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/62

Yours, he would say, in your declining age,
When no more heat was left but what you forc'd,
When all the sap was needful for the Trunk,
When it went down, then you constrain'd the course,
And robb'd from Nature, to supply desire;
In you (I would not use so harsh a word)
But 'tis plain dotage.

Ant.Ha!

Dolla.'Twas urg'd too home.
But yet the loss was private that I made;
'Twas but my self I lost: I lost no Legions;
I had no World to lose, no peoples love.

Ant.This from a friend?

Dolla.Yes, Anthony, a true one;
A friend so tender, that each word I speak
Stabs my own heart, before it reach your ear.
O, judge me not less kind because I chide:
To Cæsar I excuse you.

Ant.O ye Gods!
Have I then liv'd to be excus'd to Cæsar?

Dolla.As to your equal.

Ant.Well, he's but my equal:
While I wear this, he never shall be more.

Dolla.I bring Conditions from him.

Ant.Are they Noble?
Methinks thou shouldst not bring 'em else; yet he
Is full of deep dissembling; knows no Honour,
Divided from his Int'rest. Fate mistook him;
For Nature meant him for an Usurer,
He's fit indeed to buy, not conquer Kingdoms.

Ven.Then, granting this,
What Pow'r was theirs who wrought so hard a temper
To honourable Terms!

Ant.It was my Dollabella, or some God.

Dolla.Nor I; nor yet Mecænas, nor Agrippa:
They were your Enemies; and I a Friend
Too weak alone; yet 'twas a Roman's Deed.

Ant.'Twas like a Roman done: show me that man
Who has preserv'd my life, my love, my honour;

Let