he 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 be