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/64

Who am I?

Ant.Cæsar's Sister.

Octav.That's unkind!
Had I been nothing more than Cæsar's Sister,
Know, I had still remain'd in Cæsar's Camp;
But you Octavia, your much injur'd Wife,
Tho' banish'd from your Bed, driv'n from your House,
In spight of Cæsar's Sister, still is yours.
'Tis true, I have a heart disdains your coldness,
And prompts me not to seek what you should offer;
But a Wife's Virtue still surmounts that pride:
I come to claim you as my own; to show
My duty first, to ask, nay beg, your kindness:
Your hand, my Lord; 'tis mine, and I will have it. [Taking his hand.

Ven.Do, take it, thou deserv'st it.

Dolla.On my Soul,
And so she does: she's neither too submissive,
Nor yet too haughty; but so just a mean,
Shows, as it ought, a Wife and Roman too.

Ant.I fear, Octavia, you have begg'd my life.

Octav.Begg'd it, my Lord?

Ant.Yes, begg'd it, my Ambassadress,
Poorly and basely begg'd it of your Brother.

Octav.Poorly and basely I could never beg;
Nor could my Brother grant.

Ant.Shall I, who, to my kneeling Slave, could say,
Rise up, and be a King; shall I fall down
And cry, Forgive me, Cæsar? shall I set
A Man, my Equal, in the place of Jove,
As he could give me being? No; that word,
Forgive, would choke me up,
And die upon my tongue.

Dolla.You shall not need it.

Ant.I will not need it. Come, you've all betray'd me:
My Friend too! To receive some vile conditions.
My Wife has bought me, with her prayers and tears;
And now I must become her branded Slave:
In every peevish mood she will upbraid
The life she gave: if I but look awry,

She