shade,
+Like trees, beneath whose arms 'tis death to sleep;
+Did rolling thunder your fenced fortress keep,
+Thence would I snatch my Semele, like Jove,
+And 'midst the dreadful wrack enjoy my love.
+
+_Emp._ Have I for this, ungrateful as thou art!
+When right, when nature, struggled in my heart;
+When heaven called on me for thy brother's claim,
+Broke all, and sullied my unspotted fame?
+Wert thou to empire, by my baseness, brought,
+And wouldst thou ravish what so dear I bought?
+Dear! for my conscience and its peace I gave;--
+Why was my reason made my passion's slave?
+I see heaven's justice; thus the powers divine
+Pay crimes with crimes, and punish mine by thine.
+
+_Mor._ Crimes let them pay, and punish as they please;
+What power makes mine, by power I mean to seize.
+Since 'tis to that they their own greatness owe
+Above, why should they question mine below?                   [_Exit._
+
+_Emp._ Prudence, thou vainly in our youth art sought,
+And, with age purchased, art too dearly bought:
+We're past the use of wit, for which we toil;
+Late fruit, and planted in too cold a soil.
+My stock of fame is lavished and decayed;
+No profit of the vast profusion made.
+Too late my folly I repent; I know
+My Aureng-Zebe would ne'er have used me so.
+But, by his ruin, I prepared my own;
+And, like a naked tree, my shelter gone,
+To winds and winter-storms must stand exposed alone.          [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ AURENG-ZEBE _and_ ARIMANT.
+
+_Arim._ Give me not thanks, which I will ne'er deserve;
+But know, 'tis for a noble price I serve.
+By Indamora's will you're hither brought:
+All my reward in her command I sought.
+The rest your letter tells you.--See, like light,
+She comes, and I must vanish, like the night.                 [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ INDAMORA.
+
+_Ind._ 'Tis now, that I begin to live again;
+Heavens, I forgive you all my fear and pain:
+Since I behold my Aureng-Zebe appear,
+I could not buy him at a price too dear.
+His name alone afforded me relief,
+Repeated as a charm to cure my grief.
+I that loved name did, as some god, invoke,
+And printed kisses on it, while I spoke.
+
+_Aur._ Short ease, but long, long pains from you I find;
+Health, to my eyes; but poison, to my mind.
+Why are you made so excellently fair?
+So much above what other beauties are,
+That, even in cursing, you new form my breath;
+And make me bless those eyes which give me death!
+
+_Ind._ What reason for your curses can you find?
+My eyes your conquest, not your death, designed.
+If they offend, 'tis that they are too kind.
+
+_Aur._ The ruins they have wrought, you will not see;
+Too kind they are, indeed, but not to me.
+
+_Ind._ Think you, base interest souls like mine can sway?
+Or that, for greatness, I can love betray?
+No, Aureng-Zebe, you merit all my heart,
+And I'm too noble but to give a part.
+Your father, and an empire! Am I known
+No more? Or have so weak a judgment shown,
+In chusing you, to change you for a throne?
+
+_Aur._ How, with a truth, you would a falsehood blind!
+'Tis not my father's love you have designed;
+Your choice is fix'd where youth and power are join'd.
+
+_Ind._ Where youth and power are joined!--has he a name?
+
+_Aur._ You would be told; you glory in your shame:
+There's music in the sound; and, to provoke
+Your pleasure more, by me it must be spoke.
+Then, then it ravishes, when your pleased ear
+The sound does from a wretched rival hear.
+Morat's the name your heart leaps up to meet,
+While Aureng-Zebe lies dying at your feet.
+
+_Ind._ Who told you this?
+
+_Aur._ Are you so lost to shame?
+Morat, Morat, Morat! You love the name
+So well, your every question ends in that;
+You force me still to answer you, Morat.
+Morat, who best could tell what you revealed;
+Morat, too proud to keep his joy concealed.
+
+_Ind._ Howe'er unjust your jealousy appear,
+It shows the loss of what you love, you fear;
+And does my pity, not my anger move:
+I'll fond it, as the forward child of love.
+To show the truth of my unaltered breast,
+Know, that your life was given at my request,
+At least reprieved. When heaven denied you aid,
+She brought it, she, whose falsehood you upbraid.
+
+_Aur._ And 'tis by that you would your falsehood hide?
+Had you not asked, how happy had I died!
+Accurst reprieve! not to prolong my breath;
+It brought a lingering, and more painful death,
+I have not lived since first I heard the news;
+The gift the guilty giver does accuse.
+You knew the price, and the request did move,
+That you might pay the ransom with your love.
+
+_Ind._ Your accusation must, I see, take place;--
+And am I guilty, infamous, and base?
+
+_Aur._ If you are false, those epithets are small;
+You're then the things, the abstract of them all.
+And you are false: You promised him your love,--
+No other price a heart so hard could move.
+Do not I know him? Could his brutal mind
+Be wrought upon? Could he be just, or kind?
+Insultingly, he made your love his boast;
+Gave me my life, and told me what it cost.
+Speak; answer. I would fain yet think you true:
+Lie; and I'll not believe myself, but you.
+Tell me you love; I'll pardon the deceit,
+And, to be fooled, myself assist the cheat.
+
+_Ind._ No; 'tis too late; I have no more to say:
+If you'll believe I have been false, you may.
+
+_Aur._ I would not; but your crimes too plain appear:
+Nay, even that I should think you true, you fear.
+Did I not tell you, I would be deceived?
+
+_Ind._ I'm not concerned to have my truth believed.
+You would be cozened! would assist the cheat!
+But I'm too plain to join in the deceit:
+I'm pleased you think me false,
+And, whatsoe'er my letter did pretend,
+I made this meeting for no other end.
+
+_Aur._ Kill me not quite, with this indifference!
+When you are guiltless, boast not an offence.
+I know you better than yourself you know:
+Your heart was true, but did some frailty shew:
+You promised him your love, that I might live;
+But promised what you never meant to give.
+Speak, was't not so? confess; I can forgive.
+
+_Ind._ Forgive! what dull excuses you prepare,
+As if your thoughts of me were worth my care!
+
+_Aur._ Ah traitress! Ah ingrate! Ah faithless mind!
+Ah sex, invented first to damn mankind!
+Nature took care to dress you up for sin;
+Adorned, without; unfinished left, within.
+Hence, by no judgment you your loves direct;
+Talk much, ne'er think, and still the wrong affect.
+So much self-love in your composure's mixed,
+That love to others still remains unfixed:
+Greatness, and noise, and shew, are your delight;
+Yet wise men love you, in their own despite:
+And finding in their native wit no ease,
+Are forced to put your folly on, to please.
+
+_Ind._ Now you shall know what cause you have to rage;
+But to increase your fury, not assuage:
+I found the way your brother's heart to move.
+Yet promised not the least return of love.
+His pride and brutal fierceness I abhor;
+But scorn your mean suspicions of me more.
+I owed my honour and my fame this care:
+Know what your folly lost you, and despair.       [_Turning from him._
+
+_Aur._ Too cruelly your innocence you tell:
+Shew heaven, and damn me to the pit of hell.
+Now I believe you; 'tis not yet too late:
+You may forgive, and put a stop to fate;
+Save me, just sinking, and no more to rise.             [_She frowns._
+How can you look with such relentless eyes?
+Or let your mind by penitence be moved,
+Or I'm resolved to think you never loved.
+You are not cleared, unless you mercy speak:
+I'll think you took the occasion thus to break.
+
+_Ind._ Small jealousies, 'tis true, inflame desire;
+Too great, not fan, but quite blow out the fire:
+Yet I did love you, till such pains I bore,
+That I dare trust myself and you no more.
+Let me not love you; but here end my pain:
+Distrust may make me wretched once again.
+Now, with full sails, into the port I move,
+And safely can unlade my breast of love;
+Quiet, and calm: Why should I then go back,
+To tempt the second hazard of a wreck?
+
+_Aur._ Behold these dying eyes, see their submissive awe;
+These tears, which fear of death could never draw:
+Heard you that sigh? from my heaved heart it past,
+And said,--"If you forgive not, 'tis my last."
+Love mounts, and rolls about my stormy mind,
+Like fire, that's borne by a tempestuous wind.
+Oh, I could stifle you, with eager haste!
+Devour your kisses with my hungry taste!
+Rush on you! eat you! wander o'er each part,
+Raving with pleasure, snatch you to my heart!
+Then hold you off, and gaze! then, with new rage,
+Invade you, till my conscious limbs presage
+Torrents of joy, which all their banks o'erflow!
+So lost, so blest, as I but then could know!
+
+_Ind._ Be no more jealous!                     [_Giving him her hand._
+
+_Aur._ Give me cause no more:
+The danger's greater after, than before;
+If I relapse, to cure my jealousy,
+Let me (for that's the easiest parting) die.
+
+_Ind._ My life!
+
+_Aur._ My soul!
+
+_Ind._ My all that heaven can give!
+Death's life with you; without you, death to live.
+
+  _To them,_ ARIMANT, _hastily._
+
+_Arim._ Oh, we are lost, beyond all human aid!
+The citadel is to Morat betrayed.
+The traitor, and the treason, known too late;
+The false Abas delivered up the gate:
+Even while I speak, we're compassed round with fate.
+The valiant cannot fight, or coward fly;
+But both in undistinguished crowds must die.
+
+_Aur._ Then my prophetic fears are come to pass:
+Morat was always bloody; now, he's base:
+And has so far in usurpation gone,
+He will by parricide secure the throne.
+
+  _To them, the Emperor._
+
+_Emp._ Am I forsaken, and betrayed, by all?
+Not one brave man dare, with a monarch, fall?
+Then, welcome death, to cover my disgrace!
+I would not live to reign o'er such a race.
+My Aureng-Zebe!                                 [_Seeing_ AURENG-ZEBE.
+But thou no more art mine; my cruelty
+Has quite destroyed the right I had in thee.
+I have been base,
+Base even to him from whom I did receive
+All that a son could to a parent give:
+Behold me punished in the self-same kind;
+The ungrateful does a more ungrateful find.
+
+_Aur._ Accuse yourself no more; you could not be
+Ungrateful; could commit no crime to me.
+I only mourn my yet uncancelled score:
+You put me past the power of paying more.
+That, that's my grief, that I can only grieve,
+And bring but pity, where I would relieve;
+For had I yet ten thousand lives to pay,
+The mighty sum should go no other way.
+
+_Emp._ Can you forgive me? 'tis not fit you should.
+Why will you be so excellently good?
+'Twill stick too black a brand upon my name:
+The sword is needless; I shall die with shame.
+What had my age to do with love's delight,
+Shut out from all enjoyments but the sight?
+
+_Arim._ Sir, you forget the danger's imminent:
+This minute is not for excuses lent.
+
+_Emp._ Disturb me not;--
+How can my latest hour be better spent?
+To reconcile myself to him is more,
+Than to regain all I possessed before.
+Empire and life are now not worth a prayer;
+His love, alone, deserves my dying care.
+
+_Aur._ Fighting for you, my death will glorious be.
+
+_Ind._ Seek to preserve yourself, and live for me.
+
+_Arim._ Lose then no farther time.
+Heaven has inspired me with a sudden thought,
+Whence your unhoped for safety may be wrought,
+Though with the hazard of my blood 'tis bought.
+But since my life can ne'er be fortunate,
+'Tis so much sorrow well redeemed from fate.
+You, madam, must retire,
+(Your beauty is its own security,)
+And leave the conduct of the rest to me.
+Glory will crown my life, if I succeed;
+If not, she may afford to love me dead.                      [_Aside._
+
+_Aur._ My father's kind, and, madam, you forgive;
+Were heaven so pleased, I now could wish to live.
+And I shall live.
+With glory and with love, at once, I burn:
+I feel the inspiring heat, and absent god return.           [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT V. SCENE I.
+
+  INDAMORA _alone._
+
+_Ind._ The night seems doubled with the fear she brings,
+And o'er the citadel new-spreads her wings.
+The morning, as mistaken, turns about,
+And all her early fires again go out.
+Shouts, cries, and groans, first pierce my ears, and then
+A flash of lightning draws the guilty scene,
+And shows me arms, and wounds, and dying men.
+Ah, should my Aureng-Zebe be fighting there,
+And envious winds, distinguished to my ear,
+His dying groans and his last accents bear!
+
+  _To her,_ MORAT, _attended._
+
+_Mor._ The bloody business of the night is done,
+And, in the citadel, an empire won.
+Our swords so wholly did the fates employ,
+That they, at length, grew weary to destroy,
+Refused the work we brought, and, out of breath,
+Made sorrow and despair attend for death.
+But what of all my conquest can I boast?
+My haughty pride, before your eyes, is lost:
+And victory but gains me to present
+That homage, which our eastern world has sent.
+
+_Ind._ Your victory, alas, begets my fears:
+Can you not then triumph without my tears?
+Resolve me; (for you know my destiny
+Is Aureng-Zebes) say, do I live or die?
+
+_Mor._ Urged by my love, by hope of empire fired,
+'Tis true, I have performed what both required:
+What fate decreed; for when great souls are given,
+They bear the marks of sovereignty from heaven.
+My elder brothers my fore-runners came;
+Rough-draughts of nature, ill designed, and lame:
+Blown off, like blossoms never made to bear;
+Till I came, finished, her last-laboured care.
+
+_Ind._ This prologue leads to your succeeding sin:
+Blood ended what ambition did begin.
+
+_Mor._ 'Twas rumour'd,--but by whom I cannot tell,--
+My father 'scaped from out the citadel;
+My brother too may live.
+
+_Ind._ He may?
+
+_Mor._ He must:
+I kill'd him not: and a less fate's unjust.
+Heaven owes it me, that I may fill his room,
+A phoenix-lover, rising from his tomb;
+In whom you'll lose your sorrows for the dead;
+More warm, more fierce, and fitter for your bed.
+
+_Ind._ Should I from Aureng-Zebe my heart divide,
+To love a monster, and a parricide?
+These names your swelling titles cannot hide.
+Severe decrees may keep our tongues in awe;
+But to our thoughts, what edict can give law?
+Even you yourself, to your own breast, shall tell
+Your crimes; and your own conscience be your hell.
+
+_Mor._ What business has my conscience with a crown?
+She sinks in pleasures, and in bowls will drown.
+If mirth should fail, I'll busy her with cares,
+Silence her clamorous voice with louder wars:
+Trumpets and drums shall fright her from the throne,
+As sounding cymbals aid the labouring moon.
+
+_Ind._ Repelled by these, more eager she will grow,
+Spring back more strongly than a Scythian bow.
+Amidst your train, this unseen judge will wait;
+Examine how you came by all your state;
+Upbraid your impious pomp; and, in your ear,
+Will hollow,--"Rebel, tyrant, murderer!"
+Your ill-got power wan looks and care shall bring,
+Known but by discontent to be a king.
+Of crowds afraid, yet anxious when alone,
+You'll sit and brood your sorrows on a throne.
+
+_Mor._ Birth-right's a vulgar road to kingly sway;
+'Tis every dull-got elder brother's way.
+Dropt from above, he lights into a throne;
+Grows of a piece with that he sits upon;
+Heaven's choice, a low, inglorious, rightful drone.
+But who by force a sceptre does obtain,
+Shows he can govern that, which he could gain.
+Right comes of course, whate'er he was before;
+Murder and usurpation are no more.
+
+_Ind._ By your own laws you such dominion make,
+As every stronger power has right to take:
+And parricide will so deform your name,
+That dispossessing you will give a claim.
+Who next usurps, will a just prince appear,
+So much your ruin will his reign endear.
+
+_Mor._ I without guilt would mount the royal seat;
+But yet 'tis necessary to be great.
+
+_Ind._ All greatness is in virtue understood:
+'Tis only necessary to be good.
+Tell me, what is't at which great spirits aim,
+What most yourself desire?
+
+_Mor._ Renown and fame,
+And power, as uncontrouled as is my will.
+
+_Ind._ How you confound desires of good and ill.
+For true renown is still with virtue joined;
+But lust of power lets loose the unbridled mind.
+Yours is a soul irregularly great,
+Which, wanting temper, yet abounds with heat,
+So strong, yet so unequal pulses beat;
+A sun, which does, through vapours, dimly shine;
+What pity 'tis, you are not all divine!
+New moulded, thorough lightened, and a breast
+So pure, to bear the last severest test;
+Fit to command an empire you should gain
+By virtue, and without a blush to reign.
+
+_Mor._ You show me somewhat I ne'er learnt before;
+But 'tis the distant prospect of a shore,
+Doubtful in mists; which, like enchanted ground,
+Flies from my sight, before 'tis fully found.
+
+_Ind._ Dare to be great, without a guilty crown;
+View it, and lay the bright temptation down:
+'Tis base to seize on all, because you may;
+That's empire, that, which I can give away:
+There's joy when to wild will you laws prescribe,
+When you bid fortune carry back her bribe:
+A joy, which none but greatest minds can taste;
+A fame, which will to endless ages last.
+
+_Mor._ Renown, and fame, in vain, I courted long,
+And still pursued them, though directed wrong.
+In hazard, and in toils, I heard they lay;
+Sailed farther than the coast, but missed my way:
+Now you have given me virtue for my guide;
+And, with true honour, ballasted my pride.
+Unjust dominion I no more pursue;
+I quit all other claims, but those to you.
+
+_Ind._ Oh be not just by halves! pay all you owe:
+Think there's a debt to Melesinda too.
+To leave no blemish on your after-life,
+Reward the virtue of a suffering wife.
+
+_Mor._ To love, once past, I cannot backward move;
+Call yesterday again, and I may love.
+'Twas not for nothing I the crown resigned;
+I still must own a mercenary mind;
+I, in this venture, double gains pursue,
+And laid out all my stock, to purchase you.
+
+  _To them,_ ASAPH CHAN.
+
+Now, what success? does Aureng-Zebe yet live?
+
+_Asaph._ Fortune has given you all that she can give.
+Your brother--
+
+_Mor._ Hold; thou showest an impious joy,
+And think'st I still take pleasure to destroy:
+Know, I am changed, and would not have him slain.
+
+_Asaph._ 'Tis past; and you desire his life in vain.
+He, prodigal of soul, rushed on the stroke
+Of lifted weapons, and did wounds provoke:
+In scorn of night, he would not be concealed;
+His soldiers, where he fought, his name revealed.
+In thickest crowds, still Aureng-Zebe did sound;
+The vaulted roofs did Aureng-Zebe rebound;
+Till late, and in his fall, the name was drowned.
+
+_Ind._ Wither that hand which brought him to his fate,
+And blasted be the tongue which did relate!
+
+_Asaph._ His body--
+
+_Mor._ Cease to enhance her misery:
+Pity the queen, and show respect to me.
+'Tis every painter's art to hide from sight,
+And cast in shades, what, seen, would not delight.--
+Your grief in me such sympathy has bred,                    [_To her._
+I mourn, and wish I could recal the dead.
+Love softens me; and blows up fires, which pass
+Through my tough heart, and melt the stubborn mass.
+
+_Ind._ Break, heart; or choak, with sobs, my hated breath!
+Do thy own work: admit no foreign death.
+Alas! why do I make this useless moan?
+I'm dead already, for my soul is gone.
+
+  _To them,_ MIR BABA.
+
+_Mir._ What tongue the terror of this night can tell,
+Within, without, and round the citadel!
+A new-formed faction does your power oppose;
+The fight's confused, and all who meet are foes:
+A second clamour, from the town, we hear;
+And the far noise so loud, it drowns the near.
+Abas, who seemed our friend, is either fled,
+Or, what we fear, our enemies does head:
+Your frighted soldiers scarce their ground maintain.
+
+_Mor._ I thank their fury; we shall fight again:
+They rouse my rage; I'm eager to subdue:
+'Tis fatal to with-hold my eyes from you. [_Exit with the two Omrahs._
+
+  _Enter_ MELESINDA.
+
+_Mel._ Can misery no place of safety know?
+The noise pursues me wheresoe'er I go,
+As fate sought only me, and, where I fled,
+Aimed all its darts at my devoted head.
+And let it; I am now past care of life;
+The last of women; an abandoned wife.
+
+_Ind._ Whether design or chance has brought you here,
+I stand obliged to fortune, or to fear:
+Weak women should, in danger, herd like deer.
+But say, from whence this new combustion springs?
+Are there yet more Morats? more fighting kings?
+
+_Mel._ Him from his mother's love your eyes divide,
+And now her arms the cruel strife decide.
+
+_Ind._ What strange misfortunes my vext life attend!
+Death will be kind, and all my sorrows end.
+If Nourmahal prevail, I know my fate.
+
+_Mel._ I pity, as my own, your hard estate:
+But what can my weak charity afford?
+I have no longer interest in my lord:
+Nor in his mother, he: she owns her hate
+Aloud, and would herself usurp the state.
+
+_Ind._ I'm stupified with sorrow, past relief
+Of tears; parched up, and withered with my grief.
+
+_Mel._ Dry mourning will decays more deadly bring,
+As a north wind burns a too forward spring.
+Give sorrow vent, and let the sluices go.
+
+_Ind._ My tears are all congealed, and will not flow.
+
+_Mel._ Have comfort; yield not to the blows of fate.
+
+_Ind._ Comfort, like cordials after death, comes late.
+Name not so vain a word; my hopes are fled:
+Think your Morat were kind, and think him dead.
+
+_Mel._ I can no more--
+Can no more arguments, for comfort, find:
+Your boding words have quite o'erwhelmed my mind.
+                                      [_Clattering of weapons within._
+
+_Ind._ The noise increases, as the billows roar,
+When rolling from afar they threat the shore.
+She comes; and feeble nature now, I find,
+Shrinks back in danger, and forsakes my mind.
+I wish to die, yet dare not death endure;
+Detest the medicine, yet desire the cure.
+I would have death; but mild, and at command:
+I dare not trust him in another's hand.
+In Nourmahal's, he would not mine appear;
+But armed with terror, and disguised with fear.
+
+_Mel._ Beyond this place you can have no retreat:
+Stay here, and I the danger will repeat.
+I fear not death, because my life I hate;
+And envious death will shun the unfortunate.
+
+_Ind._ You must not venture.
+
+_Mel._ Let me: I may do
+Myself a kindness, in obliging you.
+In your loved name, I'll seek my angry lord;
+And beg your safety from his conquering sword:
+So his protection all your fears will ease,
+And I shall see him once, and not displease.                  [_Exit._
+
+_Ind._ O wretched queen! what power thy life can save?
+A stranger, and unfriended, and a slave!
+
+  _Enter_ NOURMAHAL, ZAYDA, _and_ ABAS, _with Soldiers._
+
+Alas, she's here!                                 [INDAMORA _retires._
+
+_Nour._ Heartless they fought, and quitted soon their ground,
+While ours with easy victory were crowned.
+To you, Abas, my life and empire too,
+And, what's yet dearer, my revenge, I owe.
+
+_Abas._ The vain Morat, by his own rashness wrought,
+Too soon discovered his ambitious thought;
+Believed me his, because I spoke him fair,
+And pitched his head into the ready snare:
+Hence 'twas I did his troops at first admit;
+But such, whose numbers could no fears beget:
+By them the emperor's party first I slew,
+Then turned my arms the victors to subdue.
+
+_Nour._ Now let the head-strong boy my will controul!
+Virtue's no slave of man; no sex confines the soul:
+I, for myself, the imperial seat will gain,
+And he shall wait my leisure for his reign.--
+But Aureng-Zebe is no where to be found,
+And now, perhaps, in death's cold arms he lies!
+I fought, and conquered, yet have lost the prize.
+
+_Zayd._ The chance of war determined well the strife,
+That racked you, 'twixt the lover and the wife.
+He's dead, whose love had sullied all your reign,
+And made you empress of the world in vain.
+
+_Nour._ No; I my power and pleasure would divide:
+The drudge had quenched my flames, and then had died.
+I rage, to think without that bliss I live,
+That I could wish what fortune would not give:
+But, what love cannot, vengeance must supply;
+She, who bereaved me of his heart, shall die.
+
+_Zayd._ I'll search: far distant hence she cannot be.      [_Goes in._
+
+_Nour._ This wondrous master-piece I fain would see;
+This fatal Helen, who can wars inspire,
+Make kings her slaves, and set the world on fire.
+My husband locked his jewel from my view;
+Or durst not set the false one by the true.
+
+  _Re-enter_ ZAYDA, _leading_ INDAMORA.
+
+_Zayd._ Your frighted captive, ere she dies, receive;
+Her soul's just going else, without your leave.
+
+_Nour._ A fairer creature did my eyes ne'er see!
+Sure she was formed by heaven, in spite to me!
+Some angel copied, while I slept, each grace,
+And moulded every feature from my face.
+Such majesty does from her forehead rise,
+Her cheeks such blushes cast, such rays her eyes,
+Nor I, nor envy, can a blemish find.--
+The palace is, without, too well designed:
+Conduct me in, for I will view thy mind.                    [_To her._
+Speak, if thou hast a soul, that I may see,
+If heaven can make, throughout, another me.
+
+_Ind._ My tears and miseries must plead my cause;         [_Kneeling._
+My words, the terror of your presence awes:
+Mortals, in sight of angels, mute become;
+The nobler nature strikes the inferior dumb.
+
+_Nour._ The palm is, by the foe's confession, mine;
+But I disdain what basely you resign.
+Heaven did, by me, the outward model build;
+Its inward work, the soul, with rubbish filled.
+Yet, oh! the imperfect piece moves more delight;
+'Tis gilded o'er with youth, to catch the sight.
+The gods have poorly robbed my virgin bloom,
+And what I am, by what I was, o'ercome.
+Traitress! restore my beauty and my charms,
+Nor steal my conquest with my proper arms.
+
+_Ind._ What have I done thus to inflame your hate?
+I am not guilty, but unfortunate.
+
+_Nour._ Not guilty, when thy looks my power betray,
+Seduce mankind, my subject, from my sway,
+Take all my hearts and all my eyes away?
+My husband first; but that I could forgive;
+He only moved, and talked, but did not live.
+My Aureng-Zebe!--for I dare own the name,
+The glorious sin, and the more glorious flame,--
+Him from my beauty have thy eyes misled,
+And starved the joys of my expected bed.
+
+
+_Ind._ His love so sought, he's happy that he's dead.
+O had I courage but to meet my fate,
+That short dark passage to a future state,
+That melancholy riddle of a breath!
+
+_Nour._ That something, or that nothing, after death:
+Take this, and teach thyself.                      [_Giving a Dagger._
+
+_Ind._ Alas!
+
+_Nour._ Why dost thou shake?
+Dishonour not the vengeance I designed:
+A queen, and own a base Plebeian mind!
+Let it drink deep in thy most vital part;
+Strike home, and do me reason in thy heart.
+
+_Ind._ I dare not.
+
+_Nour._ Do't, while I stand by and see,
+At my full gust, without the drudgery.
+I love a foe, who dares my stroke prevent,
+Who gives me the full scene of my content;
+Shows me the flying soul's convulsive strife,
+And all the anguish of departing life.
+Disdain my mercy, and my rage defy;
+Curse me with thy last breath, and make me see
+A spirit, worthy to have rivalled me.
+
+_Ind._ Oh, I desire to die, but dare not yet!
+Give me some respite, I'll discharge the debt.
+Without my Aureng-Zebe I would not live.
+
+_Nour._ Thine, traitress! thine! that word has winged thy fate,
+And put me past the tedious forms of hate:
+I'll kill thee with such eagerness and haste,
+As fiends, let loose, would lay all nature waste.
+                       [INDAMORA _runs back: As_ NOURMAHAL _is running
+                        to her, clashing of swords is heard within._
+
+_Sold._ Yield, you're o'erpowered: Resistance is in vain.   [_Within._
+
+_Mor._ Then death's my choice: Submission I disdain.        [_Within._
+
+_Nour._ Retire, ye slaves! Ah, whither does he run     [_At the door._
+On pointed swords? Disarm, but save my son.
+
+  _Enter_ MORAT _staggering, and upheld by Soldiers._
+
+_Mor._ She lives! and I shall see her once again!
+I have not thrown away my life in vain.
+                     [_Catches hold of_ INDAMORA'S _gown, and falls by
+                      her: She sits._
+I can no more; yet even in death I find
+My fainting body biassed by my mind:
+I fall toward you; still my contending soul
+Points to your breast, and trembles to its pole.
+
+  _To them_ MELESINDA, _hastily casting herself on the other side of_
+  MORAT.
+
+_Mel._ Ah woe, woe, woe! the worst of woes I find!
+Live still; Oh live; live e'en to be unkind!--
+With half-shut eyes he seeks the doubtful day;
+But, ah! he bends his sight another way.
+He faints! and in that sigh his soul is gone;
+Yet heaven's unmoved, yet heaven looks careless on.
+
+_Nour._ Where are those powers which monarchs should defend?
+Or do they vain authority pretend
+O'er human fates, and their weak empire show,
+Which cannot guard their images below?
+If, as their image, he was not divine,
+They ought to have respected him as mine.
+I'll waken them with my revenge; and she,
+Their Indamora, shall my victim be,
+And helpless heaven shall mourn in vain, like me.
+                            [_As she is going to stab_ INDAMORA, MORAT
+                             _raises himself, and holds her hand._
+
+_Mor._ Ah, what are we,
+Who dare maintain with heaven this wretched strife,
+Puft with the pride of heaven's own gift, frail life?
+That blast which my ambitious spirit swelled,
+See by how weak a tenure it was held!
+I only stay to save the innocent;
+Oh envy not my soul its last content!
+
+_Ind._ No, let me die; I'm doubly summoned now;
+First by my Aureng-Zebe, and since by you.
+My soul grows hardy, and can death endure;
+Your convoy makes the dangerous way secure.
+
+_Mel._ Let me at least a funeral marriage crave,
+Nor grudge my cold embraces in the grave.
+I have too just a title in the strife;
+By me, unhappy me, he lost his life:
+I called him hither, 'twas my fatal breath,
+And I the screech-owl that proclaimed his death.      [_Shout within._
+
+_Abas._ What new alarms are these? I'll haste and see.        [_Exit._
+
+_Nour._ Look up and live; an empire shall be thine.
+
+_Mor._ That I condemned, even when I thought it mine.--
+Oh, I must yield to my hard destinies,                      [_To_ IND.
+And must for ever cease to see your eyes!
+
+_Mel._ Ah turn your sight to me, my dearest lord!
+Can you not one, one parting look afford?
+Even so unkind in death:--but 'tis in vain;
+I lose my breath, and to the winds complain.
+Yet 'tis as much in vain your cruel scorn;
+Still I can love, without this last return.
+Nor fate, nor you, can my vowed faith controul;
+Dying, I follow your disdainful soul:
+A ghost, I'll haunt your ghost; and, where you go,
+With mournful murmurs fill the plains below.
+
+_Mor._ Be happy, Melesinda; cease to grieve,
+And for a more deserving husband live:--
+Can you forgive me?
+
+_Mel._ Can I! Oh, my heart!
+Have I heard one kind word before I part?
+I can, I can forgive: Is that a task
+To love like mine? Are you so good to ask!
+One kiss--Oh, 'tis too great a blessing this!           [_Kisses him._
+I would not live to violate the bliss,
+
+  _Re-enter_ ABAS.
+
+_Abas._ Some envious devil has ruined us yet more:
+The fort's revolted to the emperor;
+The gates are opened, the portcullis drawn,
+And deluges of armies from the town
+Come pouring in: I heard the mighty flaw,
+When first it broke; the crowding ensigns saw,
+Which choked the passage; and, what least I feared,
+The waving arms of Aureng-Zebe appeared,
+Displayed with your Morat's:
+In either's flag the golden serpents bear
+Erected crests alike, like volumes rear,
+And mingle friendly hissings in the air.
+Their troops are joined, and our destruction nigh.
+
+_Neur._ 'Tis vain to fight, and I disdain to fly.
+I'll mock the triumphs which our foes intend,
+And spite of fortune, make a glorious end.
+In poisonous draughts my liberty I'll find,
+And from the nauseous world set free my mind.                 [_Exit._
+
+  _At the other end of the Stage enter_ AURENG-ZEBE, DIANET, _and
+  Attendants._ AURENG-ZEBE _turns back, and speaks entering._
+
+_Aur._ The lives of all, who cease from combat, spare;
+My brother's be your most peculiar care:
+Our impious use no longer shall obtain;
+Brothers no more by brothers shall be slain.--
+                                       [_Seeing_ INDAMORA _and_ MORAT.
+Ha! do I dream? Is this my hoped success?
+I grow a statue, stiff and motionless.
+Look, Dianet; for I dare not trust these eyes;
+They dance in mists, and dazzle with surprise.
+
+_Dia._ Sir, 'tis Morat; dying he seems, or dead;
+And Indamora's hand--
+
+_Aur._ Supports his head.                                  [_Sighing._
+Thou shalt not break yet, heart, nor shall she know
+My inward torments by my outward show:
+To let her see my weakness were too base;
+Dissembled quiet sit upon my face:
+My sorrow to my eyes no passage find,
+But let it inward sink, and drown my mind.
+Falsehood shall want its triumph: I begin
+To stagger, but I'll prop myself within.
+The specious tower no ruin shall disclose,
+Till down at once the mighty fabric goes,
+
+_Mor._ In sign that I die yours, reward my love,            [_To_ IND.
+And seal my passport to the blessed above.        [_Kissing her hand._
+
+_Ind._ Oh stay; or take me with you when you go;
+There's nothing now worth living for below.
+
+_Mor._ I leave you not; for my expanded mind
+Grows up to heaven, while it to you is joined:
+Not quitting, but enlarged! A blazing fire,
+Fed from the brand.                                           [_Dies._
+
+_Mel._ Ah me! he's gone! I die!                             [_Swoons._
+
+_Ind._ Oh, dismal day!
+Fate, thou hast ravished my last hope away!
+                          [_She turns, and sees_ AURENG-ZEBE _standing
+                           by her, and starts._
+O heaven! my Aureng-Zebe--What strange surprise!
+Or does my willing mind delude my eyes,
+And shows the figure always present there?
+Or liv'st thou? am I blessed, and see thee here?
+
+_Aur._ My brother's body see conveyed with care,
+                               [_Turning from her, to her Attendants._
+Where we may royal sepulture prepare.
+With speed to Melesinda bring relief:
+Recal her spirits, and moderate her grief--    [_Half turning to_ IND.
+I go, to take for ever from your view,
+Both the loved object, and the hated too.
+                              [_Going away after the bodies, which are
+                               carried off._
+
+_Ind._ Hear me! yet think not that I beg your stay;
+                                           [_Laying hold of him._
+I will be heard, and, after, take your way.
+Go; but your late repentance shall be vain:
+                               [_He struggles still: she lets him go._
+I'll never, never see your face again.                [_Turning away._
+
+_Aur._ Madam, I know whatever you can say:
+You might be pleased not to command my stay.
+All things are yet disordered in the fort;
+I must crave leave your audience may be short.
+
+_Ind._ You need not fear I shall detain you long:
+Yet you may tell me your pretended wrong.
+
+_Aur._ Is that the business? then my stay is vain.
+
+_Ind._ How are you injured?
+
+_Aur._ When did I complain?
+
+_Ind._ Leave off your forced respect,
+And show your rage in its most furious form:
+I'm armed with innocence to brave the storm.
+You heard, perhaps, your brother's last desire,
+And, after, saw him in my arms expire;
+Saw me, with tears, so great a loss, bemoan;
+Heard me complaining my last hopes were gone.
+
+_Aur._ "Oh stay, or take me with you when you go,
+There's nothing now worth living for below."
+Unhappy sex! whose beauty is your snare:
+Exposed to trials; made too frail to bear.
+I grow a fool, and show my rage again:
+'Tis nature's fault; and why should I complain?
+
+_Ind._ Will you yet hear me?
+
+_Aur._ Yes, till you relate
+What powerful motives did your change create.
+You thought me dead, and prudently did weigh
+Tears were but vain, and brought but youth's decay.
+Then, in Morat, your hopes a crown designed;
+And all the woman worked within your mind.--
+I rave again, and to my rage return,
+To be again subjected to your scorn.
+
+_Ind._ I wait till this long storm be over-blown.
+
+_Aur._ I'm conscious of my folly: I have done.--
+I cannot rail; but silently I'll grieve.
+How did I trust! and how did you deceive!
+Oh, Arimant, would I had died for thee!
+I dearly buy thy generosity.
+
+_Ind._ Alas, is he then dead?
+
+_Aur._ Unknown to me,
+He took my arms; and, while I forced my way
+Through troops of foes, which did our passage stay,
+My buckler o'er my aged father cast,
+Still fighting, still defending as I past,
+The noble Arimant usurped my name;
+Fought, and took from me, while he gave me, fame.
+To Aureng-Zebe, he made his soldiers cry,
+And, seeing not, where he heard danger nigh,
+Shot, like a star, through the benighted sky,
+A short, but mighty aid: At length he fell.
+My own adventures 'twere lost time to tell;
+Or how my army, entering in the night,
+Surprised our foes; The dark disordered fight:
+How my appearance, and my father shown,
+Made peace; and all the rightful monarch own.
+I've summed it briefly, since it did relate
+The unwelcome safety of the man you hate.
+
+_Ind._ As briefly will I clear my innocence:
+Your altered brother died in my defence.
+Those tears you saw, that tenderness I showed,
+Were just effects of grief and gratitude.
+He died my convert.
+
+_Aur._ But your lover too:
+I heard his words, and did your actions view;
+You seemed to mourn another lover dead:
+My sighs you gave him, and my tears you shed.
+But, worst of all,
+Your gratitude for his defence was shown:
+It proved you valued life, when I was gone.
+
+_Ind._ Not that I valued life, but feared to die:
+Think that my weakness, not inconstancy.
+
+_Aur._ Fear showed you doubted of your own intent:
+And she, who doubts, becomes less innocent.
+Tell me not you could fear;
+Fear's a large promiser; who subject live
+To that base passion, know not what they give.
+No circumstance of grief you did deny;
+And what could she give more, who durst not die?
+
+_Ind._ My love, my faith.
+
+_Aur._ Both so adulterate grown,
+When mixed with fear, they never could be known.
+I wish no ill might her I love befal;
+But she ne'er loved, who durst not venture all.
+Her life and fame should my concernment be;
+But she should only be afraid for me.
+
+_Ind._ My heart was yours; but, oh! you left it here,
+Abandoned to those tyrants, hope and fear;
+If they forced from me one kind look, or word,
+Could you not that, not that small part afford?
+
+_Aur._ If you had loved, you nothing yours could call;
+Giving the least of mine, you gave him all.
+True love's a miser; so tenacious grown,
+He weighs to the least grain of what's his own;
+More delicate than honour's nicest sense,
+Neither to give nor take the least offence.
+With, or without you, I can have no rest:
+What shall I do? you're lodged within my breast:
+Your image never will be thence displaced;
+But there it lies, stabbed, mangled, and defaced.
+
+_Ind._ Yet to restore the quiet of your heart,
+There's one way left.
+
+_Aur._ Oh, name it.
+
+_Ind._ 'Tis to part.
+Since perfect bliss with me you cannot prove,
+I scorn to bless by halves the man I love.
+
+_Aur._ Now you distract me more: Shall then the day,
+Which views my triumph, see our loves decay?
+Must I new bars to my own joy create?
+Refuse myself what I had forced from fate?
+What though I am not loved?
+Reason's nice taste does our delights destroy:
+Brutes are more blessed, who grossly feed on joy.
+
+_Ind._ Such endless jealousies your love pursue,
+I can no more be fully blessed than you.
+I therefore go, to free us both from pain:
+I prized your person, but your crown disdain.
+Nay, even my own--
+I give it you; for, since I cannot call
+Your heart my subject, I'll not reign at all.                 [_Exit._
+
+_Aur._ Go: Though thou leav'st me tortured on the rack,
+'Twixt shame and pride, I cannot call thee back.--
+She's guiltless, and I should submit; but oh!
+When she exacts it, can I stoop so low?
+Yes; for she's guiltless; but she's haughty too.
+Great souls long struggle ere they own a crime:
+She's gone; and leaves me no repenting time.
+I'll call her now; sure, if she loves, she'll stay;
+Linger at least, or not go far away.
+                                    [_Looks to the door, and returns._
+For ever lost! and I repent too late.
+My foolish pride would set my whole estate,
+Till, at one throw, I lost all back to fate.
+
+  _To him the Emperor, drawing in_ INDAMORA: _Attendants._
+
+_Emp._ It must not be, that he, by whom we live,
+Should no advantage of his gift receive.
+Should he be wholly wretched? he alone,
+In this blessed day, a day so much his own?                 [_To_ IND.
+I have not quitted yet a victor's right:
+I'll make you happy in your own despite.
+I love you still; and, if I struggle hard
+To give, it shows the worth of the reward.
+
+_Ind._ Suppose he has o'ercome; must I find place
+Among his conquered foes, and sue for grace?
+Be pardoned, and confess I loved not well?
+What though none live my innocence to tell,
+I know it: Truth may own a generous pride:
+I clear myself, and care for none beside.
+
+_Aur._ Oh, Indamora, you would break my heart!
+Could you resolve, on any terms, to part?
+I thought your love eternal: Was it tied
+So loosely, that a quarrel could divide?
+I grant that my suspicions were unjust;
+But would you leave me, for a small distrust?
+Forgive those foolish words--                      [_Kneeling to her._
+They were the froth my raging folly moved,
+When it boiled up: I knew not then I loved;
+Yet then loved most.
+
+_Ind._ [_To_ AUR.]
+You would but half be blest!              [_Giving her hand, smiling._
+
+_Aur._ Oh do but try
+My eager love: I'll give myself the lie.
+The very hope is a full happiness,
+Yet scantly measures what I shall possess.
+Fancy itself, even in enjoyment, is
+But a dumb judge, and cannot tell its bliss.
+
+_Emp._ Her eyes a secret yielding do confess,
+And promise to partake your happiness.
+May all the joys I did myself pursue,
+Be raised by her, and multiplied on you!
+
+  _A Procession of Priests, Slaves following, and, last,_ MELESINDA
+  _in white._
+
+_Ind._ Alas! what means this pomp?
+
+_Aur._ 'Tis the procession of a funeral vow,
+Which cruel laws to Indian wives allow,
+When fatally their virtue they approve;
+Cheerful in flames, and martyrs of their love.
+
+_Ind._ Oh, my foreboding heart! the event I fear:
+And see! sad Melesinda does appear.
+
+_Mel._ You wrong my love; what grief do I betray?
+This is the triumph of my nuptial day,
+My better nuptials; which, in spite of fate,
+For ever join me to my dear Morat.
+Now I am pleased; my jealousies are o'er:
+He's mine; and I can lose him now no more.
+
+_Emp._ Let no false show of fame, your reason blind.
+
+_Ind._ You have no right to die; he was not kind.
+
+_Mel._ Had he been kind, I could no love have shown:
+Each vulgar virtue would as much have done.
+My love was such, it needed no return;
+But could, though he supplied no fuel, burn.
+Rich in itself, like elemental fire,
+Whose pureness does no aliment require.
+In vain you would bereave me of my lord;
+For I will die:--Die is too base a word,
+I'll seek his breast, and, kindling by his side,
+Adorned with flames, I'll mount a glorious bride.             [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ NOURMAHAL, _distracted, with_ ZAYDA.
+
+_Zay._ She's lost, she's lost! but why do I complain,
+For her, who generously did life disdain!
+Poisoned, she raves--
+The envenomed body does the soul attack;
+The envenomed soul works its own poison back.
+
+_Nour._ I burn, I more than burn; I am all fire.
+See how my mouth and nostrils flame expire!
+I'll not come near myself--
+Now I'm a burning lake, it rolls and flows;
+I'll rush, and pour it all upon my foes.
+Pull, pull that reverend piece of timber near:
+Throw't on--'tis dry--'twill burn--
+Ha, ha! how my old husband crackles there!
+Keep him down, keep him down; turn him about:
+I know him,--he'll but whiz, and strait go out.
+Fan me, you winds: What, not one breath of air?
+I'll burn them all, and yet have flames to spare.
+Quench me: Pour on whole rivers. 'Tis in vain:
+Morat stands there to drive them back again:
+With those huge billows in his hands, he blows
+New fire into my head: My brain-pan glows.
+See! see! there's Aureng-Zebe too takes his part;
+But he blows all his fire into my heart[4].
+
+_Aur._ Alas, what fury's this?
+
+_Nour._ That's he, that's he!
+                             [_Staring upon him, and catching at him._
+I know the dear man's voice:
+And this my rival, this the cursed she.
+They kiss; into each other's arms they run:
+Close, close, close! must I see, and must have none?
+Thou art not hers: Give me that eager kiss.
+Ungrateful! have I lost Morat for this?
+Will you?--before my face?--poor helpless I
+See all, and have my hell before I die!                 [_Sinks down._
+
+_Emp._ With thy last breath thou hast thy crimes confest:
+Farewell; and take, what thou ne'er gav'st me, rest.
+But you, my son, receive it better here:
+                                      [_Giving him_ INDAMORA'S _hand._
+The just rewards of love and honour wear.
+Receive the mistress, you so long have served;
+Receive the crown, your loyalty preserved.
+Take you the reins, while I from cares remove,
+And sleep within the chariot which I drove.                 [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1.   --_Magne regnator deum,
+     Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?
+     Ecquando saeva fulmen emittes manu,
+     Si nunc serenum est?
+     --Me velox cremet,
+     Transactus ignis. Sum nocens, merui mori,
+     Placui novercae._--Hippolitus apud Senecam.
+
+   See Langbaine, on this play.
+
+2. In Dryden's time it was believed, that some Indian tribes devoured
+   the bodies of their parents; affirming, they could shew no greater
+   mark of respect, than to incorporate their remains with their own
+   substance.
+
+3. Langbaine traces this speech also to Seneca's Hippolitus.
+
+     _--Thesei vultus amo;
+     Illos priores quos tulit quondam puer,
+     Cum prima puras barba signaret genas._
+
+4. I wish the duty of an editor had permitted me to omit this
+   extravagant and ludicrous rhapsody.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+
+  A pretty task! and so I told the fool,
+  Who needs would undertake to please by rule:
+  He thought, that if his characters were good,
+  The scenes entire, and freed from noise and blood;
+  The action great, yet circumscribed by time,
+  The words not forced, but sliding into rhyme,
+  The passions raised, and calm by just degrees,
+  As tides are swelled, and then retire to seas;
+  He thought, in hitting these, his business done,
+  Though he, perhaps, has failed in every one:
+  But, after all, a poet must confess,
+  His art's like physic, but a happy guess.
+  Your pleasure on your fancy must depend:
+  The lady's pleased, just as she likes her friend.
+  No song! no dance! no show! he fears you'll say:
+  You love all naked beauties, but a play.
+  He much mistakes your methods to delight;
+  And, like the French, abhors our target-fight:
+  But those damned dogs can ne'er be in the right.
+  True English hate your Monsieur's paltry arts,
+  For you are all silk-weavers in your hearts[1].
+  Bold Britons, at a brave Bear-Garden fray,
+  Are roused: And, clattering sticks, cry,--Play, play, play![2]
+  Meantime, your filthy foreigner will stare,
+  And mutters to himself,--_Ha! gens barbare!_
+  And, gad, 'tis well he mutters; well for him;
+  Our butchers else would tear him limb from limb.
+  'Tis true, the time may come, your sons may be
+  Infected with this French civility:
+  But this, in after ages will be done:
+  Our poet writes an hundred years too soon.
+  This age comes on too slow, or he too fast:
+  And early springs are subject to a blast!
+  Who would excel, when few can make a test
+  Betwixt indifferent writing and the best?
+  For favours, cheap and common, who would strive,
+  Which, like abandoned prostitutes, you give?
+  Yet, scattered here and there, I some behold,
+  Who can discern the tinsel from the gold:
+  To these he writes; and, if by them allowed,
+  'Tis their prerogative to rule the crowd.
+  For he more fears, like a presuming man,
+  Their votes who cannot judge, than theirs who can.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Enemies, namely, like the English silk-weavers to the manufactures
+   of France.
+
+2. Alluding to the prize-fighting with broad-swords at the
+   Bear-Garden: an amusement sufficiently degrading, yet more manly,
+   and less brutal than that of boxing, as now practised. We have
+   found, in the lowest deep, a lower still.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                            ALL FOR LOVE;
+
+                                 OR,
+
+                         THE WORLD WELL LOST.
+
+
+                                  A
+
+                               TRAGEDY.
+
+
+
+
+                            ALL FOR LOVE.
+
+
+The prologue to the preceding play has already acquainted us, that
+Dryden's taste for Rhyming, or Heroic Plays, was then upon the wane;
+and, accordingly "Aureng-Zebe" was the last tragedy which he formed
+upon that once admired model. "Henceforth a series of new times
+began," for, when given up by the only writer, whose command of
+flowing and powerful numbers had rendered it impressive, that
+department of the drama was soon abandoned by the inferior class of
+play-writers, to whom it presented multiplied difficulties, without a
+single advantage. The new taste, which our author had now decidedly
+adopted, was founded upon the stile of Shakespeare, of whose works he
+appears always to have been a persevering student, and, at length, an
+ardent admirer. Accordingly, he informs us, in the introduction, that
+this play is professedly written in imitation of "the divine
+Shakespeare." As if to bring this more immediately under the eye of
+the reader, he has chosen a subject upon which his immortal original
+had already laboured; and, perhaps, the most proper introduction to
+"All for Love" may be a parallel betwixt it and Shakespeare's "Antony
+and Cleopatra."
+
+The first point of comparison is the general conduct, or plot, of the
+tragedy. And here Dryden, having, to use his own language, undertaken
+to shoot in the bow of Ulysses, imitates the wily Antinous in using
+art to eke out his strength, and suppling the weapon before he
+attempted to bend it.
+
+Shakespeare, with the license peculiar to his age and character, had
+diffused the action of his play over Italy, Greece, and Egypt; but
+Dryden, who was well aware of the advantage to be derived from a
+simplicity and concentration of plot, has laid every scene in the city
+of Alexandria. By this he guarded the audience from that vague and
+puzzling distraction which must necessarily attend a violent change of
+place. It is a mistake to suppose, that the argument in favour of the
+unities depends upon preserving the deception of the scene; they are
+necessarily connected with the intelligibility of the piece. It may be
+true, that no spectator supposes that the stage before him is actually
+the court of Alexandria; yet, when he has once made up his mind to let
+it pass as such during the representation, it is a cruel tax, not
+merely on his imagination, but on his powers of comprehension, if the
+scene be suddenly transferred to a distant country. Time is lost
+before he can form new associations, and reconcile their bearings with
+those originally presented to him, and if he be a person of slow
+comprehension, or happens to lose any part of the dialogue, announcing
+the changes, the whole becomes unintelligible confusion. In this
+respect, and in discarding a number of uninteresting characters, the
+plan of Dryden's play must be unequivocally preferred to that of
+Shakespeare in point of coherence, unity, and simplicity. It is a
+natural consequence of this more artful arrangement of the story, that
+Dryden contents himself with the concluding scene of Antony's history
+instead of introducing the incidents of the war with Cneius Pompey,
+the negociation with Lepidus, death of his first wife, and other
+circumstances, which, in Shakespeare, only tend to distract our
+attention from the main interest of the drama. The union of time, as
+necessary as that of place to the intelligibility of the drama, has,
+in like manner, been happily attained; and an interesting event is
+placed before the audience with no other change of place, and no
+greater lapse of time, than can be readily adapted to an ordinary
+imagination.
+
+But, having given Dryden the praise of superior address in managing
+the story, I fear he must be pronounced in most other respects
+inferior to his grand prototype. Antony, the principal character in
+both plays, is incomparably grander in that of Shakespeare. The
+majesty and generosity of the military hero is happily expressed by
+both poets; but the awful ruin of grandeur, undermined by passion, and
+tottering to its fall, is far more striking in the Antony of
+Shakespeare. Love, it is true, is the predominant; but it is not the
+sole ingredient in his character. It has usurped possession of his
+mind, but is assailed by his original passions, ambition of power, and
+thirst for military fame. He is, therefore, often, and it should seem
+naturally represented, as feeling for the downfall of his glory and
+power, even so intensely as to withdraw his thoughts from Cleopatra,
+unless considered as the cause of his ruin. Thus, in the scene in
+which he compares himself to "black Vesper's pageants," he runs on in
+a train of fantastic and melancholy similes, having relation only to
+his fallen state, till the mention of Egypt suddenly recalls the idea
+of Cleopatra. But Dryden has taken a different view of Antony's
+character, and more closely approaching to his title of "All for
+Love."--"He seems not now that awful Antony." His whole thoughts and
+being are dedicated to his fatal passion; and though a spark of
+resentment is occasionally struck out by the reproaches of Ventidius,
+he instantly relapses into love-sick melancholy. The following
+beautiful speech exhibits the romance of despairing love, without the
+deep and mingled passion of a dishonoured soldier, and dethroned
+emperor:
+
+  _Ant._ [_Throwing himself down._]
+  Lie there, thou shadow of an emperor;
+  The place, thou pressest on thy mother earth,
+  Is all thy empire now: Now, it contains thee;
+  Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large,
+  When thou'rt contracted in the narrow urn,
+  Shrunk to a few cold ashes; then, Octavia,
+  For Cleopatra will not live to see it,
+  Octavia then will have thee all her own,
+  And bear thee in her widowed hand to Caesar;
+  Caesar will weep, the crocodile will weep,
+  To see his rival of the universe
+  Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more on't.
+  Give me some music; look that it be sad:
+  I'll sooth my melancholy, 'till I swell,
+  And burst myself with sighing--                       [_Soft music._
+  'Tis somewhat to my humour: Stay, I fancy
+  I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature;
+  Of all forsaken, and forsaking all;
+  Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene,
+  Stretched at my length beneath some blasted oak,
+  I lean my head upon the mossy bark,
+  And look just of a piece, as I grew from it:
+  My uncombed locks, matted like misletoe,
+  Hang o'er my hoary face; a murmuring brook
+  Runs at my foot.
+
+  _Ven._ Methinks I fancy
+  Myself there too.
+
+  _Ant._ The herd come jumping by me,
+  And, fearless, quench their thirst, while I look on,
+  And take me for their fellow-citizen.
+
+Even when Antony is finally ruined, the power of jealousy is called
+upon to complete his despair, and he is less sensible to the idea of
+Caesar's successful arms, than to the risque of Dolabella's rivalling
+him in the affections of Cleopatra. It is true, the Antony of
+Shakespeare also starts into fury, upon Cleopatra permitting Thyreus
+to kiss her hand; but this is not jealousy; it is pride offended, that
+she, for whom he had sacrificed his glory and empire, should already
+begin to court the favour of the conqueror, and vouchsafe her hand to
+be saluted by a "jack of Caesars." Hence Enobarbus, the witness of the
+scene, alludes immediately to the fury of mortified ambition and
+falling power:
+
+  'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,
+  Than with an old one dying--
+
+Having, however, adopted an idea of Antony's character, rather
+suitable to romance than to nature, or history, we must not deny
+Dryden the praise of having exquisitely brought out the picture he
+intended to draw. He has informed us, that this was the only play
+written to please himself; and he has certainly exerted in it the full
+force of his incomparable genius. Antony is throughout the piece what
+the author meant him to be; a victim to the omnipotence of love, or
+rather to the infatuation of one engrossing passion[1].
+
+In the Cleopatra of Dryden, there is greatly less spirit and
+originality than in Shakespeare's. The preparation of the latter for
+death has a grandeur which puts to shame the same scene in Dryden, and
+serves to support the interest during the whole fifth act, although
+Antony has died in the conclusion of the fourth. No circumstance can
+more highly evince the power of Shakespeare's genius, in spite of his
+irregularities; since the conclusion in Dryden, where both lovers die
+in the same scene, and after a reconciliation, is infinitely more
+artful and better adapted to theatrical effect.
+
+In the character of Ventidius, Dryden has filled up, with ability, the
+rude sketches, which Shakespeare has thrown off in those of Scaeva and
+Eros. The rough old Roman soldier is painted with great truth; and the
+quarrel betwixt him and Antony, in the first act, is equal to any
+single scene that our author ever wrote, excepting, perhaps, that
+betwixt Sebastian and Dorax; an opinion in which the judgment of the
+critic coincides with that of the poet. It is a pity, as has often
+been remarked, that this dialogue occurs so early in the play, since
+what follows is necessarily inferior in force. Dryden, while writing
+this scene, had unquestionably in his recollection the quarrel betwixt
+Brutus and Cassius, which was justly so great a favourite in his time,
+and to which he had referred as inimitable in his prologue to
+"Aureng-Zebe.[2]"
+
+The inferior characters are better supported in Dryden than in
+Shakespeare. We have no low buffoonery in the former, such as
+disgraces Enobarbus, and is hardly redeemed by his affecting
+catastrophe. Even the Egyptian Alexas acquires some respectability,
+from his patriotic attachment to the interests of his country, and
+from his skill as a wily courtier. He expresses, by a beautiful image,
+the effeminate attachment to life, appropriated to his character and
+country:
+
+  O, that I less could fear to lose this being,
+  Which, like a snow-ball in my coward hand,
+  The more 'tis grasped, the faster melts away.
+
+The Octavia of Dryden is a much more important personage than in the
+"Antony and Cleopatra" of Shakespeare. She is, however, more cold and
+unamiable; for, in the very short scenes in which the Octavia of
+Shakespeare appears, she is placed in rather an interesting point of
+view. But Dryden has himself informed us, that he was apprehensive the
+justice of a wife's claim upon her husband would draw the audience to
+her side, and lessen their interest in the lover and the mistress. He
+seems accordingly to have studiedly lowered the character of the
+injured Octavia, who, in her conduct towards her husband, shews much
+duty and little love; and plainly intimates, that her rectitude of
+conduct flows from a due regard to her own reputation, rather than
+from attachment to Antony's person, or sympathy with him in his
+misfortunes. It happens, therefore, with Octavia, as with all other
+very good selfish kind of people; we think it unnecessary to feel any
+thing for her, as she is obviously capable of taking very good care of
+herself. I must not omit, that her scolding scene with Cleopatra,
+although anxiously justified by the author in the preface, seems too
+coarse to be in character, and is a glaring exception to the general
+good taste evinced throughout the rest of the piece.
+
+It would be too long a task to contrast the beauties of these two
+great poets in point of diction and style. But the reader will
+doubtless be pleased to compare the noted descriptions of the voyage
+of Cleopatra down the Cydnus. It is thus given in Shakespeare:
+
+  The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
+  Burned on the water: The poop was beaten gold;
+  Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that
+  The winds were love-sick with them: The oars were silver;
+  Which, to the tune of flutes, kept stroke, and made
+  The water which they beat, to follow faster,
+  As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
+  It beggared all description: she did lie
+  In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue),
+  O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see,
+  The fancy outwork nature; on each side her,
+  Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
+  With diverse coloured fans, whose wind did seem
+  To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
+  And what they undid, did.
+  Her gentlewomen, like the Nereids,
+  So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,
+  And made their bends adornings: At the helm
+  A seeming mermaid steers: The silken tackle
+  Swells with the touches of those flower-soft hands
+  That yarely frame the office. From the barge
+  A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
+  Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
+  Her people out upon her; and Antony,
+  Enthroned in the market-place, did sit alone,
+  Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
+  Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
+  And made a gap in nature.
+                               _Antony and Cleopatra_, Act i. Scene 2.
+
+The parallel passage in Dryden runs thus:
+
+  The tackling silk, the streamers waved with gold,
+  The gentle winds were lodged in purple sails:
+  Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were placed;
+  Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay,
+
+  _Dola._ No more: I would not hear it,
+
+  _Ant._ O, you must!
+  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,
+  A darting glory secured 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.
+  Then, Dolabella, where was then thy soul?
+  Was not thy fury quite disarmed with murder?
+  Didst thou not shrink behind me from those eyes,
+  And whisper in my ear, Oh, tell her not
+  That I accused her of my brother's death?
+
+In judging betwixt these celebrated passages, we feel almost afraid to
+avow a preference of Dryden, founded partly upon the easy flow of the
+verse, which seems to soften with the subject, but chiefly upon the
+beauty of the language and imagery, which is flowery without
+diffusiveness, and rapturous without hyperbole. I fear Shakespeare
+cannot be exculpated from the latter fault; yet I am sensible, it is
+by sifting his beauties from his conceits that his imitator has been
+enabled to excel him.
+
+It is impossible to bestow too much praise on the beautiful passages
+which occur so frequently in "All for Love." Having already given
+several examples of happy expression of melancholy and tender
+feelings, I content myself with extracting the sublime and terrific
+description of an omen presaging the downfall of Egypt.
+
+  _Serap._ Last night, between the hours of twelve and one,
+  In a lone isle of the temple while I walked,
+  A whirlwind rose, that, with a violent blast,
+  Shook all the dome: The doors around me clapt;
+  The iron wicket, that defends the vault,
+  Where the long race of Ptolemies is laid,
+  Burst open, and disclosed the mighty dead.
+  From out each monument, in order placed,
+  An armed ghost starts up: The boy-king last
+  Reared his inglorious head. A peal of groans
+  Then followed, and a lamentable voice
+  Cried,--"Egypt is no more!" My blood ran back,
+  My shaking knees against each other knocked;
+  On the cold pavement down I fell entranced,
+  And so, unfinished, left the horrid scene.
+
+Having quoted so many passages of exquisite poetry, and having set
+this play in no unequal opposition to that of Shakespeare, it is,
+perhaps, unnecessary to mention by what other poets the same subject
+has been treated. Daniel, Mary countess of Pembroke, May, and Sir
+Charles Sedley, each produced a play on the fortunes of Anthony. Of
+these pieces I have never read the three former, and will assuredly
+never read the last a second time[3].
+
+"All for Love," as the most laboured performance of our author,
+received the full tribute of applause and popularity which had often
+graced his less perfect and more hurried performances. Davies gives us
+the following account of its first representation.
+
+"In Dryden's "All for Love," Booth's dignified action and forcible
+elocution, in the part of Antony, attracted the public to that heavy,
+though, in many parts, well written play, six night's successively,
+without the assistance of pantomime, or farce, which, at that time,
+was esteemed something extraordinary.--But, indeed, he was well
+supported by an Oldfield, in his Cleopatra, who, to a most harmonious
+and powerful voice, and fine person, added grace and elegance of
+gesture. When Booth and Oldfield met in the second act, their dignity
+of deportment commanded the applause and approbation of the most
+judicious critics. When Antony said to Cleopatra,
+
+  You promised me your silence, and you break it
+  Ere I have scarce begun,--
+
+this check was so well understood by Oldfield, and answered with such
+propriety of behaviour, that, in Shakespeare's phrase; her "bendings
+were adornings."
+
+"The elder Mills acted Ventidius with the true spirit of a rough and
+generous old soldier. To render the play as acceptable to the public
+as possible, Wilkes took the trifling part of Dolabella, nor did
+Colley Cibber disdain to appear in Alexas. These parts would scarcely
+be accepted now by third-rate actors. Still to add more weight to the
+performance, Octavia was a short character of a scene or two, in which
+Mrs Porter drew not only respect, but the more affecting approbation
+of tears from the audience. Since that time, "All for Love" has
+gradually sunk into forgetfulness."
+
+If this last observation be true, it is, under Mr Davies' favour, a
+striking illustration of the caprice of the public taste. The play of
+"All for Love" was first acted and printed in 1678.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. Dryden has himself, in the prologue, alluded to this predominance
+   of sentiment in his hero's character.
+
+     His hero, whom you wits his bully call,
+     Bates of his mettle, and scarce rants at all;
+     He's somewhat lewd; but a well meaning mind,
+     Weeps much, fights little, but is wondrous kind.
+
+2.   But, spite of all his pride, a secret shame
+     Invades his breast at Shakespeare's sacred name:
+     Awed, when he hears his god-like Romans rage,
+     He, in a just despair, would quit the stage,
+     And, to an age less polished, more unskilled,
+     Does, with disdain, the foremost honours yield.
+
+3. Lest any reader should have anticipated better things of "Sedley's
+   noble muse," the Lisideius of our author's dialogue on dramatic
+   poetry, I subjoin a specimen, taken at hazard:
+
+     Gape, hell, and to thy dismal bottom take
+     The lost Antonius; this was our last stake:
+     Warned by my ruin, let no Roman more,
+     Set foot on the inhospitable shore.
+     Cowards and traitors filled this impious land,
+     Faithless and fearful, without heart or hand,
+     Some ran to Caesar, like a headlong tide,
+     The rest their fear made useless on our side.
+
+   "This passion, with the death of a dear friend, would go nigh to
+   make one sad;" yet some of the authors of the day held a very
+   different doctrine. Shadwell, in his dedication to "A true Widow,"
+   tells Sedley, "You have in that Mulberry Garden shewn the true wit,
+   humour, and satire of a comedy; and, in Antony and Cleopatra, the
+   true spirit of a tragedy;  the only one, except two of Jonson's and
+   one of Shakespeare's, wherein Romans are made to speak and do like
+   Romans. There are to be found the true characters of Antony and
+   Cleopatra, as they were; whereas a French author would have made
+   the Egyptian and Roman both become French under his pen. And even
+   our English authors are too much given to make history (in these
+   plays) romantic and impossible; but, in this play, the Romans are
+   true Romans, and their style is such; and I dare affirm, that there
+   is not in any play of this age so much of the spirit of the classic
+   authors, as in your Antony and Cleopatra." I cannot help suspecting
+   that much of this hyperbolical praise of Sedley was obliquely
+   designed to mortify Dryden.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                         THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
+
+                        THOMAS, EARL OF DANBY,
+
+                VISCOUNT LATIMER, AND BARON OSBORNE OF
+                        KIVETON IN YORKSHIRE;
+
+                   LORD HIGH TREASURER OF ENGLAND,
+              ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY
+                COUNCIL, AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE
+                       ORDER OF THE GARTER[1].
+
+
+MY LORD,
+
+The gratitude of poets is so troublesome a virtue to great men, that
+you are often in danger of your own benefits: For you are threatened
+with some epistle, and not suffered to do good in quiet, or to
+compound for their silence whom you have obliged. Yet, I confess, I
+neither am or ought to be surprised at this indulgence; for your
+lordship has the same right to favour poetry, which the great and
+noble have ever had:
+
+  _Carmen amat, quisquis carmine digna gerit._
+
+There is somewhat of a tie in nature betwixt those who are born for
+worthy actions, and those who can transmit them to posterity; and
+though ours be much the inferior part, it comes at least within the
+verge of alliance; nor are we unprofitable members of the
+commonwealth, when we animate others to those virtues, which we copy
+and describe from you.
+
+It is indeed their interest, who endeavour the subversion of
+governments, to discourage poets and historians; for the best which
+can happen to them, is, to be forgotten: But such who, under kings,
+are the fathers of their country, and by a just and prudent ordering
+of affairs preserve it, have the same reason to cherish the
+chroniclers of their actions, as they have to lay up in safety the
+deeds and evidences of their estates; for such records are their
+undoubted titles to the love and reverence of after-ages. Your
+lordship's administration has already taken up a considerable part of
+the English annals; and many of its most happy years are owing to it.
+His majesty, the most knowing judge of men, and the best master, has
+acknowledged the ease and benefit he receives in the incomes of his
+treasury, which you found not only disordered, but exhausted. All
+things were in the confusion of a chaos, without form or method if not
+reduced beyond it, even to annihilation; so that you had not only to
+separate the jarring elements, but (if that boldness of expression
+might be allowed me) to create them. Your enemies had so embroiled the
+management of your office, that they looked on your advancement as the
+instrument of your ruin. And as if the clogging of the revenue, and
+the confusion of accounts, which you found in your entrance, were not
+sufficient, they added their own weight of malice to the public
+calamity, by forestalling the credit which should cure it. Your
+friends on the other side were only capable of pitying, but not of
+aiding you; no farther help or counsel was remaining to you, but what
+was founded on yourself; and that indeed was your security; for your
+diligence, your constancy, and your prudence, wrought more surely
+within, when they were not disturbed by any outward motion. The
+highest virtue is best to be trusted with itself; for assistance only
+can be given by a genius superior to that which it assists; and it is
+the noblest kind of debt, when we are only obliged to God and nature.
+This then, my lord, is your just commendation, that you have wrought
+out yourself a way to glory, by those very means that were designed
+for your destruction: You have not only restored, but advanced the
+revenues of your master, without grievance to the subject; and, as if
+that were little yet, the debts of the exchequer, which lay heaviest
+both on the crown, and on private persons, have by your conduct been
+established in a certainty of satisfaction.[2] An action so much the
+more great and honourable, because the case was without the ordinary
+relief of laws; above the hopes of the afflicted, and beyond the
+narrowness of the treasury to redress, had it been managed by a less
+able hand. It is certainly the happiest, and most unenvied part of all
+your fortune, to do good to many, while you do injury to none; to
+receive at once the prayers of the subject, and the praises of the
+prince; and, by the care of your conduct, to give him means of
+exerting the chiefest (if any be the chiefest) of his royal virtues,
+his distributive justice to the deserving, and his bounty and
+compassion to the wanting. The disposition of princes towards their
+people cannot be better discovered than in the choice of their
+ministers; who, like the animal spirits betwixt the soul and body,
+participate somewhat of both natures, and make the communication which
+is betwixt them. A king, who is just and moderate in his nature, who
+rules according to the laws, whom God has made happy by forming the
+temper of his soul to the constitution of his government, and who
+makes us happy, by assuming over us no other sovereignty than that
+wherein our welfare and liberty consists; a prince, I say, of so
+excellent a character, and so suitable to the wishes of all good men,
+could not better have conveyed himself into his people's
+apprehensions, than in your lordship's person; who so lively express
+the same virtues, that you seem not so much a copy, as an emanation of
+him. Moderation is doubtless an establishment of greatness; but there
+is a steadiness of temper which is likewise requisite in a minister of
+state; so equal a mixture of both virtues, that he may stand like an
+isthmus betwixt the two encroaching seas of arbitrary power, and
+lawless anarchy. The undertaking would be difficult to any but an
+extraordinary genius, to stand at the line, and to divide the limits;
+to pay what is due to the great representative of the nation, and
+neither to enhance, nor to yield up, the undoubted prerogatives of the
+crown. These, my lord, are the proper virtues of a noble Englishman,
+as indeed they are properly English virtues; no people in the world
+being capable of using them, but we who have the happiness to be born
+under so equal, and so well poised a government;--a government which
+has all the advantages of liberty beyond a commonwealth, and all the
+marks of kingly sovereignty, without the danger of a tyranny. Both my
+nature, as I am an Englishman, and my reason, as I am a man, have bred
+in me a loathing to that specious name of a republic; that mock
+appearance of a liberty, where all who have not part in the
+government, are slaves; and slaves they are of a viler note, than such
+as are subjects to an absolute dominion. For no Christian monarchy is
+so absolute, but it is circumscribed with laws; but when the executive
+power is in the law-makers, there is no farther check upon them; and
+the people must suffer without a remedy, because they are oppressed by
+their representatives. If I must serve, the number of my masters, who
+were born my equals, would but add to the ignominy of my bondage. The
+nature of our government, above all others, is exactly suited both to
+the situation of our country, and the temper of the natives; an island
+being more proper for commerce and for defence, than for extending its
+dominions on the Continent; for what the valour of its inhabitants
+might gain, by reason of its remoteness, and the casualties of the
+seas, it could not so easily preserve: And, therefore, neither the
+arbitrary power of One, in a monarchy, nor of Many, in a commonwealth,
+could make us greater than we are. It is true, that vaster and more
+frequent taxes might be gathered, when the consent of the people was
+not asked or needed; but this were only by conquering abroad, to be
+poor at home; and the examples of our neighbours teach us, that they
+are not always the happiest subjects, whose kings extend their
+dominions farthest. Since therefore we cannot win by an offensive war,
+at least a land war, the model of our government seems naturally
+contrived for the defensive part; and the consent of a people is
+easily obtained to contribute to that power which must protect it.
+_Felices nimium, bona si sua norint, Angligenae!_ And yet there are not
+wanting malecontents amongst us, who, surfeiting themselves on too
+much happiness, would persuade the people that they might be happier
+by a change. It was indeed the policy of their old forefather, when
+himself was fallen from the station of glory, to seduce mankind into
+the same rebellion with him, by telling him he might yet be freer than
+he was; that is, more free than his nature would allow, or, if I may
+so say, than God could make him. We have already all the liberty which
+free-born subjects can enjoy, and all beyond it is but licence. But if
+it be liberty of conscience which they pretend, the moderation of our
+church is such, that its practice extends not to the severity of
+persecution; and its discipline is withal so easy, that it allows more
+freedom to dissenters than any of the sects would allow to it. In the
+mean time, what right can be pretended by these men to attempt
+innovation in church or state? Who made them the trustees, or, to
+speak a little nearer their own language, the keepers of the liberty
+of England? If their call be extraordinary, let them convince us by
+working miracles; for ordinary vocation they can have none, to disturb
+the government under which they were born, and which protects them. He
+who has often changed his party, and always has made his interest the
+rule of it, gives little evidence of his sincerity for the public
+good; it is manifest he changes but for himself, and takes the people
+for tools to work his fortune. Yet the experience of all ages might
+let him know, that they, who trouble the waters first, have seldom the
+benefit of fishing; as they who began the late rebellion, enjoyed not
+the fruit of their undertaking, but were crushed themselves by the
+usurpation of their own instrument. Neither is it enough for them to
+answer, that they only intend a reformation of the government, but not
+the subversion of it: on such pretence all insurrections have been
+founded; it is striking at the root of power, which is obedience.
+Every remonstrance of private men has the seed of treason in it; and
+discourses, which are couched in ambiguous terms, are therefore the
+more dangerous, because they do all the mischief of open sedition, yet
+are safe from the punishment of the laws. These, my lord, are
+considerations, which I should not pass so lightly over, had I room to
+manage them as they deserve; for no man can be so inconsiderable in a
+nation, as not to have a share in the welfare of it; and if he be a
+true Englishman, he must at the same time be fired with indignation,
+and revenge himself as he can on the disturbers of his country. And to
+whom could I more fitly apply myself than to your lordship, who have
+not only an inborn, but an hereditary loyalty? The memorable constancy
+and sufferings of your father, almost to the ruin of his estate, for
+the royal cause, were an earnest of that, which such a parent and such
+an institution would produce in the person of a son. But so unhappy an
+occasion of manifesting your own zeal, in suffering for his present
+majesty, the providence of God, and the prudence of your
+administration, will, I hope, prevent; that, as your father's fortune
+waited on the unhappiness of his sovereign, so your own may
+participate of the better fate which attends his son. The relation,
+which you have by alliance to the noble family of your lady, serves to
+confirm to you both this happy augury. For what can deserve a greater
+place in the English chronicle, than the loyalty and courage, the
+actions and death, of the general of an army, fighting for his prince
+and country? The honour and gallantry of the earl of Lindsey is so
+illustrious a subject, that it is fit to adorn an heroic poem; for he
+was the proto-martyr of the cause, and the type of his unfortunate
+royal master[3].
+
+Yet after all, my lord, if I may speak my thoughts, you are happy
+rather to us than to yourself; for the multiplicity, the cares, and
+the vexations of your employment, have betrayed you from yourself, and
+given you up into the possession of the public. You are robbed of your
+privacy and friends, and scarce any hour of your life you can call
+your own. Those, who envy your fortune, if they wanted not
+good-nature, might more justly pity it; and when they see you watched
+by a crowd of suitors, whose importunity it is impossible to avoid,
+would conclude, with reason, that you have lost much more in true
+content, than you have gained by dignity; and that a private gentleman
+is better attended by a single servant, than your lordship with so
+clamorous a train. Pardon me, my lord, if I speak like a philosopher
+on this subject; the fortune, which makes a man uneasy, cannot make
+him happy; and a wise man must think himself uneasy, when few of his
+actions are in his choice.
+
+This last consideration has brought me to another, and a very
+seasonable one for your relief; which is, that while I pity your want
+of leisure, I have impertinently detained you so long a time. I have
+put off my own business, which was my dedication, till it is so late,
+that I am now ashamed to begin it; and therefore I will say nothing of
+the poem, which I present to you, because I know not if you are like
+to have an hour, which, with a good conscience, you may throw away in
+perusing it; and for the author, I have only to beg the continuance of
+your protection to him, who is,
+
+  My Lord,
+
+    Your Lordship's most obliged,
+      Most humble, and
+        Most obedient, servant,
+          JOHN DRYDEN.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. The person, to whom these high titles now belonged, was Sir Thomas
+   Osburne, a Baronet of good family, and decayed estate; part of
+   which had been lost in the royal cause. He was of a bold undaunted
+   character, and stood high for the prerogative. Hence he was thought
+   worthy of being sworn into the Privy Council during the
+   administration of the famous CABAL; and when that was dissolved by
+   the secession of Shaftesbury and the resignation of Clifford, he
+   was judged a proper person to succeed the latter as Lord High
+   Treasurer. He was created Earl of Danby, and was supposed to be
+   deeply engaged in the attempt to new-model our Constitution on a
+   more arbitrary plan; having been even heard to say, when sitting in
+   judgment, that a new proclamation from the Crown was superior to an
+   old act of Parliament. Nevertheless, he was persecuted as well by
+   the faction of the Duke of York, to whom he was odious for having
+   officiously introduced the famous Popish plot to the consideration
+   of parliament, as by the popular party, who hated him as a
+   favourite minister. Accordingly, in 1678, he was impeached by a
+   vote of the House of Commons, and in consequence, notwithstanding
+   the countenance of the King, was deprived of all his offices, and
+   finally committed to the tower, where he remained for four years.
+   Sir John Reresby has these reflections on Lord Danby's greatness
+   and sudden fall: "It was but a few months before, that few things
+   were transacted at court, but with the privity or consent of this
+   great man; the King's brother, and favourite mistress, were glad to
+   be fair with him, and the general address of all men of business
+   was to him, who was not only treasurer, but prime minister also,
+   who not only kept the purse, but was the first, and greatest
+   confident in all affairs of state. But now he is neglected of
+   all, forced to hide his head as a criminal, and in danger of losing
+   all he has got, and his life therewith: His family, raised from
+   privacy to the degree of Marquis, (a patent was then actually
+   passing to invest him with that dignity) is now on the brink of
+   falling below the humble stand of a yeoman; nor would almost the
+   meanest subject change conditions with him now, whom so very lately
+   the greatest beheld with envy." _Memoirs_, p. 85.
+
+   As he was obnoxious to all parties, Lord Danby would probably have
+   been made a sacrifice, had not the disturbances, which arose from
+   the various plots of the time, turned the attention of his enemies
+   to other subjects. He was liberated in 1683-4, survived the
+   Revolution, was created Duke of Leeds, and died in 1712. His
+   character was of the most decided kind; he was fertile in
+   expedients and had always something new to substitute for those
+   which failed; a faculty highly acceptable to Charles, who loved to
+   be relieved even were it but in idea, from the labour of business,
+   and the pressure of difficulty. In other points, he was probably
+   not very scrupulous, since even Dryden found cause to say at
+   length, that
+
+     Danby's matchless impudence
+     Helped to support the knave.
+
+2. This alludes to the stop of payments in exchequer, in 1671-2; a
+   desperate measure recommended by Clifford, to secure money for the
+   war against Holland.
+
+3. The Earl of Lindsey was general in chief for King Charles I. at the
+   breaking out of the civil war. As an evil omen of the royal cause,
+   he was mortally wounded and made prisoner at the battle of
+   Edgehill, the very first which was fought betwixt the king and
+   parliament. Clarendon says, "He had very many friends, and very few
+   enemies, and died generally lamented." His son Montague Bertie,
+   Earl of Lindsey, was a sufferer in the same cause. Lord Danby was
+   married to the Lady Bridget, the second daughter of that nobleman.
+
+
+
+
+                               PREFACE.
+
+
+The death of Antony and Cleopatra is a subject which has been treated
+by the greatest wits of our nation, after Shakespeare; and by all so
+variously, that their example has given me the confidence to try
+myself in this bow of Ulysses amongst the crowd of shooters; and,
+withal, to take my own measures, in aiming at the mark. I doubt not
+but the same motive has prevailed with all of us in this attempt; I
+mean the excellency of the moral: For the chief persons represented,
+were famous patterns of unlawful love; and their end accordingly was
+unfortunate. All reasonable men have long since concluded, that the
+hero of the poem ought not to be a character of perfect virtue, for
+then he could not, without injustice, be made unhappy; nor yet
+altogether wicked, because he could not then be pitied. I have
+therefore steered the middle course; and have drawn the character of
+Antony as favourably as Plutarch, Appian, and Dion Cassius would give
+me leave; the like I have observed in Cleopatra. That which is wanting
+to work up the pity to a greater heighth, was not afforded me by the
+story; for the crimes of love, which they both committed, were not
+occasioned by any necessity, or fatal ignorance, but were wholly
+voluntary; since our passions are, or ought to be, within our power.
+The fabric of the play is regular enough, as to the inferior parts of
+it; and the unities of time, place, and action, more exactly observed,
+than perhaps the English theatre requires. Particularly, the action is
+so much one, that it is the only of the kind without episode, or
+underplot; every scene in the tragedy conducing to the main design,
+and every act concluding with a turn of it. The greatest error in the
+contrivance seems to be in the person of Octavia; for, though I might
+use the privilege of a poet, to introduce her into Alexandria, yet I
+had not enough considered, that the compassion she moved to herself
+and children, was destructive to that which I reserved for Antony and
+Cleopatra; whose mutual love being founded upon vice, must lessen the
+favour of the audience to them, when virtue and innocence were
+oppressed by it. And, though I justified Antony in some measure, by
+making Octavia's departure to proceed wholly from herself; yet the
+force of the first machine still remained; and the dividing of pity,
+like the cutting of a river into many channels, abated the strength of
+the natural stream. But this is an objection which none of my critics
+have urged against me; and therefore I might have let it pass, if I
+could have resolved to have been partial to myself. The faults my
+enemies have found, are rather cavils concerning little and not
+essential decencies; which a master of the ceremonies may decide
+betwixt us. The French poets, I confess, are strict observers of these
+punctilios: They would not, for example, have suffered Cleopatra and
+Octavia to have met; or, if they had met, there must have only passed
+betwixt them some cold civilities, but no eagerness of repartee, for
+fear of offending against the greatness of their characters, and the
+modesty of their sex. This objection I foresaw, and at the same time
+contemned; for I judged it both natural and probable, that Octavia,
+proud of her new-gained conquest, would search out Cleopatra to
+triumph over her; and that Cleopatra thus attacked, was not of a
+spirit to shun the encounter: And it is not unlikely, that two
+exasperated rivals should use such satire as I have put into their
+mouths; for, after all, though the one were a Roman, and the other a
+queen, they were both women. It is true, some actions, though natural,
+are not fit to be represented; and broad obscenities in words, ought
+in good manners to be avoided: expressions therefore are a modest
+clothing of our thoughts, as breeches and petticoats are of our
+bodies. If I have kept myself within the bounds of modesty, all beyond
+it is but nicety and affectation; which is no more but modesty
+depraved into a vice. They betray themselves, who are too quick of
+apprehension in such cases, and leave all reasonable men to imagine
+worse of them, than of the poet.
+
+Honest Montaigne goes yet farther: _Nous ne sommes que ceremonie; la
+ceremonie nous emporte, et laissons la substance des choses: Nous nous
+tenons aux branches, et abandonnons le tronc et le corps. Nous avons
+appris aux dames de rougir, oyans seulement nommer ce qu'elles ne
+craignent aucunement a faire; Nous n'esons appeller a droict nos
+membres, et ne craignons pas de les employer a toute sorte de
+debauche. La ceremonie nous defend d'exprimer par paroles les choses
+licites et naturelles, et nous l'en croyons; la raison nous defend de
+n'en faire point d'illicites et mauvaises, et personne ne l'en croit._
+My comfort is, that by this opinion my enemies are but sucking
+critics, who would fain be nibbling ere their teeth are come.
+
+Yet, in this nicety of manners does the excellency of French poetry
+consist. Their heroes are the most civil people breathing; but their
+good breeding seldom extends to a word of sense; all their wit is in
+their ceremony; they want the genius which animates our stage; and
+therefore it is but necessary, when they cannot please, that they
+should take care not to offend. But as the civillest man in the
+company is commonly the dullest, so these authors, while they are
+afraid to make you laugh or cry, out of pure good manners, make you
+sleep. They are so careful not to exasperate a critic, that they never
+leave him any work; so busy with the broom, and make so clean a
+riddance, that there is little left either for censure or for praise:
+For no part of a poem is worth our discommending, where the whole is
+insipid; as when we have once tasted of palled wine, we stay not to
+examine it glass by glass. But while they affect to shine in trifles,
+they are often careless in essentials. Thus, their Hippolitus is so
+scrupulous in point of decency, that he will rather expose himself to
+death, than accuse his step-mother to his father; and my critics I am
+sure will commend him for it: But we of grosser apprehensions are apt
+to think, that this excess of generosity is not practicable, but with
+fools and madmen. This was good manners with a vengeance; and the
+audience is like to be much concerned at the misfortunes of this
+admirable hero. But take Hippolitus out of his poetic fit, and I
+suppose he would think it a wiser part, to set the saddle on the right
+horse, and chuse rather to live with the reputation of a plain-spoken
+honest man, than to die with the infamy of an incestuous villain.[1]
+In the mean time we may take notice, that where the poet ought to have
+preserved the character as it was delivered to us by antiquity, when
+he should have given us the picture of a rough young man, of the
+Amazonian strain, a jolly huntsman, and both by his profession and his
+early rising a mortal enemy to love, he has chosen to give him the
+turn of gallantry sent him to travel from Athens to Paris, taught him
+to make love, and transformed the Hippolitus of Euripides into
+Monsieur Hippolite. I should not have troubled myself thus far with
+French poets, but that I find our _Chedreux_[2] critics wholly form
+their judgments by them. But for my part, I desire to be tried by the
+laws of my own country; for it seems unjust to me, that the French
+should prescribe here, till they have conquered. Our little
+sonetteers, who follow them, have too narrow souls to judge of poetry.
+Poets themselves are the most proper, though I conclude not the only
+critics. But till some genius, as universal as Aristotle, shall arise,
+one who can penetrate into all arts and sciences, without the practice
+of them, I shall think it reasonable that the judgment of an artificer
+in his own art should be preferable to the opinion of another man; at
+least where he is not bribed by interest, or prejudiced by malice. And
+this, I suppose, is manifest by plain inductions: For, first, the
+crowd cannot be presumed to have more than a gross instinct, of what
+pleases or displeases them: Every man will grant me this; but then, by
+a particular kindness to himself, he draws his own stake first, and
+will be distinguished from the multitude, of which other men may think
+him one. But, if I come closer to those who are allowed for witty men,
+either by the advantage of their quality, or by common fame, and
+affirm that neither are they qualified to decide sovereignly
+concerning poetry, I shall yet have a strong party of my opinion; for
+most of them severally will exclude the rest, either from the number
+of witty men, or at least of able judges. But here again they are all
+indulgent to themselves; and every one who believes himself a wit,
+that is, every man, will pretend at the same time to a right judgeing.
+But to press it yet farther, there are many witty men, but few poets;
+neither have all poets a taste of tragedy. And this is the rock on
+which they are daily splitting. Poetry, which is a picture of nature,
+must generally please; but it is not to be understood that all parts
+of it must please every man; therefore is not tragedy to be judged by
+a witty man, whose taste is only confined to comedy. Nor is every man
+who loves tragedy, a sufficient judge of it; he must understand the
+excellencies of it too, or he will only prove a blind admirer, not a
+critic. From hence it comes that so many satires on poets, and
+censures of their writings, fly abroad. Men of pleasant conversation,
+(at least esteemed so) and endued with a trifling kind of fancy,
+perhaps helped out with some smattering of Latin, are ambitious to
+distinguish themselves from the herd of gentlemen, by their poetry;
+
+  _Rarus enim ferme; sensus communis in illa
+  Fortuna._
+
+And is not this a wretched affectation, not to be contented with what
+fortune has done for them, and sit down quietly with their estates,
+but they must call their wits in question, and needlessly expose their
+nakedness to public view? Not considering that they are not to expect
+the same approbation from sober men, which they have found from their
+flatterers after the third bottle. If a little glittering in discourse
+has passed them on us for witty men, where was the necessity of
+undeceiving the world? Would a man who has an ill title to an estate,
+but yet is in possession of it; would he bring it of his own accord,
+to be tried at Westminster? We who write, if we want the talent, yet
+have the excuse that we do it for a poor subsistence; but what can be
+urged in their defence, who, not having the vocation of poverty to
+scribble, out of mere wantonness take pains to make themselves
+ridiculous? Horace was certainly in the right, where he said, "That no
+man is satisfied with his own condition." A poet is not pleased,
+because he is not rich; and the rich are discontented, because the
+poets will not admit them of their number. Thus the case is hard with
+writers: If they succeed not, they must starve; and if they do, some
+malicious satire is prepared to level them, for daring to please
+without their leave. But while they are so eager to destroy the fame
+of others, their ambition is manifest in their concernment; some poem
+of their own is to lie produced, and the slaves are to be laid flat
+with their faces on the ground, that the monarch may appear in the
+greater majesty[3].
+
+Dionysius and Nero had the same longing, but with all their power they
+could never bring their business well about. 'Tis true, they
+proclaimed themselves poets by sound of trumpet; and poets they were,
+upon pain of death to any man who durst call them otherwise. The
+audience had a fine time on't, you may imagine; they sat in a bodily
+fear, and looked as demurely as they could: for it was a hanging
+matter to laugh unseasonably; and the tyrants were suspicious, as they
+had reason, that their subjects had them in the wind; so, every man,
+in his own defence, set as good a face upon the business as he could.
+It was known before-hand that the monarchs were to be crowned
+laureats; but when the show was over, and an honest man was suffered
+to depart quietly, he took out his laughter which he had stifled; with
+a firm resolution never more to see an emperor's play, though he had
+been ten years a making it. In the mean time the true poets were they
+who made the best markets, for they had wit enough to yield the prize
+with a good grace, and not contend with him who had thirty legions[4].
+They were sure to be rewarded, if they confessed themselves bad
+writers, and that was somewhat better than to be martyrs for their
+reputation. Lucan's example was enough to teach them manners; and
+after he was put to death, for overcoming Nero, the emperor carried it
+without dispute for the best poet in his dominions. No man was
+ambitious of that grinning honour; for if he heard the malicious
+trumpeter proclaiming his name before his betters, he knew there was
+but one way with him. Mecaenas took another course, and we know he was
+more than a great man, for he was witty too: But finding himself far
+gone in poetry, which Seneca assures us was not his talent, he thought
+it his best way to be well with Virgil and with Horace; that at least
+he might be a poet at the second hand; and we see how happily it has
+succeeded with him; for his own bad poetry is forgotten, and their
+panegyricks of him still remain. But they who should be our patrons,
+are for no such expensive ways to fame; they have much of the poetry
+of Mecaenas, but little of his liberality. They are for persecuting
+Horace and Virgil, in the persons of their successors; for such is
+every man, who has any part of their soul and fire, though in a less
+degree. Some of their little zanies yet go farther; for they are
+persecutors even of Horace himself; as far as they are able, by their
+ignorant and vile imitations of him; by making an unjust use of his
+authority and turning his artillery against his friends. But how would
+he disdain to be copied by such hands! I dare answer for him, he would
+be more uneasy in their company, than he was with Crispinus, their
+forefather, in the Holy Way; and would no more have allowed them a
+place amongst the critics, than he would Demetrius the mimic, and
+Tigellius the buffoon;
+
+  --_Demetri, teque, Tigelli,
+  Discipulorum inter jubeo plorare cathedras._
+
+With what scorn would he look down on such miserable translators, who
+make doggrel of his Latin, mistake his meaning, mis-apply his
+censures, and often contradict their own? He is fixed as a landmark to
+set out the bounds of poetry:
+
+  --_Saxum antiquum, ingens,--
+  Limes agro positus, litem ut discerneret arvis._
+
+But other arms than theirs, and other sinews are required, to raise
+the weight of such an author; and when they would toss him against
+their enemies,
+
+  _Genua labant, gelidus concrevit frigore sanguis.
+  Tum lapis ipse, viri vacuum per inane volutus,
+  Nec spatium evasit totum, nec pertulit ictum_[5].
+
+For my part, I would wish no other revenge, either for myself, or the
+rest of the poets, from this rhyming judge of the twelve-penny
+gallery, this legitimate son of Sternhold, than that he would
+subscribe his name to his censure, or (not to tax him beyond his
+learning) set his mark: For, should he own himself publicly, and come
+from behind the lion's skin, they, whom he condemns, would be thankful
+to him, they, whom he praises, would chuse to be condemned; and the
+magistrates, whom he has elected, would modestly withdraw from their
+employment, to avoid the scandal of his nomination[6]. The sharpness
+of his satire, next to himself, falls most heavily on his friends, and
+they ought never to forgive him for commending them perpetually the
+wrong way, and sometimes by contraries. If he have a friend, whose
+hastiness in writing is his greatest fault, Horace would have taught
+him to have minced the matter, and to have called it readiness of
+thought, and a flowing fancy; for friendship will allow a man to
+christen an imperfection by the name of some neighbour virtue;
+
+  _Vellem in amicitia sic erraremus; et isti
+  Errori nomen virtus posuisset honestum._
+
+But he would never have allowed him to have called a slow man hasty,
+or a hasty writer a slow drudge[7], as Juvenal explains it:
+
+  --_Canibus pigris, scabieque vetusta
+  Laevibus, et siccae lambentibus ora lucernae,
+  Nomen erit, Pardus, Tygris, Leo; si quid adhuc est
+  Quod fremit in terris violentius_[8].
+
+Yet Lucretius laughs at a foolish lover, even for excusing the
+imperfections of his mistress:
+
+  _Nigra [Greek: melichroos] est, immunda et foetida [Greek: akosmos].
+  Balba loqui non quit, [Greek: traulizei]; muta pudens est, &c._
+
+But to drive it _ad AEthiopem cygnum_ is not to be endured. I leave him
+to interpret this by the benefit of his French version on the other
+side, and without farther considering him, than I have the rest of my
+illiterate censors, whom I have disdained to answer, because they are
+not qualified for judges. It remains that I acquaint the reader, that
+I have endeavoured in this play to follow the practice of the
+ancients, who, as Mr Rymer has judiciously observed, are and ought to
+be our masters[9]. Horace likewise gives it for a rule in his art of
+poetry.
+
+  --_Vos exemplaria Graeca
+  Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna._
+
+Yet, though their models are regular, they are too little for English
+tragedy; which requires to be built in a larger compass. I could give
+an instance in the "Oedipus Tyrannus," which was the master piece of
+Sophocles; but I reserve it for a more fit occasion, which I hope to
+have hereafter. In my style, I have professed to imitate the divine
+Shakespeare; which that I might perform more freely, I have
+disincumbered myself from rhyme. Not that I condemn my former way, but
+that this is more proper to my present purpose. I hope I need not to
+explain myself, that I have not copied my author servilely: Words and
+phrases must of necessity receive a change in succeeding ages; but it
+is almost a miracle that much of his language remains so pure; and
+that he who began dramatic poetry amongst us, untaught by any, and, as
+Ben Jonson tells us, without learning, should by the force of his own
+genius perform so much, that in a manner he has left no praise for any
+who come after him. The occasion is fair, and the subject would be
+pleasant to handle the difference of styles betwixt him and Fletcher,
+and wherein, and how far they are both to be imitated. But since I
+must not be over-confident of my own performance after him, it will be
+prudence in me to be silent. Yet, I hope, I may affirm, and without
+vanity, that, by imitating him, I have excelled myself throughout the
+play; and particularly, that I prefer the scene betwixt Antony and
+Ventidius in the first act, to any thing which I have written in this
+kind.
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. That the reader may himself judge of the justice of Dryden's
+   censure, I subjoin the argument on this knotty point, as it is
+   stated by Hippolytus and his mistress in the 5th act of the
+   "Phedre" of Racine.
+
+                               Aricie.
+
+     _Quoi vous pouves vous taire en ce peril extreme?
+     Vous laisses dans l'erreur un pere qui vous uime?
+     Cruel, si de mes pleurs meprisant le pouvoir,
+     Vous consentez sans peine a ne me plus revoir,
+     Partes, separes vous de la triste Aricie,
+     Mais du moins en partaut assures votre vie.
+     Defendes votre honneur d' un reproche honteux,
+     Et forces votre pere a revoquer ses vaeux;
+     Il en est tems encore. Pourguoi, par quel caprice,
+     Laisses vous le champ libre a votre accusatrice?
+     Ecclaircisses Thesee._
+
+                              Hippolyte.
+
+                             _He que nai-je point dit?
+     Ai-je du mettre au jour l'opprobre de son lit?
+     Devois-je en lui faisant un recit trop sincere,
+     D'un indigne rougeur couvrir le front d'un pere?
+     Vous seul aves perce ce mystere odieux,
+     Mon coeur pour s'epancher, n'a que vous et les dieux:
+     Je n'ai pu vous cacher, juges si je vous aime,
+     Tout ce que je voulois me cacher a moi-meme.
+     Mais songes sous quel sceau je vous l'ai revele;
+     Oublies, si se peut, que je vous ai parle,
+     Madame; et que jamais une bouche si pure
+     Ne s'ouvre pour conter cette horrible avanture.
+     Sur l'equite des dieux osons nous confier,
+     Ils ont trop d'interet a me justifier,
+     Et Phedre tot ou tard de son crime punie,
+     N'en sauroit eviter la juste ignominie._
+
+2. _Chedreux_ was the name of the fashionable periwigs of the day, and
+   appears to have been derived from their maker. A French
+   _peruqirier_, in one of Shadwell's comedies, says, "You talke of de
+   Chedreux; he is no bodie to me. Dere is no man can travaille vis
+   mee. Monsieur Wildish has got my peruke on his head. Let me see,
+   here is de haire, de curie, de brucle, ver good, ver good. If dat
+   foole Chedreux make de peruke like me, I vil be hanga." Bury Fair,
+   Act I. Scene II. It appears from the letter of the literary veteran
+   in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1745, that our author, as he
+   advanced in reputation, assumed the fashionable _Chedreux_ periwig.
+
+3. This passage though, doubtless applicable to many of the men of
+   rank at the court of Charles II., was particularly levelled at Lord
+   Rochester with whom our author was now on bad terms. It is hardly
+   fair to enquire how far this description of the discourse and
+   talents of a person of wit and honour agrees with that given in the
+   dedication to Marriage a-la-Mode, when, in compliment to the same
+   nobleman, we are told, that, "Wit seems to have lodged itself more
+   nobly in this age, than in any of the former; and that his lordship
+   had but another step to make, from the patron of wit, to become its
+   tyrant." This last observation seems to have been made in the
+   spirit of prophecy.
+
+4. Such is said to have been the answer of a philosopher to a friend,
+   who upbraided him with giving up a dispute to the Emperor Adrian.
+
+5. This passage alludes to an imitation of Horace, quaintly entitled
+   an "Allusion to the Tenth Satire of his First Book" which was the
+   production of Rochester. As however it appeared without a name, it
+   may have been for a time imputed to some of the inferior wits, whom
+   his Lordship patronized. It contains a warm attack on Dryden, part
+   of which has been already quoted. Dryden probably knew the real
+   author of this satire, although he chose to impute it to one of the
+   "Zanies" of the great. At least it seems unlikely that he should
+   take Crown for the author, as has been supposed by Mr Malone; for
+   in the imitation we have these lines:
+
+     For by that rule I might as well admit
+     Crown's heavy scenes for poetry and wit.
+
+   Crown could hardly be charged as author of a poem, in which this
+   sarcasm occurred.
+
+6. Alluding probably to the concluding lines of the Satire.
+
+     I loath the rabble; 'tis enough for me
+     If Sedley, Shadwell, Shepherd, Wycherley,
+     Godolphin, Butler, Buckhurst, Buckingham,
+     And some few more whom I omit to name,
+     Approve my sense; I count their censure fame.
+
+7. Dryden alludes to the censure past on himself, where it is said,
+
+     Five hundred verses in a morning writ.
+     Prove him no more a poet than a wit.
+
+8. This refers to the characters of Shadwell and Wycherley, which
+   according to Dryden, the satirist seems to have misunderstood.
+
+     Of all our modern wits, none seems to me
+     Once to have touched upon true comedy,
+     But hasty Shadwell and slow Wycherley;
+     Shadwell's unfinished works do yet impart
+     Great proofs of force of nature, none of art.
+     With just bold strokes he dashes here and there,
+     Shewing great mastery with little care;
+     But Wycherley earns hard whate'er he gains,
+     He wants no judgment, and he spares no pains;
+     He frequently excels, and, at the least,
+     Makes fewer faults than any of the rest.
+
+9. "I have chiefly considered the fable, or plot, which all conclude
+   to be the soul of a tragedy, which, with the ancients, is all ways
+   to be found a reasonable soul, but with us, for the most part, a
+   brutish, and often worse than brutish.
+
+   "And certainly there is not required much learning, or that a man
+   must be some Aristotle and doctor of subtilties, to form a right
+   judgement in this particular; common sense suffices; and rarely
+   have I known women-judges mistaken in these points, where they have
+   patience to think; and left to their own heads, they decide with
+   their own sense. But if people are prepossessed, if they will judge
+   of Rollo by Othello, and one crooked line by another, we can never
+   have a certainty."
+
+   The tragedies of the last age considered, in a letter to Fleetwood
+   Shepherd, by Thomas Rymer, Edit. 1678, p. 4.
+
+
+
+
+                              PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  What flocks of critics hover here to-day,
+  As vultures wait on armies for their prey,
+  All gaping for the carcase of a play!
+  With croaking notes they bode some dire event,
+  And follow dying poets by the scent.
+  Ours gives himself for gone; you've watched your time:
+  He fights this day unarmed,--without his rhyme;--
+  And brings a tale which often has been told;
+  As sad as Dido's; and almost as old.
+  His hero, whom you wits his bully call,
+  Bates of his mettle, and scarce rants at all:
+  He's somewhat lewd; but a well-meaning mind;
+  Weeps much; fights little; but is wond'rous kind.
+  In short, a pattern, and companion fit,
+  For all the keeping tonies of the pit.
+  I could name more: a wife, and mistress too;
+  Both (to be plain) too good for most of you:
+  The wife well-natured, and the mistress true.
+    Now, poets, if your fame has been his care,
+  Allow him all the candour you can spare.
+  A brave man scorns to quarrel once a-day;
+  Like Hectors, in at every petty fray.
+  Let those find fault whose wit's so very small,
+  They've need to show that they can think at all;
+  Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow;
+  He who would search for pearls, must dive below.
+  Fops may have leave to level all they can;
+  As pigmies would be glad to lop a man.
+  Half-wits are fleas; so little and so light,
+  We scarce could know they live, but that they bite.
+  But, as the rich, when tired with daily feasts,
+  For change, become their next poor tenant's guests;
+  Drink hearty draughts of ale from plain brown bowls,
+  And snatch the homely rasher from the coals:
+  So you, retiring from much better cheer,
+  For once, may venture to do penance here.
+  And since that plenteous autumn now is past,
+  Whose grapes and peaches have indulged your taste,
+  Take in good part, from our poor poet's board,
+  Such rivelled fruits as winter can afford.
+
+
+
+
+                          DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+
+  MARK ANTONY.
+  VENTIDIUS, _His General._
+  DOLABELLA, _his Friend._
+  ALEXAS, _the Queen's Eunuch._
+  SERAPION, _Priest of Isis._
+  MYRIS, _another Priest._
+  _Servants to_ ANTONY.
+
+  CLEOPATRA, _Queen of AEgypt._
+  OCTAVIA, ANTONY'S _Wife._
+  CHARMION,  } CLEOPATRA'S _Maids._
+  IRAS,      }
+  ANTONY'S _two little Daughters._
+
+SCENE.--_Alexandria._
+
+
+
+
+                            ALL FOR LOVE;
+
+                               OR, THE
+
+                           WORLD WELL LOST.
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE I.--_The Temple of_ ISIS.
+
+  _Enter_ SERAPION, MYRIS, _Priests of_ ISIS.
+
+_Ser._ Portents and prodigies have grown so frequent,
+That they have lost their name. Our fruitful Nile
+Flowed ere the wonted season, with a torrent
+So unexpected, and so wondrous fierce,
+That the wild deluge overtook the haste
+Even of the hinds that watched it: Men and beasts
+Were borne above the tops of trees, that grew
+On the utmost margin of the water-mark.
+Then, with so swift an ebb the flood drove backward,
+It slipt from underneath the scaly herd:
+Here monstrous phocae; panted on the shore;
+Forsaken dolphins there, with their broad tails
+Lay lashing the departing waves: hard by them,
+Sea-horses floundring in the slimy mud,
+Tossed up their heads, and dashed the ooze about them.
+
+  _Enter_ ALEXAS _behind them._
+
+_Myr._ Avert these omens, Heaven!
+
+_Ser._ Last night, between the hours of twelve and one,
+In a lone aisle of the temple while I walked,
+A whirlwind rose, that, with a violent blast,
+Shook all the dome: the doors around me clapt;
+The iron wicket, that defends the vault,
+Where the long race of Ptolemies is laid,
+Burst open, and disclosed the mighty dead.
+From out each monument, in order placed,
+An armed ghost starts up: the boy-king last
+Reared his inglorious head. A peal of groans
+Then followed, and a lamentable voice
+Cried, Egypt is no more. My blood ran back,
+My shaking knees against each other knocked;
+On the cold pavement down I fell entranced,
+And so unfinished left the horrid scene.
+
+_Alex._ And dreamed you this? or did invent the story,
+                                                   [_Shewing himself._
+To frighten our Egyptian boys withal,
+And train them up, betimes, in fear of priesthood?
+
+_Serap._ My lord, I saw you not,
+Nor meant my words should reach your ears; but what
+I uttered was most true.
+
+_Alex._ A foolish dream,
+Bred from the fumes of indigested feasts,
+And holy luxury.
+
+_Serap._ I know my duty:
+This goes no farther.
+
+_Alex._ 'Tis not fit it should;
+Nor would the times now bear it, were it true.
+All southern, from yon hills, the Roman camp
+Hangs o'er us black and threatning, like a storm
+Just breaking on our heads.
+
+_Serap._ Our faint Egyptians pray for Antony;
+But in their servile hearts they own Octavius.
+
+_Myr._ Why then does Antony dream out his hours,
+And tempts not fortune for a noble day,
+Which might redeem what Actium lost?
+
+_Alex._ He thinks 'tis past recovery.
+
+_Serap._ Yet the foe
+Seems not to press the siege.
+
+_Alex._ O, there's the wonder.
+Mecaenas and Agrippa, who can most
+With Caesar, are his foes. His wife Octavia,
+Driven from his house, solicits her revenge;
+And Dolabella, who was once his friend,
+Upon some private grudge, now seeks his ruin:
+Yet still war seems on either side to sleep.
+
+_Serap._ 'Tis strange that Antony, for some days past,
+Has not beheld the face of Cleopatra;
+But here, in Isis temple, lives retired,
+And makes his heart a prey to black despair.
+
+_Alex._ 'Tis true; and we much fear he hopes by absence
+To cure his mind of love.
+
+_Serap._ If he be vanquished,
+Or make his peace, Egypt is doomed to be
+A Roman province; and our plenteous harvests
+Must then redeem the scarceness of their soil.
+While Antony stood firm, our Alexandria
+Rivalled proud Rome, (dominion's other seat)
+And Fortune striding, like a vast Colossus,
+Could fix an equal foot of empire here.
+
+_Alex._ Had I my wish, these tyrants of all nature,
+Who lord it o'er mankind, should perish,--perish,
+Each by the other's sword; but, since our will
+Is lamely followed by our power, we must
+Depend on one; with him to rise or fall.
+
+_Serap._ How stands the queen affected?
+
+_Alex._ O she dotes,
+She dotes, Serapion, on this vanquished man,
+And winds herself about his mighty ruins;
+Whom would she yet forsake, yet yield him up,
+This hunted prey, to his pursuer's hands,
+She might preserve us all: but 'tis in vain--
+This changes my designs, this blasts my counsels,
+And makes me use all means to keep him here,
+Whom I could wish divided from her arms,
+Far as the earth's deep centre. Well, you know
+The state of things; no more of your ill omens
+And black prognostics; labour to confirm
+The people's hearts.
+
+  _Enter_ VENTIDIUS, _talking aside with a Gentleman of_ ANTONY'S.
+
+_Serap._ These Romans will o'erhear us.
+But, who's that stranger? By his warlike port,
+His fierce demeanour, and erected look,
+He's of no vulgar note.
+
+_Alex._ O 'tis Ventidius,
+Our emperor's great lieutenant in the East,
+Who first showed Rome that Parthia could be conquered.
+When Antony returned from Syria last,
+He left this man to guard the Roman frontiers.
+
+_Serap._ You seem to know him well.
+
+_Alex._ Too well. I saw him in Cilicia first,
+When Cleopatra there met Antony:
+A mortal foe he was to us, and Egypt.
+But,--let me witness to the worth I hate,--
+A braver Roman never drew a sword;
+Firm to his prince, but as a friend, not slave.
+He ne'er was of his pleasures; but presides
+O'er all his cooler hours, and morning counsels:
+In short, the plainness, fierceness, rugged virtue,
+Of an old true-stampt Roman lives in him.
+His coming bodes I know not what of ill
+To our affairs. Withdraw, to mark him better;
+And I'll acquaint you why I sought you here,
+And what's our present work.
+                        [_They withdraw to a corner of the stage; and_
+                         VENTIDIUS, _with the other, comes forward to
+                         the front._
+
+_Vent._ Not see him, say you?
+I say, I must, and will.
+
+_Gent._ He has commanded,
+On pain of death, none should approach his presence.
+
+_Vent._ I bring him news will raise his drooping spirits,
+Give him new life.
+
+_Gent._ He sees not Cleopatra.
+
+_Vent._ Would he had never seen her!
+
+_Gent._ He eats not, drinks not, sleeps not, has no use
+Of any thing, but thought; or, if he talks,
+'Tis to himself, and then 'tis perfect raving:
+Then he defies the world, and bids it pass;
+Sometimes he gnaws his lip, and curses loud
+The boy Octavius; then he draws his mouth
+Into a scornful smile, and cries,--"Take all,
+The world's not worth my care."
+
+_Vent._ Just, just his nature.
+Virtue's his path; but sometimes 'tis too narrow
+For his vast soul; and then he starts out wide,
+And bounds into a vice, that bears him far
+From his first course, and plunges him in ills:
+But, when his danger makes him find his fault,
+Quick to observe, and full of sharp remorse,
+He censures eagerly his own misdeeds,
+Judging himself with malice to himself,
+And not forgiving what as man he did,
+Because his other parts are more than man.--
+He must not thus be lost.      [ALEXAS _and the Priests come forward._
+
+_Alex._ You have your full instructions, now advance;
+Proclaim your orders loudly.
+
+_Serap._ Romans, Egyptians, hear the queen's command.
+Thus Cleopatra bids: Let labour cease;
+To pomp and triumphs give this happy day,
+That gave the world a lord: 'tis Antony's.
+Live, Antony; and Cleopatra live!
+Be this the general voice sent up to heaven,
+And every public place repeat this echo.
+
+_Vent._ Fine pageantry!                                      [_Aside._
+
+_Serap._ Set before your doors
+The images of all your sleeping fathers,
+With laurels crowned; with laurels wreath your posts,
+And strew with flowers the pavement; let the priests
+Do present sacrifice; pour out the wine,
+And call the gods to join with you in gladness.
+
+_Vent._ Curse on the tongue that bids this general joy!
+Can they be friends of Antony, who revel
+When Antony's in danger? Hide, for shame,
+You Romans, your great grandsires' images,
+For fear their souls should animate their marbles,
+To blush at their degenerate progeny.
+
+_Alex._ A love, which knows no bounds to Antony,
+Would mark the day with honours, when all heaven
+Laboured for him, when each propitious star
+Stood wakeful in his orb, to watch that hour,
+And shed his better influence. Her own birth-day
+Our queen neglected, like a vulgar fate,
+That passed obscurely by.
+
+_Vent._ Would it had slept,
+Divided far from his; till some remote
+And future age had called it out, to ruin
+Some other prince, not him!
+
+_Alex._ Your emperor,
+Though grown unkind, would be more gentle, than
+To upbraid my queen for loving him too well.
+
+_Vent._ Does the mute sacrifice upbraid the priest?
+He knows him not his executioner.
+O, she has decked his ruin with her love,
+Led him in golden bands to gaudy slaughter,
+And made perdition pleasing: She has left him
+The blank of what he was;
+I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmanned him:
+Can any Roman see, and know him now,
+Thus altered from the lord of half mankind,
+Unbent, unsinewed, made a woman's toy,
+Shrunk from the vast extent of all his honours,
+And crampt within a corner of the world?
+O, Antony!
+Thou bravest soldier, and thou best of friends!
+Bounteous as nature; next to nature's God!
+Couldst thou but make new worlds, so wouldst thou give them,
+As bounty were thy being: rough in battle,
+As the first Romans, when they went to war;
+Yet, after victory, more pitiful
+Than all their praying virgins left at home!
+
+_Alex._ Would you could add, to those more shining virtues,
+His truth to her who loves him.
+
+_Vent._ Would I could not!
+But wherefore waste I precious hours with thee?
+Thou art her darling mischief, her chief engine,
+Antony's other fate. Go, tell thy queen,
+Ventidius is arrived, to end her charms.
+Let your Egyptian timbrels play alone,
+Nor mix effeminate sounds with Roman trumpets.
+You dare not fight for Antony; go pray,
+And keep your coward's holiday in temples.      [_Exeunt_ ALEX. SERAP.
+
+  _Re-enter the Gentleman of_ M. ANTONY.
+
+_2 Gent._ The emperor approaches, and commands,
+On pain of death, that none presume to stay.
+
+_1 Gent._ I dare not disobey him.         [_Going out with the other._
+
+_Vent._ Well, I dare.
+But I'll observe him first unseen, and find
+Which way his humour drives: the rest I'll venture.      [_Withdraws._
+
+  _Enter_ ANTONY, _walking with a disturbed motion before he speaks._
+
+_Ant._ They tell me, 'tis my birth-day, and I'll keep it
+With double pomp of sadness.
+'Tis what the day deserves, which gave me breath.
+Why was I raised the meteor of the world,
+Hung in the skies, and blazing as I travelled,
+Till all my fires were spent; and then cast downward,
+To be trod out by Caesar?
+
+_Vent._ [_Aside._] On my soul,
+'Tis mournful, wondrous mournful!
+
+_Ant._ Count thy gains.
+Now, Antony, wouldst thou be born for this!
+Glutton of fortune, thy devouring youth
+Has starved thy wanting age.
+
+_Vent._ How sorrow shakes him!                               [_Aside._
+So, now the tempest tears him up by the roots,
+And on the ground extends the noble ruin.
+                                   [ANT. _having thrown himself down._
+Lie there, thou shadow of an emperor;
+The place, thou pressest on thy mother earth,
+Is all thy empire now: now it contains thee;
+Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large.
+When thou'rt contracted in thy narrow urn,
+Shrunk to a few cold ashes; then Octavia,
+(For Cleopatra will not live to see it)
+Octavia then will have thee all her own,
+And bear thee in her widowed hand to Caesar;
+Caesar will weep, the crocodile will weep,
+To see his rival of the universe
+Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more on't.
+
+_Ant._ Give me some music; look that it be sad:
+I'll sooth my melancholy, till I swell,
+And burst myself with sighing.--                        [_Soft music._
+'Tis somewhat to my humour: stay, I fancy
+I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature;
+Of all forsaken, and forsaking all;
+Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene,
+Stretched at my length beneath some blasted oak,
+I lean my head upon the mossy bark,
+And look just of a piece as I grew from it;
+My uncombed locks, matted like misletoe,
+Hang o'er my hoary face; a murm'ring brook
+Runs at my foot.
+
+_Vent._ Methinks, I fancy
+Myself there too.
+
+_Ant._ The herd come jumping by me,
+And, fearless, quench their thirst, while I look on,
+And take me for their fellow-citizen.
+More of this image, more; it lulls my thoughts.   [_Soft music again._
+
+_Vent._ I must disturb him; I can hold no longer.
+                                                 [_Stands before him._
+
+_Ant._ [_Starting up._] Art thou Ventidius?
+
+_Vent._ Are you Antony?
+I'm liker what I was, than you to him
+I left you last.
+
+_Ant._ I'm angry.
+
+_Vent._ So am I.
+
+_Ant._ I would be private: leave me.
+
+_Vent._ Sir, I love you,
+And therefore will not leave you.
+
+_Ant._ Will not leave me!
+Where have you learnt that answer? Who am I?
+
+_Vent._ My emperor; the man I love next heaven:
+If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin:
+You're all that's good, and godlike.
+
+_Ant._ All that's wretched.
+You will not leave me then?
+
+_Vent._ 'Twas too presuming
+To say I would not; but I dare not leave you:
+And, 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence
+So soon, when I so far have come to see you.
+
+_Ant._ Now thou hast seen me, art thou satified?
+For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough;
+And, if a foe, too much.
+
+_Vent._ Look, emperor, this is no common dew,              [_Weeping._
+I have not wept this forty years; but now
+My mother comes afresh into my eyes;
+I cannot help her softness.
+
+_Ant._ By heaven, he weeps! poor good old man, he weeps!
+The big round drops course one another down
+The furrows of his cheeks.--Stop them, Ventidius,
+Or I shall blush to death: they set my shame,
+That caused them, full before me.
+
+_Vent._ I'll do my best.
+
+_Ant._ Sure there's contagion in the tears of friends:
+See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not
+For my own griefs, but thine.--Nay, father!
+
+_Vent._ Emperor.
+
+_Ant._ Emperor! Why, that's the style of victory;
+The conqu'ring soldier, red with unfelt wounds,
+Salutes his general so: but never more
+Shall that sound reach my ears.
+
+_Vent._ I warrant you.
+
+_Ant._ Actium, Actium! Oh!--
+
+_Vent._ It sits too near you.
+
+_Ant._ Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by day,
+And, in my short, distracted, nightly slumbers,
+The hag that rides my dreams.--
+
+_Vent._ Out with it; give it vent.
+
+_Ant._ Urge not my shame.
+I lost a battle,--
+
+_Vent._ So has Julius done.
+
+_Ant._ Thou favour'st me, and speak'st not half thou think'st;
+For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly:
+But Antony--
+
+_Vent._ Nay, stop not.
+
+_Ant._ Antony,--
+Well, thou wilt have it,--like a coward, fled,
+Fled while his soldiers fought; fled first, Ventidius.
+Thou long'st to curse me, and I give thee leave.
+I know thou cam'st prepared to rail.
+
+_Vent._ I did.
+
+_Ant._ I'll help thee.--I have been a man, Ventidius.
+
+_Vent._ Yes, and a brave one; but--
+
+_Ant._ I know thy meaning.
+But I have lost my reason, have disgraced
+The name of soldier, with inglorious ease.
+In the full vintage of my flowing honours,
+Sat still, and saw it prest by other hands.
+Fortune came smiling to my youth, and wooed it,
+And purple greatness met my ripened years.
+When first I came to empire, I was borne
+On tides of people, crowding to my triumphs;
+The wish of nations, and the willing world
+Received me as its pledge of future peace;
+I was so great, so happy, so beloved,
+Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains,
+And worked against my fortune, chid her from me,
+And turned her loose; yet still she came again.
+My careless days, and my luxurious nights,
+At length have wearied her, and now she's gone,
+Gone, gone, divorced for ever. Help me, soldier,
+To curse this madman, this industrious fool,
+Who laboured to be wretched: Pr'ythee curse me.
+
+_Vent._ No.
+
+_Ant._ Why?
+
+_Vent._ You are too sensible already
+Of what you've done, too conscious of your failings;
+And, like a scorpion, whipt by others first
+To fury, sting yourself in mad revenge.
+I would bring balm, and pour it in your wounds,
+Cure your distempered mind, and heal your fortunes.
+
+_Ant._ I know thou would'st.
+
+_Vent._ I will.
+
+_Ant._ Ha, ha, ha, ha!
+
+_Vent._ You laugh.
+
+_Ant._ I do, to see officious love
+Give cordials to the dead.
+
+_Vent._ You would be lost then?
+
+_Ant._ I am.
+
+_Vent._ I say you are not. Try your fortune.
+
+_Ant._ I have, to the utmost. Dost thou think me desperate,
+Without just cause? No, when I found all lost
+Beyond repair, I hid me from the world,
+And learnt to scorn it here; which now I do
+So heartily, I think it is not worth
+The cost of keeping.
+
+_Vent._ Caesar thinks not so:
+He'll thank you for the gift he could not take.
+You would be killed like Tully, would you? do,
+Hold out your throat to Caesar, and die tamely.
+
+_Ant._ No, I can kill myself; and so resolve.
+
+_Vent._ I can die with you too, when time shall serve;
+But fortune calls upon us now to live,
+To fight, to conquer.
+
+_Ant._ Sure thou dream'st, Ventidius.
+
+_Vent._ No; 'tis you dream; you sleep away your hours
+In desperate sloth, miscalled philosophy.
+Up, up, for honour's sake; twelve legions wait you,
+And long to call you chief: By painful journeys,
+I led them, patient both of heat and hunger,
+Down from the Parthian marches to the Nile.
+'Twill do you good to see their sun-burnt faces,
+Their scarred cheeks, and chopt hands: there's virtue in them.
+They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates
+Than yon trim bands can buy.
+
+_Ant._ Where left you them?
+
+_Vent._ I said in Lower Syria.
+
+_Ant._ Bring them hither;
+There may be life in these.
+
+_Vent._ They will not come.
+
+_Ant._ Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids,
+To double my despair? They're mutinous.
+
+_Vent._ Most firm and loyal.
+
+_Ant._ Yet they will not march
+To succour me. Oh trifler!
+
+_Vent._ They petition
+You would make haste to head them.
+
+_Ant._ I'm besieged.
+
+_Vent._ There's but one way shut up: How came I hither?
+
+_Ant._ I will not stir.
+
+_Vent._ They would perhaps desire
+A better reason.
+
+_Ant._ I have never used
+My soldiers to demand a reason of
+My actions. Why did they refuse to march?
+
+_Vent._ They said they would not fight for Cleopatra.
+
+_Ant._ What was't they said?
+
+_Vent._ They said they would not fight for Cleopatra.
+Why should they fight indeed, to make her conquer,
+And make you more a slave? to gain you kingdoms,
+Which, for a kiss, at your next midnight feast,
+You'll sell to her? Then she new-names her jewels,
+And calls this diamond such or such a tax;
+Each pendant in her ear shall be a province.
+
+_Ant._ Ventidius, I allow your tongue free licence
+On all my other faults; but, on your life,
+No word of Cleopatra: she deserves
+More worlds than I can lose.
+
+_Vent._ Behold, you Powers,
+To whom you have entrusted human kind!
+See Europe, Afric, Asia, put in balance,
+And all weighed down by one light, worthless woman!
+I think the Gods are Antonies, and give,
+Like prodigals, this nether world away
+To none but wasteful hands.
+
+_Ant._ You grow presumptuous.
+
+_Vent._ I take the privilege of plain love to speak.
+
+_Ant._ Plain love! plain arrogance, plain insolence!
+Thy men are cowards; thou, an envious traitor;
+Who, under seeming honesty, hast vented
+The burden of thy rank o'erflowing gall.
+O that thou wert my equal; great in arms
+As the first Caesar was, that I might kill thee
+Without a stain to honour!
+
+_Vent._ You may kill me;
+You have done more already,--called me traitor.
+
+_Ant._ Art thou not one?
+
+_Vent._ For showing you yourself,
+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 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 me? 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.
+Caesar 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._ O, 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.                     [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT II. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, IRAS, _and_ ALEXAS.
+
+_Cleo._ What shall I do, or whither shall I turn?
+Ventidius has o'ercome, and he will go.
+
+_Alex._ He goes to fight for you.
+
+_Cleo._ Then he would see me, ere he went to fight:
+Flatter me not: If once he goes, he's lost,
+And all my hopes destroyed.
+
+_Alex._ Does this weak passion
+Become a mighty queen?
+
+_Cleo._ I am no queen:
+Is this to be a queen, to be besieged
+By yon insulting Roman, and to wait
+Each hour the victor's chain? These ills are small;
+For Antony is lost, and I can mourn
+For nothing else but him. Now come, Octavius,
+I have no more to lose; prepare thy bands;
+I'm fit to be a captive: Antony
+Has taught my mind the fortune of a slave.
+
+_Iras._ Call reason to assist you.
+
+_Cleo._ I have none,
+And none would have: My love's a noble madness,
+Which shows the cause deserved it. Moderate sorrow
+Fits vulgar love, and for a vulgar man:
+But I have loved with such transcendent passion,
+I soared, at first, quite out of reason's view,
+And now am lost above it. No, I'm proud
+'Tis thus: Would Antony could see me now!
+Think you he would not sigh, though he must leave me?
+Sure he would sigh; for he is noble-natured,
+And bears a tender heart: I know him well.
+Ah, no, I know him not; I knew him once,
+But now 'tis past.
+
+_Iras._ Let it be past with you:
+Forget him, madam.
+
+_Cleo._ Never, never, Iras.
+He once was mine; and once, though now 'tis gone,
+Leaves a faint image of possession still.
+
+_Alex._ Think him inconstant, cruel, and ungrateful.
+
+_Cleo._ I cannot: If I could, those thoughts were vain.
+Faithless, ungrateful, cruel, though he be,
+I still must love him.
+
+  _Enter_ CHARMION.
+
+Now, what news, my Charmion?
+Will he be kind? and will he not forsake me?
+Am I to live, or die? nay, do I live?
+Or am I dead? for when he gave his answer,
+Fate took the word, and then I lived or died.
+
+_Char._ I found him, madam--
+
+_Cleo._ A long speech preparing?
+If thou bring'st comfort, haste, and give it me,
+For never was more need.
+
+_Iras._ I know he loves you.
+
+_Cleo._ Had he been kind, her eyes had told me so,
+Before her tongue could speak it: Now she studies,
+To soften what he said; but give me death,
+Just as he sent it, Charmion, undisguised,
+And in the words he spoke.
+
+_Char._ I found him, then,
+Encompassed round, I think, with iron statues;
+So mute, so motionless his soldiers stood,
+While awfully he cast his eyes about,
+And every leader's hopes or fears surveyed:
+Methought he looked resolved, and yet not pleased.
+When he beheld me struggling in the crowd,
+He blushed, and bade make way.
+
+_Alex._ There's comfort yet.
+
+_Char._ Ventidius fixed his eyes upon my passage,
+Severely, as he meant to frown me back,
+And sullenly gave place: I told my message,
+Just as you gave it, broken and disordered;
+I numbered in it all your sighs and tears,
+And while I moved your pitiful request,
+That you but only begged a last farewell,
+He fetched an inward groan; and every time
+I named you, sighed, as if his heart were breaking.
+But, shunned my eyes, and guiltily looked down:
+He seemed not now that awful Antony,
+Who shook an armed assembly with his nod;
+But, making show as he would rub his eyes,
+Disguised and blotted out a falling tear.
+
+_Cleo._ Did he then weep? And was I worth a tear?
+If what thou hast to say be not as pleasing,
+Tell me no more, but let me die contented.
+
+_Char._ He bid me say,--He knew himself so well,
+He could deny you nothing, if he saw you;
+And therefore--
+
+_Cleo._ Thou wouldst say, he would not see me?
+
+_Char._ And therefore begged you not to use a power,
+Which he could ill resist; yet he should ever
+Respect you, as he ought.
+
+_Cleo._ Is that a word
+For Antony to use to Cleopatra?
+Oh that faint word, _respect_! how I disdain it!
+Disdain myself, for loving after it!
+He should have kept that word for cold Octavia.
+Respect is for a wife: Am I that thing,
+That dull insipid lump, without desires,
+And without power to give them?
+
+_Alex._ You misjudge;
+You see through love, and that deludes your sight;
+As, what is straight, seems crooked through the water:
+But I, who bear my reason undisturbed,
+Can see this Antony, this dreaded man,
+A fearful slave, who fain would run away,
+And shuns his master's eyes: If you pursue him,
+My life on't, he still drags a chain along,
+That needs must clog his flight.
+
+_Cleo._ Could I believe thee!--
+
+_Alex._ By every circumstance I know he loves.
+True, he's hard prest, by interest and by honour;
+Yet he but doubts, and parleys, and casts out
+Many a long look for succour.
+
+_Cleo._ He sends word,
+He fears to see my face.
+
+_Alex._ And would you more?
+He shows his weakness, who declines the combat,
+And you must urge your fortune. Could he speak
+More plainly? To my ears, the message sounds--
+Come to my rescue, Cleopatra, come;
+Come, free me from Ventidius; from my tyrant:
+See me, and give me a pretence to leave him!--
+I hear his trumpets. This way he must pass.
+Please you, retire a while; I'll work him first,
+That he may bend more easy.
+
+_Cleo._ You shall rule me;
+But all, I fear, in vain.               [_Exit with_ CHAR. _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Alex._ I fear so too;
+Though I concealed my thoughts, to make her bold;
+But 'tis our utmost means, and fate befriend it!         [_Withdraws._
+
+  _Enter Lictors with Fasces; one bearing the Eagle; then enter_
+  ANTONY _with_ VENTIDIUS, _followed by other Commanders._
+
+_Ant._ Octavius is the minion of blind chance,
+But holds from virtue nothing.
+
+_Vent._ Has he courage?
+
+_Ant._ But just enough to season him from coward.
+O, 'tis the coldest youth upon a charge,
+The most deliberate fighter! if he ventures,
+(As in Illyria once, they say, he did,
+To storm a town) 'tis when he cannot chuse;
+When all the world have fixt their eyes upon him;
+And then he lives on that for seven years after;
+But, at a close revenge he never fails.
+
+_Vent._ I heard you challenged him.
+
+_Ant._ I did, Ventidius.
+What think'st thou was his answer? 'Twas so tame!--
+He said, he had more ways than one to die;
+I had not.
+
+_Vent._ Poor!
+
+_Ant._ He has more ways than one;
+But he would chuse them all before that one.
+
+_Vent._ He first would chuse an ague, or a fever.
+
+_Ant._ No; it must be an ague, not a fever;
+He has not warmth enough to die by that.
+
+_Vent._ Or old age and a bed.
+
+_Ant._ Ay, there's his choice.
+He would live, like a lamp, to the last wink,
+And crawl upon the utmost verge of life.
+O, Hercules! Why should a man like this,
+Who dares not trust his fate for one great action,
+Be all the care of heaven? Why should he lord it
+O'er fourscore thousand men, of whom each one
+Is braver than himself?
+
+_Vent._ You conquered for him:
+Philippi knows it; there you shared with him
+That empire, which your sword made all your own.
+
+_Ant._ Fool that I was, upon my eagle's wings
+I bore this wren, 'till I was tired with soaring,
+And now he mounts above me[1].
+Good heavens, is this,--is this the man who braves me?
+Who bids my age make way? Drives me before him,
+To the world's ridge, and sweeps me off like rubbish?
+
+_Vent._ Sir, we lose time; the troops are mounted all.
+
+_Ant._ Then give the word to march:
+I long to leave this prison of a town,
+To join thy legions; and, in open field,
+Once more to show my face. Lead, my deliverer.
+
+  _Enter_ ALEXAS.
+
+_Alex._ Great emperor,
+In mighty arms renowned above mankind,
+But, in soft pity to the opprest, a god;
+This message sends the mournful Cleopatra
+To her departing lord.
+
+_Vent._ Smooth sycophant!
+
+_Alex._ A thousand wishes, and ten thousand prayers,
+Millions of blessings wait you to the wars;
+Millions of sighs and tears she sends you too,
+And would have sent
+As many dear embraces to your arms,
+As many parting kisses to your lips;
+But those, she fears, have wearied you already.
+
+_Vent._ [_Aside._] False crocodile!
+
+_Alex._ And yet she begs not now, you would not leave her;
+That were a wish too mighty for her hopes,
+Too presuming for her low fortune, and your ebbing love;
+That were a wish for her more prosperous days,
+Her blooming beauty, and your growing kindness.
+
+_Ant._ [_Aside._] Well, I must man it out:--What would the queen?
+
+_Alex._ First, to these noble warriors, who attend
+Your daring courage in the chase of fame,--
+Too daring, and too dangerous for her quiet,--
+She humbly recommends all she holds dear,
+All her own cares and fears,--the care of you.
+
+_Vent._ Yes, witness Actium.
+
+_Ant._ Let him speak, Ventidius.
+
+_Alex._ You, when his matchless valour bears him forward,
+With ardour too heroic, on his foes,
+Fall down, as she would do, before his feet;
+Lie in his way, and stop the paths of death;
+Tell him, this god is not invulnerable;
+That absent Cleopatra bleeds in him;
+And, that you may remember her petition,
+She begs you wear these trifles, as a pawn,
+Which, at your wisht return, she will redeem
+                                    [_Gives jewels to the Commanders._
+With all the wealth of Egypt:
+This to the great Ventidius she presents,
+Whom she can never count her enemy,
+Because he loves her lord.
+
+_Vent._ Tell her, I'll none on't;
+I'm not ashamed of honest poverty;
+Not all the diamonds of the east can bribe
+Ventidius from his faith. I hope to see
+These, and the rest of all her sparkling store,
+Where they shall more deservingly be placed.
+
+_Ant._ And who must wear them then?
+
+_Vent._ The wronged Octavia.
+
+_Ant._ You might have spared that word.
+
+_Vent._ And he that bribe.
+
+_Ant._ But have I no remembrance?
+
+_Alex._ Yes, a dear one;
+Your slave, the queen--
+
+_Ant._ My mistress.
+
+_Alex._ Then your mistress;
+Your mistress would, she says, have sent her soul,
+But that you had long since; she humbly begs
+This ruby bracelet, set with bleeding hearts,
+The emblems of her own, may bind your arm.   [_Presenting a bracelet._
+
+_Vent._ Now, my best lord,--in honour's name, I ask you,
+For manhood's sake, and for your own dear safety,--
+Touch not these poisoned gifts,
+Infected by the sender; touch them not;
+Myriads of bluest plagues lie underneath them,
+And more than aconite has dipt the silk.
+
+_Ant._ Nay, now you grow too cynical, Ventidius:
+A lady's favours may be worn with honour.
+What, to refuse her bracelet! on my soul,
+When I lie pensive in my tent alone,
+'Twill pass the wakeful hours of winter nights,
+To tell these pretty beads upon my arm,
+To count for every one a soft embrace,
+A melting kiss at such and such a time;
+And now and then the fury of her love,
+When--And what harm's in this?
+
+_Alex._ None, none, my lord,
+But what's to her, that now 'tis past for ever.
+
+_Ant._ [_Going to tie it._]
+We soldiers are so awkward--help me tie it.
+
+_Alex._ In faith, my lord, we courtiers too are awkward
+In these affairs: so are all men indeed:
+Even I, who am not one. But shall I speak?
+
+_Ant._ Yes, freely.
+
+_Alex._ Then, my lord, fair hands alone
+Are fit to tie it; she, who sent it, can.
+
+_Vent._ Hell, death! this eunuch pandar ruins you.
+You will not see her?   [ALEXAS _whispers an Attendant, who goes out._
+
+_Ant._ But to take my leave.
+
+_Vent._ Then I have washed an AEthiop. You're undone;
+You're in the toils; you're taken; you're destroyed:
+Her eyes do Caesar's work.
+
+_Ant._ You fear too soon.
+I'm constant to myself: I know my strength;
+And yet she shall not think me barbarous neither,
+Born in the depths of Afric: I'm a Roman,
+Bred to the rules of soft humanity.
+A guest, and kindly used, should bid farewell.
+
+_Vent._ You do not know
+How weak you are to her, how much an infant;
+You are not proof against a smile, or glance;
+A sigh will quite disarm you.
+
+_Ant._ See, she comes!
+Now you shall find your error.--Gods, I thank you:
+I formed the danger greater than it was,
+And now 'tis near, 'tis lessened.
+
+_Vent._ Mark the end yet.
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Ant._ Well, madam, we are met.
+
+_Cleo._ Is this a meeting?
+Then, we must part?
+
+_Ant._ We must.
+
+_Cleo._ Who says we must?
+
+_Ant._ Our own hard fates.
+
+_Cleo._ We make those fates ourselves.
+
+_Ant._ Yes, we have made them; we have loved each other
+In our mutual ruin.
+
+_Cleo._ The gods have seen my joys with envious eyes;
+I have no friends in heaven; and all the world,
+As 'twere the business of mankind to part us,
+Is armed against my love: even you yourself
+Join with the rest; you, you are armed against me.
+
+_Ant._ I will be justified in all I do
+To late posterity, and therefore hear me.
+If I mix a lie
+With any truth, reproach me freely with it;
+Else, favour me with silence.
+
+_Cleo._ You command me,
+And I am dumb.
+
+_Vent._ I like this well: he shews authority.
+
+_Ant._ That I derive my ruin
+From you alone--
+
+_Cleo._ O heavens! I ruin you!
+
+_Ant._ You promised me your silence, and you break it
+Ere I have scarce begun.
+
+_Cleo._ Well, I obey you.
+
+_Ant._ When I beheld you first, it was in Egypt.
+Ere Caesar saw your eyes, you gave me love,
+And were too young to know it; that I settled
+Your father in his throne, was for your sake;
+I left the acknowledgment for time to ripen.
+Caesar stept in, and, with a greedy hand,
+Plucked the green fruit, ere the first blush of red,
+Yet cleaving to the bough. He was my lord,
+And was, beside, too great for me to rival;
+But, I deserved you first, though he enjoyed you.
+When, after, I beheld you in Cilicia,
+An enemy to Rome, I pardoned you.
+
+_Cleo._ I cleared myself--
+
+_Ant._ Again you break your promise.
+I loved you still, and took your weak excuses,
+Took you into my bosom, stained by Caesar,
+And not half mine: I went to Egypt with you,
+And hid me from the business of the world,
+Shut out enquiring nations from my sight,
+To give whole years to you.
+
+_Vent._ Yes, to your shame be't spoken.                      [_Aside._
+
+_Ant._ How I loved,
+Witness, ye days and nights, and all ye hours,
+That danced away with down upon your feet,
+As all your business were to count my passion!
+One day past by, and nothing saw but love;
+Another came, and still 'twas only love:
+The suns were wearied out with looking on,
+And I untired with loving.
+I saw you every day, and all the day;
+And every day was still but as the first,
+So eager was I still to see you more.
+
+_Vent._ 'Tis all too true.
+
+_Ant._ Fulvia, my wife, grew jealous,
+As she indeed had reason; raised a war
+In Italy, to call me back.
+
+_Vent._ But yet
+You went not.
+
+_Ant._ While within your arms I lay,
+The world fell mouldering from my hands each hour,
+And left me scarce a grasp--I thank your love for't.
+
+_Vent._ Well pushed: that last was home.
+
+_Cleo._ Yet may I speak?
+
+_Ant._ If I have urged a falsehood, yes; else, not.
+Your silence says, I have not. Fulvia died;
+(Pardon, you gods, with my unkindness died.)
+To set the world at peace, I took Octavia,
+This Caesar's sister; in her pride of youth,
+And flower of beauty, did I wed that lady,
+Whom blushing I must praise, because I left her.
+You called; my love obeyed the fatal summons:
+This raised the Roman arms; the cause was yours.
+I would have fought by land, where I was stronger;
+You hindered it: yet, when I fought at sea,
+Forsook me fighting; and (Oh stain to honour!
+Oh lasting shame!) I knew not that I fled;
+But fled to follow you.
+
+_Vent._ What haste she made to hoist her purple sails!
+And, to appear magnificent in flight,
+Drew half our strength away.
+
+_Ant._ All this you caused.
+And, would you multiply more ruins on me?
+This honest man, my best, my only friend,
+Has gathered up the shipwreck of my fortunes;
+Twelve legions I have left, my last recruits,
+And you have watched the news, and bring your eyes
+To seize them too. If you have aught to answer,
+Now speak, you have free leave.
+
+_Alex._ [_Aside._] She stands confounded:
+Despair is in her eyes.
+
+_Vent._ Now lay a sigh in the way to stop his passage:
+Prepare a tear, and bid it for his legions;
+'Tis like they shall be sold.
+
+_Cleo._ How shall I plead my cause, when you, my judge,
+Already have condemned me? shall I bring
+The love you bore me for my advocate?
+That now is turned against me, that destroys me;
+For love, once past, is, at the best, forgotten;
+But oftener sours to hate: 'twill please my lord
+To ruin me, and therefore I'll be guilty.
+But, could I once have thought it would have pleased you,
+That you would pry, with narrow searching eyes
+Into my faults, severe to my destruction,
+And watching all advantages with care,
+That serve to make me wretched? Speak, my lord,
+For I end here. Though I deserve this usage,
+Was it like you to give it?
+
+_Ant._ O you wrong me,
+To think I sought this parting, or desired
+To accuse you more than what will clear myself,
+And justify this breach.
+
+_Cleo._ Thus low I thank you;
+And, since my innocence will not offend,
+I shall not blush to own it.
+
+_Vent._ After this,
+I think she'll blush at nothing.
+
+_Cleo._ You seem grieved,
+(And therein you are kind) that Caesar first
+Enjoyed my love, though you deserved it better:
+I grieve for that, my lord, much more than you;
+For, had I first been yours, it would have saved
+My second choice: I never had been his,
+And ne'er had been but yours. But Caesar first,
+You say, possessed my love. Not so, my lord:
+He first possessed my person; you, my love:
+Caesar loved me; but I loved Antony.
+If I endured him after, 'twas because
+I judged it due to the first name of men;
+And, half constrained, I gave, as to a tyrant,
+What he would take by force.
+
+_Vent._ O Syren! Syren!
+Yet grant that all the love she boasts were true,
+Has she not ruined you? I still urge that,
+The fatal consequence.
+
+_Cleo._ The consequence indeed;
+For I dare challenge him, my greatest foe,
+To say it was designed: 'tis true, I loved you,
+And kept you far from an uneasy wife,--
+Such Fulvia was.
+Yes, but he'll say, you left Octavia for me;--
+And, can you blame me to receive that love,
+Which quitted such desert, for worthless me?
+How often have I wished some other Caesar,
+Great as the first, and as the second young,
+Would court my love, to be refused for you!
+
+_Vent._ Words, words; but Actium, sir; remember Actium.
+
+_Cleo._ Even there, I dare his malice. True, I counselled
+To fight at sea; but I betrayed you not.
+I fled, but not to the enemy. 'Twas fear;
+Would I had been a man, not to have feared!
+For none would then have envied me your friendship,
+Who envy me your love.
+
+_Ant._ We are both unhappy:
+If nothing else, yet our ill fortune parts us.
+Speak; would you have me perish by my stay?
+
+_Cleo._ If, as a friend, you ask my judgment, go;
+If, as a lover, stay. If you must perish--
+'Tis a hard word--but stay.
+
+_Vent._ See now the effects of her so boasted love!
+She strives to drag you down to ruin with her;
+But, could she 'scape without you, oh how soon
+Would she let go her hold, and haste to shore,
+And never look behind!
+
+_Cleo._ Then judge my love by this.      [_Giving_ ANTONY _a writing._
+Could I have borne
+A life or death, a happiness or woe,
+From yours divided, this had given me means.
+
+_Ant._ By Hercules, the writing of Octavius!
+I know it well: 'tis that proscribing hand,
+Young as it was, that led the way to mine,
+And left me but the second place in murder.--
+See, see, Ventidius! here he offers Egypt,
+And joins all Syria to it, as a present;
+So, in requital, she forsake my fortunes,
+And join her arms with his.
+
+_Cleo._ And yet you leave me!
+You leave me, Antony; and yet I love you,
+Indeed I do: I have refused a kingdom;
+That is a trifle;
+For I could part with life, with any thing,
+But only you. O let me die but with you!
+Is that a hard request?
+
+_Ant._ Next living with you,
+'Tis all that heaven can give.
+
+_Alex._ He melts; we conquer.                                [_Aside._
+
+_Cleo._ No; you shall go: your interest calls you hence;
+Yes; your dear interest pulls too strong, for these
+Weak arms to hold you here.                         [_Takes his hand._
+Go; leave me, soldier;
+(For you're no more a lover:) leave me dying:
+Push me, all pale and panting, from your bosom,
+And, when your march begins, let one run after,
+Breathless almost for joy, and cry--she's dead:
+The soldiers shout; you then, perhaps, may sigh,
+And muster all your Roman gravity:
+Ventidius chides; and strait your brow clears up,
+As I had never been.
+
+_Ant._ Gods, 'tis too much; too much for man to bear.
+
+_Cleo._ What is't for me then,
+A weak forsaken woman, and a lover?--
+Here let me breathe my last: envy me not
+This minute in your arms: I'll die apace,
+As fast as e'er I can; and end your trouble.
+
+_Ant._ Die! rather let me perish; loosened nature
+Leap from its hinges, sink the props of heaven,
+And fall the skies, to crush the nether world!
+My eyes, my soul, my all!--                           [_Embraces her._
+
+_Vent._ And what's this toy,
+In balance with your fortune, honour, fame?
+
+_Ant._ What is't, Ventidius? it out-weighs them all;
+Why, we have more than conquered Caesar now:
+My queen's not only innocent, but loves me.
+This, this is she, who drags me down to ruin!
+But, could she 'scape without me, with what haste
+Would she let slip her hold, and make to shore,
+And never look behind!
+Down on thy knees, blasphemer as thou art,
+And ask forgiveness of wronged innocence.
+
+_Vent._ I'll rather die, than take it. Will you go?
+
+_Ant._ Go! Whither? Go from all that's excellent!
+Faith, honour, virtue, all good things forbid,
+That I should go from her, who sets my love
+Above the price of kingdoms. Give, you gods,
+Give to your boy, your Caesar,
+This rattle of a globe to play withal,
+This gewgaw world, and put him cheaply off:
+I'll not be pleased with less than Cleopatra.
+
+_Cleo._ She's wholly yours. My heart's so full of joy,
+That I shall do some wild extravagance
+Of love, in public; and the foolish world,
+Which knows not tenderness, will think me mad.
+
+_Vent._ O women! women! women! all the gods
+Have not such power of doing good to man,
+As you of doing harm.                                         [_Exit._
+
+_Ant._ Our men are armed:--
+Unbar the gate that looks to Caesar's camp:
+I would revenge the treachery he meant me;
+And long security makes conquest easy.
+I'm eager to return before I go;
+For, all the pleasures I have known beat thick
+On my remembrance.--How I long for night!
+That both the sweets of mutual love may try,
+And triumph once o'er Caesar ere we die.                     [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT III. SCENE I.
+
+  _At one door, enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, IRAS, _and_ ALEXAS, _a
+  Train of Egyptians: at the other,_ ANTONY _and Romans. The entrance
+  on both sides is prepared by music; the trumpets first sounding on_
+  ANTONY'S _part: then answered by timbrels, &c. on_ CLEOPATRA'S.
+  CHARMION _and_ IRAS _hold a laurel wreath betwixt them. A Dance of
+  Egyptians. After the ceremony,_ CLEOPATRA _crowns_ ANTONY.
+
+_Ant._ I thought how those white arms would fold me in,
+And strain me close, and melt me into love;
+So pleased with that sweet image, I sprung forwards,
+And added all my strength to every blow.
+
+_Cleo._ Come to me, come, my soldier, to my arms!
+You've been too long away from my embraces;
+But, when I have you fast, and all my own,
+With broken murmurs, and with amorous sighs,
+I'll say, you were unkind, and punish you,
+And mark you red with many an eager kiss.
+
+_Ant._ My brighter Venus!
+
+_Cleo._ O my greater Mars!
+
+_Ant._ Thou join'st us well, my love!
+Suppose me come from the Phlegraean plains,
+Where gasping giants lay, cleft by my sword,
+And mountain tops pared off each other blow,
+To bury those I slew. Receive me, goddess!
+Let Caesar spread his subtile nets; like Vulcan,
+In thy embraces I would be beheld
+By heaven and earth at once;
+And make their envy what they meant their sport.
+Let those, who took us, blush; I would love on,
+With awful state, regardless of their frowns,
+As their superior god.
+There's no satiety of love in thee:
+Enjoyed, thou still art new; perpetual spring
+Is in thy arms; the ripened fruit but falls,
+And blossoms rise to fill its empty place;
+And I grow rich by giving.
+
+  _Enter_ VENTIDIUS, _and stands apart._
+
+_Alex._ O, now the danger's past, your general comes!
+He joins not in your joys, nor minds your triumphs;
+But, with contracted brows, looks frowning on,
+As envying your success.
+
+_Ant._ Now, on my soul, he loves me; truly loves me:
+He never flattered me in any vice,
+But awes me with his virtue: even this minute,
+Methinks, he has a right of chiding me.
+Lead to the temple: I'll avoid his presence;
+It checks too strong upon me.                      [_Exeunt the rest._
+                      [_As_ ANTONY _is going,_ VENTIDIUS _pulls him by
+                       the robe._
+
+_Vent._ Emperor!
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis the old argument; I pr'ythee, spare me.   [_Looking back._
+
+_Vent._ But this one hearing, emperor.
+
+_Ant._ Let go
+My robe; or, by my father Hercules--
+
+_Vent._ By Hercules' father, that's yet greater,
+I bring you somewhat you would wish to know.
+
+_Ant._ Thou see'st we are observed; attend me here,
+And I'll return.                                              [_Exit._
+
+_Vent._ I am waning in his favour, yet I love him;
+I love this man, who runs to meet his ruin;
+And sure the gods, like me, are fond of him;
+His virtues lie so mingled with his crimes,
+As would confound their choice to punish one,
+And not reward the other.
+
+  _Enter_ ANTONY.
+
+_Ant._ We can conquer,
+You see, without your aid.
+We have dislodged their troops;
+They look on us at distance, and, like curs
+'Scaped from the lion's paws, they bay far off,
+And lick their wounds, and faintly threaten war.
+Five thousand Romans, with their faces upward,
+Lie breathless on the plain.
+
+_Vent._ 'Tis well; and he,
+Who lost them, could have spared ten thousand more.
+Yet if, by this advantage, you could gain
+An easier peace, while Caesar doubts the chance
+Of arms--
+
+_Ant._ O think not on't, Ventidius!
+The boy pursues my ruin, he'll no peace;
+His malice is considerate in advantage.
+O, he's the coolest murderer! so staunch,
+He kills, and keeps his temper.
+
+_Vent._ Have you no friend
+In all his army, who has power to move him?
+Mecaenas, or Agrippa, might do much.
+
+_Ant._ They're both too deep in Caesar's interests.
+We'll work it out by dint of sword, or perish.
+
+_Vent._ Fain I would find some other.
+
+_Ant._ Thank thy love.
+Some four or five such victories as this
+Will save thy farther pains.
+
+_Vent._ Expect no more; Caesar is on his guard:
+I know, sir, you have conquered against odds;
+But still you draw supplies from one poor town,
+And of Egyptians: he has all the world,
+And, at his beck, nations come pouring in,
+To fill the gaps you make. Pray, think again.
+
+_Ant._ Why dost thou drive me from myself, to search
+For foreign aids? to hunt my memory,
+And range all o'er a waste and barren place,
+To find a friend? the wretched have no friends.
+Yet I had one, the bravest youth of Rome,
+Whom Caesar loves beyond the love of women:
+He could resolve his mind, as fire does wax,
+From that hard rugged image melt him down,
+And mould him in what softer form he pleased.
+
+_Vent._ Him would I see; that man, of all the world;
+Just such a one we want.
+
+_Ant._ He loved me too;
+I was his soul; he lived not but in me:
+We were so closed within each others breasts,
+The rivets were not found, that joined us first.
+That does not reach us yet: we were so mixt,
+As meeting streams, both to ourselves were lost;
+We were one mass; we could not give or take,
+But from the same; for he was I, I he.
+
+_Vent._ He moves as I would wish him.                        [_Aside._
+
+_Ant._ After this,
+I need not tell his name;--'twas Dolabella.
+
+_Vent._ He's now in Caesar's camp.
+
+_Ant._ No matter where,
+Since he's no longer mine. He took unkindly,
+That I forbade him Cleopatra's sight,
+Because I feared he loved her: he confest,
+He had a warmth, which, for my sake, he stifled;
+For 'twere impossible that two, so one,
+Should not have loved the same. When he departed,
+He took no leave; and that confirmed my thoughts.
+
+_Vent._ It argues, that he loved you more than her,
+Else he had staid; but he perceived you jealous,
+And would not grieve his friend: I know he loves you.
+
+_Ant._ I should have seen him, then, ere now.
+
+_Vent._ Perhaps
+He has thus long been labouring for your peace.
+
+_Ant._ Would he were here!
+
+_Vent._ Would you believe he loved you?
+I read your answer in your eyes, you would.
+Not to conceal it longer, he has sent
+A messenger from Caesar's camp, with letters.
+
+_Ant._ Let him appear.
+
+_Vent._ I'll bring him instantly.
+                   [_Exit_ VENTIDIUS, _and re-enters immediately with_
+                    DOLABELLA.
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis he himself! himself, by holy friendship!
+                                               [_Runs to embrace him._
+Art thou returned at last, my better half?
+Come, give me all myself!
+Let me not live,
+If the young bridegroom, longing for his night,
+Was ever half so fond.
+
+_Dola._ I must be silent, for my soul is busy
+About a noble work: she's new come home,
+Like a long-absent man, and wanders o'er
+Each room, a stranger to her own, to look
+If all be safe.
+
+_Ant._ Thou hast what's left of me;
+For I am now so sunk from what I was,
+Thou find'st me at my lowest water-mark.
+The rivers that ran in, and raised my fortunes,
+Are all dried up, or take another course:
+What I have left is from my native spring;
+I've still a heart that swells, in scorn of fate,
+And lifts me to my banks.
+
+_Dola._ Still you are lord of all the world to me.
+
+_Ant._ Why, then I yet am so; for thou art all.
+If I had any joy when thou wert absent,
+I grudged it to myself; methought I robbed
+Thee of thy part. But, oh, my Dolabella!
+Thou hast beheld me other than I am.
+Hast thou not seen my morning chambers filled
+With sceptered slaves, who waited to salute me?
+With eastern monarchs, who forgot the sun,
+To worship my uprising? menial kings
+Ran coursing up and down my palace-yard,
+Stood silent in my presence, watched my eyes,
+And, at my least command, all started out,
+Like racers to the goal[2].
+
+_Dola._ Slaves to your fortune.
+
+_Ant._ Fortune is Caesar's now; and what am I?
+
+_Vent._ What you have made yourself; I will not flatter.
+
+_Ant._ Is this friendly done?
+
+_Dola._ Yes; when his end is so, I must join with him;
+Indeed I must, and yet you must not chide:
+Why am I else your friend?
+
+_Ant._ Take heed, young man,
+How thou upbraid'st my love: The queen has eyes,
+And thou too hast a soul. Canst thou remember,
+When, swelled with hatred, thou beheld'st her first
+As accessary to thy brother's death?
+
+_Dola._ Spare my remembrance; 'twas a guilty day,
+And still the blush hangs here.
+
+_Ant._ To clear herself,
+For sending him no aid, she came from Egypt.
+Her galley down the silver Cydnos rowed,
+The tackling silk, the streamers waved with gold;
+The gentle winds were lodged in purple sails:
+Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were placed;
+Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay.
+
+_Dola._ No more: I would not hear it.
+
+_Ant._ O, you must!
+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,
+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.
+Then, Dolabella, where was then thy soul?
+Was not thy fury quite disarmed with wonder?
+Didst thou not shrink behind me from those eyes
+And whisper in my ear,--Oh, tell her not
+That I accused her of my brother's death?
+
+_Dola._ And should my weakness be a plea for yours?
+Mine was an age when love might be excused,
+When kindly warmth, and when my springing youth
+Made it a debt to nature. Yours--
+
+_Vent._ Speak boldly.
+Yours, he would say, in your declining age,
+When no more heat was left but what you forced,
+When all the sap was needful for the trunk,
+When it went down, then you constrained the course,
+And robbed from nature, to supply desire;
+In you (I would not use so harsh a word)
+'Tis but plain dotage.
+
+_Ant._ Ha!
+
+_Dola._ 'Twas urged too home.--
+But yet the loss was private, that I made;
+'Twas but myself I lost: I lost no legions;
+I had no world to lose, no people's love.
+
+_Ant._ This from a friend?
+
+_Dola._ Yes, Antony, a true one;
+A friend so tender, that each word I speak
+Stabs my own heart, before it reach your ear.
+O, judge me not less kind, because I chide!
+To Caesar I excuse you.
+
+_Ant._ O ye gods!
+Have I then lived to be excused to Caesar?
+
+_Dola._ As to your equal.
+
+_Ant._ Well, he's but my equal:
+While I wear this, he never shall be more.
+
+_Dola._ I bring conditions from him.
+
+_Ant._ Are they noble?
+Methinks thou shouldst not bring them else; yet he
+Is full of deep dissembling; knows no honour
+Divided from his interest. Fate mistook him;
+For nature meant him for an usurer:
+He's fit indeed to buy, not conquer kingdoms.
+
+_Vent._ Then, granting this,
+What power was theirs, who wrought so hard a temper
+To honourable terms?
+
+_Ant._ It was my Dolabella, or some god.
+
+_Dola._ Not I; nor yet Mecaenas, nor Agrippa:
+They were your enemies; and I, a friend,
+Too weak alone; yet 'twas a Roman's deed.
+
+_Ant._ 'Twas like a Roman done: show me that man,
+Who has preserved my life, my love, my honour;
+Let me but see his face.
+
+_Vent._ That task is mine,
+And, heaven, thou know'st how pleasing.                  [_Exit_ VENT.
+
+_Dola._ You'll remember
+To whom you stand obliged?
+
+_Ant._ When I forget it,
+Be thou unkind, and that's my greatest curse.
+My queen shall thank him too.
+
+_Dola._ I fear she will not.
+
+_Ant._ But she shall do it: The queen, my Dolabella!
+Hast thou not still some grudgings of thy fever?
+
+_Dola._ I would not see her lost.
+
+_Ant._ When I forsake her,
+Leave me, my better stars! for she has truth
+Beyond her beauty. Caesar tempted her,
+At no less price than kingdoms, to betray me;
+But she resisted all: and yet thou chidest me
+For loving her too well. Could I do so?
+
+_Dola._ Yes; there's my reason.
+
+  _Re-enter_ VENTIDIUS, _with_ OCTAVIA, _leading_ ANTONY'S _two little
+  Daughters._
+
+_Ant._ Where?--Octavia there!                        [_Starting back._
+
+_Vent._ What, is she poison to you? a disease?
+Look on her, view her well, and those she brings:
+Are they all strangers to your eyes? has nature
+No secret call, no whisper they are yours?
+
+_Dola._ For shame, my lord, if not for love, receive them
+With kinder eyes. If you confess a man,
+Meet them, embrace them, bid them welcome to you.
+Your arms should open, even without your knowledge,
+To clasp them in; your feet should turn to wings,
+To bear you to them; and your eyes dart out,
+And aim a kiss, ere you could reach the lips.
+
+_Ant._ I stood amazed, to think how they came hither.
+
+_Vent._ I sent for them; I brought them in, unknown.
+To Cleopatra's guards.
+
+_Dola._ Yet, are you cold?
+
+_Octav._ Thus long I have attended for my welcome;
+Which, as a stranger, sure I might expect.
+Who am I?
+
+_Ant._ Caesar's sister.
+
+_Octav._ That's unkind.
+Had I been nothing more than Caesar's sister,
+Know, I had still remained in Caesar's camp:
+But your Octavia, your much injured wife,
+Though banished from your bed, driven from your house,
+In spite of Caesar's sister, still is yours.
+'Tis true, I have a heart disdains your coldness,
+And prompts me not to seek what you should offer;
+But a wife's virtue still surmounts that pride.
+I come to claim you as my own; to show
+My duty first; to ask, nay beg, your kindness:
+Your hand, my lord; 'tis mine, and I will have it. [_Taking his hand._
+
+_Vent._ Do, take it; thou deserv'st it.
+
+_Dola._ On my soul,
+And so she does: she's neither too submissive,
+Nor yet too haughty; but so just a mean
+Shows, as it ought, a wife and Roman too.
+
+_Ant._ I fear, Octavia, you have begged my life.
+
+_Octav._ Begged it, my lord?
+
+_Ant._ Yes, begged it, my ambassadress;
+Poorly and basely begged it of your brother.
+
+_Octav._ Poorly and basely I could never beg:
+Nor could my brother grant.
+
+_Ant._ Shall I, who, to my kneeling slave, could say,
+Rise up, and be a king; shall I fall down
+And cry,--forgive me, Caesar! shall I set
+A man, my equal, in the place of Jove,
+As he could give me being? No; that word,
+Forgive, would choke me up,
+And die upon my tongue.
+
+_Dola._ You shall not need it.
+
+_Ant._ I will not need it. Come, you've all betrayed me,--
+My friend too!--to receive some vile conditions.
+My wife has bought me, with her prayers and tears;
+And now I must become her branded slave.
+In every peevish mood, she will upbraid
+The life she gave: if I but look awry,
+She cries,--I'll tell my brother.
+
+_Octav._ My hard fortune
+Subjects me still to your unkind mistakes.
+But the conditions I have brought are such,
+You need not blush to take: I love your honour,
+Because 'tis mine; it never shall be said,
+Octavia's husband was her brother's slave.
+Sir, you are free; free, even from her you loath;
+For, though my brother bargains for your love,
+Makes me the price and cement of your peace,
+I have a soul like yours; I cannot take
+Your love as alms, nor beg what I deserve.
+I'll tell my brother we are reconciled;
+He shall draw back his troops, and you shall march
+To rule the East: I may be dropt at Athens;
+No matter where. I never will complain,
+But only keep the barren name of wife,
+And rid you of the trouble.
+
+_Vent._ Was ever such a strife of sullen honour!          }
+Both scorn to be obliged.                                 }
+                                                          }
+_Dola._ O, she has touched him in the tenderest part;     }
+See how he reddens with despite and shame,                } _Apart._
+To be out-done in generosity!                             }
+                                                          }
+_Vent._ See, how he winks! how he dries up a tear,        }
+That fain would fall!                                     }
+
+_Ant._ Octavia, I have heard you, and must praise
+The greatness of your soul;
+But cannot yield to what you have proposed:
+For I can ne'er be conquered but by love;
+And you do all for duty. You would free me,
+And would be dropt at Athens; was't not so?
+
+_Octav._ It was, my lord.
+
+_Ant._ Then I must be obliged
+To one who loves me not; who, to herself,
+May call me thankless and ungrateful man:--
+I'll not endure it; no.
+
+_Vent._ I am glad it pinches there.                          [_Aside._
+
+_Octav._ Would you triumph o'er poor Octavia's virtue?
+That pride was all I had to bear me up;
+That you might think you owed me for your life,
+And owed it to my duty, not my love.
+I have been injured, and my haughty soul
+Could brook but ill the man, who slights my bed.
+
+_Ant._ Therefore you love me not.
+
+_Octav._ Therefore, my lord,
+I should not love you.
+
+_Ant._ Therefore you would leave me?
+
+_Octav._ And therefore I should leave you--if I could.
+
+_Dola._ Her soul's too great, after such injuries,
+To say she loves; and yet she lets you see it.
+Her modesty and silence plead her cause.
+
+_Ant._ O, Dolabella, which way shall I turn?
+I find a secret yielding in my soul;
+But Cleopatra, who would die with me,
+Must she be left? pity pleads for Octavia;
+But does it not plead more for Cleopatra?
+
+_Vent._ Justice and pity both plead for Octavia;
+For Cleopatra, neither.
+One would be ruined with you; but she first
+Had ruined you: The other, you have ruined,
+And yet she would preserve you.
+In every thing their merits are unequal.
+
+_Ant._ O, my distracted soul!
+
+_Octav._ Sweet heaven compose it!--
+Come, come, my lord, if I can pardon you,
+Methinks you should accept it. Look on these;
+Are they not yours? or stand they thus neglected,
+As they are mine? go to him, children, go;
+Kneel to him, take him by the hand, speak to him;
+For you may speak, and he may own you too,
+Without a blush; and so he cannot all
+His children: go, I say, and pull him to me,
+And pull him to yourselves, from that bad woman.
+You, Agrippina, hang upon his arms;
+And you, Antonia, clasp about his waist:
+If he will shake you off, if he will dash you
+Against the pavement, you must bear it, children;
+For you are mine, and I was born to suffer.
+                                   [_Here the Children go to him, &c._
+
+_Vent._ Was ever sight so moving?--Emperor!
+
+_Dola._ Friend!
+
+_Octav._ Husband!
+
+_Both Child._ Father!
+
+_Ant._ I am vanquished: take me,
+Octavia; take me, children; share me all.           [_Embracing them._
+I've been a thriftless debtor to your loves,
+And run out much, in riot, from your stock;
+But all shall be amended.
+
+_Octav._ O blest hour!
+
+_Dola._ O happy change!
+
+_Vent._ My joy stops at my tongue;
+But it has found two channels here for one,
+And bubbles out above.
+
+_Ant._ [_To_ OCTAV.]
+This is thy triumph; lead me where thou wilt;
+Even to thy brother's camp.
+
+_Octav._ All there are yours.
+
+  _Enter_ ALEXAS _hastily._
+
+_Alex._ The queen, my mistress, sir, and yours--
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis past.--Octavia, you shall stay this night;
+To-morrow, Caesar and we are one.
+                 [_Ex. leading_ OCTAV. DOL. _and the Children follow._
+
+_Vent._ There's news for you; run, my officious eunuch,
+Be sure to be the first; haste forward:
+Haste, my dear eunuch, haste.                                 [_Exit._
+
+_Alex._ This downright fighting fool, this thick-skulled hero,
+This blunt unthinking instrument of death,
+With plain dull virtue has out-gone my wit.
+Pleasure forsook my earliest infancy;
+The luxury of others robbed my cradle,
+And ravished thence the promise of a man
+Cast out from nature, disinherited
+Of what her meanest children claim by kind,
+Yet greatness kept me from contempt: that's gone:
+Had Cleopatra followed my advice,
+Then he had been betrayed, who now forsakes.
+She dies for love; but she has known its joys:
+Gods, is this just, that I, who know no joys,
+Must die, because she loves?
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, IRAS, _and Train._
+
+Oh, madam, I have seen what blasts my eyes!
+Octavia's here.
+
+_Cleo._ Peace with that raven's note.
+I know it too; and now am in
+The pangs of death.
+
+_Alex._ You are no more a queen;
+Egypt is lost.
+
+_Cleo._ What tell'st thou me of Egypt?
+My life, my soul is lost! Octavia has him!--
+O fatal name to Cleopatra's love!
+My kisses, my embraces now are hers;
+While I--But thou hast seen my rival; speak.
+Does she deserve this blessing? Is she fair?
+Bright as a goddess? and is all perfection
+Confined to her? It is. Poor I was made
+Of that coarse matter, which, when she was finished,
+The gods threw by for rubbish.
+
+_Alex._ She's indeed a very miracle.
+
+_Cleo._ Death to my hopes, a miracle!
+
+_Alex._ A miracle;                                          [_Bowing._
+I mean of goodness; for in beauty, madam,
+You make all wonders cease.
+
+_Cleo._ I was too rash:
+Take this in part of recompense. But, oh,            [_Giving a ring._
+I fear thou flatterest me.
+
+_Char._ She comes! she's here!
+
+_Iras._ Fly, madam, Caesar's sister!
+
+_Cleo._ Were she the sister of the thunderer Jove,
+And bore her brother's lightning in her eyes,
+Thus would I face my rival.
+
+  _Meets_ OCTAVIA _with_ VENTIDIUS. OCTAVIA _bears up to her. Their
+  Trains come up on either side._
+
+_Octav._ I need not ask if you are Cleopatra;
+Your haughty carriage--
+
+_Cleo._ Shows I am a queen:
+Nor need I ask you, who you are.
+
+_Octav._ A Roman:
+A name, that makes and can unmake a queen.
+
+_Cleo._ Your lord, the man who serves me, is a Roman.
+
+_Octav._ He was a Roman, till he lost that name,
+To be a slave in Egypt; but I come
+To free him thence.
+
+_Cleo._ Peace, peace, my lover's Juno.
+When he grew weary of that household-clog,
+He chose my easier bonds.
+
+_Octav._ I wonder not
+Your bonds are easy; you have long been practised
+In that lascivious art: He's not the first,
+For whom you spread your snares: Let Caesar witness.
+
+_Cleo._ I loved not Caesar; 'twas but gratitude
+I paid his love: The worst your malice can,
+Is but to say, the greatest of mankind
+Has been my slave. The next, but far above him
+In my esteem, is he whom law calls yours,
+But whom his love made mine.
+
+_Octav._ I would view nearer                [_Coming up close to her._
+That face, which has so long usurped my right,
+To find the inevitable charms, that catch
+Mankind so sure, that ruined my dear lord.
+
+_Cleo._ O, you do well to search; for had you known
+But half these charms, you had not lost his heart.
+
+_Octav._ Far be their knowledge from a Roman lady,
+Far from a modest wife! Shame of your sex,
+Dost thou not blush, to own those black endearments,
+That make sin pleasing?
+
+_Cleo._ You may blush, who want them.
+If bounteous nature, if indulgent heaven
+Have given me charms to please the bravest man,
+Should I not thank them? should I be ashamed,
+And not be proud? I am, that he has loved me;
+And, when I love not him, heaven change this face
+For one like that.
+
+_Octav._ Thou lov'st him not so well.
+
+_Cleo._ I love him better, and deserve him more.
+
+_Octav._ You do not; cannot: You have been his ruin.
+Who made him cheap at Rome, but Cleopatra?
+Who made him scorned abroad, but Cleopatra?
+At Actium, who betrayed him? Cleopatra.
+Who made his children orphans, and poor me
+A wretched widow? only Cleopatra.
+
+_Cleo._ Yet she, who loves him best, is Cleopatra.
+If you have suffered, I have suffered more.
+You bear the specious title of a wife,
+To gild your cause, and draw the pitying world
+To favour it: the world condemns poor me;
+For I have lost my honour, lost my fame,
+And stained the glory of my royal house,
+And all to bear the branded name of mistress.
+There wants but life, and that too I would lose
+For him I love.
+
+_Octav._ Be't so then; take thy wish.          [_Exit with her Train._
+
+_Cleo._ And 'tis my wish,
+Now he is lost for whom alone I lived.
+My sight grows dim, and every object dances,
+And swims before me, in the maze of death.
+My spirits, while they were opposed, kept up;
+They could not sink beneath a rival's scorn:
+But now she's gone, they faint.
+
+_Alex._ Mine have had leisure
+To recollect their strength, and furnish counsel,
+To ruin her, who else must ruin you.
+
+_Cleo._ Vain promiser!
+Lead me, my Charmion; nay, your hand too, Iras.
+My grief has weight enough to sink you both.
+Conduct me to some solitary chamber,
+And draw the curtains round;
+Then leave me to myself, to take alone
+My fill of grief:
+  There I till death will his unkindness weep;
+  As harmless infants moan themselves asleep.               [_Exeunt._
+
+
+ACT IV. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ ANTONY _and_ DOLABELLA.
+
+_Dola._ Why would you shift it from yourself, on me?
+Can you not tell her, you must part?
+
+_Ant._ I cannot.
+I could pull out an eye, and bid it go,
+And t'other should not weep. Oh, 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.
+
+_Dola._ Then let Ventidius;
+He's rough by nature.
+
+_Ant._ Oh, he'll speak too harshly;
+He'll kill her with the news: Thou, only thou.
+
+_Dola._ 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.
+
+_Ant._ 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 he as gently made,
+As other loves begin: Wilt thou do this?
+
+_Dola._ What you have said, so sinks into my soul,
+That, if I must speak, I shall speak just so.
+
+_Ant._ 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.--O, be sure
+To think on that.
+
+_Dola._ Fear not, I will remember.
+                     [ANTONY _goes again to the door, and comes back._
+
+_Ant._ 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.
+
+_Dola._ Trust me, I'll not forget it.
+
+_Ant._ 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._
+
+_Dola._ 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._
+
+_Vent._ Alone, and talking to himself? concerned too?
+Perhaps my guess is right; he loved her once,
+And may pursue it still.
+
+_Dola._ 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?
+
+_Vent._ 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._
+
+_Dola._ 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.
+
+_Vent._ If she should love him too! her eunuch there!
+That porc'pisce bodes ill weather. Draw, draw nearer,
+Sweet devil, that I may hear.
+
+_Alex._ 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.
+
+_Cleo._ 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.
+
+_Alex._ '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 woman'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.
+
+_Cleo._ 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.
+
+_Alex._ Force yourself.
+The event will be, your lover will return,
+Doubly desirous to possess the good,
+Which once he feared to lose.
+
+_Cleo._ I must attempt it;
+But oh with what regret!    [_Exit_ ALEX. _She comes up to_ DOLABELLA.
+
+_Vent._ So, now the scene draws near; they're in my reach.
+
+_Cleo._ [_To_ DOL.]
+Discoursing with my women! might not I
+Share in your entertainment?
+
+_Char._ You have been
+The subject of it, madam.
+
+_Cleo._ How! and how?
+
+_Iras._ Such praises of your beauty!
+
+_Cleo._ Mere poetry.
+Your Roman wits, your Gallus and Tibullus,
+Have taught you this from Cytheris and Delia.
+
+_Dola._ 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.
+
+_Cleo._ 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.
+
+_Dola._ No, madam; yet he sent me--
+
+_Cleo._ Well, he sent you--
+
+_Dola._ Of a less pleasing errand.
+
+_Cleo._ How less pleasing?
+Less to yourself, or me?
+
+_Dola._ Madam, to both;
+For you must mourn, and I must grieve to cause it.
+
+_Cleo._ 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.
+
+_Dola._ I wish you would; for 'tis a thankless office,
+To tell ill news: And I, of all your sex,
+Most fear displeasing you.
+
+_Cleo._ Of all your sex,
+I soonest could forgive you, if you should.
+
+_Vent._ Most delicate advances! woman! woman!
+Dear, damned, inconstant sex!
+
+_Cleo._ In the first place,
+I am to be forsaken; is't not so?
+
+_Dola._ I wish I could not answer to that question.
+
+_Cleo._ Then pass it o'er, because it troubles you:
+I should have been more grieved another time.
+Next, I'm to lose my kingdom--farewell, Egypt.
+Yet, is there any more?
+
+_Dola._ Madam, I fear
+Your too deep sense of grief has turned your reason.
+
+_Cleo._ No, no, I'm not run mad; I can bear fortune:
+And love may be expelled by other love,
+As poisons are by poisons.
+
+_Dola._ You o'erjoy me, madam,
+To find your griefs so moderately borne.
+You've heard the worst; all are not false like him.
+
+_Cleo._ No; heaven forbid they should.
+
+_Dola._ Some men are constant.
+
+_Cleo._ And constancy deserves reward, that's certain.
+
+_Dola._ Deserves it not; but give it leave to hope.
+
+_Vent._ I'll swear thou hast my leave.  I have enough:
+But how to manage this! Well, I'll consider.                  [_Exit._
+
+_Dola._ I came prepared
+To tell you heavy news; news, which I thought
+Would fright the blood from your pale cheeks to hear:
+But you have met it with a cheerfulness,
+That makes my task more easy; and my tongue,
+Which on another's message was employed,
+Would gladly speak its own.
+
+_Cleo._ Hold, Dolabella.
+First tell me, were you chosen by my lord?
+Or sought you this employment?
+
+_Dola._ He picked me out; and, as his bosom-friend,
+He charged me with his words.
+
+_Cleo._ The message then
+I know was tender, and each accent smooth,
+To mollify that rugged word, _depart_.
+
+_Dola._ Oh, you mistake: He chose the harshest words;
+With fiery eyes, and with contracted brows,
+He coined his face in the severest stamp;
+And fury shook his fabric, like an earthquake;
+He heaved for vent, and burst like bellowing AEtna,
+In sounds scarce human,--Hence away for ever!
+Let her begone, the blot of my renown,
+And bane of all my hopes!
+                      [_All the time of this speech,_ CLEOPATRA _seems
+                       more and more concerned, till she sinks quite
+                       down._
+Let her be driven, as far as men can think,
+From man's commerce! she'll poison to the center.
+
+_Cleo._ Oh, I can bear no more!
+
+_Dola._ Help, help:--Oh wretch! O cursed, cursed wretch!
+What have I done!
+
+_Char._ Help, chafe her temples, Iras.
+
+_Iras._ Bend, bend her forward quickly.
+
+_Char._ Heaven be praised,
+She comes again.
+
+_Cleo._ O let him not approach me.
+Why have you brought me back to this loathed being,
+The abode of falsehood, violated vows,
+And injured love? For pity, let me go;
+For, if there be a place of long repose,
+I'm sure I want it. My disdainful lord
+Can never break that quiet; nor awake
+The sleeping soul, with hollowing in my tomb
+Such words as fright her hence.--Unkind, unkind!
+
+_Dola._ Believe me, 'tis against myself I speak;          [_Kneeling._
+That sure desires belief; I injured him:
+My friend ne'er spoke those words. Oh, had you seen
+How often he came back, and every time
+With something more obliging and more kind,
+To add to what he said; what dear farewells;
+How almost vanquished by his love he parted,
+And leaned to what unwillingly he left!
+I, traitor as I was, for love of you,
+(But what can you not do, who made me false!)
+I forged that lie; for whose forgiveness kneels
+This self-accused, self-punished criminal.
+
+_Cleo._ With how much ease believe we what we wish!
+Rise, Dolabella; if you have been guilty,
+I have contributed, and too much love
+Has made me guilty too.
+The advance of kindness, which I made, was feigned,
+To call back fleeting love by jealousy;
+But 'twould not last. Oh, rather let me lose,
+Than so ignobly trifle with his heart.
+
+_Dola._ I find your breast fenced round from human reach,
+Transparent as a rock of solid crystal;
+Seen through, but never pierced. My friend, my friend!
+What endless treasure hast thou thrown away;
+And scattered, like an infant, in the ocean,
+Vain sums of wealth, which none can gather thence!
+
+_Cleo._ Could you not beg
+An hour's admittance to his private ear?
+Like one, who wanders through long barren wilds;
+And yet foreknows no hospitable inn
+Is near to succour hunger,
+Eats his fill, before his painful march:
+So would I feed a while my famished eyes
+Before we part; for I have far to go,
+If death be far, and never must return.
+
+  VENTIDIUS, _with_ OCTAVIA, _behind._
+
+_Vent._ From hence you may discover--Oh, sweet, sweet!
+Would you indeed? the pretty hand in earnest?
+
+_Dola._ I will, for this reward.                    [_Takes her hand._
+Draw it not back,
+'Tis all I e'er will beg.
+
+_Vent._ They turn upon us.
+
+_Octav._ What quick eyes has guilt!
+
+_Vent._ Seem not to have observed them, and go on.
+
+  _They enter._
+
+_Dola._ Saw you the emperor, Ventidius?
+
+_Vent._ No.
+I sought him; but I heard that he was private,
+None with him but Hipparchus, his freedman.
+
+_Dola._ Know you his business?
+
+_Vent._ Giving him instructions,
+And letters to his brother Caesar.
+
+_Dola._ Well,
+He must be found.                          [_Exeunt_ DOLA. _and_ CLEO.
+
+_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 farther 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 seem 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 disobeyest 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[3].
+
+_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 farther, 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.
+You 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 pandar,
+No fine set speech, no cadence, no turned periods,
+But a plain home-spun 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 past 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 chuse 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._] O, 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; my dear half man, proceed.
+
+_Alex._ Yet Dolabella
+Has loved her long; he, next my godlike 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._ I bid 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 prest 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. Wonderous 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 staid.
+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 mis-matched 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 bear 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.
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA.
+
+_Ant._ False Dolabella!
+
+_Dola._ What's false, my lord?
+
+_Ant._ Why, Dolabella's false,
+And Cleopatra's false; both false and faithless.
+Draw near, you well-joined wickedness, you serpents
+Whom I have in my kindly bosom warmed,
+Till I am stung to death.
+
+_Dola._ My lord, have I
+Deserved to be thus used?
+
+_Cleo._ Can heaven prepare
+A newer torment? Can it find a curse
+Beyond our separation?
+
+_Ant._ Yes, if fate
+Be just, much greater: Heaven should be ingenious
+In punishing such crimes. The rolling-stone,
+And gnawing vulture, were slight pains, invented
+When Jove was young, and no examples known
+Of mighty ills; but you have ripened sin,
+To such a monstrous growth, 'twill pose the gods,
+To find an equal torture. Two, two such!--
+Oh there's no farther name,--two such! to me,
+To me, who locked my soul within your breasts,
+Had no desires, no joys, no life, but you;
+When half the globe was mine, I gave it you
+In dowry with my heart; I had no use,
+No fruit of all, but you: A friend and mistress,
+Was what the world could give. Oh, Cleopatra!
+Oh Dolabella! how could you betray
+This tender heart, which with an infant fondness
+Lay lulled betwixt your bosoms, and there slept,
+Secure of injured faith?
+
+_Dola._ If she has wronged you,
+Heaven, hell, and you, revenge it.
+
+_Ant._ If she has wronged me!
+Thou would'st evade thy part of guilt; but swear
+Thou lov'st not her.
+
+_Dola._ Not so as I love you.
+
+_Ant._ Not so! Swear, swear, I say, thou dost not love her.
+
+_Dola._ No more than friendship will allow.
+
+_Ant._ No more?
+Friendship allows thee nothing: Thou art perjured--
+And yet thou didst not swear thou lov'dst her not;
+But not so much, no more. Oh, trifling hypocrite,
+Who darest not own to her, thou dost not love,
+Nor own to me, thou dost! Ventidius heard it;
+Octavia saw it.
+
+_Cleo._ They are enemies.
+
+_Ant._ Alexas is not so: He, he confest it;
+He, who, next hell, best knew it, he avowed it
+Why do I seek a proof beyond yourself?                     [_To_ DOLA.
+You, whom I sent to bear my last farewell,
+Returned, to plead her stay.
+
+_Dola._ What shall I answer?
+If to have loved be guilt, then I have sinned;
+But if to have repented of that love,
+Can wash away my crime, I have repented.
+Yet, if I have offended past forgiveness,
+Let her not suffer: She is innocent.
+
+_Cleo._ Ah, what will not a woman do, who loves!
+What means will she refuse, to keep that heart,
+Where all her joys are placed! 'Twas I encouraged,
+'Twas I blew up the fire that scorched his soul,
+To make you jealous, and by that regain you.
+But all in vain; I could not counterfeit:
+In spite of all the dams, my love broke o'er,
+And drowned my heart again; fate took the occasion;
+And thus one minute's feigning has destroyed
+My whole life's truth.
+
+_Ant._ Thin cobweb arts of falsehood;
+Seen, and broke through at first.
+
+_Dola._ Forgive your mistress.
+
+_Cleo._ Forgive your friend.
+
+_Ant._ You have convinced yourselves.
+You plead each other's cause: What witness have you,
+That you but meant to raise my jealousy?
+
+_Cleo._ Ourselves, and heaven.
+
+_Ant._ Guilt witnesses for guilt. Hence, love and friendship!
+You have no longer place in human breasts,
+These two have driven you out: Avoid my sight!
+I would not kill the man whom I have loved,
+And cannot hurt the woman; but avoid me:
+I do not know how long I can be tame;
+For, if I stay one minute more, to think
+How I am wronged, my justice and revenge
+Will cry so loud within me, that my pity
+Will not be heard for either.
+
+_Dola._ Heaven has but
+Our sorrow for our sins; and then delights
+To pardon erring man: Sweet mercy seems
+Its darling attribute, which limits justice;
+As if there were degrees in infinite,
+And infinite would rather want perfection,
+Than punish to extent.
+
+_Ant._ I can forgive
+A foe; but not a mistress, and a friend.
+Treason is there in its most horrid shape,
+Where trust is greatest; and the soul, resigned,
+Is stabbed by its own guards: I'll hear no more;
+Hence from my sight, for ever!
+
+_Cleo._ How? for ever!
+I cannot go one moment from your sight,
+And must I go for ever?
+My joys, my only joys, are centered here:
+What place have I to go to? My own kingdom?
+That I have lost for you: Or to the Romans?
+They hate me for your sake: Or must I wander
+The wide world o'er, a helpless, banished woman,
+Banished for love of you; banished from you?
+Ay, there's the banishment! Oh hear me; hear me.
+With strictest justice: For I beg no favour;
+And if I have offended you, then kill me,
+But do not banish me.
+
+_Ant._ I must not hear you.
+I have a fool within me, takes your part;
+But honour stops my ears.
+
+_Cleo._ For pity hear me!
+Would you cast off a slave who followed you?
+Who crouched beneath your spurn?--He has no pity!
+See, if he gives one tear to my departure;
+One look, one kind farewell: Oh iron heart!
+Let all the gods look down, and judge betwixt us.
+If he did ever love!
+
+_Ant._ No more: Alexas!
+
+_Dola._ A perjured villain!
+
+_Ant._ [_To_ CLEO.] Your Alexas; yours.
+
+_Cleo._ O 'twas his plot; his ruinous design,
+To engage you in my love by jealousy.
+Hear him; confront him with me; let him speak.
+
+_Ant._ I have; I have.
+
+_Cleo._ And if he clear me not--
+
+_Ant._ Your creature! one, who hangs upon your smiles!
+Watches your eye, to say or to unsay,
+Whate'er you please! I am not to be moved.
+
+_Cleo._ Then must we part? Farewell, my cruel lord!
+The appearance is against me; and I go,
+Unjustified, for ever from your sight.
+How I have loved, you know; how yet I love,
+My only comfort is, I know myself:
+I love you more, even now you are unkind,
+Than when you loved me most; so well, so truly,
+I'll never strive against it; but die pleased,
+To think you once were mine.
+
+_Ant._ Good heaven, they weep at parting.
+Must I weep too? that calls them innocent.
+I must not weep; and yet I must, to think
+That I must not forgive.--
+Live, but live wretched; 'tis but just you should,
+Who made me so: Live from each other's sight:
+Let me not hear you meet. Set all the earth,
+And all the seas, betwixt your sundered loves:
+View nothing common but the sun and skies.
+Now, all take several ways;
+  And each your own sad fate, with mine, deplore;
+  That you were false, and I could trust no more. [_Exeunt severally._
+
+
+ACT V. SCENE I.
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Char._ Be juster, heaven; such virtue punished thus,
+Will make us think that chance rules all above,
+And shuffles, with a random hand, the lots,
+Which man is forced to draw.
+
+_Cleo._ I could tear out these eyes, that gained his heart,
+And had not power to keep it. O the curse
+Of doting on, even when I find it dotage!
+Bear witness, gods, you heard him bid me go;
+You, whom he mocked with imprecating vows
+Of promised faith!--I'll die; I will not bear it.
+You may hold me--      [_She pulls out her Dagger, and they hold her._
+But I can keep my breath; I can die inward,
+And choke this love.
+
+  _Enter_ ALEXAS.
+
+_Iras._ Help, O Alexas, help!
+The queen grows desperate; her soul struggles in her,
+With all the agonies of love and rage,
+And strives to force its passage.
+
+_Cleo._ Let me go.
+Art thou there, traitor!--O,
+O for a little breath, to vent my rage!
+Give, give me way, and let me loose upon him.
+
+_Alex._ Yes, I deserve it, for my ill-timed truth.
+Was it for me to prop
+The ruins of a falling majesty?
+To place myself beneath the mighty flaw,
+Thus to be crushed, and pounded into atoms,
+By its o'erwhelming weight? 'Tis too presuming
+For subjects to preserve that wilful power,
+Which courts its own destruction.
+
+_Cleo._ I would reason
+More calmly with you. Did not you o'er-rule,
+And force my plain, direct, and open love,
+Into these crooked paths of jealousy?
+Now, what's the event? Octavia is removed;
+But Cleopatra's banished. Thou, thou villain,
+Hast pushed my boat to open sea; to prove,
+At my sad cost, if thou canst steer it back.
+It cannot be; I'm lost too far; I'm ruined:
+Hence, thou impostor, traitor, monster, devil!--
+I can no more: Thou, and my griefs, have sunk
+Me down so low, that I want voice to curse thee.
+
+_Alex._ Suppose some shipwrecked seaman near the shore,
+Dropping and faint, with climbing up the cliff,
+If, from above, some charitable hand
+Pull him to safety, hazarding himself,
+To draw the other's weight; would he look back,
+And curse him for his pains? The case is yours;
+But one step more, and you have gained the height.
+
+_Cleo._ Sunk, never more to rise.
+
+_Alex._ Octavia's gone, and Dolabella banished.
+Believe me, madam, Antony is yours.
+His heart was never lost; but started off
+To jealousy, love's last retreat and covert;
+Where it lies hid in shades, watchful in silence,
+And listening for the sound that calls it back.
+Some other, any man, ('tis so advanced)
+May perfect this unfinished work, which I
+(Unhappy only to myself) have left
+So easy to his hand.
+
+_Cleo._ Look well thou do't; else--
+
+_Alex._ Else, what your silence threatens.--Antony
+Is mounted up the Pharos; from whose turret,
+He stands surveying our Egyptian gallies,
+Engaged with Caesar's fleet. Now death or conquest!
+If the first happen, fate acquits my promise;
+If we o'ercome, the conqueror is yours.     [_A distant shout within._
+
+_Char._ Have comfort, madam: Did you mark that shout?
+                                               [_Second shout nearer._
+
+_Iras._ Hark! they redouble it.
+
+_Alex._ 'Tis from the port.
+The loudness shows it near: Good news, kind heavens!
+
+_Cleo._ Osiris make it so!
+
+  _Enter_ SERAPION.
+
+_Serap._ Where, where's the queen?
+
+_Alex._ How frightfully the holy coward stares!
+As if not yet recovered of the assault,
+When all his gods, and, what's more dear to him,
+His offerings, were at stake.
+
+_Serap._ O horror, horror!
+Egypt has been; our latest hour is come:
+The queen of nations, from her ancient seat,
+Is sunk for ever in the dark abyss:
+Time has unrolled her glories to the last,
+And now closed up the volume.
+
+_Cleo._ Be more plain:
+Say, whence thou comest; though fate is in thy face,
+Which from thy hagard eyes looks wildly out,
+And threatens ere thou speakest.
+
+_Serap._ I came from Pharos;
+From viewing (spare me, and imagine it)
+Our land's last hope, your navy--
+
+_Cleo._ Vanquished?
+
+_Serap._ No;
+They fought not.
+
+_Cleo._ Then they fled.
+
+_Serap._ Nor that. I saw,
+With Antony, your well-appointed fleet
+Row out; and thrice he waved his hand on high,
+And thrice with cheerful cries they shouted back:
+'Twas then false Fortune, like a fawning strumpet,
+About to leave the bankrupt prodigal,
+With a dissembled smile would kiss at parting,
+And flatter to the last; the well-timed oars
+Now dipt from every bank, now smoothly run
+To meet the foe; and soon indeed they met,
+But not as foes. In few, we saw their caps
+On either side thrown up; the Egyptian gallies,
+Received like friends, past through, and fell behind
+The Roman rear: And now, they all come forward,
+And ride within the port,
+
+_Cleo._ Enough, Serapion:
+I've heard my doom.--This needed not, you gods:
+When I lost Antony, your work was done;
+'Tis but superfluous malice.--Where's my lord?
+How bears he this last blow?
+
+_Serap._ His fury cannot be expressed by words:
+Thrice he attempted headlong to have fallen
+Full on his foes, and aimed at Caesar's galley:
+With-held, he raves on you; cries,--He's betrayed.
+Should he now find you--
+
+_Alex._ Shun him; seek your safety,
+Till you can clear your innocence.
+
+_Cleo._ I'll stay.
+
+_Alex._ You must not; haste you to your monument,
+While I make speed to Caesar.
+
+_Cleo._ Caesar! No,
+I have no business with him.
+
+_Alex._ I can work him
+To spare your life, and let this madman perish.
+
+_Cleo._ Base fawning wretch! would'st thou betray him too?
+Hence from my sight! I will not hear a traitor;
+'Twas thy design brought all this ruin on us.--
+Serapion, thou art honest; counsel me:
+But haste, each moment's precious.
+
+_Serap._ Retire; you must not yet see Antony.
+He who began this mischief,
+'Tis just he tempt the danger; let him clear you:
+And, since he offered you his servile tongue,
+To gain a poor precarious life from Caesar,
+Let him expose that fawning eloquence,
+And speak to Antony.
+
+_Alex._ O heavens! I dare not;
+I meet my certain death.
+
+_Cleo._ Slave, thou deservest it,--
+Not that I fear my lord, will I avoid him;
+I know him noble: when he banished me,
+And thought me false, he scorned to take my life;
+But I'll be justified, and then die with him.
+
+_Alex._ O pity me, and let me follow you.
+
+_Cleo._ To death, if thou stir hence. Speak, if thou canst,
+Now for thy life, which basely thou wouldst save;
+While mine I prize at this. Come, good Serapion.
+                              [_Exeunt_ CLEO. SERAP. CHAR. _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Alex._ O that I less could fear to lose this being,
+Which, like a snow-ball in my coward hand,
+The more 'tis grasped, the faster melts away.
+Poor reason! what a wretched aid art thou!
+For still, in spite of thee,
+These two long lovers, soul and body, dread
+Their final separation. Let me think:
+What can I say, to save myself from death?
+No matter what becomes of Cleopatra.
+
+_Ant._ Which way? where?                                    [_Within._
+
+_Vent._ This leads to the monument.                         [_Within._
+
+_Alex._ Ah me! I hear him; yet I'm unprepared:
+My gift of lying's gone;
+And this court-devil, which I so oft have raised,
+Forsakes me at my need. I dare not stay;
+Yet cannot far go hence.                                      [_Exit._
+
+  _Enter_ ANTONY _and_ VENTIDIUS.
+
+_Ant._ O happy Caesar! thou hast men to lead:
+Think not 'tis thou hast conquered Antony;
+But Rome has conquered Egypt. I'm betrayed.
+
+_Vent._ Curse on this treacherous train!
+Their soil and heaven infect them all with baseness:
+And their young souls come tainted to the world
+With the first breath they draw.
+
+_Ant._ The original villain sure no God created;
+He was a bastard of the sun, by Nile,
+Aped into man; with all his mother's mud
+Crusted about his soul.
+
+_Vent._ The nation is
+One universal traitor; and their queen
+The very spirit and extract of them all.
+
+_Ant._ Is there yet left
+A possibility of aid from valour?
+Is there one god unsworn to my destruction?
+The least unmortgaged hope? for, if there be,
+Methinks I cannot fall beneath the fate
+Of such a boy as Caesar.
+The world's one half is yet in Antony;
+And from each limb of it, that's hewed away,
+The soul comes back to me.
+
+_Vent._ There yet remain
+Three legions in the town. The last assault
+Lopt off the rest: if death be your design,--
+As I must wish it now,--these are sufficient
+To make a heap about us of dead foes,
+An honest pile for burial.
+
+_Ant._ They are enough.
+We'll not divide our stars; but, side by side,
+Fight emulous, and with malicious eyes
+Survey each other's acts: So every death
+Thou giv'st, I'll take on me, as a just debt,
+And pay thee back a soul.
+
+_Vent._ Now you shall see I love you. Not a word
+Of chiding more. By my few hours of life,
+I am so pleased with this brave Roman fate,
+That I would not be Caesar, to outlive you.
+When we put off this flesh, and mount together,
+I shall be shown to all the etherial crowd,--
+Lo, this is he who died with Antony!
+
+_Ant._ Who knows, but we may pierce through all their troops,
+And reach my veterans yet? 'tis worth the tempting,
+To o'erleap this gulph of fate,
+And leave our wandering destinies behind.
+
+  _Enter_ ALEXAS, _trembling._
+
+_Vent._ See, see, that villain!
+See Cleopatra stampt upon that face,
+With all her cunning, all her arts of falsehood!
+How she looks out through those dissembling eyes!
+How he sets his countenance for deceit,
+And promises a lie, before he speaks!
+Let me dispatch him first.                                 [_Drawing._
+
+_Alex._ O spare me, spare me!
+
+_Ant._ Hold; he's not worth your killing.--On thy life,
+Which thou may'st keep, because I scorn to take it,
+No syllable to justify thy queen;
+Save thy base tongue its office.
+
+_Alex._ Sir, she is gone,
+Where she shall never be molested more
+By love, or you.
+
+_Ant._ Fled to her Dolabella!
+Die, traitor! I revoke my promise; die!          [_Going to kill him._
+
+_Alex._ O hold! she is not fled.
+
+_Ant._ She is: my eyes
+Are open to her falsehood; my whole life
+Has been a golden dream of love and friendship;
+But, now I wake, I'm like a merchant, roused
+From soft repose, to see his vessel sinking,
+And all his wealth cast over. Ungrateful woman!
+Who followed me, but as the swallow summer,
+Hatching her young ones in my kindly beams,
+Singing her flatteries to my morning wake:
+But, now my winter comes, she spreads her wings
+And seeks the spring of Caesar.
+
+_Alex._ Think not so:
+Her fortunes have, in all things, mixt with yours.
+Had she betrayed her naval force to Rome,
+How easily might she have gone to Caesar,
+Secure by such a bribe!
+
+_Vent._ She sent it first,
+To be more welcome after.
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis too plain;
+Else would she have appeared, to clear herself.
+
+_Alex._ Too fatally she has: she could not bear
+To be accused by you; but shut herself
+Within her monument; looked down and sighed;
+While, from her unchanged face, the silent tears
+Dropt, as they had not leave, but stole their parting.
+Some undistinguished words she inly murmured;
+At last, she rais'd her eyes; and, with such looks
+As dying Lucrece cast--
+
+_Ant._ My heart forebodes--
+
+_Vent._ All for the best:--Go on.
+
+_Alex._ She snatched her poniard,
+And, ere we could prevent the fatal blow,
+Plunged it within her breast; then turned to me:
+Go, bear my lord, said she, my last farewell;
+And ask him, if he yet suspect my faith.
+More she was saying, but death rushed betwixt.
+She half pronounced your name with her last breath,
+And buried half within her.
+
+_Vent._ Heaven be praised!
+
+_Ant._ Then art thou innocent, my poor dear love?
+And art thou dead?
+O those two words! their sound should be divided:
+Hadst thou been false, and died; or hadst thou lived,
+And hadst been true--But innocence and death!
+This shows not well above. Then what am I,
+The murderer of this truth, this innocence!
+Thoughts cannot form themselves in words so horrid
+As can express my guilt!
+
+_Vent._ Is't come to this? the gods have been too gracious;
+And thus you thank them for it!
+
+_Ant._ [_To_ ALEX.] Why stayest thou here?
+Is it for thee to spy upon my soul,
+And see its inward mourning? Get thee hence;
+Thou art not worthy to behold, what now
+Becomes a Roman emperor to perform.
+
+_Alex._ He loves her still:
+His grief betrays it. Good! the joy to find
+She's yet alive, completes the reconcilement.
+I've saved myself, and her. But, oh! the Romans!
+Fate comes too fast upon my wit,
+Hunts me too hard, and meets me at each double.        [_Aside. Exit._
+
+_Vent._ Would she had died a little sooner though!
+Before Octavia went, you might have treated:
+Now 'twill look tame, and would not be received.
+Come, rouse yourself, and let's die warm together.
+
+_Ant._ I will not fight: there's no more work for war.
+The business of my angry hours is done.
+
+_Vent._ Caesar is at your gates.
+
+_Ant._ Why, let him enter;
+He's welcome now.
+
+_Vent._ What lethargy has crept into your soul?
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis but a scorn of life, and just desire
+To free myself from bondage.
+
+_Vent._ Do it bravely.
+
+_Ant._ I will; but not by fighting. O, Ventidius!
+What should I fight for now? my queen is dead.
+I was but great for her; my power, my empire,
+Were but my merchandise to buy her love;
+And conquered kings, my factors. Now she's dead,
+Let Caesar, take the world,--
+An empty circle, since the jewel's gone
+Which made it worth my strife: my being's nauseous;
+For all the bribes of life are gone away.
+
+_Vent._ Would you be taken?
+
+_Ant._ Yes, I would be taken;
+But, as a Roman ought,--dead, my Ventidius:
+For I'll convey my soul from Caesar's reach,
+And lay down life myself. 'Tis time the world
+Should have a lord, and know whom to obey.
+We two have kept its homage in suspence,
+And bent the globe, on whose each side we trod,
+Till it was dented inwards. Let him walk
+Alone upon't: I'm weary of my part.
+My torch is out; and the world stands before me,
+Like a black desert at the approach of night:
+I'll lay me down, and stray no farther on.
+
+_Vent._ I could be grieved,
+But that I'll not out-live you: chuse your death;
+For, I have seen him in such various shapes,
+I care not which I take: I'm only troubled,
+The life I bear is worn to such a rag,
+'Tis scarce worth giving. I could wish, indeed,
+We threw it from us with a better grace;
+That, like two lions taken in the toils,
+We might at last thrust out our paws, and wound
+The hunters that inclose us.
+
+_Ant._ I have thought on it.
+Ventidius, you must live.
+
+_Vent._ I must not, sir.
+
+_Ant._ Wilt thou not live, to speak some good of me?
+To stand by my fair fame, and guard the approaches
+From the ill tongues of men?
+
+_Vent._ Who shall guard mine,
+For living after you?
+
+_Ant._ Say, I command it.
+
+_Vent._ If we die well, our deaths will speak themselves,
+And need no living witness.
+
+_Ant._ Thou hast loved me,
+And fain I would reward thee. I must die;
+Kill me, and take the merit of my death,
+To make thee friends with Caesar.
+
+_Vent._ Thank your kindness.
+You said I loved you; and, in recompence,
+You bid me turn a traitor:--Did I think
+You would have used me thus? that I should die
+With a hard thought of you?
+
+_Ant._ Forgive me, Roman.
+Since I have heard of Cleopatra's death,
+My reason bears no rule upon my tongue,
+But lets my thoughts break all at random out.
+I've thought better; do not deny me twice.
+
+_Vent._ By heaven I will not.
+Let it not be to out-live you.
+
+_Ant._ Kill me first,
+And then die thou; for 'tis but just thou serve
+Thy friend, before thyself.
+
+_Vent._ Give me your hand.
+We soon shall meet again. Now, farewell, emperor!--        [_Embrace._
+Methinks that word's too cold to be my last:
+Since death sweeps all distinctions, farewell, friend!
+That's all--
+I will not make a business of a trifle:
+And yet I cannot look on you, and kill you;
+Pray turn your face.
+
+_Ant._ I do: strike home, be sure.
+
+_Vent._ Home, as my sword will reach.                [_Kills himself._
+
+_Ant._ O thou mistak'st;
+That wound was none of thine: give it me back:
+Thou robb'st me of my death.
+
+_Vent._ I do indeed;
+But think 'tis the first time I e'er deceived you,
+If that may plead my pardon.--And you, gods,
+Forgive me, if you will; for I die perjured,
+Rather than kill my friend.                                   [_Dies._
+
+_Ant._ Farewell! Ever my leader, even in death!
+My queen and thou have got the start of me,
+And I'm the lag of honour.--Gone so soon?
+Is death no more? he used him carelessly,
+With a familiar kindness: ere he knocked,
+Ran to the door, and took him in his arms,
+As who should say--You're welcome at all hours,
+A friend need give no warning. Books had spoiled him;
+For all the learned are cowards by profession.
+'Tis not worth
+My farther thought; for death, for aught I know,
+Is but to think no more. Here's to be satisfied.
+                                                [_Falls on his sword._
+I've mist my heart. O unperforming hand!
+Thou never could'st have erred in a worse time.
+My fortune jades me to the last; and death,
+Like a great man, takes state, and makes me wait
+For my admittance.--                              [_Trampling within._
+Some, perhaps, from Caesar:
+If he should find me living, and suspect
+That I played booty with my life! I'll mend
+My work, ere they can reach me.               [_Rises upon his knees._
+
+  _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Cleo._ Where is my lord? where is he?
+
+_Char._ There he lies,
+And dead Ventidius by him.
+
+_Cleo._ My fears were prophets; I am come too late.
+O that accursed Alexas!                                [_Runs to him._
+
+_Ant._ Art thou living?
+Or am I dead before I knew, and thou
+The first kind ghost that meets me?
+
+_Cleo._ Help me seat him.
+Send quickly, send for help!             [_They place him in a chair._
+
+_Ant._ I am answered.
+We live both. Sit thee down, my Cleopatra:
+I'll make the most I can of life, to stay
+A moment more with thee.
+
+_Cleo._ How is it with you?
+
+_Ant._ 'Tis as with a man
+Removing in a hurry; all packed up,
+But one dear jewel that his haste forgot;
+And he, for that, returns upon the spur:
+So I come back for thee.
+
+_Cleo._ Too long, ye heavens, you have been cruel to me:
+Now show your mended faith, and give me back
+His fleeting life!
+
+_Ant._ It will not be, my love;
+I keep my soul by force.
+Say but, thou art not false.
+
+_Cleo._ 'Tis now too late
+To say I'm true: I'll prove it, and die with you.
+Unknown to me, Alexas feigned my death:
+Which, when I knew, I hasted to prevent
+This fatal consequence. My fleet betrayed
+Both you and me.
+
+_Ant._ And Dolabella--
+
+_Cleo._ Scarce esteemed before he loved; but hated now.
+
+_Ant._ Enough: my life's not long enough for more.
+Thou say'st, thou wilt come after: I believe thee;
+For I can now believe whate'er thou sayest,
+That we may part more kindly.
+
+_Cleo._ I will come:
+Doubt not, my life, I'll come, and quickly too:
+Caesar shall triumph o'er no part of thee.
+
+_Ant._ But grieve not, while thou stayest,
+My last disastrous times:
+Think we have had a clear and glorious day;
+And heaven did kindly to delay the storm,
+Just till our close of evening. Ten years love,
+And not a moment lost, but all improved
+To the utmost joys,--what ages have we liv'd?
+And now to die each others; and, so dying,
+While hand in hand we walk in groves below,
+Whole troops of lovers' ghosts shall flock about us,
+And all the train be ours.
+
+_Cleo._ Your words are like the notes of dying swans,
+Too sweet to last. Were there so many hours
+For your unkindness, and not one for love?
+
+_Ant._ No, not a minute.--This one kiss--more worth
+Than all I leave to Caesar.                                    [_Dies._
+
+_Cleo._ O, tell me so again,
+And take ten thousand kisses for that word.
+My lord, my lord! speak, if you yet have being;
+Sign to me, if you cannot speak; or cast
+One look! Do any thing, that shows you live.
+
+_Iras._ He's gone too far to hear you;
+And this you see, a lump of senseless clay,
+The leavings of a soul.
+
+_Char._ Remember, madam,
+He charged you not to grieve.
+
+_Cleo._ And I'll obey him.
+I have not loved a Roman, not to know
+What should become his wife; his wife, my Charmion!
+For 'tis to that high title I aspire;
+And now I'll not die less. Let dull Octavia
+Survive, to mourn him dead: My nobler fate
+Shall knit our spousals with a tie, too strong
+For Roman laws to break.
+
+_Iras._ Will you then die?
+
+_Cleo._ Why should'st thou make that question?
+
+_Iras._ Caesar is most merciful.
+
+_Cleo._ Let him be so
+To those that want his mercy: My poor lord
+Made no such covenant with him, to spare me
+When he was dead. Yield me to Caesar's pride?
+What! to be led in triumph through the streets,
+A spectacle to base plebeian eyes;
+While some dejected friend of Antony's,
+Close in a corner, shakes his head, and mutters
+A secret curse on her, who ruined him!
+I'll none of that.
+
+_Char._ Whatever you resolve,
+I'll follow, even to death.
+
+_Iras._ I only feared
+For you; but more should fear to live without you.
+
+_Cleo._ Why, now, 'tis as it should be. Quick, my friends,
+Despatch; ere this, the town's in Caesar's hands:
+My lord looks down concerned, and fears my stay,
+Lest I should be surprised;
+Keep him not waiting for his love too long.
+You, Charmion, bring my crown and richest jewels;
+With them, the wreath of victory I made
+(Vain augury!) for him, who now lies dead:
+You, Iras, bring the cure of all our ills.
+
+_Iras._ The aspicks, madam?
+
+_Cleo._ Must I bid you twice?                 [_Ex._ CHAR. _and_ IRAS.
+'Tis sweet to die, when they would force life on me,
+To rush into the dark abode of death,
+And seize him first; if he be like my love,
+He is not frightful, sure.
+We're now alone, in secresy and silence;
+And is not this like lovers? I may kiss
+These pale, cold lips; Octavia does not see me:
+And, oh! 'tis better far to have him thus,
+Than see him in her arms.--O welcome, welcome!
+
+  _Enter_ CHARMION _and_ IRAS.
+
+_Char._ What must be done?
+
+_Cleo._ Short ceremony, friends;
+But yet it must be decent. First, this laurel
+Shall crown my hero's head: he fell not basely,
+Nor left his shield behind him.--Only thou
+Could'st triumph o'er thyself; and thou alone
+Wert worthy so to triumph.
+
+_Char._ To what end
+These ensigns of your pomp and royalty?
+
+_Cleo._ Dull, that thou art! why,'tis to meet my love;
+As when I saw him first, on Cydnos' bank,
+All sparkling, like a goddess: so adorned,
+I'll find him once again; my second spousals
+Shall match my first in glory. Haste, haste, both,
+And dress the bride of Antony.
+
+_Char._ 'Tis done.
+
+_Cleo._ Now seat me by my lord. I claim this place;
+For I must conquer Caesar too, like him,
+And win my share of the world.--Hail, you dear relicks
+Of my immortal love!
+O let no impious hand remove you hence;
+But rest for ever here! Let Egypt give
+His death that peace, which it denied his life.--
+Reach me the casket.
+
+_Iras._ Underneath the fruit the aspick lies.
+
+_Cleo._ Welcome, thou kind deceiver!      [_Putting aside the leaves._
+Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key,
+Dost open life, and, unperceived by us,
+Even steal us from ourselves; discharging so
+Death's dreadful office, better than himself;
+Touching our limbs so gently into slumber,
+That death stands by, deceived by his own image,
+And thinks himself but sleep.
+
+_Serap._ The queen, where is she?                           [_Within._
+The town is yielded, Caesar's at the gates.
+
+_Cleo._ He comes too late to invade the rights of death.
+Haste, bare my arm, and rouse the serpent's fury.
+                              [_Holds out her arm, and draws it back._
+Coward flesh,
+Would'st thou conspire with Caesar to betray me,
+As thou wert none of mine? I'll force thee to it,
+And not be sent by him,
+But bring myself, my soul, to Antony.
+                        [_Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody._
+Take hence; the work is done.
+
+_Serap._ Break ope the door,                                [_Within._
+And guard the traitor well.
+
+_Char._ The next is ours.
+
+_Iras._ Now, Charmion, to be worthy
+Of our great queen and mistress.            [_They apply the aspicks._
+
+_Cleo._ Already, death, I feel thee in my veins:
+I go with such a will to find my lord,
+That we shall quickly meet.
+A heavy numbness creeps through every limb,
+And now 'tis at my head: My eye-lids fall,
+And my dear love is vanished in a mist.
+Where shall I find him, where? O turn me to him,
+And lay me on his breast!--Caesar, thy worst;
+Now part us, if thou canst.                                   [_Dies._
+                    [IRAS _sinks down at her feet, and dies;_ CHARMION
+                     _stands behind her chair, as dressing her head._
+
+  _Enter_ SERAPION, _two Priests,_ ALEXAS _bound, Egyptians._
+
+_Priest._ Behold, Serapion, what havock death has made!
+
+_Serap._ 'Twas what I feared.--
+Charmion, is this well done?
+
+_Char._ Yes, 'tis well done, and like a queen, the last
+Of her great race: I follow her.                  [_Sinks down; dies._
+
+_Alex._ 'Tis true,
+She has done well: Much better thus to die,
+Than live to make a holiday in Rome.
+
+_Serap._ See, how the lovers sit in state together,
+As they were giving laws to half mankind!
+The impression of a smile, left in her face,
+Shows she died pleased with him for whom she lived.
+And went to charm him in another
+Caesar's just entering: grief has now no leisure.
+Secure that villain, as our pledge of safety,
+To grace the imperial triumph.--Sleep, blest pair,
+Secure from human chance, long ages out,
+While all the storms of fate fly o'er your tomb;
+  And fame to late posterity shall tell,
+  No lovers lived so great, or died so well.                [_Exeunt._
+
+
+Footnotes:
+1. There was anciently some foolish idea about a wren soaring on an
+   eagle's back. Colley Cibber, as Dr Johnson observed, converted the
+   wren into a linnet:
+
+     Perched on the eagle's towering wing,
+     The lowly linnet loves to sing.
+
+2.   Approach there--Ay, you kite!--
+     --Now, gods and devils!
+     Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried ho!
+     Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth
+     And cry, your will.--Have you no ears?
+     I am Antony yet.--
+
+   The same idea, which bursts from Shakespeare's Antony in a
+   transport of passion, is used by Dryden's hero. The one is goaded
+   by the painful feeling of lost power; to the other, absorbed in his
+   sentimental distresses, it only occurs as a subject of melancholy,
+   but not of agitating reflection.
+
+3. Imitated, or rather copied, from Shakespeare.
+
+   _Don John._ I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shortened
+   (for she hath been too long a talking of) the lady is disloyal.
+
+   _Claudia._ Who? Hero?
+
+   _Don John._ Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero.
+
+
+
+
+                              EPILOGUE.
+
+
+  Poets, like disputants, when reasons fail,
+  Have one sure refuge left--and that's to rail.
+  Fop, coxcomb, fool, are thundered through the pit;
+  And this is all their equipage of wit.
+  We wonder how the devil this difference grows,
+  Betwixt our fools in verse, and yours in prose:
+  For, 'faith, the quarrel rightly understood,
+  'Tis civil war with their own flesh and blood.
+  The thread-bare author hates the gaudy coat;
+  And swears at the gilt coach, but swears a-foot;
+  For 'tis observed of every scribbling man,
+  He grows a fop as fast as e'er he can;
+  Prunes up, and asks his oracle, the glass,
+  If pink and purple best become his face.
+  For our poor wretch, he neither rails nor prays;
+  Nor likes your wit just as you like his plays;
+  He has not yet so much of Mr Bayes.
+  He does his best; and if he cannot please,
+  Would quietly sue out his _writ of ease_.
+  Yet, if he might his own grand jury call,
+  By the fair sex he begs to stand or fall.
+  Let Caesar's power the men's ambition move,
+  But grace you him, who lost the world for love!
+  Yet if some antiquated lady say,
+  The last age is not copied in his play;
+  Heaven help the man who for that face must drudge,
+  Which only has the wrinkles of a judge.
+  Let not the young and beauteous join with those;
+  For should you raise such numerous hosts of foes,
+  Young wits and sparks he to his aid must call;
+  'Tis more than one man's work to please you all.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                       END OF THE FIFTH VOLUME.
+
+
+                              Edinburgh:
+
+                     Printed by James Ballantyne & Co.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of John Dryden, Volume 5 (of
+18), by John Dryden
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