More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
The present eye praises the present object.
Love shook off by a Soldier.
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak, wan-
ton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his am'rous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.
Lovers parting in the Morning.
Troil. O Cressida! but that the busy day,
Wak'd by the lark, has rous'd the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no
I would not from thee.
[longer,
Cres. Night hath been too brief.
Troil. Beshrew the witch! with venomous
wights she stays,
As tediously as hell; but flies the grasps of love
With wings more momentary swift than
thought.
Lovers Farewell.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how:
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to
them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu;
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears.
Troilus's Character of the Grecian Youths.
The Grecian youths are full of quality,
They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of
nature flowing,
And swelling o'er with arts and exercise;
How novelty may move, and parts with person,
Alas! a kind of godly jealousy
(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin), Makes me afeard.
Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen Blow villain, till thy sphered bias cheek [pipe: Outswell the cholic of puft Aquilon: Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes pour blood;
Thou blow'st for Hector.
Diomedes' Manner of Walking.
"Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait;
He rises on the toe: that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
Description of Cressida.
There's language in her eye, her cheek, her
lip,
[out
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look
At every joint and motive of her body.
O these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
That give a coasting welcome ere it
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
Honor more dear than Life. Mine honor keeps the weather of my fate; Life every man holds dear; but the brave man Holds honor far more precious dear than life. Pity to be discarded in War. For the love of all the gods
Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mother; And when we have our armors buckled on, The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords! Rash Vows.
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows; They are polluted offerings more abhorr'd Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
$37. Sebastian and Dorax.
DRYDEN. Re-enter Dorax, having taken off his Turban, and put on an European Habit.
Dor. Now do you know me?
Seb. Thou shouldst be Alonzo.
Dor. So
you should be Sebastian;
But when Sebastian ceas'd to be himself
I ceas'd to be Alonzo.
I see thee here, and scarce believe mine eyes. Dor. Is it so strange to find me where my
And your inhuman tyranny, have sent me?
Think not you dream: or, if you did, my injuries
Shall call so loud, that lethargy should wake;
And death should give you back to answer me.
A thousand nights have brush'd their balmy
wings
Over these eyes; but ever, when they clos'd,
Your tyrant image forc'd them ope again,
And dried the dews they brought.
The long expected hour is come at length,
By manly vengeance to redeem my fame:
And, that once clear'd, eternal sleep is welcome.
Seb. I have not yet forgot I am a king,
Whose royal office is redress of wrongs:
If I have wrong'd thee, charge me face to face;
I have not yet forgot I am a soldier. [me;
Dor. 'Tis the first justice thou hast ever done
Then, tho' I loathe this woman's war of tongue,
Yet shall my cause of vengeance first be clear:
And, honor, be thou judge.
Seb. Honor befriend us both.
Beware! I warn thee yet to tell thy griefs
In terms becoming majesty to hear:
I warn thee thus, because I know thy temper
Is insolent and haughty to superiors:
How often hast thou brav'd my peaceful court,
Fill'd it with noisy brawls, and windy boasts;
And with past service, nauseously repeated,
Reproach'd even me, thy prince!
Dor. And well I might, when you forgot reThe part of Heaven in kings: for punishment Is hangman's work, and drudgery for devils. I must and will reproach thee with my service, Tyrant!-it irks me so to call my prince, But just resentment and hard usage coin'd Th unwilling word; and grating as it is, Take it, for 'tis thy due.
Seb. How, tyrant! Dor. Tyrant!
Seb. Traitor! that name thou canst not echo That robe of infamy, that circumcision Ill hid beneath that robe, proclaim thee traitor: And, if a name
More foul than traitor be, 'tis renegade. [tyrant, Dor. If I'm a traitor, think and blush, thou Whose injuries betray'd me into treason, Effac'd my loyalty, unhing'd my faith,
And hurried me from hopes of heaven to hell.
All these, and all my yet unfinish'd crimes,
When I shall rise to plead before the saints,
I charge on thee to make thy damning sure.
Seb. Thy old presumptuous arrogance again, That bred my first dislike, and then my loathing, Once more be warn'd, and know me for thy king.
Dor. Too well I know thee, but for king no This is not Lisbon, nor the circle this, [more: Where, like a statue, thou hast stood besieg'd By sycophants and fools, the growth of courts; Where thy gull'd eyes in all the gaudy round Met nothing but a lie in every face; And the gross flattery of a gaping crowd, Envious who first should catch and first applaud The stuff of royal nonsense: when I spoke, My honest homely words were carp'd and cenFor want of courtly style: related actions, [sur'd Though modestly reported, pass'd for boasts : Secure of merit, if I ask'd reward, [vaded,, Thy hungry minions thought their rights inAnd the bread snatch'd from pimps and paraHenriquez answer'd, with a ready lie, [sites. To save his king's, the boon was begg'd before.
Seb. What say'st thou of Henriquez? Now,
Thou mov'st me more by barely naming him, Than all thy foul, unmanner'd, scurril taunts. Dor. And therefore 'twas to gail thee that I
That thing, that nothing but a cringe and smile;
That woman, but more daub'd; or, if a man,
Corrupted to a woman; thy man-mistress.
Seb. All false as hell, or thou.
Dor. Yes; full as false
As that I serv'd thee fifteen hard campaigns,
And pitch'd thy standard in those foreign fields:
By me thy greatness grew, thy years grew with it,
But thy ingratitude outgrew them both. [first,
Seb. I see to what thou tend'st; but tell me If those great acts were done alone for me; If love produc'd not some, and pride the rest? Dor. Why, love does all that's noble here
But all th' advantage of that love was thine:
For, coming fraughted back, in either hand
With palm and olive, victory and peace,
I was indeed prepar'd to ask my own
(For Violante's vows were mine before):
Thy malice had prevention, ere I spoke;
And ask'd me Violante for Henriquez.
Seb. I meant thee a reward of greater worth. Dor. Where justice wanted, could reward be hop'd?
Could the robb'd passenger expect a bounty From those rapacious hands who stripp'd him first? [love. Seb. He had my promise ere I knew thy Dor. My services deserv'd, thou shouldst re
Seb. Thy insolence hath cancell'd all thy ser- |
To violate my laws, even in my court, [vice;
Sacred to peace, and safe from all affronts;
Even to my face, and done in my despite,
Under the wing of awful majesty,
To strike the man I lov'd!
Dor. Ev'n in the face of Heaven, a place
more sacred,
Would I have struck the man who, prompt
by pow'r,
Would seize my right, and rob me of my love.
But, for a blow provok'd by thy injustice,
The hasty product of a just despair,
When he refus'd to meet me in the field, [own!
That thou shouldst make a coward's cause thy
Seb. He durst: nay, more, desir'd and begg'd
To meet thy challenge fairly; 'twas thy fault
To make it public: but my duty then
To interpose, on pain of my displeasure,
Betwixt your swords.
Dor. On pain of infamy
He should have disobey'd.
Seb. The indignity thou didst was meant to
Thy gloomy eyes were cast on me with scorn,
As who should say, the blow was there intended;
But that thou didst not dare to lift thy hands
Against anointed power: so was I forc'd
To do a sovereign justice to myself,
And spurn thee from my presence.
Dor. Thou hast dar'd
To tell me what I durst not tell myself:
I durst not think that I was spurn'd, and live;
And live to hear it boasted to my face;
All my long avarice of honor lost,
Heap'd up in youth, and hoarded up for age;
Has honor's fountain then suck'd back the
He has; and hooting boys may dryshod pass,
And gather pebbles from the naked ford."
Give me my love, my honor; give them back :
Give me revenge while I have breath to ask it.
Seb. Now by this honor'd order which I
[it:
More gladly would I give than thou dar'st ask
Nor shall the sacred character of king
Be urg'd to shield me from thy bold appeal.
If I have injur'd thee, that makes us equal:
The wrong, if done, debas'd me down to thee.
But thou hast charg'd me with ingratitude;
Has thou not charg'd me? Speak.
Dor. Thou know'st I have:
If thou disown'st that imputation, draw,
And
prove my charge a lie.
Seb. No; to disprove that lie I must not
draw:
Be conscious to thy worth, and tell thy soul
What thou hast done this day in my defence:
To fight thee after this, what were it else
Than owning that ingratitude thou urg'st?
That isthmus stands between two rushing seas;
Which mounting view each other from afar,
And strive in vain to meet
Dor. I'll cut that isthmus :
Now draw; I should be loath to think thou
Beware of such another vile excuse. [dar'st not:
Seb. O, patience, Heaven!
Dor. Beware of patience too;
That's a suspicious word: it had been proper,
Before thy foot had spurn'd ine; now 'tis base:
Yet, to disarm thee of thy last defence,
I have thy oath for my security:
The only boon I begg'd was this fair combat:
Fight, or be perjur'd now; that's all thy choice.
Seb. Now can I thank thee as thou wouldst
be thank'd:
[Drawing.
Never was vow of honor better paid,
If my true sword but hold, than this shall be.
The sprightly bridegroom on his wedding-night
More gladly enters not the lists of love.
Why, 'tis enjoyment to be summon'd thus.
Go; bear my message to Henriquez' ghost,
And say his master and his friend reveng'd him.
Dor. His ghost! then is my hated rival dead?
Seb. The question is beside our present pur-
Thou seest me ready; we delay too long. [pose.
Dor. A minute is not much in either's life,
When there's but one betwixt us; throw it in
And give it him of us who is to fall.
Seb. He's dead: make haste, and thou mayst
Dor. When I was hasty, thou delay'dst me
longer.
I pr'ythee let me hedge one moment more
Into thy promise: for thy life preserv'd,
Be kind and tell me how that rival died,
Whose death next thine, I wish'd.
Seb. If it would please thee, thou shouldst
never know,
But thou, like jealousy, inquir'st a truth,
Which found, will torture thee. He died in
fight:
Fought next my person, as in concert fought;
Kept pace for pace, and blow for every blow;
Save when he heav'd his shield in my defence,
And on his naked side receiv'd my wound:
Then, when he could no more, he fell at once,
But roll'd his falling body cross their way,
And made a bulwark of it for his prince.
Dor. I never can forgive him such a death !
Seb. I prophesied thy proud soul could not
bear it.
Now judge thyself who best deserv'd my love.
I knew you both; and (durst I say) as Heaven
Foreknew among the shining angel host
Who should stand firm, who fall. [fall'n;
Dor. Had he been tempted so, so had he
And so, had I been favor'd, had I stood.
Seb. What had been, is unknown; what is,
Confess he justly was preferr'd to thee. [appears:
Dor. Had I been born with his indulgent stars,
My fortune had been his, and his been mine.
O, worse than hell! what glory have I lost,
And what has he acquir'd by such a death!
I should have fallen by Sebastian's side,
My corpse had been the bulwark of my king:
His glorious end was a patch'd work of fate,
Ill sorted with a soft effeminate life:
Thou know'st I meant not to preserve thy life, It suited better with my life than his
But to retrieve it, for my own revenge.
I sav'd thee out of honorable malice.
So to have died: mine had been of a piece,
Spent in your service, dying at your feet.
Seb. The more effeminate and soft his life, The more his fame, to struggle to the field, And meet his glorious fate: confess, proud spirit
(For I will have it from thy very month), That better he deserv'd my love than thou. Dor. O, whither wouldst thou drive me? I
Yes, I must grant, but with a swelling soul,
Henriquez had your love with more desert:
For you he fought and died: I fought against you:
Through all the mazes of the bloody field
Hunted your sacred life; which that I miss'd
Was the propitious error of my fate,
Not of my soul; my soul's a regicide.
Seb. Thou might'st have given it a more gentle name:
Thou meant'st to kill a tyrant, not a king.
Speak, didst thou not, Alonzo?
Alas! I cannot answer to Alonzo :
No, Dorax cannot answer to Alonzo:
Alonzo was too kind a name for me. [arms,
Then, when I fought and conquer'd with your
In that blest age I was the man you nam'd:
Till rage and pride debas'd me into Dorax ;
And lost, like Lucifer, my name above. [rax.
Seb. Yet twice this day I ow'd my life to Do-
Dor. I sav'd you but to kill you: there's my
grief.
[repent:
Seb. Nay, if thou canst be griev'd, thou canst
Thou couldst not be a villain, though thou
wouldst :
[err'd:
Thou own'st too much in owning thou hast
And I too little, who provok'd thy crime.
Dor. O, stop this headlong torrent of your It comes too fast upon a feeble soul, [goodness; Half drown'd in tears before; spare my confusion,
For pity spare, and say not, first you err'd.
For yet I have not dar'd, thro' guilt and shame,
To throw myself beneath your royal feet.
Now spurn this rebel, this proud renegade;
"Tis just you should, nor will I more complain.
Seb. Indeed thou shouldst not ask forgive-
ness first,
But thou prevent'st me still in all that's noble.
Yes, I will raise thee up with better news:
Thy Violante's heart was ever thine;
Compell'd to wed, because she was my ward,
Her soul was absent when she gave her hand :
Nor could my threats, or his pursuing court-
ship,
Effect the consummation of his love :
So still indulging tears, she pines for thee,
A widow and a maid.
Dor. Have I been cursing Heaven, while
Heaven bless'd me!
I shall run mad with ecstasy of joy:
What, in one moment to be reconcil'd
To Heaven, and to my king, and to my love:
But pity is my friend, and stops me short,
For my unhappy rival. Poor Henriquez!
Seb. Art thou so generous too, to pity him?
Nay, then I was unjust to love him better.
Here let me ever hold thee in my arms;
And all our quarrels be but such as these,
Who shall love best and closest shall embrace:
Be what Henriquez was-be my Alonzo.
Dor. What, MyAlonzo, said you? my Alonzo!
Let my tears thank you, for I cannot speak;
And if I could,
[as mine.
Words were not made to vent such thoughts
Seb. Thou canst not speak, and I can ne'er
Some strange reverse of fate must sure attend
This vast profusion, this extravagance
Of Heaven to bless me thus. 'Tis gold so pure,
It cannot bear the stamp without allay.
Be kind, ye pow'rs, and take but half away:
With ease the gifts of fortune I resign:
But let my love and friend be ever mine.
§ 38. Antony and Ventidius. DRYDEN. 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 Why was I rais'd the meteor of the world, Hung in the skies, and blazing as I travell'd, Till all my fires were spent, and then cast downwards
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 Hast starv'd thy wanting age.
Vent. [Aside.] How sorrow shakes him! So now the tempest tears him up by th' 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 widow'd hand to Cæsar.
Cæsar will weep, the crocodile will weep,
To see his rival of the universe
[on't.
Lie still and peaceful there. I'll think no more
Give me some music; look that it be sad;
I'll soothe my melancholy till I swell
And burst myself with sighing-
"Tis somewhat to my humor. Stay, I fancy
I'm now turn'd wild, a commoner of nature
Of all forsaken, and forsaking all;
Live in a shady forest's sylvan scene; [oak,
Stretch'd at my length beneath some blasted
I lean my head upon the mossy bark,
And look just of a piece as I grew from it: My uncomb'd locks, matted like mistletoe, 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.
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
When that 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?
[am I?
Where have you learnt that answer! Who
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 satisfied?
For, if a friend, thou hast 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 afresh into my eyes;
I cannot help her softness. [man! he weeps!
Ant. By Heaven he weeps, poor good old
The big round drops course one another down
The furrows of his cheeks. Stop 'em, Ventidius,
Or I shall blush to death; they set my shame,
That caus'd 'em, full before me.
Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not For my own griefs, but thine,-uay, fatherVent. Emperor! [tory.
Ant. Emperor! why that's the style of vicThe conquering soldier, red with unfelt wounds, Salutes his general so: but never more Shall that sound reach my ears.
Ant. Actium, Actium! 0-
Vent. It sits too near you.
[day;
Ant. Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by
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-
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 disgrac'd
The name of soldier with inglorious ease.
In the full vintage of my flowing honors
Sat still, and saw it prest by other hands. [it,
Fortune came smiling to my youth, and woo'd
And purple greatness met my ripen'd years.
When first I came to empire, I was borne
Γ
On tides of people, crowding to my triumphs;
The wish of nations, and the willing world
Receiv'd me as its pledge of future peace.
I was so great, so happy, so belov'd,
Fate could not ruin me; till I took pains,
And work'd against my fortune, chid her from
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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 kill'd 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. [hours Vent. No, 'tis you dream; you sleepaway your In desperate sloth, miscall'd philosophy. [you, Up, up, for honor's sake; twelve legions wait And long to call you chief. By painful journeys I led 'em, 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 scarr'd cheeks, and chopt hands; there's virtue in 'em :
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