More of this image, more; it lulls my thoughts.
Kent. I muft difturb him; I can hold no longer.
[Stands before him.
Ant. [Staring up.] Art thou Ventidius ?
Vent. Are you Antony?

I'm liker what I was, than you to him

I left you laft.

Ant. I'm angry.

Vent. So am I.

Ant. I would be private:

leave inc.

Vent. Sir, I love you,

And therefore will not leave you.

Ant. Will not leave me?

Ant. I'll help thee-I have been a man,Venti-
Vent. Yes, and a brave one: but [dias.
Ant. I know thy meaning.

But I have loft my reafon, have difgrac'd
The name of foldier, with inglorious cafe.
In the full vintage of my flowing honours
Sate ftill, and faw it preft by other hands.
Fortune came finiling to my youth, and woo'd it,
And purple greatnefs met my ripen'd years.
When firft I came to empire, I was borne
On tides of people, crowding to my triumphs;
The wifh of nations, and the willing world
Receiv'd me as its pledge of future peace.

Where have you learnt that anfwer? Who am II was fo great, fo happy, fo belov'd,

Vent. My emperor; the man I love next Heaven.
If I faid more, I think 't were scarce a fin:
You 're all that's good and godlike.

Ant. All that 's wretched.

You will not leave me then?

Vent. 'Twas too prefuming

To fay I would not: but I dare not leave you;
And 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence
So foon, when I fo far have come to fee you.
Ant Now thou haft seen me, art thou fatisfied:
For, if a friend, thou haft beheld enough;
And, if a foe, too much.

Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew,
I have not wept these forty years; but now
My mother comes afrefh into my eyes;
I cannot help her foftness

Ant. By Heaven he weeps, poor good old man!
he weeps!

The big round drops courfe one another down
The furrows of his cheeks. Stop 'em, Ventidius,
Or fhall I blush to death; they let my fhame,
That caus'd 'em, full before me.

Vent. I'll do my best.

[friends;

Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains,
And work'd against my fortune id her from me,
And turn'd her loofe: yet ftill the came again.
My careless days, and my luxurious nights,
At length have wearied her, and now the 's gone;
Gone, gone, divorc'd for ever! Help me, foldier,
To curfe this madman, this induftrious fool,
Who labour'd to be wretched. Pr'ythee curfe me.
Vent. No.

Ant. Why?

Vent. You are too fenfible already

Of what you've done, too confcious of your failings;
And like a fcorpion, whipt by others first
To fury, fting yourfelf in mad revenge.

for

I would bring balm, and pour it in your wounds,
Cure your diftemper'd mind, and heal your
fat. I know thou wouldft.
Vent. I will.

Ant. Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Vent. You laugh.

Ant. I do, to fee officious love
Give cordials to the dead.

Vent. You would be loft then?
Ant. I am.

[tunes.

Vent, I lay you are not. Try your fortune.
Ant. I have to th' utmoft. Doft thou think me

defperate

Without just caufe? No, when I found all loft
Beyond repair, I hid me from the world,
And learnt to fcoru it here; which now I do
So heartily, I think it is not worth
The cost of keeping.

Vent. Cæfar thinks not fo:

He'll thank you for the gift he could not take.
You would be kill'd like Tully, would you? Do
Hold out your threat to Cæfar, and die tamely.

Ant. No, I can kill myfelf; and fo refolve.
Vent. I can die with you too, when time shall

They'll fell thofe mangled limbs at dearer rates What hinder'd me t' have led my conqu'ring eagles

U u

Vent. Ye gods, ye gods,

For fuch another honour!

Ant. Come on, my foldier;

Before this Roman healer. But, by the gods,
Before I go, I'll ip the malady,
And let the venom flow before your eyes.

Our hearts and arms are ftill the fame. I longThis is a debt to the great Theodofius,
Once more to meet our foes; that thou and I,
Like Time and Death, marching before our

troops,

May tafle fate to 'em; mow 'em out a paffage,
And, ent'ring where the utmoft fquadrons yield,
Begin the noble harveft of the field.

6

$30. Theodofius and Marcian.

Toco.

LEE.

The grandfather of your illuftrious blood :
And then farewell for ever.

Theo. Prefuming Marcian!

What canft thou urge against my innocence ?
Thro' the whole courfe of all my harmlefs youth,
Ev'n to this hour, I cannot call to mind

One wicked act which I have done to fhame me.
Mar. This may be true: yet if you give the
fway

To other hands, and your poor fubje&ts suffer,

HA! what rash thing art thou, who Your negligence to them is as the cause.

fett'ft fo finall

A value on thy life, thus to prefume
Against the fatal orders I have given,
Thus to entrench on Cæfar's folitude,
And urge me to thy ruin?

Mar. Mighty Cæfar,

I have tranfgrefs'd; and for my pardon bow
To thee, as to the gods, when I offend :
Nor can I doubt your mercy, when you know
The nature of my crime. I am commiffion'd
From all the earth to give thee thanks and praifes,
Thou darling of mankind! whofe conqu'ring arms
Already drown the glory of great Julius;
Whofe deeper reach in laws and policy
Makes wife Auguftus envy thee in heaven!
What mean the Fates by fuch prodigious virtue
When fearce the manly down yet fhades thy face,
With conquefts thus to over-run the world,
And make barbarians tremble. O ye gods!
Should Destiny now end thee in the bloom,
Methinks I fee thee mourn'd above the lofs
Of lov'd Germanicus; thy funerals,
Like his, are folemniz'd with tears and blood.
Theo. How, Marcian!

Mar. Yes, the raging multitude,
Like torrents, fet no bound to their mad grief;
Shave their wives' heads, and tear off their own
hair:

With wild defpair they bring their infants out,
To brawl their parents' forrow in the streets:
Trade is no more, all courts of justice ftopt;
With tones they dafh the windows of their tem-
ples,

O Theodofius, credit me, who know

The world, and hear how foldiers cenfure kings;
In after-times, if thus you thould go on,
Your memory by warriors will be icorn'd,
As much as Nero or Caligula loath'd;
They will defpife your floth, and backward cafe,
More than they hate the others' cruelty.
And what a thing, ye gods, is fcorn, or pity!
Heap on me, Heaven, the hate of all mankind
Load me with malice, envy, deteftation;
Let me be horrid to all apprehenfion,
And the world fhun me, fo I 'fcape but fcorn.
Theo. Pr'ythee no more.

Mar. Nay, when the legions make comparisons
And fay, Thus cruel Nero once refolv'd,
On Galba's infurrection, for revenge
To give all France as plunder to the army;
To poifon the whole fenate at a feaft;
To burn the city, turn the wild beasts out,
Bears, lions, tigers, on the multitude;
That, fo obftructing thofe that quench'd the fire,
He might at once deftroy rebellious Rome

Theo. O crucity! why tell it thou me of this
Am I of fuch a barb'rous bloody temper?

Mar. Yet fome will fay, This fhew'd he had a fpirit,

However fierce, avenging, and pernicious, That favour'd of a Roman: but for you, What can your partial fycophants invent, To make you room among the emperors? Whofe utmost is the smallest part of Nero;' A pretty player, one that can act a hero, And never be one. O ye immortal gods! Is this the old Cæfarean majefty? Now, in the name of our great Romulus, Conftantinople's loft, our empire's ruin'd; Why fing you not, and fiddle too, as he did? Since he is gone, that father of his country, Why have you not, like Nere, a Phonafcus ? Since he is dead, O life, where is thy pleafure? One to take care of your celeftial voice? Rome, O conquer'd world, where is thy glory "Lie on your back, my lord, and on your ftomack Tbco. I know thee well, thy cuftom and thyLay a thin plate of lead, abftain from fruits;

Pull down their altars, break their houfehold gods;
And fill the univerfal groan is this-

manners.

Thou didst upbraid me: but no more of this,
Not for thy life-

Mar. What 's life without my honour?
Could you transform yourfelf into a Gorgon,
Or make that beardlefs face like Jupiter's,
I would be heard in fpite of all your thunder:
O pow'r of guilt! you fear to ftand the test
Which Virtue rings: like lores your vices
fhake

And when the businefs of the ftage is done,
Retire with your loofe friends to coftly banquets,
While the lean army groans upon the ground.
Theo. Leave me, I fay, left I chastife thee;
Hence, be gone, I fay-

Mar. Not till you have heard me out.
Build too, like him, a palace lin'd with gold,
As long and large as that of th' Efquiline:
Inclofe a pool too in it, like the fea,
And at the empire's coft let navies meet;

.

Adorn your starry chambers too with gems
Contrive the plated ceilings to turn round,
With pipes to caft ambrofian oils upon you:
Confume with this prodigious vanity,
In mere perfumes and odorous distillations,
Of fefterces at once four hundred millions;
Let naked virgins wait you at your table,
And wanton Cupids dance and clap their wings.
No matter what becomes of the poor foldiers,
So they perform the drudgery they are fit for;
Why, let 'em ftarve for want of their arrears,
Drop as they go, and lie like dogs in ditches.
Theo. Come, you are a traitor!
Mar. Go to, you are a boy———
Or by the gods-

Theo. If arrogance like this,

And to the emperor's face, fhould 'fcape unpu-
nifhed,

I'll write my felf a coward; die, then, villain,
A death too glorious for fo bad a man,
By Theodofius' hand.

[Marcian difarms him, but is wounded.
Mar. Now, Sir, where are you?
What, in the name of all our Roman fpirits,
Now charms my hand from giving thee thy fate?
Has he not cut me off from all my honours ?
Torn my commiflions, fham'd me to the earth,
Banifh'd the court, a vagabond for ever?
Do not the foldiers hourly afk it from me?
Sigh their own wrongs, and beg me to revenge

'em?

What hinders now, but that I mount the throne,
And make, befides, this purple youth my footstool?
The armies court me: and my country's caufe,
The injuries of Rome and Greece, perfuade me.
Shew but this Roman blood which he has drawn,
They'll make me emperor whether I will or no:
Did not, for lefs than this, the latter Brutus,
Becaufe he thought Rome wrong'd, in perfon head
Againft his friend a black confpiracy,
And ftab the majefty of all the world?

Thou 'ft faid, and done, and brought to my remembrance,

Theo. Act as you pleafe: I am within your pow'r.
Mar. Did not the former Brutus, for the crime
Of Sextus, drive old Tarquin from his kingdom
And thall this prince too, by permitting others
To act their wicked wilis, and lawiefs pleasures,
Ravish from the empire its dear health,
Well-being, happinefs, and ancient glory?
Go on in this dishonourable reft?

grow already weary of my life.

Mar. My lord, I take your word: you do not know

The wounds which rage within your country's
bowels;

The horrid ufage of the fuffering foldier:
But why will not our Theodofius know?
If you entrust the government to others
That act thefe crimes, who but yourself's toblame?
Be witnefs, O ye gods! of my plain dung,
Of Marcian's honefty, howe'er degrade 1.
I thank you for my banithinent: bur, alas!
My lofs is little to what foon will follow !
Reflect but on yourfeit and your own joys;
Let not this lethargy for ever hold you.
'Twas rumour'd thro' the cits. that you lov'd;
That your efpoufals should be fole..niz'd;
When on a fudden here you fend your orders
That this bright favourite, the lov'd Eudofi
Should lofe her head.

Theo. O heaven and earth! What fav fue? That I have feal'd the death of my Eudofia!

Mar. 'Tis your own hand and fignet: yet I

fwear,

Tho' you have given to female hands your sway,
And therefore 1, as well as the whole army,
For ever ought to curfe all womankind;
Yet when the virgin came, as fhe was doom'd,
And on the fcaffold, for that purpofe rais'd
Without the walls, appear'd before the army-
Theo. What! on a fcaffold ha! before the
army?

Mar. How quickly was the tide of fury turn'd
To foft compation, and relenting tears!
But when the axe

Sever'd the brightest beauty of the earth
From that fair body-had you heard the groan,
Which, like a peal of distant thunder, ran
Through all the armed hoft, you would have
thought,

By the immediate darknefs that fell round us,
Whole nature was concern'd at Toth a fuffring,
And all the gods were angry.

Then. O Pulcheria !

Cruel, ambitious fifter! this must be
Thy doing. O, fupport me, noble Marcian!
Now, now's the time, if thou dar ft ftrike: behold,
I offer thee my breaft; with my laft breath,
I'll thank thee too, if now thou draw'ft my blood.
Were I to live, thy counfel fhould dirc&t me;
But 'tis too late-

Mar. He faints! What, hoa, there! Lucius!
My lord the emperor! Eudofia lives;
She's here, or will be in a minute, moment!
Quick as the thought, the calls you to the temple.
O, Lucius, help!-1 've gone too far; but fee,
He breathes again.- Eudofia has awak'd him.
Theo. Did you not name Eudofia?
Mar. Yes, the lives:

I did but feign the ftory of her death,
To find how near you plac'd her to your heart:
And may the gods rain all their plagues upon me,
If ever I rebuke you thus again!

U u 2

Yet

Theo. I thank thee first for my Eudofia's life. What but my love could have call'd back that life Which thou haft made me hate? But, O, me-Lewd railings, and reproach on those that rule,