;
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