gance, 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 o