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/35

Ant.All that's wretched.
You will not leave me then?

Ven.'Twas too presuming
To say I would not; but I dare not leave you:
And, 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence
So soon, when I so far have come to see you.

Ant.Now thou hast seen me, art thou satisfy'd?
For, if a Friend, thou hast beheld enough;
And, if a Foe, too much.

Ven. weeping.Look, Emperor, this is no common Deaw,
I have not wept this Forty years; but now
My Mother comes afresh into my eyes;
I cannot help her softness.

Ant.By Heav'n, he weeps, poor good old Man, he weeps!
The big round drops course one another down
The furrows of his cheeks. Stop 'em, Ventidius,
Or I shall blush to death: they set my shame,
That caus'd 'em, full before me.

Ven.I'll do my best.

Ant.Sure there's contagion in the tears of Friends:
See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not
For my own griefs, but thine ——— Nay, Father.

Ven.Emperor.

Ant.Emperor! Why, that's the stile of Victory,
The Conqu'ring Soldier, red with unfelt wounds,
Salutes his General so: but never more
Shall that sound reach my ears.

Ven.I warrant you.

Ant.Actium, Actium! Oh—

Ven.It sits too near you.

Ant.Here, here it lies; a lump of Lead by day,
And, in my short distracted nightly slumbers,
The Hag that rides my Dreams———

Vent.Out with it; give it vent.

Ant.Urge not my shame.
I lost a Battel.

Vent.So has Julius done.

Ant.Thou favour'st me, and speak'st not half thou think'st;
For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly:

But