Then she's so charming,
Age buds at sight of her, and swells to youth:
The holy priests gaze on her when she smiles;
And with heaved hands, forgetting gravity,
They bless her wanton eyes: Even I, who hate her,
With a malignant joy behold such beauty;
And, while I curse, desire it. Antony
Must needs have some remains of passion still,
Which may ferment into a worse relapse,
If now not fully cured. I know, this minute,
With Caesar he's endeavouring her peace.
OCTAVIA. You have prevailed:--But for a further purpose
[Walks off.]
I'll prove how he will relish this discovery.
What, make a strumpet's peace! it swells my heart:
It must not, shall not be.
VENTIDIUS. His guards appear.
Let me begin, and you shall second me.
Enter ANTONY
ANTONY. Octavia, I was looking you, my love:
What, are your letters ready? I have given
My last instructions.
OCTAVIA. Mine, my lord, are written.
ANTONY. Ventidius.
[Drawing him aside.]
VENTIDIUS. My lord?
ANTONY. A word in private.--
When saw you Dolabella?
VENTIDIUS. Now, my lord,
He parted hence; and Cleopatra with him.
Pages:
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124