Page:All for love- or, The world well lost. A tragedy as it is acted at the Theatre-Royal; and written in imitation of Shakespeare's stile. By John Dryden, servant to His Majesty (IA allforloveorworl00indryd).pdf/36

But Antony ———

Ven.Nay, stop not.

Ant.Antony,
(Well, thou wilt have it) like a coward, fled,
Fled while his Soldiers fought; fled first, Ventidius.
Thou long'st to curse me, and I give the leave.
I know thou cam'st prepar'd to rail.

Ven.I did.

Ant.I'll help thee——I have been a Man, Ventidius.

Ven.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,
Sate still, and saw it prest by other hands.
Fortune came smiling to my youth, and woo'd it,
And purple greatness met my ripen'd years.
When first I came to Empire, I was born
On Tides of People, crouding 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 ruine me; till I took pains
And work'd against my Fortune, chid her from me,
And turn'd her loose; yet still she came again.
My careless dayes, and my luxurious nights,
At length have weary'd her, and now she's gone,
Gone, gone, divorc'd for ever. Help me, Soldier,
To curse this Mad-man, this industrious Fool,
Who labour'd to be wretched: pr'ythee curse me.

Ven.No.

Ant.Why?

Ven.You are too sensible already
Of what y'have done, too conscious of your failings,
And, like a Scorpion, whipt by others first
To fury, sting your self in mad revenge.
I would bring Balm and pour it in your wounds,
Cure your distemper'd mind, and heal your fortunes.

Ant.I know thou would'st.

Ven.